A/N: It's me . . . again. I know! I know! It took five months so I will
not even try to explain myself and simply let you get to the chapter.
What if Sirius Black was given a second chance that fateful Halloween night? What if he never went after Pettigrew and stayed with Harry, but not quite what you're thinking. This 'Sirius stayed with Harry' fic has one huge twist, but you have to read to find out.
Thank you: Everyone who ever reviewed or read A Wizard's Best Friend and has put up with my screwy posting.
Disclaimer - This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Many lines are taken directly from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer/Philosopher's Stone, I stake no claim to them; they are Rowling's. I own the some of the plot and a few original things.
Chapter 3: Into the World
Harry awoke the next morning to find himself very warm and very, very comfortable. His face was buried in a mound of black fur causing the dog to awaken. The occurrences of last night came back to him, and he only wished to fall asleep again so the fantastic dream would not end. Padfoot yawned loudly, his fur bristling at the pressure on his side. His soft growling alerted his boy that his servitude as a pillow was fulfilled, and he couldn't breath. "Oh do be quiet Pads, Aunt Petunia will wake us up soon enough," Harry murmured, sliding his head off of Padfoot's back and onto . . . a coat? He sat up quickly, and a heavy mole skin coat fell off of him. He looked at Padfoot hopefully, "It wasn't a dream, was it?" The dog shook its head, pointing at the giant who was sleeping on the collapsed couch. "I'm a wizard," whispered Harry to himself. He had the sudden urge to jump up and whoop. And he would have if an owl had not swooped in at that moment and dropped a paper right on Hagrid's face. Harry watched curiously as Padfoot sniffed several coat pockets as the owl flew about his head before pawing one. Harry knelt down, unbuttoned the pocket and extracted a satin bag that chinked. He opened it, and several oddly shaped coins fell out. The owl screeched impatiently as Padfoot nosed five bronze coins. He deposited the coins into a bag the bird offered him before realizing that he was being watched. "Yes?" "Nothing," Hagrid chuckled, "ye dog's better with money then most wizards." "That's because he _is_ magical, isn't he Hagrid?" Harry said turning to Hagrid. "How'd ye guess?" Harry shrugged. "He's just too smart to be a normal mutt, right Padfoot?" Padfoot barked in agreement, shaking himself awake. Hagrid stood and stretched, before pulling on his coat. "Must be off Harry, lots to do today," he said opening the door. Harry followed Hagrid out. Padfoot ran out in front of them, leaping over the rocky ground and playing tag with the surf, happy just to be outside. Harry grinned, and ran off after him. The massive mutt leapt playfully on his owner, snapped at his heels. They played for several minutes before Hagrid reminded them that they must be going.
The trip to London was an interesting one. Hagrid received a lot of strange looks from passersby do to his size. As they walked through the crowded London streets Harry consulted his letter again. In addition to the supply list a small note caught his eye. "Er, Hagrid?" "Yes?" "It says here that students may also bring an owl or a cat or a toad," Harry looked up at the giant. "No dogs. Will Padfoot have to stay with the Dursleys?" Hagrid wrinkled his nose at the thought. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will let him in as long as he don't bite." Padfoot snorted. "He's never bitten anyone," Harry explained. "I guess he doesn't like the idea of people thinking he would." Hagrid nodded in agreement. They walked a few more paces before Hagrid stopped in front of a grubby looking pub with a faded, swinging sign. "The Leaky Cauldron," Hagrid announced. "Famous this place is." For a famous place the Leaky Cauldron was rather dark and shabby. Several women sat in a corner, while one man with a violet top smoked on a long pipe in another. A bald-headed, toothless man stood behind the bar and waved to Hagrid. "The usual Hagrid?" he asked. "Can't Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business," Hagrid said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder nearly causing the boy to topple. The bartender gasped. "Bless my soul it's Harry Potter!" This simple sentence caused a flurry of activity. A scarping of chairs and clinking of glasses against the tables as every person in the pub gathered around Harry, shaking his hand furiously. Harry even found himself being introduced to a very nervous, stuttering man wearing a purple turban that turned out to a Hogwarts professor. "Brilliant mind," Hagrid said as they left the pub, "but when he went out into the field, got into a good bit of trouble with a hag, never the same. Let me see three up, two across, right." Harry watched in awe as the brick wall parted