Prologue: Divergence


"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.'

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley"

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and - a letter for Harry.

Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives - he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Mr. H. Potter The Cupboard under the Stairs 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

It was at that moment when time seemed to stop for Harry. Not once in his life had the Dursleys ever given him anything, willingly anyway. Even now, he could smell the awful 'uniform' his Aunt Petunia was making for him. If they wouldn't even buy him a used uniform, what would they do with this letter? This proof that someone thought something of him?

What may have seemed like minutes, was actually only seconds. Slipping the letter into his trouser waistband underneath his shirt, he returned to the kitchen to give his Uncle Vernon the rest of the mail.

The letter against his skin was a constant, surprisingly heavy, presence that Harry could not ignore. It pressed against him, demanding all of his attention, placing everything else in the background. His Uncle Vernon was talking, he was sure of it, but he'd be hard pressed to say what he was going on about. The sudden movement from Dudley's Smelting stick, pulled his focus for a second as he just barely managed to dodge the wack, but the shift brought his mind right back to the stiff parchment.

"Dad, I'm going out with my mates. I'll be back later." Dudley heaved himself away from the kitchen table after guzzling down his breakfast.

Reaching for a couple of pieces of toast, he watched as Uncle Vernon handed Dudley a twenty pound note. "Have fun son." A couple of minutes later Uncle Vernon picked up his briefcase for work, then pecked Aunt Petunia on the cheek. "I'm off. Make sure the boy doesn't mess up the house."

"Of course. I have a long list of chores for him." At that admission, Aunt Petunia eyed Harry wearily.

Downing he toast, he knew a dismissal when he saw it. Harry hurried to his cupboard to drop off his letter. The last thing he needed was for his Aunt to find he'd been hiding something from them, whether it was his or not. Today, he would take no chances. Stay near the house, keep his head down, and tonight. Well, tonight, he had a letter.


It wasn't until well after dinner when Harry had a chance to take a look at his letter. The light was dim, but he'd long since learned how to read in the light of his cupboard.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Harry must have re-read the letter more than twenty times. He'd even gone over the school list line-by-line a dozen or so times to boot. So many questions ran through his mind, but they all lead to one conclusion. This was a sick joke. He'd known since he was little that magic wasn't real, so it went without saying that this letter was just as fake. For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, could be nothing more than a cruel, humorless, joke. Dudley had surely out done himself with this one.

A letter, his very first letter was this? Pushing the offending piece of parchment away, Harry closed his eyes in defeat. Finally, he'd gotten a letter. And he'd let himself hope, long for that long-lost relative asking for him. Ready to take him away to a place where he'd belong. But instead he'd gotten this.

With a heavy sigh, Harry opened his eyes to glare at the insulting letter. How stupid did Dudley think he was? 'The Cupboard under the stairs?' It should have been the give-away. Only the Dursleys knew where he slept. He had tried to tell a teacher once in primary, but she hadn't believed him. More importantly, she'd told the Dursleys about it in front of him.

The boa constrictor incident was the longest time he'd spent in his cupboard, but telling the teacher had come a couple of days close.

Harry's eyes shut against the beginnings of tears. His fist balled tightly together. He held back a scream of frustration. If he were Dudley, he'd throw things. Bang around his room. Destroy anything and everything in his way at the injustice and disappointment. But he was not Dudley and his relatives were sleeping. He would not let Dudley win. Taking a deep breath, he released his clenched fists. Laying down, he turned around in his cupboard as he tried to get some rest.


The next day Harry watch Dudley carefully. Despite coming to the conclusion that his letter could be nothing more than a prank, he needed to be sure as he'd had that dream again. The one where he'd been flying on the back of a motorcycle. Impossible, yes, but with magic…

Harry dodged Dudley's Smelting stick, "What do you think you're looking at four-eyes? Go get me some hot chocolate!" Dudley demanded while waving his stick around.

"You heard Dudley. Get the lad some hot chocolate. I'm not sure what's gotten into you boy." Uncle Vernon admonished as he read the morning paper.

After pouring Dudley some hot chocolate, Harry spoke to Dudley, "You get that new green ink yet, Dudley? I think I saw an ad about it on the telly."

"Green ink?" Dudley snared. "Why would I want funny colored ink? I'm not some silly girl!"

"Of course not, Dudders." Aunt Petunia coddled her son. "Besides, it's not proper to write in colors other than blue and black." Aunt Petunia gave Harry a disapproving look before kissing her Dudders on the cheek.

Harry knew his aunt and her rules on what was and was not proper, which meant if she disapproved of colorful ink, then there wouldn't be any ink of any shade of green, including emerald-green, in this house.

'But then how…' The thought formed half finished, before his Uncle broke it.

"What are you watching the telly for anyway? Petunia, you must not be giving the boy enough chores to do." Uncle Vernon admonition as he got up for work. "It's the middle of the week, and the boy has time to laze about. Not in my house!"

"Don't worry dear. I've got a nice list for today." Turning to Harry she continued, "You're going to need to try on your uniform today too. The smell is just coming out."

The disgusting feeling of just the thought of trying on those rags must have shown on his face as his Aunt Petunia hit him lightly on the head. "Don't be so ungrateful."

Today was going to be a long day.


That night Harry lay awake thinking about the letter again.

He'd hinted several times throughout the day to Dudley about the letter. But nothing he said got the response from his cousin that would have meant an unsuccessful, or successful, prank. The only thing he could conclude from today was that Dudley hadn't been the one to prank him.

Now that he was really thinking about it, the level of detail put into the school list should have clued him in that his cousin was not the perpetrator. No way could his cousin come up with titles like Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander.

'But if not Dudley, then who?' Harry thought. His aunt and uncle would never joke about magic. No one else knew about the cupboard under the stairs, so who?

He must have spent nearly an hour going over every possibility, but only one stood out. Logical? He wasn't sure, but it was the only scenario left. "It's not a prank." He whispered to no one. But that couldn't be right, could it?

Pulling his letter from behind the loose floor board he kept all of his most precious possessions, he re-read it one last time. If this was…, well, he had until next Tuesday to reply. "We await your owl?" He tried the words out, just as confused the first time he'd read them. "Owl? This came by post." Leaning against the wall of his cupboard, he closed his eyes to think. His fingers clutching his letter a hair too tight. With a deep shaky breath, he let the one thought he'd been trying to hold back enter his mind. 'Could magic be real?


Thursday found Harry running through everything weird that had ever happened around him, while he completed his chores. Of course, there was the vanishing glass at the zoo. The time he'd been chased by Dudley's gang and found himself out of their reach on the roof. The ridiculous haircut that grew back overnight. And those were just the one's that had gotten him in the most trouble with his aunt and uncle. 'Did I do them? Were they really my fault?

