The train flew through the countryside, but Harry felt as if time took a holiday. Already Hogwarts surpassed every experience he'd ever had, and he wasn't even there yet. Ron sat tearing into a licorice wand while Draco tossed Harry a package.

"Try this one, Potter," he said.

Harry inspected the treat. "Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans?"

"Good luck," Ron warned. "They really do mean every flavor."

Harry picked a bright blue bean and popped it into his mouth. It tasted…rather strange. He frowned as he tried to figure it out.

"I snuck my friend Vincent a curdled dragon's milk one, and he nearly threw up."

"My brother Fred swore he got a bogie flavored bean once."

Harry slowly took the bean out of his mouth. He suddenly didn't want to know the flavor. Harry noticed another box of the Every-Flavor Beans sitting on Ron's lap with a small animal half-shoved inside.

"This is Scabbers," Ron said. "Pathetic, isn't he?"

"Just a little," Harry said quietly.

"Fred gave me a coloring spell. Want to see me turn him yellow?" Ron asked.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, while Draco pretended to look uninterested.

Ron whipped out his wand and cleared his throat for dramatic effect. But just as he raised his wand, a girl suddenly slid the compartment door open with a sharp

tug.

"Have any of you seen a toad?" she asked with an impatient sigh. "A boy named Neville's lost one."

A bit dumbfounded, the boys shook their heads. The girl took them in, and her face lit up when she caught sight of Ron's wand poised in midair.

"Are you about to do magic?" she pressed excitedly. "Let's see, then!"

Ron, now flustered, cleared his throat again. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"

A small puff of smoke blew the box off of Scabbers, who gave an indignant squeak. But otherwise, the mangy rodent remained unchanged. Ron looked up and shrugged apologetically at his audience.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl inquired. "Well, it didn't work."

Draco openly rolled his eyes. The girl, if she noticed, kept talking anyway.

"I've been trying to get ahead, myself. I bought all my books and read most of them already. We're not to use magic outside school, but I practiced a bit in my compartment earlier."

The girl flounced through the door and plopped down next to Draco, who looked horrified at her proximity. She drew her wand from inside her robes.

"For example," she stated, and without warning, pointed the wand at Harry's face. "Occulus Reparo."

Snap!

Harry flinched at the sound and watched as his glasses, taped together in the middle, fixed themselves on his nose.

"That's better, isn't it?" she stated proudly. Suddenly, her expression changed, and she squinted at Harry's face. "Holy cricket, you're Harry Potter! I'm Hermione Granger."

She turned to the other two boys. "And you are?"

"M' Ron Weasley," the ginger said with a mouthful of Pumpkin Pasty.

"Malfoy," Draco said curtly. "Draco."

"Pleasure," Hermione replied, disdainful expression on her face. Draco molded his to match. She rose and made her way to the door. "I recommend putting on your robes. We'll be arriving soon."

She turned to look back.

"And you've got dirt on your nose, did you know?" she told Ron. And with that, the girl swept out of the compartment.

A stunned silence reigned over the three boys in the wake of Hermione's visit.

"Well," Draco spoke up first, "she was charming."

"Maybe she's just nervous," Harry suggested.

"Nervous? She cast a spell on your glasses while they were still on your face!" Ron said.

"Yeah, but…"

"But nothing!" Draco interrupted. "Miss Hermione Granger needs to keep her nose out of other people's business. End of story."

"She's right, though," Ron said. "We'll probably be at Hogwarts in less than an hour. We need to get our robes."

Draco rolled his eyes again. "Right, if she told us to change, then I guess we must."

The boys each pulled their black robes from their trunks and dressed. Harry felt a thrill run through him as the warm fabric clung to his shoulders and draped over his arms. This is it, he thought, the excitement filling him up like a boiling kettle.

No more Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon. No more cupboards under the stairs. No more oversized clothes worn before him by a cousin who resented his existence. No more just Harry. Something he thought must be joy sprouted in his chest. Harry looked up at Ron and Draco, the same anticipation for their arrival shining in their faces, too. He couldn't help but grin.

"I have a good feeling about this year."

::::::::::

Harry thought it likely that he would never in his life see anything more beautiful.

Hogwarts sat glimmering above him, a towering structure of stone set against the stars. His neck hurt from throwing his head back in an effort to take in each spire and candlelit window, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The arches swooped overhead as the castle seemed to shepherd the new students in. Harry was filled with wonder as he made his way inside with the other first years. A stern witch in green robes gave them an introduction that Harry tried very hard to pay attention to in spite of his wandering eyes.

The witch—Professor McGonagall, he corrected—led the first years through a set of large wooden doors and entered the Great Hall. The room was enormous, with four long tables filled with students, floating candles hovering in the air, and walls that reached up and up until they bled into the night sky.

Harry overheard Hermione somewhere behind him talking about the enchantment used on the ceiling, and it dawned on him that all of this was very real. He became aware all at once of the many hundreds of eyes trained on him and the other first years, and a pit of nervousness bloomed in his stomach. He glanced to the side at Draco, who didn't seem at all surprised at the decor, and in fact seemed to be doing his best to maintain an expression of uncaring. Ron, on his other side, gaped openly at everything.

"Didn't your family tell you what it was like?" Harry asked Ron quietly.

"Yeah, but…" Ron replied softly, "it's not seeing it, you know?"

Harry nodded. Yes, he imagined all the words in the world couldn't convey the feeling he now had standing in the heart of Hogwarts.

The first years stopped before the high table and a little stool, upon which sat a rather beat-up hat. Harry remembered Professor McGonagall explaining the Sorting Hat, and the nervousness Harry felt before made its presence known with greater force. How would the Sorting Hat know which House he belonged in if Harry didn't know, himself?

