Abilities, Talent and Intellect.

Harry Potter was a little disheartened that his father wasn't choking back tears, or that his mother wasn't blubbing into a handkerchief, or that his sister wasn't wrapped round his ankles. This was it: The Hogwarts Express was firing up, preparing to go. The younger people scattered around Platform 9 ¾ were hopping up onto the train, leaning out of windows and hauling trunks over each other's heads. Harry had not spotted anybody taller than him.

"Mum, I'm going to be late!" hissed Harry, demanding her attention.

"Don't be silly, Harry, it's nowhere near eleven yet!" she replied. She returned her attention back to the conversation she was having with a muggle woman who looked extremely nervous. Her daughter, a muggle-born witch, was already in her Hogwarts robes and was clutching a very worn copy of a book Harry had purchased a matter of days ago.

"Are you a first year?" she asked Harry. She was very posh.

"Er, yes. You?"

"Yes. I'm ever so excited. Aren't you excited? I had no idea I was a witch until a professor came and told me. How odd! Oh gosh, are you nervous about the sorting?"

Having realised the girl had stopped talking, Harry blinked back into focus, thinking back to what she'd just asked.

"A little," he replied. She nodded knowledgeably.

"Me too" she agreed. "Of course, houses are nowhere near as important as they used to be! Although I'd rather like to avoid Slytherin... there's a bad stigma around that house."

The mention of a possibility of being landed in Slytherin made Harry nervous once again.

"My goodness... I've just realised who you are."

He looked at the girl, whose brown eyes were wide with awe. He was shocked himself: the drama of his visit to Diagon Alley had worn the novelty of his presence at Hogwarts this year had seemed to have worn off, had it not been for this girl.

"What's your name?" he asked her, hopefully distracting her from himself.

"Hermione Jean Granger," she said proudly, extending her hand. He shook it immediately, glad that this was at least one person he could sit with on the train. Where was Neville?

The whistle blew at the other end of the platform. Tension rose immediately as kids crammed themselves through the narrow doors of the train. Instantly, Lily was in front of her son, smiling at him.

"Be a good boy," she told him. "and have fun,"

Harry flung his arms around her, drinking in her scent, savouring it. There was nowhere safer in the world than his mother's arms, and he'd be without them for many weeks. When he reluctantly let go of her, Alice was next to claim him.

"I'll miss you," she told him honestly, squeezing him tightly.

"I'll miss you, too," he replied, gently pushing her back towards his mother. He hugged his father tightly before James hauled his trunk onto the train.

"Harry!" hissed a girl, grabbing his sleeve. It was Hermione, looking scared. "Does it... does being muggle-born matter?" she asked him, for the first time looking absolutely terrified. "Does it make a difference to your magic?"

Harry knew about where his scar came from. He knew about Lord Voldemort and Death Eaters and the nasty types of people that existed in Slytherin. He knew what some people would say and think, and he knew that some people would act upon in.

"Of course not," said a voice that was not his own. The children looked up at Lily Potter, who was looking at Hermione very seriously. "Your blood status makes no difference to your abilities or your talent or your intelligence. You may be muggle-born, but you could still be the brightest witch of your age."

The final whistle blew. Harry and Hermione leapt onto the train and hurried to find a carriage to themselves. They flung themselves onto the seats and pressed their noses up against the window.

"Write to us!" Harry heard his mother shout. He nodded in response. As the train chugged into movement, Harry waves frantically to his mother. He heard Hermione sniff. He looked at her, startled by the tears in her eyes. He too was sad to part from his family.

"Your Mum's lovely," she told him, leaning back and sighing. Harry took one last look at the platform. He watched his father, sister and lovely mother grow smaller and smaller in the distance. They kept on waving until he could no longer see them.