DAWN had just finished breaking when I arose on the morning of September 1st. Double-checking my atlas of London, I saw that King's Cross Station was actually quite close to Regent's Park, and relaxed a bit. As long as I didn't dilly-dally, there'd be little risk of missing the Express. I wrote down directions for the route there on a scrap of parchment.
In short order I was showered and dressed. I took a good look through the foliage surrounding my campsite, and when I was sure no early joggers were in the vicinity, I pulled my trunk out of my tent, packed up the tent, climbed through the trapdoor to the room in the bottom of my trunk, and set the tent back up within.
Next I transferred all my clothing and all the supplies in my Hogwarts Letter to the top compartment of my trunk. I wanted to keep the room secret for as long as possible, and didn't want to have to climb down into my trunk every time I needed something.
Latching the lid shut and waiting for a few joggers to pass, I pulled my trunk out onto the path and started east toward King's Cross. I had on my hat, sunglasses, and Muggle clothing, with my wand, watch, and the parchment scrap with directions in the pockets of my chinos. The sky was a slate grey, and cold gusts stirred the air. I hoped it wouldn't start raining.
Following the Outer Circle clockwise through Regent's Park, I exited onto Gloucester Gate, which I followed northeast until it hit Delancey Street. I turned right, and right again on Camden High Street, then left on Crowndale Road. I stopped to rest for a minute and glanced at my watch. The streets of London were surprisingly empty for 9 AM. Walking over to a nearby newspaper stand, I realized it was a Sunday.
Continuing on, Crowndale Road became Pancras Road as I passed a small park on my right, and then a larger park on my left. Those should be the St. Pancras Gardens, which I had marked down as roughly the midpoint of my journey. Now I just had to follow Pancras Road the rest of the way to King's Cross station.
Going through long tunnel that took me under the tracks for St. Pancras International station, I emerged and walked alongside the eastern side of the station until I reached the entrance to King's Cross. Finally! I checked my watch - 9:30. I still had an hour and a half before the Express left for Hogwarts. Heart thumping in my chest, I entered the station and made my way toward Platform 9.
Neither Platform 9 nor 10 had trains waiting, so this part of the station was clear of Muggles. I didn't have to wait very long before families started showing up who were obviously bound for Hogwarts, with children dragging large wooden trunks. Sitting on my trunk, I watched several pass through the barrier to Platform 9¾, walking at full speed into a metal ticket box that stood against the brick wall.
My plan had been to wait for the Weasleys to show up, but I suspected they might show up at the last minute, and I felt very eager to get my first glimpse of the Hogwarts Express. Standing up and gripping the handle of my trunk, I walked resolutely toward the barrier. Squeezing my eyes shut as I approached, I took a few steps through where I should have smacked face-first into the ticket box. Opening my eyes, I took in Platform 9¾.
Several clusters of adult wizards and witches were scattered along platform, smiling and chatting with one another. A few Muggle couples stood by themselves, looking around with the curiosity of tourists. A shiny red train that looked transplanted directly out of the 19th century stretched the length of the platform. Grinning, I trotted alongside the train and boarded one car back from the far end.
All of the compartments in this car were still empty. Apparently I was quite early. I removed my Hogwarts robes from my trunk and levitated it onto the luggage racks, which looked to have been expanded magically to be far more spacious than they should have been. The interior of the Express being somewhat dimly lit, I pocketed my sunglasses but kept my hat on. No need to announce my presence.
Relaxing into a seat by the window facing the platform, I watched as it grew more crowded outside the train. My watch told me the time was just past 10 AM. Leaning back, I closed my eyes, and must have dozed off for a few moments, because I awoke to the sound of the compartment door being opened. A blonde witch who looked several years my senior poked her head through, smiled at me distractedly, but didn't enter.
Several more older students repeated the actions of the first girl, no doubt looking for their friends. I was just checking the time again - 10:30 - when a gangly red-haired boy entered, followed by his mirror image. If I wasn't mistaken, this could be none other than Fred and George Weasley.
"Ron!" the first one called. "There's room here. We're going back to the middle - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula there. We're going to put it in Angelina's robes."
The twins levitated Ron's trunk next to mine without sparing me more than a glance, then hurried off. Ron Weasley entered the trunk as they left, an uncertain look gracing his pale, freckled face.
