Author Notes: I ended up beating myself up a lot over this chapter. This is his first real interaction with anyone.

Apologies on this chapter taking so long compared to the other one. Now that Harry's interactions have increased, I have to consider everyone else's reactions. Also, reading other fan fiction has had me thinking on how I want to include some of my favorite characters (and I don't mean people like Draco Malfoy, don't worry). There's so much to be done and thought up, and it's been a long time since I've had to think on such things.

On the other hand, I would have had this posted long ago, but real life interfered, as it often does. My great aunt Helen Greenbaum, eighty-seven-year-old concentration camp survivor, died just after midnight on July 15th, survived by her sister and my grandmother, Rosalie Wattenberg of ninety-one, her son, her grandson, and her great-granddaughter. It was the first funeral that I'll be able to remember, the last one being when I was three or so. We were quite a bit aways from home for a while. Second, we moved. In fact, we're still technically in the process of moving. We finally got our internet up. I won't be able to be on the computer as often as I used to, so I'll probably be writing a lot of my chapters by hand from now on.

IMPORTANT: It has not been four years between updates, it's been a month or so. I'm a pack rat, I like to keep things up, including reviews.

"Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers." -Charles W. Eliot

Chapter 2 – The Most Constant of Friends

Harry had always been very adaptable – a byproduct of having grown up with the Dursleys – and thus it was not long before he calmed his excitement so that he could read. It would be quite a few hours before the train got there, after all, so why should he get excited now when this was only the trip there? Reminding himself of this a few times finally calmed him down enough to be able to concentrate on Hogwarts, A History again. The book mentioned apparation, which Harry was planning on looking up the moment he had access to the legendary library that was also mentioned in this book.

Unfortunately, it was also not long before a redheaded kid wandered into Harry's compartment, distracting Harry from his book just as he had begun to focus again. The boy was rather tall and looked somewhat disproportionate, with rather large hands and feet. He was covered in freckles and had a dark spot on his nose.

"Sorry, anyone sitting here?" he asked, pointing to the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shrugged and tried to go back to his book. As long as he wasn't terribly distracting, why should he care? The boy sat down and stared out of the window after one last glance at Harry.

"Hey, Ron."

Harry and the boy (Ron, he supposed) looked up to see two identical twin boys standing in the doorway. They were also tall, with red hair and freckles, and Harry assumed them to be his brothers.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there," the one on the right told him.

"Right," mumbled Ron.

The twins glanced at Harry and the one on the left said in a rather teasing voice, "Aw, ickle Ronnikens is making fwiends already! We're so proud!" At this declaration, Harry immediately buried himself in his book and tried to ignore the redheads.

Ron mumbled something in return as the twins left the compartment, but Harry, who was specifically trying not to be a part of these goings-on, didn't catch what he said.

Silence reigned the compartment for a few minutes more, something which Harry was thoroughly enjoying, but then the boy decided to introduce himself.

"I'm Ron, by the way," he said rather nervously, "Ron Weasley." He held out his hand. Harry stared at it in confusion, then realized that Ron wanted to shake his hand. Hesitantly, Harry reached out his own hand, clasped Ron's, and gave it a little shake before pulling back quickly. Ron gave him an odd look, then shrugged, pulled back his own hand, and relaxed in his seat, folding his arms behind his head. He looked at Harry a bit longer, then when Harry didn't volunteer any information, asked him, "What's your name?"

Harry shifted in his seat and, reluctant for anyone to start making a big deal out of him, simply replied, "Harry."

Ron nodded, then frowned slightly. He glanced at Harry's forehead, but Harry's bangs were covering what he was looking for, so Ron said nothing. After all, Harry was a rather common name, something which Harry had always been grateful for. Careful to not jostle his bangs, Harry did his best to ignore the boy and went back to his book. Ron apparently got the hint and went back to staring out the window.

