Chapter One: Important First Meetings

Number one Privet Drive was the address. The house, middle class and non-descript was nothing much. It was the smallest of the two boys who lived there who was special. This boy had messy black hair and bright green eyes. Expect for the lighting bolt scar on his forehead you would never have known at a glance that there was anything different about him but there was.

If you watched the boy, how he moved and talked, then you might have seen something uncommon. His clothes were ragged, several sizes too big. Yet he carried himself as if he was someone important. He spoke with intelligence from an early age. There was something regal about him. There was something commanding. You knew the moment you looked at his guardians that they were not his parents. Though they dressed far better than him, they were somehow lower, lesser than him.

The boy himself did not know he was different. He could not see it. All he was of aware of in that regard was his dreams. The boy's guardians, the boy's relatives had him sleep in a cupboard under the stairs. When he slept he dreamed. He dreamed of centaurs and talking animals. He dreamed of witches and kings and queens. When he awoke he only vaguely remembered his dreams. The longer a day went the less he remembered them. The boy learned quickly not to speak of the dreams at breakfast or at any other time. His relatives, his aunt and uncle grew angry if he spoke of anything that sounded like magic. Most mornings the boy did not even remember dreaming so the dreams were never much of an issue.

The boy's name was Harry Potter. His aunt was Petunia Dursley nee Evans. She was his mother's sister. Petunia was a skinny blond haired woman. Her face reminded one a bit of a horse. Harry's uncle was only such by marriage, a man named Vernon Dursley. He was a big man with a mustache and entirely too many chins. Petunia and Vernon's pride and joy was their son Dudley. This boy Dudley Durlsey took after in his father in weight and his mother in hair.

Dudley all but lived to bully those who were smaller than him. The one exception was Harry. Harry would always stand up to Dudley. Though Dudley would beat Harry to a pulp, Harry did not cry. Harry never cried or screamed. The calmness, the sheer presence Harry exuded bothered Dudley so much that it was long before Dudley stopped his attacks on Harry. A victim that acted more a victor was not much fun.

For the boy named Harry Potter life growing up on Privet Drive in the town of Little Whinging was never easy; but it was not always horrible. It followed a pattern that for the boy was normal. He was woken in the mornings to cook breakfast. In fall, winter, and spring, he went to school. In the summer he spent as many hours as possible outside of the house. He did chores, gardening, house cleaning and as mentioned before, cooking. Though many might find this strange he actually enjoyed the chores sometimes. A fact that bothered the Dursleys a great deal. They were mean and cruel during Harry's early years. As he grew older they grew increasingly indifferent. Harry was almost always calm. When he did anger it scared people, in particular the Dursleys, far more so than they would ever admit. When Harry was angry he was dangerous looking. There was there a gleam to his eyes that said if you pushed him too far you would regret it. Life for the Dursleys and a boy named Harry Potter went on in its steady pattern, the rhythm of which changed only slowly. This pattern would continue until the summer the boy turned eleven.

In a mansion in an unplottable location another boy grew up. This boy had blond hair and grey eyes. You knew from the first moment you saw him that this boy was important to someone. His clothes were expensive. His hair was brushed and perfectly gelled. His appearance was so well groomed, so spotless, that one thought him more like a doll than a boy. He was the spitting image of his father, a man who carried himself with a great deal of arrogance and self-importance. It was not confidence so much as a desire that others think the man was confident. The man was much the same in private as he was in public. The boy however was not. The boy was loud and self-centered in public. In private he was quiet and self reflective.

The boy like the other one we have spoke of was prone to dreaming. When he dreamed it was very strange. This boy grew up in a world of magic. In his dreams he saw a world that too was magical but so different from everything he knew. When the boy spoke to his father of his dreams they were dismissed. His mother was more open, more willing to listen. She encouraged him to speak of his dreams. It was because of his mother that this boy kept a journal, a record of his dreams as soon as he was old enough to write.

The boy grew up believing his father was the most important person in the world but his mother was the smartest. The boy's parents were wealthy. The older he grew the less they seemed to have time for him. That he was loved was one of the few things the boy never doubted. Everything else was subject to questioning. The boy was cautious without knowing why he was cautious. The boy was inquisitive. He was very eager to learn. He trusted few people and loved even fewer.

