Chapter 1: Misfits Link Arms

11-year-old Harry Potter glanced about the bustling platform of Kings Cross Station with growing concern. What was he supposed to do now? Hagrid had needed to leave him in a hurry, having just enough time to give Harry his ticket for the Hogwarts Express, which was departing from Platform 9 and 3/4s.

Except when Harry just asked a passing conductor how to get to such a platform, the gentleman had studied him as though he had three heads.

In the back of his mind, Harry knew that platform so numbered didn't exist, couldn't exist. Platforms, like nearly everything else, were marked by whole numbers, not fractions. Put another way, a train couldn't possibly depart from half a platform, never mind three-quarters of a platform…

He glanced anxiously at the clock. The Hogwarts Express was apparently leaving at 11:00 sharp, from a platform that he had yet to find, and which the conductors seemed convinced didn't exist. It was a quarter to the hour. That meant he had to find a platform (or really, three-quarters of a platform) that seemingly didn't exist, to catch his train that, according to his giant friend, apparently did exist.

Harry glanced down at himself. He was dressed like a Muggle, rather than the robes that Hagrid had always worn. If he could find people wearing robes, perhaps they might be wizards and he could follow them to wherever they were going!

Turning about, he spotted another boy pushing a trolley alongside a rather severe-looking woman. The woman appeared older, and was sporting a truly gaudy hat with an entire bird – completely stuffed – atop it. Her green dress, while not quite fitting the description of wizards' robes Harry had seen while wandering Diagon Alley, was certainly nothing that Harry would have ever seen his Aunt Petunia wear.

"Keep up, boy!" the lady snapped at the doughy boy at her side, and the lad began pushing his trolley faster.

If Harry hadn't been staring directly at the boy, he might have missed it: for a brief flash, something peeked its head out of the boy's pocket.

….. A toad?...

Harry's mind flashed back to the list of school supplies he and Hagrid had consulted together: Hogwarts students were allowed to bring along a pet from an approved list. These included a cat, a rat, an owl…

…. and a toad….

Hope stirring in his chest, Harry brought his cart around and began pursuing the doughy boy and severe-looking woman (perhaps his grandmother) at a light jog. The pair were striding straight up the middle of the platform, between Platforms 9 and 10. Logic would dictate that a Platform 9 and 3/4s would be somewhere here…. but where?

Harry glanced at the clock. Ten till. He would have to chance it.

"Excuse me!"

The severe-looking woman turned, glancing down a hooked nose at him with surprise and more than a little disdain. Harry could feel the eyes of the doughy boy on him, but ignored the other lad for the present.

"Could…. could you tell me how to…. how to get onto Platform 9 and 3/4s….. ma'am?" he amended quickly.

The woman's brow furrowed only deeper in what might have been exasperated disgust. The doughy boy, meanwhile, seemed almost relieved that someone else appeared just as clueless as he was.

The severe-looking woman was muttering something to herself under her breath, her beady pupils sending Harry a dirty look.

"I – I know how to get on the platform…."

Harry turned to take in the other boy. Here was a lad who had clearly yet to lose all of his baby fat. He appeared mousy and meek, and just as scared as he, Harry, was.

"You do?"

The boy nodded, pointing towards the brick stantion between Platforms 9 and 10. "Gran says we have to charge at that stantion right there. We should just pass on right through."

Harry stared: first at the stantion, then back at the boy. "She's mad!" he gawked, just careful enough to keep his volume modulated. The boy's Gran now turned back to them, perhaps having heard someone speak, but not identifying the speaker immediately, chose to glower almost expectantly at her grandson instead. The doughy boy wilted.

Harry thought her a rude and harsh woman. If this fellow knew what he had to do, yet was clearly too scared to do it, then having his own gran exert pressure on him was hardly fair, nor helpful.

Besides, he couldn't exactly blame the boy for being frightened. If what he was saying was true.

"The Platform is…. somehow through there…?" Harry pointed at the stone stantion dubiously, just to be abundantly clear.

The doughy boy nodded.

"So…. what, we have to….. charge at it?"

The boy nodded again.

"…. But we'll crash!" Harry spluttered.

"No, you won't," a feminine, lofty voice piped up. "You might be expected to crash, but you'll actually pass clear through the barrier, as if passing through a membrane."

Both boys turned and looked to their right.

A girl with bushy chestnut hair and a soft, heart-shaped face had emerged at their side. She was already dressed in what were clearly wizards' robes, and was pushing a trolley piled high with school supplies nearly identical to theirs. Harry scanned the girl's pile for any sign of a pet, but couldn't find one.

The girl turned her head, studying the pair of hapless boys curiously. "I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

Harry felt hope alight in his chest. "You know Hogwarts?"

The girl nodded confidently. "I've read all about it." Turning to face the barrier again, she took a deep breath, before breaking into a run.

The gentlemanly thing to do would have been to call out a warning, but the words got stuck in Harry's throat as all he and the doughy boy could do was stare. Just when it appeared like the girl might wipe out….

She disappeared. The stone stantion seemed to absorb her, almost, complete with a kind of sucking sound.

Harry shook his head and blinked, certain he had been seeing things. But he hadn't.

He and the doughy boy glanced at each other.

"Together?" Harry asked nervously.

