The morning of September 1st dawned cool and clear, with a faint mist rolling in over the rooftops as Evan and Aunt Martha stood outside King’s Cross Station. The massive station loomed before them, its arched entrance bustling with people and the steady hum of early morning chatter filling the air. Evan clutched his ticket tightly in his hand, his knuckles white from the pressure. Platform 9¾. The words were still surreal to him, like something out of one of his wildest dreams. He wasn’t sure if he was excited or terrified—or maybe a strange mix of both.
Aunt Martha stood beside him, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Her usual air of cool indifference hadn’t faltered, but there was something different today. She was stiff, even more so than usual, as if the idea of sending Evan off into a world she didn’t understand made her uncomfortable.
For the first time, Evan felt a strange pang of sadness as he glanced at her. Though their relationship had been distant at best, she was the only family he had left. The thought of leaving her, even if it was for Hogwarts, left an odd ache in his chest.
“Well,” Aunt Martha said finally, her voice low and firm, “I suppose this is it.”
“Yeah,” Evan replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced down at his shoes, unsure of what else to say. What was there to say? How could he even begin to express the jumble of emotions swirling inside him?
For a long moment, they stood there in silence, neither of them quite knowing how to navigate the farewell. Finally, Aunt Martha cleared her throat and, without looking at him directly, placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Take care of yourself, Evan. This… Hogwarts business is something I’ll never understand. But if it’s real, if magic is real, then maybe you’ll find something there that makes sense to you," she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
Evan blinked, the words taking a moment to register. It wasn’t a warm goodbye by any means, but it was as close to one as Aunt Martha could give. He felt a lump rise in his throat and nodded, not trusting his voice to stay steady.
“Thanks… for everything,” he managed to say, his voice thick with emotion.
She gave him a stiff nod, her grip tightening briefly before she let go. “Go on now, or you’ll miss your train.”
Evan swallowed hard and gave her one last look, hoping she’d say something more. But Aunt Martha was never one for long goodbyes. She nodded toward the station, her face unreadable, and Evan turned to walk away. With each step, the reality of leaving her—and everything else he’d known—settled deeper into his bones.
As he passed between platforms 9 and 10, his heart pounded in his chest. He pushed the trolley forward, eyeing the solid brick wall ahead with a mix of anxiety and disbelief. Was he really supposed to run straight at it?
Taking a deep breath, he broke into a brisk jog, bracing himself for impact. But instead of crashing, he passed effortlessly through the wall, stumbling into a bustling platform. Platform 9¾. Steam billowed from the iconic scarlet train, and the air was alive with the chatter of students and the hooting of owls. For the first time, Evan felt the flutter of excitement overpower the knot of fear in his stomach.
This was real. Hogwarts was real.
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The train ride itself felt like stepping into a new world. After finding an empty compartment, Evan sat by the window, watching as the countryside rolled by in a blur of green fields and distant hills. But even as the magic of the journey unfolded around him, the weight of his parents' absence hung in the back of his mind. How different would this day have been if they were still alive? Would they be proud of him? Would his father be telling him tales about his own childhood, or his mother fussing over his robes?
He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the compartment door sliding open. A boy, slightly taller than him with messy dark hair and a wide grin, popped his head in.
"Mind if I join you?" the boy asked without hesitation, already pulling his trunk in behind him. "It’s a bit crowded in the other carriages, and, well, I’m terrible at small talk."
"Sure," Evan said, nodding, though the boy didn’t exactly wait for an answer.
The boy plopped down across from him, dropping his trunk with a loud thud. “Leo,” he introduced himself with a grin that was far too confident for someone entering an entirely new world. “Leo Foster. And you are?”
“Evan. Evan Holloway,” he replied quietly.
“Nice to meet you, Evan! First year, too, I’m guessing?” Leo asked, glancing at the luggage beside him and nodding knowingly. “Yeah, same here. I’ve already decided Hogwarts is going to be brilliant, haven’t you? I mean, it’s a school for wizards. How could it not be?”
Evan smiled slightly at Leo’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, I guess it’s going to be… interesting.”
