Just posted this a little late this week, was busy with a project. But here it is now, enjoy! :)

Chapter 5: The Adventure Launches

The next few days were filled with deep pondering and anxious pacing. You cannot charge headfirst into the mission Rosier had given you, you need a plan. He had said to talk to a certain Professor Snape, but you don't even know who he is. Dumbledore was familiar with you in Diagon Alley, but he distanced himself in the end. After a few days, you decide to let it rest until you get to Hogwarts, and familiar yourself with the situation.

However, today is August 31st, and tomorrow will be the day you've anticipated with increasing impatience for more than a month. Today, you can finally start packing. You made sure to have at least memorized all the incantations in Standard Book of Spells. Even if you weren't born in a magical environment, you'll still have a head start.

You've folded all of your clothes except for those on your back into a leather trunk with a Hogwarts crest, and stacked all the books neatly into a corner. The cauldron sits in the other corner, and in it holds you collapsable telescope, scales, and some nice crystal phials. The new robe you bought was on the top of the stack, along with the enchanted cardigan and tie. You're going to change into them on the train. However, you decided to not put your wand, which you've learned to cast a few spells with, in the trunk, but keep it in your pocket. You do need to buy jeans with deeper pockets- it protrude from the pocket by several inches, and jabs you in the ribs every time you sit.

Right now, you are sitting on the edge of your newly cleaned bed, foot tapping impatiently. What to do to pass time? You've made sure to have eaten all of Dumbledore's birthday cake, and got several of your friends a goodbye gift, using money you've saved over the past few month. You've found out you're rich anyway, so a few pounds wouldn't matter. But right now, you have nothing to do, and you anxiety is growing every minute. What if they suddenly said they made a mistake? What if you suddenly wake up, and finds that it's all a dream?

It's barely one pm, so you decide to go out for a walk alone. You'll bring some money and sit for a coffee. You stop tapping your foot and stand up, walking down stairs. Mrs. Jones looks up from a small stack of papers, rectangular spectacles perched on her nose.

"Where are you going, Amy?" She asks. She's not going to stop you, just to know that you're not going to be in trouble.

"Just going for a walk. A little nervous." You found years ago that sometimes, it is easier to tell the truth.

"You'll be fine. They've already gave you their offer." She looks down at her papers again. You walk towards the front door. "Just be back before dark."

"I will." You respond, and step out of the door and into the slightly chilly autumn air. Cars zoom by on the street. The sky is cloudy, like usual. It would be very rare if London ever have a sunny day. You turn to your left, and slowly make your way to a very famous coffee shop called Prufrock. Despite its fame, it is usually a quiet little shop with very few people that enjoy the same silence you cherish. It is not far off, only a ten minutes walk.

(A while later)

You sit at a small table with bare wood against the wall, sipping your freshly brewed latte. You've brought a book to read: Macbeth, one of your personal favorites. You've bought a particular small book, small enough to fit into your pocket. If you don't think about your current problems, you would think that life can't be sweeter.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of a chair scraping against the tiles. You looks up, and there is a man sitting across from you, smiling a smile that made crinkles around his eye. He has a purple scarf wrapped around his neck.

"Hi there!" The man greets you enthusiastically. "I'm Elliot Jugson. Nice to meet you." You nod a hello, but eyes his scarf suspiciously. In the History of Magic, it said that witches or wizards often wear green or purple to distinguish themselves when blending in with Muggles. Or you're just being paranoid, and he just has eccentric taste. "Can I sit here?" Well, he's already sitting there, isn't he?

"Of course. I'm Amy, by the way. Amy waldgrave." Your greeting was not as enthusiastic.

Elliot leans in closely. "Say," he whispers, "Have you gotten your letter yet?"

There is an alarm going off in your head that is screaming "!" over and over again, but you try your best to keep your face blank. Maybe he's just talking about a normal letter.

"What letter?" But a little bit of your surprise must have shown, because Elliot laughed quietly.

