AN: Like it or hate it, i really love this story.
Two months had passed since Harry had first arrived at Bones Manor, and life had settled into a kind of rhythm he hadn't expected. His bond with Susan and Hannah had deepened, growing into something he'd only ever seen from afar—a sibling-like connection. The three of them had spent countless hours talking, playing games, and exploring, learning to trust one another in ways that felt entirely new to him. Though he kept his guard up around most people, he found himself relaxing around the two girls; their easy laughter and warmth broke down his walls bit by bit.
In that time, he'd also grown comfortable with Matilda and Edgar, who treated him with kindness and patience. At first, he'd been hesitant to trust them. The Dursleys and the organisation that had taken him—Project Mutant—had taught him to expect disappointment, or worse, from adults. But Matilda and Edgar were different. They didn't demand things from him or try to control him—they simply offered him a place, treating him as if he were one of their own. Slowly, he'd begun to call them "Uncle Edgar" and "Aunt Matilda," testing out the words as if they were foreign but finding comfort in them. They responded warmly each time, and he couldn't deny that it made him feel as though he belonged somewhere, like family didn't have to mean fear or resentment.
And then there was Amelia. Tough, no-nonsense, fiercely protective Amelia. She'd been with him through every step of his return to the wizarding world, looking out for him and giving him a stability he hadn't known he needed. Sometimes, in unguarded moments, he'd look at her and see flashes of his mother, Lily—her eyes or her mannerisms, hints of care hidden beneath a tough exterior. It was an odd feeling, one he kept mostly to himself, but it brought him a measure of comfort.
Now, they stood together on Platform 9, the busy station filled with families seeing off their children, witches and wizards dressed in various robes, and the unmistakable hum of magic in the air. The air was thick with excitement and chatter, and whispers filled the platform around them, though Harry could pick up every word with his heightened senses. "That's the Boy Who Lived!" and "Harry Potter!" were the most frequent phrases, ringing out louder than he would've liked. He tried to ignore them, focusing instead on the people around him.
Amelia, ever prepared, was busy checking that he and Susan had everything they needed. She was practically an efficiency machine, making sure their trunks were secure, robes were packed neatly, and spellbooks were accounted for. As she moved about, she held the cage containing a beautiful snowy white owl, her amber eyes bright and intelligent as she watched Harry curiously. Amelia had gifted Hedwig to him as a belated birthday present, and the thoughtfulness of the gesture had left him speechless. It wasn't just an owl—it was a sign that someone had thought of him, really thought of him, in a way he wasn't used to.
Nearby, Hannah's parents were doting on her, fussing over every little detail and making sure she was prepared for her first year. The sight made Harry smile slightly, reminded of how Amelia, too, had made sure he was equipped with everything he might need. With a final nod, Amelia turned to Susan, pulling her into a warm hug, her usual stern expression softened with fondness.
"Be safe, and look after each other," she said, her voice steady but laced with care. "I'll see you both during the holidays."
As Susan pulled back, she gave her aunt a small smile, her voice quiet. "Bye, Auntie Amelia," she murmured.
Then Amelia turned to Harry, her face unreadable for a moment, before she pulled him into a quick but firm hug. Harry blinked, taken off guard by the gesture. It was the kind of hug he hadn't received since… well, he couldn't remember when. In that moment, he felt the full weight of everything she'd done for him—protecting him, guiding him, giving him a second chance at family.
Something in him softened, and he felt words bubbling up, words he hadn't planned to say. "See ya… Mum," he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop himself.
Amelia froze, and the effect rippled out instantly. A hush fell over the crowd, and everyone nearby turned to look, eyes widening in shock. People whispered to one another in amazement, and even those who didn't know Amelia personally recognized her title—The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. To see her, the powerful and stoic Amelia Bones, caught off guard and on the verge of tears was a sight none had ever expected. She blinked rapidly, her eyes shining as a few tears slipped down her cheeks, and her expression softened in a way no one present had ever witnessed.
She brushed a stray tear away quickly, trying to regain her composure, but the faint smile on her face showed she didn't mind the display. "You two take care of each other," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, as she gave Harry's shoulder a gentle squeeze. He could feel the sincerity and care radiating from her, and he was glad, for once, to have shared his feelings so openly.
Susan gave Harry an encouraging look, and together, she, Harry, and Hannah boarded the train. They moved through the narrow corridor, looking for an empty carriage, brushing past other students who craned their necks to get a glimpse of the Boy Who Lived.
Finally, they found an empty carriage near the back and settled in, dropping their bags and taking seats by the windows. The train whistled, a sharp sound that signaled their impending departure, and the platform began to shift out of view as the Hogwarts Express pulled away.
Susan glanced out the window, her face lit with excitement as she took in the sight of the bustling station. "I can't believe we're actually going to Hogwarts," she whispered, half to herself.
Hannah nodded eagerly, her eyes bright. "It's finally real," she said, leaning forward, practically bouncing in her seat. "All those stories my mum and dad told me… it's happening."
Harry, who hadn't really thought about Hogwarts in the same way, watched them both, their joy infectious. He hadn't grown up hearing about Hogwarts or learning about its mysteries—magic, for him, had been something he'd had to hide and fear until very recently. But as he listened to their excitement, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of anticipation himself.
