A/N: To precede the new chapter, there are a few things that apparently need to be explained better. Most of the reviews asked why Flitwick was chosen to accompany Hagrid to Diagon Alley. To respond with another question: Why would Harry know that Flitwick wasn't Dumbledore's original choice to accompany him? Did JK Rowling explicitly state at this point in canon why Hagrid was chosen? NO! This is the role of the author: to describe situations in a way so that the reader is kept interested while being able to come to their own conclusions. There can be no real foreshadowing if the reader isn't allow to do so. Maybe I'll explain this later. Maybe not. You'll just have to wait and see. If you really need a reason to explain why Flitwick came, then think of one yourself and keep reading to see if you were right.
This ties into my second note. Obviously I wasn't specific enough when I said that this story's narrative would focus exclusively on Harry's perspective. If you truly ponder the perspective of JK Rowling's narrating, you'll notice that almost all of the scenes (and I say almost only because I try never to deal in absolutes) involve Harry himself. Even scenes when Voldemort acts and Harry isn't there physically, He's there mentally through his connection to Voldemort. The rest of the information regarding events that happen without his presence, he discovers either through rumors, other people's information, or newspapers. This is the same kind of narrative I am attempting to portray.
A/N 2: If you read the above, ignore this. If you skipped past those paragraphs cuz they looked too long to be worth your time, GO READ THE ABOVE PARAGRAPHS. There's important stuff up there.
Even as Harry pushed his trolley through the barrier that separated the Hogwarts Express from the muggle side of the train station, Harry wondered why he hadn't asked his future Charms professor if there were less mundane methods of getting to the station. He had never been a fan of crowds; not hard to believe considering the upbringing with his relatives had left him with a general dislike towards humankind.
During his upbringing, Harry quickly realized that his relatives disliked him. Harry would not be surprised if they truly hated him. While their dislike for him caused some neglect during his childhood – he had lived in a cupboard under the stairs – they made a conscious effort to not abuse him. They disciplined him, certainly, sometimes with a backhand, but most times with a simple spanking. His uncle Vernon had taken a belt to him a few times, but these times were few and far between and his cousin, Dudley, wasn't immune to the belt either. Harry was resentful of this treatment during his early years as a child, but soon came to realize that his treatment at the hand of his uncle wasn't too extraordinary. Harry chose to ignore that Dudley was disciplined less than him and that the discipline was shorter and less painful.
Harry paused a few steps after stepping through the barrier and onto platform 9 ¾. He looked around in wonder and a slight sense of depression. All around him, families were smiling and crying and telling their kids to behave. A number of the children were running underfoot, playing games with friends, a large factor of the general ruckus. Overall, it was a scene of happiness and joy, exactly what Harry had been missing for most of his life.
Harry sighed. He had tried all his life to ignore the fact that he was an orphan, but watching all the families around him smiling and laughing, he couldn't stop the pang of regret. For the second time, Harry wondered what his life would have been like if Voldemort hadn't hunted down his parents during the war.
Professor Flitwick had told him the story of his parents' death. He had tried to relate the tale in a relatively objective way, but it was apparent that he was bitter about the situation. Harry was sure it had to do with his mother being one of the professor's favorite students. While thinking of that conversation left a burning ember of hatred in stomach, a frown was the only visible sign that he allowed to show of his discomfort.
"Harry!" Harry pulled himself from his thoughts by the yell of a familiar voice. He looked to his left to see Draco walking quickly towards him, two adults who could only be the boy's parents following along at a more sedate pace. "Harry, did you just get here? We've just arrived as well. I'm glad to have found you before getting on the train, so we can find a compartment together." Harry's former depression was quickly replaced by a foreign sense of happiness. Is this what it feels like to greet a friend?
"Hey Draco. How was the rest of your summer?" Harry laughed slightly as the boy's eyes widened and he began describing his summer in more detail than Harry bothered to listen to. He had grown quite adept at tuning out most of a conversation while still picking up the important bits.
Draco jumped slightly as he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. He looked up and over his shoulder to see his parents had caught up to him. Harry noticed that both parents seemed to recognize him, their eyes doing the flick to his forehead that Harry was slowly growing accustomed to. He nodded slightly at them as they held their silence. "...Harry, are you even listening to me?" Harry smirked slightly and Draco scowled at him. "Anyway, these are my parents. Mother, Father, this is Harry. "
Harry dipped his head again and made sure he spoke clearly. First impressions were important after all. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. You obviously know who I am. I appreciate your discretion."
The woman smiled, showing her perfectly white teeth, "It's a pleasure to meet you dear. I'm Narcissa and this is my husband, Lucius." She gestured to the man next to her, and Lucius nodded towards him. "You two had better get on the train, so you can find your own compartment." She pulled out her wand and pointed it at their trunks. "I'll lighten your trunks for you." They each gave her their thanks and hurried towards the train, eager to board.
