Harry Potter

And the Price of Ability

Sorry this update has taken SO long; time is flying for me at the moment. Since the last chapter, I've managed to get myself a job, do my xmas shopping, have a dull Christmas with relatives, had a large argument (and thankfully, made up) with my girlfriend, finish the job contract, applied to uni, created a portfolio, been to an interview, been offered a place on a uni course, and begun job hunting AGAIN. Oh, and apparently I now need a car. Student Finance is trying to screw me over, I have to call up my old uni, and ARGHHHHHHH! Every time I finally got a moment to myself, I just can't find the will to write. And then all of a sudden, an idea for a new fic popped into my head, and that one demanded to be written. It even has a complete plot and everything! It's a lot easier for me to write, and will also be a lot shorter, so look out for it soon. It's a post-prophecy-pre-Voldemort-attack fic that will take into account James and Lily's personalities rather than have them hiding and waiting to die as seemed to happen in cannon. I'm writing it at the same time as I'm working on this, but it's going to be a lot shorter (probably about 5 chapters). The first chapter of 'A Marauder's House' will be up shortly, so if you'd like to read more of my work, please check it out! I'm not abandoning The Price of Ability though, and I will be updating this when I can.

At the moment, I'm a little unsure about where this fic is going. I've got lots of ideas floating around in my head, but they don't really link up. I have a few notes here and there, but the going is slow. Until everything urgent in my life is sorted (i.e. uni, job), this has lowest priority. Still, here's chapter 10 for you to enjoy in the meantime!

P.S: About the wands. I'm not saying that Harry will have phoenix abilities or anything like that. I'm just saying that as "the wand chooses the wizard", the characteristics of the donor animal may influence how the wand chooses. I just can't see a phoenix wanting anything to do with Voldemort. Anyway, enough of my waffle, on with the show.

Chapter 10: One Door Away From Heaven

It was midnight, on the twelfth of August, and an extremely frustrated Harry Potter was sat on his bed, alternating an angry glare between his copy of The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) and the holly and phoenix feather wand in his right hand. Despite a stern warning from Professor McGonagall about the repercussions of practicing magic in his home, he'd completely ignored her, and was doing his best to learn some of the spells he'd need for the coming year at Hogwarts.

His snowy white owl watched him from the corner of his room, where her cage sat on the small chest of drawers that held his clothes. Her beady yellow eyes were fixed on him, and every now and then, she gave a small hoot which he interpreted as a mocking laughter. Hedwig (a name he'd found in his History of Magic text) gave her wings a small flutter, and preened a couple of feathers, before fixing her gaze back on him. Slowly, and deliberately, she tapped her beak against the silvery bars. Harry sighed. "All right girl, calm down." He muttered under his breath. He went over to the cage, and slid back the catch, opening the door to let Hedwig out.

Harry had returned from his shopping trip with Professor McGonagall late in the afternoon of his eleventh birthday. In his pocket had been his brand new trunk, shrunk down, and containing all the new books, clothes, and items he'd bought that day. If his relatives had been surprised at the lack of bags, when they knew he'd gone shopping, they'd said nothing. Harry had said goodbye to Professor McGonagall, and gone upstairs to unpack. After he'd acquired his wand in Ollivanders, McGonagall, ever the teacher, had shown him how to shrink and un-shrink his trunk. All it required was a tap of his new wand to activate the built in shrinking feature. He'd taken Hedwig out of the trunk, and she'd immediately let out a rather loud hoot to show her displeasure at being cooped up in the cage inside the stuffy trunk whilst he moved around the muggle parts of London and Little Whinging. Uncle Vernon had let out a loud roar, and rushed upstairs, his anger somehow partially overcoming the Confundus charm Professor McGonagall had placed on Harry's bedroom door. Although Uncle Vernon hadn't actually come into the room, he had stood outside it, shouting at Harry through the thin wooden door. Harry had timidly opened the door, and although his uncle couldn't see the changes Professor McGonagall had made, he could see the owl, perched in its cage on top of the new trunk, hooting indignantly at all the noise. Uncle Vernon had demanded him to shut the owl up, and when Harry couldn't placate her, Uncle Vernon had retrieved a padlock and thrown it at Harry, telling him that the owl was to remain locked in its cage lest the neighbours see it flying around and start to get suspicious.

Harry grinned at the memory. With his back to his uncle, he'd pocketed the padlock, and created a small illusion on the cage's latch instead. Of course, his uncle hadn't provided him with a key to the lock, and there was no way he was going to lock his owl up until Uncle Vernon deigned to give him the key. The door of the cage now open, Hedwig hopped out onto his arm and let Harry stroke her briefly before she spread her wings and launched herself towards the open window. Harry watched her silhouette disappear into the night, off to hunt for prey. So far she hadn't brought anything back, which Harry was glad about, as he didn't fancy cleaning blood off of the carpet. He sighed. Professor McGonagall had told him that owls were used to deliver post between wizards, and whilst he thought that this was a little dated, he hoped he would make some friends at Hogwarts to whom he could write. It would be sad to have a post-owl and not send any post.

