The Note

Harry looked at the note he'd received from Hagrid one more time, barely making out the scrawled ink on the crumpled parchment.

Harry,

Should've said, sorry about that. Run through the barrier between platform nine and ten to get to the Hogwarts Express.

Get there EARLY and get your own compartment, or you'll get stuck with idiots. There's a snack bar on the platform if you need somethin'.

Give these treats to Hedwig, she'll love em.

Hagrid

Looking up, the barrier between platforms nine and ten seemed to Harry to be convincingly solid and not-run-through-able. A clock struck quarter past ten in the morning. He'd been here for fifteen minutes and hadn't seen a single person go through this way. He was glad Uncle Vernon had ditched him the minute they got here, he could imagine all too well the nasty smile on his uncle's fat face if Harry humiliated himself by crashing into the wall.

Another group of people who had just stepped off their own train buffeted around him, throwing him and his trolley queer glances, a number shooting Hedwig cute noises though the owl was fast asleep. Once they passed he blew out a shaky breath and picked up speed. The barrier, still very solid looking, loomed above him, he picked up more speed, the wheels of the trolley squealed horribly … twenty feet … fifteen … ten – the trolley was going too fast to stop now – five feet – Harry closed his eyes – a tingling feeling ran across his skin – he should have crashed by now but he hadn't, what was going on? He opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the ticket box had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.

Smoke from the engine had just started throwing out a light vapour across the platform, swept to-and-fro by the legs of those already waiting. He not been the only one with the bright idea to get here early, there were a good couple dozen families and other kids, and people who were obviously older Hogwarts students. Harry threw everyone a curious glance as he made his way to an old-style cart at the far end of the platform. It looked the sort you might see being pulled by horses in a fairy-tale, he was sure the Queen had one quite like it. There were a few rickety wooden chairs set up outside and families were eating pastries and cups of tea and coffee.

A few people payed him glances in return, he could feel their eyes raking over his baggy Muggle clothes—he really did need to get something nicer with all the money he had now. Approaching the snack area he became very aware that a few patrons had seemingly recognised him, one woman held what looked like a ginger biscuit in air mid-bite, her eyes locked to his forehead, he nervously tried to flatten his hair over his scar as he passed by.

The lady selling the snacks was rather large and dominated the window to the cart. Mercifully, she was too distracted by a handsome man on the platform wearing a leather jacket and smoking a cigarette. Harry stared stupidly at the chocolates, sweets, and toffees. He had never seen or even heard of any of these before. He'd been prepared to grab a handful of Mars Bars and Gummy Bears but all of it was new. He picked out a couple Chocolate Frogs, a pack of three Sugar Quill's, and a glass bottle of something called Gillywater that looked a bit like lime cordial. The seller huffed and bent down to fetch a little brown paper bag to hold them in.

"Thanks," he said as he took it off her, but she wouldn't let go. Her eyes were wide and her hand clenched around the handle, with her free hand she was pointing at his forehead, lightning-shaped scar bared.

"HARRY POTTER!" she squealed.

The previous din of conversation behind Harry had stopped in an instant. Without looking back he saw every head on the platform had turned towards them. Harry's stomach dropped straight through the floor, he wished he could follow it and let it gobble him all up. He snatched the bag and swapped it for a big gold Galleon instead, but her hand wrapped around his own

"Yes, nice to meet you too," said Harry, shuffling backwards.

"Oh my God," said the woman, then she cried, "Call me Bertha!"

"Bertha."

"By Jove! It is Harry Potter!" came a weedy voice from behind Harry. "Priscilla, darling—look!"

The handshake had been going on for really a very long now and Harry couldn't shuffle back any further, through some unnatural contortion he managed to extricate his wrist, hand, and fingers from Bertha's grip while still smiling at her, though it was a decidedly fixed smile.

Turning around he bore witness to the entire platform on their feet craning to get a look of him. Harry's face turned a deep red and he came to a horrid realization that Hagrid wasn't here to beat them away this time, like he had at The Leaky Cauldron.

The man who had called his name was still tapping an older woman's shoulder incessantly, but she herself openly gaped at him. Harry wore a small smile, then immediately regretted it as those two jumped to their feet amidst the crowd that had converged towards his half of the platform. A sudden queasiness grew inside him as he was surrounded.

