At a quarter past ten, eleven-year-old Mary Potter stood dumbstruck as her Uncle Vernon unloaded her belongings from the car and placed them on a trolley. Even more shocking, he wheeled it into the station for her. Her Aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley remained in the car, Petunia reading her book club's latest novel, and Dudley playing his Gameboy. Neither seemed to notice this random act of kindness. Dudley threw a tantrum whenever anyone did anything kind for Mary.
King's Cross train station was bustling with the usual late Saturday morning hubbub, as weekend commuters filtered into London for work and leisure. One of them recognized her uncle, but Uncle Vernon didn't blanche as she'd expected him to, with her standing beside him.
"Good morning, Mr Dursley! What brings you to these parts?" he asked.
"Just seeing my niece off," he replied, matching the man's joviality. "Summer's over, and so is her stay."
Ah, yes, Mary thought. I'm only a guest.
"And your son is doing well? I overheard that you're taking him into town for surgery. Are you sure you don't want to take next week off?"
"No, no!" Uncle Vernon replied, waving dismissively. "What can I do but sit and worry if I'm not at the office? It's just an outpatient procedure, and he'll be right as rain, come tomorrow!"
"If you're sure," the man conceded, extending his hand. "Just let me know if you or the wife need anything."
"Thank you, we appreciate it," said Uncle Vernon, accepting the handshake.
The man nodded to Mary and disappeared into the crowd. She decided to hazard a glance up at her uncle, expecting him to glower back at her, but his cheerful disposition did not waver. Of course, if he didn't look down at her, there was nothing for him to glower about. He continued to the platforms, nodding and smiling to passersby, before coming to an abrupt stop. Then he did smile down at her, and the reason became clear.
"Well, there you are, girl. Platform nine – platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, have they?"
Mary looked from the large number nine posted over one platform, to the ten on the other. Her mouth went dry and she felt her meager breakfast curdle. Uncle Vernon laughed and stepped away.
"Have a nice term!"
When she looked away from the platform numbers, he was gone. She imagined that he, her Aunt Petunia, and cousin Dudley were having a good laugh over her current predicament. Uncle Vernon had stopped her cart in the middle of the walkway, causing a bit of congestion for the commuters. A bright, snowy owl fluffed her feathers irritably as someone bumped into one of Mary's trunks.
"Sorry!" Mary called over the load.
With a grunt, she got the wheels rolling and moved towards the nearest bench. She sat down and pulled her ticket out, studying the departure location and time. Thinking quickly, Mary asked a passing conductor about the train that left at eleven o'clock for Hogwarts. This drew a confused expression across his face, but he informed her that there was no train leaving at that time, and he'd never heard of Hogwarts.
The conductor handed her a copy of the weekend schedule and wished her a safe trip, "Wherever it is your going."
Of course Hogwarts isn't on here, she lamented.
"What do we do, Hedwig?" she asked the snowy owl.
The nocturnal creature gave a soft hoo and tucked her beak under her wing. Mary was tempted to follow suit, for all the good any suggestion would do. She was stranded in the middle of a train station, with a trunk full of odd textbooks and school supplies, and a currency in her pockets that she couldn't use. Neither the journey nor destination were a pleasant thought.
Mary had spent the past month a virtual ghost to her family, ever since she'd received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on her eleventh birthday. She pulled the folded and battered parchment out of her jacket to re-read it, just in case it contained any words of wisdom she'd missed.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)
Dear Ms. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Mary scanned the list, even though she knew it wouldn't contain any coded message.
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Draughts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
No, none of that would be very helpful at all.
The clock chimed at ten forty-five and Mary began to panic. Just then, a red-haired girl stopped to smile at Hedwig, when a plump woman absently took her hand and pulled her away, muttering, "– packed with Muggles, of course –"
Muggles! Mary had heard that word, once before, when she received her acceptance letter. It was a term magical people used to describe the non-magical.
