A/N: I haven't updated in a while – applications to universities have gone through, college essays to write and a nerve-racking interview at Cambridge are now out of the way. In addition, the beta-process takes, quite literally, forever.
However, many thanks do go to my beta, Hydrangea who has laboured long over this piece of the story. She's been wonderful, even when I'm completely impossible. That said, on with the story.
The train rattled over the tracks, the early wind of a cold September whistling around the carriages. The landscape rushed past Greyish drizzle began to patter against the glass of the windows, leaving long, sluggish tracks as the moisture slid across. The carriage was warm and well lit in contrast; the thick red velvet of the seats was soft under his fingers, and the lights were bright and friendly, swinging above him from the ceiling with every shake of the train.
Harry sat back against his seat and listened to the conversation almost drowsily. Since his arrival in the carriage, the chat had faded to serious talk, of pureblood families and bloodlines. Pansy and Daphne had curled up at the other end of the compartment, speaking in low voices and were occasionally giggling as they caught snatches of the main conversation, looking contemptuous of a certain name, or bloodline. Millicent sat opposite Crabbe, playing cards absently as the talk progressed. Draco sat in the centre of the carriage, surrounded by his – as Harry perceived them now – acolytes.
The blond boy's face luminated with self-satisfied pleasure and interest in the conversation. He sat back in his seat, well aware that the focus of the other children was upon him. Was it, Harry wondered, having someone always pay attention to you that left you with such confidence? Immediately, he felt ashamed, Father never meant to leave him alone. There were always the house-elves and besides, Father surpassed anything anyone else could have.At the snort of laughter from Theodore Nott, he tuned back into the conversation, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the seat.
"And of course, the Weasleys," Draco was saying, his voice amused but filled with scorn. "I had to rescue Riddle from them," He looked to Harry for emphasis. "Wise to avoid them, Riddle, didn't you know?"
"Why?" Harry asked, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown. He didn't understand. He knew that the wizarding families were far superior to those born to muggles. How else could it be, when those muggleborn didn't have a clue how to act or behave in the wizarding world? But… The Weasleys were wizards, weren't they?
Draco laughed. It wasn't a friendly laugh, cold, and abrupt. "Blood traitors, the lot of them. The father, he works in the Ministry. Some crummy little department. Doesn't earn much, a scrubby little paycheck for boring work. He's obsessed with muggles, spends his whole time trying to enchant muggle objects, when he works in a department to prevent muggle objects being enchanted!" He laughed again, and smiled at Harry. "You want to avoid them, Riddle," he said, quietly,"Your father certainly wouldn't approve of the Minister for Magic's son associating with Weasleys." There was something in the way Draco said it that jarred with the words. A sort of gloating, as if he knew something Harry didn't.
But it was true. If the Weasleys were muggle-loverswhy, they were worse than Mudbloods. He thought of Ron, and the friendly way thatRon had spoken to him. Yet…his father didn't want him to know the Weasleys. Resolutely, he dismissed the faint pang at the loss of a possible friend and nodded, looking gratefully at Draco.
"Don't you worry, Riddle," Draco told him confidently, "I can show you around. Make sure you know the right sort." Harry nodded again, and went back to gazing out of the window, watching trees swish past, a great green blur, letting the conversation dim to a soft hum in the back of his conscious.
The door rattled back, and a girl stepped into their carriage. She was dressed in her school uniform, and looked about her inquiringly. Harry glanced up, as did the others.
"Has anyone seen a toad?" she asked politely. "Neville's lost one. We thought it might have come this way."
Crabbe and Goyle nudged one another and snickered with laughter. Draco smirked, and cleared his throat.
"Does it look like we have a toad?" he drawled, taking in the girl's thick, bushy hair and rather large front teeth. He pulled out his wand idlybut there was a hint of menace in the way he held himself, the slight gleam in his eyes. Harry sat up, shifting uncomfortablyin his seat.
"Are you going to do magic?" the girl asked interestedly,"Let's see it, then." Draco smirked.
"All right. How about I hex you a new face?" he replied, his voicein a parody of moderate reasonableness, as if what he'd said was perfectly acceptable. "Mudbloods," he sighed, casting a look around the rest of the carriage. The girl looked bewildered, and a little bit angry.
