And Harry was right, because things definitely weren't the same when he got
back. The Dursleys ignored Harry completely, which Harry took as a definite
improvement to the constant punishment he had once received. Dudley's
reaction was perhaps the best. Whenever he saw Harry, he would run out of
the room. He had stopped picking on him, and looked scared all the time.
Harry was pleased, overall. He spent most of his time reading through his
textbooks in amazement at what it was telling him he might very well be
learning to do in just a short time. He hadn't tried any of the spells
himself, yet, because he remembered what Hagrid had said about how he,
Hagrid, wasn't strictly allowed to do magic. He figured this probably
applied to him, too, and, plus, he wasn't even sure how to begin. The
instructions in his book were all fine and well, but he wanted to see how
some of the things were done, first, so as to not do something wrong, and
create some sort of explosion, or something. The book stressed the fact
that if he wasn't careful, this very well may be the result. He didn't want
to risk it.
What Harry thought about the most to tide him over for the rest of the summer, was what Hagrid had said about the school houses, and such. He was curious about which he would be put in. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Gryffindor, he had said. Well, despite what Hagrid had said about Hufflepuff not be all bad, Harry was pretty sure he didn't want to be in it, if that's what people really thought about it. And Slytherin sounded kind of scary, too. Hagrid had said that all the dark wizards had come from Slytherin. But then again, he had said they weren't all bad, too. Harry was sure each house had its ups and downs, and Harry had a hard time believing, nonetheless, that all dark wizards had come from there. He thought about the other two, too, but he didn't know anything about them. His History of Magic book had said a little, but it mostly talked about goblin rebellions and such. From what he had gathered, though, four wizards had founded the school, centuries ago, and each had a house named after them based on what they looked for in their students. That's as detailed as it got. Harry didn't know where he would to be. As a matter of fact, out of the magical world, again, he was doubting himself and his abilities, all the more. The only thing he had keeping him from believing it was all a dream, was his wand. When he held it, he knew that there was magic there.
The other thing that Harry considered the most was what Hagrid had told him about his parents. And a wizard named Voldemort, who had killed them.
Harry often recalled the flash of green light he would see when trying to remember them, but it was no help. Even if he strained his memory, he saw the same thing he always had. Although, sometimes, he thought he could hear a sort of high-pitched cackle in the background.
Harry didn't know how to take it about how he had survived a curse from the darkest wizard ever, who name seemed to scare people even these ten years later. But every part of him knew that this had nothing to do with his own power. Something else had happened, killing Voldemort with his own curse. Well, almost killing, according to Hagrid....
With all these thoughts, Harry found himself occupied for most of them summer. Thus far, he had been avoiding one inevitable thing. But today, he couldn't avoid it anymore. He walked into the living room. "Uncle Vernon," he began.
Uncle Vernon turned around slowly as though contemplating whether or not he wanted to at last acknowledge that the boy was there. Neither had spoken to each other since Harry had come back. "What is it?" he asked sharply.
"Um, well, uh, you see, to get to, um, my school, I have to get to London and be at the train station. Umm, here," Harry handed him his ticket. Uncle Vernon looked at the ticket. "What's this rubbish? Platform 9 3/4? There is no such platform."
"But there must be. It says so, right there!" said Harry, now slightly panicky. Uncle Vernon smiled. "Fine, then, boy. We'll take you there, and you can find your platform. But only because we have to go to London, anyway. Have to get that ruddy tail removed," he said, flushing purple now, at the thought of his son's pig tail.
Harry took his ticket back, and ran out of the room, hardly able to hold it in. When he was out of earshot, he began to laugh quietly. Dudley's tail, he had almost forgotten! One week later, Harry had packed his things, and loaded the car, read to set off for London. Nobody talked to him the whole car ride, and Dudley had squashed himself as flat against the car door away from Harry as he could possibly get.
When they arrived at King's Cross train station, they left him there, and drove away laughing about his ticket again, no doubt.
Harry walked through the station, pushing his trolley ahead of him. But when he reached platform 9, and platform ten, the only thing between the was a stone barrier. Harry didn't know what to do. He checked his ticket again. It definitely said King's Cross, Platform nine and three quarters. He didn't dare show it to anybody else, while there was obviously no platform there. He thought about what the Dursley's would say if he called them up and said he couldn't find his platform. He couldn't do that. They definitely wouldn't come and get him. He looked at the clock nearby. It was ten 'til eleven, when his train was supposed to depart. He was just beginning to get frantic, when something caught his eye, and not unsurprisingly. A large family, all of them with red hair, was standing in front of the barrier, talking excitedly. They looked promising, for some reason. Harry edged a little closer to them, and heard the older woman, most likely the mother, say, "Of course, place packed with Muggles, as usual. Thank goodness your dad isn't here."