This boy was named Draco Malfoy. His parents were a wizard and a witch. His father was Lucius Malfoy. Lucius was a man few dared cross. A man with long blond hair and an arrogant glare. He was a man known for his cold but fearsome furry. He held high political power in the wizarding world. Draco's mother was Narcissa Malfoy nee Black. She was one of the last living direct descendents of the ancient house of Black, a legendary wizarding family. Narcissa was very beautiful with long blond hair a distinctly different shade of blond from her husband and son. She was often busy with parties and matters of high society. The conseunce of her actions were such that anyone who was anybody at all of note wanted to attend Malfoy parties. The parties hosted at the Malfoy's mansion were considered must-see events.

Draco's dreams were of evil witches, of endless snow, and palaces of ice. Draco's dreams were of a heroic lion and the coming of spring. Draco dreamed of war, of sword fighting, of soldiers. The more he wrote and thought of his dreams the more he saw they were of the same place. Yet his dreams remained vague and unclear.

Just a few weeks before his eleventh birthday Draco received an message by owl. Messenger owls were quite common in the wizarding world. They were the main means of mail. What made this owl unusual and special was that it carried Draco's letter of invitation to Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. With the letter came a list of school supplies. His parents argured a lot about Draco going to the school. Ultimately as it often happened with arguments Narcissa won.

It was the last day of July when Draco was taken to Diagon Alley for his school supplies. Draco, his mother, and his father went to the bank first a place which was run by goblins. The Malfoys were not one of the oldest families in the wizarding world but they were certainly one of the richest. After the bank Draco's father left him at the door to Madam Malkin's a clothing store. Draco went in. Madam Malkin's was a small store crowded with fabrics. It was the finest shop in England for wizarding robes. Draco was led to the back. He stepped up on a footstool. A shop assistant took his measurements. He was standing there when the black haired boy came in. The boy stepped up on a footstool to be measured. He looked at Draco, his green eyes staring into Draco's grey. Unlike you reader Draco did not know this was Harry Potter. What he did know was that he had never seen this boy in his life. At the same he felt as if he knew him, as if he had always known him.

"Hogwarts? You going to Hogwarts too?" Draco asked. He hoped he was. This other boy was important somehow. Draco didn't understand it but he knew it was so.

"Yes," the other boy said.

Draco dropped all pretence and arrogance. With this boy such things did not matter. "I'm Draco," he said. For once he did not name his family. This was something that for Draco was unusual. The thoughts running through his head were not the usual. He didn't want a friendship with this boy to based only on his family name.

"I'm Harry," the boy said.

"My father brought me here," Draco said, "I think Father's next door looking at books. Mother's down the street a ways looking for a secondary wand. They're very useful for dueling you know?"

"I came here with Hagrid," Harry said, "He's the gamekeeper at Hogwarts."

"Isn't he low class?" Draco said, "A gamekeeper is sort of a servant isn't it?" Draco had been to taught to never associate with those who were lower in station than him.

"I think he is brilliant!" Harry said. From the look of anger on Harry's face Draco knew he had said something wrong.

Madam Malkin went about pinning Harry's robes. Harry looked increasingly upset at Draco.

"Look," Draco said, "I didn't mean to get you mad. It's just why did he bring here? Where are your parents, your mother and father?"

Harry's voice was soft when he said, "My parents are dead." "Oh," Draco said, "I'm sorry. They were our kind though weren't they?"

"If you mean a witch and a wizard, yes." Harry nodded.

This boy, this Harry, he seemed to Draco like a pureblood. He had a noble bearing to him. Draco gave a nod of his own. "Good. The other kind, the muggleborns shouldn't be allowed in the school. They don't know our heritage, our history. Most of them don't even know about Hogwarts until they get their letter. Can you believe that?"

Harry's brows went down. His eyes narrowed. "I did not know about Hogwarts until yesterday. My mother was a muggleborn."

Draco went quiet. He could not think of the rights words to say to salvage the conversation. Silence was his only refuge. He felt if as he should be friends with Harry. He felt as if there was something more than just that. It was obvious though that Harry did not feel the same. Whatever connection it was that Draco felt, it did not go two ways.

