Chapter 6: All Aboard
Sunday, 1 September 1991 (6:00 am)
Kent
Mrs. Dr. Granger woke the girls early on September first, and Mr. Dr. Granger still had to drive very fast on the A2 in order to make it to the station on time.
"Hermione! Elizabeth! Time to get up!" That, Mary thought, was easy for her to say – the elder Grangers got up at six for work every morning, while the girls usually slept until eight. She rolled over and thought that five more minutes sounded lovely.
Mr. Dr. Granger was making kippers, and the smell wafting into her bedroom was a better incentive to get up than Mrs. Dr. Granger's shouting. She was considering it. Then, quite suddenly, Mary's door flew open, and Hermione jumped on the bed. Mary screamed.
"Come on, Lizzie! Get up! We're going to Hogwarts today!"
"I'm up, Maia! I'm up! Stop bouncing, Jesus Christ!"
"No, you're not. Dad's making breakfast," the older girl wheedled.
"I'm up, really!" Mary laughed at Hermione, who had not been this excited since their first Diagon Alley trip. She followed Hermione to the kitchen, still in the wizarding blouse and bloomers she had taken to wearing as pajamas.
After breakfast, everyone had to take showers, and the girls spent a good half an hour debating whether to wear muggle clothes or robes for the train ride. They tentatively decided that muggle clothes were better, because they would have to park somewhere in muggle London. Then Hermione spent another fifteen minutes trying to find something in her closet that would actually fit Mary, and not look like some sort of god-awful hand-me-down outfit, a description which fit nearly every article of clothing Mary had ever worn. Mary rejected a pair of jeans because the bottoms would show under her school robes when she finally put them on, and eventually Hermione produced a khaki skirt with a draw-string and, from the very back of the closet, a black tank-top that would have been almost ridiculously small on her. It was really a wonder Mrs. Dr. Granger hadn't given it to charity already.
They should have been ready to go by eight, but Mrs. Dr. Granger started listing off the things they needed – "Do you have your lunches? Wands? Cauldrons? Textbooks?" and so on, and then realized that Hermione had packed several of the history books that both of them had yet to read. They argued over who should get to read them first for nearly twenty minutes, before Mr. Dr. Granger (who was considered by all to be the last bastion of reason in the madness that was his house, aka, the tiebreaker vote) pointed out that Hermione would be too busy with classes and she would have access to the entire school library anyway, and made her unpack the history texts. This, of course, meant pulling both trunks out of the car (because they couldn't tell which trunk was which and unpacked Mary's first) and then putting them back after the contentious books were located and returned to the house.
Mary remembered at the last second that she had left her pen in her room, and as soon as everyone was piled into the car (Mary had to sit on the little seat between the Drs. Granger because one of the trunks was in the back seat with Hermione), Hermione realized that she had forgotten to pack her shampoo and had to go back for it. In the end, it was 8:35 by the time they left the house. Mary spent the first half of the drive worrying about the fact that she didn't have any toiletries at all, except for her toothbrush (no one lived in the Granger household who didn't have a toothbrush), and then decided that if it was really a problem, she would just have to ask the Professor about it, because she couldn't do anything about it now. They had to stop for petrol in Maidstone, and then by the time they found parking at King's Cross, they had barely enough time to get the trunks out of the car and lock it before the time appointed on the tickets arrived.
Platform 9 ¾
They each took a corner of the ticket, and the adults took the trunks firmly in their other hands. Hermione had the honor of saying portus as her watch ticked over to 10:17, and then Mary felt an awful, sickening hooking sensation somewhere around her belly button. She couldn't have let go of the ticket if she wanted to. The world disintegrated into whirling madness, the only things she could make out were the Grangers, also holding on to the ticket, their faces caught somewhere between sick and terrified, much as she suspected her own must be.
And then they were, suddenly, there – present, in a train station, bodies, minds, and trunks intact, as though they had not moved a muscle. The spell released them, and they staggered. Mary lost her balance completely, falling onto the trunk in Mrs. Dr. Granger's hand and causing them both to lurch sideways dangerously. Hermione sat down hard on the ground, one hand to her mouth and the other to her stomach, obviously trying not to throw up. Mr. Dr. Granger tried to haul her to her feet as a station attendant called "10:17! 10:17 to the sidelines! Clear the landing pad! This way, folks! Twenty seconds before I summon you out!"
Mary and the Grangers limped and staggered away from their landing point, to a nearby row of benches, where similarly afflicted travelers sat, either trying to keep down their breakfasts or catch their breath.
Mary looked around as she recovered. The first thing that drew the eye was a great scarlet steam engine, already smoking. There were families milling around, most of them with a cat or an owl, and one or two children, but no trunks. More people were coming in through an arched iron gateway labeled Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, dragging their trunks on trollies and loading them onto the train. There were a few abandoned trollies sitting around, and teenage-looking station workers in little peaked caps alternated between bringing them over to the Portkey area and returning them back through the iron arch. A family of five appeared on the Portkey Landing Pad with a whoosh and a stumble, then dragged their trunks toward the Grangers. There was a newspaper vendor and little carts with snacks and drinks for sale, a stand from a shop called Scrivners', which looked like it sold last-minute school supplies, and dozens of other tiny shoplets that Mary hadn't the faintest hope of identifying.
The nearest people on the benches were a sandy-haired man and his waifish blonde wife, who was saying to her son, "Sure you've got everything, Ced?" The boy, already wearing his school robes and a yellow-striped tie grinned and said, "Well it's too late now if I haven't, mum."
The Drs. Granger had been muttering quietly to each other and looking around as well, and when Hermione started commenting on things, they decided that everyone was recovered enough to go load their trunks onto the train. As they approached it, it let off a great whistle, and they saw that the station clock read half-past ten. They found an empty compartment about halfway down, and Mr. Dr. Granger pulled the trunks through the door with a great heave. He wrestled them into the overhead storage compartments, and then retreated to the platform. Mrs. Dr. Granger suggested they have a look around the little stalls, since they had so much time, and they made their way in that direction.