Stopping suddenly, he stared hard at the dirty dishes in the soapy water. 'Clean. Clean. Clean. Clean.' He repeated like a mantra in his head. But they remained the same dirty plates, bits of sticky syrup from Dudley's breakfast stuck fast to them. Red flashed before his eyes in his frustration, mixed with anger. Angrily he threw the plate to the floor and watching it shatter.

"What was that!?" His Aunt Petunia came screeching into the kitchen, and with it his anger vanished. Quickly replaced with a desperate panic as he feverishly wished he hadn't lost his temper and broken the disk. He was sure to go to his cupboard without dinner tonight. As Aunt Petunia came in the room, she looked around sharply. Her eyes taking in everything. "Pick up that dish from the floor, and don't make that noise again." She said before leaving to go back to her snooping.

'Floor?' He thought as he looked down. And there it was. An unbroken plate. The very dish he'd smashed to bits just moments ago. "No way." He whispered in shocked awe.

Now that he thought about it, he had been afraid or angry all those other times too. Maybe those emotions were a trigger to magic. Which meant, Dudley sure didn't have any. Harry smiled to himself as he thought about having something Dudley never would, magic.

With all that sorted out, he still needed to reply. While he didn't know about sending letters via owl, he could only hope that he could send it by post and Hogwarts would get it somehow.

Now was for action. He would send it through the post, but he could do it tomorrow. Although there was post on Saturday, he knew he'd never get anything mailed with his uncle home. He would wait until Monday to reply, which was pushing it for the Tuesday deadline. Still, he head to try.

So, Harry used his chores to get an envelope and stamp from his Aunt Petunia's supplies. He spent his free time drafting the letter on some scrap paper, before using his best hand writing to pen the final copy. With the letter addressed just as nicely and stamped, he slid the letter into the waistband of his trousers before dinner.

Just as he planned, his aunt sent him to take the trash out after supper. Harry took his time putting the letter in the post for pick-up. With that done, he gave one last wishful look behind him. It was done.


Minerva was a stern woman. She was best known by her students as tolerating no nonsense or foolery, but also fair in everything she did. And she liked to think that extended to the first year letters. But it had been two days since the deadline for acceptance letters, and she had yet to receive a very special first year's reply. She was a stern woman, but her slightly fizzled hair showed her worry.

The Deputy Headmistress had already gone to Albus about the lack of a reply from Mr. Potter.

"Did you check to see if Mr. Potter opened the letter, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked her while popping a lemon drop into his mouth.

"Of course I did, Albus. Mr. Potter has opened the letter, but he has not replied to it. I'm worried." The stern woman frowned slightly, worry evident in her eyes.

"Not to worry, not to worry, Minerva. I've spoken to Arabella and she has assured me that nothing undesirable has happened to Harry." Dumbledore smiled kindly to McGonagall. "I'm sure Petunia just used the muggle post to get the response here. We'll get his reply any day now."

"As you say Albus. I hope you're right."

Minerva shook her head remembering the conversation she had with Albus just two days ago. But, it was the third of August. Even if Lily's sister had used the muggle post, it should have gotten here by now.

Tapping her quill against her parchment with a slight nervous energy, she tried to calm her nerves with some mundane task, but she'd finished nearly everything. Letters to the new Prefects, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and Head boy and girl had already gone out and been accepted. Classes selection for the third and sixth years were set, even with the last minute changes. She'd already finished with her muggleborn meetings. Looking down at the last of the paperwork for Ms. Granger, even this very smart young girl's questions would be of know serious distraction.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Minerva looked up to her window to see a tawny owl tapping. She quickly opened the window. After offering the owl a treat, she looked at the letter. In neat tiny hand writing was her name and the school in the center, but what caught her attention was the writing in the top left corner:

Mr. Harry J. Potter 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey

Minerva smiled to herself. For some reason, Mr. Potter sent the letter to the wrong muggle post address, perhaps his aunt had forgotten. Still, these things happened, which is when their contingency plan took effect and re-directed the mail. Nodding to herself at the time stamp of a week ago, she was pleased that Mr. Potter had sent his response on time.

Chuckling to herself, she'd been worried over nothing it seems. 'Better that than the alternative.' She thought with a small smile as she opened the letter to read. Like most first years from magical families, she expected only a line or two from Harry. As she read down the paragraph, however, her smile morphed into frown, then a scowl that would have made Severus Snape green with envy.

"Those muggles…" Minerva spun around in her chair, marching her way up to Albus' office with the letter in toll. "Cockroach clusters."

"Minerva, what do I owe this surprising visi…" Albus started to greet Professor McGonagall only to have her cut him off.

"You will not believe what just came in the mail, Headmaster." The smile on the professor's face was more predatory then welcoming.

"I'm guessing Mr. Potter's reply." Dumbledore said with his hands in surrender at his deputy's aggressive behavior. "I told you not to worry."

Dumbledore started to open his mouth again to continue when Minerva interrupted, "Yes, and isn't it an excellent letter." Dumbledore mouth lay open for a second more before he shut it quickly at the challenging look his colleague was giving him.

"Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, I am pleased to receive this letter about your school. I had not even known that magic existed. So it was with great surprise that your letter reached me with the offer to attend a school of witchcraft and wizardry…"

Professor McGonagall stopped reading the letter to address the Headmaster directly, "Dumbledore, the boy doesn't know a thing about our world. He's as ignorant as a muggleborn. How do you explain that?"

"I am sure Mrs. Dursley just hasn't explained it to him yet," Dumbledore defended himself against Minerva's attacking question.

"Ha, if that were the worst of it Albus, if only." Minerva replied.

"I'm sure it not that bad." Dumbledore responded.

McGonagall looks at Dumbledore before continuing, "… Although I would be pleased to attend Hogwarts, I am afraid I cannot afford a boarding school. Additionally, I've had a look at the school list of uniform, course books, and other equipment and do not believe I will have enough moneys to afford the school supplies. I would like to inquire about any type of scholarships that might be available for underprivileged students? The boy is asking for scholarships. Scholarships for underprivileged students! If this were to get out that the Boy-Who-Lived has been living like a pauper!"

"Minerva, you surely are over reacting. You know we keep the Dursleys unaware of the large sum of money Mr. Potter is to inherit. I'm sure this will all be cleared up as soon as we tell Lily's sister about the funds set aside for Harry to go to Hogwarts." Dumbledore replied trying to calm Professor McGonagall down with reason.

"Is that so? You believe that even though Mrs. Dursley has yet to inform Mr. Potter of his magical inheritance that she will suddenly tell him all about," McGonagall look down at the letter to reference it directly, "where Mr. Potter can buy supplies? Tell him information about the school and the type of classes here at Hogwarts?" McGonagall looked back up at Dumbledore daring him to say yes.

"Well, Mrs. Dursley did let Harry open his letter," Dumbledore replied optimistically.

"No, Albus. This time I will not stand by and just trust these muggles. If Mr. Potter feels the need to ask for pamphlets, then I will just have to treat him like any other muggleborn."

