Harry spent his last two days before school living in an upstairs room over the Leaky Cauldron. It was a shame he had not managed more magic before he had left the Dursley's, but even in his previous timeline Harry had never learned much about wards.

He wandered the streets in a tidy set of robes, browsing both wizarding and muggle shops for a number final purchases that might make a difference to his plan.

He read and studied as intensely as he could, finding that his concentration and memory were slowly improving with practice. It was hard, especially now he was so close to the noise and distraction of the Alley, but he brutally forced himself to remember his last, long walk past the Hogwarts defenders, and could guilt himself back to his studies.

And when he needed to relax, Harry visited Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, from where he saw a number of Hogwarts' students wandering around the Alley.

Harry's heart was filled with anticipation and nostalgia, as the day of the Hogwarts Express grew closer.

There was only one thing bothering him now. The ring Horcrux, still somewhere in the Gaunt place. Harry would need to go back and retrieve it once he had a plan that worked.

His Transfiguration was coming on nicely, he was up to reviewing the coursework from Fourth Year. More specifically, he had flipped through the books enough to remember the spells they covered, even if he didn't really bother with the theory. The seeing spells, however, that he hoped would be related to Moody's eye, he was having trouble with. It turns out that they either didn't exist, or were heavily restricted.

It rather made sense, Harry supposed. Something like x-ray vision could be used for a lot of bad things.

But either way, he would need to use the spells out of Hogwarts, and the Trace would be on him then.

This time, even if she was here, Hermione may not have been much help. She was still a great believer in rules. Instead, this seemed more like a problem for Sirius, or the Marauders. Or the Weasley twins, Harry thought, his mind turning closer to home. What might they do, if Mrs Weasley would let them get away with it?

The thought was still on his mind when he went to sleep.

Harry woke on the morning of the first, having slept surprisingly well. Perhaps, he thought with a hollow kind of optimism, he had successfully planned for every eventuality, and there was simply nothing left to keep him awake at night.

Because in the cool light of the early morning, it certainly felt like he had cleared all the obstacles in his path. His mind had been working while he was sleeping, and he had woken up with a solution to his problem, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

He ate a large breakfast provided by Tom, who had been inducted quietly into the knowledge of Harry's real identity. The bartender had been good about keeping it a secret from his patrons, and Harry left him a substantial tip as he cleaned his room our in preparation for leaving.

Harry doubled and tripled checked his Hogwarts list; his Hogwarts Express ticket, his wand and his money were all safely stored inside his pouch, that itself lay hidden underneath Harry's new shirt. His luggage was packed, and, with a nostalgic pang when he remembered his lack of Hedwig's cage, Harry prepared to make his way out into the day.

"Oh, you need a bit of help there, dear," the talking mirror told him sympathetically, as he checked himself for muggle appropriateness in the glass.

"Yeah, thanks," Harry muttered, his eternal battle with his hair not really foremost in his mind.

He turned to check the room, picked up the trunk, and began clambering down the narrow stairwell.

The words were ringing in his eyes, and Harry tried to brush them away. He was going to Hogwarts today! What was one small thing like tidy hair going to do to his future?

His own phrasing in his mind halted him awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs. One small letter had lost him Hedwig, and Hagrid's guidance, and the Dursley's worst fears all in one go. But what was it about his hair…?

The famous Potter hair, of course, and he sighed. It was a short, quick trip to Madam Primpernelle's just down the Alley, and he ducked in with a blush as the door tinkled behind him.

"One medium-sized bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Treatment, please," he mumbled to the matronly lady at the counter.

"Oh my, yes, I would say so!" She consoled him. "You really do need help, my dear. I'm so glad you came in."

"Yeah, thanks," he mumbled again to the floor.

"Why," the sales lady kept talking, "I can't even charge the full price, my dear. Here, you pay me the medium-size price, and I'll upsize you to the large one for free. It's not style, you poor thing, it's survival."

