August 1991

Harry's last month with the Dursleys before going to Hogwarts wasn't the most comfortable time. His Aunt Petunia seemed sympathetic to his enforced school choice, but Uncle Vernon was angry about it, and shouted about it occasionally. Eventually Dudley overheard one of his rants, which somehow was all Harry's fault or so his uncle said. Harry apologised, but still had to spend the next two days locked in his room except for meals and an occasional bathroom trip. Dudley seemed torn between teasing Harry about being a freak after all and thinking it would be "wicked" to turn people into toads.

Harry kept to his room a lot or went to the local library. He read through the first half of each of his textbooks for Stonewall, just in case, and all of the more interesting magical textbooks (some he only skimmed - like the book about transfiguration which seemed to have especially pointless spells). He mostly read his magical books at the library. Though the risk of someone non-magical catching him reading an odd book was a worrisome one, he figured he could easily explain it was a fantasy book for a roleplaying game. And the risk of a stranger catching him reading about magic was nothing compared to what he thought Uncle Vernon might do if he caught Harry reading a book about "Dark forces" (even if it was how to protect himself against them). So he smuggled out a book or two a day to take to the library in his Stonewall backpack. Along with a more mundane book for disguise on top, in case his aunt or uncle insisted on looking in his bag on the way out the door.

He wondered if his aunt and uncle would want him to do well at Hogwarts or not. He assumed they'd rather he didn't excel, but then, it was also vitally important he get his magic under good enough control to not have accidents any more or draw the attention of officials who might mess with his or his family's memories. He'd read through every word of Magical Theory but it wasn't as helpful as he'd hoped. All he discovered was that "accidental magic" occurred more often during periods of high emotions or stress, was more common with "untrained" witches and wizards, and never happened at all for Squibs or those with low magical power.

There was almost no information at all about Hogwarts' grading system in An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, which was a shame. How would he know how to tailor his grades? All he learnt was that the major tests were OWLs at the end of fifth year (which you could leave school after but few people did) and NEWTs at the end of seventh - which was the end of schooling unless you undertook an Apprenticeship to gain a Mastery in a specific subject or did extra training for a career. Oh, and that Hogwarts didn't teach the Dark Arts, Traditions/Etiquette, Music, Art, Technomancy, Languages, or Ritual Magic. There was a chart for each school showing what they offered and what they didn't. Harry thought he could live without those subjects anyway. Except that he kind of liked Technomancy which sounded cool and modern; but it wasn't taught in any of the European schools. Logically, it must be taught somewhere else in the world, to make it into the chart. That wouldn't do him any good though. Hogwarts did teach Divination (which most of the others didn't), was highly ranked for Charms and Transfiguration, and poorly ranked for Defensive Magic. It also apparently didn't bar or preference admission on the basis of "blood status", heritage or gender. It didn't explain what that meant, but he assumed it meant it was less bigoted than the others somehow. Or it meant vampires could go to school there, which frankly was more open-minded than he thought he'd like. Brrrr!

The book Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to Do with them Now You've Wised Up was a little disappointing too. It wasn't at all a guide for those new to the world of magic like he'd hoped. Instead, it was a guide to special powers and abilities for witches and wizards who were even more freakish than the usual. There were several chapters on unusual abilities people could naturally possess: Seers, Second Sight, Metamorphmagi, Animagi, Flight, Twin Bonds, Parselmouths, Legilimens, and Elemental Affinity. There were also a number of chapters on "half-breed heritages" including giant, goblin, troll, vampire, veela and werewolf. Harry desperately hoped his father wasn't part troll or anything like that. He was a bit worried that he might be a Metamorphmagus and a Parselmouth, based on the descriptions. But since his book Fantastic Beasts included at least one snake that could talk (the Runespoor) other snakes might plausibly do so too. It might not be him; he hoped it wasn't. And he wasn't game to do the experiments recommended to self-test for Metamorphmagus ability. What if he changed his face and it got stuck that way? The book just recommended you get your parents or a friend to help if you got stuck (with some spells listed), or go to a Healer or mediwizard. He didn't think the local hospital would help him if he showed up with a pig snout, and he didn't know how to find the magical hospital. That thing with his hair was probably just accidental magic anyway. Best to just to ignore it all, he decided in the end.