Leo leaned back, stretching his arms over the back of the seat. “Interesting? Mate, it’s going to be legendary! Spells, potions, flying on broomsticks! I’m just hoping I don’t end up blowing myself up in Potions class. I mean, I nearly set fire to my house last summer trying to make a simple potion. Turns out, you can’t just mix random stuff from the kitchen and expect it to work like magic.”
Evan laughed despite himself, the tension easing in his chest. Leo had that effect—his easy-going attitude and quick wit made the whole situation feel a little less overwhelming.
Before Evan could respond, the compartment door slid open again, and a girl with wavy brown hair and a shy smile peeked inside. "Is there room for one more?" she asked softly.
"Of course!" Leo waved her in with a dramatic flourish. "The more, the merrier! We're forming a legendary group of future Hogwarts stars."
The girl stepped inside, carefully placing her trunk by the door before sitting next to Evan. “I’m Clara,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
“Leo,” the boy across from her said, grinning as usual. “And this is Evan. Don’t be shy, Clara, we’re all nervous first years here.”
Evan offered a small smile in her direction, and Clara returned it, though her eyes flickered down to her lap. She seemed more reserved than Leo, but there was a warmth in her presence, a quiet kindness that made Evan feel a little more comfortable.
As the train sped through the countryside, Leo filled the compartment with chatter, telling stories about his family's strange but humorous encounters with magic and speculating wildly about what Hogwarts might be like. Clara listened, occasionally offering a soft laugh or nod of agreement, while Evan found himself relaxing into the conversation. The weight of his worries started to ease, even if just for a little while.
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The arrival at Hogwarts was every bit as breathtaking as Evan had imagined. The towering castle loomed in the distance, its many spires glowing faintly against the night sky. He, along with the other first-years, was led across the lake in small boats, the cool wind tugging at his robes as the water rippled beneath them. The sight of the castle reflected in the dark waters below made Evan’s heart race with excitement and nerves.
As they stepped into the Great Hall, the air seemed to hum with magic. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the starry sky outside, and hundreds of floating candles cast a warm, golden glow over the long tables filled with students. Evan’s eyes widened in awe as he took it all in, the sheer scale of the place overwhelming him.
But the wonder was quickly replaced by nerves as the first-years were called up one by one to be sorted into their Houses. The Sorting Hat sat on a small stool at the front of the hall, its frayed brim twitching slightly as it was placed on each student's head.
“Leo Foster,” called Professor McGonagall.
Leo gave Evan and Clara a quick grin before bounding up to the stool. The Hat barely touched his head before it shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”
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Leo pumped his fist in the air as he trotted over to the Gryffindor table, greeted by a round of applause and cheers.
Next was Clara. She walked up slowly, her face pale with nerves. After a few moments of quiet deliberation, the Hat called out, “HUFFLEPUFF!” and Clara made her way to the Hufflepuff table, smiling shyly as her new housemates welcomed her.
Then it was Evan’s turn.
“Evan Holloway,” Professor McGonagall called, her voice echoing through the hall.
Evan’s stomach churned as he stepped forward. His palms were slick with sweat as he sat on the stool, and the moment the Hat was placed on his head, everything seemed to fall silent.
“Hmm…” the voice of the Sorting Hat murmured in his ear. “You’re an interesting one, aren’t you?”
Evan’s heart raced. What did that mean?
“I see… great intelligence, yes. A thirst for knowledge,” the Hat mused. “But also… something more. Something different.”
The pause stretched on, the Hat humming thoughtfully. Evan felt the eyes of the entire hall on him, and the longer it took, the more singled out he felt. What was the Hat seeing that was so different? Why wasn’t it choosing?
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Hat spoke again.
“RAVENCLAW!”
Evan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. As he walked to the Ravenclaw table, a smattering of applause greeted him, but his mind was still buzzing. What had the Hat meant by “something different”?
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The next morning brought Evan’s first taste of magical education. He had been both excited and nervous for Transfiguration, his first class, but the excitement quickly turned to confusion as he struggled to keep up with the incantations.
Professor McGonagall had given them the task of turning teapots into mice, but no matter how hard Evan concentrated, his teapot remained stubbornly unchanged. That was, until he mumbled the spell one last time—and with a loud pop, the teapot transformed into a bouncing, croaking toad.
