Harry Potter and the Eternal Realm

by JBean210

When Harry goes to the Zoo with the Dursleys on Dudley's 11th birthday, he meets Samantha Stephens, who learns that Harry is a distant cousin and that he's being mistreated at home. She rescues him and she and her mother Endora begin teaching Harry witchcraft. A Harry Potter / Bewitched crossover, for now the story will categorize as HP only.

4. On the Hogwarts Express

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Chapter Four

On The Hogwarts Express

Updated 8/21/2015

=ooo=

A/N: A quicker update this time, since until last week I hadn't updated since June.

=ooo=

1 September 1991, 10:35 a.m.
King's Cross Railway Station, London, UK—

King's Cross Station sat grandly and one might say, majestically, to the north of Big Ben and Westminster Abbey in London. It began operating in 1852 when the first eight platforms were opened to the public. The Minister of Magic at the time, Evangeline Orpington, had a concealed platform built near the station which would be accessible only to witches and wizards. When additional platforms were built for Muggle use in the 1860s and 1870s, the entrance to the platform was concealed in a barrier between them and assigned the number 9¾.

The platform has been in operation ever since, with only a few glitches along the way, such as when witches or wizards have dropped suitcases full of biting spellbooks or newt spleens all over the polished station floor, or else disappeared through the barrier a bit too loudly. Nowadays there are usually a number of Ministry Obliviators, dressed in Muggle clothing, on hand to deal with any inconvenient Muggle memories that may need altering at the start or end of each Hogwarts term.

A woman and young boy suddenly appeared near the entrance to the station, looking up at the signs directing travelers to various destinations in the station. The woman, an attractive blonde, wore a stylish dress, while the boy was dressed in a brown suit and pants, with a white shirt and a red-and-black striped tie. His shoes were polished leather and very comfortable, unlike most of the shoes he'd worn in his life. He was not wearing glasses as he no longer needed them; the pills that Dr. Bombay had prescribed for him a few months ago had seen to that. The woman carried a small suitcase containing the boy's belongings: school robes, assorted pants and shirts for time outside of class, and the items he'd been told to bring for his studies: school books, a telescope, a pewter cauldron and a set of brass scales, and a set of crystal phials. His new wand, an eleven-inch one made of holly, was also in the suitcase, though he didn't really need it to cast any spells. The book his Aunt Endora had given him for his birthday had also been carefully packed away; Harry had been studying it quite eagerly over the past month.

He had packed a number of other items that might come in useful while he was away at Hogwarts. He'd even brought along the Invisibility Cloak Professor Dumbledore had returned to him on his eleventh birthday, though he doubted he would ever need to use it. Turning invisible was easy.

Harry's magical training over the past two months had seen a rapid improvement in his ability to control and direct his witchcraft. As were most young warlocks his age, Harry was now able to turn invisible and intangible at will, levitate himself and other objects with ease, and communicate with other witches and warlocks directly by addressing them through the "ethereal connection" they all shared. He had also learned to teleport, or "pop" short distances, up to a few dozen miles, allowing him to get about easily in Westport, Connecticut, where he'd been living with Tabitha and her husband Michael for the past month. His flying skills were also making good progress, which he enjoyed even more than popping about, but he had to be careful to do that only when he was invisible, so as not to scare the mortal neighbors. He was making good progress with his conjuration and summoning, and was able to perform simple spellwork.

"Well, here we are," Samantha was saying, as Harry looked around at the station, with its walkways and gleaming floors and food courts. She pointed to a nearby bench. "Let's sit down a moment."

"Now, I just want you to be sure this is what you want to do," Samantha said, carefully, once they'd sat down. "If you change your mind, just let one of us know and you can come back home and Tabitha and I will get you enrolled in a school in Westport. The middle school Tabitha went to was very nice."

"I'm fine," Harry smiled. He'd found himself smiling a lot more in the past few months than he ever had in his previous ten years on Privet Drive. "This is the school my parents went to, and I'd like to see what it was like."

"I understand," Samantha nodded. "But don't forget, you're going to be pretty busy now, learning both magic and your regular schoolwork. This school doesn't teach literature or math or science."

Harry scratched his head. "I've wondered about that. Why wouldn't wizards want to teach children both magic and regular subjects? You have to know how to read and do math and such. Electra can already read from my Book of Magic and she's only five years old."

"Well," Samantha explained. "In the wand cultures, children are taught to read and write at home by their parents, or else they are sent to school, like you were. I suppose once you learn that much they figure it's more important to learn magic than classical literature or calculus.

"You won't have to worry about that, however," she assured him. "Your warlock tutor will provide both magic and regular lessons for you to work through. He's a stickler for homework, too," she warned him. "So make sure you get it all done!"

"I will," Harry promised, smiling. Samantha could be so funny sometimes. His warlock tutor was anything but a stickler for homework!

"One more thing, then," Samantha added. "And this is very important, Harry. Most wand wizards aren't aware of our existence, or of the Eternal Realm. Professor Dumbledore knows, but he's under an enchantment that keeps him from telling anyone about us. While you're at Hogwarts you must be careful not to display magic beyond what's expected of you, except when you're alone with your tutor."

Harry looked disappointed. "Aw," he muttered. "I was hoping to show everybody how well I could fly."

"You do fly very well," Samantha beamed. "The school will teach you how to use a broom to fly."

"A broom?" Harry looked dubious. "Why would I need a broom when I can fly on my own?"

"Flying is not as common among the wand-users," Samantha said. "I think very few of them can actually accomplish it without a broom as a focus, just as they use a wand to focus their magic." She wagged a warning finger at him. "Now promise me you won't show off by flying without a broom."

"I promise," Harry said, a bit mutinously. He'd really hoped he could cut loose in a place like Hogwarts and show off his flying ability.

"And," Samantha added. "Always use your wands when casting spells in front of wizards. Most of them are not very good at wandless magic, either."

"I promise," Harry said again, sighing in frustration.

"Good!" Samantha beamed, ignoring his sigh. "Now, we should find this platform you're supposed to get to… let's see your ticket."

Harry reached in his pocket and pulled out the ticket that had been in the envelope from Hogwarts. It was a golden yellow, with very intricate engraving on it, along with the words

King's Cross Station
London to Hogsmeade
Hogwart's Express, 11:00 a.m.
Platform 9¾

"Well," Samantha said, after a few moments, "I suppose we should go to where Platforms 9 and 10 are and see if we can find the — oh, look!"

A group of people had just walked by them: a plump, red-headed lady with children of various ages trailing behind her, all with red hair. There were four boys and a younger girl holding her mother's hand. Two of the boys were identical twins. All of the boys were pushing trolleys containing black lacquered trunks in conditions ranging from brand new to noticeably dull and worn. On one of the trolleys was a large birdcage containing an owl.

"You know what?" Samantha whispered to Harry, pointing to the group. "I think they are on their way to the same place we are."

"The owl gave them away," Harry grinned. "Shall we follow them?"

Samantha nodded, handing Harry back his ticket, which he stuck in his jacket pocket, and they got up and fell into step behind them. The group stopped in front of a barrier and the plump woman turned to her daughter. "Now, what's the number of the platform?" she asked the young redhead.

"Nine-and-three-quarters!" the girl answered, giggling. "Mum, can't I go, please —?"

"No, Ginny, you're not old enough," the woman said. She pointed to one of the boys. "Percy, you go first."

As Harry and Samantha watched, the boy nodded then lined his trolley up facing the barrier between the two platforms, then began pushing it forward, gaining speed. When he reached the barrier he disappeared through it, just as Aunt Clara did (or tried to; sometimes it took her a couple of times to get it right) whenever she left after a visit.

"Well, that answers that question," Samantha said. She smiled at Harry. "That's not so hard, is it?"

"No," Harry agreed. He glanced at the barrier again then back at Samantha. "You want to come see what's on the other side with me?" he asked, hopefully. He wasn't quite ready to say goodbye just yet.

"I think you'll do just fine, Harry," Samantha said, tenderly touching his cheek. A small sniffle escaped her. "Oh, dear," she said, embarrassed. "I thought after sending two children off to school I'd be used to this!" She held up her hand and a handkerchief appeared; she dabbed at her eyes. "Alright, you should be on your way before I start bawling like a first-time mom." She held out her arms and Harry came into them, hugging her tightly, feeling on the verge of tears himself. It had been almost as bad this morning when he left Tabitha and Michael's house. Tabitha had cried then and Harry had sniffled a bit as well. Electra was wailing for him to come back when he and Samantha popped out.

"Tell Tabitha and Aunt Endora I'll be home for Christmas — sooner if I can learn to travel that far on my own," Harry said to Samantha's shoulder.

"I'll tell them," Samantha promised. He let go of her and she handed him the suitcase. "Be good," she said. "Listen to the teachers and to your tutor, and I'll see you again soon."