The train compartment was quiet and comfortable as Harry, Susan, and Hannah settled in, watching the platform disappear through the window. They were finally headed to Hogwarts, and the air in the compartment was light with excitement—at least until the door slid open.
A tall, gangly red-haired boy stuck his head inside, his gaze landing on Harry with a spark of recognition before his expression turned slightly too casual. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside and plopped his luggage down, taking the seat across from Harry.
"Hey, all the other compartments are full," he said with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hope you don't mind."
Harry raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "All of the compartments are full?" he repeated in a flat, skeptical tone, his eyes narrowing just slightly. He could feel the lie hanging in the air, but he said nothing more, choosing instead to study the boy carefully.
The redhead shifted slightly under Harry's gaze but quickly moved on, flashing another grin and rubbing his hands together. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley," he introduced himself, not seeming to notice Harry's lack of response. Susan and Hannah exchanged a glance, trying to be polite as they introduced themselves in turn, though Harry kept his silence, his posture tense as he watched Ron with a guarded expression.
Almost immediately, Ron launched into a stream of chatter, as if filling the quiet would win over his new compartment mates. "So, which houses do you reckon you'll be in?" he asked, clearly expecting the others to join in. "I'll be a Gryffindor, no doubt about it," he said, puffing his chest out slightly. "That's where all the real wizards go."
Harry said nothing, but he saw Susan and Hannah exchange a slightly uncomfortable look. Ron either didn't notice or didn't care, as he continued confidently.
"Gryffindor's the best, obviously. The others, though?" He wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. "Slytherin? Bunch of nasty Junior Death Eaters in training. Ravenclaw?" He scoffed. "Just a load of absolute snotty know-it-alls. And Hufflepuff? That's where the duffers go, you know—the dumbest of the lot."
At this, both Susan and Hannah visibly tensed. Susan clenched her fists, her face growing pink as she bit back a response. Gathering her courage, she took a breath and, in a voice steadier than she felt, said, "Well, I'm going to be in Hufflepuff. And I'd be proud to be in that house."
Ron snorted, letting out a braying laugh that sounded like a pig. "Hufflepuff? You're serious?" he said, looking at her as though she'd told him she wanted to live under a rock. "Good luck with that, then." He chuckled, clearly amused, then turned to Harry as if they were already best mates. "Harry, mate, let's leave these duffers and find somewhere more… Gryffindor."
Harry's eyes darkened. He stood up slowly, towering over Ron, who suddenly stopped laughing. Without a word, Harry reached down, grabbing Ron by the back of his collar and lifting him effortlessly, luggage and all. The look on Ron's face quickly shifted from smug confidence to alarm.
In a swift motion, Harry stepped toward the compartment door, swinging it open and shoving Ron and his belongings out into the hallway. Ron stumbled, tripping over his own feet as he tried to gather his balance. With a cold, unyielding gaze, Harry slid the door shut and locked it, his movements precise and controlled.
Ron blinked, clearly shocked, then began pounding on the glass, trying to open the door. He rattled the handle for what felt like an eternity, grumbling and huffing as he realized it wouldn't budge. After about ten minutes of futile attempts, he finally gave up with an indignant huff, dragging his luggage behind him as he stomped off down the train corridor.
Inside the compartment, Susan and Hannah sat wide-eyed, watching Harry as he returned to his seat. Susan broke into a grin, a mixture of gratitude and admiration in her eyes. "Thanks, Harry," she said softly.
Harry gave her a small nod, his expression softening as he looked at his two friends. "Anytime," he replied, settling back in his seat, keeping a watchful eye on the door just in case their unwelcome visitor decided to return.
An hour and a half had passed since Ron's abrupt exit, and the compartment had grown quiet. Susan and Hannah were curled up on their seats, having drifted off into a light nap. Harry, on the other hand, was wide awake, his eyes sharp and focused as he kept an unyielding watch on the compartment door. His senses remained heightened, even as the countryside rolled by outside the window.
Since that ginger boy had tried to charm his way in, Harry's vigilance had only increased. Occasionally, students passed by their compartment, sometimes stopping to peer inside, but each time, a friend or two would whisk them away before they had a chance to knock. Harry found it a bit amusing, but more than that, he felt reassured. He took Amelia's words to heart—he would look after Susan, and, by extension, Hannah. They were his friends, his chosen family, his sisters. He wasn't about to let anything happen to them.
Eventually, he noticed a familiar figure outside the door. A flash of platinum-blond hair caught his attention, and he straightened, his eyes narrowing. Draco Malfoy had stopped outside their compartment, two large boys flanking him on either side—Goyle and Crabbe, Harry assumed. Draco tried the handle, only to find it locked, then knocked firmly on the glass, rousing both Susan and Hannah.
Hannah stretched and blinked herself awake, sitting up as her gaze landed on Draco and his companions. Draco's face bore a haughty expression as he waited, clearly expecting immediate attention. Harry remained silent, his gaze fixed and unreadable as he looked at the door.
Hannah, however, stood up, brushing off her robes. Despite the Abbott family's less-than-favorable view of the Malfoys, they adhered to the old customs of pureblood etiquette. She gave a polite, practiced curtsy to Draco as she opened the door a crack.
"Good day, Heir Malfoy," she greeted, her voice cordial but cautious.