"Fine," she snapped, "I was only trying to be polite. And to find Neville's toad," she added, turning around and walking out.
When the train drew up to the platform, darkness had fallen. Harry, feeling very self-conscious in his stiff and new school robes, stepped off the train along with Draco, followed closely by Crabbe, and Goyle. They followed the general sway of students, trailing out onto the paved platform, and along a short path. A huge, burly figure stood, clutching a large, swinging lantern and bellowing in a low, rumbling gruff voice, 'Firs' years! Firs' years, over 'ere." Obediently, Harry, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle followed the other scared-looking and curious first years to where the man stood.
They watched a series of carriages clatter past along the cobbled path and along a road. Harry shivered. The carriages weren't driven by anything; no horse stood between the shafts. Complacently, Draco watched them go by as a group of giggling Third Year girls clambered into the next carriage, and pulled away.
"Follow me," the man ordered, hustling the group of first years away from the gathering of the other years, and down along another long path. He held the light up high. It was enormous; three times the size of a normal lantern, casting a wide, yellowish glow across the grass and path.
"Who is he?" Harry whispered, to Draco. The blond almost stumbled over a root in the ground, and shoved Goyle, furiously. "Idiot," Draco hissed at the larger boy,"Get out of my way." He gathered himself up again, glanced at Harry, and began speaking. "That's Hagrid. I've heard he's a kind of… savage. Gets drunk, forgets he can't do magic and sets fire to his bed."
"He sounds awful." Harry stared at the bobbing lantern up ahead, aghast. What kind of a place was Hogwarts?
"He's harmless," Draco said dismissively, "Just another big oaf."
The file of First Years stopped sharply as a huge lake opened up ahead. A soft breath of appreciation rose from them all, gazing across the deep, black water that was seemingly unending.
The man cleared his throat. "Welcome to Hogwarts. I'm RubeusHagrid, Keeper of Keys 'ere at Hogwarts. 'School is across that there lake. There're boats, three to a boat each, no shoving, mind." Harry paused, almost breathless, looking out at where the gleaming black water, dark with depth met the midnight blue of the sky, hewed with purple and charcoal greys.
"Come along, Riddle,"Draco touched his arm, leading him forward. They stopped nearby the large man. Harry looked up tentatively. He was huge, a mass of longish tangled black hair and beard. His long coat of what looked like moleskin bulged mysteriously at the pockets. Hagrid bent his head. A smile cracked through the thick beard, and bright black eyes gleamed at Harry.He grinned at Harry In a friendly way and nodded.
"'arry Potter," he said warmly. "Good ter see y'ere. I remember yer father an' 'is mates as Firs' years." His voice cracked with pleasure. Harry looked at him curiously.
"I'm not Harry Potter," he said, confused."My name's Harry Riddle. Potter is my middle name."
"Come on, Riddle," Draco said impatiently, pulling him away with a look of disgust. Hagrid straightened up abruptly. "Oh," he said quietly. "Malfoy, isn't it? I remember yer dad an'all."
"Yes," Draco snapped, tugging Harry toward the boats. Harry glanced back at Hagrid. There was an almost...wistfullook on the big man's face, but before Harry could look again, Hagrid had turned and was dealing with the next lot of First Years.
The boats juddered over the waves, very small against the great expanse of unending black lake. Hagrid led the way, hunched up in a boat of his own with his lantern held high. The circle of dim light bounced off the ripples. Harry sat still watching the banks of the lake fall away. He saw only the light ahead and the faint glint from Draco's hair and face, the pale boy beside him.
As the boats crested the lake a huge castle rose into view. A gasp rippled through the children in the boats; a mass of turrets and towers, its windows glowing with warm light, it looked magnificent.
"An' that," Hagrid said from his boat up ahead, with immense satisfaction, "Is Hogwarts."
The big man grabbed the large metal knocker in the centre of the oak door and banged it smartly as the first years huddled around behind him, waiting anxiously.
A/N: And next chapter, the Sorting, McGonagall, Snape and the first week of Hogwarts. I already know which House Harry's in, but take a wild guess.
Review, please.