13 Chapter 13-Welcome Aboard The Hogwarts Express

Chapter 13: Welcome Aboard the Hogwarts Express

Tom's instructions had been very clear. Arrive at the platform early, find an empty compartment, and open a book.

"Let them come to you, Harry. They will come – you needn't seek them out."

Who they were, Tom hadn't been too clear on, but Harry trusted him, as always.

To be perfectly honest, he wasn't too eager to meet his potential new friends anyway. It wasn't that he didn't want friends - on the contrary, he was thrilled at the prospect of making friends who could, like him, do magic. It was the meeting them part that had him worried. Tom had been quite confident that his experience at Hogwarts would differ greatly from his time at muggle primary school, but there was still a part of him that was afraid to be disappointed. People had a habit of disappointing him, after all. And what if they thought he was a freak too? Tom had told him that even among witches and wizards, he was a rarity.

"Power like that which you possess is not a common thing, Harry. I cannot stress the unlikeliness that four immensely powerful wizards – Grindewald, Dumbledore, you, and myself – have all lived within the same century."

And apparently, he didn't just have power going for him.

"You are entering a world in which you will be blessed with money, fame, and power. Do not waste it."

It was a lot of pressure...he certainly didn't want to mess things up on his first day. So he did exactly as Tom told him – he arrived at Platform 9 3/4 at 10 am, and boarded the Hogwarts Express immediately, easily locating an empty compartment and sealing the door behind him before he sat down and opened his copy of Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) and the diary Tom had given him. Tom had said that he could practice magic on the train, and so he intended to do just that. His goal was to try every spell in his diary and the first chapter of his textbook. It was a lofty goal, but Tom said that doing magic with a wand was much easier than doing it without. Harry hoped he was right.

As for Tom himself, he was off possessing some poor bloke who was buying coffee near King's Cross station at 9:58 am. Before he'd left, Tom had warned him that he would be sorted into his house by a talking hat that happened to also be a skilled legillimens. Harry was quite entranced by the whole idea but was also fairly nervous, and he would have liked to have Tom there with him...but he understood Tom's concerns. Tom didn't want anyone to know he was there, especially not a talking, mind reading hat - that probably wasn't a good combination when it came to secret keeping. Because of this fact, Tom's consciousness was taking a brief vacation from Harry's head, so as to not alert the hat to his presence. Even then, Tom was clear about taking precautions.

"Don't let him in, Harry. Just ask him to sort you into Slytherin and be done with it."

"Why Slytherin?"

"Because you're my heir, and therefore the Heir of Slytherin, you foolish child."

So apparently Harry was going to be in Slytherin.

By about a quarter hour after train started moving, Harry had tried all the spells he was able to do wandlessly with his wand. As Tom had said, it was much easier. Pleased with his success, Harry was quite eager to start working through his textbook. But just as he was about to practice his wand movements for the tickling charm (never know when that might come in handy), his compartment door slid open.

Standing awkwardly in the doorway was a boy about his age, his face covered by freckles and framed by fiery red hair.

"Excuse me," the boy began nervously, "Do you mind? Everywhere else is full."

Harry looked at him curiously. "No, not at all."

The boy sat down across from Harry. "So, who 're you?"

"It's polite to introduce yourself first," Harry commented mildly.

The boy started. "Oh, right! I'm Ron, Ron Weasley."

Weasley...Harry mused. Where did he know the name from? Ah, right, the Order of the Phoenix. A potentially valuable ally, then.

Harry smiled at him. "I'm Harry Dursley."

Just as they were introducing themselves, a trolley rolled by their compartment, covered in all sorts of sweets that were completely unfamiliar to Harry's eyes.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

"No, I'm good..."

"Yes please!" Harry said with a brilliant smile.

Now, the woman didn't seem to have anything at all (literally, nothing) that he recognized, but what she did have were (and he was being completely serious about the names, here) Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Liquorice Wands and a number of other odd looking treats. Not wanting to risk missing out on anything, Harry did the completely reasonable thing, and bought a bit of everything.

Weasley stared on with wide eyes as Harry brought it all back into the compartment and tipped it on to an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Somewhat."

"Sweet tooth?"

"Oh, definitely," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. He really did like sweets - not that anyone had ever cared to ask before. He was already liking Ron Weasley quite a bit.

Meanwhile, the boy had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside, one of which he pulled apart and said,

"She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Or two, or four."

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said the Weasley boy. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "You know, with five of us."

Harry just smiled. "I assure you, I've had worse. I just happen to fancy some corned beef right now, you know? So come on, indulge me."

