Joe's Note: According to a very well-written essay done by someone who made connections I wouldn't have without their help, the infamous Harry Potter & Me class list conforms remarkably well to the census data as per when Rowling say she created said list. From there, you can use those numbers to build outward and figure out how big the student must be - at a minimum - to… say, have not one but two Chinese students. That number is four hundred and seventy-two students. Even if I round down to four hundred students for a nice, even number… given that the British Rail Mark 1 Composite Corridor carriages we see in the movies can hold only forty-two students each, fifty-six in a somewhat cramped pinch? I thought we needed a bigger train. If you're curious what the Pear looks like, they used at least one Tourist Standard Open when filming Deathly Hallows 1 - the scene where the Death Eaters board the train - and the Restaurant Miniature Buffet carriage is based on that design.
Dedications & Thanks: To Nicholas, Alexander, Howard, Alonsis2, Connor, MJ, Daniel, Christopher, Fablesrogue, Morgan, Janne, Eric, DireSquirrel, Joseph, Jason, mpop, RileyWestfall, bloodylord, Luke, Zachary, Marc, Ziryo, Elliot, Crusifikz70, Timothy, Leigh, Chris, George, Koby, Ken, Dimitria, William, Invernos, Paul, Pat, Joel, Kentucky Fried Dragon, Warren, Mitch, and Jess for sponsoring me on P-treon, and making it easier for me to spend more of my time writing.

June 26, 1996
The Hogwarts Express
Somewhere Between Hogsmeade and London

"So… what exactly is 'the Pear'?"

Pausing with her hand on the gangway door, Tracey shot him an incredulous look. "You've seriously never… oh, right. You're friends with the Weasleys." Harry's eyes narrowed and the brunette shook her head rapidly. "No no, I'm not… sorry. That came out wrong. It's just that the Pear is a little bit more expensive than the trolley witch, they're hardly well off, and… you know what, let's just get in there and you can see for yourself." Tracey twisted the knob and pushed the door open, and then Harry's world exploded with noise.

While the other carriages Harry had visited had consisted of compartments linked by a side corridor, this one was open from one end to the other. An aisle ran down the middle of the Pear, separating matching pairs of seating bays that had a two seats each on either side of a center table. And dead in the center of the carriage was a buffet counter manned by a handful of house elves, including a very recognizable one. "Harry Potter sir!"

Harry groaned as the carriage abruptly went silent, all activity ceasing as people turned to stare at where he was standing next to Tracey. "Oh dear Lord." The brunette let out a quiet snicker as Harry raised his free hand and offered Dobby an awkward wave. "Hi, Dobby. Don't mind me, I'm just riding the train. Like I do every year." The house elf nodded rapidly and then went back to… attempting to serve the student at the counter, who was now staring at Harry. Just like every other person in the carriage. "As you were?"

'Offer to sign autographs.' Illyria's suggestion made Harry's eyes widen. 'As you realized on the night of my resurrection, it will be impossible to outrun your fame as long as you choose to remain a part of the wizarding world. Therefore, we must embrace it and bend it to our will.' Harry's hand twitched and he looked down just in time to see a muggle Sharpie with a Gryffindor red cap appear out of thin air, causing whispers to break out between the other occupants of the carriage. 'Now begin. And you may reassure Tracey that her tutor will live to see another day. I find Morag… amusing.'

An image slipped through as their connection severed, and Harry lowered his voice as he nodded in the direction of three suddenly familiar girls. "Two things. One, Illyria finds Morag 'amusing', so it looks like you'll still have your tutor come September. And two, evidently she wants me to work on my public image and sign a few autographs. So if you want, I can do that while you talk with your sisters and then maybe you can show me the rest of the train?"

Tracey looked from Harry to her sisters and back. "Think you can start with them? I don't think Tori would ever forgive me if I got between her and something signed by 'the' Harry Potter." When Harry raised an eyebrow at that, she snickered. "She's the vice president of the Hogwarts chapter of your fan club. Developed the hugest crush on you after the Second Task last year. Evidently being willing to stay at the bottom of a frigid lake to rescue someone else's captive makes you more of a Hufflepuff than Cedric in her eyes."

