Chapter 4 – Old Friends, New Friends
Harry's birthday passed with barely a mention of the strange events of the previous day. Petunia had insisted that Harry take full responsibility for cleaning up after his owl, which he thought was fair enough since he hadn't really asked permission to get one in the first place. Vernon had asked Harry to keep ambulatory furniture away from the rest of the house, but otherwise no mention was made of magic or wizardry outside of the discussion Harry had had with his aunt after dinner. It was almost as if the elder Dursleys thought that by ignoring it all, they could pretend nothing had changed.
But everything had changed, at least as far as Harry was concerned.
Still, Harry didn't have too long to think about it since he still had his birthday meal to attend, and he was going to watch Jurassic Park with his friends despite the crazed murderer on the loose. After all, Flitwick had said there would be Aurors trailing him everywhere and posted outside the house, so he would be perfectly safe. The situation did feel a little restrictive, since nobody liked being watched, but Harry thought it was probably worth it.
At half past three Johnny and Rishi arrived ready for the quarter past four showing of Jurassic Park in town, and after a brief chat with their dads, Vernon bundled the three boys into his car to go and pick up Stevie. When the car arrived at Stevie's house, there was no one there waiting.
"Go and get him, Harry," said Vernon. He looked down at his watch. "You're going to be late if he doesn't hurry up."
Harry nodded and got out of the car to knock Stevie's door. His parents were probably both at work, and Stevie had never been especially punctual. Harry knocked once and then, when after waiting a few moments he couldn't hear anything and Stevie had yet to answer, he knocked again.
Stevie appeared at the door about a minute later with his jacket half off and his shoes untied.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "Couldn't find my shoes…"
He left the house and locked his front door before following Harry back to the car. Harry got back into the front and Stevie joined the other two boys in the back.
"Strapped in?" asked Vernon. He didn't wait for an answer. "Back in my day, no one wore a seatbelt and we were all fine. But these days, well, it's health and safety gone mad..."
He set off towards the town centre at a speed Harry thought probably wasn't necessary, although Harry didn't mind since he didn't want to be late either. When they reached the cinema, Vernon handed Harry two crisp twenty pound notes and a rather worn ten pound note before he got out of the car.
"These are for the pizza later," he said. "You remembered to bring the tickets?"
Harry nodded. He'd checked five times over before leaving the house; he definitely had the tickets with him. It was the first time he'd been allowed into town to do something like this on his own—well, the second time counting Stevie's own birthday a couple of months before—and he didn't want anything to go wrong.
"Thanks, uncle Vernon. See you later!"
"You'd best be ready at eight o'clock!" said Vernon sternly as all four boys sped off. "Not a minute later."
Harry waved absently to indicate he'd heard, but Vernon had already driven away. The four boys made their way to the cinema's entryway through the car park, laughing and joking. Harry kept a lookout for Aurors, but he couldn't spot any obviously wizardly people on his way to the cinema. Just as they reached the entrance, one of the boys stopped to point at something near one of the bins.
"Look at that dog!" said Rishi. "It's massive!"
A mountain of a black dog sat near the bins watching the boys. It looked thin and scruffy despite its large size, and Harry thought it was probably a stray. Still, it didn't seem dangerous, just inquisitive and unafraid of people.
"It looks like a stray though," said Stevie, echoing Harry's own thoughts. "What if it's got fleas?"
Johnny, who had been about to stroke the dog, yanked his hand back as if burned.
"Didn't think about that," he said.
Harry, who was more concerned about missing the film than the dog, ushered the other boys away from the bins and into the buildings.
"The film is nearly on and we've still got to get popcorn!" he said. That seemed to light a fire under the other boys, who hurried up. They managed to get everything bought by the time the film trailers were halfway through, and got settled into their seats to watch the film. About two hours later, the four boys walked out of the cinema far more excited than they had been going in.
"It was wicked when the T. Rex ate that guy," said Rishi. "It was just like, 'rargh!' and then 'chomp!'" He mimed the action of the T. Rex eating a man to a chorus of laughter. The restaurant wasn't too far away from the cinema—within walking distance, which was the only reason the boys had been allowed to take themselves there after the film—but the booking was quite soon after the film, so the boys didn't stick around the cinema for long afterwards.
