1st September, 1991

Getting on the platform was easy. It was the fact that you had to be totally undetected by the Muggles that was annoying. After all, if they saw wierdly dressed people with owls and cats disappearing into thin air, they would know something was up. They may even come to discover the entrance to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

But Ron knew better. He knew that it was heavily warded to avoid the curious Muggles. If they got to close to the wall, they would suddenly remember important appointments and run off without a second thought. Bless them, he thought fondly as he pushed his trolley cautiously through the crowd.

Ron's eyes chanced upon a bespectacled boy who looked about his age, with dark hair that stuck up at the back, probably a nuisance, he thought with a slight grin, remembering the time when his Mum had forced herself upon yet another of his brothers, Bill Weasley, to give him his long-awaited haircut. Bill preferred to shape his hair into a long ponytail that rather suited him, Ron had thought. His Mum had finally managed to get him to at least half agree on a "bit of a trim", which resulted in Bill refusing to show his face for a week, during which he had started learning to grow his own hair back magically; a skill that would prove itself opportune if his Mum decided to ambush his hair again.

This boy, he noticed, was alone, and, even from a distance, Ron could make out an expression on his face that made him assume that this boy was lost, or confused. Probably both.

He was about to ask his Mum about this boy, but she had pursued another topic; she was chatting animatedly to her other kids about anti-Muggle security. The boy, not too far away from them now, seemed to have heard this and made a beeline for them. He approached Ron's Mum and began to ask something, but she cut him short by asking if he wanted to get on the platform. He nodded silently. She began to explain the process of getting onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He was, evidently, starting at Hogwarts, too.

"This is one of my sons, Ron. He's also starting out at Hogwarts." said his Mum, smiling. She was always so kind to others.

They both acknowledged each other and said their "Hi"s and "Hello"s and whatnot. He remarked that this boy was awfully polite. He seemed to be preoccupied with his thoughts.

"Alright, you can go before Ron through the barrier." Mrs Weasley twinkled down at the boy.

"Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous."

"Ready?" Ron cajoled him.

"Yeah." he said to Ron.

He ran full pelt, towards the barrier between platform nine and ten. He collided with it (or rather, he just went right through). Next, Ron jogged through the barrier, seemingly undetected by the Muggles. When a great cloud of smoke diminished, his eyes fell upon the train, emblazoned with "Hogwarts Express", and a sign that read "Platform Nine and Three Quarters".

Ron walked down the train, ignoring the owls hooting and screeching. A round-faced boy ran past and asked him if he had seen his road, Trevor. When Ron answered in the negative, he sped off, back the way he had come. There was an empty compartment down the far end of the train. The same boy who they had helped get onto the platform, who he now knew as Harry Potter, thanks to his siblings Fred, George and Ginny.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, indicating the vacant seat opposite Harry.

"Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head, so Ron took that as his cue to sit down. He observed Harry for a moment, then quickly looked out the window, blushing a little, pretending he hadn't outright stared at him.

Fred and George came back and said something about a tarantula. He shivered slightly, though it was pleasantly warm in the train. Magic, of course. They introduced themselves to Harry and sped off.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron asked without hesitation. Harry nodded.

"Ah. I thought the twins were joking. Have you really got - you know..." he pointed at Harry's forehead keenly. Harry pulled back his dark fringe of hair to reveal a lightning bolt scar.

Is that where You-Know-Who-?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "but I can't remember much."

"What can you remember?" Ron blurted out a little too quickly.

"A whole lot of green light. That's all, really."

Ron just gaped at Harry, imagining the sadness he went through every day of his life because of Voldemort. Ron couldn't say the name because he was too scared, like almost every witch and wizard these days. So he and his family called that bastard by You-Know-Who. It was supposed to prevent any confusion as to who they were talking about. Funnily enough, it did the exact opposite. He realised that he was being a little rude and he swiftly turned his head towards the window.

They began to talk about their families. Ron talked about how all his family were wizards, except his Mum's second cousin, who was an accountant. Harry talked about the only remaining family he had, the Dursleys. According to Harry, most Muggles were just as nice as wizards, but not his family. His aunt, uncle and cousin treated him like muck. Ron proceeded to chat about his family's financial troubles and his standing among his brothers, how he had a lot to live up to, and the annoying fact that everyone expected him to do as well as his brothers, but if he did, it was beneath their worth, because they had managed it first. A classic sibling story, he thought bitterly.

Harry replied tactfully to this by informing Ron that he had had to wear his over large cousin's clothes and he had not received any money or even so much as a tissue, from the Dursleys. Ron felt a little less bitter after hearing this. It meant that Harry could, in some aspects, relate to his living status. They discussed Quidditch after Harry expressed his confusion at the topic. All the while, it was becoming darker outside.