Chapter Two

After dinner on the evening of August 18th, Harry waited nervously for the rest of his family to finish their dessert. For the past few weeks, he'd been living in a state of limbo where his aunt and uncle didn't speak to him, and he didn't speak to them. The arrangement had suited him just fine, but he needed to meet Hermione in London the next morning and that meant breaking the fragile truce and asking his uncle for a ride. Waiting until the man had finished a second slice of Aunt Petunia's lavender cake, he figured there wouldn't be a better time and cleared his throat respectfully.

"Yes, what is it, boy?" Vernon barked gruffly as he dotted his napkin across his frosting stained lips.

"I'm supposed to be in London tomorrow morning, Uncle Vernon," Harry started politely, "and I was wonderful if I might come with you on your way to work?"

The large man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you need in London? You get into some sort of trouble?"

Carefully, Harry forged ahead. "I need to leave for my school."

Petunia slammed a serving tray into the sink. Vernon sneered in disgust.

"Fine, but I'm dropping you off near the office. You can get wherever you need to go on our own."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, relieved. He was sure he could manage to get to the Leaky Cauldron so long as he didn't have to worry about his transportation into the city itself.

"I'm leaving at 7:00," his uncle continued. "I won't wait if you're not in the car."

"I'll be ready, I promise."

"And I'm not driving you all the way to that madhouse of a school if you miss your bus or however it is that you're getting there. You can forget about that."

"I won't."

"Good, because we're not taking you back in if you do, you hear me? We're glad to be rid of you."

"Yes, Uncle."

Harry escaped to his bedroom and sighed heavily. He was glad to be rid of the Dursleys as well, but the callous disregard with which they treated his departure swelled a font of insecurity deep within his gut.

Hedwig hooted from atop her perch near the window.

"At least I have you, eh girl?" Harry smiled fondly as he crossed the room to give her a pat. She nipped his ear gently and started grooming his hair.

The owl had been one of his only consolations during his month and a half exile from the magical world. Without Hedwig's company and the steady stream of letters she and Oslo had delivered to and from Hermione, Harry would have been lost in despair. At the beginning of July, the magical world had seemed a tantalizing prize that was just outside his reach.

As if summoned by his thoughts, his friend's owl swooped in through the open window and circled the room lazily.

"Hullo Oslo," Harry cheered as he took the letter the bird had clutched in his talons. It was from Hermione, confirming their plans for the morning. They would meet outside the Leaky Cauldron at nine o'clock.

His foul mood effectively banished, he danced around his room packing up his trunk with glee. After the shopping trip he'd set up all his supplies around his room; parchment and inkpots had lined his desk neatly, his potions equipment was displayed proudly on the middle shelf of his small bookcase, and his robes were hung up in the closet. Although he knew he wouldn't have much cause to use any of his things until the end of the summer, except the parchment he used to write to Hermione, it made him feel less like a muggle to have them where he could see them. Aunt Petunia never came into his room anymore, so he didn't have to worry about her throwing a fit.

The top shelf of his bookcase was lined with a few presents from Hermione. Apparently the girl had kept Oslo quite busy writing to Mistress McGonagall with a bevy of questions, until the woman had finally pointed her in the direction of a bookbindery in Lionsgate that was happy to accept owl orders. For Harry's birthday she'd sent him a package of sweet toffees that she'd gotten on a seaside vacation with her parents, and two books she'd ordered from Ophigenia's Tomes & Scrolls. In her letter she'd said that she was determined he at least be a little bit prepared come the end of the summer.

The first was a heavy volume called Magic of the Wildes which discussed various branches of magic that were practiced throughout the world. A great deal of the material was well over his head, but he found the overview of common magics quite interesting, and had to admit he felt a bit more at ease for his eventual immersion in the magical world.

The second book was thin and written on yellowy paper, and was filled with legends of heroic wizards, and some fairy stories. Harry found them quite a bit more exciting than Cinderella.

Unable to fall right sleep, he skimmed Magic of the Wildes until his eyes grew heavy. In the morning, he was a bit abashed to realize he'd drooled all over the chapter on Mysticism and Illusion, but quickly forgot all about it when he saw the clock. His alarm was still broken, but he'd been waking up early every day ever since he'd returned from his trip with Mistress McGonagall so he hadn't thought to bother with it. Today though, on that day of all days, he'd managed to sleep in an hour later than he'd meant to; it was nearly seven o'clock already.

Racing around the room like the Banshee of Ashcroft - he'd read about her in his book of fables - he gathered up his trunk and apologized to a flustered Hedwig before urging her into her cage and bolting down the stairs. He zipped back up a moment later to grab the plastic grocery bag that contained the set of robes he meant to change into at the inn.

He made it to the driveway with two minutes to spare.

His uncle looked at him sourly and reluctantly let him into the backseat. The ride into London was tense and silent, peppered only by Hedwig's ruffled squawking and Vernon's irate muttering about keeping the ruddy bird quiet. When the man dropped him off on the sidewalk a block away from his office and squealed away without so much as a by your leave, Harry was feeling a bit disgruntled himself.

He watched his uncle peel away with a curious sort of detachment. Growing up he spent many lonely nights lying awake in his room dreaming of running away from the Dursleys forever, but he never imagined it would feel quite so anticlimactic. Vernon's car turned a corner at the next stoplight, and he was gone. It was probably the last time he'd ever see the man, if he managed to make something of himself at school.

Bolstering himself up, Harry took hold of his things. He attracted a few odd looks as he walked down to the corner dragging his old fashioned footlocker behind him and carrying Hedwig's cage under his arm, but he managed to board the next bus headed towards East London without too much trouble. It let him off a few streets away from where he needed to be, and he ably hoofed the rest by foot.

