Chapter 6
Harry along with his companion Morrigan then scowered the aisle, looking over empty compartments, when he finally found one, he then placed his trunk that weren't placed with the others, over the overhead compartment. He finally let himself relax. Morrigan then made herself comfortable on the overhead rack beside my trunk.
Harry then looked outside the window as the trees that passed them by turns into a blur, it made him think about all the possibilities he can accomplish, sure, death taught him stuff overhead, some spells, mannerism, especially Gobbledegook and how to treat Goblins with respect.
Death made sure that he, Harry was prepared when facing the cruel world. As death said, he was worried, Harry noticed upon telling Harry all of the struggles he may face with his blood status, aside that especially with him being famous and all.
Death didn't want to overwhelm Harry so he told Harry to keep his head down, intimidation works aswell if you don't want people to annoy you. Which to Harry sounded ridiculous but he played with the notion, the possibility of him doing so, even though death told him he was too cute to be intimidating which challenged Harry more.
What troubled Harry more is being a way with death. Wait, right. His not really away. Deaths a deity thus he can be wherever Harry wished him to be. Stupid. 'Now now, don't be too Hard on yourself my little prince.' Harry yelped, almost screamed at the sudden intrusion.
"Mr.Death! You scared me!" Harry smiled at the warmth, death sent his way. Death always did this to calm Harry. 'I apologize my little prince. But I do not wish for you to think of yourself like that. Be confident, but not to overly confident. I am proud of you remember that's'
Harry rolled his eyes at that but nodded. Death never fails to assure Harry that his enough, that his worth it. It's all amazing really. 'Yes Mr.Death!' Just then, the compartments door then slid open revealing a blond figure, looks to be like a first year. He looks posh, the spoiled kind, it made Harry remember Dudley, it made him uncomfortable.
'Ah, a Malfoy. Listen here Harry. Remember those people I told you about- Death eaters? That- is Malfoy Jr. Draco Malfoy. His father was a death eater- is a death eater still. Becareful around him my little prince, I do not wish harm to be inflicted upon you.'
Harry nodded in his mind as he stared at the first year who now sneered at him. "Have you seen Harry Potter?" The blond asked not too nicely, making Harry want to punch that sneer off of his face 'Behave Harry. remember, I am still here.' Harry sighed and turned to the blond. "why?" Thank Merlin he covered his scar, plus one for his bangs then. "Oh shut it mudblood." Ah, death had told him about that word before.
Mr. Death had a way of explaining things that made the world seem darker and more honest. When he first told me about the word "Mudblood," it wasn't with any sugar-coating.
"It's a word they use, Harry," he'd said, his voice quiet but cutting. "A slur. A mark of prejudice. It’s what some pure-blood wizards call those born to Muggle parents—people like Hermione. They say it to hurt, to make them feel like they don’t belong in the magical world, as if blood could determine a person's worth."
I remember the cold chill that settled over me when he explained it. It wasn't just a word—it was a weapon. A reminder that no matter how much good there was in the world, there would always be people trying to tear others down for something as meaningless as their heritage.
Harry sighed. "No." Harry said simply. "Pathetic" Malfoy Jr. said with so much Venom that he even slammed the compartment door. What a wanker. 'Harry.' Mr death warned. 'M'Sorry' Death mentally sighed. 'No matter, get some rest. I will wake you when it's time' Harry nodded and yawned, he then rested his head against the cool window, closing his eyes.
Just then, the compartme door slid open again, making Harry mentally groan in annoyance. He opened his eyes, and looked over the door to find a redhead, standing, panting and somehow got a dirt on it's nose. Cute but no. "Uh- do you mind?" the boy said uncertainty "Everywhere else is full." Hm, why not? "Uh yeah sure- come in then." The redhead then entered, plopped himself on the opposite side of Harry.
"I'm Ron by the way, Ron Weasley." The first year said with so much enthusiasm that Harry practically can't help but feel the same way. He smiled at the redhead and shook his hand. "I'm Harry-" Should I tell him my last name? 'It is your choice to make my dear, but I think you should. See how he differs from that Malfoy kid.' Harry mentally nodded at Mr.Death. "-Potter, I'm Harry Potter"
Rons eyes went wide with recognition. "Blimey" he breath, his tone soft with awe, but his eyes held no judgement, only fascination. "Are you really?" Harry nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and tension, like he was sharing a secret he wasn't coming into terms with. 'It'll be alright my little prince. See his reaction?" Harry nodded and couldn't help but compare it to the blond. They were different despite not outright saying that he really was Harry Potter. 'That's not bad now is it? Don't worry yourself.'