The older Grangers were drawing stares from the other families as the platform grew more crowded. It was not unusual for the children to wear muggle clothing (with school uniforms in various states of dress on top), but almost all the other adults were dressed in robes. Whispers of "muggles" and "did you see?" followed them across the station.
Mr. Dr. Granger laughed quietly at a little boy who was tugging on his mother's robes and pointing at them. "Odd to be the odd ones out, eh love?" he asked his wife.
She smiled, apparently just as comfortable with the attention as her husband. "It is, a bit. It's almost like when I went to Korea for that conference last year, and everyone wanted to get a picture because of my eyes, except the only thing that's different between us and that family over there," she nodded at a smartly dressed blonde couple and their son, "is the way we're dressed, at least to see it." Hermione obviously came by her outgoingness honestly, thought Mary.
They meandered past stalls of odds and ends, pausing to look at something called a Pocket Sneak-o-Scope, which whistled and blinked when someone untrustworthy was around (all of them were going off, even when the scruffy salesman at their table was the only person around) and then a set of Sleep Sneak Specs: glasses which made it appear that your eyes were open while you took a nap. After a few minutes, Mr. Dr. Granger asked them to look for a quiet corner so they could say their farewells in peace.
Mrs. Dr. Granger led the quartet over to the iron archway, which had become the least active place as most people mobbed the train to board. A few last-minute stragglers rushed through, a family of red-heads with four trunks and at least six people, and they formed a huddle nearby, saying their own farewells. Mary watched as the red-headed mother fussed over her children, standing a bit apart from the Grangers to let them have their family moment.
"Beth? Elizabeth? Earth to Elizabeth! Mary Elizabeth Potter, what are you doing?" Mrs. Dr. Granger said loudly, finally getting Mary's attention. "Come over here and say a proper goodbye!"
Mary grinned and went to join the Grangers. "You girls have fun and learn loads, eh?" said Mr. Dr. Granger. "We expect a letter every week, and we'll be sending Iris after you if we don't get one!"
"We love you, Poppet," Mrs. Dr. Granger added, giving her daughter a hug. "And Beth, it was a joy to have you. You're welcome in our home any time, understand?"
"Thanks, Mrs. Dr. Granger," said Mary, and was stunned when she was folded into a hug herself.
"For the love of all that is holy, Beth, my name is Emma. Call me Emma," but she laughed. Mary had not called either of the Drs. Granger by their given names all summer.
Mr. Dr. Granger muttered something into his daughter's hair and she giggled a bit, but tears filled her eyes as she pulled away. "I'm going to miss you, dad, mum."
"We'll miss you too, darling," Mrs. Dr. Granger murmured, pulling her daughter into another hug.
Mr. Dr. Granger pulled Mary into a hug as well, and told her to owl them if she ever needed anything, and they'd see her over the holidays. Mary grinned. "Thanks, Mr. Dr. Granger."
"It's Dan, Beth," he said with a matching grin.
"Right, then, we should go and let you girls get on the train." Mrs. Dr. Granger wiped the tears from her own eyes, and then her daughter's. "Chin up, Jeanie. We'll write you before you've even settled in. All right?"
Hermione nodded.
"Bye, Emma," said Mary, "Bye, Dan. We'll send you a letter when we get there and let you know how the sorting goes!"
"Will wonders never cease! Emma! She said our names!" Mr. Dr. Granger liked to make a big deal out of little things. "Emma! Our little Elizabeth is growing up!"
"Oh, stop it, love," Mrs. Dr. Granger said, but all of them were laughing.
"Bye, mum," said Hermione, "Bye, dad."
"Adieu, mes petites, not au revoir," said Mrs. Dr. Granger, and Mr. Dr. Granger added, "We'll see you both again, and I'm sure it will seem like no time at all." And then the older Grangers held hands and walked under the iron arch, disappearing as they passed through it.
"They hate goodbyes," Hermione said, still staring at the gateway.
They're not the only ones, thought Mary, eyeing her friend. "Come on, Maia," she said, pulling at the older girl's hand. "We should get back to our compartment and see if anyone else has decided to join us!"
They started threading their way through the crowd, back to the compartment where they had left their trunks. It was much more crowded now, and the first few carriages were packed with students hanging out the windows to say goodbye and fighting over seats.
An old woman in a hideous hat was lecturing a small, round-faced boy about the responsibilities of owning a toad, the creature in question clutched in both his hands, while an older boy with dreadlocks showed off a tarantula to a small crowd of horrified and delighted students right outside their door.
Hermione led the way as they edged around the crowd, almost falling into the compartment as a red-headed boy turned around unexpectedly. "You!" the boy said, as he spotted Mary. He followed them into the compartment, which was still empty, though several other trunks had joined Hermione's and Mary's in the overhead racks. He was in turn followed by another boy who was undoubtedly his twin.
"Did we overhear," the first twin began.
The other picked up where the first left off. "You being called,"
"Mary,"
"Elizabeth,"
"Potter,"
"Out on the platform?"
Mary looked back and forth between the boys for a moment, and then said, "Erm… No?"
Hermione burst out laughing at the identical look of open disbelief on the boys' faces.
"Look," Mary said, "Who's asking?"
"Gred,"
"And Forge,"
"Weasley,"
"Pranksters extraordinaire,"
"At your service," they said with a bow.
"Otherwise known as Fred," said the one on the right, pointing at the other,
"And George," who also pointed at his twin.
"How do people tell you apart?" Asked Hermione.
The boys laughed. "They don't," said Fred.
"Even poor mum," added George.
Well, two could play at that game, Mary thought. "I'm Hermione Granger," she said, holding out a hand.
"And I'm Elizabeth Evans," Hermione played along.
The boys shook hands all around, then winked at Mary. "Elizabeth Evans," said probably-Fred with a wink.
"Right," said Mary.
"Not Mary Potter," confirmed probably-George with a matching wink.
"Not at all," said Hermione.
"Well, then, ladies,"
"Our sincerest apologies,"
"For the mistaken identity."
"And may we just say?"
"We hope you're in Gryffindor!" they finished together with a broad grin, and jumped out of the compartment just as the all-aboard-whistle sounded.