"Now Minerva, that's not necessary. I'll have Hagrid go pick him up, and…"

"No, Albus. Mr. Potter is as ignorant of our world as any muggleborn, so I will treat him as a muggleborn." She said with a sharp nod of her head.

"Minerva…" Dumbledore started to reply.

"Is it not my duty as deputy headmistress to attend to the muggleborns?" McGonagall interrupted.

"Well yes, but…" Dumbledore started again.

"No buts. I'll take Saturday off to go pick up Mr. Potter and explain to him the wonderful world of magic." McGonagall gathered herself before turning around to exit, but stopped at the door turning back sharply to Dumbledore. "I almost forgot. Mr. Potter's vault key if you please Albus."

Holding out her hand Dumbledore got the key from his desk, "Here, I'd been keeping it close since I thought we might have to reimburse the Dursleys for their expenses."

"Thank you Albus, and I'm sorry for my temper earlier." McGonagall spoke calmly.

"Not to worry, not to worry. We all get a little excited from time to time. It's good to see you excited for all the right reasons." He smiled back at her with a twinkle in his eyes as she finally took her leave.


Saturday brought about a bright sunny day to the residence of number four Privet Drive. Harry had just gotten the mail for Uncle Vernon who, along with his Aunt Petunia, were in a particularly good mood this August morning. A mood that even extended to Harry, who received two rashers with his toast this morning. Despite the happy atmosphere at Privet Drive, he was not altogether sharing it.

It had been eight days now since his reply to the Hogwarts letter, and he was beginning to believe the letter had not made it in time to Professor McGonagall.

'If only I had known how to get an owl to deliver it.' Holding back a sigh, he started mournfully at his breakfast.

Dudley had only just gotten up to leave when there was a firm knock on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Now who could that be at this hour? I'm not expecting company today. Are you Vernon?" Aunt Petunia got up to go answer the door.

"No dear, I'm not. Perhaps it's one of Dudley's mates?"

Thinking it was one of Dudley's mates, probably Piers again. Harry moved a little further into the kitchen. Best way to avoid a tussle was not to be seen in the first place.

"I got it." Dudley said as he ran past Aunt Petunia.

"Hello young man. Are your parents' home?" A strong female voice said from the door.

Curious Harry moved closer to the doorway of the kitchen, but Dudley have the door only half opened.

"MUM, it's for you!" Dudley hollered to Aunt Petunia who was just steps behind him.

Dudley swung the door open to reveal a tall, black-haired woman in a sober brown dress that looked very old fashion. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"You," his Aunt Petunia gasped at the figure at the door, drawing Harry's attention to her. His aunt, looked transfixed. Hollowed in horror and fear, which rapidly turned red with anger. "What are you doing here?" She spat. "He hasn't got a letter. No one in this family is a freak, so you shouldn't even be here." Aunt Petunia moved to close the door, but Dudley was still in the way looking excitedly between the stern woman and Aunt Petunia.

"Petunia, it seems you haven't changed much. I'm here for Mr. Potter. I received his letter through the muggle post. I can assume from your expression that you didn't know it had arrived?" The woman who Harry now realized was Professor McGonagall continued into the house easily pushing past Dudley and his Aunt Petunia.

"I…" Aunt Petunia opened her mouth to protest but didn't get to as Professor McGonagall continued.

"No matter. I'm here for Mr. Potter. We'll be back shortly after he's done shopping for school supplies." At this he quickly went to the door dodging Uncle Vernon's hand as his uncle tried to stop him from moving to the professor.

"Petunia, who is this?" Uncle Vernon asked in confusion.

"She's one of them." Aunt Petunia spat.

"Mr. Potter are you ready to go?" Professor McGonagall asked looking directly at him.

Before he could reply, Uncle Vernon spoke, "Now you see here, your kind are not welcome in this house. I demand that you leave at once!"

"I will momentary, once Mr. Potter is ready to go. Are you Harry?"

Harry tried to say yes, but his uncle interrupted again, "The boy will go nowhere with you! Get back in the kitchen!" His uncle shouted while pointing in that direction.

For a second Harry almost went, but steadied himself. "I'm ready to go ma'am."

"Boy get back here! He will not be going to that school. We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," Uncle Vernon said as he looked to Aunt Petunia who nodded in agreement. "Swore we'd stamp it out of him!"

"Mr. Dursley, I am not here to argue with you about this topic. Certainly not with the door wide open for everyone to hear." With that statement, both his uncle and aunt shut right up. Both looking horrified at the open door. "I will be back at a later hour. At which point we can discuss withholding certain information from Mr. Potter." The gleam in Professor McGonagall's eyes made glee bubble within him.

A small smile made it to his lips. "I'm ready to go Professor McGonagall. I'm glad you got my letter on time."

"Get back here boy! I've told you already he's not going!? He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I will not pay for him to go to some crackpot school!" Uncle Vernon hissed his reply at a reasonable level.

"Mr. Dursley, I am not asking you to pay for Mr. Potter's education. There are many programs for which Mr. Potter can attend Hogwarts. Your funds will not be necessary." Professor McGonagall gave his uncle a withering look before turning her back to leave.

Dudley had since moved out of the way with Aunt Petunia leaving Harry to stand next to Professor McGonagall. As he too turned around to leave, Uncle Vernon lunged for him. The professor turned around so fast it almost gave him whiplash. With a shiny stick pointed directly at his uncle, the professor spoke in a cold tone, "I would re-evaluate your actions Mr. Dursley."

With that Harry hurried out the door and was quickly followed by the professor. Once outside, the door slammed shut. At the end of the drive way, the professor looked closely at the closed door. He looked too. It was a rare event when his aunt wasn't peeking out the blinds, but right now that was the case. With a slight nod, the professor walked down the street with Harry following at her heels.

Walking confidently down Privet Drive, the professor walk straight up to Mrs. Figg's house. "Ah, professor? I thought we were going to get my school supplies?" He questioned softly.

"And we shall. But first." Professor McGonagall knocked three times on the door.

"One moment." Mrs. Figg said through the door before opening.

"Arabella." Professor McGonagall nodded in greeting.

"Minerva. You're back quickly," Mrs. Figg said while showing them through the door. "I thought you wanted to have a chat before Diagon Alley?"

"Yes, but I didn't want to have this conversation in a hostile environment. So if you don't mind, I'll be using your sitting room for a bit."

"Of course, I'll bring out some biscuits."

Professor McGonagall moved to the sitting room, "Please Harry this may take some time, take a seat." Once he was sitting across from the professor, she continued, "My name is Professor McGonagall as I see you are aware. I am the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, and I teach transfiguration. I know you must have questions, but to be efficient it might be better if I ask some questions of my own first."

"Okay," He replied hesitantly.

"What do you know about Hogwarts?"