Ron leaned back, still processing the revelation, but then his face broke into a grin "That's brilliant! Wait till I tell my brothers." Harry chuckled at that but found himself nodding along. "Wait do you have the-" He then proceeded to gesture to his forehead. "You know-" Harry then removed his bangs, showing him his famous lightning bolt scar.
"Wicked!" Ron breath, Harry then arranged his bangs back to hide it. "Do you remember? What happened that night when- you know uh-" Ron, now uncomfortable and a little embarrassed for asking if Harry remembered the night his parents was murdered. "Ah- sorry, that's insensitive of me." Harry shook his head. "No, no it's fine- I remember some of it, vaguely at that. Just a green light. That's all."
Ron nodded. "Bloody hell.. sorry" "it's fine Ron. I don't even remember so don't worry." Ron smiled at that, relieved that he hadn't upsetted Harry up.
The two boys continued talking non-stop, Ron having telling Harry stuff that Harry yet still did not know- he did mention about the muggles he stayed with, and how much they detest magic, so Ron had taken it himself in teaching Harry everything he needs to know, which Harry was truly grateful for. Along the way they met a muggleborn named Hermione Granger, asking if they've seen a toad, named Trevor, a boy Neville- the kid death had mentioned who's parents got hurt aswell that terrible night.
She was nice- a bit of a know-it-all but nice, to Harry anyway. Ron seemed annoyed with the witch, which made Harry mentally sigh. 'Remember my sweet. It is not the boys fault for hating the girl, his a pureblood, for all we know he could've hated the girl for being a muggleborn but did not. Instead he irked her for her being a know-it-all. They will come and sort of their differences in no time.' Mr.Death reminded him. Harry nodded along.
Hermione also warned us that hogsmead station is nearing and better be wearing their robes soon. And so the boys did despite Rons muttering about stupid know-it-alls.
Sure! Here’s a reimagined and extended version of the scenes where Harry and Ron get off the train, follow Hagrid to the boats, are introduced to Hogwarts by Professor McGonagall, and experience the Sorting Hat ceremony. This version will focus more on Harry’s emotions, sensory details, and his internal reactions as he encounters the magic of Hogwarts for the first time.
The train slowed with a shuddering creak, and Harry felt a sudden lurch in his stomach. He glanced at Ron, who was peering out of the window into the night. The excitement they had shared on the train was now tinged with a hint of apprehension. This was it. They had arrived.
“First years! First years over here!” a familiar booming voice called from the platform. Harry’s heart leapt as he recognized Hagrid, towering over the chattering crowd of students. His lantern cast flickering pools of light across the platform as students clambered down from the train, their voices buzzing with anticipation.
“C’mon,” Ron muttered, tugging Harry by the sleeve. Together, they scrambled off the train and into the cool night air. The wind smelled fresh and earthy, and Harry took a deep breath, feeling the cold nip at his skin. This was his first true step into the magical world. He could feel it.
“Alright, there, Harry?” Hagrid’s voice boomed as the first years gathered around him. The half-giant’s craggy face split into a wide grin when he spotted Harry. “All o’ you lot—this way!”
The first years moved in a tight huddle, their nervous chatter blending into the night. Harry stuck close to Ron as they trudged down a steep, narrow path. The ground was uneven, and the trees loomed over them, casting long shadows. Harry’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of excitement and nerves as the sounds of the forest surrounded them. Somewhere ahead, the path opened up, and Harry could hear the rhythmic lapping of water against the shore.
“Yeh’ll get yer first sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid announced from the front of the group, his voice cutting through the darkness.
They rounded a bend, and there it was.
Hogwarts.
A gasp rippled through the crowd as the castle came into view, perched high on a cliff, its turrets and towers silhouetted against the starry sky. Warm lights twinkled from countless windows, giving the castle a glowing, almost ethereal presence.
“No more than four to a boat!” Hagrid instructed, guiding them toward the small wooden boats bobbing at the edge of the lake. Harry and Ron clambered into a boat with two other nervous first years, the wood creaking under their weight. Harry looked down into the inky water, dark and still beneath them, reflecting the stars like tiny pinpricks of light.
