Disclaimer: same as in the first chapter.


Part I: Harry Potter and the Oncoming Doom

Chapter 3: Welcome to Hogwarts

"There it is!"

Quirrel's eyes flashed crimson when he had finally pulled the mysterious content of vault 713 out of the small grubby bag; he unwrapped it with shaking hands - one layer... and the one beneath... Something fairly heavy rolled out. The-

No. (More like NOOOOO!, but Voldemort always liked to dramatize.)

He would find the bastard, kill him, raise him undead, kill once more, and feed his body to snakes for a good measure. Apparently, someone thought it was a good idea to give him (read: leave to be stolen) a magically synthetized crystal. It wouldn't be as annoying if it weren't for that lemon drop embedded inside.


Life is beautiful, thought the Potions Master, tuning out Poppy's ramblings about the increasing problem of obesity among the students during the final staff meeting on the twenty-ninth of August.

Similarly, he ignored Minnie's complaints about the moving staircases (approximately 0.7 of a student gets injured per month when falling off the stairs) as well as Silvanus' whining that the death toll had significantly risen after the new Care of Magical Creatures textbook had been introduced (the new curriculum covered practical classes with some XXXXX rank beasts, but who cares?). It was the headmaster's voice that brought him back to attention.

"Now that all urgent matters had been discussed, I can officially remind all of you about one particular wizard who will be starting Hogwarts this year. Of course, I'm speaking of Harry Potter."

Severus weakly passed his nearly empty glass to the Runes professor. "Bathsheda, pour me more firewhiskey, will you?"


An innocent-looking boy was walking along platform nine, pulling a cart with his trunk on it. He was a wizard – and mind you, one that had an ambition to renew the magical world and wanted nothing in return. In theory at least.

"- packed with Muggles, of course -"

Muggles? That was a wizarding term! Harry turned around to see a plump woman with a little girl and a bunch of boys, all of them with flaming red hair; he made a step towards them, when-

No. Approaching them would be a reckless move; little he knew of magic itself, yet he was aware that something along the lines of a Secret Statute existed and it was strictly forbidden to use magical terminology around Muggles. Who normal would mention the Muggles on King's Cross, and why did that woman have to ask her kids about the platform – they certainly weren't all first years! Voldemort might have his followers everywhere, but Harry wasn't a fool who would walk willingly into a trap.

He waited a longer while until each of the redheads disappeared from his sight before he passed through the barrier like a number of wizards and witches before him.


The very first thing Harry saw were lots of wizards, owls, cats, and an occasional toad; second – the crimson-red steam engine next to the platform; third – the unmistakable number 9 ¾. He strolled down the platform to find a silent (if possible) place for himself.

"Muggle scum," he heard from a blonde man in dark robes, passing just behind him.

The tabby cat sitting on the platform narrowed her eyes.


Harry opened the door of the last compartment.

A bushy-haired girl was reading a book which he recognized as A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked.

She just shrugged, as if she didn't care at all. Seeing him pulling his trunk inside, she introduced herself: "Granger. Hermione Granger."

"Harry Potter."

And then he got flooded with the titles of works in which he'd been mentioned. Well, it could have been worse...


Salvation came under the form of a round-faced boy who joined them five minutes later; they were helping him search for a lost pet. He introduced himself as Neville Longbottom, and though he didn't say much about himself (except that he had been raised by his gran and that he was believed to be a Squib – a Muggle born into a magical family), he quite enjoyed explaining to them many details about the wizarding world as they went down the whole train, desperate to find his toad.

"Just avoid those with green-lined robes. They're the Slytherins, vile Dark Arts enthusiasts... We'll be lucky if they don't hex us for disrupting," he warned.

When they had searched through five carriages, Hermione finally got the idea to make use of the Summoning Charm.


"Anything off the cart, dears?" the trolley witch appeared.

Harry had only one Galleon left after the shopping on Diagon Alley, but quickly exchanged it for a bit of every sort of candy – so that he wouldn't miss anything.

