AN: Yes, I know it's a day or two late. In the immortal words of Rajesh Kootherpali: "Sorry."

I am having a spot of trouble identifying the transitional area between one passenger car and the next on a train. The bit that has the exposed joining mechanism in the old movies? If anyone knows what this is called, please tell me and I'll have it fixed in a jiffy; I'm calling it a "joint" by the way. I'm not looking for the technical term, though I would appreciate knowing, but rather the colloquial name for it. Please leave your response to this plea in the reviews, along with any helpful criticism.

Alright then, on we go!

Edit: Added on what would have been chapter five. At two thousand words, it didn't seem like it warranted the button click.

Edit the second: A very helpful fan came through with the name of that area of a train; Vestibule.


Harry gazed upon the entrance to King's Cross Station with a healthy amount of incredulity. This was how wizards managed to travel to a magical school? There were muggles everywhere, it was crowded, but most importantly: it was in the middle of bloody London! With a resigned sigh as to the thought processes of wizards, Harry entered the throng.

Harry had discovered a ticket in his original envelope after overhearing a student in Diagon Alley complain that he had lost his. The ticket proclaimed that a "Hogwarts Express" would leave King's Cross Station at eleven o'clock from "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters." Patently ridiculous. Why wizards hadn't used the number thirteen escaped Harry as the King's Cross to which he was accustomed only possessed twelve platforms; even at that it only went from zero to eleven.

As Harry examined the mob of people he began to realise just how far up the creek he was. He hadn't the first idea as to how to access the platform.

"Well, they are wizards. Practically everything that they use is magic. So…"

Harry extended his sixth sense while subtly grasping the wand hidden up his coat sleeve to enhance his clarity. He could then detect that a decent portion of the crowd in his immediate vicinity were magical. Feeling slightly exposed, Harry forced his hair to lengthen in order to hide his scar. Extending his probe further, Harry was able to sense a dense network of enchantments around a barrier between platforms nine and ten.

"And Bob's my uncle! There." Harry allowed a satisfied look to creep over his face.

As he made his way closer to his target, he noticed a rather dense cluster of magicals coming up from behind. Pulling to the side, he let the large group of redheads pass. The mother of the family looked toward the crowd on her left and then began to shout, a little overzealously: "Come on, this place is packed with muggles of course. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters this way!"

The troupe of gingers plodded off towards the barrier, leaving Harry to wonder at the sheer loudness of the matriarch of the brood. Following from a few yards behind, the boy watched as the older boys of the bunch pass right through the brick-and-mortar and disappear. He waited for the rest to leave, not wanting to interpose himself, and so found himself loitering for almost two minutes before the woman had had enough of examining the rest of the crowd in the station and followed her sons; this finally allowed Harry to pass through the wall himself.

On the other side of the brick-and-mortar façade was an almost cavernous station that looked to be devoted solely to one bright red steam engine, which bore its name boldly on its side: The Hogwarts Express. A sign above Harry's head proclaimed that he had arrived at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. His sixth sense told him that the vast majority of those milling around the station were magical. Harry felt that his decision to disguise himself had been an entirely warranted practice of caution.

Wasting little more time sight-seeing Harry made his way toward the back of the train, hoping to find an empty compartment. After navigating the general hustle and bustle of bodies, he managed to get his chest and empty cage onto the steps and began to search. Not long after, Harry found an ideal compartment closer to the end of the train that appeared to have no residents. There had been others, but those had felt a little exposed since they were not adjacent to a vestibule. He entered quickly and stowed his luggage into the overhead. With that all out of the way Harry sat back on one of the benches to continue reading A Theory of Magic.

The train had just started on it's journey through the countryside and Harry had just finished chapter seven, which gave an overview on runes, when he heard a rather loud croak. Startled, Harry set down his book and looked around the compartment. The croak sounded again and Harry pinpointed the source as just behind the door. Sliding it to the side Harry discovered a rather large, and magically active, toad. Figuring a student had lost it Harry brought the toad inside and set it across from himself on the opposite bench. The toad croaked.

"Oh, hush. Your owner should be along any minute now."

The toad croaked again, but this time with an air of consent, and then fell asleep. Or at least Harry assumed it was asleep. And consenting.

