Chapter Text
Steve took a deep breath, trying to calm his jitters. "C'mon, Rogers," he told himself. "It's just another school. You got this."
"Steve, honey, you have your inhaler, right?"
"Yeah, Mum." Steve rummaged around in his bag and pulled out the medical contraption to show his mother.
"And you'll write to me every week, right?"
"I don't know about every week, Mum, that's a lot. I'll be busy, you know. Learning magic."
Sarah Rogers chuckled and reached over into the car's passenger seat to ruffle her son's blond hair. "Just don't forget about me, Stevie."
"You know I won't."
As Sarah pulled into a parking space at King's Cross, Steve nervously fiddled with the ratty ends of his t-shirt. "You gonna help me get this heavy thing outta the back or what?"
"Sorry, Mum." Steve unbuckled his seatbelt and slowly made his way out of the car. His mother had popped open the back hatch and was struggling with the heavy trunk Steve had been told to bring. The two struggled with the trunk until it was fully out of the car. Sarah slammed the hatch closed and grinned at her son.
"Ready?"
"Of course," Steve lied. "It'll be fun."
The mother and son worked together to place all of Steve's school items onto a trolley, and then began their walk to the correct platform.
"What's the ticket say again, Steve?" Sarah asked as they manoeuvred the trolley through the horde of people.
Steve pulled the ticket that had arrived with his school letter and reread it. "First of September, eleven in the morning, Platform Nine and Three Quarters."
"Nine and Three Quarters?" Sarah asked sceptically. "Are you sure?"
"Read it for yourself," Steve said, holding out the ticket.
Sarah examined it for a moment and shrugged. "I've never heard of a platform being a fraction. Maybe it's one of those secret magic things you get to be a part of now."
" Mum! " Steve whispered sharply, looking around at the hundreds of people around them. "Be quiet!"
Sarah chuckled a bit and put a hand on her son's shoulder. "Come on. Let's go over by platforms nine and ten to see if there's anyone who can help us."
Steve nodded silently and followed behind her, clutching the shoulder strap of his satchel tightly. His sketchbook and pencils jostled around within the leather bag, but Steve didn't bother fixing them, for fear of losing his mother in the busy crowd.
Once they'd reached the sign announcing Platform Nine, Sarah and Steve came to a stop and rested the trolley against the bricks. "Any idea what we're supposed to-"
Sarah's words were cut off by a kid about Steve's age running into her.
"I'm sorry!" the kid cried, giving Steve's mother an apologetic look. "I just need to get to this… erm… platform."
"You just ran into her!" Steve said, his temper flaring.
"Yeah, I know, I'm really sorry about that!" The other kid's eyes did have a flash of sincerity in them, but Steve didn't have a chance to see it further, for the boy's arm was snatched fiercely by an older man.
"Tony!" the man scolded, pulling the boy away from Steve and Sarah. "I'm terribly sorry," he told the Rogerses politely, his tone not at all matching the way he clenched his fingers around his son's arm.
"But Dad!" the boy protested, motioning to the brick wall vehemently. "What about Platform Nine and Three-"
"Tony!" the father hissed again, ignoring Steve and Sarah's shared excited look. "What have I told you about saying things in front of Muggles?"
"But he's not a Muggle, dad! I mean, look at him!"
The father shot a look at Steve, then his school trunk, then the wooden stick inconspicuously sticking out of his satchel.
"I suppose not," the father finally admitted. His grip on the boy loosened as he looked back down at him. "Well, Tony, your mother and I will meet you back here in June." And then, without even a goodbye, he walked away from his son.
The boy watched his father's retreating back for a moment, then turned to face Steve. "You're Muggle-born, right?" Without waiting for Steve's response, he continued. "I figured. Sorry 'bout running into you, by the way. You're probably wondering how to get to the platform? Yeah, just follow me." He walked up to the brick wall behind Steve and Sarah, then, without any hesitation, pushed his own trolley right into it.
Steve grimaced for a second, expecting a loud crash, but it did not come. Instead, the boy walked straight through the wall. Steve gaped for a moment and looked up at Sarah, who appeared even more awed then he did. "Am I… supposed to do that too?" Steve asked.
"I think so."
"Oh. Well, then, I guess… I guess I will." He took a step towards the brick wall (which, in his opinion, looked incredibly solid and not walk-through-able), but quickly turned around to give his mother one last hug. "I'll write as often as I can," he promised.
"Have fun," Sarah said, ruffling his hair for the second time that morning. "I love you."
