Summary of the last chapter:

Harry and Tom sneak out of the house and travel to King's Cross to see if there's really a train. They observe Hermione getting through the barrier and simply follow her example. Harry shares a compartment with Hermione and learns, to his great surprise, that he is famous in the wizarding world, and that the train is going to Scotland. Hermione offers him two of her books to read on the journey: 'Hogwarts, a History' and a chapter in a book which explains events during the wizarding war and the attack on the Potter family.

A/N: Thank you all for reviewing and letting me know that you are enjoying the story! Here's the second part of Harry's journey. And a question for you concerning Book 2 which I'm currently working on: If you had to decide - should the basilisk be killed because he harmed / killed students or should he be saved, if at all possible? And in case you want him saved - does he need a name? And what would be a good name for a basilisk?

Making Friends

All three of them (though Hermione didn't know they were three) were startled when their compartment door was suddenly yanked open and a round-faced boy who seemed to be on the verge of tears stuck his head inside. "Hello. I'm Neville. Have you, by any chance, seen a toad?"

"That must be one of the weirdest introductions ever," said Tom, who wondered if it was possible to have a heart-attack without actually having a body. "Is it just me or do wizards seem a bit strange?"

Harry ignored him, addressing the boy instead. "Can't say that I have ever seen a toad. Why are you asking?"

"Because I lost my familiar, Trevor."

Tom snickered. "A toad familiar! Of course! Is Hogwarts made out of gingerbread, by any chance? I don't think we've left out anything else in the cliché department."

Neville stared at him as if he had heard Tom speak. "You're Harry Potter!" he then said, awe in his voice.

Harry sighed. "Yes, so I've been told." He was, quite obviously, a celebrity. He wondered if Aunt Petunia had known.

"Well, presuming your toad hasn't jumped off the train, he should still be around somewhere," said Hermione and clapped her book shut resolutely. "I'll help you search."

Neville beamed at her. "Thank you! That's really nice of you!"

"You'd better stay put," Tom advised Harry. "Unless you want more of that 'you are Harry Potter!' coming your way. Try to get your fringe to cover your scar somehow."

It was almost half an hour later when Hermione and Neville came back. Their search hadn't been successful, the toad was nowhere to be found. Neville was clearly distraught, and the bushy-haired girl urged him to sit with them and tried to comfort him. "I'm sure he'll turn up, Neville. After all, you said he was a magical toad. I can't imagine they get lost so easily."

That seemed to cheer him up a bit. "It's not the first time," he admitted. "I'm always losing things or forgetting where I put them. It's a huge disappointment for my grandmother that I'm not more like my father. I hope I'll at least be sorted into Gryffindor, like him, though I just can't see it. I'm not strong and brave like him."

Harry, who had made it through roughly half of 'Hogwarts, A History' by now, had come across the mysterious sorting ceremony and the four houses. He had no idea what house he would most like to be in – Hufflepuff sounded nice, but ever since Tom had arrived, he had become a bit of a nerd, too, so maybe Ravenclaw would be fine, too. He didn't quite see the attraction of Gryffindor, but Tom had instantly liked Slytherin, if only for their snake symbol.

"I hope so, too, Neville!" said Hermione. "That's the house I would like to go into. It'd be nice to at least know one person already."

"Why do you hope for Gryffindor, Hermione? With your obvious love for books, you sound more like a Ravenclaw to me," Harry said.

"Well, I know Professor McGonagall, and she seemed quite nice. And Ravenclaw … I'm enough of a nerd already; wouldn't being sorted into Ravenclaw be like tattooing it on my forehead?"

"Going into Gryffindor because that's the one house you whose head you've actually met doesn't seem very reasonable, if you ask me. What if you like the head of Slytherin or Hufflepuff even better? And if you love studying and reading, wouldn't it be nice to be among those who share your passion rather than with those who think reading makes you a nerd?"

"You're right," Hermione said, sounding a bit astonished. "That's actually a very sound argument you're making."

That moment, the compartment door was opened again and a girl with long, meticulously styled locks and a bow in her hair stuck her head in. "I've heard Harry Potter is on this train," she said with excitement in her voice. "Have you seen him?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes. He went down that way," he said pointing towards the other end of the train. "He's looking for a toad."

"Thank you!" said the girl delightedly and shut the door.

"Why did you say that?" asked Neville, horrified. "Now everybody will think I'm Harry Potter."

"Sorry, couldn't resist. I only learned that I'm famous about four hours ago, and I'm already not liking it very much."

"Just brush the hair out of your face, Neville," suggested Hermione. "It'll be clear that you're not him when they see there's no scar."

With that, she went back to her book.

Harry thought it impolite to return to reading with Neville still in their compartment, and it seemed like the boy intended to stay. So he took the opportunity to get some first-hand information from someone who had grown up in the wizarding world, and learned quite a few interesting things. Apparently, the headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore, was much respected and revered and was also a prominent political figure, as he headed a couple of wizarding organizations. He was famous for having defeated another dark wizard at the end of World War II. Harry and Tom wondered if many wizards went dark, as there seemed to be trouble with them pretty much constantly.

