a/n; Shit, y'all, I'm sorry I wrote so much! I think this chapter is even longer than the last! :P Oh well, maybe the length will make up for the lateness. My apologies; I'm just the laziest person I know. Anyway, I'll start really deviating from canon next chapter. Hope you guys stick around to see what happens! :) Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, and alerts! You guys are great! :D
disclaimer; I don't own Harry Potter.
the fabulously vintage world of holly potter
—fifth: in which rudeness runs in the family
The final month before term began was, in short, peculiar. Holly's birthday came and went; she celebrated with her friends who weren't on vacation, and they had a neat garden party in the backyard. Holly thought Petunia just liked excuses to throw garden parties—the two still weren't on the best of terms anymore. Holly wasn't sure if they ever had been.
Holly liked spending time with her owl. She had decided to name her Hedwig. It was a pleasantly old-fashioned name she had found in one of her textbooks. Holly wrote one further letter to Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, inquiring about the multitude of questions that had occurred to her in Diagon Alley. They included:
How is it possible for wizards to come from Muggles?
Are there restrictions on wizards leaving the country?
Are there restrictions on immigrants?
How many magical races are there?
Is there a hospital system?
Do wizards go to law school?
What kind of jobs will I have the opportunity to apply for?
What is the true meaning of the houses at Hogwarts?
Is there any one house that will provide anything better than the rest?
She decided to stop there, just in case she was overwhelming the poor woman. It was best not to frighten a possible future professor, she thought. While she waited for Deputy Headmistress McGonagall's reply, she read her textbooks. The ones on political issues were rather difficult to comprehend but Holly thought she understood the gist of them.
The Ministry of Magic seemed to be utterly incompetent. The branches of it were explained, but none of them seemed to truly encompass what they needed to. Holly also thought it was strange that there were barely any lawyers for other magical races. What if a goblin wanted to sue a wizard? Was it near impossible? How unjust!
Holly also spent a great deal of time organizing ways to keep her current endeavors going in the future. She asked for a notebook of routines she could learn to keep up her ballet from her ballet instructor, and she asked her piano teacher for the songs she was meant to learn in the coming year. On her birthday Aunt Petunia gave her a little orange book called How to Live Like a Lady. Holly rather thought this book was the most important of all—besides her Bible, of course.
She told her friends that she would be attending a prestigious academy in Scotland, although she didn't say which one. Allison and Jane were sad, but not overly so; they were going to be separated from her anyway, as they were to attend Stonewall. Jenna and Melanie were downright depressed: but, as Holly pointed out, at least they had each other. She would be going somewhere where she had no one.
Privately Holly thought that at least she had two teachers on her side: Hagrid and, hopefully, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall. She rather thought she and the Deputy Headmistress had formed some sort of bond over all her questions. A couple of days before Holly had to leave for the train station—Hagrid had given her a special ticket she would need to get on the train to Hogwarts—she received a reply:
Magic is a very mysterious thing, Ms. Potter, and it is quite unexplainable. No one is entirely sure how wizards can, indeed, come from Muggles, but there are experiments in certain departments in the Ministry of Magic doing research on the topic. However, all magic is the same; there is no reason for discrimination against people who are from wizards or who are from Muggles.
No, there are no restrictions on leaving the country. However, the Ministry does ask to be informed when someone intends to move out of the United Kingdom.
No, there are no restrictions on immigrants. The Ministry asks to be informed about this as well, however. They need to have some idea of the size of the wizarding population.
There are a great many magical races, all of which you can find in your textbooks.
Yes, there is a hospital system. The main hospital is St. Mungo's.
Yes, wizards can go to law school.
There are all sorts of jobs you can apply for. The opportunities most people such as yourself might want to look into in the future would be as a professor, a Healer, or a Ministry worker.
There is background on all four houses in your textbooks. However, for a short summary: Gryffindor is my house, and it is for those who are brave and strong, although not necessarily even-tempered. Slytherin is for those who are ambitious and cunning, although they can be known to climb over others to reach the top. Ravenclaw has the same downfall as Slytherin, but they are very intelligent and thoughtful. Finally Hufflepuff is the most loyal and kind of all the houses; their honesty and hard work keeps them entirely grounded.
No, there is no one house that will provide more than the rest. It depends entirely on who you are and who you want to be.
Holly hoped the Deputy Headmistress did not think she was insane.
The evening before the day Holly would set off for Hogwarts, she cautiously brought it up at the dinner table. Dudley was on his third helping and Vernon was venting about a bad coworker to Petunia, who was listening quite calmly and humming in agreement.
When Vernon finished his story and they had all been silent for a moment, Holly said, "I'm sorry to bring this up, but—can one of you please drive me to the train station tomorrow morning? My train leaves at eleven."