An hour or so passed in silence, once again to Harry's delight, until a lunch cart came rattling around and a lady with a rather cheerful face poked her head in the compartment.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Ron mumbled something about sandwiches, but Harry hadn't brought anything, so he stood up to get some food, finding the snacks to be rather odd. The trolley had things like Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and Chocolate Frogs and such. The gum didn't sound terribly appealing, but the Pumpkin Pasties sounded delightful, as did the Chocolate Frogs. Harry never got sweets unless Dudley decided that he didn't like something, which didn't happen terribly often when it came to sweets. Harry also bought some Cauldron Cakes and a package of some oddly-shaped nougats that seemed to change colours every time Harry looked at them.

Ron stared a little as Harry walked back into the compartment with an awful lot of sweets, then chuckled a little. "Hungry?" he asked, amused.

Harry nodded shortly, sat down and began slowly making his way through his pile, savoring the taste of everything. The Pumpkin Pasties tasted a lot like that slice of pumpkin pie that Harry had gotten once at school when their teacher (who was a former baker) had decided to treat them all. Luckily, the teacher's watchful eye had kept Dudley from stealing Harry's slice that time. The Cauldron Cakes were little cauldron-shaped biscuits with different fillings as the 'potion', most of which tasted like some kind of fruit. Harry particularly enjoyed how the filling seemed to bubble and steam much like how he imagined a potion would. The Chocolate Frogs did their best to jump out of the wrapper the moment Harry opened them, but he managed to catch them all in mid-jump and immediately bit their heads off. The nougat had at this point turned an odd magenta-orange-fluorescent green, but still tasted like nougat. Harry slipped Wise and Zips small pieces of nougat when Ron wasn't looking, but they spat the pieces back out into his pocket, loudly proclaiming them to be more tasteless than a week-dead mouse. Harry glanced up to see if Ron had heard what they said, but Ron didn't seem to notice anything, so Harry didn't try to reply, only stroked them a little in apology.

Of course, being sugary treats, the snacks filled Harry up rather quickly. Seeing Ron looking in disgust at his sandwiches and muttering angrily about corned beef, Harry decided to offer some of his extras to Ron, since Ron had been so pleasantly quiet for most of the journey so far.

"You- you sure?" Ron asked, looking a little longingly but apprehensively at the pro-offered sweets.

Harry shrugged and muttered, "Yeah, you were quiet."

Ron gave him another odd look at his reasoning, but happily accepted the nougats and Chocolate Frogs, eagerly opening the frogs first, only to pull out a card underneath the frog. He seemed to find it disappointing, however, and tossed it aside saying, "Bridget Wenlock again."

Harry looked inside his discarded Chocolate Frog wrappers and found similar cards, all describing a witch or wizard and something that they had done. Harry soaked up the information eagerly, even asking Ron if he could read his if he gave Ron all of the cards that he got (Harry wasn't terribly interested in collecting them).

Just as Ron was finishing up his share of the sweets (Harry had gone back to reading), a round-faced, dark-haired boy who looked rather upset stuck his head in, sniffling slightly.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

Ron shook his head and Harry shrugged, making the boy wail, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

Harry felt rather sorry for the boy. Harry would certainly feel upset if one of his friends wandered away on this train, with its narrow corridor and teenagers who didn't ever seem to watch where they were placing their large feet. "Maybe you can ask one of the older students about spells to help you find him," Harry suggested, making Ron jump, since he hadn't exactly said a lot on the trip. "Magic can do some amazing things, I'm sure there's a spell to help locate him or summon him or something."

The boy thanked them and left the compartment looking not quite as miserable, though still teary.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could."

Harry gave him a cold look. "Just because you don't like toads doesn't mean nobody else does either. I happen to like reptiles in general."

