Sure. I own Harry Potter. . . . Well. . . I do in my dreams.
Chapter Three
Harry arrives at the train station bright and early on the first day of term.
It's a good thing, because it takes Harry nearly ten minutes to figure out where platform 9 ¾ is. He was actually very lucky to find it. He'd been pacing back and forth between platforms 9 and 10, when he'd noticed that the third beam (exactly ¾ of the way between the platforms) had a magical aura around it.
Wheeling his trolley over to the beam, he'd placed his hand on it, but his hand didn't meet a stone beam; it went right through it. Looking around to make sure that no one was looking at him, Harry walks casually through the beam.
On the other side is his train. The Hogwarts Express. Looking around, he sees that he must still be early; hardly anyone is at the station yet.
Climbing aboard the train, Harry walks by all the compartments, looking inside each, he sees that Draco Malfoy isn't on board yet.
Harry climbs into the compartment at the end of the train with a sigh and begins leafing through The Arte of Potions while he waits for Draco to arrive.
After about ten minutes, Harry hears the noise level rising and knows other students are arriving. He hopes Draco will arrive soon.
Just as he finishes the thought, the compartment door opens, and for a moment Harry thinks that Draco finally did show up, but instead a red-head steps through the door.
"Erm, do you mind if I sit in here?" he asks, "There aren't any more empty compartments."
"Sure," Harry says with a shrug, "I don't mind."
"Good," the boy says as he plops down, "Ron Weasley," he says, introducing himself.
"Harry Potter," Harry says.
Ron stares, "Are you really?"
Harry sighs, already annoyed by this reaction, "Yeah."
"Blimey! That- that's-" he shakes his head, "Wow."
Suddenly a rat pokes his head out of Ron's pocket, "There's a rat on your lap," Harry informs him.
"Erm, yeah," Ron says, collecting himself, "He's my pet. His name's Scabbers. He's real boring. My brothers taught me this spell to turn him yellow, but I haven't managed it yet."
"Can I see the spell?" Harry asks, wondering if it's anything like the spells he uses to make his own hair change color.
"I suppose I'll give it a go," Ron says, raising his wand.
Just then the compartment door opens and a bushy-haired girl is standing there, "Have you seen a toad around here anywhere?" she asks.
Both boys shake their heads.
"Oh," she says, "Pity. Were you about to do magic?" she asks, brightening up.
"Well, er," Ron says, fidgeting uncomfortably.
"Well, go on," the girl says.
"Um well:
"Sunshine, Daisies, Butter Mellow,
Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"
He ends his spell with a jab at the rat.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl asks, "Well it isn't very good, is it? I've tried a few spells on my own, and they've all worked for me. My name's Hermione Granger."
"Ron Weasley," Ron says.
"Harry," Harry says, purposefully not adding his last name, "Can I see the rat?" he asks, holding out his hand.
Ron places Scabbers in Harry's outstretched hand, looking puzzled.
Harry concentrates on the rat, weaving his magic over the top of it before laying it on him gently. He rat turns a very bright, neon yellow.
"How'd you do that?" Ron asks, "You didn't even use a spell."
"Simple things don't need a spell," Harry says with a shrug.
Hermione looks at him, "That's not true," she says, "People need spells, even for simple things, unless they're really powerful. If you can do that without even going to school. . ." she trails off, "Harry. . .are you- are you Harry Potter?" she asks.
Harry nods and sighs, "Yeah."
"I read all about you in Rise and Fall of the Dark Ages and Naming He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; What we Know of Tom Riddle! I suppose it only makes sense for you to be powerful."
Harry sits there, uncomfortable.
Hermione seems to shake herself out of awe, "Anyways, I need to go look for the toad. If you see him, please tell me."
As she closes the compartment door, Poison pokes her head out of Harry's shirt, "Do I smell a rat?" she asks.
"Yeah," Harry answers, "But he's someone's pet. You can't eat him. I'm sure there will be lots of rats at Hogwarts for you to eat."
"You're a parcelmouth!" Ron says.
"Huh?" Harry asks.
"You can talk to snakes," he clarifies.
"Oh. Yeah. Snakes are really interesting. This one here is Poison," he says motioning to her.
"Is he venomous?" Ron asks, edging away from Harry slightly.
"You know," Harry says, "I don't know. But she's a she, not a he. Are you poisonous?" he asks her.
She nods, "Yes. I'm quite deadly. But don't worry. I won't bite anyone . . . unless you want me to of course."
Harry looks back at Ron, "Yeah, she says she's deadly. But she promises not to bite."
Just then the compartment door opens again and Draco steps inside with two huge kids following behind him on either side, "Hey, Harry."
"Hi Draco," Harry responds.
"What're you doing hanging out with a Weasel?" Draco asks in disgust.
Harry frowns, "Why do you have to be such a-"
"At least my father's not a Death Eater. He should be in prison right now, the git. If he hadn't used his money to get out of trouble-"
"Ron!" Harry shouts, "How can you-"
"You're just jealous," Draco says, "Everyone knows your family; too many kids, too little money."
"Draco!" Harry shouts.
The insults fly back and forth as the two hate on each others' families.
"Stop it!" Harry finally shouts. The two boys look at him in surprise, "This fighting is pointless; a giant waste of time. Let's just go, Draco," Harry says standing up and tugging at Draco's sleeve.
"Fine," Draco says, "Bye, Weasel."
"Sorry, Ron," Harry says, "Bye."
"Bye," Ron mutters dejectedly.
"What were you doing hanging out with him!?" Draco asks as they exit the compartment, "His whole family are a bunch of blood traitors!"