"Yes, of course," said Petunia. "Which platform are you leaving from?"
Holly frowned. This had troubled her a bit, but she hadn't bothered to think too much on it. She figured perhaps it was a place like the Leaky Cauldron, innocuous and, at first, seemingly nonexistent. "Platform Nine and Three Quarters," she said.
Vernon stared at her. Dudley snickered with his mouth full. Petunia said, "That's not a real place."
"It was on my ticket," said Holly.
"Well, I suppose we will find out tomorrow," said Petunia with a sigh.
And indeed they did. The following morning Holly woke at five; she was too full of nervous and excited energy to fall asleep again, so she stayed awake and organized her things. She went back over the packing list she had made and double-checked everything. Then she triple-checked.
She tried to sit down and read for a few minutes, but her excitement made her want to walk around. So at seven in the morning Holly took out her bike and went for one last ride. She returned around seven-forty-five; she had left a note for her aunt and uncle in the kitchen on her whereabouts. Neither of them seemed worried when she wandered back in.
Holly had enough time to shower and change her outfit—and try to swallow some breakfast—before she and Petunia set out. She said goodbye to Uncle Vernon before he left for work; he seemed quieter than usual, but not put out at all; and she pounded on Dudley's door to shout that she was leaving, at which Dudley grunted. Holly supposed that was the best goodbye she would get.
When she and Petunia reached the place where her platform was supposed to be, they both stopped. "I don't see it," said Petunia. "Do you?"
Holly frowned. There was a large plastic sign for platform nine, and beyond that was a large plastic sign for platform ten; however, there was nothing in between, save a man in a shabby raincoat. "How peculiar," Holly remarked.
Petunia and Holly stared at the blank stretch of wall between the two platforms for a moment. "I think I remember there being something you had to do," Petunia finally said. "But I can't for the life of me remember what, exactly."
Holly should have known Hagrid had forgotten to tell her something. He was a very kind man—although impolite—but he struck her as the forgetful type. "Do you think I ought to tap the brick or something?" Holly asked.
"Oh, please don't," Petunia replied immediately. She was afraid of looking weird in public.
A moment later, a rather large group approached from behind them. Holly thought they were going to pass by and head for Platform Ten; but she caught a couple of words from their chatter—"packed with Muggles, of course"—and her idea changed completely. She twisted around to look more closely at them—it was a clan of redheads.
Most of them were pushing large trunks; they also had a tawny owl. "I think they're wizards," Holly muttered to Aunt Petunia, who also turned to look at their new neighbors. One gangly redheaded boy in particular was standing rather close to Holly, who felt slightly affronted at this pushing of her personal space.
"Now, what's the platform number?" a plump woman asked. She was holding a girl's hand; she had to be the matriarch of the redhead clan.
"Nine and three quarters!" cried the girl. "Mum, can't I go…"
"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."
The tallest of the bunch turned toward the stretch of blank wall. Petunia and Holly watched in fascination as the boy strode toward the wall and then sped up to a jog—and then a group of tourists swarmed by, blocking their sight.
When the tourists had left, Percy was gone. "Fred, you next," said the mother.
"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said one of two identical redheaded boys. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"
"Sorry, George, dear."
"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, before following his brother's footsteps and going straight at the wall. He drew so close to it Holly thought he might smack his head: instead, he went straight through it.
How very odd! Holly thought, staring. His twin brother went right through it as well. Holly looked around; this was situated in one of the worst possible places: any Muggle could turn and watch it happen as well.
"I think you just run at the wall," Petunia murmured. "How strange."
Holly and Petunia turned toward each other now, to say their goodbyes. Holly felt, for the first time, a little prickle of fear, and a strain of sadness; she was leaving everything she knew for a place that was utterly absurd. "Remember to read your book," said Petunia. Her eyes were growing misty. "And don't forget to practice your piano and ballet. Oh—and don't you ever forget your manners. Remember: speak so people want to listen, and listen so people want to speak."
"I will," said Holly.
"Ah—and always remember as well, this always helps me—even if you don't want to be somewhere, always dress up and show up, and never, ever give up. That way people will see you for who you are. You are somebody, Holly Potter." With that, Petunia actually reached over and gave Holly a tight hug.
Holly thought they both might cry. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Thank you, Aunt Petunia," said Holly. "I'll see you soon."
"Don't forget to write," said Petunia, pulling back. She straightened the collar of Holly's dress before turning and walking off, back down the platforms. Holly didn't turn to watch her go; looking back was no way to start something new. Instead, she turned to see how the redheaded clan was faring now.