He had just finished another page of the book when the door opened abruptly and one of the redheads from the station peered inside. As his jaw had gone a little slack, what he saw must have seemed odd: a lanky-haired boy reading in solitude save a rather still toad. Either that or he was just stupid, it was hard to tell. Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Can you be helped?"

The redhead looked around the compartment again and then asked, "Have you seen Harry Potter? He's supposed to be on the train this year. I'm Ron Weasley, by the way."

He held out a hand to shake. Harry did not take it: he had no desire to make friends with such a dollophead. Harry quickly spun off a simple spell to ensure the ginger would not remember him.

"I'm James; and no, I haven't seen Harry Potter. Have you tried near the front?"

Weasley looked thoughtful at this. "No, I haven't."

The boy left as quickly as he had come. Harry was only glad his scar had remained hidden, as anything as blatently identifying as that would have broken the spell, and tried once again to read his book. About fifteen minutes later there was a knock and a bushy haired girl entered with a slightly pudgy boy trailing behind. "Sorry to bother, but have you seen a toad? Neville here's lost one."

Harry set down his book and smiled. Proper manners went a long way in his book. He pulled the toad from under his bench, where it had retreated after a particularly bright patch of sun had come out.

"Yes; he found me near the start of the trip. I figured that his owner would be looking for him sooner or later." Harry handed the toad to the overjoyed Neville. "I'm Harry Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Neville gaped, the toad slipping from his hands and once more advancing to the underside of the seats. The girl stared at him excitedly and exclaimed "Holy cricket! You aren't! I've read all about you, of course, in The Most Magical Names of Our Time and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts…"

Harry held up a hand, stopping her. "Please, listen. Most of those books are probably rubbish. I've never been interviewed, and some of the stories about me I know are false. Ah! I know; why don't you two sit down and we can chat?"

The two looked at each other, and then raced for the seats across from Harry. Once safely in place the girl started: "I'm Hermione Granger, sorry for not saying before."

Harry laughed. "That's alright. You wouldn't believe the moron who came in before you. Barged in and asked if I had seen Harry Potter, like I was some sort of zoo exhibit, and then ran off when I said I hadn't."

Neville laughed along with Harry while Hermione frowned. "So you lied to him? That's not very nice."

Harry corrected her: "No I didn't, I've never seen myself. I've seen my reflection but I've never actually seen myself, nor've you I imagine."

Hermione flushed and said, "But still, that was dishonest…"

Harry laughed again. "So what if it was? He wanted to goggle at me like a baboon or something. I wasn't about to put up with that. You two were different."

Neville looked up after retrieving his toad again. "How so?"

"You two knocked first, then goggled."

Even Hermione laughed at that.


The ride went pleasantly enough for the next hour or so; the countryside had begun to change from rolling hills to fields and there was a decent amount of overcast to mute the otherwise harsh sunlight. Harry's guests had retrieved their respective trunks from along the train and had returned to find that Harry had bought some sweets from a passing cart, which they happily tended to. Harry and Neville had excused themselves from the compartment while Hermione changed into her robes, as she did for them. Harry had been discussing all of the amazing sights around Diagon Alley with Hermione when there came a second polite knock from the compartment door.

The door slid aside and in strode a blonde whom Harry readily recognized from his first day in the Alley. Neville flinched a bit as the boy walked in, which Harry noted. Through the compartment window two large boys could be seen waiting in the hall, their backs to the door.

"I've heard that Harry Potter is in this compartment. Is it true?" The boy gestured to Harry.

Harry stood and extended a hand saying: "Yes, that's me. I'm sorry though, you seem to have me at a disadvantage, Mr..?"

Draco shook the proffered hand. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Harry said, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Malfoy, though, Malfoy… Could your father be the Lucius Malfoy who is such good friends with our minister?"

Draco relaxed a bit and smiled. "Yes; father is always in and out of the ministry. He's quite good friends with many of the department heads."

Harry relaxed a bit too, so as not to put off the other boy. "So, what brings you to my compartment? I wouldn't think a person like you would come by just to stare at this scar."

Harry brushed his still-long hair to the side for a moment so that Draco might see the old wound.

Draco smirked a bit. "You're correct: that's not why I came. No, I merely came to extend my family's greetings to you and to welcome you back into the wizarding world."