He looked me up and down then stuck out his hand. "Hullo. I'm Ron Weasley. This your first year too?"
I smiled. "Yes, I'm a First Year too." I shook his hand. "The name's Harry Potter."
"Are you really? Do you have…" His eyes flicked up to my hat.
Shrugging, I removed my hat, causing his eyes to widen and his jaw to drop open. I replaced the hat, which broke his reverie.
"Sorry, didn't mean to stare. It's just…" He trailed off, his face reddening.
"No problem," I said. "Were those your brothers?"
"Yeah, Fred and George. They're alright, I guess, when they aren't pranking me. Third Years. I've got another one too, Percy, Fifth Year. He's a Prefect."
"A Prefect?" I asked.
"Yeah, he can be a bit full of himself, and this won't help. Always studying and bragging about being the top of his class."
"What's a Prefect?" I asked.
"What? Oh, sorry. I thought you'd know, since, well…" Ron's eyes wandered back up to my hat and he trailed off.
"Since I'm Harry Potter? I'm just learning about all this stuff now. I grew up with my Muggle Aunt and Uncle," I explained.
"Oh! That's why you're wearing Muggle clothes. Sorry. I thought for sure you'd have…"
He trailed off again.
"Prefects?" I prompted again, but at that point a bushy haired witch entered the compartment.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "I've been looking all over for you. Isn't this amazing? My parents were so scared to go through the barrier, but I thought it was brilliant." She giggled, then noticed Ron.
"Oh, hullo. I'm Hermione Granger. And you are?"
"Ron Weasley," Ron said gruffly. "You know Harry Potter?"
Hermione's eyes widened and she let out a squeak "Harry Potter! Why didn't you say yesterday? I've read all about you. You're in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, you know."
"Ah, yeah, I read through a bit of that," I hedged, then tried to change the subject. "Ron was just explaining what Prefects are."
Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione cut him off.
"Oh, I know all about those. There's a whole chapter about them in Hogwarts: A History. You should read it, it's amazing! There are two from each House and year, and they have a variety of responsibilities…"
As Hermione rambled on, I noticed Ron frowning. He had probably been looking forward to teaching the famous Harry Potter something.
"Ron's brother Percy is a Prefect," I interjected when Hermione paused for a breath. She began peppering him with questions, which at first he replied with surly monosyllables, but he quickly grew more animated and more elaborate with his answers.
Once Hermione realized Ron was from a Magical family, the scope of her questions broadened. The train's horn sounded and it began to roll forward. I was content to listen to Ron and Hermione's exchange. None of the tidbits Ron supplied were new information for me, but overhearing their discussion provided an excuse to know things I had no business knowing, like the location of the Burrow, the fact that Ron's older brothers worked at Gringotts and a dragon preserve in Romania, and that the Potions professor's name was Snape and he was a "right sodding git."
Not long after we'd left King's Cross station, a plump, friendly witch arrived with the food trolley. I duplicated Book-Harry's generosity, accepting Ron's offer of his homemade sandwich. Discussion of the Chocolate Frog cards we soon extracted led us to the topics of Dumbledore and the Hogwarts Houses. Ron and Hermione were discussing the obvious merits of Gryffindor when a snooty-looking pale haired boy in robes of fine material entered our compartment, flanked by a pair of heavy set and thuggish-looking boys.
"Gryffindor?" He spat the word out like it tasted foul. "Why would you want to get Sorted with those buffoons? Though I suppose it's better than Hufflepuff. I'll be Slytherin, like everyone in my family."
Ron's face was growing flushed and his jaw tightened in anger; he seemed on the verge of issuing an angry retort, but I had removed my hat a while ago, and the boy's grey eyes lit upon my forehead.
"Harry Potter! We heard you'd be on the train. I'm Draco Malfoy," he declared pompously. "And this is Crabbe and Goyle," he added with a casual wave behind him. One of them grunted in what I took to be a greeting.
"We can show you around, introduce you to the right sort." Draco held his hand out toward me with an expectant air, not bothering to introduce himself to Hermione or Ron.
Keeping a neutral tone, I gave his hand a single shake. "Yes, I'm Harry. These are my friends Ron and Hermione."