"There dear," Madam Malkin said to Harry, "All done." Harry left the shop as swiftly as he could. Draco was left there wondering who Harry was. What was it about that boy that was so important to him? Draco kept wondering throughout the day. His mind kept trying to work it out.

That night back in the mansion in his own bedroom Draco had trouble sleeping because he was thinking of Harry. When Draco finally fell asleep he dreamed more vividly than he ever had before.

He was imprisoned in a cell. The walls around him were made of ice that was somehow highly reflective. It occurred to Edmund only now that his siblings were right. The White Queen was evil. It was the way the old fairy tales said it was. Witches were evil. Edmund was cold. He felt as if he was freezing to death. It was the queen, the White Witch who put him here. She promised he would be a prince. She lied.

Edmund stared at his reflection in the ice. He wasn't as clever as he had thought he was. He did not look good. His black hair was a mess. His brown eyes seemed lifeless even to him. His skin was trying to turn blue from the cold. He had bruises from where Ginnarbrik had hit him. Ginnarbrik the dwarf who served the white witch had a name that seemed well deserved. His fists had felt like bricks when they hit Edmund's face.

Edmund traced the shapes of the bruises on his face. When his touched his cheeks, the bruised skin hurt. It was better than the cold. His body was trying to go numb. The pain assured him that he was still alive. He was only ten years old. He didn't want to die here. He wanted to make up with his siblings. He did not know if he was ready to apologize but he wanted to have the chance to. He shuddered. He was cold, so cold…

Draco Malfoy woke up. His arms went around his chest. He felt the cold from his dream. He had never felt anything in his dreams before. He never remembered his dreams in such detail before either. It was as if he had been inside Edmund's head. He had seen and heard and felt what Edmund did. He could still remember the pain of the bruises and the muscles aches from the beatings. Draco had never been hit. He had never been badly injured. The closest he had ever come to the kind of pain Edmund felt was a bout of the flu.

It was the middle of the night. Draco said, "Light!" The light came on. The room was spelled so that the light would come at his command. Draco looked about his large bedroom. The contrast between his room and the icy prison cell was great. Where the cell had been cold in color and temperature, Draco's room was warm. The mixture of green cloth, gold trim and dark wood was familiar. It was reassuring. The dream changed Draco a little bit. For the first time in his life he was grateful for the comfort and safety of his bedroom.

Draco closed his eyes again. Again he dreamed.

He was on a ship. It was a fine Narnian sailing ship. It was nighttime. He stared at the stars. The constellation were not the same as the one over the Earth. Narnia was truly a another world. It was a wonderful world. He felt more at home here than he ever did back on Earth. So why at quiet moments like this, did he feel so lonely? The answer to that was simple. King Edmund of Narnia missed his older brother. Peter who was now fifteen was too old to return to Narnia. It did not seem fair but who was he to question the will of the great lion.

Draco woke with a jolt. Edmund was king? There were other worlds, other planets? The Edmund of this dream seemed older. He seemed more mature. It occurred to Draco for the first time that the dreams might be of real places. They might be of things that happened in the past or were yet to be. The eleven year old fell asleep. This time the sleep was dreamless.

The dreams would continue night after night for an entire month until the day Draco boarded the train for Hogwarts. Each dream was as detailed as the one before. They showed both minor and important moments in the life of Edmund Pevensie. The dreams showed a few short instances of Edmund's life in Narnia. It only heightened the sense of mystery. Who was Edmund Pevensie? Where and what was Narnia? Some of the dreams were more nightmare than dream. These made Draco afraid to sleep. Other dreams were thrilling in a good way. None of the dreams were like reading adventure stories. None of them were like his dreams used to be ether. When Draco dreamed of Narnia it was as if he did more than dream; he lived it.

On the day Draco was to go to Hogwarts his parents took him to King's Cross Station. They arrived early. Draco and his parents were among the first to go through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters.

