Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Note: …at the end of the chapter.
September 1991
That last month before school started was the best of Harry's life. He was free and healthy and comfortably dressed and fed. He ate what he wanted and slept when he wanted and went where he wanted. For the first time in his life, he was starting to not resemble a walking skeleton, and he had more energy than ever before. Sleeping and eating well was, apparently, good for him.
When September 1st rolled around, Harry packed up his abode in one pocket and his travel trunk in another, then hailed a cab to go to King's Cross. Upon arriving at the station, he found a trolley, and made sure that no one was looking at him before expanding his trunk onto it. After that, he spent a few minutes arguing with Rhast in quiet hisses before he got the snake into the trunk. He expected the train would be quite full. Too full for a four-meter, invisible snake to be slithering around without anyone stepping or sitting on him. There was no chance of him carrying the snake as Rhast weighed almost as much as Harry. Athena had chosen to fly on to Hogwarts rather than spend the ride either in her cage or in the trunk with Rhast. Harry was glad for that or he'd have spent the whole trip worrying that Rhast was going to end up eating her in a fit of pique – the two of them argued a lot when Harry wasn't directly mediating. Athena was definitely a tough bird, but she wouldn't stand a chance against the very large snake in close quarters.
Hagrid had never told him how to get onto platform 9 ¾. Thankfully, it was mentioned in Hogwarts: A History that the way on was through one of the columns. Knowing that, it was a relatively simple matter to find the only column that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up when he got too close. After the slightly unnerving experience of walking through a wall that his eyes swore was solid brick, he found himself on a busy platform next to a bright red steam engine. He smiled a little as he looked around at all of the witches and wizards. He was back in the magical world. In his world.
Though the trunk was somewhat cumbersome, it was still feather-light, so he had very little difficulty hauling it onto the train and into a vacant compartment. He found a book to read, then stowed the trunk under his seat before reclining across the bench and opening the book on transfiguration theory. Between Charms, Defense, and Transfiguration, he'd found the latter seemed the most difficult for him, so he'd decided to give it a little extra attention. He did feel badly knowing that Rhast was stuck in the trunk, and he'd have loved to pull out his Abode and pass the ride in there with his familiar. He didn't exactly want anyone to know that he even had a Portable Abode, so he prepared for a long ride without his familiar – whom he'd gotten very used to always having with him this summer.
When the train finally started moving, Harry turned his attention out the window and he felt a rush of excitement. This was the start of the next chapter of his life. He was going to be around other children like him. He was going to be learning magic…
His thoughts were interrupted when his compartment door opened and he turned to see a boy his age with bright red hair.
"Anyone sitting there?" he pointed toward the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly at the obvious lie. Clearly, every other compartment could not be full if no one else had yet tried to intrude on him. To him, it sounded like the other boy was just too lazy to look anymore, and obviously a very poor liar. Still, Harry didn't really care all that much. It might be nice to meet another fellow first year. The last one he'd really talked to was the boy in the robe shop, since he'd mostly tried to avoid talking to people when he visited the Alley alone, lest they discover he was the Boy-Who-Lived and draw unwanted attention to him. He didn't think that lie was a very good sign for his impression of the boy, but he was willing to give him another chance.
"No," he said simply.
The boy smiled a little as he moved to sit down, then quickly looked out the window – obviously nervous. He had a smudge of something on his nose, but Harry tried not to focus on that. Considering how nervous the boy was acting, and how hard he was trying to pretend like he wasn't watching him, Harry got the wary suspicion that the boy knew who he was.
"Hey, Ron."
The door slid open again, this time displaying a matching pair of redheads that had to be related to the other boy. They were a couple of years older. "Listen, we're going down to the middle of the train. Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."
"Right," Ron mumbled, squirming a little in his seat.
Harry just got a bare glance and a nod from the older boys who didn't seem to recognize him, then they were gone.
Ron snuck another anxious glance at him and Harry resisted the urge to smooth his fringe down over his scar. He assumed that it was too late now, anyway.
Harry decided to just ignore the other boy, and he turned his attention back to his book.
"Are you really Harry Potter?"
Harry withheld the urge to sigh as he lowered in book in response to the blurted question. "Yes," he nodded neutrally, trying to remember that he wasn't allowed to be himself. He had to be the Boy-Who-Lived here.
"And have you really got… you know…" He pointed at Harry's forehead.