Draco glanced at them, frowning slightly at Ron's red hair.
"A Weasley? And a Muggleborn? I suppose you don't know any better, but-"
I cut him off. "Their names are Ron and Hermione," I reiterated, with a frown of my own.
Ron looked nearly apoplectic. I casually put a hand on his shoulder to forestall an outburst. Draco's frown deepened, but then he shrugged.
"I see. Come on, Crabbe, Goyle, let's go. See you at the Sorting, Potter. Slytherin would be glad to have a wizard of your stature." He turned and left, his lumbering shadows trailing behind him.
Ron exploded.
"What a sodding git! There was never a wizard that went bad that wasn't a Slytherin, and the Malfoys are the worst of the lot. My father says Draco's dad, Lucius, has all sorts of illegal artifacts, but he's too much of a slimey snake to get caught…"
Hermione wore a solemn, thoughtful expression, and when Ron and wound himself down, she asked, "Surely Hogwarts wouldn't have a House for Dark witches and wizards. Dumbledore wouldn't allow it!"
Ron looked ready to go off again, so I quickly interjected. "I'm sure they aren't all bad. Ron, know any spells?"
This led to the scruffy old rat known to Ron as Scabbers, but to me as Peter Pettigrew, making his appearance, and I grew distracted as Ron and Hermione began to bicker over Ron's failed spell to turn the rat yellow. Poor Sirius. Though I hadn't ever met him, I had always felt terrible for the hapless wizard, suffering through his wrongful imprisonment in hellish Azkaban. Ridding Ron of his pet Death Eater and freeing my godfather would have to be one of my first priorities.
Keeping a nasty grin off my face and pulling out my wand, I interrupted my companions' heated argument.
"I learned a few spells myself this summer. Check this out. Wingardium Leviosa."
Scabbers rose into the air, and I swished my wand around carelessly. The foul creature's legs scrabbled frantically as he bounced off the window and walls of the compartment.
"Oh, sorry Ron. Still need to work on my control."
Both Hermione and Ron wanted to learn the Levitation charm, and by the time we rolled into Hogsmeade I'd taught the spell to both of them, as well as Lumos, which Hermione had already mastered. Hermione had taught me the Oculus Reparo charm after fixing my glasses. I was curious where she'd learned it, as I hadn't seen it in any of my Charms texts, but there wasn't time to ask.
I shrugged into my Hogwarts robe. Hermione and Ron put their new knowledge to use as we levitated our trunks off the racks and disembarked from the train. I realized we hadn't encountered Neville Longbottom - perhaps without Hermione's slightly overbearing company, he'd asked a Prefect for help finding Trevor.
A startlingly deep voice boomed out, "Firs' Years, this way!" Hagrid was even more mountainous than I'd expected, towering over the bustling throng of students crowding the platform. Soon the three of us were sharing a boat across the lake to Hogwarts.
The castle was truly majestic. Tall towers soared into the purple sky of the early evening, golden light flickering out of the windows that studded the stone walls. Hermione let out a quiet "oh my," and the three of shared excited grins. I felt quite proud that I'd made it here, after more than a month on my own, and that I had already begun forging bonds of friendship with my companions in the famous trio.
Soon we all ducked our heads as Hagrid yelled out, "Heads down!" The boats passed into a low cave in a cliff under the castle, a curtain of hanging ivy brushing the tops of our bowed heads. At the end of a tunnel that must have passed directly beneath the castle, our boats scraped onto the rocky beach of an underground harbor. Everyone scrambled out of their boats and climbed up a steep passageway, and up a flight of stairs leading up to a solid oak door.
The door swung open, revealing a tall, stern-looking witch in a pointed hat. Professor Mcgonagall introduced herself and led us into a small antechamber, instructing us to wait there for the sorting. Looking around the crowded room, I spotted a round-faced boy holding a glass ball filled with red smoke, examining it with a worried expression. I walked up to him.
"What's that?" I asked, causing him to look up.
"Oh, it's a Remembrall. Turns red when you've forgotten something, but it doesn't tell you what you've forgotten."
I laughed and held out a hand. "That doesn't sound very useful. I'm Harry Potter, by the way."