They settled into a compartment towards the back and flopped onto the seats after stowing their trunks on the racks over their heads. Harry looked out of the window and saw Draco's parents still standing where they'd left them, involved in what looked to be a quiet yet heated discussion. Narcissa seemed to be speaking the most, with Lucius frowning at her periodically.
Draco again pulled him out of his thoughts. Harry got the feeling that this was going to be happening frequently. "So how was the rest of your summer?"
Harry smiled at him and thought for a moment. "It was alright. Flitwick tried to get Dumbledore to let me stay in Diagon for the remainder of the summer, but the Headmaster wouldn't let me stay longer than a week. Now that I think about it, I'm not really sure why he got the final say in where I spent the rest of my summer. I got a lot of stuff done in that week, of course, but then I had to return to my relatives." Draco sneered when he said this. "Don't give me that look. They're not as bad as they're made out to be, and they're treating me even better since Flitwick had some words with them."
Draco smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Did he give 'em some long, threatening speech?" His smile was replaced by a look of contemplation. "Although, I really don't see how such a short guy could be very intimidating."
Harry chuckled. "There's a muggle saying: Big things can come in small packages." Draco frowned when he heard "muggle" but nodded his head and gestured for Harry to continue. "And he didn't even give 'em a long speech. He just looked my aunt and uncle in the eyes and said 'I'm very disappointed in how you've treated you're nephew. Rest assured I will be keeping a close eye on the happenings in this house. I will immediately know as soon as you so much as think of treating him badly again."
Draco smiled and then frowned soon after. "I didn't know there was a spell that could do that."
"That's the best part. When he dropped by later to check up on me the other day and give me some last advice, he told me he was lying. There's nothing at the house that allows him to spy like that." Harry smirked. "But the muggles don't know that."
Draco laughed again, and they continued talking, not even noticing that the train had left the station. After about twenty minutes – the boys were far too distracted to keep track of the time – their compartment door was slid open and two boys trudged in, both of them stockier than most of the kids Harry had seen at his age. The seemed rather similar except that the one on the left had shorter hair and had a rounder face.
"There you guys are! Took you long enough!" The two ducked their heads sheepishly in response to Draco's exclamation, an ironic sight from such burly kids. It was at that point that they seemed to notice the boy sitting across from Draco. Draco turned to Harry, "Harry, these are my friends, Vincent Crabbe," He gestured towards the boy with shorter hair. "and Gregory Goyle." Goyle was obviously the other boy. He then smiled slightly and said to them, "Vince, Greg, this is my new friend, Harry Potter."
The two seemed to sniff as one, the only sign that they recognized the name. Harry smiled at them and said, "I'm pleased to meet you. I hope to be good friends with Draco, and if you two are friends of his then I hope to be friends with you as well." The two smiled briefly and nodded before slumping into opposite seats, Vince next to Draco and Greg next to Harry.
Two hours later and Harry was starting to get a picture of what it was like growing up in a wizard home and a pureblood family on top of that. When he had offhandedly mentioned that he didn't know what "gobstones" was, the three boys around him had taken turns telling stories from their childhood. The three were still going at it even now, though they had started actually playing Gobstones – It happened to be an odd wizard game that was similar to marbles. For some reason that Harry couldn't quite fathom, someone had decided at some point to make the stones spew out a relatively foul substance. Harry wasn't complaining though. It certainly made marbles more interesting.
Since most of the conversation was generated by the others, Harry was able to listen and observe at the same time. It was obvious that Draco was far more outgoing and vocal than either Vince or Greg. While he was slightly ashamed to admit that he thought that the two larger boys were pretty unintelligent, Harry could acknowledge how he came to such an easy, if untrue, assumption. The two seemed slow-witted, but that was proven false when Harry engaged them in conversation. At times it was hard to hear them, for they were both rather soft-spoken, and neither liked to talk much. It took a while, but Harry was starting to worm them out of their shells around him.
Draco was halfway through the story of his greatest birthday celebration to date when there was a knock on their compartment door. After waiting a few seconds, a blonde head poked its way through. The blonde looked around the compartment before seeing Draco. "Here you are, Draco! I've been trying to find you." He sidled his way in and sat down next Greg.
Draco smiled over at him and said, "Hey Zach, how've you been?"
Before the blonde boy could reply, Harry interrupted, "Another friend of yours, Draco?" Harry turned to the newcomer and without letting Draco reply – It was obvious from the way Draco responded to Zach's entrance – "Harry Potter."
After his eyes looked up to Harry's forehead, the boy stuck out his hand and shook Harry's outstretched one. "Zacharias Smith. It's a pleasure." Harry truly looked at him for a moment and saw that aside from his blonde hair, he had a slightly upturned nose and sharp cheekbones. Introductions over, the group settled back to relax as before, now with one more member.
The group talked for a bit before Greg pulled out a deck of cards. "Exploding Snap, anyone?" There were eager noises from everyone – except Harry of course – and Greg smiled sheepishly at him before explaining the rules.
