Chapter 3: The Journey to Hogwarts

Author's Note: I have SO MUCH fanfic writing to continue outside of this fic, and this undertaking of the Harry Potter series itself is MASSIVE, but I go where my ADHD brain guides me. Pardon the long periods between updates and my other unfinished fics – as mentioned before, I am in PA school. Ask me a medical question, any medical question at all, and I will not answer it correctly because I am TIRED.

Harry was not sure how he made it through the next few weeks before his trip to Hogwarts. It was a blur of pure excitement and cleaning after his furious, inside-out aunt, uncle, and cousin leaving blood trails and sparse guts everywhere. They eventually healed, but they were still quite fragile for a while. Aunt Petunia had an absolute fit when she arrived at a dinner party one night and her left eyeball plopped into the punchbowl.

Still, Harry's smile did not falter even with the bloodiest of carpets. For one thing, his family was now terrified of him. For another, he never had his very own pet before. Yes, Dudley had tried to stick Puffort in an aquarium, but the magical bird did not drown, mainly because Dudley forgot to fill it with water. On top of all that, he was soon going to attend magic school. Though he was slightly disappointed to let go of his dream of medical school, perhaps he'd get to perform magic shows at Las Vegas someday.

"Boy," grunted Uncle Vernon one day while Harry busied himself untangling a set of Dudley's vas deferens from his shoelaces. "When are you going off to that blasted school of yours?"

"September 1st."

"That's today."

"Oh sh-"

The tires screeched and covered Harry in dust as he stood abandoned at the curb with all his luggage.

"I guess I shouldn't have used my calendar for bird cage droppings," thought Harry aloud. He turned around.

"… Hey! They dropped me off at the fire station again!"

"Thanks again!"

Harry waved at the firetruck, which left him at the train station wearing a plastic fireman helmet and a leaking cone of vanilla ice cream.

"Thanks, Bill! Scott! Brenda! Tyrel! Steve! Jonathan! I'll see you all next year!"

He now turned his attention to the matter at hand.

"Now, let's look at the train ticket Hagrid gave me…" He pulled it out of his pocket. "Ah, Platform 9.75. Where the fuck is that?"

He looked around to survey his surroundings. Having traveled in the trunk of Uncle Vernon's car for all trips, he had never traveled by train before. Aunt Petunia had always grumbled about "vagrants on the tube" traveling to cities where they didn't belong, doing things like graffitiing the train cars or making their way to community college. It sickened her.

He fondly recalled riding on one of those tiny trains they had at the mall for kids during the holidays, back when he and Dudley were about five years old. Of course Dudley had ruined it by weighing down the last train car so that the metal wheels screeched and sparked and set the fake snow on fire. The kids all screamed and ran out of the train. Harry had panicked and stayed onboard, not realizing that the train went in a loop. By the time he circled back, the melted fake snow had thankfully put the fire out.

Harry giggled stupidly to himself at the thought of the Hogwarts Express going in some pointless loop when the reality of his situation hit him. He was an eleven-year-old English orphan lost in the middle of a London train station. From what he knew of British literature, his situation was quite forlorn. If he didn't find his way soon, a greedy aristocrat would snatch him up to force him to make shoes or clean chimneys, or to sell his organs, whatever, he didn't read those books.

Harry glanced up at the stunning geometric glass arched ceiling of the massive station. It offered no clue.

He found the place surrounded by all sorts of busy bustling people who didn't look twice at him and his trunk or his pigeon. Unlike in Dragonal Alley, all the people here were plain, no robes, no weird animals, no street performer that was a literal statue and not just a spray-painted Muggle who gave himself lead poisoning…

Finally, Harry spotted an old man in blue robes and his heart sighed in relief. But when Harry asked him where the magic school was, the man enthusiastically led him to an alleyway and then asked Harry for a shoulder massage. Anyway it turned out to be some crazy weird guy in a bathrobe.

Harry stood by a trash can angrily wiping oil off his hands with newspapers when the station clock chimed 10 O'clock. He was starting to panic. He would miss his train soon if he didn't hurry.