With a sigh of relief, his heart pumping happily in his chest, he walked up to the woman. "Um, excuse me?" he asked, hopefully.
She turned around and smiled at him. "Yes, my dear?"
"I was just wondering...."
"How to get on the platform?" she said abruptly. Harry nodded. "Ah, yes, it's my Ronnie's first year at Hogwarts too," she said, gesturing to the shortest of the boys. "Yes, all you have to do, dear, is walk straight at the barrier, here, and to know that you won't hit it! Quite simple really. Here, watch Fred here, dear."
She took one of them by the shoulders, presumably Fred, and nudged him slightly forward. "Alright, alright, keep your hair on," he said. "And besides, I'm George! Not Fred!"
"Oh, sorry dear," she said quickly. Harry could see why she made the mistake. The boy was a twin, who was identical to his brother in every way.
Harry watched as he walked forward, and turned back to his mother. "No, just kidding, I am Fred." And suddenly, he broke off in a short sprint and ran at the barrier. But instead of crashing, he disappeared through it. Harry gasped, and looked around, to see if anybody else had seen. But nobody else really reacted, or appeared to have noticed at all.
"Okay dear?" said the woman, again. "See how it's done? Now here, go with Ron now. Best to do it at a bit of a run the first time."
Harry stepped forward, a little awkwardly, with the boy named Ron next to him. And he started to run. He closed his eyes, knowing that the brick barrier wasn't far, and hoping against all hope that he wouldn't crash. He opened his eyes at the last minute and saw the wall just inches from his nose, and the next thing he knew, King's Cross had dissolved around him, into a bustling platform. He looked around, and saw a sign hanging above him which read, 'Platform 9 3/4'. All around him, the witches and wizards bustled along in a hurry, getting on and off a scarlet steam engine, loading their bags. Harry watched people kissing their kids goodbye, and suddenly disappearing with a crack. He turned around, and saw the rest of the redheaded family burst through the barrier.
He smiled at them, and ran up and thanked the woman. "Oh no, dear, my pleasure!" she said earnestly, and turned back to her own and back helping them with their bags.
"Hey!" said somebody sharply behind Harry. He turned around and faced one of the twins. "Fred Weasley's the name! And this here's my brother George. And well, we was just wondering...." his eyes flickered at Harry's forehead and rested on his scar briefly, "Well, are you...."
"....Harry Potter?" finished his twin.
"Oh!" said Harry, understanding, "oh, um, well, yeah that's me." He flushed slightly.
"Blimey!" said Fred and George together.
"Fred! George!" called their mother back to him, and they both jumped and ran back towards her.
Harry was thankful for the interruption. He could hear them back there, and heard his own name mentioned among the babble. He quickly took his bag onto the train, before anybody else might stop him. He chose one of the few empty compartments left on the train, and struggled pushing his stuff overhead. He left the door open slightly so that others would know which compartment wasn't full, and sat down, giddy with excitement.
At last, the compartment door opened, and the redheaded Weasley named Ron walked in. "Is this compartment full?" he asked.
"No, come on in!" said Harry, happy to have someone in there with him. He had all sorts of questions to ask.
Ron stared at him for a while, until it seemed he finally realized what he was doing, and looked away, his ears red. "Er, um, are you really?"
"Really what?" asked Harry blankly.
"Well, you know, Harry Potter?"
"Harry sighed. "Oh, yeah. I'm him."
Ron blushed again. "Oh, well, I was just wondering, because, well, Fred and George said you were, but you can't really trust them you see....." he looked at Harry again, and asked, "Can you remember?"
Harry understood this question. "Oh, no. Not really anyway. Just a bit of green light, but I can't really make anything out of that."
"Oh," said Ron, sounding slightly amazed, and yet disappointed. "And do you really have," his voice dropped to a whisper, "the scar?"
Harry nodded, and held back his bangs, showing on the thin, lightning bolt- shaped scar cut across his forehead. "Wicked!" said Ron.
"Yeah," said Harry smiling. "So, is all your family wizards?"
"Oh, yeah," said Ron dismissively. "All of us are. Yep. And every last one of us has been in Gryffindor. I hope I am, too. My parents would be really upset if I wasn't. Sort of a tradition, you know?" Harry smiled blankly, suddenly warmed up to the idea of Gryffindor house. "Yeah. You saw my brothers. Fred and George. The oldest one was Percy," he sneered, "the Prefect," he added in a tone of the utmost disgust. He sighed. "Oh well. Percy might be a disgrace, but as straight-laced as he is and all, I think Fred and George might be twice as misbehaved, each," he smiled again. "Real practical jokers, let that be a warning to you. Don't ever accept anything from them, but don't get on their bad side, either. Not that you have to, to be a target," he added. He suddenly looked unhappy, again. "They're both on the house Quidditch team, too. Beaters, you know."