The matronly witch appeared to be conducting a swarm. A proud-looking boy, older than Mary, with hair matching the girl's shade, strode smartly ahead, followed by another who might be more Mary's age. Twin boys, with hair to match the rest of the family's, followed behind with a trolley apiece. As they passed, Mary noticed that they also had an owl!
"Okay, Percy, you go first!" said the plump woman.
"Thank you, mother," the older boy replied.
Mary watched intently as he walked towards the barrier that divided platforms nine and ten. Just then, a crowd of tourists passed by, and the boy vanished. His mother gave a relieved sigh, and she called to her nearest son.
"Fred, you next," she directed.
"I'm not Fred, I'm George!" he cried.
"Honestly, woman," teased his twin, "You call yourself our mother?"
"Sorry, George, dear."
The second boy pushed ahead and disappeared behind another crowd, while the first said, "Just kidding, Mom. I am Fred!"
She directed an upward swing at the air near his left ear as he laughed and darted off. Mary was now certain that they were timing their disappearances with the passing groups, because she missed how he'd done it, too.
"Hurry along, Ron!" she called, as the fourth boy forced a fussy rat into his coat pocket.
The crowd had thinned considerably then, but Mary was no longer taking any chances.
"Excuse me," she said, putting a hand on Hedwig's cage for support. "How did you…"
"Oh, first year at Hogwarts, dear?"
Mary replied with a sheepish nod.
"It's Ron's first year, too! All you need to do is point your trolley toward that barrier, and walk right through."
"That's it?" Mary asked, a fresh wave of butterflies rising in her belly.
"That's it," the lady assured her. "Here, why don't go ahead of Ron, and we'll be right behind you. Best take it at a bit of a run if you're nervous."
The younger girl positioned Mary's trolley for her, stepped back, and said, "Good luck!"
Good luck?
Another crowd spilled out of platform 10, and Mary took that as her cue. She inhaled, leaned into her trolley, and began to trot. The barrier was coming closer. She was gaining speed. She was going to crash and Hedwig was going to be smooshed! Mary closed her eyes and braced for the inevitable impact.
She didn't crash. She kept running and she felt sunlight wash over her. Mary opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was a scarlet steam engine with a sign overhead reading: Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. She looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. Ron materialized through the barrier, followed closely by his mother and sister. Mary tried not to gawk.
All around her, people were dressed in colorful robes, pushing trolleys with disgruntled owls, and greeting friends who hadn't seen each other all summer. One girl picked up an enormous black cat that lazily draped itself around her shoulders like an elegant feather boa. It stretched and its fur ruffled, showing that it wasn't black, at all, but a deep purple!
Mary gawked.
"Would you like to pet her?" the older girl offered. "She's super friendly!"
Mary reached up to scratch the feline behind the ears, eliciting a deep rumble that must've been a purr. The Dursleys had an old neighbor who lived with a dozen cats. Every year, on Dudley's birthday, his parents would take him and a friend to a theme park, a nice restaurant for supper, and to see a movie. Mary was always left behind with Mrs Figg.
Mrs Figg was nice enough, but her entire house smelled like boiled cabbage, and she always found a reason to share a photo album stuffed with pictures of cats that she used to own. Mary would spend the day feigning interest, often holding an old cat in her lap while the younger ones romped, slept, or chittered at birds through the window. None of them were purple!
"Gemma!" another girl shouted to her.
Gemma gave Mary a conspiratorial smile and said, "See you at Hogwarts!" then dashed off to join her friend.
Mary wondered if she'd make friends at Hogwarts. Her former classmates had always tolerated her, but as Dudley's much-despised cousin, everyone knew to steer clear. Despite their similarity in age, Dudley was easily four times her size –
…and four times as stupid, Mary would say, if anyone had ever asked.
– so nobody would cross him.
Nevertheless, he had a dedicated group of friends who would follow his lead. They took turns stealing Mary's glasses, breaking them, and sticking all manner of nasty gunk in her unruly black hair, which always grew back whenever Aunt Petunia attempted to cut it. The last time, it was shaped into a bowl cut, exposing her ears, but covering "that hideous scar", which split into a thin lightning bolt down the middle of her forehead. Mary couldn't sleep, that night, imagining how her peers would taunt her. When she awoke the next morning, Aunt Petunia shrieked to find Mary's shoulder-length hair restored.
