Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Hogwarts Express. I do own the Hogwarts Connect, though!

Summary: This will cover Harry's First Year, and is set in the same universe as "The Scarred Man and the A Stock". Don't expect too much of this, because I don't have a history of completing things.

I am removing the bold around ex-canon lines, because it got in the way of most readers. I've left the letter bold, though, because it's the letter.

Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Connect, or Owls that Don't Deliver

Harry stepped off the bus and walked down to King's Cross. He'd not been to the main concourse of King's Cross often, partly because he'd had no reason to (the people there were much more watchful), and partly because Finsbury Park was much more convenient. But this time, this time was different.

It was August 30th, 1991, and Harry Potter had come to King's Cross to do some research.

It had all started just over a month ago. Harry had been on the Victoria Line platforms at Stockwell, waiting for his next train, when it happened. As the train came roaring up the tunnel, Harry saw an owl fly over people's heads and over the track. A second later, the poor creature could feel the air currents, and took off at top speed up the tunnel, away from the arriving train. As it pulled in, he saw the driver's face, a mask of utter confusion. What was going on?

When he got off the train in Brixton, it was to find an owl on the southern end of the platform, looking absolutely exhausted, with a letter attached to its leg. What was going on? He took the letter from its leg - it was addressed to him!

No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He'd never had friends, no other relatives - he'd spent the last four years wandering around London, for crying out loud! Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Mr. H. Potter

1973 Stock Train

Aldwych Tube Station

London

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. Harry slowly opened the letter, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Harry smiled. He knew what this was now! It was clearly a clever ploy by Fletcher. Fletcher was a con artist, based in Leicester Square, with an uncanny ability to disappear when the police turned up. Every time Harry passed through Leicester Square, Fletcher would attempt to convince him to join him in his "deals", and would tell him magic was real - but Harry wasn't fooled. Wondering idly how Fletcher had managed to get hold of an owl, he hopped back on the train just before the doors closed.

Professor Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Mistress, Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was perplexed. Hogwarts owls ALWAYS delivered the acceptance letters. They had never failed once. Sure - people had not responded, that happened occasionally - but never had the owls failed to deliver. Yet when she attempted to send this letter, the moment she entered the owlery, all the owls - every single one - took off immediately straight up into the rafters, as if they were frightened of something! But what could they possibly be scared of? She glanced down at the letter, and stared. She re-read the address in shock. Then she took off down the stairs, three at a time, yelling at the top of her voice.

"ALBUS!"

Professor Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer of the German Institute of Sorcery, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Muggle-Wizarding Unification Ministry President (a branch of the ICW) and Headmaster of Hogwarts was groaning. He had his head in his hands. His Deputy Headmistress had just come into his office and chewed his head off, and now Emmeline Vance was making her monthly visit with information about the location and behaviour of Lord Voldemort. He wasn't really listening to that, though. Harry was still alive and well, but untraceable. You can't trace a wizard underground, because if you are unable to travel in a direct line towards your target the Point-Me spell is useless. He nodded to something Emmeline had just said, then tuned in for a moment.

"... lost him for a few days, but the new triangulation..."

... wait... triangulation?

He stopped Emmeline.

"Do you know where Voldemort is right now?" he asked.

"Yes, but..."

"Excellent! Now gather the Order. Harry Potter is somewhere on the London Underground, and we have to find him."

Harry was settling down for the night. He'd picked one of his favourite spots, the bench at the far end of the southbound Northern City platform at Highbury and Islington, when he heard people coming down the platform, which was strange. Nobody came this far down the platform! He sat up and looked carefully, then pinched himself. It hurt - so he wasn't dreaming. But what other excuse was there for Fletcher, a con artist who never left Leicester Square, the Old Tube Map Scar Hipster he'd met two years ago on the East London Line (dressed in robes of lavender this time), and a grizzly haired man with a wooden leg and an eye-patch to be doing, together, in a station about to close?

That was not the first time he'd pinched himself that night. He'd done it when Fletcher gave his first name (really, who names their kid Mundungus), when the grizzly man (one Alastor Moody) had removed his eye-patch to show an electric blue eye, whizzing around in its socket, completely out of sync with his other, normal eye, and twice when the Old Tube Map Scar Hipster (who turned out to be the Professor Albus Dumbledore of the letter) levitated him. Eventually, however, he came to the realisation that no, he was not dreaming, that yes, magic WAS real and he'd met quite a few wizards in the last four years, and Fletcher disappeared off to wipe the CCTV footage and "confound" the staff at the control centre. Harry drew the line at Professor Dumbledore taking him away to Diagon Alley, though.