Draco's cold eyes softened slightly as he inclined his head in response, adopting a similarly formal tone. "Good day, Heir Abbott," he replied, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His gaze flicked over to Harry, and he raised an eyebrow in recognition. "And Heir Potter," he continued, his tone polite but with a slight edge. "I believe we met briefly in Diagon Alley. I thought it appropriate to introduce myself properly."
Harry gave a brief, curt nod, his expression unfazed. "Right. Properly," he said flatly, showing no sign of moving to shake hands or further the interaction. He stayed seated, his posture relaxed but his gaze watchful.
Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry's less-than-enthusiastic response but continued, undeterred. "I am Draco Malfoy, as you already know. And these," he gestured to the boys beside him, "are Crabbe and Goyle." They stood there, trying their best to look intimidating, though Harry barely spared them a glance.
Hannah maintained her poise, though she cast a glance back at Susan, who was watching Draco with wary curiosity. Susan, remembering Amelia's warnings about the Malfoys, shifted a bit closer to Harry, sensing the unspoken tension in the room.
Draco's gaze flicked between the three of them, his expression a mix of amusement and entitlement. "It's rare to see heirs from the prominent families together in one place," he remarked. "I suppose you're… keeping each other company."
"Yes, we are," Harry said in a tone that bordered on dismissive, his eyes narrowing slightly. He hadn't forgotten Draco's first impression or the feeling of superiority he carried with him. "And we're quite comfortable as we are."
Draco's smirk wavered for a moment as he assessed Harry's tone. "Of course. Well, perhaps you'll consider that certain alliances can be… beneficial," he said, his gaze cold and calculating. "It's important to know the right sort of people."
Hannah maintained her polite composure, though she seemed less inclined to entertain Draco's posturing. "Thank you for the visit, Heir Malfoy," she said, her tone still courteous but firm, a subtle hint for him to move along.
Draco's smirk returned, though he inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the dismissal. "Very well," he replied, casting a final look at Harry. "I'm sure we'll meet again soon enough."
He took a step back, giving Crabbe and Goyle a subtle nod as they turned to leave. The moment the door slid shut, Susan let out a small sigh of relief, and Hannah slumped slightly, looking over at Harry with an amused grin.
"Well, that was… interesting," she said, rolling her eyes. "Not sure what he hoped to accomplish."
Harry shrugged, still watching the door intently, his posture finally relaxing. "He wanted to make a show of it. Guess it didn't go quite the way he expected," he replied, a faint smirk of satisfaction on his face.
As they got closer to hogwarts, Harry stepped out of the compartment to let Hannah and Susan change into their robes, leaning against the wall in the narrow corridor. His eyes scanned the bustling hallway, his senses on high alert even in this supposedly safe space. Lost in thought, he was startled when a bushy-haired girl crashed into him, clearly in a hurry. She barely acknowledged the collision, her eyes bright with urgency.
"Have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one," she demanded, her tone sharp, leaving little room for pleasantries.
Harry raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by her lack of apology. The name caught his attention, though, and he found himself answering, almost against his instincts. "Neville?" he asked cautiously. "Longbottom?"
The girl huffed, her arms crossing as she replied impatiently, "I don't know his last name. He's just looking for his toad," she said, brushing off his question without a second thought.
Before Harry could answer, the compartment door slid open behind him. Hannah and Susan stepped out, adjusting their robes and letting the sunlight flood in through the compartment windows. The girl's gaze fell on Harry's forehead, and her eyes went wide as the sunlight illuminated the lightning bolt-shaped scar there.
"You're… you're Harry Potter!" she gasped, her eyes widening in shock and awe. Without asking, she pushed Harry back into the compartment, forcing her way in behind him. "I know all about you!" she continued, her voice buzzing with excitement, clearly thrilled to be face-to-face with someone she'd only read about in books.
Harry's first instinct was to back away. There was something intrusive, even invasive, about her enthusiasm. He studied her, noticing her school robes and her overly eager expression, the way she practically seemed to bask in her own knowledge.
"I'm Hermione Granger," she announced proudly, "and I'm a Muggle-born." She seemed to emphasize the term, as if it were something that should impress him.
The word Muggle hit Harry like a cold wave, triggering memories that he'd spent months trying to bury. The images of Project Mutant came rushing back, of the scientists, of the tools, the cage… He could feel his breathing quicken, a sharp, shallow rhythm that left him dizzy. His hands clenched tightly, his nails pressing into his palms. A flare of pain ran through his hands, the metal claws barely breaking the surface, a reminder of the rage he kept buried but could never quite control.
Hermione, unaware of his turmoil, looked at his fists with a slight frown. "You're bleeding," she said bluntly, her tone factual, almost clinical, as if pointing out a stray ink stain on a piece of parchment.
Susan quickly picked up on Harry's distress, noticing the wild look in his eyes, and moved between him and Hermione, gently pushing the girl toward the door. "Thank you for stopping by, Hermione," she said with polite firmness, her tone making it clear that the visit had come to an end. "But we're just about to… get ready. Maybe you should keep looking for Neville's toad?"
Hermione huffed, clearly reluctant to leave without saying more, but Susan's firm gaze convinced her. Casting one last look of curiosity at Harry, she backed out of the compartment, the door sliding shut behind her.