He'd wondered if A History of Magic would have anything about Voldemort or his parents in it, but it didn't seem to cover anything later than the Victorian era. Obviously they must cover more recent times in future years. School was usually patchy like that in his experience.

Harry wasn't game to ask Uncle Vernon about getting a lift to Kings Cross Station until the last day of August. But Uncle Vernon seemed to be in a good enough mood and just grunted his agreement, thankfully.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

"I don't know. It seems like broomsticks are quite popular, which sounds crazy to me, but I guess you can't carry luggage on a broomstick," ventured Harry. "I'd much rather catch a train anyway. It sounds more normal. And safer." Uncle Vernon nodded in agreement.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"A remote location in Scotland, apparently. Near a village called Hogsmeade."

"At least they keep it out of England. Wouldn't want their sort around here."

Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too nervous to go back to sleep. He dressed in his normal grey school slacks (he preferred the word "normal" to "Muggle") with his boots mostly hidden under the ends of the trouser legs, one of his new white wizarding style shirts with cufflinks, and an ordinary blue jumper pulled over the top. They reached King's Cross Station at half past ten and Harry said a cordial goodbye to his family. Aunt Petunia and Dudley wished him goodbye and good luck, respectively. Uncle Vernon in a harsh whisper reminded him not to bring home any "magic rubbish or tricks" that might scare Aunt Petunia when he came home at the end of the year. Harry solemnly promised not to, and was rewarded with a brief pat on the head, and his heavy trunk lifted onto a trolley for him.

Getting through the hidden entrance to Platform 9 ¾ was a breeze thanks to Neville's advice. The train was quite impressive, though he was a little surprised it was an old steam train rather than a modern one. He'd assumed it would look normal so no-one would notice it on the tracks as being unusual. A bright red steam train was sure to stand out a mile away. There were less people in traditional wizarding garb than he'd expected. He thought they'd probably faced the same problem he'd had of trying to pass inconspicuously through King's Cross Station.

He looked around for Neville, but didn't spot him right away. He checked to see if he was one of a large group of boys crowding around something in the middle of the platform. It turned out they were looking at a large spider in a box, owned by a boy with dreadlocks called Lee.

"Does it talk?" he asked, peering at it curiously.

"Don't be ridiculous," said one of the boys, sneering.

"He's just a Muggle-born firstie, go easy," said another.

"It's just a tarantula, not an acromantula. Look at its eyes, see the difference? Blimey, I wouldn't want to own one of those! This little fellow is much friendlier. Want to touch him?" offered Lee.

Harry declined with a shake of his head and went on his way, not noticing how his fringe moved briefly to reveal his scar for a moment. Or the quiet chatter that broke out about him as he left the group.

He pushed his trolley down past the first few carriages and eventually spotted Neville and his Gran. He waved excitedly at him. Neville grinned and waved back, and a toad jumped from one of his hands as he did so. He scrambled to catch it but missed. Luckily Harry leapt in to help and caught the toad and handed it back to Neville.

"Trevor keeps getting away from me," moaned Neville. "Thanks, Harry."

"He won't give me warts, will he?"

"Nah…I mean no," he said, glancing at his Gran who didn't seem impressed with his grammar. "He's not hexed. Just an ordinary toad. Maybe a little magical. He's from Loch Ness, you know. Uncle Algie got him for me."

Neville said an embarrassed goodbye to his Gran, and she prompted Harry to say farewell too, when he didn't spontaneously do so.

"A young man should always farewell a lady when departing," she chided. "And tip your hat."

