Wheeling my trolley through King's Cross Station, it was still just possible to convince myself this was just an elaborate dream. No letter had arrived a few months earlier, hand-delivered by an uptight woman wearing robes and a haughty expression. My parents hadn't been informed by her that I was a witch, and the unexplainable accidents that had occurred throughout my childhood had been manifestations of my magical capabilities. I hadn't been shopping in a magical wizarding street called Diagon Alley, and I hadn't opened a vault at a bank run by goblins. I wasn't pushing a trolley that held both my trunk and a small owl in a cage, and it wasn't my first day of wizarding school. No; I was still Charley Pearson, perfectly normal 11 year old girl who lived in Buckinghamshire with her parents and younger brother. I was still the same person I'd always been.
I shook my head and pushed those thoughts away. That wasn't me anymore. I was Charley Pearson, witch, and today was my first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It still didn't sound right.
The witch had been Professor McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, and she had been there to explain the very shocking truth to my parents; that I was a young and untrained witch that needed to be enrolled in a magical school. They had been very calm about the whole thing so far, but I suspected what was to come next might send my mother over the edge.
She had explained that I would need school supplies and a wand- my father and I had dealt with the shopping and the... goblin bank. The Professor had also explained how I would get to school; a scarlet train called the Hogwarts Express, that departed at "precisely 11 o'clock on September 1st from Platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross Station". My father, who had sat silently until this point, suddenly piped up.
"Kings Cross doesn't have a Platform 9 ¾. They have a Platform 9 and a Platform 10, but nothing in-between."
Professor McGonagall had smiled, "It is a secret, magical platform. We couldn't run the risk of Muggles getting on the wrong train now could we?!"
My mother had looked up then.
"Muggles?"
"Non-magical folk," replied the Professor, "Your daughter is a Muggle-born, as neither of you is a witch or a wizard." She had looked at my dad quizzically for a few seconds, and he had quickly looked back down at the floor.
"To gain access to the platform," Professor McGonagall had continued, "You must go through a magical barrier located between Platforms 9 and 10. It is the third stone pillar on the left. Take a run up if you're nervous, and then make straight for it. You will pass straight through onto the magical platform and the train will be straight ahead." She stood suddenly, and my parents looked up in surprise.
"Good day to you both. I must be off now," She had turned to me, as if remembering me for the first time since her arrival, "I look forward to seeing you in September, Charlotte."
I stood and shook her hand.
"It's Charley, actually."