Harry turned back to his books. In the last few days, he'd read the first few chapters of all the books, hoping to get a rough idea of what each subject was about. The classes seemed as though they would be really varied: the books on charms, transfiguration and defence against the dark arts all sounding like a lot of hard work and committing lots of different spells to memory; on the other hand, potions and herbology looked as though they would be more hands on. He wasn't entirely sure why they would need to learn how to take care of magical plants, as gardening was a hobby for most in the 'normal' world. He supposed it would be useful to gather potions ingredients, but then again, the apothecary in Diagon Alley had had a huge stock of them ready for purchase. History looked to be much the same as what he'd done in primary school, except focussing on magic, with wars against dark wizards, goblins, and giants, instead of against the Vikings, Germans, and the French. There was no mention of English, maths, religion or science. Harry understood the lack of science- after all, magic would probably turn most scientific theories on their heads from the little he'd seen- but why no maths or English? Harry was sure that the wizarding world still needed maths to run businesses, and people well versed in English to write their books, newspapers... a good grade in charms certainly wouldn't be of any use for a journalist. Or so he thought. He realised abruptly that he had no idea what on earth lessons would consist of. How did you learn a spell? What was required? Was there homework? Practice this spell one hundred times, or write an essay, five hundred words on how to tame a dragon? He chuckled to himself. How on earth would you tame a dragon, with its cunning, its size, and ability to ensure a swift death from fire, claws, and god-knows-what-else.

Lumos: the lighting spell, he read. It was the first spell in his charms textbook. This spell creates a light at the tip of the wand, which can vary in intensity given the strength at which it is cast. The incantation, Lumos (Loo-moss), has no required wand movement. So far, he'd read all the introductory pages, which had covered basic wand movements, and how to alter the power you put into the spell, along with a brief safety guide which stressed the importance of not casting a spell unless you knew the intended outcome. It all seemed straightforward, and this 'lumos' spell looked to be close to his own starting point of creating light. He picked his wand up from the bed, and held it in front of him. "Lumos." He muttered. The wand emitted a few sparks. "Lumos," he said again, this time trying to will the light into being. A ball of light appeared in front of him, and he dismissed it instantly. That was his own magic; he didn't need it now. He had to use the wand.

-x-X-x-

It was two nights later when he finally managed to make the tip of his wand glow. The light it put out was more like the beam of a torch, as opposed to his particular style, which resembled a light bulb. That night, he cast it again and again, avidly reading his textbooks by its light. Every time he lost focus on his wand, the light would flicker out, causing him to grumble at his wand under his breath. On two occasions, there was a muffled thump from somewhere upstairs, and he quickly extinguished the light while he listened for the heavy, shuffling footsteps of the Dursleys. The creaking of floorboards, along with noises from the bathroom, told the story of Dudley's trip to the loo and back, and once Harry heard the ever inconsiderate Dudley slam his bedroom door shut, he re-cast the spell and continued reading.

To Harry's mind, a lot of the magic mentioned in the book was superfluous. Why would you need the incantation, nox, in order to end the lumos spell? On the occasions Harry extinguished the light, he did it in the same way he did with his own magic: he shut off the flow of magic to the wand, and the light went out. It was all very simple to Harry, but according to the book, it wasn't right. Harry sighed, and read on. Each night he practiced, and each night he learnt a few more things. Sometimes, it was how to do a wand movement a little better, perfecting his swishes so they were less like short slashes; other times it was very quiet work on his pronunciation. The books stressed that everything had to be perfect, and gave an example of a wizard who had wound up with a buffalo on top of him instead of casting a levitation spell. Although Harry's own brand of wandless magic was reaching a stage where he wouldn't need a spell or wand to levitate any item lighter than his chair by the time he got to Hogwarts, he wanted to learn how to do it with a wand anyway. It seemed as if it would be more powerful; at the very least, it would prevent questions pertaining to his abilities. But he had no desire to practice something like that in his bedroom. How on earth would he: a) explain, or b) survive explaining why there was a buffalo in his bedroom? At Hogwarts, the teachers would be there to put anything right, and he didn't think he'd get in too much trouble for doing something bad unintentionally.

Throughout the rest of August, he practiced his magics at night. Sometimes, he would hide in the woods near the park during the daytime: alone, he would practice his stinging hexes and a shield spell he'd found in the Standard Book of Spells. It seemed he was quite proficient with offensive magic; he found the spell to knock an object over a lot easier to learn than the lumos spell. He supposed it was due to the fact that he already knew a lighting spell, and didn't like doing it in a different way.

He was surprised to find a small number of plants growing in the woods which were mentioned in his potions or herbology texts. There was nothing vaguely magical about them, but they seemed to be known in both worlds. Perhaps all plants and animals had an essence of magic in them; he assumed that there wasn't a special magical variety of foxglove or St John's wort. Some of them he knew from working in his aunt's garden; others purely from the pictures in his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. He kept a careful note of the ones he could identify, writing out their locations and rough quantities on a small pad of paper. He had no idea whether or not they'd be useful in the future, but he'd come across the Scouts motto: be prepared. Of course, there was no way his aunt and uncle would ever have let him join the Scouts, but their motto was a good one.

As August drew to a close, and summer waned, Harry was forced to approach his uncle in order to beg a lift to King's Cross. Since Professor McGonagall's visits, the Dursleys had all but stopped talking to him, taking only long enough to tell him what chores needed to be done before they left him alone again. Uncle Vernon certainly didn't seem to be in a good mood when Harry approached him the week before he was due to go to school.

"What do you want, boy?" snapped Uncle Vernon, having managed to ignore Harry nervously hovering over his shoulder for a good ten minutes until the adverts began in the half-time break in the football match he was watching.

"Erm... I was wondering if you could give me a lift to King's Cross on the thirtieth of August?" Harry replied. "It's just, I've got my trunk, and it's heavy, and I don't really know where to go..." Harry trailed off, as his uncle snorted in derision.