The barrier is a brick wall. For more than an hour on the first of September of every year wizards and witches walk straight through the wall. There is a portal there that leads them to their destination. Most muggles, non magical folk do not notice what goes on here. The barrier wall has a powerful notice-me-not spell placed upon. All that the people who work at the muggle train station know is that every year people show up with exotic pets. Owls, cats, rats and toads are all carried by hand and by cage by these strange people. These people tend to look extremely uncomfortable in their clothing. For anyone whose worked at the station for more than a few years this does not even raise a brow. For those who are new to working at the station the questions abound.

The newer muggle employees at the train station were not the only ones filled with curiosity. Draco Malfoy looked about the station in great interest. He seldom saw muggle places. It was not this that fascinated him though. It was the thought that Edmund, the boy in his dreams might a muggle. Edmund hated spell casting and anything to do with witches. When Draco thought of the White Witch and what little he had seen of her in his dreams, he did not blame Edmund for his hatred.

Draco glanced about the station. He stood still for long so determinedly that his father had to drag him a little to get him to move. Draco remembered from of his most recent dreams that Edmund had turned eleven, twelve, and thirteen and many other years, twice. Draco did not how this was so but he knew with magic that very few things were impossible. Assuming the dreams were real he still didn't know if they were of the past or the future. Edmund might very young. He might be very old. Draco looked about the station hoping the unreasonable hope that Edmund was here.

There was other face that Draco hoped to see even more than Edmund's. It was that of Peter, Edmund's brother. Draco had seen Peter in his dreams of Edmund a mere handful of times. Those times were enough Draco felt a strong link to Peter. It was almost as if Peter were his brother as much as he was Edmund's. Peter was High King of Narnia. He was the one person Edmund would willingly obey.

So lost in thought was Draco that he did not care that his father was pulling him forward. He went through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters almost unaware that he was doing so.

Across the station a heavy set man was pushing a cart loaded with a trunk and a snowy white owl. The owl was Hedwig a gift from Hagrid; she was Harry's first real gift. The man was none other than Harry Potter's uncle Vernon Dursley. It seemed as if Vernon was being nice. As you have probably guessed reader, there was not much about Vernon Dursley that was nice or kind, not when it came to his nephew Harry Potter. Vernon like so many people feared that which he could not understand. The subject that is magic fell strictly in that category. There is an old saying that what we fear we often hate and Vernon Dursley was no exception to this.

Vernon stopped the cart facing platforms nine and ten. He smiled an evil grin at Harry. "I see nine and ten boy," he said, "I do not see your platform. They must not have not have built it yet." Vernon Durlesy's grin widened; it was no less wicked.

"Do not worry Uncle," Harry said with conviction, "It exists. I know it does. I will find it."

"Have a good term," Vernon said in a tone that meant the exact opposite. He walked away barely holding back a laugh.

Harry was good at understanding people. He was good at getting to them to do what he wanted to. It was persuasion. It was a natural talent for manipulation. Like so many things that came easy to him he didn't understand where it came from. In the case of his uncle it didn't always work. Out of a fear that the talent would when he needed most he seldom used on Vernon. This morning he had. This morning the manipulation had been most important for Harry did not want to be late. As a result Harry was standing alone looking for the platform at five minutes after ten.

Harry knew that he had nearly an hour before the train took off. Before he could get on it, he had to find it. In Diagon Alley the wizards had moved and acted in ways that normal people did not. They spoke of things were most unusual. All he had to do was watch and listen for anything that was strange. The chances were high that he would find a wizarding family this way. He could then follow them to the platform. This was logical thinking and it should have worked. It was fifteen minutes before he heard anything out of the norm. "…but Gran," a boy's voice said, "I don't want to keep Trevor on my arm with a sticking spell. I don't like this."

"You'll loose him if you don't," an old woman's voice said, "I showed you the removal spell. If you cannot do such a simple spell then get a prefect or teacher to do it when you get to Hogwarts."

Harry searched for the source of the voices. It was several second before he spotted them. The boy was blond haired. He was short and fat. His face was round. The woman was old as Harry had guessed. Her clothing was an extremely old fashioned muggle style. The hat was not muggle, not something usually seen in the non-magical world at all. There was a stuffed vulture on top of it. It was gathering a lot of attention. The woman herself was attracting a lot of fearful and respectful glances. The woman's face appeared to be in a constant scowl. She had the air of a prim and proper lady about her. She was tall. She was formidable.