revealing cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. "Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley." As they stepped out into the street Harry gasped at the many shops, people, and hustle and bustle around him. He swore he saw a woman selling frog's liver on a stick. "Er, Hagrid," he said suddenly, "I haven't got any money. How am I to pay for all this?" Hagrid shook his bushy head. "There's ye money Harry, Gringotts the wizard bank." He pointed at the snow white building that looked squashed between a general store and a pet shop. As they made their way up the steep steps Hagrid added, "Run by goblins o'course." A goblin was a short, crafty-looking creature, with long nibble fingers and oddly enough toes. One name Griphook led Harry and Hagrid down to the vaults. (Padfoot had to wait upstairs.) The trip down was not altogether a thoroughly unpleasant one. It was much like a roller coaster ride, even more so when Hagrid turned a light shade of green. When the cart screeched in front of Harry's vault, he was not sure what to expect. The last thing he expected in fact was exactly what he found. Buried deep under the London streets he, Harry Potter who for his entire life was made to wear hand-me down and taped up glasses, had a small fortune. Once he had gathered enough money, Harry rejoined Hagrid in the cart, and they plunged further into the subterranean caverns. "Vault seven-hundred and thirteen," announced Griphook as they jolted to a stop. The goblin hopped out of the cart and swept a finger down a recess in the vault's door. The thick steal melted away. Harry craned his neck to see what was inside. Precious jewels or deadly potions no doubt, but all he saw was a grubby little package that Hagrid stuffed into the depths of his coat.
Several hours later, they were laden with strangely shaped packages including a large snowy owl which turned out to be Harry's birthday present. (Harry had been thanking Hagrid for the last ten minutes.) Harry consulted his list one more time. "I just need a wand," he said finally. "Ollivanders'," grunted Hagrid, pointing to a decrepit looking shop with a single wand on a purple pillow serving as a focal point in its cobweb covered window. With what Harry could judge from the window, the inside of the shop was nearly the same. Dark and dreary with neat rows of long, thin boxes covering the wall and the air of a very strict library, Harry clung tightly to Padfoot's collar. The voice was so soft and sudden that Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the words, "I was wondering when I'd be seeing you hear, Mr. Potter." The speaker was a thin man with flyaway grey hair, small glasses that sat precariously on his nose in front of a pair of strange silvery eyes that sent chills up and down Harry's spine. This must have been Mr. Ollivander. As the wand maker approached, Padfoot whined softly. Sitting at his master's feet he stuck his tail firmly under him while Ollivander spoke of Harry's parents' wands and Hagrid's. He stretched out a long, thin finger and touched the tip of the dog's nose. Harry heard him mutter something about "Dogwood" before asking Harry which hand was his wand hand.
"My right," Harry said shakily as Ollivander's tape measure leapt at him. He watched as Ollivander pulled down box after box of wands while talking breathlessly about the quality of each one. With a quick snap of his finger's the wand maker summoned the tape measure back again, and handed Harry a wand. Several dozen wands later, Harry was starting to feel very stupid indeed while Ollivander just shoved another wand into his hand. "Tricky customer, eh?" said Ollivander. "No matter, we'll find the right one here somewhere-I wonder, now-yes, why not-unusual combination-holly and phoenix, eleven inches, nice and supple." The moment the wand touched his fingers, Harry felt a great warmth race through him. He raised the wand high above his head, bringing it down with a great whoosh! A jet of gold and red sparks issued from it. Hagrid whooped, Padfoot barked happily, jumping and prancing around Harry. Ollivander clapped quietly, mumbling, "Curious . . . very curious." He continued doing so while he wrapped the wand up and was given the seven gold galleons for it. "Sorry," Harry said as politely as he could, "but _what's_ curious?" "I remember every wand I've ever sold Mr. Potter," Ollivander said, fixing Harry with a pale stare. "And it just so happens that phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave one other feather. Just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar." "Thirteen and half inches, yew, I remember it like it was yesterday. The wand chooses the wizard Mr. Potter; I think we can expect great things from you. For He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named did great things . . . terrible, yes, but great." Ollivander continued muttering "curious" all the way up until bowing them out of the shop.