"There's that dog again, look," said Johnny when they reached the Pizza Express.
The big black dog sat just to one side of the entrance to the Pizza Express, watching the four boys as they walked up to the building.
"Weird," said Harry. He wondered, idly, if it was maybe sent by the Aurors watching him – or if it was, itself, an Auror somehow – but the thought faded away upon entering the restaurant and being faced with locating the table that had been booked for them. Eventually Harry asked one of the employees where they should sit, and the four boys were directed to their seats.
By the time eight o'clock rolled around, the four boys weren't quite finished with their food, but they managed it by ten past and after paying, left the restaurant to look for Vernon who was himself late. Rishi and Johnny wandered off slightly down the road, whilst Harry and Stevie leaned against the wall outside of the restaurant to wait.
While they waited for Vernon, Harry realised it would be a good opportunity to tell Stevie he wouldn't be going back to Stonewall High after the summer ended. The problem was, even though Flitwick had given him the official 'Muggle-worthy excuse' for Hogwarts, Harry wasn't quite sure how to actually come out and say it.
"I heard from," Harry started to say, and then stopped. He tried again. "Someone came to see me yesterday," he said, "from my mum and dad's old school."
Harry almost never mentioned his parents, so he knew that Stevie would be interested – and more than a little bit shocked – to hear him to do so. All the other boy knew was that Harry's aunt hated talking about her sister because it made her cry.
"Oh yeah?" said Stevie.
"Yeah," said Harry. "So, apparently they went to the same boarding school up in Scotland," he said, "and before they died, they put my name down there. And then yesterday, someone from the school came and talked to us—you know, my aunt and uncle and me."
"I thought they didn't have the money to send you anywhere fancy, that's why you're at school with us," said Stevie.
"It's all sorted already, apparently," Harry mumbled. "No school fees, you just need to be invited, that's all…"
"How come you never said?"
"I never knew," said Harry. "Aunt Petunia, she—well, you know how she cries on my mum's birthday, doesn't like talking about her much at all… She never said anything about it. To be honest, I assumed my mum and Petunia went to the same school—I only found out that they didn't yesterday. I'm not sure if my aunt and uncle knew I was going to be invited."
Harry left out that they probably did have some idea, since they had definitely already known his parents were wizards and that wizards usually did have wizard children. That particular bit of information was illegal for Stevie to know, but more importantly in Harry's opinion would have made him sound absolutely mad if he'd said it.
"That's mental," said Stevie. "You're saying they sent someone all the way down from Scotland just in case you wanted to go there?"
Harry turned red, although he hoped Stevie couldn't see in the darkening night.
"They did send letters, but my aunt ignored them," he said eventually. "So then they sent someone. They're a bit serious about, you know, new students…"
"So are you going then?" asked Stevie.
"Yeah," said Harry. "Went into London to get my stuff yesterday. I wanted to tell you before anyone else."
"Thanks," muttered Stevie. He sighed. Harry knew he wasn't happy about the news, just like Harry wouldn't have been happy to hear that Stevie wasn't going back to Stonewall if the situations had been reversed. But Harry simply couldn't turn down the opportunity to learn magic, to learn more about his parents, to belong somewhere properly... Life at Privet Drive had been lovely, but it had never felt quite right.
"I'll be back in the summers, at least," said Harry. He thought that maybe this year, he wouldn't be able to come back for Christmas due to the Sirius Black situation, but other years, he probably would. "And Christmases, too."
It was a strange thought that he couldn't say anything about—well, anything. He couldn't tell Stevie or the other boys about goblins, or dragons, or the fact that goblins kept dragons underneath London. He couldn't say anything about how his parents had died or why, or anything about Sirius Black. Harry felt almost as if every time he said something, it was half truth and half lie.
Before Stevie could say anything in reply, Vernon pulled up in the car. He didn't mention that he was half an hour late, or give a reason why—but then, that was Vernon. It was only other people who couldn't be late or who had to give a good enough excuse for it if they were.
"Where are the other two?" he asked when he pulled up to the curb.
Harry shrugged. "Dunno. They just went down that way…" He turned and pointed towards where they'd gone. "I'll shout for them. Johnny! Rishi! My uncle's here, we need to go!"