Sunday, 1 September 1991 (11:00 am)
Hogwarts Express
The boy who had been getting a lecture about toads came in a moment later, followed by two boys and a girl. All of them were first-years as well, and introduced themselves as Neville Longbottom, Terry Boot, Zacharias Smith, and Hannah Abbott. Hermione introduced herself as Hermione, and Mary introduced herself as Elizabeth. She was bound and determined to meet people as anyone but Mary Potter, savior of the wizarding world, while she had the chance.
"Are you two sisters?" Neville asked. Mary and Hermione looked at each other. They looked nothing alike.
"Yes," said Mary firmly. "Hermione and Elizabeth Granger. How do you do?"
"You don't look like sisters," said Zacharias.
"Well we're not twins," Mary said. "Hermione's almost twelve. I just turned eleven."
"That's not what he meant, Lizzie." Hermione had the irritated-older-sister tone just right. For a moment, Mary wondered if she wasn't really annoyed that Mary had declared them sisters, but then she added, "Lizzie takes after Mum, and I look more like Dad." Mary giggled. Hermione did really look a lot like her father, but she had her mum's curly hair.
"You must be muggleborn," said Hannah.
"Yes, we are. Why do you ask?" asked Hermione.
"Oh, it's nothing. Just I think we know all the other kids from wizarding families who are starting this year."
"So that's how Neville knew we were sisters? You didn't know us and we already knew each other?" Hermione asked.
All the others nodded. "You do know that the Deputy Headmistress arranged a trip to Diagon Alley for all the muggleborns, right? We all know each other, too," said Hermione.
The look on Neville's face said he hadn't known, but Zacharias laughed. "Not like we do. All our parents have been getting us together for play-dates since we were two," he said, making a face.
Hannah threw a wadded up bit of spare parchment at him, and added, "Plus we're all related. Zach's my second cousin; Nev's mum was a Prewett, and her mum was a Black and her grandmum a Rosier. Those three families have married everyone, if you go back far enough. Nev's granny Augusta, with the awful vulture hat, you may have seen her on the platform, she was a Bones: Terry's mum's least-favorite auntie. And Terry's father's sister is married to my mum's sister's husband's sister."
Hermione looked as though she was seriously trying to figure out the degrees of relationship between the four purebloods when Terry finally spoke up. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. We all just call each other cousins."
"And, yes," added Zacharias, "We all had to study our families' genealogies. And yes, it's incredibly tedious. Let's talk about something else. Who else was on your muggleborn shopping trip?"
Hermione and Zacharias managed to carry the conversation for another twenty minutes, Hermione telling Zacharias about Dean and Justin, and answering his polite questions about her first impressions of the wizarding world. Hannah made the occasional comment, too, while Terry, Neville, and Mary, who seemed to be the shyer half of the compartment, just nodded and made noncommittal noises on occasion.
A snack trolley came through around noon, and the wizarding students took great pleasure in recommending their own favorite candies to Hermione and Mary, who were largely unfamiliar with the offerings, having not gone into a candy shop on either of their trips to Diagon Alley. The purebloods bought enough to share, and Mary suddenly felt that not seeking out a sweetshop had been a great lost opportunity.
Terry had insisted on the Licorice Wands, which were just normal licorice, as far as Mary could tell, and she hated licorice. Cauldron Cakes, which Neville had recommended, were some kind of bland sponge cake filled with different custards and crèmes. Zacharias liked the Pumpkin Pasties, which looked like a pasty, but was made of shortbread and filled with an orange-colored cream of some sort that did not taste like pumpkin at all, much like the "pumpkin juice" that was served with breakfast at Hogwarts. None of the children could identify exactly what it did taste like, but it was vaguely sweet and quite pleasant. Hannah's favorite, the Chocolate Frogs, were the most obviously magical, since the frog-shaped chocolates were spelled to try to hop away when they were opened. Zacharias had also bought a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, which were no one's favorite, but everyone's second- or third-choice. He shared them out between the other sweets. Zacharias and Hannah were explaining the Famous Witches and Wizards collectable cards that came with the Chocolate Frogs when Neville, who had been complaining that he hated Chocolate Frogs because he couldn't stand the idea of killing an actual frog realized that his toad, Trevor, was missing (again).
"He must have gotten out when the trolley came by! What am I going to do, guys?" he moaned.
"Go ask a prefect to help you find him," ordered Zacharias, and the others turned back to the Chocolate Frog Cards. Neville dithered for a moment, but eventually left the compartment.
"I should go with him and help him look," Hermione said almost as soon as the door closed.
"No," said Zacharias, "You shouldn't. It's good for Nev to do things on his own. He doesn't get to very often."
"His gran's a controlling old hag," Terry elaborated.
"Plus he's already lost the damn toad at least a dozen times, and he just got him last week," said Hannah. "I've told him to just let it go free, but he's all…"
"Uncle Algie gave him to me," the three of them said together. It was evidently something that Neville had said a lot.
"If you say so…" Hermione settled back in her seat and cast around for a new topic of conversation. She really just hadn't wanted to talk about Chocolate Frog Cards anymore. "What did you think of that break-in at Gringotts?" It had been big news the week before.
"Your parents get the Prophet?" asked Zacharias, and then continued without waiting for a response, "Good for them. My father says it had to be some terribly powerful dark wizard to get past the goblins' protections."
"Nothing was actually taken, though," said Hannah. "There might not have been many protections."
"Yeah," said Mary, "That little poem on the doors only threatens you if you take something, right?"
The others laughed. "I guess," Zacharias admitted, "But you'd think things like traps and dragons wouldn't care either way. And it was one of the high-security vaults. They're supposed to suck you right in and keep you there if you're not a Gringotts' goblin."
"So does anyone know who could have done it?" asked Hermione.
"Well, everyone's scared because it might have been You Know Who," said Terry, "Or, you know, his followers."
"Noooo," said Zacharias sarcastically, "It couldn't have been the Death Eaters. All the ones who served the Dark Bastard willingly are in Azkaban! Malfoy and Avery and Nott and their lot were all under the Imperius Curse!"
Hannah and Terry laughed at this, while Hermione and Mary watched in bemusement.