As soon as she left, Harry's calm facade shattered. The pounding in his ears grew louder, and before he realized what he was doing, he drew back his fist and punched the compartment wall, hard. His knuckles connected with a sickening crunch, and a dent appeared in the thin metal. He punched again, the force sending a small tremor through the compartment, and this time the glass of the window cracked, thin lines spiderwebbing outward from the impact.
Hannah and Susan both jumped, their eyes wide with shock, but neither of them moved to stop him. They simply watched as he punched the wall again, harder, his knuckles now raw and bleeding, the faint tips of his claws peeking out beneath his skin. His breathing was ragged, his face twisted in a mixture of pain and fury as he continued to pound the wall, each blow louder than the last.
Finally, his fists met the wall one last time, and he felt the metal tips of his claws dig into the surface, snagging slightly as they caught in the damaged wall. He tried to pull his hands back, but the claws were wedged in too tightly. The shock of being trapped jolted him out of his rage, and he took a shuddering breath, his shoulders slumping as the anger drained away, leaving only exhaustion and a throbbing ache in his hands.
As he looked around, the scene hit him fully—the cracked window, the deep dents in the wall, the small puddle of blood pooling beneath his hands. For a moment, he felt a rush of shame, expecting to see fear in Hannah and Susan's eyes. He'd shown them a side of himself that he'd tried so hard to keep hidden, the part of him that was a product of Project Mutant, of the rage and pain he carried like scars beneath his skin.
But instead of fear, he saw concern. Without a word, Susan moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight, steadying hug. Hannah joined her, her hands resting gently on his shoulders, her expression one of unwavering support.
"It's okay, Harry," Susan murmured, her voice soft and reassuring. "We're here."
Their warmth, their simple, unafraid presence, was more than he could handle. He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat as he let their embrace ground him. He could feel his pulse slow, the last traces of adrenaline ebbing away as he allowed himself to lean into their support, to accept that they weren't afraid of him, even after everything they'd just seen.
As his breathing steadied, he finally managed to pull his hands from the wall, wincing as the metal tips of his claws slipped back beneath his skin. Blood smeared across the dents, and the cracks in the glass reflected back an image of himself that felt both familiar and foreign.
Hannah gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, her face soft with understanding. "You don't have to be alone in this, Harry," she said quietly.
He nodded, his voice thick with emotion as he replied, "Thanks… both of you."
The three of them stayed in the compartment, the quiet settling around them like a comforting blanket. The damage to the wall remained, a mark of the outburst he couldn't fully contain, but the presence of his friends kept him grounded, their quiet support reminding him that, for the first time, he didn't have to face his demons alone.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the train corridor, and before any of them could react, a tall girl in a prefect's badge appeared at their compartment door, her expression a mixture of concern and authority. She slid the door open, her eyes widening as she took in the scene—the dents in the wall, the cracks in the window, and, most of all, the small red puddle on the floor near Harry's feet.
"Oh my…" she murmured, her gaze immediately softening as she registered the blood. She stepped forward, instinctively reaching for Harry's hand, which he tried to pull back, but her gentle grip held firm. Her fingers brushed against his skin, her brow furrowing as she saw no open wound on his hand. Drying blood clung to his knuckles, but there was no visible injury beneath it. She glanced up at him, her gaze curious yet filled with concern.
"You're alright?" she asked softly, pulling a tissue from her pocket and wiping the drying blood from his hands. Harry said nothing, still tense, but nodded. Satisfied that he wasn't hurt, she cast her wand over the compartment, murmuring, "Reparo," as the glass window mended itself with a faint crackling sound. The dents in the wall smoothed over, and she followed with a quick "Scourgify" to clear away the blood.
Once the compartment was restored to normal, she glanced around at the three eleven-year-olds, her gaze settling on Harry with an understanding that went beyond her years. She crouched slightly to meet their eye level, her voice soft but serious.
"None of you are in trouble, don't worry," she said gently. "I won't ask what happened—you don't have to tell me if you're not ready. But please, be careful next time," she said, a hint of kindness in her tone as she looked over their tense faces.
Hannah and Susan exchanged a relieved glance, while Harry simply nodded, feeling a strange sense of gratitude for her unspoken acceptance. She gave them all a reassuring smile before she stood up, smoothing her robes.
"If you need anything," she added quietly, "just find me. My name's Penelope Clearwater, and I'm a Ravenclaw prefect. Don't hesitate, alright?"
With that, she stepped back, offering one last comforting nod before slipping out of the compartment and sliding the door shut behind her, leaving Harry, Susan, and Hannah feeling a bit lighter, reassured by her quiet understanding.
After a moment of quiet reflection, Harry gave his head a brief shake as if dismissing his thoughts. Without a second thought, he began to pull his clothes off to change into his Hogwarts robes, moving as if he were entirely alone.
Both Susan and Hannah's faces turned bright red as they realized what was happening, their eyes widening in shock.
"Harry!" Susan squeaked, looking away quickly.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Hannah stammered, her face hot with embarrassment.
The girls tried to make a hasty exit from the compartment, but a glimpse of Harry's frame stopped them in their tracks. His torso, well-defined and muscular, was unlike anything they'd ever seen on a boy their age. Hannah could barely believe her eyes. How can an eleven-year-old have abs and arms like that? she thought, utterly flabbergasted. He looked more like a young athlete than someone their age.
Susan, who was already aware of his metal bones and enhanced physique, snapped back to reality first, her shock quickly turning to exasperation. She yanked off her shoe, marching back over to Harry as he finished fastening his robes.
