Chapter Nine: That First Train Ride
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
The first thing that Harry heard was some loud bragging.
"My ancestor actually founded Hogwarts so I'll never need to worry about tuition or anything common like that."
Further investigation revealed a tall, skinny blonde boy with an upturned nose had cornered a bored-looking Hermione who was clearly not interested but trying to be polite.
"And so of course I'll be in Hufflepuff. I doubt they'll even need to sort me," the boy continued. "My entire family's remained true to the 'Puffs throughout all these years."
"Harry!" a familiar voice called from behind him.
Harry turned around to see Neville Longbottom quickly walking towards him. He didn't have any luggage with him so he had presumably found a compartment already.
Hermione, eager for escape, looked up at the sound of the name and her face brightened upon seeing someone that she knew. "Harry!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, Zacharias, but I have to go. It was nice meeting you…"
With that, she pushed her way past this Zacharias and towards Harry.
"Hey, I found a compartment," Neville told him. "Do you want to sit with me?" He glanced over at Hermione. "You can come, too, if you want."
"That would be great," Harry said, smiling. He had been a little nervous about having to try and find a compartment on his own and not being able to find anyone not inclined to immediately fawn over him or hate him out of jealousy or because their family had been on Voldemort's side. Neville already knew who he was and Hermione probably did at this point as well but so far they didn't seem inclined towards either extreme reaction.
Hermione nodded as well and the pair of them followed Neville back to his compartment. Since only a few weeks ago his photo had been in the paper, Harry wasn't surprised to see a lot of stares and double-takes as he walked past. He wondered how long it would be before someone tracked him down to see if it was true that he was here.
Once they reached the compartment, Hermione and Harry stored their luggage and they all sat down.
"I'm Neville Longbottom," Neville introduced, extending a hand.
"Hermione Granger," Hermione said, accepting the handshake.
Neville glanced Harry's way. "And clearly we both know who Harry is…"
"Well, I do now," Hermione grumbled.
Neville frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I met Harry when I went to Diagon Alley for my school supplies and he never told me who he was!" Hermione accused.
"Not true," Harry defended himself. "I distinctly remember telling you that my name was Harry Potter."
"But you didn't tell me that you were famous," Hermione complained. "Or anything about you miraculously defeating Voldemort when you were less than a year and a half old."
Harry and Neville both winced.
"You really shouldn't use that name," Neville told her seriously.
Hermione looked confused. "What name? Voldemort?"
Neville winced again. "That is the one, yes."
"Why not?" Hermione asked. "It's just a name and my dad says that fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
"That may be so," Harry agreed. "But think at it this way: everyone is still scared of You-Know-Who because they're not sure that he's really gone. There wasn't a body the night he disappeared and no one knows what happened. Ten years also isn't long enough for people to forget the horror of his reign of terror. Using that name will just make people uncomfortable and resentful."
"Besides…well, I should probably ask first," Neville said, almost to himself. "You're Muggleborn, right?"
"Yes, I am," Hermione said, surprised and a little wary. "How did you know?"
"You can't be a Pureblood as I don't recognize your surname and those raised with awareness of magic don't say that name," Neville explained reasonably. "And if you do say it, you'll only offend those who did grow up fearing his shadow and it'll only cause problems for yourself. You can decide to do it anyway, of course, but I just thought I'd warn you of what will probably happen if you do. I mean, I wouldn't do that but I think that a lot of other people would."
Hermione looked a little pale. "Well, I don't want to make things any harder than they have to be so I guess 'You-Know-Who' it is. Assuming I remember. Actually, I should probably write that down…"
"Well, now that that's settled-" Harry started to say.
"It's not nearly settled!" Hermione protested. "You haven't explained why you didn't tell me that you weren't just another future classmate of mine but one of the most famous wizards alive!"
"I wasn't quite sure how to do so without coming off as really arrogant," Harry admitted. "I mean, what was I supposed to say? Neville recognized me from my picture in Daily Prophet-"
"True story," Neville chimed in. "And you could have tried carrying around a copy of the paper. But that really wouldn't have done much for your attempt not to look full of yourself, would it? Maybe if you claimed that you were reading the rest of it…"
"But then I would have had to have drawn her attention to the picture of me anyway, regardless of why I had it on me," Harry pointed out. "Now Hermione, you hadn't seen the picture but I thought you'd at least recognize me name. Once you didn't, was I supposed to add that I was a huge celebrity and apparently the most badass baby ever?"
"Well…if you had put it like that I probably wouldn't have believed you," Hermione conceded. "In fact, I'm not entirely sure I would have believed you either way because the whole thing just sounds so fantastical."
"That's what you get when you add in magic," Neville said helpfully.