Harry smiled, wiping away tears threatening to spill out of his eyes, then took a deep breath and turned back to the barrier. The last boy was heading into it, a tall, gangly kid who was already nearly as tall as his mother. He vanished into the bricks as Harry stepped up behind the woman and the little girl. The girl, who was not much shorter than he was, was staring at him. The woman turned around and smiled at him. "Hello, dear," she said, noticing the ticket in his jacket. "First time at Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded. "My son Ron's new, too," she said, then looked at his suitcase. "Is that all you're bringing with you?"

Harry looked down at his suitcase. "Oh, I have all my stuff in here," he said. "It's bigger than it looks."

"I see," the woman nodded knowingly. "Well, would you like to come through with us?" Harry nodded again. The woman linked elbows with him and they began walking briskly toward the barrier.

It would look strange to the average mortal, watching three people about to walk directly into a wall, but not half as strange to a passing guard as what he saw happen next. Instead of slamming into the wall and sprawling on their backsides, as expected, the woman, boy and girl disappeared into the wall! The guard stopped, rubbed his eyes in astonishment, then looked again. Whatever had happened to the three people, they were now gone!

"Did you see that?" he asked a blonde woman who was standing nearby.

"See what?" the woman asked, giving him a quizzical look. "I didn't see anything."

"Those three people…" the guard muttered. "They just — disappeared. Into the wall." He was shaking his head. "I think I'd better go —"

A man in a tailored black suit was suddenly standing in front of the guard, wand in hand. "Obliviate!" he said, and the guard shuddered as the spell took effect. "You saw nothing out of the ordinary," the Obliviator said to the guard. "Now go about your business." The guard smiled dreamily, then turned and wandered away. The man then turned to Samantha, pointing his wand at her face. "Obliviate!"

Samantha smiled at him. "Sorry," she said. "I'd prefer to keep my memories, if you don't mind. You, on the other hand—" She twitched her nose at him.

The Obliviator's vision went pure white for a moment. When it cleared, he was alone on the platform except for other travelers who brushed by him, giving him curious looks as they passed. He blinked and looked around, realizing he'd been standing there with his wand in his hand. "What just happened?" he muttered to himself. He'd just Obliviated a guard who saw three people pass through the barrier, but what happened after that was a complete blank.

Shaking his head, he shrugged it off and Disillusioned himself again, to resume his watch for Muggles who noticed the goings-on around Platform 9¾.

Samantha reappeared in her kitchen in West Palm Beach, finding Darrin sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee from the pot she'd made before leaving to take Harry to King's Cross on the table in front of him, reading the Saturday morning paper. "Good morning, sweetheart," she said, leaning down to give him a quick kiss.

"Good morning," Darrin said, smiling up at her. "Harry off to that school of his?" he asked.

"Yes," Samantha said, sighing. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table with Darrin. "I'm not sure how I feel about Harry going off to that school," she admitted. "I know Tabitha and Michael were looking forward to having Harry with them this fall. Electra is starting preschool this year and I think they're already starting to experience 'empty nest syndrome.'"

Darrin folded his paper and looked at Sam. "Then why did you and Tabitha let Harry go, if you wanted him here?"

"He made a good point," Samantha replied. "Harry's parents did attend Hogwarts, and most of the teachers who taught them are still at the school. It might be a good way for him to feel more connected to them. Those other people, his aunt and uncle, told him that his father didn't work and that he was no good." Samantha frowned. "I'm just so angry at them for the way they treated Harry! The poor boy never felt loved by anyone until he came to live with us!"

Darrin put a tender hand on Samantha's arm. "Well, he's loved now," he pointed out. "By all of us. Even your mother seems to like him a lot, even if he is the 'spitting image' of me," he added jokingly.

Samantha nodded, smiling happily. "You're right, darling. I'll have to remember that whenever I start missing Harry being around here. So," she stood. "Are you ready for breakfast yet?"
Darin grinned at her. "I'm ready for anything you have in mind, sweetheart."

"Oh?" Samantha giggled, understanding. "Well, maybe we can have breakfast in a little while, then." She moved toward him.

=ooo=

Platform 9¾, 10:47 a.m.—

The other side of the barrier contained a long platform with a large, ornately carved sign saying "Hogwarts Express, 11:00 a.m." on it. Harry glanced behind him, finding a tall, wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words "Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters" on it. The platform was filled with people, trolleys loaded with trunks and cages of hooting owls. On the platform itself were cats of every stripe and color, wandering around between people's legs and eyeing the owls with varying degrees of playfulness (or perhaps darker intent). Next to the platform was the reddest, most elaborately decorated steam engine Harry had ever seen. Smoke from the engine drifted above the crowds of people on the platform. Behind the engine and coal car were a dozen or so carriages.

"Have a safe trip, dear," the plump woman said cheerfully to him, releasing his arm, and she and her daughter went to see her sons off. Looking at the carriages right behind the engine, Harry saw they were already mostly full. He began walking down the platform to the rear of the train, hoping to find an empty compartment he could settle down in and practice some magic without being interrupted. Samantha had told him not to do his magic in front of the wand users, but she hadn't said he couldn't practice at all on the train.

He passed a round-faced boy who was saying to an older woman wearing — Harry had to glance at her again to be sure — a hat with what looked like a vulture sitting on it! "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," the old woman sighed. Be on the lookout for a toad, he reminded himself. A bit further down, a boy in dreadlocks had a small crowd of boys and girls surrounding him, excited by something he had inside a box.

"Come on, Lee, let's have a look," two red-headed boys were saying. Harry recognized them as being with the plump woman he'd come through the barrier with. The boy named Lee opened the box he was holding and there were shrieks and yells as something poked a black, hairy leg out of the box. Not really interested, Harry continued toward the rear of the train. He'd seen more than his share of spiders during his time in the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry had almost come to the end of the train before the crowds thinned out. He stood there for a minute, looking at the crowds of people between him and the front of the train. He hadn't expected there to be this many students. It seemed like there were so many of them that all of them wouldn't be able to fit on the train, but if it was a magic train that would be silly, of course. His suitcase was small but it had more than enough room for all his things: his Book of Magic, the one Endora had given him on his birthday was in there, and a bicycle that Michael had given him as an "after-birthday" present, something more enjoyable than the coat and jacket he and Tabitha had given Harry previously. He also had a transistor radio that Uncle Arthur had given him, one that could pick up stations from anywhere in the world. In fact just about everything he owned in the world was in his suitcase right now.

"Oy," a voice interrupted his thoughts, and Harry turned to see the two red-headed twins approaching him. "How's it going?" one asked, reaching out a hand for Harry to shake. "I'm Fred," the boy said, then pointed to his twin. "And this is George."

"Are you sure?" the other twin asked. "I thought I was Fred."

"Well, one of us is Fred, anyway," the first boy shrugged. "Our mum wanted us to ask you a question. Are you him?" The boy pointed at Harry's forehead.

"Him who?" Harry asked.

"Course he is!" the other boy pointed to Harry's forehead as well. "Aren't you?"

"Aren't I who?" Harry tried again.

"Harry Potter!" both twins said at the same time.

"Oh. Him," Harry said. "I mean, yes, I'm him," he nodded.

"Ginny will be furious Mum didn't tell her," Fred (or George, Harry wasn't sure yet who was who) said, jutting a thumb behind him. "She's been wanting to meet you for years," he added confidentially to Harry.

"Why?" Harry asked, confused. "What'd I do?"

"What d'you mean?" the other twin laughed. "You only killed You-Know-Who all by yourself! Don't you remember?"

"Actually, I don't," Harry shrugged. "I was only a year old."

"Only a year old, he says!" one twin snorted. "And he takes out the most powerful Dark wizard alive! Remind me not to make you mad at me, mate!"

"Hey, who's this?" Another red-head, the younger brother, came up dragging his trolley behind him.

"Who's this, you ask? Why, ickle Ronnie, this young lad is only the Boy-Who-Lived himself!"

"Get out!" Ronnie (at least Harry knew his name) stared at Harry in frank amazement. "Are you really?"

But before Harry could answer a whistle blew and someone shouted "All aboard!"

"Come on, Ron, grab your trunk," one of the twins said to his younger brother. Together they walked it up the steps into the last carriage, then into an empty compartment, where they wrestled it onto an overhead shelf. "Mind it doesn't fall on your head," the twin warned him. "Mum can't afford to buy you another one if you break it."

"Very funny," Ron grumbled. "She's coming this way, with Ginny," he said, looking out the window.

"Wait'll we tell her who we met," the twins said, and left the compartment.

Harry sat down across from Ron, who kept his eyes looking out toward the platform, though he kept sneaking looks at Harry every few seconds.

"Where's Percy?" one of the twins asked, when they stopped outside near the window Harry and Ron were looking out of.

"He's up front with the other prefects," his mother said, smiling.

"Oh, is Percy a prefect?" the other twin asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Of course he is!" his mother retorted. "You know that!"