"What were you thinking?" she hissed, whacking him over the head repeatedly with her shoe. "Changing without warning us? Not letting us leave? Not even locking the door?"
Harry blinked, staring at her blankly, entirely unfazed by her assault. As the train came to a gradual stop, he finally muttered, "What?"
Susan threw her hands up dramatically. "I give up with you!" she exclaimed, exasperated. She exchanged a look with Hannah, who was still looking anywhere but at Harry, cheeks bright red.
Once they were all dressed, they grabbed their things and shuffled off the train, joining the crowd of students heading toward the boats for first years. Harry's eyes swept over the sea of faces until he caught sight of a familiar frizzy-haired figure. The sight of Hermione triggered something instinctive in him, and a low, rumbling growl escaped his throat as he remembered her abrupt intrusion earlier.
Before he could move, he felt a sharp pain as Hannah stomped down on his foot, breaking his concentration. She wore a determined scowl as she looked up at him. Despite her shoes, she could feel the density of his bones underfoot, but she stood her ground, hoping to jolt him out of his tension.
Harry blinked, his expression softening as he looked down at her in surprise.
"No growling," she whispered sternly, shooting him a firm look.
Harry sighed, giving a curt nod, and Susan and Hannah exchanged a satisfied glance. With that, they joined the other first years, moving forward toward the start of their new journey at Hogwarts.
They made their way toward the lake with the other first years, Harry's gaze drifted toward the path leading up to the castle. Among the older students heading in that direction, he noticed something unusual—a large, skeletal black horse pulling one of the carriages up the winding path.
"Look at those horses…" he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. The creature's bony frame and leathery wings fascinated him, its eerie elegance unlike anything he'd seen before. It moved with a steady grace, almost blending into the shadows as it walked.
Susan and Hannah looked where he was pointing, but after a moment, they exchanged confused glances. "What horses?" Susan asked, tilting her head.
Harry frowned slightly, his eyes still fixed on the skeletal creature. "Right there," he said, gesturing toward the horse as it pulled a carriage up the hill. "You don't see it?"
Hannah shook her head, her brow furrowing. "Harry, there's nothing there. The carriages just… move on their own," she said, watching him with a mix of curiosity and concern.
Realizing they couldn't see what he saw, Harry fell silent, puzzled but unwilling to press the matter. Whatever these creatures were, he felt an odd sense of kinship with them, as if they shared some unspoken understanding of life's darker truths. The thought settled over him as he turned back to join the other first years at the lake, casting one last look at the shadowy horse as it faded into the distance.
Harry's attention shifted from the unseen black horses to the line of boats by the lake. Just as he was about to follow the crowd, something small and green caught his eye. A toad was hopping along the path, trying to disappear into a nearby bush. Recognizing it as the lost pet he'd heard about earlier, he knelt down, gently scooping the toad up in his hands.
He held it carefully, his fingers steady. "If I hold onto this, Neville will find me sooner or later," he muttered, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Hannah and Susan, now fully awake and brimming with energy, joined him on either side as they headed toward the boats together.
As they approached, they found a giant man, who didn't introduce himself for whatever reason, who directed them to a small boat with a few open spots. Harry stepped in, securing a spot with Hannah and Susan on either side of him. Just as he sat down, a chubby boy with a worried look stepped in cautiously. Harry noticed his gaze flick to the toad in his hands, relief flooding his expression.
"T-That's Trevor! Thank you!" he said, his voice filled with gratitude. Harry gave a slight nod, passing the toad back to his godbrother-who-didnt-realise-who-he-was, watching as the boy clutched it close with a small smile of thanks.
Before Harry could settle in, the last figure approached their boat—the bushy-haired girl from earlier, Hermione Granger. She climbed in without hesitation, claiming the last available seat. The sight of her made Harry tense instinctively. Her presence reminded him too much of Petunia's prying stares or the scientists' detached curiosity. She was Muggle-born, a fact she had mentioned so boldly before, and it gnawed at him, leaving him uneasy and guarded in her presence.
He told himself it wasn't her fault, that it was just a coincidence she'd approached him with that same detached, matter-of-fact curiosity. But every glance she shot his way made him feel as if he were being scrutinized, as though he were an experiment again. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his composure as she sat across from him, looking around at the others with barely concealed excitement.
Meanwhile, on the dock, Ron Weasley was attempting to push Susan aside to take her spot in the boat. Without a word, Harry extended his hand, grabbing Ron's arm in a firm grip and holding him in place with ease. He didn't say anything, but his steady hold on Ron's arm made it clear that he wasn't about to let the boy interfere with Susan's spot. Ron's eyes widened slightly, and after a brief struggle, he backed off, huffing in frustration as he found a different boat. He ended up sitting with a loud, dark-haired boy with an Irish accent and a couple of other students who didn't seem to mind his presence.
As the boats began to glide across the lake, Harry's gaze flickered over the water, doing his best to ignore Hermione's gaze, which kept drifting toward him with a mixture of awe and curiosity. She seemed entirely unaware of his discomfort, chattering occasionally about what she'd read about Hogwarts, the Sorting, and everything she thought they were about to experience. Her voice, though bright with excitement, grated on Harry's nerves, each word reminding him of the detached Muggle scientists, of cold laboratories, and sharp tools.