"Sure," murmured Harry again, and swapped a few coins for the bottle. He didn't look that bad! Her pitying gaze had embarrassed him, and it was with more than relief that he quickly escaped.

"Thank you, come again!" he heard, as he fled out the door.

It was a brief stop at the Owl Post Office, where he made his special request, to the disinterest gaze of the store clerk, and made his way back onto the Alley.

From there, it was a short walk from the shop to the Cauldron, and he merged in with the muggles with no problems.

Harry arrived at the station in comfortable time, and proceeded to the barrier between platforms nine and ten. There, he rearranged his features into an expression of concern, and watched carefully as a steady trickle of unusually dressed families wandered nearby and then strangely disappeared.

He was beginning to worry slightly in truth, when he finally saw the gaggle of red-heads arriving ten minutes before departure time.

Molly Weasley, the wonderful woman, was looking harassed and frazzled as she managed her four school-aged sons through the station. They stopped just before they passed him, and Harry was amused to hear the young voice of his future girlfriend from somewhere behind the boys.

"Mum, can't I go…?"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

Percy Weasley, looking far younger than Harry remembered, marched his luggage straight towards the Platform barrier, and rapidly disappeared from sight.

"Fred, you next," Molly instructed. The twin raised their usual fuss, but also disappeared with speed into the barrier.

Harry hurriedly reached for his trunk, and approached them.

"Excuse me," Harry began, hoping that it wouldn't matter that he didn't exactly remember what he said the first time around.

"Hullo, dear," she said with a smile. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the final boy remaining, and Harry and Ron blinked at each other in acknowledgement. Ron was as tall as Harry remembered him being at their first meeting, but with the familiarity of years of friendship, Harry realised that the redhead was very nervous.

"Yes," said Harry, keeping to the script he could vaguely remember. "The thing is – the thing is, I don't know how to get – "

"How to get on to the platform?" she asked kindly, and Harry nodded. Mrs Weasley really was a thoughtful, doting mother. Of course, he was lying to her, dishonest again, but he felt pretty sure that this was an important part of the timeline he remembered.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop, and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now, before Ron."

"Er – OK," said Harry, and promptly lined himself up towards the wall. He sped up a little, walking rapidly, but his seventeen-year-old pride would not quite let him repeat his panicked performance at a run again. Maintaining his pride was a little more important to him, now that Harry actually knew how to get through.

The familiar scarlet steam engine was hissing and steaming in front of him when he broke through, emerging on a platform that was packed with all of the families he had watched pass him by. Harry quickly moved out of the way of the wrought-iron archway behind him, and began to push his way through the crowd.

He paused, before silently passing Neville Longbottom and his strict-looking grandmother. Lee Jordan was raising a crowd – and a fuss – with his pet tarantula. Familiar looking faces were already hanging out of the windows of the train waving and shouting with their families on the platform.

Harry found himself the last empty compartment at the end of the train, and remembered to appear to struggle with his trunk just enough to draw the attention of Fred and George Weasley.

"Want a hand?" a voice asked, and Harry stared at him. Familiar looking features stared back, and Harry's brain was frantically processing the face. Was this Fred, or George? The fact that both twins currently had ears was confusing the issue. He realised he had not responded, and snapped out of his thoughts with a twang.

"Yes, please," Harry remembered to gasp out, and watched as the twins tucked his trunk away in the corner of the apartment.

He took the moment to reorganise his thoughts. Fred's future death loomed up in his mind, and Harry was used to the feelings of admiration and guilt that he associated with the twins. Yet, suddenly, he was confronted with them as thirteen-year-olds.

They looked so young and innocent – well, maybe not innocent. But inexperienced, and trusting. They had no reason to believe that in a few short years, their family would be shattered.

Harry gazed bemusedly at their cheeky grins and interested eyes, that were once more fixed firmly on him.

He came back to the moment with a start.

Harry felt rather self-conscious then, as he purposefully paused, and ruffled his fringe. It felt staged, or choreographed to him, but he hoped the twins would still be suitably impressed and go back to brag about it to Ron.

