Chapter 3: The Hogwarts Express
Amid the crowd of Muggles bustling through King's Cross Station, Mirabel Beresford stood calmly.
She wore a white collared shirt with a blue tie, layered with a vest on top. Her box-pleated skirt had a traditional, old-fashioned design, and her thighs were covered by white knee-high socks. Draped over her shoulders like a cape was a black robe, but oddly, it clung to her without any visible support, even as the wind blew. A few passersby glanced curiously at the unusual sight.
(Hmm... it should be around here.)
Dressed in her brand-new uniform, Mirabel checked the paper in her hand and scanned her surroundings.
Her destination: Platform 9 ¾ of King's Cross Station.
At that moment, she stood in front of the barrier between platforms 9 and 10.
No doubt about it. She'd arrived at the right place.
Platform 9 ¾, the boarding point for the Hogwarts Express. Of course, no such platform existed according to Muggle standards.
But for witches and wizards, there was no reason for confusion.
With her luggage slung over her back, Mirabel confidently walked straight toward the barrier. In the next moment, she passed through an iron archway marked "Platform 9 ¾."
On the other side, a crimson steam locomotive awaited its passengers.
A sign above the platform read: "Hogwarts Express – Departs at 11:00 a.m."
Cats of various colors weaved their way around people's feet, and owls hooted from their cages, likely the pets that students had brought with them.
Everywhere, students in uniform were talking with their parents, some offering words of encouragement, while others discussed their anxieties about the new school year.
It's worth noting that Mirabel's parents, the Beresford couple, were not present.
For them, taking time off work just to see their daughter off was, in their words, "nonsensical."
Besides, Mirabel herself had told them there was no need to see her off.
In place of her parents, her loyal house-elf, Holger, stood by her side.
Using concealment magic to avoid being seen by Muggles, he had silently followed her the entire way.
"Well then, my lady, please take care."
"And you, make sure not to slack off too much. Until the 'time' comes, keep up the pretense of loyalty to the Beresford family."
"Of course… Rest assured, there will be no mistakes."
Holger was a house-elf who served Mirabel and her alone.
However, Mirabel had never told her parents about this arrangement.
On the surface, Holger continued to feign loyalty to the entire Beresford family, working in the household as expected.
That being said, his actual duties had changed significantly.
Holger had mastered the art of slacking off while appearing to work diligently, and the Beresford couple remained none the wiser.
A house-elf that works harder than anyone naturally becomes the most skilled at cutting corners.
After collecting her remaining luggage from Holger, Mirabel boarded the train without so much as a backward glance.
Holger, as always, voiced no complaints. With a flicker of apparition magic, he vanished without a trace.
Mirabel made her way toward the back of the train.
She found an empty seat in the fifth carriage and sat down.
If possible, she would have preferred the very last car, but it was already full.
The train soon began to move, and the scenery outside the window slowly shifted.
Before long, King's Cross Station was out of sight, replaced by expansive fields that stretched across the landscape.
The vibrant green fields were pleasant to look at for a while, but eventually, she grew bored.
She opened her bag, pulled out a recently purchased novel, and began flipping through its pages.
However, after reading just ten pages, she shut the book with a frustrated sigh.
(Tch, I shouldn't have read it all beforehand. A story I've already seen doesn't kill time at all.)
Mirabel had already finished reading all her textbooks and reference materials in the days leading up to today.
To make matters worse, her highly efficient brain possessed a type of eidetic memory — a "photographic memory" that allowed her to perfectly recall anything she read or saw just once.
While this was undoubtedly a tremendous advantage in academics, it was a serious disadvantage when it came to entertainment.
No matter how thrilling or heart-racing a story was, once she read it, she could recall it in detail at any moment.
This meant that no story could ever surprise or excite her a second time.
For someone who loved novels and movies, it was an annoying "talent" to have.
With a sigh of resignation, she put the book back in her bag.
At that moment, she heard a knock, and the compartment door slid open.
"U-Um… is it alright if I sit here? Everywhere else is full…"
A round-faced, chubby boy with a small frame stood awkwardly in the doorway.
He fidgeted nervously, his eyes darting around as if he didn't know where to look.
Sure, it was natural to be anxious before arriving at a new school.
But this boy looked like his nerves had already been completely shot.
With a small sigh, Mirabel pointed to the open seat without saying a word.
She folded her arms and turned her gaze toward the window.
If she had to endure this boring train ride, she might as well pass the time watching the changing scenery.
"T-Thank you…" the boy mumbled.
He shuffled in, his footsteps cautious and unsure.
The boy thanked her timidly as he sat down, but Mirabel didn't respond.
To be honest, she had absolutely no interest in this boy.
