Becoming Heir Potter and Co.
The month he spent in Diagon Alley was easily the best month Harry had ever had. He woke in the mornings, got dressed, shoving a soft beanie he had bought from Second-Hand Robes on his head to avoid most glances, and settled down at the bar counter downstairs. Tom always had a steaming meal ready, setting it in front of him with a wink and a cold glass of pumpkin juice. The bartender had almost fallen over laughing the first time Harry tried the drink, his face contorting at the taste of too-sweet pumpkins. Harry quickly grew to love it, however, though he did try to limit himself to one glass a day.
After breakfast, Harry would quickly disappear into the Alley, using his own wand to open the bricks. Tom made him promise to not go too far from the main street, especially not down the side alley of Knockturn, without supervision. So, Harry simply wandered within sight of the cobblestones, quickly getting on a first name basis with the workers of his favorite stores—mainly the bookstores (Flick knew a few of the other employees that were more their age and introduced him), the library (when Gerard told him to look up a law in the public library off the main path, Harry’s jaw dropped and he almost ran out of the room), the menagerie (the owner let a vibrating Harry help feed all of the animals, and gave him a few lesser-known books from Newt Scamander that would help him learn more), the ice cream parlor (Florean delighted in letting Harry try all of his different flavors, especially when he learned that Harry very rarely had ice cream previously), and weirdly, Ollivander’s.
Harry originally went back to the wand store to ask the questions he didn’t feel comfortable asking in front of Hagrid—about cores, and how the man could read which wands chose which wizard. But it quickly turned into a whirlwind of knowledge, of new things for Harry to research, of lore and complex magic he couldn’t even begin to understand. Harry started bringing his muggle notebook with him whenever he visited. Garrick was a strange one, but he told the most fascinating stories that were so magical that Harry didn’t know if they were true or just legends. When he asked, one day when the rain drove him indoors, Garrick gave a mysterious grin. “Just because they may be legends, Hadrian, doesn’t mean they’re not true.” The man also helped Harry learn and practice meditation, which Garrick swore was helpful for finding the center of his magical core, and making things run more smoothly once he started casting. Harry left his store the last day of August with a feel for the magic running through his veins and a brand-new wand holster sitting on his arm, as well as the promise that he could write Garrick if he had further questions, or just to say hello.
Flick was a constant that month as well, chatting with him about everything related to Hogwarts, telling him about the houses, the variety of classes, the professors. He would hang out at the counter of Flourish & Blotts while she worked, and she would pass him books to skim through, answering any of his questions along the way with a ruffle of his hair. The other Flourish & Blotts workers got to know him as well, either because he was always at the counter or because of the pitiful look he would give if Flick wasn’t working that day. He didn’t know if they just didn’t recognize him, or if Flick had told them not to bring up his fame. Either way, he appreciated just being another kid on the streets of the Alley, rather than dealing with the starstruck he would still get on occasion.
A week into his stay, he met Flick’s younger brother, Terrance, who was going into his fourth year in Slytherin. At first, Harry felt awkward around the other boy, but after seeing him pull Flick’s hair and run off laughing, somehow getting Harry involved in her ire, things went over more smoothly. At one point, Flick even bemoaned the fact that now she had to deal with two younger brothers that wouldn’t leave her alone. Harry didn’t stop grinning until he fell asleep that night.
When he told her about Hagrid’s assessment of the Slytherin house, Flick clenched her jaw before sighing. “Yeah, we get that a lot from Gryffindors. Lions tend to see the world in black and white. And it turns into the ultimate negative feedback loop. Eleven-year-olds are told that the snakes are bad, and so the lions believe that they’re the enemy and the snakes just can’t believe anything else after all the shit we go through. Then we grow up, and our kids learn the same lesson at our knees. Slytherins that they can only trust themselves because the world thinks we’re evil, and Gryffindors that we’re something to defeat. What we need is someone to break the mold, and to make everyone see that we are all just kids trying to figure out who we are, not what color suits us best.”