The two boys appeared about a minute later and climbed into the back of the car with Stevie. Harry got into the front and his uncle drove away. Vernon dropped off Johnny and Rishi at their homes, then lastly, Stevie, before returning to Number Four Privet Drive with Harry.
Harry had intended to go straight upstairs to check on his owl, but once inside, Vernon directed him to the kitchen where his aunt and cousin were waiting. A small pile of wrapped packages sat on top of the table, along with a small birthday cake.
"I know you went out with your friends tonight," said Petunia, "but we always do this, don't we? So we thought… well, we were going to take you for a new bike next week, but… wizards… don't use bikes, so we thought, instead…" Her voice caught in her throat, and she fell silent.
"Instead, we got you this," said Vernon. He gestured to the long package on the kitchen table. "We went out for it today."
"Thanks, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon," he said. He unwrapped the package, curious as to what he would find. It looked like a long stick, and when it was fully unwrapped, he realised it was a perch for his owl.
"For the owl," said Petunia eventually. "Your mother, she—she had a cat, but later on, she came home with an owl, and the owl had a perch, and…" she trailed off.
"I like it, thank you!" said Harry. Truthfully, he could take or leave a perch for his owl. What he found more important was the fact that despite their initial displeasure at the wizard situation, the family seemed to have come round at least enough to acknowledge and include the changes.
Next, Harry opened his birthday card from Dudley, and then the gift—a Tottenham Hotspur mug—and thanked his cousin. Of course, Dudley hadn't chosen the gift – that had been Petunia, as it had every other year – and the other boy had been distant since the previous day, but he mumbled something in response anyway.
His aunt had placed the gift from Professor Flitwick on the table as well, and after unwrapping it Harry found that it was a 'Charm Your Own Snitch!' toy which had come with a note that said 'Your father had one of these and I thought you might like one, too!', and which could fly. Or, which would be able to fly once Harry put it together and cast the spells. Dudley hadn't come near enough to Harry to steal his piece of cake at any point, and he hadn't tried to play with the Snitch either although Harry had seen him watching.
Over the next couple of weeks Dudley hadn't even come near Harry's bedroom since they had both discovered Harry was a wizard, not even to be spiteful or nasty. Harry had practically the first half of August free from Dudley and his antics which had given Harry the peace and quiet needed to read through his new books and play with his telescope.
Things did get a little boring when Stevie and his parents went on holiday and Dudley still hadn't found the courage or desire to interact with Harry. It had taken Harry that long to decide on a name for his new eagle owl – in the end he had chosen Agrippa after a rigorous search through his schoolbooks for wizardy names – and to become acquainted with So You're a Wizard: It's Magic!, the book Professor Flitwick had indicated would be a good introduction to the magical world. He read about a number of interesting things – chief among them the wizard sport called Quidditch played on brooms – but found the book's occasional, wholly inaccurate, references to Muggle things and concepts more funny than informative.
In the latter half of August Harry started to seriously read his textbooks rather than flick through them aimlessly, having become worried that he'd be at a disadvantage because he'd only just learned about magic. Most of the books he found interesting, although Magical Theory contained far too many words and phrases which Harry couldn't find in the dictionary, which made it much more challenging to get through. He fared better with the historical book he'd bought about Voldemort's war, at least until he read his own name on the page and it suddenly felt all too real. He'd put that book aside for another time, confident he understood enough of it to not make a fool of himself at Hogwarts, and instead made excellent progress on the adventure novel about wizard pirates.
Late in August Dudley had gained the courage to approach Harry once again, and they played a few rounds of gobstones until Petunia found out and put a swift end to it—though whether for the magic or the mess, Harry couldn't say—and Dudley had returned to his usual state of disinterest and occasional spitefulness.
The summer had certainly been eventful, but Harry was even more excited for it to end, since with each passing day he grew closer and closer to attending a school for magic. The passage of days was a little bittersweet, as he was leaving his old school and friends behind, but the promise of magic and all that it came with was almost enough to make him forget.