"You Know Who is this Dark Lord who was defeated when we were all, what, one, maybe two?" explained Hannah, still giggling. Neither Hermione nor Mary informed her that they knew all about Voldemort. "His supporters called themselves Death Eaters, and after he disappeared, a lot of them claimed that he'd made them do all the terrible things that everyone knew they had done, and because no one could prove that they hadn't been under the Imperius Curse, they got off with a load of fines and so on. Basically they just bribed their way out of prison, and are now considered upstanding members of society." Hannah made a face.
"Their kids even come to Hogwarts," Terry added.
"Really?" asked Mary. "Who are they?"
"This year," Zacharias said, then stopped to think for a moment. "Malfoy, obviously, and those goons Crabbe and Goyle. Theodore Nott, and Millie Bulstrode, I think. Am I leaving anyone out, Hannah?"
"Pansy Parkinson."
"Oh, right. I always think she's younger than us. Just the six, then. And don't worry, it's pretty much guaranteed that they'll all go to Slytherin."
"Why?" Mary wanted to know what real people said about her chosen house, not just books.
"All the pureblood supremacists tend to end up there," said Zacharias.
"It's because they think they're better than everyone else," added Hannah.
"Aren't you all purebloods?" asked Hermione.
"Yes, but we don't think it makes us better than half-bloods or muggleborns," Terry explained.
"So Slytherin is some sort of pureblood clubhouse?" That would be awful, Mary thought.
"No, they have their share of kids from mixed families, too," Zacharias said. "Slytherin House prides itself on cunning and ambition, right? Well my mum says it's like this: There's not so much ambition and cunning so much as ambition to be cunning. And a lot of them confuse ambitions of excellence for actually being good at something."
Hannah nodded. "The Snakes have a reputation for being manipulative brownnosers who value their own advancement over anything else, or, you know, arrogant arsewipes."
"What about the other houses?" Hermione asked. "We only really know what they put in the school literature, and Hogwarts a History."
Zacharias laughed. "They're all equally bad. Gryffindor is arrogant and impulsive; Hufflepuffs are nosey pushovers; Ravenclaws are socially-impaired bookworms; and Slytherin is arrogant and manipulative. My mum says Slytherins and Gryffindors hate each other because they're so similar, but Gryffindors are more… idealists, I guess. They say they value honor and chivalry and stuff like that, but that only applies to other Gryffindors. The Weasley twins are Gryffindors, and they're the meanest pranksters at the school, according to my cousins."
Hannah nodded. "That's what my older brother says, too."
"Really? We met them earlier. They just seemed kind of silly to me."
"Wait and see if you're not in Gryffindor," Zacharias said ominously.
"Where do you want to go?" Mary asked.
"Probably Hufflepuff," said Zacharias, "Because I don't want to go to Slytherin. I'm going to do make something of myself, but I'll do it through hard work, without dealing with all their prejudices."
"Hufflepuff for me, too," said Hannah. "Everyone says so. I mean, it sounds conceited to say it, but I really am a nice person, and I like to help my friends. So Hufflepuff, I think."
"Ravenclaw," said Terry without elaborating.
"I've decided on Ravenclaw, too," Hermione announced. Mary smiled, because she had been dead-set on Gryffindor at breakfast. "What about you?" she asked, nudging Mary with her elbow. "Still think you want to be a Slytherin?"
"I don't know if I want to be a Slytherin with a bunch of Death Eaters' kids. But I'm pretty sure I am one, whether I want to be or not," Mary said seriously. "We don't actually sort ourselves, do we?"
"Nope!" said Zacharias cheerfully. "Mum says there are three tasks, and how you solve them determines what house you're in. Dad says that you put on a hat and it tells you where you belong."
"That's daft," Hannah objected. "My mum said the Headmaster uses Legilimency to figure out where you fit best."
"My father said that the Heads of the Houses choose the most likely-looking students from a line up in turns," volunteered Terry with a small smile, and then all five of them were laughing at the idea of the Heads of House taking turns to choose students like muggle children playing football (or wizard children making pick-up Quidditch teams).
"What about Neville?" Hannah asked suddenly.
"What about Neville?" asked Zacharias.
"What house do you think he'll be in?"
"Hufflepuff with us, probably. I don't see him anywhere else, do you?"
"I don't know," Terry interrupted. "I think he could be a Gryffindor."
"Really? Whiny little 'I've lost my toad' Neville, in Gryffindor? How do you figure?"
"Well, all I know is he's braver than I am, living with Augusta Longbottom and that old bastard Algie and managing not to kill himself."
Zacharias and Hannah were awkwardly silent after that for a long moment. Then they spoke at the same time:
"He's been gone an awfully long time, now, hasn't he?" And "Speaking of Nev, I'm going to see if I can find him."
They shared an equally awkward look, and then both of them left the carriage. Terry rolled his eyes after them and then announced, "I'm going to see if I can find my friend Steve," and left without another word.
"Bit of an odd duck, that Terry Boot," Hermione observed.
Sunday, 1 September 1991 (4:00 pm)
Hogwarts Express
Mary and Hermione settled in, looking at the Chocolate Frog Cards some more and discussing the new information on the Houses. Sometime later, Mary announced, "I'm still hungry. Help me get my trunk down? I put the lunch your dad made in there when we were looking for those history books."
"Damn it! I left mine in the living room when I took them back inside!" Hermione looked very irritated with herself, though if she had to forget something, Mary thought that a single lunch was the least thing it could have been.
"You can have some of mine, if we can get the damn trunk down without killing ourselves."
They stood on opposite sides of the carriage, and Hermione started pulling the trunk off of the luggage rack. "It's still got that floating enchantment on it. It's not that heavy."
"Did you not see your dad trying to get it up there?"
"It was probably only because he had to lift it. Grab the other end." Mary did so, and was promptly dragged off the bench as the trunk fell to the floor of the carriage. She hit her head on something sharp, and by the time she could focus on what Hermione was saying, she was halfway through an explanation involving stabilizing enchantments and hover charms and cushioning spells. Mary didn't care. She just wanted her damn sandwich. She righted herself and tried to open the trunk, only to find that it was, in fact, Hermione's. "Bugger."