Harry looked at him, confused. There was a brief pause, and then he asked at last, "What is Quidditch?"
Ron looked at him funny, as though Harry were pretending to be stupid on purpose, and then gasped and shook his head. "Blimey, mate! What's Quidditch? I thought everybody knew! Not that you would really have anyway of knowing," he added on reflection. "Anyway, Quidditch is..." and he dove into a long explanation of a sport, played on broom sticks, with balls that flew around and tried to hit you, how there were people trying to score against you with a larger red one, and then a tiny gold one that flew around quickly and another person tried to catch. Harry listened, open- mouthed, hanging on every word. The explanation was quickly followed by accounts of his favorite teams, and some historic matches, aNd lasted for a while.
At last, though, he was interrupted by a witch, pushing a trolley down the aisle outside, filled with sweets. Harry realized then how hungry he was, and bought a bit of everything, eager to try all the candy, which was unlike any he had ever seen. He looked to Ron, imploringly, who went red, again, and said he'd brought his own, holding out some sandwiches. Harry sat down back in the compartment, as the train moved on, and began unwrapping some of them. "Here!" he said to Ron, pushing some of the sweets towards him. "Have some," said Harry, "I can't eat them all!" Ron thanked Harry earnestly, before helping himself to a Pumpkin pasty.
They had fun eating the sweets, daringly eating the Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Beans (which had a tendency to be EVERY flavor), and then looking through Harry's wizard cards from his Chocolate Frogs. The cards amazed Harry, because, as he watched them, the people in the pictures would move about, and wave up at him every now and then. According to Ron this was quite normal in the wizarding world, and he was shocked to hear that they didn't in the Muggle world, too.
Their fun, however, was interrupted again when a round faced, worried looking boy came to the compartment, opening the door shyly. "Umm, well, I was just wondering if you've seen my toad?" asked the boy. Harry and Ron both hook their heads. "Oh!" said the boy in despair, "I can't believe I've lost him again! My gran'll be so mad!" And he walked away.
After that interruption, it didn't seem as though they had a moment of peace. Not long after, their compartment was invaded again, this time by a rather frizzy haired, long-toothed witch. "Have you seen Neville's toad?" she asked.
"He's already come by, no we haven't!" said Ron, slightly irritable at the interruption. But the witch wasn't paying any attention to him.
"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" she said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah," said Harry, realizing that he was going to be hearing this a lot more before the train ride was over.
"I've read all about you, of course," said the witch.
"Er, you have?"
"Yes, of course. You're in all the books about the Dark Arts, basically. Haven't you read them? I mean, if I were you, I would have read everything I could! Anyway, I'm Hermione Granger," she said, "and you two had best be getting your robes on. We'll be there soon." And she left with a twirl of her robes, leaving both Ron and Harry quite speechless.
They hurriedly got their robes on, and looked out the window. They couldn't see Hogwarts yet, to their disappointment, but the scenery had suddenly changed, with mountains in the background. And then came the last and most unwelcome interruption. "Is Harry Potter in here?" asked an oddly familiar voice, bursting in without the slightest bit of apology or warning. "Oh," said Draco, "It's you then, is it? They're talking about you all over the train, saying you're in here. But really," he continued, "if I keep finding you in such company, Potter, I won't know what to think. First that beast Hagrid and now a," he looked at Ron and smirked, "A Weasley," he said with some conviction. Ron's ears went red, and he looked at him angrily.
"No need to tell me who you are!" spat Ron. "Malfoy. I know all about you," he said, with quite the same conviction.
Mutual dislike appeared on each face. Obviously, what these two knew about each other, neither thought was good.
"These are Crabbe and Goyle," said Malfoy, turning back to Harry again. Harry took notice for the first time of two large and threatening looking boys flanking Draco. They looked like bodyguards. "I just wanted to introduce myself, you know," said Malfoy, "wanted you to get to know the right kind of wizard."
And with that, he left Ron and Harry's compartment.
Harry turned to Ron. "What do you know about him?" implored Harry.
Ron let out a derisive snort. "His whole family's into the Dark Arts. His dad was reckoned to be in You-Know-Who's inner circle."
"What?!" said Harry in astonishment, "His dad was one of Voldemort's...."
But he never finished the sentence, because at the sound of Voldemort's name, Ron yelped, and jumped out of his seat, staring avidly at Harry.
"I'm sorry!" said Harry quickly, "I forgot! I'm new here, I didn't know..."
"Forgot?" yelled Ron, sitting in his seat again, "Well jeez! I've never actually heard anyone use his name, you know! And I thought especially that you...."
"Like I said, I didn't know!" said Harry again, "I mean, I grew up with Muggles! I forgot that people here don't say his name!"
"It's alright," said Ron, looking pale, "Just took me by surprise, that's all. Blimey..."