Rolling up to the Hogwarts Express luggage car, Mary tried to heave her trunk onboard. Instead, she succeeded in slipping twice and dropping the corner on her toe.
"Hey! You want a hand with that?" It was one of the red-haired twins she'd followed through the barrier.
"Yes, please," Mary replied, stifling a cry of pain.
"Oiy, Fred! C'mere and help!"
With the twins' assistance, Mary's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.
"What should I do with Hedwig?" Mary asked.
"Hedwig, huh? Hang her cage there," Fred pointed, "and she can sit on your shoulder during the trip."
"Here, I'll get it for ya!" George offered.
"Thanks," said Mary, pushing sweaty tresses out of her eyes.
"What's that?" asked one Fred, pointing at Mary's forehead.
"Blimey," exclaimed George. "Are you — ?"
"She is!" Fred asserted. "Aren't you?" he quickly added to Mary.
"What? Who?" asked Mary, growing more wary.
"Mary Potter," the twins intoned.
"Oh, her," said Mary. "I mean, yes, I am."
The two boys now gawked at her, and Mary felt herself turning red. Then, to her relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.
"Fred? George? Are you there?"
"Coming, Mum!" With a last look at Mary, the twins hopped off the train.
Mary took the opportunity to scramble further inside, slipping between the luggage to a passenger car, and settled into a blessedly empty compartment. She cracked the window open, letting in fresh air, which carried the voices of students saying goodbye to their parents, and parents asking last-minute questions before letting their children go.
"Ron," said a familiar voice, "you've got something on your nose."
The family was standing right outside Mary's window, and she sunk low to peer out, without being seen.
"Mum! Geroff!" Ron squawked. He wriggled free as his older brothers teased him.
"Awww, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" cooed one of the twins.
"Shut up," snapped Ron.
"Where's Percy?" asked their mother.
"There, he's coming now," said the sister.
The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Mary noticed a shiny red-and-gold badge on his chest with the letter P on it.
"Can't stay long, Mother," he said, very properly. "I'm up front. The prefects have got two compartments to themselves —"
"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise.
"You should have said something, we had no idea," said the other.
"Hang on," said the first twin. "I think I remember him saying something about it, maybe once –"
"Or twice –"
"A minute –"
"All summer –"
"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect. Standing half a head taller than their mother, he kissed her on the cheek and strolled to the front car.
Mary stifled a giggle and listened to their mother warn the twins about their behavior.
"If I receive one more owl telling me you've blown up a toilet–"
"We've never blown up a toilet," one of them interrupted in thoughtful wonder.
"Great idea, Mum!" the other laughed.
"I'm serious!" she sternly warned. "And look after your brother."
"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us," said one, as the other solemnly said, "You know we can never keep Percy out of trouble."
Ickle Ronniekins' annoyed sputtering was cut short as one of the twins said, "Hey, Mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"
Mary sunk deeper so they couldn't see her watching them.
"You know that black-haired girl who was near us in the station? Know who she is?"
"Who?"
"Mary Potter!" the twins said in a stage whisper.
Mary heard the little girl gasp. "Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see her, Mum? Please, Mum…"
"You've already seen her, Ginny," their mother chided. "And the poor girl isn't something you ogle at like some zoo creature." She turned back to the twins. "Was it really her, Fred? How do you know?"
"Asked her. Saw the scar."
"It's really there, Mum," George added. "Like lightning."
"The poor dear," she sighed. "I'd wondered why she was alone. And she was ever so polite."
"Do you think she remembers You-Know-Who?" asked the girl named Ginny.
Their mother suddenly became very stern. "I forbid you to ask her about it. Any of you! No, don't you dare. She has enough on her mind with her first day back in our world."
"All right, all right!" said Fred, hands raised in defense. "Keep your hair on."