Harry smiled. "You can give my thanks to your family, I'm glad to receive their welcome. Now I'm sure that you have friends back in your compartment waiting on you. I wouldn't want to keep you."

Draco took the invitation to leave. "Thank you. I expect that I'll see you around school, then?"

Harry nodded and Draco left. Harry sat back down and had begun to peruse his theory book again when Neville blurted "What was that?"

Harry looked up to find Neville red-faced with embarrassment at his outburst. Hermione looked fairly shocked as well; apparently Neville did not usually raise his voice. Harry cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

Neville glanced from Harry to the door and back, then said: "H-how is it that you're such good friends with Malfoy? Th-they're among the darkest wizards in Britain!"

Hermione looked puzzled. "If the family were well known for practicing the Dark Arts they wouldn't be able to go to Hogwarts, would they?"

Neville nodded, and said shakily: "If the whole family was well-known and convicted of practicing Dark Arts then they wouldn't. B-but my gran says that the Malfoys are really good at slipping out of trouble. Something to do with how they spend their m-money, I bet."

Harry decided to switch topics, in order to avoid alienating his new friends. He would be investigating into the "Dark Arts" though: they were an unknown quantity, and thus needed to be studied.

"How do families come into their wealth anyway? I assume that magic has something to do with it."

Hermione's face showed interest as Neville answered. "M-magic has something to do with how the old families keep their wealth, and sometimes h-how they get it, but to gain more you usually either have to own land or invest in b-business."

Neville seemed to become a little less shy as he spoke, sitting straighter and pointing to himself. "M-My family relies almost exclusively on rent from our various properties. Y-yours, Harry," at this Neville pointed to the other boy, "the Potters, they were known to have almost an even split between land lording and business dealings. The M-Malfoys are different though. They were a middling family about seventy or so years ago; they held a large bit of farm ground that the Weasley family worked. After the last w-war they sold off most of their lands and bought shops and stock all over wizarding Britain. That's why they became so wealthy so fast: they helped rebuild most of the shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmead."

Hermione pondered this and then asked "Are all of the families like that? It seems that some people would need to be laborers or something for that to work."

Neville nodded to her. "Y-yea, most of the families are just tradesmen. The Chang family arrived here about fifty years ago. They r-run the apothecary in Diagon. The Smith's have a woodworking trade, and I mentioned that the Weasleys were farmers."

Harry latched onto the last; here was a chance to find out why such a substantial amount of money went to the family of redheads. "You did say that, and you also mentioned that the land they farmed was sold. Did it go to them?"

Neville shook his head and gestured out of the window, towards a set fields coming within view. "The W-Weasleys couldn't have afforded all of that property. They managed to get a small piece, but most of it went to the Zabini family, and it's farmed by the Bullstrodes now. The Weasleys were even worse off after the sale. My gran said that they had to sell off most of their equipment and get jobs in the lower ministry just to get by."

Hermione latched onto that phrase. "Lower ministry? What's a lower ministry?"

Neville seemed a bit proud that he was such a knowledgeable source on the wider wizarding world. Harry felt that he deserved it: the information Neville gave out was gold! "The l-lower ministry is just the portion of our government that everyone says is unimportant. The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, the Goblin Liaison, the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures; that sort of thing. Most of it is rather un-unimportant, but I wish that the Office of Land Preservation was given a little more weight; we can't just make more of it, and muggles notice if huge tracts of land go m-missing overnight."

The trio stayed with the subject of wizarding finances and economics, a fascinating topic, and before long the sky had darkened and the train began to slow down. With a whistle and a small jerk, the train came to a complete stop outside of a small station. A voice was heard throughout the train: "Please leave your belongings in the train, they will be taken up to the school for you."

"Welcome to Hogwarts."


After exiting the train Harry and his new compatriots found themselves on a simple platform. A line of carriages lead away from a forest to their right. The three stepped in the general direction of a rather deep voice shouting: "Firs' years this way! Come on then! Firs' years over this way!"

The milling students parted and Harry saw what was probably the most massive man in existence. He wore a massive furry overcoat, possessed an enormous beard, and was somehow still able to make his smile known through the fuzz. "Firs' years over this way, firs' years!"