They didn't talk much after that. Thankfully, though, they were close to Hogwarts now. It loomed in the distance, silhouetted against the lit by the pink light of the setting son. They felt the train begin to slow.
The sky darkened outside, and a light rain began to fall. The castle of Hogwarts looked ominous from here, and Harry felt a lump rise in his throat as the strain slowed to a stop. He helped Ron get his trunks down, and likewise, as they pushed their way into the suddenly crowded aisle way. To make matters worse, among the noise and bustle of the students, Harry heard his name come up two or three times. It was hard enough to be brought into the magical world on such sort notice, but to have a reputation there already made it almost impossible. He wished terribly that his hair would lay flat as he saw people looked out of their compartment windows and doors at his forehead. He felt his face grow increasingly red, and was sure that they wouldn't be able to see his scar against his skin, now.
He exited the train into the rain, where he could finally breathe. He saw most of the students, the older ones, heading off towards horse-less carriages nearby. He was about to head for them as well, when he heard a booming voice call out, "Firs years! Firs' years come dis way, please!"
He turned around and saw Hagrid, standing in front of a lake, in which several small boats could be seen. He shivered. That was no doubt how they were meant to get there. He walked over towards Hagrid, who looked down at him and smiled. "Hiya, Harry! I'll be bringin yas across the lake now! Bit of a tradition, ye know?" And with that he turned away, and beckoned to some other reluctant looking first years.
Harry got into a boat, and was relieved to see Ron in it with him. They shared it with Neville, who was still looking for his toad, and Hermione, who looked slightly paler than before.
The boats began moving themselves out, with Hagrid's at the front, and his own to far behind. Harry had no time to feel cold, wet, or even excited, because a sort of sick nervousness was filling of his emotional vacancies. The castle was foreboding, and he couldn't help but think about why the first years went in a different way than the rest of the school. Did it have something to do with how they were put into houses? Were they not going to the castle, straight away, but somewhere else, where teachers picked and chose where they went? Harry couldn't help but feel nervous about this. What if nobody wanted him in their house?
But, despite his worries, they headed up to the castle. They entered and stood, shivering with nerves more thancold, as it had not been raining hard. Harry decided here, once and for all, that he didn't like being in big groups. The eyes staring at him felt as though they burned holes in him. Soon, though, Harry forgot this, as he realized for the first time that the noise he was hearing wasn't the sound of the people around him talking. On the contrary, almost everyone around him was silent, except for the few who dealt with their nerves in a more talkative manner. Most of the noise he was hearing, though, came from beyond the doors in front of them, and a horrible thought occurred to Harry; they were going to be put to a test for their Houses in front of the rest of the school. He gulped, and was just grasping this idea when the doors ahead of them burst open; revealing an old and rather stern looking witch. She wore full-length green robes, and a pointed witch's hat.
"First years," she addressed them, "I am Professor McGonnagal. Now, when I tell you to, you will head through this doorway here, and stand silently until I call you to come forward. You will then sit on the provided stool, and try on the Sorting Hat. Once you have been sorted, you will go to your House's table. Now, if you would please come forward." And the whole group stepped out into a large room, filled with students, in their black hats and robes. Harry looked up, and saw that there appeared to be no ceiling in the room, but as he looked closer, he saw that there, was, but that it resembled exactly the sky outside. He looked down again, with apprehension, and saw a small, three-legged stool, in the middle, sat at tattered old wizard's hat, which was being watched avidly. And, suddenly, the seam around the brim of the hat split open like a mouth, and the hat began to sing.
Harry didn't hear most of it. Not only was he shocked out of his senses, but his nerves were still acting up. He couldn't focus enough to hear it. His brain didn't kick and hear, until he heard the houses' names. He became attentive at this, eager to hear what the hat had to say. The hat, apparently, chose which house you were put in. It knew what each of the original founders valued most in its students. Ravenclaw was for the cleverest. Hufflepuff was for the hardest-working and loyal students. Slytherin was for the most ambitious of them. And Gryffindor was for the brave. At the moment, Harry didn't feel like any of these. Professor McGonnagal began reading down an alphabetical list of all their names. Harry watched as each of his fellow first years approached the stool, with varying expressions of fear on their face, and place the hat on nervously. And the hat would eventually yell out a house for the student to be placed in, sometimes instantly, and sometimes after a while of consideration. "Potter, Harry," called McGonnagal at last.
