Chapter Five: Magic Trains
One thing about trains: it doesn't matter where they're going. What matters is deciding to get on.
The Polar Express (Film)
Albus Dumbledore carefully selected a lemon drop from the crystal bowl he normally kept on his office desk. After examining it he opened his mouth, carefully placed it on his tongue, and closed his eyes as the first sour bite flooded his mouth. Opening them again he made a lifting gesture with one hand, the crystal bowl lifting obediently into the air and proffering itself to the woman standing before his desk. "Lemon drop?"
The look his Deputy Headmistress gave him was sourer than the lemon drop slowly dissolving on his tongue.
"No?" he asked, returning the crystal bowl back to his desk with a wandless gesture. "How did your observations of the young Mister Potter go?"
The look on Minerva McGonagall's face grew even sourer and a nervous tic appeared beneath her left eye. That was disturbing. Even in the very darkest years before Tom's demise—how ever brief he was sure it would eventually prove to be—that tic hadn't been there. In fact, Albus Dumbledore couldn't recall seeing that tic at all since James Potter and his cohorts had left school…or, for that matter, before they had started.
"I haven't had such a miserable time as a cat since James Potter and Black—" she spat the name like it was a foul word "—graduated. I was kicked, my trail was trodden on— one very young boy with very sticky hands from one of Florean Fortescue's Fabulous Fountain Freezie got my fur all sticky…"
"You were successful then?" Albus asked.
Minerva pursed her lips. "Somewhat. I couldn't follow them into the shops or Gringotts of course."
"Of course," Albus agreed. "And?"
"The magic flares inside Ollivander's were stronger than usual."
"Oh? In what way?"
Minerva gritted her teeth, "at least one of them flooded the shop. Ollivander blasted his door open. Many people were…upset by the tide of water that came out."
"You got wet, I take it?"
"Yes," she said tersely.
"Mmm-hmm," he said, savoring the last of the lemon drop before helping himself to another. "And what did they talk about?"
"Very little, really. Harry asked about Quidditch, but Ms…Blackthorn, I think she decided to call herself… Well," Minerva huffed, "she apparently doesn't follow the game. Prefers rugby of all things. They ran into Hagrid coming out of Gringotts and he blathered all about you having him retrieve the you-know-what from a high-security vault. He managed not to tell them what it was, but he spouted off practically everything else."
"Expected, but not terribly troubling," Albus said. "It isn't exactly the sort of information that anyone can make use of, Minerva, and you know as well as I that Hagrid is more than what he seems to first eye. He retrieved the item in question as expected. If people know that it is in the safety and security of Hogwarts…" he gave a little shrug.
"Hmph," Minerva huffed. "I do hope you are correct about this, Albus. That object, there are people who would do anything, even try the Walls of Hogwarts, for it. We will have students here. You are running a grave risk with their safety, a risk that I am not at all comfortable with."
"Precautions have been taken, Minerva, trust me," Albus said soothingly. "You know very well that if I thought that there was any real danger to the students I would have never allowed it to be brought here. Now, what else did Harry and…his friend discuss?"
Minerva frowned. "I gathered from what they said that the Dursleys told him nothing at all about the wizarding world."
"Disappointing, yes," Albus agreed. "However it might turn out for the best. How did he take to people recognizing who he was?"
"Mostly I don't think they did, not right away," the Transfiguration Professor said. "It was apparent that all parties, including the Patils, were trying to keep their visit low-key."
"Which suggests that he was at least warned about other peoples' reactions and took measures to avoid a situation he was uncomfortable with," the Headmaster pointed out.
"Please, Albus, he's an eleven year old boy, no matter what he did when he was little more than an infant or who his parents were," Minerva said faintly. "More likely the Patils or Ms. Blackthorn had arranged things, that girl is pure Slytherin material, believe me. It's in the blood."
"Please, Minerva," Albus said. "I never took you to be one to fall into that kind of thinking. After all, Rookwood was a Ravenclaw, and Lord Voldemort's most useful spy, the one that they say was his most trusted servant, was a Gryffindor."
"So they say," she repeated, her voice dripping contempt. "In that one's case, however, the acorn did not fall far from the oak tree."
"Very well," Albus said. "Did anything else happen?"