He glanced down at his ticket again. What would happen if he missed the train to school? Would the school notice? Would he have to return to the Dursleys, an uneducated, orphaned child, and continue being a housemaid for them? Would a handsome prince come and save him by marrying him? Would that prince be stripped of his royal status due to marrying a commoner? Would he grow to resent Harry for this, while watching his younger brother reign the kingdom of England into chaos and anarchy?

These thoughts plagued him. They dug a hole in his brain that branched out through his senses and put him in a mental pit of despair. He craved a wall to crawl into, to escape being out in the open among throngs of people… He faced the nearest wall and attempted to insert himself between the filthy, piss-stained train station bricks.

However, this turned out to be a fortunate accident; it just so happened he crawled into the walls between platforms 9 and 10. The wall spat him out at the other side covered in slimy ectoplasm.

Harry frantically tried to slip back inside when a station employee pulled him out.

"Do not block the entryway, young man!"

"You don't understand, I don't want to exist right now-"

"None of us do, it's the human condition. Now please present your train ticket."

"Huh?"

The station employee pulled the ticket from his hand and shunted him aside to let the wall spit out more witches and wizards from a butthole-shaped portal in the platform wall. Harry turned to look at his suddenly changed surroundings.

The scene brought back to his mind Dragonal Alley all over again. Only instead of shops and shoppers, he stood on a long train platform where a bright, red steam train was stationed. And all about were wizarding families with children of all ages, lugging luggage onto the train and saying tearful goodbyes.

It was at that moment he caught some familiar words among the babble of crowds surrounding him.

"… it was packed with Muggles, as usual…"

He turned around and spotted a plump, red-haired woman with around 40-50 red-haired, freckled kids of various ages trailing behind her. One of them was being dragged by an umbilical cord.

"Oh Diedre you were right, I was pregnant."

"Excuse me," Harry asked the woman nervously while she manually reeled in her most recent little miracle.

"Yes, dear?"

"I was wondering, is – is this the platform for the Hogwarts Express?"

"Why yes it is, love! Is this your first year? Ronald here is a first-year too." She scooped out a child from amongst the gaggle of children and presented him.

"Wait, this isn't Ron - Fred? George? Where's Ron?"

"We're not sure, we think he got himself kidnapped on the way here."

"No that was Wallace."

"I thought that was Herbert?"

"Nah, Herbert fell down that manhole earlier."

"Oh who the bloody hell keeps track anymore-"

"I'm here!" The kid named Ron pushed himself through to the front.

"Sorry, I saw a family with two kids and I wanted to go live with them, but they said no."

"Here, Ron, why don't you share a room on the train with this young man?" The mother turned to Harry. "What is your name, dear?"

"Hang on, Mum…" one of the twins stared at him in awe. "He's that kid who gave that bloke an oil massage in the alleyway we passed!"

"Fred, I did not raise you to judge anyone's lifestyle."

"Oh yeah," piped in the other twin, "and then the bloke made him close his eyes and eat an ice cream scoop out of his bare hands – " ***

***(Author's note to self, 10/23/21: What?)
(Author's note to self, 11/12/21: leave it)

Harry grabbed Ron's arm and snuck onto the train before they brought up any more of his shame.

The train rocked gently, passing them through fields and forests and other train stations as it went. Harry's heart swelled with excitement, his face pressed against the window as he pointed out cows to Ron every time they passed cows.

"Are you really… you know… Harry Potter?" asked Ron in amazement shortly after introductions. Harry pulled himself off the window, reached into his pocket for his wallet, and showed Ron his ID, where his lightning-bolt scar was clearly visible.

"Wicked!"

"So, you're a wizard then? Are your whole family wizards?"

"No, just the inbred ones. Are you hungry? My mum made me corned corn sandwiches."

"Honestly, ew."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a while, Harry piping up with "Cow!" every now and again.

"Do you… remember anything? From the night that You-Know-Who killed your family?"

"Hm," thought Harry. "I remember going an unreasonably long time without a diaper change. But that's about it, to be honest."

"Oh."

Ron was starting to regret everything.