"We're not making you go to that freak school. If you want to go, you find your own way there. I'm not driving into central London on a Saturday. There's footie on, there'll be traffic, and I'm not going to put my back out lugging around a trunk for you. What's wrong with a suitcase, eh?" And without waiting for an answer, Uncle Vernon turned back to the TV. Harry stood there shocked for a few seconds, before returning to his room. He hadn't expected his uncle to be nice, but he had hoped that he'd be able to get a lift to the train station. How was he meant to carry his trunk there? By magic?

At that, Harry mentally berated himself. Of course, it wasn't too surprising, given that he was still relatively new to the wizarding world, but he'd completely forgotten about what he could do. When the thirtieth of August rolled around, Harry was up bright and early. He'd packed his trunk the night before, and took a quick shower before getting dressed. He hurried downstairs, and made himself breakfast, as no-one else was up yet- it was a Saturday morning after all. After gulping his breakfast down, he went back upstairs, and brushed his teeth and put on his shoes and coat. He cajoled Hedwig into her cage, promising that he'd let her out once he got on the Hogwarts Express, and put the cage securely into one of the compartments on his trunk. With a grin, he pulled out his wand, and tapped the trunk, shrinking it to the size of a deck of cards, and slipped it into his pocket. Completely packed, with nothing bulky to carry, he checked his pockets to make sure he had some money with him, and picked up his Discman from his bedside table. Most of the CDs he'd bought were packed into the trunk, but he'd left out Kyuss's 'Welcome To Sky Valley' to listen to on the way to King's Cross. He slipped the headphones down his t-shirt, and plugged them into the device, which he put into one of the large pockets in his coat.

He quickly looked around the room before he left, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and wondered how his life had changed so much. A few months ago, he'd been destined for a life at Stonewall High, undoubtedly dressed in rags, and would have most likely spent another seven years being bullied. He might have left with half-decent grades, as he wouldn't have had to dumb down to Dudley's level, but probably wouldn't have many career prospects. He highly doubted the Dursleys would have encouraged him to go to university, and knowing them, he'd have probably been on the street the moment he turned eighteen and they were no longer responsible for him. Now, he was heading off to a school in another country, to study magic with other people who shared his abilities. The future possibilities were endless. He could become a potions master, or hunt dangerous beasts, or, or... whatever it was that wizards did. It certainly beat being on the streets.

As he made his way downstairs, he heard a noise behind him. He turned, and saw his aunt at the top of the stairs, clad in a shocking pink dressing gown, and fluffy slippers.

"You're off then," she stated. Harry nodded. "When will you be back?" She asked.

"Fourth of July. Professor McGonagall said we could stay at Hogwarts at Christmas and Easter."

"You've got everything?"

"Yeah." It was unlike his aunt to sound... almost caring. "I need to go, before I miss my train."

"...Take care, Harry," she said quietly, and turned back into her bedroom. Harry stared after her in shock. It was the first time he'd ever heard his aunt speak his name. He shook himself, and left the house.

-x-X-x-

One hour, a bus, and a train later, Harry found himself standing in Kings Cross station. He'd picked up a sandwich, drink and a packet of crisps from a small WH Smiths in the station. It was now half past ten, and he had half an hour to find the magical Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall had explained it all to him when she gave him his ticket. The section of wall between platforms nine and ten was a magical entrance, and all he had to do was walk through it. As he drew near, he noticed one or two families hovering around near the walls. They all looked nervous. As he watched, the children gradually broke away from teary hugs, and walked towards the wall, nervously, but determinedly. The moment they reached the wall, they vanished along with their luggage trolleys, and the parents looked on. Some looked proud, some looked distraught, and others appeared to be panicking that their son or daughter had apparently been swallowed by a wall. Some of the other parents walked over to those that were panicking, and gave them some comfort. It was clearly time for Harry to go through as well.

He took a deep breath, muttered "here goes nothing" to himself, and strode towards the barrier. It looked like any other section of wall in the building, and he braced himself slightly as he took his last step into the wall. He became aware that he'd closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he looked around in amazement. In front of him was a bustling platform, crowded with students and parents. Obviously the magical families had their own way in, a there were plenty of older witches and wizards wearing robes of black, purple, blues and greens, and one or two sported large hats which clearly weren't the norm in the ordinary world. One elderly lady even had a stuffed vulture on hers, and he could have sworn that it turned its head and fixed its beady eyes upon him.

But the dominating feature of the platform was the enormous scarlet steam engine, with white steam billowing from its funnel, and ten pristine coaches strung out behind it. Harry strode along gaping at its regal magnificence, and noticed a couple of other students doing the same. They all looked to be his age, and were all dragging large trunks or suitcases behind them. Finally, he turned back, and began to look for a carriage with an empty compartment in it. Although the train wasn't quite due to leave yet, many compartments were already full, groups of older students laughing with friends and catching up with each other. He was on the second to last coach, and was just about to claim an empty compartment, when he heard a crash behind him. Although it wouldn't have been heard on the busy platform, it was obvious in the comparatively quiet coach. Harry turned around and looked down the corridor towards the door.

A young girl, about his age, with a huge mass of tumbling brown curls on her head was struggling to get a large suitcase onboard the train. A brief look out of the window showed that no-one was going to help her. Harry sighed, and looked around. There was no-one watching him. It's now or never, he thought, and dropped all of the illusions except the one which hid his scar. To the casual observer, he appeared to have grown by over an inch, and to have put on nearly an extra stone in weight. But crucially, he now looked like any normal boy. And none of the observant teachers would be wondering why he could do magic advanced enough to completely alter the way others perceived him. In short, Dumbledore wouldn't realise the extent of his ability, and he would be as normal as any other student. Well, as normal as a celebrity in a school for magic got. With the illusions dropped, he left the compartment, and walked over to the girl, who had since righted the heavy suitcase.