"Mr Potter! Delighted to see you—"

"Someone call the Prophet!"

"Goodness me I can't breathe—"

"Charmed, my boy, charmed!"

"Welcome back, Mr Potter! Welcome back."

"Exquisite owl you have - what's her name, Harry?"

Harry realised quickly that they were mostly polite, though he wished there were fewer of them, and more seemed to be joining by the minute. Hedwig and he were getting rattled.

"I'd really like to get going now—Lots to study on the train, you know?" he said to a witch who had cried when he said hello to her.

"Nonsense, dear boy!" butted in a wizard wearing a purple frock and the widest, toothiest smile Harry had ever seen. "So many people simply dying to meet you—What?"

"Goodbye!" Harry called over his shoulder as he cut a mad dash towards the Hogwarts Express, his heart had not stopped pounding in his chest, and he prayed he could somehow vanish amidst the towers of steam it was belching out. In a show of strength he knew he didn't possess a quarter-hour ago he hefted his trunk onto the train and turned to get Hedwig's cage (who had become loud and angry in the last few minutes) but found the cage was already hoisted aloft by a boy in a black cloak.

"Harry's very tired, you must understand," said the stranger in a very put-upon, soothing voice. "Apparated from Dundee, would you believe!"

"Dundee – Apparate … But he's not of age?"

"He's Harry Potter, of course. Different rules for different fools, you know? Leave him be or else."

The crowd seemed unsettled, and while they were on the backfoot, the figure turned towards Harry and passed him Hedwig's cage. Harry boarded and turned to see the strange boy pull the trolley between the train and the platform as a makeshift barricade.

"Thanks," said Harry, not feeling very thankful at all, he had no idea what the boy had just told the others outside – Apparated from Dundee? Nevertheless he grabbed hold of his trunk and, not desiring to dally for a second, headed off down the train in the opposite direction of the boy.

There was a central aisle and compartments big enough for six or more either side. Several students had already boarded by now, and now that he was in the aisle of the train, two or three of them had their heads poking out to stare at him. He was increasingly uncomfortable with all of this and went in search of a compartment far, far away. At nearly the very end of the train, through a dozen or so carriages, he decided he'd gone out of the way enough and ducked inside. He threw the trunk to the floor and placed Hedwig's cage on the seat.

"Sorry about that, Hedwig," he muttered, his hands were shaking still. He wondered if he'd ever get used to that … to being famous. It was still so surreal.

Sitting down he looked outside and inspected the platform through the window. He couldn't see any normal trains, but there were a few other steam-powered ones pointing in the other direction, and one train on a track that swept up in an arc to the ceiling like a rollercoaster. Evidently Platform Nine and Three-Quarters wasn't just for the Hogwarts Express. He wondered where those other trains were headed to, and more than that, he wondered how on earth they managed to fit all of this between platform nine and ten.

"They're mad," he said to Hedwig. Whether this was about the skyward train track or the people who'd mobbed him outside he couldn't say. He imagined someone turning up and telling him there'd been a terrible mistake, and if he'd please come off the train so real witches and wizards could take his place.

Harry shook himself of those thoughts, he remembered the pale boy from Diagon Alley, Draco-something. He'd mentioned that only the old wizarding families should be allowed at Hogwarts … Harry didn't know what to think about that. But then Harry had said he was from an old wizarding family himself, only he hadn't known it …

Suddenly a flash lit up his compartment. His eyes shot to his right out through the window, there was a man holding a complicated-looking camera with a huge bulb attached to it, and he was pointing it straight at Harry. As soon as he looked to the camera, mouth agape, another flash lit up the platform.

Harry clamped his mouth shut and moved Hedwig to the floor, she was flapping her wings wildly in the cage, her eyes wide as saucers. He closed the compartment door with a thin smile at the man holding the camera. He kicked open his trunk a little harder than intended and pulled out his copy of Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling, all the while ignoring the odd flash or cry for his attention from outside. He flipped open to where he'd left off from a couple nights back and started reading.