The sun hung low upon all of London as the sun's last rays gave way to twilight. Hagrid handed Harry a small packet. "Your train ticket, first of September, and the platform number. It's all there on your ticket." Harry took the packet, examining his ticket. "Thank you." Hagrid nodded "I'll be seein' ye at Hogwarts." Harry tried to keep Hagrid in sight for as long as possible while the train that would take him back to Little Whinging pulled out of the Underground. But with a blink the giant was gone.
The last month of the summer passed agonizingly slow for Harry. Although the Dursleys pretended that anywhere Harry was sitting or standing was invisible, it is never nice to be ignored. Padfoot and his owl (Hedwig) became the only two creatures that could stand the sight of him. Every night he would lie on his bed and read through his spell books. Occasionally, Padfoot would follow along, but with an expression somewhere between pride and sever boredom. "Is there something more exciting than vanquishing vampires?" Harry said sarcastically the night before he was due to leave for Hogwarts. Uncle Vernon agreed to drive them, he said that it was on their way, or he wouldn't bother. He had particularly wanted to know if that "mangy mutt" was going to "Pigsnout." Harry had answered in the affirmative causing his Uncle to brighten considerably. Padfoot only quirked his head to one side. Harry sighed. Sometimes he wondered who really was the master and who was the pet.
The next morning Harry awoke long before the sun rose. With a flourish, he tore down the scrap of paper that he had been using to keep track of the days until he left for Hogwarts. Triple checking his things, he gave locked Hedwig's cage and pick up a very worn lead from his desk. He watched as a pair of large brown eyes glared at him from atop the bed. "You know the rules," Harry grinned. "In public places you where a lead, just imagine me going of to Hogwarts and you spending ten months in some third-rate dog pound at King's Cross." Padfoot became rather meek after that. The ride to King's Cross was a sober one. No one talked, only stared out the window without really focusing on anything. Harry watched as cars of all shapes and sizes passed by. His empty stomach rumbled with excitement. This was the something he had been longing for all his life. He would finally be known as something besides Dudley's punching bag, or the kid with the baggy clothes. He would be Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. He had the sudden urge to crawl under the seat and hide.