As the train ride went on, their little group of four – Zach had left after a while – was visited by a number of people. Morag MacDougal and Steven Cornfoot joined them not long after Zach had left – again, both were friends of Draco. Morag was a small, wiry girl, thin as a sprite and with long auburn hair that went halfway down her back and a small spattering of freckles was laid daintily across her nose. Steven had black hair and darker skin – he had told Harry that he was part Native American. He had a slightly discernible accent due to his Canadian heritage.
Every once in a while, an older student would pop by and talk with Draco for a moment, but Harry couldn't remember most of their names. It was odd though. From what he had heard – from the upper years in his primary school and on the telly every once in a while – upper years in Secondary usually looked down on underclassmen. It was one thing for fellow first years to be nice to him, but Harry was finally starting to realize what sort of connections he had chosen to befriend. He decided then that he would have to think about how to repay Draco's friendship.
Harry stumbled along with the other first years as they carefully made their way down the small path they were taking from the station. Harry thought it was rather odd that first years were forced to go to the castle a different way than the rest of the students. He shivered and then glared at the tall redhead in front of him as he thought of the warm carriages – driving themselves magically, of course – that the older students got to take up to the castle. His jealousy faded as the first years rounded a bend in the trees. He gasped in wonder at the sight before him – a distant part of his mind noted that Draco also gasped.
A wide lake stretched out in front of him, its surface as still as glass, shimmering softly in the light of the moon overhead. On the far side of the lake, A beautiful castle rested on the peak of a high mountain. Harry climbed into a boat with Draco, Zach and Steve, who insisted that he wanted to be addressed by his whole name of Steven, but no one had really paid any attention to his pleas. The boats lurched forward at the command of the extraordinarily large man in the lead boat who looked to be waving an umbrella around. Harry looked across the small boat at Draco and the two of them shared a grin.
Harry had long ago learned the value of patience, but even he was starting to get restless. After the boats had reached the castle, the large man had handed them off to a tall witch with literally frightening posture and whose black hair was curled up under her hat. Her emerald robes did nothing to downplay her stern expression – there appeared to be no sign of joy in the slightly wrinkled lines of her face. With one eyebrow slightly raised, the witch turned her fierce gaze over them, appraising.
The large man nodded at her and grandly said, "The first years, Professor McGonagall."
She looked over at him and nodded, "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." – So his name was Hagrid; Harry filed that away in the back of his mind. The passageway that witch led them through was as grand as the castle exterior suggested. There were flaming torches that cast eerie shadows on the walls yet bathed the hallway in light at the same time. The witch had led them through the huge oak doors and past another set of large oak doors – Harry assumed that this was the Great Hall, since it seemed that everyone else in the castle was there judging by the noise – and into a small antechamber.
As they were settling in the chamber, which was just small enough to make the crowding uncomfortable, the witch turned to address them. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall you will be sorted into your houses." Harry tuned her out at this point. Draco had already explained all about this earlier.
Harry tried to maintain a cool disposition, but standing in front of the entire school at the front of the Great Hall he could barely contain his nerves. He was so nervous that he barely noticed the kids around him leaving the line to go sit on the stool. He was aware enough to wish his new friends good luck. "Potter, Harry!" Harry took a deep breath – as subtly as he could – and walked steadily over to the stool, sat down, and stuffed the old hat onto his head.
The hat was too big for his head by far and so it fell down over his eyes with no hesitation. He jumped slightly when he heard a voice, "Hmm, Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"
Harry realized that he couldn't very well talk out loud, so he thought to himself – at least, it would have been himself if there wasn't a mind reading hat over his head. He ignored the hat's indignant response: (I do not read minds! The mind is far too complex to be simply read! Kids these days...") – You're the Sorting Hat. Just do what you do.
The hat chuckled softly in his ear. "Not many children will pass up the chance to tell me where they want to go. I don't usually offer the choice at all, but you're a special case. You seem to carry a relatively equal affinity towards the traits which exemplify each of the houses. But if you don't wish to choose, then I shall try to determine which trait can best overwhelm the others."
"...And then there's that ambition. A deep thirst to prove yourself." Harry tried not to think about what the hat was implying. "you resent the fame placed upon you." Harry scowled at the hat. It's not the fame itself that I don't like. Harry could feel the hat nodding in his mind. "It's not that. You hate the fact that you are famous for something you don't remember. You're only famous because you survived." Harry glared at the hat; it was getting much too personal. "Your anger seals it. Your ambition definitely outweighs your other traits. Use that ambition to further your goals; It is a powerful source of motivation...SLYTHERIN!" Harry jumped at the abrupt end of the conversation. He was pondering so hard on the words exchanged with the hat that he didn't notice the pregnant pause of the Great Hall, nor the sudden clapping coming from the right side of the Hall as Draco led the Slytherin table in a rousing cheer.