A small path behind the giant man led away from the train and the older students. A glimmer of water could be seen at it's end. Harry, Neville, and Hermione joined the mass of students clustering around the large man. He smiled down at the students. ""Allo! Me name's Hagrid, an I'm to lead you all to the castle. Follow me, then!"

Hagrid turned and took long strides down the road leading to what could now be seen as a lake. The vast majority of first years had to jog to keep up. Upon rounding a bend in the trail, Harry's group stopped and Hermione gasped. A large lake sat on the edge of the dark wood. A full moon shone overhead and made the waters appear as the finest silver; small islands near the far left shores were the only imperfections in the illusion. But to the right, to the right was a magnificent castle.

Tall capped towers stood guard over a magnificent white cliff overlooking the lake, and nestled between these sentinels was a glorious castle with high walls and towers of its own. Airborne corridors and bridges linked the outlying towers with the castle proper and motes of light could be seen glimmering from windows all along the wall.

Harry had stopped not because of the sight of the school; he had seen many pictures of such fortresses before. No, as soon as he had crossed some invisible boundary he had felt a massive amount of magic envelop him. The field spanned from where Harry stood to the school, and easily beyond that! With his wand in his sleeve Harry could detect layers upon layers upon layers of enchantments and spells folded into the titanic bubble, as convoluted and complex as anything he could imagine. Strands, fields, spheres, ribbons and all assortments of other spell types intermeshed to create this most intimidating of wards.

Harry quickly reasserted his barrier, as strong as he could muster, and the overwhelming feeling of pressure abated. He strode forward, snapping Hermione out of her daze as he did so.

"C'mon. The others are heading to those boats."

And indeed, there was a rather long pier with dinghies along either side. The trio fell into line with the rest of the students and were sorted into a boat alongside a pretty blonde girl. In a rather wide skiff at the end of the pier sat Hagrid, encouraging the soon-to-be students to hurry.

"Alrigh' then? Evryone on board?" There was a general murmur of assent, and no students remained on the pier.

"Righ' then! Off we go; forward!" At his command, and the brandishing of a ridiculous pink umbrella, the small fleet set off for the cliff below the castle. Harry looked around, marveling at the spectacle around his fellow students. Elegant ripples emanated from their crafts, causing the light on the surface to dance and shimmer.

As the students were about to pass a small island Harry noticed a simple stone bridge connecting it to the mainland. He thought nothing of it; that is, until his boat passed under it. A ripple of energy ran through Harry, and suddenly his sixth sense was gone! He would have panicked had he not been surrounded by other students and not been trained to handle stress. The recently-hobbled boy surreptitiously glanced over his shoulder and saw a figure garbed in black, waving his wand over the few boats behind Harry's own, presumably casting whatever enchantments he was supposed to cast.

Harry was no fool, the odds that a random saboteur would be hiding on the exact bridge they had passed under would be virtually nil; there had been several bridges they had bypassed. Whoever the man was, he was supposed to be there doing whatever it was he was doing. That he blanketed all of the students supported the theory; it might have been some kind of standard entry protocol, or some form of tracker. Regardless, Harry was going to fid a way to circumvent whatever had been placed on him. That was a project for later though: while he was in his ruminations the students had arrived at a small dock which led up into the white cliff itself.

"Alrigh' then." said Hagrid, "We're here. Now, you lot need ter sick tergether an' follow me. C'mon" The large man trundled off to a wide ascending staircase recessed into the back wall of the shallow cave. There were few mutterings among the students: the dark and shadowy stairs were intimidating enough to ensure that. After three right turns and a short corridor the group passed through a large door and into a brightly lit entrance hall.

The hall was magnificently lit by hanging wrought iron chandeliers, and in the center lay a grand stairway leading up to a wide set of double doors; presumably to some sort of feasting hall if Harry remembered his histories. A massive set of double doors stood at either end of the hall: one at the head of the stairway and another that looked as if it led to the foregrounds . Hagrid turned to the students, chuckling as he saw their awestruck expressions.