"So who's your animal familiar?" asked Harry. "I have a fancy pigeon. My aunt says she's practically a 'rat with wings,' which I thought was rude because she's so much better than a rat. Rats are so nasty. I would die if someone got me a rat. I'd just drop on the floor dead. If someone gave me a rat. Am I right, Ron?"

Stone-faced, Ron pulled a rat out of his pocket.

"This is Scabbers. My rat."

"Oh. I fucked up."

"Yeah."

"I mean, there's nothing wrong with a rat. Sure it can't fly, but I bet it could survive nuclear war."

"Maybe you should go to another train compartment and start over with someone new?" suggested Ron.

"But I've already invested so much in you, Ron. I can't start over."

"I guess."

"Squeak," said the rat gruffly.

"Shit, did that rat just talk?"

They were interrupted by a knock on their compartment door, which opened to reveal a plump, smiling witch.

"Anything from the snack trolley, dearies?"

Harry shot up and shoved Ron out of the way before he could have at it at the Twinkies. However, there were no Little Debbie snacks here. He surveyed the cart's loudly colorful variety of sweets he had never heard of in his life, his mouth agape; Coco Crows, Newt Nougat, Hershey's Hickeys, Cauldron Clams, Doggie Kibble for Kids, Bone Marrow Jellies, Pumpkin Pukies, Cactus Taffy, Mice and Ikes, Battery Acid, Auntie Gertrude's Toenail Crunchies, Frog Chocolates, Bon Bombs ("Caution!"), Lice Licorice, Colon-Cleansing Peppermint Floss ("swallow whole for full effects"), Unicorn Jerky, Sour Mummies, Live Bees, Sweet Teeth, Jelly Fish, Gallbladder Gushers, Leeches Pieces, Mermaid's Milk, Butt Buns, Devil Drops, Bean Cream, Just Rocks, Broomstick Twists, Warty Waffles, Fungus Farts, Fire-Breathing Dragonfruit, Snot Knots, Scarab Suckers, Placenta Pops, Roach Juice, Polyester Candy, Poop Corn, Chitin Chews, Possum Pies, Bertie Botts Single Flavor Jellybeans (Lemon), and chocolate Cadbury Eggs that apparently hatched into live marshmallow Peeps when you sat on them.

"How many Balls for the lot?"

"Ron, is any of this Kosher?" Harry and Ron sat amongst their mountain of candy. To hell with the kids at the train cars downstream from them.

Ron shoved a magical marshmallow Peep inside his mouth, where one could here its horrified muffled peeps. Temporarily mute, he shrugged and shoved another one in there.

"What's this?"

Harry dug up a square of what looked like chocolate, but the wrapper had a picture of a frog on it.

Ron gulped down the Peeps before reaching for another one from under his butt where he sat on a nest of Cadbury Eggs. "Oh, those are Frog Chocolates!"

"What?"

"Try one!"

Harry unwrapped it and bit into it. He immediately choked and spat it out.

"What in the holy FUCK is this?"

"It's frog-flavored chocolate! I guess it's an acquired taste."

Harry bit into it again for reasons beyond the paygrade of this fic. Something hard and small got stuck between his teeth.

"Does this have bones in it!?"

"No, it's not real frog… take it out of your mouth, it's probably the prize!"

Harry pulled out a tiny, robed plastic arm of a toy figure covered in his saliva.

"I think that's Dumbledore's arm!" said Ron. "They come in pieces, see. Then you build figures with them."

Ron chewed into his own Frog Chocolate and grimaced.

"Ah… Morgana's left boob. I have about six of hers, you can have it. You should start your own collection!"

Harry looked out the window again. "Ron, is that space?!"

"What? Oh, yeah, Hogwarts is really secret so they send this train through all sorts of paths to throw off anyone who might be following us."

"Wicked," said Harry. As he watched, space cows in helmets serenely drifted by, their poop undulating and twirling with grace behind them in their own little space helmets.

Harry ate a couple more Frog Chocolate squares to grow his new collection before he pulled a clump of grey hair from is tongue.

"Dumbeldore's beard!" exclaimed Ron. "That's every piece of him you have now."