His last visit, she gave him a hug and promised to talk to him at Hogwarts. At the hopeful look that he couldn’t quite hide, she leaned down once more. “No matter what house,” she promised with another hug.
He wasn’t used to hugs, but she seemed to be making sure he got comfortable with them.
Diagon was also a lesson in who the wix world expected him to be. Most adults either pitied him or worshipped him, and most kids watched him like he was an animal in a cage, and Harry quickly learned how best to be the Boy-Who-Lived for the public. As much as he hated it, as much as that fake smile hurt, he knew that in the long run, keeping up a public image might come in handy.
He met quite a few other students or future-students during the month as well. He ran into Jacob Wiseacre frequently, a fifth year Ravenclaw, usually trailed by his little sister Joceyln, who was only ten but already a spitfire. Apparently having gotten nothing from her brother, she made Harry promise to write her with stories from school, and Harry couldn’t help but agree. Tom introduced him to his niece, a blonde named Hannah who would be in his year. While they were talking over a pitcher of pumpkin juice, a redhead flew to the girl’s side with a shriek, and Harry met Susan Bones. Both girls told him to owl them with any questions he had, especially about politics, as Susan’s aunt worked for the Ministry. Harry grinned and waved as they left the pub together, giggling. A few younger kids ran around the alley daily, ducking in and out of stores that their parents or siblings worked in. A few ghosts even wandered around at night, when the light wasn’t so blaring, and were more than willing to share some history of the Alley. Harry loved every second of it, actually feeling like he was part of something, especially when people started waving to him from actual recognition, and not just because of his scar.
September 1st came too quickly for him. After setting Hedwig out to fly to Hogwarts ahead of him, he did a walkthrough of the room he thought as his to make sure none of his new purchases were left behind. He had packed his trunk the night before, leaving out only a few books for the ride, his ticket for the train tucked into one as a bookmark, a notebook and pen just in case, and the school robes he would need to change into. The shrunken trunk and everything he had left out were all tucked into his shoulder bag. He wandered downstairs, and Tom set him up with his usual breakfast, a bundle of snacks for the train, and another wink.
“You’ve got your ticket for the Express?” the man asked, staring Harry down with a grin.
Harry just nodded as he sipped his pumpkin juice.
“Good. Now, here’s your ticket for the Knight Bus. Comes free with your rent of the room. Julie should be working it today, she’ll make sure you get to King’s Cross with plenty of time. As soon as you’re ready, head on out, but no dallying now. Make sure you say hi to Hannah for me.”
They shared a smile, and Tom got a little nostalgic around the eyes.
“Stop on in anytime, Hadrian. You’re a good lad, and you’ll do wonders at Hogwarts.”
“Thanks, Tom. Hopefully I can stay for a while next summer, if only to get a few more goes at your cooking.”
Tom laughed and left him to his meal, although he didn’t do much more than push his eggs around and force himself to eat some toast. Nerves weren’t uncommon for Harry, and he knew better than to stuff himself. Even after a month at the Alley, he still wasn’t able to eat much. It wasn’t long before he pushed his plate away, double-checked that he had everything in his bag, and gave a final wave to Tom as he walked out the front door.
The Knight Bus was more insane than any amusement park ride Harry could ever imagine. He was glad he had eaten lightly as the laws of physics seemed to break in the few minutes it took to get from Charing Cross to the train station. At the entrance to King’s Cross, Harry stumbled off of the stairs with barely a wave to the conductor, Julie, a freckled girl grinning from the door. Another bang, and he was left alone on the sidewalk. Righting himself, he headed inside with a set jaw. Harry hated crowds, even before he found out he was famous to an entire subculture in Britain. The noise, the lack of personal space, the strangers… Not to mention the lack of easy escape routes.
He stopped before reaching Platform 9, fixing the soft beanie to rest more fully over his scar. He definitely didn’t want another repeat of The Leaky Cauldron that first day, not being able to even move without someone wanting to shake his hand. Scar firmly hidden, Harry began to look for the wall that Tom told him would lead to the Hogwarts Express. Before he could figure out where to go, a large group of redheads, a more vibrant color than Susan Bones, steamrolled past him, walking fast, children being herded by a harried woman.