"Don't worry, I know." He points to his scarf. "See? Wizard."

You are taken aback. After you've gotten your letter, you keep meeting wizards everywhere. Who else around you can be magical? How many are out there? The world is smaller than you thought.

You swallow hard. "How did you know?"

Elliot laughs again. "I saw you lighting your hands on fire last winter. Nice fires, by the way, green's my favorite color." He grins. "But it was kind of obvious. You got several weird and alarmed looks. Impressive, but not subtle."

You laugh a little, like him. "I'm so excited to go. I literally can't wait." You tell him.

"I was the same when I was your age. I'm a muggle-born, if you couldn't tell." Well, yes, he is dressing normally, except for that fluorescent purple scarf.

(Late in the afternoon)

You still have a big grin on your face when you step back into the gate of the bleak orphanage. Elliot is a whimsical and joyous fellow, and his enthusiasm is slowly rubbing off on you. He cracked many a jokes, and you had spent the entire afternoon talking about your childhood and his Hogwarts life. Although he was almost thirty-five, he still behaves like a young boy. You like Elliot, you decide. You're going to keep him.

You take one last look at the almost-setting sun, a brilliant orange in color, and opened the door to the orphanage. The same bespectacled Mrs. Jones looks up at you, with a slightly smaller stack of paper. You dim your grin into a smile.

"Right on time." Mrs. Jones glances at the clock. "Five minutes until dinner. You seem to be in a good mood," She inquires.

"Yes. Met someone at a coffee shop." You think for a second. If you go upstairs to your room, then you wouldn't even settle down before someone calls for dinner. "I'll just hang out down here." You head for the common room.

Sam is already there, desperately trying to explain to a little boy why pigs don't moo. The kid isn't getting it. He stands up from his kneeling position when he sees you.

"Oh, hey Amy." He looks so done you tried hard not to laugh. The toddler trots off, muttering "the pig goes moo" under his breath. "Where've you been?"

"Just at a coffee shop." Meeting another wizard, you wanted to add. You hold yourself back. "Today's my last day."

"You sound like you're going to die or something." He starts to clean up the toys a little. You bend down to help him. "You're still coming back for the summer."

"Aren't you going to miss me?" Despite your newly developed hate for muggles, Sam was something else. He was quirky, sarcastic, sometimes kind, and definitely very stubborn. You love him fro his flaws, and you two were the very best of friends.

"A little, probably." He thinks. "Well probably a lot. You know I love you."

"Yeah, I'll miss you tooo." The meal bell rings in the dining room. Your little moment is disrupted.

"Come on, I'm starving." You two head for the sound of the bells.

"You're always hungry. But you don't grow a gram." And it was true- Sam is as skinny as bare bone, and his great height doesn't help. A mess of long, chin length jet black hair with big, stumbling curls sit atop his head, reaching down to his eyebrows, shadowing his eyes, and setting a contrast with his vampire-ish pale skin. Over all, he looks like a cute emo mushroom.

Sitting at the dinner table, you make a quick announcement that this is going to be your last day. A few people make an "aww" sound, but most were silent, some even looking relieved. Those, you want to destroy.

And with that dark thought kept in your mind, you finish the rest of the day- eating, reading, checking packing, and finally, sleeping. You hope for a brighter tomorrow.

At first, you think that you're never going to fall asleep- you are simply too excited. You keep your eyes shut and even out your breathing: 3 seconds in, 3 seconds out, 3 seconds in, 3 seconds out… and you fall into an uneasy rest.

You dream of Rosier, his lined face twisting into a snarl. Behind him stands a figure, hooded by the shadow, tall and slim, radiating darkness, and much more terrifying than even Rosier. He has a deep and gravelly voice, which were equally terrifying as his shadowed appearance.

"You have failed me." The figure raises a hand. "For the first and last time."

There was a flash of green light accompanied with a scream. you sit up and suck in a deep breath, inhaling the cold air that drags you out of the nightmare.