"What's that?" Hermione had clearly not been paying any attention to Mary's predicament at all, wrapped up in her own world of physics and magic.
"It's the wrong trunk, Maia. This one's yours."
"Oh, well, let's get the other one, then."
"You get the heavy end this time!"
"No, I think I've got it figured out. You just have to stay out of the way, is all."
"Whatever."
"No, watch." She started to pull Mary's trunk off the rack, but hesitated and then pushed it back. "One second, let me get my robes out first."
"Why? You need to look like a witch for this?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Lizzie. I'm just not sure if we'll be able to get them back up, and there's no room for a second one, so yours will have to sit on top of mine, and I think we're probably supposed to be wearing robes when we get to school, so I should get my robes before we set your trunk on top of mine," she said with no real pause for breath, rummaging in her trunk for her school robes. They were rather rumpled. Mary suspected that Hermione had packed them first, and then stacked books on top of them.
The older girl did up her buttons, and slipped her wand into the special wand-pocket, which the assistants at Madam Malkin's had said was enchanted to prevent unfortunate accidents which might otherwise result in a broken wand. She looked like a proper witch when she was done.
"Best get your cloak out, too," Mary said, quite resigned to the idea that she was never going to get that sandwich. "It will be dark when we get there."
"Good point!" said Hermione, ducking back into the trunk and rummaging about some more. Eventually she did pull the cloak from the trunk and shoved everything else back in, shutting the lid with a decisive snap. "Right. Your turn."
"I just need to stay out of the way, right?"
"Yes, just, sit in the corner for a moment or something." She climbed back onto the bench and slid Mary's trunk off the luggage rack. As soon as the back edge cleared the rack, gravity brought it down at the speed of falling until it hovered a bare inch above the seats and the other trunk. Hermione maneuvered it until it was floating directly over her own trunk, and said, "Ta da!"
"Fantastic." Mary tried to tell herself that it was only slightly irritating that Hermione made it look so easy. She retrieved her sack lunch and opened it on top of the stacked trunks to find that Mr. Dr. Granger had packed not one but two peanut butter sandwiches, and an apple, a granola bar, and a water bottle.
"Maia," she said, utterly serious, "Your father is a saint. Do you want the apple or the granola bar?"
After they had finished the food, and Mary had thrown the apple core out the window, despite Hermione's objections, the younger girl hunted through her own wardrobe (which had been packed properly, and not crushed by books), put on her robes, and stowed her wand in its pocket. She was already wearing her boots, because despite knowing how odd it looked for an eleven-year-old to wear knee-high black leather boots with a skirt in the middle of summer, she had not thought to ask Mrs. Dr. Granger to take her shopping for new trainers or sandals.
Shortly after Mary located her cloak and tucked her precious fountain pen in with her parchment supplies, and Hermione firmly established that no, there was no way the two of them could replace the trunks in the luggage rack, a visitor knocked on their compartment door.
They had just settled in to read for a bit, so Hermione must have looked rather irritated when she opened the door. Mary heard a boy say, "Oh, er, sorry, I'll just go." And then Hermione saying, "Don't be silly, come in."
She moved aside and another one of the red-headed boys from the station followed her into the compartment.
"Hi," he said awkwardly. "I'm Ron Weasley."
"How do you do?" Hermione greeted him. Mary echoed it, and Hermione added, "You can sit, you know. We won't bite. I'm Hermione Granger and this is Elizabeth Evans." Oh, right. The Weasleys didn't think they were sisters.
"Hang on, the twins told me about you!" Ron said loudly, then looked around and lowered his voice. "You're Mary Potter, aren't you?" he asked, looking directly at Mary.
She squirmed a bit, but decided to keep up the façade. "No. I'm just Elizabeth. Definitely not the savior of the wizarding world. I didn't even know the wizarding world existed until about a month ago, when I got my letter." All of those things were true, she thought virtuously.
"Oh," the boy sounded disappointed. Mary felt a bit bad, but not bad enough to tell him that she really was Mary Potter, too. "They must have been having me on again. I can't believe I still fall for things like that."
"They seemed a bit…much," Hermione said sympathetically, then changed the subject with her characteristic lack of tact. "Did you know you've got dirt on your nose?"
"Hermione!"
"What? You think it would be kinder not to tell him and let him walk around with dirt on his nose?"
Ron flushed, and rubbed at his nose, but the dark smudge stayed in place.
"Maybe it's ink," Hermione revised with a shrug.
"Or maybe the twins got you," suggested Mary. "They introduced themselves as pranksters."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Maybe." His change of subject was a bit smoother than Hermione's had been. "So you're muggleborn, Elizabeth? What about you, Hermione?"
"Oh, yes. My parents are very excited, but I gather most muggle families don't take the news of the wizarding world, you know, existing… well. Professor McGonagall came and told me all about it, and then we had a trip to Diagon Alley where I met Lizzie, here, and she came and stayed with me for the rest of the summer because her family didn't want her to be a witch." Elizabeth just nodded. Hermione really was good at this cover-story thing. And she talked so much whenever she was meeting new people that it didn't seem like she was babbling just because she was lying, which was good. She just kept going, Mary marveled. "And of course we're ever so excited as well, and terribly pleased, of course. We've been practicing the spells from the books, and I think we ought to manage alright. What about you? You're not muggleborn, are you? We were sitting with Neville Longbottom, and Zacharias Smith and Hannah Abbott, and Terry Boot, but they've all gone to visit other friends, or, well, Neville was looking for his toad, and never came back, and then Zacharias and Hannah went to find him, and they never came back either, so I guess they found other people. But anyway, do you know them? They said all their families knew each other."
Hermione paused expectantly, and Ron looked a bit stunned. "Erm, no. Not as such. Just met that Neville chap, maybe a couple hours ago now. My family are purebloods, but we live out in Ottery St. Catchpole, and we mostly keep to ourselves." He appeared to think about this statement for a moment, then added, "And the Diggorys, who live nearby, and the Lovegoods, a bit. Prewetts, of course, at family reunions, but mum had a falling out with them when I was little, so I don't really know my cousins as well as I should. There aren't any in our year. And most of dad's family died in the war. Erm, do you know about that?"
