A bustling station, the scorching steam billowing from the locomotives, passengers waiting for their trains, and friends and family embracing to say goodbye. Of course, there were also wizards stepping through solid walls, alchemical artifacts brimming with magical power, and the platform sign bearing the wondrous designation of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
A white-haired girl quietly appeared amid the crowd. Such a unique hair color made her stand out sharply against the sea of dark heads, yet the people moving past—whether in a rush or at a leisurely pace—all naturally veered around the spot where she stood, as if they could not see her, yet felt an instinctive awe.
The girl stood still amidst the crowd. She opened her eyes, her silver pupils clear and unblemished, untouched by the dust and clutter of time. The corners of her lips curved into a faint, fleeting smile, like spring sunlight washing over the entire world. Her chest rose and fell slightly as she raised her chin to look up toward the upper levels of the station, her gaze seeming to reach far away.
The brilliant, soft sunlight spilled across the girl's face, making the serene girl look like a holy angel about to be baptized. Suddenly, a vein bulged at her temple, her pure smile twisted in frustration, and a slender middle finger shot high into the air. The girl took a deep breath, and then—
"You motherf@**#&!&**, if it weren't for you****@3#%!*. You giant pair of baggy pants***, ***! Merlin your**#@!***"
The people around the girl snapped out of a trance and turned toward the source of the voice. They were momentarily dazed by the girl's beauty, only to freeze entirely once they made out her foul-mouthed tirade. A woman holding a young child pulled the child tightly against her and covered the little one's ears.
Amid this bizarre and terrifying atmosphere, the girl showed no sign of stopping her floral display until a hand rested on her shoulder. The girl, interrupted mid-rant, clicked her tongue and irritably turned to face the newcomer.
A man in a police uniform offered her a smile, trying his best to look friendly. "Little one, perhaps you don't understand what you're saying, but this isn't right."
The girl started violently, the words she was preparing to spew out a second time cutting off abruptly. In less than the blink of an eye, her expression reverted to its initial serene and lovely state, and she looked up at the officer—who towered a whole head taller than her—with a look of lingering confusion and innocence.
"But an uncle over there taught me to say that. Did I do something wrong..." She wiped away a nonexistent tear and casually pointed in a direction behind the officer.
Seeing the girl's pitiful appearance, the man immediately dropped his stern attitude and looked in the direction she was pointing.
"Was it that person? Is he family? How could he do that, that's just going too far! Little one, you..."
When he turned back around, the girl was gone. From the crowded ahead came the sound of the girl's mocking laughter.
Around eleven years old, the girl darted nimbly through the crowd. The louder the man's shouts of pursuit and exasperated curses grew, the louder her mischievous laughter became.
The girl soon spotted an uncrowded platform wall. The utterly ordinary wall faintly radiated a magical halo. Her eyes lit up, and she spun around to make a funny face at the officer's position.
"Hahaha, too much fun! You single-digit-IQ morons, see ya—ouch..."
The wall that should have been passable delivered a solid, square blow right to the girl's face, knocking her dizzy and leaving her seeing stars. Once she recovered her wits, a shadow loomed over her.
The man bent down and offered the girl a kindly, yet sinister, smile.
"What?! A young witch about to start school tonight was detained at the train station by Muggle police? Are you joking, Albus..."
In the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall, clad in deep green wizard's robes, stared in disbelief at the elderly man seated in the headmaster's chair.
The old man gave a helpless shrug, removed his half-moon spectacles, and lifted his gaze from the piece of parchment in his hand.
"Yes, it is indeed hard to believe. She actually yelled at—well, reduced a man in his forties to tears, or else the subsequent five officers wouldn't have kept her detained there."
"What?!" McGonagall's eyes widened as she shook her head repeatedly. "This is no time for jokes, Albus."
The old man pressed his lips together and looked away, seeming to dodge the impending wrath of Professor McGonagall.
"There is still time. Leave the rest to me, Minerva. Go ahead and fetch her; Alastor will send his students to handle any other complications, and I will arrange the young witch's Sorting Ceremony."