(A while later)

Mrs. Jones sent someone to drive you to King's Cross Station, given that it is a bit far. You push the cart carrying the trunk with the Hogwarts crest towards the barrier between platform 9 and 10, which looks very solid to you. You look around to make sure that no one's watching, and see that another weirdly dressed family of five is heading this way. Must be another wizarding family. Taking a deep breath, you set off at a running pace directly into the brick wall, and close your eyes at the last moment, bracing yourself for collision.

It never came. You open your eyes, and a scarlet steam engine greets your site. A sign overhead said "Hogwarts express, eleven o'clock. " You look behind you to see a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. Smoke from the engine drifts over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wind here and there between their legs. Owls hoots to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. You made it. You're really going to Hogwarts, to study magic. You feel like punching the air and yelling "hooray", but you keep all that inside you and settling instead for a wide grin. Pushing your cart with a newly wrought force, you head onto the train, and look for an empty compartment.

You find an empty carriage at the very back, and heave your trunk up the steps and onto the rack with a grunt. You are surprisingly strong for your size, and those who underestimate you suffer greatly for it. Breathing heavily, you sit down on the red cushion seats. There is a small table between the two sides. You fold your arms across your chest and slump down, stretching out your legs. If it's going to be a long ride, you're going to make yourself comfortable.

There comes a sudden knocking on the compartment door, and it slides open to reveal a boy with messy black hair and violently green eyes. He too is carrying a large trunk, and panting from the exertion.

"Hi," The boy says. "Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

"No, not at all." You watch as he struggles to lift the trunk higher than his thighs. "Need a hand?"

"Yes, please." You grab the other side of his trunk and basically throws it up onto the rack with a grunt barely audible over the loud thump it made. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." You sit yourself back down again, much less relaxed this time. "I'm Amy, by the way, Amy Waldgrave."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Harry Potter." The boy puts down a cage containing an owl under his seat.

You feel your eyebrow rise involuntarily. This is the Harry Potter? The one that defeated the Dark Lord? You thought that he would be more impressive. For the time being, you decide not to indicate that you know about him. You just nod your head instead.

"So where do you come from?" You ask casually. You think you have to befriend this boy and gain his trust, as a bonus to spying on Dumbledore.

"Surrey, it's just outside of London." He is gently cooing at the snowy owl inside his cage.

"Oh, I know Surrey. I lived in London. In an orphanage. Parents died." You add. According to what you know, Harry Potter's parents were murdered. You try to throw out as many similarities as possible.

"I'm sorry. My parents are dead too." Harry is silent for a while. You think you've got the boy's attention, for he settles down and looks at you in the eye."How is it, living in an orphanage?"

"Miserable. But I suppose it could be worse. I'm allowed to do my own stuff most of the time, so I guess that's a big plus." You play with the armrest a little, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"You're lucky. I lived with my aunt and uncle." He smiles a little, looking too innocent to be the boy that killed Lord Voldemort. "They are against magic or anything out of ordinary. They tried to stomp the magic out of me by never telling me that I'm a wizard and being horrible to me in every way." He grins widely, in a truly happy sort of way. "I'm so glad I'm away from them now."

Before you can say anything else, however, the compartment door slides open again. A red haired boy with a smudge on his long, freckled nose peaks in. His clothes does not fit well on his tall and lanky body.

"Anyone sitting here?" He asks, pointing to the seat next to Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

You and Harry both shake your head and the boy sits down, leaning against the wall next to the door. You see him glance quickly at Harry and away, pretending that he didn't look. He probably just recognized him as Harry Potter.

"Hey, Ron." An obvious pair of identical twins peak their heads in the compartment simultaneously. They are only slightly taller than the boy called Ron, but less lanky. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right." Ron mumbles.

"Harry," says the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," Harry says. With a glance and a short nod in your direction, the twins slides shut the compartment door behind them.