Ten minutes later, the compartment was littered with candy wrappers. Truly, Harry felt quite bad about that. He was making a mess! Seriously, how undignified of him...if Tom were around, he would no doubt be in a lot of pain. Fortunately, though, his behaviour seemed to ingratiate him with the Weasley boy, and what Tom didn't know couldn't hurt him.

"So," Weasley said with a mouth full of chocolate, "You're muggleborn, then?"

Harry shook his head. "Halfblood...but it's complicated."

At that moment, three boys showed up at their compartment door – two very large ones, and a much smaller boy, who was extremely pale and had the lightest blonde hair Harry had ever seen. Ooh, ooh, he knew this one just by looking! Definitely a Malfoy.

"I heard Harry Potter is on this train," the boy said imperiously, "Have either of you two seen him?"

Harry and the Weasley boy both shook their heads.

"You know, it's polite to introduce yourself before asking questions," Harry could not help but comment.

The boy straightened his posture and puffed his chest out a bit. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." After mightily introducing himself, Malfoy leered at Weasley, cold grey eyes narrowing. "Red hair, Tattered books, second hand robes...you're a Weasley, aren't you?"

Before Weasley could snap back, Harry interupted. "Yes, this is Ron Weasley. My name is Tom Evans. It's a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand for the Malfoy boy to shake.

But Malfoy just stared at it as though it were some offensively dirty object.

"Evans? That's not a wizard's name, is it? You're a mudblood then?"

He didn't wait for an answer, and settled on a sneer. "Come, Crabbe, Goyle, let's keep looking."

After Draco Malfoy left, Harry turned back to Weasley, to see him staring at him with confusion.

"Are you alright, Weasley?"

"I thought you said your name was Harry Dursley."

"Did I?"

Weasley nodded. "And you just told Malfoy that your name is Tom Evans."

Harry blinked. "So I did. Oh well, I guess I'm Tom Evans now. Please refer to me as such."

Weasley nodded slowly, looking at Harry warily.

Meanwhile, Harry cringed inwardly. His name game was probably going to come back to bite him...but he really didn't want to deal with the whole Harry Potter business at the moment, not to mention he sort of fancied making a dramatic entrance at the sorting ceremony. Oh well, what's done is done.

He looked over at Weasley. "You know, before you showed up, I was practicing some spells."

The other boy looked at him with interest. "Oh, I know one! My brothers taught me!"

Harry grinned at that. "Oh, please show me!"

Eager to impress, Weasley reached into the small cage beside him, pulling out a fat grey rat. It was an odd, pathetic sort of creature, with a long bony tail and exceptionally large eyes. Harry also could not help but notice that it was missing a toe. Did someone cut it off?

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. My brother Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a Prefect, but they couldn't aff– I mean, I got Scabbers instead. He'll probably die soon, though. He's been in the family for ten years already..."

Ten years? That's a long time. Harry nodded. "It's quite funny looking."

Weasley grinned. "And I can make him look even funnier." He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies,

butter mellow,

Turn this stupid,

fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fast asleep.

Harry looked at him with a sheepish smile. "I'm fairly certain that's not a real spell."

"Fred and George, think they're so bloody smart..." Weasley huffed. "Why can't anyone show me some real magic?"

Harry looked at him amusedly, and then a curious look came over his face. "Say, Weasley, I could demonstrate a few spells for you.."

"Demonstrate?"

"Yes, well, I've found that this spell practicing thing is really a two person affair. I won't know if they're working right if I'm all alone, you see? So what do you say - would you mind helping me out a bit?"

Just as Harry was practicing his Silencio charm on Weasley, who was a bit put off by the whole thing (despite having explicitly agreed to being a part of Harry's series of experiments), their compartment door flew open, revealing a stiff bushy-haired girl with rather large front teeth with a small but plump dark-haired boy, who looked terribly nervous, cowering behind her.

"Have either of you seen a toad?" she asked without prelude. "Neville's lost one."

Harry looked at her, and considered telling her how rude she was being, barging into their personal space like that, but he was starting to believe that this was just how children his age did things. Rudely. Now, Harry didn't believe in wasting time, but he never talked to people as though he was entitled to their answers. Talking to someone and sharing space with them is an act of generosity, right?

Meanwhile, Weasley looked at her like she had grown a second head, but made to answer her nonetheless. But nothing came out.

Scowling, he kicked Harry in the leg.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Right. Finite."

The girl's eyes lit up. "You're doing magic?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Just trying a few very basic spells."

Weasley looked at him incredulously.

The girl smiled eagerly, at that. "Well then, go on, let's see!"

Harry shrugged and pointed his wand at Weasley, who didn't have time to react.

"Rictumsempra."

And with that, Weasley burst into uncontrollable giggles.

