I don't own Harry Potter

Arriving at Hogwarts

#

Despite his resolve not to show how nervous he was, Harry trembled with fear when his relatives drove away, leaving him in front of the largest building Harry had ever seen. Kings Cross Station was rather busy and Harry worried that one of the many luggage vans would just crush him if he didn't move away from the entrance soon.

As fast as he could (which wasn't very fast at all, as his trunk weighed probably more than Harry himself, with all the books inside), Harry made his way to platform 9 and 10. He was still searching for platform 93/4 – which, he supposed, must be nearer to platform 10 than to platform 9, otherwise it would be platform 91/2 or 91/4 – when a large bunch of red-headed people caught his attention.

The only friend Harry had ever had had been a red-haired boy. This had been during first form, and Dudley had made it clear very quickly that Harry wasn't supposed to have any friends, but ever since those few short weeks when Harry had had someone who stayed with him during breaks and helped him to avoid his cousin and his chums, he suspected that red-headed people were nicer than normal ones.

Thus he decided that what looked to be a whole family full of red-heads were the right people to ask for the strange platform. Of course, the fact that the woman was just now saying something about those non-freakish muggers the giant and the blond boy had told him about had something to do with his decision as well.

The red-haired woman was just as nice as Harry had hoped for. However, she seemed to be in quite a hurry and motioned him to run against the wall before Harry had a chance to ask whether this method of entering the platform would work for house elves, too.

Not daring to disturb her further, Harry turned around and started to push his trolley towards the barrier. Faster and faster he went, he was almost at the wall now and... – Harry pressed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the unyielding stones – BAAHM!

The trolley fell over, Harry stumbled, lost his balances and landed on top of it, the handlebars knocking the breath out of him. When he opened his eyes, all what he saw was red.

Then, he heard a laughter from somewhere behind him.

"You know, you need to stop running once you have crossed the barrier," a voice said.

"Yeah, ' don't think they'll appreciate it if a tiny firsty destroyed the Express," another voice snickered.

"Need some help getting up?" that was the first voice again.

Harry blinked, rearranged his glasses and looked up. Apparently, he had also hit his head when falling over his trolley, as he saw the same boy twice.

Not knowing what to make of the still-grinning boy, Harry looked around for the first time since the crash and noticed that it hadn't been the barrier between platform 9 and 10 he had run into but a bright red train that hadn't been there before. Then, his eyes fell on a sign that clearly red "Platform 93/4". He had made it!

"So, ehm, need a hand, then?"

Harry gasped when suddenly both the real boy and the copy he was seeing grabbed his trolley and pulled it upright again. "You- you are real, then? Both of you?" he blurted out.

"Yes, I suppose we are – George, what do you think?"

"Well, Fred, I'm not so sure, you have always seemed a bit too much like me to be real."

Completely bewildered, Harry looked at the two boys who continued their bickering. If the train he had run into was the Hogwart-Express (and the lettering clearly said so) than these two boys – Fred and George, when their argument wasn't completely staged - surely had to be... "You're wizards!"

The bickering stopped and the two boys stared at Harry as if he had lost his mind.

An awkward silence fell. Finally, Fred and George helped Harry to tow his luggage into the train and, after they had given him a last, curious gaze, they left. From his seat in a compartment at the end of the train, Harry could see that they joined the family of red-heads he had asked how to enter the platform, talking animatedly. Their gestures made it clear who (or rather what) the topic of their conversation was.

Harry knew that he shouldn't have been so surprised to meet wizards. It wasn't as if he hadn't met any of them before. It was only that the day in Diagon Alley, he hadn't really believed that what the giant had told him was true and as result, he hadn't believed the blond boy either. So to all intents and purposes, the brief conversation he had just had with the two boys had been Harry's first real encounter with that type of human being most house elves served.

He supposed that Fred and George were around 13 or 14, which meant that they must be students at Hogwarts, and thus two of Harry's future masters. He could only hope that they would give him a chance to prove that he wasn't normally as clumsy as he had been today, that he wouldn't break their stuff while cleaning it or ruining their clothes by washing them at the wrong temperature.

Several people came into Harry's compartment during the train-ride.

At first, another one of the red-haired boys, who introduced himself as Ron Weasley, asked whether he could sit with Harry because everywhere else was full. Harry nodded and quickly looked away again. Although he had read an entire book about creatures like him, he still wasn't sure how you were supposed to act in front of a master. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Ron Weasley started to talk about funny-sounding houses and quiches. Well, his pronunciation was strange and it sounded more like "quiddiches" but Harry was quite sure that he meant quiches- there wasn't something like quiddiches, after all.