Neville settled on a large supply of Chocolate Cauldrons and Drooble's Best Blowing Gum; when it came to Hermione... Well.

"'Mione, didn't you buy anything?"

"My parents are dentists," she replied. "I don't think they would approve of me taking sweets, besides, I have some apples."

"What is a dentist?" asked Neville curiously.

"Someone who cures teeth," Harry forestalled the know-it-all. "Wizards don't have normal doctors? I mean, there are Healers and all, but-"

"Haven't you read anything?" Hermione huffed. "Our world is much more developed than that of Muggles, because with magic we know a way to avoid invasive examinations, and who is called a doctor by the non-magical is unable to truly use the potential of magical energy, because they mainly concentrate on matter which they can see and touch. Wizarding Medicine by Urquhart Rackharrow, chapter one."

"She'll be a Raven, I tell you," Harry heard Neville whisper to him before they started together persuading Hermione that a little sugar won't do any harm.

Chocolate seemed the least hazardous, lethal, and teeth-damaging.

"Check the card first," said Neville, noticing Hermione was still reluctant to taste the Chocolate Frog.

"Wendelin the Weird," she read. "Witch who liked the Flame-Freezing Charm so much she let herself be caught and burned forty-seven times. I've already read about her in our textbook."

"Hengist of Woodcroft, the founder of Hogsmeade," Neville showed them the picture on the card. "And who do you have, Harry?"

"Bet I got Voldy," he unwrapped his frog, knowing that with his bloody luck he would see Snakeface now. "Nah... Not good either."

Gellert Grindelwald

Dark Lord of Central Europe

Particularly known for his research of the Dark Arts and the ancient magic of life and death.
During the Muggle Second War worked both with wizards and Muggles with an aim to end the International Statute of Secrecy.
In 1945 defeated by Albus Dumbledore, imprisoned (unknown location).

Harry reached for the next Chocolate Frog.

"I'm gonna find Saruman this time."


The door of the compartment slid open to reveal a tall, pale boy with blonde hair.

"I've heard Harry Potter is on the train. It's you, is it?"

"So what?" that wasn't exactly polite, but Harry didn't want another round of the situation in Leaky Cauldron a month earlier.

"I'm Malfoy – Draco Malfoy. We can be friends, support each other on our way to greatness," he said. "You don't have to associate yourself with Blood Traitors," he looked at Neville, "or Mudbloods like this one," he pointed at Hermione as if she was something filthy.

"Get out, Death Eater spawn!" Neville spat out.

"Oh, stand aside, Nev," Hermione took out her wand. "You see, I've tried a few simple spells at home..."

For some reason, the rest of the journey passed without interruption.


"Welcome to Hogwarts." said Professor McGonagall. "Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to tell you," she hesitated for a second, "that this place is most certainly safe for eleven-year-olds, has no Dark wizards lurking around and no mysteries to solve. Now, you are about to be Sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony..."


The huge hall they entered reminded him of an inside of a medieval cathedral; the arch, reinforced on pillars, was charmed to look exactly like the sky over the castle (file source: Hermione Granger's brain); light of a thousand candles reflected in the glass of arched windows. The students, sitting at four long tables, looked excited and slightly impatient. Several ghosts floated just above the ground, politely waiting till the end of the Sorting.


Oh Merlin, there was a freakin' singing hat.


"Potter, Harry," read professor McGonagall.

Whispers broke out like Fiendfyre when Harry sat on the stool and put the Hat on – it easily covered his eyes – and it didn't help that aside from student's hushed voices he could also hear something speaking directly into his ear.


May it be Gryffindor, thought Dumbledore and McGonagall.

Hufflepuff, dreamed Professor Sprout.

Flitwick crossed his fingers under the table. He really wanted to have him in Ravenclaw.

Not my house, Snape pleaded Merlin in his mind.