"Need a hand?" asked Harry. The girl looked up at him, frustration clear in her eyes, and sighed in relief.

"Yes please," she said. She looked behind her. "This one was the heaviest, but the others are almost as bad." Harry sidestepped around her, and saw two more suitcases waiting on a trolley.

"No problem," he said, hopping out of the train, and picked up one of the suitcases. He heaved it up onto the train, and the girl wheeled it away to make room for the second. He grabbed that too, and lifted it up before getting back on the train himself. "There you go." He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"Oh, thank you ever so much, I don't think I could have managed them all by myself, I mean, I'm so glad I had the trolley to get them here, but I didn't think it would be such a height to the train, and now I need to find somewhere to put them and-"

"There're luggage racks in the compartments," said Harry, cutting off the girl's rapid babbling. "You're welcome to share mine, if you like."

"That would be nice." The girl smiled again. "My name's Hermione Granger by the way."

"Harry," he replied. "Come on!" He grasped the handle of the largest suitcase, and wheeled it into his compartment. With a grunt, he stored it on the luggage rack by the door, and went back to get the last case, as the girl entered the compartment with the second. When he returned, the girl was looking around curiously.

"Where's your case?" She asked. Harry smiled, and tapped his pocket.

"All safe in here," he answered.

"Oh. Are you a second year? Or did your parents shrink it for you?" It seemed that the questions would come thick and fast from this one.

"No, I'm a first year. I got it in a magical shop though, so all it needs is a tap from a wand," replied Harry, carefully avoided the question about his parents. "How come you have so many suitcases? Even though my trunk's magical, I don't have anywhere near that amount of stuff..."

"Well, it's books mostly. I got all the school texts, and then a little extra for reference, and then I had to bring some of my favourites from home, because I didn't know if they'd have them in school..." Harry stared at her, somewhat at a loss for words. He'd never met anyone that enthusiastic about books. Of course, at school and at home, he was the only one who read anything. Aunt Petunia read endless gossip magazines that didn't deserve to be categorised as literature, and Uncle Vernon read the papers, mostly for the sports and the page 3 girls. Dudley was an idiot, and wouldn't read anything more than the odd comic- as long as it had a free gift. He didn't even read his school books, and bullied any smart kids to help him with his homework, so the smarter ones were afraid to show their intelligence. That way, there was no need to be 'encouraged' to help Dudley cheat in class. Of course, Harry ended up doing any of Dudley's homework for him. It was one of the main reasons Harry was seen as trouble in school- every teacher assumed that he copied Dudley's work, and Harry had to purposely dumb down what he handed in he wouldn't get a better grade than Dudley. Apparently, the teachers assumed he couldn't even copy correctly, although it was somewhat difficult to make himself look more stupid than someone who couldn't even do their nine time tables.

In the brief pause in conversation, Hermione had withdrawn into herself and sat down on one side of the carriage. Harry was just sitting down when he heard a loud whistle from the engine. He peered out of the window, and saw that the large old-fashioned clock on the platform read eleven o'clock. The train was ready to leave, and at last he was on his way to Hogwarts! Just then, the door to the compartment was flung open, crashing to a halt in its runners. Harry jumped, spinning away from the window, and Hermione had let out a small squeak and had curled into a foetal position on the chair, hugging her legs to herself. A tall, lanky, redheaded boy about their own age stood in the doorway, with a battered trunk on the floor behind him. "Eh... sorry about that," he muttered sheepishly. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was just looking for a compartment, and thought this one was empty. Erm... I'll be on my way..." He was just turning to leave, when two more redheads appeared behind him.

"Wow Ron," the first one said. "I think there must have been someone in the next compartment-"

"Or in London-" the second cut in.

"Who didn't hear that!" Finished the first. They stepped into the compartment, and it became obvious to Harry that the two were twins, and quite clearly the elder brothers of Ron. One bowed to Harry, whilst the other bowed to Hermione on the other side of the compartment, and then, in perfect synchronisation, they pivoted around each other to bow to them again.

"My name's Fred," the first said.

"And my name's George," said the second.

"And we're the notorious Weasley twins!" They said together.

"We must apologise for our prat of a brother," Fred said seriously.

"So we'll take our leave and teach him some manners!" And with that, they each grabbed one of Ron's shoulders, and dragged him out of the compartment, pushing his trunk ahead of them, and closing the door behind them.

Harry had no idea what to make of this display, and by the look on Hermione's face, it appeared that she was equally stunned. "What on earth was all that about?" she asked. She was still coiled up on her seat, but now looked a lot more relaxed. Harry shrugged, and sat down.

"Dunno. The main question is what do we do about that?" He asked, pointing to the door. A large crack ran its window. Of course, Harry could have fixed it quite easily with his own magic, but he hadn't learnt a spell to repair things, and certainly didn't want to show off his own magic.

"Oh, that's easy," replied Hermione. She uncurled herself from the seat, stood up, and rummaged in her backpack, her hand quickly emerging with a wand. Pointing it at the door, she gave it a quick flick, and incanted "Repairo!" and the crack vanished from the glass. She turned back to Harry with a slightly smug look on her face.

"I thought you were a first year?" Harry queried.

"I am. But I tried a few simple spells at home, and they all worked for me!" Hermione answered, smiling brightly as she sat back down.

"Professor McGonagall told me I shouldn't cast magic at home..." Harry began.

