Chapter 11: A Reckless Confrontation
September 1, 1972, 10:47 a.m. Regulus Black came to a halt before the barrier between platforms nine and ten at King's Cross Station.
The eleven-year-old was tall for his age, wearing a crisply pressed dark green robe with the Black family crest pinned at his collar.
His hair was pure black with the signature slight curl of the Black family, and his calm grey eyes swept over his surroundings.
In his left hand he carried a brand-new dragonhide suitcase — Walburga had insisted on the most expensive — and in his right, a cage containing a snowy owl.
The owl stood quietly inside, amber eyes peering through the bars. Unlike other owls, it showed no agitation, flapping no wings — only the occasional slow rotation of its head.
Regulus took a deep breath.
Through this wall lay another world — one he had studied in books for ten years and was about to enter in person.
He stepped forward. The sensation was like passing through a curtain of warm mist, and then sound rushed in.
A cacophony of life and chaos — owl cries weaving a discordant chorus, cats yowling unhappily from baskets.