Realizing that no one introduced you, you decide to do it yourself. "Amy waldgrave, by the way, nice to meet you." You shake hands with Ron. You see him slightly cocking an eyebrow.

"I've heard my father talking about the waldgraves." Apparently there's something the redhead isn't telling you, because his ears turned pink and he stopped talking. Then he turns to Harry. "Are you really Harry Potter?" He blurts out.

Harry only nodds.

"Oh -well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," Ron blushes a little. "And have you really got - you know..." He points at Harry's forehead. If this was all back at the orphanage, Ron would have gotten death glares from Mrs. Jones.

Harry says nothing, but pulls back his bangs to reveal a lightning shaped scar that still looks angry and new, even though you know that he got it as a baby.

"So that's where You-Know-Who- "

"Yes, but I can't remember anything." Harry cuts him off.

"Nothing?" The boy asks eagerly.

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

Ah, yes, you think, that will be the killing curse. A memory of that will last a lifetime. You decide to play up the fool again.

"I'm sorry, what is this?" You try to sound quizzical.

"Oh, are you a muggleborn?" Ron asks you, sounding almost genuinely interested.

"No, raised by muggles, though." You respond.

"Oh. Well, this is a little hard to explain..." He thinks for a while. "I'm not sure I should be the one telling you."

"This man, Lord Voldemort-"

Harry takes to explaining instead, but is interrupted with a loud gasp from Ron.

"You said his name!" He exclaims loudly, like that's something completely abnormal. You don't quite understand why.

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," Harry says, " I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn... I bet that I'm the worst in my class." He finishes gloomily.

"You won't be. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough." Ron comforts Harry a little. You think you won't have that problem, because you literally read all of the textbooks during the summer.

The conversation is carried on by mostly Harry and Ron for the next few moments. They talked about family- Ron's six siblings and Harry's muggle uncle, and about Ron's grey rat, Scabbers, which was fast asleep even when Ron roughly pulled it out of his pocket. For the most part, you just stare out the window of the train, which carried them out of London while they were talking. Outside was miles and miles of green fields starting to turn yellow, and sheeps grazing on the grass. Unconsciously, you tap against where you now know the head of the dark mark would be. You feel something slither on your arm, from your elbow to your hand, and know that the ugly black tattoo is invisible now. Your worst fear for the past month was that someone would see the mark, magical or not, and reveal your secret.

When it is a little past noon, you hear some clattering outside of the corridor, where a short, plump witch with a sweet smile and dimples slides open your door.

"Anything off the cart, dear?" She asks, looking from you to Harry and Ron.

Ron mutters something about having brought sandwiches, but Harry leaps to his feet, his pocket jingling with coins. You stand up too, and fish out your purse. He excitedly asks for a Mars Bar, a common sweet, but the trolley lady gives him a confused look.

"We don't have 'Mars Bars'," She says in a puzzled tone. "Perhaps try a Pumpkin Pastry instead?"

Sitting down again, you wait a little while Harry seems to buy a little bit of everything, and Ron's ear turn pink as he realizes he is staring at the golden galleons in Harry's hands. When he finally returns to the compartment once more, his arms are full of all kinds of sweets and candy, most of which you have never seen.

You step into the corridor to buy your own share- you became hungry half an hour ago even though you've eaten a full parting breakfast- but the trolley witch only shakes her head, and pulls the cart back in the direction it came from. You turn into the compartment again.

"It seems like you've bought the entire cart." You slump down on the cushion seats again, staring at all the candy Harry's tipped onto their side of the compartment. Your stomach rumbles quietly but surely, protesting at the sight of all the food you can not eat- so close, yet so far away.

"We can share," Harry says, holding up a purple package labeled "Pumpkin Pasty" and tossing it to you.

"Thanks." You catch the sweet and rip open the packaging, to reveal something that looks like a flatter cupcake. "What's this?"

"Pumpkin Pasties," Ron answers, his voice muffled by his mouthful of the same sweet. "Basically pumpkin-mush filled muffins. Try them, they're good." He stares lovingly into his pasty.