“Everyone in?” Hagrid shouted, glancing around to make sure all the students were settled. “Right then—FORWARD!”
The boats glided forward without a sound, moving smoothly across the glassy surface of the lake. Harry gripped the edge of the boat, his eyes fixed on the castle as they drifted closer. The cool night air ruffled his hair, but he barely noticed. He could feel a strange fluttering in his chest, a sensation that was both exhilarating and terrifying. This place—this world—was now his.
As they neared the cliff, the boats passed under a curtain of ivy that hung like a veil over the entrance to a hidden underground harbor. The air felt cooler here, damp and musty, as they disembarked onto a small stone platform.
“Up these steps!” Hagrid called, his lantern swinging as he led the way. Harry, Ron, and the other first years followed, their shoes scuffing against the stone as they climbed. The towering walls of the castle seemed to rise endlessly above them, casting long shadows over the courtyard.
Finally, they reached the massive oak doors. Hagrid raised a huge fist and knocked three times. The sound echoed through the air like a deep drumbeat, and moments later, the doors swung open.
Professor McGonagall stood in the entrance, her sharp gaze surveying the group of nervous students. Her emerald-green robes rustled slightly as she stepped aside to let them in.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she said, her voice calm and precise, but with an underlying sense of authority that made Harry stand a little straighter. “In a few moments, you will pass through these doors to join your classmates. But before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you must be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.”
Her eyes flickered across the crowd, lingering on Harry for a second longer than anyone else, though Harry couldn’t tell if it was curiosity or recognition. He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his name again.
“The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin,” McGonagall continued. “Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor.”
There was a pause, and Harry could feel the tension growing. He glanced at Ron, who looked pale under his freckles.
“Now, wait here while I prepare the Sorting Ceremony,” McGonagall said, before turning sharply and disappearing into the Great Hall.
As the doors closed behind her, the nervous energy among the first years rose. Some whispered anxiously about the Sorting process, while others stood silent, too tense to speak.
“What d’you reckon we have to do?” Ron muttered, shifting uneasily beside Harry. “Fred said it hurts a lot.”
Harry’s stomach twisted at the thought, but before he could respond, the doors opened again.
“Form a line,” McGonagall instructed as she returned, leading them into the Great Hall.
The sight that greeted Harry was breathtaking.
The Hall was vast, its ceiling so high it seemed to fade into the starry sky above. Floating candles cast a soft, warm glow over the long tables where hundreds of students were seated, all watching the first years with curious eyes. The tables were laden with golden plates and goblets, shimmering in the candlelight, but Harry’s attention was drawn to the high table at the far end, where the teachers sat, and in the center of the Hall, a small wooden stool stood, with a ragged old hat perched on top.
“That’s the Sorting Hat?” Ron whispered, looking doubtful.
Before Harry could answer, the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened like a mouth, and the Hat began to sing:
“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, But don’t judge on what you see, I’ll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me…”
The song filled the Hall, drawing the attention of every student. Harry listened intently as the Hat described each house—brave Gryffindors, loyal Hufflepuffs, wise Ravenclaws, and cunning Slytherins. The anticipation built with every word.
When the song finally ended, the Hall erupted into applause.
McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment. “When I call your name, you will come forward, place the Sorting Hat on your head, and be sorted into your house,” she instructed.
Harry’s heart pounded as she began to read the names. One by one, the first years stepped forward, nervously placing the hat on their heads. The Hat would deliberate for a moment before shouting the house name, and the respective table would cheer as the student hurried off to join their new house.
“Granger, Hermione,” McGonagall called.
Hermione, who had been muttering nervously the entire time, marched forward and sat on the stool. The Hat barely touched her head before shouting, “Gryffindor!”
Ron groaned quietly beside Harry, but Harry barely registered it. His nerves were mounting with every name called.
Finally, “Potter, Harry,” echoed through the Hall.
The whispers started immediately. Harry felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the room as he stepped forward. His legs felt shaky, but he kept his head high. He sat down on the stool, and McGonagall placed the Hat on his head.
“Hmmm,” a voice said in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult… Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?”
Harry gripped the edge of the stool, his heart hammering.
“Not Slytherin,” he thought desperately. “Not Slytherin.”
“Not Slytherin, eh?” the Hat murmured. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know. It’s all here in your head, and Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that.”
“Not Slytherin,” Harry thought again, firmly.
“Well, if you’re sure—better be..."