"They did meet Severus," Minerva said musingly. "He was…polite, actually. It's probably best that you don't inform Sybll. No doubt it's a sign that the rivers are going to turn into butterbeer or the Earth is going to be inundated by fluffy white mini-lops named Bun Bun or some such."
Albus' lips twitched. "Ah Severus. I had worried, Minerva. Given how antagonistic young Harry Potter's father was to him I'd almost convinced myself that having both of them in the castle, no matter how big Hogwarts is, would be a disaster waiting to happen. I'm quite relieved to hear that my concerns were ill-warranted."
Minerva McGonagall's face slipped into a polite, if blank, mask that did little to hide from Albus just what she thought about her youngest colleague. While it was true that Severus Snape was the youngest (by seven hours and nineteen minutes) person to ever receive an accredited Potion Mastery from the Potioneers International Guild, he also was (at least in her opinion) a poor teacher. True enough those students who entered his N.E.W.T.-level course had consistently ranked among the highest standing academically in the world (as befitted those graduating from Hogwarts) he also accepted far fewer into that course than any other Potion Master in Hogwarts' history. He was opinionated, sarcastic, short-tempered, possessed little patience, and blatantly favored his own House over any other. In fact, as Deputy Headmistress, she had a file cabinet with an ever-expansion charm on it just for complaints regarding one Severus Snape, ranging from un-fair detentions, to verbal abuse, to abusing and manipulating the house point system.
Unfortunately they were only complaints. None of the reports from Madam Pomfrey were inconsistent with what could reasonably be attributed to working with potions or teenagers being…teenagers. The Headmaster, of course, had firm reigns on the House Point system. The only time Minerva knew what any points were granted or deducted for were when she herself added or removed them, or when someone told her what the change had been for. That didn't keep the other Heads of House from going to the Headmaster when they had felt a point-deduction was excessive—Filius and Pomona especially, and usually in regards to points Severus Snape had removed—and very often they succeeded in getting the points modified. But it was that kind of behavior she detested most and in one of their very few fights, Dumbledore had pointed out that she was just as free as Filius or Pomona to come see him to which she had acidly replied that she shouldn't have to.
Even his grading, if much more stringent at all levels than she would have done, was consistent and if his comments were harsher than any other teacher, none of them had been wrong. Coupled with the support of Albus Dumbledore and the academic success of his students, even those who only took Potions through the Ordinary Wizarding Levels, made it difficult to present a case for removal to the Governors. That wasn't to say that she couldn't do just that, she could, but only by completely breaking with Dumbledore and making the whole thing very public. There were days she wanted to do just that, but Dumbledore knew as well as she did that she was disinclined to bring that kind of negative publicity upon Hogwarts.
If he ever, ever, personally harmed a student or had allowed a student to come to harm due to overt negligence that would change very suddenly. She had spent a considerable amount of time and effort to find ways of ensuring that copies of the contents of that file cabinet found their way onto the desks of the Board of Governors, the Minister for Magic, and the Editor of the Daily Prophet.
Which of course one Albus Dumbledore knew, just like she knew that he knew, and, for that matter knew that he knew she knew he knew.
"And how did the rest of the trip go? Did he get anything interesting from Flourish and Blotts?" he asked.
"I couldn't say, Headmaster," she said stiffly, dropping a tattered ball of grayish fluff on his desk. "Someone dropped this on the street as I followed Harry from the store where he bought his telescope."
Albus Dumbledore frowned as he picked it up and, after a moment of poking, managed to open the magically concealed pocket to reveal the badly masticated remnants of the herbs inside.
"Oh my," he said, fighting a grin that threatened to break out across his face.
\|/\|/\|/
"Relax, Harry, she'll be here."
Harry looked up at Mr. Patil. "You think so? I mean, I haven't seen her since Diagon Alley. She hasn't even written." He reached down to stroke Hedwig through the wire mesh of the cage. As Allie had said, it had only taken a tap of Mr. Patil's wand to unshrink it at which point the white owl he'd first met at Diagon Alley had swept in and promptly made itself at home. Picking out a name for her had taken three weeks and half of the Encyclopedia Magica.
Mr. Patil looked pensive. "Allie is a fine young woman, Harry. Very gifted magically; a shame that she has not been allowed formal schooling before now. But she has a habit of immersing herself in her work. Lack of communication is not, unfortunately, unusual."