There was only one boy left, with his mother and little sister. Holly thought she could wait for them to finish up; but there were only ten minutes left before eleven o'clock, and Holly would have hated to be late on her first day. So she took a step forward and said, "Excuse me?"
All of them turned to stare at her. Immediately their eyes trailed upward to find the scar on her forehead. The little girl gasped. "I'm sorry," said Holly, trying to ignore their incredulousness, "But could any of you tell me how to get onto the platform? I'm afraid I'm rather new at this."
"I'd say so, you poor dear," said the mother. "Holly Potter, is it?"
"Well, yes," said Holly, struggling not to grow annoyed at the pity in the woman's gaze. Just because she'd been raised without her parents didn't mean she was an abused orphan. "How do you do?"
"So polite," said the woman, giving her son a significant look. "Anyway, about the platform. Not to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best to do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."
"All right," said Holly. "Thank you." She flashed a smile at them all before turning toward the barrier. She rolled her shoulders back before pushing her cart right at the barrier. She sped up as she went; her excitement doubled; and then she was through the wall and on the other side.
Now there was a scarlet steam engine waiting beside a platform crammed full of people. Holly smiled at the sight: then she hurried over to follow everyone else's leads: she still didn't want to be late. She carefully pushed her way through the crowd, excusing herself every time she came remotely close to touching someone, and found an empty compartment close to the end of the train. On her way she passed a scared-looking boy who had been discussing the loss of his toad with his grandmother, and a black boy with dreadlocks who had apparently been showing off a large spider.
Holly carefully placed Hedwig inside her chosen compartment first. Then she began the struggle of lifting her trunk and carrying it in. She had been fighting it for a few minutes when one of the twins from earlier appeared out of nowhere. "Want a hand?" he asked, as Holly paused to frown down at her trunk.
"Oh, yes, please," she said brightly to him.
"Oi, Fred!" the twin called back over his shoulder. "C'mere and help!"
With both of the boys' assistance, they managed to carry the trunk in and tuck it away in a corner of the compartment, under the buttery leather seats. "Thank you very much," said Holly to the two boys, turning back toward them.
"What's that?" asked one of them quite suddenly, pointing at the scar on her forehead.
Well, Holly thought, it's a scar; I imagine you've seen one before, especially in a family with so many boys. "Blimey," said the other twin, before Holly could figure out how to respond. "Are you—"
"She is," said the first. "Aren't you?" he added, looking at Holly.
"I'm Holly Potter, if that's what you mean," said Holly, rather annoyed with their speaking in half-sentences.
Both of them stared openly at her. "It's rather rude to stare, you know," she remarked dryly. One of them started to redden, but the other didn't seem to get the memo. Fortunately their mother's voice floated in from outside—"Fred? George? Are you there?"
"Coming, Mum!" called the politer one. Holly imagined that was Fred. George followed his brother back outside.
Holly shook her head to herself and sat down in her compartment. She considered reaching up to riffle through her trunk until she found a book; instead she occupied herself with studying the people on the platform outside. The redheaded family had gathered there once again. "Ron, you've got something on your nose," said the mother, withdrawing a handkerchief from some pocket and using it to rub at the gangly one's face.
"Mum—geroff—" he wiggled about in a desperate attempt to free himself.
"Ah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nose?" asked one of the twins.
"Shut up," snapped Ron. They all strongly reminded Holly of her relationship with Dudley. She supposed all brothers acted this childish. Then she surprised herself by realizing she'd categorized Dudley as her brother. She supposed in a strange way he sort of was.
"Where's Percy?" asked the mother, unbothered by her children's antics.
"He's coming now," said the polite twin.
The tallest one came back into sight; he had already changed into his robes, and they were billowing and black. Holly hoped she wouldn't look as ridiculous as he did in them. He looked like a twig. "Can't stay long, Mother," he said importantly when he reached the group. He had a badge on his chest with a 'P' on it. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves—"
"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" teased the rude twin. "You should have said something, we had no idea."
"Hang on," said the nice one, playing along. "I think I remember him saying something about it. Once—"
"Or twice—"
"A minute—"
"All summer—"
"Oh, shut up," said Percy. Holly thought being a prefect might be a bit like being a hall monitor.
"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" complained the rude twin. Holly thought his hair might be styled slightly differently than the polite twin's, and she decided that was how she would tell them apart. She wished they would repeat their names again.
"Because he's a prefect," said their mother. "All right, dear, well, have a good term—send me an owl when you get there." She kissed Percy on the cheek; he turned round immediately and left. She turned to the twins, one of whom already looked slightly disinterested. "Now, you two—this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've—you've blown up a toilet or—"
Holly couldn't help but laugh at the idea. "Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet," said the polite one innocently.