A whistle sounded, and their mother shooed the three boys onto the train.
Ginny began to cry, so George promised to send her loads of owls, and Fred made her laugh in promising a Hogwarts toilet seat.
The train began to move, and Mary looked out at the families seeing them off. Some were crying while others smiled. Ginny laughed and ran alongside the train, tears streaming down her cheeks. She stopped and waved when she could no longer keep up, and Mary watched them all disappear in the distance. She felt a leap of excitement, knowing that wherever she was going, it had to be better than what lay behind.
The compartment door slid open and the youngest red-haired boy stuck his head in.
"Sorry, is anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Mary. "Everywhere else is full."
She shook her head and the boy sat down. He was quite tall for their age, with a long nose, and large hands and feet that he might still grow into.
"I'm Ron," he said. "Ronald Weasley, but you can call me Ron."
"I'm Mary Potter," she replied. "No nicknames."
"And you've really got…" he traced a finger over his forehead.
Mary pushed her hair aside to show the lightning scar.
"Wicked!" Ron breathed.
"I don't remember anything," said Mary, resolving the curiosity. "Well, sometimes I think I do, but…just dreams, you know?"
"Yeah," Ron said. "One of my family's old owls tried to fly off my shoulder once, but his talon got caught in my shirt. I was really little when it happened, so I have this recurring dream that he carries me away."
Mary laughed, but Hedwig ruffled her feathers, as though taking offense.
"Are all of your family magical?" Mary asked, finding Ron as interesting as he found her.
"I think so," replied Ron. "I have a great-uncle who's an accountant, but we never really hear much from him."
"So you must know tons of magic, already."
"Not really," said Ron. "I mean, there are basic spells that everyone knows, but you'll pick those up in no time. You went to live with Muggles, didn't you? What are they like?"
"Awful!" Mary exclaimed. "Not all of them, but my aunt, uncle, and cousin are. I wish I had three wizard brothers, instead."
"I have five," Ron groaned.
Mary's jaw dropped.
"I'm the sixth to go to Hogwarts. Bill and Charlie have already graduated. Bill was Head Boy, and Charlie was captain of Gryffindor's quidditch team. Percy's a Prefect, and Fred and George make everyone laugh…anything I do will be expected, because it's been done before. You never get anything new, either, with five older brothers."
"I can imagine," said Mary, recalling hand-me-downs from her massive cousin.
Ron sighed. "I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."
He reached into his overcoat and pulled out a fat, gray rat. The hair on the back of Mary's neck stood on end, but Ron assured her that it wasn't dead.
"His name is Scabbers and he's useless."
Hedwig softly trilled in Mary's ear, but she gently touched her fingers to the owl's beak. Rats may be natural prey for owls, but that didn't include a potential friend's geriatric pet.
"Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a Prefect, but they couldn't aff — I mean, I got Scabbers, instead."
A furious blush broke out across Ron's face, and he looked out the window. Mary didn't understand his embarrassment. She told him about how she'd never had money, until Hogwarts sent their Keeper of the Keys, a month ago, to tell her that she was a witch.
"Keeper of the Keys?"
"Hagrid's a sort of groundskeeper. He also takes care of Hogwarts' animals, like looking after the owlery and assisting professors with magical creatures. I can't wait to see them."
"Magical creatures," said Ron, poking the sleeping Scabbers in his lap. "He could die and you wouldn't know the difference."
Mary giggled. "He can't be as bad as all that!"
"No? Wait until you see what real magical animals can do." Ron sighed, again. "I tried to turn him yellow, yesterday, but it didn't work."
"Maybe you just need to try again," said Mary, eager to see some magic.
Ron rummaged through a pocket in his cloak and pulled out a battered-looking wand. Mary had read that some wands could contain memories, and she hoped this was one of them. Her excitement did not reassure Ron.
"Unicorn hair is nearly poking out," he muttered. "Anyway…"
As he raised his wand, the compartment door slid open. A girl stood in the doorway, a be-grieved boy trailing behind her. Compared to her, Mary decided that her own hair was downright boring. What would Aunt Petunia do if she'd had those wild, frizzy locks?