A quiet tap on the door to his compartment stirred his attention. There were a couple tall boys outside, both looked older than him by a couple years. One of them popped a head full of shoulder-length messy blond hair through the gap, smiling.

"Waiting for anyone? Or can we join you"

"Um … no," said Harry. "Wait, sorry – yes, you can come in." Now that the door was opened he could hear what sounded like a riot in the aisle of the train. Lots more students had boarded and there were people pressed against the window of the compartment on the other side of the aisle speaking to their families through the flap at the top. The irritating man and his camera had gone too.

Both boys stepped through with their luggage, the one who'd spoken to him wore Muggle clothes and had a small brown owl in a little cage. While the other wore an expensive-looking flowing robe, he had a black cat sat atop his trunk that looked abnormally muscular. Harry commented on it.

"Yeah, he's a kneazle-cross," said the boy. "Crossed with what, I don't know. My uncle breeds them, this one is the runt—too soft. Here Timmy-Tim-Tim!" The boy made kissing sounds with his lips and the cat jumped on his lap and started kneading his legs through his robes, purring loudly.

"Retract the claws!" the boy whined.

"Nice owl you've got there," said the first boy. "Clever ones, snowy owls. I'm Richard, the one with the miniature Nundu over there is Henrietta."

"Sullivan!" said Sullivan. "I'm Sullivan. He's Richard. And you?"

"I'm Harry." He was waiting for the other boys to realize who he really was and start acting silly, though his hair had fallen in front of his scar while he was reading, so he might get away with it.

"Ahah! Harry's a first year," said Richard, brushing his hair to the side from his eyes. "Funny how they get smaller every year."

"Yeah, it's simply tickling how we grow bigger each year compared to eleven-year olds," sniped Sullivan while scratching behind the cat's ears. It had stopped kneading his thigh and was lying on its back between his legs, swiping at his hands, Sullivan was swiping back, grinning.

"Alright don't get shirty," said Richard. To Harry he said, "Nervous?"

Harry, been biting down on his lip to avoid laughing at Sullivan, the cat's claw had stuck in his sweater and both looked desperate to extricate it. "A bit nervous," he said to Richard. "Really nervous," he added.

"Don't worry yourself. It's easy as pie. Once we get to Hogsmeade Station you'll get off – the Elves'll take your luggage for you – then you'll follow Hagrid to the boats, float across the lake amid the splendour of the Castle, chug along through the tunnel, get off the boats, up the stairs, into the anteroom, then to the Great Hall to get Sorted."

"Easy as pie," said Harry wearily, at which Sullivan snorted. "I've met Hagrid. He took me to Diagon Alley."

"Did he now?" said Sullivan. Then at Richard, "Odd that he'd do that, don't you think?"

Harry squirmed where he sat. Hagrid had been sent to get him because the Dursleys had been doing away with his Hogwarts Letters, he could all too well remember the fuss that Uncle Vernon had made until Hagrid had shown up personally and saved him.

"Bit odd, Hagrid being Gamekeeper and all. Did he tell you why he came for you?"

"Dumbledore asked him," said Harry by way of explanation. Apparently, this wasn't the best thing to say.

"Dumbledore, indeed! Why this gets more and more exciting. Why'd Dumbledore go to the trouble for you, Ha—" Sullivan's eyes widened comically. "Oh jeez, Rich'"

"Why, what's up?" said Richard. He peered closely at Sullivan's paling face.

"First year called 'Harry', Richard …"

"Yes, I know."

"First year called - Harry – Richard!"

"Yes, yes. Wait, yes, of course!" Richard sent a level-headed (compared to Sullivan) look towards Harry. "Potter?" he ventured.

"Yup," said Harry. His book was still on his lap, but it seemed so far away.

"Oh, well that explains Hagrid and Dumbledore then, don't it?"

"Doesn't it," corrected Sullivan automatically. "Why, he's got the scar and all. You can make out the bottom of it under the fringe."

"Yes, go and be all awkward about it," said Richard. To Harry he said, "Heard you live with Muggles."

"My aunt and uncle," said Harry, wondering how much they knew of him already.

"Ghastly that you didn't grow up properly," put in Sullivan.