"Great idea, though. Thanks, Mum," said the other one.
"It's not funny." Holly's mental images begged to differ. "And look after Ron."
"Don't worry," said the more talkative one, the rude one. "Ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."
"Shut up," Ron retorted. Holly decided that this was as advanced as his comeback repertoire was. This was depressing.
"Oh, hey, Mum, guess what?" piped up, of course, the rude twin. "Guess who we just met on the train?"
Holly rolled her eyes and leaned back slightly, trying to look occupied with Hedwig. She could still hear them loud and clear, though. She wondered if they would complain about how she'd told them off for staring. "You know that ginger girl who was near us in the station?" the Rude One plowed onward. "Know who she is?"
"Yes," said his mother. "Holly Potter."
"Oh, Mum, can I see her again?" asked the little girl, tugging on her mother's hand. "Mum, please…"
"You've already seen her, Ginny," said the mother. "The poor girl isn't something you goggle at in a zoo." Holly felt a rush of affection for the mother. That woman, at least, must have been raised to be a proper lady, Holly thought. "Did you introduce yourself? How do you know?"
"Asked her," said the Rude One. "Saw her scar. It's really there—like lightning."
"Poor dear," commented the mother absently. "She was ever so polite when she asked how to get onto the platform."
Holly was proud that this was her legacy.
"Never mind that," interrupted the Rude One. "Do you think she remembers what You Know Who looks like?"
Holly raised her eyes to the ceiling and prayed for patience. She also prayed never to run into the Rude One again. Fortunately the redheads' mother became very stern. "I forbid you to ask her, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though she needs reminding of that on her first day of school."
Too late, thought Holly, though she didn't particularly mind. She liked her aunt and uncle well enough and she'd never known her parents to miss them. Further, Voldemort was just something in a story—she hadn't really felt affected by him at all. "All right, keep your hair on," said Fred, the Rude One. Holly was glad to be able to put the correct name to the face. Now she knew the polite, quieter one was George.
The train whistle sounded. "Hurry up!" cried the mother, before presumably hustling all the boys onto the train. They had moved out of Holly's earshot and line of sight now, and she leaned back, relaxing into her seat. She crossed her legs and adjusted her dress, moving over to look out the window in anticipation of whatever was to come.
Suddenly the train began to move. Holly clasped her hands tightly in her lap and couldn't help but smile as she watched the platform shift out of her sight. She couldn't wait to see what on Earth this Hogwarts place was like.
The compartment door slid open before Holly could begin to imagine it. She glanced over and saw the boy from before, with the dirt on his nose and the tendency to say "Shut up." "Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat across from Holly. "Everywhere else is full."
Holly doubted this, as this was a magical train, and at least six hundred students had to fit onto it; however she flashed the boy a smile. "Go ahead and sit down," she said. "Are you excited?"
"Sort of," said the boy.
Before he could elaborate, the twins reappeared in the doorway. Holly looked them over for a moment while they turned to their younger brother. "Hey, Ron," said Fred. "Listen, we're going down to the middle of the train—Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."
"Right," said Ron. He looked embarrassed.
Directly then Holly accidentally managed to meet George's eye. She smiled at him politely. He said, "Oh—Holly—did we introduce ourselves? George and Fred Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother." He smiled back at her. She found him rather charming. "See you later, then."
"Sure," said Holly.
"Bye," said Ron at the same time.
Once the twins left and slid the compartment door shut behind them, Ron turned to Holly. "Are you really Holly Potter?" he blurted; he seemed as if he had been keeping that in for some time now.
Holly nodded. "Indeed," she said. "And you're Ron Weasley."
"Yeah," said Ron. "I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes. You've really got—you know—"
"The scar?" Holly finished for him. He seemed to be having some trouble. "Yes." She pointed it out on her forehead.
"So that's where You Know Who—" Ron trailed off, staring at Holly's forehead in astonishment. Holly was nearly as astonished as he was; his entire family, minus the mother and George, seemed to be remarkably ready to openly gawk at people and speak in half-formed sentences.
After a moment Ron must have suddenly realized he was staring, because he quickly turned to look out the window. Holly looked out the window as well; they had passed out of the train station and were beginning to move pasts several rows of fields. To make some polite conversation, and because Ron looked increasingly uncomfortable, Holly asked, "Are all your family wizards?"
"Er—yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."
"Why not?" Holly asked. Was the stigma from the Dursleys just the same on the other side? It seemed to be so; it all felt rather ridiculous to Holly, who thought it would be nice to have magic to fix your hair in the morning, while it would also be nice for wizards to have television sets and own pens.
Ron looked perplexed. "Well, I don't know," he said. "We just don't." He frowned, as if considering writing a letter home to ask why.