"Oh," Harry said, looking down. "So what exactly does she do? You talked about her starting fires unintentionally with her magic, pyra-something, I think. She referred to herself as 'sort of like the pied-piper' and implied it had to do with magical pest removal. But I don't see how one has to do with the other, and why would getting rid of pixies and doxies be seen as a dangerous magical ability?"
Mr. Patil contemplated his answer for a moment. "I think I shall let her tell you that. Now, you should find a compartment and get settled in before the train leaves."
Harry nodded, accepting that he wasn't going to get anything more from the man who'd taken him in over the past few months. It was a mystery he was just going to have to work out for himself. Maybe he could talk her into some kind of guessing game? He put the thought aside and nodded politely. "Thank you, Mr. Patil, for the summer. It was wonderful."
Mr. Patil laughed. "And it was enjoyable for us as well. Take care, and don't forget to write."
"I won't," Harry promised.
He and the twins boarded the train and found the last compartment of the last car to be empty. They dragged their trunks inside, then Padma and Parvati went off to search for trouble or their friends.
Quite possibly both.
A boy not much older than hair with red hair stumbled into the compartment soon after. His trunk hit the floor with a loud thump as it feel from his fingers. "Is this compartment taken?"
"We've got room, if that's what you mean," Harry said.
"Ron Weasley," the boy said. "They say Harry Potter's on the train, have you seen him?"
"Every time I look in the mirror," Harry muttered.
Ron frowned, "You're him? You're Harry Potter?" he not-quite shouted.
"Mind keeping it down?" Harry asked. "If I had wanted everyone to know I'd have taken out an advert in the Daily Prophet."
"I, but, you're famous," Ron turned his shout into a loud whisper that was non-too-quiet, but at least wasn't a shout. "You killed You-Know-Who!"
Harry sighed, "So they tell me."
"Do you—"
"Remember anything?" Harry asked testily. "I was fifteen months old, Ron. Of course I don't remember anything!"
Ron flushed, "Sorry. I suppose you get that a lot."
Harry frowned, "Not as much as you'd imagine. I expect that's going to change soon…unfortunately."
Ron frowned, "What do you mean?" he asked as the train lurched. There was a piercing whistle and a blast of steam and the train began to slowly move.
Harry looked out at the platform inching away from them. He turned back to Ron and regarded him levelly, then shrugged. "It's…" he hesitated briefly. "It's not something I like thinking about is all. I don't have any parents, any family, because of that night. And people insist on reminding me of it."
"Oh," Ron said softly. "I guess I can imagine how I'd feel in my brothers were dead."
"They go to Hogwarts too?" Harry asked.
"All except Bill and Charlie, they've already graduated," Ron said. "Percy, Percival actually, is a fifth year this year and Prefect to boot. Fred and George, they're third years, pranksters, best to watch out for them."
Harry nodded.
The cardboard shoebox on top of Ron's trunk rustled and then bucked.
Ron took the top off and pulled out a large, grey, somewhat the worse for wear, rat. "Scabbers," he said. "He was Percy's, Charlie's before that. When Perce made Prefect Mum and Dad got him an owl. Fred and George gave me a spell that's supposed to turn him yellow. Now that we're on the train I suppose it's legal now, right?"
The compartment door opened before Harry could reply, and a girl with the bushiest hair that Harry had ever seen poked her head in. "Has anyone seen a toad?"
"A toad?" Harry asked.
"Neville Longbottom lost his," she said, dragging a short, round-faced boy into the compartment. "Oooh, are you going to do magic?" she closed the compartment and sat down on Harry's trunk. "Well, go on."
Ron frowned, then screwed up his eyes and pointed his wand at the rat and repeated a short rhyme.
"Well, that wasn't a very good spell," the girl said as the door quietly slid open behind her. "I've tried several spells at home and they all worked perfectly. Nobody in my family is magic at all, it was such a surprise when my letter came, but I was ever so please, of course, I mean, it's the best school of magic, or so I heard—I've learned all the books by heart of course, I just hope it's enough—"
"Breathe, girl."
Harry watched in amazement as Hermione nearly levitated without using her wand. "Who are you?" she demanded as the newest person in the compartment slid the door closed.