Harry wasn't sure, but he could have sworn that the whole room was quieter than it have been, with an excited tension. Harry stepped forward towards the chair, his heart now working so hard, he could have sworn he could see it beating through his chest. It took ages to reach the stool. He lifted up the hat, sat down, and placed it on his head. The brim slipped over his ears, covering his eyes part way. He sat there, waiting for something to happen, when he heard a tiny voice inside the hat. "Hmm," said the hat, "well let's take a peak! Oh there's talent, for sure. A good mind, no doubt. Oh, and what's this? You seem as though you're willing to face just about anything, very good. Very strong. But still, even more so, there's a sort of yearning. An urge to prove yourself, no? Ah yes, indeed, there it is. But still, where to put you? Tricky, tricky, tricky. Ah, but yes, here we go...SLYTHERIN!" yelled the hat.
What Harry thought about the most to tide him over for the rest of the summer, was what Hagrid had said about the school houses, and such. He was curious about which he would be put in. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Gryffindor, he had said. Well, despite what Hagrid had said about Hufflepuff not be all bad, Harry was pretty sure he didn't want to be in it, if that's what people really thought about it. And Slytherin sounded kind of scary, too. Hagrid had said that all the dark wizards had come from Slytherin. But then again, he had said they weren't all bad, too. Harry was sure each house had its ups and downs, and Harry had a hard time believing, nonetheless, that all dark wizards had come from there. He thought about the other two, too, but he didn't know anything about them. His History of Magic book had said a little, but it mostly talked about goblin rebellions and such. From what he had gathered, though, four wizards had founded the school, centuries ago, and each had a house named after them based on what they looked for in their students. That's as detailed as it got. Harry didn't know where he would to be. As a matter of fact, out of the magical world, again, he was doubting himself and his abilities, all the more. The only thing he had keeping him from believing it was all a dream, was his wand. When he held it, he knew that there was magic there.
The other thing that Harry considered the most was what Hagrid had told him about his parents. And a wizard named Voldemort, who had killed them.
Harry often recalled the flash of green light he would see when trying to remember them, but it was no help. Even if he strained his memory, he saw the same thing he always had. Although, sometimes, he thought he could hear a sort of high-pitched cackle in the background.
Harry didn't know how to take it about how he had survived a curse from the darkest wizard ever, who name seemed to scare people even these ten years later. But every part of him knew that this had nothing to do with his own power. Something else had happened, killing Voldemort with his own curse. Well, almost killing, according to Hagrid....
With all these thoughts, Harry found himself occupied for most of them summer. Thus far, he had been avoiding one inevitable thing. But today, he couldn't avoid it anymore. He walked into the living room. "Uncle Vernon," he began.
Uncle Vernon turned around slowly as though contemplating whether or not he wanted to at last acknowledge that the boy was there. Neither had spoken to each other since Harry had come back. "What is it?" he asked sharply.
"Um, well, uh, you see, to get to, um, my school, I have to get to London and be at the train station. Umm, here," Harry handed him his ticket. Uncle Vernon looked at the ticket. "What's this rubbish? Platform 9 3/4? There is no such platform."
"But there must be. It says so, right there!" said Harry, now slightly panicky. Uncle Vernon smiled. "Fine, then, boy. We'll take you there, and you can find your platform. But only because we have to go to London, anyway. Have to get that ruddy tail removed," he said, flushing purple now, at the thought of his son's pig tail.
Harry took his ticket back, and ran out of the room, hardly able to hold it in. When he was out of earshot, he began to laugh quietly. Dudley's tail, he had almost forgotten! One week later, Harry had packed his things, and loaded the car, read to set off for London. Nobody talked to him the whole car ride, and Dudley had squashed himself as flat against the car door away from Harry as he could possibly get.
When they arrived at King's Cross train station, they left him there, and drove away laughing about his ticket again, no doubt.
Harry walked through the station, pushing his trolley ahead of him. But when he reached platform 9, and platform ten, the only thing between the was a stone barrier. Harry didn't know what to do. He checked his ticket again. It definitely said King's Cross, Platform nine and three quarters. He didn't dare show it to anybody else, while there was obviously no platform there. He thought about what the Dursley's would say if he called them up and said he couldn't find his platform. He couldn't do that. They definitely wouldn't come and get him. He looked at the clock nearby. It was ten 'til eleven, when his train was supposed to depart. He was just beginning to get frantic, when something caught his eye, and not unsurprisingly. A large family, all of them with red hair, was standing in front of the barrier, talking excitedly. They looked promising, for some reason. Harry edged a little closer to them, and heard the older woman, most likely the mother, say, "Of course, place packed with Muggles, as usual. Thank goodness your dad isn't here."
With a sigh of relief, his heart pumping happily in his chest, he walked up to the woman. "Um, excuse me?" he asked, hopefully.
She turned around and smiled at him. "Yes, my dear?"
"I was just wondering...."
"How to get on the platform?" she said abruptly. Harry nodded. "Ah, yes, it's my Ronnie's first year at Hogwarts too," she said, gesturing to the shortest of the boys. "Yes, all you have to do, dear, is walk straight at the barrier, here, and to know that you won't hit it! Quite simple really. Here, watch Fred here, dear."