"Yep," Harry nodded as lightly as he possibly could when he would have rather snapped at the rude boy.
"So that's where You-Know-Who…?"
Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes, and shrugged instead, "I guess. I don't remember it."
"Nothing?" Ron asked eagerly.
Harry wondered how he was supposed to make it through seven years of this crap without killing anyone. Well, surely it would get better once people got used to the idea of The Harry Potter within their midst. "Nothing," he lied firmly. He waited a moment, but Ron just continued staring at him, so he looked back at his book. He'd barely found his place and started reading again when Ron spoke.
"I heard you went to live with muggles. What are they like?"
Harry gave the question a moment of thought, filtering his answer through the personality he was trying to project. "They're pretty much the same as witches and wizards," he finally decided on. "Some are nice and some are mean and some are smart and some are daft." No need to point out that he was beginning to suspect Ron fit into the "daft" category.
"Really? Weird…"
Harry smirked a little and decided to try to steer to conversation toward the other boy. "What about you? Were those your brothers that came in before?"
"Fred and George, yeah," Ron nodded, suddenly glum. "I've got six in all. Five brothers and my little sister, Ginny. I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left. Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."
Harry blinked at the information overload and tried to commit it all to memory while Ron pulled a decidedly disgusting rat out of his jacket. It was fat, gray, and asleep. Harry made a mental note to have another talk with Rhast about not eating anyone's pets because he was pretty sure the snake would think that rat looked delicious.
Personally, Harry wasn't at all impressed by Ron's whinging. He was depressed about hand-me-downs? At least they fit him pretty well, even if they were obviously getting a bit worn. And maybe he had five brothers to live up to, but Harry had his own completely unfounded reputation to live up to. From what he'd gathered thus far, the wizarding world was basically expecting him to be the next Merlin. He doubted that it would be possible to exceed anyone's expectations of him, but it would certainly be very easy to disappoint them.
"His name's Scabbers and he's useless. He hardly ever wakes up," Ron was going on. "Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead."
His ears went pink at almost admitting that he was poor, and he went back to staring out the window.
Harry contained another sigh. He very much doubted that he was ever going to be friends with this boy who seemed so threatened by wealth and popularity – both of which Harry had in excess just because of who he was. He cast around for something else to talk about. He thought of mentioning Athena, but he figured that would just upset the boy more. "At least you grew up in the wizarding world," he said finally. "I didn't even know that it existed until a month ago."
Ron did look slightly cheered at that.
"I just hope I'm not the worst in the class," Harry added with a self-deprecating smile. He didn't really think that he'd be the worst, having studied hard over the last month, but part of him was still afraid that he would be. And even if he wasn't, he didn't doubt that he'd disappoint everyone if he wasn't the best in his class. After all, he'd supposedly killed a dark lord when he was a baby. Surely, by eleven he'd learned to pull thunderbolts out of his arse and juggle miniature suns.
"You won't be," Ron said, sounding slightly pompous with his ability to be the authority on the subject. "There's loads of people who come from muggle families and they learn quick enough."
The conversation was stilted and stiff, but between the two of them, they managed to keep the discourse moving. Harry would have liked to read his book instead, but he didn't want to ignore and insult this boy either. That wouldn't fit his "more than merely human" kind, intelligent, and powerful persona that he was going for.
At half past twelve, there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"
"Oh, what have you got?" Harry asked curiously as he got up. She started listing off unfamiliar candies and Harry grimaced. "No, thank you, ma'am. Did you want anything, Ron?"
The other boy blushed bright red and held up a lumpy, home-wrapped package. "I'm good, thanks."
Ah. He didn't have any money, Harry gathered. He thought about offering to buy him something, but he didn't want to insult the boy who was clearly rather proud. So he just smiled at the witch with the cart again. "Nothing for us, ma'am. Thanks, anyway."
He closed the door again and returned to his seat where he pulled his trunk free and quietly hissed out the password for the general storage compartment. Another thing that Harry had learned reading Hogwarts: A History: The ability to talk to snakes was very rare and the mark of a Dark wizard. He had to do more research to figure out exactly what it meant to be a Dark wizard. The term seemed to be really common. As far as he could tell so far, dark wizards seemed to be those who used Dark magic. So he really wasn't sure how being able to talk to snakes could make him a Dark wizard. Maybe it was just that he'd have a talent for Dark magic? Regardless, he had figured out that letting people find out he was a Dark wizard would be about the worst thing that the Boy-Who-Lived could do.
