The next morning when I arrived at the station - without any baggage, how stupid was I - it was crowded. There were many strange people walking about, carrying trunks and owls and all sorts of curious things. I didn't want to be rude; I dared not to stare at them and instead focused on finding the platform. 9 3/4 eh? Yet there were only two platforms remotely close to this I could see: nine and ten.

Near by, I saw a young boy who looked vaguely familiar. His face was young, and his hair a dark shade of brown. An old woman stood beside him, looking stern, her clothes colourful and her handbag clutched fretfully in her palms. I watched them as they peered around, looking to see if there was anyone about, and quickly they walked through the wall between platform 9 and 10. 

Yes, you heard me. They walked through a wall. Well, the young boy jogged to keep up with his grandmother (or I assumed, anyway), but that is not my point. They walked through a wall.

For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. Going mad. But I wasn't, I was perfectly sane. Well, as sane as a human being can get. Moving pictures, letters changing into newspapers and then that? Oh, one couldn't be blamed for being a little confused. And by a little, I meant a lot.

With as much hesitation as any other person in my situation was had, I repeated their movements, going extremely quickly through the barrier and coming out into another station on the other side. Mental. My face merged into what seemed to be a smile of complete insanity. There was all of my scientific beliefs shoved out of the window. That was the first time I really felt the reality of the entire situation.

And there was the train The Daily Prophet had spoken about. Even more people surrounded me now, too busy bustling their children onto a train - The Hogwarts Express - to notice that I was not wearing robes like they were. Weaving my way through hundreds of pets and people, I finallly managed to shove myself into a door on the train. There was no going back now. Several students looked me up and down and then shrugged; they obviously knew I wasn't like them, but maybe they just assumed I was some type of guard.

There was nothing peculiar about the train. I didn't have to walk through walls, or anything; that was a relief. In fact, there was a nice atmosphere about the place, and it calmed my nerves as I quickly slid into a nearby empty carriage. It was to be a long journey. I didn't particularly mind. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but it went haywire, making a sound that resembled a very angry bee. I shoved it back into my jacket hastily but it continued to buzz for a long while. 

I considered napping (I needed it; the night before my mind had been too awake to rest) but that, of course, was out of the question. If someone burst in, they would start asking me questions. Wait, if they were magical, would they turn me into a frog for trespassing? I shuddered at the thought, although I knew the prospect to be highly unlikely.

Several hours later, there came a knock at the door. 

"Sweets. dear?" A womenn began to ask, holding a trolly. However when she saw me properly her mouth opened in a silent shout and she went running along the aisle. Uh oh. Flustered, I leaped out of the carriage and locked myself in a toilet, which was at the opposite end of the train to the driver. There was a commotion at the drivers end; you could hear the poor women shouting from a mile away! I felt guilty for surprising her, but could not break my cover, even when feeling an immense amount of sympathy.

"Muggle on the train! How could we allow this?" She yelled in a fit of panic. There came another shout, this time from the driver.

"Betty, you know better. It isn't possible." He seemed a lot more composed. Through the toilet window I saw students popping out their heads, wondering what the commotion was. When the women came bustling down the aisle several minutes later, shaking her head and now believing she was imagining things, everyone shrugged and returned to their carriage. They wouldn't remember anything had happened, of course. It wasn't a very defining moment in their lives.

I stayed in the toilet for a few more minutes, just to make sure, and found my head to be fuzzy with a rapid spiral of thoughts. I saw the brown haired boy from earlier start to go in my carriage and knew I couldn't delay any longer; I certainly couldn't go to a carriage filled with people. They'd suspect something. Just as I leaped out, he left, appearing to be looking for something. 

The door firmly closed behind me, I made sure to sit against it in case anyone tried to come in. Suddenly, I felt as if I wasn't meant to be here. I felt as if I was doing something very, very wrong. However, next to my buzzing phone was a tape that I surely had to give to somebody at this Hogwarts place. Someone wanted me there. 

If it meant being able to save someone innocent, as this "Dobby" fellow put it, then I was in. I opened The Daily Prophet and began to leaf through it, staring in amazement at the moving pictures and wondering how on earth I had become involved in all of it.