"You see?" Harry asked triumphantly.
But Hermione wasn't done. "Of course, Mr. Ollivander was standing right there and even if he was a little creepy he still could have confirmed your story."
"At least you found out eventually," Harry said. "And that way we could have a normal conversation without you getting all star-struck or whatever."
"Excuse me," Hermione sniffed. "I do not get 'star-struck.'"
"And I was supposed to be able to tell that from a ten-minute meeting?" Harry asked incredulously.
Hermione glared at him.
"I think that's a 'yes'," Neville told him. "So, Hermione, you were talking with Zacharias Smith earlier?"
"Oh, you know him?" Hermione asked curiously.
Neville laughed. "Please. We're both Purebloods which means we've both had to spend far more time together than either of us would like."
"So you two don't like each other?" Harry guessed.
"Zacharias has just a little too much pride in his heritage," Neville said delicately. "Oh, and he hates gardening. Really, either of those alone would make a friendship unlikely but both of those…You can't fault our parents for not trying hard enough, though."
"The minute I got on the train, Zacharias told me he didn't recognize me and, after finding out I was Muggleborn, started telling me all about how great his family was," Hermione told them. "I don't think he likes you very much, Harry."
"Me?" Harry asked, surprised. He hadn't heard anything, not even some Quibbler-style rumors, about the Smiths being a dark family. One thing he'd always heard growing up was that if not even the Quibbler saw fit to print something, you could be reasonably assured that it wasn't true. "But I've never even met the guy."
"But he does have to introduce himself and – since Smith's such a common name – announce his famous relative in order for people to know who he is and everyone can recognize you from your picture and your scar," Hermione explained.
"And people are a lot more impressed by what you did than by the fact that a thousand years ago, his ancestor co-founded the school," Neville added. "Records aren't always closely kept and it was such a long time ago that I'm sure a lot of people are related to them even if they didn't keep as good of records as Zacharias' family did. Sure everyone will believe that you're related to Slytherin if you're a Parselmouth but that has the rather unfortunate side-effect of making everything think that you're evil as well."
"What's a Parselmouth?" Hermione asked, not at all pleased to be reminded yet again that she didn't grow up in their world, even if it was only accidental.
"Someone who can speak to snakes," Harry replied. "They're supposed to be really rare. The most famous one is Slytherin himself and it tends to run in families."
"Rare or just not advertised because no one wants everyone to wonder if they're secretly evil when they're not?" Neville challenged. "Or better yet…if they are."
"Why can't it be both?" Harry asked. "Pareseltongue has always had a bitter of a reputation but since the last known speaker was You-Know-Who himself, the reputation is pretty unsavory at the moment."
"I see," Hermione said in a tone that indicated that she would be spending most of her first month at Hogwarts in the library. "So while we're on the topic of things that everyone else but me apparently knows, why were you in the Daily Prophet, anyway? I mean, I know you're famous but even famous people have to do something to end up in the news, even if it isn't much."
Harry thought about assuring her that she'd catch up sooner or later and, from what he'd seen of her, would probably be answering all of their questions by Christmas but she really didn't look like she'd take that well. Hell, she'd probably find it patronizing even if it was totally true. "The wizarding world found out where I'd been since You-Know-Who killed my parents," he said again.
Hermione's eyes lit up. "And?"
Neville grinned. "He'd been out of the country living with another celebrity."
"Who?" Hermione asked eagerly. "You might have to explain who this second celebrity is but…"
"None other than Gilderoy Lockhart, author of all of our defense textbooks and coincidentally also our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor himself," Neville said grandly.
Hermione's jaw dropped. "Y-you were adopted by Gilderoy Lockhart? The Gilderoy Lockhart?"
"As far as I know, there's only one of him," Harry told her, a little bemused. "And as far as my father and his legal team is as well. He trademarked his name a few years back, you know."
"That is so…I can't believe…that's amazing!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Whatever happened to 'I do not get star-struck'?" Neville wondered.
Hermione leveled a glare at him. "That's different. I read all the textbooks for class, of course-"
"Of course," Harry agreed. He hadn't exactly wanted to but Gilderoy had insisted. Though he wasn't exactly supposed to let people know that, was he? Oh well.
"Of course," Neville repeated mockingly. He shook his head in faux-despair. "Is it too late to find a new compartment and make less studious friends?"
"Hey, studious friends come in handy," Harry defended. "Particularly when it comes to, oh I don't know, studying."
Neville rubbed his chin. "You may have a point."
"Are you going to let me finish?" Hermione demanded.
Harry nodded her way. "By all means."
"Thank you. Now, as I was saying, I read all his books and I have to say that I'm really impressed by all the thinks he's done. He's had so many adventures and helped so many people…he must be so brave and strong and kind…" Hermione said dreamily.