King's Cross station was not remarkable by anyone's standards. It was nice, but still a train station. Uncle Vernon stayed long enough to remove all traces of Harry from his car and onto a trolley. He sped off like a madman, leaving Harry to his own devices. The bespectacled boy wheeled his trolley up and down the platform, looking for the one numbered 9 ¾. He checked the giant clock every so often. The train left at 11:00 meaning that he had ten minutes left to locate it, stow his things and find a compartment. This was a good time to panic. He tired asking a guard, but his only response was, "Think you're bein' funny, do ya? And what that dog doin' here?" After a quick escape, a sheen of seat started to form on Harry's forehead. He was going to miss his train and be stuck at King's Cross until June. He'd be a frozen statue by the end of November, and thaw around late April or early May. Not that Padfoot was being any help, he just kept scratching at the wall between the barriers. Just as Harry was figuring out which position he would be most likely to freeze in a large family of red- heads passed his way, and one had an owl. He slid up behind the smallest of the boys, and watched as one by one the elder boys rolled their trolleys up to the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, passing straight through it. "Whoa!" Harry whispered as a pair of twins ran straight through it, cackling. A plump red-headed woman who Harry gathered was their mother, gestured for the boy in front of Harry to go through. He started to wheel his trolley when a dog barked, and Harry spoke up. "E-Excuse me," he said, wheeling his trolley forward. "But I was wondering if you knew how . . ." "How to get onto the platform?" the woman finished for him, kindly. Harry nodded. "All you have to do is walk straight at the wall between platforms nine and ten. Best do it at a bit of a run, if you're nervous." Harry thanked her, and started to jog toward the platform, trying to keep the unpleasant image of crushed-Harry out of his mind. He watched as he spend towards the barrier, realizing how awfully solid it looked and how he could no longer turn away. The suddenly . . . he was on the other side of the barrier, staring at a scarlet steam engine. Above him hang a sign, proclaiming the place to be none other than Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
~~
"Excuse me? But do you mind?" Harry looked up; the youngest of the red-haired boys was standing in the corridor. "No at all," Harry replied as Padfoot jumped off the seat. "I'm Ron Weasley," the boy said sitting down. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter," Harry said, moving over to let Padfoot sit down next to him. He looked up to see Ron, slack-jawed. Ron caught himself and closed his mouth. "Well, yeah, I thought Fred and George were joking . . . er, do you really have the _scar_?" Harry grinned and pushed back his bangs. "Wow," Ron gasped before leaning back. "Do you remember . . .?" Harry shook his head. "Just a lot of green light, I guess Padfoot barked but-" "Padfoot?" "Yeah," Harry grinned, pointing to the dog. "This is my dog, Padfoot." Ron shook his head. "That's not a dog, Harry." "Sure it is." "Nope, it's beog." "A what?!" "Half bear, half dog. A beog." "Padfoot, the beog," Harry snickered. Padfoot, obviously did not enjoy being called a beog, and hid his head under the seat cushion, only causing the boys' laughter to escalate. But for a creature so good at communicating with humans, Padfoot could not tell Harry of what was to come in the following months, how his life was about to change the moment he placed the Sorting Hat on his head and truly made his return to the Wizarding World.
What if Sirius Black was given a second chance that fateful Halloween night? What if he never went after Pettigrew and stayed with Harry, but not quite what you're thinking. This 'Sirius stayed with Harry' fic has one huge twist, but you have to read to find out.
Thank you: Everyone who ever reviewed or read A Wizard's Best Friend and has put up with my screwy posting.
Disclaimer - This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Many lines are taken directly from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer/Philosopher's Stone, I stake no claim to them; they are Rowling's. I own the some of the plot and a few original things.
Chapter 3: Into the World
Harry awoke the next morning to find himself very warm and very, very comfortable. His face was buried in a mound of black fur causing the dog to awaken. The occurrences of last night came back to him, and he only wished to fall asleep again so the fantastic dream would not end. Padfoot yawned loudly, his fur bristling at the pressure on his side. His soft growling alerted his boy that his servitude as a pillow was fulfilled, and he couldn't breath. "Oh do be quiet Pads, Aunt Petunia will wake us up soon enough," Harry murmured, sliding his head off of Padfoot's back and onto . . . a coat? He sat up quickly, and a heavy mole skin coat fell off of him. He looked at Padfoot hopefully, "It wasn't a dream, was it?" The dog shook its head, pointing at the giant who was sleeping on the collapsed couch. "I'm a wizard," whispered Harry to himself. He had the sudden urge to jump up and whoop. And he would have if an owl had not swooped in at that moment and dropped a paper right on Hagrid's face. Harry watched curiously as Padfoot sniffed several coat pockets as the owl flew about his head before pawing one. Harry knelt down, unbuttoned the pocket and extracted a satin bag that chinked. He opened it, and several oddly shaped coins fell out. The owl screeched impatiently as Padfoot nosed five bronze coins. He deposited the coins into a bag the bird offered him before realizing that he was being watched. "Yes?" "Nothing," Hagrid chuckled, "ye dog's better with money then most wizards." "That's because he _is_ magical, isn't he Hagrid?" Harry said turning to Hagrid. "How'd ye guess?" Harry shrugged. "He's just too smart to be a normal mutt, right Padfoot?" Padfoot barked in agreement, shaking himself awake. Hagrid stood and stretched, before pulling on his coat. "Must be off Harry, lots to do today," he said opening the door. Harry followed Hagrid out. Padfoot ran out in front of them, leaping over the rocky ground and playing tag with the surf, happy just to be outside. Harry grinned, and ran off after him. The massive mutt leapt playfully on his owner, snapped at his heels. They played for several minutes before Hagrid reminded them that they must be going.