On the last Friday in August it appeared that the elder Dursleys had suddenly realised Dudley would need to be ready for school by the coming Wednesday, which had next to no chance of happening without some serious interventions, and Harry saw his chance to ask for a lift to the train station. He knew that his uncle would agree to take him—Vernon never actually said no—but Harry found it always went better if he could pair his thing with one of Dudley's. It took the attention away from Harry, and let him mostly do what he wanted.
"Uncle Vernon?" he said during a lull in the frantic preparations for Dudley's upcoming term at Smeltings. "I just wanted to ask if you could take me to King's Cross on Wednesday, you know, on the way to Smeltings."
The usually bad-tempered man erupted into a cacophony of snorts, chortles and giggles at the suggestion that wizards took a train to magic school which only got louder when he heard the platform number. He agreed readily enough and even seemed pleased when Harry suggested he be dropped off early so Vernon and Petunia could 'have more time with Dudley'.
Harry spent the next day packing and repacking his trunk although he left his wand out because he felt that it wasn't very wizardly to go around without his wand, even though he didn't know any spells yet. He eventually decided to take Redwand's Revenge just in case he didn't find anyone to talk to on the train, which meant he had to unpack his trunk yet again. On Sunday morning, despite his numerous attempts at packing his trunk, Harry was ready and waiting in the living room with Vernon while Dudley and an increasingly frazzled Petunia turned the house upside down looking for Dudley's school hat.
At around quarter past nine all three Dursleys, Harry, two school trunks, and an owl crammed into Vernon's car and set off for London, although only Harry appeared at all pleased by the situation.
After about an hour, plus time lost when Vernon had taken a wrong exit on a roundabout, Harry and Vernon unloaded the car of Harry's school things and placed them onto a trolley. The big clock on the wall showed Harry had arrived with plenty of time to spare—almost half an hour. Harry stood there awkwardly.
Eventually Vernon reached inside his trousers and pulled out a five pound note, which he passed to Harry.
"For the train," said Vernon. "Your aunt, she—well, she didn't—memories," he said eventually, waving his hand about vaguely. "Er, about Christmas—"
"Er—thank you, Uncle Vernon. I think, because of the, you know, the Black thing—I think I'll have to stay at Hog—at school, this year."
"The funny little man told us how to send a package," said Vernon. "So don't worry about sending the owl for us if you do stay." He wished Harry a good journey and then got back into the waiting car and drove away, and Harry made his way to the barrier between the wizard and Muggle parts of King's Cross Station.
As usual when he left the house since learning about magic Harry had a look about for Aurors and other wizards. He thought he could spot a few people who might have been wizards, but the station seemed busy mainly with Muggles. Harry waited until he thought no Muggles were looking and wheeled his trolley through the barrier and onto Platform 9¾ – this time with a little less trepidation than his first try.
Wizards and witches filled the platform, which although not full to bursting was much more crowded than when Harry had last been there. All the people were dressed in a mish-mash of different styles, from brightly-coloured robes to out-dated and sometimes downright odd Muggle garments. Dozens of children, cats, and owls milled about the platform producing a background noise Harry had never heard the like of before. He managed to spot a few people he thought might be Aurors scattered around the platform, in far greater numbers than he'd seen at Diagon Alley.
Harry grinned at the sight of it all, and pushed his trolley closer to the big red steam engine docked at the platform. Several ramps led onto the train and Harry aimed for one near the back, although once he boarded he realised the train was much longer on the inside than on the outside so he ended up closer to the middle. The train wouldn't depart for another twenty minutes at least, so Harry was unsurprised to find most of the compartments empty or filled only with one or two students. He didn't want to intrude on anyone, so Harry selected an empty compartment for himself some distance from the entrance ramps and stowed his things, being careful to secure Agrippa's cage properly so the owl would be safe throughout the journey. Next time, Harry thought he would let Agrippa fly to Hogwarts instead of being cooped up in his cage.
Then he took out his copy of Redwand's Revenge and sat down to read. Harry had almost gotten to the part of the book where, he hoped, the bold and dashing pirate Redwand would save the Muggle princess from the hag coven, when his compartment door slid open.
"Do you mind if I sit with you?" said a petite brown-haired girl in yellow day-robes. "Everywhere else looks a bit … well, you look friendly. My name's Tracey—um, Davis. Ooh, but that's a lovely owl!" she said.