"I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley, Professor?" said Harry. Dumbledore looked at him extremely strangely, then explained where to find the Leaky Cauldron, a pub in Charing Cross Road.

"You will be able to see it, although muggles around you will not," he said. "Ask for a man named Rubeus Hagrid - he will be able to show you around the Alley and give you some helpful advice."

Harry thanked Professor Dumbledore, then sat back down on the bench. Dumbledore seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, but decided not to, and said goodnight. The two of them started heading back down the platform towards the exit, but Moody turned around about halfway down.

"Well, happy birthday, boy," he said. It was the first time he'd spoken that night (Dumbledore had introduced him). He had quite a gruff voice, but Harry didn't really care - he got the feeling Moody would speak his mind. Then they headed up the stairs at the end of the platform, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, Senior Auror and Generally Grumpy And Paranoid Man, was impressed. When Dumbledore had convened part of the Order to track down a ten-year-old boy, he was initially derisive. However, it had taken them two days to pin down Harry Potter. Two days for a team of six to pin down a ten-year-old who knew no magic and didn't even know he was being tracked. He could make a fine Auror, given time and training. However, his old friend Albus Dumbledore looked worried.

"What do you think of him, Albus?" asked Moody.

"This makes me deeply uneasy," admitted Dumbledore. "Is it possible he's going Dark?" Moody scoffed.

"The kid's been living on his own for several years now," said Moody. "He's survived this far through keeping his eyes open and practising constant vigilance. You can't expect him to trust you immediately, neither can you expect him not to have some measure of independence. Besides, he hasn't hurt anyone yet!"

Dumbledore just nodded. Moody disapparated, leaving the Headmaster to his thoughts for a moment, before he too turned on his heel and disappeared.

That morning (July 31st), Harry made his way down to Charing Cross Road (he'd been given a small breakfast by a stallholder in Finsbury Park, who he knew well), and to the Leaky Cauldron pub. There, he met Rubeus Hagrid, who was probably too tall to be allowed anywhere in non-magical London. Hagrid was tall and wild-haired, but his heart was in the right place, and Harry found he liked the giant grounds-keeper very much. And Hagrid had known his parents! That was only the start of a day absolutely strewn with surprises - one that particularly stood out was the discovery of a huge pile of gold, left to him by his parents.

He'd also been given a snowy owl as a birthday present. Harry had been unable to stop stuttering his thanks. The owl in question, whom he had named Hedwig (a name he had found in his History of Magic textbook), was now sitting up in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, asleep - she preferred to hunt at night.

When he'd asked Hagrid about his parents, however, the story had been less than pleasant. In fact, it had been quite a horrible tale - though thankfully better than what the Dursleys had tried to feed him. Hagrid had reassured him that Voldemort was no longer a threat, and urged him not to say the name in the same breath. This worried Harry, but he didn't bring it up with Hagrid. The other thing that was puzzling was that nobody had yet spotted him - if what Hagrid had said was to be believed, he was the most famous child in the magical world! Harry figured it was probably his uncut hair, and resolved never to get it cut again. He didn't want any attention, thank you very much - it could only lead to bad things.

Hagrid had then booked him a room in the Leaky Cauldron, and paid for his meals. Harry had thanked him, and he'd spent the last month there. Diagon Alley was certainly an interesting place to explore, and he'd gone back to Gringotts on the second of August. They'd not been able to provide him with a bottomless pouch for his money, nor had he picked up any more interesting inheritances, but they'd let him have another ride on the carts, saying that "most wand-carriers look down upon the cart ride", and that his "enthusiasm for our craftsmanship" was very welcome.

Oh, and one last thing. Hagrid had left him with his train ticket to Hogwarts, and then disappeared before Harry could ask about Platform Nine and Three Quarters. If there was one thing that annoyed Harry during his time in London, it was missed connections. Which brings us up to date.

Harry walked onto the concourse at King's Cross. This was definitely not one of his favourite stations - a corrugated iron box for a concourse seemed a bit unloved. He made his way down platform 8 and turned off towards platforms 9 and 10. In his opinion, it was silly to send a magical train off from the commuter platforms, but perhaps there was some historical reason for that. He walked up to the ticket barrier and inspected it.

Half an hour later, Harry Potter was utterly perplexed. How was he supposed to catch a train from a platform he couldn't even find? He headed down to a Travel Information booth.

"Excuse me, can you tell me where I might find Platform Nine and Three Quarters?" he asked in desperation. Even in his head, the words sounded silly.