The boys obvious love for quiches led to Harry making a mental note to bake them as often as possible – his Aunt had made sure that he knew how to cook and bake various dishes so it shouldn't be a problem.

After a while, though, the boy seemed no longer satisfied with Harry only listening to his ramblings and started to demand answers to various questions. Most of these questions Harry didn't even understand, and Ron started to look at him just as the two identical boys had after Harry had asked whether they were wizards.

When Ron wanted to know what his favourite quiche was, Harry was glad that finally he would be able to answer a question. "Quiche Lorraine, though I didn't get to taste it very often. Dudley usually eats even more of it than from other meals." After a few moments of deliberation Harry decided that he would risk asking a question himself. "What's your favourite quiche, Master Ron?"

Ron gave him a bewildered look before he mumbled something about having to search for his brothers, pulled his trunk from the luggage rack and fled from the compartment.

'Stupid Harry!' the now lonely boy chided himself silently. 'You know better than to ask questions!'

Yes, it had been really stupid of him to assume that only because the boy kept asking Harry things Harry would be allowed to do the same. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and even his book had taught him that it was not acceptable for a house elf to ask any questions at all. You had to obey and keep silent and only speak when your master had asked you something.

He could only hope that making quiches every day would mollify Master Ron.

#

Next, the blond boy from Diagon Alley came to Harry's compartment. Two rather bulky boys, looking similar to Dudley, accompanied him.

The blond – Malfoy, Harry reminded himself, or rather Master Malfoy now that Harry knew that he was a house elf while the blond was a wizard (the book had been very clear in this regard) – sneered at Harry.

"No one is sitting with the mudblood, then?" Malfoy Draco drawled.

Harry just looked at him blankly, not knowing what the boy was referring to.

"Yes, I have asked my father – he has never heard of a wizarding family called Dursley, and he knows practically everyone in the wizarding world, well, the important people, at least," Draco smirked, "therefore, you must either be a mudblood or a half blood from one of the less respected families."

From the tone of his voice, Harry suspected that this must be something bad. He kept silent, though, as just now Master Malfoy looked at him appraisingly.

"However," Malfoy continued, "you said that you don't like muggles either. So perhaps you aren't as bad as most mudbloods are... yes, my father told me that some mudbloods can be quite useful to our cause, that they can show lunatics like Dumbledore what scum muggles really are. Yes..." he kept looking at Harry in a way that the latter found half-amusing, half-frightening. It was as if the blond tried very hard to imitate someone else' expression but wasn't really sure how to do it.

"As I said, I'm not completely opposed to an allegiance between the two of us. Of course, you will always be inferior to me and you cannot expect me to treat you as if you were an equal. But if you behave appropriately, I might help you to avoid the fate most mudbloods awaits."

Harry swallowed. If he had understood the blond correctly, he meant that he would be nice to Harry if Harry was a really good house elf and didn't make any mistakes. Harry wasn't so sure he would succeed – he didn't yet know how a good house elf had to behave, after all - but he would certainly try. "Yes, Master Malfoy," he finally whispered.

Draco's eyes widened comically and he gave Harry an appreciative nod before he and the two other boys, who had stayed silent through their entire conversation, left.

#

Late in the afternoon, yet another future master – or rather mistress – visited Harry.

"Have you seen a toad?" the girl asked in a rather bossy voice. "Neville has lost his!"

Harry shook his head.

"Oh, well, if you happen to see it, please inform me or Neville immediately. We have been searching for hours already. Well, you better change now, we will be arriving soon and you cannot enter Hogwarts in these clothes!" she pointed at Dudley's cast-offs Harry was wearing.

Harry, well able to recognize a direct order when he heard one, started to undress as soon as the girl had finished her little speech. For a few seconds, he couldn't see anything, but when he pulled the much too large jumper over his head, the now-blushing girl was looking at him scandalized.

"I didn't mean it literary when I said 'now', you know," she mumbled before turning around, slamming shut the door and leaving. Harry didn't even have time to apologize.

Shrugging, he continued to undress before opening his trunk and searching for one of his plain, black robes. He wasn't sure that this was the proper attire for a house elf but he didn't want to get in trouble for wearing muggle clothes either. He hoped that the other house elves would provide him with something more suitable to wear. It wouldn't do for him to walk around dressed like one of his masters!

