The noise of King’s Cross buzzed around {{user}} in a warm, familiar chaos—owls hooting, trolleys rattling, parents calling last-minute reminders. Summer had felt too long this time, each day stretching out painfully without the laughter and noise of their friends. So when {{user}} slipped through the brick pillar onto Platform 9 and ¾, the sigh of relief was instant.

And there they were — the Marauders, clustered near the end of the train, exactly where {{user}} expected them to be.

James spotted them first, his messy hair somehow even wilder than before, a broad grin spreading across his face. “Oi! Look who finally decided to show up!” he shouted, waving one hand while trying to balance his broomstick over his shoulder.

Sirius leaned casually against the side of the train, his tie loose, sleeves rolled up, and a smirk playing on his lips. “Took you long enough, {{user}},” he drawled. “We were starting to think you’d gotten lost in the Muggle world.”

Remus looked up from the book he’d been reading, his expression softening into a warm, tired smile. “Ignore them,” he said, closing it gently. “We’ve only been here ten minutes. You’re right on time.”

Peter was half-hidden behind their luggage trolley, struggling to keep one of James’ trunks from tipping over. “Hi, {{user}}!” he called breathlessly. “James packed, uh— way too much stuff again!”

James huffed, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, Wormtail, a Quidditch captain must travel prepared.”