What if...

I'm Harry. Harry Potter

Kings Cross Station was basically always busy. That wasn't the best situation for an eleven year old boy to be in, especially when he was alone.

Harry Potter hadn't had the best life. After his parents had died at the hand of the most evil wizard of the century, Harry had been passed along to his aunt and uncle. They were sure to care for him and love him like one of their own. Right?

Wrong. From the first day Harry had appeared at their doorstep, they treated him as nothing more than a maid, or, from a wizard's perspective, a house elf. He did jobs around the house for his fat uncle and bony aunt, while his annoying cousin took after his father and beat the sense and knowledge into Harry as often as he could.

Why didn't he call Childline? Because he was utterly terrified of what his Uncle would do to him if he did. It wasn't a chance he was willing to take.

Anyway, that routine was broken when a giant man in a big trenchcoat had literally knocked the door down, searching for him. To say he was scared was a complete understatement. The giant turned out to be quite kind, and he gave Harry his first ever proper birthday present- a squashed cake with pudgy writing in green icing. It didn't look like much, but Harry thought it was the most amazing thing in the world.

They had bought supplies for a "wizard school" called Hogwarts, which was also where Harry's parents had learned how to use magic. The place they bought the items from was called Diagon Alley, and it was there where he found out what really happened to his parents. An evil wizard called Voldemort had murdered them. But, somehow, when he tried to kill Harry, the curse had backfired and 'killed Voldemort'. There were mixed opinions on whether he really died. Hagrid thought it was codswallop.

When they had arrived at Kings Cross, Hagrid had given Harry quite a unique ticket, detailing that the Hogwarts Express was departing from platform nine and three quarters at eleven o'clock.

Hagrid had then strangely left Harry alone before telling him where the platform was.

Harry was currently trying to find platform nine and three quarters. He had asked lots of different people where the alleged platform was, but they had all shrugged him off as a crazy child.

"Packed with muggles, of course."

Muggles? Hagrid had told him that wizards and witches used that word to describe non-magic people. He made to follow the group when his trolley clashed with someone else's. Harry saved hedwig from falling out of the trunk at the same time the girl had saved her trunk from flying into the rails.

"Sorry." They both said at the same time. They looked at each other in confusion.
"I just smashed into you, why are you saying sorry?" Harry asked.
"I wasn't looking where I was going, why are you saying sorry?" She replied.
"Erm..." Harry trailed off. "I don't know, I've just been trying to find this platform for about ten minutes and the train's leaving soon." He complained.

"Oh, which platform is it?" She asked, acting a little warmer towards the bespectacled boy. Harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Don't call me crazy, but... nine and three quarters." Harry winced. The girl's eyes widened.
"Really? No way, me too! So... does that mean you're... you know... as well?" She replied eagerly.
"Yeah! Oh, thank god, I honestly thought I was gonna miss the train!" Harry said, relieved.

"Um... do you think we could... sit together?" The girl asked timidly. Harry looked at her, shocked.
"You want to sit with me?"

"Well yes, you- well you seem quite kind and- um, yeah." She stuttered.
"Yes! I mean, yeah, sure, it's just that- well... no one's ever wanted to be near me before." Harry admitted.
"That's horrible!" She exclaimed.
"It's fine, I'm used to it." He shrugged it off.
"You shouldn't be! The people who did that to you don't deserve to be in your prescence!" The girl said indignantly, placing a hand on his shoulder.