ChronoLuna - Across realms

Chapter 12: The Hogwarts Express

The morning air was crisp with a soft bite of autumn, and the sky above King's Cross Station wore a misty veil. Luna held her father's hand tightly, her fingers cold despite the lingering warmth of summer.

The station was loud, mundane, crowded with people rushing for trains—yet Luna's gaze cut through the blur, resting on the barrier between platforms nine and ten. It pulsed faintly. Not with light, but with something else. A knowing.

Her mother knelt down beside her. "Remember what I told you, Luna. Calm heart, quiet steps. It listens to your intent."

With a silent nod, Luna stepped forward and vanished through the wall.

On the other side, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters bloomed with color and sound. The scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express stood proud, releasing gentle hisses of steam that curled like lazy snakes into the sky. Owls hooted, trunks clattered, and laughter wove between the smoke.

"Darling, your wand," her mother whispered gently, brushing Luna's cheek before adjusting the scarf around her neck. "You'll feel it more now. She's awake with you."

Luna nodded, fingers brushing the wand at her side. The moment she stepped closer to the train, her wand stirred—warm, pulsing faintly, like it knew where she was going. She stopped and looked at it.

The strand of hair inside—the one that had been hers, altered by rift-woven time and wrapped in living elder ash—glowed subtly, only visible when caught in just the right angle of light. Like memory held in wood.

Ollivander's words echoed again in her thoughts:

"This wand does not simply choose you, Miss Lovegood. It remembers you. Be mindful of what that means."

As Luna boarded, she passed a pair of red-headed boys laughing at a levitating rat with bat wings.

"Hey, Ginny! Don't let Mum see you throwing galleons at the rat again," one of them teased.

"I wasn't throwing anything!" a younger girl huffed back—Ginny, Luna recalled from village visits. A year younger, wild in spirit and fiercely protective of her things.

The twins—Fred and George, if she remembered correctly—had been at one of her birthdays once. They'd made the cakes explode into confetti. Her mother had been unimpressed. Her father had applauded.

Luna found a quiet compartment and slid the door closed behind her. She breathed slowly, watching the scenery shift as the train began to move.

Minutes passed before the door opened again. A round-faced boy with worried eyes peered in.

"Is it alright if I—oh, sorry—I was looking for my toad."

"You may look," Luna said softly. "He may be hiding under the seat. Toads like quiet corners."

The boy blinked. "Thanks. I'm Neville."

"Luna."

A silence passed between them—not uncomfortable, just simple. He didn't find the toad, but he smiled before leaving.

Moments later, another knock. A girl with thick hair and a determined face peeked inside.

"Sorry—everywhere's full. May I?"

Luna nodded, scooting closer to the window.

The girl entered, adjusting her sweater. "I'm Hermione Granger. First year. You?"

"Luna Lovegood."

Hermione eyed Luna's wand briefly. "That's an odd wand."

"It's made from something I grew. And something I lost."

Hermione blinked, then seemed unsure how to respond. "Oh… that's poetic. I read a lot about wandlore, but I don't think I've heard of that one before."

"You wouldn't," Luna said with a dreamy smile. "Neither have I."

Outside, the world blurred past—meadows, rivers, hills. Magic hummed faintly in the air. Her wand pulsed gently, as if aware of the future pulling her toward it.

Somewhere ahead, Hogwarts waited.

Part 2: Arrival at Hogwarts.

The sky had shifted to a deep indigo when the train began to slow, and the occasional lantern flickered to life outside the windows. The carriage dimmed, and Hermione fumbled for her book as the lights fluttered.

"We're nearly there," she murmured, pushing her hair behind her ear.

Luna sat still, her eyes fixed outside, watching the faint glow on the horizon. Her wand, resting beside her, vibrated once—softly, like a breath taken. She glanced down. The golden thread within shimmered and curled slowly like it was reaching forward.

"I think she likes the place," Luna whispered, not to Hermione, but to the wand.

Hermione looked up, puzzled, then followed Luna's gaze. "Oh… is that Hogwarts?"

Before them rose the silhouette of the castle. It wasn't just grand—it felt old, as if it had stood not just for centuries but in the dreams of the earth itself. Towers pierced the clouds like spears. Windows gleamed like stars trapped in stone.

The train squealed to a stop, and the doors clattered open.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" a booming voice called. A huge figure stood near the edge of the platform with a lamp. "C'mon now, no dawdlin'!"

"Is that a giant?" Hermione gasped.

"Half," Luna corrected softly. "Gentle one."

The figure was, of course, Rubeus Hagrid. Luna had seen him once before, from afar, when he visited her mother to inquire about rare magical plant cuttings for the grounds. He hadn't remembered her name, but he had gifted her a pouch of gillyroot.

"Firs' years! This way! Mind yer step now."

Luna followed the crowd of children—some nervous, some wide-eyed. The scent of the lake hit her first: cool, fresh, with a tinge of kelp and old stories.

They gathered at the edge of the Black Lake. Dozens of small boats bobbed in place.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid bellowed.

Luna stepped into one silently. Hermione joined her again, and then two boys Luna vaguely remembered from earlier: one quiet and dark-haired, the other with a faint lightning scar on his forehead.

The boat lurched forward.

No paddles. Just movement. Magic.

They floated across the lake in silence, the castle growing ever larger. Reflections of the turrets danced on the dark water.

A soft breeze picked up, and Luna's hair fluttered gently. Her wand pulsed again—three times, almost like a heartbeat syncing with the land. She blinked, not surprised.

"This is where the threads begin," she whispered.

Hermione tilted her head. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Luna replied.

But the wand glowed faintly again, resting across her knees. The dream that had carried her for years stirred quietly within.

When the boats reached the far shore, they stepped out onto cold stones. The castle loomed ahead, grand and watchful.

As they walked into the entrance hall, Luna felt the weight of time settle around her shoulders—not heavy, but ancient, like the deep hush of a forest after snowfall.

The Sorting awaited.