Hermione's focus eventually settled on Harry himself, her curiosity piqued. "You know, I read all about you in Hogwarts: A History. Your story, I mean. It's really quite remarkable, the things you survived," she said with a kind of detached admiration that felt invasive.
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He clenched his jaw, gripping the edge of the boat tightly, the water lapping quietly as they moved across the dark lake. He glanced away, refusing to meet her gaze. He could feel Susan and Hannah shift closer to him, a silent show of support that helped ground him. His mind kept flashing to those lab-coated Muggles who had seen him as nothing but a curiosity, a tool, a project.
Susan noticed the tension in Harry's face and quickly changed the subject, steering the conversation away from Hermione's invasive questions. She began chatting animatedly with Hannah about Hogwarts, describing the castle and the feast they'd heard about. Hermione looked mildly disappointed but shifted her attention back to the scenery, oblivious to the relief her silence brought.
As they neared the shore, the looming silhouette of Hogwarts Castle grew larger, its lights twinkling against the night sky. For a brief moment, Harry allowed himself to relax, soaking in the beauty of the scene, the whispers of water around them calming his racing thoughts. He focused on the grandeur of the castle, the glow of its windows against the dark sky, letting the magic of the moment help push away the lingering unease Hermione's presence stirred within him.
Whatever awaited them within the castle walls, he felt ready—as long as his friends were by his side.
As the boats drifted toward the dock near Hogwarts, Harry's gaze stayed fixed on the towering castle, its turrets and spires piercing the starlit sky. The sight was awe-inspiring, filling him with a mix of excitement and apprehension. When they finally reached the shore, he was the first to step out, steadying himself before turning back to help his friends.
He offered his hand to Hannah and Susan, both of whom took it gratefully, smiling as he helped them onto the dock. They had grown used to his subtle protectiveness, and it gave them a sense of comfort as they found their footing on the damp wooden planks. He then offered his hand to Neville, who still clutched his toad, Trevor, close to his chest. Neville looked at Harry with a mix of gratitude and nervousness, taking his hand with a shy nod.
Lastly, he extended a reluctant hand to Hermione. She took it without hesitation, clearly not noticing his initial hesitation. As she stepped out of the boat, Harry felt a brief, sharp pain in his palm—a tiny dot of blood appeared as his claws instinctively threatened to break the skin. He quickly wiped it away with his sleeve before she could notice, keeping his face expressionless.
Once everyone was out of the boat, they joined the other first years, forming a line as they followed Hagrid up toward the castle. The night air was cool, the pathway dimly lit by the occasional torch mounted along the stone walls. Harry could feel the weight of Hogwarts looming above them, a place of magic and mystery that held promises he didn't yet understand but felt deeply drawn to. He walked slightly ahead of his friends, alert and ready, casting occasional glances back to make sure they were all still there.
He didn't let his guard down as they climbed the winding path, but knowing his friends were beside him gave him a strange sense of peace.
As they were led up the grand stone steps by the giant who had taken them across the lake, Harry found himself marveling at the sheer size and age of Hogwarts. The giant, who had finally introduced himself as Hagrid, pushed open a set of massive oak doors, his friendly demeanor giving Harry a hint of reassurance amid the overwhelming scene.
As the towering doors of Hogwarts creaked open under Hagrid's guidance, Harry's senses were flooded with the sheer scale and grandeur of the castle. He took a steadying breath, feeling a curious mix of excitement and anxiety. Around him, the other first-year students seemed equally awed, their eyes wide as they took in the stone walls, the flickering torches casting warm light on ancient tapestries, and the vaulted ceilings that rose impossibly high above them.
Hagrid, with his large, comforting presence, led them inside, his footsteps echoing in the entrance hall. Harry noticed the giant man's casual way of brushing off the dust from the journey across the lake, and a small smile played at the corner of his lips. Hagrid had the kind of unaffected warmth that Harry rarely encountered. As they came to a stop, the group shuffled into a loose gathering, nervously murmuring to each other.
They were soon joined by a tall, stern-looking woman with her hair pulled into a tight bun. Her eyes swept over the students, appraising each of them in turn. When her gaze settled on Harry, however, she faltered, her stern expression softening as she looked at him with something between shock and deep sentiment. For a moment, Harry saw a flicker of sadness and something like pride as she took in his appearance. She seemed caught off guard, her composure cracking ever so slightly as her gaze lingered.
Harry wasn't used to this kind of attention. People staring at him was one thing, but there was something different in the way this woman looked at him. It wasn't awe, curiosity, or pity. It was almost… familial. For a moment, he felt himself tense, but her expression shifted, and she seemed to gather herself, resuming her composure. She straightened her back, her eyes steely once more as she addressed the students in a clear, authoritative voice.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her Scottish accent lending an air of formality. "I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of this school. In a few moments, you will be sorted into one of the four houses. These houses—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin—will be like your family while you are here. Each house has its own unique history, and each of you will add to that legacy."
She continued, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. "Your house will be your community, the students with whom you will share your achievements and your challenges. You will earn points for your house through hard work and excellence, and you may also lose points for breaking school rules. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup, a great honor."