"You must know loads of magic already," Holly realized aloud. Perhaps that boy in Madam Malkin's had been referring to old wizarding families such as the Weasleys. She wondered what the boy would have said had she said her surname was Weasley.
Ron did not affirm or deny this realization. Holly felt increasingly behind. When she reached Hogwarts, she decided, she would put in more work than she had to and learn all the spells and tricks and tips she could. She didn't want to be the best—she wanted to be her best. "I heard you went to live with Muggles," Ron said presently. "What are they like?"
"Oh, they're all very different," said Holly. "They're all people just the same as us. They only have to work a bit harder for things, I suppose. But they have electronics and such. I suppose you'd like that."
"What are electronics?" asked Ron.
"Don't worry about it," said Holly. She thought the boy from Madam Malkin's wouldn't have known what they were either.
"Have you got any cousins or anything?" Ron asked.
Holly nodded. "One cousin," she said. "You seem to have quite a few siblings. Terrible at dinnertime, I suppose?"
Ron nodded back, looking gloomy about it. "I have five brothers," he said. "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."
He decided then to withdraw a fat, sleeping gray rat from somewhere inside his coat. "Oh," said Holly, quite at a loss. "That is very unfortunate for you." The rat twitched; she guessed it didn't do much.
"Yeah, it is," said Ron. He was very ready to throw a self-pity party, Holly noticed. "The rat's named Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff—I mean, I got Scabbers instead."
Ron went slightly pink and looked back out the window. Personally Holly only ever liked old-fashioned or vintage things; she couldn't see anything wrong with them. She told Ron this in the hopes of possibly cheering him up. Instead, he gave her a slightly strange look and remarked, "That's kind of weird, for a girl."
Holly decided that Ron was, although not quite rude, not exactly a gentleman. She would have to search elsewhere for one.
She took to reading and attempting to fully memorize her How to Live Like a Lady book. Aunt Petunia's words, Holly had decided, were going to stick with her to the very grave. Other than those heard in church, they were the most important words Holly thought she'd ever heard. It suddenly occurred to her that she didn't know if she could go to church while she was at Hogwarts. What on Earth would she do if she couldn't? She was Catholic; she had to go to church every Sunday. And Petunia used to bring her to Confession once a month.
At this startling realization Holly glanced up, intending to ask Ron about it. He was half-asleep staring out the window. Before she could figure out a way to politely wake him up, a loud clanging echoed outside the compartment door. Holly and Ron both looked over; a smiling, dimpled older woman slid open their door. "Anything off the cart, dears?"
Holly set down her book and climbed to her feet. She walked over to see what the cart had to offer. She had already packed herself a lunch, but she figured taking a look couldn't hurt. Ron stayed seated, looking embarrassed out of his wits. Holly decided he needed to be taught how to have confidence in himself even if he felt lost.
The cart was full of a very odd variety of candies. Holly had never heard of any of them before. She went with the safest bets, buying several Chocolate Frogs, Licorice Wands, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. The jelly beans didn't seem safe, but Holly thought they looked interesting enough to buy.
When she returned to her seat Ron still looked immensely awkward. "Hungry, are you?" he asked, as Holly organized her candy beside her on the seat.
"Oh, positively starving," said Holly. She glanced at Ron; he had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four—four—sandwiches inside. He looked at them rather sadly.
"She always forgets I don't like corned beef," said Ron.
Holly thought this must have been another unfortunate side-effect of having such a large family. "Well, take this," said Holly, throwing a Chocolate Frog at him. Ron barely managed to catch it.
"Oh, I can't take it," said Ron. "Don't you want it?"
"There's no way I could eat all this," Holly replied.
"Well, all right," said Ron skeptically. "If you say so."
"I certainly say so."
Ron proceeded to mooch off of Holly's offered snacks. Holly ate her own lunch—a turkey sandwich with an apple and a bottle of water—and started in on the Every Flavor Beans. They were incredibly peculiar, and that was putting it nicely.
The Chocolate Frogs had trading cards with famous wizards on them. The wizards all moved around in their pictures. Holly was glad to be able to finally ask someone about that. "Why on Earth do all these photographs move?" Holly asked, staring down at a card that read Albus Dumbledore. "Are they like films?"
"I don't know what a film is," said Ron through a mouthful of Licorice Wand, "but the pictures always move. Who've you got?"
"Albus Dumbledore," said Holly. She took a moment to study him; he had long, silver hair, a matching beard, and half-moon spectacles, with bright blue eyes. His nose was long and crooked. He looked very much the way Holly might picture Merlin.
"I forgot, you've never heard of Dumbledore, right?" said Ron. "Hey—can I have a Chocolate Frog? I might get Agrippa."