When he no longer heard any noises, Harry peeked out of his compartment. Once he was certain that the students had all left the train, Harry gripped his trunk (he didn't think the rule 'leave your luggage on the Express' applied to house elves) and headed for the exit.
In the distance, he could see several carriages driving away and at the other end of the platform, a huge black mass that had a single lantern bouncing in front of it moved towards a few trees and finally vanished.

Harry was at a loss for what to do. How was he supposed to find his new workplace? Hogwarts was supposed to be a castle, but he couldn't see anything remotely similar to such a thing! 'You mustn't panic,' he told himself. There had to be a way to find this school!

Then, he heard a soft snorting directly behind him. A squeak escaped his lips when something touched his shoulder. Something warm.

Slowly, Harry turned around. And gaped. Briefly, he wondered whether he had gone insane, but quickly abandoned this thought in favour of gaping some more. Never in all his life had he seen (or even imagined) a creature like this.

"Uhm... ehm, hey... I'm Harry..." he offered.

The dragonhorse didn't answer - not that Harry had expected it to do – quite the contrary, actually. He was rather glad that it didn't answer!

It was then that Harry noticed the carriage behind the dragonhorse. "Uhm, would... I mean, do you think you could bring me to Hogwarts? I'm supposed to start working there today, but I don't really know how to go there..." he trailed of, waiting for any kind of reaction.

The dragonhorse snorted some more before it turned its head and looked at the carriage. Then, it looked at Harry again.

"Uhm, I think this means yes, then?" Harry was still unsure. He didn't want to offend a creature like this – he was unsure whether he would survive it.

It was only when the dragonhorse poked his shoulder quite forcefully, then looked at the cart again and finally biting in the handle of Harry's trunk, lifting it off the ground as if it wasn't filled with tons of books and clothes but completely weightless that Harry dared to climb into the carriage. As soon as he had sat down, the carriage started to move.

When Harry's odd taxi passed two pillars that seemed to belong to some sort of gate, Harry craned his neck. When there was a gate there certainly had to be... "WOAH!" he exclaimed.

Directly in front of him, there was a building at least ten times as big as Kings Cross Station. Thousands of tiny golden lights that had to be windows illuminated the otherwise dark mass. It was a sight so beautiful that Harry couldn't do much else than gaping, even when the carriage stopped.

After what had to be at least five minutes, Harry snuffled and declared to no one in particular, "I'm sooo glad I'm allowed to work here."

#

It took him more than ten minutes to drag his trunk up the many stairs that led to the entrance door. Just when he had entered a hall larger than the Dursley's entire house, a door to his left opened and a stern voice said, "... follow me!"

Quickly, Harry hid in a dark alcove. He didn't want to start his career at Hogwarts by angering his new masters. Aunt Petunia would have had a fit if she had found Harry standing in the corridor, staring into space and lazing about. Hopefully, whoever it was (and it seemed to be more than one person, if the excited whispering was anything to go by) wouldn't notice his trunk. A tall woman in a dark-green robe came out of a room, followed by thirty or forty children.

Harry's heart sank when the woman's eyes fell on his trunk and a frown appeared on her face. He prayed that she wouldn't take it. Everything Harry owned was in this trunk, but he knew that, if she took it, he wouldn't dare to ask whether he could have it back. Doing so would both violate the most important rule – don't ask questions! – and certainly make him appear greedy. After all, Harry wasn't even sure that he was entitled to owning books and robes and his old blanket.

When the group of humans left the hall through a large door Harry sighed with relief. Quickly, he grabbed his trunk and hurried to the nearest corridor, hopefully avoiding further people that might join the woman and the children into the brightly lit hall. Once he had reached a comparatively dark part of the corridor, Harry stopped, trying to catch his breath. The trunk was heavy! What should he do now?

Well, first of all, he needed to find a place where he could store his trunk while exploring the castle and searching for his new colleagues, he decided. There had to be flocks of house elf at Hogwarts, surely it couldn't be too difficult to find a single one and ask it about where the quarters of the staff were located and where exactly Harry should work. He would fetch his stuff once he knew where to store it permanently – he would never manage to move around unnoticed by his masters (which was the second most important rule) if he had to drag the trunk with him.