"Allie," Harry said with a relieved grin at seeing his friend. Like Hermione, she was already wearing her robes.
"You already know a, what, fourth year?" Ron asked.
"Transfer student," she said, offering a hand. "You can call me Elissa Blackthorn, but I prefer Allie."
"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," Hermione said, shaking the hand briskly.
"Ron Weasley," Ron said with a frown.
"Harry Potter," Harry said.
"Are you really?" she asked, leaning forward and examining Harry as though he were a particularly interesting insect. "I got a few extra books for background and I've read all about you of course."
"Of course," Harry said, the words strangled in his throat.
She nodded happily. "Oh yes, Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Famous Wizards of the 20th Century, Modern Magical History, the Wizard's Compendium—"
"Did you try Who's Who and Which Witch?" Allie asked sarcastically.
Hermione frowned slightly at the other girl, then brushed it off as the Hogwarts' Express' loosed a blast from its whistle as they rattled through a small country town. "My Dad collects model trains, I shall have to get him one painted like the Hogwarts Express. Do you know what kind of train this is?"
"Of Course," Harry said, pleased to have an answer for her. "It's a magic train."
"I know it's a magic train. Actually, it's a Great Western Railway 4-6-0 4900/Hall-class steam locomotive, number 5972½. It is the so-called 'missing hall', the muggles are able to account for only 259 of a production run of 260. Its predecessor, GWR 4900 5972 'Olton Hall' was built in April, 1937 at GWR's Swindon Works. The Express rolled off their lines a month later. It weighs 168,000 pounds and—"
"You do love listening to yourself talk, don't you?" Allie asked.
Hermione glared at her, sniffed, and turned back to Harry. "Do any of you know what House you'll be in? Gryffindor sounds the best from all that I've heard. Dumbledore himself is said to have been in Gryffindor—though I suppose it wouldn't be too bad to be in Ravenclaw." She turned to Allie, "Do you know if you'll get sorted with the rest of us, or have they made special arrangements? I don't remember anything in Hogwarts, a History about accepting transfer students."
Allie extended her hand, palm down, and rocked it back and forth in a so-so gesture. "Transfer is the closest term, not the best. I haven't had any formal magical education yet. That's not common, but then, it's not unheard of for magic to suddenly and spontaneously manifest in people who should no sign of it before in moments of extreme stress. Professor Dumbledore has graciously allowed me to attend Hogwarts to make up that knowledge base."
"So you're entering as a first year?" Hermione asked. "Aren't you too old?"
Allie gave her an unfriendly smile. "Something like that. I actually do have a little magical training, just nothing taught in Hogwarts. At least not to first years."
Hermione frowned, "I thought a basic proficiency was mandatory before moving onto more complex magics that require a blending of multiple disciplines."
"Been reading ahead?" Allie asked.
Hermione flushed, "A little."
Harry raised an eyebrow and Allie smirked.
"A lot," Hermione admitted.
"I've studied non-focus magic," Allie said.
"That's supposed to be incredibly difficult," Hermione said.
"It depends on the type of magic," Allie said, crossing her arms. "If you were talking about simply not using a wand for the type of magic where one would normally be used…you'd be right."
"It sounds fascinating. I'd love to talk about it," Hermione said. "But Neville and I had best be off finding his toad."
Harry stood, "Need one more to help look?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow, "You want to help Neville look for his toad?"
"Yeah, why?" Harry asked. "There isn't anything wrong with that…is there?"
"No, I just didn't think that you would—"
The compartment door slid open again and the short, pale, sickle-haired boy he recognized from Madam Milkins, flanked by matching book-ends that looked a lot like Dudley with less fat and more…bulk—if such a thing was possible—sauntered into the compartment. He watched Harry with a lot more interest than he had in the shop.
"Is it true? They're saying all up and down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
Harry nodded and glanced at the other boys, they looked rather like bodyguards.
"Oh, these are Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, and I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
Ron coughed.
"Think my name is funny, do you?" Draco asked. "No need to ask who you are, my father told me all about the Weasleys. Red hair, freckles, more kids than they can afford."
Ron's cough turned into a strangled sound.
"Longbottom," Draco sneered at Neville, then turned to the two girls in the compartment. "I don't know you two."