"Yes, I do seem to recall Percy saying something about it," one twin stated. "Once—"

"Or twice —" the other added —

"A minute —" the first one continued —

"All summer!" they chorused.

"Isn't it wonderful?" their mother smiled dreamily. "My son, the prefect!"

"Mum," one of the twins pointed out dryly. "Bill was a prefect."

"So was Charlie," the other twin said. "It's no big deal."

The mother's face turned red. "Now I know what to say if you two become prefects!" she told them. "No big deal, indeed!" she huffed.

"I dunno, Mum," one twin shook his head. "That prefect stuff is going to cut into our heavy class schedule." The twins looked at each other and smiled.

"All right, then," the mother said wearily. A whistle blew and the train began to move forward slowly. "Hurry up and get on the train, it's about to leave without you!"

Both twins hurriedly jumped on the steps of the last compartment. "Oh, by the way," one twin said. "That boy you came through the barrier with — he was Harry Potter."

"Oh, Mum!" the little girl cried. "I want to meet him!" She started for the carriage.

"It's too late for that, Ginny," the mother said, pulling her back. "You'll see him at the end of the year, when everyone comes back from school."

"But Mum —!"

Harry watched as the girl stared at the compartment, her expression stricken, as if she couldn't possibly wait that long to meet Harry Potter. Seeing her made Harry think about Electra crying as he left that morning; he wouldn't see her again until at least Christmas. It made him a bit homesick already. He leaned closer to the window so the girl could see him, waving at her. The mother pointed at him and the girl beamed happily and waved at him, running alongside the carriage as the train picked up speed. She finally ran out of platform and stopped, still waving, until the train went around a curve and the platform was lost from sight.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron asked suddenly. Harry nodded.

"Oh. Blimey!" Ron looked impressed. "I thought maybe Fred and George were pulling my leg. So have you really got—" he hesitated, pointing at Harry's forehead. Harry reached up and pulled back his hair, showing his lightning scar.

Ron stared at it. "Wicked!" he breathed. "So that's where You-Know-Who, er —"

Harry let his hair fall back. "I don't remember it," he said. He knew it must've happened, because Dr. Bombay removed a bit of Voldemort from the scar, but that wasn't something he was going to tell anyone at school!

"Ginny — my sister — has been crazy to meet you for years," Ron said to him. "I'm probably gonna get a bunch of letters from her asking for your autograph." He shrugged apologetically. "I hope that's not going be a bother..."

Harry shook his head, though why anyone would want his autograph because of something that happened a decade ago, something that he couldn't even remember, was puzzling to him. Ron was looking out the window now, and Harry studied him. So this was a wizard about his own age. Harry had been learning witchcraft for about two months now, but this boy had probably been around wand magic all of his life. "Are all of your family wizards?" he asked, curiously.

Ron looked faintly surprised to be asked that. "Er — yeah, I think so," he nodded. "Um, Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"Why not?" Harry asked. "What's wrong with being an accountant?"

"Nothing, I guess," Ron shrugged again. "But he can't do any magic."

"Oh," Harry said. "So what about you? You can probably do loads of magic already, right?"

Ron made sort of a vague hand-waving gesture, but instead of answering the question he said, "I heard you went to live with Muggles. At least that was what everyone said. What were they like?"

Harry shook his head. "Not very nice. Well, some are, but not the ones I was living with. But I'm not living with them anymore." He thought about Dudley and his friends. "I wish I'd had three brothers like you and Fred and George."

"Five," Ron corrected. But his expression remained glum. "Five older brothers. Bill's the oldest — he was Head Boy. Charlie came next, and he was Captain of the Quidditch team. Did you see Percy?"

Harry nodded. "On the other side of the barrier. He went through first."

"Right. Well, he was made a prefect this year. Fred and George are on the Quidditch team, and they mess around a lot, but they get good grades and everyone likes them. So you could say I've got a lot to live up to," he muttered.

"Won't your brothers help you in school?" Harry asked. Both of the twins had seemed like perfectly likeable guys to him. "I thought that's what brothers were supposed to do."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Maybe," he shrugged. "They might help me, if I ask 'em to. But they've got loads of other things to do at school."

"Oh," Harry nodded. "So, maybe, if you or I need help, we could help one another?" he suggested. Like actually having a friend, he thought to himself.

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Why would you need help? You're the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"But I've never lived with wizards," Harry said. "Until a couple of months ago I was living with my aunt, uncle and cousin, and all of them hated magic. And I didn't even know I was a warlock—" Ron gave him an odd look as he said the word "— until my cousin Samantha came and took me away from them. She and my Aunt Endora have been teaching me magic since then. They're the ones who told me about what happened with me and Voldemort."

Ron gasped. "What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"You said his name!" Ron whispered, looking both horrified and awestruck. "I never thought you'd be able to say his name!"

"It's just a name," Harry shrugged. "I don't know what the big deal is."

"Nobody says his name," Ron explained. "Everyone's afraid that if you say his name, he'll hear and take notice of you. And you don't want that."

"Oh," Harry nodded. Did that work the same for wizards as it did with warlocks? But you actually had to try to communicate with the other witch or warlock before they would hear you. "I suppose not," he agreed. "But that's what I mean," he went on. "I've got loads to learn about wizards and how everything works. That's why I wanted to come to Hogwarts and see how, um, magic —" he'd almost said wand magic "— is done. I bet I'm the only person there who won't know anything about it."

"Nah," Ron disagreed. "You won't be. Loads of people come from Muggle families, they all learn quick enough, Fred told me."

The compartment door opened and a man in a uniform asked for their Hogwarts tickets. Harry and Ron handed them over and the man nodded and left.

"Alright, then," Harry resumed the conversation. "You said Fred and George were on the Quidditch team. So what's Quidditch about, anyway?"

Ron stared, his mouth open. He finally shut it and said, "You never heard of Quidditch? It's only the best sport in the entire world!" With that he launched into an explanation about the wizarding sport, describing the field, the balls, the positions on the team and what they did, and any and every aspect of the game he could think of for the next two hours, until the door to their compartment slid back and a plump, middle-aged-looking woman leaned in and smiled at them.

"Anything from the cart, dears?" she asked in a pleasant tone.

Curious, Harry stood. "Want to see what's on the cart?" he asked Ron.

Ron's ears had turned pink. "I've got sandwiches," he mumbled, shaking his head. Harry went out into the corridor.

Harry had eaten breakfast a few hours earlier, before he and Samantha left Westport for London. He wasn't very hungry yet, but he was curious to see what kind of food was on the cart.

The cart was a veritable treasure trove of candies, pasties and other sugary delights for a young boy's sweet tooth. He didn't see anything he recognized — there were no Yorkies, Crunchies, Double Deckers, or Toffee Crisps, none of the candy bars he'd watched Dudley stuff himself stupid with over the years.

What was on the cart were candies named Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and even more candies and pasties, none of which Harry had ever seen in his life. "I think," he said to the smiling woman. "I'd like to have three — no, six of everything. Oh, let's make it eight."

"Of course, dear." If the woman was surprised by his request she said nothing else. Harry suspected that if Samantha had been with him she wouldn't have allowed him to buy nearly as much as he wanted. But Samantha wasn't here, was she? Soon Harry was holding a cardboard box filled with the items he'd wanted, and the woman was counting up his total on her fingers.

"Let's see," she said, thinking carefully. "That comes to thirteen Sickles and ten."

When they had gone to London to get his school supplies, Samantha explained to him that wand wizard money was different than British or American money. Wizards didn't use paper money, they used gold, silver and bronze coins called Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. There were 29 Knuts to a Sickle and 17 Sickles to a Galleon. Based on this, Harry wondered why wizards weren't more concerned with understanding math. Wizard money was certainly a lot more complicated than 100 pennies to a dollar or a pound!

He reached into his pants pocket and took out a handful of the oddly shaped coins. Knuts were pentagons, Sickles were hexagons, and Galleons were octagons. He counted out 13 Sickles and 10 Knuts and handed them to the cart lady. "Thank you, dear," she smiled at him. "Mind you don't try to eat too much at once." She pushed the cart further along the carriage.

Back in the compartment, Harry set the box down next to him. Ron goggled at all of the candy and pasties inside it. There was a lumpy brown bag open next to him. He was still holding a sandwich wrapped in wax paper in his hand. "Bit hungry, were you?" he asked Harry.

"I bought some for you, too," Harry smiled. "Go on, have some."

Ron looked hopeful, but— "My mum made me these," he protested weakly, holding up the sandwich in his hand.

"I'll trade you for a pumpkin pasty," Harry said, offering him one. "Go on."

Ron smiled and handed over his sandwich. "It's corned beef, by the way," he mentioned. "Mum always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"I don't either, much," Harry agreed. He tossed the sandwich unopened to one side and picked up another pumpkin pasty. For the next hour or so they sampled their way through the various pasties and cakes from Harry's cardboard box. Everything was very good, Harry decided. Ron thought so, too, as he was easily keeping pace with Harry, even though he was still enthusiastically explaining how national Quidditch leagues worked and what the current standings were.