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville here has lost one," she said, her tone dripping with superiority, and indicating the shy, stocky boy at her shoulder.
"We haven't seen any toads," Ron curtly replied, wand still raised.
"Oh! Are you doing magic?" The girl seated herself beside Ron, but Neville remained standing. "Well, let's see it then!" she urged.
"Um…all right." He shot Mary a look of bemusement, but continued with the spell:
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,
Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"
Nothing changed. Scabbers stretched and rolled onto his side, but remained gray and fast asleep.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl asked, appraisingly. "It isn't a very good one, is it? I've tried a few basic spells just for practice, but they've all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magical, so I've memorized our course books to catch up. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"
Ron and Mary sat silently for a moment, unsure if it was actually their turn to speak.
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.
Taking his cue, Mary replied, "Mary Potter."
From the door, Neville gaped, but Hermione leaned forward.
"The Mary Potter? Are you really?" Mary nodded, and Hermione continued. "I know all about you, of course! I've got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and…Great Magical Events of the Twentieth Century."
"Am I?" asked Mary, feeling dazed.
"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if, it was me!"
"If…" Mary breathed, but Hermione hopped to her feet and rejoined Neville-the-Toadless at the door.
"Anyway," Hermione said, "we'd better go find Neville's toad before we arrive at Hogwarts. You two had better change before we get there. You have something on your robe," she told Ron. "Did you know?"
And she left, Neville following in her wake.
"Whatever House I'm in," said Ron, "I hope she's in another one."
Mary shook her head, bewildered. "She knows more about me than I do."
Ron waved his hand. "She knows less than she thinks. My dad works for the Ministry of Magic, and he's told us what doesn't make it into her precious textbooks."
"Oh?" Mary asked. "Like what?"
Ron shrugged. "It happens in Muggle histories, too. Things aren't as clear-cut as historians would like, so they simplify the story. Sometimes they give credit to someone who wasn't there, or they remove someone entirely, and nobody can say anything, because it happened so long ago, or the right people weren't there to confirm what happened. What's the point of studying the blasted things if they're not true?"
Mary had never thought about it, before, but it made sense. What might those books say about her parents that never happened? Instead of dwelling on the unsettling topic, Mary asked, "What House are your brothers in?"
"Gryffindor," he replied, his mood growing heavier. "Mum and Dad and a bunch of our family were sorted there, too, and I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. Ravenclaw might not be so bad, but what if I get Slytherin?"
"That's the House Voldemort was in, right?"
Ron blanched.
"What?"
"You said his name!" he gasped.
"Oh, right." Mary smacked her forehead. "I'm sorry. I forgot. A month ago, I didn't even know any of this existed."
"It's all right," said Ron, regaining his composure. "You-Know-Who isn't ancient history, so it still scares a lot of us. I just assumed that you, of all people…"
"Really, I'm not trying to be brave…I just didn't know." A familiar twinge of worry washed over her. "I bet I'm going to be the worst in our class. What if none of the Houses want me?"
"You'll be fine," Ron assured her. "Loads of people come from Muggle families. They learn quick enough, and they all get sorted."
"Bet I'm sorted into Hufflepuff."
"Better than Slytherin. Dad recons there isn't a family who went bad that wasn't from that House."
The two talked until a clattering in the corridor announced a new arrival. A smiling woman opened the door and asked, "Anything off the cart, dears?"
Mary, who'd barely had anything for breakfast, sprang to her feet and combed over the wares. She didn't see any familiar items, but so many new and wonderful foods. Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and individually wrapped snacks that had been made and packaged that morning. Mary quietly thanked Hagrid for teaching her about the magical currency, paying the vendor eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.
Ron stared as Mary dropped the bounty into the empty seat next to her.
"Hungry, are you?"
"Starving!" Mary replied, tearing into a pumpkin pasty. It was more wonderful than she'd imagined.
Ron had taken out a lumpy package containing four sandwiches and groaned. "She always forgets that I don't like corned beef."