Hermione was waiting on the sidewalk when he finally rambled down the dingy alleyway in front of the inn, her pale-faced parents standing solemnly behind her. She waved enthusiastically when she saw him, and shouted her hellos.

"Harry!" she squealed, "I was starting to worry!"

"It's not nine yet, is it?" Harry asked, surprised. He'd thought he'd been making good time, but he hadn't any way to check after he'd left his uncle's car.

"Only just," the girl admitted, and cooed a fond hello to Hedwig. "I couldn't sleep last night, could you? I was up all night looking through my books; I really wanted to reread that chapter in the Emrys Scrolls on the history of Scottish wizards, since that's where we'll be heading."

"Haven't you read that one three times?"

"So?" she bristled with a huff. "It's interesting, and I thought there might be something I missed about the founding of Hogwarts."

"Did you find anything?"

Abashed, she shook her head. "No, but there was a fascinating section about Aifric Begbie, who did some groundbreaking work in Charms Theory, entirely by accident. Apparently he-"

"You can tell me all about it on the way, Hermione, but shouldn't we get inside?" Harry cut in. If he'd learned anything about the girl during their short friendship, it was that it was best to divert her attention quickly if he didn't want to sit through a lecture about the sixteen uses of black willowwasp pollen, or any other subject that might have taken her fancy. The one time he'd managed to call her on the telephone, when none of his relatives had been home, she'd spent an hour waxing on about the small, fall blooming flower and he hadn't the nerve to stop her.

"Oh yes, you're quite right of course. I'd like to get to the dockside as soon as we can; I'm so anxious to get to the school."

Hermione's father cleared his throat and gathered her up for a hug. "Write to us as soon as you get there," he whispered in her ear, "and remember if you want to come home, we'll figure out a way."

She kissed his cheek and smiled. "I know Dad, but don't be silly, it'll be fine," she assured him. "I've already Harry for a friend, and I'll see you midwinter."

Jean Granger stepped forward and squeezed her daughter tightly. "I love you, Hermione," she said with a watery smile. "Don't forget."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I won't Mum, honestly. I love you too."

Harry turned his back to give them some privacy and nudged Hedwig through the bars of her cage. "I'm glad you're coming with me, girl," he whispered. She was his only family now, even if she was just an owl.

The bird hooted reproachfully, as if she knew what he was thinking.

"I'm sorry, girl," he grinned. "You're much more than just an owl."

"Ready, Harry?" Hermione asked after she finished her goodbyes. She stood by the non-descript wooden door that would lead them back into Lionsgate with her trunk in one hand and Oslo's cage in the other.

Smiling broadly, Harry nodded. "Let's go!"

Stepping into the Leaky Cauldron released a knot that had been building in Harry's stomach ever since they'd left earlier that summer. He stopped in the threshold for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of magic swirling in the air. It could also have been the delicious aroma of the meaty stew bubbling over the fire in the corner.

Next to him, Hermione sighed. "It's amazing isn't it," she murmured softly, "how much this feels like home, and how odd it feels back in the muggle world."

Harry nodded. "I feel like I belong here."

"We do, Harry," she replied fervently, with a glint in her eye. "We might not know as much as our classmates, but we do belong here, and if we have to go to the library every day until we're caught up then that's what we'll do."

Laughing, Harry moved into the room. "We haven't even started yet and you're already assigning extra work?"

The girl grinned. "Knowledge is very important," she lectured with a wide smile.

They changed quickly into their robes in the public washroom, and then stepped out into Lionsgate proper. Before they'd ended their shopping excursion with the Deputy Headwitch, she'd given them rough directions to the dockside district where they should be able to book passage onto a ship headed to Scotland. It wouldn't bring them directly to Hogwarts, but someone was bound to be traveling inland from the coast; the route to Hogsmeade, the town nearest Hogwarts, was apparently a fairly prosperous one for traders.

Because they weren't sure exactly how long the journey would take, they'd decided to leave themselves plenty of time for mishap. They were welcome to arrive at Hogwarts anytime in August, but they weren't expected until the Harvest Banquet on the first of September. Hopefully they would be able to spend a few days at the castle before classes began officially, in order to do some settling in and exploring.

Though the docks were on the lowest tier of the city, McGonagall had advised climbing up to the promenade for a better view. "If you find yourself turned about, look for the river and you should be fine."

Following her advice, they managed to find the wharf without too many wrong turns. The river was wide and built up on both sides with long wooden docks, where a bevy of old fashioned sailing ships were moored. A coterie of gnarled sailors in cutoff cloth shorts was loading a collection of crates into the wide wooden hull of the nearest vessel. Most of the men where lugging the cargo up the gangplank on their bare backs, but a robe wearing pair standing on the dock were floating the boxes through the air with their wands.

"Where do you suppose we get a ticket?" Hermione asked nervously as they looked around. Aside from the sailors and a few wealthy looking merchants arguing down the pier, there wasn't much activity.

Most of the buildings along the wide street surrounding the docks were unmarked, but there was a tavern across the way called The Green Mermaid.

"Why don't we ask in there?" Harry suggested. "Someone is bound to know."

"Right," she answered, and marched stiffly across a low stone bridge to the other side of the river.

The inside of the tavern was dimly lit and smelled faintly of soured ale. It was packed full of men, most of whom appeared to be quite well into their cups, though it was still very early in the morning. A group of rowdy sailors in the corner were singing sea songs at the top of their voices, and banging their tankards together at the end of each verse.