"Ma'am, I really only know what was written in my letter. I'm still not completely convinced that magic is real. Or that I have it," he trailed off as he looked down at his lap.

Arabella re-emerged with a plate of biscuits. "I'll be in the other room if you need me."

"Thank you Arabella." Professor McGonagall turned away from Mrs. Figg and took out her polished stick. "This, Mr. Potter, is a wand. You'll be getting your own later today." He nodded at this information never taking his eyes off the professor. With a swish of her wand a teapot and cups appeared. Another swish and it was whistling its readiness. "This, Mr. Potter, is magic. After completing your seven years at Hogwarts, you too will be able to do this and much more." Harry looked on in excitement, not daring to interrupt the professor.

After pouring them both some tea and taking a sip, the professor continued, "Moreover Mr. Potter, there is a magical registry that writes down all the names of children who are magical. It doesn't matter if you are born from non-magical parent or magical ones, like yourself. In fact Mr. Potter, you have been in that book since the day you were born to the delight of your parents." The professor smiled kindly to Harry before taking another sip of her tea. He followed grabbing a biscuit as well. It was surprisingly the best food that Mrs. Figg had ever feed him.

"Is that why my relatives knew about Hogwarts? My parents went there?" Harry asked after taking another bite of his biscuit.

"Yes, I had the pleasure of teaching both Lily and James. Although you father was quite the troublemaker. You seem to have inherited the majority of his looks, but for the eyes. You have your mother's eyes, and I hope you also have your mother's studious nature and not your troublemaker of a father's." Professor McGonagall gave him a stern look causing him to nod quickly in agreement. He didn't know how his dad could get in trouble with a teacher this stern at school.

The professor took another sip of tea before continuing, "Hogwarts is split into four different house, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. As a first year, you will be sorted into one of the houses based off of your predominate characteristics. Gryffindor founded by Godric Gryffindor has students of courage, chivalry and determination. Do you have your letter?"

"Right here", he replied as he pulled it out of his waistband. He'd been carrying it around since his birthday.

Pointing to the seal the professor continued, "The lion on the Hogwarts seal is the symbol for Gryffindor with red and gold as its house colors." Professor McGonagall looked up, "I am the current Head of House for Gryffindor." Pausing briefly for a sip of tea she continued, "Hufflepuff was founded by Helga Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff is known for valuing hard work, patience, loyalty, and fair play rather than any particular aptitude in its members. The badger on the seal is its symbol with yellow and black as house colors. The herbology teacher, Pomona Sprout, is the current head of house. The eagle is the symbol for Ravenclaw. It was founded by Rowena Ravenclaw and has members characterized by their wit, learning, and wisdom. Blue and bronze are its house colors with Filius Flitwick, the charms professor, as the current head of house for Ravenclaw. Finally, we have Slytherin. Founded by Salazar Slytherin this is the house for the cunning, resourcefulness, and ambition. Severus Snape, the professor for potions, is head of this house. As you can guess, the snake on the seal represents Slytherin with green and silver as house colors."

Here Professor McGonagall paused to look Harry in the eyes, "It is important to remember that each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards."

Harry nodded in understanding, the professor didn't want to tell him one house was better than the other despite being head of house for Gryffindor. He wasn't all that surprised she didn't try to get him in her house. She didn't seem the type to brag, or exaggerate. Now that he thought about it, she probably had no control over who went to which house, so why should she try?

Harry was about to ask how the first years were sorted before he thought of a better question. "Do you know which house my parents were in?"

Professor McGonagall looked down at him, "Yes, they were in my house, both proud Gryffindors." Harry nodded his head maybe the sorting was based on linage. "Mr. Potter." He looked back up, "I don't want you to think you must go into Gryffindor just because your parents were there. I'm sure they would be proud of you no matter what house you were sorted into."

He nodded again, he was doing a lot of that today, "Thank you professor."

Before Harry could really think about what characteristics he had, the professor continued, "You asked about the subjects taught at Hogwarts in your letter." She paused for his nod, "Besides the four I mentioned already, there is Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, and Astronomy for first year. After your second year, you will be able to add two to three electives. These include Arithmancy the study of magical numbers, Ancient Runes the study of runic magic and Care of Magical Creatures which is self-explanatory. Muggle studies is another which I'm sure you won't need."

Harry stopped himself mid nod, "I'm sorry professor, but what's a muggle?"

"Oh, yes. Sometimes I forget you've grown up as a muggleborn. A muggle, Mr. Potter, is a non-magical person. This includes your relatives, the Dursleys."

"Thanks." He smiled over at the professor.

"Finally, there is Divination which teaches methods of divining the future." The small frown on the professor's face gave out that she didn't quite care for the subject.

"I have to take at least two of those classes my third year?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, that is correct. I don't normally encourage taking more than three."

He nodded in agreement, "I think that answers all my questions about the school." With his tea cooling and having already downed four biscuits, he was ready to go. Excitement bubbled up at the thought of going to Hogwarts as he moved to stand.

"Mr. Potter, there is something else I must ask you." Settling back down, he gave his full attention back to the professor. "Do you know how you came to be at the Dursleys'?"

Harry smiled sadly at this question, he knew this one, "Yes, my parents died in a car crash and left me with my aunt."

McGonagall took a sharp intake of breath, "A car crash?" Her voice was low and threatening, "They told you Lily and James Potter dead in a CAR CRASH!"

"Ah, yes?" He spoke hesitantly.

McGonagall took a deep breath before continuing, "Car crash? No, Mr. Potter, nothing as small as a car crash. This is a long story, so I'd better start from the beginning. A wizard by the name of V-Voldemort, although we don't say his name anymore, about twenty years ago gathered followers, who were known as Death Eaters. It was a dark time, Mr. Potter, you couldn't trust anyone for the Death Eaters were cowards hiding behind masks. At night they were obvious, but during the day they could have been anyone. Many of those who stood up to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers died. At that time, Hogwarts was probably the safest place because of Headmaster Dumbledore. Probably the only man You-Know-Who was afraid to face."

McGonagall shook her head before continuing, "You're parents, Lily and James, were a part of one of the last organizations fighting against You-Know-Who. Strong wizards your parents with powerful magic. At some point during the war, Dumbledore got some information that your parents where at the top of You-Know-Who's hit list. They went into hiding with you using a Fidelius charm which made their house impossible to find; invisible, intangible, unplottable, and sound-proof. The only problem was that the Fidelius charm required a secret keeper. Sirius Black was your parents secret keeper and on Halloween ten years ago he betrayed his best friend to You-Know-Who."

The Professor stopped there wiping away a single tear from her left eye. "You-Know-Who killed Lily and James that night. However, that was not all that happened." Here Professor McGonagall looked straight at him. "You-Know-Who also tried to kill you, Harry. No one is sure why, but he did try. However, he couldn't. The killing curse, a very powerful curse, bounced back giving you that mark on your forehead and ripping You-Know-Who from his body."