"Swap you for one of these," said Mary, pushing a pasty towards him.
"Oh, you don't want this. I mean, look at it. It's all dry…"
"I'm sure it's better than it looks. You squished it when you sat down!"
Ron blushed and handed the sandwiches over, tentatively opening the pasty as Mary took a large bite of the corned beef sandwich.
"This isn't bad at all," she said, around a mouthful. The bread was a bit dry, but a drink of pumpkin juice between bites resolved that problem.
After Ron had taken a few bites of his pasty, Mary asked him about the bag of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans.
"You want to be careful with those. When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor!"
Mary set them aside for later, opting instead for a chocolate frog. It was enchanted to croak, and each came with a collectible card of famous witches and wizards.
"I've got about five hundred, but I don't have Agrippa or Ptolemy," said Ron.
She handed him a chocolate frog and unwrapped one of her own. The card depicted a man with half-moon glasses, a nose that appeared to have been broken a time or two, and long, silvery hair with a flowing mustache and beard. His name was printed in a curling script under the portrait, with a description on the back of the card.
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, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.
"So this is Dumbledore," Mary mused.
"What, you didn't know about Dumbledore?" Ron exclaimed.
Mary gave him a blank expression.
"Oh, right. Raised by Muggles."
Mary looked back down at the card and gasped.
"He's gone!"
"Well, you can't expect him to just hang around all day. He'll be back." Ron looked at his own card and handed it to Mary. "Nope, it's Morgana, again. Here, you can start collecting!"
As they worked through the mountain of chocolate frogs, Mary explained that Muggle pictures don't move.
"Really? Then how do you know what was going on when the picture was taken?"
Steeling their stomachs, they moved on to the Every-Flavor Beans. Mary got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and nibbled the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper. She crumbled that one over the last of their pumpkin pasties as Ron told her about his older brothers.
"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Morocco doing something for Gringotts." He paused, remembering something important. "Did you hear about Gringotts? Someone tried to rob a high security vault."
"Really? What happened?" asked Mary.
"Nothing, that's the weird part. They broke in on July 31st, but they didn't take anything. It's been all over the Daily Prophet…but I guess your family doesn't get that newspaper. Anyway, I thought you might've seen something, since you said you said you were there on that day."
Mary shook her head. "I wouldn't know what to look for if anything had been weird. That's the same day I'd learned that all of this exists."
Gringott's Wizarding Bank was owned, operated, and protected by goblins. According to Hagrid, someone would have to be mad to steal from them.
"What you need to understand about goblins," Hagrid had told her, "is that they have a different way of looking at ownership. If a human makes a gift for someone, that gift belongs to the receiver, end o' story. If the gift is goblin-made, the item still belongs to the goblin. Should anything happen to the gift's recipient, it goes back to the origin."
"Even if you paid for it?" Mary asked.
Hagrid nodded. "That's the way o' things."
"And goblins create the money that we buy things with?"
Hagrid smiled broadly and said, "You're understandin'. They take pride in their work, so it's closely regulated. If you wanna keep somethin' safe, there's no safer place than Gringott's. Save for Hogwarts, of course."
Ron shuddered. "Probably best you didn't see anything. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get around Gringotts security, and get away. 'Course, everyone starts wondering if You-Know-Who's behind it, whenever something like this happens."
Both Mary and Ron jumped as the compartment door slid open. Half expecting Hermione or Neville-the-Toadless, Mary was surprised to see three different, rather unfriendly faces.
Two of the boys were only slightly shorter than Ron, but both were thickset where Ron was lanky, and the third was lean and very fine-featured. Mary recognized him from the day Hagrid had taken her to Diagon Alley, a magical shopping district. He was being fitted for robes at Madam Malkin's alongside Mary, but as he indifferently bragged about himself, he'd hardly looked at her,.
She didn't like how interesting he seemed to find her, now.
"Is it true?" he asked. "The whole train is talking about it. They're saying Mary Potter is in this compartment. So it's you?"