With that in mind, he'd decided to conceal his ability. The fact that it was so rare though, made it perfect for the passwords on his trunks, and as long as he spoke quietly enough, no one would discern that the whispers weren't English.
Harry quickly found the lunch he'd packed for the train just in case. He was glad that he had now because he'd rather starve than eat those sweets. They'd probably just make him sick anyway. He settled his bottle of grapefruit juice next to him and his lunch in his lap. Having unlimited access to a wide variety of delicious food had allowed Harry to stretch his stomach out to something closer to normal for his age.
"So what do you have?" Harry asked lightly.
"Oh, ah… corned beef," Ron said glumly. "She always forgets that I don't like it."
"Can I try it?" Harry suggested.
"Sure," Ron said and passed it over as though he was happy to see the last of it.
Harry smiled and took a bite. Then he smiled more. "This is delicious! You want to trade? I've got a steak sandwich with Swiss cheese, onions, and peppers."
"Yeah, sure!" Ron enthused.
Harry passed over the sandwich he'd made for himself this morning and ate the corned beef instead. Offering the trade was a nice thing to do, but that certainly wasn't the only reason he'd done it. The sandwiches actually were amazing.
"Did your mum make this?" he asked between bites.
Ron nodded and mumbled something through a full mouth.
Harry repressed a grimace and focused on his food rather than Ron's lack of table manners. "Do you think you could get the recipe for me? This is really good." If his mum always cooked like this, she should get a job as a cook and the family wouldn't be poor anymore.
Ron stared at him with his full mouth slightly gaping. "Really?" he finally asked.
"Absolutely," Harry nodded fervently without more than glancing at the other boy, silently hoping that he wouldn't have to eat near him often.
"Um. Sure. Yeah. I can write her tomorrow."
"Thanks," Harry smiled and turned his attention back to his food.
Shortly after they'd finished eating, there was a knock on the door and a round-faced boy that Harry had seen twice on Diagon Alley in the last month stuck his head in looking a bit tearful.
"Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?" he sniffled.
When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"
"Maybe you should ask a prefect for help," Harry suggested, trying not to roll his eyes at the boy's dramatics. Honestly, it was a toad…
The boy sniffled and nodded, "Yeah. I will. Thanks."
"Don't know why he's so bothered," Ron shrugged. "If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk." He looked at the rat still snoozing on his lap.
Though Harry privately agreed with both statements, he didn't think it was very polite of the boy to just come out and say it like that. Honestly, he was starting to think that he would be the only child at Hogwarts with any comprehension of good manners. He'd not had a choice in learning them though, as being anything less than perfectly polite with the Dursleys was good enough for a beating.
"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," Ron said in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look…"
He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.
"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway…"
He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. Her tone was pompous and grating. Her hair was a mess of bushy brown curls and her front teeth were large enough that she'd have been nicknamed "beaver" in two seconds flat back at Harry's old primary school – courtesy of Dudley's lack of imagination, of course.
Harry ignored her for the moment and looked at the boy. "Could you not find any of the prefects?"
The boy blushed and looked at the girl. "Hermione found me first."
Harry nodded as he made sense of that. Bossy girl apparently thought that she knew what was best and the toadless boy was evidently not assertive enough to question her. He looked at the girl to tell her the same thing he'd told the boy, but she'd spotted Ron's wand and was already opening her mouth.
"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."
She invited herself to sit next to Ron. He looked at her in shock for a moment before, "Er… all right…" He cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl-who-grew-more-annoying-by-the-second demanded. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"
Harry nodded slightly as he was able to make a little more sense of the girl. She was muggleborn and probably scared to death by the way she was holding herself so rigidly. This pompous, bossy attitude must have been her defense mechanism. Not that that made her any more pleasant to be around, but at least he was pretty sure that he understood it. Sort of. Understanding why people acted the way that they did was very important to Harry. If he didn't understand that, there was no way he could anticipate how they'd react to something that he did. Life with the Dursleys had taught him to avoid saying or doing anything without knowing how people would react to it.
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered, obviously embarrassed by the failed spell that really didn't sound like a spell at all.
"Harry Potter," Harry offered resignedly.