She took one of them by the shoulders, presumably Fred, and nudged him slightly forward. "Alright, alright, keep your hair on," he said. "And besides, I'm George! Not Fred!"
"Oh, sorry dear," she said quickly. Harry could see why she made the mistake. The boy was a twin, who was identical to his brother in every way.
Harry watched as he walked forward, and turned back to his mother. "No, just kidding, I am Fred." And suddenly, he broke off in a short sprint and ran at the barrier. But instead of crashing, he disappeared through it. Harry gasped, and looked around, to see if anybody else had seen. But nobody else really reacted, or appeared to have noticed at all.
"Okay dear?" said the woman, again. "See how it's done? Now here, go with Ron now. Best to do it at a bit of a run the first time."
Harry stepped forward, a little awkwardly, with the boy named Ron next to him. And he started to run. He closed his eyes, knowing that the brick barrier wasn't far, and hoping against all hope that he wouldn't crash. He opened his eyes at the last minute and saw the wall just inches from his nose, and the next thing he knew, King's Cross had dissolved around him, into a bustling platform. He looked around, and saw a sign hanging above him which read, 'Platform 9 3/4'. All around him, the witches and wizards bustled along in a hurry, getting on and off a scarlet steam engine, loading their bags. Harry watched people kissing their kids goodbye, and suddenly disappearing with a crack. He turned around, and saw the rest of the redheaded family burst through the barrier.
He smiled at them, and ran up and thanked the woman. "Oh no, dear, my pleasure!" she said earnestly, and turned back to her own and back helping them with their bags.
"Hey!" said somebody sharply behind Harry. He turned around and faced one of the twins. "Fred Weasley's the name! And this here's my brother George. And well, we was just wondering...." his eyes flickered at Harry's forehead and rested on his scar briefly, "Well, are you...."
"....Harry Potter?" finished his twin.
"Oh!" said Harry, understanding, "oh, um, well, yeah that's me." He flushed slightly.
"Blimey!" said Fred and George together.
"Fred! George!" called their mother back to him, and they both jumped and ran back towards her.
Harry was thankful for the interruption. He could hear them back there, and heard his own name mentioned among the babble. He quickly took his bag onto the train, before anybody else might stop him. He chose one of the few empty compartments left on the train, and struggled pushing his stuff overhead. He left the door open slightly so that others would know which compartment wasn't full, and sat down, giddy with excitement.
At last, the compartment door opened, and the redheaded Weasley named Ron walked in. "Is this compartment full?" he asked.
"No, come on in!" said Harry, happy to have someone in there with him. He had all sorts of questions to ask.
Ron stared at him for a while, until it seemed he finally realized what he was doing, and looked away, his ears red. "Er, um, are you really?"
"Really what?" asked Harry blankly.
"Well, you know, Harry Potter?"
"Harry sighed. "Oh, yeah. I'm him."
Ron blushed again. "Oh, well, I was just wondering, because, well, Fred and George said you were, but you can't really trust them you see....." he looked at Harry again, and asked, "Can you remember?"
Harry understood this question. "Oh, no. Not really anyway. Just a bit of green light, but I can't really make anything out of that."
"Oh," said Ron, sounding slightly amazed, and yet disappointed. "And do you really have," his voice dropped to a whisper, "the scar?"
Harry nodded, and held back his bangs, showing on the thin, lightning bolt- shaped scar cut across his forehead. "Wicked!" said Ron.
"Yeah," said Harry smiling. "So, is all your family wizards?"
"Oh, yeah," said Ron dismissively. "All of us are. Yep. And every last one of us has been in Gryffindor. I hope I am, too. My parents would be really upset if I wasn't. Sort of a tradition, you know?" Harry smiled blankly, suddenly warmed up to the idea of Gryffindor house. "Yeah. You saw my brothers. Fred and George. The oldest one was Percy," he sneered, "the Prefect," he added in a tone of the utmost disgust. He sighed. "Oh well. Percy might be a disgrace, but as straight-laced as he is and all, I think Fred and George might be twice as misbehaved, each," he smiled again. "Real practical jokers, let that be a warning to you. Don't ever accept anything from them, but don't get on their bad side, either. Not that you have to, to be a target," he added. He suddenly looked unhappy, again. "They're both on the house Quidditch team, too. Beaters, you know."
Harry looked at him, confused. There was a brief pause, and then he asked at last, "What is Quidditch?"
Ron looked at him funny, as though Harry were pretending to be stupid on purpose, and then gasped and shook his head. "Blimey, mate! What's Quidditch? I thought everybody knew! Not that you would really have anyway of knowing," he added on reflection. "Anyway, Quidditch is..." and he dove into a long explanation of a sport, played on broom sticks, with balls that flew around and tried to hit you, how there were people trying to score against you with a larger red one, and then a tiny gold one that flew around quickly and another person tried to catch. Harry listened, open- mouthed, hanging on every word. The explanation was quickly followed by accounts of his favorite teams, and some historic matches, aNd lasted for a while.
