Clang! Ouch...
As Mrs. Weasley directed the children to line up and enter Platform 9, a loud noise resounded ahead, accompanied by a man's faint groan of pain.
Curious, Mrs. Weasley turned around and saw the man who had previously been clutching his swollen forehead, slowly rising from the ground. He was feeling along the sturdy brick wall at the intersection between Platforms 9 and 10, a mix of anxiety and confusion in his eyes.
At the station, curious passersby halted, observing the peculiar behavior of the man and murmuring among themselves.
Meanwhile, two security-guarded men nearby were quick to notice the commotion. They unfastened their batons in a peculiar manner and started making their way through the crowd towards the scene.
"Mom, what do we do now?"
The eldest red-haired boy, Percy, halted, turning to seek his mother's advice. Clearly, with so many Muggles watching, they couldn't simply proceed as planned, passing through the platform one by one to reach Platform 9.
Realizing she had unwittingly caused confusion for Benedictus, who came from a Muggle family, Mrs. Weasley swiftly instructed Percy to wait with his siblings while she assisted the troubled man.
Glancing at the two Ministry workers dressed in Muggle attire, Mrs. Weasley furrowed her brow, striding forward briskly.
Given her husband Arthur Weasley's occupation, she was well aware of the Ministry's emergency protocols—using Memory Charms alongside Muggle Repelling Charms, a simple yet effective solution.
However, unless handled by a master of Memory Charms, most wizards couldn't precisely control the scope of memories they erased.
Meaning, the man was highly likely to lose those valuable memories forever.
"Excuse me, please... Sorry, let me handle this."
Before the two Ministry workers reached them, Mrs. Weasley squeezed through the crowd, brandishing a small wooden stick in front of the "guards" while pulling Benedictus away from the platform wall.
"I'm Molly Weasley, my husband Arthur Weasley works in the Ministry too. We're here today to send the children off to school, just like you, right?"
Mrs. Weasley quickly explained, gesturing towards the "guards" behind her, signaling them to take notice.
Turning to glance at the boys with cat cages on their trolleys and the surrounding onlookers, the two "guards" exchanged glances, nodded, retracted their batons, and holstered them.
"Thank you for your help. Don't worry, we'll sort this out quickly without disrupting the children's journey to school."
With that, the two turned around, dispersing the onlookers like regular guards and allowing the stalled flow of people to resume.
"Sorry, sir, I must apologize to you. I didn't expect..."
Mrs. Weasley pulled Benedictus aside, expressing her sincere apologies before he could speak, genuinely regretful for her inadvertent actions.
"No need to apologize, I should have anticipated this. In such crowded places, without this setup, it would've been chaos. I'm just worried about little Elena."
Benedictus shook his head dismissively, a tinge of bitterness slipping across his lips.
Having had a slight encounter with the magical world, he had already figured out, upon Mrs. Weasley's appearance, that the invisible "door" was clearly exclusive to wizards.
"Madam, you're a witch, right? Can I ask a small favor? If you happen to see Elena, um, the silver-haired girl, could you perhaps help keep an eye on her? I'm concerned her luggage might be too heavy."
Benedictus paused, earnestly addressing the short, plump witch before him, a hint of pleading in his voice. As an ordinary person, this was the most he could do.
A wall apart, an insurmountable divide.
"Don't worry."
Mrs. Weasley gazed at the man, responding gently as she waved to the children behind her.
"Percy, George, Fred... Once you reach the platform, don't rush into chatting with classmates. Help this gentleman's daughter find her seat first, alright?"
"Sure thing, Mom."
"No problem, maybe she's a new student in our house."
"Definitely not Slytherin."
In response to their mother's instructions, the three boys eagerly nodded, readily agreeing without hesitation.
Smiling, Mrs. Weasley was about to give a few more instructions when a timid voice from a shy little boy interrupted her.
"Sorry..."
Mrs. Molly Weasley turned, the speaker being a bespectacled, black-haired boy.
The boy was also pushing a large trolley, and in the cage atop the trolley, a magnificent snowy owl curiously surveyed its surroundings.
Another lost young wizard.
"Oh, dear," Mrs. Weasley smiled gently, understandingly, "It's your first time heading to Hogwarts, isn't it?"
Meanwhile, elsewhere...
King's Cross Station, Platform 9.
Elena, pushing her trolley, gazed up at the scene before her, marveling.
"I never thought I'd see a steam train in London. Perhaps this is the last operational one in the whole of Britain? Though most likely modified by magic."
On the platform, steam billowed from the locomotive, mingling with the chattering crowd. Cats of various colors weaved through people's legs.
Amidst the buzz of conversation and the clamor of hauling heavy luggage, the owls screeched, responding to their owners.
A deep crimson steam engine was parked beside the bustling platform.
Emblazoned prominently on its front was "Hogwarts Express, departing at eleven o'clock sharp."
In theory, excluding the illegal flying car owned by Arthur Weasley's family, this was one of the few successful instances of large-scale magical machinery in the wizarding world—a rare example.
However, as the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution, Britain had already entered the era of internal combustion engines in 1952. By merely looking at its bright red exterior, it was hard to fathom that this was a fifty-year-old vehicle still in operation.
Even this Hogwarts Express had gone through two terms of Ministers for Magic, including the casting of 167 Memory Charms and the largest-ever application of Concealment Charms in British history, to smoothly exist on the track between King's Cross Station and Hogsmeade Village.
According to the records in "A History of Magic," Elena could clearly sense that after 1945, with the rapid advancement of the non-magical world, technological innovation in the magical realm had stagnated.
"It seems that if we want to make any significant changes, we must first figure out what happened back then."
Elena absentmindedly twirled a strand of her silver hair around her finger in contemplation.
If it were merely due to the 1692 International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, the magical world's technological innovation shouldn't have stalled so severely. There must have been deeper reasons following that.
Before delving into the hidden undercurrents, Elena wasn't keen on initiating an industrial revolution in the wizarding world, especially considering the fate of the last person who attempted such a feat, now imprisoned in Nurmengard's tower.
"But that's a concern for later. Now, there's a more pressing issue."
Standing near the rear car of the Hogwarts Express, Elena looked helplessly at the two massive black trunks on her trolley—she simply couldn't lift those beasts.
Undoubtedly, Benedictus had employed every possible means to stuff these two large trunks, leaving almost no space, making them incredibly heavy.
Somehow, a phrase popped into Elena's mind: a father's love.
She couldn't. Move. Them. At. All!
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