"Hermione Granger," Hermione offered a hand.
Draco wrinkled his nose as though something unappealing had just been shoved in his face. "Muggleborn, are you," his tone made it clear it wasn't a question.
"Why, yes I am," Hermione replied.
"I suppose you're one too," Draco said distastefully as he eyed Allie.
Allie contemplated him for a moment before slowly smirking back at him, "You may call me Elissa Blackthorn."
"Thought so. The distinct pure-blood Blackthorn line has been dead for centuries," he said. "Father would have told me if one of them had suddenly shown up from nowhere. Especially at Hogwarts, he's on the Board of Governors you see."
"I can hardly help what you think you know," Allie said. "But I should point out that while the Blackthorn Family has been officially extinct as a distinct family for less than a century and a half, the Family it was absorbed into is extant."
"Not that you can call those miserable old hags that absorbed it a true Family," Draco sniffed. "Besides, father says that their reputation comes from rumors and stories that they've been spreading for generations."
"Well then, I suppose you have nothing to worry about," Allie said softly.
Draco frowned, "You can't be implying that you are one of them."
"Not implying, no," she said.
"What's your lineage?" the blond demanded imperiously.
Allie snorted, "What makes you think that I have any interest in your lineage?"
"Excuse me," Hermione said as Draco's pale cheeks tinged pink, "but is there some sort of wizarding nobility? I didn't read about any, but I'm beginning to wonder if I picked up all the books I should have. Several seem to take a great deal of background knowledge for granted."
"Not in the way you mean," Allie said calmly without turning from Draco. "There aren't any nobles in the sense that some old man in a draughty castle decided someone needed rewarding because of his political support. Though now that you mention it I think there are a handful of baronies and whatnot that are extinct in the mundane world but still floating around in the magical, not that it matters or anyone notices…mostly."
"That's right," Draco said with a puzzled frown at her. He turned to Hermione and his puzzled look turned into a sneer, "We're better because the purest of magic flows in the veins of the old magical families. Unlike you people who are new to the Arte."
Harry frowned and Hermione scowled at him while Ron made a gagging sound that drew a scornful look from the other boy.
He turned dismissively away from her to Harry. "You find that in the wizarding world, Potter, that some families are much better than others. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
"I think I can tell for myself who the wrong sort are," Harry said.
"I'd be a bit politer if I were you, Potter," Draco said, his voice coming out in a furious hiss as his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. "Or you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either. If you hang around riff-raff like the Weasleys and muggleborns it'll rub off on you."
Both Harry and Ron stood up.
"What are you going to do?" Draco sneered. "Fight us?"
"Unless you get out now," Harry said, trying to sound braver than he felt. There were more of them but Crabbe and Goyle were bigger and Hermione seemed more likely to sit back and sniff disapprovingly, and Allie…well, he didn't want her to risk losing her place at Hogwarts so he'd just as soon she didn't fight.
"But we don't want to leave, do we, boys?" Draco asked Crabbe and Goyle.
Goyle grinned and grabbed onto Ron's shoulder, but before Ron could do anything he suddenly shrieked and jumped back. Scabbers the rat hung from one finger, tiny teeth dug tightly into a knuckle. Goyle swung his arm violently, Scabbers the rat whirled round and round as Hermione screamed.
With a last great wave of Goyle's arm, Scabbers went flying and hit Neville who thumped back onto his seat with a cry. The three boys disappeared quickly after that.
"I can't believe—" Hermione was saying to herself, "fighting." Then, more loudly, "we're all going to be in trouble before we even get there!"
"You're only in trouble if you get caught," Allie said philosophically.
Hermione gave the older girl a look generally reserved for those who stand up in the middle of church and announce that they've taken up devil worship and everyone is invited to their house for a Black Mass and lemonade.
"Y-you do know that you—" Neville stopped as Allie turned and looked at him.
"That I insulted him?" Allie asked. "Oh yes."
"You did?" Hermione asked to which Allie nodded an affirmative reply.
Harry snorted softly as the quest for knowledge caused the bushy-haired girl to stop worry about their impending expulsion.
"By not saying she was interested in his lineage she said that he isn't worth her time or consideration," Ron said, apparently quite happy to prove himself after his earlier failure with the color-changing spell. "That he was beneath her notice. For someone from one of the old, traditional magical families, that's a major insult."