Professor McGonagall lowered her gaze and let out a sigh. With Dumbledore being this calm, it probably wasn't a major crisis.
"Very well, I will bring her back as soon as possible. Her parents... it seems I need to have a serious talk with them."
Dumbledore had already stood up and walked down the steps. He let out an "ah" of sudden realization, then pulled the door open and left, dropping a final sentence to McGonagall:
"Her parents, it seems, passed away long ago."
Inside the guard booth at London's King's Cross Station, the sounds of sobbing and nose-blowing echoed intermittently. McGonagall, who had Apparitioned to the spot, wore a sorrowful expression. According to Dumbledore, the child's parents were both dead, leaving her to fend for herself. Her unruly personality wasn't malice, but a shield to protect herself.
McGonagall's mind had already conjured an image of a ragged child crying helplessly on the street corner.
"Don't worry, child. Hogwarts will warm every witch and wizard."
Using Transfiguration, she changed into a set of Muggle clothes and pushed open the door to the guard booth.
"I really love her, you understand... sob, but you know what she said to me? She told me... she told me... she was going to take a bath! All I wanted was a simple, pure love between us.... All she thinks about is my body!"
"My father died yesterday, why did it have to be him... His health was always so good, and early this morning he even made plans with me to go fishing this weekend... I miss him so much, why is the world treating me like this, it's too cruel!"
"Of course I know this profession is just a waste of time, but do I have a choice? Am I thrilled to wake up early every single day and come to this dump with zero passion... They call it being an officer, but let's be honest, aren't I just a glorified security guard? My future is pitch black, and every morning I wonder whether I should just end it all. This meager pay can't even cover—sob..."
Four or five police officers were squatting around a young girl, weeping bitterly and pouring their hearts out to her as if she were a dearest confidante. The girl at the center of it all looked calmly at each of them. She offered a gentle smile and lightly stroked the shoulder of the officer nearest to her.
"Mike, your troubles are never going to be heard by the gods, but this too shall pass. Think about it, that crush of yours isn't just some shallow person who only cares about your looks; didn't she mention wanting to go out to dinner with her cousin when you asked her to the movies? Put that way, isn't she actually quite filial?"
With that, she patted the shoulder of the weeping woman next to her with a look of pity. "Oh, poor Linda, I understand the grief your father's death has brought you. But things happen for a reason; you can't blame the heavens just because he died. You certainly don't know the truth, so I forgive your ignorance. Actually, your father was driven to death by anger—he's still rolling in his grave cursing you for the blonde layabout you brought home. If he hadn't checked out early, he would have used his fishing rod to toss you and your boyfriend into the lake to feed the fish on that fishing trip."
The crying inside the guard booth grew even louder.
The girl cast a sympathetic look toward another officer, whose face was contorted in pain and despair. The corners of her mouth kept creeping upward, brimming with an undisguised, playful mockery as she reached out a hand.
"Oh, you foolish man... Officer Jack, you resent the world because of your career confusion, you resent yourself—such foolishness... Not only is your career outlook bleak, but your life... tsk tsk, it's enough to make me weep. Considering you dragged me all the way here, I'll do you a favor and give you the most dignified departure possible. I'll make it easier for you."
Officer Jack's crying abruptly stopped. He stared at the hand extended toward him, his agonized expression gradually smoothing out as he let out a dazed, giddy chuckle. His tear-filled eyes were suddenly burning with fanatical devotion. He dropped to his knees and clasped the girl's hands.
"Oh, dear God... I knew it, I knew I shouldn't be living like this. To hell with God—you are the true deity who can save me!"
"Playing the god who saves the common folk... haha... endlessly fascinating."
Officer Jack's hands were held by the girl, and a magical voice blending holiness and chaos echoed inside the man's mind:
"No, child. I am merely a follower of the deity. He is the supreme entity who rescues the multitudes from suffering. Remember his name: Merlin."