"Harry, I am afraid we must part ways here. The directions are quite simple, if you follow this path directly you will reach Platform 9 and ¾, where the train will arrive to take you and your fellow students to Hogwarts. I am truly sorry that I am unable to escort you further, but I'm afraid I must attend to other things. Best of luck, and I'm certain to see you shortly." With another small smile, Dumbledore had vanished.

Harry glared at the signs in front of him. Platform 9. Platform 10. He closed his eyes, shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, then looked again. Still no 9 and ¾.

"Ginny, give it here!" A lanky, red-haired teenager jogged along after a slender girl, jabbing his wand frantically in the air, absolutely oblivious to any onlookers.

"He likes me better anyway." The girl sniffed, placing a small rat on her shoulder. The small animal seemed frozen with fright.

"Stupid rat." The boy grumbled, grabbing it away from her and stuffing it into his pocket as he reached the large cement separator between the platforms. "Don't you know who feeds you?" The boy turned and found himself face to face with Harry. "You going in or what?"

"What?" Harry repeated dumbly.

"Ron!" The girl hissed, elbowing him sharply in the side. "Shut it!"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, running around with your you-know-what out in the open air where anyone could see it! Back in the pocket! This minute!" A motherly-looking older woman with a messy bun of flaming red hair came running out behind them pushing an overflowing cart, splotches of pink coloring her cheeks.

"Yes, mum." The boy, 'Ron', mumbled with embarrassment.

Harry took a strong step forward. "Excuse me," he asked under his breath. "Are you...wizards?"

The woman froze in her tracks, her mouth pursed with worry. "And your name is?"

"Potter. Um, Harry, I mean. Sorry. Harry Potter." The girl next to him let out a shrill squeak and grabbed her brother's arm. Ron just squinted down at his forehead as if trying to make something out behind the thick layer of messy hair.

"Harry Potter?" He repeated, with a small smile. "Funny."

"Do you know where Platform... 9 ¾ is?"

The older woman had been looking at him strangely, but then let out a gasp. "Oh! Oh my... you are, aren't you, dear? You look just like James! Oh goodness, Ron, show the boy how to get through to the platform! Stop staring, Ginny, it isn't polite."

"See, you have to go through the separator. It's easy, really. Helps to get a running start, though." Ron hoisted his luggage up as high as he could and backed up a few feet. Ginny swiftly cut in front of him, sparing a moment to send the boys a sassy wink before dashing toward the cement and disappearing into it.

The woman watched her son make a run for the divider before turning to Harry. "If you need help, I'd be happy to-"

"I can do it." Harry snapped, watching the woman's face fall with surprise and disappointment. "But thanks, I guess." He added gruffly, raking a hand through his hair. "Guess I better go." He grabbed the cases from his cart and, taking a deep breath, dove toward the separator.

"You can sit here, if you want." Ron offered simply, holding the sliding door to the compartment open as if he had known Harry his entire life. Harry's eyes narrowed, but he took a seat in the empty space across the small table. The girl came bounding in, throwing her weight into a seat across from him.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Ginny." She extended a freckled hand, which he shook, warily. "And this is my git of a brother, Ron. Shake." Ron obediently stuck out his hand, but made a point to roll his eyes.

A young girl stepped into the compartment, with a mess of tangled, pale hair and wide-set blue eyes. She stood completely still, staring oddly a few inches above Harry's head. Harry noticed that she had very small root vegetables dangling from her ears, like the turnips his Aunt Petunia used to grow in the garden but smaller, and came to the conclusion that she was either stoned, or just insane.

"Luna, would you like to come in?" Ginny sighed, with a bit of a giggle.

"Thank you." Luna responded. She continued to stare at the point directly above Harry, who was now staring back at her with a decidedly sullen expression. "You're Harry Potter."

"Yeah, so?"

"How did you escape?" She asked distractedly, pushed a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear casually as she sat down next to Ginny and fumbled through her bags for something.

"From St. Brutus's?"

"No. From the harpies." She pulled out what looked like a red top tabloid and smiled fondly at him. "The ones that kidnapped you as a baby. Did they really keep you hidden on Avalon? I'd love to see it one day. I've heard it's beautiful..." She peered at him again, this time making eye contact. It was actually rather awkward, the kind of unblinking stare that leaves the watched party feeling uncomfortably exposed. His mouth twitched into a frown.

"I wasn't kidnapped by harpies."

She blinked at him curiously. He turned his attention to Ron, who was scouring over his own magazine, which read "QUIDDITCH MONTHLY" in large, flashy letters across the front. "What's that?" He asked.

Ron glanced up. "What's what?" When Harry gestured to the magazine, Ron went goggle-eyed. "You don't know Quidditch?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"Well, I'm not exactly from around here." Harry grumbled impatiently. "So what is it?"

Ron's brow furrowed at Harry's attitude, but shrugged it off. "It's a sport. Played...played on brooms." At Harry's blank look, he groaned loudly. "Okay, hold on, I'll draw you out a picture."

Harry struggled to pay attention as Ron drew elaborate messy circles all over the back of his Quidditch Monthly, but Ginny had started swirling her wand tip through the air in front of her, leaving designs of sparkled colors in its wake, and Harry found his mind drifting.

"I'm going to check out the rest of the carriage." Harry blurted out once Ron seemed about finished with his lecture on the fundamentals of broom sports, and headed for the door.