Ron blushed and looked rather sheepish, muttering something about how he hadn't meant it quite like that, but Harry had already gone back to his book. He had finished Hogwarts, A History fifteen minutes ago and was now absorbed in Basic Spell Pronunciation: How to Get the Best Effect with the Least Effort by Samuel Corrington. It looked to be a bit of a boring read, but it seemed like a rather good thing to know, and it was short enough that Harry figured he could get through it easily enough. It was fascinating how much pronunciation could affect the spell and how it turned out, especially sensitive ones like conjuration, preservation, and some of the more powerful protective spells. This was why non-verbal magic could be so difficult, because the words carried a lot of intent with them, and completely erasing that intent and forcing the spell through only motions and pure will was exceptionally difficult if you were lacking in both that will and confidence in what you were doing. Of course, both of those got easier if you did it once, but doing it that once was-

The compartment door opened again, and the boy with the lost toad poked his head in, this time smiling.

"Hey," he said, "thanks for your suggestion. A fifth-year summoned him for me." He held up his toad, which was croaking innocently in his hand.

"No problem," Harry said, smiling back. "I know I'd be devastated if I lost Gwendolyn." He gestured to his cat, who had been until now sleeping in a corner but had awoken at the sound of the toad and was eying it. Ron jumped at the sight of the cat, having obviously not noticed it until Harry pointed her out. The boy with the toad nodded.

"I'm Neville," he said, holding out the hand that wasn't occupied by Trevor. Harry put down his book and stood up, taking Neville's hand.

"Harry," he said. To his relief, Neville was either polite enough to not look towards his forehead, or he just didn't think of the possibility. Or maybe he just didn't care.

"Well, thanks again, Harry," Neville said, retreating from the compartment. "I reckon I'll see you at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded absently, for once not returning to his book but petting Gwendolyn, who had stood up and was now meowing, asking for attention.

Ron gave Gwendolyn a hard look, to which the cat responded by leaping from Harry to Ron and sniffing at Ron's pocket.

"Gerroff!" Ron yelled, pushing at the cat. "Scabbers is in there!" He clutched at his pocket protectively. A rat poked its head out of the pocket, then withdrew back in at the sight of the cat. Gwendolyn, however, made a facial expression that seemed to be the equivalent of rolling her eyes and made her way leisurely back to Harry, as though she were the most important being in this compartment and the rat and Ron were below her. Harry laughed silently at her antics. This was why he loved cats.

Nothing terribly notable happened through the rest of the train ride. As the sun began to set, the corridors became a bit busier, and people started poking their heads into compartments as they passed, possibly looking for their friends. Harry and Ron decided that this meant they should change into their robes. Harry had of course pulled his out before putting his trunk on the rack, and watched in some amusement as Ron struggled to get his out without knocking the trunk off. Harry told him to keep the rest of the sweets and put them in his trunk while he was up there; no reason to have the chocolate melting in their pockets. He then spent a couple minutes coaxing Gwendolyn

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry smiled a bit as they made their way slowly out of the crowded train and onto the dark, chilly platform. The air smelled fresh, lacking in the constant passing of cars that came with Privet Drive and Muggle towns. A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and Harry heard a very loud, deep voice calling out, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! C'mon, now!"

A very large, hairy man carried the lamp, beaming out at the group of preteens in front of him. "C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

The group of students stumbled down a very dark pathway with nothing visible on either side. Squeezed towards the edge of the path due to its narrowness, Harry felt the brush of trees that must have been on both sides. Aside from the shuffling of feet across the leaf-laden ground, there was little noise to be heard.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in sec'," the large man leading them called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Oooooh!"

The pathway had opened up rather unexpectedly on the edge of a large lake. On the other side of the lake at the foot of a mountain was a magnanimous castle, larger than anything that Harry had ever seen. The first years clambered rather eagerly into the awaiting boats sitting by the shore in front of them. Harry got into a boat with Neville, a girl with pigtails, and a boy with rather long, thin limbs. With a shouted, "FORWARD!" from the large man, they were launched across the lake simultaneously, quickly gaining distance, drawing closer to their home for the next seven years.