"Goodbye ma'am," he said obediently, and copied Neville as he lifted his hat slightly off his forehead with one hand. Then they were permitted to depart, with a reminder to stand up straight and make their families proud.

They went to find an empty compartment in the middle section of the train, passing by a couple that were already taken.

"You could sit with your other friends, if you'd rather," offered Harry with his best disinterested air.

"No, I'd like to sit with you. If you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all. I was just you know, being polite," explained Harry. He wasn't really used to the idea that someone might actually want to be friends with him. It was quite nice.

Once they were settled, Harry took off his jumper and put on his green waistcoat and black wizard's hat, and tucked his trouser legs inside his boots.

"You know you don't need to wear the hat inside. Except for formal occasions or rituals, special things like that. You should wear it for the Sorting, when we get to school," volunteered Neville. So Harry took the hat off again and packed it back in his trunk.

They had an interesting chat about school subjects; Neville knew what they all were, but wasn't sure which class the book about magical animals was for, as the subject Care of Magical Creatures was usually only for Third Year and onwards. The Wizarding school grading system had silly names, but was basically very like a five letter A-E grading system, so Harry felt quite relieved it would be relatively straightforward.

"I'm most worried about Potions," confided Neville.

"Why is that? I thought it looked great apart from the weird ingredients. It's just like cooking but with more complicated stirring. And I'm pretty good at cooking! And there's no wands needed," Harry said with satisfaction. "It shouldn't need a lot of magic, right?"

"But that's just it, you don't need a lot of magic. So if I'm bad at Potions, well, Uncle Algie won't be at all impressed," Neville shivered, and continued in a conspiratorial whisper. "But the worst thing is the teacher, you see if you fail in his class he-"

But he was interrupted as without knocking or any kind of warning, the door to their compartment slid open quickly and unexpectedly to reveal a frizzy-haired young girl in jeans and a jumper.

"My parents are dentists. If you don't think there's anything wrong with that, I'd like to share your compartment," she blurted out with an air that suggested they'd better not have a problem with it.

"Oh! Hello. Well, it's all right by me. Neville?"

"I'm… not sure what that means. But I would venture it's a Muggle thing?" Neville looked to Harry with a querying look, and Harry nodded in affirmation. "I… suppose I would have no objection if you want to join us," Neville finished hesitantly.

"Oh good," said the girl, who dragged her trunk from the hallway into their compartment. The boys helped her lift it up to the luggage racks. "I'm Hermione Granger, first year, Muggle-born. Not that it should matter, but apparently it does so there it is. I'm not going to be embarrassed by it."

"I'm Neville Longbottom, first year, pure-blood. But I'm not, you know, I'm not a blood purist. I never would be."

"Harry Potter, first year, I don't know what the-"

"Are you really? 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?" said Harry, feeling dazed. "Could I borrow them some time? I couldn't find anything out about Voldemort in our history textbook." Neville flinched but didn't say anything.

"No, it didn't cover anything after Queen Victoria's reign ended, did it? Maybe next year they'll do modern history. Or ancient history – that would be fascinating don't you think? And I'd be happy to lend them to you if you can't find copies in the school library. You know it says in Hogwarts, A History that it's the finest magical library in the whole of Great Britain."

Hermione smiled happily and asked them what House they thought they'd be in, then enthusing without pausing about her preferred option of Gryffindor. Harry leant his head on the train window, a bit dazed by the idea that someone could learn "all about him" from a few books. He had to find out what was in them. Outside the train he could hear a little girl whining to her mother.

"Oh mum, Fred says he's on the train, please can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please…"

He glanced covertly out the window and saw a family of redheads chatting.

"You don't need to see him, Ginny, the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. It looks like he found the platform without help after all, that's nice. He must've run into someone else to help him. Is it really him, Fred? How do you know?" asked the mother.