The trip to London was an interesting one. Hagrid received a lot of strange looks from passersby do to his size. As they walked through the crowded London streets Harry consulted his letter again. In addition to the supply list a small note caught his eye. "Er, Hagrid?" "Yes?" "It says here that students may also bring an owl or a cat or a toad," Harry looked up at the giant. "No dogs. Will Padfoot have to stay with the Dursleys?" Hagrid wrinkled his nose at the thought. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will let him in as long as he don't bite." Padfoot snorted. "He's never bitten anyone," Harry explained. "I guess he doesn't like the idea of people thinking he would." Hagrid nodded in agreement. They walked a few more paces before Hagrid stopped in front of a grubby looking pub with a faded, swinging sign. "The Leaky Cauldron," Hagrid announced. "Famous this place is." For a famous place the Leaky Cauldron was rather dark and shabby. Several women sat in a corner, while one man with a violet top smoked on a long pipe in another. A bald-headed, toothless man stood behind the bar and waved to Hagrid. "The usual Hagrid?" he asked. "Can't Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business," Hagrid said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder nearly causing the boy to topple. The bartender gasped. "Bless my soul it's Harry Potter!" This simple sentence caused a flurry of activity. A scarping of chairs and clinking of glasses against the tables as every person in the pub gathered around Harry, shaking his hand furiously. Harry even found himself being introduced to a very nervous, stuttering man wearing a purple turban that turned out to a Hogwarts professor. "Brilliant mind," Hagrid said as they left the pub, "but when he went out into the field, got into a good bit of trouble with a hag, never the same. Let me see three up, two across, right." Harry watched in awe as the brick wall parted revealing cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. "Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley." As they stepped out into the street Harry gasped at the many shops, people, and hustle and bustle around him. He swore he saw a woman selling frog's liver on a stick. "Er, Hagrid," he said suddenly, "I haven't got any money. How am I to pay for all this?" Hagrid shook his bushy head. "There's ye money Harry, Gringotts the wizard bank." He pointed at the snow white building that looked squashed between a general store and a pet shop. As they made their way up the steep steps Hagrid added, "Run by goblins o'course." A goblin was a short, crafty-looking creature, with long nibble fingers and oddly enough toes. One name Griphook led Harry and Hagrid down to the vaults. (Padfoot had to wait upstairs.) The trip down was not altogether a thoroughly unpleasant one. It was much like a roller coaster ride, even more so when Hagrid turned a light shade of green. When the cart screeched in front of Harry's vault, he was not sure what to expect. The last thing he expected in fact was exactly what he found. Buried deep under the London streets he, Harry Potter who for his entire life was made to wear hand-me down and taped up glasses, had a small fortune. Once he had gathered enough money, Harry rejoined Hagrid in the cart, and they plunged further into the subterranean caverns. "Vault seven-hundred and thirteen," announced Griphook as they jolted to a stop. The goblin hopped out of the cart and swept a finger down a recess in the vault's door. The thick steal melted away. Harry craned his neck to see what was inside. Precious jewels or deadly potions no doubt, but all he saw was a grubby little package that Hagrid stuffed into the depths of his coat.