"Of course we do. We've read Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Modern Magical History, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century… What others, Lizzie?"
"Wizarding Wars of the Twentieth Century, but that was more about Grindelwald, I guess. Your mum kept all the others," Mary said.
Hermione frowned at this. "Anyway, my parents thought it was madness that there had been whole wars they'd never heard of, so we got a bit of background reading. Have you read through the school texts, yet? I think I've nearly got them off by heart. Everything's just so interesting and different!"
"Erm, no… but then, I suppose it's all normal to me. I'd much rather hear about things in the muggle world. My dad's a bit of a fanatic. Collects plugs, and so on. But we don't go into muggle towns very often because there's so many of us. Too obvious, you know."
"He collects plugs? Electric plugs? What on earth for? How many of you are there?"
"Oh," Ron did not look like he wanted to talk about his father's collection or his family, but he must have considered that his family were the lesser of two evils, because he continued: "I'm sixth of seven. Mum and dad kept going until they got a girl."
"Are they all at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.
"Bill and Charlie have already graduated. Percy's a fifth-year and a prefect. The twins are third-year, and I'll be a first-year, obviously." Mary didn't think it was that obvious. Ron was certainly tall enough to be a second-year, at least. "Ginny's my little sister, and she won't be starting until next year."
"It must be odd, growing up with all those brothers," Hermione said. "I'm an only child, and so is Lizzie." Mary nodded. It was true enough. Dudley didn't really count as a brother. "I suppose they played sports with you, and taught you loads growing up, and so on?"
Ron laughed. "No, not so much. I'm the youngest boy, so I get all their hand-me-downs, and they pick on me when they're bored," he corrected her. "We did play Quidditch, but they always made me Keeper."
Mary perked up at this. She wanted to know more about the broomstick-riding sport.
"Isn't that the sport you were telling me about, Lizzie? On brooms, with four balls?"
"Yes, it is. It sounds like fun, but I've never seen it played. Tell us about it!" She demanded of Ron, and he was more than happy to fill half an hour telling them about his favorite team, the Chudley Cannons, and particularly tricky and impressive moves, and then, at Hermione's insistence, about something called Quodpot, which was like Quidditch, but without the Snitch.
Hermione thought Quodpot sounded like a much more reasonable game, but Ron insisted it was terribly boring – where was the fun when you knew exactly when the game would end? Hermione conceded that the uncertainty made it interesting, but insisted that it didn't make any sense at all for catching the Snitch to be worth fifteen times as much as a normal goal, unless you regularly had a fifteen goal margin between teams, which Ron admitted wasn't something that happened more than once a game. They had a furious argument which ended when Morgana Yaxley poked her head into the compartment.
"It doesn't make any sense! All the rules of game design say –"
"Bullocks to your 'rules of game design!' You need the Snitch! It's not Quidditch without the Snitch!"
"I don't care about the damned Snitch! I'm just saying, it oughtn't be worth so many points!"
Mary was watching, fascinated. Ron and Hermione were completely absorbed in their argument, and neither noticed when the compartment door slid open. Morgana Yaxley arranged herself to be leaning on one side of the opening, not quite in or out of the room, and cleared her throat. Ron and Hermione stared, apparently shocked by the intrusion. Mary waved at her.
"Elizabeth! I didn't expect to see you here."
"Hi!" Mary grinned, and introduced the older girl to her companions. "Morgana Yaxley, this is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Maia, this is Morgana Yaxley, who I told you I met that day at Gringotts'."
"How do you do?" said Hermione automatically.
"Quite well," Morgana replied, "And yourself?"
"Erm, what?"
"Nevermind. Hullo, little Weasley."
"Yaxley," Ron said coldly.
"Do come in and sit," Hermione invited.
"If she sits, I'm leaving," Ron said quietly.
"Thanks. Hermione, was it?" the younger girl nodded. "Pleased to meet you." Morgana looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione as she sat down. Ron stiffened. "I just thought I'd come tell you that there's a name for people who think that the Snitch ought only to be used to end the game, and not worth any points at all: Quiddellers. There are pickup Quiddell matches every other Sunday, but the House teams still play Quidditch. And also we could hear you three compartments away. It's not like these walls are stone, you know." Both Ron and Hermione blushed. They hadn't known that others had been listening in.
"Sorry, Morgana. And please tell your compartment we're sorry as well," Hermione offered.
"Eh, don't worry about it. If anyone really minded, they'd have told you to shut up earlier."
"So you're just going to come in and tell us off, and then sit, like your family didn't murder my uncles?" Ron said stiffly. The atmosphere in the compartment seemed to drop about twenty degrees.
"What?" Mary and Hermione asked together in complete shock.
"Careful, Weasley. It doesn't do to go making accusations like that when you're not even at school yet."
"It's true!"
"My father was cleared, and one of my uncles is in Azkaban. The Dark Lord is gone, and what happened in the War, happened in the War. We've moved on. You should too."
Ron stood with a huff. "It's not right! Filthy Slytherin!" He stomped out of the compartment, slamming the door so hard it bounced halfway open again. The girls left it.
"What was all that about?" Hermione asked.
Morgana sighed. "I suppose you'll have to hear it eventually. You're muggleborn, right? Do you know about the Dark Lord, and the War?"
The girls nodded.
"The Dark Lord had these followers, right?"
"Death Eaters," said Mary.
"Yes. My father and his brothers were Death Eaters. They were involved in the murder of the Prewett twins, among other horrible things. Gideon and Fabian Prewett, who were Molly Weasley's younger brothers. One of my uncles died in the fight, and the other went to Azkaban, because he was a willing Death Eater. But my dad was Imperiused, so he had to do it. All those terrible things. He never talks about the War…"
The compartment was silent for a long moment before Morgana continued. Mary couldn't think of anything to say. It hadn't been their war. "Most people don't, you know. Talk about the War. Even though people like my father were forced to fight for the wrong side, that doesn't change the fact that there are veterans from both sides walking around Diagon Alley right now. We're a small society. There would be no living with each other if we couldn't let the past stay in the past." Hermione nodded.