***

When the train stopped, I didn't leave with all of the students. They were all wearing black robes by what I had seen, and my jacket and jeans would stand out incredibly. Everyone soon exited and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I made my way off of the train. The sweet woman saw me; she went to grab for my hood but the train had started to move and I was already safe on the platform. 

That wasn't bothering me in that exact moment, however. Instead, I was gazing up at an extremely magical-seeming castle, that loomed above me. If I relaxed my eyes, however, I saw a dump; it was a daunting experience, seeing two things at once I had to focus, but my mind adapted in seconds and soon I didn't have to concentrate as much.

Among the kids and teens in robes was a large, very large, hairy man. He escorted the smallest of all the students towards a boat, and seemed to know what he was doing. I followed him, and just as he himself was about to step on the boat I spoke. I think I surprised him, for the guy almost dropped his umbrella into the lake.

"Sorry," I looked up at him quickly, and when spotting me his eyes widened in surprise. "I have some-"

"Are ye a muggle?" He interrupted - suddenly very pale - and sounded as if he was about to faint. 

"A what?" I asked, and continued on quickly when he opened his mouth to shout, "Look, I'm Lance, and I got a letter from someone called Dobby about Sirius Black? He's innocent, or something." The man's face became hard, "I have a tape!" I said hastily, pulling it out of my pocket. "My mother died because of the incident. Could you please just get Dumbledore, whoever he is?"

"Well, why didn't you say so Lance?" The man said, and clapped me on the back. It hurt. "I'm Hagrid. I have to get these first years to the castle, but I'm sure Dumbledore will be right out when he hears you've got information about Black, dirty good for nothin'-" Hagrid cut off when seeing my expression. "Sorry, sorry." He whistled, and a large dog came bounding towards us. The first years were tired must've been tired by then. I tried to communicate an apology with my eyes. "Go up to the hut with Fang, he knows the way. Dumbledore'll, great man he is, come meet ye after the feast. First muggle in my cabin!" He smiled proudly at the last comment, and I followed the dog towards the mentioned hut.

Well, Hagrid seemed friendly enough. Very trusting. He acted as if I was a different species; I wasn't, of course, as human as the next person. Tell him a story and bam, he'll believe you. It was nice to meet someone so trusting, especially in a world of people who found suspicion in every word you spoke.

Wondering what a muggle was, I walked into a hut and stroked the large dog behind its ears. Some would say Fang was a scary, ugly looking mutt, but I knew better. Dogs always liked me; in return I liked them back, and could tell whether they were approachable or not. Fang? He was just a big softy.

There was a long wait until Hagrid returned. I looked around his small room, the only room actually. A bed (big, of course), a kitchen and some chairs and a table, all shoved into one space. It was like a home, however small it was. I was very patient, partly because I didn't want to get on the wrong side of the magicians. For the first time in many hours I pulled a pack of cards from my pocket and began to shuffle them absentmindedly, watching out of the window to see if there was anyone coming.

Finally, Hagrid burst through.

"Dumbledore'll be a while," He announced with an undertone of apology, "Very busy job, being Headmaster. Doesn't help that there's a full moon." He eyed my cards with some interest, as if he had never seen a deck before. "What are those?"

"Cards." I spoke, and smiled at him. Hagrid returned it and sat opposite me at the table where I had positioned myself. "I can do magic tricks with them, although they're probably not the kind of magic you guys do."

I began to show Hagrid a trick as if it was completely normal, and he in return was amazed. It seemed that wasn't the type of magic these wizards did. My stomach growled, as if on cue. 

"Hungry?" Hagrid asked, and pulled out his umbrella. A plate came zooming towards me, and I watched in awe as it gently placed itself in front of me. "What do ye want? I'm not supposed to be using magic, don't tell."

I gave him a weary glance. Why would he not be allowed to use it? However, it was wise not to upset someone who could, in theory, turn you into a frog (which I would later learn is called transfiguration). "Pies?" I suggested. This time, he didn't magically produce pies, but instead began making some type of pastry at the kitchen. He did use his umbrella to speed up the process, but it took a while. It was nice of him. I was convinced that nobody else would consider making a stranger pies. He put a cake at the side, but it looked rather hard.

Of course, I chewed my way through the entire meal, although it wasn't very nice. At least I was no longer hungry. Hagrid beamed at me, and then we continued to use the cards for various tricks. It was the most strangest thing I had ever done, without a doubt; playing cards with a wizard wasn't something you did every day. We were in the middle of one of my favourites when an old man burst through the door.