Harry told himself he was not nervous. Nevertheless he did not approach the old woman. He followed her and her grandson from a discreet distance. The short blond boy pulled a cart with a trunk. A toad was staying on his left no matter how he moved it. The old woman and the boy walked to the wall between platforms nine and ten.

The boy stopped. "I don't want to crash Gran. I don't!" he said nervously.

"Don't be ridiculous child," the old woman said. She walked straight through the wall. Her grandson followed trembling.

Harry pulled forward his own cart. He walked up to the empty space where the woman and the boy had been. If he hadn't seen this he wouldn't have believed it. There was so much he didn't know about magic. He took a deep breath. He closed his eyes. A few minutes passed as he tried to work up his courage.

"Are you just going to stand there?" a girl's voice said in a bossy tone.

Harry's eyes snapped open. Standing next to him was a girl with bushy brown hair. She had a cart with a trunk behind her.

"I read about it in Hogwarts, a History," the girl said, "You simply walk through. It can't be dangerous. Thousands of kids before us have done it." The girl sounded to Harry like she thought she knew everything. Her front teeth were rather large.

"Just because someone wrote it in a book does not make it so," Harry said. Feeling irritated and more than a little annoyed he walked quickly through the wall just to get away from the girl. He came out the other side of the wall. The sight of a red steam engine train greeted him. There were multiple families standing around the platform. A sign over head said Hogwarts' Express. According to the clock attached to the sign it was close to ten thirty.

Harry moved forward a bit then turned back around. Where the barrier wall had been there was an wrought iron archway. The archway had above it the words Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Harry had made it. The bossy bushy haired girl came through followed by a man, a woman and a little girl who Harry assumed were the bossy girl's parents and kid sister. There was a strong resemblance. The girl's family was gawking in amazement. The girl herself looked impatient.

Harry walked toward the train. He could see looking up that many of the compartments at the front were filling up. No one was heading to the back of the train. Harry walked there. The crowd near the front was a little too intense for his liking. The smoke in the air was strong. Cats moved back and forth wrapping themselves against people's legs. There was a lot of chatter on the platform.

Harry passed by the round faced boy who was talking to his grandmother. "Gran please take off the sticking spell. Please!" the boy shouted in a desperate tone.

The old woman sighed. "Oh Neville, what am I going to do with you?" She pulled out her wand. Harry didn't hear the spell she cast. Harry did see the toad jump off the boy's arm. It dived right at Harry. Without meaning to Harry caught the toad.

"W-wow!" the round face boy stuttered out of excitement. "That was amazing!"

"It was nothing," Harry said. He shrugged. "It was a complete accident. You ought to keep it in a cage."

"A cage!" the boy said, "Gran why didn't we think of that?"

Harry moved past the boy and his grandmother, heading for the nearest stairs to get on the train.

In a compartment in the middle of the train Draco Malfoy sat boredly staring at the other two boys in the compartment. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were not smart kids. They had a dog-like obedience. They were willing to obey anything he said. Draco knew these idiots only because his parents were friends with theirs. He had played with these boys a lot as he grew up. Both were tall. Vincent Crabbe was fat with a wide neck. His arms were built like a gorilla. Gregory Goyle had enormous broad shoulders and large feet. In front of other people, Draco was to address these boys by their surnames, Goyle and Crabbe. It would reinforce the false notion that they were bodyguards to Draco. It would make him seem more important. This was Lucius' idea not Draco's. All three boys knew they were going to be sorted into Slytherin the house of the snakes. It was where their parents were when they were in school.

Draco looked out the window at the platform. His parents were out there talking to Crabbe and Goyle's parents. He was sure if it was about anything important that they were talking in code. Mr. and Mrs. Crabbe and Mr. and Mrs. Goyle were of average intelligence. How they have produced such stupid sons? Draco shook his head.

Outside the compartment doorway, various kids were moving about. An older boy about fifteen or sixteen kept coming up and down the hall. He was carrying a trunk. He looked tough. He had large crooked teeth and shifty eyes. He was, Draco noticed, wearing the school uniform robes with a Slytherin house crest on them. Draco felt intimidated by this older boy until he remembered that Edmund had faced much worse.

