Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Dungeons & Dragons or any large caracals.
It was the most ordinary first day of school ever, if you didn't count the fact that it was the first day of the wizards' school year too. Actually, if you lived in this reality you'd consider it normal or not consider it at all. Probably. Actually, why do wizards start their school year on the same day as Muggles?
On this fine September morning, a trio of children – two boys and a girl - stood in front of a wall. Each of them kept both hands on a trolley in front of them, containing various books, cauldrons, Potions ingredients, crampons, climbing equipment, sheets of paper listing the contact details of the cheapest mule sellers in the area, and mokeskin pouches containing far more raw chicken than anyone could possibly require.
The first boy, a bespectacled ten-year-old with green eyes and short black hair, looked into his pocket to make sure he hadn't lost any of his dice. Satisfied to note he had no fucking clue how many he had a minute ago, he directed his attention elsewhere.
"So how do we get to Platform 9 ¾?" he wondered aloud for the ninth time. For the ninth time, nobody gave an answer.
"Need a reminder of the definition of insanity?" came the voice of his friend, a bushy-haired girl whose nose was nearly buried in a textbook.
"Need a reminder of the rules on repeating a check?" the third of the bunch, an athletic boy wearing a shirt covered in cat hair, joked.
"Is that creature… allowed in Hogwarts?"
Marc turned around, seeing a red-haired woman leading a small tactical squad of freckled redheaded younglings, most bearing trolleys, in their party's general direction. Her gaze seemed oddly focused on his cat, who returned her disapproving look even as he casually bit into his third chicken.
"The rules clearly say a cat is allowed." he explained calmly. "This, ma'am, is a cat."
"I like your kitty." one of the brood, the only female besides the mother, commented. "Can I pet him?"
"Naturally." Marc replied.
The massive kitty bowed down with the dignity of a prince, purring happily at the feeling of a gentle human hand on his soft fur.
"What's his name?" she inquired.
"You may call him Floppa." Marc told her. "Short for His Royal Floppiness Big Floppa the Minus First."
"Nice to meet you Floppa." she said politely. "I'm Ginny."
Floppa meowed even more politely.
"So how do we get to Platform 9 ¾?" Harry asked for the tenth time. And this time, he got a response.