A/N - Sorry it took so long. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this story.

Chapter 2

Rain pounded down outside the windows of the scarlet train. They left streaks on the windows, until the glass was so covered in tiny droplets of water that the country view outside was completely blurred. And as it got darker and darker outside, the less I was able to see.

The good-byes had been awkward, to say the least. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had come simply to keep up a good appearance. Their voices had been stiff, almost as if they were wishing a painful death on me, one fitting for a "freak" like me. That's what they had called me, time and time again, leading up to the car ride to King's Cross. I was glad to be rid of them. I'm sure my hasty and meaningless good-byes had showed it.

So far, the train ride had been pleasant. It had been interesting and exciting to see people like me — wizards and witches. I had seen plenty at Diagon Alley with Hagrid, but these were the people that I would be living with for most of the year.

I've never been much of a social person, and the blame for that flaw can be inevitably placed upon the Dursleys. The clothes I was forced to wear and the way they gossiped about me created a bad reputation for me on Privet Drive. Whispers followed me everywhere along the street. Naturally, people wouldn't talk to me. The only conversations I participated in were with my relatives or myself, neither of which helped improve my social skills in any way, shape, or form.

Platform 9 3/4 had been interesting, and the fact that I was required to walk through a brick wall to reach it was unexpected. Never before had I seen so many wizards and witches gathered in one place. It was fascinating, and I couldn't help myself — I found myself staring. Most of the adults standing around were dressed in robes, just like the black ones I had in my trunk to change into later. The others were dressed in muggle clothes, like me and most of the other children. They looked awkward and strangely out of place; their faces revealed their discomfort. They shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, looking awkwardly from one face to the next, then at the train, then the ground, until their gaze came to rest on their child. Then their countenance seemed to relax a bit and they'd give a tiny smile to try to soothe their son or daughter. At least exiting was simpler than entering, or they would probably be completely lost. One simply had to stroll through a wide archway and they would find themselves back inside the confusing world of muggle Britain.

My train of thought was interrupted by the clumsy entrance of a tall, freckled boy with fiery red hair that was thoroughly disheveled. He collapsed onto a seat and threw his paper bag on the ground beneath his feet. I gave him a curious look.

"My mum," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "She makes a big fuss whenever we go away to Hogwarts. I'm going to be a first year. I reckon you're going to be one too. What house do you want to get into? I'm going to be a Gryffindor. My entire family has been."

"Houses?"

"Muggleborn?"

"No, I just—"

"Don't worry about it. Tons of people here are. There are four houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and last and most definitely least — Slytherin. Every first year is sorted. That's where you stay for all seven years at Hogwarts. They're like your family, I guess."

"What if I don't get into any of the houses?" I questioned, worried and apprehensive.

"Not possible," he replied quickly as he reached into his bag and pulled out a small box. I let out a sigh of relief as he straightened.

"What's that?" I pointed to the box in his hand. He began opening it.

"Chocolate Frog." He held up the wriggling frog-shaped piece of chocolate and showed me. "Wanna try one? Don't worry, it's not an actual frog."

"Oh, well then, yes," I said with a smile. He pulled out another box and handed it to me as he stuffed the other into his mouth. He grinned at me and I laughed. The chocolate was all in his teeth.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he said, grinning again. He wiped his chocolate-covered fingers on his pants and stuck his hand out. I shook it politely. Ron looked down into the bag again.

"I'm Harry Potter." Ron straightened so fast I heard his back crack. His eyes flashed up to my hairline and back down to my eyes.

"The Harry Potter?" he choked out.

"I reckon there's only one Harry Potter in the world." I smiled shyly.

"Can I — Could I see your scar? It's legendary, you know," he murmured, his deep blue eyes fixated on my forehead. I pulled my hair away for a moment before letting it fall. He stared. "Wow. So what's it like to be the Harry Potter?"

"I don't really know. I just found out that I'm a wizard a month ago. I'm still kind of getting used to the feeling."

Just then, someone walked in. He looked more sophisticated than Ron. His platinum hair was neatly slicked back, and his pale features were sharp, from his pointed chin to his upturned nose. His robes were velvet. They were emerald green, with silver fastenings that looked suspiciously like snakes.

"You'll have to take those off, you know. Everyone's robes have to be black," Ron stated.

"Shut up, Weasley. No one wants you here. You're only jealous because you know that your parents are dirt-poor and could never afford robes as expensive as these. Bloody hell, are those supposed to be your robes? Just kidding," the snobby boy drawled, "I already knew that you couldn't afford anything new."

"Back off, Malfoy. Clearly someone wants me here. I was having a pleasant conversation with Harry here before you showed up."

Malfoy turned towards me quickly.

