Diagon Alley was big. Diagon Alley was wide. And most of all, Diagon Alley was filled with magic. That was the part that stood out the most to Emily. On each side of the road there were countless shops that had amazing things through their glass windows, like rats that were skipping rope and hats that blew up only to piece themselves back together seconds later.

It was almost a total overload to Emily's system to see all these strange and outlandish sights all at once. She felt like she would be okay if she were to see one thing, be able to check it off in her mind that yes, okay, that was possible, and then move on to the next. But instead it was all thrust in front of her at once, and that, with her temperament, meant she was running at full capacity, and so it wasn't so surprising that she quickly got a headache.

Grandmother, though, was completely fine with all this magical stuff, and kept moving forward towards the back of the alley without hesitance, practically dragging Emily along behind her.

"Wh-where are we going?" Emily finally worked up the nerve to ask the question she'd been wanting to since they began walking.

"Gringotts Bank," Grandmother Abby answered promptly, navigating her way through a crowd of wizards and witches who appeared to be about sixteen, and were marveling at a tap dancing table inside a shop window. She continued, "Quite literally the safest place in the world, besides maybe Hogwarts Castle or the Pentagon in America."

"The Pentagon?"

"Oh, sure. That place is reinforced by a ton of magic barriers. It's the American wizarding government's capital, except the actual offices are way farther underground than that silly little building Muggles see on the surface."

"Oh…" Emily mumbled. "I see." She didn't really see, but it seemed like the proper answer to give. Then Grandmother's actual answer to her question resurfaced in her mind. "You said 'Gringotts Bank'. Why are we going to a bank?"

Grandma kept speed walking as she answered, forcing Emily to take up a slight trot to keep up. "Well, you might not understand this yet, I mean, you've only just turned eleven, but it's not really the greatest idea to keep all your money in your pockets at all times, so most people store their fortunes in a bank until they're needed."

"But," Emily persisted, confused. "Don't you have a credit card?"

"Well," Grandma shrugged. "I guess I do, but that's only for my Muggle money–I mean pounds. It's not like those have any real value in the wizarding world as they are."

"Then what kind of money does?"

"Oh, Knuts, Sickles, Galleons, that sort of thing. It's much too complicated to convert that all to pounds and such, so I keep them separate."

Again Emily found herself completely befuddled by her Grandmother's use of proper nouns for which she had no definition. She let out some sort of sound of acknowledgement of what Grandmother had said, and continued walking.

About thirty seconds later, Grandmother abruptly stopped, causing Emily to continue walking for a beat before she realized that they were no longer moving forward. She quickly hurried back to Grandmother's side, not wanting to get lost in this place, and looked where Abby was looking.

The building that had attracted Grandmother's attention was a large, irregularly built tower that rose above all the other buildings around it. Emily wasn't sure how she'd managed to miss it until now, but now that she saw it, it took her breath away. It was made of white stone and built in an architectural style that suggested it wasn't anywhere near recently constructed, looking almost like a castle's tower. The way it stood was warped, though, and it almost appeared to have been built by a child, since each vertical section of it leaned one way or another, and it appeared that the only thing that balanced it was… magic. This thing couldn't possibly still be standing if it was built as long ago as it appeared to have been.

Gray stone steps led up to its wooden oak doors, and a small golden sign was attached to one of the doors, though it was too far away to read at the moment.

"Well, here it is," Grandmother announced. "Gringotts Bank, the safest place on earth. Nothing gets in or out without explicit permission from the employees, and if you try… you'll be sorry." With that ominous statement, she looked down at Emily and grinned. "Come on, let's go!"

As they entered the doors, Emily paused for a moment to read the sign on the door, though it took her a minute because there was more text than she expected. It read:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

The last bit of the poem sent a chill down Emily's spine. She wondered what 'more than treasure' meant. After a moment's thought about how dangerous the magic she had seen in the alley could be if applied to a person, she decided she didn't want to find out, and hurried in after Grandmother.

Once inside, things got even weirder. The bank wasn't arranged like you would expect, but instead it looked like a long hall with one large desk at the end, and on either side long desks that stretched the entire hall with spaced out work areas for the employees, where they were busy scribbling on sheets of paper.