At last, though, he was interrupted by a witch, pushing a trolley down the aisle outside, filled with sweets. Harry realized then how hungry he was, and bought a bit of everything, eager to try all the candy, which was unlike any he had ever seen. He looked to Ron, imploringly, who went red, again, and said he'd brought his own, holding out some sandwiches. Harry sat down back in the compartment, as the train moved on, and began unwrapping some of them. "Here!" he said to Ron, pushing some of the sweets towards him. "Have some," said Harry, "I can't eat them all!" Ron thanked Harry earnestly, before helping himself to a Pumpkin pasty.
They had fun eating the sweets, daringly eating the Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Beans (which had a tendency to be EVERY flavor), and then looking through Harry's wizard cards from his Chocolate Frogs. The cards amazed Harry, because, as he watched them, the people in the pictures would move about, and wave up at him every now and then. According to Ron this was quite normal in the wizarding world, and he was shocked to hear that they didn't in the Muggle world, too.
Their fun, however, was interrupted again when a round faced, worried looking boy came to the compartment, opening the door shyly. "Umm, well, I was just wondering if you've seen my toad?" asked the boy. Harry and Ron both hook their heads. "Oh!" said the boy in despair, "I can't believe I've lost him again! My gran'll be so mad!" And he walked away.
After that interruption, it didn't seem as though they had a moment of peace. Not long after, their compartment was invaded again, this time by a rather frizzy haired, long-toothed witch. "Have you seen Neville's toad?" she asked.
"He's already come by, no we haven't!" said Ron, slightly irritable at the interruption. But the witch wasn't paying any attention to him.
"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" she said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah," said Harry, realizing that he was going to be hearing this a lot more before the train ride was over.
"I've read all about you, of course," said the witch.
"Er, you have?"
"Yes, of course. You're in all the books about the Dark Arts, basically. Haven't you read them? I mean, if I were you, I would have read everything I could! Anyway, I'm Hermione Granger," she said, "and you two had best be getting your robes on. We'll be there soon." And she left with a twirl of her robes, leaving both Ron and Harry quite speechless.
They hurriedly got their robes on, and looked out the window. They couldn't see Hogwarts yet, to their disappointment, but the scenery had suddenly changed, with mountains in the background. And then came the last and most unwelcome interruption. "Is Harry Potter in here?" asked an oddly familiar voice, bursting in without the slightest bit of apology or warning. "Oh," said Draco, "It's you then, is it? They're talking about you all over the train, saying you're in here. But really," he continued, "if I keep finding you in such company, Potter, I won't know what to think. First that beast Hagrid and now a," he looked at Ron and smirked, "A Weasley," he said with some conviction. Ron's ears went red, and he looked at him angrily.
"No need to tell me who you are!" spat Ron. "Malfoy. I know all about you," he said, with quite the same conviction.
Mutual dislike appeared on each face. Obviously, what these two knew about each other, neither thought was good.
"These are Crabbe and Goyle," said Malfoy, turning back to Harry again. Harry took notice for the first time of two large and threatening looking boys flanking Draco. They looked like bodyguards. "I just wanted to introduce myself, you know," said Malfoy, "wanted you to get to know the right kind of wizard."
And with that, he left Ron and Harry's compartment.
Harry turned to Ron. "What do you know about him?" implored Harry.
Ron let out a derisive snort. "His whole family's into the Dark Arts. His dad was reckoned to be in You-Know-Who's inner circle."
"What?!" said Harry in astonishment, "His dad was one of Voldemort's...."
But he never finished the sentence, because at the sound of Voldemort's name, Ron yelped, and jumped out of his seat, staring avidly at Harry.
"I'm sorry!" said Harry quickly, "I forgot! I'm new here, I didn't know..."
"Forgot?" yelled Ron, sitting in his seat again, "Well jeez! I've never actually heard anyone use his name, you know! And I thought especially that you...."
"Like I said, I didn't know!" said Harry again, "I mean, I grew up with Muggles! I forgot that people here don't say his name!"
"It's alright," said Ron, looking pale, "Just took me by surprise, that's all. Blimey..."
They didn't talk much after that. Thankfully, though, they were close to Hogwarts now. It loomed in the distance, silhouetted against the lit by the pink light of the setting son. They felt the train begin to slow.