It seemed his plan worked.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing to Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you…?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"Oh, yes," Harry replied, and paused in embarrassment as the brothers stared at him in concert. At thirteen, it appeared that they were less subtle than he remembered them. Also, seeing them so honest was bemusing.

Then a voice camp floating in from outside. "Fred? George? Are you there?"

The tension seemed to snap. "Coming, Mum!" Shouted the twin on Harry's left, and the two jumped off the train to rejoin their family

Harry watched quietly out the window as Molly organised the family goodbye.

He looked on in amusement as Molly got out her handkerchief, and rubbed Ron's nose vigorously. His future friend turned a brilliant shade of red, and tried in vain to defend himself from her maternal attention.

Percy returned to the group, and opened himself up to the twins good-natured ribbing. Harry noticed the stiff set to his shoulders as they teased him, and Harry's mind flashed forward to the family's painful separation in his memories. Could he do something to change things? Should he?

Through the chaos, little Ginny looked excited and lonely all at once, and Harry's heart went out to her. It must be horrible to be the only one left behind, Harry thought in sympathy, but then she always had been in the family of boys. She perked up immediately as the twins related their introduction to the Great Harry Potter, and Harry winced at the proof that she was once more massively crushing on his celebrity reputation.

Harry continued waiting as the whistle sounded, and all the students left on the platform suddenly scrambled onto the train. The train started moving with a jerk and a squeal. The journey had begun. His heart was beating rather loudly as he waited for his future-best-friend to open the compartment door.

There was a sudden scrape of door, and a red-faced Ron came in and sat down.

"Oh, hi," Ron began. "Is anyone else sitting here? Do you mind if I join?"

Harry nodded his head.

"Oh, good. Everywhere else is crazy full." Ron made his way into the seat opposite Harry's, and sent a few awkward glances his way before turning his attention out of the window.

There were a few moments of relative silence before the door opened with a scrape and the twins popped their heads in the compartments.

"Hey, Ron." Their grinning faces filled up the doorway. "Did you hear that Lee Jordan has snuck a giant tarantula onto the train?"

"Right," Ron mumbled. Harry remembered how Ron felt about spiders.

"Harry," the other twin addressed him nicely. "Sorry we forgot to introduce ourselves before. Fred and George Weasley. And this is our brother, Ron."

"Hang on," the first twin interjected. "That's not it, it's George and Fred Weasley. Get it right."

"My mistake." They grinned. Harry smiled up at them.

"So which is which?"

Ron groaned quietly in his corner, but the twin's grins widened.

"Well," said the twin on the left, "It's easy. I'm Forge, and he's Gred."

"Nonsense," said the other twin. "He's Gred, and I'm Forge."

"That's what I said."

"No you didn't – " They began bickering.

"Harry." Harry interrupted. "Nice you meet you both."

"Right, we'll be off then. Don't be overwhelmed by anything, will you?" And they shut the door behind them and disappeared.

Ron roused himself from the corner in which he had been sitting quietly.

"Sorry about my brothers. They're always like that."

Harry smiled his way. "That's cool." They sat in awkward silence for a moment.

Harry found himself rubbing his damp palms on the knees of his trousers. This was his Ron! Or rather, this Ron had the potential to become his Ron. Another his Ron. He forced himself to lean back against the seat and wait.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron finally blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"Oh – well, I thought it might have been one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got – you know…"

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his fringe to show the lightning scar. Ron stared unabashed.

"So that's where You-Know-Who – ?"

"Yes," said Harry. "But I don't like to remember it."

"You remember?" gasped Ron, horrified. Harry bit his tongue, he had slipped up already.

"Not much," he rushed quickly. "I remember a lot of green light, and screaming, but not much else."

"Wow," said Ron. He stared fixedly at Harry for a few minutes. Harry shifted in his chair, and Ron realised what he was doing. He quickly looked out the window.