"Love you too," Steve muttered back. He embraced his mother for a few more moments before taking a deep breath and slowly pushing his trolley towards the wall. The moment the front of the trolley touched the brick, Steve wrenched his eyes shut, anticipating a jolting crash. But none came. Instead, Steve watched in amazement as the trolley was swallowed up by the seemingly solid brick wall. He cast one last look over his shoulder at his mother, took a deep breath, and stepped through.
~~~~~
The platform was crazy. People were running every which way, students were chattering to friends about what they’d done over the summer, parents were tearfully wishing their children goodbye. Steve felt the chaos of the setting wash over him, and his breath caught in his throat. He quickly reached for his inhaler before realising… this breathlessness had nothing to do with his asthma– or any of his other sicknesses, for that matter. The young boy was simply taken aback at how many people there were… how many people were just like him.
Steve grinned to himself as he continued to push his trolley through the sea of people. Around him, he heard little snippets of conversations:
“Diagon Alley was bursting yesterday, all of those late shoppers!”
“Can you believe those burglars at Deverish & Banges wanted a dozen Galleons for
this
?”
“I wanted to bring my cat to Hogwarts this year, but my mum said I couldn’t, since Nicola is
allergic.”
“Merlin, I can’t wait for the snack trolley, I’m famished.”
It took Steve quite a bit to push through the crowd and finally reach the train. With everyone jostling around him, the boy found it incredibly difficult to lift his heavy trunk off of his trolley. He struggled with the luggage for a few moments, but found himself too weak to lift it on his own. Cursing under his breath, Steve looked around for a less-crowded spot for him to unload his things. Unfortunately, it appeared that every train compartment was occupied by a swarm of people. Steve, at only 163 centimetres tall, was shorter than nearly everyone around him, which made it incredibly difficult to scout out a good place.
Just as Steve was about to have another go at trying to lift his trunk, someone came up behind him and set their hand on the luggage.
“Need a hand?”
The boy who spoke was taller than Steve (though that wasn’t saying much), with dark brown hair and kind blue eyes.
“No,” Steve lied, turning away from the boy. “I don’t need your help.” He wrapped his arms around the trunk once more and grimaced as he tried to lift it. “See?” he said, his voice strained as he lifted the box a couple inches off the trolley. “I’m perfectly fi-” The trunk slipped from his weak grip and clattered down to the ground.
The other boy just grinned at Steve, bent down, and picked up his luggage with ease. “C’mon, you can sit with me.”
Steve begrudgingly followed him, narrowing his eyes angrily at anyone who dared laugh at his struggle.
“I’m Bucky by the way,” the boy carrying Steve’s trunk said, pushing through the people to find an open compartment.
“Steve.” Once the two had found an empty compartment and dumped their trunks onto the luggage racks, they sat down.
“Nice to meet ya, Steve.” Bucky stuck out his hand and Steve shook it hesitantly. “I’m guessing you’re a first year?”
“Yeah,” Steve said. “You?”
“Same. though I know all about Hogwarts. My mum went there. My dad’s a Muggle though.” He offered Steve another friendly smile.
“My parents are both non-magical… er, Muggles.” Steve shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m here.”
“Muggleborns are cool!” Bucky exclaimed. “It’s like magic is a dormant gene in everyone and it only awakens for certain people!”
“Er… yeah. That’s one way to say it.” Steve wrung his hands together as he heard the train whistle blow. “Do you know about how long this train ride is?”
“Oh, my mum says it’s quite lengthy. That’s why I brought a book.” Bucky tapped the cover of The Hobbit with his finger. “It’s a Muggle one, but it’s one of my favourites.”
Steve nodded, though he had never read the book in question. “I- I have a sketchbook.”
Bucky’s blue eyes widened. “You like drawing? That’s cool! I was never any good at it.”
“I’m… decent, I suppose,” Steve said modestly, pulling his sketchbook and pencils out of his satchel. “Maybe I’ll sketch the view from the window.”
Bucky nodded enthusiastically, twirling a wooden stick between his fingers.
“Is that…?” Steve gestured to the stick in excitement.
“My wand?” Bucky asked. “Yep. Eleven and a half inches, applewood. Just got it from Olivanders a week ago.”
Steve grinned, pulling his own wand from his art satchel. “Mine’s ebony, ten and one quarter inches. It’s so cool.”
The train whistle blew again, this time followed by a lurch forward. Steve’s heart fluttered with excitement. They were on their way.
~~~~
“Anything from the trolley, dears?”
Steve’s hand drifted down to his money pouch, which was saddeningly empty. “No, thank you-”
“We’ll take one of each, thanks.” Bucky winked at Steve and passed the trolley witch a handful of coins. As the trolley witch gave his new friend the treats he had paid for, Steve couldn’t help but stare. The sweets he was expecting– peanut brittle or lemon sherbets– weren’t amongst the mountain of delicacies Bucky had purchased.