"Nine and Three Quarters? Think you're -" the man stopped. Then, as if in a trance, he reached underneath the desk, pulled out a leaflet and handed it to Harry.

"Here is your complementary flyer on Magical Services from London King's Cross. Have a nice day, and remember to follow the Statute of Secrecy!"

Then the man shook his head, looked down at Harry, and said, "Yes?"

"Nothing, nothing," said Harry, and wandered off. He took a good look at the leaflet.

HOGWARTS EXPRESS

This daily train service leaves London King's Cross, platform Nine and Three Quarters at 11:00, and takes just seven and a half hours to travel to Hogsmeade Station. Instituted in 1832 by then Minister of Magic Ottaline Gambol, the Hogwarts Express has made the journey to Hogsmeade 7 days a week, 365 days a year, every year since then. First Class Seating is available in Coach A, and Coach H is designated the Muggle Coach, where Muggle Electric Devices can be used without interference.

The Hogwarts Express is noted for being the official mode of transport for Hogwarts Students wishing to attend the school.

ORIENT FLYER

This weekly train service leaves London King's Cross, platform Seven and One Half at 15:00 every Thursday, and wends its way across Europe and Asia, calling in many countries, to arrive in Beijing, China four days later. It was instituted by Minister of Magic Eldritch Diggory in 1961, and offers a cheap and comfortable alternative for those wishing to travel to European or Asian destinations without the discomfort of an international Portkey. The Orient Flyer must be booked in advance - tickets cannot be bought on the day.

The Orient Flyer, our flagship service, is notable for being the first train service to run through the Channel Tunnel between Shakespeare Cliff to Marquise, Pas-de-Calais.

HOGWARTS CONNECT

Established just a year previously in 1990, one of ex-Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold's last acts was to institute a stopping service. Ex-Minister Bagnold, from York, grew up seeing the Hogwarts Express thunder past her house every day, and has always campaigned for a "stopping service, to serve those wizards and witches who find it difficult to reach King's Cross for the 11:00 train".

The Hogwarts Connect leaves London King's Cross, platform Ten and One Quarter at 07:00, and calls at all Muggle stations to Inverness before running down the Hogwarts Branch Line into Hogsmeade Station.

PLATFORMS

All Magical Train Platforms can be accessed by a secure Floo Connection from the Ministry of Magic, or by simply walking through the relevant ticket barrier between the neighbouring Muggle Platforms. Please note that the Floo Connection is closed on September 1st, so as to prevent overcrowding in the Ministry.

Harry smiled at the leaflet. Now he knew how to catch his train. To make sure he understood, he tried walking through some of the ticket barriers round the station. The barrier between Platforms 1 and 2 was just a solid barrier (and was quite painful, thank you very much), but the one between Platforms 2 and 3 led to a train depot, the one between Platforms 4 and 5 led to a shiny new platform with what looked like a purple triple decker train branded "the Knight Train" and the barrier between Platforms 8 and 9 led to a spooky, abandoned platform with a train marked "Department of Mysteries Staff Train". He smiled, and headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. There was a particularly good spaghetti bolognese, courtesy of an Italian wood nymph who had nothing else to pay with, and he didn't want to miss that.

Well, you asked for more London-Underground!Harry, and here you are! Reviews, please, would be nice.

I know that conventionally, Harry Potter fanfiction writers tend to go through the Wizard Introduction and the Diagon Alley trip in excruciating detail, and if something changes, I'm OK with that. However, I find it extremely dull when somebody updates their story with a bunch of text copied straight from canon covering a trip I've seen so many times I probably know it off by heart. I can tell you now that my Diagon Alley trip is exactly the same as usual. Harry gets the same wand, has the same meeting with Draco Malfoy and the same discussions with Hagrid. He even gets the same ice-cream.

I also hope you liked my little nod to conventional Independent!Disillusioned!Super-Rich-Effectively-Pureblood!Harry stories. This is certainly an Independent!Harry story, but I'm trying to make it a little more realistic, so you won't find All-The-Answers!Goblins here. Nor will you find Pocket-Dimension!Trunks, Evil!Dumbledore, Parselmagic, Weasley-bashing (well, not permanently at least - can't you trust Canon!Harry's judgement?) or any of that sort of thing.

Quite frankly, you can't appreciate the letter handover properly unless you head down to the Northern City (now First Capital Connect) platforms at Highbury and Islington, or at Essex Road, or Old Street (this is at off-peak times) and go to the far end. The lighting is always flickering, the signs are from a bygone age, forgotten, there's barely a person on the platform and whenever a train is on its way in, it makes a clicking noise like a hungry Aragog. That's a description I might reuse!