The boy also seemed uncomfortable with conversation, as he didn't attempt to speak further, falling into awkward silence.
From time to time, he glanced at Mirabel as if trying to muster the courage to say something, but the unapproachable aura she radiated crushed any such attempts.
Thus, the (for the boy) uncomfortable silence stretched on for a while. Around 12:30, the rattling sound of wheels echoed down the hallway outside.
The compartment door slid open, and an elderly woman with dimples peeked in.
"Trolley service! Would you like anything?"
It was already lunchtime.
Realizing this, Mirabel glanced at the cart.
There were Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans (which Mirabel absolutely loathed), Chocolate Frogs, pumpkin pasties, Cauldron Cakes, and various other treats — most of which seemed more like sweets than proper food.
They all looked like they'd be terrible for her stomach, but her hunger was undeniable.
It would be reasonable to at least get a drink and a pie to tide her over.
"Pumpkin pasty, pumpkin juice, and a Chocolate Frog."
"Alright, that'll be all, then!"
Handing over silver coins for the payment, she tore open the package of the pumpkin pasty and took a bite.
First, the texture. Her teeth sank into the soft, yet crisp, pastry crust.
Her bite broke through the crust and into the filling of rich pumpkin, which mixed perfectly in her mouth.
With each chew, the deep flavor of pumpkin and the buttery aroma mingled on her tongue, stimulating her taste buds in just the right way.
Next, she picked up the bottle of pumpkin juice, twisted off the cap, and took a sip.
Once again, the sweet taste of pumpkin spread through her mouth.
The slight chill of the drink brought a refreshing coolness that helped her forget the lingering summer heat.
But this was no ordinary pumpkin juice — it wasn't just pureed pumpkin.
It seemed to be blended with apple juice, likely to make it more appealing to children riding the train.
The faint tang of the apples added a pleasant hint of acidity to the sweetness.
(…Choosing both the pumpkin pasty and pumpkin juice was a mistake. I see now — the trolley's juice alone would have been sufficient.)
Finally, she grabbed the Chocolate Frog, unwrapped it, and bit into it.
Despite its grotesque, amphibian-like appearance, the taste was nothing out of the ordinary — just a normal chocolate flavor.
The sweet taste of the chocolate spread through her mouth, bringing a sense of calm.
(The Chocolate Frog was the right call… It's a refreshing change from all this pumpkin.)
Her meal was a bit on the sweet side, but overall, she was satisfied.
She wiped her mouth with a napkin, savoring the lingering flavors, but her moment of peace was soon shattered.
The boy across from her began fidgeting.
He checked inside his bag, peered under the seat, and started frantically searching the area with teary eyes.
His panicked movements were nothing short of annoying.
After a while, he seemed to come to a decision and, with a voice tinged with tears, called out to Mirabel.
"Um… have you seen my toad?"
"How would I know?"
He can't even manage his own pet?
With a hint of disdain, she coldly brushed him off and turned to look out the window.
It was none of her business if this boy lost his pet or had trouble finding it.
If he couldn't even keep track of a single toad, it was clearly his own fault.
The boy sniffled, muttered, "S-sorry…" and stumbled out into the hallway, tears still brimming in his eyes as he went to search for his toad.
(…Looks like there's still some time before we arrive.)
Perhaps she should have brought along at least one book she hadn't finished yet.
As she mulled over this regret, Mirabel closed her eyes, letting herself sink into a light doze.
If there was no other way to kill time, sleeping was the easiest option.
But just as she was about to slip into the world of dreams, the compartment door opened once more.
"Hey, did a toad come back in here?"
It wasn't the boy from earlier. This time, it was a girl from the same year.
Her hair, rather than being fluffy, was more like a messy tangle of chestnut brown strands sticking out all over the place, as if it hadn't been properly cared for. Honestly, it was irritating to look at.
Her facial features weren't bad, but they lacked any striking charm. Her slightly long front teeth gave her a bit of a squirrel-like appearance.
She had potential — no, in fact, she was probably in the "very good" category looks-wise. However, her lack of refinement made her come off as disappointing.
That was Mirabel's first impression of the girl.
"…And who are you?"
**"I'm Hermione Granger, a first-year at Hogwarts.
By the way, the magical world has such a wide variety of pets — it's absolutely fascinating!
If I were to have a pet, I'd definitely pick an owl. They deliver letters, and that's just so convenient!
No one in my family is a witch or wizard, so when I first learned that owls deliver letters, I was completely amazed.
Even the letter for Hogwarts was brought to my house by a snowy white owl from the school!
When I saw that, I became absolutely captivated by the idea of attending a magical school and made up my mind to go no matter what.
Oh, right! What's your name?"**
"..."