Harry looked up from his book and smiled.
"Yeah, thanks, come in," he said.
Tracey pushed her trunk through the narrow compartment door followed by a small black and white cat, and sat down opposite Harry.
"My name's Harry. Er, Potter," he said, although he almost wished he hadn't when he saw the girl's response.
"It's nice to meet you," said Tracey after a few moments of somewhat awkward silence. "Blimey, I never thought this was your compartment—sorry if you wanted to be on your own, or anything like that."
"No, it's fine, I like company," said Harry. People at his Muggle primary school had avoided him because they were afraid of Dudley, and although he'd had friends at Stonewall he'd never been particularly popular, so he found it novel and actually quite nice that people would want to be near him. He was honestly just glad he didn't have to make the first move. "So I suppose you're not a muggleborn, if you know who I am already."
"I'm a halfblood," she explained. "My mam and dad, they're both magical, but all my grandparents are muggleborns," Tracey continued proudly. "That's rare, that is. Really rare!"
"Are they really?" asked Harry. "My mum was a muggleborn," he said. "Where are you from?"
"Pwllnewin, it's a magical village in mid-Wales," said Tracey. "I heard you lived in London, is that true?"
Slightly taken aback by her prior knowledge, Harry simply nodded. Just how much about his life was considered to be public, he wondered. Would he come across a book one day about his mother's favourite colour? Vernon's sister's dog breeding business?
"Well, just outside London I suppose," Harry said. "It's the most Muggle place you can think of! I've only been to proper London a few times though. It's big and messy and loud. What's—how do you say it—like?"
"Pwllnewin. It's got loads of hills," Tracey said. "They say it's where Helga Hufflepuff was born, but I'm not sure that's true. There's a big pond though and the water there is enchanted to always be clean and fresh, and that's what people say about her Cup isn't it, so maybe it is true. I dunno," she said, "I like living there. One of the farmers has dirigible sheep and the lambs are so cute! There's a magic school there, but it's not like Hogwarts, and all the Ministers since like two hundred years ago have been from Hogwarts, so you know, it makes sense for me to go there instead."
"I thought Hogwarts was the only school," Harry said. Certainly, his introductory book for muggleborn students hadn't mentioned any others. "Are there other ones?"
"Hogwarts is the main school," said Tracey. "My dad says most people go to Hogwarts, but Mam says it's only about half. There's a few other schools though and some people are home-schooled, you know, but that sounds horrible doesn't it? For Pwllnewin's school you have to speak Welsh, so obviously not many people from England or anywhere go there, and there's one in Ireland where they speak Irish, my nan said. And there's WADA, but you need to be able to sing or dance or something like that… You need to audition." She turned red at the last bit. "But everyone is offered a place at Hogwarts as long as they're a witch."
The pair continued to chat for a little while after that, and whenever there was a lull in the conversation, Tracey seemed more than capable of powering through and speaking enough for the both of them. Tracey told stories about her younger brothers while Harry traded a few of his own about Dudley until the train let out a shrill whistle and started to move away from the platform, and they were interrupted by the appearance of a bulky girl in short robes and a thin blond boy in a much more expensive looking robe at the doorway.
"I say, is it all right if we sit with you chaps?" said the boy in a soft Scottish accent. "You look the right age, we're just starting this year too, you know," he finished as he barged his way through the door. "Ernie Macmillan and Millicent Bulstrode, how do you do," he said and offered out his hand. The girl—Millicent—shoved him out of the way roughly and slung her trunk onto the rack.
"He calls himself Ernie, when everyone knows his name is Ernest, and I get Millicent!" she complained. "Call me Millie."
Ernie struggled with his own trunk until Millicent finally helped him out, and the pair sat down – Ernie next to Harry and Millicent next to Tracey – to make proper introductions, which for Ernie had involved an oddly formal handshake and an exchange of surnames, although Millicent had settled for hello.
"Good to have you back, Potter," he said, and then changed the subject. "It's rather silly that we've had to come all the way down to London just to catch a train to take us back to Hogsmeade especially with the Azkaban breakout, but I suppose it's tradition and all that."
"Mum said we should catch the train down this morning," said Millicent with a smile, "and Dad didn't realise she was joking until she showed him the Portkey!"