He learned that Britain had a 'Ministry of Magic' in London with their own head of state, their own courts and their own legislature.

Neville was flabbergasted that Harry had no idea at all of all these things. He confirmed that the wizarding world at large had thought he had grown up surrounded by top security, either in hiding or abroad.

"And you only learned that you are a wizard by receiving your Hogwarts letter?" he asked, making sure that he had understood that correctly.

"Yes. I suppose you were well aware in advance that you'd be getting a letter?"

"Well, not always. For the longest time, my relatives thought I was a squib." Neville explained what a squib was, followed by a truly disturbing tale about how his uncle had thrown him out of an upstairs window to see if his magic would kick in.

"What if it hadn't?" asked Tom, totally shocked at this. "What if he had been a squib as his uncle had suspected? He might have died! Did he think it better to have no nephew at all than one who wasn't magical?"

Harry was shocked as well. He had always thought his relatives were bad, but at least neither Aunt Petunia nor Uncle Vernon had ever tried to kill him, even though they would have much preferred having no nephew at all.

"That's horrible, Neville, really!" said Hermione, who had long since laid her book aside to listen in on their conversation.

The boy shrugged it off as if it were nothing. "It was more of an accident. His wife came in and offered him cake, so he got distracted. But it worked out alright. I bounced!"

"So, I take it you sent an owl to Hogwarts as they told you to?" Harry inquired.

"Sure," Neville said, giving him an odd look.

"I didn't have to since Professor McGonagall took care of everything," explained Hermione.

"Well, I haven't," Harry admitted. "I didn't know how."

"I'm sure that's alright," Neville reassured him. "They shouldn't have expected you to, given that you lived with Muggles. It was clear that you were coming to Hogwarts anyway."

"Looks like your fame is good for something then," remarked Tom. "After all, you defeated a dark wizard when you were a baby. I'm sure they think catching an owl is no problem for you."

Harry shrugged. He couldn't do anything about it now anyway.

A lady with a trolley passed by in the corridor, opening their door with a friendly smile. "Anybody want a snack?"

Harry would have loved a snack. He had left the house without breakfast, not knowing that he was going on an eight hour trip. His stomach had been grumbling for a while and made its need known to everybody listening with a particularly loud growl when hit by the delicious smell of cakes.

He still had a little bit of change, but wondered if it would be enough. "How much is one of the little cakes?" he asked the trolley-lady.

"The pumpkin pasties are two sickles and 4 knuts each, the cauldron cake is three sickles, dear."

"What?" Harry asked, gobsmacked. He hadn't expected wizards and witches to have their own currency, too! "I only have pounds and pence."

"Of course!" said Hermione, face-palming herself. "You haven't been to Gringotts after all. Here, let me get that for you. You can reciprocate some other time."

Hermione ordered cakes and pastries for the both of them, and a box of Bertie Botts' All Flavoured Beans.

Neville got two chocolate frogs, one of which he offered to Harry. "If you've never had one, you have to try this. It's a classic."

Harry was touched. No one had ever given him something for free or shared their sweets with him.

And these sweets, they were really something! Harry almost choked when one of the cheerfully coloured beans he ate tasted like vomit. Why - just why – would anyone pay money for sweets which, in parts, made you sick? The chocolate frog, to his bafflement, jumped out of the paper as soon as Harry unwrapped it, and almost made it out of the window. Neville was quick to react and caught it just in time.

He grinned. "Happens every time. You have to be careful and always keep a hand on them."

Harry was a bit reluctant to bite into anything that seemed so life-like, but as soon as he held it firmly in his grip again, it looked like an ordinary chocolate figure, and tasted like one. Inside, Harry found a collectible card of a supposedly famous wizard. Neville explained to him that collecting the cards was a huge selling point for the frogs in the first place, and that kids liked to trade them.

Time flew by, and before they knew it, darkness fell and the train was approaching its destination. An older kid that was wearing a badge came by and told them to get ready and put on their school uniforms as they were approaching Hogsmeade – apparently the wizarding village close to the school.

Neville and Hermione pulled their Hogwarts uniforms and their robes out of their trunks. The uniforms weren't that different in colour from Harry's St. Grogory's uniform, except that their ties were plain grey and Hermione's grey jumper was of a lighter and more bluish shade than Harry's. But Neville's jumper was black. As he explained, grey and black were both acceptable for the top and bottom part, but the black school robe to be worn on top of both was obligatory.

As Harry had nothing similar, his jumper would have to do. Hopefully, it wasn't too cold in Scotland at the beginning of September. Wardrobe worries aside, Harry was feeling thrilled and exhilarated. This, he knew, was the beginning of a new life for them!