"Heads down!" the large man yelled as the boats approached an opening in the base of the mountain on which the castle was perched. They bent their heads as the boats carried them through the wide opening, down the length of a dimly glowing tunnel, until they reached an underground harbour and got out of the boats. The large man led them up a passageway until they came at last on to damp grass to the left of the castle. The man led them up a wide flight of stone steps and crowded around an enormous oak door. The man yelled out a check to make sure everyone was with him and knocked loudly on the door three times.

The door swung open immediately, revealing a familiar face.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the large man. Harry smiled a little. He didn't mind Professor McGonagall terribly, she didn't say mean or unnecessary things for illogical reasons. She had led him through Diagon Alley and only said things if it was something that seemed important or to answer a question that he had asked.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said, addressing the large man. "I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was enormous. You could hardly make out the ceiling, and the marble staircase that lead to the upper floors was easily thirty meters wide at the base. As they passed the second-biggest door in the hall (the largest was the front door), they could hear rather loud chattering, implying that the rest of the students had already arrived and were waiting in there. Professor McGonagall led them past that door into a small room off to the side where they crowded in.

Harry listened intently as Professor McGonagall explained the basic goings-on revolving around Hogwarts life. The house names were rather odd and mildly amusing. The name 'Hufflepuff' made Harry think of someone who had been running a long ways. Ravenclaw made him thing of something sharp. The point system sounded a bit mean in that it encouraged peer pressure and competition (something that Harry wasn't terribly fond of), but as long as everybody left him to his friends and his reading, he didn't have too many issues with it. After all, he didn't exactly plan on getting in trouble. Really, unless the rules were utterly ridiculous or extenuating circumstances came to light, what was the point of rule-breaking? He didn't see why people were so fond of it. Of course, that might have had something to do with his upbringing at the Dursleys, but still.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school," Professor McGonagall concluded. "I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Here her eyes lingered on wrinkled clothes, food spills, and the smudge on Ron's nose. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." She left the room.

Uncertain on what to do (he didn't particularly care how he appeared before the school), Harry walked a few steps over to Neville, who was looking rather pale.

"So," Harry said to him, "what house sounds best to you?"

Neville jumped at the sound of Harry's voice, then turned and said, "Merlin, Harry, I didn't hear you walk up!"

Harry gave a barely-noticeable smile to the jumpy boy.

Neville realized that Harry had asked a question and mumbled, "W-Well, my parents were Gryffindors. Gran says I'm more Hufflepuff material."

Harry thought about what he had read on the houses in Hogwarts, A History. "So, you're more loyal and hard-working than courageous? That sounds just fine."

Neville nodded slightly, still looking very nervous. "W-What about you?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not exactly courageous, and I don't think that I'm cunning or ambitious. I suppose I'm loyal enough, and I like to read."

Before Neville could reply, a loud shrieking was heard, and they turned to see about twenty ghosts float through one of the walls, discussing the fate of someone called 'Peeves.' What an odd name. As a rather pudgy ghost with a friendly smile was expressing his wishes for them to be in Hufflepuff, Professor McGonagall returned.

"Move along now," she said sharply. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start. Now, form a line and follow me."

Harry got in line behind a girl with rather bushy hair who seemed to be muttering information to herself, and Neville stood behind him, paler than ever, his toad clutched tightly in his hand. They were lead out of the room and back towards the second-largest door and into the Great Hall.

It was everything that Hogwarts, A History had described and more. A vast amount of candles lit the room, floating above their heads. The ceiling was enchanted as the book had said, reflecting the sky above them. There were four long tables where the students were sitting, and a fifth at the front of the hall where the staff sat. That was where they were led, ending in a line facing the students in front of the teachers. Professor McGonagall placed a sturdy wooden stool in front of the first years and a very old, frayed hat on top of the stool. Harry took an immediate liking to the hat. Old, beat-up things had personality, and this hat looked as though it had the most developed personality of any inanimate object that Harry had ever seen. It was, therefore, to his great astonishment and amusement that the hat suddenly opened a rip near the brim and began to sing.