That sounded very disrespectful. But he was old, and his beard was long and white and silky. He gave Hagrid a greeting smile and his eyes fell upon me. His eyes widened just a tiny bit, almost as if they hadn't moved at all, and if I wasn't watching closely I would've missed it.

"Evening, I'm Lance." I greeted politely, suddenly humble in such a powerful looking man's precense. That was I, a grown man, feeling small under anothers gaze. Mental.

"Professor Dumbledore." Hagrid cut in, introducing him, looking proudly at the Headmaster. Dumbledore pulled out a chair and helped himself to the last slice of pie, looking extremely calm despite the circumstances. 

"Hagrid tells me you're a muggle?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not to be rude, but I'm not exactly sure what that is." I felt, despite my words, extremely rude. I tried quickly to bustle my playing cards out of sight but he saw them and raised his eyebrows with a faint amount of amusement. "I came because someone named Dobby sent me a letter saying to come to "Hogwarts" because Sirius Black was innocent. I would give you it, but it turned into a newspaper. The Daily Prophet?" I tried to sound sophisticated but failed miserably. I pulled both the newspaper and the tape out of my pocket and handed them over.

"Ah," Dumbledore spoke, "I see. Well, we can hardly use this video here. I must take your word for it, Lance. What did the video show?"

"CCTV. A small man and a taller, messier man were threatening each other. With sticks - I presume those are wands?" Dumbledore nodded, "The camera switched, and I saw from behind that the small man blasted the street apart. Then he - he turned into a rat. Killed my mother."

My voice was rushed as I let out all of this information, trying to sound as normal as I possibly could. Dumbledore gave a murmer of understanding.

"Well, I suspected something like this. It is a relief to know Sirius was not to blame." Quietly, he thrust the tape into his robes. Then he surveyed me, as if we had finally reached the interesting part of the conversation. "Tell me, Lance. What was your mothers name?"

"Beverly Abott." I spoke, the name coming off of my tongue with a large amount of tenderness.

"Oh really?" Dumbledore muttered, and then smiled. "She went to Hogwarts. I remember she was a ravenclaw, and a rather fiery one at that." My mother was witch? "Ravenclaw is one of the four houses we use here. It values the intelligent. Then there is Slytherin, which prefers the cunning, Gryffindor which takes the brave and finally Hufflepuff, which usually gets the loving souls that are left. And your father? Please, describe him in as much detail as you can."

I took this information about the houses and attempted to keep it close to my brain. "Robert Hayweather. He became a nursery teacher, but grew ill like his father before him - Lance Heyweather, whom I am named after. They both got dementia. He's in a home. I should be visiting tomorrow..."

"Robert," Dumbledore appeared to be thinking hard, "Yes, he was a hufflepuff. Very kind man, the best type. And Lance, he was a Slytherin, but he didn't go dark. That is the prejudice people have of Slytherin."

"Quite right, too." Hagrid cut in, but respectfully. Dumbledore sent him a sharp, almost disappointed look.

"It seems, since both of your parents were pureblood wizards, that you are a Squib - despite your magical heritage you have no magical ability. It would certainly  explain why you can see the school and be able to get through the barrier to the Hogwarts Express."

So my parents were magical? It seemed far-fetched, but I had a vague memory of my father refusing to let me see my grandfather. Too perculiar, he said, and when thinking of my grandad I always saw a strange man in robes. 

"But why wouldn't they tell me?" I asked outloud, although I certainly didn't feel polite for doing so.

"It seems they wanted to bring you up as if you were a muggle, someone without magical ability."

"They gave all of this up, for me?" I peered out of the window at the castle and felt a wave of despair crash over me. I wasn't worth that. Letting go of the beautiful idea of magic seemed incredibly hard to imagine. 

"A noble act." Dumbledore said, and looked proud at what my ancestors had done. "Unfortunately, you are now involved. In fact, you are the only person Dobby could've contacted - you are able to see magic and you are personally connected to the crime. Rest assured, we will get vengance for your mother." The Headmaster seemed incredibly scary for a moment, but he soon returned to his calm state. "I believe the minister of magic will like to speak to you when he has the chance. You cannot go back to your home until everything has been sorted, I believe, and I apologize that you had to take time away from your everyday routine. Thank you for your time, Lance. I am quite sure it will only take several months before you can return to your normal life."