"Harry? As in, Harry Potter? Pleased to meet you. I'm Draco Malfoy." Draco stuck out his pale hand, and I shook it hesitantly. "Some families, like the Weasleys," he continued, jerking his head toward Ron, "aren't as good as the rest of us. I can help you with that." He smirked and stuck his hand out again. I eyed it critically before looking up and searching his eyes.

"I. . . I don't know. I mean, Ron's nice and all."

"Of course he's nice to you," Draco drawled loftily, waving an airy hand. "You're Harry Potter."

"Yes, er, so, did you grow up with wizards?"

"Of course! I'm a Malfoy; you know, one of the best and oldest pureblood families in the magical world!"

Draco plopped down next to Harry, eyeing Ron with disdain.

"I'm going to be in Slytherin. What house will you be in?"

"I am —" Ron began, but Draco rudely cut him off.

"I know where you're going to be." He looked Ron up and down. "A Weasley? Gryffindor, for sure."

"I'm not sure. I think that they all have their good points."

"Well said. Say, do you want to come sit with me? You'd be with much better company than this."

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. "Coming in and taking away someone's friend! You're as rude as your arrogant father!"

"Language, Weasley. So, Harry, what do you say?"

"Er, why don't you bring your friends in here? That way, we can all be together." This was a very awkward situation, and Ron seemed like a much better friend than Draco.

"I beg your pardon?" Draco sneered. "Who would want to sit with that scum? It's either out of here or not at all."

"Sorry, but I think I'll stay here." I tried to send him an apologetic glance, but he had already turned around.

"Very well. Suit yourself. But I'll have you know," he said, turning towards me again, "you don't want to have me as an enemy." With those words, Draco turned and left, slamming the compartment door as he went.

"Damn, he's rude. And arrogant. But then again, he's a Malfoy," Ron said, watching the glass door bounce back. I got up and closed it more gently. "If I ended up in Slytherin with that git, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know," I replied absently, staring out the window again.

"What do you say to another chocolate frog?" Ron asked awkwardly, trying to make small talk. I looked over and grinned.

"Sure."

With Ron, the time passed quickly. Before I knew it, the train was pulling up to a dark station. I squinted through the darkness and saw a sign that said 'Hogsmeade Station.' I turned to Ron.

"Hogsmeade?"

"It's the only all-magical town in Britain. We can't visit until third year though."

I stood up and followed the herd of people off the train. Outside, we all stood on the platform. It was easy to see who was a first year and who had been here before. The first years huddled close together and looked around curiously.

"FIRST YEARS! OVER HERE! FIRST YEARS!" came a booming voice. I turned and saw Hagrid, and ran over to him.

"Hagrid!"

"'lo, Harry. Did you have fun on the train?"

"Yes, it was brilliant! This is Ron, Hagrid. Ron Weasley!" I cried, pointing excitedly to Ron, who was standing uncomfortably to my left.

"Weasley? Look jus' like yer brothers, ya do," Hagrid boomed, pounding Ron on the back and making his wince. "What do you say we get up ter Hogwarts?"

Hagrid led us to some boats and we sat in them quietly. They began moving over the dark water and we looked around. The lights of Hogwarts were before us, reflecting off the water and making it look as if there were yellow lights from within the lake.

"Harry? Harry! Are you seeing this? This is amazing!"

"I know!"

We were all disappointed when we reached the shore. Each of us carefully stepped out and onto the sand, but a rather large boy with brown hair tripped over the side of the boat and fell into the cold water. Hagrid ran over and picked him up, wrapping him in a very large moleskin coat.

Hagrid led the way up to the castle, and we followed, almost running to keep up. Ron kept sneaking glances at the shivering boy who had fallen into the lake, sniggering.

When we reached the huge doors of the school, I looked up in awe. The top of the door was way above my head. Hagrid opened the doors and said, "This is as far as I go. The rest is up to Professor McGonagall. He clapped me and Ron on the back one last time before shutting the doors behind us and walking down the damp hill.

Before long, the doors to the left of us opened, revealing a strict looking woman with her hair up in a bun. She held a stool in her hand and an old rag.

"First years? Please follow me. You will be sorted shortly. We filed into the Great Hall, some children waving to friends and older siblings, others looking very, very terrified. I was a bit nervous myself.

Professor McGonagall explained how to be sorted and began reading off names.

"Malfoy, Draco."

Draco strutted up to the stool and placed the old hat on his head. Without a moment's hesitation, it cried, "Slytherin!" The Slytherin table stood and clapped loudly as Draco made his way over to the secluded table. No one else made a sound.

"Potter, Harry."

Whispers rose on every side of me as I walked hesitantly up to the old wooden stool and placed the hat upon my head.

"Why so nervous?" the hat asked. It debated with itself for a few more minutes before finally coming to a decision — a very unexpected decision.

"Slytherin!"

A hush swept through the school, and for the first time since I'd arrived, the Great Hall was silent.

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