As Ron ate another Chocolate Frog and complained about not getting Agrippa, Holly turned the Albus Dumbledore card over and read the back:
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS
Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for his discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.
Somehow the man managed to sound both terribly dull and fascinatingly intelligent. Holly stowed the card away for later; she thought it might be interesting to know things about the headmaster of Hogwarts before she actually arrived. That way she might not sound so silly for not knowing anything about Quidditch.
Holly decided to ask Ron about the sport. This, she soon discovered, was either the best or worst decision of her life. He spent an entire hour explaining its rules to her. This in itself was boring—but the sport sounded exciting. It sounded like anarchy and madness, to be honest; the rules were odd and convoluted, and it seemed that it might as well be a one-on-one game with the Seekers only. Holly supposed that it wouldn't be nearly as interesting if there weren't that many people out flying over the field.
Just as Ron reached the end of a tirade on the Bulgarian Quidditch team, their compartment door slid open. A round-faced boy Holly was sure she'd spotted earlier was standing there, looking like he was about to cry. "Hello," he said to the floor. "Sorry, but…have you seen a toad at all?"
"No, I haven't," said Holly, while Ron shook his head.
"I've lost him!" the boy suddenly wailed in anguish. "He keeps getting away from me!"
"I'm sure he'll turn up," Holly said encouragingly. "Toads can't wander that far, can they? Maybe you should look back where you started—he might have come back. Some animals do that, you know."
The boy sniffed. "Maybe," he said, back to mumbling. "Well, if you see him…" He left, barely managing to shut the compartment door behind himself.
Holly looked down at the box of jelly beans in her hand. She thought perhaps she ought to join the poor boy in the search. Ron said, "Don't know why he's so bothered. 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 might have had that toad for as long as he could remember," Holly pointed out. She was rather offended by Ron's apparent carelessness about animals. "Even if I owned Scabbers I'd be attached to him."
Ron looked like he didn't know quite what to say. Fortunately the compartment door slid open yet again. Holly wasn't sure whether she was beginning to get irritated with all the interruptions or not; at least they provided something interesting. "Has anyone seen a toad?" asked the girl in the doorway. "Neville's lost one."
Holly was sure she'd seen her before, perhaps in Diagon Alley. She had unmistakable bushy brown hair; she also had a splash of freckles across her face, and rather large front teeth. She sounded important, like her business ought to be everyone's business, or maybe like she was in the middle of a public service announcement. She was already wearing her robes.
"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron.
"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," said the girl. "Who're you?"
"I'm Ron Weasley," said Ron. He looked vaguely annoyed.
"Holly Potter," said Holly. She smiled at the girl. "How do you do?"
Hermione glanced at her in surprise. "Are you really?" she asked. Holly pointed at the scar on her forehead. "Oh, I know all about you, of course," Hermione continued. She was speaking at break-neck speed. "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."
"Am I really?" Holly asked, startled. "I bought several books for background reading as well, but I suppose I haven't bought the right ones."
"Oh, goodness, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "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, I'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."
"Goodbye," Holly managed to say before Hermione whipped off like a shot, probably to catch up with poor Neville of the lost toad.
Ron and Holly looked at each other. Ron looked torn between irritable and disgusted. "Whatever house I'm in," he said darkly, "I hope she's not in it."
"There's no need to be rude," said Holly. Ron scowled at her. "What house are your brothers in?" she asked, for a subject change.
"Gryffindor," Ron replied. "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."
"At least they're all very ambitious in Slytherin," Holly said. "You'd be bound to go somewhere."
"Yeah, straight to the Dark side," Ron muttered.
Holly raised her eyebrows, but Ron seemed to know what she would say before she said it. "You know," Ron said with some disbelief, "you're very obsessed with being polite and whatnot."
"My aunt raised me to be a proper lady," said Holly, straightening up.
"It kind of reminds me of that Granger girl," Ron added distastefully.
Holly decided that whatever house Ron was in, she didn't want to be in it. The most likely possibility was that Ron was going to be in Gryffindor; she couldn't see any selfless aspect to him, but she supposed he was rather brave. He wasn't scared and timid like poor Neville was, at least.
Hermione, Holly supposed, would go straight to Ravenclaw; it was for the competitive, intelligent people, after all. And that blond boy from Madam Malkin's would be in Slytherin with other ambitious, clever people. Holly wondered if that boy had the capability of being clever or ambitious; she privately thought that as he was, he wouldn't get very far, being so pointlessly rude with everyone. Maybe he would be in Gryffindor, she conjectured. He was brave enough to speak up to her after all.
There were several long moments of silence, during which Ron crunched unhappily on his last Licorice Wand and Holly took up her book again. Hedwig hooted from where her cage sat a few feet down from Holly.