The entire class erupted into laughter as the toad hopped wildly around the room, knocking over ink bottles and parchment.
“Mr. Holloway,” Professor McGonagall said, her stern expression softened slightly by amusement. “While I admire your enthusiasm, we were aiming for a mouse, not a toad.”
Evan flushed crimson, his embarrassment clear, but even he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of the teapot-turned-toad leaping around the room.
As the class settled down, and the toad was safely returned to its original form, Evan realized something important. His journey at Hogwarts wasn’t going to be easy. He would make mistakes, and he would stumble along the way. But for the first time in a long while, he felt like he belonged somewhere.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
The rest of Evan's first day at Hogwarts unfolded in a whirlwind of excitement, nerves, and the occasional misstep. After his humorous mishap in Transfiguration, the day didn’t slow down. Each new class introduced him to a part of the magical world that seemed more wondrous than the last.
As he hurried out of Transfiguration, still laughing a bit at the bouncing teapot-turned-toad, Evan found himself walking alongside Clara, who had been equally amazed by Professor McGonagall’s strict yet oddly compassionate teaching style.
“You did better than I thought you would, turning that teapot into anything,” Clara said with a shy smile. “I barely got mine to wobble.”
Evan grinned. “I guess I aimed a little too far. A mouse isn’t exactly the same as a toad.”
“No,” Clara replied, her eyes twinkling. “But at least it was alive.”
Just ahead of them, Leo was already bounding toward their next class—Charms. He turned back to the group, waving his arms wildly. “C’mon, slowpokes! I hear Flitwick is a blast! My brother told me he once charmed a whole stack of textbooks to do the Macarena.”
“Wait, the Macarena?” Evan asked, catching up to him.
“I’m serious!” Leo winked. “Now imagine what he’ll teach us. We’ll be dancing books and levitating chairs in no time!”
As they filed into the Charms classroom, Evan couldn’t help but be struck by how different it felt from Transfiguration. Whereas Professor McGonagall’s class had an air of disciplined intensity, Professor Flitwick’s was alive with bubbling excitement. The small, excitable professor stood atop a stack of books to reach the podium, his eyes twinkling with energy.
“Welcome, welcome!” Professor Flitwick called out, his voice cheerful and high-pitched. “Today, we’re starting with one of the most important spells you’ll learn: the Levitation Charm! Now, who here has heard of Wingardium Leviosa?”
The class murmured in recognition, and Flitwick beamed at them, clapping his hands together. “Excellent! Now, pair up! We’ll start by practicing on feathers.”
Evan found himself paired with Leo, who waggled his eyebrows as they were handed a delicate white feather. "Piece of cake, right?" Leo whispered, gripping his wand with a cocky smile.
They set their feather down between them, both eager to prove themselves. Evan waved his wand, concentrating hard as he carefully pronounced the incantation: “Wingardium Leviosa!”
Nothing happened. The feather didn’t budge.
Leo snorted. “Clearly, we’re not made for feathers.”
Evan, determined not to be outdone, took a deep breath and tried again, this time focusing more on the wand movement—an elegant swish and flick. “Wingardium Leviosa!”
The feather lifted—just slightly. It hovered an inch above the desk before dropping back down.
Leo gaped. “Whoa! You actually did it!”
Evan felt a surge of pride, his earlier Transfiguration embarrassment momentarily forgotten. “I think it was just luck. Try it again!”
But before Leo could attempt the spell, they were interrupted by a sharp voice from behind them.
“Well, well, well, look who’s showing off already,” a boy’s voice sneered. Evan turned to see a group of Ravenclaws standing behind them, watching with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. The boy in the center—tall, with dark hair and a smug expression—smirked at Evan.
“That’s Eamon Sinclair,” Clara whispered from the next table. “His family’s pureblood. Really competitive.”
“I wasn’t showing off,” Evan said quietly, but Eamon’s grin only widened.
“Sure you weren’t,” Eamon drawled, leaning forward. “First day and already trying to play teacher’s pet. Ravenclaw or not, don’t get too comfortable thinking you’ll be top of the class. My family’s been acing Hogwarts for generations.”
Leo, never one to back down from a challenge, shot Eamon a glare. “Maybe if you paid more attention to your own feather, you wouldn’t have time to worry about what Evan’s doing.”
