Chapter II: All Aboard the Crazy Train

Harry stared at the brick wall in front of him. He'd seen a fair few incredible things since (and including) the shopping trip in Diagon Alley, but this was taking the biscuit. An illusory wall that wasn't physically present, sure. That made sense. Having a metaphysical barrier at the same place, which would stop anyone who didn't know the wall's true nature from crossing? OK. Pretty crazy that a spell could make the distinction, but whatever. It's magic. It isn't meant to follow normal rules.

Having people run headfirst at a wall, in the middle of King's Cross, and disappear, without any 'muggles' taking notice? Who came up with this insanity, and more pertinently how many maniacs had to sign off on it to make it happen? Never mind that it worked, it was stupid! The notice-me-not charm must have extended across the entire station, the risk to the statute was enormous, and all so that a population with multiple - multiple! - forms of teleportation could board a train. A train to Scotland. From London. That made no other stops. Did it run on normal rail lines somehow, or did it have its own set, also charmed invisible and running all the way up the country? Would Molly even know if he asked?

The little blue sign read Platform 9 3/4. It should have read 'Please leave your common sense here'. Apparently, the wizarding world had no use for such a thing.

Still, there was only one thing for it. All the Weasley boys were through already, showing Harry there wasn't anything to worry about. He tightened his grip on the trolley he and Ginny were sharing, trying not to think about her hand resting softly on his own (he hadn't the heart to tell her how much physical contact freaked him out; she seemed so happy every time she invaded his personal space), and together they ran at the wall. And through the wall.

And half a century into the past, by the looks of it. Everyone here was wearing old style suits or robes, as was the wizarding fashion. The platform was lit by magically enhanced gaslights that struggled to cast their beams through the smoke of the massive engine parked upon the tracks. The students' cases would have been right at home in a wartime evacuation story, complete with their little parchment nametags tied on with string. Harry might have scoffed, had it not all been so astoundingly aesthetic.

The Weasley clan was already dispersing, having lingered just long enough to see Harry make it through. Only himself, Ginny, Ron and Mrs Weasley remained as a group, and only then because the matriarch had informed them in no uncertain terms that she would not be letting them out of sight until they boarded the train. Even that threat didn't stop Ron slipping out from under her wing when his friends came into sight, all but fleeing with a cry of "Seamus!" He did at least board the train almost right after; a decision possibly influenced by Mrs Weasley bearing down on him.

Harry wasn't particularly sad to see him leave; the boy's attempts to make friends had been an assault of over-friendliness, efforts to push Ginny out of the picture, and spittle, the last borne of his inability to stop eating, be it to speak or just in general. The amount Ron ate was comparable to Dudley's diet, and Harry could only wonder how he wasn't equally bulbous. He suspected the answer was 'magic'.

Ginny didn't meet up with any friends before boarding, though her occasional glances through the crowd suggested she was looking for someone. When she and Harry eventually climbed aboard, it was with a soft sigh, repeated as Mrs Weasley kissed her several times. Harry worried for a moment that he might find himself subjected to the same highly intrusive, and highly public, display, so he busied himself loading all their luggage and disappeared further into the train with a polite wave.

Ginny finally broke free from her mother long enough to close the door, and as she turned to Harry the pair let out a shared breath of relief, which turned to a giggle as they noticed each other doing it. Then Ginny grabbed her case and Harry's hand, and started dragging him along the train.

"Come on!" She urged. "My brothers reckon compartments fill up fast, let's grab a good one before they're all gone. Else we might have to share with second years, or worse: Slytherins."

The disgust with which she spoke the last word surprised Harry. He knew what a Slytherin was, of course, but he hadn't realised they were so bad. Hogwarts, a History certainly didn't say as much.

"Is there anyone we do want to share with?"

"First years should be alright. The second year Gryffindor girls are… Well, Ron says they don't like him very much so I reckon I'd get on with them just fine, but they might swarm you a little bit, and we don't want that. If we find Luna that'd perfect, she lives just up the road from the Burrow, and she's a first year too. Bit weird, she is, but friendly. Just don't get her talking about nargles or snorkacks."

"Uh… Noted."

He didn't want to admit to having no idea what either of those things were. As for finding a compartment, it was looking like they'd struggle to find two seats together anywhere - Ginny was being turned away from every door she opened. They made their way through three carriages and a dozen stray elbows or hips of people coming the other way before Ginny opened a compartment door, smiled widely and threw herself inside.

Harry followed, not that he had a choice with his hand firmly ensconced in hers, and found the compartment empty. Almost. It was big enough for six, possibly eight if they were first or second years, but the only occupants were Ginny and a young blonde girl who stared out the window, oblivious to their entry.