The other boy nodded, clearly petrified. "I'll take a chance for her!" They both clumsily broke into a run themselves, the stone stantion coming up fast. Right before impact, Harry shut his eyes and braced himself…

…. But nothing happened.

Harry opened his eyes to find himself on a platform he didn't recognize. Just ahead, a steaming, scarlet locomotive awaited them. He glanced to his left: there was the doughy boy, standing stock-still and with his eyes still squeezed shut. Harry cleared his throat and tapped him on the shoulder.

The boy blinked. "Oh…. right….." Glancing away, he spotted something up ahead. "There she is! Halloo! Miss?! Wait for us!"

The boy charged forward. Glancing back once at the lad's gran, Harry grinned sheepishly before pelting after her grandson.

The boys caught up to the girl with the bushy brown hair, where she was depositing her trolley with a porter, who began shunting her supplies onto the train through a compartment window. The attendants worked fast, and soon, Harry was watching his supplies, along with the other boy's, being shunted into the same compartment.

The bushy-haired girl's brow was furrowed in concentration, her finger pointing at compartment windows. She seemed to be counting backwards from the nearest space between carriages.

"Right," she nodded at last. She glanced back almost absently to find the two boys staring at her. Harry thought he saw her cheeks blush pink, even as she scoffed almost haughtily, "Well, if you're coming along….!"

Harry and the doughy boy followed her onto the train.

And not a moment too soon: the trio had scarcely emerged into the carriage before there was a jolt and the train started to move.

The doughy boy stole a glance at Harry. "She's right, you know. If you're coming along… I reckon I ought to know who you are!"

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter," Harry stuck out his hand.

The other boy's eyes widened. "So…. so it's true! Y-you h-have the…."

"The what?"

"Scar," the other boy whispered through a gulp.

"Oh," Harry chuckled and he pushed back his bangs. The doughy boy stared.

"Blimey….!"

"Holy cricket!... Are you Harry Potter?"

Glancing to the bushy-haired girl, Harry nodded. She appeared to be showing the most interest she ever had in him.

"I've read all about you, of course. I'm Hermione Granger." She stuck out her hand, before glancing to the dough-faced boy. "And…. you are….?"

"Neville Longbottom."

Harry couldn't help it. Neither, apparently, could Hermione: they both collapsed into laughter. "Longbottom!" they both shrieked between peals of giggles.

Neville frowned, more resigned than outraged at having two new friends laugh at him, on account of something that couldn't be helped. He even sighed, a little. "Go ahead," he muttered. "It is a rather horrid name, inn'it?"

"It's…. it's certainly not a nice name…." Hermione gasped out between chokes of laughter, attempting to settle her voice into a tone that was delicate.

Neville nodded, as if he had been expecting commentary like this. "And I'm ugly too, ain't I?"

Hermione appraised him judiciously. "You are quite plain," she had to concede. While she might have been at least honest, Harry thought that her assessment was hardly fair. Then again, the only other person he had known to be this…. piggy at their age was his cousin, Dudley, who had no hope of shedding any of his baby fat, especially not with the way he ate.

Neville seemed to accept this answer, stuffing his hands in his pockets. A beat, and then he was rummaging through them with growing franticness. "Oh, no, no, no….. where is Trevor?!"

"Who?" Harry blinked.

"Trevor! My toad! He's lost!"

Hermione immediately took action. "When was the last time you felt him in your pocket? When we boarded?"

"I…. I think so…." Neville stammered.

"Then, logically, he must still be somewhere on the train! Not to worry, Neville: we'll help you look for him!" She glanced to Harry expectantly; intimidated, Harry could only nod along.

Hermione now led the search party up and down their train car, her eyes trained to her feet and the carpeted floor. With how many students had been traversing up and down this train car, Harry thought it would be sheer, dumb luck if no one had stepped on the toad. Even if they hadn't, there was no telling if Trevor might have hippity-hopped to an open window and hopped right off the train.

Neville was now down on his hands and knees, crawling between Hermione in the lead and where Harry brought up the rear.

"Here, toady, toady…."

Suddenly:

"He's there! GOT HIM!"

Hermione suddenly lunged forward and tackled something at her feet like a Muggle football. Glancing back, she smiled sheepishly at how her two new friends were gawping at her very unlady-like move. Standing, keeping whatever thing she had caught close to her chest, she handed it to Neville shyly.

"Here you are…."

Opening her hands, Harry spotted a horned toad.

"Trevor!" Neville snatched the little beast up gratefully, gazing at Hermione with something akin to wonder. "You're amazing, you are…."

Now Harry was certain she really did blush. "Always the tone of surprised….." she murmured, sounding a little flustered. There was an awkward beat, and she cleared her throat. "Pardon me, I have to use the loo. The compartment with our things is just there. You two better change into your robes sooner rather than later; I expect we'll arrive before we know it."

Hermione started to flounce away, then glanced back. "You've got dirt on your nose, by the way, Neville – did you know? Just there…."

Neville scrunched up his nose and rubbed at it as, with a tousling of her chestnut curls, Hermione flounced off.

Still, in spite of her haughty demeanor, Neville had to conclude while staring after Hermione admiringly:

"Whatever house we're in…. I ruddy hope she's in it!"