On the topic of the employees, at first glance, Emily thought they were children. Then she realized that children wouldn't be working, and changed her assumption to midgets. But then she took a closer look at them, and found that they weren't simply short, but also had nonhuman features. Their noses were elongated and ended in a point, and their ears had the same treatment. In fact, nearly feature they had seemed pointier than a human. She reached the conclusion that they were magical creatures, and, based on what she'd seen in books, most probably goblins.

Grandmother led her to the back of the bank, to the large desk that seated only one goblin. The goblin looked down his long nose at them and said. "Business?"

"Abigail Espera Petrel would like to make a withdrawal," Grandmother stated flatly. She reached into her cloak pocket and pulled out an oddly shaped object. "Here's my key." She held the key up to the goblin, who took it, examined it for a moment, and then nodded its assent, handing it back.

"Right," the goblin said. "Griphook!"

Another goblin came shuffling out from behind the desk. He didn't look much different than the one at the desk, but Emily guessed upon closer inspection she would find subtle differences between the desk goblin and the one that was apparently called Griphook.

She didn't get to do that, though, because Griphook led her and Grandmother back behind the desk to a door through which there was a large cavern and a mine cart on rails that extended into the darkness.

Griphook picked up a lamp once they were in the cavern and shut the door behind him, plunging the three into utter darkness, save for a few torches and, of course, the lamp. Griphook and Abby got into the minecart right away, and Emily followed cautiously after.

"Are there any seatbelts?" she asked nervously, looking over the side of the cart and gulping at the near-infinite drop she saw beneath her.

"You've got arms, right?" Griphook asked.

"Y-yes?" What sort of question was that?

Griphook gave a nasty smile. "Well then you'd better hang on."

There were no seatbelts, Emily concluded from that exchange. A moment later the cart lurched forward and she clamped her hands so tightly on the sides of the cart that her knuckles turned ghostly white. This felt uncannily like a roller coaster, and she'd always been petrified of roller coasters.

Then the ride began.

They shortly reached the vault and the mine cart screeched to a halt. Emily hastily got off and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply so that her nausea and swimming vision might subside.

"Are you okay, miss?" Griphook asked, showing a small semblance of kindness. The goblin quickly revoked this, however, by remarking. "After all, it wouldn't look very good on my report of you died with me as your guide."

Emily didn't answer out of fear that she might pass out from the effort. Her vision was already doubled. Thankfully Grandmother Abby saved her from an impolite silence.

"She's just a little dizzy, Griphook." She turned to her granddaughter. "Emily, I think it might be better for you to stay out here. The vaults can be very dangerous."

Emily simply nodded, and sat against the wall, holding her head.

"Very well," Griphook grumbled, obviously not liking the idea of leaving someone he was assigned to watch alone in the apparently dangerous vaults, but led Grandmother away anyway.

Emily, once she was sure they were out of earshot, closed her eyes, inhaled deeply to subside her nausea, rubbed her temples to try to relieve the massive vertigo headache the mine cart ride had given her, and let out a low groan as the last hour or so of her life finally caught up to her.

Motion sickness was pretty common in the Busch family, and even though Emily had been sure she'd outgrown it, its happening wasn't the majority of what had overloaded her, but it was certainly the tipping point.

It was all too much to handle at once. Magic? Okay, sure. Magic everywhere? Not so much.

She tried to categorize everything she'd seen into the categories the remedial magic book had given her, but it turned out doing so was much harder in reality than simply looking at the diagrams the book had.

So… exploding and reassembling hats… that would have to be cyclical branch function spells. If destroyed, then 'reparo', if normal, then 'reducto'. Rats skipping rope… perhaps a charm of some kind, maybe a lot of animagi. Sure, those made sense. But what about the more fantastic things–the stuff that wasn't just a basic spell or charm but instead a series of them made into a magical machine? How would one classify that? Emily certainly had no idea.

Her vision was stable now, though, and her headache and nausea were subsiding, and so she stood up while still leaning against the wall and tried a tactic she'd heard before of to calm herself: inhale for three seconds, exhale for seven. After about a minute of that, she was finally calmed down, and could once again think about the magic.

"I got myself into this," she reminded herself. "I could've said 'no', but I chose this and now I have to see it through. I want to see it through."