"Right," said Harry. At least the beard didn't wiggle in his mouth like the other toy limbs. It was extremely disconcerting.

Having been put together, the tiny magical figure of Albus Dumbledore walked around on the windowsill along with other famous witches and wizards he and Ron completed pieces of so far, including Willow the Wise, Enid the Earnest, and Aurora the Asshole.

The door opened again. Harry was ready to buy more junk food but was disappointed to see a blond boy standing at the doorway instead of the trolley witch.

"Is it true?" he said in a soft voice. "Up and down the train they're saying Harry Potter is here."

"Where? Oh."

The blond boy drew himself up regally and snootily. "My name is Draco Draconius Malfoy Melfinian Muffingtop MorningWood The III. But you can call me Draco." His voice drawled out like he had a really narrow nasal passageway, or a really rich father, or both. "These two are Crabbe and Goyle." He indicated with his head the two students behind him. One was a burly, hairy child that must have been held back in school at least three years. The other was just a very large crab stuffed into a Hogwarts uniform.

"Okay," said Harry, who hadn't asked. "Do you also have 47 siblings?"

"By my father's staff, who do you think I am? Of course I don't have any siblings to muddy up my inheritance."

"Your father has a staff problem, eh? Sounds like my uncle, he also gave up after one shitty kid."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Has your father tried any natural remedies? Beet root has natural nitric oxide and is great for peripheral vasodilation-"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"I am, that's why I'm suggesting solutions to your family's problems-"

"My father is perfectly fine!"

"Oh good on him for moving on from that! I applaud him."

Ron sniggered.

"You'll find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter," pushed Draco. "I can help you figure out the riffraff from the true wizarding wizards. I can-"

"Hold up," Harry frowned at him. "Is your pupil melting?"

"Huh?" Draco pulled out an expensive-looking makeup mirror from his robes to look at himself. "Ah, well, that happens sometimes." He smacked himself in the head a few times until his pupil reformed.

"Good lord," said Ron. "It's not so much a gene pool as it is a gene puddle."

"Quality over quantity, Weasley. I suppose your parents aren't siblings, then? How boorish."

As he said this, a tooth fell out. He hastily stuck it back in.

"You're built like a treehouse without nails, mate."

"You wouldn't understand, my blood is pure and untainted, unmarred by outside inferior substance."

"Yeah, so is pure cocaine," said Harry. "But I still don't touch that stuff without diluting it with meth or laundry detergent or something."

"Us Puries should stay that way."

He held out a hand.

"We can help each other, Potter. What do you say?"

"Honest to god I'm scared you'll shatter if I shake your hand."

Draco scowled and withdrew his hand. And not because the air hurt, but because he was mad.

"You'll rue the day you made enemies with me, Potter!" he snarled.

"Do you want a Frog Chocolate?"

Highly allergic to chocolate and frogs, Draco took great insult to that. He turned heel and slammed the door behind him.

"Wow, he really doesn't like you," said Ron.

"Have you seen the number of kids here? I doubt we'll ever run into that guy again."

It was nearly nighttime. All their snacks almost gone, Harry was getting bored.

"Can you do magic?" he asked Ron.

"Fred taught me how to give Scabbers double heads. I don't think it's a real spell though, because it's never worked."

"Maybe it'll work now that we're on a magical train?"

"Oh yeah, maybe."

"Please don't," said Scabbers.

"Omg it did it again."

A curt knock on their door again made them flinch.

This time, it was a girl. A young, chubby boy behind her looked over her shoulder nervously.

"Has anyone seen a lost ocelot? Neville just lost one."

"Who the hell names their kid 'Neville'?!"

"His parents didn't love him. Have you seen the ocelot or not?"

"I think we would have noticed an ocelot on a train."

The girl rolled her eyes. "They have camouflage, you know."

"What, it looks like cheap fake red leather seats with the springs coming out?"

Ron however, gripped his rat nervously.

"Oh, are you about to do magic? Let's see, then."

