Mike puffed out his chest as he walked through his local train station. He couldn't help feeling more important than the oblivious streams of people milling past him this morning, even though less than a day ago he had been just like them. He glanced down at his ticket; it read Platform 9 ¾ for the 1000th time. He was giddy with excitement. His parents had dropped him off at the station, he supposed it was because they were both what the letter (that had arrived yesterday, by owl to Mike's delight) had called 'muggles'. Non-magic folk, and they seemed a bit cautious of the magical world, well at least the little bit they had seen in Diagon Alley. Mike knew next to nothing about the magical world, but he was filled more with a sense of adventure than of fear.
Finally, he reached platform 9. He glanced over at the next which was… 10? Mike stared in unbelief, all that was in-between them was an empty space. He started to panic, had this all been an elaborate set-up? A hoax? He shook his head, remembering the wonderful magical things and people he had seen in Diagon Alley when he had gone to get his school supplies. He was beginning to wonder if that was a prank as well, and who'd go to all that trouble just for him, when he overheard a man talking just to his right. "Hurry up Rose, or you might miss the train.". He looked over to see a red-headed man pulling along a luggage carrier similar to his; complete with a trunk, cauldron and owl cage. His father had bought him his own pet as well, but he had picked a red fox. The owner of the store had told him it was a peculiar choice, but he didn't mind, nor care. He watched as the man, his wife and red-headed daughter (who he assumed was Rose) ran through a brick wall, Rose complaining about her dad's earlier comment in a loud voice until it was cut off. Mike stared and then went to examine the wall, touching it; it was solid. "Umm," a voice said behind him, "I think you have to run at it." Mike turned to see a boy about his age with curly, red hair, freckles and thick rimmed glasses smiling awkwardly at him. "Hi, I'm Fritz Smith." He said offering his hand. Mike surveyed him, he was a little on the pudgy side and quite a bit shorter than Mike. He looked like the kind of kid who would've gotten picked on at his old school. Mike took his hand and shook it with a grin, "I'm Mike," he replied, "Mike Schmidt."
