The One Who Got Away

"Sir, excuse me, sir!"

A tall, skinny boy with shaggy black hair tried simultaneously to run and pull a large, beat up trunk behind him up a staircase leading to Platform 9 at King's Cross Station in London. The latches on the trunk creaked as it thumped up each step, coming ever closer to bursting open.

"Excuse me!" the boy called as he finally hauled his trunk up to the floor of Platform 9. A station security guard was standing not five feet away, flirting openly with a young woman in a nurse's uniform. He seemed not to have heard the boy's voice.

"Sir!"

The boy finally got the attention of the guard who was now right in front of him. The guard glanced down at him and sneered at the young boy's messy appearance. His black hair fell to uneven lengths, most stopping just around his ears. He was wearing worn out khaki pants with a hole just below the left knee and a button-up plaid flannel shirt that was a size too small.

"Can I help you, boy?" the guard grunted.

The young boy reached into his pocket, pulled out a slip of paper, squinted down at the writing on it, and then turned back to the guard. "I'm looking for Platform 9 and 3/4, sir. Could you tell me where I might find it?"

"9 and 3/4? Are you crazy, boy?"

The nurse laughed and the guard, shaking his head, took her hand and turned to walk away. The boy sighed and reached once more for the handle of his trunk.

He walked slowly down the length of the platform, glancing up from time to time as if to check that Platform 9 and 3/4 hadn't materialized since last he looked. It never did and finally he stopped and sat down on his trunk directly in front of one of the barrier walls between Platforms 9 and 10.

"You're a bit in the way there, kid!"

The young boy looked up, shaking his bangs out of his eyes to see a tall red haired girl towering menacingly over him. She had in front of her a cart weighted down by a large black trunk. A basket sat atop the trunk, with the faint meows of a kitten escaping from an opening on the top.

"Sorry," he mumbled, jumping up and hauling his trunk over to the side.

The girl nodded curtly at him and pushed her trunk forward. In a moment, she had disappeared into the wall.

The young boy stepped backwards in shock and fell over his trunk. He heard a girl's soft laugh and glanced up to see a pretty girl with dark brown hair standing above him. She appeared to be about the same age as the red head who had disappeared moments before.

"Here, let me help you," the girl offered her hand.

Once he was back on his feet, the boy dusted off his bottom and smiled sheepishly. "Thank you."

"Oh, think nothing of it," the girl smiled. "What's your name?"

"Tom. Tom Riddle."

The girl frowned slightly. "I don't recognize your last name. I just assumed, you know, that you were going to..."

"Hogwarts?"

"Yes. You are, then?"

Tom nodded quickly and grabbed hold of the handle of his trunk once more.

"You must be a Muggle born."

Tom frowned at this and stood up proudly, straightening his shirt. "I am not! I'm a, oh, what do you call it... My mum was a witch, but my father a Muggle..."

"A half-blood."

"Yes, that. Certainly not a Muggle born."

The girl laughed. "All right, then. Are you a first year?"

"Yes."

"And having trouble getting onto the platform, I take it?" Tom nodded sheepishly. "Don't feel bad about it, many first years need help, nothing to be ashamed of."

"Did you need help?"

"Well, my dad took me. He and my mum both went to Hogwarts themselves. A very long time ago, I suppose," she paused. "Isn't your mother here to help you?"

"She's died."

"Oh, I'm very sorry, I didn't mean..."

Tom shrugged noncommittally. He grasped his trunk handle even tighter. "Well, could you help me out, then?"

The girl laughed again. "Oh, of course, I had almost forgotten." She checked the clock on the station wall. "And we really ought to be going, train leaves in fifteen minutes."

Tom hauled his trunk closer to the girl as she pulled her cart bearing her trunk in front of her.

"You know what," she began, "we could put your trunk on here, with mine, just to get it onto the platform. That's something you ought to remember, you know, for next year. They have these carts you can use, it's much easier."

With her help, Tom hauled his trunk onto the cart on top of hers. "Okay, now what?"

"Oh, that's the easy part. Just run straight at that wall there, don't stop as you're about to hit it, though. Because you won't hit it. You'll go straight through."

Tom looked incredulously at her, but the idea sounded cool enough to him. "Can I go first?"

"Sure, and I'll bring the trunks along behind."

Tom took a deep breath and looked toward the wall. It did look fairly solid, but he had seen that red head disappear when she should have hit it, so he was willing to give it a try. Mustering up his courage, he strode purposefully towards the wall.

He squeezed his eyes shut just before he expected the impact, but it never came.

"Oh, so you've decided to come through the barrier, have you?"

Tom opened his eyes and looked up to see the red head from before standing in front of him. He gasped in surprise and then glanced around him. People bustled around the station and a bright red train sat off to his left, pumping smoke through its steam engine.

"It worked."

"Well, of course it did, silly, what did you expect?" the girl grinned down at him. "Now, where is your trunk?"

Tom opened his mouth to speak but he didn't get the chance.

"I've got it," came another voice from behind him. He and the red head turned to see the brunette girl who had helped him standing by the barrier with the heavily loaded cart in front of her.

"Good, Minnie, you're here. I was wondering what was taking you so long. Come on, we've got to get on the train!"

"I was helping Tom here, Chelsea," she responded. "My duty as a prefect, you know."

Chelsea snorted, "God, you're going to be unbearable about that now, aren't you?"

Tom looked back and forth between the two girls as they talked.

"It's an honor and a duty to be a prefect, Chelsea. And my name is Minerva, not Minnie. It'll do you good to remember that!" Chelsea rolled her eyes and Minerva turned back to Tom. "You'd better go on and find somewhere to sit on the train. Don't worry, we'll get your trunk on for you."

Chelsea grabbed hold of Minerva's arm and started to pull her and the cart towards the train, leaving Tom alone.

"If I don't see you before then, good luck with your sorting, kid," Chelsea called over her shoulder. "Hope to see you in Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor?" Tom muttered. "I'd rather die than go into Gryffindor."

The steam engine whistled once and Tom glanced at the clock. It was eight minutes till 11 AM. With one last glance at the barrier he still couldn't believe he had walked through, Tom jogged off to the train to find a seat.

To be continued...