"Hey!" said Richard indignantly. "I grew up with Muggles, too."

"Yeah but you're a Muggle-born. This here's Potter, he should've been with—"

Whatever he'd been about to say he didn't finish it, because a loud whistle blew outside, and moments later the Hogwarts Express set off. Steam billowed past the windows as they picked up speed. Harry couldn't help the smile spreading on his face. He was finally setting off to Hogwarts!

"That's exactly how you looked, Rich'"

Harry turned to see the other two boys smirking at him and he blushed. He smothered his embarrassment and searched for something to say, fortunately Timothy had grown tired of the movement on Sullivan's lap and jumped down with a loud thump to sniff at Hedwig's cage.

"Wish I had an owl," said Richard.

"The school owls do fine."

"Yeah but they don't look that good."

"Most owls don't look that good."

Hedwig seemed to understand the praise aimed towards her, somehow, and preened.

"Come off it, you," said Harry to Timmy. The cat had a paw raised and was looking to swipe at the cage. At Harry's intrusion the cat jumped onto his lap, knocking his book to the floor.

"Oh, Tim!" complained Sullivan. He picked the book up and glanced at the cover. "Prepping for classes. Good, good. Do you know a lot of magic, already?"

"No. I only learned I was a wizard a month ago."

The book clattered to the floor once more.

"WHAT?"

"Quiet," said Richard to Sullivan. People were sending them looks from the compartment on the other side of the train.

"SCANDALOUS! Why, I feel I ought to complain to someone but I don't know who!"

Richard rolled his eyes while Harry looked on perplexed.

"Harry Potter growing up not knowing he's a wizard, Merlin!"

"It's not that bad," put in Harry. "They're horrible people, but—"

"It's not who they are, Harry. It's who you are!" explained Sullivan. "Everyone knows who you are. Everyone!"

"It really is true," said Richard. "As he said, I'm a Muggle-born, no one in my family is magic at all. But I first learned of you even before I came to Hogwarts."

Harry baulked at that. "But how?" Surely, he wasn't famous even outside of the wizarding world? The Dursleys couldn't have kept that from him.

Richard seemed to know where his thoughts were going, for he said. "Not that Muggles know of you. Well, some do. I told my parents about you, for one."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Well it's a bit odd isn't it. Big Evil Guy brought low by a baby boy, who got a lightning-bolt curse scar for surviving an unsurvivable and aptly-named Killing Curse, no less. It's like a fairy tale. There'll be movies about it – once wizards learn how to make movies, that is."

Harry had to agree it was a bit odd. "I wish I knew why he did it."

"Isn't that the million Galleon question," said Sullivan. He picked the book up again and passed it back to Harry.

Timmy was still on his lap, dozing off and, to Harry's annoyance, drooling on his trousers, Harry put the book to his side. "Oh. I'd forgotten about them," he said. The brown bag from before still had his sweets and the drink inside. He hadn't touched them yet. He tried the Gillywater first and found it unlike anything he had ever tasted before. It was like sweet seaweed mixed with pears, though he couldn't immediately tell if he liked it or not. "Weird."

"Can I?" asked Sullivan, hand outstretched. "I'm parched. I'll get you some good ones when the trolley lady gets here."

Harry passed the drink over and Sullivan started swigging it down until Richard poked him to stop.

"Aaaah. Needed that. Ever had magical sweets before, Harry?"

"Nope."

"Oh this'll be good," said Richard. "Try the Acid Pop."

Harry noticed a look in Richard's eye that made him very nervous. But he unwrapped said sweet and licked it. It was very, very tangy. But quite tasty.

"Not bad at all," said Harry.

"They're about the only sweet I can't stand. So much fuss from having one sweet …"

Richard and Sullivan seemed to be paying an inordinate amount of attention to watching him suck through the sweet. After about a minute he realized why. The Acid Pop fell through his tongue.

He spluttered and spat it out over the cat, who started yowling and sank his claws into Harry's leg. Tears in his eyes he poked his tongue with his finger, it was seemingly covered with craters a half-centimetre deep. Meanwhile, Richard and Sullivan were howling.

"Oh this is funny. I'm glad you grew up with Muggles now."

