Harry entered the train station. It looked similar, but different at the same time. The style of the clothes that the students were wearing was very different. After listening to some conversations, he found the terms they were using were different as well. Overall, the feel was different. Harry was feeling like he was stuck in a rerun of Happy Days.
He was wearing muggle clothes from that era and his trunk was filled with the robes and books from that time, too. Dumbledore had put a charm on them so they wouldn't be so old or musty-smelling.
Harry remembered Dumbledore's plan: now he was to go on the train and play it out from there. Trying to find Riddle then would probably make him suspicious, and finding a way to stop him from killing Myrtle would be hard enough without him suspecting something.
If anyone was curious, Harry was to say he'd spent the past five years at Drumstrang, and his parents had moved, taking him with them for "political reasons" and he should get no farther.
Harry went and sat alone on the train. He decided to try remembering the most he could of the time he'd encountered Riddle's memory. Tom Riddle was cunning, shrewd, smart, but filled with bitter hate.
"Can I sit here?" asked a large boy with very messy, tangled hair. He was a thirteen-year-old Hagrid.
"Er… sure," Harry replied, a bit surprised at seeing his favorite teacher as a young teen.
"I'm sorry, but nobody wants me to sit with them on account of my new pet," he explained, motioning to a young, female boarhound on a heavy leash.
"Nice dog," Harry said, assuming that she would later be Fang's mother.
He nodded, "Her name's Beast… and I'm Rubeus Hagrid! Who are you? I haven't seen you around here before…"
"I'm Harry Potter-" Harry forgot he was supposed to change his last name, "Harry Potterton. And I was previously in Drumstrang, but I'm going to school here now, because my parents moved."
"Why'd they move?" Hagrid asked.
"Political reasons."
"Oh," Hagrid simply said.
There was a long awkward silence, "What on earth is that on your forehead?" Hagrid asked, finally breaking the quiet moment.
"Just a scar," Harry replied, fixing his hair to cover it up.
"How'd you get it? I mean it's huge!" Hagrid yelled loudly, making Harry feel more awkward.
"In an accident when I was a baby," Harry finally replied. "I could have died and everybody makes such a big deal about it, but the funny thing is I don't even remember it."
"Oh," Hagrid said again, not knowing what to say.
"I'm going into fifth year now, and you?" Harry asked even though he already knew the answer. He just wanted to break the silence; it was really beginning to bother him.
"Third," Hagrid replied. Beast barked loudly.
"Ouff!" somebody yelled from outside the compartment. Harry opened the door to see a skinny fellow with thick, yellowish glasses and blood-colored hair, covered in a massive pile of books.
"Er… hello," he groaned from under the books, "I knew I should've brought only a twentieth of my library instead if a fifteenth. Or do you think I should have brought a tenth of all my books instead?"
"Need a hand?" Harry asked, pulling the book-loving jokester up. He had a feeling that Hermione would get along well with him.
"You're the new Gryffindor Prefect!" exclaimed Hagrid, "I knew you would be, Connor!"
"Glad you support Dippet's decision!" the boy – Conner - laughed, "Who are you?" he asked Hagrid, "You look familiar."
"I'm Rubeus Hagrid, and this is Harry Potterton! He's new from Durmstrang," he replied joyfully.
"Hello there, Harry, I'm Connor Potter!" He laughed shaking his hand. Harry was a tad weirded-out by to the fact that he was shaking hands with his grandfather, who was merely a teen.
