A fair haired family passed through the barrier into Platform Nine and Three Quarters.  The first, an eleven year old girl, came in with excitement, the other two followed tentatively, apparently not sure that they could get through the solid wall.  
Charlotte's parents tried to follow behind her as she went from group to group, in absolute awe of the fact that everyone here was a witch or a wizard.  

"Are you a witch?" she'd ask, to which she would receive a variety of answers from a variety of different temperaments.  Even the least friendly(mostly parents of pureblood students) didn't dampen her spirit.  What did slow her was the last person she asked, who was in fact, a muggle.  

"Oh," Charlotte answered, smile fading.  She felt a little bad, and walked away awkwardly.  She made her way back toward her parents and made sure to get a hug and kiss from each.  They were sad to see her go, but she was too excited to start missing them yet.  

Charlotte boarded the train, hauling a good sized trunk behind her, and trying to keep her back straight as barn owl rested on her shoulder.  She found a compartment early and went in, dropping her trunk under a chair.  Indie flapped off of her shoulder and landed on the overhead luggage rack, looking benignly down at the compartment.  Charlotte, meanwhile, sat on a chair and started kicking her legs impatiently, occasionally pulling her wand out and playing with it.  When she waved the Sycamore rod it would spray yellow sparks harmlessly, and to her immense joy, and she would put it back away into the pocket of her jeans.