Neville nodded, "My Gran says that the Malfoys are one of the oldest and most traditional families, and they have loads of gold and father has a lot of connections at the Ministry."
"They aren't as old as the Thorne family, are they?" Harry asked.
The compartment was suddenly still.
Harry belatedly realized that it might not be a question Allie would like him asking and looked to her, but she had managed to slip out of the compartment without anyone noticing. He turned back. Neville was staring with very wide eyes that flicked from him to the door and then back to Harry, while Ron looked at him askance. Even Hermione was silent, carefully watching the other two magic born and raised boys in the compartment.
"The Thornes are a really old family of witches, Harry," Ron said slowly. "I mean, they were around before Merlin was. But they're…scary. If you believe half the stories that are told about them they have claim to a lot of magic that no one else knows. They're supposed to have an island that only they can go to that is more magically powerful than Hogwarts and capable moving around on its own and even able to fly. They're supposed to be able to walk between shadows, travel through time, raise the dead, command seas and storms, and do powerful magic without the use of wand or other focus."
"They can command monsters, my Gran says," Neville whispered. "And that they can ride dragons."
"Right," Ron agreed with a nod. "There are stories about how they one Thorne could control hordes of rats, entire clans of giants, or even a nest of acromantulas—" he shuddered but pressed on "—without using any kind of bewitchment. They supposedly were able to control a flock of birds that was so big it could blot out the sun and strip farm fields in minutes. They were supposed to be tried by the International Confederation of Wizards for breach of the Secrecy Statutes, but they had the muggles kill all the birds before the trials could begin."
"But that's all just stories," Hermione huffed. "Nobody can control giants, not even with magic. Their skin is too tough, most spells just bounce off."
Neville nodded in agreement.
"As for flocks of birds, those stories are probably thinking about the passenger pigeon which the muggles made extinct in the late nineteenth century."
"Sure," Ron said uneasily. "And as far as dragons are concerned… My brother Charlie is a Dragon Keeper for a dragon preserve in Romania. It takes a dozen specially trained handlers just to keep one dragon inside the preserve, never mind keep it calm enough so that it doesn't start attacking the keepers or other dragons. They're impossible to ride, most of 'em would eat you first and the ones that wouldn't would feed you to their dragonets.
"Charming," Hermione said drolly.
"But," Ron said, leaning forward, "they kept to themselves. I don't think anyone has seen a member of the family in decades. And they have never gone to Hogwarts."
"But then where would they go to school?" Hermione asked.
"Maybe they're home-schooled?" Neville asked tentatively.
Harry shrugged uncomfortably, but Ron was already replying to Neville and he hadn't noticed.
"Most families have a few spells or something that they keep strictly within the family," Ron said. "And it could be that they use Apprenticeships. Those are really old-fashioned but there are a few that still use them."
"Whatever," Hermione said, apparently having grown bored of the topic. She turned to Neville, "Come on, Neville, let's go find your toad."
"They're gonna be in Slytherin for sure," Ron said as Hermione and Neville left in search of Neville's toad.
"Neville and Hermione?" Harry asked doubtfully.
"Malfoy and that other girl," Ron said.
"Allie's my friend," Harry told Ron.
Ron grimaced.
"She saved me, and she didn't have to," Harry added.
"Eh," Ron said, he picked up Scabbers and frowned. "I don't believe it, he's sleeping again." He sighed and shrugged his shoulders as he put Scabbers back in his box, "It was a stupid spell anyway," he muttered. "George gave it to me. I bet he knew it was a dud."
"What house are your brothers in?"
"Gryffindor the lot of them, Mum and Dad too. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad as long as she isn't in it, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin. What's your Quidditch team?"
"I, uh, don't really know a lot about—"
And before Harry could finish Ron was off into a vivid description of the "best game in the world" almost as fast as Hermione's earlier discourse on how she got her letter.
\|/\|/\|/
There was a knock on the door an hour later that saved Harry from an involved explanation about two chasers, a beater, a seeker, three balls, and an assortment of odds and ends pulled from trunks to illustrate.
"Anything off the cart, dears?" asked a witch pushing a cart full of sweets.