"Lee Jordan saw his scar, mum. Like a lightning bolt. Do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

"Don't you dare ask him! As if he needs reminding of that on his first day! Now hurry, the train is leaving any second." And then they were out of his sight as they headed to one of the last carriages.

"-Harry?" Neville nudged him.

"Sorry Neville, what was that?"

"Hermione was asking what House you think you'll be in."

"I thought maybe Hufflepuff."

"Really?" Hermione seemed unimpressed by his preference, but it didn't bother him. She did carry on a bit about how it would be better than Slytherin, which apparently was the House of choice for Dark wizards. Neville agreed that it did seem to produce some of the most evil witches and wizards. The train started moving as Hermione boasted about knowing all the textbooks by heart, which impressed them both a lot. She had in fact had a bit more time than Harry to read, having gotten a personal visit from Professor McGonagall in the first week of July with a hand-delivered letter.

"Why didn't I get a visit right away then?" wondered Harry. "All the letters were a bit scary. There were over a hundred. My family's quite normal, you know."

"That's odd you got so many letters! So you live with Muggle relatives then," concluded Hermione, shifting to the part of the conversation that interested her most. "The books didn't say for sure, only that you were kept safe."

"Pure-bloods and half-bloods get letters sent by owl," said Neville.

"Which am I? What's the difference?" Harry asked.

"I know!" said Hermione, almost bouncing in her seat in her eagerness to explain. "Pure-bloods have no Muggle parents or grandparents, whereas half-bloods have at least one Muggle parent and/or two Muggle grandparents. Opinions differ as to whether someone with two magical parents and three magical grandparents should be called a pure-blood or not."

"Mostly-" said Neville hesitantly.

"So you'd be a half-blood, Harry," Hermione concluded eagerly. "Since your father was a pure-blood and your mother was Muggle-born."

They had another visitor after that, as the door slid open again and a young red-headed freckled boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing to the seat next to Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

The boy introduced himself as Ron, and snuck looks at Harry occasionally when he thought Harry wasn't looking. Eventually he mustered up the courage to ask the question burning in his mind.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"Oh, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "My brothers are always playing pranks. And have you really got – you know…"

He pointed at Harry's forehead. Neville frowned at that, but didn't say anything. Hermione looked curiously at him too – Harry felt very uncomfortable. He didn't like being stared at. He showed them his scar anyway, but when Ron asked him if he remembered what happened, he snapped at him.

"You want to know if I remember my parents being killed?" Harry glared at Ron.

Ron muttered an apology. Hermione leapt in to change the subject.

"So are all your family wizards?" she asked Ron curiously.

"Er – yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"Why? What's wrong with being an accountant? Did he embezzle company funds or something?" she said, perplexed.

Neville tried to explain. "Ron means he's a Squib."

"You're ashamed to have a family member with no magic? You don't even talk about him? The books I read said that kind of prejudiced attitude died with the war!" said an outraged Hermione.

Harry thought that the Weasleys were clearly one of those bigoted families his aunt had warned him about. He wasn't sure about Neville's family yet - there was some mystery there - but Neville himself was clearly alright.

"I didn't mean it like that. And we're Light sided all the way," insisted Ron. "My dad loves Muggles."

Hermione settled down after a bit more reassurance, but Harry's opinion was set. Ron's dad thought of normal people as being amusing pets, just like his aunt said. As the conversation continued about Muggles Ron's ignorance became obvious - Ron couldn't even pronounce words like electricity, and didn't know what a television set was. His family must be very isolated from the real world indeed. Harry thought that Neville seemed ignorant of many normal things too, but was generally more polite about it.

Around half-past twelve a clattering trolley came by selling sweets. Hermione bought two Pumpkin Pasties (having promised her parents never to eat sweets before dinner time), and Neville got some Cauldron Cakes and a Liquorice Wand. Harry asked if they had any chips, but they didn't have any normal food. He eventually bought a Pumpkin Pastie, iced pumpkin juice (Neville promised it was good) and some oddly named jelly beans, which seemed safe enough and not likely to have much dairy in them. Ron didn't buy anything, muttering about how his mum packed him sandwiches. Harry wished his family had packed him four sandwiches just for a lunch snack – it seemed very generous to him. Rations had been a little shorter this past month.

