"Sirius, come quickly. We haven't all day." The crowd was so thick with busy shoppers, commuters and most importantly, wizarding families shuttling their precious children to platform 9 3/4 (which was no where to be seen), that Mrs. Black should have had to push her way through them to be moving at the pace she was maintaining. However, Mrs. Black was no ordinary woman. She was a fierce, influential, powerful, and formidable women. She could have easily pushed her way through those crowds, but that was the difference between Mrs. Black and other women who shared her traits. Mrs. Black, though perfectly capable, did not often have to force her hand on any matter. No one dared oppose her. 

As they slid through the masses, the occupants of the cramped station seemed to part like living curtains in their wake. Mrs. Black walked tall, with a prideful posture, and her chin in the air. She was wearing her usual formal black attire, and was clutching her purse almost menacingly in her thin, bony right hand. The slender fingers on her left hand were around her elder son's wrist as she guided him firmly through the station. Behind him, Sirius dragged his suitcase. Sterling was making the most ridiculous ruckus, overstimulated by the noise and bustle all around.

But where was Platform 9 3/4? 

Platform 6, Platform 7, Platform 8..... There didn't seem to be any other station numbers with fractions in them. There was Platform 9.... and Platform 10! Did this platform even exist?

Sirius barely had time to be terrified as his mother used one hand on his back to shove him into the wall dividing Platform 9 and 10. To his surprise, he phased right through it and emerged on the other side on an entirely different platform. 

This platform was filled with witches and wizards, no longer caring to hide their magical lifestyle now that they were safely out of sight of muggles. Students stood with their families in the process of a varying assortment of farewells. Some parents sobbed as they clutched their children who they would not see at least until Christmas if not much longer. In other families, the children cried. Some families seemed excited for their child to go off and learn magic. Some students had met up with their friends, eagerly detailing the numerous adventures they had embarked upon over the summer. 

"You're certain you have everything you need?" His mother said coldly. "You did wait dreadfully long to pack. Honestly, I thought I had raised a child with more sensibility." Sirius deliberately chose to look at the ground submissively. This had proved the most likely to provoke the least extreme response from his mother on most occasions. This time was not unusual. 

"You'll just have to do better this time," she snapped. He might have been imagining it, but Sirius could have sworn that the rigidity in her voice receded slightly. "You are a Black. And?" She gazed down at him expectantly. 

"And Blacks never settle for second best," Sirius recited at a careful volume. 

"That's right," she confirmed. "Remember that while you're at school. That muggle-loving fool may be your headmaster, but that by no means awards him the authority to turn you into one as well, do you understand me?" Sirius nodded. "Remember to write," she reminded him. "But not too often," she added. Sirius simply nodded again. 

"Well," she said resound as she surveyed the platform with a look of disgust. She looked as if she had only just now noticed that there were other people around her and was thoroughly disappointed with the revelation. "I must be going. Important things to attend to. Can I trust you to get yourself on the train without any trouble?" Sirius nodded once more. "Very well. Goodbye, Sirius. Don't disappoint me." Then she turned and walked away. 

Sirius realized with a sinking feeling something he had failed to notice before as he surveyed the platform's unusual crowd. 

All of these other kids, his classmates, had one thing in common; they were all loved. Whether they were with friends or family, or whether their well-wishers were sad to see them go or excited for them, or double checking their packing nervously, they were all important to someone. Someone was there for them who cared. 

All except for him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Whooooooo!" James cheered loudly as he ran through the wall into Platform 9 3/4. His father laughed as he too emerged. 

"James," he scolded lightheartedly. "What if muggles had seen you?"

"Sorry, dad!" James cried with little conviction. He was enthralled by the bustle of the Platform. All around him were other eleven-year olds clutching their pets and new spellbooks. In this crowd somewhere was his best friend, he was sure of it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter Pettigrew was, unsurprisingly, completely lost and confused. He was stranded in the middle of a muggle-packed station with absolutely no idea where to go.

Platform 9 3/4? There is no Platform 9 3/4!

He stood in the middle of the crowd of busy passerbys, who glared and grumbled when his stationary state obstructed their path. 

There is no Platform 9 3/4. That must be it. This is some giant joke. I never actually made it into Hogwarts. I should have known. Maybe I can still get a refund on all my supplies in Diagon Alley....