Harry looked on in delight as the hat described the four houses. A talking hat! A singing one at that. The book hadn't mentioned this! Taking a closer look, noticing how some of the hidden wrinkles were darker than the smoother surfaces of that hat (which appeared to be a faded brown), Harry realized that the Sorting Hat (as it called itself in its song) had once been a sleek black. It must have been around for a very long time to have faded to almost a light brown. The minds that this hat must have seen into!

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

For I'm a Thinking Cap!

The Great Hall burst into applause as the Sorting Hat finished its song and bowed to the students. The relief was visible on the first years' faces now that they realized there was no real test, nothing like the troll that Ron had been whispering about back in the room where they had waited.

'When I call your name," Professor McGonagall said suddenly, now holding a long list, "you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!"

Abbott Hannah was a small girl with blonde pigtails near the end of the line, and after a moment of sitting on the stool, she was pronounced to be a Hufflepuff, as was the girl behind her, Susan Bones. It was the table on the right that burst into applause as the two girls were sorted. The next two students – Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst, went to Ravenclaw, the inner-left table. The outer-left table burst into cheers as Lavender Brown became a Gryffindor, and the inner-right table clapped as Millicent Bulstrode became a Slytherin. Now that he knew which tables held which students, Harry began examining them. The Hufflepuffs mostly had bright smiles on their faces, welcoming Stephen Cornfoot rather brightly as the hat declared him to be one of them. The Slytherins weren't exactly smiling brightly, but they weren't exactly scowling in irritation either. Most of them managed to look completely indifferent while still giving a warm welcome to Vincent Crabbe. Harry wondered how they managed the contradiction while all the while looking dignified.

The Ravenclaws were paying close attention to the sorting and cheered in a composed yet pleased manner as Kevin Entwistle made his way to the house of wit and learning (according to the Sorting Hat). This was the table that looked the most pleased to be there, with nowhere near the amount of students glancing longingly at the empty plates in front of them as there was in the other houses.

The Gryffindors were easily the loudest when it came to their welcome, Harry noticed as Seamus Finnigan joined them. They also seemed to be the most physical in their welcome, jumping up and down in their seats, pounding the backs of the male first years rather enthusiastically as they sat down, and generally being the rowdiest without being quite out of control. It was a delicate balance and it amused Harry to no end.

Harry smiled in an encouraging manner as Neville was called to try on the hat. It took a rather long time to decide with Neville before it declared him a Gryffindor. Harry inwardly laughed a little. That was good, Neville could certainly do to be surrounded by such loud people, as the boy himself seemed rather nervous. Morag MacDougal became a Ravenclaw, and the hat had barely touched the platinum blond head of Draco Malfoy before declaring him a Slytherin. Harry noticed that the Slytherins clapped just a little bit louder at that. Perhaps he already had some friends there, or perhaps they just liked the look of him. Harry had come across the name Malfoy quite a few times in some of his more modern reading, and he imagined that some of that talent and fame could easily be carried on to descendants. Harry had recognized a few other names, actually. He had come across Longbottom a few times, and he was pretty sure that he had seen Smith and Greengrass once or twice as well. Funny how that happened, Harry mused.

Lilith Moon, Theodore Nott, and Pansy Parkinson also became Slytherins. Padma and Parvati Patil were split between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor respectively, Sally-Anne Perks became a Hufflepuff, and then -

"Potter, Harry!"

The whispers were the worst part, and Harry for the first time since arriving at the castle felt something that wasn't bemusement and insatiable curiosity. He resisted the urge to glare at the student population as his name was echoed infinitely many times through their mouths, though he did shoot a look at Ron when he muttered, "I knew it!" This was exactly why he preferred his friends to most people. They were perfectly happy to lay with him and gossip about their food. They didn't stare at him like a freak because he could talk to them in the way that everybody here seemed to be staring at him, just because he had a bloody scar on his forehead (which Harry had purposely kept hidden).