"So, uh…" Harry broke the silence, "you seem to have a really big family?"

Harry questioned Ron about the group on the station. He really did not know what they had spoken about in his last time line. Was there a lot of awkward silence? Had they been official 'best friends' by the end of the train ride? He wished – again – for the Pensieve. He couldn't remember the details that well, because it was the outcomes that stood out to him! They were going to be best friends eventually.

But there was something that he could do, now that he thought about it. Harry continued asking Ron all about the older brothers. Then, carefully and quietly, he continued asking more. If he slipped up and knew something about Ron's family that Ron didn't remember telling him, surely Ron would be suspicious. Mindful of the possibility that everything could become unpredictable, Harry nevertheless did his best to prepare for the years ahead.

The conversation shifted, until Ron pulled out his old family pet. Harry was on his feet before he thought, his hand halfway into his mokeskin pouch, and both boys froze with surprise at the speed with which Harry had moved.

Harry thought quickly.

"Sorry, got a bit of a shock there. I saw it was a rat, but didn't realise it was a pet," he explained. "I didn't…" He tried again, "I won't...I wouldn't hurt a pet," he said. Harry deflated somewhat. "Really sorry."

Rob blinked in surprise. "It's all good, mate," he added with a slow grin. "You surprised me, that's all. With that speed you could be a duelist, but you won't need it for Scabbers. He's useless, he hardly ever wakes up."

Harry's heartbeat slowed down, and he patted the pouch back under his shirt. He tried to rescue the conversation as he sat. "Where did you get him from then? Are rats commonly wizard pets?"

Ron blushed. "Not often, most people get owls, you might like one of those one day. But Scabbers used to be Percy's, he got an owl when he was made prefect, but we couldn't aff-, I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's blush reached his ears, and he gazed determinedly outside the window.

Harry was quick to cheer him up.

"I didn't know about wizards," he began, and then realised that because the timeline had changed, he could not tell anyone about his meeting with Hagrid. Technically, the meeting had never happened. He continued on. "Until my letter for Hogwarts came, I didn't know about Hogwarts, or magic or about my parents and Voldemort –"

Ron gasped. Harry breathed a sigh of relief that they were back on familiar ground, and enjoyed the easy conversation they made as the train chugged through the countryside.

The journey continued as he expected it to, and finally the door opened and the Honeyduke's Express lady once again received a pile of coins from Harry in exchange for a load of wizarding sweets. Harry was pleased to order a pile of delicious treats, which he was quick to share with his new friend. He and Ron bonded over their food.

Harry was bemused that his first Chocolate Frog card was not Dumbledore, but rather Morgana instead.

Had he changed the timeline again? Was it the beginning of a ripple effect?

Ron was somewhat surprised when Harry immediately tore open all the packaging, crushing the Chocolate Frogs in his haste to reveal their cards. Morgana, Artemisia Lufkin, Paracelsus, Herpo the Foul, but no Dumbledore. Harry blinked at the cards in his lap in confusion. He had been right. There was no Dumbledore. He forced his breathing to slow, and waited for his heart-rate to calm down. Everything was alright, he had anticipated ripple effects, and chance events working out differently. And he already knew about the Stone. Chocolate Frog Cards were not important.

He shot a strained grin Ron's way, and settled back into his seat.

"So," Harry tried to recapture the right mood. "Chocolate Frogs, eh? You could have told me they jumped."

Ron looked at the smashed remains of the chocolatey treats that were now crushed across Harry's seat. A couple of frog legs still twitched in the pile, and the cards were scattered across Harry's seat and lap. Harry's face was flushed red and embarrassed looking.

Ron snorted. "Nah, it was more fun this way. You should have seen your face!"

Harry settled in to learn about Ron's Chocolate Frog collection. The conversation picked up.