"Luna!" Ginny beamed, hurling herself onto the bench seat next to her - friend? - and releasing Harry so he could slide in opposite them.

"Hello, Ginny." The blonde replied, still not turning to look. Her voice had a natural melodic quality unlike Harry had ever heard, but was oddly devoid of emotion. "Hello, Harry Potter."

OK, that's not fair. She recognises me without even looking at me! Actually… How did she do that?

"Umm. Hello."

Suddenly the girl launched herself forward, fixing Harry with brilliant blue eyes barely a foot from his face. From a pocket in her robes she drew a pair of overly decorated spectacles with tinted lenses, one blue and the other red. She scanned across and around Harry's head intently, completely ignorant to his alarm and sputtered protest.

"Wrackspurts!" she declared with a firm nod of her head, returning to her seat. "Lots and lots of wrackspurts."

"What's a-" Harry started to ask, not seeing Ginny's cautionary shake of her head until it was too late, "-wrackspurt?"

"Fascinating creatures. They worm their way into peoples' heads and muddle everything about. Must be very confusing. Oh, but don't worry; they're basically harmless."

"Right. Gotcha." Harry replied, not getting it at all. Invisible creatures in his brain? Surely Luna was just making them up? She did seem awfully certain though… And he really was feeling very confused.

His train of thought was saved from totally derailing as the compartment door slid open. A pair of older students - fourth years? - in blue robes stood in the doorway, eyeing the empty seats next to Harry.

"Hey there, these seats taken?" one asked, already moving to stow his suitcase overhead.

"No." Ginny replied, glaring at the intruders with crossed arms.

After briefest of introductions the newcomers pulled books from pockets that had no right being large enough to hold such heavy tomes and started to read. The compartment fell silent, which frankly suited Harry just fine. Luna produced a copy of something called 'The Quibbler', which she proceeded to read upside down, with Ginny leaning over to join in.

Harry simply laid back into the cushioned seat and closed his eyes to be alone with his thoughts. A few deep breaths had the wrackspurts evicted, and he considered his new, only, and first friends.

Ginny was… Well, she was a bit much to be honest. She seemed to like him far too much for how little time they'd spent together, and she was determined to claim his personal space as her own. He didn't know what to do about that, or even if he should - would confronting her on it push her away and leave him alone again? Did he even want her to stop? After all, he'd dreamed for years that someone would come into his life and show him the sort of affection Dudley got from Petunia.

The reality was unnerving compared to the fantasy, but he must just be overreacting, right? The girls at his old school were constantly hugging and playing with each other's hair; Ginny was surely just treating him the same way. It was a small price to pay for friendship; he could get used to it. He would get used to it.

Luna he truly wasn't sure what to make of. The moment his mind turned to her he could feel those blasted wrackspurts creeping back in. How could someone be so confidently open, and yet leave him without the slightest clue about her? She was like an open book written in a long dead language - easy to read, impossible to understand.

What struck him the most was that, for all her cheerful quirkiness, there was something else in those distant eyes. Her smiles never quite reached above her cheeks. Her responses to whatever Ginny was whispering in her ear were short, mostly just polite hums and yesses.

Harry opened one eye and found the girl in question peeking above her paper at him. Their eyes met and, but for the brilliant blue replacing green, it was like looking into a mirror. Luna broke contact abruptly, lifting her paper like a shield, but that only confirmed what he had glimpsed in those sapphire orbs.

Harry wasn't the only broken soul on that train.

McGonagall stood proud in Dumbledore's office beside the chair she'd refused to take, instead grasping it like a vice to steady both her legs and nerves. It would not be becoming to lose her temper with the headmaster, but she was very close to unleashing it all the same.

"…sure the boy will be quite alright under our roof." Dumbledore finished, ending his latest empty platitude.

"The boy should have been quite alright at home! Not… Not… How could you have sat there and done nothing all this time?" She accused, not for the first time that day. It was, however, the first time Dumbledore addressed the issue in response.

"I'm afraid I was not aware of the particulars of his situation."

"The particulars?" Minerva abandoned the last of her diplomacy and laced her voice with scorn. "Would those particulars be the bruises, or the burn marks, or Merlin knows what else that poor boy is still hiding from me? Or perhaps the mental wounds? The way he flinches at a touch? The way he fixes his eyes on the floor when he speaks? The way… The way…" she trailed off. There were too many atrocities whirling in her head to keep track of them anymore.

Dumbledore, wisely, said nothing.