The hat was very large and easily covered his eyes, something which Harry was very grateful for since it meant that he didn't have to look at him.. Then the hat started speaking to him.

"Hm, difficult. Not exactly courageous, but definitely not fearful, either," the hat muttered as it sifted through his head. "Very loyal once someone befriends you, and a Parselmouth, too. I haven't seen one a snake speaker in fifty years."

Harry made a mental note to not speak to his friends in front of the students. Fifty years was a large enough gap that he was pretty sure it would draw attention, and that was the last thing that he wanted.

"Very personal and secluded," the hat observed, continuing its analysis. "No Gryffindor for you, I think... Or Hufflepuff. You have a bit of a Hufflepuff personality, but I don't think their openness would suit you... Ah! I know – better be RAVENCLAW!"

The last part was shouted for the Great Hall to hear, and all of the composure that Harry had seen earlier at the table on the inner-left was discarded in favor of the uproar that followed the hat's announcement. Harry noticed the look of disappointment on the faces of the other houses, which only made him walk all the more quickly to his table – yes, it was now his table as well as theirs, what an odd feeling – and focus his sight rather pointedly on the remaining first years, praying that Professor McGonagall would get on with it so that they would stop focusing on him and whispering so loudly and obviously, speculating on what he was like and getting it all dreadfully wrong. Harry sighed a little in relief as the woman finally continued now that the applause had died down enough for her to be heard again, and Ellen Rivers had her moment with the hat before becoming a Hufflepuff.

Of the remaining first years, Sophie Roper, Marian Strout, Dean Thomas, and Ron became Gryffindors, Edith Runcorn and Zacharias Smith joined the Hufflepuffs, Blaise Zabini walked away a Slytherin, and Lisa Turpin sat down next to Harry when she became a Ravenclaw.

Albus Dumbledore, a very tall, very odd man got to his feet and spread his arms towards the students, beaming as if their very presence made him the happiest man alive.

"Welcome!" he said, his voice very loud and strong for such an old man. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!" And with that, he sat back down. The Great Hall applauded as food appeared before them. Harry couldn't help but wonder if he was a bit mad. Then again, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Pleased with the thought of having a brilliant yet barmy man for a headmaster, Harry served himself some sausages, potatoes, peas, and a bit of gravy to go on the potatoes. It was the best meal that he'd had in a long time, full of carbohydrates and proteins that he saw little of at the Dursleys', who preferred to feed him things like cheap greens, the smallest, driest pieces of meat that none of them would touch, and the stale bread. Of course, it meant that he would never end up like his cousin (something for which Harry was extremely grateful, for while some plumpness was perfectly alright, Dudley took it to an extreme that Harry had no desire to touch upon), but Harry would have liked to indulge himself every now and then with things like steak, potatoes, puddings, and other such heavy, delicious foods.

"So, I'm curious, of what blood are all of you?" Terry Boot asked the rest of the first years, smiling kindly. "I'm pretty much pure blood, though my paternal grandmother was muggle-born. What about you?"

The girl sitting next to Harry tossed her curly blonde hair and replied, "I'm a half blood. My mother's parents were a lawyer and a novelist. My mom-"

Harry was only half listening, content to eat and look curiously around the hall again, now that he was no longer waiting anxiously for anything. He glanced behind him at the loud Gryffindor table just in time to see the ghost amongst them pull his head off, much to the amusement and disgust of the first years. Harry made eye contact with Neville and gave the boy a friendly nod, which took the wide-eyed boy a moment to return. Deciding that the Gryffindor table held no one else of interest, Harry turned to look at the Slytherins. They too were chatting amongst themselves, but none of them were smiling, though a boy with white blond hair seemed to be smirking at something. The Hufflepuffs were laughing uproariously at something, probably something to do with that small blushing kid at the far right of the table.

"What about you, Potter?"

Harry jumped, reflexively swallowing the large lump of food in his mouth to avoid choking on it. He waited a few seconds for the too-large mouthful to stop hurting as it traveled down his esophagus, then turned to his house mates, still rather surprised that he had been addressed.