Yet again the compartment door slid open. Holly was already putting her bookmark in her book; if it was about the toad, she'd decided, she'd get up and help. There were three boys this time, and the one in the middle was the blond boy from Madam Malkin's. The two boys on either side of him looked like henchmen, all thick necked and muscular even for eleven.
This time the boy didn't look bored by Holly's presence; in fact, he was looking at her with interest. "Is it true?" he asked. "They're saying all down the train that Holly Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Well, yes," said Holly. The boy was quite straightforward. "How do you do?"
"Fine, and you?" said the boy.
Oh, good, Holly thought, delighted. At least he had some manners now. "Fine," she replied.
"When I met you in Diagon Alley I thought you might be a Black," said the boy, as if this meant something. "Anyway, this is Crabbe and Goyle." He gestured to the two boys standing behind him. "And I'm Malfoy—Draco Malfoy."
He seemed to think surnames were so important that they had to come first. Holly considered remarking on this; but Ron snickered and quickly tried to disguise it as a laugh. Holly glanced at him, unsurprised by his rudeness: it was in the family. Draco—Holly supposed she should probably think of him as Malfoy, he might like that better—glanced over at him, offended.
"Think my name's funny, do you?" he demanded. "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."
Holly frowned. The boy had just gotten extremely dull again. How predictable, she thought. She should have known Malfoy would slip into his old Madam Malkin's ways. "Now, neither of you have any need to be so impolite," Holly said. "Ron, your last name is Weasley, and I've met a man named Rubeus; there is no need to laugh at a name like Draco. In fact, I think it's the name of a constellation."
She looked toward Malfoy, who looked rather like a preening peacock. "Malfoy, you have such a short temper that I will be surprised if you are put in Slytherin. Honestly, if you were clever or cunning, wouldn't you keep offenses to yourself until the right moment? In fact, oughtn't you just say nothing about them?"
Ron looked abashed. Crabbe and Goyle were staring at her as if she had three heads. Draco sneered at her. "What do you know about Slytherin? Didn't you grow up with Muggles?"
"Well, yes," said Holly, "but that is no impediment, as you seem to be implying. I asked for more information on the school before deciding to attend."
"What, were you invited somewhere else?" asked Malfoy. He was trying to sound angry, but he also looked genuinely interested. "My father said that Durmstrang wanted me, but I ended up here."
Holly shrugged. "To be honest it is not your business," she remarked.
"I bet Beauxbatons wanted you," said Ron.
Holly wished that were true; she remembered Beauxbatons as having been in France. She'd always wanted to go to France. "What house d'you think you'll be in?" Malfoy asked her. He barely spared Ron half a side-glance. "You'll be in Gryffindor, I expect."
Secretly Holly was rather pleased; at least Ron had had even the rudest of boys confirm what he wanted to know. "I don't know," Holly admitted.
"You seem like a Ravenclaw," said Draco. "All excited about manners and spreading knowledge, or whatever."
Holly wasn't sure about this; she knew both of those things were true, but Hermione Granger still struck her as a Ravenclaw, and she knew she wasn't much like Hermione Granger. Or, at least, she thought she knew. "Maybe," said Holly. She noticed none of the three boys in the door were in their robes yet. "Aren't we stopping soon?"
"Yes, probably," said Malfoy. "I suppose I'll see you during classes."
"Have a good evening," Holly said, as the three boys trooped back out.
"You too," said Draco a little skeptically, like he wasn't even sure if he meant it. He slid the compartment door shut, though, and went along his way, Crabbe and Goyle trailing along after him.
Ron finally laughed. "What a weirdo," he said, shaking his head. Then he glanced down and reddened. "Er—I'd better change somewhere else."
"Yes, you'd better," Holly agreed absently.
Soon the arrangements had been settled—Holly just went to the water-closet to change, while Ron remained in the compartment. She took her time wandering back, hoping Ron would be finished by the time she arrived. On her way she spotted the Weasley twins and the boy with dreadlocks from before; their compartment door was wide open, and they were all alternately shrieking and laughing.
Holly paused to peek inside. There was a massive tarantula crawling around on the floor. She snickered at Fred's expression of terror and moved on before any of them could look out and see it was her.
Back in she and Ron's compartment, Holly began to pack her things away. She tossed out the trash in a rubbish bin and helped Ron put away his things as well. Soon she paused to look out the window; it was evening now, and the sky was a lovely shade of midnight blue. Holly could see trees and stars silhouetted against it.
A voice echoed throughout the train. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."