Despite the bawdy atmosphere, Harry grinned. He felt like he'd walked into a chapter of Treasure Island, except that this story had magic, and wasn't really a story at all.

"Aye, what can I do for ye?" the grisly, grey-bearded barman asked as they approached the bar. "Look a bit young t'be wanting anything 'ere."

"We're wondering if you can tell us where we'll find a ship sailing to Inverness," Hermione ventured bravely. "We're going up to Hogwarts."

"Oh, are ye?" the man answered, sounding fairly impressed. He set down the rag he'd been using to wipe the counter. "Me lads never went, but me youngest lass, she's had a letter."

Brightening, Hermione smiled. "Is she going this year, then? Perhaps we'll be in the same class."

The man nodded. "Aye, sent her off just last week we did. You'll want to speak t'Dermot over there; he's got a ship leaving in the morning, so far as I heard."

"Thank you very much, sir," Harry replied gratefully. "What's your daughter's name?"

"Tracy," the man replied, "and ye needn't call me sir, just Tom'll do."

They crossed the room to the indicated table and struggled to make themselves heard over a boisterous bunch of sailors swearing over a handful of dice.

"Excuse me," Hermione shouted, as politely as she could manage. "We're looking for Mr. Dermot."

A thickly muscled black man with shining dark eyes laughed loudly. "Mr. Dermot," he roared, and slugged the fair-haired man slumped next to him. "Somebody to see you, your lordship."

The blond man snorted and squinted at them; he'd been taking a bit of a snooze over his mug of beer. "Wassat?"

"Dermot, wake up you loathsome lug," the dark man bellowed, and gave his neighbor a shake. "You've some visitors."

Dermot took a swig of his ale and wiped his beard with the back of his hand. "Eh? What do you want, kiddies?"

"Er, well we heard you're sailing to Inverness," Harry began cautiously, "and we'd like to book a passage."

"Twenty sickles a piece or two galleons if you'll be wanting private cabins. We leave at dawn tomorrow."

They handed over the coins and stood there nervously. "Do we need a ticket, or anything?" Hermione asked hesitantly, when no more instructions were forthcoming.

"I'll remember," the captain slurred. "Just don't be late, or I'll sail without you. Oh, and you'll need your own provisions; I aint gonna feed ya."

After taking another long swallow of his beer, the drunken seaman pillowed his head on his arms, and started to snore.

"Er, do you know which ship is his, by chance?" Harry asked the rest of the table.

"The Scarlet Dragon," the dark man replied, his white teeth glittering in the dimly lit room. "Look for the red pennants."

They left quickly, and after stopping to buy some thick loaves of bread and cold meatrolls for the trip, made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron to reserve a couple of rooms for the night. As they walked, they noticed other inns closer to the docks, but they liked the atmosphere at the Leaky and knew they'd be safe and comfortable enough for the night.

Harry hefted his money pouch as he counted out the ten sickles for his board. It was steadily getting lighter, and he hadn't even started the school year yet. Mistress McGonagall had seemed sure that the 70 galleons they'd started out with after their tuition fees would be more than plenty, but he would have to start managing it carefully if he wanted that to be true. Hopefully he wouldn't have too many new expenses once they arrived at Hogwarts, and with any luck he'd be able to find a job to replenish his funds and start chiseling away at his debt.

Hermione, too, made comment about her diminishing wealth. She'd spent the sum of several galleons extending her personal library over the summer, and was eager to earn it all back somehow.

Since it was not yet midday, they dropped their luggage in their rooms, let the owls out for some air and went back outside to explore. Not keen to be tempted into spending any more money, they stayed away from the markets and walked along the upper galleries of the city. It was a beautiful summer day, and they reveled in their freedom. No one seemed to think there was anything odd about two eleven year olds wandering about by themselves - in fact, they stopped for a while and watched a group of even younger children run around unsupervised playing a game with hoops and sticks.

In the morning, they were up and at the docks well before sunrise, eager to be on time for the captain of the ship. They were also a bit concerned that the man might've indulged a bit too heavily in his drink, and wanted to make sure there was no trouble getting aboard.

They needed haven't worried. Just as they were walking up to the medieval style carrack berthed along the second pier, Dermot appeared out The Green Mermaid with bright eyes and a skip in his step. He was whistling cheerfully as he flagged them down.

"Just in time, kiddies," the man called jovially. He seemed a great deal more pleasant now that he'd sobered up a bit. "Hand your luggage off to Kingsley, here, and climb aboard. You can let your owls out once you're up top, if you like. They like to perch on the yards."

The black man from the tavern grinned at them, his smile impossibly wide across his face. "Up you go, kids."

They clambered up the gangplank and stepped onto the ship. Seamen swaggered to and fro, checking ropes and rolling up spare sails. A brightly robed man monkeyed up the center mast and called forth a small wind funnel with a twist of his hand. He aimed it forward, and the sail billowed majestically above them.

"What kind of magic is that, I wonder?" Hermione exclaimed as she gazed upwards.

"That's our elementalist, Black Pete," Kingsley boomed from behind them. "Our secret weapon, in case the winds give out."

Harry gaped as the man hefted their two trunks up over his shoulder without so much as a flinch.

"Feather light charm," the man winked. "Public cabins are down below; you'd best claim your bunks before they fill up, or you'll be sleeping up here on the deck with the crew."

They made their way down into the belly of the ship. Harry was thrilled and imagined he was a pirate as he swaggered through the narrow corridors, until Hermione starting eyeing him oddly.