Eamon’s eyes flickered to Leo, his smirk faltering for a split second. But before he could retort, Professor Flitwick bustled over, clapping his hands.
“Wonderful, wonderful!” he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling as he noticed Evan’s feather hovering. “Mr. Holloway! Excellent work for your first try!”
Eamon’s face darkened, but he didn’t say anything further. He returned to his group, muttering under his breath as they turned their backs on Evan and Leo. Clara gave Evan a small, sympathetic smile, but Leo leaned over with a smirk.
“Don’t mind him. People like that always think they’re better than everyone. You’ll show him.”
Evan smiled back, feeling a bit more reassured, though the encounter left him feeling uneasy. It wasn’t just Eamon’s arrogance that bothered him. There was something about the way the other Ravenclaws watched him, like they were sizing him up, testing him.
But before Evan could dwell on it, the lesson continued. By the end of the class, he had successfully levitated his feather several times, and the warm praise from Professor Flitwick had lightened his mood considerably.
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The next few days at Hogwarts were just as fast-paced and exhilarating. Potions with Professor Snape, though intimidating, had its own appeal. Snape had a quiet, dangerous presence that made even Leo keep his mouth shut—mostly. Despite the thick tension in the room, Evan found himself fascinated by the precision of potion-making, though his first attempt at brewing a simple Boil-Cure potion turned into a thick, lumpy sludge.
"Well, that’s definitely not a cure for anything," Leo had muttered, stirring his own cauldron with a scowl.
Snape had sneered as he passed their table, his dark eyes glinting. "Holloway, Foster… perhaps you’d like to reconsider your future careers as potion masters."
Evan blushed furiously, but Leo just grinned. “At least we didn’t blow up the dungeon.”
Charms, however, became Evan’s favorite class. Professor Flitwick’s enthusiasm was infectious, and after mastering the Levitation Charm, they moved on to unlocking spells, shield charms, and the Lumos spell, which lit up the tip of their wands like a flashlight.
Evan practiced relentlessly, fascinated by how easily the spells seemed to flow once he got the hang of the incantations. There was a strange comfort in the way magic responded to him, almost like it had been waiting all along.
But the more spells Evan mastered, the more he felt the pressure from his peers. It wasn’t just Eamon Sinclair who eyed him with jealousy. A few others in Ravenclaw, especially those from wizarding families, seemed to watch him warily, as though waiting for him to make a mistake. Even Clara, kind and quiet as she was, seemed to shrink a little whenever Evan received praise in class.
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One day during lunch in the Great Hall, Clara and Leo were talking about the upcoming flying lessons. Leo, who had grown up in a magical household, was practically buzzing with excitement.
"I bet I’ll be a natural on a broom," he said, his grin wide as ever. "Dad always told me that Foster blood was made for flying."
“I’ve never even been on a broom before,” Clara admitted, poking at her food. “I’m nervous I’ll fall off the second we start.”
Evan, who had been quiet, glanced at her. "You’ll be fine," he said reassuringly. "We’re all learning. And besides, I doubt they’ll let us fall to our doom on the first day."
Clara smiled softly, but before she could reply, a voice from the Ravenclaw table interrupted.
“Well, some of us are born with talent,” Eamon said, his voice loud enough for several nearby students to hear. He flicked his gaze to Evan. “Others just stumble into it.”
Leo, sensing another confrontation, opened his mouth to retort, but Evan held up a hand, stopping him.
"Let it go," Evan said quietly. He could feel the tension rising again, but he didn’t want to start any more drama.
Eamon’s smirk deepened. "That’s right, Holloway. You should learn your place. Just because you’ve picked up a few tricks doesn’t mean you’ll last here."
Evan felt the weight of the words sink in, but instead of responding, he turned back to his food. The truth was, Eamon’s words struck closer to home than he wanted to admit. He still felt out of place sometimes—like he didn’t belong in this world of magic. And though he was doing well in his classes, there was always that lingering doubt. Why had the Sorting Hat hesitated with him? Why had it said he was “different”?
He didn’t know. But what he did know was that Hogwarts had already started to feel like home—like a place where he could build something new.