But she hadn't expected it to be this difficult. Emily was very book-smart, and that was one of her great strengths. But when it came to practical application of what she'd learned, she struggled immensely until she was experienced at it. That was the only reason she was having trouble, she assured herself, a little more experience and she'd be totally fine.

About that time, she started hearing Grandmother's and Griphook's voices from the hall they'd gone down, and so she froze so she wouldn't make a sound and listened to try to hear what they were saying.

"So you're sure the vault was accessed only by Hagrid?" That was Grandmother's voice. But which vault did she mean? It couldn't be hers.

"Mrs. Petrel, you have asked this twelve times already." And that was Griphook. He sounded annoyed, even more than usual. "Vault 713 has been accessed only once in the past month, and only by the half-giant, and the access happens to have occurred just today. I do not know which details you are unsure over, but rest assured that your identification is enough for me not to deceive you whatsoever."

Vault 713? Half-giant? What were they talking about?

The footsteps and voices grew louder as the two got closer. "Fine, Griphook, but you rest assured that if you are lying to me in any way, or if the contents of that vault are anywhere but with Hagrid, I will sever your head from your shoulders the moment I see you again."

Emily held back a gasp at the threat, so shocked that she almost missed Griphook's response.

"If that's what you want, then I think you will be disappointed."

Emily quickly drew back a few steps and attempted to look nonchalant as the footsteps finally reached their peak volume and Grandmother Abby and Griphook rounded the corner. Their conversation stopped as well, and Grandmother gave Emily her usual cheerful, eccentric look, which didn't at all match the tone she'd taken with Griphook just a second ago. "Hello, Emily! Are you feeling any better?"

Emily nodded, though she was still kind of frightened from the threat she'd just heard her grandmother make. "Yes."

"Well then, we'd best be on our way out." Grandmother turned her attention to the goblin once more. "Can you take us up, Griphook?"

"Yes, ma'am…" Griphook grumbled, and began to lead them group back to the mine cart.

Ten minutes later she and Grandmother Abby stood outside the doors of the bank. Fifty Galleons had been taken out of Grandmother's account, and were now in a burlap bag in Abby's hand.

Grandmother cleared her throat, looking down at Emily (she had at least two feet on her). "Right, so I've got some business to attend to with Ha–with a colleague," she explained, handing Emily the bag, the school list, and what appeared to be a map. "So I'll leave you with this."

"B-but wait a minute," Emily protested, suddenly panicked at the idea of being alone in the Alley. "Isn't that dangerous? What if I get lost?"

Grandmother dismissed the objections with a wave of her hand. "It isn't easy to get lost here. Besides, nobody will try to hurt you. They'll probably be more afraid you'll hurt them. You'll be fine," she added, seeing Emily was still worried. "If you need help, just go to Florean Flortescue's. You'll be safe there, and I'll wait for you there in an hour or so. Be safe!"

And then she apparated away, just a second after she'd finished talking.

Emily gulped. Suddenly, now that she was alone, the people around her seemed much louder, and the space around her much smaller. She pocketed the bag of money, just to make sure that it wasn't there to entice potential thieves, but didn't know what to do after that. The Alley was completely foreign to her. She was totally lost.

As she looked around, she caught sight of a remarkably tall and large man, and next to him a boy that seemed to be her age with black hair. She wanted to approach them, but a moment later the large man left and the boy went towards a shop called Ollivander's.

Emily let out a small shout of surprise as a hand touched her shoulder, and whipped around to face her potential assailant. She was surprised to be faced with, instead of a fully-grown adult, a boy about her age. He stared at her with wide hazel eyes and flashed a nervous smile. "Whoa there, don't kill me! I just want to say hi!"

Emily took a small step back and studied the boy for a moment. He was taller than she was, but only by a little, had brown hair swept off to the side in the front, and a confident, yet slightly nervous expression, the nervousness probably caused by her reaction. "Um…" she murmured. "Hi."

"Well, you're a shy one, aren't'cha?" The boy grinned. "Don't worry, I don't know any magic. I'm going to be a first year at Hogwarts. I guess you are too? What's your name?"

Emily considered the questions for a minute, sorting out answers. "Um, I'm going to be a first year, yes, and my name is Emily. Emily Busch."