Well, it certainly wasn't a Ravenclaw wit at work." Harry shuddered at the memory; he'd cut things far too close that day and almost drowned when the gillyweed wore off during his ascent. While he'd do it again in a heartbeat, that didn't mean he wasn't aware of how stupid that made him. "And sure. Anything…" He grimaced. "…for a fan."

"She's a fourteen-year-old girl, Harry, not You-Know-Who. Get a grip." Rolling her eyes, Tracey hauled him over to where her sisters were sitting at the table next to the near end of the buffet counter and then pushed him down into the one available seat… right next to Astoria. Harry eyed the awed-looking girl with the same trepidation he'd given Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts. "Hey girls, look who I found!"

The high-pitched squeal that followed left Harry wondering how many charms protected the carriage's windows. "Meeerlin Merlin Merlin. I can't believe I'm actually getting to meet Harry Potter. Breathe, Tori, breathe." Astoria fanned herself as she took several deep breaths, before turning in her seat to face Harry and flashing him a wide smile. "Hi! I'm Astoria Greengrass! You can call me Tor… wait, no, that's too childish. Call me Astoria. I'm your second-biggest fan."

Horror and amusement warred within Harry, and - after a moment's deliberation - he opted to embrace the latter. After all, out of the people who would want his autograph, Astoria was probably the rule rather than the except. Might as well try and make the best of it, he reckoned. And so instead of running screaming for the gangway, he did his best to return her smile. "Oh? You're not my biggest fan?"

"Believe me, I've tried my hardest. Most of the girls agree that Ginny's your biggest fan, though." Astoria's smile abruptly disappeared in favor of an ugly scowl. "I mean, I've got a scrapbook full of newspaper articles and some of Creevey's photos, and one of your quidditch robes… but she actually has some of your hair. Lucky witch."

The urge to run away screaming grew stronger as Harry stared at Astoria in disbelief. "You… she… what?"

Throwing her hands up in the air, Astoria let out an exasperated huff. "I know! I can't believe it either. I tried to buy it off her but she wouldn't give it up for my entire year's allowance. But that's okay; I'll still have your robe long after the hair's turned to dust."

Harry swallowed nervously; the girl's obsession with him was quite rapidly approaching the realm of pants shittingly terrifying. Although it did make Ginny's earlier behavior a bit more understandable, if still not the slightest bit reasonable. If she was really that obsessed with him, though, she would obviously find news like that… distressing. "So, uh, exactly how did you end up with one of my robes?"

"Oh! Well, it started as a money-making idea. I figured that if people would buy books about you and dolls of you and stuff, then they'd probably pay a lot for something that actually belonged to you. But I didn't want to steal from you, because stealing would be wrong." Astoria gestured toward the buffet counter, where the elves were back at work serving what looked like full-fledged meals to eager students. "So I started visiting the kitchens and making friends with the elves. It turned out that this one elf named Persil did all the laundry for the quidditch pitch after the games, and so that gave me an idea." She dragged a satchel up onto the table and then shoved her arm into it up to mid-bicep; after rooting around in it for nearly a minute, her hand emerged clutching a familiar bundle of red and gold cloth. "It took a bit of convincing, but Persil finally agreed to give me this at the end of the year. After all, you get a new one each fall and so if I didn't take it, it'd just go to waste."

It wasn't hard to guess what had happened from there: Astoria had probably still been in the process of finding a buyer or negotiating the final sale price when the Second Task rolled around, sealing the poor robe's fate. Harry reached down and fingered the collar; it was still a bit creepy but considerably less so than he'd been expecting. And so… "Do you want me to sign it for you?" Astoria's jaw worked silently for a few seconds and then her eyes rolled back in her head as she fainted, tipping forward to land on the table with a wince-worthy thump. "…was it something I said?"

Evelyn Davis finally broke her silence as she reached across the table, poking her half-sister's forehead several times. "If there's a way she could have embarrassed herself more, I can't think of it." Giving up on Astoria, she slid her hand over to offer it to Harry. "Evie Davis. Can you sign a copy of the Prophet for me? And maybe sign my sister too?" Harry shot her an odd look at the second request, making Evelyn giggle softly. "I want to see how long she goes without washing her arm if you sign it."