"Are you really?" Hermione said immediately. "I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
Harry took a deep breath and tried to remain polite. "I'm also in Everyday Heroes, Great Wizards of Tomorrow, and Who Knows You Know Who, and I'm sure there's more I didn't find. I learned quite a few things about myself that I'd never known," he smiled good-naturedly.
"Goodness, I didn't realize that there were so many," she looked distressed at not finding all of the books, though he suspected that it was because she hadn't spent nearly as much time in the Alley as he had. "Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor. It sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad… Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."
And she left, taking Neville with her, without even waiting for them to answer her last question. Harry was rather glad as his tolerance for her had plummeted the instant she'd started singing Dumbledore's praises. She may have done a lot of reading, but she clearly wasn't very good at reading between the lines if she hadn't noticed what a posturing prick Dumbledore was. Well, his experience with the old man's meddling might have colored his opinion a bit, but still… Harry had seen that in Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, which had talked about his epic defeat of Grindelwald. It made it abundantly clear that the then Professor had, despite being one of the most powerful wizards of the age (allegedly), completely ignored the situation with Grindelwald until the former dark lord had been practically in his back yard. He'd then defeated him in a single – if long – duel and gone right back to being a school teacher, though he'd become headmaster just a few years later.
People went on about how he was such a wise and selfless man with no political ambitions whatsoever, evidenced by the fact that he'd turned down becoming Minister several times. No one seemed to notice that he was head of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the ICW – two extremely political positions of power. Two positions that he would have to give up if he was Minister. Instead, he was head of Britain's only notable magical school, where he spent all year influenced the minds of the children who would be the next generation's most powerful and influential people. No political ambitions? Perhaps not, but only because he already held the majority of the political power in Britain.
"Whatever House I'm in, I hope she's not in it," Ron said dismally, throwing his wand back into his trunk like it was not the most powerful tool of any wizard. "Stupid spell. George gave it to me. Bet he knew it was a dud."
"What house are your brothers in?" Harry asked, trying to redirect the conversation. He wasn't having a particularly delightful time in Ron's company, but he'd rather not deal with the boy being sulky the whole rest of the trip.
"Gryffindor," Ron said, seeming even gloomier, which had not been the point of the question. "Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."
And the prejudice rears its ugly head… After reading about the Houses in Hogwarts: A History, Harry was virtually certain that he belonged in Slytherin – and he was determined not to go there. It would be exactly the opposite of the image he was going for.
"So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've graduated?" Harry asked, making another stab at redirecting to something that wouldn't depress the moody boy.
"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," Ron shrugged. "Hey, did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the muggles… Someone tried to rob a high security vault."
As a matter of fact, Harry had heard about that. It had happened the night of his birthday, right after Hagrid had taken the mysterious item out of the very vault that was robbed. The goblins had been acting perfectly normally the next day, but after the news came out in the Prophet, they'd gotten very irritable. Harry didn't think they liked having their dirty laundry aired, even if the vault had been empty. He'd made a point of pretending like he'd heard nothing about it when he was around them and they'd mostly treated him like normal.
"Yeah, I heard about that," Harry nodded. "Can't imagine who'd be crazy enough to try to steal from goblins."
"But they didn't get caught!" Ron crowed. "My dad says it must've been a powerful dark wizard to get 'round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything. That's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."
Harry wondered why it had to be a "Dark" wizard that broke into the vault. Was Dark magic more powerful than… What was magic that wasn't Dark called? Was it "light" magic, or was there just regular magic and Dark magic? Clearly, he needed to study more theory.
"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.
Harry blinked at the extreme subject change. "I don't really follow Quidditch," he admitted.
"What?!" Ron looked dumbfounded – which seemed a fairly natural look for him. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world!" And he was off, explaining the game, describing famous matches, and gushing about the broomstick he'd like to get if he had enough money. Harry had read Quidditch Through the Ages and done his best to memorize it, having realized that it was a big part of wizarding culture. He didn't particularly see the thrill in it though. The game was heavily weighted toward the Seeker position, and the fact that it wasn't timed was odd to him. He supposed it might be kind of neat to see people whipping around on broomsticks, but he wasn't any more than slightly curious about seeing a match.