"If that's anything like muggle-borns and purebloods, I don't want to hear anything of it," Harry says firmly.
Draco shakes his head, "The Weasleys aren't a good bunch. You'll see. Well except maybe the twins. I've heard that they were cool, but you get that every now and then; a good one among a group of bad. Just like every good family has a bad nut, every bad family has a good one thrown in there somewhere."
Harry sighs, "And how do you know that Ron wasn't one of these 'good ones' thrown into their family? He could've been just fine for all you know."
"No," Draco argues stubbornly, "He insulted my family."
"Because you called him a Weasel." Harry points out, "You were the one who started things, and he was just defending himself."
Draco purses his lips, "I suppose so, but I doubt he was a good one. There are already two good people in that bad family; odds are there won't be any more."
Harry sighs, "Well give him a chance just to be sure."
Draco sighs as well, "Fine. I'll try,"
He opens up a door to an empty compartment and climbs inside. Harry follows behind him and spends the rest of the train ride with Draco and his two friends.
After a time, the train comes to a stop and a loud, gruff voice begins calling out "Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"
Harry and Draco step out of the compartment into the now full hallway followed closely by Draco's huge friends (Harry soon learns that their names are Crabbe and Goyle) and walk to the loud voice.
Stepping off the train, Harry sees a huge man with dark hair and a tangled beard that looks like it could use a good brushing. His hands are as large as lids from a rubbish-bin.
"'Ello!" the giant man says as he spots Harry, "Yeh wouldn' be Harry Potter, would yeh?"
"Erm, yes," Harry says nervously, "I am."
"I was wantin' to see yeh!" the man says excitedly, "I was a friend o' yer parents. Yeh pro'ly don't remember me, but well. . ." he trails off, "My name's Hagrid."
Something about the name is familiar to Harry. Like a dream. Or a dream of a dream, "Flying motorcycles?" Harry says, almost to himself, in confusion.
"Yeh remember tha'?!" Hagrid asks, clearly shocked.
Harry shakes his head, "I think I dreamed it once."
"Oh," Hagrid says, seeming disappointed. He shakes his head in attempt to clear his thoughts before getting back on track, "Right. Firs' years! We're here."
Harry is confused. He can see the great castle, but the group of fist years are nowhere near it. A lake stands between them and the castle.
Suddenly, as if by magic (which actually made sense as Harry thought about it), boats began appearing in the lake.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid shouts.
Harry and Draco sit in silence as they ride to Hogwarts for the first time, pure awe making it impossible to talk about anything. Crabbe and Goyle are silent mostly from lack of intelligent thing to say.
Though the ride to Hogwarts seems agonizingly slow as to boys watch as the castle slowly gets larger and larger as they approach. Eventually they reach the shore, and the first years are all immediately shepherded into Hogwarts.
Harry barely listens as grim-looking a teacher with her hair in a bun talks to the student; he's too busy looking around at everything his eyes can land on. After she is done talking, she leads the students into a huge room.
Four great tables sit in the room, seating hundreds of students.
All attention in the room is focused on a hat sitting on a stool, but Harry pays no attention. He's too busy looking at the portraits (they MOVE!).
What finally gets his attention is the singing.
After all, a talking hat, let alone a singing hat is an object of great interest. Harry can see layers of magic over the hat in such a delicate weave that Harry knows it'd be a long, long time before Harry could use any magic as great as that.
Professor Strict-Bun-Lady begins calling off students' names and the students would put on the hat and wait for it to sort them into their correct houses.
Harry had watched the first student (Abbot, Hannah!) with interest as she'd climbed up the stool and placed the hat on her head. Harry'd watched as the woven magic all around the hat stretched down over Hannah's mind in, what appeared to Harry to be, Legilimency.
Would Occlemency shield me from the hat? Harry wonders before remembering that he needed the hat to read his mind.
Harry watches as Crabbe, Goyle, and then Malfoy are all sorted into Slytherin.
Finally, Bun-Lady calls out, "Potter, Harry."
A hush falls over the Great Hall and Harry walks slowly up to the stool. Picking the hat up and sitting down, he places the hat on top of his head. The silence breaks and everyone begins muttering as if on cue.
Hmmm. . .where do I put you. Courage, yes. Cunning as well. A good mind, but not Ravenclaw, no. . .hmmmm. . . .Not Hufflepuff either, definitely not. But where to put you. . . ?
Erm. . . Can you hear me? Harry thinks.
Of course, the hat 'says', I see into your mind of course.
Good. Then it doesn't matter to me where I'm placed. I don't think Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff would be suited to me either. I like Gryffindor and Slytherin best.
You'd do well in Slytherin, the hat suggests.
Sure. Put me there then.
You'd take my word on it, just like that? the hat asks.
Well, begins Harry, they'd probably the best if I'm bringing a pet snake, and the Gryffindor colors are a bit garish.
If that is your choice then, better be "Slytherin!"
The hush is back over the hall. This is clearly not what was expected. Draco Malfoy begins clapping enthusiastically and is copied by Crabbe and Goyle, then, finally, the rest of the Slytherin table.
Harry walks over to Draco who has made room for him beside himself and Goyle, "Congratulations, Harry."
"Thanks," Harry says with a grin.
"I never thought you were going to be sorted. What took so long?"
Harry shrugs, "Apparently the hat wanted to make sure that I choose my house. He wouldn't just put me in Slytherin, he had to make sure I decided I liked it better than the other houses."
Draco smiles at him, "Still, I'm glad you're here."
Harry smiles, "You know what? Me too."
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