Harry looked at Ron.
"Never mind me," Ron said, "Mom sent lunches with us." He opened a brown paper bag and made a face. "Corned beef. She never remembers that I don't like it."
"Oh yes," Harry said, standing up. He'd never had pocket money before he'd left the Dursleys, and even though he'd had gold and silver since, he'd never had a chance to spend it on candy. Now that he had the chance he fully intended to cram his pockets full of as many mars bars as he could—but the woman didn't have any. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, Cockroach Cluster, Blood Pops, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss out on this new opportunity he bought some of everything and paid a dozen silver sickles and a few bronze knuts.
"Go ahead and have a pasty," Harry said, seeing Ron eye the candy.
"Well, if you're sure," Ron said after a moment and tore open a pasty.
The door edged open and a pale-looking cat squeezed into the compartment. It hopped up onto the seat next to Harry, picked up a blood pop, and looked at him imploringly until he opened it.
"Weird cat," Ron said.
The cat glared at Ron and flashed needle-sharp fangs, but didn't make any sound as it returned to the blood pop.
Harry ripped open a pouch and picked up the five-sided card that fell out. Albus Dumbledore waved at him from a small portrait, then gestured down. Harry looked down at the chocolate frog in time to see it hop out of the box and make a break for it.
"I thought you said they weren't real!"
"They aren't," Ron explained as the Chocolate Frog hopped onto the trunk and croaked an obnoxiously loud croak. "It's a charm of some kind. That's why you have to remember to—"
Exactly what he had to do Harry missed as the Frog hopped towards the window. He lunged for it and missed, and the Frog landed on the window.
"It's going to escape," Ron warned just before a pale blur slammed into the window.
The pale cat caught the Frog, the just as easily sprang off the window and landed neatly on Harry's trunk. It put the frog down and pinned it down with one paw, while it bit off the Frog's black legs. It gave Harry a look as though to say 'that's how it's done', as it licked chocolate from its red-stained muzzle. The cat picked the frog back up and hopped to Harry's bench where it dumped the frog, leaving it scrambling feebly around. After a few seconds it fell still as the charm expired. The cat sniffed, then returned to its blood pop.
"Really weird cat," Ron said.
Harry nodded, "Any idea who it belongs to?"
Ron shook his head and gestured towards the famous wizard card. "Did you get Agrippa?"
"No, Dumbledore," Harry said.
"Oh, I've got him. Can I have a frog? I met get Agrippa."
Harry nodded and Ron opened a box, neatly plucked the frog out of the air, and broke its back legs. Turning away from where his new friend was tormenting the animated chocolate, Harry turned the Frog card over and read:
Albus Dumbledore
Currently: Headmaster of Hogwarts
Considered by many to be 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 tenpin bowling.
He turned the card back over. The portrait was empty. "Hey, where did he go?"
Ron looked over at Harry. "Well, you can't expect him to sit around all day, can you?" He looked at the card in his hand as he sucked on a Frog leg. "No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her. You want it? You can start collecting."
The door slid open as Allie ducked into the compartment and collapsed onto the beach across from Harry's.
Ron slid away from her until he was pressed up against the window. "Why aren't you off toadying with your new friend?" Ron asked.
"Draco doesn't have friends, he has minions," Allie said disgustedly. "Besides, every other sentence of his began 'my father'. It was getting tiring."
Before Harry could respond the cat hopped up onto his trunk and dropped the stick from the blood pop and sat staring at him expectantly.
"You want another one?" Harry asked.
The cat blinked its sapphire-colored eyes at him.
"Weird cat," Ron muttered as Harry unwrapped another blood pop.
"Who's a weird—" Allie began, then stopped. "Kami. What are you doing here?"
The cat turned and blinked at her.
"Your cat?" Harry asked.
"No," Allie said firmly. "She shows up to annoy me and then vanishes just as quick. I thought she lived in an apartment on the floor below mine."
"So you don't want her?"
"Not particularly," Allie said, getting up. "Look, I'm going to go check on the twins, okay?"
The cat looked up at her briefly as Allie left, then returned to lapping at its second blood pop.
"Is she crazy?" Ron asked abruptly.
Harry frowned at him, "Allie has her own way of doing things."