"S-stop!"

Harry nodded and cancelled the charm.

Meanwhile, the girl looked very, very jealous.

"Anyway," Harry said, oblivious to the girl's envious look and Weasley's glare, "We haven't seen any toads. Some frogs, but they were chocolate. Perhaps one of the prefects could help?"

The girl blinked, before exclaiming, "Oh, why didn't I think of that? Come on Neville!"

And with that, she disappeared just as quickly as she had come, leaving Harry and the Weasley boy awkwardly staring at the door.

Harry shook his head. "Wingardium Leviosa."

"Scabbers!"

Scurrying out of the train with Weasley following behind, Harry followed the deep, rough voice bellowing, "Firs' Years! Firs' Years over here!" It was a friendly bellow, though, not at all like Vernon's, and it made Harry smile.

Following the voice, Harry forced himself not to gawk when he found it coming from an enormous man – in fact, he was fairly sure, based on the proportions of the man's body, that he was at least part giant. Apparently, humans and giants could interbreed – Harry didn't want to know how.

"C'mon, over here, step in the boats! Careful now. Any more firs' years?"

Harry cast one more glance at the man before stepping into one of the boats that still had two seats left, finding himself between the girl and boy he'd met earlier.

"No more'n four to a boat!" he heard the giant call.

"You again!" The girl said as a greeting. "My name is Hermione Granger, who are you?"

Harry turned to the bushy haired girl, finding her staring at him with bright, eager, and rather owlish brown eyes.

"Harry Evans," he returned, ignoring Weasley's snicker behind him.

The girl frowned slightly at Weasley, who was nudging Harry a bit, but her expression immediately cleared and she gestured toward the soft-featured boy beside her. "This is Neville Longbottom. His toad is still missing. You haven't seen it yet by any chance, have you?"

Harry and Weasley both shook their heads again.

"Everyone in?" they suddenly heard the giant shout. When no one protested - "Right then – FORWARD!"

Smoothly, the boats departed from the dock, gliding over the black waters of the lake. The subtle waves were shimmering with the faint evening starlight and the lamps that speckled the distant image of Hogwarts castle, a magnificent, stalwart fortress that managed to appear delicate and enchanting all the same, looming up against the grey-blue sky like a fantasy engendered straight out of the minds of the giddy, eager fleet of first years. All Harry felt was awe; being there, breathing in the brisk, damp air around him and relishing in the tender touches of the cool breeze tickling his face, as what was about to become his new home rose up, coming to life before him, was nothing like visiting it in Tom's memories. It was so much more vivid, so much more enthralling than he had expected. A deep ache was stirring in his chest, and Harry had to wonder if it was possible to miss a place you've never been to before.

"It's so beautiful…" he breathed as the castle came into full view, and he was finally able to see the details of the many towers and turrets ornamenting the stone structure.

Granger nodded rapidly and forcefully. "I can't believe it's real, it's so amazing!"

Harry turned to her with an amused smile. "Of course it's real. Amazing things can be real too, you know."

She scowled at him. "I didn't mean it like that," she said, her cheeks a bit red, "It was an expression, is all."

"Heads down!" came the giant's friendly but loud voice as the boats near the front of the company reached the cliff upon which the castle stood; the group of children immediately ducked their heads as the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that veiled a wide opening in the cliff side. They drifted through a shadowy tunnel, then, until the boats stopped at a subterranean harbour of sorts, where they clambered out of the boats and onto a shore of little pebbles.

"Oi! I go' a toad here! Anyone missing a toad?" called the giant, holding up a rather fat toad for all to see.

Upon seeing the toad, Longbottom bounded up to the giant, crying out blissfully, "Trevor!" and hugging the toad tightly, thanking the giant profusely, causing the large man to scratch the back of his head bashfully.

"Everyone here?" the giant's booming voice once again found them as he raised one of his magnificently enormous fists , and rapped thrice on the castle door.

The eleven-year-olds jumped as the door was flung open, a tall, spindly witch appearing, wearing a pointed hat over her dark hair, peppered with grey, and a matching green robe. Harry was very impressed that she managed not to look silly in her pointed hat.

She looked over the children appraisingly, a stern expression tempered only by the slightest maternal softness on her face.

"Here's all the firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the giant said. Ah, so this was who wrote the letters. No wonder they were so polite and precise sounding - the woman clearly wouldn't tolerate anything less.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

With a wave of her hand, the doors opened wider, ushering the group of students into a vast entrance hall of finely cut marble, lit by rows of glimmering torches. They followed her across the cold stone floor, a few of them glancing about at the fathomless ceiling above, as she led them into a small chamber to the right, from which they could hear the muffled voices of the older students. By this time, many of the students appeared quite nervous, fidgeting as they stood there awkwardly.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall, with a soft Scottish lilt in her voice. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting," she finished, her eyes lingering on Longbottom's cloak, fastened under his left ear and Weasley's nose, which was smudged with dirt.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," Professor McGonagall concluded. "Please wait quietly."