"What?" he asked them, having tuned out the conversation.

A rather dark skinned boy gave him a bit of a half-smile and asked,

"What about you? Do you play Quiddich at all, or fly?"

Harry took a moment to remember what Quiddich was, then another to think of how to answer.

"Well," he said finally, "there was never much of a chance for me to play Quiddich or fly at home. It looks like fun, though," he added in hastily, not wanting to sound like he thought too strongly either way. He really didn't like attention on him, and would much rather nobody try to argue their point to him. Thankfully, when Harry turned back to his food, they began a conversation amongst themselves about strategy in Quiddich and which ones seemed to work best.

Harry turned to look at the staff table. There weren't a whole lot of staff, only fifteen individuals (if more weren't elsewhere), but this was a small school. Every single one of the people sitting up at the table was extremely different from the next. There was a ghost, a bubbly woman in muggle clothes, a pale and irritably looking man with dark hair dressed in black robes, the elderly and odd man in the center who Harry knew to be Albus Dumbledore, a stout woman with a kindly face, a very short man who had to sit on a stack of pillows to reach the table, a dark woman with long hair and very glittery jewelry, and a man who while he did not look older than fifty, was covered in a vast array of scars and held his fork rather shakily, since he was missing his pinky and ring finger. Harry glanced curiously at the other hand, only to realize that there wasn't one. And this were just the ones who caught Harry's attention right off.

Dinner had vanished at this point to be replaced by dessert, which was just as vast and varied a selection as dinner had been, but Harry was extremely full from dinner and could only eat a few bites of cool mint ice cream before putting his spoon down. Harry was exhausted at this point, and was nearly falling asleep in his seat when dessert finally vanished too.

The Hall quieted and Professor Dumbledore stood up.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered..."

Harry listened, not wanting to miss anything important. It was interesting how this man seemed to command silence. Nobody was whispering, the only voice echoing through the Great Hall was Dumbledore's. Well, and his friends were quietly discussing the odd scents that permeated the room, but they couldn't exactly understand Dumbledore, so his bearing had no effect in silencing them.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

This was surprising. What was in a school that could possibly be harmful? And why was this apparently the first year that they'd had an announcement like that?

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry stopped listening at this point, and did his best to ignore the terribly off-tune singing that was being bellowed all around him. When Ron's brothers had finally stopped singing, Harry joined the other first years in his house on the way to bed. Or at least, he assumed so, he was exhausted. All he could think of was nice, warm blankets wrapped around him.

It took them about ten minutes and a dizzying staircase to reach the door. There was no visible way to open it, only a bronze knocker shaped like an eagle. The student leading them raised his hand to the knocker, knocked once, and a musical voice suddenly spoke.

"If a dragon roars and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

The older student turned to them and explained. "Unlike the other houses, we have no password. Instead, you are presented with a question. If you can answer this question correctly, then the door opens for you. If, however, you cannot answer it, you must keep trying until you answer correctly, or else wait here for somebody else to get it right. This way, you learn." He turned to the door and answered, "The sound exists, because even though no one is around, they would hear it if they were around."

"Logically stated," the voice said, and the door swung open. Harry got the impression of a spacious room and a lot of blue, but he hardly noticed everything else as he and the first year boys were directed to their dormitory. He changed silently as the other boys chatted, and climbed into his bed, asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Author Notes: You know, I'm a huge Slytherin Harry fan, and that was originally what this story was. He was originally in Slytherin, and they originally spent a lot of time trading pointless insults or making lame banter.

However, characters sometime become something of their own, and this version of Harry, as he is, is not a Slytherin. In a way I'm disappointed, but I'm also glad. I would have a lot of trouble trying to include the complex social dynamics of Slytherin on a daily basis, and Harry wouldn't be able to properly get anything done in there. He just wouldn't. So, I'm following my gut on this one. I hope you guys enjoy it!