"That… actually does sound kinda funny. But you have to promise to keep Tracey up to date so she can include it in her letters to me this summer." Harry waited for Evelyn to nod before uncapping his marker and sliding Astoria's sleeve up. He thought about it for a moment before going with a simple signature that covered most of the space between her wrist and elbow. By the time he was done with that - and fixing her sleeve so that it'd be a surprise - Evelyn had a copy of a familiar issue of the Sunday Prophet out on the table. Harry tapped the end of the Sharpie against his chin as he thought, staring at the moving photo of him approaching Illyria from behind and laying his hands on her shoulders. Then it hit him, and he wrote the words 'Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me' over the accompanying article in bright red ink before finishing with his name. Passing it back to Evelyn, he eyed the remaining sister. "What about you, Tabby?"

Looking up from her book, Tabitha Seckford shook her head and then brushed one of her braids back over her shoulder. Physically speaking, she was a rather interesting specimen in Harry's book. While Astoria bore a very definite resemblance to Daphne and Evelyn could have probably stood in for Tracey in his memories of the third year classes he shared with Slytherin, Tabitha was… different. Unlike her sisters, her hair was definitely red - almost the same shade as his mother's, Harry realized - rather than a brownish red, while the eyes peering up at him from behind a pair of glasses with Ravenclaw blue plastic frames were dark brown. "Pass. No offense, but I find the whole cult of celebrity surrounding the 'Boy-Who-Lived' to be a bit creepy. I mean, your parents are the real heroes if you think about it… especially your mother. But we don't have Lily Potter Day, or books about her, or dolls. What did you do when You-Know-Who showed up that night, blow spit bubbles at him? Mess your nappy?"

Harry blinked at the young redhead owlishly. Well that was certainly… different, he thought. "What about all the stuff I've done since then?"

"Would He be after you now if your mother hadn't taken him out back in 1981?" Tabitha used one finger to push her glasses back up onto the bridge her nose as he pondered that, and then grinned smugly when he offered a shrug in response. Technically it was probably a mixture of that and both of his parents defying Voldemort numerous times, which had in turn made him eligible for the prophecy that the dark lord was obsessed with. But… she really didn't need to know that. "That's what I thought. If you're really in the mood to sign something else, though, you can sign the darn robe. I really, really don't want to be stuck in a house with Tori all summer if she misses out on a chance like this."

'Illyria? As long as Ron and Ginny are both out anyway, can you try and deal with the hair situation?'

'Yes.' Illyria must have sensed his surprise at her quick agreement, because she elaborated. 'A large number of spells, potions, and enchantments can make use of it. I believe you experimented with one of them during your second year?'

Ah. Yes. And now he was going to have nightmares about Ginny force-feeding random boys vials of polyjuice potion before snogging them… or worse. Wanting to distract himself from that mental image, Harry glanced down at the marker in his hand. If what Illyria had told Hermione was correct… he focused on the tip, willing it to be gold… and then gave the faintest jump of surprise when it actually obeyed his whims. Grinning, he smoothed the back of his old quidditch robe out on the table and then wrote 'To my #1 fan. Next time you want something of mine, try asking. - Harry Potter'. Looking up at Tracey, he smirked and nodded at the robe. "I guess I'm okay with her having it… but that doesn't mean I have to make it easy for her to sell if she changes her mind."

Tracey looked vaguely impressed at his foresight. "Okay, so you might have made a slightly less terrible Slytherin than I thought." Harry smirked, and she cuffed his shoulder as she clarified her statement. "I'm not saying you would have been a good one, mind you. Just… less terrible. Now budge up. I want to spend some time with my sisters and those autographs won't sign themselves."

"Don't remind me." Shuddering, Harry slid out of the seat and let Tracey take his place next to Astoria, eying the rest of the car's occupants uncertainly. While the brunette's sisters had been amusing enough - okay, two of them had been amusing and one had been incredibly creepy - Harry doubted he'd be as lucky with the rest of his classmates. "How do you think I should do this?"