"Oh, that's really bad luck," said Tracey. "We'll be on the train for hours, and you were already practically there! Do you have to take the train every time?" she asked.
"Only to go home or come back from summer," said Ernie, "so it isn't that bad. At least come Christmas we can just nip home if we want, none of this train business. Thank Merlin."
"They really make you come all the way to London just to catch a train?" asked Harry. "Even though you live right next to Hogwarts? I guess you can Apparate here, but it's a bit a far!"
"Yeah," said Millicent. "It's the law. We would have come by Floo, but Mum's pregnant and you know what they say about Floo powder, so we got a Portkey."
Harry didn't know what they said about Floo powder but nodded along with the rest anyway.
"So, what Houses are you lot hoping for?" asked Ernie. "I'm looking at Hufflepuff, myself, but I wouldn't say no to Ravenclaw, you know!"
"I'm going in for Slytherin," said Millicent. "My mum was in Slytherin, and her parents, and their parents," she said. She shrugged. "My dad was in Hufflepuff though."
"That's where I want to go, too, Millie!" said Tracey. "Oh, that's wonderful, if we both get in we'll already know someone!"
"I hadn't really thought about it," said Harry when everyone turned to him. "They all sound good. How do they decide what Houses we fit in? I couldn't find how in any of my books, and my relatives are Muggles so they don't know."
"It's an enchanted hat," said Ernie. "Frightfully old, you know, you just put it on your head and it tells everyone what House you belong to. It's meant to be a sort of fun little secret, but nearly everyone is in on it before they start. Mum and Dad refused to say anything, but cousin Archie told me all about it."
"Really? You just put on a hat? That's it?" said Harry. It sounded a little anti-climactic, if he were to be honest. "Well, at least they don't make you do any magic or anything like that."
"Nobody knows any magic yet anyway," said Millicent. "At least, that's what my mum said..."
"I got a spell to work yesterday," admitted Ernie, "but it's the first time."
"Which one?" asked Tracey, pulling out her own wand. "I got Lumos to work," she said, and demonstrated by lighting up the end of her wand. "Nan helped." She grinned. "A lot."
"That's the one I managed, too," said Ernie. "Well, it's the easiest, isn't it?" He pulled out his own wand and lit the end with the charm after a couple of tries.
Millicent glowered at them both.
"Okay, I don't know any magic," she said. Millicent pulled out her wand and frowned at it. "I'm still getting to know my wand. Mr Ollivander said spruce wands 'get ideas' and you have to be firm with them." She gave it a wave and a single, solitary spark fell from the end of it and disappeared soon after. "See?"
"I haven't tried any spells," Harry said. "I didn't think we were allowed. But I did read a lot about the Wand-lighting Charm, so maybe I can do it…" He took his wand from where he'd placed it on the seat next to him and hoped that he understood at least enough of Magical Theory and The Standard Book of Spells to produce something.
He focussed on the feeling he'd felt in Ollivander's shop when his wand had chosen him, of warmth running through his arm and into the wand itself, and thought about the sun and the night and how it felt to be alone in the dark, and tried to fill himself with a solid belief in his ability to cast the spell – all of the main things the books had said to worry about when casting the spell as a novice. Harry waited until he felt certain it would work, and spoke the incantation.
"Lumos," he said, and the tip of his wand lit up. He grinned; he'd just done magic! Actual magic, using his wand and a spell. The light flickered out after a few seconds, but it had existed.
"Oh, good show!" said Ernie.
"It took me two weeks to get it right, and I had Nan explaining it to me!" said Tracey.
"The bit about the lighting charm is the only bit of Magical Theory I could understand," admitted Harry.
"Well, bully for you," said Millicent. "At this rate they'll send me home for being a squib!"
Tracey and Ernie laughed.
"Squibs don't get letters," said Tracey. "You'll be fine!"
For about an hour or so the four children chatted amongst themselves and played a few rounds of gobstones when they were interrupted by a knock at the compartment door from an elderly witch with a snack trolley.
"Sweets and snacks, dears?"
Harry didn't need to think about it. He got up from his seat and took a look at what was on offer, but soon realised he didn't recognise a single item on the trolley.