Dumbledore cast a quick glance to the outside. "I have done quite enough talking for one day. I shall wear out my tongue, and there is still much to be said. Hagrid, I shall escort Lance up to the castle, but thank you for your time." His expression became dark. "There are too many dementors about."

"Damn things," Hagrid agreed, "Any time, headmaster, any time."

"Excuse me," I interrupted politely, but my voice was hard with determination. Months? What about the office? It hardly seemed important now, but if I was to return home (it seemed unlikely now that I had discovered such things as wizards) there would certainly be complications. "I need to contact my father, and the office, but my phone..."

I pulled the thing out, which was still buzzing. Dumbledore cast his stick - maybe I should call it wand - upon it and it was silenced. "Muggle devices don't work here, I'm afraid. Nothing to be done about that. Hagrid, could you be so kind as to send an owl to Lance's required destinations in the morning?" Without waiting for a response, Dumbledore swept from the room and I followed him quickly.

The night was cold, and it seemed incredibly miserable. I had never been this far from home and it was extremely daunting. Dumbledore's footsteps were hard and with pace, and if I was to judge on his walking alone I would say he was panicked.

"You may sleep in my office," He said calmly, and peered at me over his glasses, "You do not seem very distressed by all of this."

He was right; I wasn't. It was all very crazy and I was struggling to keep up, but there was no point in fretting. In fact, it was all rather exciting. Wizards, witches, squibs and muggles; and to think several days before I was in my house reading The Hobbit!  Oh, how things did change. I was adapting, however. Fairly quickly, too. I was good at that.

***

I had only been able to quickly glance around Dumbledore's office before he had ordered me to sleep. I could feel him concentrating, however, even as I lay awake in the next room. Wide awake. How would I be able to sleep with my mind buzzing just like my phone had done before? I sorely wished for an orchestra of music to help me sleep.  

Was there any harm in wanting adventure? 

It seemed my curiousity had overcome my fear to venture anywhere I didn't know. A night stroll couldn't harm anybody, after all. I slipped out of the room and past Dumbledore, my heart racing. His eyes twinkled when he spotted me but he did not stop me from leaving. Maybe because I was an adult (I certainly wasn't acting like one) or maybe because he decided I needed to learn things for myself. I don't know.

In the dark the castle seemed more enchanting. There was a brief period where my heart stopped and I had no idea where I was, but inside of my head I kept a map of where I had walked and how I would get back. 

I was quite a length when a man swept passed me, distressed and walking far too quickly. His shoulders were tense; I didn't see his face but I saw the tensed muscles of his shoulders. The only reason I followed him was because of his state; such a man may hurt himself if too stressed. I soon regretted it though.

He walked for a long time, finally reaching a statue. He looked like he was late for something; I knew the look, for I had felt it many upon many times. When he disappeared down a tunnel, I had to be extra careful. I had to be cautious anyway, for the man kept looking behind him, but footsteps in the tunnel echoed and I was fairly glad that I had an extremely light pace of walking that made no sound at all.

When we reached the end and he burst into a hut, I suddenly didn't wish to follow. It felt dangerous. I breathed slowly and waited. What I was waiting for, I don't know, but suddenly it all made sense. A large growl came from inside, and my feet slipped as I attempted to back away. But then there was a sound of agony that made my insides curl with upset and sympathy. I ran back down the tunnel, my heart pounding heavily against my chest as if it were trying to break free and go and help the man.

It's a full moon too. Hagrid had said something like that. I could feel my eyes stinging with both fear and sadness - was the man a werewolf? Did those exist too? My thoughts were cut off when I reached the end of the tunnel, for a tall, greasy man was standing at the end watching me, caryring some type of vial filled with a mixture, his eyes containing so much venom that I dared not to look away.

"Well," He snarled, his long nose not hiding the faint, thin line of his mouth, "Just who do we have here?"

***

Remus is in the shrieking shack and NOT in his office because Snape didn't have time to give Lupin the potion before he turned. That's why Snape's at the tunnel; he's looking for Lupin. Long chapter, eh? My hands hurt and my mind is exhausted. Time to watch some Hannibal, I think ;)