Ron warned Harry about how the jelly beans could be any flavour at all – like peppermint or spinach or liver. Harry quite liked them. He got banana, baked bean, egg, tea, hazelnut, toffee, and an odd yellow one he thought might be soap.

Neville and Ron chatted about their pets, Trevor and Scabbers. Trevor tried to make another leap for freedom but was thwarted by the closed door. Scabbers completely failed to turn yellow, despite Ron's best efforts with a very odd sounding spell.

"Are you allowed to have a rat?" sniffed Hermione. "It wasn't on the list."

"Yeah, he's a hand-me-down rat. I don't even get a new pet. It used to be Percy's, so he's been at school for a few years now. They don't really mind so long as you don't try and bring something really big or dangerous. Or if it makes a mess of the common room."

Ron was enthusiastically explaining to a disinterested Harry and a curious Hermione about the workings of Quidditch when they were interrupted by the last of the visitors to their surprisingly popular compartment. It was a pale thin blonde-haired boy, flanked by a couple of thickset and mean looking boys half a head taller than him. They looked like bodyguards.

"So there you are, I heard you were on the train. Harry Potter. It's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry, looking at the other boys. They reminded him of Dudley. But meaner.

"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," said the pale boy with a gesture, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Ron laughed at that, and promptly got his family sneeringly insulted for having "…red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford."

He looked at Neville next, but didn't say anything to him; he didn't seem to merit Draco's especial scorn. Draco gave a small nod of his head in greeting, which Neville nodded back to in response. Then they both pointedly ignored each other.

Draco turned to Hermione next. "And I don't need to ask who your family is, you've already told everyone about your low origins," he sneered at Hermione.

"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 held out his hand to shake, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly. Clearly this was another bigot, and even ruder than Ron. He turned to look out the window, ignoring him and hoping the boy would leave. He'd learned sometimes no reaction was the best reaction. He watched the reflections in the window though, in case he got jumped from behind.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"You refuse my assistance with introductions? You're giving me the cut?!" Draco said, sounding horribly offended, and promptly turned his back with a sniff and swept out of their carriage trailed by his goons. Ron laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen or heard in his life. Neville looked anxious, and Hermione an odd cross between bewildered and intrigued.

"That sounded surprisingly formal," she said. "What a rude boy, though. I do hope I'm not in a House with him. Or some of the others I ran into on the train."

"Best stay away from Slytherin then," said Ron, wiping away his tears of laughter and sitting up straight again. "Oh, his family are all a bad lot. I've heard all about it. They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark side."

Harry looked at Hermione, whose mouth was twitching with the effort not to smile. "So you think Draco will be like his father before him."

"Absolutely," said Ron seriously. "He'll be all into that ultra-traditional pure-blood rubbish, and Dark magic to boot. Watch out for him."

It was getting late, and they all changed into their school robes shortly after that. Hermione had to wait outside in the corridor while the boys changed, then they waited outside when it was her turn.

Disembarking onto a tiny, dark platform they made their way to some little boats, guided by the most enormous man Harry had ever seen – perhaps he was a giant. Harry was a little disappointed that Ron stuck with them like glue and joined them in their boat. Well, it didn't mean they had to become best mates. Any extra person who wasn't interested in shunning or attacking him would be an advantage, surely. Two friends was more than he'd hoped for in his wildest dreams anyway.

Soon enough they'd reached the castle, met some ghosts, and were ready to be sorted. Harry whispered to Neville that he wanted to be friends no matter what Houses they went to, and Neville promised they would be. Ron and Hermione, who were eavesdropping, promised the same. It was a good start to the year.