You bite into one cautiously. Hot, steamy mush poured into your mouth in greater quantities than you thought the small pasty would hold. It tastes like cornish pasties, which you often sneak from the kitchen using your invisibility spell, but with pumpkin filling instead. You involuntarily close your eyes, and realize that you're probably going to get blisters later.

When you open your eyes again, Harry was holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "What are those?" He asks Ron. "They're not real frogs, are they?"

You pick one up too and open it. Inside, a tiny frog no bigger than a fifty pence coin hops out onto your hand. You raise an eyebrow at it. Not much surprise you anymore, but this seems like advanced wizarding nonsense right here.

"No," Answers Ron. "But see what the card is."

"What?" You exclaim.

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know - Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect - famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy." Ron is munching on a pasty again.

You take another look inside the package, and notice a pentagon shaped purple card sitting inside. Taking that out, you shove the frog sitting on your hand into your mouth. It stops moving the moment it touches your lips. It tastes just like regular chocolate. You turn the card around and see a middle aged medieval monk staring at you, with a quill in his hand.

"I've got Agrippa," you say, reading the name off of the card. Cornelius Agrippa lived from 1486 to 1535. He wrote books about magic and wizards. Some important people thought his books were evil, so they put him in gaol for writing them, It says on the back. You look up at Ron. "You wanna trade?"

He gratefully hands you his card- Morgana- and you give him yours.

"Great! Now I'm just missing Ptolemy."

"I've got Dumbledore!" Harry suddenly exclaims. "So this is what he looks like." You glance at his hands, and spot the familiar silver beard and half moon glasses.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of Dumbledore," Ron groans, and eyes the rest of the pile greedily.

"Help yourself." Harry continues to read the back of Dumbledore's card, where the information is.

"He was the one that came to tell me about Hogwarts." You reach for another pumpkin pasty.

"Really?" Ron raises an eyebrow at you, and pulls a skeptical expression. "The headmaster? Usually it's the deputy headmistress, Mcgonagall, or some other professor, or even the groundskeeper, Hagrid-"

"That's who told me," Harry interrupts, now staring intensely at a box of jelly beans.

"Yeah, they don't usually get the Headmaster to do it, much less Dumbledore." A proud smile spreads along his face. "He's the greatest Headmaster we're ever going to have."

"He said something about knowing my parents," You recall.

"That must be it, then." He resumes munching.

"He's gone!" Harry has turned over the Dumbledore card again, and sure enough, the portrait is empty.

"Well, you can't expect him to stick around all day," Ron responds, looking unfazed. "He'll be back, don't worry."

"I've read about wizarding portraits in our textbooks," You think back to your summer cramming. "They're enchanted to behave like the person they depict. They can move around too, and visit other portraits of them or near them."

"But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos." Harry says.

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounds amazed. "Weird!"

Dumbledore slips into Harry's card again, and he gives him a small smile. Ron, on the other hand, is more interested in eating the frogs than reading the cards, but you can't keep your eyes off them. Soon everyone has a small pile of cards, and you are staring at Merlin, rumored to be the greatest wizard of all times, who is scratching his nose. Harry reaches for the box he was staring at before and opens it.

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean," He reads, and for some reason, the name gives Ron an alarmed look.

"That's a very alarming name," Especially coming from a wizarding producer, you think to yourself.

"You have to be careful with those," Ron warns Harry, confirming your theory. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor - you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger flavored one once."

He picks up a green one, looks at it carefully, and bites into a corner.

"Blaaargh -" He exclaims, "See? Sprouts."

You had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. You got coffee, marshmallow, almond, cranberry, curry, apple, and countless others, including a suspicious gray one that neither Harry nor Ron would touch since they've just eaten another grey one that was pepper, which turned out to be dirty socks.