Early afternoon faded into late afternoon, and then Neville Longbottom opened the door, asking the boys about his toad. Harry struggled with himself. He was so small and scared looking. The poor kid had had no friends right through their first year, and here Harry was with a chance to change that. He hesitated, torn between improving Neville's lot in life, and predicting the timeline that would save lives. Finally, it appeared that he had left it too late. Ron was already emphatically shaking his head.

Neville wailed, and Harry reassured the boy somewhat, with a quiet, "He'll turn up."

"I hope so," said Neville miserably, and left the compartment.

Ron was attempting to work the trick spell on Scabbers when young Hermione stuck her head in the door. Neville was following behind her.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. Ron rebuffed her, and in exchange, she noticed the rat sleeping on his lap.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

Ron was put on the spot, but gamely mumbled away the rhyme. To Harry's complete lack of surprise, the rat remained absolutely unchanged. Hermione was less than impressed. Just as she opened her mouth to comment, Harry jumped into the conversation to avoid the confrontation that was otherwise sure to occur.

"Does the toad have a name?"

Hermione blinked, an irritated frown settling lightly on her face. She turned briskly to Neville. "What's your toad's name, Neville?" she asked officiously, clearly annoyed at herself for not knowing.

Neville ducked his head. "Trevor," he admitted meekly. "Does it matter?" Hermione repeated his answer to Harry.

"If you can use magic, can't you summon the toad then?" Harry asked. "I just thought if there was more than one toad on the train, you might summon the wrong one."
Hermione pouted somewhat. "It's possible, of course," she said, looking upset, "But the spell isn't in any of my books. Gideon Flatworthy was famous for it, what with the creation of the Accionites, and the Goblin Uprising of 1743 stemmed directly from it, but it looks like it's not a spell taught to first years."

Out of concern for his future friends, Harry temporarily threw caution to the winds.

"I'll give it a go," he offered, halting the conversation while he withdrew his wand from the pouch around his neck. "I've read lots myself. Ron, could I borrow your wand?"

"Why can't you use your own?" Hermione interrupted.

Harry managed a wry grin. "Yeah, I was so excited about today and everything I'd need that I put it in a safe place and forgot it. I'm getting it owled to me tonight. Ron, do you mind?"

"I do–"

"Well, that was a bit silly," Hermione continued. "Here, take mine."

"It's fine," muttered Ron, a little frustrated. "He can have mine."

"Well," Hermione huffed, "mine's right here…"

"There you go, Harry," Ron declared loudly, staring at Hermione challengingly. He waved his wand too close to Harry's face.

"Ow! Thanks Ron," Harry muttered, as the wand smacked him in the cheek.
Accio Trevor the toad!"

All four paused for a moment. Neville and Hermione, still in the doorway, had turned to gaze into the corridor, but after a pause, looked back at Harry. Hermione drew herself up to speak, but just then Neville squawked and had to duck, managing just in time to avoid the toad that whizzed up from the corridor behind him. The toad sailed magnificently straight into Harry's open hands. Trevor looked as grumpy as it was possible for a toad to look.

"Goodness," Hermione began, as Neville grabbed Trevor before it could escape again, "That was very good. Where did you find that spell? Was it the first time you've used it? How did you learn it? Did you practice at home? Do you have the book with you?"

"Well," said Harry. "Why don't you guys come in and sit down for a bit? Are you guys muggle-born too?"

Both his new friends clambered into the compartment and Harry drew the door closed behind them. Ron looked slightly put out, but responded politely enough to the questions, and the basic introductions were quickly put out of the way.

Hermione's introduction was rather long. Just as the boys thought she was finished, she asked, "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad…"

"I'm going to be in Gryffindor," Ron volunteered. "Weasley's are always in Gryffindor. It's tradition."

"My Gran wants me to be Gryffindor too," Neville admitted glumly. "I reckon I'll probably be in Hufflepuff. It's where the spares go, people say."

"That's a horrible thing to say!" Hermione gasped. "Who said that? They can't be very nice people."

"Nah, they're probably right." Neville sank lower into his chair.