"Neville Longbottom." He shook my hand perfunctorily, his eyes widening slightly and darting to the scar on my forehead, but he didn't make any comment.
"Good to meet you Neville. These are my friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."
Hermione and Ron quickly engaged Neville in conversation, which soon devolved into the pair bickering while the shy boy watched them bemusedly. I smirked at him and rolled my eyes in their direction, which he returned with a hesitant smile.
At that point Professor McGonagall returned and led us into the Great Hall. My mind wandered as the Sorting Hat launched into its traditional song. So far I felt the day had largely been a success; I had befriended Ron, Hermione, and Neville, and hoped the opportunity would soon arise to approach Hagrid.
The moon was visible through the enchanted ceiling overhead, only a few days past full, which brought Remus Lupin to mind. Establishing contact with him might provide an opportunity to reveal Wormtail's presence and freeing Sirius. Unfortunately I had no plausible reason to know who he was or that he had been a close friend of my father.
I resolved to look through the Hogwarts library; maybe there would be a picture of the Marauders in an old yearbook. If Hogwarts even had yearbooks; I couldn't remember a reference to any in the books. If not, perhaps I could draw the information out of Hagrid.
The Hat finished it's song, drawing thunderous applause from the students, and the Sorting began. I refocused my attention, putting faces to familiar names. Hermione and Neville went to Gryffindor as expected, and soon it was my turn. Firmly ignoring the whispers and stares of the students in the Great Hall, I strode resolutely up to the stool in front of the staff table and took a seat, placing the battered Hat on my head.
Ah, what have we here? Not what I expected… no, not at all. The Hat's reedy voice sounded in my mind, a thoroughly unsettling experience. You have a fine mind, thirsting for knowledge, you'd do well in Ravenclaw… but no shortage of ambition and cunning. Slytherin, perhaps?
That wouldn't do. Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin, I repeated the mantra silently, over and over.
No? Well, you certainly have a strong will, and plenty of courage. You aren't the type to back down from what you think is right. Perhaps the best House for you is… "GRYFFINDOR!"
Grinning, I bounced off the stool, setting the hat back down, and hurried over to the table that had burst out clapping and cheering. The Weasley twins tried to start a chant of "We got Potter! We got Potter!" but no one else joined in. Ron was sitting next to Hermione and across from Neville, patting the empty space on the bench on his other side.
"Saved you a seat, Harry. I knew you'd be a Gryffindor!"
A blur of introductions followed, with Dean Thomas being the only other First Year after me to join our table. Once Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin, Dumbledore made his announcements. As expected, he concluded with "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" and heaping platters of food popped into existence on our tables, and the socializing died down as digging into the feast took precedence.
As dinner wound down, I overheard a few students discussing the break-in at Gringotts, reminding me of the dangers I would soon face involving the Philosopher's Stone. Given all my practice over the summer, I was far more competent than Book-Harry had been at this point, but I still didn't relish the prospect of battling a full grown mountain troll. Hopefully my overtures of friendship toward Hermione would pay off and I'd be able to keep her and Ron on good terms.
After dessert, our Prefects led us to Gryffindor Tower. The meal had been delicious, and after the monotony of my meals over the summer, I'd eaten with nearly as much abandon as Ron. Now my eyes kept trying to slide shut as my stomach monopolized the blood my brain required, but I tried my best to memorize the route we were taking through the castle's halls, taking note of the portraits we passed, their denizens yelling out their welcome to the new and returning students.
After making the Fat Lady's acquaintance, we trooped through the portrait hole and the Gryffindor common room. The other First Years must have been as exhausted as I felt, because I saw a lot of yawns as the Prefects made a brief speech. Wishing a good-night to Hermione, I followed the other boys up the stairs to our dormitory, where we found our trunks, each placed at the foot of a bed.
I was glad to see that mine was the furthest in, near a large bay window at the end of the room. Neville was across from me, and Ron next to me. This made me wonder if the House Elves had spied on us to ascertain budding friendships, and if so when and how. My bed felt incredibly soft after sleeping on the floor in my tent, Cushioning Charms notwithstand, and my ponderings didn't last long before I drifted off into a deep sleep.
A/N Thanks for the favorites and reviews! This chapter followed canon pretty closely, but events will begin to diverge more significantly in the next chapter... I promise.