Harry finally came to something he was a bit apprehensive about. "What are these?" he asked, holding up a Chocolate Frog. "They're not really frogs inside, are they?"

Ron laughed. "No, but they come with cards." He leaned forward. "Let's see what the card is — I'm missing Agrippa."

Harry wanted to ask who Agrippa was, but he simply tore open the package and passed the card to Ron, then popped the Chocolate Frog into his mouth. It was very good, if a bit strange. It moved like a real frog! A croaking sound was coming from inside his mouth. He was almost afraid to bite into it, but he finally did, and was rewarded with a milky, chocolatey taste filling his mouth. "That's pretty good," he mumbled as he chewed on the Frog.

Ron was staring at the card. "This is Dumbledore," he muttered, holding it up. "I've got about a dozen of him." He handed the card back to Harry. "Can I have one? I might get Agrippa. Thanks," he said as Harry handed him a Chocolate Frog.

Harry stared at his card. This was the wizard that had come to Samantha's house a month ago, though on this card he was smiling a lot more. As Harry watched, the picture of Dumbledore suddenly bowed slightly to him.

"That's weird!" Harry said. "He moved!"

Ron looked up from his card. "Course he moved. D'you expect him to just stand there?"

"My aunt and uncle's pictures don't move," Harry shook his head.

"Weird!" Ron said. "Ours do all the time!"

They opened up the rest of the Chocolate Frogs and ate them, and Harry soon had cards with Dumbledore, Morgana, Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Nicholas Flamel, Cliodna and Merlin. Unfortunately there was no Agrippa for Ron.

Harry next turned to a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "You want to be careful with those," Ron warned him. "When they say every flavor they mean every flavor! You can get beans that taste like spinach, or tripe or even bogeys — George reckons he had a bogey-flavored one once."

They spent some time going through the beans, picking out different colors and trying them. Harry got ones that tasted like toast, coconut, baked beans, strawberries, curry, grass, coffee and sardines. He even tried a gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

There was a knock on the compartment door, and the round-faced boy Harry had seen on the platform slid it aside and stepped inside. He looked on the verge of tears. "Sorry," he said. "But have you seen a toad at all?"

Harry and Ron both shook their heads. "I can't find him!" the boy wailed. "He keeps getting away from me!"

Harry felt bad for the boy. If he saw that that toad he'd have a thing or two to tell it, that was for sure! "He'll turn up," Harry said encouragingly.

"I hope so," the boy said miserably. "He was a gift from my great uncle Algie. Well, if you see him…" turning, the boy wandered away.

Harry and Ron looked at one another. "Dunno why he's so bothered," Ron said confidentially. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could! But mind you, I brought Scabbers so I can't complain."

"Who's Scabbers?" Harry asked, interested.

"My rat," Ron said. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which appeared to be asleep. "He was Percy's rat, but Percy got an owl from my dad for making prefect. They couldn't aff— er, they decided to give Scabbers to me," he muttered. He put the rat on his lap where it lay there softly snoring. Ron was giving Scabbers an annoyed look.

"He might've died and you wouldn't know the difference," Ron said, irritated. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday, to make him more interesting, but it didn't work."

"Really?" Harry asked, keen to see a wizard cast a spell. "Would you show me?"

Ron shrugged and stood up, opening his trunk and rummaging through it until he pulled out a very beat-up looking wand. It was faded and chipped in places, and something thin and white was poking out of the tip. "It was my brother Charlie's wand," Ron explained. "Anyway—" He raised the wand to begin the spell, but the compartment door slid open again at that moment.

Instead of the round-faced boy this time, a girl with bushy brown hair was standing there. She was already wearing her Hogwarts robes. She looked at the two of them. "Have either of you seen a toad? Neville's lost his." She sounded kind of bossy, Harry thought, and her two front teeth were a bit too large, making her look a little horse-faced, though he would never be so rude as to mention such a thing. Harry smiled pleasantly at her.

"We already told him we haven't seen it," Ron said, annoyed at being interrupted, but the girl was staring at the wand in his hand.

"Were you about to do magic?" she asked. "Well, go on, let's see it, then." She sat down on the bench next to Harry.

Ron deflated a bit. "I already tried this yesterday," he said quickly. "It didn't work then, either." The girl raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "Well, alright, then."

Ron cleared his throat and pointed the wand at Scabbers.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." He waved the wand, but nothing happened to Scabbers.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl asked doubtfully. "If it is it's not a very good one. I've tried several simple spells so far and they all worked for me," she said smugly. "Both of my parents are dentists so I'm the first in my family with magic, it was such a surprise when I got the letter. I was ever so pleased, of course — Hogwarts is the best school of magic there is, you know. I've learned all of our course books by heart, of course, I just hope that will be enough to get started. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She had said all of this very fast. Ron looked rather befuddled, but he spoke before Harry did. "I'm Ron Weasley," he said, giving her an odd stare.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said. The girl turned to him, her eyes wide.

"Are you really?" she asked, sounding surprised. "Well, I know all about you, of course. I read about you in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century!"

"You read about me?" Harry was surprised to hear that. People had written stuff about him?

"Of course!" the girl, Hermione, said excitedly. "Goodness, if it was me they'd written about I'd have read everything I could!" She leaned forward. "Do you know which House you'll be in? I've been asking other students, and it sounds like I should be in Ravenclaw. Though Gryffindor would be good as well. I heard Professor Dumbledore was in Gryffindor, but everyone says the smartest people are in Ravenclaw. Though Professor Dumbledore is supposed to be the smartest wizard in the world, and he was in Gryffindor." Once again, all that had been said very fast.

She abruptly stood. "Well, I better go look for Neville's toad." She pointed out the window. "You may want to change into your robes, it won't be long before we're there." And she turned and left.

Ron was shaking his head. "Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not," he said fervently. He jammed his wand into his pocket; even though the wand was bigger it disappeared completely. "Stupid spell," he muttered. "George probably knew it was a dud."

It was a simple spell, Harry silently agreed, but it would have worked if he cast it on the rat. He couldn't tell Ron that, though, so instead he asked, "What houses are your brothers in?"

"Gryffindor," Ron said. "We're all in Gryffindor. Mum and Dad were, too. I don't know what they'll say if I don't get in. They'll probably disown me," he added, gloomily. "With my luck I'll probably end up in Slytherin."

"What's wrong with Slytherin?" Harry wanted to know.

Ron looked at him in alarm. "Oh, it's the worst! All the worst sorts of people are in Slytherin! I told you they're our worst rivals in Quidditch, and all the worst Dark wizards have been in Slytherin!"

Ron was getting pretty worked up for something Harry couldn't see mattered very much. He tried to divert his attention to another topic. For instance, what did wizards do once they left school? "So about your other brothers — what have they been doing since they left Hogwarts?"

Ron went for it. "Charlie's in Romania studying dragons," he said. "And Bill's in Africa doing work for Gringotts."

"Gringotts is the wizarding bank," Harry said. They had visited it on their trip to Diagon Alley so Samantha could convert money from American dollars to Galleons. "Is he a banker, then?"

Ron giggled. "Oh, no, Bill would strangle you if you asked him that! He's a Cursebreaker for the goblins who run the bank."

"What's a Cursebreaker?"

Ron smirked. "Well, he breaks curses, of course!" When Harry raised an eyebrow at that he laughed and added, "When the goblins find treasure, sometimes it's been cursed to protect it. Bill figures out ways to remove the curse so they can claim the treasure. Say, did you hear what happened at Gringotts — but I guess you wouldn't, living with Muggles — someone tried to rob a high-security vault a couple of months ago."

"I never heard about it," Harry said. "What happened to them?"

"They never caught them," Ron shrugged. "But the goblins say nothing was taken, so I don't know what everyone was so excited about. Course, everyone gets scared when things like this happen — they think You-Know-Who could be behind it.

"Isn't he supposed to be dead, though?" Harry asked. "I thought you said I killed him."

"That's what everyone says," Ron shrugged. "But if you don't know what happened, I sure don't!"

Harry changed tack. "So what's your favorite Quidditch team at school?" he asked.

"Gryffindor, of course," Ron said, like that should have been obvious. "I also support the Chudley Cannons," he added. "I figure they'll come round any year now." It turned out the Cannons had won the League cup 21 times, the last time in 1892. Ron was about to explain why he thought the Cannons were due for another League cup when the compartment door slid open a third time. But it wasn't Neville the toadless boy or bushy-haired Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered the compartment, a pale boy with sharp features and blond-white hair, followed by two much larger boys with dull, mean features.

"I heard," the blond boy said, "that Harry Potter is in this compartment." He looked at Ron. "I don't need to ask who you are, with that red hair and those clothes. My father told me all the Weasleys have a lot of red hair but not much money."