The countryside now flying past the window is becoming wilder. The neat fields are gone. Now there are woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

"Anyway," Ron says as you finish the box of beans and are too scared to open the second one, "I tried to turn Scabbers yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. Here, I'll show you..."

He rummages around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway -"

He had just raised his wand when the door to the compartment slides open to reveal a small girl, followed by a black haired boy who is looking teary.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville here's lost one." She has a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth. She's already changed into her robes.

You all shake your heads, but she isn't looking. Instead, her gaze is fixed on Ron's wand.

"Oh, you're doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sits down. Ron looks a little taken aback, but raises his wand nonetheless.

"Um, alright." He clears his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waves his wand, but nothing happens. Scabbers stays grey and fast asleep. Ron looks a bit sheepish. You're not sure what he expected to happen. Surely he knows that spells aren't poems, growing up in a wizarding family?

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Says the girl. ""Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all that very fast, and it takes a while for you to process. The textbook part you can relate to, but a glance at Ron's and Harry's faces tells you that they don't.

"I'm Ron Weasley." Ron mutters.

"Amy Waldgrave, pleased to meet you." She nods at you. You have a feeling you're going to become good friends.

"Harry Potter."

"Oh, are you really?" Hermione says. ""I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" Harry sounds a little dazed. Perhaps it seems strange to him that a girl he barely knows know more about him than he himself does.

"Goodness, you don't know. I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," Says Hermione. ""Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And with that she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Wow, geez." It is your only response.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," says Ron. He throws his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell - George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"Here, I bet I can -" You reach for Ron's rat and place it on your lap. Both Ron and Harry sit straighter, looking interested. "What's the latin word for yellow again?"

"Flarium, or something like that." Harry responds, eyes fixed on the rat through his spectacles.

"Right."

You whip out your wand from your pockets, which you enchanted to make it bigger on the inside. Ron lets out a little gasp.

"What?" You ask him.

"Is that red oak?" He asks incredulously, eyes expanding to be the size of a coin.

"Yeah," you admit.

"Wow."

Ollivander said that red oak wands are powerful, but you didn't know that it was a well known fact.

"Well, here goes." You point your wand at the fat grey rat, still asleep on your lap.

"Scrugio flarium!" You shout, imagining it colored with a canary yellow.

A bright spark shoots from your wand towards Scabbers, and a loud bang is emitted, covering up what might have been a yelp from Ron. Smoke fills the area, blinding you.

"Phew, bangs and smokes magic." You scold yourself. You learned from your textbook that most spells are silent, and loud bangs are signs of poor magic.

But when you look at the little critter again, it was covered with large yellow polka dots and positively awake, little feet padding against your jeans.

"Meh, close enough."

You wave the smoke away, and hands the rat back to Ron, whose jaw was hanging open. He receives the rat and stares at it with wonder.

"Well, you've definitely made him more interesting." Ron gulps.

Harry leans over and stares at Scabbers with the same expression on his face, and eventually extends a hand to poke one of the yellow dots.

"It's real fur," He exclaims.

You don't know what he expected.

However, your little moment was interrupted by someone else sliding open the compartment door again, but it wasn't Hermione or the toadless boy, Neville, again.

Three boys enter the little compartment. The middle one is the most striking - he is a pale boy, even paler than Ron and without the freckles, and has the blondest hair you have ever seen. His equally pale lips pursed together and immediately makes you dislike him. His posture gives him an air of arrogance. Standing on either side of him like body guards, and were some of the most thickset and mean looking boys you have ever seen.

"Is it true?" The blonde boy says. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes." Harry is looking at the other two boys.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Says the pale boy carelessly, like they were slaves or something. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gives a slight cough, which might have been hiding a giggle. Draco Malfoy looks over at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Ron's ears turn pink at this comment, looking furious. You are afraid that he might do something stupid.

"And you," Malfoy turns to you, responding to your confused expression. "You must be a muggleborn."

Even though your face twitches with disgust at this comment, you make it relax and give a thin smile. "No, not at all. Should be the exact opposite."