"Yes," Mary replied, passing a wary glance over the boys standing behind him like bodyguards. Sensing Mary's discomfort, Hedwig fluffed and stretched her wings.
"Oh," the pale boy carelessly drawled. "This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle." They both stood a little straighter, like trained hounds who'd just heard their master speak their names. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
Ron snorted and reached for a napkin, trying to pass it off as a sneeze.
"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco Malfoy asked. "My father's told me all about you Weasleys. Red hair, old robes, and more children than they can afford to feed."
He turned back to Mary before Ron could reply. "You'll find that some families are much better than others, Potter. I can help you avoid making friends with the wrong sort."
He held out his hand for Mary to shake, and gave her the most congenial smile that she was sure he'd spent hours practicing.
"Thanks," she said, folding her hands in her lap and looking him straight in the eye. "But I think I can tell who the wrong sort are, for myself."
A light blush tinged his cheeks as he glowered down at her. "I'd be very careful if I were you, Potter. This sort of riffraff didn't work out well for your parents, did it?"
Both Mary and Ron stood up, Scabbers scrambling into Ron's pocket and Hedwig doubling in size and shrieking in brazen warning.
"EXCUSE ME!" someone shouted, pushing his way through the rabble and sitting next to Ron.
"Pardon me," his double said, more politely, seating himself beside Mary.
"You guys wanna see something cool?" came a third, pushing dreadlocks out of his face as he pulled down a meal tray and knelt before it. He placed a box on the tray and, with a mischievous grin, removed the lid. It contained the most gigantic tarantula Mary had ever seen. The three unwelcome guests yelped and scrambled out of the cabin, leaving the twins and Mary howling with laughter. The third boy held a hand up, beckoning for quiet as the sound upset his tarantula.
"What's wrong, Ron?" he asked. "She won't hurt you."
Ron had gone sheet white and broken into a sweat.
"Sorry, Lee," one of the twins said. "He's afraid of spiders."
"She isn't a spider," Lee crooned, caressing the creature's back with a forefinger. That seemed to settle her down, and Lee placed the lid back on the box.
"You're sure that isn't an acromantula?" Ron asked, wiping his brow.
His brothers and Lee snorted, as yet another visitor happened by the open door.
"What's going on in here?" It was Gemma with her purple feline scarf. "That little Malfoy kid looked fit to piss himself."
"Nothing, your Prefectship!" Lee said, innocently. "He just doesn't like tarantulas."
"He isn't the only one!" Ron squeaked.
She scrutinized the compartment and rolled her eyes. "You're supposed to be the good one, Jordan." Lee helplessly shrugged one shoulder and Gemma sighed. "Look, I already know those three are going to be in my House," she said, gesturing to the retreating trio, "so could you not cause trouble before we even get to school?"
One twin crossed his heart while the other saluted.
"Mary, child," she held her hand out, "we're almost there. Let's get to your trunk so you can change into your robes."
Mary motioned for Lee to take her vacated seat, and a voice echoed instructions through the train:
"We will be reaching Hogwarts in ten minutes' time. Please collect and deposit any rubbish in the appropriate receptacles. Leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."
"I didn't know we needed to wear our robes on the first day," said Mary, following Gemma to the luggage car.
"It isn't really a requirement, but most do," said Gemma, then she dropped her voice. "The truth is, I want to give you a warning."
She opened the car door and waved Mary through. She looked around as Mary located her trunk and pulled a robe out.
"I don't know how well-versed you are in our recent history, but there are a lot of students who might not like you – especially kids in my House."
"Why? Which House?" Mary asked, though she had a feeling she could guess.
"Slytherin tends to attract a…certain type of mage," Gemma said, matter-of-factly. "I don't have time to explain, but stay close to your friends – don't give me that look; you've already made new friends, today – stay close to your friends and you should be fine."
Mary locked the trunk and Gemma led her back to the compartment in time to see Lee and the twins off.
She sat across from Ron and asked, "You ready?"
"Sure, you?"
"Yeah, me neither."