The door opened again and Harry looked up with relief at the distraction from hearing more and more detailed descriptions of the game. It wasn't Granger or Neville this time, but three boys. Two were unfamiliar, but the third was the pretty, snobby boy from the robe shop. The first wizarding boy his age that Harry had ever met. Though he'd inadvertently insulted Harry at the time, Harry couldn't help but be intrigued by the boy who was such a contradiction of good breeding, lacking manners, and a shy need to prove himself that he tried desperately to hide. Besides, the boy was sure he'd be in Slytherin, which made Harry feel a bit of camaraderie with him, even if he could never admit it.
"Is it true?" he said, looking at Harry. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
Considering that the only people who'd been to the compartment to know he was there were Granger and Neville, Harry suspected the motor-mouth girl had been telling everyone. Splendid.
"That's right," Harry said with a small smirk. "You didn't quite give me an opportunity to introduce myself last time." He looked curiously at the other boys who seemed strangely like bodyguards.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," he introduced carelessly. "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
Ron gave a slight cough that poorly hid his snigger. Draco sneered at him, obviously deeply insulted.
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."
Harry thought, as Ron turned a very unbecoming shade of red, that this was exactly why "good manners" were invented. Without them, things went downhill fast.
"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter," he said pompously. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
Harry contained a sigh as he looked at the hand Draco extended toward him. He couldn't have been much ruder, but in that last sentence, his airs had not been able to conceal his genuine desire to befriend Harry, even if he was terrible at it. Thus far, Harry liked Draco much better than Ron. He was snobby and proud, but he was also smart – or at least smarter than Ron seemed – and he had some semblance of manners, even if he didn't seem to feel the need to use them with Ron or anyone he thought was less than him. Harry suspected that Draco could be fun to be around once he calmed down a little. Ron, on the other hand… He seemed to be all pride and temper and presumption without any redeeming characteristics that Harry had seen yet.
Unfortunately, Draco was going to be a Slytherin, and Ron most likely a Gryffindor. Harry could not afford to befriend a Slytherin, no matter how much he wanted to. It wouldn't fit his image at all.
So, it was with considerable regret, that Harry made his first enemy at Hogwarts before he even saw the school. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," he said, just on the cold side of neutral, and didn't let regret or apology show in his eyes when he saw the flash of shocked hurt in those silver eyes before it was replaced by indignation and embarrassment that he tried to hide.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he threatened. "Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and Hagrid and it'll rub off on you."
Harry desperately hoped not, but when Ron lurched to his feet furiously, Harry followed only a second behind.
"Say that again," Ron demanded in a bout of idiotic bravado. He obviously didn't know any magic, and he and Harry were a lot smaller than the bodyguards. If this came to a fight, it wouldn't end well for them.
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Draco sneered, apparently having come to the same conclusion as Harry.
Harry searched furiously for some way to diffuse the situation without looking like less than a Gryffindor. He figured there was an even chance that he could take all three of them himself if he had to – assuming that they didn't know any magic yet either. They may be bigger, but he figured there was a good chance that he had a lot more experience fighting than they did, and he could take a lot of beating before he was out of the fight. Not that he wanted to start the first year at his new school by being beaten to a bloody pulp.
The comment about his parents had been a low blow – assuming that he actually cared anything about them – but it certainly wasn't worth getting into a fight so weighted against him.
"What's the matter, Potter? Got nothing to say?" Draco sneered.
Oh great, so now he had to act like an idiot or be labeled a coward, which just would not do if he planned to be a Gryffindor. "Leave, Malfoy," he growled. "I'd hate to bloody that pretty face of yours." Which was actually true.
"But we don't want to leave," Draco replied, only slightly startled by the "pretty face" comment. "We like it here, don't we boys?"
Goyle stepped forward to get into Ron's face, but a second later, he let out a scream like he was dying. He leapt back and Harry saw Scabbers hanging off his finger, his sharp little teeth bitten deeply. Harry reassessed the large boys and decided that he wouldn't have any difficulty taking them both if that was how they reacted to one little bite. It would take only one good hit to make them lose spirit for the fight. Honestly, the moron was still screaming. Harry had broken bones with more dignity.
When he was three.
Before he had a chance to say anything with his improved confidence, Goyle managed to dislodge the rat, which flew across the compartment and hit the window, then all three fled like they were under attack from an entire squadron of small, furry beasts.
Harry was attempting to control the urge to smirk – or possibly cackle – when the bossy Granger girl appeared in the still-open doorway. "What has been going on?" she demanded.
"I think he's been knocked out," Ron observed, picking Scabbers up by his tail. He looked close, then shook his head. "No… I don't believe it. He's gone back to sleep."