"Now," he began, "you lot need ter wait here for one of te professers. They'll lead you inside, sure 'nuff." Hagrid smiled and, with a little wave, ascended the steps to enter the hall beyond. As Harry watched the man leave he couldn't help but wonder what other surprises Hogwarts had in store for him. It was only his arrival, yet he had met a gentle giant, made acquaintances with two noble houses, become fast friends with a smart girl, and had his magic restricted somehow.

"What's next," Harry asked himself, "proof of the afterlife?"

And as he thought, so the universe decided to kick in metaphorical pants. Out of the walls near the great door flowed a host of ethereal beings, glimmering and wavering in the candlelight. One happened to look down as the group passed overhead. The priest smiled.

"Oh look here everyone, little first years. Hello!" The man gave a jaunty little wave.

"Ah," said a noble figure, "I wondered when we'd see them about. Hello, and welcome to Hogwarts. Cheerio chaps!" At the aristocrat's proclamation the spectral figures faded through the ceiling. Harry, and several others, stared at the roof. Harry's mouth opened, seemingly of its own accord.

"What in the nine levels of hell was that?" A few of the surrounding children sniggered, but before an answer could be given a rather severe looking woman approached the milling students and began to speak in a distinct Scottish brogue.

"Good evening, and welcome to Hogwarts. I am professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor house, and Deputy Headmistress." Harry noted that the woman happened to be a bit odd-eyed. Nothing major just that, from certain viewpoints, her eyes would appear to be situated in obtuse angles. His internal computations of those angles being translated into standard vision were interrupted by an elbow to the ribs courtesy of Hermione.

"Now in a moment, you will go through these doors and join your classmates; but before you do you must be sorted into your Houses. While at Hogwarts, your house is like your family. Your accomplishments will earn you points, any rule breaking and you will lose points. At the end of the year the House with the most points will win the House Cup; a great honor."

Harry nodded slightly at this last: he loved competition.

"Follow me, and we'll begin."


Harry began to spin slowly alongside Neville and Hermione in the Great Hall as soon as the students had been bidden to hold their position. Even though he had read Hogwarts: A History, never did it cross Harry's mind that the ceiling was actually able to show the stars overhead. Simply amazing.

There were five tables, one of which seemed to be the staff table; the rest seemed to be for students of the various houses. Several doors led off the hall, and Harry briefly wondered as to where they led.

McGonagall called the hall's attention, having returned with a stool and some sort of old cloth.

"When I call your name, please step forward and place the Sorting Hat on your head to be sorted into your houses." Harry heard a muffled squawk from the rear of the group.

"What, we have to just try on the hat? My brothers said we had to wrestle a troll!"

Harry chuckled as he heard the Weasley's exclamation. Hermione looked at him curiously. "What's so funny?"

Harry turned to her and whispered: "Weasley thought we had to wrestle trolls. I've seen pictures of trolls, we wouldn't stand a chance. Git probably doesn't have the slightest clue about what goes on."

Hermione laughed softly, and Harry could've sworn he heard a small snort from Neville on his other side. The group turned forward as the old hat, as it was now identified, formed a tear along it's side and began to sing in a festive Irish tune.

A thousand years or more ago

When I was newly sewn

There came at last

A return of the past

Through four Heroes

Great and bold

Young Gryffindor; by strength and speed

His every foe was ended

Sweet Hufflepuff, with herb and poultice,

Were the sick and dying mended

Fair Ravenclaw, with naught but quill and paper,

Did translate long-lost tomes; an excellent wordshaper

Noble Slytherin, the cunning and the cautious,

There was no spell he could not cast; The nastiest? Those nauseous.

These four did come together

To build this noble school

And being the people that they were

Favorites were taken from the pool

Said Slytherin: "Only those cunning and ambitious

will be taught by me."

And Ravenclaw: "Only those of truest mind shall learn

at all from me."

Said Gryffindor: "I shall take those with brave deeds to their name."

Sweet Hufflepuff: "I shall teach the lot and treat them just the same."

So the Houses were divided

And I shall treat you so

It is my work to sort you

But do not fill with woe

Your friends shall be your friends

And your rivals those not

Regardless of where you sit;

No matter the colours of sock

So step up, sit down,

And place me on your bin

For time grows short, the hour long;

Let the sorting now begin!