There were several other people traveling aboard the ship aside from the captain and his crew, though Hermione was one of only three females. Whilst Harry had to bunk up with a dozen or so other wizards, she had a comfortable amount of room in the cabin set aside for the women. She disappeared inside for three quarters of an hour while Harry explored the deck; when she finally rejoined him she'd exchanged her robes for one of the peasant-style dresses she'd purchased from Madame Malkin. It was made of long, uncolored linen with honey colored leather laces up the back.

"I was bit a bit warm in the robe," she explained. "I thought I'd be able to feel the sea breeze better in this."

"It looks nice," he replied. He hadn't seen her wear it before. "You look like Maid Marian."

She smiled. "We'd make quite the pair if you'd put on those stockings you bought," she teased amiably. "You could be Robin of Loxley."

"He was a real man, you know - a wizard," Harry remembered suddenly. "He was in that book you sent me, the one about old legends and magical heroes and the like."

A spot of pink tinged her cheeks. "I did read it before I sent it to you, actually."

They watch quietly for a while as the ship started to drift slowly down the river, and eventually out into the sea. The wind was good, and Black Pete the elementalist was lounging at his post, sending only tiny puffs of air towards the main sails.

"Do you think it's a bit odd it takes them so long to get anywhere, even though they have magic?" Hermione wondered, breaking their peaceful silence.

Harry shrugged. "I suppose. It certainly would have been a lot faster to drive."

The girl nodded. "My parents probably would have been thrilled to take us up to Scotland. I'm sure they would've preferred it actually; I think they really didn't want me to go."

"I wouldn't have wanted to miss this, though," Harry admitted as he gazed out at the sun rising over the horizon.

"No, you're right, of course. It's important to get the full experience," she agreed seriously. Then, she smiled mischievously. "And this is a lot more fun, anyway."

The days were long on the ship, with nowhere to go and nothing to do but stare out at the vast, trackless sea before them. For the most part, they hugged the coast, but they were far enough out into the North Sea that it was just a smudge to their left.

The first afternoon after they set sail they spent standing timidly alongside the deck rails, trying not to get in the way. They ate their dinner quietly in the corridor outside Hermione's cabin, and bid each other an early goodnight.

In the morning, Harry found himself roused by the choppy swaying of the ship. Yawning, he dressed quietly so as not to wake his cabinmates and climbed up to the sea deck. It was still very early in the morning - the sun was only just peeking over the horizon - but the crew was awake and cheerfully going about their business.

"Hey, lad, how'd you like to learn to sail?" Kingsley called to him in a deep voice. He was standing up by the ornately carved ship's wheel on the captain's deck, winding a thick length of rope around his forearm.

Startled, Harry looked around, but there was no one else above deck. "Me?" he asked doubtfully.

The man gave him a broad smile. "Why not? You look like you could use something to do."

"Alright, then."

For an hour, the sailor led him around the top of the deck teaching him the proper names for all the different parts of the ship, and showing him how to work the sails and the riggings. It turned out that he was the captain's First Mate, and not nearly as intimidating once Harry spent a little time in his company.

"You're a natural at that, lad," the man remarked as Harry practice tying knots in a spare bit of rope.

"Thanks," Harry replied with a grin, just as his stomach rumbled.

Kingsley laughed. "Forget breakfast this morning, did you? Fancy having a look at the captain's cabin? I've got to wake the captain, and then I could do with a bite myself."

"Sure," Harry nodded eagerly and leapt off his perch.

Captain Dermot was still snoozing when they went down below. Kingsley stuck his head in the large room and hollered loudly, then ducked quickly as a brass pot flew out into the corridor.

Chuckling, he led Harry down to his own quarters, which were a lot nicer than the cabin Harry had been assigned. A porthole window let in some natural light, and made the space seem less stuffy than his own bunk. There was a large bed bolted to the floor along the wall, and a small writing desk on the other side. A table in the middle of the room was set for breakfast, though there was only one place.

Taking out his wand, Kingsley conjured another plate and dished Harry some eggs and fruit.

"Have a seat," he gestured, and tucked in to his own meal.

They ate in silence for a while, and Harry eagerly inspected the room. There lots of interesting trinkets and treasures lining the shelves above the desk and he wondered at all the amazing places the sailor must have visited.

"So, Harry, what brings you and your sister up to Scotland?"

"Hermione isn't my sister," Harry corrected around a mouthful of eggs.

"Oh?" the man grinned widely, a spark of mirth dancing in his eyes. "You seem a bit young to be travelling alone with a lady friend; not trying to elope, are you?"

Harry flushed. "We're just on our way to Hogwarts."

Raising an eyebrow, Kingsley sat back in his chair. "The school? Impressive; you must have a fair bit of magic about you," he observed thoughtfully. "And here I was hoping to convince you to sign on as cabin boy."

Excited, Harry leaned forward. "Really? Me?"

"You're a natural up on deck, and we've sorely needed one since the last lad left us."

For a brief moment, Harry was torn. He knew, of course, that he had to go to school, but the offer was still tempting. Kingsley's life on the ship had sounded incredibly adventurous, especially to an eleven year old boy.

"If you ever get tired of books and homework, come and find me," the man grinned. "We'll not turn you away, and we've a few men here who can teach you all you need to know about the magic of the seas."

Promising to do just that if things at Hogwarts ever went sour, Harry excused himself and left to find Hermione.

They spent the next four days at sea, and even though he was no longer actively trying to recruit him, Kingsley still let Harry hang around with the crew whenever he liked. The man was a brilliant storyteller, which Hermione also enjoyed, and when they finally tacked into harbor at their destination, the two students were very sorry to say goodbye.