Harry snorted quietly.
"You've met Malfoy before?" Ron asked as he settled Scabbers onto his bench.
"Met him in Diagon Alley at Madam Malkin's," Harry shrugged dismissively.
"I've heard of his family," Ron said darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."
Harry wondered if everyone who grew up with parents spouted their parents' opinions like gospel. It almost made him glad to be an orphan. At least he was capable of independent thought.
"Can we help you with something?" Ron rudely directed at the rude girl still loitering in the doorway.
"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on. I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"
"Scabbers has been fighting, not us!" Ron scowled. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"
"All right. I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," she said snobbishly. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way. Did you know?"
Ron glared at her as she left.
Harry just shook his head and dragged out his trunk again to get into his robes. He was already wearing nice black trousers and his black dress shoes that wouldn't look out of place beneath his robes. Ron, Harry noticed, was wearing worn robes a bit too short for him, exposing his light-colored trainers beneath them. Harry certainly wasn't going to judge him for not having money after he'd been forced into Dudley's old rags for so many years, but he didn't doubt that other people would. Oh well. It wasn't his problem.
Harry didn't especially like the announcement that their luggage would be brought to the school separately, but there wasn't exactly anything that he could do about it. With a last, apologetic glance at his trunk, he followed Ron out onto the dark platform. He was just beginning to wonder where the hell they were supposed to go when he heard a familiar voice bellowing, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"
"Hey, Hagrid," Harry nodded, ignoring everyone who looked at him for knowing the giant – including a sneering Draco.
Once all of the first years had gathered together, they followed Hagrid down a steep, narrow, poorly illuminated path, slipping and stumbling all the way. Harry just hoped that it wasn't muddy. His shoes were really new.
And then the school came into view. There was oohing and ahhing all around. Harry couldn't speak. He didn't quite know what he was feeling. The school was… Well, a castle. It was beautiful, offset against the starry sky. More important than any aesthetic appeal though, was what it represented. This is where Harry would learn magic. This is where he would spend the majority of the next seven years.
Finally, they arrived at the edge of a large, dark lake and were instructed to board the little fleet of boats, "No more'n four to a boat!"
Harry climbed into a boat with Ron and somehow ended up being joined by Granger and Neville.
The ride across was quiet and uneventful, which worked for Harry who was making a mental note to learn how to swim as soon as possible. It wasn't his fault that the Dursleys had never taken him when they went to a pool or the coast with Dudley.
They finally unloaded onto a little dock and Hagrid led them to a door that was promptly opened by a pinch-faced older woman who was apparently McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress. She led them passed a pair of large doors beyond which was enough chatter that Harry assumed the rest of the school was gathered there. Finally, they stopped in a smallish anteroom, and she gave a quick introductory speech, informing them that they would go into the Great Hall shortly to be sorted into their Houses. Apparently, their Houses would be like their family while they were at Hogwarts. Harry tried not to roll his eyes. He didn't have a family and he didn't need one – definitely not one full of Gryffindors.
She then gave a brief overview of the houses and House point system that he'd read about in Hogwarts: A History. Finally, she advised them to "smarten themselves up" while they were waiting, and she disappeared through the door into the Great Hall.
"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" Harry asked, since that hadn't been in the book.
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking," Ron replied nervously.
Harry frowned and sternly told himself not to panic. They were all first years, and he was not the only one that had just found out about magic. It couldn't be a test on knowledge or magic.
Yes, of course. He was just being paranoid. Of course, it didn't help that most of the other students seemed to be giving in to the panic he was trying to avoid. Granger was whispering under her breath very quickly about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry was a little relieved to find that he probably knew more than she did.
Several people screaming snapped his attention back to his surroundings, and he started a bit as he found himself looking at what could only be ghosts. After a few seconds of their not doing anything but chatting, he relaxed. Of course, they wouldn't be dangerous. This was a school for God's sake.
McGonagall returned shortly and the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.
"Now, form a line," she instructed the first years, "and follow me."
Taking a subtle breath and trying to relax his shoulders, which were the first place he looked for tension that people were trying to hide, he blanked his face and strode into the hall among his peers. Only the fact that he was concentrating so hard on concealing his emotions kept him from gaping at the night sky floating over the floating candles, which were above the four long tables filled with older students – all of which were staring at them. He'd read about that ceiling, of course, but he hadn't quite expected it to be so… realistic. Given his Muggle background, he'd been picturing something like a holographic projection.
