As the train pulled to a stop, I breathed a sigh of relief. I wouldn't have thought it was possible for someone to talk for eight hours straight, but Hermione Granger had proven me wrong.

I now knew more about her family than I had about the families of any of my Protectorate team members. I'd learned about her expectations for the future, her hopes, her dreams... and even her tastes in music.

The horrifying thing was that she reminded me of myself at that age; a naive, socially maladjusted chatterbox who had only had one friend. The fact that she was bright wasn't going to help her either; she'd already been bullied in her grade school, and she was hoping to make a new start at the new one.

Most of the time I hadn't even said anything. I'd closed my eyes and pretended to nape while she and Neville had played some sort of Wizarding card game involving small explosions.

I'd need to find out how those cards were made; it might be possible to use a lot of them to deliver something more than a joke effect by either altering the spell, or simply rigging a lot of them to explode at once.

As I listened in to conversations all over the train, I also heard Neville starting to haltingly talk. He talked about Wizarding entertainments and some basic Wizarding news. He even brought out a Wizarding newspaper, which I did open my eyes for to look over.

There was nothing about the muggle murders; either the Ministry was concealing things or they hadn't made the connection yet. Neither prospect reflected favorably on them. People needed to know they were in danger, and one of my tasks was going to be to get the world out to muggleborn families.

The fact that the pictures moved was less of a surprise after a week at Hogwarts, but it was still a little creepy. I made a mental note of the appearances of some of the people whose pictures were inside; the Minister for Magic, Malfoy, some of the other governors of the school.

Gringotts was celebrating its five hundredth and seventeenth year without a single robbery. I probably needed to set up an account there, once I got more money. I had a few ideas about ways to make money during the summer. That repair spell seemed like a good start; I'd work extra hard on it.

"I overheard my grandmother talking about the Trace," Neville was saying.

"The Trace?" I asked.

"It's a charm that lets the Ministry know if children under seventeen perform magic," Hermione said. "It's forbidden to use magic when you aren't at school."

"What?" I asked flatly.

"I heard her say that the Trace gets applied the first time a student gets on the train," Neville said. "Before that, the Ministry has no idea of whether we do magic or not... or at least not any more than they do for adults. They've got a lot of people watching for violations of the Statute of Secrecy."

My fists tightened against my pants and forced myself to stay calm. That was why Snape and Dumbledore had insisted that I come here and waste time riding all this way... and I'd completely bought it!

It took time for me to get my anger under control; apparently younger brain chemistry was different enough that it was a struggle.

Maybe it was because I'd thought I had a handle on Snape. He'd lied to me, and I hadn't known it. Of course, given that he was a double agent, lying had to be a particular skill of his, but still.

Mostly, the Trace was something I was going to have to find my way around. There hadn't been anything in the library that I'd seen about it, but they'd probably limited the information so that clever students couldn't find their way around it.

Even Legilimency and Occlumency had only had passing references. I hadn't found anything about how to actually do either of them, and only the bit about avoiding people's eyes had been remotely useful.

I suspected that censors had periodically purged the library of anything that the people in power considered to be dangerous; it was possible that they'd simply been moved to the restricted section, but I suspected that even that information had probably been purged.

To get the good stuff I was probably going to have to go to Knockturn Alley.

I stewed and fumed about it for much of the rest of the trip, especially when I learned that the Ministry didn't care about magic performed around other wizards; it was supposedly done in the interests of secrecy, but it effectively meant that muggleborns had a disadvantage at school.

Snape probably hadn't warned me because he'd figured I wouldn't have gotten on the train. He'd been right, of course. If I'd had to ride on the outside of the train to avoid the Trace I would have. I wouldn't have enjoyed eight hours in the wind, and it would have been dangerous, but it would have been worth it.

The problem with being a child was that other people always thought they had the right to make decisions for you.

By the time the train reached its destination I'd managed to calm down, although I still planned to let Snape know about my displeasure.

"We'd better change," Hermione said. "We're supposed to be wearing our robes by the time we get to the station."

I scowled.

Wearing robes really wasn't any worse than some of the outfits Glenn Chambers had tried to set me up with over the years, although truthfully I'd refused to wear most of those too. Still, there was no point in sticking out any more than I already had.

I started pulling my sweat jacket off, only to notice that Neville was blushing a bright red.

"What?"

"Maybe Neville should step out of the room," Hermione said.

"It goes over our clothes," I said incredulously. "Who cares?"