The sky darkened outside, and a light rain began to fall. The castle of Hogwarts looked ominous from here, and Harry felt a lump rise in his throat as the strain slowed to a stop. He helped Ron get his trunks down, and likewise, as they pushed their way into the suddenly crowded aisle way. To make matters worse, among the noise and bustle of the students, Harry heard his name come up two or three times. It was hard enough to be brought into the magical world on such sort notice, but to have a reputation there already made it almost impossible. He wished terribly that his hair would lay flat as he saw people looked out of their compartment windows and doors at his forehead. He felt his face grow increasingly red, and was sure that they wouldn't be able to see his scar against his skin, now.
He exited the train into the rain, where he could finally breathe. He saw most of the students, the older ones, heading off towards horse-less carriages nearby. He was about to head for them as well, when he heard a booming voice call out, "Firs years! Firs' years come dis way, please!"
He turned around and saw Hagrid, standing in front of a lake, in which several small boats could be seen. He shivered. That was no doubt how they were meant to get there. He walked over towards Hagrid, who looked down at him and smiled. "Hiya, Harry! I'll be bringin yas across the lake now! Bit of a tradition, ye know?" And with that he turned away, and beckoned to some other reluctant looking first years.
Harry got into a boat, and was relieved to see Ron in it with him. They shared it with Neville, who was still looking for his toad, and Hermione, who looked slightly paler than before.
The boats began moving themselves out, with Hagrid's at the front, and his own to far behind. Harry had no time to feel cold, wet, or even excited, because a sort of sick nervousness was filling of his emotional vacancies. The castle was foreboding, and he couldn't help but think about why the first years went in a different way than the rest of the school. Did it have something to do with how they were put into houses? Were they not going to the castle, straight away, but somewhere else, where teachers picked and chose where they went? Harry couldn't help but feel nervous about this. What if nobody wanted him in their house?
But, despite his worries, they headed up to the castle. They entered and stood, shivering with nerves more thancold, as it had not been raining hard. Harry decided here, once and for all, that he didn't like being in big groups. The eyes staring at him felt as though they burned holes in him. Soon, though, Harry forgot this, as he realized for the first time that the noise he was hearing wasn't the sound of the people around him talking. On the contrary, almost everyone around him was silent, except for the few who dealt with their nerves in a more talkative manner. Most of the noise he was hearing, though, came from beyond the doors in front of them, and a horrible thought occurred to Harry; they were going to be put to a test for their Houses in front of the rest of the school. He gulped, and was just grasping this idea when the doors ahead of them burst open; revealing an old and rather stern looking witch. She wore full-length green robes, and a pointed witch's hat.
"First years," she addressed them, "I am Professor McGonnagal. Now, when I tell you to, you will head through this doorway here, and stand silently until I call you to come forward. You will then sit on the provided stool, and try on the Sorting Hat. Once you have been sorted, you will go to your House's table. Now, if you would please come forward." And the whole group stepped out into a large room, filled with students, in their black hats and robes. Harry looked up, and saw that there appeared to be no ceiling in the room, but as he looked closer, he saw that there, was, but that it resembled exactly the sky outside. He looked down again, with apprehension, and saw a small, three-legged stool, in the middle, sat at tattered old wizard's hat, which was being watched avidly. And, suddenly, the seam around the brim of the hat split open like a mouth, and the hat began to sing.
Harry didn't hear most of it. Not only was he shocked out of his senses, but his nerves were still acting up. He couldn't focus enough to hear it. His brain didn't kick and hear, until he heard the houses' names. He became attentive at this, eager to hear what the hat had to say. The hat, apparently, chose which house you were put in. It knew what each of the original founders valued most in its students. Ravenclaw was for the cleverest. Hufflepuff was for the hardest-working and loyal students. Slytherin was for the most ambitious of them. And Gryffindor was for the brave. At the moment, Harry didn't feel like any of these. Professor McGonnagal began reading down an alphabetical list of all their names. Harry watched as each of his fellow first years approached the stool, with varying expressions of fear on their face, and place the hat on nervously. And the hat would eventually yell out a house for the student to be placed in, sometimes instantly, and sometimes after a while of consideration. "Potter, Harry," called McGonnagal at last.
Harry wasn't sure, but he could have sworn that the whole room was quieter than it have been, with an excited tension. Harry stepped forward towards the chair, his heart now working so hard, he could have sworn he could see it beating through his chest. It took ages to reach the stool. He lifted up the hat, sat down, and placed it on his head. The brim slipped over his ears, covering his eyes part way. He sat there, waiting for something to happen, when he heard a tiny voice inside the hat. "Hmm," said the hat, "well let's take a peak! Oh there's talent, for sure. A good mind, no doubt. Oh, and what's this? You seem as though you're willing to face just about anything, very good. Very strong. But still, even more so, there's a sort of yearning. An urge to prove yourself, no? Ah yes, indeed, there it is. But still, where to put you? Tricky, tricky, tricky. Ah, but yes, here we go...SLYTHERIN!" yelled the hat.