"Oy! Harry Potter's signing autographs! Who wants one?!" Tracey grinned up at Harry as a dozen hands went up, waving back and forth wildly. "That's how. Have fun."

Letting out a resigned sigh, Harry waved goodbye to the Davis-Greengrass-Seckford table before moving onward. He signed two photos - and he really needed to talk to Colin about royalties or something - along with another Sunday Prophet and a copy of Defensive Magical Theory for a group of girls that he vaguely recognized as Gryffindor first years, before crossing the aisle to sign a pair of Gryffindor quidditch pennants for a pair of younger boys. Their Ravenclaw companions evidently shared Tabitha's mindset and declined his offer of an autograph, not that he minded terribly.

As he reached the buffet counter, Harry decided to take a quick break before tackling the second half of the carriage - and possibly beyond, depending on Illyria's mood. Accepting a plate with a sandwich and some crisps on it from Dobby, he took a seat across from the storage cupboard. Which likely didn't actually store anything, he mused, what with the counter being staffed by elves that could pop back and forth between Hogwarts to get anything they might possibly need. Still, it meant that he could sit down and have a quick snack without having people sitting across the aisle from him, staring like he was some sort of zoo exhibit…

…unlike Susan Bones, who was sitting across the table from him with a faint smile on her face. "So, any limits on what you'll autograph for us, Harry?"

"Were you sitting there when I..?" Harry groaned at Susan's nod, stopping just shy of mashing his sandwich against his face as he tried to bury his face in his hands. "Thank God that Moody's not here, or I'd never hear the end of it. 'Constant vigilance' and all that rot." Figuring he might as well take a bite as long as it was so close to his face, Harry chewed and swallowed before gesturing back over his shoulder with his sandwich. "I've already signed an arm and a robe of mine from third year that someone got from one of the castle's elves. It'd take a lot to surprise me at this point."

Susan chuckled as she stole a crisp off his plate, nibbling on one end. "Is that a challenge, then?" Harry thought for a moment before shrugging and nodding, grabbing the glass of pumpkin juice that had appeared out of nowhere next to his plate and taking a swig of it. "My bra." Harry abruptly became the new picture next to 'spit-take' in the dictionary as his juice emerged in a fine orange mist that drenched Susan's sapphire blue peasant blouse. After glancing down at her chest, Susan raised an eyebrow as she met Harry's gaze again. "…I was going to suggest one of the bras I had in my trunk, but I guess I can just take my shirt off and let you sign this one if you really want?"

'I suggest agreeing. After all, getting a girl's clothing off is an integral part of the human mating process.'

Before Harry could respond to either Susan's offer or Illyria's commentary, he was rudely informed that their conversation had traveled clear to the ends of the carriage by way of Tracey tossing in her two knuts' worth. "I don't mind if you want to try and wife her too, Harry. She's pretty enough and we're not too closely related. And if she ends up as Susan Boscawen, she won't need to change her monogram."

"Glad I meet your approval, Davis."

"No problem, Bones."

The coach erupted in furious whispering at Tracey's words, and the dual thump of the gangway doors at each end of the carriage let Harry know that it wouldn't be long before the whole school was talking about it. After taking a few more bites of his sandwich, he set what remained down on his plate with a sigh. This was what he got for running his mouth, Harry reckoned: he'd challenged Susan and she'd risen to it. "Just out of curiosity, what possessed you to ask me that? I mean, if Molly Weasley's reaction last year was anything to go by, the wizarding world is still a bit… behind… when it comes to certain things." 'Painfully and almost ridiculously backward' would have perhaps been a more accurate assessment, but Harry was feeling charitable.

Susan snickered softly at that. "Some are. You have to remember, Harry, that we're not like the muggles. We live longer. So you end up with more old people with old-fashioned attitudes than you do on the other side of the Statute. But… I'm a half-blood like you, Harry. I know what electricity is, and a telly. I own a mobile, even if it sits on my dresser most of the year. And while Chelmsford isn't London, we still get some excitement. If you think signing a bra is naughty, you should see what some of my muggle friends have done at V Festival."