Applause bust out along the five tables as the sorting hat ended it's song. Harry applauded along with the rest: it had been rather amusing. He watched as Susan Bones was called forward. She sat on the stool and McGonagall placed the hat on her head. After a few moments of silence the hat cried: "Hufflepuff!"

Susan stepped lightly over to her new house as they applauded and took a seat. Harry had phased out a bit after the first, vaguely being aware that some "Finnegan" was sorted into Gryffindor, preoccupied as he was with the geometry of McGonagall's eyes. He snapped back to attention ,though, as Hermione was called. She sat on the stool with the hat on her head for a full minute before the piece of apparel opened up and shouted: "Ravenclaw!"

A blushing Hermione half-jogged over to her housemates who were clapping enthusiastically. Harry lost two, or more, names before being dragged out of his ruminations by Neville Longbottom being sorted into Gryffindor. A few names later, or many: Harry wasn't sure, came Draco Malfoy. The hat had cried "Slytherin!" almost as soon as it had touched the boy's head, and thus keept said blonde's hair preternaturally smooth.

The next name that caught his attention was, not surprisingly, his own. Harry collected his thoughts and strode forward. He couldn't help but notice that the entire hall had fallen silent before whispers of his name began to circulate throughout the room. Harry paid them no mind and continued on what seemed like much too long of a walk from the group to that bloody stool. Eventually Harry managed to traverse the distance, sit on the three-legged elevation enhancer, and watch his world go dark as the hat was dropped over his head. Then a voice caught his attention; a deep, reverberating voice which seemed to echo in his skull.

"Difficult, very difficult…" Harry tried answering.

"What's difficult?" Harry heard what could only be described as the sound of amusement.

"It is difficult to sort you, Mister Potter, because you are a difficult person to categorise. So willing to use your powers for your own ends, yet you have never shown cowardice or left a friend behind, and your eagerness to learn is quite remarkable...

Harry began to panic.

"Mister Potter, calm yourself. I cannot speak of that which I see in student's minds. But where to put you… You have courage, no doubt about that; you are loyal and a hard worker; intelligence is one of your greatest assets, and yet your cunning and ambition are great. Where to place you…"

Harry was unsure himself. "Can you tell me what I might become?"

"There was only one other," the hat replied, "That asked me this question. He did not end well."

Harry quashed his nervousness. "Tell me."

"Very well. It's all here; in your head. In Slytherin you would become a force to reckon with: a colossal figure in power and influence; your reach would know no bounds. A lonely road, but filled with affluence and privilege. In Gryffindor you would be adored, worshipped even, as a hero for defeating the Dark Lord. Everyone would praise your deeds and look to you as a bastion of light; becoming Minister of Magic would be as easy as you asking for it. After living among Ravenclaws, no secret of magic could hide from you. Any notion you had would be within your grasp to understand; you might even rediscover the lost recipe for the Philosopher's Stone."

"And what will Hufflepuff grant me?" The hat chuckled, or close to it.

"Hufflepuff will give you loyal friends, for life. You will have to work hard in order to gain their trust; but once you have it, they will follow you into the deepest darkness with faith and loyalty. No other shall be able to command the respect others will hold for you, and you alone. Hufflepuff will be the hardest path, for they do not make allegiances lightly. You will be respected there, not for what you have done, but for what you will do. But you already know your choice, and so I do mine."


The entire hall watched as the hat spoke to Harry Potter for what seemed an eternity. Just as Professor McGonagall was about to say something to the headmaster, the hat opened. It seemed to do so in slow motion, every shift and contortion of the cloth became easily visible. Then, it spoke.

"Hufflepuff!"

The world suddenly came back in full color and sound as Professor McGonagall pulled the Sorting Hat off of Harry's head. For a moment, there was silence; Harry noted that most of the students, and a fair few teachers, had their mouths hanging open in surprise. Then a deafening wave of applause and cheers arose from the black-and-gold table where Harry's new housemates sat. Several were beckoning him to join the group and every last one was grinning from ear to ear. Harry smiled back and took a seat near other first years after having shaken hands with a few of the older students.

After the remaining few students were sorted one of the faculty stood at the head table. Harry immediately noted that the older man in question sat at the center of the table in a large winged armchair. As the white-haired wizard raised his hands for silence Harry realized: "This must be Albus Dumbledore."

