Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up to Platform 9¾ on time for once.

Gigi here — yes, that Gigi. Nagini if you're feeling formal, which nobody is. Before we get into all the emotional reunions, questionable outfit choices, and the inevitable compartment politics, let me make one thing clear: I already know how this year is going to go. Not because I have a prophecy. Because I've watched this lot for seven years now.

Anyway. September 1st. King's Cross. The Hogwarts Express sits there like a giant red promise of another year of hormonal chaos disguised as education.

The platform was a mess, obviously. Steam everywhere, owls shrieking, first-years looking like deer caught in Lumos. Parents were doing that thing where they try not to cry while their kids pretend not to know them. Somewhere near the back, a third-year's trunk had burst open and a small army of enchanted socks was making a break for it.

The usual suspects were already in fine form.

Pansy Parkinson had cornered Daphne Greengrass near the luggage rack, already mid-sentence about something that required aggressive hand gestures and a level of urgency usually reserved for actual emergencies.

A few feet away, Lorenzo Berkshire was helping a flustered first-year reunite with a runaway toad. He looked genuinely delighted about it, which was typical. The boy could find joy in a wall if it smiled at him.

Over by the train doors, Ron Weasley was loudly arguing with Hermione about whether he'd packed enough sandwiches, while Harry stood slightly apart, pretending to be very interested in the engine.

The platform was packed, loud, and already exhausting. And the train hadn't even left yet.

A whistle shrieked somewhere down the platform. Five minutes.