Leaning back in his seat, Harry considered her words. The wizarding world had relatively few real celebrities, especially now that Lockhart was out of the picture. He was one of them. While it would have been utterly inappropriate by anyone's reckoning to ask him to do something like that when he was younger, he was only a year from his majority these days. Perhaps he should have expected that people might want to treat him the same way as celebrities in the real… err, muggle world. "Right then. Well, as in favor of the prospect as Illyria seems to be as a potential part of 'the mating process', I think I'm going to have to pass. Got anything else that you'd rather I'd sign?"

After pouting for a few second and offering him some decent puppy dog eyes that nonetheless failed to sway him, Susan sighed and slumped back against her seat, crossing her arms over her damp chest and sulking petulantly. "Great, there goes my chance to stand out from the competition." When Harry still failed to look swayed by her performance, she sighed again. "I don't know, have you coordinated with Creevey so that you have prints to sign? I don't really have anything on me that would make good signing material. Unless you want to sign my favorite house scarf or something. Could make an interesting conversation piece come next winter. 'Hey, what's that on your scarf?' 'Oh, you know, Harry Potter's signature.' Or something."

"No on the prints. Yet." That wasn't a terrible idea, Harry had to concede. Signing pictures seemed to be a celebrity staple and, well, who took more pictures of him than Colin? Maybe if he actually talked to the boy more than just in passing, they could set up some sort of photo shoot, as vain as it made him feel. Get some good pictures of him with his broom and his quidditch uniform. Apart from maybe a closeup headshot that showcased his infamous scar, he couldn't think of anything more marketable. Especially after meeting Astoria. She seemed opportunistic in the extreme; if she said there was a market for stuff related to him playing quidditch, he was inclined to believe her.

Now that he thought about it, what Harry Potter merchandise was on the market already? Was any of it actually officially licensed? Could he get some wholesale to sign and give to people who wanted his autograph? It wasn't like he was hurting for money that losing a little on product for him to have on hand. The whole idea seemed vaguely surreal to him but as he was quickly discovering, getting older meant that it was getting increasingly socially acceptable to approach him regarding his fame... and he had to prepare for that.

He also had to prepare for the girls. He'd sort of mutually flirted with Tracey and Susan had definitely make a rather ham-fisted advance toward him. Illyria was actively encouraging it all. How many other women might try their luck if given the chance? That - if possible - was even harder for him to wrap his mind around than the fact that he seemed to be finally evolving into a proper celebrity. Eight days ago, he'd only had one girlfriend, been on one exceedingly disastrous date, and experienced one wet and sloppy kiss. Now he had girls flirting with him, and asking him to sign their underwear, and he was pretty sure someone had grabbed his arse when they were getting on the train.

Was Illyria's newfound presence responsible for this, her power added to his own serving as a lure that girls had a hard time resisting? Or was this what his life would have been like for the last year or two - maybe longer - if he'd just gotten himself out there and socialized with people beyond Ron and Hermione?

...what was the normal age for a girl offering to show a boy her breasts?

Harry was yanked from his thoughts by Susan sliding out of the booth and rising to her feet. "After what Tracey said, I have a feeling that you're going to be in for an... interesting... afternoon. Let me go change and then I'll try to squeeze my way back in with... you know what, I'll go with the scarf. For now. It's not like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me or anything. I can always get you to sign more stuff for me next year. Especially if you and Illyria are trying to 'wife' me."

Picking up his sandwich, Harry stared at it contemplatively as Susan disappeared down the aisle. "Is it bad that I'd rather deal with Voldemort than teenage girls sometimes? I mean, at least he's generally predictable." Just as predictably, the sandwich declined to answer him and he took a vicious bite out of it as a girl passingly familiar girl made her way down the aisle toward him. Hannah Abbot paused next to his table for a few seconds before sliding into the seat that Susan had vacated. Peering across the table at her, Harry raised an eyebrow curiously. "I don't suppose you're just here to steal my crisps, are you?"

"No, but they do look good." Hannah reached down and snatched one up, biting it in half. "Passed Susan on my way in, heard the news. So… can anyone get in on this autograph session of yours, or is it just for redheads?"