The students whispered nervously among themselves. Harry glanced at Susan and Hannah, both of whom seemed slightly anxious but were putting on brave faces. Susan had talked about wanting to be a Hufflepuff, and Harry could see her determination shining through the nervousness. Hannah, meanwhile, looked around with wide eyes, clearly enchanted by the grandeur of the castle. Harry gave each of them a reassuring nod, even as he felt his own pulse quicken.
With a final nod, McGonagall gestured for them to follow. "Now, if you'll come with me."
She led them through another set of doors, and as they crossed the threshold, Harry felt a wave of warmth and magic that he could almost taste in the air. It was unlike anything he'd felt before, and he could tell from the hush that fell over the crowd that the others felt it too. He followed closely behind Susan and Hannah, his senses on high alert, taking in every detail of the space as they entered the Great Hall.
The hall was vast, larger than any room he had ever seen, with four long tables stretching across its length, each filled with students dressed in black robes, their faces a mix of anticipation, curiosity, and welcome as they watched the newcomers enter. Above, a ceiling enchanted to look like the night sky glittered with stars, casting a magical glow over the hall. Candles floated in mid-air, their soft light illuminating the students below and adding to the already surreal atmosphere.
Hannah gasped softly beside him. "It's… it's beautiful," she whispered, her eyes wide with wonder.
Susan nodded, equally captivated. "I'd read about it, but… I never imagined it would look like this."
Harry, too, found himself awestruck, though he tried to mask his surprise. He'd never seen anything remotely like it. This place was steeped in magic, and for a moment, he felt the weight of everything he'd gone through lift slightly, replaced by a sense of awe. Despite his instinct to remain guarded, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement.
At the far end of the hall stood a raised platform where a long table was set. Professors sat there, observing the first years with interest. At the center was an older man with a long white beard and half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. His piercing blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of wisdom and humor, and Harry felt as though the man was looking directly at him. He felt a faint sense of familiarity, but couldn't place why.
McGonagall led them to a small, battered stool on the platform, on which an old, patched-up hat rested. The hall fell silent as she gestured to the hat, which suddenly stirred. Harry's eyes widened as a rip near the brim opened like a mouth, and the hat began to sing, its voice strong and confident, echoing through the hall. The song described each house and its virtues, speaking of courage, loyalty, wisdom, and ambition.
As the hat's song came to an end, McGonagall unrolled a scroll, her voice ringing out as she called the names of the new students, one by one. Harry watched as his peers nervously approached the stool, sitting down as the hat was placed on their heads. Some were sorted almost instantly, while others took a little longer. The hall cheered or murmured in approval as each name was called.
When Susan's name was finally announced, she gave Harry and Hannah a quick, nervous smile before stepping forward. She sat on the stool, looking resolute, and the hat barely touched her head before calling out, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers, and Harry could see Susan visibly relax, her face breaking into a relieved grin as she joined her new housemates.
A few minutes later, it was Hannah's turn. She walked up, a little less confidently, but with a determined look on her face. After a brief pause, the hat announced, "HUFFLEPUFF!" Hannah's shoulders relaxed, and she beamed as she hurried over to join Susan at the Hufflepuff table, where the two girls exchanged happy smiles.
Harry's name hadn't been called yet, and he waited with a mixture of impatience and curiosity. Finally, McGonagall's voice rang out, clear and strong, "Harry Potter!"
The Great Hall fell completely silent, and he could feel the weight of hundreds of eyes turning toward him. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep his expression neutral as he walked toward the stool, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. He knew that everyone was watching, their whispers just barely audible as he passed by.
The Sorting Hat settled onto Harry's head, and almost immediately, an intense warmth enveloped him, a kind of probing that delved deep into his memories, his emotions, his very core. But unlike what Harry had expected, the Hat's voice didn't remain private. It rang out loud and clear across the Great Hall, amplified for all to hear, as if compelled to reveal Harry's story.
"Oh my… I must say, this is extraordinary," the Hat began, its voice echoing in the silent hall. The gathered students and professors stilled, every eye fixed on Harry with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. The Hat paused, as if absorbing the weight of Harry's essence, then continued, its tone almost reverent. "Such power… so much within you… I've not encountered a magical core this strong since Merlin himself."
A hushed gasp swept through the hall as students turned to one another in wide-eyed amazement. Teachers exchanged stunned glances, and an intense whisper broke out: "Stronger than Merlin," they murmured. "Could he really be?"
Dumbledore's usually serene face paled as he sat up straight, his sharp blue eyes fixated on Harry, his expression a mix of pride and awe. He had known that Harry was powerful, that he was destined for greatness. But to hear that Harry's core—his very essence of magic—was stronger than that of Merlin himself shook even Dumbledore to the core. This changed everything. Every plan he'd made, every idea of guiding or controlling Harry's future, fell away in that moment. All he could think was how best to support this young man, to ensure that the vast potential within him would be nurtured, not exploited.
But the Hat wasn't finished.
"Yet… I see a past riddled with darkness," it said, its tone dropping to a softer, somber pitch that seemed to settle like a shadow over the room. "The Dursleys, yes… but even beyond them. I see your time under the hand of a group of Muggles—those who called themselves Project Mutant. I see their plans, their cruelty, their experiments to make you into a weapon, a tool they called Wolverine. A child of magic, encased in metal. I see your pain."