"Yes, please! We'll have a bit of everything, thank you," he said, and fished inside his moneybag for the required amounts, and sat back down in his seat when the trolley witch delicately transferred a hoard of sweets into Harry's arms. Harry dropped the pile of pasties and Chocolate Frogs and an assortment of other things he'd never heard of before down onto the space between him and Ernie.
"I think there should be enough for all of us," he said. He thought there might even be too much for all four of them, but he supposed he could keep anything left over just in case the Hogwarts food resembled the food at his Muggle schools.
"Cheers, Harry!" said Ernie as he took a Chocolate Frog from the pile. "I still need Consternation Macmillan, he was my great-great-grandfather you know, so if any of you lot get him I'll trade you!"
"Chuck me a Liquorice Wand please, Harry," said Millicent.
Harry tossed her a long, thin package that he assumed was a Liquorice Wand, and took a Chocolate Frog for himself.
"Thanks, Harry," said Tracey. She grabbed a pumpkin pasty and looked at it thoughtfully. "I wonder if these are better than Dad's…"
Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and it wriggled out of its packaging and almost hopped onto the floor before Harry caught it.
"It's not… it's not a real frog turned into chocolate, is it?" he asked as he eyed the wriggling chocolate frog suspiciously.
"It's just a charm," said Tracey, barely suppressing a giggle. "It's not alive! If you bite the head off it stops moving." She paused. "But if you like the wiggling, bite the leg end first."
Harry reluctantly bit off one of the struggling frog's legs and swallowed the still-wiggling frog just to see what it was like. He shivered as the frog wriggled its way into his stomach.
Won't be doing that again, Harry decided.
"I was hoping you'd got Consternation," muttered Ernie as he looked down at the small card he had taken from Harry's wrapper. "You got Nicolas Flamel. I've got three of him already." He handed the card over to Harry, who read it.
"'Nicolas Flamel, 1326AD to present'," read Harry. "'A Grand Philosopher, Nicolas Flamel is the only known creator of a Philosopher's Stone. He lives with his wife, Perenelle, in Cornwall, England'. He has to be the oldest person I've ever heard of! And what's a Grand Philosopher, anyway?"
"He's in my magazine!" said Tracey. "Hang on, let me just grab it…" She stood up to look on the rack for her glossy magazine, and then showed it to everyone else once she had found it.
The witch on the front cover blinked at them coquettishly from behind a cascade of shiny golden hair. Just above her head were the words WITCH WEEKLY in a flowing and elegant script. Underneath the witch the words kept changing to advertise the things that could be found in the magazine. Tracey flipped the cover and flicked through the pages until she reached what she was looking for.
"See? He's on the Witch Weekly Rich List. Look, 'Number 1 – Nicolas Flamel is the richest man in Britain due to his possession of the Philosopher's Stone, the Grand Work of alchemy,'" she said. "I think it's just another way of saying an alchemist, Harry. Oh, but look, it says here some of the people on the list have children in our year at Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy, Sinistrus Nott, Livia Zabini and Hortensia Boot…"
Millicent peered at the list and sniggered.
"Hey, Ernie – your dad's on the list as well."
"Is he?" said Ernie, "Let's have a look." He leaned over to check the list. "'Number 26 – (Honourable mention) Algernon Macmillan'." His eyes widened. "You're richer than Dad?" he said, looking down at the magazine and then up at Harry. "See – 'Number 23 – Harry Potter'. But you're only thirteen!"
Harry went red. Until only a few weeks ago, Harry hadn't ever really handled that much money. He didn't get pocket money as a general rule, although nor did Dudley in fairness. Now, to his absolute horror, he discovered that his name featured in the kinds of magazines his aunt read, and in their rich list. Then he remembered what Professor Flitwick had said about his father.
"It's from that Sleakeazy thing," Harry said, and he shrugged. "I only found out it existed a few weeks ago, so it's not like I grew up rich or anything like that." Of course, his aunt and uncle were quite well off, so he hadn't technically been poor either, but as none of it was Harry's money he didn't think it really counted.
Harry glanced down at the magazine. "Yeah, look, it says there—my grandfather invented something. Weird, I didn't know it was a hair care potion."