He heard Hermione whispering some quotes from Hogwarts: A History and fought the urge to roll his eyes. That girl was going to get picked on constantly, even without the beaver teeth or that rat's nest of a mane. She was just completely insufferable, always trying to prove that she knew more than everyone else even though she was new to all of this magical world as well. And if he was annoyed, he couldn't imagine how frustrating it must be for the people that had grown up in the wizarding world to listen to her talk about things she barely understood as though she was the official authority on it.
And then his eyes wandered to the nearest table that ran perpendicular to the rest. The teachers were here, and right in the center was Albus Dumbledore, looking the good-humored grandfather in his half-moon spectacles, brightly colored robes, obscenely long beard, and jovially twinkling blue eyes. It took all of Harry's restraint to avoid glaring at him.
Then the old man turned to look right at Harry as though he'd sensed his eyes. Harry quickly forced himself to look away before he lost his composure and did start glaring. His eyes had just settled on the ratty old hat sitting on the stool when the damn thing started singing.
It sang about the four houses, and the entire hall erupted in applause when it finished. Harry hesitated only a moment before tentatively joining them.
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered excitedly. "I'll kill Fred! He was going on about wrestling a troll."
Harry smirked a little for effect. This didn't sound too hard, but he was starting to get really nervous. Sure, all they had to do was try on the hat, but it was supposed to just know which House they belonged in. It was going to seriously disrupt Harry's plans if it put him in Slytherin.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," McGonagall announced, holding a long scroll of parchment. "Abbott, Hannah!"
Harry almost groaned as he realized what was going to happen when she shouted out his name. He made an effort to prepare himself while she went through the names, drawing closer and closer to his. Granger went to Gryffindor after a fairly long sorting. Harry withheld his groan, but Ron didn't – not surprisingly. Neville also went to Gryffindor, which made Harry wonder if he'd missed something in his assessment of the boy who seemed afraid of his own shadow.
Completely unsurprisingly, Draco went to Slytherin, and Harry tried not to let his envy show as the blonde swaggered his way toward that table. Most of the kids over there looked so calm and collected compared to the Gryffindors.
Then, finally, "Potter, Harry!"
Ignoring the expected rash of whispering and pointing, Harry kept his expression neutral and his shoulders as loose as possible as he sat himself down on the stool and tried not to see the hundreds of staring faces as the hat was settled onto his head. He was actually grateful when it slipped down over his eyes despite how silly he thought he must look.
"Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin," Harry thought as hard as he could.
"Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great you know, it's all here, in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness." The voice came right in his mind with a strange sort of tingling sensation in his scalp.
"It doesn't matter where I go," Harry thought in reply, his conviction absolute. "I will be great."
"Mmn. Such conviction. Such ambition. That's a Slytherin trait, you know?"
"I can't be in Slytherin," Harry thought back. "The way that everyone sees that house could destroy me. Not Slytherin."
"Hm. Well, if you're sure…"
"I'm sure. Any shot at Gryffindor? That's where everyone expects me to be."
The hat chuckled in his mind. "Oh, Mr. Potter, I've no doubt Salazar would have liked you very much. Nevertheless, the choice is yours. Try not to get into too much trouble in, GRYFFINDOR!"
"Thank you," Harry replied silently before plucking the hat off his head. That had been easier than he'd thought.
He did his best to keep his face set in a small smile as he moved toward the table that was cheering him on like he was some sort of trophy they'd managed to collect. Compared to the way they'd welcomed the other Gryffindors, Harry thought this was way over the top. He sat down next to the other first years with a strained smile and tried to avoid making eye contact with any of them lest they think he wanted to talk to them.
The very first time Severus Snape saw Harry Potter was in the Great Hall during the welcoming feast. That disorderly mop of black hair was damnably easy to spot. Indeed, Severus hadn't actually been looking for him when that hair had drawn his eyes. The boy, he discovered, looked rather a lot like James Potter. At least, he did until he looked up toward the staff table and Severus got a look at Lily's bright green eyes. But no, he realized quickly. They were not Lily's eyes. They didn't sparkle with warmth and excitement the way Lily's always had. These eyes were colder – almost alarmingly cold, actually.