His other eyebrow slowly rose as Harry stared at Hannah. "…what does Susan's hair color have to do with anything?"

Hannah scoffed, waving her half a crisp in the direction Susan had gone. "Seriously? Everyone knows that Potter men prefer redheads. Have for something like six generations now. It's why there's an entire betting pool around when you and Ginny are going to hook up. They don't get much redder than that."

"…really? I've never really looked into my grandparents, on either side for that matter. That's a bit… Oedipus Hex for my tastes, though." Harry shuddered; while he didn't think that his mum was hideous or anything, he didn't think she was hot either. Not to mention that intentionally seeking out a girl that resembled his mother - regardless of his opinion of her looks - was just plain creepy. Then something occurred to him and he shot a glance back over his shoulder at where Tracey was still talking to her siblings. "…she's more brown than red, right?"

"I've always been told that mahogany is a 'reddish brown'. I think that means it's more red than brown. Sorry." Hannah shrugged. "Anyway… autograph. Can I get one too?"

Finishing what remained of his sandwich in a few large bites, Harry returned her shrug. "I'm guessing Susan didn't tell you that I've signed stuff for other people in the carriage already. So yeah, I think we can work something out. Did you have something that you wanted me to sign? Because as I had to tell Susan, I'm not quite at the point where I'm carrying my own merchandise on me yet. That'll possibly be a sixth year thing, assuming that Illyria and I aren't too busy kicking Voldemort's teeth in come this fall."

Hannah shuddered faintly at the mention of Voldemort's name, but Harry couldn't bring himself to hold it against her because... who didn't, really, other than Dumbledore? "Well if the rumors are true that you're looking for a girlfriend or girlfriends plural, I feel like abandoning them to run around the countryside with Illyria hunting You-Know-Who might get you dumped."

She may have had a point there. Had Illyria considered that when she demanded that he start reaching out to witches his age on the ride home? Harry waited a few seconds but despite his best attempt at a mental nudge, Illyria remained curiously silent. Whatever she was doing was evidently enthralling enough that the woman who 'lived seven lives at once' was completely occupied by it. Something to ask about later, he decided. "Considering how things went at the Ministry, I'm starting to think it might not take that long but we'll see. Or if things aren't resolved by September 1st, she might be willing to return to Hogwarts with me and then come and go as her needs require."

"I'd remind you that there's no apparating in or out of Hogwarts, but I'm not willing to bet against an Old One being able to do whatever the fuck they please when it comes to our magic." Hannah stared off into space for a few seconds before shaking her head and returning her attention to him. "So okay. If I go get something for you to sign, you'll sign it for me? Deal. Let me just... go get a thing."

As seat across from him vacated a second time in as many minutes, Harry took one last pull from his pumpkin juice before sliding out of his seat and carrying his plate and goblet back over to the counter where he'd gotten it. No need to make more work for the elves, he reckoned, or clutter up a table that somebody else might want to use. For all her many and varied faults, Aunt Petunia hadn't raised a slob. That and he had an ulterior motive for approaching the counter: he wanted to talk to one of the elves. Harry took one last pull from his pumpkin juice before sliding out of his seat and carrying his plate and goblet over to the counter. No need to make more work for the elves, he reckoned, especially when he wanted to speak to one of them anyway. "Dobby?" The house elf abruptly abandoned the student he'd been talking to and hurried over to where Harry was. After shooting an apologetic look over at Terry Boot, Harry leaned down. "Can you deliver some sticky toffee pudding to Illyria? After and only after you're done with Terry, that is?" Dobby nodded rapidly and Harry offered the house elf a smile before turning away.

Then he paused. Tracey was still occupied. Susan was going to get something and coming back. Hannah was doing likewise. He'd abandoned his table and someone else had already claimed it with their friends. He now had nowhere in particular to be and had no idea where to go. Another nudge to his benefactor resulted in the same silence, and so he sighed before looking back over at where Tracey was sitting with her siblings. Spending a bit more time with Astoria while he waited for Susan and Hannah to return couldn't be that bad, right?

Right?