They arrive at Kings Cross station with plenty of time, James steering a trolley containing Harry's trunk and Hedwig in her cage perched on top. They buy a cup of tea, mostly to warm their hands (it is a rather cool morning) and to kill time, before they meander their way to the platform, Harry talking nonstop about everything that might happen at Hogwarts this year, and James just smiling at him, not wanting to ruin the moment.
After about an hour, James checks the time on the big clock hanging from the wall, and is surprised to see that they have less time than he'd though, quickly gathering up their things and setting off, Harry trailing behind.
"You have your ticket, right?" James asks, and Harry pulls it out of his coat pocket.
"It says Platform nine and three quarters. But Dad, that must be wrong, Platform nine and three quarters can't possibly exist, can it?" Harry asks, feeling more than a little bit confused. Before James can answer him, a woman's voice rings out through the station.
"…packed with muggles of course…" Harry turns to see a plump little woman walking briskly toward him, five children in tow, the four boys with trunks very much like Harry's, and all of them with flaming red hair. "Now, what's the platform number?" she asks, and the little girl holding her hand is more than happy to supply the answer.
"Nine and three quarters! Mum, can't I go…" she whines, tugging a little on her mother's hand.
"Come on, Harry," James prods, smiling at his son and gesturing after the red-haired family, who had reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten at this point. As Harry and James approached the family, he watches as what appears to be the oldest son pushes his trolley toward the divide and then… he simply vanishes! Harry must have blinked or something, because he seems to have completely missed what the older boy did to get through!
"Fred, you next," the woman says, turning to one of two identical boys.
"I'm not Fred, I'm George," he replied, looking quite insulted. "Honestly woman, call yourself out mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"
"Sorry, George, dear," she responds with a wince, patting his shoulder gently.
"Only joking, I am Fred," the boy says, setting off toward the barrier as his mother threw her hand up in the air with exasperation. Just like his brother, this boy had simply walked toward the barrier and then disappeared. His twin set off as soon as he was through, and vanished just like the other two. Harry stared in amazement and confusion, his face most likely a mask of bewilderment and a little trepidation. The woman turned to face her last remaining son, catching sight of Harry as she did and smiling warmly.
"Hullo, dear. First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." Harry looks back at his father, who, trying to encourage him to make friends (Harry had always been a bit shy as a child), nods, giving him a gentle shove toward the family.
"Yes," he replies hesitantly. "The thing is… the thing is, I don't know how to…" he jerks his head toward the barrier slightly.
"How to get on to the platform?" she chuckles, but instead of making Harry feel embarrassed, the sound is oddly comforting, and he nods. "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 it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."
"Dad," Harry says, turning to where his father stands only a foot behind him and feeling very anxious. James steps forward, nodding to Harry, and as he pushes his trolley forward toward the barrier, James falls into step behind him, reaching his arms around to grab the handle next to Harry's hands. Together, they walk toward the barrier, people jostling them every so often as they move forward, and as they get closer to the solid brick wall, they pick up the pace. Just before they reach it, they break into a heavy run and Harry closes his eyes, body bracing automatically to the crash that never comes.
When he opens his eyes, there is a scarlet steam engine puffing out smoke at as it waits next to the platform, a sign reading Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock hanging overhead. He whirls around, grinning at his father and sees a plaque with the words Platform Nine and Three Quarters scrawled across it, making Harry beam even wider. The noise is almost deafening, the chatter of children saying goodbyes mixing with the hooting of owls and the thumping of trunks being dragged up the steps of the train. Students pack the first few carriages, so Harry pushes his trunk further down the platform until he finds an empty compartment, his father helping him lift the trunk inside before pulling him aside.
"Harry, I want you to remember that I love you, no matter what happens, and that I'm very proud of you, we all are. Your mother would be too." James places his hand on his son's cheek, patting lightly as he tries not to get too emotional. "You're going to have a fantastic time, I know it. Try not to get into too much trouble. And here, take this," he pulls a small frame out of his coat pocket, handing it to Harry, who gazes at the picture of his mother, rocking a small baby with a shock of black hair back and forth, the little boy reaching one tiny hand up to curl her auburn hair around his fingers.
"Thanks, Dad. I love you too." Harry reaches up to give his father a hug, and after a moment pulls back, holding the little frame to his chest. The scarlet train lets out a long warning whistle and Harry scrambles onto the train after one last quick hug, poking his head out the window to wave to his father as the steam engine kicks into gear, chugging forward slowly at first and then faster. James stands and waves, only a few feet away from the plump, red-haired woman, and Harry returns the gesture until the train rounds a bend and he can no longer see the platform.
As Harry leaned back in his seat, his head tipped back against the soft cushion, the door to the compartment slides open, and the red-haired boy from earlier pokes his head in.
"Anyone sitting there?" he inquires, nodding toward the seat across from Harry. "Everywhere else is full."
Harry shook his head, feeling a little bit nervous. He had never been very good at making friends.