Nervous, Ron cleared his throat and waved his wand while chanting;

"Sunshine, daisies

Butter with bread

Give this fat rat a second head"

Scabbers squealed and grew a second tail.

"Are you sure that's a real spell? It isn't very good, is it?"

Harry stared at this bizarre piece of magic. He had only witnessed spells a handful of times, but the doubled tail was particularly impressive.

"What spell was that again?" he asked as he took out his wand and pointed it at the front of his pants. "I want to use it to multiply my p-"

"Good lord, on the train?" said the girl incredulously. "Where is your sense of decency?"

"What? I just wanted to multiply my pieces of gold."

"Oh, so you just wanted to have extra Balls."

"Yeah."

"I'm afraid that's illegal," said the girl. "I know because I've memorized all the wizarding laws. As soon as you try to duplicate golden Balls or any other wizard currency, they develop little mouths and scream for all eternity. They become completely unusable."

"So you give them sentience, and then imposter syndrome? What kind of a sick, cruel world is this?"

Distressed, muffled Peep sounds filled the air.

"Ron, I think you've had enough Peeps."

"I think you should mind your own business."

An unholy animal screech echoed down the train along with the screams of children.

"Trevor!" the timid-looking chubby boy ran off. "Don't let him bite you, he's on a diet!" they heard his yell trail down the corridor.

"That solves that," said Ron.

"So," Harry addressed the girl, "you're a witch then?"

He regretted opening his mouth to ask questions, as she soon proved to have the personality of a soaking, wet slice of white bread.

"Well I've always known there was something special about me, ever since I was a little girl and mastered cursive writing. I eventually grew able to turn wine into water and gold into homework, that sort of thing. I also once pulled a teabag out of an empty hat, though it appeared used. And then I turned glitter gel pens into normal black and blue ones, you know, more practical. When I got my Hogwarts letter, my family was ever so pleased. They bought me my own briefcase, they figured I could handle the responsibility."

"Cool," said Harry. "I found out I was a wizard after I set a giant snake to attack my cousin."

"Ew."

"Wait, no, that's not what I-"

Ron snorted.

"That's not what I – It was an exotic boa-"

"No one needs to know what you call it, mate."

The girl look repulsed. "Anyway… you two had better get dressed soon. We're arriving in 22 hours."

Harry noticed they were underground now, with flashes of artificial lights revealing heavily graffitied concrete walls. Every few seconds they passed by platforms of waiting Muggles.

"Looks like we're in Manhattan."

Scabbers looked out enviously at the rats enjoying pizza as they passed by.

"With anywhere in America, you should always lower yourself below window level, Harry," cautioned Ron as he bent down. "Stray bullets, you know."

"Ah of course."

It was a few minutes before they returned above ground, and when the views showed fields and forests again they heard yet another knock on their compartment door.

"We should really just turn the light off and pretend we're not here," said Harry.

"Contraband check."

"Oh no," said Ron, sinking into his seat. "It's my brother Percy."

The door slid open with a flourish. Percy was older, and he had red hair like Ron but in the shape of a long mullet. He wore aviator sunglasses, a military-style leather jacket over his school robes, combat boots, and a utility belt around his midriff that appeared to hold mace, handcuffs, a set of keys, a rubber duckie, and his wand. A golden badge sporting the letters "SHHM" shone on his chest.

"Is there any contraband in this compartment?" he said in a strict voice.

"Percy's the School Head Hall Monitor," said Ron.

Percy lowered his sunglasses at Ron. "You will speak when you are spoken to."

Ron rolled his eyes. "He does this all the time. We're not even at school yet."

Percy let himself in and lifted his wand up and down like a metal detector.

"Clear," he said to Ron before turning to scan Harry.

His wand glowed over Harry's pocket.

"What's in that pocket?"

Harry confusedly pulled out a nail clipper.

"This is not allowed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am obligated to confiscate it."

"Knock yourself out."

"Your property will be returned to you at the end of the schoolyear."

"I can hardly wait."

"Have a pleasant rest of your evening." He turned heel and left.

"Git," said Ron.

"Thank god he didn't find my fighting knife," said Harry. "But boy do I feel hangnails coming in."