Touching his scar, one of the most unique things about him, he absorbed this new information. His parents died to protect him. His father wasn't a drunk. Closing his eyes, calming himself, a vague memory of a flash of green light came to him. So much more clearly than he had ever remembered it. And there was something else, this time. A high, cold, cruel laugh.

"You, Mr. Potter, are known throughout the wizarding world as the Boy-Who-Lived. You are famous in our world."


Professor McGonagall gave Harry a few moments to digest this new information before getting up. "Come Mr. Potter, we must still get your things." McGonagall walked briskly to the fireplace before turning around to talk to Mrs. Figg. "Thank you for your hospitality, Arabella. We'll be back in a couple of hours once we've gotten Mr. Potter's things."

"Always welcome Minerva. Always welcome." Mrs. Figg gave the professor a jar before moving back from the fireplace to let Harry move forward.

Looking back and forth between Mrs. Figg, Professor McGonagall, and the fireplace, he frowned slightly. If he didn't know any better, he'd think the professor planned to use the fireplace to go somewhere.

"Mr. Potter, I don't believe you have ever used the floo?"

"No ma'am. What is the floo?"

"The floo is a means of magical travel through fireplaces."

Harry tried not to look green at the thought of jumping in an active fire.

"I know Mr. Potter, but it is a very safe means of transportation. I'll demonstrate. You take a pinch of floo powder," she took a pinch of the powder in the blue jar to demonstrate. "You say loudly and clearly the destination, Diagon Alley for us, then threw the powder into the fire. Step in and you will be let out at the floo in the Leaky Cauldron. Alright Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, ma'am. I think I got it." Harry replied.

"Good, now before we go." The professor handed the blue jar back to Mrs. Figg before she got out her polished stick, which he now recognized as her wand, and with a swish and flick a ball cap appeared. "Put this on Mr. Potter. I'd like to not cause too much of a commotion in the pub."

With the cap firmly on his head covering his scar, the professor faced the fire, "Diagon Alley!" threw the pinch and the flames turned green. Without further ado, she disappeared in a flash of smoke and flames.

Gulp. Maybe he could catch up some other way?

"Now don't you worry Harry. Just do like the Professor said and off you go." Mrs. Figg hurried him toward the fireplace, handed him the jar for a pinch, and was turning him to the fire. There was no turning back now, at least not without tripping over seven or eight cats.

Taking a deep breath, "Diagon Alley!" Harry jumped into the flames after throwing the pinch of powder into the fireplace. If he was going to burn to death, then he was going to do it in a hurry.


Harry stumbled out the fireplace coughing up ash and landing ungracefully on his face. Strong hands helped him to his feet, and a second later all of the ash was cleared from his clothes.

"Nice landing lad." Came a male voice from the bar.

"Thanks," Harry gave a cheeky smile, "I was going for a back flip. Guess I went the wrong way."

"Ha. Haa. And cheeky too. Names Tom," the bartender replied.

"Harry." Harry didn't think the professor would want him to give out his full name.

"Professor, not used to seeing you bringing muggleborns through the floo?"

"It was the easiest way." Professor McGonagall turned to Harry, "Now, let's get to Diagon Alley."

The Leaky Cauldron was a very dark and shabby place. A few old gentlemen were sitting at the bar. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A small woman in a witch's hat went back to talking to the bartender, Tom, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter had momentarily stopped when they, well, flooed in. Everyone seemed to know the professor, and from Tom's earlier statement he wasn't all that surprised. It seems she came here a lot with other students.

The professor led them out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. He was a little confused when Professor McGonagall turned to him here, "To get to Diagon Alley, you need to count the bricks on this wall and tap the brick that is three up and two across with your wand."

As the professor talked, she tapped the brick she'd been pointing toward. The brick quivered in the middle causing the small hole that appeared to grew wider and wider. A second later they were facing an archway larger than seven feet tall. Harry looked down and around in awe.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley."

A small smile touched the professor's lips at Harry's amazement. As they stepped through the archway, it magically shrink back into a solid wall. Turning back, he saw the sun shining brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside of the nearest shop.

"Professor, don't I need a cauldron." He question as he took out his school list to double check. Yes, right under the OTHER EQUIPMENT section, 'a pewter, standard size' 2, cauldron set.' Harry stopped walking to look at the professor in question.

"Yes Harry, you will be needing a cauldron along with many other things, but first we must get you some money." The professor replied.

Harry looked confusingly up at the professor, "Oh, you don't have the scholarship funds on you?"

"Normally, I would. However, you will not be needing financial assistance to go to Hogwarts." McGonagall smiled kindly down at him, "Your parents left you quite a bit of money, along with having set aside funds for your Hogwarts tuition." Professor McGonagall patted him on the shoulder before she continued, "We will be stopping at Gringotts, the wizard bank, to get you enough money to buy all of your supplies and some extra pocket-money for the rest of the school year."

Harry looked surprisingly back at the professor. He had money. His own money that the Dursleys didn't know anything about. As the professor started walking again, he was in such concentration about the professor's action this morning that he missed the very magical shops selling robes, telescopes, and much more. He missed the strange people doing the shopping and the interesting spectacle outside of the shops.

No, Diagon Alley had just been replaced with this notion. Professor McGonagall had protected the knowledge of him having money of his own. Not even the professor thought the Dursleys would leave his magical money alone. Assuming that wizarding money was different from normal, no muggle money. He looked over at the professor again with a new light. She'd told the truth without telling the truth. He'd never even thought of trying that before. After all, Dudley was stupid enough that it took him a while to get direct insults if he worded them just right.

It was only when the professor slowed down that he looked up again. "Woo."

"This, Harry, is Gringotts," she said.

Standing before him was a snowy white building that towered over the other shops within the alley. Beside the burnished bronze doors were small scarlet and gold uniformed. "What is that?"

"Ah, that would be a goblin. They run the bank and are not known for their kindness." The professor responded.

The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed Of what awaits the sin of greed, For those who take, but do not earn, Must pay most dearly in their turn. So if you seek beneath our floors A treasure that was never yours, Thief, you have been warned, beware Of finding more than treasure there.

Once inside, Professor McGonagall lead them toward the counter where more goblins sat scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, and examining precious stones through eyeglasses.

"Good morning, we've come to access Mr. Potter's vault." Professor McGonagall said while handing the goblin a tiny gold key. Harry had noticed that she had been calling him by his first name since they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. It must have something to do with the low profile she was trying to keep. He wasn't quite sure if all this was necessary, but who was he to argue with a professor?

The goblin looked at the key closely, "This seems to be in order. I'll have someone take you to your vault, BOGROD!"

Bogrod lead them to a narrow stone passageway where he whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them.