Gasps echoed around the hall as horrified whispers filled the room, faces turning toward Harry with shock, pity, and disbelief. Students clutched at their robes, some staring at Harry with a new understanding. Even the teachers were clearly taken aback. Professor McGonagall's stern face was uncharacteristically stricken, a hand pressed to her mouth as she looked at Harry, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Snape's reaction was different—his gaze grew darker, his expression a mixture of suspicion and empathy. Whatever his personal feelings toward Harry, Snape knew what it was like to suffer under forces beyond his control. And though he usually held disdain for Harry's father, James, he looked at Harry now with a glint of something else in his eyes—perhaps respect.
Harry, feeling increasingly exposed, tried to brace himself, his heart hammering. He clenched his fists, his fingers digging into the wood of the stool as the Hat continued.
"And… I see more," the Hat whispered, its voice filled with wonder and respect. "I see someone who came for you, someone whose heart broke at the sight of what they'd done to you. Yes… Dumbledore. He didn't come alone, did he?"
The hall fell deathly silent, and all eyes turned to Dumbledore, who sat with a solemn expression, his face deeply lined, his usually twinkling gaze somber as he met Harry's eyes. The Hat continued, its voice reverberating as it brought forth memories of Harry's rescue.
"Albus Dumbledore came, yes, but he did not come simply to negotiate. I see him using magic that I, myself, did not think he could wield. I see him strike out against those who dared harm you. Yes, dark spells, fierce spells that wounded and even killed those responsible for your torment. He wielded these spells to save you, to free you from their grip."
A fresh wave of gasps swept through the hall. Dumbledore, a wielder of dark magic? It seemed unthinkable to many, yet there was no denying the Hat's words. Faces turned to him, some in awe, others in shock or apprehension. And yet, Dumbledore didn't flinch or deny it. He looked at Harry, his face softened with something that might have been regret but also fierce pride. He held no shame for what he had done. In that moment, he knew he'd do it all over again if it meant saving Harry.
Snape's brows knitted, and a strange look of respect passed over his usually guarded features. His contempt for Dumbledore's reputation as the "Light's Champion" wavered, replaced by admiration. Whatever his personal history with dark magic, Snape could recognize the weight of Dumbledore's decision, the cost of wielding dark spells out of love and desperation.
The Hat sighed softly, as if it, too, were moved by the weight of Harry's past. "And here you are, Harry Potter. Despite all of it, you remain resilient, compassionate, a young man of uncommon strength and balance. Equally suited to all four houses, with courage, loyalty, ambition, and intellect so intertwined… I see every house in you, Harry Potter. It is no wonder you bear the potential of the greatest of wizards. A heart stronger than Merlin's, and a magical core that shines brighter still."
Students sat in stunned silence, whispers of "next Merlin" filling the air, their astonished faces turned toward Harry, unable to process the magnitude of the Sorting Hat's declaration. Every professor was visibly moved, some looking at Harry with wonder and awe, others with renewed respect and pride.
But the Hat wasn't quite finished. "So then, Harry Potter," it announced, its voice once again calm and powerful. "The choice is yours. Where would you like to go? Each house could nurture you, but only you can choose the path that lies ahead."
Harry felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on him, and he swallowed, his mind racing. The Hat's words lingered in his thoughts, swirling with the astonished gazes around him, the awed murmurs. But he forced himself to focus, to think through his options.
"Where would that ginger boy go, Weasley?" he asked aloud, his voice steady but cautious.
The Hat let out a chuckle, its tone light. "Ah, young Ronald Weasley—most likely Gryffindor. His entire family has gone there for generations."
Harry's gaze drifted toward the Gryffindor table, his eyes catching sight of Ron Weasley, who looked both pale and stunned by the public Sorting. Harry remembered Ron's dismissive attitude, his casual dismissal of Hufflepuff and his quick sense of entitlement. Gryffindor was a house Harry could respect, but he doubted he'd find true companionship among people like Ron.
"And that pompous blond I forgot the name of? The one with the father who looks like a girl?" Harry asked, his voice dry.
The Hat laughed again, its voice loud enough to echo around the hall, drawing murmurs of amusement from the students and professors alike. "Ah, yes, Mister Malfoy—already sorted, and in Slytherin, as expected. I dare say you two wouldn't see eye to eye."
With Gryffindor and Slytherin all but ruled out, Harry's choices were narrowing. He felt a strange sense of clarity, his mind moving toward the final decision.
"Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, then?" the Hat mused aloud, seeming to savor the moment. "And not Slytherin or Gryffindor because of Mister Malfoy and Mister Weasley?" it added, causing both houses to exchange annoyed glances, while the students at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables leaned forward with eager expressions, their gazes filled with hope.
The Hat's voice softened, now speaking solely to Harry. "Each house could nurture you well, young Potter. Ravenclaw could give you the knowledge to make sense of all you've endured, a place of understanding. Hufflepuff would be a place of loyalty and kindness, where friendships can deepen and heal. Choose carefully."
Harry's gaze lingered on the Hufflepuff table, where Susan and Hannah sat, watching him with gentle smiles, their eyes filled with encouragement and support. In Hufflepuff, he would be with them, with people who already felt like family. But Ravenclaw held its own appeal, the house of knowledge and intellect calling to him, promising understanding of the mysteries that haunted him.
He took a deep breath, his shoulders squaring as he readied his voice, every person in the hall holding their breath, awaiting his decision.
"Hat," he said, his voice strong, his choice final. "I would like to be in…"