The boy nodded. "Emily. Nice name. I'm Maxwell Verthehart, by the way, but you can just call me Max!" He extended a hand, which Emily tentatively shook.

"Nice to meet you," she said quietly.

Max laughed. "Seriously, you don't have to be so cautious. I won't hurt you."

Emily didn't think herself a very good judge of character, but she thought Max at the very least seemed trustworthy, even if he was a little talkative. She sighed. "All right."

He grinned. "Cool!" Casting a glance at the papers in Emily's hands, he looked very relieved. "Oh, you have a map? This is great! I've been totally lost for at least half an hour by now." He looked her right in the eyes earnestly. "Can I come with you? Please?"

Emily swallowed hard. "Um, sure."

He gave her a smile that made her feel as if agreeing to let him tag along was the nicest thing she could've done with him. "Thanks!" He grabbed her hand, which caused her to recoil for a moment in shock, and began to pull her in the direction of the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts. "Come on, let's go!"

"So, we need to go to… Madam Malkin's for robes next," Max said, turning the map upside down to match the direction they were walking. "And after that all that's left is wands at Ollivander's."

"Oh, so that's where he was going," Emily muttered.

"What was that?"

Emily shook her head. "Nothing. Let's get going."

Over the course of about the past hour, they'd managed to obtain nearly all their school supplies at the various stores. In that time, Max had proven to be a very nice person. He was confident in everything he did, the exact opposite of Emily. It was good that he was around, because otherwise she wouldn't have gotten the shopping done in half the time.

Robes at Madam Malkin's took forever, and Emily spent the time carefully observing Max to try to figure out the traits he had that made him so charismatic. After a while, she was on the brink of giving up. Everything he did seemed to come so naturally to him it was as if she was observing a dog and trying to analyze how it barked.

That was about the point when he noticed how much she was looking at him. She glanced over at him in the sitting room while they were waiting for the robes to be made, but immediately looked away in embarrassment when she saw him staring back at her. She gulped and risked another look over at him and found he was grinning at her.

"You know, you don't have to be so embarrassed about it," he said nonchalantly. "I get it."

"Get… what?" she asked cautiously.

"If you like looking at me, there's no problem."

Emily felt heat rising to her face and pooling in her cheeks and her ears. "N-no, that's not at all what I–what it–"

Max laughed, interrupting her stammered reply. "Relax, I'm messing with you. But for real, you might want to be a little more quick with an answer next time, or some guy might get the wrong idea."

Emily bit her lower lip and made a tiny sound that resembled a mouse's squeak. Madam Malkin chose that exact moment to walk in and cast a curious look at the two. "Your robes are ready. Is something the matter?"

Emily refused to speak for a while after that, not wanting to embarrass herself further.

Conversation came to an utter standstill until the two came to Ollivander's. Max held the door, and Emily ducked inside (even though there was no reason to duck–she was actually rather short).

Her first impression of the interior of the shop was that it was an old bookstore, the kind you might find on the corner of two streets in an old part of town. Upon second glance, though, she noticed that there were a few plants interspersed here and there, and the shelving, like everything else she'd seen in the Wizarding World so far, was slanted.

Almost immediately the smell of wood hit Emily's nose. She realized what she probably should've upon first glance, that the shelves were filled not with books, but with boxes, all the right size and shape to contain wands.

She jumped slightly and the door closed with a clatter behind her, and calmed down as Max walked up beside her. He gave a low whistle. "Dang. Cool place."

Emily thought that was a good summation.

Max walked up to the desk and rang the service bell, crossing his arms and tapping his foot as its sound ended and several seconds passed. At long last, an old man with a saggy face and frizzy hair silvered with age appeared from a door in the back and faced the two with a look that suggested he'd just been woken from sleep. "Yes? What is it?"

Max gave the man, presumably Ollivander, a smile, uncrossing his arms. "Hello, sir. My friend and I are here to purchase wands for our first year at Hogwarts."

"Ah, yes." Ollivander nodded. "First years. I've gotten plenty of those for a wide variety of schools today. For instance, a young Mr. Harry Potter…" He trailed off in pondering, not looking directly at the two anymore.

"Excuse me, but did you say Harry Potter?" Max asked–composure for once his seeming shaken.

"Did I?" Ollivander wondered. "Hmm. I suppose I did."

