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September first is an interesting day at King's Cross Station.

Wizarding children and their parents flooded the area between platforms nine and ten, lugging around owls and oversized trunks many can hardly lift. Muggle born children finally see something of this world they have been told they belong to-the train to Hogwarts, hidden out of Muggle view on platform nine and three quarters. It is a day the Ministry of Magic spends with crossed fingers, hoping no one draws too much attention.

It was also, however, an interesting day for some Muggles as well.

Many stories about this particular date circulated through the guards at King's Cross. Stories about unaccompanied children asking for a platform that didn't exist, children disappearing between platforms nine and ten, pockets of people swathed in shadowy clothing, a dramatic increase in the number of people toting owl cages, strange coins found on the ground, eleven-year-olds dragging huge trunks that every once in a while opened, revealing decidedly odd things, and phantom train sounds at eleven o'clock on the dot.

Many guards dismissed it as stories. No one ever reported it to anybody-it always sounded ridiculous when put on paper. No, September first was more a source of stories among bored guards than anything else.

Isaac was relatively new-he had been hired as a guard here at King's Cross in mid-September the previous year. When he had first started work, he had heard stories of the quirks that happened that year on the first of the month. It had been interesting to hear about, but not really something he believed in.

Absentmindedly, he looked up at the clock above platform nine. It was ten thirty, September first.

It had been a rather normal day-no accidents yet, anyway. His shift would be over in one hour. It was warm for September-the rains might let summer linger a little longer this year.

A normal day.

"Sir, I'm looking for platform nine and three quarters. Can you help me?"

Isaac's eyes snapped down. A little girl, perhaps eleven, with frizzy brown hair and a book tucked under her arm, was staring up at him. Her free hand held a cart containing an enormous trunk.

"Excuse me?"
"I said, I'm looking for platform nine and three quarters. I'm having trouble locating it. Would you happen to know where it is?"

Isaac stared blankly at her.

"It leaves at eleven o'clock. I need to find it if I want a seat."

Isaac remained stunned.

"But miss…there are no trains leaving at eleven o'clock."

The girl stared at him, her brow deeply creased as she thought. Eventually she shrugged, apologized for wasting his time, and disappeared into the crowd of people disembarking the ten-thirty-five train at platform ten.

"Sir? Sir?"

Another kid, this one with an owl, was staring up at him just as that little girl had been a second ago. He too had a huge trunk with him, and a cauldron peeked out from behind that monstrosity.

"Can you help me find platform nine and three quarters?"

Isaac managed to remain calm this time.

"Sorry, there's no platform nine and three quarters here. Are you sure you don't want platform ten?"

"No sir, I want 9 ¾. Oh well. Have a nice day!" And once again the kid hurried off and disappeared from sight.

The new guard turned around to face platform eight, feeling uneasy. How likely was it that two different kids within two minutes of each other would ask for a platform nine and three quarters?

CRASH!

Isaac whipped around. Someone had crashed their cart in front of platform ten. An eleven-year-old was on the floor beside it, looking quite small next to the trunk that had spilled out of his cart. No wonder he had crashed. That thing looked like it weighed several times as much as he did. A long spider-web crack had appeared in the lid of the trunk, and a piece had fallen off one side.

Isaac started over there-Here was a situation he had been trained in. He knew what to do to help this boy.

However, what looked like the boy's grandmother beat him to it. She was a peculiar sight, and Isaac wasn't sure how he had missed her. If anything the stuffed vulture on top of her hat should have caught his attention.

"Neville! What did I say about being careful?"

"Sorry, Gran." The boy began dragging the trunk back into the cart and dusting himself off. A thick book had fallen out of his trunk. The gold title read A History of Magic. The guard squinted-that couldn't be right.

Tutting, the woman whipped a stick out of her pocket and waved it over the broken trunk. Isaac found himself rubbing his eyes again-it looked like the cracks had sealed themselves.

"Trevor!"

"Oh Neville, this is the third time he's gotten away! Take better care of him!"

"Yes Gran!" The Boy yelled over his shoulder as he dashed forward. A large toad sat on the concrete, staring around with large eyes. The little boy got within a foot of it before it took off, leaping away and out of sight.

His attention was again brought to the spot in front of him.

"Sir, I'm looking for platform nine and three quarters, but I can't seem to find it. Can you help me?"

"Kid, you're not the first to ask me that today. Train leaves at eleven o'clock, right?"

"Yes sir."

"Where's it going?"

"Hogwarts."

"Pardon me?"

"Hogwarts. It's a school, I think."

"You're not sure?"

"Not entirely-my life has been odd for the past month. 'I think' seems a better answer that a solid 'yes.'"

"Where is this Hogwarts?"

"Not sure of that either sir, but I think it's somewhere in Britain. Not sure of that either, sir."

"Kid, that's not enough for me to find you anything, but I can tell you this. There are no trains leaving here at eleven o'clock, and I have yet to see a platform nine and three quarters. You should double-check your information."

"Sorry sir! Have a nice day sir!"

Isaac was starting to see why there were stories but nothing concrete about today. He tried to visualize his report. "Kids asked for a platform that didn't exist so they could get on a train that left at eleven o'clock, when there are no trains leaving at that time, to get to a place that they have never been before and do not know the location of."

He heard a slight ping and looked down. Someone had dropped a coin. But it was not any sort of coin he had ever seen. Unnerved, he studiously ignored it.

Roughly a hundred kids that day inquired after platform nine and three quarters between ten thirty and eleven o'clock. So he was understandably quite flustered when the little dark-haired boy with the taped glasses asked about platform nine and three quarters. By this time he was muttering about time-wasters and shooting dark looks at any kids that might come his way.

The kid jogged away from him and ran into a group of redheads loitering between platforms nine and ten. Isaac watched them out of the corner of his eye and tuned one ear in to what they were saying. He caught only meaningless fragments though, like 'Packed with Muggles, of course.' Muggles? Packed? It seemed that the station looked normal, aside from the odd children. Perhaps they were these Muggles? As he watched each one of the children disappeared into a solid wall, including the little boy with the taped up glasses.

At eleven o'clock sharp the he heard a train whistle, but faint, and he was sure it was there.

But that was impossible, of course.

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