"I'm Ron," the boy adds, shoving his trunk onto the rack above the seat and plopping down.
"Harry," he responds, twisting his hands together in his lap anxiously.
"Are you Harry Potter?" Ron asks suddenly, and Harry rather finds he likes the boy's forwardness. "Only there's a rumor that he's here and you look like you could be him. Percy reckons your dad looks a bit like James, but what does he know."
"Yeah, I am him. Harry Potter, I mean. You know my dad?" Harry responds, intensely curious.
"Nah, not me. But Percy would've been about four the last time Mum and Dad saw your parents, and he says he remembers. I reckon he might, or he could be a big, fat liar. He is a bit of a prat," Ron grimaces, and Harry can tell the two brothers don't exactly get on. "Have you really got… you know…" he points at Harry's forehead, which makes him chuckle a little bit as he pulls back his fringe, revealing the lightning bolt shaped scar above his eye, and Ron gasps, clearly impressed.
"I can't remember it," Harry states quickly, answering the question he knows is on Ron's mind.
"Nothing?" the red head asks.
"Well – I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else," Harry amends, feeling sheepish, as though he is worried that the boy won't want to be friends if he finds out Harry isn't as cool as everyone hopes. "Wish I'd had three wizard brothers," Harry blurts out suddenly, surprising both of them.
"Five," Ron groans back, looking very downcast. "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 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 pulls an old, fat rat from his pocket, but it doesn't even wake up. "His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made Prefect, but they could aff - I mean, I got Scabbers instead."
Ron turned a deep shade of pink, as though fearing that he'd said too much, and Harry realizes that he's worried Harry might not like him if he realizes he's poor, but Harry can't think of anything he'd mind less.
"I live on a little farm, kind of," Harry says, trying to make Ron feel more at ease. "Just me and my dad and my two – well, we call them uncles, but they're just my dad's friends, but they're really more like dads anyway, they've lived with us since my mum… Anyway, we just have this little farmhouse, and we grow a lot of our own food, and we have a couple sheep and two cows, and few chickens. No other wizards around though, just muggles, so I didn't really… people didn't like me so much. They thought I was weird." He feels very vulnerable saying this, but he likes Ron, and the boy shared something personal, so he feels like he ought to as well.
"That sounds brilliant! We have some chickens too, mostly gnomes though," Ron frowns, "bloody annoying they are."
Harry grins, thinking to himself that he's never met anyone he's bonded with quite as quickly or easily as Ron, and he feels like he's just found his best friend.
"You ever play wizard chess?" Ron ventures, standing up and pulling a thin, wooden rectangle and a bag full of pieces from his trunk.
"Not really. My… Sirius likes to play, but Dad doesn't like it at all."
"I can teach you, if you like," Ron says, looking eager, and Harry nods happily.
The first game is mostly Ron teaching Harry the rules, correcting him when he tries to make illegal moves, and occasionally offering advice when he makes a bad move. After that, they play for real, although Ron beats Harry every time – he's brilliant at it, and Harry thinks he might even be able to beat Sirius if they were to play each other. They quite lose track of time as they play game after game, the countryside whirring past them unnoticed as the afternoon progresses.
"Anything off the cart, dears?" a woman's voice calls, and Harry and Ron look up from the chess board quickly to see a plump little witch pushing a cart full of sweets, pasties, and other goodies. Harry looks at the assortment, seeing a whole variety of treats he's never encountered before, and he pulls out the bag of money his father game him, a slight reckless spirit coming over him as he orders a handful of pasties, ten little purple pentagonal boxes, a box of jelly beans, and a wide assortment of other items – at least one of each thing on the cart.
"Hungry, are you?" Ron asks, with an expression somewhere in between impressed, jealous, and amused.
"Starving," Harry answers, swallowing a mouthful of delicious pasty.
"She always forgets I don't like corned beef…" Ron mumbles, pulling a slightly squashed sandwich from his bag.
"Swap you for one of these," Harry offers, holding out a pasty, "go on."
"You don't want this, it's all dry." He looks down at his shoelaces, as though embarrassed. "She hasn't got much time, you know, with five of us…"
"Go on, have a pasty," Harry insists, shoving the proffered pasty into Ron's hand and turning toward one of the purple boxes. "What are these? They're not really frogs, are they?"
"No, but see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."
"What?" Harry asks, not understanding.
"What, have you never seen a Chocolate Frog before?" Ron counters, bewildered.
"No, I haven't. We only really had muggle things at home," Harry answers, and this time it is his turn to blush, feeling slightly abashed.
"Oh, well, Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect – famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy." Ron turns back to his pasty and begins considering his next chess move.
"I got Dumbledore!" Harry exclaims, excited.
"Don't tell me you've never heard of Dumbledore…" Ron sighs, looking tentatively toward the pile of Chocolate Frogs. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa…"
"Course I have, met him a few times even," Harry answers, only half paying attention as he waves Ron toward the pile of Chocolate Frogs as though to say have as many as you like, and he begins reading out loud. "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 the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten pin bowling."