"Looking for a place to sit?" Draco called out. "You can sit here!"

The older boy came charging in to the compartment. "Who are you?" he demanded more than asked. His voice was not far removed from a growl.

Draco couldn't think for a moment, he was so startled. The older boy glared down at him. "I," the older boy said, "am Marcus Flint. I'm the chaser and the new captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. You three are just firsties aren't you? You don't know what house you'll be in. For all I know you could wind up Gryffindor!"

"Never!" Draco said. Everything his father had told him had informed him that Gryffindor was a house of foolish people, the sort who charged into things without thinking.

There were four houses at Hogwarts, four major sets of dormitories and common rooms. The students were divided up into houses based on dominant personality traits. Slytherin was the house of the cunning and ambitious. Gryffindor was the house of the brave and chivalrous. Hufflepuff was the house of the loyal and hardworking. Ravenclaw was the house of the knowledgeable and witty.

"My father was Slytherin!" Draco yelled.

"Doesn't mean a thing," Flint mumbled.

"I am Draco Malfoy!" Draco shouted with more confidence than he felt. "My father has a seat on the bored of governors overseeing Hogwarts!"

Flint laughed. "I think like you firstie. You've got spirit. Let's just hope that spirit doesn't land you in Gryffindor cause then we will be enemies." Flint grabbed his trunk. He swung it overhead to the luggage rack. He then sat down in the seat beneath his luggage. "I'm only here because my friends are acting a little too weird. I would rather not deal with them right now or at all during the trip Hogwarts. If you're smart you won't pester me." Flint closed his eyes and began to snore.

A few minutes passed, then from the front of the train there was a loud whistle. Crabbe and Goyle rushed to the window. Goyle stuck his head out to say good-bye to his mum. Both Crabbe and Goyle shouted their farewells to their parents. This inspired yet another headshake from Draco; it was getting to be a habit. He had already said good-bye to his parents earlier. He had no need to stick his head out the window and look like an idiot. More minutes passed, then the voices from the platform started to grow more and more distant as the train moved, slowly picking up speed as it pulled out of the station.

In a compartment near the end of train, Harry Potter sat down by the window. In the seat across from Harry, the round faced boy did the same. He was holding tight to his toad. "I'm Neville Longbottom," the boy said in a voice so low Harry could hardly hear him.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said.

Neville's face went pale. "A-are y-you really? You're not kidding me?" he stuttered, "Do you have the scar?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, I'm him." Harry pushed up his bangs revealing the lighting bolt shaped scar. "My aunt and uncle told me I got it in a car crash."

"They didn't!" Neville gasped. "Y- you- know-who…" Neville's voice trailed off weakly.

Harry's face went grim. "Yes, I know. Voldemort killed my parents. He's the one who gave me this scar. I only found out about all this a month ago."

"You said his name," Neville said. His eyes went so wide they looked ready to pop out of his head. He looked ready to faint.

"Breathe Neville," Harry said, "Breathe! It is only a name. Refusing to speak a name is dumb. It gives the enemy a power over you."

Neville looked at Harry in awe. "You're brave. You'll probably be in Gryffindor."

"Griff- what?" Harry asked.

At this moment, another boy came into the compartment. He had bright red hair. He had freckles. There was a dark smudge of dirt on his nose. "Is anyone sitting there?" he asked pointing at the empty beside Neville. "Everywhere else is full." Neville shook his head and the red haired boy sat down. "I'm Ron Weasley. You're both first years too?"

"Yes," Harry said as Neville nodded.

Two more red haired boys appeared at the compartment door. These two were identical to each other. They were twins. They looked a few years older than Ron.

"Hey Ron," one twin said,

"We're headed to the middle of the train," the other twin said, "Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula there."

"Oh great," Ron mumbled.

One of the twins starred at Harry's forehead at the spot where his lighting bolt scar was. Harry put a hand to his forehead. When he had moved his bangs earlier, he had failed to cover back up his scar.

"Blimey!" the twin said, "Are you Harry Potter?"

"He is! Isn't he?" the other twin said.