Immediately after she left, a torrent of hushed whispered erupted from the student body, Harry picking out pieces of conversation (whilst half-heartedly listening to Granger chatter on about all the spells she had looked up and wondering if they might come in handy at the sorting) including Weasley's exclamation "Fred told me it was a test, he said it hurts a lot!"

Harry could not help but smile at that. They'd be very relieved.

Suddenly, he heard a collective screech from behind him. He spun around, finding a myriad of ghostly shapes drifting through the back wall, greyish forms observing the children below as they bickered.

What appeared to be a short, fat monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

Harry's smile grew into a grin. So these were the ghosts Tom had told him about.

Nobody answered, all of the first years glancing at each other nervously, so Harry decided to do the polite thing. "We're waiting to be sorted, sir."

"Ah, new students!" the fat ghost exclaimed, smiling cheerily at them.

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" he said. "My old house, you know."

Suddenly, a sharp voice interrupted the spectacle. "Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." It was Professor McGonagall. As the ghosts drifted off, she continued, "Now form a line and follow me." Then the woman led the first years through a doorway, ignoring their gasps as they continued forward.

The Great Hall was truly a sight to behold – lit by hundreds upon hundreds of candles floating high above the four tables where sat the older students, in front of glittering gold plates, goblets, and cutlery. At the far end of the hall, upon a slight dais, was a fifth table where the teachers were seated. Above, the ceiling of the Great Hall was formed like the night sky, the occasional burst of magic jolting through it with a fiery glimmer.

Granger leaned over and whispered to him, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Harry nodded absently, looking up at the ceiling as another brief fiery burst danced through it like lightening, and he felt his heart swell with unbidden emotion. Finally...

Once they were all gathered at the front of the hall, the professor silently placed a small four-legged stool in front of the students, on top of it a patched, frayed hat. It looked terribly old, and possibly dirty and lice-infested, Harry thought. Suddenly, the hall quieted, their eyes fixed on the hat, causing the first years to watch it intently now, none of them at all prepared for it to open its mouth and sing,

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

"You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

"There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

"You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

"You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

"Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

"So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

Well, Tom certainly hadn't warned him about that.

"So we've just got to try on the hat! I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, unrolling a long piece of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she declared, pausing a moment. "Abbot, Hannah!"

A girl with blonde pigtails stumbled up to the hat, placing it on her head, the hat nearly swallowing her whole face. There was only a moment's pause before –

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table at which were seated the group of students with yellow ties cheered and clapped as Hannah rushed over and sat down.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" it declared once again.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time, and several of the students with blue ties stood up to shake hands with Boot as he joined them.

A girl named "Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw as well, and the next girl "Brown, Lavender" was declared, "GRYFFINDOR!" causing the table farthest to the left to explode with loud cheers.

One "Bulstrode, Millicent" went to "SLYTHERIN!" and soon after "Finch-Fletchley, Justin" was declared a Hufflepuff, Gryffindor "Finnigan, Seamus" following.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Harry felt Granger stiffen beside him, but urged her forward with what he hoped was a bright, encouraging smile, and she ran forward, eagerly stuffing the hat over her head.

"GRIFFINDOR!" it shouted about a minute later.

Longbottom was called up soon after, the poor boy looking quite ready to faint before Harry smiled amiably at him. He stumbled up the stairs and clumsily put the hat on. Longbottom's sorting was the longest yet, as it took a few moments longer than Granger's to decide, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Poor Longbottom nearly ran to the Gryffindor table with the hat on.

The next sorting Harry paid mind to was of one "Malfoy, Draco." The hat had barely touched his head before it called, "SLYTHERIN!" Well, that was predictable.

A Moon, a Nott, a Parkinson, two twin Patils, and a Perks followed. Finally, Professor McGonagall called out his name, "Potter, Harry!"

Harry stood up straight, steeling himself and allowing a neutral expression to wash over his face.

"Harry Potter?"

"Did she really just say Harry Potter?"

"Is it the Harry Potter?"

"No way!"

"Look, it's him!"

For a few moments he was caught up in the not-so-hushed whispers, but suddenly, as the smell of musty leather filled his nose and a floppy brown brim shielded his eyes, all the voices died away, all except the only voice that mattered.

Well, well well, Mr. Potter, is it?