"No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her," Ron groans, completely ignoring Harry. "Do you want it? You can start collecting."
"Sure," Harry replies, and Ron hands the little card over, just as a pudgy, round-faced boy bursts into their compartment.
"Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?" the boy asks desperately, but Harry and Ron can only shake their heads. "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me."
"He'll turn up," Harry says kindly, but the boy just gives a groan.
"Yes, well, if you see him…" the boy replies desolately, backing out of the compartment and pulling the door shut behind him.
"Don't know why he's so bothered," Ron scoffs. "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 died and you wouldn't know the difference. I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look…"
"Has anyone seen a toad?" A girl with bushy brown hair and buckteeth says, bursting into their compartment just as Ron raises his wand. "Neville's lost one."
"We've already told him we haven't seen it," Ron snaps at her, but she isn't paying attention.
"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then," she says, looking at Ron with interest.
"Er, alright," he stammers, looking slightly taken aback. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow." Nothing happens, and Ron looks both disappointed and annoyed as he glances at Harry, shrugging.
"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well it's not very good, is it?" She draws herself up to her full height, chin up proudly, "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 for 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?"
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron answers, looking at Harry as though very disturbed by this fast talking, bossy girl in their compartment.
"Harry Potter," Harry adds, not entirely comfortably.
"Are you really?" She asks, her eyes widening as she looks at him. "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..."
"Am I?" Harry says, surprised and a little self-conscious.
"Do either of you know what house you'll be in?" Hermione barrels on, completely ignoring him. "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." She turns on her heel and leaves, pulling the door closed behind her.
"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it." Ron says, giving Harry a look as though he'd just seen an alien. "Stupid spell. George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."
"What house are your brothers in?" Harry inquires, wondering anxiously which house he'd be put in.
"Gryffindor, the lot of them. Mum and Dad were in it too." He grimaces, as though something has only just occurred to him. 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."
"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers whiskers are a bit lighter." Harry says quickly, trying to change the subject and cheer Ron up.
They return to playing chess, Ron beating him another three times before they are interrupted again, this time by a small boy with white blonde hair flanked by two much larger (and by the looks of them, much dumber) boys.
"Is it true?" the blonde boy asks, staring at Harry. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," Harry replies curtly, and he and Ron both glance at the two cronies standing a step back.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle. And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Ron coughs to hide a chuckle, and Harry has to work hard to suppress a grin.
"Think my name's funny, do you?" Malfoy spits out. "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." He gives Ron one look of pure contempt before turning his attention back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He extends his hand, but Harry ignores it.
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he says icily, and Malfoy glowers at him.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your mother," he sneers. "She didn't know what was good for her either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."
"Say that again," Ron says, jumping to his feet as the color rises in his cheeks and his ears turn scarlet.
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy smirks, as Crabbe and Goyle crack their knuckles menacingly behind him.
"Unless you get out now," Harry threatens, sounding much braver than he feels.
"But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys?" Malfoy drawls, the tone of someone who is very clearly accustomed to getting whatever he wants. "We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." Crabbe and Goyle look greedily toward the pile of sweets, and the latter reaches out a hand to grab some, but he screams in pain before his fingers make it. He pulls away to reveal Scabbers, teeth sunk into Goyle's flesh, clinging to the boy's finger as he flails, trying desperately to fling the rat off. Eventually, he his successful, Scabbers flying off and landing hard on the seat as the three boys back out of the compartment and down the passage.
"What has been going on?" Hermione's bossy voice says as she pokes her head in their compartment again, and Ron just rolls his eyes at Harry, completely ignoring her.
"Have you met Malfoy before?" he asks, eyes narrowing as he regards Harry, trying to figure out what he was missing.
"Just briefly, in Diagon Alley," Harry explains, shrugging.
"I've heard of his family," Ron replies, his entire expression darkening. "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." He turns suddenly to Hermione, who was still standing in the doorway. "Can we help you with something?" he asks, rather rudely.
"You haven't been fighting, have you?" She asks, looking utterly scandalized. "You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"
"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," Ron defends, shrugging as though he doesn't really care if he gets in trouble for fighting with scum like Malfoy anyway.
"Well, you'd better hurry up and put your robes on," she says, once again drawing herself up to her full height, feeling very important. "I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there."
"Right," Ron says, turning back to Harry and rolling his eyes. When she still hasn't left, he whips back around to face her, feeling very antagonized. "Do you mind?"
"You've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?" she states, before turning on her heels and slamming the compartment door on them as though highly offended.
"What a nutter," Ron mumbles, and Harry smirks, although he is not nearly as bothered by the bossy, bushy haired girl as Ron.
They both reach up to pull their trunks down from the racks, extracting their robes and changing with the blinds shut. Within minutes, a voice echoes through the train, and Harry feels his anxiety mounting, a very persistent fluttering sensation rooting in his abdomen.
"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
Some material borrowed from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, pg 69-83