Harry glared at them both, bewildered and angry. His tongue felt disfigured in his mouth. If he'd carried on eating the lolly his tongue would have fallen off completely.

"Go on Rich'"

"Harry."

Looking up he saw Richard take his wand from his trunk.

"Ever been to the dentist?" Richard asked.

"Yesh," said Harry. His tongue wouldn't work properly.

This set Sullivan off again. There were tears running down his cheeks.

"Open wide."

Harry did so.

An intense look washed across Richard's face, his eyes narrowed and with a swish of his wand he said, "Episkey".

There was an odd inflating feeling in Harry's tongue and he could hear a sizzling sound. When he rubbed his tongue again the craters had gone. He needed to learn that spell. "Thanks. I can see why you avoid them. Think I will too."

"They're awful. Try the Chocolate Frogs."

Harry eyed Richard warily.

"They won't bite. Promise."

Harry opened the Chocolate Frog box, shooting backwards in his seat when the Chocolate Frog – an actual frog of chocolate, moving and all, jumped at the window and stuck there. Before it could climb out through the top of the window Richard had snatched it and offered it to Harry.

"I'll pass," said Harry. He felt a little queasy when Richard proceeded to tear it in two and its legs continued twitching in Richard's hand.

"Who'd you get?" asked Sullivan, pointing at the empty box.

Harry picked it up. The frog had rather distracted him from noticing this earlier. There was a picture of a wizard and some writing underneath it

"Chocolate Frog Card … Famous Witches and Wizards … Cornelius Agrippa … Cornelius Agrippa lived from 1486 to 1535. He wrote books about magic and wizards. Some important people thought his books were evil, so they put him in gaol for writing them."

"Good one. He's rare, him," said Richard.

"Got about thirty of him," said Sullivan.

"You do not!"

"Got about three of him…"

Harry reached for the other one, then remembering the last experience he looked up. "Is there any way to stop it moving?" He didn't think he could eat one if it wiggled.

"Sure is. Throw it here," said Richard.

He still held his wand and that same intense look appeared on his face, he cleared his throat and-

The compartment door slid open. There was a round-faced boy who looked like he'd been crying, and a girl behind him wearing her school robes, she had big bushy hair and, Harry distinctly noticed, rather large front teeth.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice.

If Harry had been looking he'd have noticed a crazed gleam in Sullivan's eyes, he snatched the Chocolate Frog's still twitching legs from Richard and held it out to the boy.

"I'm so sorry! He wandered in here and … I couldn't help myself …"

The boy took one look at the legs, which took the perfect opportunity to twitch powerfully one last time, then lay flat against Sullivan's hand, then he ran away down the aisle. Harry could hear him wailing.

The girl sent them a look which would probably have been more effective if Sullivan hadn't creased over laughing. Harry did feel bad for the boy and his toad. There was a little tug at the side of his lips, but he didn't want to crack up. It was a bit harder to control himself when Hedwig gave a squawk that gave the impression she was laughing too.

"Anyway Harry," said Richard, biting his lip between words, he pointed his wand at the Chocolate Frog box and barked, "Immobulus!"

The box flashed white and the hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Richard threw the box back to him. Opening it he saw the frog laying quite still. "I need to learn that one."

"You should give it to the boy as a replacement for his toad, Potter," wheezed Sullivan.

"Don't be so mean!" said the girl.

"It doesn't even look like a toad," commented Richard. To the girl he said, "Don't be naïve. Of course we didn't eat his toad. What this idiot"—he jerked his head towards Sullivan, who was resting his head in his hands, shaking with laughter—"What this idiot did is show the boy half of our last Chocolate Frog. The toad is probably still on the train somewhere. Check the bathroom."

The girl nodded but didn't leave. Instead she looked at Harry.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" Before Harry could confirm she continued. "I know all about you - I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" said Harry. Feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me. Do you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor—"

"You'll be a Ravenclaw like Rich' here," interjected Sullivan. The girl's talking had killed the laughter. "And it's really quite rude to go on for so long without introducing yourself. Why, we don't know anything about you."

Two crimson marks appeared high on the girl's cheeks. "I'm Hermione Granger. And who would you be?"