"Ah... Now, where shall I Sort you, Harry Potter? Your loyalty or appreciation of hard work aren't exactly your dominant traits... Hufflepuff is out. Ravenclaw – you like knowledge, though I doubt you would be able to study that much... No, definitely not. I see courage – that's a Gryffindor trait, for sure, if only you weren't so cunning... That, together with your ambition and your.. let's call it 'future plans'... will place you in..."

He knew it.

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat shouted.


Severus Snape hid his face in his hands. A single thought crossed his overworked mind.

I am in hell.


Harry returned the Hat to professor McGonagall and stalked towards the table decorated with emerald green.

He decided to sit between an empty place and a grim ghost stained with blood. He rather didn't want to find himself too close to any of the students from this house; they looked a bit... unpleasant. The wraith - not so much.

After they listened to a particularly interesting welcome speech ("Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" and so on) the food appeared on the tables, and Harry engaged in a conversation with the ghost, whose nickname turned out to be the Bloody Baron.


After the feast, Dumbledore got to his feet again.

"This year's victim is Professor Quirrell, who had just come back from Albania. I can only hope he didn't bring with himself any exotic parasites. Let's welcome him properly!"

The students clapped a few times as a skinny, pale man in a turban stood up and waved at them nervously. Professor Dumbledore continued:

"First years and the rest of pupils should note that the Forbidden Forest is full of dangerous monsters, which will eat you if they get the slightest opportunity to do so. That's why it is FORBIDDEN. And if you do not wish to die a terrible and gruesome death, this year you will stay away from the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side. If you go there, you. Will. Die."

Those kind words were followed by a proposition to sing the school song. All the Slytherins around Harry notably paled, and some of the cleverer ones cast a number of soundproof charms on themselves.


A girl of fifteen or perhaps sixteen led them out of the Great Hall – and down to the dungeons.

"I am Gemma Farley, a prefect of Slytherin," she introduced herself once they were all inside the Common Room. "True, Marcus Flint should be here, helping me with telling you about the wonderful world of Hogwarts... he's probably playing Gobstones with his miserable colleagues in some hidden chamber, never mind. All of you were Sorted here because of your ambition, cunning, and pureblood heritage. This is where some of the greatest wizards of all times were in their Hogwarts years; and you'd better not bring disgrace to our house. I also have a short warning for you: remember, whatever happens in Slytherin does not leak out anywhere. Even to our Head of House, Professor Snape. All sneaks will be immediately disposed of, and you will not like the outcome."


He got into the dormitory together with Zabini, Nott, two boys who must have had some troll ancestors, and – what a surprise – Draco Malfoy. The atmosphere was tense. One spark from a wand could start an explosion.

Or perhaps a spark wasn't even necessary, because right after they had unpacked their belongings, Malfoy approached him, wand out, and informed that if Harry wanted to stay, he should reconsider being friends with him, 'or else.'

"It seems you already have two minions," Harry snorted. "And what will you do, throw your wand at me?"

"Even your dirty mother knew better than to mess with the Malfoy family. One day, when the Dark Lord returns, you'll get a chance to join her."

"Shut up or cast a silencing charm," growled Zabini, who was already leaning over The Standard Book of Spells. "Some people here are actually trying to learn something."

"The Ravenclaws will happily accept you in their ranks, if Slytherin doesn't meet your expectations, Blaise," Malfoy shot back.

"The Dark Lord is dead," Harry stated, though he wasn't so sure of that, remembering what Flitwick had told him.

"I'm proud to say that some people are better informed than the Muggle-loving folk Dumbledore is so fond of," Malfoy said firmly. "To me, you're just another filthy Mudblood."

Before Harry could react, he heard a swish of a wand and saw a trickle of blood on his hand. Damn it. You don't have friends in Slytherin.


Notes and Explanations:

Batsheda Babbling - Ancient Runes teacher.

Silvanus Kettleburn - Care of Magical Creatures teacher before Hagrid. He lacks most of his limbs.