Several hours later, they were laden with strangely shaped packages including a large snowy owl which turned out to be Harry's birthday present. (Harry had been thanking Hagrid for the last ten minutes.) Harry consulted his list one more time. "I just need a wand," he said finally. "Ollivanders'," grunted Hagrid, pointing to a decrepit looking shop with a single wand on a purple pillow serving as a focal point in its cobweb covered window. With what Harry could judge from the window, the inside of the shop was nearly the same. Dark and dreary with neat rows of long, thin boxes covering the wall and the air of a very strict library, Harry clung tightly to Padfoot's collar. The voice was so soft and sudden that Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the words, "I was wondering when I'd be seeing you hear, Mr. Potter." The speaker was a thin man with flyaway grey hair, small glasses that sat precariously on his nose in front of a pair of strange silvery eyes that sent chills up and down Harry's spine. This must have been Mr. Ollivander. As the wand maker approached, Padfoot whined softly. Sitting at his master's feet he stuck his tail firmly under him while Ollivander spoke of Harry's parents' wands and Hagrid's. He stretched out a long, thin finger and touched the tip of the dog's nose. Harry heard him mutter something about "Dogwood" before asking Harry which hand was his wand hand.
"My right," Harry said shakily as Ollivander's tape measure leapt at him. He watched as Ollivander pulled down box after box of wands while talking breathlessly about the quality of each one. With a quick snap of his finger's the wand maker summoned the tape measure back again, and handed Harry a wand. Several dozen wands later, Harry was starting to feel very stupid indeed while Ollivander just shoved another wand into his hand. "Tricky customer, eh?" said Ollivander. "No matter, we'll find the right one here somewhere-I wonder, now-yes, why not-unusual combination-holly and phoenix, eleven inches, nice and supple." The moment the wand touched his fingers, Harry felt a great warmth race through him. He raised the wand high above his head, bringing it down with a great whoosh! A jet of gold and red sparks issued from it. Hagrid whooped, Padfoot barked happily, jumping and prancing around Harry. Ollivander clapped quietly, mumbling, "Curious . . . very curious." He continued doing so while he wrapped the wand up and was given the seven gold galleons for it. "Sorry," Harry said as politely as he could, "but _what's_ curious?" "I remember every wand I've ever sold Mr. Potter," Ollivander said, fixing Harry with a pale stare. "And it just so happens that phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave one other feather. Just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar." "Thirteen and half inches, yew, I remember it like it was yesterday. The wand chooses the wizard Mr. Potter; I think we can expect great things from you. For He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named did great things . . . terrible, yes, but great." Ollivander continued muttering "curious" all the way up until bowing them out of the shop.
The sun hung low upon all of London as the sun's last rays gave way to twilight. Hagrid handed Harry a small packet. "Your train ticket, first of September, and the platform number. It's all there on your ticket." Harry took the packet, examining his ticket. "Thank you." Hagrid nodded "I'll be seein' ye at Hogwarts." Harry tried to keep Hagrid in sight for as long as possible while the train that would take him back to Little Whinging pulled out of the Underground. But with a blink the giant was gone.
The last month of the summer passed agonizingly slow for Harry. Although the Dursleys pretended that anywhere Harry was sitting or standing was invisible, it is never nice to be ignored. Padfoot and his owl (Hedwig) became the only two creatures that could stand the sight of him. Every night he would lie on his bed and read through his spell books. Occasionally, Padfoot would follow along, but with an expression somewhere between pride and sever boredom. "Is there something more exciting than vanquishing vampires?" Harry said sarcastically the night before he was due to leave for Hogwarts. Uncle Vernon agreed to drive them, he said that it was on their way, or he wouldn't bother. He had particularly wanted to know if that "mangy mutt" was going to "Pigsnout." Harry had answered in the affirmative causing his Uncle to brighten considerably. Padfoot only quirked his head to one side. Harry sighed. Sometimes he wondered who really was the master and who was the pet.
