It was here. The day, at long last, had arrived. September 1st, the date which had frantic parents kissing their children goodbye for two long months. The date that had changed lives, made friendships, created new alliances and cemented new ones. For Harry it held no small amount of trepidation. The first time had been bad enough, even knowing that he had Malfoy as a friend before he got there. Now, without his friendship, he had absolutely no clue how things would go. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to be friends with Draco bloody Malfoy after the Department of Mysteries fiasco! No matter, he concluded wearily as he stared up at the small crack in the paint of his bedroom roof. He would work it out. Groaning, he slipped out of bed, grabbing his wand and glasses. He nuzzled Hedwig affectionately, before picking up his trunk, grunting at the weight of it. He sighed to himself, and rubbed his bleary eyes. He tapped the top of the trunk, and tested its weight again. Weightless. Content that the charm placed on it was working as intended, he put it back down and put on one of the new t-shirts he had bought, pairing it with a pair of slim jeans that he had taken a liking to. Tiptoeing across the wooden floorboards, he had a quick shower, hoping that it didn't wake his aunt or uncle. Looking in the mirror, he flopped his hear down over his head, to make sure his scar was invisible. After a few anxious minutes, he snuck back into his bedroom and dressed himself. He checked the clock beside his bed. 6:40. Nodding appreciatively, he grabbed his trunk and headed downstairs, finding his way down in the gloomy pre-dawn light. It was rather anti-climactic, all in all. No shouting, no fanfare, no nothing. He just had to go through this door, and this chapter of his life was done (again). Looking back up the stairs to make certain this wasn't some elaborate trap, he took a deep breath, and opened the door. Nothing but the frigid morning air rose to greet him. Silently closing the door behind him, he walked out to the middle of the road, and held out his wand.
Almost immediately, the Knight Bus popped into existence, its three decks rising higher than any of the houses in the small street of Privet Drive. As the doors opened, an unfamiliar young man with a broad smile and a cockney accent rose to greet him. "'ello, 'ello, mate you must be one of the Hogwarts firsties, entcha? Go on then, 'oo are yer?"
Harry, taken aback by the man's terrifying enthusiasm for what must be one of the most boring jobs in existence, stammered something to the affirmative, before remembering his cover name. "Fudd. Elmer Fudd, nice to meet you."
"Well Mister Fudd, I reckon you'll be wanting to go to the Platform?"
"Er, yeah, exactly. Just King's Cross will do fine though, I'll grab some breakfast before heading over."
"Alright, alright, well that'd be 'bout eleven sickles I reckon, you can pay when you get off. Now, best be getting to yer seat young mister Fudd, we'll be leavin' shortly, orright?"
"Sure." Harry replied, before shakily climbing through the almost empty bus. There were a few others on the bus with him, but they paid him no mind, so he was free to sit back in his seat and try to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach as the bus made turns and movements that stretched the boundaries of what even magic was able to do. After an incredibly nervewracking hour filled with stops and starts, with people flowing on and off the contraption, the bus stopped just outside of King's Cross station. After paying the sickles he owed, Harry took a deep breath, and got off the bus, prepared to meet his destiny.
Pancakes. A terrible name for one of the greatest breakfasts Harry could think of. After a quick traipse to the platform, Harry's stomach had voiced its protest that Harry had skipped breakfast. Naturally, he had decided that since this was such a special occasion, only a similarly special meal was appropriate, thus, Harry had found himself sitting over a mug of hot chocolate, with a stack of pancakes generously covered in maple syrup. He'd also ordered a bit of bacon as a special treat for Hedwig, much to the consternation of the café staff. After scoffing the whole lot down (to the great surprise of the waiter), he checked one of the big clocks in the station. 9:02. Perfect. Gently dabbing his face with a napkin, he paid his bill and wandered off to the platform, his trunk and owl in tow. Ignoring the odd looks the muggles gave him, he calmly walked past the large sign denoting Platform 9. He noticed a few familiar faces as he walked towards the platform. The Gryffindor chaser and captain, Spinnet, walked ahead of him, disappearing from view as she went into the the third archway between platforms 9 and 10. Suddenly, he heard a voice, a voice that every so often cropped up in his nightmares.
"Look, mummy! There! It's the platform!" A bossy, enthusiastic voice cried out. As Harry looked around wildly, searching for the desperate voice, his eyes alighted on a bushy, brown haired girl tugging demandingly on an older woman's hand. Her earnest, cherubic features were angled downwards in a somewhat anxious posture as she made her way across the gate, in the aisle opposite from Harry's. A vision came unbidden to Harry's eyes, of the same face, but slightly older. Of wide, brown eyes, staring unseeingly up at him, her face frozen in a rictus of fear. The water of the flooded bathroom lapping around her, drenching her brown hair, as her corpse lay on the grungy bathroom tiles, petrified.