"Oh, she said the same to me too," interrupted Hermione, "and I know it was wrong of me to try, but I really wanted to learn, and I couldn't wait for school. I hope I don't get in too much trouble..." she trailed off, biting her lip nervously.

"I don't think you will," Harry assured her. "I tried to do some magic as well, but I didn't get on to the repairing spell. Magic is hard, I could make sparks and the lumos charm, but that's all. I read ahead though, the repairing spell is in chapter five isn't it?"

"It's in chapter four, actually." Hermione took a deep breath, and even though Harry had only known her for about half an hour, he could sense a lecture coming on. He wasn't wrong. "I got up to chapter six; I only hope it's enough. I don't know how they'll start us off, and I imagine the wizarding children have learnt lots of spells at home already. I didn't want to be too far behind everyone, I read all of our books three times, and memorised most of them-" she was cut off mid flow by Harry's laughter. The shocked look on her face made Harry laugh even more- until it abruptly changed to a look of hurt, and her legs came back up onto the seat as she curled up once more. Harry's quiet laughter died instantly. To his horror, it looked like she was on the verge of crying.

Harry had had absolutely no experience in cheering people up in his entire life. In fact, he had very little experience with human interaction at all. Aside from his relatives, his teachers, and Professor McGonagall (who was soon to be his teacher anyway), no-one had ever spoken to him for more than five minutes. All the kids at school had shunned him and called him names. And now this girl, the first person who actually seemed to like him, was on the brink of crying. He had to stop it. "Hermione... I'm sorry... please don't cry..." He said hesitantly. She raised her head from her knees and glared at him.

"Go away," she hissed at him. Harry didn't move.

"I-" he began.

"No. I thought you were different. But you're just like them." She spat the last word out.

"Like who?"

"Like them. I thought you were nice, you helped me. I thought that I could be normal, in a magic school." She gave a short, humourless laugh. "But no, you're just like the rest. Go away, leave the bookworm alone." And just like that, it clicked for Harry. She was smart. Clearly smarter than he was, and he'd been ostracised for being more intelligent than the rest of his class. Well, it was more that Dudley made it clear what would happen to anyone who was friends with the freak but his intelligence didn't help. Even without Dudley, he probably wouldn't have had many friends. She probably had a much better home life, but she was no better off in the social department than he was. She was just like him. He reached out, and touched her arm, with a sad smile on his face as she flinched back from his touch.

"Hermione, I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing at me." Confusion spread across her face. "I laughed because in the last twenty minutes, I got to know you well enough to know that you were going to give me a small lecture on everything you've read. You're smart. I don't think that's a bad thing." There was a slightly hopeful look in her eyes now, the anger and sadness fading a little. He pressed on. "From what you just said, I'm guessing you didn't have many friends at school?" She shook her head, but said nothing. He sighed. "I guess that makes two of us. My cousin made sure I wasn't very popular."

Gradually, Hermione lowered her knees. She was still curled up on the seat, but now it was more for comfort than the defensive foetal position she'd adopted earlier. For the next hour, they gradually opened up towards each other, not going into too many details about their lives, but just talking, getting to know one another. The time flew by. He discovered she was the daughter of two dentists, an only child, and the first magical person in her family that they knew of, although she explained that the Statute of Secrecy probably meant that anyone before her grandparents could have been magical. At Harry's confused look, she went on to explain that only immediate family members could be told about magic, so as not to let the whole world know. In turn, Harry told her an abbreviated and heavily edited version of growing up with the Dursleys. How his parents were magical, but had died, and he had gone to live with them. They talked a little about their accidental magic, how he had turned a teacher's hair blue, and she had constantly summoned her favourite books to her, and even managed to turn invisible once when she was hiding from the main clique of girls at her primary school. Well, 'invisible' was a strong word. As she could still see herself, and see her reflection, Hermione didn't think it was true invisibility. Yet her classmates had walked straight past her while they were clearly still looking for her. They talked and talked, and for the first time in either of their lives, they felt like they actually had a friend.

Before either of the two children knew it, half of the train journey had passed. There was a knock on the compartment door, and a smiling, rotund witch opened the door. "Anything from the trolley, dears?" She asked. Harry looked out into the corridor and saw the witch had a trolley laden with snacks. Since visiting Gringotts, he'd had money to buy the odd chocolate bar here and there, so he asked for two Mars Bars. The witch looked confused for a second. "I'm sorry dear, we don't have any Muggle confectionary. Would you like some chocolate frogs instead?" Harry shot a look at Hermione, who shrugged.

"Could we have a small selection of everything please?" he asked the plump witch.

"Of course, dear." She picked up several small boxes, and handed them to him. She then waved her wand over the pile of boxes in his arms, and '11S14K' appeared in red letter above them. Harry reached in his pocket for his money, then realised he only had Muggle currency on him.

"Do you take pound coins?" he asked a little sheepishly. The witch shook her head. "Err... hang on a sec..." said Harry. He pulled his trunk out of his pocket, placed it on the floor, and tapped it with his wand. The trunk expanded, and Harry fished the key out of his pocket. When he'd packed, he'd sorted his belonging into three categories: clothes, school stuff, and personal stuff. He turned the key a full turn anticlockwise, to get into the personal compartment of his trunk. The second he opened the lid, there was a loud, indignant hoot from inside the compartment. "Oh! Hedwig, I'm so sorry, I forgot all about you!" He gasped, lifting the cage containing a very disgruntled owl from the trunk. Passing it to Hermione, he grabbed the bag containing his wizarding money, and fished a handful of sickles and knuts out. He counted out the money, giving the lady twelve sickles as he only had nine knuts. She waved her wand over the small pile of money, and '12S' appeared in green under the '11S14K' that still hung in the air. '15K' appeared in yellow beneath the two, and the witch handed over the knuts. All three lines disappeared simultaneously.