Fortunately, the castle had more than enough broom cupboards, closets and curtain-covered alcoves. Harry stored his trunk in an empty cupboard at a dead end of a corridor, next to a flight of stairs that led even deeper into the dungeons and a portrait of a creature similar to that one that had drawn Harry's carriage. When he closed the door, he briefly worried whether this was safe enough. However, the soft, tingling sensation he felt when he touched the door-handle convinced him that this was the right place for his trunk. The cupboard was even big enough that Harry himself would fit in, too, if he didn't find a place to sleep tonight.

#

It was a good thing that Harry had chosen such a spacious cupboard for him and his trunk, as he would indeed spend the night there.

During his first evening at Hogwarts, he had several close calls with inhabitants of the castle. Harry had almost made his way back to the vast entrance hall and was deliberating where he should go next when he heard a large group of people approaching. The cheerful voices grew louder and louder and all his hopes that they wouldn't choose this of all corridors vanished when a tall, dark figure came around the corner.

Harry held his breath and tried his hardest to merge with the wall.

"This way," a dark voice said, "the Slytherin common room is even deeper down in the dungeons than the kitchen." Harry stored the information away for later.

Miraculously, the group of people passed the corner where Harry stood pressed against the wall without anybody noticing him – at least this was what Harry deduced from the fact that nobody had addressed him, he hadn't exactly looked at the humans' faces. Seemed as if the black robes were good for something, after all. If he hadn't been dressed in black or even only had had blond hair he doubted that his attempt to pretend to be a wall would have been successful.

When the noises from the entrance hall had died down, Harry tiptoed around the corner and peeked into the large, open space. Directly across from him was an enormous, white marble staircase that seemed to lead to the upper parts of the castle. Deciding to postpone exploring this area of the castle, Harry sneaked across the hall, careful to stay close to the walls. It was the door that led into the brightly lit room the woman and the children had gone into earlier that had attracted his attention.

Harry couldn't help gasping when he entered the most magnificent, wondrous room he had ever seen in is life. Briefly, he wondered what the humans did when it was raining, as the room didn't have a ceiling. But then, his eyes fell on the tables and all thoughts about how uncomfortable it must be to eat while become wetter and wetter vanished. There was still food on the tables! And not just any food – pudding! Harry had never been allowed to have pudding while staying with his relatives and now, he could chose from five tables full of the most delicious sweets he had ever seen!

Not sure when the remains of what had clearly been a great feast would be cleared away, Harry didn't waste any time and started noshing immediately. With any luck, he would even meet some of his fellow house elves, as surely they were responsible for cleaning up the mess the students and teachers had left behind.

Half an hour later, though, still no house elf had appeared. Harry, who had started to feel uncomfortably full halfway through his fourth slice of treacle tart, decided that if he didn't go back to his cupboard now, he would fall asleep right here under one of the tables.

It was much more difficult to move stealthily now that his stomach was full of pudding and a weird type of orange juice and just when he had reached the corridor that led to his new cupboard, he couldn't suppress a loud burp any longer. Unfortunately, it was just then that two pairs of feet hurried through the entrance hall behind Harry. When Harry burped, the feet stopped.

"You don't happen to have hired a new elf during the summer, Albus? If you have, you might want to remind them of their manners." the same dark voice that Harry had heard saying something about a slithering common room and the kitchen earlier asked.

"I have, actually," another voice answered, "some of the older elves have become too unreliable during the last few years. I offered them paid retirement, but you know how they are..." the man sighed. "Anyway, when Mr Filch came to me in May and complained about a house elf trying to clean the floor with a mixture of honey and pumpkin juice I decided that I needed to look for a few new elves soon. And of course, the incident last June when the Hufflepuff-table was served boiled underpants from the Ravenclaws for lunch only highlighted the necessity to search for new employees. But why do you ask, Severus?"

"It's nothing. One of them seemed to have gotten lost and was hiding in a dark corner next to the staircase down to the Slytherin common room earlier. Seems to have found his way now, though, I looked for it on my way back up here. Well, it's not as if it is all that difficult to find the kitchen and the elves' quarters from there on, just down the stairs and down the corridor..." he trailed off.

The other voice chuckled. "I'm amazed you haven't hexed the poor elf. A creature hiding in a dark corner?"

"It wouldn't do to startle the first-years on their first evening in the castle," the dark voice sounded rather snarky, "and it's not as if it could have been something dangerous, or couldn't it, Albus?"

"No, no, of course not, Severus, there is no need to worry."

The voices trailed off when the two men they belonged to climbed the stairs and vanished in one of the upper parts of the castle.

Next Chapter: Harry searches for his colleagues