The professor took her hat off and cased a quick spell before they were off through a maze of twisting passages. The cold air stung Harry's eyes, but he refused to close them. At some point he was sure he'd seen a burst of fire, but by the time he'd twisted around to see if it was a dragon they were long passed.

A little while later they passed an underground lake with huge stalactites and stalagmites growing from the ceiling and the floor.

"Professor? What's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"A stalactite is above, and hangs downward like an icicle, while a stalagmite is below and sticks upward." Professor McGonagall responded easily.

"Oh," Now didn't he feel stupid?

It wasn't much later when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall. Everyone got out of the cart and waited as Bogrod unlocked the door. Green smoke billowed from the door. Only once it had cleared could he get a good look inside. He gasped in amazement at what he saw. There were mounds of coins, gold, silver, and bronze alike. Even without knowing what each coin was worth, he knew just by looking at it that this was a lot of money.

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, you will be very well off for a very long time." McGonagall got a bag out before doing a quick spell that summoned dozens of all three types of coins into the bag. "The gold coins are Galleons. There are seventeen silver Sickles to a single Galleon and twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle. This should be more than enough for the year."

After receiving the bag, he was surprised the relatively small bag was as light as a feather with so many coins in it. 'Magic?'

Once they returned to the surface, the shopping went pretty quick. They got his robes from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Madam Malkin tailored his robes nearly eight feet away from the next group of Hogwarts students and seemed to talk to Professor McGonagall the whole time.

Next came Flourish and Blotts. Professor McGonagall told him how much he could use for books before going across the street to get a trunk. It was just enough to get all his books new. He guessed the professor didn't want him to get to many other books that would cause trouble. He was just about to get his books off the shelf when he say the used section.

Stopping for a moment. He knew he could get all new books, something he's never had before, or he could get used books and get a few extra. It wasn't a question he'd normally consider, but he didn't want Hogwarts to be like primary school. He'd had enough of trying to get scores lower than Dudley. Sometimes it was easier to just not turn in the work altogether. At Hogwarts, he had a chance to be great. A great wizard like his parents. And the Professor had told him that his mum had studied a lot. She seemed to expect the same out of him.

It didn't take long for Harry to find all of his required books in the used section. Next he had to decide what type of extra material to get. Hogwarts was bound to have a library, so he settled on general things to help him get used to the wizarding world.

He picked up a beginner's guide to potions which seemed to be targeted to pre-Hogwarts students, a book on traditions in the wizarding world, another on the interworking of the ministry, a book on commonly used charms (he was sure there would be a book like that at Hogwarts, but it was only three Sickles), and finally a book on controlling inner magic. The last one had exercises to help focus magic and retain information better. It was the basics of the basics in a branch of magic called mind and body, but sounded interesting enough. Ringing it all up, he managed to come under by three Knuts.

"Excellent timing, Harry." Professor McGonagall spoke as she put his purchases in his new truck, then shrank it. "Now to get the rest of your supplies. We'll make the wand the last stop."

It didn't take them long to get the rest of the list, cauldron (pewter, standard size

set, crystal phials, telescope set, brass scales, and basic potions ingredients.

In addition to that, they also got him a quill set, several feet of parchment, and ten blank journals for taking notes. He had always preferred a notebook to sheets of loose paper. The bond journals were the next best thing he'd been able to find. He didn't think Professor McGonagall would take him to a muggle shop - not to mention he hadn't any muggle money - to buy pens and notebooks for class.

"Would you like to get a pet, Harry?" The professor stopped in front of the Eeylops Owl Emporium, "An owl, or perhaps a cat." Professor McGonagall pointed to another shop across the street, Magical Menagerie.

"No thank you professor, I don't really have anyone to owl?" He looked at Professor McGonagall to make sure he'd used the term right before continuing, "And I don't think it wise to bring a cat back to the Dursleys' either," he finished.

"Very well then. Let's continue to Ollivanders." The professor led the way down the cobbled streets.

Ollivanders was a narrow and shabby shop that had peeling gold letters over the door that read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Once they were inside, Harry was tempted to believe the owner may have been around at the shops grand opening. It was an unsettling experience the way Mr. Ollivander knew who he was even with his hat covering his scar. To make matters worse, it took them nearly half an hour to find him a wand that worked, an eleven inch holly and phoenix feather. If the wait wasn't bad enough, the fact that his wand was related, brother wand, to Voldemort's wand didn't help either. So, he was a little down once they left the shop.

As they were walking back to the Leaky Cauldron, Professor McGonagall hesitated for a moment before walking further down the street to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. "I do believe you deserve a treat."

After eating a chocolate and raspberry sauce with chopped nuts sundae, Professor McGonagall handed him an envelope, "This has your ticket for Hogwarts. You will want to go to King's Cross and find platforms nine and ten. There is a dividing barrier between these two platforms, platform nine and three-quarters. You will need to walk straight at the barrier between the two platforms. I suggest taking it at a run the first time. Do you understand?"

"Right, walk into the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Take it at a run." He nodded in understanding.

"Good. Once we get back to the Dursleys, I'll want to have a talk with your aunt and uncle. You should go to your room and take a look at you books."

"Yes, ma'am." He briefly wondered if she knew his room was a cupboard. Maybe living in a cupboard under the stairs wasn't all that uncommon?


The Dursleys weren't home when they got back. The professor had to use an unlocking charm to get in the door. Once inside, she enlarged his trunk. "Do you need help getting it up into your room?"

"No, I should be fine." He replied.

"Good," the professor sighed as she looked around. "Will you be alright by yourself?"

"Yes, ma'am." He answered.

"I'll send your relatives a letter with the important details. It's probably best I don't do that in person. I wouldn't want to hex the muggles in my anger." She looked at Harry before continuing, "I'll see you at Hogwarts, September first."

"Thank you professor for all the help." He spoke with a little emotion entering his voice. He had not expected the Deputy Headmistress to come help him in person.

"Remember Harry that you can come to me with anything. If you need to get in touch, contact Mrs. Figg." Professor McGonagall gathered herself and headed to the door.

"Alright, ah professor?" He questioned the professor as she opened the door.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall looked back at him expectantly.

"Is Mrs. Figg a witch, like you?" The question had been bothering him since they arrived at Mrs. Figg's house.

"No, Mr. Potter. Mrs. Figg is a squib, a non-magical person born from magical parents." She replied swiftly.

"Alright. Thank you again, professor." He stood by the door as the professor left.

"You are very welcome, Mr. Potter." Harry watched as the professor left before dragging his trunk to his cupboard. Pulling out the first book on top, beginner's guide to potions, and a journal, he set himself up in the kitchen to work.


The Dursleys didn't come back until a couple of days before the first. All that time, Harry managed to feed himself, rationing the food to last nearly a month. He'd read ahead in all of his textbooks. His favorite so far was History of Magic. He just couldn't wait to get into that class and learn more. Transfiguration was by far the hardest to understand, so he'd read that one in between the other textbooks. So far, he'd found drawing the plants from his Herbology textbook helped him identify each species, and also had the side benefit of improving his quill handwriting. And then there was potions and DADA, which he'd put right behind History of Magic as the classes he was most looking forward to taking. 'But it all, really is fantastic.' He thought, knowing now it was only a matter of hours before he could be learning magic.

