Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Having been absent for so long, I feel it’s worth going back a few months to tell you about some of the hilarious goings-on at good old Slemish.

I suppose it was quite some time ago that Head Girl Hannah and I arrived in the sixth-form centre to find that the dividing wall was gone.  Staring at the space where it had once been, I felt a range of emotions.  On one hand, this was a glorious, glorious day – possibly equal to when the Berlin wall came down.  On the other, the room was now freezing.  Head Girl Hannah raised an eyebrow.

“What do you think this is?” She asked.  I thought about it for a second before answering.

“Well, it looks like the invisible barrier onto platform nine and three-quarters.” I said, blushing slightly.

“You,” She replied, “are a ridiculous individual.  How on earth can anything look like something that’s invisible?  C’mon, let’s go.  Assembly’s about to start.”

“Just a second,” I begged. “C’mon…I want to try it out!”  And before she could say another word, I had grabbed my invisible trolley and charged through the barrier.  Unfortunately, this wasn’t quite as smooth or as funny as I had hoped it would be.  Being eternally clumsy, I tripped over my own foot, and landed, headfirst, onto platform nine and three-quarters.

For a second, I really could see a red steam train.  I could hear hooting owls and the chatter of hundreds of students.  It was difficult to see, because the train was creating so much steam, but I could have sworn I saw somebody wearing black robes and carrying a broomstick.  Then my head started to pound, and I realised that the chattering I could hear was Head Girl Hannah giggling, and the steam I thought I saw was dust rising up from the carpet.  The workmen, apparently, were not handy with a Hoover.

Of course, the whole school knows about this event, thanks to some gormless lower-sixths who watched the whole thing with mildly amused expressions on their faces.  NikNak, in particular, is very fond of grabbing me when I least expect it and throwing me through the barrier, yelling, “Best to take it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous, dear!”, in a passable impression of Mrs Weasley’s voice.  You might not be too surprised to know that I have stopped imagining steam trains and Hogwarts students in our sixth-form centre.