"Good day," said the witch as she left the compartment, closing the door behind her.

-x-X-x-

A short while later, Harry and Hermione's conversation had moved on to what they thought the lessons would be like. They had each tried most of the sweets. For Hermione, it was an entirely new experience: with dentists for parents, she'd never had anything more than a bar of chocolate. The Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans had been interesting, up until the point when Hermione had had a bogey flavoured one, and the beans lost their appeal. They each now had a couple of Chocolate Frog cards, and they had enthusiastically read the descriptions of the famous witches and wizards aloud. The cauldron cakes were like a jam filled muffin, and were an instant hit. Hermione had fawned over Hedwig, who looked pleased with herself as she allowed the girl to stroke her, all the while shooting glares at Harry. Harry had apologised profusely for forgetting about her. In the excitement of making a new friend, he'd completely forgotten his promise to let the owl out once he was on the train. He'd told Hermione that she could borrow Hedwig to write to her parents, and the girl had been so happy, she'd jumped up and hugged him.

There was a look of absolute shock on his face, and Hermione could feel him tensing beneath her. She let go slowly, and returned to her seat. He still looked a bit dazed, but very slowly, a small smile appeared on his face. She had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, but they were saved from any further awkwardness by the noise of the compartment door opening. The person who stood in the centre of the doorway was the arrogant blonde boy that Harry had met in Madam Malkins. Now dressed in his school robes, he still managed to give off the impression that he was superior to everyone else, even though he was dressed identically to the two boys who hovered at his shoulders. These new additions to his wardrobe- for by the looks on their faces, the boys clearly seemed to be accessories rather than to supply conversation and humour- were almost identical in stature, and strongly reminded Harry of his cousin. They were quite overweight, with chunky arms and legs, and had faces that were set in stone, almost expressionless. Their hair was lank, and the cut did nothing to redeem their small glaring eyes, sharp noses and gormless mouths. Whereas the first boy wore his robes as if they were the finest garments in the world, perfectly tailored to him, the two brutes at his shoulders looked as though someone had flung vast swathes of cloth at them and then crudely stapled them together. The imperious blond in their centre stared at the two of them.

"I'm looking for Harry Potter. Have either of you two," he paused for a split second, giving the impression of an insult left unsaid, "seen him?" He sneered slightly at Harry and Hermione. He gave no indication that he had met Harry before. Hermione gave a slight start at the name 'Harry Potter', but it went un-noticed.

"No," Harry responded evenly. "If we see him, we'll tell him you were looking for him, Mr..?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He didn't even bother to introduce his two companions. "I wouldn't have expected the like of you to know where he is." And with that, he turned and left their compartment, his two goons trailing at his heels. Harry got up and closed the door behind him.

"Arrogant idiot. As if I'd tell him where Harry Potter is when he acts like that." Hermione gasped.

"You know where Harry Potter is? Oh, it's going to be so fascinating this year, being at school with such a well known figure. What's he like?" Harry laughed.

"We've been talking for over four hours, and you still don't know what I'm like?" He laughed again at her shocked face. "Perhaps I didn't introduce myself properly when we met. My name's Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you, Miss Granger." He stuck out his hand, and after a few seconds in which she collected herself from her shock and scanned his hairline for his scar, Hermione shook it.

"But you're so..."

"So what? I'm me. Your friend. I don't know anything about the wizarding world, except for what I've read in books, and I can tell you now, whatever any books that mention me in it say, they're lying. I don't know what happened the night my parents were killed, and I grew up not knowing anything about what happened or who I was in this world, and I'm fine with remaining who I am. I don't want to be someone like that ponce who just left the compartment." Hermione nodded at that. "All my life, I've been less than a nobody. Now, for once, I feel like a normal kid, except for the whole 'I'm a wizard' thing. I don't need to change all that again."

"But you lied to Malfoy. You'd said you hadn't seen Harry Potter today," huffed Hermione. Harry laughed.

"Well, I haven't looked in the mirror today, so no, I haven't," grinned Harry. That finally cracked her, and seconds later they were both laughing at the misfortunes of Draco Malfoy, wondering when he would finally give up his search.

-x-X-x

At long last, the Hogwarts express finally pulled into the station. An announcement rung through the train, reminding them to leave their trunks and belongings in their compartments, which would be magically locked once they were empty. All the students stepped off the train, all looking resplendent in their school uniforms. Hermione had been wearing her trousers, blouse, and jumper when she got on the train, and so had merely folded her coat into her rucksack, and pulled on her black robe over the top of her clothes. Harry, blushing slightly, had asked Hermione to step out of the compartment while he swapped his t-shirt, hoodie, and jacket for his school shirt, jumper, and robes, and was thankful he'd worn the trousers on the way. He'd stuffed his clothes back into his trunk haphazardly, wanting to change as quickly as possible. He was glad the driver had given them a ten minute warning before they got to Hogwarts, and reminded them that they needed to be in robes for the opening ceremony.