Mary was just relieved that maybe she wouldn't be lynched in Slytherin for being the Girl Who Lived. She hoped the other Death Eaters' Children were so reasonable.
Morgana was still talking. "So most people ignore it and pretend that the War didn't really happen, to a certain extent. Then you get some people like Molly Prewett, sorry, Weasley, who can't let things go and still hold children responsible for their parents' mistakes." She made a face.
"Do all of the Weasleys hate you?" Mary asked.
"No, I get on alright with the Twins," Morgana grinned. "They're in my year. I'd like them a lot more if they'd stop pranking my house, but I can appreciate the skill it takes to get away with it as often as they do."
"Morgana, my dove, is that you?" One of the aforementioned twins poked his head through the half-opened door.
"I told you my ears were burning, Fred," they heard (presumably) George say from outside.
"Come off it, you two just heard your names and thought you'd burst in," said another boy, pulling the door all the way open. He poked his head around, and they saw that it was the boy with the tarantula from the platform. "Hey, Morgan."
"Hey, Lee."
The boys apparently took this for an invitation, as they all piled into the compartment and sat down.
"Wotcher, Hermione," said one of the twins.
"Not-Mary," said the other, nodding in greeting.
"I'm Lee Jordan," the boy with dreadlocks introduced himself.
"Hermione Granger"
"Elizabeth Evans"
"You mean,"
"You're still not,"
"Mary Potter?"
"Drat!"
Mary started to ask the twins why they had told Ron she was Mary Potter, but Morgana spoke first: "I knew it!"
"What?" Mary didn't think there was any way Morgana could have known.
"Okay, I didn't know you were Mary Potter, but I knew your name wasn't Elizabeth. Are you really?"
Mary was getting used to the lie now. "No, of course not. Elizabeth Evans, I just told you."
"Riiiight," drawled one of the twins.
The other flicked his wand and said "Ventus."
A tiny gust of wind blew Mary's fringe aside. "Damn it." She crossed her arms and pouted. "Yes, fine, I'm Mary Potter."
The third years laughed, but Hermione patted her on the arm. "You knew it couldn't last."
"I know, but I don't want to be Mary Potter, Girl Who Lived! I was raised by muggles! I don't care about any of it! Please don't tell anyone," she asked the third-years. "Anyone else," she amended, glaring at the twins.
All the third-years looked a bit stunned at the revelation that their savior had been raised by muggles, or maybe because she didn't want to be the Girl Who Lived. Lee was the first to recover, and he smoothly changed the subject.
"Well, I won't, but McGonagall will. She reads off all the names at the sorting. Even Sadie Rosier couldn't convince her not to, and her full name's Sadachbia." He grinned.
"It's true," confirmed Morgana. "You're doomed."
Mary groaned.
"Come on," Hermione said, "Maybe it won't be so bad."
"You're just famous, is all," said a Weasley.
"And you'll have to put up with people asking stupid questions," said the other.
"Like if you remember what MoldyShorts looks like!"
"But seriously, do you?" Whichever twin that was managed to maintain his earnest expression until the rest of the compartment had started laughing, and then joined them.
"No, I don't," Mary informed him over the laughter.
"Did you guys chase Ron away?" the same twin asked.
"We only sent him your way because he looked so bored,"
"Trapped with the Patil twins and the Brown girl."
"Morgana did," Hermione explained, "Or rather, he learned her name and then stormed off."
"You two ought to have a talk with him about maintaining the Truce," Morgana added.
The twins gave identical eye rolls, and nodded.
"What's the Truce?" Hermione asked.
"It's how the purebloods from families that were on different sides in the last War try not to bring it up so the rest of us can live with them," Explained Lee. "It doesn't apply to muggleborns like us, since we don't have any history there."
"Oh, good," said Mary, relieved that she wouldn't have to worry about it.
The older students laughed, and Morgana reminded her, "You have probably more history than anyone else, even if you were raised by muggles."
"Yeah," Mary countered, "But as long as everyone ignores it, that's fine!"
Morgana and Hermione shared a doubtful expression, but they didn't say anything, and the conversation turned to the elective classes that the third-years would be starting on Monday.
Sunday, 1 September 1991 (6:00 pm)
Hogwarts Express
Morgana was debating the merits of Muggle Studies with Fred and George (much to the amusement of the other three occupants of the compartment) when the door slid open once again. Three boys stood there, the one in front thin and blond, while the two behind him were more heavyset and looked like twelve-year-old bodyguards. The blond boy entered the compartment, though with the trunks still stacked in the middle of the floor, there wasn't much room to stand. His companions made an attempt at looming in the corridor, but the train lurched, and then an older student told them to budge aside, which rather ruined the effect that Mary thought they were going for.
"I heard down the front of the train that Mary Potter's in this compartment. Is that you?" he asked, looking at Mary.
At this point, she felt there was hardly any reason to deny it. They would be to school soon, anyway, and then, apparently, the professor would ruin any attempt at hiding it. "Yes. Who are you lot?"
"Those two are Crabbe and Goyle," he said, waving a careless hand back toward the boys in the doorway, "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He appeared to be trying to look superior, looking down his nose at them all. He was better at it than Aunt Petunia, but not by much.
Hermione sniggered at this, as did Lee, but Lee was out of sight, since Draco was looking at Mary.
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. You're obviously just some mudblood."
There was a chorus of outrage from the opposite side of the compartment, as the Gryffindor boys objected to the name-calling. Hermione could handle it, though, thought Mary. It wasn't as though she'd been called a cunt or something truly rude.
"I am Hermione Granger, first of her name," she said haughtily (Mary rather thought she pulled it off better than Draco had), using an old naming convention they had seen in one of the legal books. "And you are a poncy albino twat whose Death Eater father rather unsuitably named him the Dragon and who introduces himself like a fictional muggle espionage agent from the nineteen-sixties," she informed him with a pleasant smile, then added in an utter parody of politeness: "How do you do?"
The Gryffindors roared with laughter and Morgana smirked openly at the boy. Mary managed to only smile a little bit, but the boy hardly noticed, since he was spluttering, incoherent with rage. Mary made out "my father" and "her place" several times. She decided she didn't like him. He reminded her of Dudley.