Ron nodded wisely. "My brothers said the same thing. Hufflepuff takes the people the other houses don't want. I'd hate to be in Hufflepuff, don't you think Harry?"

Harry watched in amusement and a little concern as three people he thought he knew spoke with all the solemnity of eleven-year-olds. Speaking of something they had no idea about, they nevertheless seemed to see the world in black or white. He threw in his two-cents.

"I always thought Hufflepuff was all about loyalty and kindness."

"Well, yeah," Ron sniggered. "But those're nothing special really. I mean, anyone can do that if they want to."

Neville gave a little moan, and Harry eyed him with worry.

Hermione shook her head. "Being in a house for the loyal and kind because you choose to be loyal and kind seems like a better reason than because its 'family tradition'."

Harry wanted to jump in, but he didn't get the chance.

Ron stiffened. "Yeah? What's wrong with family tradition? All my family are brave. Like Dumbledore, you know. It's in our blood."

"I don't think…" Hermione began, but Harry interrupted.

"I think we all have a pretty good chance of getting into Gryffindor," he began firmly." Because courage and bravery aren't the absence of fear, but rather, all about doing the right thing anyway."

Both Hermione and Ron nodded smugly, then scowled when they saw the other nod too. Neville managed to look a bit more hopeful though.

Ron muttered a little too loudly, "I don't know if I want to be in a house with her for seven years. Little miss know-it-all –"

"Well, I might know a lot, but not everyone thinks that's a bad thing!" Hermione shot back. "Besides, you don't know if you're going to get in yet. Calling people names doesn't seem like a very Gryffindor thing to do, does it? How will your family feel about a Hufflepuff Ron then?"

"Of course I'm going to get into bloody Gryffindor!" Ron roared, half standing. Hermione shot up herself immediately in response. "I'm not the one too clever for her own good! You've probably got no hope at all, with all your Ravenclaw snobbery and your 'I've learnt all our set books off by heart!' I bet you'll hate feeling like a failure when Harry and I get Sorted in Gryffindor and you're not allowed in."

"Oh, I'm not the failure here –"

They all looked up at the door. Unnoticed by anyone, even Harry, footsteps had stopped by their compartment door, and now it had been slid open. Harry silenced a groan as he saw Draco Malfoy and his two sidekicks standing their arrogantly, surveying the frozen tableau in front of them.

There was a long awkward silence for a moment, before Malfoy took a deep breath. Harry's mind raced: unbelievably, he had forgotten about Malfoy's visit on the train, and had no idea how to deal with him.

Should he repeat his previous experience? Potentially satisfying, since he could squelch Malfoy easily with his extra life experience now, but definitely damaging in the long term.

Should he try to make friends? Not the most appealing of notions, although the boy might have inner potential. Somewhere.

He thought briefly of Malfoy's miserable face working as a Death Eater.

Malfoy, panicking in the Room of Requirement as he watched a friend die and tried to save the life of his other unconscious buddy.

Malfoy, sick with fear and uncertainty, under orders to kill Dumbledore but unable to dirty his hands.

Malfoy, reeling in horror at the Battle of Hogwarts as he finally saw the ultimate outcome of all his ideals and dreams, the death and destruction of Hogwarts and all it stood for.

True, he was a spoiled git, but Harry realised with a pang that he didn't hate the idiot anymore. Still, he had Ron, Hermione and Neville sitting right next to him. Something was bound to go wrong

"They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry, in counterfeit calm. After a split second of indecision, he stood up and extended his hand. "Draco Malfoy, I assume."

"You've heard of me, I see," the blond replied.

"Well," Harry lied, "More your family, really. I'm sure I'll learn more about you over the next few years."

"I'm sure you will," Malfoy let a small smile creep onto his face.

"And your two friends are…?" Harry let the question hang in the air.

"Allow me to introduce Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe. You're welcome to come back to sit with us, if you find this compartment a little…" his voice trailed off in distaste, "…vulgar."