"And how could you not have known? You assured me he would be monitored! I only agreed to leave him with those muggles because of that assurance. Did you somehow forget your influence reaches far beyond this castle, or did you choose to sit here blind?"

Minerva, dear-" he tried to interject.

"Do not 'Minerva, dear' me, Albus! Don't you dare!"

The room fell into tense silence until Dumbledore spoke up softly.

"It does not do us any good to dwell on the past."

Minerva felt her eyes bugging out at the statement, but she let him continue. Why not give the fool enough slack to hang himself with?

"Rather we should look to the future. Harry will be safe here at Hogwarts."

That made her mind up. She knew her mind should have been decided before she ever entered the office, before she returned to Hogwarts even, but something had held her back. Some part of her had been expecting the great Albus Dumbledore to have the answers she needed. Some part of her was a damn sentimental fool.

"He certainly shall be, but no thanks to you." She asserted, "From now on, you may consider Mr Potter to be under my protection."

Albus had the audacity to chuckle at her declaration. "Your attitude towards your cubs is legendary, Minerva, but Harry may yet not even be sorted to your house."

She took a moment to process that statement. When the stupidity proved too much for her to wrap her head around, she barked her instinctive reply. "My duties go far beyond my house, Albus! Every student's welfare is my concern, and they are all my charges whilst at this school! And besides, you seem to have misunderstood me. Mr Potter has my protection, independent of my role here. He has my protection not as a student, but as the child I helped you to leave on a doorstep all those years ago."

"Minerva, do not hold yourself responsible for-"

"I hold you responsible, Albus Dumbledore! But unlike you, I do not seek to avoid my part of the blame." She fought back her tears, but they came through all the same. Her ferocity died in a moment, so before the grief overwhelmed her she choked out, "I failed that boy. I left him to suffer and went about my life. We could have helped him, Albus. I could have helped him. Now I can only hope that he will allow me the chance to atone for my transgressions."

"You intend to tell him?" Dumbledore's reply was sad in tone, but far too calm. As if he didn't truly care at all. "Perhaps it would be wiser to allow me to speak to Harry about his past - when the time is right, of course."

The chair in Minerva's grip creaked, cracked, and collapsed into a pile of splinters as her magic coursed through it unbidden. She ignored the cuts it left in her hand as she turned and stormed from the room; a little pain was the least she deserved. Maybe she'd leave them to scar in penance. She owed Harry Potter far more than a few drops of blood.

The six-hour journey up into Scotland passed so quietly that Harry slept through most of it. When he awoke they were already entering the highlands. The older students were chatting to each other, but no sound came out of their mouths, nor did they respond to any noise outside of whatever bubble they were in.

"Privacy charm. Don't know why they didn't cast it soon as they came in." Ginny explained with obvious displeasure.

"Perhaps they learned it just now? From those books they were reading?" Luna countered.

"But Fred and George learned it second year! How would my brothers know a spell two years ahead of Ravenclaws?"

Luna giggled and replied, "You're quite right, Ginny. Why would the twins be interested in a spell that prevents eavesdropping?"

Harry had only met the twins once, and yet Luna's implication was evident to him, even if her idea of a sarcastic tone was indistinguishable from her 'normal' speech. Ginny blushed lightly and stuck her tongue out at her friend.

"Did I miss anything?" Harry asked, feeling a little guilty about how long he must have slept for. He stifled a yawn and stretched his arms out in front of him, letting out the tension of a less than comfortable sleep. He couldn't help but notice the long robe sleeves hanging from his wrists, which he most certainly had not been wearing when he fell asleep.

"Oh, nothing much, Harry." Luna assured him.

"Nothing much?" He questioned, pinching the collar of his robe pointedly. "Did I dress myself in my sleep?"

"No, silly. I did that for you. Do you usually dress in your sleep?"

"Urm, no… Why did you dress me?"

Harry was torn between discomfort at the thought of being handled while he slept, and the confusion of how she'd managed such a thing without waking him.

"You were cold." Luna informed him.

"Okay. Thanks, I guess?"

"You're very welcome Harry," she beamed, "but you really needn't thank me. I was only doing what any friend would." She leaned forward to whisper as though imparting some secret wisdom and told him: "Friends don't leave friends to the cold."

"Right, of course," Harry mused aloud, remembering the old adage about what to do 'if you can't beat 'em' and figuring it was as good a plan as any, "that's what being friends is all about."

Luna shot him a quizzical look.

"Is it, Harry? How peculiar; I thought it was mostly about sharing pudding."

The compartment fell into an odd silence, as Ginny barely suppressed a giggle and Harry was consumed by his thoughts. At the fore was: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. What if you can't even figure how to join 'em?