"Who's your father?" Ron asked, scowling as if he already knew the answer.

"Lucius Malfoy," the boy said, proudly. "I'm Draco Malfoy." He waved a hand carelessly behind him. "And this is Crabbe and Goyle," he added. He turned back to Harry. "So, are you Harry Potter?"

"I'm him," Harry nodded. He didn't much care for the arrogant way Malfoy had walked into the compartment. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

"One more thing," Malfoy said. He glanced at Ron. "You're going to find out that some wizarding families are much better than other. The really important ones always sort into Slytherin, for example. That's where Crabbe, Goyle and I will be. You don't want to make friends with the wrong sort." Again his eyes flicked momentarily toward Ron. Malfoy tapped a finger against his chest. "I can help you with that. Friends?" He extended a hand.

To Ron's horror Harry extended a hand and they shook. "Friends," Harry said. He didn't let go of Draco's hand, however, but took a step closer to him. "But don't try to tell me who I can or can't be friends with, Malfoy. Deal?"

Malfoy took a step back, pulling his hand free. "I'd be a bit careful if I were you, Potter," he said, slowly. "You should be more polite, otherwise you could go the way of your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either."

"That sounds like a threat," Harry said coldly. This Malfoy kid had definitely rubbed him the wrong way.

Malfoy smirked. "It's more like a promise. I'm not someone you want as an enemy, Potter." He spied the box of sweets on the seat. "Tell you what," he drawled. "How about you give us your candy as a peace offering, and we'll call it even."

"No deal," Harry said flatly. At this point he wouldn't give Malfoy the time of day.

"But I insist," Malfoy sneered. "It's the least you can do for being so rude to my friends and me…" he nodded to Goyle, who leaned over to grab the box.

Harry was going to let the huge kid (who was even bigger than Dudley!) grab the box before he stopped him, but Goyle suddenly let out a piercing yell and jumped back.

Attached to his hand was a squeaking, squealing Scabbers, who had sunk his teeth into one of Goyle's knuckles. Malfoy and Crabbe backed away as Goyle howled, swinging Scabbers round and round, until he finally flew off and hit the window, falling to the bench below. Goyle and the other boys retreated as Ron and Harry laughed at them.

Ron went over to examine him. "I think he's knocked out," he said, picking him up and looking him over carefully. "No, he — I don't believe it! He's gone back to sleep?!" The rat was once again softly snoring in Ron's hands.

"What's been going on in here?" Hermione Granger was back, staring at the sweets strewn about the compartment. "Have you two been fighting?"

"Scabbers has been fighting," Ron frowned at her. "Some kid named Malfoy tried to take our candy and Scabbers stopped him."

"Well, you'd better hurry up and put your robes on," Hermione warned them. "I've asked the conductor and he says we're nearly there. You don't want to get into trouble your first day, do you?"

"Alright, then," Ron said curtly. "We'll change. Do you mind leaving?"

"Fine," Hermione sniffed. She pointed at Ron's face. "By the way, do you know you've got dirt on your nose?" Before Ron could answer she turned and flounced away.

"You'll get in trouble your first day," Ron mimicked her in a falsetto voice. "Blimey! She's bossy, isn't she?" he said to Harry.

"You do have something on your nose," Harry pointed out. "I didn't want to say before—"

Ron sighed and rubbed the tip of his nose vigorously. The spot disappeared. Harry gave him a thumb's up. Looking out the window, they could see the sky was turning darker. They pulled off their jackets and slipped on their Hogwarts robes. Ron threw his jacket into his trunk, while Harry opened his suitcase, hung his coat on a hanger and put it back inside the suitcase, shutting it.

Ron looked up at his trunk in the overhead. "It's not going to be easy carrying this thing," he said, worriedly. "Me and Fred barely got it onto the train."

At that moment a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"Whew!" Ron breathed, relieved. "That's sorted, then!" Together they gathered up the sweets that had scattered onto the floor, stuffing them into their pockets, then waited nervously as the train squealed to a long, slow halt.

Harry and Ron jumped off the carriage onto a small, dark platform. Other students from other carriages were milling around as well, waiting to be told what to do. The platform suddenly shuddered, and Harry turned to see —

A giant.

He was the biggest man Harry had ever seen. He looked simply too large to be allowed, but there he was. Holding a lantern above his head, Harry could see his face was framed in wild, black hair and a beard in which his black eyes were barely visible, but those eyes were crinkled in a smile. "First years!" he was shouting. "First years with me!" His eyes landed on Harry. "Ah! There yeh are, Harry! Know that face anywhere, yer the spittin' image of your dad! Dumbledore tol' me you'd be coming this year! Any more first years? Follow old Hagrid now!"

The first years fell in behind the giant, and he led them down a steep, narrow path. No one said much of anything, but Neville, the round faced boy who kept losing his toad, sniffled once or twice.

"Watch this," the giant, who'd called himself Hagrid, was saying. "Enny moment now yeh'll get yer first look at Hogwarts." They came around a bend and there was a collective "Ooooh!" from the front of the group.

They had come up to the edge of a great, black lake. Across the still, black waters, perched atop a high plateau, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Floating along the shore were a dozen or more boats. Hagrid pointed to them, saying, "Everyone in! No more'n four to a boat, mind you!"

Harry and Ron jumped into one. A moment later they were joined by Neville and Hermione. Neville was holding his toad in his hands. Harry smiled at them, but Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione stepped in.

"Is everybody inna boat?" Hagrid shouted. After everyone had answered yes, Hagrid raised one hand high in the air. "All right, then — FORWARD!"

The boats pulled away from shore. Neville gasped, frightened, but kept a tight hold on the toad in his hands. Harry and Ron looked at one another, grinning. This was exciting! Hermione was busily examining every part of the boat, apparently looking for what was propelling them forward.

Well, Harry thought to himself. He hadn't had a chance to practice much magic on his trip here, but he'd made a friend at least. Ron seemed like a nice fellow, if a bit gloomy about his older brothers. He also didn't seem too adept at magic, so it was just as well Harry hadn't done anything in front of him. One of the reasons he'd wanted to come here was to understand the differences between warlock magic and wand magic. Well, Hermione had said she'd performed spells successfully… Perhaps if he'd asked her to show him something — but he'd see wand magic soon enough, he was sure.

The trip across the lake didn't take long. Everyone was staring up at the castle overhead as they neared the cliff it stood upon. Ahead Harry could see a curtain of ivy vines hanging down into the water. The boats were heading right for it and as they neared them the vines began slowly retracting, revealing an entrance.

"Heads down," Hagrid shouted, and everyone bent forward as the boats carried them beneath the ivy and into a dark tunnel, lit only by the lantern Hagrid was holding, until they reached an underground harbor, where the boats bumped up against the shore. Everyone clambered out onto the rocky shore as Hagrid came around, checking the boats to make sure no one had fallen in or left something behind.

Harry was the last out of his boat, and Hagrid smiled at him as he stepped over to inspect the boat. "What's this?" he suddenly said, reaching into the boat and pulling out Neville's toad.

"That's Trevor," Harry told him. "He belongs to Neville."

"Oy! Neville!" Hagrid shouted, holding up Trevor. "Is this toad yours?"

Neville came running back. "Trevor!" He took the toad happily from Hagrid's huge hand.

Hagrid led them up a narrow passageway that seemed to double back and forth until they came out at last onto smooth, damp grass in the castle's shadow.

"Almos' there," Hagrid said. "Everybody wit' me? You there, still got your toad?" Neville nodded happily, holding up Trevor.

They walked around a corner of the castle and along its tall walls until they came to a great stone staircase that took them up to a pair of huge, oaken doors. "All right, here we are. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Hagrid said, raising his fist and knocking on the door three times. "Now," he told all the first years gathered around him. "You mind the Deputy Headmistress an' do everything she tells you, hear?" Nobody said anything.

The door swung open. A tall, iron-haired witch stood there in a pointed hat and emerald green robes. She had a very stern face and Harry immediately thought of Aunt Hagatha, though Hagatha was rather more portly than this witch was. Hagatha had a school, too, and she'd tried to talk Samantha and Tabitha into sending Harry there, but Harry had held out for Hogwarts.

"Here are the first years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said to her.

"Thank you, Hagrid," the witch nodded. "I will take them from here."

The doors swung open and she led the students inside. The room they walked into was so large Harry figured you could have fit the Dursleys' entire house into it. The walls were lit with flaming torches, and the ceiling was so high you couldn't even make it out. A magnificent marble staircase faced them across the room, leading to the upper floors.

On the right were another pair of oak doors, and behind them Harry could hear hundreds of voices all talking at the same time. That must be where the rest of the school had gone, but Professor McGonagall led them in the other direction, to a chamber on the left side. They all crowded into the room, standing uncomfortably close to one another.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall addressed them. "The start-of-term feast will begin shortly, but before you can take your seats in the Great Hall you will be sorted into your houses.