He watched the boy with the cold green eyes cautiously as Potter turned his focus away from the staff table. His face was strangely blank throughout the Sorting Hat's song, and when it ended, it took him a few moments to join the others in clapping. A redheaded boy – the most recent Weasley, undoubtedly – said something to Potter and the raven-haired boy smirked a little in return, but it didn't get anywhere near his eyes.
Curiously, Severus noticed Potter's shoulders growing steadily tenser in response to the means of the Sorting being revealed. While his classmates relaxed, he grew more nervous. A girl with bushy hair sorted into Gryffindor was the first reaction that Severus observed Potter give. The Weasley boy groaned aloud. For a brief moment, a sneer crossed Potter's face as he looked at the boy, and then it was gone so suddenly that he'd have almost thought he'd imagined it but for the fact that he trusted his eyes more than that. When the Longbottom boy joined Gryffindor, Potter's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. When Draco was sent to Slytherin, there was something that Severus was unable to read. Contempt, perhaps. Not surprising. Severus would have to keep a close eye on his godson lest another Slytherin suffer the torment of another Potter. Well, not on Severus' watch.
Finally, Potter was called. Severus expected him to swagger to the stool under the adoring gazes of the rest of the school, so he was somewhat surprised when that didn't happen. Curiously, he watched as the boy actually relaxed as he stepped out. Unnaturally quickly, he'd relaxed.
Severus frowned curiously as he watched the child take the seat, and he waited for the expected announcement along with the rest of the hall. He'd expected it to be almost instant, the decision, as James' sorting had been. It wasn't instant, but it didn't take that long either. Fifteen seconds, perhaps, and the Hat shouted out the expected House.
Severus sneered at the back of the boy's head as he moved to the Gryffindor table. Perhaps the boy wasn't exactly what he'd expected, but he was close enough. His placement in the house of the Righteous and Foolish proved that this boy was not all that different from his father.
Though he really did try not to stare at the Potter scion, he couldn't help but notice that he was rather quiet through dinner. He spoke very little to his housemates, but watched them closely. Plotting how best to get them all even more firmly into his fan club, perhaps.
Harry waited until he was certain that all of his dormmates were asleep before cracking open his trunk. "It's safe," he hissed under his breath.
A very annoyed snake appeared from the animal compartment. "What took you so long?" he demanded. "That is a terrible way to travel!"
Harry gave a small, commiserating smile in response. "Sorry, Rhast. I meant to give you some air on the train, but this really annoying boy sat with me almost immediately and talked the whole time. And I didn't realize that we'd be sharing rooms here. This is going to make this much more complicated."
The snake lifted his head to look around the room, his tongue flicking out to taste the air as he took in the four other beds. "They sleep loudly," he decided after a moment.
Harry smirked, and tried not to wince as Ron's snores rose to even greater heights. This was going to be a really long seven years.
"So how am I to live in here with so many others?" the snake posed.
Harry shook his head, sobering. "I don't know. Maybe we'll have to find somewhere else for you to stay during the day. Then you can come back in here after everyone's gone to sleep?"
The snake considered that for a moment. "I don't wish to leave you, Master."
"No choice," Harry sighed. "You can't hide in my clothes like you did when you were little, and you can't exactly follow me around either. There's so many people here, you'd be stepped on for sure."
"Very well, Master," the snake reluctantly relented. He often seemed to resent his size when it proved inconvenient. The rest of the time, he was very smug about his four-meter length. "I will search around when you must leave me tomorrow."
Harry nodded. "Just be careful. Don't be caught in the halls between classes. Being invisible won't stop you from being trampled."
If snakes could roll their eyes, Harry sensed that he would have done. "Yes, thank you, Master. I'd have never thought of that."
Harry smirked at his one and only friend. "Good. Now get out of there so I can get my pajamas."
A/N: Wow. So lots of people were hoping that Harry wouldn't be a Gryffindor. Sorry. I generally agree with you, but it was kind of essential in this one. If it is any consolation, Harry is going to be a very poor Gryffindor. He'll fit in about as well as Hermione. And I promise that this isn't one of those stories that strives to exactly follow the canon plot. We will drift increasingly away from canon as the story goes on and Harry changes things.
With regard to the Hat… Well, it was a pushover in canon, too.
As always, I would like to express my sincere gratitude to all of my reviewers. Nothing makes me want to work on this story more than reading reviews.