Platform 10
Harry is eleven and he is lost. The train station is huge, full of echoing, static leaden announcements and rushing people. He's pushing through a crowd of businessmen and women who are going in the opposite direction. They keep pushing elbows and briefcases into his stomach and face until Harry feels like he can't breathe. He's starting to panic. He's supposed to be somewhere or to be with someone, but he can't remember who or where.
Harry pushes and pushes and pushes until he emerges into a relatively open space between platforms nine and ten. He leans against the wall between the platforms to catch he breath and fold the long sleeves of Dudley's old jumper up again. He presses his face into his hands and when he looks up again he can see someone sitting on a bench on platform ten. He knows them, so he moves towards them. They keep blinking out of sight as people and trolleys pass between them but Harry reaches the man - he can see now that it's a man - who is sitting on the bench and looking up at the sky through the glass ceiling.
"What a thing!" The man says, not looking at Harry. "To sit indoors and be able to see the sky outside!"
Harry looks up and then back at the man, confused and concerned. He's never thought that it was particularly strange, but maybe he's never looked properly. Eventually the man turns to look at him and he smiles through his long white beard and his blue eyes twinkle behind his glasses.
"Hello child. Are you lost?"
Harry takes a step back, because he doesn't know this man, he realises. Not yet, he brain supplies.
"Take my arm, dear boy."
Harry knows about stranger danger and what he should do when he's lost. He should scream, run, find a police officer or a person who works here or a nice woman with small children. But the man smiles and his eyes twinkle. Harry reaches up, because it's easier to do as he's told. Take my arm. He smiles shakily and takes the old man's arm. His stomach drops and spins, but it's only nerves.
"Do you play chess?" The man asks, as they walk along the platform. "I consider myself a master at the game. It takes skill to see the whole battle, forwards and backwards for so many moves, so see all the possibilities that lie ahead."
Harry shakes his head. He looks about with interest. They are further along the platform than anyone else. The plastic benches look newer, less worn and the floor looks dirtier. Harry can see the end, where the platform slopes down to the ground.
"I'll teach you," Dumbledore says, at the end of the platform. "I'll show you what to do."
"Please," Harry breathes. "Please show me, I don't know - "
There's the rushing sound of a train approaching, and Harry realises Dumbledore has led him onto the train tracks and he can see the Hogwarts Express racing towards them. Dumbledore is watching it with a curious expression and Harry thinks he should run, but - Dumbledore said take my arm, he said, you brave boy, you wonderful man, he said, Voldemort must be the one to kill him, he must going willingly, so Harry stays on the train tracks and looks at speeding train ahead of them and holds onto Dumbledore's arm.
Harry wakes in his cupboard, staring at the dark underside of the stairs. His scar aches and there is a sliver of light beneath the door. Harry panics, because it's morning and he should be up, he should be cooking breakfast, Aunt Petunia will be so mad -
Harry wakes in his bed and has rolled upright and placed his feet on the floor before Ginny places a warm hand on his back. "Harry," she mumbles sleepily. "What is it, did the kids - "
"No," Harry tells her. "They're fine, I just - toilet," he explains. She nods trustingly and goes back to sleep.
Harry uses the toilet and splashes water on his face. He checks on the kids. Albus is asleep, but James' expectant eyes blink at him in the dark. He starts to sit up, but Harry smiles and mouths 'not yet.' James lies back with a frown and crossed arms.
Lily is fast asleep, still buried deep in tight in her blankets, the way Harry tucked her in. The sliver of light from the corridor doesn't startle her awake. He finds Lily's collection of Chocolate Frog cards on her desk and slips one out of the box and into the pocket of his dressing gown.
At the bottom of the stairs Harry's old trunk is packed with James's things. Harry sits on the top, running his hand along the metal edgings. Harry remembers how he couldn't sleep the night before he started Hogwarts - the tension, the worry, the excitement. How he clenched his hand around the ticket Hagrid gave him, the ticket that seemed like his only hope of escape, the ticket that foolishly, ridiculously seemed like the worst kind of joke.
James's excitement is for other, different reasons, both worse and better. They've had such different childhoods up to this moment but Harry thinks, once James is at Hogwarts, Harry might finally start to understand him.
In the garden he stands and stares at the sky as it lightens into the dawn and his keeps his hand in his dressing gown pocket, clenched around the stolen card. The dew dampened grass chills his bare feet. He waits until the sun is high and bright, the light washing the colours of the world away. When he finally pulls it out, the cards is bent and creased. He unfolds it reluctantly, but once he has smoothed it out the frame is empty.