"The Sorting is very important because, while you are here, your house will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house's common room.

"The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," McGonagall continued. "Each house has its own noble history, and each house has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, participation in class and other good deeds will earn you house points. But," she added sternly, "breaking any of our rules will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope you will become a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

The professor moved toward the door of the chamber, pausing for a moment as she opened it. "The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes, in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all take a moment to smarten yourself up as much as you can while you are waiting."

The witch's eyes lingered for a moment on Harry's hair. Harry nervously reached up and tried to smooth it out. "I shall return when we are ready for you," McGonagall said. "Please wait quietly." She turned and left the chamber.

"I don't know if I can make myself any smarter in just a few minutes," someone muttered.

"That's not what she meant, dumbass," someone else retorted. "She meant clean yourself up."

"If they intend to test us on spells," a familiar voice was saying. Harry recognized it as Hermione Granger's. "I've learned all of the ones in our first year books."

"It's not going to be spells," another girl said. "My brother said we have to wrestle the giant who brought us to the castle."

Neville, who was standing near Harry, went pale. Harry nudged Ron. "Is that true?" he asked him. "Do we have to wrestle that Hagrid bloke?"

Ron shrugged, looking nervous. "Fred told me we'd have to wrestle a troll. I don't think wrestling Hagrid's going to be any easier, though."

There was a sudden scream behind them, Harry jumped and spun around. Above their heads a group of people had floated into the room. They were all pearly-white and translucent. They ignored the students below them, seemingly in the middle of an argument with one another.

One who looked like a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say! We ought to give him a second chance."

"My dear Friar," the other replied, a man wearing a ruff and tights. "Haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name, and he's not even a ghost, you know — I say, what are you all doing here?"

They had finally noticed the first years. "Ah! New students!" the Friar cried, looking around at them. "About to be Sorted, I presume?"

A few people nodded.

"Splendid!" the Friar beamed. "I hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

"Alright, everyone, move along now." The door had opened and Professor McGonagall was back. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin."

As the ghosts passed on through the opposite wall, the professor directed them into a line and ordered them to follow her. She led them across the hall and into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was even bigger than the hall they had come from. There were thousands of candles floating in midair over four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting, watching as they walked in. In front of every student there were glittering golden plates and goblets. Across the front of the Hall there was another long table where the teachers were sitting. All the talking Harry had heard was gone, replaced by a silence that was filled with their nervous footsteps.

Professor McGonagall led the first years between the two middle tables up to the teachers' table, then had them stand in a line so they were facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. Harry could see all the students at the tables staring at them. He glanced up, mainly to avoid their eyes, and instead of a ceiling he saw the night sky dotted with stars. Somewhere down the line Hermione whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

When Harry looked down again he saw Professor McGonagall carrying a four-legged stool and a rather shabby-looking hat toward them. She set the stool down in front of the students, then placed the hat on the stool. The hat was patched and frayed and looked like it might fall apart at any moment. Harry glanced at Ron to see if he knew what was happening, but Ron just shrugged.

Then the hat began to sing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffis are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The entire Hall burst into applause as the Hat concluded its song. As the applause died down the Hat tipped its pointy top to each of the four Houses, then became still again.

But a final pair of hands kept on clapping after everyone had stopped. It was coming from one end of the teachers' table, where a brown-haired man in a window-pane jacket, paisley tie and plaid fedora was still applauding. He finally stopped and looked up the table, where all the other teachers were staring at him. "That was quite a hat trick, wasn't it?" he asked, then began laughing in a loud, braying manner.

"Excuse me," one of the other teachers a few seats away said, a sallow-faced man with long, dark hair. "But who the devil are you supposed to be?!"

"Going a bit heavy on that hair-gel, aren't you, Chuckles?" the first man asked, then laughed again. "You might try some 10W-30 next time."

"How dare you—" the man began.

"Professor Snape!" Dumbledore said, warningly, and the man subsided, still glowering at the other man.

Dumbledore stood and addressed the man. "You are, I assume, Harry Potter's tutor?"

"That's right, Gramps," the man nodded, standing. He took off his fedora and gave a small, ostentatious bow. "Uncle Arthur is my name and education is my game," he chuckled. He caught sight of Harry and waved. "Hi, Harry!"

Harry waved over his shoulder, smiling even though he felt like sinking into the floor with embarrassment. Uncle Arthur always overdid his entrances!

McGonagall looked livid. "What is the meaning of this, Albus?! You never mentioned anything about a tutor for Harry Potter to me or anyone on the staff!"

"It was a necessary condition of Harry coming to school here," Dumbledore said, mildly. "Harry will be learning…other subject matter from his tutor."

"In what way?" Snape, the sallow-faced wizard demanded. "Why should Potter be singled out for preferential treatment? If he wants to learn something other than what is taught here, he shouldn't be at Hogwarts!"

"Oh, put a sock in it, Bozo!" Arthur sneered. He gestured at the man, who was suddenly dressed in a blue and white polka-dot suit with a large ruff at the neck and extremely oversized shoes. His face had changed as well — it was now a pure white, with a bulbous red nose and a red smile painted around his mouth. Instead of his tangle of black, greasy hair, it was now bright red and spread out wildly around his head, which was now bald on top and completely white. When the man opened his mouth to protest a giggling laugh came from it instead. The entire Hall burst into laughter. Humiliated, the man ran from the room.

McGonagall was staring in complete shock at Arthur and Dumbledore in turn. "Albus," she demanded. "Who is this — this person?"

"Why don't you talk to me, Toots," Arthur said to her. "I'm Harry's Uncle Arthur, here to tutor him while the rest of you teach him wand magic." While he spoke the other teachers at the table were whispering furiously amongst themselves. McGonagall, after shooting Dumbledore a furious glare, joined them for several moments before standing and turning back to the Headmaster.

"The other staff members find this situation unacceptable," she announced. "And frankly I concur with them. If Mr. Potter and his 'tutor' wish to remain here at Hogwarts, they should not act so disruptively."

"Oh, lighten up, Granny," Arthur snorted. "You'll barely even notice I'm here. I'll only be in the classes Harry's taking, to answer his questions about your type of magic."

A very short wizard with white hair and a white beard stood up on his chair to address Arthur. "What do you mean by 'your type of magic,' sir? Do you know of some other type of magic that we do not?"

"Don't worry about it, Shorty," Arthur replied. "You wouldn't understand anyway."

The diminutive wizard's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. He sat down with a huff. The other witches and wizards at the staff table were still whispering with one another.

"Unacceptable!" McGonagall said again, her square eyeglasses flashing furiously. Harry had been right about her, he saw; she wasn't a witch to cross. But Uncle Arthur could be pretty stubborn himself, he knew.

Arthur turned to the woman with a devious gleam in his eyes. "Tell you what," he suggested. "Why don't we sit down and settle this like adults?" He walked over to stand next to her, then sat down and put one arm on the table. "Wanna arm wrestle?"

"What?!" McGonagall looked scandalized. "No, I certainly do not! I want you to explain yourself, sir — explain what you're doing here!"

Arthur was beginning to look both bored and irritated. "I'm here to provide additional tutoring for Harry," he said again, curtly. "What I'm teaching him is not your concern — you have your subjects to teach, and I have mine. It's already been cleared with your Headmaster, so we might as well get along rather than fighting with one another." He extended a hand toward McGonagall. "Shake?"

McGonagall looked dubious, but there wasn't much she could really do, if the Headmaster had cleared it. "All right," she replied in a grudging tone, taking Arthur's hand and shaking it.

When she tried to let go and pull her hand back, however, Arthur's hand and arm came with it, extending from his jacket sleeve until it was twice as long as his other arm. Arthur burst into laughter along with much of the Great Hall as McGonagall's eyes bugged in surprise. "I just kill myself sometimes!" Arthur chuckled, walking back to his chair with his arm dragging along behind him, shrinking back to normal size as he went.

He sat down and draped a friendly (and back to normal) arm over the shoulders of a timid-looking wizard sitting next to him, wearing a purple turban. "Nice hat," he said to the man, who looked at Arthur in absolute terror. "I can make you a great deal on a slightly-used talking hat, by the way." He guffawed loudly at his own joke.

Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "Let us proceed with the Sorting Ceremony, Minerva," he said, trying to divert attention away from the strange wizard who had disrupted the proceedings.

McGonagall appeared ready to explode, but shook her head disgustedly and looked at the scroll of parchment in her hand. "When I call your name," she said in a tight voice. Everyone in the Great Hall was talking at once about what they had just seen — Professor Snape fleeing the room in disgrace, dressed like a ridiculous red-haired clown; the strange new teacher making juvenile jokes and performing strange, wandless magic. "You will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted!" she said loudly. No one seemed to be paying attention to her.

"STOP TALKING AND LISTEN TO ME!" McGonagall shrieked at the top of her lungs, and the entire Hall felt silent. "Right, then," she muttered. "Abbott, Hannah!"

