7 Chapter 07

"My, my, my. That was… certainly something," Ollivander said softly in Milo's ear, somehow having managed to get behind him again. "It would appear that we have found the wand for you, my young wizard."

Milo almost hated to ask, but couldn't resist.

"What kind is it, exactly?"

"Thirteen inches, chestnut wood, dragon heartstring core. Good for… curses, Mr. Amastacia-Liadon."

"G-good length. Thirteen, that is. I… I'll just be leaving now."

Milo had already left the store before realizing that he'd never told the wizard his name.

"Oh, my gods," he whimpered. Mordy was quivering in fear, deep in the extradimensional reaches of Milo's Belt of Hidden Pouches.

o—o—o—o

McGonagall had decided that, in order to appear normal, Milo would stay at Hogwarts until the day of the sorting ceremony, and then they'd Apparate back to London and he'd take the Hogwarts Express with the other students. There was one part of this plan that confused Milo, however.

"Professor, what's a train?" Milo asked curiously.

"You've never heard of a train?" she asked incredulously. "It's a, well, it's a big metal contraption all with wheels and things. It travels along rails at high speeds."

"I hate railroad plots," Milo grumbled as McGonagall shook her head in amazement. How could someone have heard of a railroad, but not a train?

Milo spent the next day uneventfully wandering the halls of Hogwarts, engaging in conversation with the paintings. He used a little Craft (Sewing) to do the hems of his robes, so he could walk without them dragging along the ground quite so much. Later, maybe, he could tailor them properly. He was forced to admit that he didn't strike a very impressive image, with his sleeves rolled up four times and still hanging past his hands.

The next morning, McGonagall Side-Along Apparated him to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

"What is that?" he asked, shocked. He was pointing past the bustling students to the train itself.

"That's the Hogwarts Express," McGonagall explained. "The train."

"H-How does it move? Where are the horses?"

"There aren't any horses, it moves itself."

"What, by magic?"

"A little magic, but mainly Muggle know-how," McGonagall shrugged. "They can be quite ingenious at times."

Milo was floored. He couldn't believe that something so huge could be moved without… without anything, it sounded like.

"What's a Muggle?" he asked reverently. "They must be mighty creatures indeed."

"What, Muggles?" McGonagall exclaimed, laughing. "No, they're just like you or me, only without magic." Well, like me, anyway, McGonagall thought. We're not quite sure what you are.

"I, um, I suppose I'll get on board the horseless iron wagon now, shall I?" Milo asked nervously.

"Go on ahead, dear. I'll meet you at the castle," McGonagall said and teleported away. Disapparated. Whatever.

Somewhat apprehensively, Milo climbed one of the stairs. He'd arrived early, so most of the carriages were empty. Choosing a compartment at random, he sat down forcibly in one of the seats. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that there was no possible way to move this much iron all at once without either magic or a whole herd of horses. The crew of this vessel would be pretty embarrassed when they tried to get it moving.

After a few minutes, a round-faced boy popped his head through the door.

"Um, I don't suppose you've seen a toad anywhere?" he asked.

"Hmm. No, I can't say that I have, but my Spot score is lousy," Milo responded.

"Oh," the boy said, crestfallen. Milo began to feel sorry for him.

"Here, let me try something," he said. "Spontaneous Search," he cast spontaneously, using his Spontaneous Divination ability to replace Mirror Image. Spontaneously. Milo began to wonder if somebody was getting paid a silver piece every time he thought 'Spontaneous.' Milo became instantly aware of everything within twenty feet of him as if he'd carefully searched the contents of the carriage by hand. "He's three doors down, under the North-facing bench," Milo said.

"Blimey, that was impressive," the boy said. "I haven't been able to pull off even the simplest of charms, yet. I'm Neville, by the way."

"Milo. And don't worry, Neville. Everyone was first level once in their lives."

"Err, thanks, I think," Neville said as he went off to grab his toad. Solid choice for familiar, toads. Mordy, still sitting on his shoulder, playfully nipped him on the ear.

"Though I prefer rats, of course," he said aloud.

"Prefer rats to what?" asked a black-haired boy.

"Toads," Milo said, somewhat embarrassed. "Mordenkainen was feeling insecure."

"Oh," said the boy. "Mordenkainen… is that your pet's name?"

"Familiar. Mordenkainen doesn't take kindly to being called a pet, he thinks its de-humanizing."

"Oh. Er, sorry, Mordenkainen."

"His friends call him Mordy."

"His… his friends? Of course they do, don't they? You know, I'm starting to think that wizards are just weird for the sake of weird. Do you mind if I sit down? The other compartments are full," the boy asked.

"Sure. I'm Milo, by the way."

"Harry," the boy said, sitting down across from him. There was something unusual about him, but Milo couldn't place his finger on it. It wasn't the tussled hair, or the broken glasses, or even the lightning-bolt scar. It was… everything taken together. Like there was just more to him than the others Milo had met in this world.

"Oh my gods!" Milo shouted, delighted. "You're— "

"You've heard, too?" Harry said darkly. "I was hoping to meet somebody who didn't realize it immediately. The scar gave it away didn't it?"

"I'm so pleased to meet you!" Milo said.

"Yes, yes, can we please skip past this part?"

"Not much of a roleplayer, eh? Straight to the goblin-killing? I knew it! You're a PC!"

"Wait, what?" Harry asked. "What's a Peasea? Is that another weird wizarding word, like Muggle?"

"New to this? Ah, I remember my first adventure—I was nearly slain by a kobold. Very embarrassing, that. Ah, those were the days," Milo said dreamily. "No, PC is nothing like Muggle. It means Player Character. Basically, the universe will go out of its way to cast you into dangerous situations—but also makes sure, to a certain extent, that you get out of them as well. Usually. In short, if this were a book, you'd be the main character."

"I think you're mistaking me for somebody else; I'm not really much of anything," Harry said despondently.

"Are you kidding? You've got a scar shaped like a lightning bolt! Okay, stop me if I'm wrong: you've had a dark and troubled past." Harry nodded glumly. "Events seem to be moving so quickly that you can barely keep up with all of the foreshadowing and plots."

"Well, things have been happening pretty quickly," Harry confessed. "Just last month I found that, when I was a baby, an evil wizard tried to kill me but was somehow unable to, and died mysteriously because of it. Now, strange people are coming up to me to thank me for something I don't even remember."

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