Emily was confused–confused enough to ask Max, "Who's Harry Potter?"

He seemed excited. "He's a living legend–and living is the key word! He stopped You Know Who as a kid, and then vanished off the map until today!" He glanced at Ollivander. "But he's back?!"

"Now son, I should have you know never forget a face," Ollivander said. "If I believe Harry Potter was here, then Harry Potter was here."

"Yes, sorry, sir," Max apologized with a sheepish grin, seeming ashamed at his outburst.

"Now, if it is no trouble," Ollivander pointed at him. "I can only do wand assessment for one wizard or witch at a time, so kindly exit until you are called for."

"Yes, sir. Right away," Max nodded and exited through the door, mouthing, "Good luck," to Emily as he left.

As the door shut with a clatter, Ollivander gave Emily a stare with his slightly unfocused eyes. The unfocused quality made her feel like he wasn't just looking at her as she appeared to everyone else, but at the intangible qualities about her, the things that were only present in her character.

"Now Ms. Busch," Ollivander said. "I see a large amount of potential in you, even if you do not wish to acknowledge it. I think you will do well in magic, even though you are new to it."

Emily's immediate reaction was to question how he knew her last name and that she was new to magic, but then she realized that there would probably be a way, what with Ollivander's probable experience with magic. There had to be some sort of way for him to discern that information. "Thank you, sir."

"That is not always a good thing, however," Ollivander continued. "I feel as if I may be repeating myself today, but there have been many great wizards, and not all of them good. There was one wizard darker than all the others: He Who Must Not Be Named. You must be careful not to fall into the trap that he and many others have. Do not let yourself be carried away with ability, or you may find yourself down a very dark road." He gave Emily a sharp, focused glare. "Understood?"

"Y-yes, sir," Emily affirmed with a gulp. This was much scarier than she'd expected it to be.

"Well then," Ollivander's serious expression morphed into a friendly smile. "Let's get to the business of your wand fitting." He turned and walked over to one of the shelves, running his finger down a row of the boxes until he reached one in a red box, which he pulled out and opened. "Let's see… seven inches, oak, core of dragon heartstring." He handed Emily the wand. "Go on, try it out."

Emily frowned. What was she supposed to do? She had learned a few basic spells, but never thought she would be asked to use them before she got to Hogwarts. "Er… aguamenti," she said, speaking the first spell that came to mind. However, instead of the expected stream of water from the wand's end, it spat a burst of fire that, thankfully, didn't catch anything ablaze. Emily held it at arm's length in surprise and tried and failed to regain enough concentration to put out the flame.

Ollivander, acting quickly, used his own wand to stop the fire, and gingerly retrieved the wand from Emily's hand. "Perhaps not that one," he conceded, putting the wand back in its box.

Emily had to agree.

The wandmaker looked at her carefully one more time before frowning. "No… that couldn't be it. Too much of a coincidence…"

"What couldn't be?"

"And on the same day…" Ollivander continued as if he hadn't heard her. "No, that's ridiculous. But still…" He went behind the counter and pulled a wand box from a place that wouldn't be found without knowledge of its whereabouts or careful investigation. He opened it and handed its contents to Emily. "Nine inches, pine, core of unicorn hair. Perhaps this one will work for you."

Emily looked at the wand and tried to figure out what about it would've caused Ollivander to keep its box off the shelf like that. It was obvious he didn't want it purchased by just anyone, so what was so special about her? "Uh…" she suddenly realized that she needed to use a spell. Perhaps that would reveal something. "Aguamenti."

Immediately the wand began to stream water that soaked the ground right in front of Emily. She stared at the water in amazement, and felt a swell of power inside of her. She was actually doing magic that she could control. It felt incredible, but after a moment she realized that she had an urge for more of that power, an urge that was so powerful it scared her. She quickly shut off the spell, and held the wand gingerly in her fingertips.

"Yes, that's the one," Ollivander said with a nod, seeming almost fearful at the revelation. "As must as I would like to say it has not, that wand has chosen you as its owner. If you should choose to purchase a wand from this store, that must be the one."

Emily gulped. She glanced down at the wand, sleek and simple in its design, yet in such a way that it conveyed power. That power made her frightened of it. "Are you sure?"