The next morning Harry awoke long before the sun rose. With a flourish, he tore down the scrap of paper that he had been using to keep track of the days until he left for Hogwarts. Triple checking his things, he gave locked Hedwig's cage and pick up a very worn lead from his desk. He watched as a pair of large brown eyes glared at him from atop the bed. "You know the rules," Harry grinned. "In public places you where a lead, just imagine me going of to Hogwarts and you spending ten months in some third-rate dog pound at King's Cross." Padfoot became rather meek after that. The ride to King's Cross was a sober one. No one talked, only stared out the window without really focusing on anything. Harry watched as cars of all shapes and sizes passed by. His empty stomach rumbled with excitement. This was the something he had been longing for all his life. He would finally be known as something besides Dudley's punching bag, or the kid with the baggy clothes. He would be Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. He had the sudden urge to crawl under the seat and hide.
King's Cross station was not remarkable by anyone's standards. It was nice, but still a train station. Uncle Vernon stayed long enough to remove all traces of Harry from his car and onto a trolley. He sped off like a madman, leaving Harry to his own devices. The bespectacled boy wheeled his trolley up and down the platform, looking for the one numbered 9 ¾. He checked the giant clock every so often. The train left at 11:00 meaning that he had ten minutes left to locate it, stow his things and find a compartment. This was a good time to panic. He tired asking a guard, but his only response was, "Think you're bein' funny, do ya? And what that dog doin' here?" After a quick escape, a sheen of seat started to form on Harry's forehead. He was going to miss his train and be stuck at King's Cross until June. He'd be a frozen statue by the end of November, and thaw around late April or early May. Not that Padfoot was being any help, he just kept scratching at the wall between the barriers. Just as Harry was figuring out which position he would be most likely to freeze in a large family of red- heads passed his way, and one had an owl. He slid up behind the smallest of the boys, and watched as one by one the elder boys rolled their trolleys up to the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, passing straight through it. "Whoa!" Harry whispered as a pair of twins ran straight through it, cackling. A plump red-headed woman who Harry gathered was their mother, gestured for the boy in front of Harry to go through. He started to wheel his trolley when a dog barked, and Harry spoke up. "E-Excuse me," he said, wheeling his trolley forward. "But I was wondering if you knew how . . ." "How to get onto the platform?" the woman finished for him, kindly. Harry nodded. "All you have to do is walk straight at the wall between platforms nine and ten. Best do it at a bit of a run, if you're nervous." Harry thanked her, and started to jog toward the platform, trying to keep the unpleasant image of crushed-Harry out of his mind. He watched as he spend towards the barrier, realizing how awfully solid it looked and how he could no longer turn away. The suddenly . . . he was on the other side of the barrier, staring at a scarlet steam engine. Above him hang a sign, proclaiming the place to be none other than Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
~~
"Excuse me? But do you mind?" Harry looked up; the youngest of the red-haired boys was standing in the corridor. "No at all," Harry replied as Padfoot jumped off the seat. "I'm Ron Weasley," the boy said sitting down. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter," Harry said, moving over to let Padfoot sit down next to him. He looked up to see Ron, slack-jawed. Ron caught himself and closed his mouth. "Well, yeah, I thought Fred and George were joking . . . er, do you really have the _scar_?" Harry grinned and pushed back his bangs. "Wow," Ron gasped before leaning back. "Do you remember . . .?" Harry shook his head. "Just a lot of green light, I guess Padfoot barked but-" "Padfoot?" "Yeah," Harry grinned, pointing to the dog. "This is my dog, Padfoot." Ron shook his head. "That's not a dog, Harry." "Sure it is." "Nope, it's beog." "A what?!" "Half bear, half dog. A beog." "Padfoot, the beog," Harry snickered. Padfoot, obviously did not enjoy being called a beog, and hid his head under the seat cushion, only causing the boys' laughter to escalate. But for a creature so good at communicating with humans, Padfoot could not tell Harry of what was to come in the following months, how his life was about to change the moment he placed the Sorting Hat on his head and truly made his return to the Wizarding World.