When they got off the train, they found it wasn't so much a station as a single stone platform, with two paths leading off of it. The students were all milling around, and it was easy to spot the first years near them. All of the older students were hanging around talking to their friends, and drifting slowly towards one of the exits, while the smallest people on the platform were standing around in ones and twos, looking lost and nervous. Suddenly, a loud voice boomed out over the crowd. "FIRS YEARS! FIRS' YEARS, OVER 'ERE!" Harry looked towards the sound of the noise, and saw an absolute giant of a man standing by the second exit. He stood at about nine foot tall- almost half as tall again as the tallest student Harry could see- and he looked about three times as wide as a normal man as well. After the seven hour train ride from London, it was dark, and the man was illuminated by the large lantern that he was holding high above his head. He looked quite wild, with frizzy, bushy hair that ran down to just past his shoulders, and his face was worn through years of working outdoors. On closer inspection though, he appeared to have quite a kind face, with warm black eyes that glistened in the lamplight, and a large smile on his bearded face. He was wearing a huge leather coat, and didn't seem to notice the wind that was causing the heavy coat to flap wildly behind him. Harry and Hermione clutched their black pointy hats to their heads, and made their way over.

Presently, the first years were the only ones left on the platform. The man did a slow head-count, and then double checked it. "Righty then, yer all 'ere. Can yer all 'ear me?" He asked, speaking loudly over the wind. Heads nodded all around. "Come closer, come closer, I ain' gonn' bite yer!" Nervously, the first years huddled around the huge man, grateful for the little bit of shelter he provided from the wind. "Firs, lemme introduce m'self. I'm 'Agrid, Keeper 'o Keys and Grounds at 'Ogwarts. If yer foller me, I'll take yer up to t' castle. It's the traditional route, firs' years take it e'ery year. Give the rest 'o 'em time ter get settled, see? Anyway, foller me!" And with that, he set off, is great lantern leading the way along the dark path. He set a slow pace, and kept glancing back to make sure the first year all kept up with him. The path was quite dark, and Harry was thankful for the light Hagrid's lantern provided. The path was lined with trees, and it was a little uneven in places, but luckily it was dry, and so their footing was sound. Harry shuddered to think what it would have been like if it had rained that day.

They had walked for around five minutes, when Hagrid shouted out "yer'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts any moment now," and they rounded a bend in the path. The path opened out onto the shore of a large lake, into which a small jetty protruded. There were about fifteen small boats moored at the jetty, but the sight that drew a gasp from all the first years was the magnificent castle which stood atop a cliff on the other side of the lake. The castle was enormous. There was no other word to describe it. Half a dozen towers soared into the remarkably clear night's sky, high above the main building, which appeared to be about seven floors high. From where they stood, they could see two sides of the great building, and along one side was an enormous row of lit windows, each three stories high. In other places along the walls, smaller windows were lit, and three of the towers held lit windows too. "Right now, four ter a boat, careful yer don' fall in!" Hagrid's booming voice snapped the students out of their mini daze, and soon they were all carefully clambering into the boats. Harry helped Hermione down into theirs, and they were joined by a round faced wizard, who stutteringly introduced himself as Neville Longbottom, and a stocky, smiling wizard who went by the name of Ernest (call me 'Ernie') MacMillan. Meanwhile, Hagrid had clambered into a boat all by himself, and after a quick check to make sure no-one was left on sure or floundering in the water, he raised a pink umbrella (which Harry hadn't noticed up until now), and gave a cry of "FORWARD!" With that, the boats slipped smoothly from their moorings, and began the trip across the lake.

Thankfully, the wind had died down, and the crossing was quite smooth. As the cliff and castle drew nearer, Harry could really appreciate the sheer scale of the building. He'd seen pictures of castles in his history textbooks at school and in the library, but they had done nothing to prepare him for the enormous building he was approaching. When they reached the edge of the cliff, the boats moved under a low curtain of ivy, and all the students ducked in fear as they entered a large cavern beneath the cliff. It turned out they needn't have bothered, for the ceiling was a good fifteen feet above their heads. The boats moved to the far side of the cavern, and there was absolute silence from the awed students. The only sound was the slight lapping of waves against the prow of the boat and the rocky walls. As the boats came to a halt next to a landing cut from the rock itself, Hagrid was the first out of the boat, and began helping the students out of theirs where needed. Once they were all safely on dry land, Hagrid lead them through a carved doorway that was flanked by two burning torches, and they followed him into well lit passage and up a flight of stone stairs until they reached a small hallway that was barred at the opposite end by a stout wooden door. Hagrid walked up to it, and knocked three times.

The door opened, and Harry smiled to see Professor McGonagall inside the doorway. She was wearing a smart dark green robe and hat, looking very different to the businesswoman she had appeared to be when she visited Harry, and this time looking every bit the witch she was. She turned, and the students followed her into an enormous entrance hall. There was an enormous staircase to their right, and the biggest set of doors Harry had ever seen on his left. They were a good thirty feet high, made from wood, with supporting ribs that were six inches thick, and held onto the walls on either side by three eight massive iron hinges. Directly opposite the door they had entered by was the second largest set of doors Harry had ever seen, in proportion to the first set, but only half the size, and about ten foot wide. Looking up, Harry could see huge flights of stairs, stretching up to the ceiling nearly two hundred feet above them. Number 4, Privet Drive, would have disappeared into this enormous entrance hall. In fact, half of the houses in Privet drive could have probably been stacked up in this one place quite easily. Professor McGonagall climbed up a couple of stairs, and stood in the centre of the staircase to address them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she began, her stern voice ringing clear in the silence of the entrance hall. "My name is Professor McGonagall, and I am the deputy headmistress, head of Gryffindor house, and Transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts. In a few moments time, I will lead you into the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into one of four houses in front of all of your peers. Whilst you are at Hogwarts, you will eat, sleep, and go to class with those in your house. Your house will be your family, and will look after you. In return, you will support your house by staying out of trouble. House Points can be earned through good work and exceptional behaviour, whilst they can be removed for infringements of the rules and lack of discipline. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup. The student or students who accrue the most house points for each house in each year will be awarded with the Student Cup for each house; this is a great honour, and is a mark of excellent achievement.