The girl — Hermione, as she had introduced herself — said all of that in one continuous breath, without pausing.
Even Mirabel, usually unshakable, was a little taken aback. But as she compared the girl's name to her own memories, realization dawned on her.
So this is Hermione Granger, the heroine of Harry Potter.
A Muggle-born witch, yet more diligent and accomplished than anyone else, always at the top of her class.
She was also the one who, in most of the incidents involving Harry and his friends, was the first to figure out the solution.
Harry, for the most part, was simply following the path that Hermione had already paved.
In that sense, she was a more outstanding figure than Harry himself.
Not a bad girl, all things considered.
"Mirabel Beresford."
**"Oh, I see. Nice to meet you, Mirabel! By the way, back to the topic — has a toad come through here?
And while we're at it, since you're in the same compartment, you should help search for it!"**
Just as she remembered from her knowledge of the story, Hermione had a bossy way of speaking.
But Mirabel decided to let it slide. This girl had earned the right to speak like that.
It was Mirabel's belief that those with exceptional ability should speak in a manner befitting their status.
That's precisely why Mirabel herself spoke to others in a condescending, haughty tone, always acting superior.
Her attitude was a manifestation of her firm belief that she was "above everyone else."
"He should look for it himself. It's that boy's problem."
"Ugh, you're so cold! You're in the same compartment, so you should just help him out!"
"It's a hassle. If he can't even find a single toad, that's his fault."
With a ruthless dismissal, Mirabel took a swig of her pumpkin juice.
The flavor wasn't bad, but its richness didn't quite suit the purpose of quenching her thirst.
If she really wanted to soothe her dry throat, plain mineral water would have been the better option.
"Oh, so what?! He can't find it, that's the whole point! That's why we're talking about it, isn't it?!"
"…Oh?"
Mirabel placed the empty bottle down and sighed.
It was such a cheap provocation. But the problem was that the girl wasn't merely provoking her — she actually seemed to believe it.
Being looked down upon and underestimated from the very first day wasn't exactly desirable.
It couldn't be helped, Mirabel thought, as she pulled out her pet rat, Pyotr, from her breast pocket.
"First task, Pyotr. Catch that frog and bring it to me."
She released the rat into the corridor and then crossed her legs, sitting still in a poised position.
Just a few seconds later, Pyotr returned, holding the frog in his mouth, and dropped it onto the table. (The boy shouted, "Trevor!") He then jumped onto Mirabel's crossed legs.
Mirabel gave the rat a piece of cheese, his favorite treat, and gently stroked his throat in appreciation.
It was a common myth that rats love cheese, and people often say they don't actually eat it much, but Pyotr, being a magical creature, seemed to have different tastes from ordinary rats.
"This is how you use a pet. If it can't catch a single frog, that's a matter of training, not pet care."
Mirabel cast a disdainful glance at Neville, then turned to Hermione, who was staring in disbelief.
It seemed that Mirabel had succeeded in silencing the noisy girl.
With some satisfaction, Mirabel shifted her focus back to the view outside the window.
"Th-thank you..."
She heard the boy's voice but chose to ignore him and continue enjoying the scenery.
But of course, Hermione had to butt in again.
She puffed out her cheeks and, with an angry screeching voice, yelled at Mirabel.
"Hey! He thanked you, so at least say something back!"
"...Don't you ever get told that you're a bit too nosy?"
Mirabel spoke dismissively, clearly irritated by the shrill voice.
She had known about Hermione's personality from her knowledge of the story, but actually talking to her made it even clearer.
It was no wonder this girl would end up isolated.
However, Mirabel didn't completely dislike the girl's way of doing things. There was something admirable in her stubbornness.
Mirabel gave a slight smile and turned her gaze back to Hermione.
"In that case, let me be a little nosy as well. You should really do something about your hair and appearance. Such potential is going to waste."
"That's none of your business!"
Mirabel chuckled softly to herself, enjoying Hermione's reaction. The girl turned bright red with anger and, without another word, spun around and left.
After watching her go, Mirabel leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
For the next four years, until Voldemort appeared, she knew that Hermione, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley would join forces and overcome many challenges together.
But the truly terrifying presence was the one who manipulated them all — Dumbledore.
These four years, while they were gathering strength, would also be a perfect opportunity to observe their movements.
Since Dumbledore was the one pulling their strings, by watching their actions, Mirabel could infer his thoughts and plans to some extent.
However, Mirabel also considered drawing Harry and Hermione into her circle if possible. In that case, she couldn't just follow the original story, but doing so would make it impossible to predict Dumbledore's next move.
It was a complicated situation. With that thought, Mirabel once again allowed herself to drift into a light doze.
Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon
https://patreon.com/Glimmer09