Despite my protestations, Neville insisted that we turn our backs when he changed. I kept some bug eyes on him of course, because getting stabbed in the back by an eleven year old would be embarrassing.

"How did you get your robes in that bum bag without wrinkling them?" Hermione asked.

Bum Bag... right.

"Magic," I said. I stuffed my hoodie into the bag.

The look Hermione gave my bag was avaricious; she was probably wondering how many books she could stuff in one of them. The answer of course was about six hundred.

The train slowed to a stop, and I used a spell to lower my trunk. Neville and Hermione's trunks were in a forward compartment; apparently they'd been forced out by upper years but hadn't been forced to take their trunks with them.

Hermione's trunk was incredibly heavy. I suspected that she'd filled it with books, and while I could understand the urge, she hadn't seen the Hogwarts library yet. We were told to leave it, that our trunks would be taken care of. If my trunk wasn't empty I would have been suspicious and upset.

We emerged onto a tiny, dark platform. It was dark and cold. I still hadn't figured out where in England we were; like many Americans my sense of geography was limited to the western Hemisphere.

A bellowing voice called out for first years.

The man who was waiting for us was huge; in my home reality I'd have called him a Case 53. No ordinary person was over nine feet tall and as wide as he was, he had to weigh over a thousand pounds. He'd probably be slow simply because of all that mass, but just carrying that weight meant that he had to be incredibly strong. I'd have to treat him with all the caution that any Brute received.

"Mind yer step," the man was saying. "Firs years! Follow me!"

We followed him down a dark trail; I could see the other students stumbling in the dark, but I could sense the area around us through my bugs. Hermione grabbed my hand, and I didn't pull away. Despite the fact that she was a chatterbox, she was bright, and might be useful over the next few years.

It was a steep, dark path, with trees on either side.

We came around the corner, and I could hear the other students gasping at the sight of Hogwarts. It did look pretty amazing in the moonlight, and part of me still wanted to squee in delight.

I crushed that part and threw it in a lockbox.

We were at the edge of the lake now. In the dark, its surface was black, the moonlight reflecting off its surface.

"I've heard that the giant squid likes to eat mu...muggleborns," Malfoy said. He was talking to a redhead and a black haired kid in glasses. He glanced at me. "But I'm sure it would make an exception for blood traitors like you."

They were on the other side of the group, and Malfoy probably thought I couldn't hear him.

"No more than four to a boat!" the man yelled, and dutifully, we began to fill the boats that were arrayed in front of us.

I ended up in a boat with Hermione and Neville, and one other kid I didn't know, another heavyset girl who looked miserable in her robes. I'd listened in on her compartment on the train, and apparently some of the pureblood girls had been making fun of her for the entire trip not for being fat or ugly, but because she was apparently a half-blood.

We reached a cliff and a curtain of ivy that I'd never seen before, and the large man told us to keep our heads down. We found ourselves in a tunnel, and moments later, the man was knocking on a large door.

"Don't forget your toad," I told Neville absently as we stepped out of the boat. He'd left it in the boat, and he gathered it up gratefully.

We entered the entrance hall. I'd seen it before, of course; it was larger than the house I'd grown up in. However, it looked a lot more impressive by torchlight than it did during the light of day. We were led into a small, empty chamber across from the hall.

"The firs years, Professor McGonagall," the man said.

Professor McGonagall looked us all over. Her eyes narrowed as she saw me, and I suspected that Snape had been telling tales.

She was a severe looking woman, and she launched into a speech about the four houses and how once we were sorted, it would be our family.

Wasn't that the spiel that every gang gave? That they were going to be your replacement family? I suppose that creating school sanctioned gangs probably cut down on unofficial, outside gangs like we'd had in Winslow, but it seemed like a good way to get people to fighting.

Maybe the British were just a little too genteel for that sort of thing, although that wasn't the impression I'd gotten from Snape.

She suggested that we clean ourselves up before the sorting, and then she left with one last glance at me. I smiled at her.

About twenty ghosts appeared and there were screams from some of the children. I watched them curiously. As far as I'd read, they weren't able to hurt us, but they'd make great spies and messengers with their ability to float through walls.

One ghost with a ruff turned toward us. They greeted us as a class, and made some sort of inane invitation to Hufflepuff.

I noticed several of the ghosts watching me closely as they left, and I wondered if they'd been watching me since I'd gotten here. It would be just like Snape to warn everybody against me.

"Were they staring at you?" Neville asked in a low voice.

I shrugged.