"Ms. Busch, there is one thing that must be understood in the business of wands," Ollivander fixed her with a hard stare, his eyes focused for once. "The wand chooses the wizard… or in your case, the witch. There are no exceptions. Once a wand has chosen you, no other will ever be able to work the same when you use it." He nodded towards the wand. "That wand is the proper one for you. You may feel free to choose another, but if you want the one which will work best for you, that is the one."

Emily took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to wrap her head around the situation. The wand she was holding now had to be her wand. It didn't seem like there was any practical choice other than that now. "If–if that's the case, then how much for it?"

One minutes later, after the exchange of one Galleon and two Sickles, Emily left the store in a slight hurry, the wand clenched in her hand, her already-long sweater sleeves pulled down even farther than normal in order to hide it as much as possible.

She already didn't feel comfortable with it as it was, much less with everyone seeing her carrying it. Ollivander's reaction to it being the right wand for her had been enough to scare her. What could it be about it that would terrify its own creator? Was there some kind of curse on it?

"Well that took a while," Max noted as she closed the door behind herself. He then gained an expression of worry. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Emily wondered how he knew, but then realized her face had to have become pale from her fright. "Er, um… I'm fine," she answered lamely. Sure, like that would fool anyone.

It did. Somehow. "Oh, okay then!" Max grinned. "My bad." He crossed his arms and looked at the door to the wand store. "Well, I guess I'm next."

Emily nodded. She would have to wait for him outside until he was finished, which would give her plenty of time alone with her thoughts. She wasn't sure she wanted that.

However, Grandmother suddenly appearing at her side spared her that painstaking aloneness. However it didn't spare her nearly having a heart attack from the shock of the unexpected appearance (or had it been an apparation? She hadn't seen whether it was sudden or if Grandmother had simply snuck up on her). As it was, she stumbled back and almost dropped her wand in the process.

Grandmother didn't appear to be disturbed by her appearance out of thin air, though. "Ah, there you are!" She clapped Emily on the shoulder. "I see you've gotten your school shopping done." She then cast a glance backwards over her shoulder at Max. "And who would you happen to be?"

Max looked nervous (Grandmother's manner tended to have that effect on people) but still tried to smile. "Hello, ma'am. I'm Maxwell Verthehart." He extended a hand. "And you are?"

Grandmother turned and shook Max's hand. "I'm Emily's grandmother. You can call me Abigail. Nice to meet you, Maxwell."

"Likewise."

"Are you friend of Emily's?"

"Ah, no–well, not yet. We just met today." Max shrugged. "I hope to be, though. Your granddaughter is very nice."

Grandmother gave him a small, genuine smile. "Well, I know I would see no problem in that."

How had he done that? Emily was dumbfounded. Somehow Max had managed to amiate (word I made up since I couldn't find a good one–means "to make friendly") Grandmother in an exchange of only a few words. What was his technique? How was he so good with people?

"However, if there is no pressing reason for her to stay here, Emily and I must go at once," Grandmother continued.

"No reason at all," Max assured her. He turned his attention to Emily. "Hey, find me on the train. I'd love to talk some more."

And with that Maxwell Verthehart made his exit by entrance through the door to Ollivander's.

Grandmother put her hands on her hips. "Well, he seems like a nice boy." She looked down at Emily. "So, are you all ready to head back home?"

Emily nodded, clenching her wand even tighter in her fist. "Yes, I am."

"All right then." Grandmother drew her wand, but as she did, a bag fell out of her cloak. She grumbled and stooped down and picked it up, mumbling something about a hole in her pocket, but not quickly enough to prevent Emily from getting a look at it.

"What's that?" Emily asked.

Abby put the bag in another pocket (presumably a different one–without holes) and cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable. "Oh, nothing much important. Just a package I have to deliver. Come on, now, let's get you home."

Emily found it hard to believe that the bag wasn't important, what with how Grandmother had acted about it, but she held her tongue and attempted to keep her stomach under control as Abby grabbed her shoulder and apparated the two back to the Busch apartment. It couldn't be that important. Besides, she was leaving for school in just a few days. She had much better things to worry about than some bag.

Such as (though she didn't know about it quite yet) finding platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Coming Soon... Chapter 4- Platform Nine and Three-Quarters