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Chapter Four: The Journey to Hogwarts


The evening had been quiet until Harry returned home from Diagon Alley, his mind buzzing with excitement about the upcoming school year. He had his wand tucked into his pocket, trying to be careful as he slipped back into the Dursleys' house. He had expected the usual silence from his relatives, but the moment he stepped inside, he heard the unmistakable sound of something slipping from his pocket. His wand clattered onto the floor.

Before Harry could react, a thick, meaty hand swooped down, and Vernon Dursley picked up the wand. His face contorted in a mix of confusion and fury as he held the slim, white yew wood between his sausage-like fingers.

"What the bloody hell is this, boy?" Vernon growled, his face turning an alarming shade of purple.

Harry's stomach dropped. "It's... it's nothing," he stammered, trying to reach for the wand, but Vernon jerked his arm away, glaring at him.

"You've gone to one of those freak places, haven't you?" Vernon bellowed, his voice rising with every word. "I knew this would happen! After everything we've done to stamp this nonsense out of you, you're still a freak!"

Harry backed up a step, fear crawling up his spine as he realized Vernon wasn't just angry—he was livid. His uncle advanced on him with dangerous intent, eyes bulging. "You think you can come back here with your freakish ways? I won't have it!"

Before Harry could speak, Vernon lashed out, aiming to grab him by the collar. But the moment Vernon's hand got close, Harry's fear surged, and without consciously meaning to, a surge of raw magic exploded from him. Vernon was blasted backward with a powerful force, crashing against the wall with a loud thud.

Panting, Harry stood frozen, eyes wide in shock at what he had just done. His wand was lying at his feet, and Vernon, lying in a heap, looked up at him with a mix of fear and rage.

"You… you freak," Vernon croaked, trying to scramble to his feet. "You'll regret this!"

But Harry wasn't going to wait around for whatever punishment Vernon had in mind. He grabbed his wand and fled to his tiny bedroom, slamming the door behind him. As his heart raced, his mind spun with fear and fury. His accidental magic had protected him, but the moment made something crystal clear—he couldn't remain vulnerable.


The next few weeks passed in a blur of preparation. After the incident with Vernon, Harry immersed himself in studying his newly acquired books. He knew that learning basic spells wouldn't be enough. He needed to learn the deeper aspects of magic, especially the ones that would keep him safe.

Harry's determination drove him to learn not only the standard curriculum but also advanced topics far beyond what any first-year might know. He dove into ancient texts on Alchemy, discovering its mysteries and the secrets of transmuting materials. Books on warding and rituals filled his evenings. He meticulously learned about wards—how to build them, break them, and reinforce them. He read about protective rituals, enhancement rituals, and spells that could ensure no one could ever get close enough to harm him again.

By the time he was ready to leave for Hogwarts, Harry had learned enough to aptly defend himself. He felt the knowledge humming within him, ready to be unleashed. But still, he knew that this was just the beginning—there was always more to learn.


When the day to leave for Hogwarts finally arrived, Harry felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. At King's Cross Station, he managed to find the barrier to Platform 9 with relative ease. He pushed his trolley through the seemingly solid wall and emerged on the other side to the magical platform, where the Hogwarts Express awaited.

The train was a magnificent sight, its scarlet engine gleaming in the morning sun. Around him, excited students and parents were hugging and saying their goodbyes. But Harry felt alone, even in the midst of the bustling crowd. He adjusted the weight of his trunk and took a deep breath, stepping toward the train.

He found an empty compartment near the back of the train and immediately set up his wards. Using his wand, he crafted invisible magical barriers that would alert him if anyone approached. He didn't want to be disturbed on this journey, preferring to have time to think and prepare for what lay ahead.

As the train began to move, Harry sat back and looked out the window, watching as the countryside rolled by. The golden fields and green hills eventually gave way to more rugged, forested landscapes. His mind drifted to the mysterious world he was entering, and the mysteries of Hogwarts waiting for him.


Several hours later, the train began to slow, and Harry's heart quickened with anticipation. He heard the conductor announce that they were approaching Hogsmeade Station. Harry quickly dispelled his wards and gathered his things.

The train stopped with a jolt, and Harry stepped out onto the platform, taking in the cool, crisp air. The village of Hogsmeade lay in the distance, quaint and magical, but it was the castle that captured his attention. Hogwarts loomed ahead, its silhouette imposing against the darkening sky.

"First years! First years over here!" a familiar voice boomed. Harry turned to see a giant of a man with a bushy beard waving them over. He led the first-years toward the edge of the Black Lake, where small boats were waiting to carry them across the water.

Harry climbed into one of the boats, feeling the gentle sway as it pushed off from the shore. The journey across the lake was magical in a way that no words could truly capture. The inky black water seemed to shimmer, reflecting the stars above. The sound of the waves gently lapping against the boat created a sense of calm, yet the magic in the air was palpable, almost electric.

The castle came into view, its towers and turrets silhouetted against the night sky. It looked both ancient and timeless, filled with secrets and stories of magic that had been passed down for centuries. Harry could feel the weight of history pressing down on him, but instead of fear, he felt awe.

When they finally reached the shore, Harry disembarked, following the other first-years up the stone steps toward the entrance of the castle. His heart raced with excitement and anticipation as they stepped into the massive Entrance Hall, where the ceiling seemed to stretch up into infinity.


The Great Hall was a sight to behold. The ceiling was enchanted to mirror the night sky, with stars twinkling softly above their heads. Four long tables filled the room, and hundreds of students were already seated, their eyes fixed on the newcomers.