Harry said nothing, feeling a little awkward.
"Hey, Hermione," Neville stage-whispered to her. "Not in front of his son, okay?"
Hermione flushed. "Oh, sorry!"
"Don't worry about-" Harry started to say.
The compartment door burst open then and three boys stood framed in the doorway. The smallest one entered the compartment and the other two made to follow but the first boy raised a hand to stop them. "Watch the door, will you?"
The two massive boys nodded Harry saw them and take up posts outside the door before the blonde boy in the compartment with them closed it behind him.
"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Oh, sure, don't even say 'hi' to me, Draco," Neville complained. "I see how it is. One day it's 'Don't go making friends with the wrong sort, Neville' and the next it's 'Out of my way, I want to crowd the famous person.'"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Hi, Neville. Clearly you don't need any advice about making friends with the wrong sort if you've managed to snag Harry Potter. Although I don't recognize this girl."
"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione introduced, holding her hand out for him to shake.
Draco accepted the handshake without looking at her. "Draco Malfoy. And you are?"
Harry sighed internally. And so it began. Not that he minded being famous or anything but being known for himself instead of his famous father was still a bit overwhelming and he'd been having fun with Neville and Hermione. "I'm Harry Potter, yes."
"Why were you so certain this was Harry?" Neville asked curiously. "Did you seriously check every other compartment but this one?"
"I have the worst luck," Draco grumbled. "Listen, Potter, you're new to Magical Britain and you might go making friends with the wrong sort-"
"Oh, what's this? I go making friends with Harry and you stop worrying about my taste in friends but he makes friends with me and suddenly needs your help?" Neville cried out in mock-outrage. "Draco, I don't know how to say this but…it's like going off to Hogwarts has made you a completely different person, one that I barely even recognize."
Draco rolled his eyes again. "Your grandmother was talking to my parents while we stood by not even an hour ago."
Neville shrugged. "The speed just makes your horrible transformation even more hurtful."
Draco was about to say something when they heard a commotion outside. Draco opened the door to see what was going on.
"You can't keep me out here," Zacharias was insisting. "I probably own part of this train!"
"Good for you," one of the boys said. "But until Draco says you're getting in, you're not getting in."
"Oh, let him in," Draco said irritably.
The boys stepped aside.
"Those are Crabbe and Goyle, by the way," Draco told Harry. He hadn't actually indicated which was which or mentioned any first names but Harry supposed that if it was really important he'd learn it later. It wasn't like he was planning on being one of those people who have class with someone every day for years and yet had no idea what their name was.
Two boys entered the compartment, Zacharias and a red-headed boy with a smudge on his nose.
"There is a rumor going up and down the train – quite childish, really, but what can one expect? – that I wish to evaluate the veracity of-" Zacharias began pompously.
The redhead interrupted him. "Is Harry Potter in here?"
Harry gave another internal sigh and waved slightly.
"This is so wicked!" the redhead breathed. "I'm Ron Weasley."
"He's a perfect example of one of those people we were just talking about," Draco said innocently.
"My name is Zacharias Smith, descended from the great Helga Hufflepuff herself, you know," Zacharias informed them.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Ron. Zacharias, we met briefly when I first got on the train," Harry said, hoping Zacharias wouldn't notice he didn't say he was glad to meet him.
"I do hope that everyone's expectations of you and, more to the point, failing to meet every one of them won't cause you too much distress," Zacharias said almost sweetly.
Harry stared at him. "…Thank you."
"So, do you remember anything about the night You-Know-Who tried to kill you?" Ron asked eagerly.
Draco looked like he was getting a headache.
"How could he possibly remember that?" Hermione asked incredulously. "He was only 15-months-old."
"Not to mention you're essentially asking about his parents' murder," Neville agreed. "So not cool."
"Is that a no?" Ron asked.
Now Harry felt a headache coming on as well. "I remember a lot of green light. My dad says that that sounds like the killing curse and since everyone thinks that surviving that was how I got this scar, I'm willing to believe that." It was also entirely possible that that wasn't a real memory of his but rather a pseudo-memory he had because of how many times he'd heard the story but that was on the list of things he wasn't supposed to tell anybody as it would do him no favors.
"Well," Draco said loudly. "I'd love to stay and chat but it's getting a little too common in here."
"Don't let the door hit you on your way out," Ron muttered.
"I agree," Zacharias said, also heading for the door.
Harry, Hermione, and Neville looked expectantly at Ron.
For his part, Ron looked a little sheepish. "Actually…do you mind if I stay in here? I passed by the compartment I was in before and, well…there was a pair of underwear caught in the door…"
Harry made a face. "By all means."
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