Professor McGonagall strode to stand by the Sorting Hat and held up a roll of parchment.

"When I call your name," she announced, and all whispered chatter in the Great Hall died away, "you will come up and sit on this stool. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your House. After you have been sorted, you may go and sit at your House table. Understood?"

The first years all nodded, and the room held its breath for the first name.

"Hannah Abbott."

A trembling girl walked out from the safety of the crowd and climbed awkwardly onto the stool. Professor McGonagall lowered the tattered Sorting Hat onto her head, the brim slipping down over her eyes. After a second, Hannah jumped and gasped in shock. Harry gulped. What was it doing to her?

As he watched, a rip near the brim of the Hat started to open on its own, and a loud voice called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The nearest table to Harry's right exploded into cheers, and a relieved Hannah slid off the stool and ran over to the welcoming shouts of her new House.

"Susan Bones," McGonagall called.

And so the sorting continued. Harry felt his trepidation increase as the crowd of first years diminished.

"Hermione Granger."

The bushy haired girl from the train sucked in a deep breath and walked to the stool. McGonagall let the Hat fall over her eyes and waited for the decision. But unlike the previous students, the hat remained silent for a long time. McGonagall's eyebrows rose as the minutes wore on. Harry leaned over to Draco.

"Why is it taking so long?" he whispered.

Draco muttered, "The Hat's having a hard time deciding where to sort her. She probably fits with two or more Houses pretty well. I just hope it doesn't pick Slytherin."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"Because she's annoying!" Draco scoffed.

Harry nearly missed Draco's answer as the Sorting Hat finally announced, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The following shouts were probably some of the loudest of the night so far, and Harry eyed the table of celebrating Gryffindors as Hermione skipped over. They seemed excited to have gotten a student that was difficult to place.

"Draco Malfoy."

Draco didn't pause as he sauntered up to the stool. Harry admired him briefly for keeping a calm face despite the pressure. Although, Harry thought, Draco seemed very sure of himself on the train. Maybe he really wasn't worried.

Harry got his answer. No sooner had the Hat graced the boy's blond hair then it

shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

Draco smiled knowingly and gave Harry a wink as he made his way to the cheering sea of black and green at the far left side of the room. So Draco had known where he belonged. Harry found himself wishing for the same confidence.

"Ron Weasley."

Ron walked forward and settled down, but it only took a few seconds for the Sorting Hat to shout, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron smiled, and Harry saw three other particularly enthusiastic redheads rush to meet Ron at the end of the table.

"Harry Potter."

The Great Hall suddenly went still, and a sea of whispers accompanied Harry as he stalked shakily toward the stool. He looked up into McGonagall's stern face before he turned and sat in front of the many eyes trained on him. Thankfully, the Sorting Hat was big enough to fall and block his view of the room.

A voice talked into his ear, making Harry jump in surprise.

"Ah, quite the choice," the Sorting Hat croaked. "I sense courage in you, and a

sound mind. And there's quite a bit of talent to go with it! But where to put you?"

Harry didn't know. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seemed ill-fitted for him, but he felt like he could find his place both in Gryffindor and in Slytherin. He thought about

Draco, how he'd been the first to welcome him at the station, how Narcissa Malfoy had sent him off like a mother, how the Slytherins had made way for Draco at their table like he was made for them. But he thought of Gryffindor as well. Ron joined with his family—both blood and House—and Hermione was celebrated even though she clearly could have belonged to another House. But was that for him? Harry didn't know.

"Difficult," the Hat murmered. "Very difficult. There's courage in your heart, and your name carries the Gryffindor tradition. But you could be great in Slytherin."

My name? Harry thought.

"Yes, your name dates back with Gryffindor's own for centuries," the Hat said. "Your father, and his father, and back for generations. All Gryffindors."

Harry was stunned. To think he had never known…

"Your mother was a Gryffindor, too."

Harry felt something inside him glow warm. His mother. Sometimes he imagined he could remember her. He wasn't sure if that was true, but he liked to think that even though he only knew her as a baby, part of her would always exists in his memory. If she was a Gryffindor, and his father was, too, then maybe he could find home where they did.

"Are you sure?" the Sorting Hat asked. "Slytherin could be your home just as well."

But Harry's mind was made up, and the burning in his heart told him he was right. He shook his head.

"Very well," the Hat conceded. "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table leapt to their feet and roared. Harry beamed as he jumped to the floor and turned to the red-robed table. With each step, the fire in his chest grew hotter, and he knew he made the right choice. The faces of students he would soon know better than he knew himself were getting nearer, and within seconds he was at the table, inducted into their House with many handshakes, pats on the back, and names shouted in his ear.

After several moments, McGonagall finally cowed the excessive shouting with her best Look of Disapproval, and Harry could finally breathe. He looked up and searched for Draco, locking eyes with him at the Slytherin table. The blond boy remained stone faced for a while, and Harry worried that his friendship with Draco would be over before it began. He really didn't want to lose the first person he met in his new life. But for some reason, Draco's face suddenly relaxed. He only shrugged and looked away with an expression of indifference.

Harry grinned. He didn't know Draco very well yet, but something told him that Draco's dismissal was uncharacteristically gentle. He'd probably hear all about how superior Slytherin was later, but that was a small price to pay for peace.

That night, as Harry fell into bed, he wondered what his dreams would be like now that his life had become one. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much that day, but he let one more slide onto his face as he closed his eyes.

At only eleven years old, Harry had a lot of life to live and learn about. But even he could tell that something had begun that night. And he couldn't wait to see where it took him.