The compartment door opened and Padma and Parvati poured into the compartment. "There's a pint-sized teacher out there patrolling the train cars," Parvati announced.
"Ron, Parvati and Padma Patil," Harry said. "Parvati, Padma; Ron Weasley."
Both nodded brief 'hello's as they dug through their trunks for robes
"Allie's looking for you," Harry said. "She just left, in fact."
"We'll go looking for her later," Padma assured him as they slammed the lids closed, and disappeared again out the door.
"Are they always like that?" Ron asked.
"Padma only when she doesn't have a book. Parvati…pretty much," Harry said. "Have you heard of the Malfoys before?"
The door opened and Hermione popped back into the compartment.
"From my dad," Ron said, ignoring the bushy-haired girl. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. Dad doesn't believe it, says they didn't need an excuse to go Dark." He turned to Hermione, "Can we help you with something?"
"I only came in because some people are acting very childishly. Racing up and down the passages shrieking," Hermione sniffed. "And you've got dirt on your nose, did you know? You should change soon. I expect we'll be arriving shortly."
"My," Harry said, recalling a book he'd just finished reading in his Primary's library before that fateful zoo trip as Hermione left the compartment again. "People do come and go quickly here." He shook his head.
"So what do your brothers do?" he asked, searching in his trunk for his robes. "You said Charlie did something with dragons."
"Well," Ron said. "Charlie is in Romania studying dragons. He's a great Seeker, could have played for England. And Bill is in Egypt, he's a Curse Breaker for Gringotts. Say, did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, someone tried to rob one of the high security vaults."
Harry stared at him. "Really? What happened to them?"
"Nothing! That's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. Apparently they didn't take anything either. My dad says it must have been a powerfully Dark wizard to break into a Gringotts vault and get out without being discovered, much less caught. Of course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."
Harry and Ron quickly changed into their long robes as a voice came on saying that they'd arrive in five minutes and everyone was to leave their baggage in the train.
They stumbled out onto a small, dark platform, and Harry shivered against the chill.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A voice said as a lantern came bobbing over the head of the kids.
Harry recognized it from their brief meeting in Diagon Alley.
"Hagrid!"
"Harry! You all right there!"
"I'm wonderful!" Harry said.
"Right then—you stick close and follow me," Hagrid said. "Any more Firs' years? You lot watch yer step and follow me!"
He led them down a path so dark Harry thought there must be thick trees towering above them on either side. The lantern bobbed before them, but aside from something to follow it didn't seem to cast any light on the path. Nobody made much sound aside from Neville who sniffed once or twice.
The path wound down and around until they ran out of ground at the side of a great black lake. Mountains, dark silhouettes against the star-studded cloak of night, seemed to frame the far end, but Harry suspected that they were actually further off than that. Across the lack from where they stood, perched on some sort of cliff overlooking the lake, was a castle. Light, welcoming and warm poured from its windows.
"Right now, no more than four to a boat. You there, did you misplace a toad?"
"Trevor!" Neville said happily. "Thank you, ah…"
"Hagrid, this is Neville Longbottom," Harry said.
"Please teh meet yeh, Neville," Hagrid said. "Why don' yeh find a boat with Harry?"
Harry found himself in a small boat with Hermione, Neville, and Ron. The Patil twins quickly claimed the next boat followed by Allie and a boy Harry didn't recognize.
"Everybody in? Right then, FORWARD!"
The boats started to drift across the glassine lake. Ripples trailed behind them as small waves burbled at their bows.
"Wow," Harry breathed.
"They do set you up to be impressed, don't they?" Allie asked from her boat. She was trailing her hand in the water, and when she pulled it out, gossamer strands of some glowing stuff, like the sticky remnants of a spider web though much less substantial, trailed from her fingers.
They sailed towards the sheer cliff that Hogwarts was perched on top of until Harry thought they were going to run into it.
"Heads down, ever'one," Hagrid's voice came, and they all ducked as the boats sailed through a thick curtain of ivy that hung from the cliff; totally shrouding a passage cut into the stone.
They drifted through a series of natural caverns until they reached an underground dock and the boats scrapped up on a pebble-bed lining the shore. Hagrid led them along a path through another cavern and they spilled out onto cool, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They went up a flight of steps to a great wooden door which he pounded on three times.