Holly was glad she'd written her name on her things. She kept her purse with her and told Hedwig not to be afraid; then she sat there and waited, almost buzzing inside with nervous energy. She and Ron left the compartment together, when they noticed people beginning to queue up in the corridor outside.
The train stopped while everyone was still standing, rather smushed together, outside in the hallway. "Is it a castle?" Holly leaned back to ask Ron. "Hogwarts, I mean?"
"Yeah," said Ron, looking confused. "You didn't know?"
"Not until a moment ago," Holly replied.
A boy who looked about their age twisted around. He was tan, and had wavy brown hair. Holly thought he was rather good-looking. "Excuse me, but I overheard your conversation," he said. "Couldn't help it—we're all so crowded in. Are you a Muggleborn?"
Holly was also rather pleased with his manners. "Not technically, no; I was raised by Muggles."
"Oh, how peculiar," said the boy. Holly thought she had found a like-minded soul. "Hang on—are you Holly Potter?"
Holly nodded.
"Interesting," the boy said, like she was a specimen for observation. He didn't, however, openly gape at her. A couple of other nearby students turned to take over the job for him. "I'm Anthony Goldstein."
"How do you do?" said Holly.
Anthony smiled at her. Before the conversation could continue, though, everyone nearby them began to pour back out of the train and onto another platform. "See you around," Anthony called back, as he and a few other boys hurried off the train. Holly waved at him and then joined the flow of the crowd exiting onto the platform.
The platform was tiny, too, and it was dark and cold outside. Holly rubbed her arms for warmth. Ron stood somewhat nearby, looking awkward. For a moment it was merely dark; Holly looked up to study the clear night sky overhead, looking at the twinkling yellow-white stars. Then a bobbing lamp appeared to their right.
"Firs' years!" shouted a familiar voice. "Firs' years over here!" Hagrid's large, hairy face loomed out of seemingly nowhere; he smiled at her. "All right there, Holly?"
"Yes, thank you," Holly chirped back.
Hagrid turned to start leading the way off the platform. He glanced back to call, "C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
"D'you know that man?" Ron asked Holly. "Is that Hagrid?"
Holly nodded.
"Fred's told me stories about him," Ron said. Holly wanted to tell him that the stories were all probably wrong, but she didn't want to be rude—or unfair; perhaps she and Fred had merely gotten off on the wrong foot.
It was much too dark to clearly see where anyone was going. Holly focused on the back of a blonde girl's head and followed that. The entirety of the first years went mostly silent; when Holly glanced over, she thought she saw poor Neville. He sniffled several times.
"Yeh'll all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid fairly shouted to them all, "jus' round this bend here."
The path suddenly became a shore on the edge of a massive dark lake. The first years all stopped; there was a magnificent castle with the windows lit by candles in the near distance, looming right over the lake, opposite the shore. The castle was huge, with all sorts of towers poking up into the sky. There was a chorus of pleased and surprised "Ohs" from all around.
There was a fleet of little boats bobbing in the water near the shore. "No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, gesturing at the boats with his lantern. Holly walked over to a boat and ended up in one with Ron, Neville, and Hermione by complete incident. Once the first years had all found boats to occupy, and there was no one left on the shore, Hagrid yelled, "Everyone in? Right then—forward!"
The boats all started off together, heading for the castle. Still, nobody spoke. There was too much to look at, even in the dark. Holly stared at the glistening lakewater, wanting to reach out and skim it with her fingers—but she also figured they would be eating dinner soon, and she wasn't sure if they'd be allowed to wash their hands. You never knew with wizards.
They sailed straight toward the cliff upon which the castle—Hogwarts—rested. "Heads down!" Hagrid shouted when the first few boats reached the cliff. There was a curtain of ivy that they all sailed through. The boats brought them through a gray tunnel of rock until they reached another small shore. This one was made of pebbles.
Together everyone climbed out onto this new shore. Hagrid checked all the boats as people climbed out of them, perhaps making sure they hadn't brought their luggage with them, or maybe trying to see that everyone was indeed getting out. At one point he said, "Oi, you there!" He seemed to be speaking to Neville, who was two people away from Holly. "Is this your toad?" He held up the poor lost creature.
"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed, holding out his hands. Hagrid handed him the toad. Holly smiled; she hoped Hedwig was all right, wherever she was now.
Hagrid led them all up a flight of stone steps from the rocky shore; then they reached the edge of a generous grassy lawn. They were almost directly in front of the castle. Holly was in awe of its beauty as they all approached it together. It looked very much like the windows were stars themselves, Holly thought.
There was another small flight of steps. They all halted outside the huge oak front doors. "Everyone here?" Hagrid asked, raising his lantern to look around. "You there—still got yer toad?"
Neville nodded happily.
Hagrid turned and knocked on the castle door.