"Oh?" The blonde boy gives a sneer. "Well then, what's your last name?"

With more confidence than you feel, you respond, "Waldgrave. I suppose you've heard of it."

To your utter surprise, colors drain further from Malfoy's pale face, if that's even possible, giving it a ghost like appearance.

"A Waldgrave?" He licks his lips nervously. "But father says that the Waldgrave line died off at Jonathan and Eleanor! They didn't have a child!"

A little satisfied at this, you give what you hope might be a sinister smile.

"Well, it looks like your father was wrong."

Malfoy tries to regain his confidence as he turns back to Harry.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He extends his hand to shake. You scream a warning at Harry with all your mind's might. He didn't take it, thank god.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry responds coolly. You scream inside, but this time it's appreciation for the sass.

Malfoy didn't go red, but pink tinges appear in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," He says slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the 87 Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Harry and Ron immediately stands up. You join them only a second later.

"Say that again," Ron says hotly, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneers again. If only he knows what you can do!

"Unless you get out now." You admire Harry for his bravery - both Crabbe and Goyle are at least two times his size.

"Don't make me jinx you."

You run the textbooks through your mind, looking for an appropriate spell. Nothing too serious, but humiliating. It should wear off in a few minutes. You close your eyes to search in the back of your mind. Finally, you've got it.

"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reaches for the box of chocolate frogs next to Ron. Big mistake. Your wand was out in a flash.

"Protego!" You shout, waving your wand incredibly fast, recalling the hours of practice you did in the orphanage.

A well placed shielding spell sends the three boys flying backwards, crashing into the opposite door and groaning. They made no attempts to get up. The shielding charm flickers and dies, and you point your wand at the three of them.

They struggle up, helping one another and trying not to step on the puddle of black robes. The two stupid hunks tries to lunge at you again.

"Rictumsempra!" A flash. "Tarantallegra!" Another flash.

The spells hit their targets in a shower of sparks, knocking them backwards again. Both of them suddenly starts a series of rapid movements - with Crabbe yelping loudly and twisting on the ground while Goyle starts some kind of an Irish jiggle.

People were emerging from their compartments to stare and at the ridiculous scenario, all the while giggling and laughing. Malfoy scrambles up and backs away, only to stop before he hits the opposite door. His face is the color of ashes.

"Don't come back here again."

You shove your wand back into your pocket, and think of a final way to insert your dominance. You decide to show off a bit.

"Or I'll teach you a real lesson."

With a slow wave of your hand so that people can see that there is no wand in your hand, you set a corner of Malfoy's robe on fire, big enough to be alarming, but small enough so that it can be extinguished. All three of them disappeared at once, leaving only howling laughter and a standing ovation in their wake. You take a dramatic bowl towards all the smiling faces peeking out of the doors and turn back into your compartment, sliding shut the door.

Harry and Ron are still standing up. The whole thing had been over in a minute, and they have been trying to see as well as the others. They are both staring at you with dropped jaws and a mixture of awe and horror on their faces. You give them a shrug, wearing a "well, what can you do" expression.

"That was amazing," breathed Harry.

"Well, they've definitely underestimated you," says Ron.

"Yes, but you're going to get in trouble on the first day!" A bossy voice behind you says.

Ron gives you a look of disbelief. You turn around, and sees that Hermione is back again.

"Oh, like I care about the rules." You wave the statement away. "You saw what I did, do I look like I care about the rules."

"You've met Malfoy before?" Ron asks Harry, completely ignoring Hermione.

Harry explains that he's met him briefly in Diagon Alley while he was being measured up by Madame Malkin. He sounds exactly like the kind of boy you expect him to be- arrogant, spoiled, and very rude. The kind of boy that needs to be taught a lesson.

"I've heard of his family," Ron says darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turns to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. Trust me, you'll be in trouble before we even get their!"