Inverness was a bustling port city. It was large and impressive, though nowhere near as grand as Lionsgate, and the docks were frantic with activity. Three large ships were already moored in the port when they arrived, and colorfully dressed merchants scurried across the plaza, checking their goods and consulting with their crews.

"Kingsley said to look there, at the Crup's Slippers," Harry mentioned as they disembarked and waved their new friends farewell. "He said it's a popular spot for traders."

Emboldened by their success in making it that far, Hermione nodded and wasted no time navigating the packed shipyard. The pub was noticeably cleaner than the Mermaid, but unfortunately its proprietor wasn't nearly as accommodating. A harassed looking middle aged man with thinning brown hair, he shooed them away when they approached, and simpered sickeningly to the richly appointed merchants sitting at the bar.

"The nerve of that man," Hermione glowered crossly as they sat outside the door on a low stone bench. "What should we do now?"

By his estimation, it was now the 24th of August, so there were still a few days before they needed to panic. "We could wait a bit and try again."

"I'm just so eager to get to Hogwarts," Hermione complained wistfully. "I mean, this is all fascinating as well, but I can't wait to start learning how to use my wand."

Harry nodded. He knew exactly how she felt. He was having the time of his life, but he wouldn't be disappointed in the least when their little summer adventure ended and they started classes. Of course, it wouldn't really be over. He had the feeling that the entirety of the rest of his life was going to be one magnificent adventure, just waiting to be had.

The tavern door banged open and a portly man in violet robes stormed out, muttering angrily to himself.

"Excuse me, sir," Harry leapt up and flagged him down, "you wouldn't happen to be traveling to Hogsmeade, would you?"

Startled, the man blinked at him. "What's that now? Hogsmeade?"

"Yes, sir. We're trying to get to Hogwarts."

"Sorry lad, I'm headed south. Good luck to you." The fellow tipped his cap, which had a long blue feather pinned under its brim, and continued on his way.

"It was worth a shot, Harry," Hermione commiserated as he sat back down dejectedly.

After two hours accosting every likely looking prospect that crossed their paths, they were both feeling a bit defeated, and Hermione was starting to panic. They'd asked everyone coming or going from the tavern, but no one seemed to be going in their direction. Harry started wandering up and down the pier, but he had no more success there and he couldn't find Kingsley or any of the other sailors they'd rode in with to ask them for advice.

"What are we going to do, Harry?" Hermione asked frantically as he slumped onto the bench in a heap. "We'll never get there at this rate."

When Mistress McGonagall had advised them how to get to Hogwarts, she'd made it sound so easy, and so far, it had been. Sail up to Scotland and then hitch a ride from someone traveling inland. Harry hadn't questioned her instructions at the time, but it occurred to him now that if he ever tried to do anything like that in the muggle world, he'd probably end up in pieces somewhere. It also occurred to him, just then, how far away he was from the only home he'd ever known, even if it hadn't been much of one at that. The only person he really knew in the magical world - besides Hermione, who was looking just as hopeless as he was - was the Deputy Headwitch, and he didn't think appealing to her for rescue a second time would really raise him in her good graces.

"Maybe we should just get a room for the night," Harry suggested hopelessly. It was only just midday, but the evening was looking pretty bleak from where he was sitting. "There's still a week until we need to be there; maybe we'll have better luck tomorrow."

"I suppose you're right," Hermione agreed desolately. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "Have you seen an inn anywhere?"

"I'll ask someone; wait here."

Harry left her at the bench and walked up to a group of men congregating at the end of the dock.

"Excuse me," he interrupted respectfully, "could you please tell me how to find the nearest inn?"

A dumpy, bald-headed man stepped away from his compatriots. "I'm headed up to the Silver Sickle now to gather up my kit; you can come along with me if you like."

"Thank you sir," Harry replied gratefully. "I just need to get my friend."

He ran back to get Hermione, and they followed the merchant away from the wharf as they made their introductions.

"I'm Kenrick," the man told them cheerfully, "Kenrick the fish merchant."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," Hermione replied amiably. She seemed more at ease now that they were in the company of an adult. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"I'm Harry," Harry added. "Harry Potter."

"Pleasure to meet you both," the man acknowledged affably, and set a brisk pace up the next street. "What brings you two to Inverness?"

"We're headed to Hogwarts," Harry replied. "We were looking for a ride to Hogsmeade, but we haven't had any luck so we thought we'd better get a room for the night."

"You don't say!" the man exclaimed with a kindly chuckle. "Just so happens I'm headed in that direction myself."

"Oh please, sir," Hermione beseeched earnestly, with wide, pleading eyes. "Might we ride with you? We can pay, of course."

Kenrick chortled again. "I couldn't say no to a face like that, lass. Fifteen knuts a piece and the seats are yours."

Praising their good fortune, they speedily handed over the bronze coins. The price seemed more than fair considering what they'd spent on their travels already, and they thought the merchant must've been taking pity on them until they tried to wedge themselves onto the back of his wagon. It was packed full with barrels of iced fish, and barely had room to spare.

Harry clambered up and held out a hand to help Hermione. After a bit of jostling, they managed to clear enough space that they could rest with their backs against the barrels and hang their legs off the back end of the wagon. It wasn't ideal, but it would get them where they needed to go, so they didn't complain.

Kenrick took out a wand and waved it over his cargo in a complicated pattern. "Just ensuring the ice won't melt," he explained when he saw Harry watching curiously. "My father taught me that one; handiest spell I know, in my business!"

Harry was beginning to learn that not every witch or wizard was accepted at Hogwarts. In fact, it seemed only a very small percent of the magical folk of the world received any formal education; most of the men and women they'd met had been taught by their parents at home, or by the men and women they went to work for in trade. He considered himself doubly lucky for making it into the prestigious academy, especially since he hadn't even known it existed.

