Ricky Johnson was perfectly normal, thank you very much. He worked at Kings Cross station, helping people find their platforms. Ricky didn't really get the point of his job. After all, there were giant platform signs. But he had to pay the bills, and this was an easy job for someone who hadn't graduated high school. His days were always boring. Frantic commuters trying to find another train, boisterous teenagers being chased by the police for spray-painting a building, and little kids who wandered away from their guardians.

September 1 was different though. Starting when a skinny boy with a shock of messy black hair and too big clothes walked up to him. The boy had a trunk and an…owl? "Owls aren't pets? Are they?" Ricky thought. "Maybe he knows a zoologist? Yes, that has to be it."

"Where is platform 9 ¾?" asked the boy.

"Maybe the boy belongs in a loony bin," Ricky thought.

"Where is platform 9 ¾?" asked the boy again. "I have the ticket." The boy proceeded to pull out a small slip of paper with the name Hogwarts Express written across the top, and the platform number–9 ¾. Ricky shook his head. The boy wandered off into the crowd.

"Packed with muggles of course!" shouted a red-haired woman who was walking by with her five equally redheaded children.

"Muggles? A new word? Maybe I've never heard it before. I didn't graduate high school after all. Maybe they learned it in 12th grade," thought Ricky. The boy who had asked him about the mysterious platform ran over to them. Ricky almost felt sorry for the lady. Almost. As long as it wasn't him being confronted by an insane boy. The boy disappeared along with the red-haired lady and her children. Hopefully next year wouldn't be so bad.

The next year on September 1, Ricky was standing at Kings Cross when he heard a strange popping sound. He glanced around, only to see nothing. He could swear he heard a squeaky voice say, "Harry Potter is safe now!" The boy from the year before was back two hours later along with one of the redheaded kids. He watched them carefully. They began to run straight at the solid brick wall between platform 9 and 10! They crashed into the wall spectacularly. "I wonder what the number for the insane asylum is? Both kids certainly belong there. Or maybe it was a publicity stunt? Who knows, I didn't graduate high school," thought Ricky.

"We'll just take dad's flying car!" yelled the red-haired boy.

"Yes," thought Ricky, "those kids definitely belong in an insane asylum."

Then, heard the high-pitched voice from earlier. "Dobby must enchant bludgers to injure Harry Potter now!"

"No," Ricky thought, "maybe I belong in an insane asylum."

The dangerous mass murderer, Sirius Black, had escaped from the high security ward in prison. Ricky wasn't that scared until he heard the raven-haired boy mention how Sirius Black was going after him. "Sirius Black wouldn't go after a little boy, would he?" Ricky thought. "But maybe he would. I wouldn't know. I didn't graduate high school after all."

The September 1 brought a man with long blond hair wearing a dress and holding a staff, a miniature in tow. He was talking about a magical tournament and how Harry Potter would die, and Voldemort would rise once more. Ricky hadn't graduated high school, but he knew Voldemort meant 'death' in French.

The year after that, a spunky looking lady with bright pink hair and two burly men were accompanying the boy. "Don't worry Harry, we're here to rescue you if anyone tries to hurt you," said the pink-haired woman, promptly tripping over her own feet.

"So that was his name," Ricky thought. As the pink-haired lady walked away, he swore that her hair turned purple. "It might have been a trick of the light," he thought. "After all, I didn't graduate high school."

The next September 1 brought the miniature back. Two dumb looking bodyguards guarded him. "I'm going to kill Dumbledore this year. Then I can become a Death Eater!" grinned the boy. The goons smiled slightly.

"What's a Death Eater? And does 'kill' have a new meaning?" thought Ricky. "Then again, I might have missed it from 12th grade. I didn't graduate high school after all."

The next year, people wearing dresses and masks stormed Kings Cross. They pulled out sticks and started yelling in gibberish. Ricky didn't move until a man was blown up from one of the gibberish words. He sensibly ran.

When he went to the police blabbering about a platform 9 ¾ and magic, the police carted him off to an insane asylum. Soon after, a Vernon Dursley, who claimed that wizards had kidnapped him, joined him in the asylum. Months later, a batty woman named Arabella Finch joined the padded and secure room. All she did was cry about being separated from her magical cats. Ricky suspected that it wasn't just magic that made her crazy.

They were all stuck there in an insane asylum. "Even though I didn't graduate high school," thought Ricky, "I know that none of this would have happened without that boy and the mysterious platform 9 ¾." And he was right.