Chapter 60: Farewell
The next morning, Wade was awakened by his father earlier than the alarm clock had scheduled—by an entire hour.
"It snowed last night, Wade," Ferdinand said, his breath still carrying a chill. "Hurry up. We need to leave early today."
Wade sat up from under the covers, raking a hand through his messy hair, then pulled back the curtain. Snowdrifts piled up to about two inches thick on the windowsill, and the yard was blanketed in white. Around the car were footprints—Ferdinand’s marks from clearing the snow that morning.
Wade dressed quickly, descended for breakfast, and heard his parents arguing in the kitchen.
"Listen, my love, it’s too cold today. There’s no need for all of us to go to the station. I can take Wade myself—"
"But I want to see him off. He won’t be back for half a year this time—"
They went back and forth for a while, but in the end, Ferdinand held firm. Fiona stayed home. He was usually completely indulgent toward her, but when he made a decision, nothing could sway him.
When they emerged from the kitchen, Wade acted as though he hadn’t heard anything.
After breakfast, he asked, "Mom, could you please look after Miss Eva for me? We can wait until the weather clears before letting her fly to Hogwarts."
"Of course!" Fiona beamed. "I’ll make her owl food myself. And General Bard’s rations are nearly gone—plus Millyen probably needs to lose a little weight. That exercise wheel you bought her got chewed up already—"
Millyen was Fiona’s pet hamster—shy and low-maintenance, rarely needing much attention. Seeing her shift focus from the emotional weight of the farewell to the practical care of their pets, Ferdinand exhaled in relief.
They finished breakfast quickly. Ferdinand lifted Wade’s large suitcase and stuffed it into the trunk.
"Bye, Mom," Wade said before getting into the car, turning to wave. Fiona stood at the door, waving vigorously.
The car began to pull away.
As Ferdinand had predicted, the snow made the roads treacherous, and traffic crawled. Even so, accidents happened. Two cars had collided by the roadside, scattered parts scattered across the snow like broken toys.
Inside the car, silence hung heavy. Wade stared out the window when suddenly, a gray car seemed to materialize beside them—emerging from thin air.
"Whoa!" Wade gasped.
"What’s wrong?" Ferdinand glanced at the rearview mirror, catching the shock in his son’s face.
"Nothing... I just thought I saw a car rear-end us," Wade said, blinking.
"Happens all the time," Ferdinand replied, eyes fixed ahead, cautious. "You can’t be too careful on a day like this."
The gray car stayed alongside them for a few minutes, then vanished from view. When Wade spotted it again, it had just barely caught up to the car ahead, speeding through an intersection just as the light turned red.
No one else seemed to notice—the pedestrians, the drivers, not even Ferdinand.
If a Muggle could see that, Wade thought, they’d think it was a ghost story.
The slow-moving car finally reached King’s Cross Station, with minutes to spare before the train’s departure. Ferdinand carried the suitcase out, loaded it onto a trolley, and pushed it all the way to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
At that point, Ferdinand’s pace slowed, then stopped altogether.
Wade reached for his hand.
"Come on, Dad," he said. "Let’s go in together."
Ferdinand gave a wry smile. "I can’t, Wade. I’m not a wizard—I can’t—"
"You can," Wade interrupted. "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters has no magical restrictions. A Muggle can walk through it. It’s just that the Ministry of Magic has placed a spell on it—most Muggles simply don’t notice."
"So... I...?" Ferdinand took a deep breath, staring at the brick wall as if it were some monstrous creature. "I can... actually go through this platform?"
"Yes. Come on," Wade said, pulling him forward.
Ferdinand tensed. As they neared the wall, he flinched, squeezing his eyes shut—then nothing happened.
But suddenly, the world erupted into noise.
A deep red train stood at the platform, its doors open. Students in Hogwarts robes leaned out the windows, waving goodbye to their parents. The platform teemed with people—children sprinting, hugging parents, others clinging desperately. Cats wandered freely between feet. Cages held owls, turning their heads curiously. Older students gathered in groups, already arguing over holiday assignments. A boy struggled to escape his mother’s embrace, protesting, "Stop kissing me, Mom—I’m not a child anymore!"
"Did you pack your Book of Friends?" a stern old woman asked her grandson. "Don’t lose it. Remember to contact every day."
The boy nodded obediently. "Yes, Grandma."
"Can I get another Book of Friends, Dad?" a girl tugged at her father’s arm. "I’ve made so many friends at school. My little sister hasn’t started yet—maybe you can get her one later?"
"No way!" a younger girl jumped up and down. "It’s mine—don’t even think about it!"
Looking around, Wade saw that at least one in every three people was talking about their Book of Friends. Some had already pulled out paper and were writing messages—deep in the “chat” game. Others checked their Books every few minutes, eager to reply. Some even clipped portable pens into their pockets or behind their ears, just to stay ready.
Ferdinand stared, mesmerized.
Nine and Three-Quarters wasn’t like Diagon Alley. This was the place where his childhood dreams of magic had begun. And yet, it had always kept him out. He had imagined this journey a hundred times as a boy—only to finally step through it at thirty-two.
After a long silence, Ferdinand turned away, voice quiet, trembling slightly. "Let’s go, Wade. Let’s find you a compartment."
They walked along the platform and found an empty one. Wade stowed his suitcase, then stepped out to say goodbye.
"Wade..." Ferdinand placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, wanting to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come.
Tell him to study hard? Wade already worked harder than anyone.
Tell him to make good friends? That was something Ferdinand had said a hundred times already.
Tell him we’ll always be there for him, no matter what? But he knew, deep down, that when it came to magic, he and Fiona were helpless. If Wade ever needed help, all they could offer was shared pain—no real solution.
After a long pause, Ferdinand’s hand tightened slightly.
"We’re so proud of you, Wade. No matter what challenges come your way, don’t be afraid. Don’t hold back. And if you’re ever in trouble—always go to a teacher. Do you understand?"
Wade nodded, meeting his father’s eyes. "Dad... you didn’t really want me to come to Hogwarts, did you? Why didn’t you stop me?"
"...I couldn’t, Wade," Ferdinand said, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "I wanted to. More than anything. But I’ve heard... if a young wizard can’t learn to control their magic, it can give rise to a dark force—called a Silent Shadow. It consumes the wizard... and then everything around them."
So he could only stand there, filled with dread, watching his son walk into what he saw as a slaughterhouse disguised as a school.
He couldn’t stop it.
He wouldn’t.
(End of Chapter)
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