The road to Hogsmeade was bumpy, and the horse cart traversed it slowly. By the time they reached their destination, their bottoms were sore and their patience thin. Thanking Kenrick as considerately as they could, they waved as he rumbled off further into the town.

Hogsmeade seemed the epitome of a rustic, medieval village. Consisting solely of large stone structures built haphazardly around a hill-strewn dale by the mouth of a winding blue river, it had no formal streets or roadways, only the natural space left between buildings. There was a grassy knoll in the middle of the town that looked to be a central square of sorts, with a small stone fountain atop its summit.

They arrived during the throes of the sleepy after-dinner hour. In the distance, the sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon, and along the makeshift road in the village, torches were being lit to aid those traveling home for the night.

As they climbed a small hill to get a better look at the sunset over the beautiful Scottish countryside, Hermione gasped and seized Harry's arm.

"Harry, look!" she cried, pointing ecstatically.

Nestled amongst the mountains on the other side of the village were the majestic towers and ramparts of what could only be Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. With the backdrop of the scarlet red sun and blue tipped peaks above it, the castle was a glorious sight.

They waited a moment in silence for the first look at their new home to sink in, and then turned to each other, grinning excitedly.

"Shall we just walk up?" Harry suggested, still smarting from the lurching wagon. "It can't be that far."

"Let's," Hermione agreed enthusiastically. "I want plenty of time to take it all in; I might miss something otherwise."

The walk took about a half hour. A dirt road starting from the other side of Hogsmeade wound lazily through the valley and then up the hill towards the towering gates of the school.

The grounds of the castle were just as impressive as the surrounding countryside. The structure itself perched atop a sheer, steep cliff that rose up out of a great, black lake. The shore of the water below it curved around the lower parts of the grounds, and stretched out through valley until it disappeared over the horizon between the green covered bluffs of two tall mountains. At the edge of the lake, a dense, dark forest sprawled thickly across the land, far as the eye could see, until high peaks rose up behind it, leagues away in the distance.

As they drew closer to the enormous front entrance, Harry grinned. Finally, after the torturously long summer days at the Dursleys and their last week of adventure and excitement over the hills and seas, they had arrived.

Boldly, he picked up his pace. "Come on, Hermione," he urged, laughing, as he jogged the rest of the way up the grounds, "what are you waiting for?"

Grinning, she raced after him, her trunk bouncing along erratically behind her, and they reached the large oak doors of the castle breathless and giddy.

A tall boy with shoulder length brown hair watched them bemusedly as they toppled onto the steps. He'd been perched on the ledge of an arched palisade reading a thin book, but jumped up and offered Hermione his hand in getting up.

"You're new, I take it?" he asked in a wry tone.

"How could you tell?" Harry grinned as he dusted off his robes.

"Nobody I know is that excited to start doing lines and homework."

"Hermione most definitely is," Harry replied with a straight face.

The girl swatted his arm playfully. "Harry!"

The boy chuckled and reached out to shake Harry's hand. "I'm Roger," he greeted. "You'll probably want to go right up to the Headwizard's office to get yourselves sorted and set up with a dormitory."

"Brilliant," Harry replied. The sorting was something he'd been looking forward to, though not without a bit of nervous anticipation. He was anxious to find out where he'd belong for the next few years. "I'm Harry, by the way, and this is Hermione."

Roger bowed to Hermione politely. "Pleased to meet you both."

Blushing, Hermione nodded. "You as well."

"Mind showing us the way?" Harry asked. He was sure they could wander around in the castle for a month without finding Albus Dumbledore, if left on their own. The fortress seemed even larger when standing in the shadow of the massive front doors.

"Sure, follow me. You can let your owls out though; they look a bit peaky. They'll find their way up to the owlery there," the boy suggested and indicated one of the towers above them.

The huge doors swung open as they approached. It was a very good thing - from their size, it looked like a force of ten grown men would have trouble pushing them open, let alone three young apprentices. The entrance hall was grander than anything Harry had ever seen. There was a large stone staircase directly ahead, and carved archways along the sides of the room that led to several finely decorated small chambers. A larger, more ornately carved set of doors stood open at the left, displaying what must've been the banquet hall.

Roger led them up the stairs and through the corridors, pausing patiently while Harry and Hermione stopped and stuttered at the various oddities they met along the way. Twice, a suit of armor saluted rigidly as they passed, and all along the way the people painted into the portraits on the wall waved and whistled cheekily after them. They walked through hidden doorways and secret passages, and up staircases that changed direction halfway up the steps, until finally they stopped outside a niche in the wall that housed an intricately carved stone gargoyle.

"I've brought some new apprentices to see the Headwizard," Roger told the beast, as if talking to a statue was the most normal thing in the world.

Hermione jumped when the stones started grinding and the winged creature stepped out of the way, revealing a curved set of steps leading upwards.

"Go on up," Roger gestured with a wide smile, "and good luck. Hope to see you in Ravenclaw!"

"Thanks Roger," Harry answered, and waved at the boy as he trotted off down the hall.

Hermione seized his arm, her nails digging tightly into his skin, and they cautiously made their way up to the wooden door at the top of the stairs.

"Enter!" a pleasant voice called. The door swung open.

Sitting at an ornately carved wooden desk was the most wizardly wizard Harry could imagine. He was very old, with silver hair and a long white beard and half-moon spectacles perched atop his long nose. The robes he wore were plain, but finely crafted, and matched the pointed hat atop his head. He was busy scrawling delicately across a sheet of parchment, but stopped and looked up as they stepped into the room. Blue eyes twinkled merrily at them, and his wrinkled mouth turned upwards into a soft smile.