"I might be Sullivan Fawley, heir apparent of the House of Fawley. I'm a Hufflepuff, this here is Richard Acton-Stanley, of Ravenclaw fame—infamy, rather."

Harry wasn't listening, instead he was repeating her words in his head, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me. He really did need to find out more about what the wizarding world knew of him, or suspected of him, or expected of him – he'd never forget Ollivander's words the day he got his wand, I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter … After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great…

Harry felt a thrill of foreboding and shivered. By the time he'd recovered, Hermione had left and Sullivan was whinging.

"I know all about you, of course' – the stones on the girl, Richard! They get ballsier every year, but I think this takes the cake."

"She was very forward, I must admit. I hope she's not in my House. Ravenclaw will rip her to shreds."

Harry had jumped backwards in his seat as a Chocolate Frog suddenly floated in front of his face.

Sullivan mimicked Hermione's voice, "Eat me, Mr. Potter, my toad brother perished and I wish to join him ever so much … I'll recite my books in your belly and you'll grow smarter, muahaha."

Richard snorted.

Harry flicked the frog and it span around an axis in front of his nose. He plucked it out the air and made to take a bite—

"—Wait! Bite the head of, we'll mend it together with the legs from before and give it to Neville—Where did the legs go?"

"You ate them earlier, genius," said Richard. Looking at his friend he said, "You're really getting worked up about making that boy upset, aren't you? Oh, that's sweet."

"It's his first ride on the Hogwarts Express," defended Sullivan, "I don't want an enemy, let alone a first-year enemy. Teachers always take their side."

Harry ignored the two and finally bit into the damn frog. It was tastier than he expected. Just as he was finishing the head off Richard exclaimed "You got Agrippa twice in a row!

"Lucky swine," said Sullivan. "I've only got one of him. You could sell them for more than you payed for them. How much did you pay for all that?"

"A Galleon," replied Harry.

"A Galleon!" choked Richard. "What the dickens! Who on God's green earth swindled that much out of you?!"

"They were surrounding me because … because I'm Harry Potter – I wanted to get away so I just kind of gave her what I had."

"Ah the perils of fame," said Sullivan sagely. "I'm not famous at all, mind you, but that sounds like a pain. Hopefully we don't become famous for being your friends."

Harry's heart seemed to bloom in his chest and, for a moment, he was speechless. Before he could speak, however, Richard had shot to his feet.

"Trolley lady should have been here by now. I'm—"

"Absolute cow," interrupted Sullivan.

Richard sent him a look. "What is with you today …"

Richard left to go find the trolley lady, leaving Harry and Sullivan alone for the first time. They were quiet for a while and Harry realized there was a large damp patch on his leg from where the cat had drooled on him for the last half hour. Timmy was purring so loudly Harry could feel the rumble of the cat's throat through his trouser leg.

"Richard made me watch Grease," said Sullivan suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"The Muggle film, Grease. The one with the cars and the singing."

"I've not seen it, yet."

"Do you know how they get their hair like that?"

Harry stared at the other boy, certain he'd heard him wrong.

"Like … oily … and swooshy …"

Harry tried to stop himself smiling but couldn't. The other boy had thick dark hair, almost as messy as Harry's – but it wasn't oily or swooshy.

"It's called pomade, or gel, or something. My cousin tried copying it but it just made his hair clumpy. He looked like a pig in a wig."

"Ha! Boy, but those girls in Grease make Clara Grouse look like … something less attractive than … Clara … Grouse."

At Harry's blank look he said, "She's a Slytherin girl in our year. She's very annoying. I like her."

Sullivan evidently didn't mean to admit this as he turned very red and asked Harry questions about the Magical Theory book. Midway through Sullivan's extended explanation about the first Fundamental Law of Magic Richard returned with the trolley lady.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked, though she looked annoyed at having been called back from the other end of the train.

"You didn't forget about us, did you?" asked Sullivan.

"Of course not!"

"I'll take four of everything, please. And all of your Chocolate Frog—but no Acid Pops."

"Beg your pardon," said the trolley lady.

"All of your Chocolate Frogs."

"But there are twenty-four of them!"