Both Hermione and Ron puffed themselves up in fury, before realising exactly what they had been doing when the door was opened. Somehow they had been standing and shouting right into each other's faces. Slowly, they sat back in their chairs, simmering.

"Oh," said Harry, watching in concern as Ron then twitched violently." That's a very kind offer, but I think I'll stay here for now, thanks. We've just agreed we're all going to make it into Gryffindor, you see."

A perplexed look made its way onto Malfoy's young face. "I…see?" His gaze raked over the four Gryffindors again.

"Maybe we can catch up sometime?" Harry offered hesitantly. "I play seeker. Do you?"

Malfoy turned uncertain eyes back to Harry. "Seeker, you say? Perhaps there's hope for you yet. You'd be welcome in Slytherin, you know."

"Thanks again," Harry demurred. "But I'm happy with where I'm going."

Ron settled down with a sigh.

Malfoy looked sharply at Ron, and Harry blurted out the next thought that came to his mind before something started. "Do you know how long we've got until the train arrives?"

"Now that you mention it, the train is getting close. You probably want to put on your school robes and," he paused, looking at the mess of chocolate packets littering the seats and floor, "tidy up."

Harry stepped right over to the three of them, and stood very close to shake all their hands. "Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle. Thanks for your visit."

Malfoy didn't notice himself back away from Harry, but nodded politely in his direction as he was manipulated out of the doorway, where he had no other option but to turn and walk away

Harry stepped back inside and closed the door.

"He seemed…very young," Harry said, at exactly same moment that Ron blurted,
"I've heard of his family! They're really Dark, Harry."

"Well," Harry allowed. "The Malfoys were Death Eaters, but this one's just eleven."

"My dad says Malfoy's father never needed any excuse to go to the Dark Side. I bet this one will turn out just the same. Apples don't fall far from the tree, you know."

Hermione almost allowed herself to be drawn back into their previous argument, except that Neville – bless his heart – reminded them all that they still needed to change into their uniforms.

Hermione leaped up with a squawk, and frantically instructed the boys to hurry and change.

"Let's stick together once we're Sorted!" Harry called as they tore off.

She and Neville hustled off to return to their own compartment, leaving Ron and Harry to change quickly behind them.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately." The announcement came.

"Hey, Ron?" Harry started, having dug a small container out of his pocket, while Ron wrestled with his collar. "Do you know how I…" He trailed off, honestly embarrassed by what he was about to do.

"Huh? Ohhh," said Ron, as he saw the Sleekeazy's bottle in Harry's lap. "Yeah, Mum's always on about that stuff. She'd love to use it, if it wasn't for the mone– , ah…" his voice trailed off. "And the red-head thing, of course. Just shake the bottle into your hands for a couple of drops – twice should be fine for you, I reckon, and rub 'em together, then do this." He thrust his own hands back through his hair a couple of times, and Harry looked on doubtfully as Ron's short hair promptly stuck up.

He nodded in encouragement as Harry repeated his actions doubtfully – it took twelve drops, not two – then cocked his head thoughtfully.

"Wow, you look really different like that. All…" Harry watched Ron's expressive hands uncertainly. "All flowy, and wavy, and stuff. It's longer than I thought."

"Is it okay then? You think I look more like my mum than my dad?" It seemed his hair volume translated into length when it lay flat. He didn't think he would have a chance to conjure a mirror in private before the Great Hall.

"Not very girly," Ron assured him cheerfully, as he went back to tugging his collar. "Besides, girls tend to wear their hair long around here. More, glossy and sleek, I think you'd call it."

"Right," said Harry, carefully not thinking about why Ron felt the need to use the phrase 'very girly'. It's not like he wasn't used to longer hair. It was like he was back in the Forest of Dean with Hermione, all over again. But glossy, apparently. Still, it wasn't like it was a bad thing, to look like his mother at the Sorting.

"I guess I'm stuck with it, now."

He rearranged himself back in his seat and sat back, just as the train began grinding to a halt.