"Welcome, new apprentices," he remarked genially as he stood. "I am Albus Dumbledore, Headwizard of Hogwarts - and who might you be?"

Swallowing his nerves, Harry stepped forward. "I'm Harry," he replied bravely. "Harry Potter."

"And I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione squeaked. She looked very tense.

"One of our muggleborns," the old wizard nodded sagely. "Tell me, how did you find your journey?"

"Very well, sir, thank you," she replied.

"Good, good. And you, Mr. Potter? I trust everything is well, now?" the Headwizard continued courteously. "I was quite surprised when Mistress McGonagall informed me she'd found you living amongst the muggles."

"Not anymore, sir," Harry affirmed fiercely. "I'm a wizard now; I won't be going back there."

The old man smiled gently. "You were always a wizard, Harry, since the day you were born."

"Well now that I know it, then."

"Very good," Dumbledore commented. He seemed pleased. He waved a hand and two sturdy wooden chairs popped into existence in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

Obediently, they did so. Harry tried not to fidget, but being in the presence of such a grand sorcerer made him uneasy. At least if he was found lacking, he could go be a sailor with Kingsley.

Beside him, Hermione was very white.

The wizard consulted a scroll on his desk and hummed thoughtfully. Surprise flickered momentarily in his blue eyes, but then was gone, replaced by a calm, pleasant expression.

"I see you've both received a loan of one hundred galleons from the school," he noted. He plucked a scarlet quill out of the inkpot on his desk and scratched a mark on the parchment. "You understand the terms?"

"Mistress McGonagall said that we'd have until the end of our schooling to pay it back," Harry answered. "We'll try to find some work so we can start right away."

Dumbledore nodded. "You might try in Hogsmeade if you're unable to find any work around the castle. Some of your Masters do hire the occasional apprentice for odd jobs, but the older students may have already laid claim to those positions."

"Thank you, sir, we will." Hermione replied gratefully.

"I trust you've both turned in your class selections to the Deputy Headwitch?"

"Yes, sir."

"Marvelous. You'll have to schedule a meeting with your Head of House before the banquet to receive your schedules. That brings us to the most important matter, I think," the man twinkled mysteriously. "Shall we get on to the sorting?"

Anxiously, Harry nodded. Desperately, he uttered one last secret wish that would be in Gryffindor like his parents.

Dumbledore reached up onto the top shelf of a bookcase behind his desk and pulled down a ratty old wizard's hat with a tear in its brim. Dusting it off gently, he said, "Ladies first, then, I think."

Hermione paled even further, but stood with a determined look in her eye. "I'm ready."

The old wizard smiled and placed the hat atop her head. It twitched, and then started to talk.

"Another one, eh?" it grumbled as it flexed its brim. "Can't get a moment's peace around here, can I? Well, let's get it over with then, shall we?"

Hermione tensed under the scrutiny, but remained still.

Harry watched, transfixed, as the hat hemmed and hawed above her. Finally, it opened its mouth again and in a loud voice shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Color flooded back into the girl's face as she breathed a sigh of relief. "That isn't at all what I was expecting," she gushed rapidly as she handed the talking cap back to the Headwizard. "The hat, I mean - I was hoping for Gryffindor. I didn't think it would be so easy to get in."

"I'm sure you'll be a credit to your house, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied graciously.

Then, it was Harry's turn. He was much more relaxed after watching Hermione go first, but he was still nervous about being sorted into the house he wanted. Now, he not only wanted to be in Gryffindor because of his parents, but he also wanted to be in the same house as his friend.

Bracing himself, he waited as the hat fell down over his eyes, but he wasn't prepared for the small voice that sounded in his ear.

"Well, what have we got here?" the hat mused silently. "There's a fair bit going on up in this head of yours, Potter - plenty of courage and a fair bit of backbone, but I'm also sensing a great hunger to belong, and a thirst to prove yourself. Curious chap, too, aren't you?"

Harry concentrated on thinking about how much he wanted to be in Gryffindor.

The hat chuckled. "Of course you do; young men must be brave, after all. Since you're sure, though, I think I'll put you in..."

Aloud, the hat boomed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione squealed and tackled him in a fierce hug. "I'm so glad we're in the same house, Harry! I was so nervous watching you!"

Harry grinned and took off the hat.

"Well done, both of you," the Headwizard remarked genially and tucked the hat back up on its shelf. "You'll find the Gryffindor dormitories in the tower off the sixth floor left wing corridor. Think you can manage?"

Elated, Harry assured him they could.

"Good, now one last thing before I send you off - you are free to come and go as you please, but the castle gates are locked after eleven o'clock. If you find yourself outside the grounds after that time, you'll have to make do in Hogsmeade until morning."

"Yes, sir," Harry and Hermione answered dutifully.

"Excellent," Dumbledore clapped his hands together jovially. "Off you go, then. Oh, and send up the lad at the bottom of the stairs, would you?"

They clambered back down the staircase, chattering excitedly. Hermione was just as thrilled as he was to be in Gryffindor.

There was a dark-haired boy waiting in the corridor when they came out, glaring at the gargoyle with a scowl on his face.

"Oi, how'd you get him to let you up?" he asked, irritation coloring his voice. "I've been trying for twenty minutes!"

"An older student helped us," Hermione answered, "but the Headwizard is expecting you now; he said to send you up."