"There are four houses here at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. They are named after the four founders of Hogwarts, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards in the past. Almost every wizard in Great Britain has passed through this school, so you could be standing next to the future Minister of Magic. You could be in the same house as the next Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot. You will be the future of this country, its teachers, its workers, its leaders. Where you end up is all down to the work you do here at Hogwarts. I expect you to abide by the rules, but also to enjoy yourselves during your time here. It s now time for the sorting ceremony." With that, Professor McGonagall stepped down from the stairs, to a smattering of applause from the first years. She nodded at Hagrid, who was standing at the back of the group, and he disappeared into a passage by the staircase. Professor McGonagall instructed the students to line up, and Harry found himself in between Hermione and Ron, the redhead who had first barged into their carriage.

"How do they sort us?" Harry whispered to Hermione. She shrugged.

"I don't know, it didn't say in Hogwarts: a History," she whispered back. Ron chose to butt in.

"My brother Fred said it hurts a lot, and George said something about wrestling a troll. I hope they were joking..." Harry rolled his eyes at Hermione, who suppressed a giggle. It was obvious the sorting wouldn't hurt them or involve something no-one had any experience with. How would that even qualify you for an individual house? Most likely it was on some random basis thought Harry.

Suddenly, the doors in front of them opened. Professor McGonagall started forwards, and led them into a vast hall, lit by a thousand candles that were floating in midair. Four long tables stretched the length of the hall, each filled with students who turned to look at them. Professor McGonagall lead them up the aisle between the two central tables towards a fifth table at the far end of the hall, at which sat a line of adults, all facing the rest of the hall. They must be the teachers, Harry reasoned. Above the staff table hung five massive banners. To the left was a silver snake on a green background. To the right of that was a bronze raven mounted on a dark blue, and to the far right was a black and white badger, staring out from a yellow background. To the badger's left hung a golden lion, rampant on a deep red field, and in the centre, slightly above the rest, hung a huge crest bearing the creatures from the four banners surrounding a large H. Harry recognised the white bearded man sat directly under this central banner as Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, and the first card in Harry's small Chocolate Frog Card collection.

The staff table was raised on a small dais, allowing the teachers to look out over the students, and it was on this dais that a wooden stall stood. Upon it was a battered, ancient, faded black, pointed wizards hat. Professor McGonagall paraded them along in front of the staff table, and took them to the right hand side of the hall, where they lined up against the wall. She strode back into the middle of the hall, and stood slightly to the left of the hat and stool. Absolute silence filled the hall. Slowly, a wide tear appeared just above the brim of the hat, and the first years all jumped as one as it began to sing in a deep voice.

"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

That I cannot 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 Gryffindor 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 folk 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!

The whole hall burst into applause at the end of the song, and the hat bowed its tip to each of the four houses. Harry heard Ron quietly muttering something about killing his brothers while he clapped."When I call out your name, please step forward, sit on the stool, and place the hat on your head. You will then be sorted," announced Professor McGonagall. A scroll appeared in her hands, and she unravelled it and held it before her. "Abbott, Hannah!"

The sorting had begun.

-End of Chapter 10-

Annnnd Harry's at Hogwarts! Sorry it's taken so long to get this far, but there were things I wanted to change before he got to Hogwarts. This is by far the longest chapter to date. I thought about splitting it up, but it didn't seem right. Thanks for your patience, please continue to read and review!

P.S: I've corrected the errors found in chapters 7-9, thanks to Texan Muggle for pointing them out It's only corrections though, no content has changed.

Author's Notes

Dropping Harry's illusions: it had to happen, otherwise Dumbledore would have seen through them and realised Harry has a bit more advanced magic than he should have. It's not that Harry is scared of Dumbledore, it's just that he has no reason to let anyone know what he can do. By dropping them out of sight on the train, no-one will be suspicious. The Dursleys would never know, and won't question when he returns after almost a year. McGonagall won't realise he's grown an inch, as he spent most of his time with her under one of her own Glamours anyway. And it allows him to get onto the train unmolested- although he didn't have the scene in the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid, he still noticed the way some shop keepers treated him in Diagon Alley.

Page 3 girls: for those who are unaware, a couple of English 'newspapers' (I use the term loosely) feature a girl wearing nothing but her knickers on page 3. She is usually accompanied by a small bit of text that says something along the lines of "I want to end world poverty and thought getting my tits out would help." It's a very cheap newspaper (20p), and the price reflects the content.

Astronomy: I realised as I was writing this chapter that there was no textbook on Astronomy. Furthermore, it's never mentioned in the books- Harry takes an OWL in it, and attends classes, but as far as I can tell, it serves no purpose. Yes, phases of the moon are important in potions, and I assume in herbology as well, and there is also some stuff about it in Divination. It seems really odd to me that there isn't a textbook on it, so I'm going to incorporate it more into other subjects. It does seem completely irrelevant to learn about the surface of Io though ("Ron, you must have misheard Professor Sinistra, Io's covered in ice, not mice..."), as there's no mention of wizards in space. Maybe the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks live on Io.

Hogwarts towers: The Head's tower, Gryffindor Tower, Ravenclaw tower, Astronomy tower, Divination tower, Owlery tower.