As a girl with blonde pigtails ran up to the stool, sat down, and placed the Hat on her head, which fell down over her eyes, Ron leaned toward Harry and whispered, "So is that bloke really your uncle?"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat shouted. The table on their near right exploded into applause as the girl ran over and sat down.

"Yes," Harry murmured. "Well, not exactly, but that's what he told me to call him."

"Bones, Susan!"

"So what's he going to teach you?" Ron asked, curiously. "I mean, that the other professors here aren't?"

Harry dithered for a few moments. "It's a bit hard to explain—"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry!"

"He's going to teach me some other type of magic," Harry explained vaguely. "As well as stuff like math, science, history —"

Ron frowned. "What d'you need all that for? Don't you want to learn how to do Charms or Transfiguration, things like that?"

"RAVENCLAW!" This time the first table on the left began applauding.

"Well, yes," Harry nodded. "But the magic Uncle Arthur's teaching me isn't like that. I don't have to use a wand to do it." That was probably more than he should have said but Ron was his friend, after all!

"Brockelhurst, Mandy!"

Ron looked interested. "You saw my wand. It'd be pretty cool if I didn't have to use it." Harry didn't say anything to that. What could he say?

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brown, Lavender!"

"GRYFFINDOR!" The table on the far left exploded into applause and cheers.

"Oh, look," Ron muttered, distracted as he watched the girl run over to the Gryffindor table. "The first new Gryffindor!"

"Where do you think you'll go?" Harry asked, hoping to change the subject.

"It better be Gryffindor," Ron said hopefully. "Or Fred and George'll kill me." The twins had been cheering the loudest when Lavender was sorted into their house.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" became the first Slytherin to be Sorted. Looking over at that table, Harry decided they looked like a rather unpleasant lot. Samantha had warned him against judging people unfairly, but it was hard not to as he looked over the Slytherin table. Crabbe's name was called and he Sorted into Slytherin, just as Malfoy had said he would.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

In contrast, Harry thought, the Hufflepuff table seemed to be filled with generally nice, pleasant individuals. They were all smiling and chatting with one another and the new students who had just joined them.

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

A sandy-haired boy walked up to the stool and placed the hat on his head. Normally the Hat shouted out the house in a few seconds, but in Seamus's case it was almost a minute before the Hat roared, "GRYFFINDOR!" Seamus ran over to the Gryffindor table, which was applauding him wildly.

Goyle was called forward and was immediately sorted into Slytherin.

The next name called caught Harry's interest. "Granger, Hermione!" Hermione almost ran to the stool and put the Hat on her head. It had barely settled there before the Hat called out "GRYFFINDOR!"

Beside him, Ron groaned. "Why didn't she go into Ravenclaw?" he muttered unhappily.

"It won't be so bad," Harry murmured. "We just won't sit near her in class." But that wasn't going to keep him from talking to her when Ron wasn't around; she seemed to be quite intelligent, especially if she'd learned all her books by heart already!

Next up was "Longbottom, Neville," the boy who kept losing his toad. On the way to the stool he fell over, causing a ripple of giggles from all of the tables and outright laughter from the Slytherins. Still sniffling, Neville sat down and put the Hat on. It took a long time for the Hat to finally call out "GRYFFINDOR!" Neville jumped up and ran toward the Gryffindor table, but had to return amid more laughter when he realized he still had the Hat on his head. He passed it to "MacDougall, Morag" who had taken his place on the stool.

"Whoa," Ron muttered. "That kid's not having a good day, is he?"

"I guess not," Harry murmured. He'd recognized that name from Professor Dumbledore's visit a month ago. Neville Longbottom was the other boy born at the end of July, a boy whose parents had defied Voldemort three times, just as his parents had. That meant Neville might have been the subject of the prophecy, except for the fact that Voldemort had attacked his parents instead. He would have to get to know Neville better as well, to see what he knew about his past.

The Hat put Morag into Ravenclaw. The next name called was "Malfoy, Draco" and Harry watched with scorn as he swaggered up to the stool and sat down. The Hat barely touched his head before it sang out "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy walked over to the Slytherin table looking extremely pleased with himself.

Harry watched as the line in front of him quickly thinned. Moon, Nott, Parkinson, then twin girls named Patil; one went to Ravenclaw, the other to Gryffindor. Then "Perks, Sally-Ann," who went into Hufflepuff, and finally, McGonagall called out his name: "Potter, Harry!"

Harry looked around to the teachers' table. Uncle Arthur was still there, talking to the man in the turban, who appeared to be very uncomfortable having Arthur so close to him. Arthur winked and gave Harry a thumbs-up. Harry smiled and returned the gesture, then walked over to the stool and sat down. He placed the Hat on his head as everyone in the Hall was craning to get a better look at him. The rim of the Hat came down over his eyes and all he could see was darkness.

There were several seconds of silence. Then, "Oh, my," a voice said in his ear. "This is going to be difficult. You're nothing at all like the other students I've been placed on. Why are you even here?"

I want to see what this school is like, Harry said in his head.

"Is that all?" The Hat didn't seem convinced. "Are you sure there's no other reason you might want to be here?"

Well, if the Hat could read his mind — and now that Harry thought about it, if the Hat had been created with wand magic it might not really be intelligent. It could be using his own mind to supply its side of the conversation.

"No need to spoil the illusion," the Hat whined; it sounded a bit petulant to Harry. "Let's just say I'm playing devil's advocate for you."

Fine, Harry thought. Then you (I mean I) probably know that part of the reason I'm here is to find out about this Voldemort bloke who tried to kill me ten years ago. Professor Dumbledore thinks he's still alive. And if they pulled a bit of his soul out of me, it's possible other parts of his soul are still floating around somewhere. At least that's what Professor Dumbledore believed.

"Maybe," the Hat hedged. "I can't speak to that one way or another, you'll have to ask Dumbledore what he knows."
I will, Harry promised. But that still leaves the matter of what House I should go into. Any thoughts on that?"

The Hat chuckled. "Well, since you think my thoughts are your thoughts, I'll put you in whichever house you want to go to. Now, I don't tell many students that — they think I'm making the choice, not them."

In that case, Harry thought. I think Ron really wants to go to Gryffindor, so that's probably where you'll put him. Hermione's in Gryffindor, too, though I don't know why — she should have gone into Ravenclaw, as smart as she is.

"Hermione chose her house," the Hat mentally shrugged. "If you want to know why, ask her yourself. But for now, it's time for you to choose."

I choose Gryffindor.

"I hope you enjoy it there, you would do well in any house. But if you're sure, it better be — GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hat shouted the last words aloud, and Harry stood up, dropped the Hat on the stool, and walked over to the Gryffindor table where Percy Weasley jumped up, shaking his hand and sat him down next to Fred and George Weasley, who were dancing on their chairs and shouting "We got Potter! We got Potter!" at the top of their lungs. Everyone at the Gryffindor table was leaning forward, calling his name and congratulating each other for Harry being with them. The ghost with the ruff even leaned over and patted him on the arm, leaving it with a cold, clammy sensation Harry had never experienced before. He would have to talk to Uncle Arthur about ghosts.

Only four people were still in line waiting to be Sorted. "Thomas, Dean" went to Gryffindor and "Turpin, Lisa" went to Ravenclaw. Then it was Ron's turn, who by now looked rather green, Harry thought. He sat on the stool and put the Hat on his head — a second later the Hat sang out "GRYFFINDOR!" and Ron jumped off the stool, ran over and collapsed into the chair next to Harry.

"Well done, Ron, excellent!" Percy told him as the final student, "Zabini, Blaise" was sorted into Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll, picked up the Hat and the stool, and strode away. When Harry glanced toward where Uncle Arthur had been sitting, he saw the seat was now empty. The man with the turban was still there, though, and still trembling.

While Harry was wondering what had happened to Uncle Arthur, Dumbledore stood once more. Beaming at the assembled students, he spread his arms wide. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they —"

"Hold on a second, Dumbles." Arthur was suddenly standing next to the Headmaster, leaning on the Headmaster's chair. Dumbledore started, surprised by his sudden appearance.

"How is he doing that?" Percy muttered. "It's impossible to Apparate inside Hogwarts or anywhere on the grounds!"

"I read that in Hogwarts, A History," Hermione, further down the table, had leaned forward at Percy's words. "How can he do that?"

"It's not —" Harry started to speak, but Percy suddenly put up a hand.

"Shush! I want to hear what they're talking about!"

"I just went to check out my room," Arthur was saying. "And you're going to have to do much better if I'm going to stay here," he complained. "There's no refrigerator, no television, and most importantly—" he grinned lecherously. "— no maid to take care of my, er, needs."

Dumbledore finally regained his composure. "Hogwarts is a magical school, sir," he told Arthur. "Magic and Muggle electricity do not mix. You will find no such devices anywhere within the school. I would have thought," he added, with some condescension, "someone like yourself would be able to make such accommodations on your own."