"Do you remember seeing who-know-who's face?" the first twin said.

"It's Voldemort," Harry said, "If you must talk about him at least say his name. And no, I don't remember him. I was just a baby at the time."

The twins stared at Harry like he was something strange. After a few moments, the first one spoke up again. "I'm Fred Weasley." He pointed at his twin. "That's my brother George. We'll just be leaving you now." The twins walked down the hall and out of sight.

When they were gone, Ron stared at Harry. "Are you really him?"

"Yes," Harry snapped. If people kept acting this way then Harry knew that this was going to get old fast. Harry was new to the wizarding world. A month before he had not known anything about it. Finding out he was famous because of something that happened when he fifteen months was a great shock.

Throughout the wizarding world, the name of Harry Potter was revered by some and reviled by others. This was all because of an event that happened one Halloween night when Harry was so young he could not even remember it. Voldemort an evil wizard as dark as you could get had slain Harry's parents. He tried to kill Harry but something else happened. No one was sure what, but the infant Harry lived through something that was believed to impossible to live through: the killing curse. It was what gave Harry his scar. No one what happened to Voldemort; Harry was believed to somehow have defeated him.

Harry wasn't sure how much he believed that story. He was only a baby at the time yet because of that night, he was famous across the wizarding world. In the muggle world where he grew up, he was normal, ordinary, forgettable. All this fame was too new to him. This fame, Harry decided, was not a good thing.

"Sorry," Ron said, "I heard you were sent to live with muggles. So you were raised by muggles weren't you? What's that like?"

"What's it like to grow up with two older brothers?" Harry asked.

"Five," Ron said gloomily. "There's five of them. Three of them are going to Hogwarts. You met the twins. They're third years. Somewhere on this train, there's Percy. He is in his fifth year. He's a prefect. The older two graduated already. Bill, the oldest is a curse breaker in Egypt. Charlie works with dragons in Romania."

"Wow!" Neville said, "That's a lot of brothers."

"Yeah," Ron said, "It means I have a lot to live up to. I'm the youngest of six boys. The only kid younger than me is my sister. Bill was head boy when he was at Hogwarts. Charlie was captain of the quidditch team. Percy is a prefect. Fred and George have a notorious reputation for pranks; they mess around a lot and still get good marks. Everyone expects me to be as good as my brothers but they've already done everything so it's no big deal to them if I do."

Ron reached inside his jacket. "When have you have five older brothers you never get anything new. I've got Bill's old robes and Charlie's old wand." Ron pulled out of his jacket a fat gray rat. "This is Scabbers, Percy's old rat."

"At least you've got brothers," Harry said, "I don't have any. I never will."

"Me neither," Neville said.

Everyone in the compartment went quiet for a while. The view outside the window grew increasingly wild as farmlands and towns gave way to forests and grassy plains.

Neville's grip on his toad lessened until it became easy for the toad to escape his fingers. The toad jumped toward the hall. "Trevor!" Neville cried out miserably. He ran after it.

"I don't know why he bothers," Ron said, "If I had a toad I'd want to lose it as fast as possible. Mind you, I got Scabbers so I can't really talk. " Ron continued to sit relaxed in his seat. He held Scabbers in his hands. The rat was fast asleep.

"I'm going to help him," Harry said, "It's the right thing to do."

"Whatever." Ron shrugged.

Harry rose up and left Ron in the compartment.

In a certain compartment near the middle of the train, Draco was sitting down opening up the chocolate frog boxes he had just bought. A lady with a trolley full of sweets was working her way down the train. Draco had bought a bunch of the chocolate frogs. He was more interested in the cards that came with the chocolates then the chocolates themselves. As Draco opened the boxes, he handed most of the chocolates to Crabbe and Goyle who were more than happy to devour them.

The chocolate frog cards were highly collectable. Draco had a large collection back at the mansion. Certain cards were extremely rare. They were what he was hoping to get. Unfortunately, he kept getting cards of Albus Dumbledore. Three had the exact same image. It was Dumbledore with his half-moon shaped glasses and his long white beard. The cards read:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURENTLY HEADMASTER AT HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner Nickolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

In Draco's mind Dumbledore was great alright, a great idiot. Draco's father Lucius did not hold a high opinion of Dumbledore so Draco didn't either. The fact that Dumbledore was the headmaster at Hogwarts was one of the big reasons that Lucius had been against Draco going to the school.