"Malfoy was giving us some trouble." You answer simply. Perhaps this will be your understatement of the day. "Don't worry, we're fine now."

"And, would you mind leaving while we change?" Ron adds with a stiff scowl.

"All right - I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," Hermione says is a kind of sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

And with that, she turns and left, leaving Ron glaring at her.

You glance out of the window. It's getting dark, and you can see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train does seem to be slowing down.

"She's right, you know. We should start changing."

You take off your jacket and pull on the long black robe and tie up your tie, enchanted to change color as soon as you are sorted. Ron's robe was a bit short for him, you can see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoes through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

You don't know whether you should be nervous, but Harry certainly looks like it. His hands are clutched over his stomach, and his eyes are darting everywhere. You glance at Ron, and see that he is pale under his freckles. You don't know what the heck they're nervous about - their magical abilities are definitely real. You cram your pockets with the last of the sweets and join the crowd out in the corridor.

The train slows down and finally stops. The students push their way out onto a tiny, unlit platform. You see some of the younger students push towards a tall, looming shadow and follow the crowd. The cold night air is chilly enough to make you light your hands on fire, cocking several gasps from the crowd.

"Are you alright?" A concerned, panicking voice drifts over.

"Yes, this is voluntary and under control."

You hold your hands up and shows the boy that it is not burning hot, but only a slight warmth. The fire lights up his face, revealing the toadless boy. He flinches a little, and you giggle, moving ahead.

A lamp comes, bobbing above the sea of heads. When you focus on it, you notice the looming shadow following it - and a giant, hairy face emerge from the shadow, at least 9 feet up. The other first-years form a small huddle around him, some cowering with fear. He would look very intimidating, if not for the enormous grin displaying on his face, making him beam brighter than the lamp.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Swinging his lamp violently to attract attention, he waves a few more boys to him. "C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

All of the little heads swarm forward, following him down what feels like a steep, narrow path. It was slippery and wet, and you keep smelling the sweet stench of a mass body of water. You imagine it to be a lake. It was unbelievably dark - there must be thick trees around. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the toadless boy besides you, sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid calls over his huge shoulders like some welsh tour guide. "Jus' round this bend here."

"Oh!" You exclaim in surprise.

You were not the only one. Students all around you oohed and ahhed about, for before you the path opens suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a great castle with numerous turrets and towers. The sight was magnificent and wonderful to behold.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid calls out, pointing to a little fleet of small, wooden boats sitting by the shore that had definitely not been their a moment ago. You follow Harry and Ron into a boat, later joined by Hermione. "Everyone in?" Shouts Hagrid, sitting in a boat by himself. "Righ' then, FORWARD!"

And the little fleet of boats moves off at once, gliding across the water like glass. Everyone was silent. You stare up at the castle towering over you, and wonder if you will be able to call this place "home". The boats sail straight for the cliff on which the castle stands.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yells as the boats approaches the cliff. You all bend your heads and the little boats carries you through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. You are carried along a dark tunnel, which seems to be taking you right underneath the castle, until you reach a kind of underground harbor, where all the students clamber out onto rocks and pebbles.

Hagrid checks the boats as everyone leaves. "Oi, there!" He gestures to Neville. "Is this your toad?"

"Trevor!" Neville cries blissfully, holding out both of his hands. A dark shape jumps onto them.

Giggles are heard all around. Under the light of your fire hands, you see Neville blush and shove his little creature into the pocket of his robes.

You climb up a passageway carved out of stone, following the light of Hagrid's bobbing lamp, onto damp, slippery grass in the shadow of the castle. Everyone walks up the last flight of stone steps and crowd around the huge oak double doors.

"Everyone here? You there, you still got your frog?"

A murmur of agreement, then silence. Hagrid raises his gigantic fist and knocks three times on the castle door. The sound rings out and fades away into the darkness.

Alright! So Amy and friends makes it into the castle in once piece. Get ready for inside and the sorting, next week. I'm probably going to post on time, no promises though.