Harry let out a choked gasp, forcing the images from his mind as he fell against one of the pillars of the platform, his hands quivering and shaking. He shut his eyes as he felt himself hyperventilating, his body going into overdrive to protect himself from some unseen threat. He stood like that for a few moments, just breathing, his face burning up as he imagined the strange looks people must have been throwing his way. A nervous hoot sounded. One eye opened, peering at Hedwig's round, calming eyes which stared right back at him. He took a breath, inhaling through his nose and exhaling from his mouth. It was alright. It was okay. That hadn't happened yet. That wouldn't happen for a whole other year. He sighed as he looked around for the annoying bookworm, but found nothing but the eyes of concerned adults who cast sidelong glances at him and his owl.
"Well, at least that's over with" Harry said in a shaky voice, trying to recompose himself. "Okay Harry, here we go, just keep it together, keep your head down, try to ignore Draco and you'll be fine." With that, he set off again, his stomach once again somersaulting as he got ever closer to the wall. What if it broke? What if something had happened during the time travel and it didn't let him in? What if-then, just like that, he was through. Around him, the sounds of the muggle train stations morphed into the cries of Platform 9 and a 3 Quarters. The Hogwarts Express shone, as even this early the frenzied activity of current and soon-to-be students engulfed the platform in a sea of scurrying bodies. As he made his way through the sea of people, subconsciously hunching his form in the hopes that nobody saw the scar, he thought for sure that he saw a flash of Bones's red hair, accompanied by the blonde locks of somebody who could only be Hannah Abbot. Elsewhere, he heard cries of disgust and somebody raving about a tarantula. He had to admit, he missed this. The last few years had been so full of darkness and fear that getting onto the platform become somewhat akin to attending a funeral. The innocence of the kids that slowly flowed onto the train was something that he found himself, in a strange way, admiring.
"I'll keep it like this" He muttered grimly, his mouth set in a tight line. "I won't let anything happen. Not this time."
With that comforting thought, he wandered onto the train, looking to find a nice unoccupied one where he could be alone and recover from his earlier panic attack. As he passed a compartments about halfway down the train, he heard a familiar, drawling voice.
"Did you hear that Harry Potter is going to be in our year? My father told me to keep an eye out for him specially. Apparently he's been raised by muggles! I can't imagine what that muggle-loving dope Bumblebore was thinking, probably trying to indoctrinate the poor kid. My father said that I should bring him around to the right way of thinking, before somebody dopes him into making friends with the wrong sort, you know?"
Malfoy. Draco. Godamn. Malfoy. Harry gritted his teeth, prepared to walk into the compartment where he knew Malfoy, Greengrass, and probably the gorillas were staying in.
This was it. Time to make a real first impres sion, impress everybody and take up where he left off. Never mind the fact that at some point in the last five years every single one of the people in that room had stabbed him in the back at some point. He began talking to himself again, trying to psyche himself up. "it's fine, you can do this Harry. You'll be spending the next seven years with them, you've got to confront them at some point. It's fine. Just do it. They don't know. Just stop Draco from licking his father's boots." By Merlin's beard, he could really do with a Pepper-Up potion. His hand reached towards the compartment door. Then it stopped. He tried to force his hand onto the compartment door, but he just couldn't find it in himself to do it. Truth was, he wasn't really sure he wanted to be friends with the people in there. As he thought through it, the more he wanted to just leave them alone. Worst came to worst, he'd just make his introductions later. Yes, that was the way to go about. As long as it meant he didn't have to walk into the compartment right that minute, he was more than happy to go along with it.
Withdrawing his hand, he slowly turned around, and marched further down the corridor. A few compartments down, towards the back of the train, he found an empty compartment, with a commanding view of the station platform. He sat down by the window, gazing out as more children and parents congregated on the platform. He didn't know how long he stared out at the platform, looking at faces he half-remembered, but it must have been at least half an hour, if not more, as each new face brought back a memory. Lavender Brown, gossiping about whether he was lying about the Dark Lord. Marcus Flint, testing him as seeker in second year. Neville Longbottom, breaking down and crying in the middle of not-Moody's first lecture. Behind him, heard voices of friends reuniting, and compartment doors opening and shutting. However, he tuned them out, preferring instead to just gaze forlornly out the window.
"Excuse me?" A small voice queried quietly.
Harry almost jumped out of his skin as he was startled out of his stupor, gasping out a startled half-cry. As he turned from the window, he found himself staring into those eyes. Brown eyes, that this time were not staring unseeingly back at him. These eyes were looking at him rather intently, without that superior look he had come to associate with the girl. The eyes of Hermione Granger.