"I'm sorry about that," said Ron. "He's a pain but he's generally harmless."

Still slightly annoyed, Harry reached for the snack pile and shoved a handful into his mouth, where he broke a few teeth on Just Rocks.

(You scrolled up to read the candy list again, didn't you?)

They arrived at the school grounds shortly after Percy's train-wide contraband check. He amassed a nice pile of nail clippers and half-empty water bottles.

It seemed that none of the first years wanted to be first to get off the train. Leaving behind their luggage and street clothes, Ron and Harry shuffled forward among the newbies trailing behind the more experienced older students, all in their freshly pressed Hogwarts student uniforms. It was already quite dark out, with a wall of forest trees and pitch-black lake ahead to the left of them, and a vast natural valley of hills to the right.

"Ron," said Harry looking down the valley some ways beyond more trees, "I can see King's Cross from here. We can't be more than three miles away."

"Two and a half, according to Fred and George."

"What… But….wh … why not take a cab or a bus? What the hell? We're still in bloody London!"

"I told you, Hogwarts' location is top secret to all Muggles and enemies. The train basically goes in a loop. Like one of those Muggle mall trains for kids."

"WE WERE ON THAT TRAIN FOR FOUR DAYS, RON. SOME OF THE STUDENTS ATE EACH OTHER."

"Well yeah, you bought out all the snacks."

"The ocelot didn't help," mumbled a boy nearby with a missing ear, magical ocelot eggs laid in his bellybutton.

"Firs' years!" boomed a familiar voice. "Firs' years over here!"

"Oh, hi Hagrid!" Harry rushed over to his favorite adult. "I didn't know you worked here!"

"Blimey, Harry, did you think I was just some random bloke in a van?"

"Kinda, yeah. This is my new friend, Ron."

"Hello."

"Ugh," Hagrid looked pained. "Another Weasley. I don't suppose your parents believe in contraceptives?"

"I don't suppose your parents believed in size differences?"

Hagrid smacked Ron and sent him flying into the lake. Harry inferred that Hagrid himself cared not for size differences.

"Lol," he said.

"The rest of yeh little sewer urchins get on these here boats, easy now."

Harry had never been on a boat in his life.

He entered slowly while Neville followed, holding a violently angry Trevor, snarling and spitting and trying to swipe at everything. Hermione followed nervously, looking down at the water as though it were made of acid.

"Er… Hagrid?" asked Harry nervously. "Is it true that water is dangerous for wizard-kind? Can it, you know, melt them?"

"Have you never taken a shower?" asked Hagrid irritably. "Yer fine. On'y witches melt in water, not wizards."

"Ah, great. Wait a second," he turned to Hermione. "Then how do witches shower?"

"We take dust baths. Like hamsters."

"…"

Hagrid stepped into his own boat, waving his magenta umbrella to have the smaller ones carrying the children forward.

Another three days of going off-course later, the first years finally crossed the lake. Several children had been lost to the Sirens.

Those who made it, however, finally gazed upon the school from the lakeshore.

The castle was massive; numerous towers and turrets with glowing windows loomed over them. Harry once only saw such castles on television documentaries about England's medieval history, before Dudley inevitably changed the channel to watch Teletubbies.

"A moment for the lil' ones we lost to the Sirens," said Hagrid, hand on his chest.

Harry was positively itching to crawl into the walls here, but it would have to wait.

Hagrid led them to a large wooden side door of the castle, where he knocked three times. The door creaked open on its own accord.

Ron, who had survived being flung into the lake because the Sirens didn't want him and threw him back, gulped loudly next to Harry.

"I suppose this is it, then? No turning back."

"Wait, was that an option this whole time?" whimpered Neville. He tried to turn back to the boats, but the kraken already devoured them.

"Quit yer whinin' and come on," grumbled Hagrid, leading them all forward to their educational dooms.

"I have a good feeling about this," said Harry.

Author's Note: I'm sorry for all the anatomy/medical jokes. There will be more. And just so you know, I do love Hermione (and pet rats!), I'm just writing this from an 11-year-old asshole-Harry's point of view.