"Oh, it's really good," said Tracey. "Even if you have crazy hair, it makes it all nice and straight and you can do anything you want with it." She looked at Harry's bird's nest of hair and giggled. "You know, if your hair is a family trait, that's probably why your granddad invented it!"
Harry smoothed down his hair self-consciously, although he knew from years of trying that it was pointless. Now that Tracey had brought it up, Harry found himself wondering whether his grandfather – or maybe his father – had had hair like him, and if that had been what had inspired the creation of a new hair care potion. Aunt Petunia had certainly thought it warranted all sorts of special attention over the years.
"Yeah, maybe," he said. "Anyone fancy a game of gobstones?"
The others agreed and the four children spent an hour or so playing the messy game on the floor of their compartment until a knock, and the sound of their compartment door opening, distracted them from the game. A bushy-haired girl already in her school robes came inside the compartment followed by a pudgy blond boy whose eyes looked constantly towards the floor.
"Have you seen a toad? Neville here has lost one," said the girl. "It answers to Trevor and likes hiding in dark spaces."
"None of us has seen a toad," answered Ernie. "Frightfully sorry, maybe you'll have better luck in the next compartment?"
"What's that you're playing?" asked the girl. "Is it a magical game? Only, I'm new to all this—first witch in my family—so I've never seen a magical game being played. It looks like marbles."
"It's called gobstones," said Tracey. "It's a bit like marbles. I'm Tracey! What's your name?"
"Hermione Granger," said the girl.
Millicent and Ernie introduced themselves, and when it was Harry's turn, the girl nodded at his name and immediately began to list books she had read in which Harry had appeared.
"I've read all about you, of course, so I already know who you are," said Hermione. "Did you know you're in all sorts of books? The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, A Modern History of Dark Magic, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, not to mention—"
"I know," said Harry. "I read one. It was a bit dry."
"Oh," said Granger. "Well, if I were you, I would have read everything I could find about it. I mean, do you know that your parents—"
"It's a good thing I'm not you, then," said Harry quickly, "because it sounds like it would be really boring."
"There's no need to get snippy," said Granger. "It is important, and with one of that evil man's followers broken out of prison, I thought you might have been interested to know something about it all." She looked around at the four children who were still in their normal clothes. "You should think about changing into your school robes, we'll be there soon. Come on, Neville," she said, "let's go find Trevor."
Hermione and her mute companion left the compartment, leaving the door opened. Millicent got up and closed the door.
"How rude! We probably should get into our school robes, though," she said, looking out of the window at the darkening sky. "I hope Mum isn't waiting at the other platform. She said she wouldn't, but we live really close to the station…"
"I've already told my mum she has to be sensible with the owls," said Ernie. "You know it won't even take fifteen minutes for the owl to reach me from our house? I said to her, 'Mum, you can't go about sending me letters every fifteen minutes, it's just not done'. In the end we agreed twice a week, but I think that's still too many and I'll try for once a fortnight come Christmas."
Harry didn't think he would receive as many letters in his entire seven years at Hogwarts as Ernie would over the course of their first year alone, but he supposed that he didn't really want to receive any letters from his aunt and uncle anyway. What would there be to talk about? His aunt had a tendency to go faint at the merest mention of magic, and they had never been all that interested in his Muggle schoolwork anyway, so long as he completed it. Harry thought it might be nice of him to send them a note at Christmas, but he half expected them to ignore Agrippa due to the sheer embarrassment of being seen receiving letters from another owl.
Harry opened his trunk and pulled out the set of school robes he had left on top while the others were complaining about letters home and similar things, and pulled the robes over his head before taking off his Muggle trousers and stuffing them into his trunk. He had tried on his various robes at home in Privet Drive, but it felt different to be standing in them on a magical train. Not unusual, exactly, because Ernie and Millicent had been wearing robes the entire journey, but different enough from his usual attire that although Harry felt somewhat like he was wearing a dress, he did feel rather wizardly as well.
Not long after Harry had finished with the clasp on his robes, the others had all dressed in their own school robes. The conversation eventually died down as the train drew closer to Hogsmeade Station, and with the snacks having been eaten and the games put away, Harry began to think again about the up-coming Sorting and which of the Houses suited him best.
