The New King of King's Cross Station

London was cool in September. The morning mist hung like a filthy veil, and sunlight struggled through the clouds, casting mottled patterns across the station's glass dome.

Between Platforms Nine and Ten, Muggles pushing luggage carts, travelers carrying cats, and commuters rushing for the early train formed a familiar, noisy everyday scene.

Until a roar tore through the air.

Vroom—! Vroom—! Vroom—!

It was the thunder of engines. Deep, brutal, carrying the metallic sensation of tires crushing the ground. It came from far away, growing louder and louder until it became a deafening tidal roar!

Not one car, not ten cars, but a full fifty!

A uniform fleet of Rolls-Royce Phantoms ignored Muggle traffic laws and charged arrogantly onto the platform, pulling up with precision and dominance before the seemingly ordinary brick wall between Platforms Nine and Ten!

Their mirror-polished bodies gleamed with cold metallic light, reflecting the distorted faces of terrified Muggles.

As if undergoing inspection, all the doors sprang open in perfect unison!

Over a hundred burly men with fierce, chilling presences shot out like arrows!

They all wore black suits, with striking scarlet Flame Fan Crest badges pinned to their left chests.

Ignoring the terrified stares of the surrounding Muggles and the shouts of station staff trying to stop them, they cleared a vast empty zone before the brick wall with astonishing efficiency, a place no one dared approach!

A red carpet extended from the car doors all the way to the station entrance, while they lined up in two rows like an honor guard awaiting the arrival of a king! The air seemed to freeze.

The Muggles erupted into panic, screaming and backing away as they crowded together. They thought they were witnessing a terrorist attack or the secret passage of a head of state, but that cold, inhuman aura filled them with an even deeper instinctive fear.

The reactions of Muggle-born wizarding families who had received advance word, or who were sensitive to magical fluctuations, were entirely different.

Most of them stopped farther away, dressed in drab or old-fashioned robes. They gripped their children's shoulders tightly, their faces holding no curiosity—only profound apprehension and a trace of barely perceptible humiliation.

They recognized that emblem—the name occasionally mentioned in newspapers and quietly spread through Knockturn Alley: Uchiha.

"Mom... who are they?" a young wizard asked softly, cowering in his mother's arms.

"Don't make a sound. Don't look over there." His mother's voice trembled as she held him tightly.

"Tch, they certainly know how to put on a show." A well-dressed half-blood wizard father, though the edges of his robes were worn, snorted coldly and pulled his child farther behind him, his gaze complicated.

The truly interesting ones were the scattered members of pure-blood families dressed in exquisite clothing throughout the platform.

Unlike ordinary wizarding families, they did not panic and retreat. Instead, they halted beside the columns, their gazes evaluating as they looked toward that terrifying motorcade and the cleared space.

There was shock, certainly, but more than that, there was scrutiny and the subtle undercurrent of calculation.

Under countless gazes—terrified, fearful, complicated, and appraising—the door of the extended Phantom at the center of the convoy was respectfully opened by a guard with the fiercest presence and blade-sharp eyes.

A foot in a custom-made black leather shoe stepped steadily onto the platform. Then came a tall, straight figure clad in a brand-new black Hogwarts robe.

The robe was flawlessly tailored and clearly made from expensive material, but the most glaring thing was on its left breast—not the Hogwarts crest, but a Uchiha Flame Fan Crest meticulously embroidered with mithril thread, as though it were burning in cold flame!

A family crest!

He had actually embroidered his family crest directly onto his school robe!

This was no ordinary display of arrogance. It was a naked declaration and provocation!

It was contempt for Hogwarts's thousand-year tradition, and a silent look down upon every pure-blood, half-blood, and Muggle-born wizard in Britain's magical world!

Uchiha Madara straightened fully and raised his chin slightly.

A month of nourishment in a high-magic environment and physical enhancement had made his posture even more upright.