"Cheers, then," he answered, and waved as he started climbing. He turned back quickly, though, and added, "Oh, what house did you get? You're first years too, aren't you?"

"Yea," Harry replied, still grinning. "We got Gryffindor."

The boy grimaced. "Oh, well. I'm hoping for Slytherin. I heard their dormitories are underneath the lake."

"That's brilliant," Harry replied sincerely. "Ours are up in a tower."

"I'm Terry, by the way." The boy came back out into the hall and shook their hands.

"Nice to meet you," Hermione answered. "I'm Hermione, and this is Harry."

"Well, I better not keep him waiting," Terry commented, and restarted his climb. "See you two around the castle."

They waved and went on their way. Briefly, they considered waiting in case Terry ended up joining them in Gryffindor, but they didn't think it very likely. He seemed set on Slytherin, and from their experience with the hat, they thought it was probably take that into consideration. After a few wrong turns and false starts, they managed to find themselves hopelessly lost.

"We have to get used to finding our way around, Harry," Hermione lectured as they retraced their steps from yet another dead end. "This is going to be our home for a long time."

"Can you believe we're living in a castle?" Harry stopped, and peered down a dark corridor that had sprung up to their right. "This wasn't here before was it?"

Hermione stopped and considered the shadowy passage. "I don't think so. In fact, I'm certain there was a painting of a shepherdess tending a flock of sheep hanging there just a moment ago."

"We should check it out," Harry urged, excitement coloring his voice.

"Harry!" Hermione chided. "We need to find Gryffindor Tower and check in with our Head of House, not run off on some crazy adventure through the castle. Not to mention I'm getting a little tired of lugging this trunk around everywhere."

"But we're lost anyway, Hermione," Harry argued. "This might end up being the way we're supposed to go. Maybe that shepherdess is trying to help us."

"Oh fine, but if we end up trapped in a dungeon somewhere, you're going to explain it to the Headwizard when he has to come rescue us."

They didn't end up stuck in a dungeon, but they did find the kitchens and an underground cavern that led to some rickety docks built into the edge of the black lake. By the time they made their way back up to the entrance hall and counted carefully as they walked up six staircases, they were exhausted.

Somehow, mostly by luck, they made it to the left wing and found a door with a familiar looking crest carved into the wood.

"There, Hermione!" Harry shouted. "I remember that sign from the book McGonagall gave us. See the lion? That's the crest of Gryffindor."

"Finally!" Hermione groaned.

Standing in front of the door, Harry grinned. "Ready?"

"Oh go on, I'm too tired to wait any longer."

He felt a tingle as he crossed the threshold into the tower, and he didn't think it was just excitement. Hermione noticed it too.

"Maybe it's checking to see if we're Gryffindors or not," she mused thoughtfully. "I wonder how it knows to distinguish us from the other houses."

"Magic, maybe?" Harry teased slyly, and was reward with a swat.

The entrance door led to a cozy common room at the base of the tower. There was a large fireplace along one side, and a recessed alcove where two sets of stairs spiraled upwards. Scarlet red banners with the Gryffindor crest covered the walls by two tower windows, and a giant tapestry of a thick-maned lion hung over the hearth. A few sturdy oak tables were set up in the center of the room, as well as several upholstered wooden benches and chairs, and a small cushioned sofa that faced the crackling fire.

The room was empty, but some books and parchments strewn about one table hinted that someone had left for a quick moment, and was planning to come back.

A small door along one curve of the wall was propped ajar, revealing a small office and a familiar face.

"Mistress McGonagall!" Hermione hailed happily as they knocked at the door. "Are you our Head of House?"

The witch looked up from her desk and smiled fondly. "I am, Miss Granger," she acknowledged. "I'm delighted to see you both in Gryffindor."

"We're thrilled too," Harry added, smiling. He was glad McGonagall was going to be their Head; he quite liked her. "We're here to get our dormitory assignments."

Pulling out a leather bound ledger from her desk drawer, McGonagall flipped to a page near the middle and scratched their names down at the top of the page.

"The first dormitory for new female apprentices is full, Miss Granger," the woman noted, and adjusted her spectacles, "so you may have first choice of the beds in your room until your roommates arrive. Take the right side staircase up to the ninth floor, third door on the left."

"Thank you, ma'am," Hermione responded.

"Mr. Potter," the head of house continued, and consulted her lists. "Left staircase, eleventh floor, last door on the right. One of your roommates has already arrived."

"Brilliant," Harry acknowledged. Hopefully the room had a window; there was bound to be an amazing view that high up in the tower.

"Boys are not allowed in the girls' wing - no exceptions - and girls are not to enter the boys' dormitories without a chaperone." McGonagall took her glasses off and eyed Hermione sternly. "If you absolutely must visit Mr. Potter in his room, you will ask one of the older students to accompany you."

"Yes, ma'am," they replied dutifully.

"Good." She sat back and put her glasses back on. "There are small study rooms located on each level of the tower, in both wings. You may also use the common room on this level to congregate as you desire."

They nodded, and each made an appointment for the following afternoon to receive their schedule of classes, and then headed off for bed. At the bottom of the two staircases, they stopped to say goodnight.

"Let's meet in the morning for breakfast," Hermione urged, and impulsively reached over to give him a tight hug. "We can do some exploring afterwards; perhaps we can find the library."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "That would be your first priority, wouldn't it?"

She scowled playfully, and disappeared up the stairs. Harry took one last look around the common room, and smiled to himself. He couldn't wait to begin his first full day as an official apprentice of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. So far things had turned out pretty well, and he had the idea that they were just going to get better.

With that thought in mind he turned and climbed the stairs, ready to meet his new roommate.