There was only one problem. He was sure that getting his uncle to drive him to London would be almost impossible. Once the Dursleys had returned, he'd been mostly confined to his cupboard. So it was with apprehension that he asked Uncle Vernon to drive him. "Uncle Vernon? Could you take me to King's Cross tomorrow? I need to take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock."

"Platform what?" Uncle Vernon asked taking his eyes from the telly momentarily.

"Nine and three-quarters, sir." He was choosing to say everything all at once, thinking that his uncle would want to get rid of him. After all, there was no way his Uncle Vernon would believe platform nine and three-quarters existed.

"Rubbish! There is no platform nine and three-quarters." Uncle Vernon replied briskly.

Hook, line, and sinker.

"It's on my ticket, sir. I'll only need you to take me to the station. I'll make sure I get to the platform." Uncle Vernon eyed him wearily, maybe he had over played his hand. 'Less is more, Potter, less is more,' he thought to himself.

"Barking, howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. I'll take you to King's Cross. I had to do it anyway or that bint would have my tail." His uncle replied grudgingly before turning his attention back to the telly.

Harry sighed in relief, next time he wanted something he'd use fewer words.


They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Harry was pleasantly surprise when Uncle Vernon dumped his trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Could his uncle really be this petty? Wanting to prove a point about platform nine and three-quarters existed? Harry hadn't even planned for this possibility. It was hard to keep the glee off of his face when Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine, platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, now have they?"

"Thank you Uncle Vernon." Harry smiled back without replying to his uncle's statement, then ran straight into the barrier between the two platforms, and came out on the other side to a scarlet steam engine. There were a good amount of people on the platform, but not enough to be packed. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Looking behind him, he wished wistfully that he could see the look on his uncle's face. Instead, he saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it.

Pushing his cart toward the train, he began his look for a compartment. The first few carriages had about two to four students in them, which wasn't a lot, but he really wanted to get a carriage to himself. So he continued his search. It didn't take much longer, somewhere down the middle of the train he spotted a couple of empty carriages. One of the older students sporting a yellow tie and a pin on his robes helped him get his trunk on the train, a Hufflepuff for sure.

After settling into his carriage, he changed into his school robes, since they were nicest thing he owned. Once settled, he got out his transfiguration journal to try changing the toothpick, really just a random piece of wood he found in the Dursleys' back yard, into a needle again. He'd not gotten very far when three student came into his compartment.

"Over here, this one's empty." The boy called out.

'Oh, no.' He thought, not liking how this was going.

"Alright firsty, out." The older student jabbed his finger out of the door as the two girls came in.

"Lee, I thought you said this way empty." Said the dark skinned girl.

"It will be in about 30 seconds." Lee looked at Harry pointedly, "Or do you fancy havin' a giant tarantula down you trousers?"

With that, Harry quickly got up reached for his trunk, but was stopped by the older boy, Lee. "Don't worry about the trunk. You already have your robes on, so you won't be needing this. The thing appears in your dormitory once your sorted."

Tucking his journal in his robes, he sighed as he exited his compartment. On the way out, one of the girls called out to him, "Hope you get sorted into Gryffindor, it's the best house!"

"Yeah right," He whispered to himself as he began his search a new for a compartment, this time with other students around his age. Getting kicked out of another one, wasn't high on his list of things to do. And there would be strength in numbers.

It didn't take too much longer for him to find another compartment. This one had four students in it two girls and two boys that looked to be first years too as their robes where just as black as his own.

As he opened the compartment, conversation stopped, "Can I sit with you? Some older Gryffindors just stole my compartment, and all of the other compartments have older students in them."

The light skinned boy of the group answered, "Getting pushed around by Gryffindors already? You must be a Slytherin in waiting."

Harry smiled as he replied taking a seat across from the skinny light skinned boy and next to the two girls in the compartment, "I don't know both my parents were Gryffindors. Besides, if I'd been cunning enough, then I would still have my compartment."

"Should have said you had the dragon pox," the group laughed a little at the skinny guy's joke.

"Nott, really? That wouldn't have even fooled a Hufflepuff." The blonde girl replied.

The brown skinned boy huffed at that, "I'm afraid I have to agree with Greengrass. No one's that stupid."

"I don't know. You haven't met my cousin yet." Harry replied.

"Touché. Blaise Zabini," the dark skin boy nodded his head in greeting.

"Theodore Nott, you can call me Theo." Theodore held out his hand in greeting for Harry to shake.

"Daphne Greengrass." The blonde girl nodded in greeting.

"Tracey Davis," came the soft spoken voice from the brown haired girl who hadn't spoken yet.

"Harry Potter," Harry said after shaking Theodore's hand and nodding back in greeting to the rest.

All eyes snapped to his forehead. "Potter? Gryffindor definitely. If you're not a blood traitor just like you father, then I'll shake a muggle's hand." Blaise spoke up first.

"Oh, shut it Zabini. At least his mother's not known for killing her husbands for the money." Theodore replied in Harry's defense.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Blaise causally looked out the window as if the current topic was boring him.

"Boys." Looking him up and down Daphne continued, "So you're Harry Potter, huh?"

"And you're not that easily impressed," he replied.

"It's nice to meet you, Harry." Tracey's response was the most promising to him. He'd have no problems making friends with her.

Smiling at Tracey, he replied in kind, "It's nice to meet you too, Tracey."

"Where have you been all this time? That's what everyone really wants to know." Daphne grilled him.

"With my relatives, nothing special. I'm just learning about my world now. So you'll have to excuse my ignorance." He answered, wanting to get that out there just in case he said or did something that might offend his new friends.

"Just learning? Where were you? Living with muggles?" Blaise replied in belief.

"Yes, actually." He replied shortly. "It wasn't a very pleasant experience." He added on a whelm, since Blaise didn't seem all that fond of anything muggle.

Harry was rewarded when Blaise next spoke in a sympathizing voice, "No, I imagine not." Yup, Blaise was warming up to him.

Soon they were in a discussion that moved from Quidditch to Hogwarts and a little about pureblood traditions. Harry had brought up that topic to check the accuracy of his book.

The conversation only stopped when the door opened about a quarter to one to reveal a woman with a cart full of sweets.

Harry bought a bit of everything to try. Theo gave him a look when he just started to pop jelly beans in his mouth with little regard. "You might want to be more…" Harry nearly spit back up a bean that tasted like ear wax. "…careful."

After that unpleasant experience, he ate more slowly only trying the ones Theo and Daphne said were the best and leaving the rest for another time.

