Member-only story
If You Imagine Being Inspired, The Feeling Will Still Be Real
Our heroes may not exist, but the emotions they spark in us do
Harry is at King’s Cross station. Back where it all began. Hogwarts. Hermione. Ron. Magic. It all started here.
But now, everything is white. The floor, the columns, the benches. Even the barely conceivable ceiling, which is so flooded with light, it’s hard to tell structure from illusion.
The place is so much…cleaner. No tracks, no trains, no litter. Not even a speck of grey on the walls. It’s all, just, bright. Illuminated.
The train station has been transformed. From a place of uncertainty and adventure into some kind of shelter. A refuge to find clarity in.
On one of the benches sits Dumbledore. Smiling. Waiting. One last conversation. A few final pieces of advice to share.
Harry knows what’s about to happen is important. But he can also sense this isn’t his final destination. He asks Dumbledore:
“I have to go back, haven’t I?”
“Oh, that’s up to you.”
“I have a choice?”
“Oh yeah. We’re in King’s Cross, you say. I think if you so desired, you’d be able to board a train.”