Harry listened along with his new classmates as Dumbledore began to speak. "To all of our new students, I would like to say: welcome. To all of those returning to us: welcome back. There is a time for speech giving, but this is not it. Now is the time for feasting! Tuck in!"

With a clap from the aged wizard the many platters, bowls, and tureens arrayed along the tables filled with all manner of food and drink. There were pies and chickens, pork and pudding, greens and breads. Gravy boats took after their names as they sailed up and down the oaken tables, navigating treacherous paths between mountains of mash and cliff sides composed of various sweet rolls; pitchers were found all along the rows of students offering water and other drinks, some of which Harry found to be downright unpleasant. He shivered as a memory of drinking an orange liquid found in his family's refrigerator surfaced. The day he drank pumpkin juice again would be the day he required it to survive.

Harry began to dig in like his classmates; in the military you learn to eat fast and eat smart. Harry took helpings of the beef and pheasant alongside a mound of mash and a few servings of greens. He knew that without eating properly he could very well lose focus: many a training exercise had been cut short because someone ate too much grease and had it come back with a vengeance. Harry found that, like the Leaky Cauldron, merely sitting and keeping one's ears open provided veritable oodles of information.

A few seats down at the Gryffindor table Harry heard a boy as saying: "Yea, I'm half'n half; me dads a muggle, mum's a witch. Bit of a nasty shock when he found out."

A few of the boys around him laughed.

Harry looked around when he heard a fellow Hufflepuff first-year ask "Who's that talking to the Professor in the turban? He's scary lookin'."

"That's Professor Snape, he's the potions headmaster and Head of Slytherin House. Just keep your head down and be polite in his class, he's not too bad. Bit of a temper though." This last came from a boy who seemed to be a few years older than Harry himself. Harry glanced over to the staff table, noticing that the black-haired man from the Cauldron was the "Professor Snape" in question. More interesting though was the strange sensation that he received whenever he caught sight of the man in the turban. Harry experimented: looking at everything and anything else and then flicking his eyes back over to the cloth. A dull twinge ran through his scar every single time.

Filing away that particular bit of information Harry continued eating, stopping once his stomach gave a slight protest to the volume taken in. He made idle conversation with a year-mate while waiting for whatever was to happen next. He ended up having to wait a while. After learning entirely too much about Bruce's views on how "wicked" everything in the castle was the food began to disappear. Harry caught sight of the ginger from the train piling food into his arms in a bid to continue eating. Slightly nauseated by the sight, Harry turned towards the Headmaster.

Dumbledore had risen from his armchair yet again, this time with a faint twinkle in his eye. That was somehow more unsettling than the Weasley's food obsession. Sweeping his arms outward, the Headmaster began to speak. "Ah; now that we are all fed and watered, I have a few announcements for you."

The aged man's right hand fell to the tabletop, beside his now cleared plate. His left folded itself politely behind the small of his back. "First years, and a few of our older students, should note that the forest on the grounds is a very dangerous place. Therefore, any exploration is expressly forbidden."

Harry noted that the two identical gingers sitting at the Gryffindor table gave each other knowing looks, then stifled their laughter. Dumbledore gave a small smile at the two's antics. I have also been asked by the caretaker, Mr. Filch, to remind you that no magic is to be performed between classes in the corridors; and that a list of all banned items is available for pickup from his office."

The twins' silent laughter doubled in intensity.

"Quidditch trials will be held next week. Anyone who is interested in joining their house team please contact your House Team Captain. Captains, contact Madam Hooch to request time on the pitch."

The twins gave each other a high-five while excited mutterings ran along all four tables. Dumbledore nodded and said "Yes, yes. It should be an exciting year for quidditch, as always. But,"

And here his voice grew grave, both hands supporting his weight as he leant over the head table slightly. "I must tell you that this year the third floor corridor on the western side is out of bounds; unless you wish to die a very painful death."

The hushed babble about quidditch died almost immediately to be replaced by a brief silence, then whispers and sideways looks of shock and disbelief. Harry could hardly believe it either. Exactly what reason could there be for having some sort of highly deadly object tucked away in some corner of a school? And why in Hel's name would one tell the students that the thing was in the school at all, let alone exactly where it was located?