A moment later we were led out into the great hall. There were gasps as the other students looked up, and despite myself, I was impressed too. I hadn't seen the Hall during the evening, and seeing the night sky above us was particularly impressive, as was all the floating candles.

I'd have gone with Chinese Lanterns were it me, mostly because I always thought they were cool, but it was impressive enough. Seeing the hundreds of faces staring at us, I had to wonder if any of them were already part of their parents group. Had some of them already committed atrocities, and were they getting ready to do the same to me?

Or were they just genuinely bored and curious and distracted and all the other emotions I saw on their faces?

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," Hermione said. "I read about it in Hogwarts a history."

I saw several of the other children looking at her, visibly irritated by the tone in her voice. Had I been like that when I was younger? Oblivious to the effect that I was having on people?

Was I still like that?

"I know," Neville whispered back. "My Nan came here and she told me all about it."

That was another advantage that the purebloods had over the muggleborn; they knew what to expect when they got here. I did hear the redhead wonder where the troll we were supposed to fight was.

Professor McGonagall put an incredibly dirty wizard's hat on a stool. I'd worn cleaner clothes when I was homeless and literally living in a hole. The thing looked terrible.

When it started to sing, I had to fight to keep my face stoic. The thing was creeping me out... it it had a mouth on the front of the brim, were we putting our heads up its butt? Maybe just up its neck hole? I couldn't imagine any scenario where putting a dirty sentient hat on our heads was going to be a good thing.

"The hat's a thousand years old," Neville whispered. "It's been worn by every student that ever went to Hogworts."

Absently, I checked the hat for lice and other nasty critters. I didn't detect any, thankfully, although I wouldn't be able to detect birds or mice unless they too were infested.

Apparently Neville was right, and we had to put on the hat.

Malfoy looked like he was anticipating it, but a lot of the other students looked worried. I kept my face stoic. I didn't yet have a large enough of a swarm to push my emotional responses into the insects, but at the rate I was going it wouldn't be long.

The one thing I couldn't do was to show fear. Children were little monsters, and while Emma, Sophia and Madison had been outliers, I'd seen a lot of casual bullying in my days as well. There had been a lot of kids who had laughed when I'd been shoved in the locker, and a much larger group that had stood by and done nothing.

Kids tended to pile on when someone went down, and they were vicious. They hadn't yet developed the ability to empathize with people, and their idea of morality was "don't get caught."

The fact that even most of the eleven year olds were a little larger than I was did not help anything. I found myself thinking of them as being older than they were simply because they were the same size as me. I still felt like I was the same size as I was before, when I'd been awkwardly tall and a full adult. It was simply that the rest of the world felt like it was outsized.

Kid after kid was called to the front and the hat was plopped on their heads. It was obvious that the hat made a decision quickly with most of them. With a few the hat took a little longer.

They were going in alphabetical order, which meant I would be in the middle of the pack. Occasionally I would see McGonagall reach a point in her list where she would hesitate, and then clear her throat awkwardly.

All the murdered children must have been scratched out; she had the grace to look somewhat upset about it, even if she didn't warn the children about the danger.

"GRANGER, HERMIONE," McGonagall called out.

Hermione was staring at me as the hat was put on her head. The hat seemed to debate with her for a short time, and finally it called out, "RAVENCLAW!"

Hmm... she'd been talking about wanting to be in that other house. I hadn't bothered to do a lot of research on the houses, because really, who cared what bedroom I slept in?

I knew that Slytherin was the house where most of the racists stayed, and looking over at their table, I could see unfriendly looks directed in my direction.

Soon enough I found myself next on the list. I forced myself to look cool and confident, even if underneath I was feeling anxious.

A mind reading hat seemed like an awfully convenient thing to have around if you were a Dark Lord. Simply have everyone wear the hat, and then have the hat narc on anyone who was planning to stab you in the back.

Using it on eleven year olds was confusing. What could they possibly be thinking that was of interest to anyone?

Was the hat collecting blackmail information for the administration?

Using children to spy on their parents might not be the worst idea, especially if they didn't know they were doing it.

I'd simply have to let the hat know what would happen if it didn't keep my secrets to itself. Certain species of moths would lay a hundred eggs in clothes each, and each larvae would hungrily devour cloth. An entire swarm of them would make for an entirely different sorting ceremony next year.

"HERBERT, TAYLOR!" McGonagall called out.

"It's Hebert," I said quietly as I reached the stool.

I took a deep breath, and then I climbed up on the stool, looking out at the sea of expectant faces. Then I set the hat on my head.