Augustus Stoker, or rather Gus, as he was commonly called, emerged from the other side of the solid brick wall leading to Platform 9 3/4 with a faint whoosh. Years of practice allow him to gracefully skid to a stop without anything from his trolley falling over. Though it didn't stop his pet cat Charlie from bristling with disapproval, but that was probably just because she was cranky from being shoved inside a cage. Back at home, Charlie had free rein over the entire family estate (much to Mother's chagrin), and often times wandered the neighbourhood. She didn't like confined spaces [i]at all[/i]. So, it was never easy to get her into her carrier on the train trip to Hogwarts. Pushing the trolley to one side so that he wouldn't get in anyone's way, Gus walked around the side of it and leant down to be at eye level with the cat. "Hey, I don't make the rules. Just bear with it for the moment, alright? I'll let you out when we get on the trains."

"Gus, dear, do stop talking your cat. You don't want to look like a complete nutter in front of all these people, do you?" Freya Stoker teased, arching an eyebrow. As per usual, she seemed utterly unperturbed by all the commotion around her, and her hair remained perfectly coiffed no matter what happened. All these excited first-years were a familiar sight, from Gus's time in Hogwarts and her own, years ago.

Gus flashed her a sheepish grin and shrugged in reply, returning to his position at the steering end of the trolley. "People talk to their pets all the time! Besides, Charlie's like a daughter to me." A pause. "Okay. That sounded weird. Ignore what I just said."

Moments later, a portly man with curly, brown hair trundled up to the mother and son pair, wiping some sweat off his brow with a hankerchief. His round cheeks were flushed red from the effort of running through the magical doorway to Platform 9 3/4. "My boy," he started, huffing out a few ragged breaths. "Next time, you should really wait for your old man. I almost lost you back on Platform 9."

"Sorry, Da." Gus snickered, "I thought you were already following me."

"Really, Tom. You should get more exercise." Mrs. Stoker chided, though her tone was wan from having said the same thing many times before.Thomas Stoker rolled his eyes jokingly and straightened back up again, once he had caught his breath, brushing some imaginary lint off his woollen sweatervest. "A new school year already, eh?" Mr. Stoker said, and slapped Gus on the back in an incredibly daddish fashion. "I suppose this year you'll finally be bringing back a nice lass to meet your mother and I?"

Gus couldn't help but laugh. After talking about such trivialities for another five minutes, Gus decided that now was probably a good time for him to get aboard the Hogwarts Express. After all, he didn't want to risk missing the train. Bidding his last farewells to his parents, he pushed his trolley aboard the train, quickly locating an empty compartment and unloading his baggage. Normally, he'd be sitting with his group of friends. But this time, he had some studying to do. After injuring himself in the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup the previous year, he had been effectively out of commission for a whole month. Apart from missing out on schoolwork, he also didn't get to take part in the rest of the tournament. It sucked, but he learnt to deal with it. He shot a quick upwards glance at his trusty Moontrimmer broomstick laid across the overhead storage compartment. He was looking forward to getting back in the saddle, but right now, his priority was catching up on the curriculum. Turning his attention back to the textbook open on the folding table, he heaved an exaggerated sigh and began the tedious process of revising.