A cold, solemn aura burst outward from him like a tangible wave of frost! Several nearby Muggles immediately felt a suffocating tightness in their chests, their legs going weak.

There was no expression on his face, only an utter indifference as cold as ice.

When those eyes swept across the crowd, anyone whose gaze met his, even for an instant—whether Muggle, ordinary wizard, or one of those self-proclaimed noble pure-bloods—

felt a chill race from the base of their spine to the backs of their heads!

That gaze was too cold. It was as though the people standing here were not living beings at all, but a group of insignificant... background scenery.

Then!

Whoosh—!!!

All the Uchiha guards standing in formation moved as though they had rehearsed it thousands of times. Their motions were so perfectly synchronized that they seemed like one person as they bent deeply toward Madara at an angle of more than ninety degrees!

Their heads lowered deeply, their posture reverent and devout to the extreme!

Over a hundred throats erupted at once in a deep, powerful roar like a battle cry, instantly drowning out every sound in the station as it crashed repeatedly beneath the vast dome:

"We respectfully send Lord Madara off to Hogwarts—!!!"

The sound was like thunder! It made the glass windows hum and tremble! Several Muggle women screamed in fright, covering their ears and crouching down.

The wizards' faces changed collectively. Several people dressed as Aurors already had their hands on their wands, but when they saw the scarlet gleam in those guards' eyes, they forcibly held themselves back.

Was this sending a child off to school? This was clearly the kind of spectacle from a story where a king set out on campaign!!

Madara seemed not to hear the thunderous send-off behind him or the countless horrified stares around him.

He merely waved a hand casually and walked steadily toward the brick wall. His figure passed through it without obstruction, as though merging into rippling water, disappearing into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Outside the platform, there was dead silence. Only the low fading rumble of engines and people's suppressed breathing remained.

Inside the platform, however, was an entirely different scene.

The deep-red Hogwarts Express billowed white steam. Young wizards ran about excitedly, saying their farewells and dragging luggage in search of compartments. Owls hooted, cats meowed, and toads hopped in their cages, filling the air with the liveliness and clamor unique to the start of term.

Yet when Uchiha Madara passed through the wall and appeared on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters—

it was as though someone had pressed a mute button. Centered on where he appeared, the noise rapidly ebbed away in ripples until it vanished!

Several first-year students playing nearby seemed to have been hit by a Full Body-Bind Curse. They froze in place and stared blankly at the black-haired boy whose aura was utterly out of place amid the surroundings.

Countless gazes instantly focused on him! That glaring Hogwarts robe bearing the Uchiha family crest was like a beacon in the night! Fear, curiosity, disgust, curiosity... all kinds of complicated emotions spread across the platform.

The train attendant, who had been lavishly bribed in advance by the Uchiha faction and deeply understood the consequences of disobedience, had long been waiting by the carriage door with the humility of a most devoted servant.

The moment he saw Madara, he hurried forward, his face piled with an almost fawning smile. "Lord Madara! The prefects' compartment you reserved has already been prepared! This way, please! It is absolutely quiet and comfortable, close to the Slytherin carriages, making it convenient for you to rest!"

Madara ignored the attendant's rambling and did not even glance at him. He stepped directly onto the train and headed for the special carriage at the front, marked with a distinctive symbol and normally reserved for professors and Ministry of Magic officials.

Wherever he passed, young wizards peeking out from the doors of ordinary compartments swiftly pulled their heads back as though they had been burned. Whispers surged behind him like a tide.

The carriage interior was extravagantly decorated. Soft, dark velvet sofas were draped with blankets made from Chimera manes, making one want to curl up within them and enjoy that rare peace.

The walls were inlaid with walnut wood, and there was a fixed little round table. Thick Persian carpets blocked out most of the noise from the wheels.

The soft glow from the wall lamps filled the whole carriage with an atmosphere that was warm yet dignified.

The elegant surroundings were worlds apart from the noisy, crowded ordinary carriages outside.