"I'd like twenty-four Chocolate Frogs, please," said Sullivan with a smile. He held the smile a bit too long and the trolley lady shot him a wary look then bent down to collect everything.

"What are you up to …" said Richard.

But no answer was forthcoming. Harry had a suspicion they were doing this for him and he said, "You don't have to—"

"Let him. His family is stinking rich and he's doing the world a favour by wasting it."

"I got that Sacred Twenty-Eight money," bragged Sullivan as he took the sweets from the lady, though he seemed to immediately regret saying it and the trolley lady threw him an awful look that made Harry feel bad for the boy. Sullivan gave the money over – two Galleons and a bit, and sat down with an unusually serious look on his face.

The boys all unwrapped a few sweets each. Harry can't remember ever having eaten so many sweets before in his life, not to mention the Pumpkin Pasties and other savouries.

Richard picked up a Chocolate Frog and threw it at Harry. "Get your wand out, have a go at the Freezing Charm."

Harry stared dumbly back at him, but dutifully got his wand out from his trunk, sneakily wiping the crumbs from his hands using a pair of socks. Wand in hand he looked intently at the Chocolate Frog box, feeling quite silly. He'd only made sparks before in the wand shop and he didn't even know how he did that.

"How does it go, again?" he asked Richard. The boy demonstrated the spell movement and incantation once more on the box.

"Immo—"

"Hang on a sec, gotta dispel it … Finite! … There you go. And it's less a swish and more like a jab and a twist, like so."

Harry copied the motion Richard performed a few times. Then focused on the box intently.

"Immobulus!" he said.

They opened the box and the frog jumped out merrily. They put it back and Harry tried again, and again, and again. As ever, the frog was still mobile and Unfrozen— if anything, it had become more agile, as it had been able to clamber up the window pane and jump out before they could grab it back.

"You got Ptolemy, by the way," said Sullivan, holding up the Chocolate Frog Card.

"I don't understand," said Harry. He was feeling a bit put out by all of this. "I'm casting it as you did. What-where am I going wrong?"

"Well, you just kind of get a feel for casting magic, and then it sort-of works occasionally after you make that breakthrough," explained Sullivan succinctly. "The trick is to do it hundreds of times until you get to that point, and even after getting there you'll have times where you can't cast it because you're unfocused. The way I was taught it – Do it. Do it right. Do it better."

"Shush, you." Said Richard. "I'm the Charms expert here—What are you thinking about when you cast the spell, Harry?"

"What I'm thinking of? …. I just really, really want it to not move so I can eat it."

"Yeah … that'd do it, or rather not do it. You want to be more, shall we say … primal, than that. More aggressive. More 'I am going to Freeze you then devour you.'"

"Okay …"

Harry picked up another Chocolate Frog packet. Timmy seemed to expect another frog to fall from the air onto him so jumped down and stared at him. Harry aimed his wand at the box. Primal … aggressive … Damn frog, do what I want!

"Immobulus!" Harry barked.

There was a flash of light and a rush of warmth through his hand, after unwrapping the box Harry flopped a very still frog onto his hand.

Richard whooped and clapped. Sullivan rejoiced, 'Finally!' Harry didn't care. He'd cast magic!

"You did that in five goes, and the Freezing Charm is a second-year spell," praised Richard.

"It is?" Asked Harry, it felt as though a rope that had been tightening around him since he received his letter had just unravelled and fell at his feet. Maybe he wouldn't be the worst in his classes after all …

"I like this magic, stuff," he said.

"You'll do great. Just make sure when you're practicing that you're trying to cast magic and cause some effect with itent, and not, as my favourite professor says, 'a baboon brandishing a stick'."

"Not that it's terribly difficult to cast spells from the Grade Two book of spells, though," said Sullivan. "I mean, anyone could feasibly cast any spell up to, well, I'd guess the Grade Three spell book. Grade Four is where it gets crazy hard."

"Now let's not get ahead of ourselves …"

"Are there any other spells that I can cast on a Chocolate Frog?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Now that, Harry, is the perfect question," said Sullivan.

The expression on his face should have scared Harry off, but he was way too excited at the prospect of casting more magic to care.