Something smelled fishy: there was more going on at Hogwarts this year than met the eye. After a few moments of discussion among his charges Dumbledore straightened and smiled. "So long as you mind these announcements and the school's rules, I think we'll have a splendid year. Toodle-oo!"

With that oddly upbeat closing remark Dumbledore clapped, and a ball of fire materialized above his head. Amongst the shouts of many students the inferno resolved into a bird of scarlet and gold plumage. The avian alighted on the old warlock's shoulder, then both man and bird disappeared in yet another conflagration to more exclamations of alarm. Professor McGonagall stood and barked instructions. "Settle down! Now, the feast has ended. First years, please follow your prefects to your House Dormitories. Your belongings have already been brought up. Tomorrow at breakfast, we will pass out the schedules for your lessons. Dismissed!"

Along the four tables several students had risen and started calling out "First years, this way."

"This way you lot!"

"Over here, follow me."

Students moved away from their benches and, following the older students, began filing out of the Great Hall. Weasley still seemed determined to devour the ham he had tucked into the elbow of his sleeve; amusingly, it gave the impression that he was eating his own arm as he left. Harry even thought he heard the word 'zombie' come from a nearby Gryffindor who was looking in the same direction.

Harry rose as well and followed closely behind the older student he had noticed earlier, the one who gave a fellow fist year advice on Professor Snape. The boy, along with a few other prefects, led the first years through a series of wide corridors on the ground floor and down only one staircase. Harry watched in wonder as several paintings moved within their frames, some even passing through them to visit their neighbors.

The gaggle of new Hufflepuffs seemed to have taken a wrong turn as their prefects led them to a dead end, little more than a nook at the end of a small side passageway off the main corridor. The only real features in the passage were a stacking of enormous barrels, in which Harry was sure that he and four of his year mates could fit if they clustered together, and a large circular window which showed a piece of the grounds immediately outside the castle.

"Hey," exclaimed a freckled boy in the back, "are you having us on? There's nothing here!"

The older students laughed. One of the prefects looked at the boy and smiled. "Watch and learn."

The prefect approached the barrels. He made deliberate identifying motions as he located the barrel in the middle of the second row. The boy thumped out a pattern on it's lid: two beats, a slight pause, then three beats. The lid dropped open, revealing a passage inside. The prefects crouched through and then beckoned the first years to follow. Once they had, they found themselves in a room unlike any that Harry had seen before.

The room itself was circular, and the walls were adorned with shades of soft yellow and black. Several armchairs and sofas were situated near a fire, which was crackling merrily. A few tables were arrayed further from the fire underneath mounted lanterns. Several windows occupied the middle of the fireside wall. Though it was dark now, Harry had no doubt that the entire room would be lit wonderfully by the rising sun. Every other place one looked, a shelf on the wall, a side table, even along the sills of the windows, were plants. Two circular doors were embedded in the walls on either side of the fire. They, along with the entrance, evenly divided the room into three parts.

The prefect who had opened the door to the common room waited until most of the first years had stopped admiring their new surroundings before speaking.

"Welcome to Hufflepuff! This is the common room, here you'll complete your homework, spend time with friends. Essentially, this is the sitting room of your house. If you've noticed the plants all around, well, our Head of House is the Herbology Professor. Professor Sprout usually changes them out a few times a year. The entrance to the girls' dormitory is to the left of the fire; boys, the right. Lowest years are in the back. If you have any questions, please wait until tomorrow! We're all a bit sleepy, and a cranky Hufflepuff is a mean Hufflepuff!"

The prefect laughed good-naturedly. "I'm Gabriel Truman. Find me or one of the other prefects tomorrow and we'll see if we can't help you out a bit. All right, off to bed!"

A burble of chatter swept through the new students as they swept through the doors. On the other side was a hallway lined with more circular doors on one side and more windows on the other. Harry and the other first-year boys shuffled down the hallway towards their own room. Once through, they discovered seven more doors leading to four-poster beds covered by quilts of black and yellow. Their trunks were at the foot of each bed; of what owls had been brought, only the cages were atop said trunks.

Harry bade his roommates good night, entered his room, stripped to his boxer shorts, then clambered under the sheets on his new bed, and fell asleep.