While they waited for the boy to say something else or leave, Morgana muttered something to Hermione that Mary couldn't hear, but it must have been complimentary, because Hermione beamed.
Malfoy managed to recover his ability to speak, and resumed talking at Mary. "You'll soon find out that some wizards are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
Mary hid a mischievous grin. "So muggleborns are the wrong sort of wizards?" she asked innocently.
"Exactly."
"What about Weasleys?"
"Blood traitors with more children than money. Definitely the wrong sort." Malfoy seemed to be getting in to this.
One of the twins whined across the carriage, "Morgana, he called us blood traitors!"
"You are blood traitors," she said, as though this was patently obvious.
"But he said it in a mean way!" the other twin whined. Mary thought they might have been imitating Draco.
"What do you want me to do about it?" Morgana asked.
"Tell him off!"
"Obviously," muttered Lee, who seemed a bit put out that he hadn't gotten a chance to join Hermione in defending muggleborns.
"Why should I?"
"We're going to talk to Ron, aren't we?"
"Fine," Morgana said, and stood up, folding her arms on the stacked trunks. "But you owe me."
"He's obviously going to be a Slytherin,"
"Someone would have to tell him anyway if he keeps this up."
"But it wouldn't be me. He's no blood of mine."
The twins sighed theatrically. "Fine."
"One favor."
"A small one."
"One we want to do."
"Because we know you'll enjoy this."
"Yeah, I will," she grinned, "But you get nothing for nothing. Malfoy!" she snapped suddenly, turning to the boy, who looked furious over being ignored, as everyone had been watching the twins and Morgana negotiate.
"You know the terms of the Truce under which we all attend Hogwarts! What in the nine hells do you think you're doing, making a reputation for yourself as being outside of it before you even get there? Do you want to be a target for every disgruntled Light-side kid in the school? Dark Powers, I hope you don't get sorted into Slytherin, if you're that stupidly determined to bring embarrassment down on yourself."
She paused to draw breath, and Malfoy said, "I'll write my father—"
Morgana cut him off. "Yes, Draco, darling. Do write to dear Lucius. Tell him that Miss Morgana Yaxley had the nerve to you in your place. I'll write to my father as well, and ask him to ask your father why he has been so remiss in informing his only son of the political realities of entering Hogwarts." The boy paled. Mary didn't know if it was because he hadn't known who Morgana was, or if he had been disobeying his father by making a scene.
"Or better, I'll write to your mother and tell her that her son is endangering himself with his carelessness before classes even start!" Mary hadn't thought it was possible for Malfoy to get any whiter, but he managed it.
"It appears you have forgotten, so let me remind you," the older girl continued, her voice deadly serious. "This is the real world. You're not at home in your safe little Manor. There are wizards out here who would hex you without thinking about it for your casual rudeness, and kill you for the sin of being Lucius Malfoy's precious son. Some of them have children at Hogwarts. Some of them are in this compartment." Fred and George twiddled their fingers in a mockery of a wave. "You throw language like 'mudblood' and 'blood traitor' around the halls at school, you mark yourself out as an acceptable target, and all your father's money and influence will do nothing to protect you.
"Furthermore," she added, now disdainfully, "No Slytherin is going to stick their neck out for yours if you prove to us all that you're a hopeless idiot or a crybaby, spouting off about writing home to your father to complain about every little thing."
"I was told—" Malfoy tried to interrupt again, but Morgana didn't let him.
"I don't care, Malfoy. You came in here all obvious about wanting to get to the Girl Who Lived and make an ally out of her, and then proceeded to step on toes right and left, ignoring the proprieties and insulting her companions. You are the sole heir of a Noble House! You know better than that, and you ought to act like it! Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Apparently Malfoy did not, as he let the silence stretch between them rather than apologize or something, even though it was clear that he had been in the wrong.
"So," Mary said conversationally, "Muggleborns and Weasleys are the wrong sort of wizards. What about Yaxleys?" It was patently obvious now that Mary had been leading Draco on from the start.
"I suppose Yaxleys are acceptable," Malfoy said stiffly, ignoring the titters of the other students.
"Then I believe I will rely on Miss Yaxley to advise me on my choice of friends. Her judgement seems to be a bit more… informed than yours." She thought she had managed the superior attitude a bit better than Malfoy had. In any case, it was enough to send him storming from the compartment in a huff without even saying goodbye.
After Malfoy had gone, the Weasleys had stood and bowed to Morgana, proclaiming her a queen among witches and a future Mistress of the Howler, whatever that meant.
The older students chatted for a while about their friends and mutual acquaintances in the third year (Mary and Hermione listened attentively), but soon an announcement 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."
Mary's stomach lurched with nerves, and even Hermione, with her endless enthusiasm, was looking a bit pale under her bushy hair. They double-checked that nothing had fallen out of their trunks, and the older students reassured them that they had nothing to worry about, though none of them would say exactly what was supposed to happen next. Fred and George joked about having to fight a dragon – no, a troll! And then Morgana said it was an adaptation of some muggle test, which made Hermione very nervous. Mary rather thought that was another lie, like a hat telling you where you belong, and the Heads of House choosing students like a sport team. Apparently everyone who had already been sorted got to make up a story about it for future first-years.
"You can't fail at sorting," Lee announced, "If nothing else, you'll just go to Hufflepuff. And that's really all you need to know."
Hogsmeade Station
The train slowed down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. Mary shivered in the cold night air. She could see why Madam Malkin's assistant had recommended long skirts for winter. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Mary heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Mary?"
Hagrid's big, bearded face beamed over the sea of students.
"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years, follow me!"
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Mary thought there must have been thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, who never had returned to their compartment, sniffled once or twice. She wondered if he had ever found his toad.
"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud "Oooooh!"
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Mary thought this must be the back side of the school, because it certainly wasn't the same lake she had flown over with the professor.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Mary and Hermione were joined in their boat by Neville and then Ron. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"
And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.
"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.
"Trevor!" cried Neville, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass, right in the shadow of the castle.
They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, dark, wooden door.
"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"
Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times.