Harry and the other first-years lined up in front of the room, and Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on a stool. One by one, the students were called forward, the Hat placed on their heads to determine their House.

When it was finally Harry's turn, the hall fell into a hush. His name was whispered from one student to the next, but Harry didn't let it faze him. He stepped forward calmly, sitting down as Professor McGonagall lowered the Hat onto his head.

For a moment, there was silence in his mind, and then a voice spoke.

"Ah… very interesting. A powerful mind, and a thirst for knowledge. You could do well in any house… but where should I put you?"

Harry waited, unsure of how to respond. He knew enough about the Houses to understand the different traits they valued, but he had no strong preference for any.

"You have ambition, boy. But more than that, you carry the weight of something ancient, something most unusual... Ah, yes, Slytherin would suit you well."

Before Harry could fully process what the Hat meant, it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table erupted in cheers and applause, and Harry made his way over, his heart beating fast. He didn't fully understand the significance of the Sorting, but the Hat's cryptic words lingered in his mind.


As the Sorting finished, Dumbledore rose from his seat at the head of the room, his long silver beard gleaming in the candlelight. His eyes twinkled as he addressed the hall, his voice light and cheerful.

"Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our splendid feast, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

A ripple of laughter spread through the hall, and Dumbledore smiled. "Now, let the feast begin!"

Food appeared suddenly on the tables, and the Great Hall was filled with the sounds of excited chatter and clinking dishes. Harry glanced around, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the spectacle, but he allowed himself to relax, enjoying the warmth of the hall and the delicious food.

Toward the end of the meal, Dumbledore stood once more. His voice was more serious this time, and the hall quieted instantly.

"A few start-of-term notices. First, the Forbidden Forest is, as always, strictly out of bounds to all students. Secondly, a reminder that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."

A murmur ran through the hall at this announcement, but Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't just mentioned something so alarming. "Also, a list of banned items is posted in Mr. Filch's office. Please be sure to check that list before bringing anything questionable into the castle."

Finally, Dumbledore smiled brightly. "And now, before we head off to bed, I think it's time for our school song!

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a long golden ribbon unfurled in the air, forming the words to the Hogwarts school song.

"Everyone, pick your favorite tune," Dumbledore beamed, "and off we go!"

The hall erupted into a chaotic melody as students began to sing, each in their own chosen style.


As the last, lingering notes of the Hogwarts song faded into the rafters, Dumbledore clapped his hands, looking as though he had thoroughly enjoyed the chaotic symphony.

"Ah, music," he said, his eyes twinkling. "A magic beyond all we do here. And now, it's time to head off to your beds—plenty of work awaits tomorrow!"

The students began to rise from their seats, chatting excitedly as the prefects moved forward to guide the first years to their respective dormitories. The Slytherin prefect, a tall, aloof boy with dark hair, waved them over.

"First years, follow me," he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind.

Harry, still feeling a mixture of wonder and disbelief at how quickly his life had changed, fell in line with the other first-year Slytherins. He couldn't help but notice the subtle glances thrown his way—he was Harry Potter, after all, the Boy Who Lived, though he felt no particular pride in that. In fact, he was more focused on the mysteries Hogwarts might hold for him, and how he could continue to grow and learn in ways that would ensure he would never be caught off guard by anyone, ever again.

The group descended deeper into the castle, and Harry's surroundings began to shift. The torches on the walls grew dimmer, the stone colder, as they made their way into the dungeons. The Slytherin common room was located far beneath the castle, as he'd learned from his reading, and Harry found himself oddly comforted by the cool, ancient feel of the place.

Finally, they arrived at a blank stone wall. The prefect turned, casting a sharp look at the group.

"The password is 'Serpens.' Don't forget it," he said sternly. Then, with a quick utterance of the word, the stone wall slid aside to reveal the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

Harry followed the others inside and was met with a space unlike anything he had imagined. The Slytherin common room was elegant in its own way—dark, with low, emerald-green lamps casting an eerie glow. The furniture was rich, dark leather, and large windows stretched along one side of the room, looking out into the murky depths of the Black Lake. He could see the occasional shadow of some great creature moving through the water.

It was cold, yes, but not unwelcoming. Harry felt something stir within him as he looked around—a sense of belonging, perhaps, or at least a sense that he had entered a place of immense history and tradition.

The prefect gave them a brief tour, showing them to their dormitories. Harry's room was a stone chamber with thick green curtains around each bed and trunks already waiting at the foot of each. It was much better than the cupboard he had been forced to live in for so long.

Harry sat on the edge of his bed, taking a moment to breathe. He had never imagined such a place—such a life—could be his. Magic, real magic, pulsed all around him, and with every step further into this world, he felt like he was uncovering pieces of a puzzle that had been waiting for him all his life.

His mind wandered back to the Sorting Hat's strange remarks, the sense that something deep within him was known by the ancient artifact. The puzzle wasn't just Hogwarts—it was Harry himself. He needed to uncover his own history, his own power.

Lying back on the soft mattress, he stared at the stone ceiling above him, his mind already running through the books he had read, the spells he would practice, and the secrets he needed to uncover.

Tomorrow would mark the start of his journey—one that would bring him closer to understanding why he felt so different, so powerful, and so alone.

As Harry closed his eyes, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching over him, waiting in the shadows for him to make his next move.

And for the first time in years, Harry slept soundly, ready for whatever awaited him at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.