Once the trolley witch slid their compartment door shut, Steve turned with wide eyes towards his new friend. “What are those?”
“These?” Bucky asked, holding up the box Steve had pointed at. “Chocolate frogs.”
“Chocolate… frogs?”
Bucky tossed the box to Steve, who tentatively unwrapped it. Sure enough, there was a large chocolate candy sitting there, shaped like a frog. Hesitantly, Steve picked it up and took a bite. “Hey…” he said, upon seeing something else in the candy box. “What’s this?”
“Oh!” Bucky glanced at the object in his hand. “You got Artemisia Lufkin! I’ve got three of her at home. Shame, if you’d have gotten Bertie Bott, I might’ve had to take it from you.” He chuckled, leaning back into his seat and biting the leg off another chocolate frog. “Those are collectable, by the way. Anyways, speaking of Bertie Bott, you’ve gotta do the challenge with me.”
“Challenge?” Steve asked, tucking the Artemisia Lufkin card into his satchel.
“Yeah, the Bertie Bott challenge! Here look.” Bucky picked up another candy package and held it up. “You and I both reach into the box and take one out. We eat it at the same time, and whoever reacts the least wins!”
Steve laughed. “Aren’t they all good flavours?”
Now it was Bucky’s turn to guffaw. “You’re joking right? No, Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans are literally every flavour. The grossest one I’ve gotten was Puffeskein food.”
Even though he had no idea what a Puffeskein was, Steve scrunched his nose in disgust. “Alright.” He reached for the box and grabbed the first bean his fingers touched.
“Best of luck,” Bucky told him, grabbing his own bean.
The two boys looked at each other, then popped their respective candies into their mouths. Instantly, Bucky’s face screwed up in a state of obvious revulsion. Steve chewed lightly on the small candy in his mouth. The sweet, tangy flavour of maple filled his mouth and the boy grinned jovially at his new friend. Poor Bucky had obviously not gotten off as easy as Steve had, and was struggling not to gag on whatever flavour he had in his mouth.
“What’d you get?” Steve asked, happily swallowing the rest of his candy.
Bucky spat out his golden-brown bean into a napkin. “Earwax.”
Steve couldn’t help himself… he snorted with laughter, and was soon doubled over, clutching his stomach as he wheezed.
Bucky rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tweaked upwards. “You’re a punk.”
“You- you did that to yourself, jerk.” Steve coughed, a hand on his chest.
“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, his brow furrowing as Steve’s laughter turned to bellowing coughs.
“I’m fine,” Steve insisted, fumbling in his satchel for his inhaler. After taking a few puffs of bronchodilator, his airways felt clearer, and Steve stuffed the inhaler back into his bag, “I’m fine,” he repeated.
“Okay…” Bucky said, concern etched into his features. “Just… warn me next time, alright?”
Steve chuckled dryly again. “Sure.”
His new friend grinned, tossed him a few more candies, and settled back into his seat with The Hobbit.
~~~
“We should be almost to Hogsmeade Station,” Bucky said after a while longer. “We should probably get our robes on.” Steve looked up from his sketchbook to see his new companion standing on the seats to reach his trunk on the luggage racks. “You want me to get yours too?”
“Sure,” Steve replied, closing his sketchbook and placing it back in his satchel. Bucky handed him a bundle of black fabric from his trunk. “Is there a bathroom on the train I could change in?”
“Yeah,” Bucky replied, nonchalantly pulling off his own t-shirt and shoving his robes over his head. “But it’s all the way in the back of the train. You’d just be better off changing in here.” He grinned at Steve. “Or are ya shy, punk?”
“No, no.” Steve gingerly unfolded his robes and began fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. It wasn’t that he was shy, like Bucky had insinuated. No, that wasn’t it. But Steve knew what was going to happen when he got dressed in front of his new friend. Just like the kids in his gym class had done whenever they dressed out for a game of football.
Are you okay, Steve?
Wow, you’re skinny!
Aren’t you starving, Rogers?
Are your parents feeding you enough?
Steve hated it. He hadn’t known Bucky that long, certainly not long enough to be subject to an array of questioning from him.
“C’mon, Steve,” the other boy said, his robes already on as he adjusted the pointed hat on his head. “I can see the station a few hundred metres away. You’ve got to get ready.”
Steve sighed and slowly began removing his top. His skin prickled at the cold air, so he quickly shoved his arms into the fabric of the school robe and fastened it around his neck.
“Are you ready for your first year in the Wizarding World?” Bucky asked, stuffing his wand into his pocket.
Steve nodded. “Bring it on.”