It was much later when there was another knock at the door and a round-faced boy came into the doorway of the compartment. He looked tearful.

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

When they shook their heads, well Theo, Tracey and Harry, the boy just turned away and left.

"Sometimes I wonder how Longbottom got into Hogwarts." Blaise responded quietly.

"Sad isn't?" Nott nodded his agreement.

"What can you expect when you've been to a mind healer as much as he has?" Daphne added just as morosely.

Harry looked confused, so Theo clarified, "I'm pretty sure he was put under the Cruciatus curse as a baby."

"And the Cruciatus curse would be," he asked.

"An Unforgivable Curse. I'm sure Nott could tell us all about them." Blaise replied.

Theo rolled his eyes and continued the conversation as if Longbottom had not interrupted. Theo hadn't gotten two sentences in when the compartment door slid open again, revealing Longbottom and a girl also wearing her Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"And you would be?" Daphne didn't look to happy to see them back.

"I'm Hermione Granger. Now, have you seen it?" She demanded.

"Granger? I don't know that name." Blaise spoke pointedly to the group ignoring her.

"Must be muggleborn." Theo replied to Blaise.

"Longbottom, I think you're going to want to leave. Now." Greengrass looked past Granger also ignoring her presence. It was obvious his new group of friends were not going to be very friendly to muggleborns. He would have felt bad, but he didn't like to be bossed around by anyone. That and he wanted to pick his battles, and this one wasn't worth the friendship of Blaise or Daphne. Not yet anyway.

"Hey, you don't have to be so mean! Who do you think you are?" Hermione replied in outrage.

"No, Hermione. I already asked them. They haven't seen Trevor. Let's go." Longbottom gentle guided Granger out of the compartment. At least Longbottom seemed like a reasonable person, Harry would keep that in mind.

"But," the door slid shut cutting off whatever the Granger girl was about to say.

"As if she owned the place," Daphne hissed to the compartment at large.

"I'm always telling you muggleborns aren't worth the dirt under my shoes." Blaise replied with disgust on his face.

"No, don't you start again." Theo replied, but before anyone of them could really start up, the door slid open again. "What do we have a sign on the door saying 'interrupt please!'?" Theo spoke softly under his breath, but Harry heard him.

"Nott, do you know where Harry Potter is? His supposed to be on the train this year, and I need to make sure he's making the right friends. Me." A platinum blond boy said as he entered the compartment with two larger boys beside him.

Theo rolled his eyes before answering for the group, "I haven't left this compartment since I got here. How would I know where he is?"

There it was again. Answering a question without lying, but definitely not telling the truth either. Harry was sure he could learn a thing or two from Theodore if no one else.

"Humph, you're right. Crabbe, Goyle come on. We need to search the train for Potter." The blond haired boy left.

Once he was gone, Harry spoke, "Thanks Theo, but who was he?"

"That, Harry, was Draco Malfoy. He'll be in Slytherin with us for sure." Theo replied.

"You'll have a hard time explaining that one, Nott." Daphne said softly. Harry thought he saw real worry in her eyes.

"Don't worry about it so much. Now Harry owes me." Theo said with a smirk on his face.

Harry was sure he would be able to handle Malfoy when the time came. He was a little too much like Dudley, spoiled rotten.


The boat ride over to Hogwarts was amazing even if the giant, well almost a giant as Theo told him the difference in size, was a little intimidating. The almost-giant had even invited him over for tea, which was a little surprising since he'd not invited anyone else. When they reached the castle, Professor McGonagall was there to receive them and was just as stern as he remembered.

The Professor lead them from the entrance hall, which was big enough the Dursleys' house could have fit in it, to a small empty chamber off the hall. Once all the first years were packed in close, the professor gave a rather short speech about what was about to happen, including the banquet, the sorting, and the four houses. As she left to get ready for the sorting, he couldn't help but to be glad that the professor had told him about the houses and general life at Hogwarts beforehand as her short speech had been more intimidating than informative.

Despite being short, the wait for the sorting managed to be agonizing. Not because of the unknown about the sorting. He didn't once think that they had to fight a troll like the tall red-head boy was talking loudly about with Granger. No, he was more worried about the sorting's finality. What if he got sorted into Hufflepuff? Despite the kind words Professor McGonagall had for the house, he was sure that being sorted into Hufflepuff would be proof that he didn't belong anywhere. The stories Theo had about them painted Hufflepuff in a different light. It wasn't like the professor could say the same thing being Deputy Headmistress. She had to say something nice about all the houses. And while he might have doubted the stories if they had come from Blaise or Daphne given their bias for everything Slytherin, but from Theo?

Harry was briefly distracted when some twenty something ghosts streamed through the back wall. The group of pearly white transparent figures glided across the room talking animatedly to one another as if the first years weren't even there. Still, they would have made for a better distraction if not for the monk wishing them luck in being sorted into Hufflepuff.

Harry was very glad to be pulled out of his thoughts with the return of the professor. With the wait over, Professor McGonagall led the first years into the great hall. The sight helped to distract him further. A truly magical place, and the ceiling, if it was really a ceiling. It was as if the Great Hall opened up to the heavens.

Relief flooded him, when Professor McGonagall place a pointed wizard's hat on a four-legged stool. It would seem the sorting was done with an old hat; patched and frayed and extremely dirty. His nerves had calmed down enough that he'd managed to even listen to the majority of the hat's song, which wasn't all that bad even if it didn't tell him anything new about the four houses.

After the song, began the sorting. The roll call sorting started with Hannah Abbott who went to Hufflepuff. He couldn't tell if she was happy about that or not. He knew how he would feel, but she didn't necessarily seem to show that feeling on her face.

Tracey, Daphne, and Theo all made it into Slytherin, which left just him and Blaise waiting to join them. He was a little disappointed when Malfoy made it into Slytherin too, but he wasn't all that surprised given what the others had already said. What was surprising was that Granger and Longbottom made it into Gryffindor. He just hadn't been expecting that outcome.

A short while after Theo was sorted, Professor McGonagall called out his own name. "Potter, Harry!"

As he stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. He could make out Malfoy's voice probably talking to Nott down the table. He'd noticed earlier on that they hadn't seat near each other.

The last thing he saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. He vaguely heard a 'shit' from the area he believed was the Gryffindor table, before all was dark.

"Would serve them right too if you don't end up in Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. Treating any first year like that." A small voice spoke in his ear.

He was in complete agreement. He'd be better off in any house but Gryffindor. He didn't think that lightly with his previous worry about getting sorted into Hufflepuff; but Hufflepuff was still the house of hard work, and he could live with that even if he'd miss his friends. With a new resolve, he waited for the hat's judgment.

"Hmm. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, ah my goodness, yes. And a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. But I think you already told me were to put you. Not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Are you sure? You would do well in either of those houses. No?" Well, if you're sure… better be SLYTHERIN!"


Note: Direct quotes from the book are not mine.