Marcus Flint went on snoring. Crabbe and Goyle continued to go through the sweets Draco bought; and Draco went on sorting through the cards.

Draco was startled by the sound of footsteps. He looked up. In the doorway was that boy Harry. Behind him were two tall identical red headed boys. They were repeatedly mock bowing. "All hail Harry Potter! The great hero of the world!" the twins shouted.

"Hush you!" Harry yelled at the twins. The twins moved down the train laughing.

Was the boy Harry that Draco met really the Harry Potter? Draco was stunned. He stared at Harry's head. Harry's bangs were pushed to the side showing the legendary scar. He was Harry Potter!

"Have you seen a toad?" Harry asked, "Neville Longbottom is missing his."

Draco barley heard a word Harry said. His thoughts were on something else. There was something more to the black haired boy than just being Harry Potter. His body language even the way he moved now out of annoyance seemed awfully familiar. It hit Draco like a bolt of lightning.

The voice, the face were different, but there was no doubt. Harry spoke and moved like Peter. For a moment Draco didn't see Harry. Instead, where Harry was standing he could see a phantom image of the taller older Peter as he was at twenty-seven. His dark blond hair. His well muscled build the product of years of fighting and sword training. Peter's blue eyes stared at Draco. Then it was Harry again. Draco knew then the truth. Harry was Peter Pevensie. Harry was High King Peter the Magnificent, Lord of Cair Paravel and Emperor of the Lone Isles. Draco didn't know how this was so but it was.

Draco stood up. Still staring at Harry, Draco dropped to his knees. He sat looking up from the floor. He suddenly clutched at his head as memories began to flood his mind.

No else there understood what was going on. Harry looked at Draco in bewilderment. Crabbe were Goyle as Draco thought, not at all very complicated. They jumped instantly to the conclusion that Harry had done something to Draco.

"What did you do?" Goyle asked.

"You'll pay for hurting him!" Crabbe shouted. Both Crabbe and Goyle pushed Harry out of the compartment. They pushed and pulled at Harry and started to beat him up. They dragged him down the hall of the train car. The noise they made woke up Marcus Flint.

"Can't anybody get any sleep around here?" Flint complained. He stretched. He stood up. He left the compartment leaving Draco all alone on the floor in there.

Draco's mind was filled with every memory Edmund had of his days in Narnia. It was somewhere between fifteen and sixteen years of memories. It was the memories of a man who lived to be twenty-four and then somehow became ten again. A man in a child's body who would return to Narnia twice. He had fought in wars, the battles against the White Witch, the Telmarines and others. Draco didn't remember Edmund; Draco was Edmund.

Edmund rose to his feet disoriented. The dream-like memories of a boy named Draco were in his head. His own memories were fragmented. Everything that was of Narnia was clear. His memories of Earth were not. They were scattered and vague. The last thing he remembered was boarding a train, one which was quite different from this one. At the time he was physically nineteen. This was not so anymore.

Edmund gazed at the window. The glass was faintly reflective, enough that he could see his face. It was the face of Draco. "But I am not Draco!" he said. He made a fist. His hand came within an inch of the glass. He dropped his hand to his side. He looked wildly around the train compartment. His mind went into full panic. There were witches on this train. There were wizards. His faint Draco memories told him that Draco's friends Crabbe and Goyle would be coming back here at any moment. Edmund wanted to be left alone. He did not want to deal with anyone. He closed the door. He looked franticly about the compartment for a way to barricade the door. His memories of Draco told him that Marcus Flint's trunk might have something that would work. Edmund opened Flint's trunk. There was a broom. It was not a normal broom. A corner of his mind said racing broom, expensive racing broom. Edmund pushed the thought aside. This object, this broom, it might work.

Edmund lifted the broom. He swung it over toward the door. He placed it horizontally against the door, wedging it in the doorway. He arranged so that the only way the door was opening was if he took down the broom. As far as Edmund knew, the door was now sufficiently barricaded.