"Watch it, Gramps," Arthur warned. "I'm not asking for myself so much as for Harry and the other students who have only recently been exposed to your kind of magic. They may be used to such conveniences at home and probably didn't expect to be living in the tenth century when they showed up here."
McGonagall had come back into the Great Hall. "Be that as it may, sir," she retorted archly. "I will have you know that the castle's plumbing is thoroughly modernized, with both hot and cold running water. Lighting is provided by magical torches and braziers that light when their surroundings become too dark, and the rooms and halls are always kept adequately cooled or warmed, depending on the weather. In any event, it is not your place to make such demands. If you are here to teach, that should be your primary concern. Hogwarts has done quite well for its students over the past thousand years!"

Arthur sighed. "You're starting to get on my nerves, Granny." McGonagall turned red, looking like she was about to begin screaming once again. Arthur held up a hand. "But never let it be said that I'm not a reasonable man." He walked over to his seat at the far end of the table; the turbaned man scooted away from him as he sat down. "I believe Dumbledore was about to begin the banquet. Let's eat, then Harry and I will discuss what he wants to do next."

"As you wish," Dumbledore said. He clapped his hands and the four tables were instantly filled with plates full of food. Harry had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roasted beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, brown sauce and even peppermints.

Smiling, Harry and Ron both dug in and filled their plates, as did everyone else at the table. Looking up and down the table, Harry could see the other first-years enjoying their meals. Hermione had filled her plate with roast beef and vegetables; Neville, across the table from him, was tucking into some Yorkshire pudding. Everyone looked happy, and Harry was happy, too. It had been a very unusual day, but no more unusual than any he'd had in the past two months, and he had thoroughly enjoyed it. When it came time for him and Uncle Arthur to talk, he would tell his uncle he wanted to stay. He knew his uncle was just complaining to get attention; it was the way he was whenever he was around. With food like this, not having a television or refrigerator was not a problem. Besides, Harry knew, before long he would be able to make things appear and disappear at will. And he would learn what it meant to be a wizard and witch like his parents had been.

That, and learning whether Voldemort was still around and still a problem for the wizarding world would make his stay here worth the trouble.

After the meal came pudding, and desserts of all kinds replaced the food on the four tables. Harry was nearly stuffed, but a plate of treacle tart caught his eye, and he put a slice on his plate, topping it with some clotted cream. Meanwhile Ron had predictably filled his plate with several desserts and was enthusiastically sampling them. As he ate the tart, Harry watched the teachers at the staff table. Uncle Arthur was still chatting with the nervous man in the silly purple turban; the very tiny wizard had settled into a conversation with Hagrid, making them a comical looking pair; a few witches on the other side of the table were huddled together, whispering and pointing toward Arthur at the other end. Harry considered listening in on their conversation but decided it would be rude. No doubt Arthur himself would know what was being said about him anyway. Professor McGonagall was eating a small piece of chocolate cake while glowering alternately at Dumbledore and Arthur. And Professor Dumbledore himself was sucking contentedly on a lemon drop, seemingly oblivious to it all.

At last the desserts disappeared as well, and Dumbledore roused himself from his seeming reverie. He got to his feet and the Great Hall instantly fell silent.

"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students. Hence its name, 'Forbidden Forest.'" There were a few chuckles around the Hall. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." His blue eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins, both of whom smiled and waved back at him.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, our caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term." A few of the teachers, McGonagall included, Harry noticed, sat up and took notice as Dumbledore said this. Ron's attention was glued to the Headmaster as well. "Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally," Dumbledore concluded, now sounding quite serious. "I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but not many other students joined him. Next to him, Percy was giving him a surprised and wary look.

"He's not serious, is he?" Harry asked Percy.

"I'm sure he is," Percy replied, though he was frowning at Dumbledore. "He usually tells us why we're not allowed to go somewhere, though — everyone knows the Forbidden Forest is full of dangerous creatures."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"What?" Percy sounded surprised by the question. "What do you mean?"

"Why is there a forest filled with dangerous creatures right next to a school?" Harry asked. "Whose bright idea was that?"

"Uh—" Percy looked stumped for a moment. "Well, it's not dangerous if you don't go in there!"

"What about if things come out of the forest?" Harry persisted.

"Don't be ridiculous," Percy snapped. "They won't come out!"

"How do you know that?" Harry asked. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable question to him.

"Well, because—" Percy faltered for a moment. "Er, because… because they haven't done it so far! Dumbledore would never let anything happen to the students anyway!"

Harry shrugged. Percy hadn't really given him an answer, but it didn't matter. Most creatures were only dangerous because they were afraid or didn't understand, but Harry had ways of communicating with them that most people lacked, so he was certain he could get along just fine if he visited the Forest someday.

That door in the third floor, the one Professor Dumbledore had warned them about, sounded interesting as well. What could possibly be behind it that was so dangerous that students risked death going inside it? That didn't make sense, especially if Professor Dumbledore was supposed to protect the students in the school, not put them in danger. The Headmaster had promised Samantha that nothing would happen to him while he was here at Hogwarts. With Uncle Arthur along, his safety was all but guaranteed.

For now, however, he'd be content to just crawl into whatever bed they had for him and get some rest. It had been a long, interesting day, and with his stomach full, he was beginning to feel tired. After Professor Dumbledore led them in singing the school song, he dismissed everyone to bed. Harry and the rest of the first-years followed Percy through the corridors of the school up to the seventh floor, where they stopped before a life-sized portrait of a very fat lady. Looking down on them, she asked, "Password?" in an imperious tone.

"Caput draconis," Percy said, and the portrait swung open, revealing a round hole in the wall behind it. Everyone climbed through — Neville dropped Trevor and the toad tried to escape again, but it took a fortunate hop right into Harry's hands, and he handed it back to a grateful Neville after he stepped inside the room.

"This is the Gryffindor common room," Percy said, spreading his arms to indicate the large, round room they were standing in. There was a fire burning lazily in a large stone fireplace opposite the portal hole, and the room was filled with big, squashy chairs, tables, and couches. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting people and animals, including a lion and an animal Harry recognized from the Book of Magic as a hippogriff.

"Come along," Percy said to the boys. "I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. Miss Clearwater —" he gestured toward a girl who had just entered through the portrait hole, a blonde with long, curly hair, "who is a Ravenclaw prefect, has graciously volunteered to show the girls where they'll be sleeping." Percy smiled at her and she smiled back as they separated into two groups; it made Harry wonder if they were boyfriend and girlfriend, as he'd seen both Samantha and Darrin, as well as Tabitha and Michael, smiling at one another the same way. In contrast, he'd never seen Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia smile at each other much at all.

Percy led them up a staircase that took them in a slow spiral up to the top of a tower, where the final door opened into a room filled with five four-poster beds, one for each of the five first-year boys: Neville, Seamus, Dean, Ron and Harry himself. Their trunks (and Harry's suitcase) were sitting at the foot of each of the beds, and each boy went to claim the bed his belongings were nearest.

"Get some rest," Percy said, importantly. "Tomorrow's a Sunday, so there's no classes, but after breakfast we'll be conducting tours of the castle for all the first years. It'll give you a chance to have a look around the school, see where everything is." Nodding, he closed the door, leaving them alone.

They were all tired, so each boy took his turn in the toilet, changing into his pyjamas. After his turn, Harry settled down into his huge bed, even larger than the one he had at Tabitha's house. It was warm and comfortable, and he got under the covers, wondering what the next day would be like. He still had to talk to Uncle Arthur about staying…he hoped Arthur would be okay with that.

"Get off, Scabbers!" Ron suddenly spoke up from the next bed over. "He's chewing my sheets!"

Harry grinned, idly wondering if the fat gray rat, who'd slept nearly the entire time they were on the train, would be awake all night, keeping Ron up. The thought was only with him a moment, however, as he almost immediately nodded off to sleep.

=ooo=

A/N #2: Since Penelope is a Ravenclaw prefect, not a Gryffindor, I had her volunteer to help Percy show the first-year girls where they sleep, since males can't go up the girl's staircase. We still don't know who the fifth-year female Gryffindor prefect is. I wonder if it's possible she didn't make it to school for some reason.

A/N #3: A note for the reviewer (dreamjanus) who pointed out that 10:35 a.m. in London is 5:35 a.m. in Florida, and that's "too early" for Darrin to be up. It's really not. Sam had to get up to pick up Harry and travel to King's Cross, she knew she would have to be up early, and so did Harry and Tablitha, in Connecticut. Also, it's not that unusual for older people like Darrin (he's 63 at this point in the story) to get up very early to start their day. He might have been awakened by the smell of the coffee Sam made for him before he left; he was drinking coffee when she returned from London.

A/N #4: Thanks for your reviews, ideas and comments!

A/N #5: Removed the line saying first-years can't play Quidditch, and Ron's reaction.