It was amidst this brooding thought that he noticed a family push past him. This family was nothing like any of the muggles in the station. They were wearing muggle clothes, but not in any sort of coherent way. The mother was wearing bright pink trousers and a loud yellow blouse, and she was the most conspicuous of the family. Her son, who seemed about fifteen, was wearing a plaid skirt that fell several inches below the knee, and a florescent orange t-shirt. The little girl, who couldn't be older than 6, was wearing a strange floral jumper three or four sizes too big, with an American baseball cap on backwards. 

These could only be wizards attempting disguise. 

Peter followed them eagerly, a flicker of light igniting inside of him. The family made there way towards Platforms 9 and 10, but Peter could not see how they intended to get to Platform 9 3/4. They came to a halt in between the two Platforms. The mother hoisted her daughter onto her hip, and took hold of her son's owl cage, giving her son a gently nudge. The boy ran straight towards the wall and passed right through it. His little sister gasped, and Peter was right along with her. The mother followed, her daughter giggling in delight. Thankfully, no muggles seemed to notice this abnormal occurance. 

Peter cautiously approached the wall. He took a deep breath, and cursing his insurmountable desire to attend Hogwarts, ran towards the wall. 

To his relief, he passed right through it and found himself on an entirely different platform, full of magic, wizards, and witches. The trains at the station was clearly labeled as the "Hogwarts Express", and was emitting thick, dark billows of smoke. Kids were already climbing on. He slipped haphazardly through the unusual crowd, eager to start this adventure. 

This was it. This was his chance to be something great. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~'

Remus Lupin was going to be sick. 

Why was he doing this? How had he let his parents convice him to do this? This was a terrible idea. A dreadful idea, really. What if he hurt someone? What if he hurt himself? He hadn't ever even been outside the house before. Already he could feel the crowds of Platform 9 3/4 closing in on him. He felt choked, drowned. Could he even breathe?

What if people found out? What would they do to him? What would the students say? What would the parents say? Did the teachers already know? What did they think? Would they treat him differently? Would they be scared of him? Would they hate him?

See, Remus was coming to realize the real curse of being a werewolf. It wasn't the unbearable cravings for raw meat at the most random of times. It wasn't the sickness leading up to the full moon. It wasn't the foreign hangover feeling afterward. It wasn't the pain that racked his body from the scratches, gashes, bruises and scars that covered him after the full moon had fallen. It wasn't being chained to his bed every full moon, and it wasn't even turning into a horrible, hairy, uncontrolable beast under the light of the peaked lunar cycle. 

It was the judgement that would be placed upon him before anyone every laid eyes on him. 

Every single person who knew he was a werewolf would never care that he was the brightest child his numerous psychologists and child development coaches had ever seen. The wouldn't care that he was loyal and kind. They wouldn't care that he had wanted to attend Hogwarts so badly since he was old enough to know about it that he had already read Hogwarts: A History cover to cover more times than he could count, yet he was so nervous that the thought of even stepping foot on that train made him green with nausea. They couldn't care less that he was just a harmless little kid, and that his burden was not even a little his fault. 

All they would see was the werewolf. 

All they would see was the part of himself that he couldn't control. All they would see was the part of him that wasn't really him. It wasn't fair. 

His father gave his hand a squeeze. 

"Don't be nervous," he said quietly. He cast his eyes about anxiously, checking for eavesdroppers. "We've made every possible provision for you. Nothing will happen. Just focus on having fun, and getting a good education. This is everything you've ever wanted."

Remus did not waste time noticing that his father had not cautioned him to be safe. Mr. Lupin knew better than to expect that anything about Remus' situation would ever be safe. Remus was in constant danger. He was a danger to himself and others. Mrs. Lupin had, in tears, thrown out their clock the night after Remus returned from St. Mungos after he was bitten. It had not moved any of their hands from "Mortal Peril" since he had returned.

"I have to go," his father said apologetically. "I have to make it into work. Don't worry, alright?" Remus nodded weakly. The feeling like he was going to lose what little breakfast he had managed to consume was increasing steadily. His father gave his shoulder another reassuring squeeze and hurried off. 

He took a few cautious steps forward. He felt dizzy. 

This was it. This was what he had been waiting for all of his life. He felt so thrilled, yet so terrified that it was confusing. This was the thing he wanted the most, but it was also his greatest fear. 

This was it.