“C’mon, everyone, the train will be leaving in a few minutes. Fred, George, no, do not let out your brother’s new owl, we don’t need a reason for Muggles to notice us. Ginny, what’s the platform number?”
“Nine and three-quarters!” What looked to be the youngest of them, a girl not much younger than Harry, chirped up from where her mother was gripping her hand tightly.
Harry perked up at the word Muggle, watching the plump woman gesture some of her older sons through a wall between Platform 9 and Platform 10. Two of the boys must have been twins, Harry couldn’t immediately tell them apart as they kept switching their names when their mother’s tired gaze looked between them.
As she turned away from shooing them through the wall, she noticed Harry standing a few feet behind the chaos. “Oh, sorry, dear, are we in your way? We always manage to get here a little too late.”
Harry swallowed and quickly put on his innocent “you’re an adult and I need help” face. “No worries, ma’am, it helped to watch someone get on the platform before I tried.”
She clucked at him. “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s a first year as well.” A tall, gangly boy grimaced at him with a nod from where he stood with a loaded cart and an energetic younger sister. His mother didn’t even look his way as she kept speaking. “Why don’t you go on ahead, just walk briskly through the wall and make sure you step out of the way so others can get through.”
Harry gave her a beaming grin and tightened his hold on his bag. “Thanks so much, ma’am.” He turned away from her returning smile and walked quickly past the people milling around and towards the very solid-seeming wall.
He closed his eyes a second before the impact, but instead of brick, he felt as if he were passing through a thick curtain. He opened his eyes on the other side to see a massive scarlet engine, a low layer of steam curling through the clusters of families saying goodbye to their children. Behind him, the family he had walked on the platform with had huddled together, the younger girl beginning to cry at being left behind. He quickly moved away from them, heading onto the closest stairs of the Express, dodging through older students who didn’t need an extended goodbye with their parents.
Harry wandered through the train, glancing through doors to try and find an at least mostly empty compartment, or even a glimpse of Flick. He shifted the beanie on his head as he readjusted the strap of his satchel. The one thing about his height that he found beneficial was that it was easy for him to duck through the throngs of people finding their friends after a long summer vacation.
About two-thirds of the way down the train, Harry spotted a room with only a single occupant—a girl with a mess of curls a shade lighter than her chocolate skin. The curls that framed her face kept getting in her way as she flipped the page of Alice in Wonderland.
Harry knocked lightly at the closed door. She glared through the glass pane at him before nodding slightly. He opened the door and closed it back behind him.
“Sorry for interrupting. I was hoping for a quiet trip, and this is the first car that looks like that might happen. Can I sit?” He gestured towards the seat opposite of where she had spread her robes out to change into later.
She watched him warily. “I suppose. Hermione Granger. First year.” She paused, eyeing him. “Muggleborn.”
He sat slowly, waving away her worry. “Thanks. I’m Hadrian Potter. First year. Half-blood, muggle-raised. And also a fan of Lewis Carroll. Though I don’t think the sort of magic Alice finds with the Hatter and the Red Queen is the type we’ll be learning.”
Her gaze on him sharpened as he said his name. “A pleasure. Please don’t consider it rude, but I’ve read about you. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Harry’s eyes jumped to lock on hers. This girl, whom he had known for less than a minute, might have been the first person other than Flick that actually seemed sorry for what he lost that night, and not just emphatic about what the Wizarding World had gained. “Thank you. Hermione. I really appreciate that.”
She simply nodded with a small smile.
He settled, pulling out a book of his own, the one he had found on the history of Gringotts and its place in the Wizarding World. The girl seemed impressed at his choice, and looked down at her more childish book with a slight blush before continuing to read.
Their comfortable silence was broken when the door to their compartment opened. Harry recognized the shock of red hair as the youngest boy from the family that helped him onto the platform.
“Hey, you’re that kid from the barrier! Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.” He didn’t wait for a response, just threw himself down on the bench Harry was sitting on.
Hermione groaned as the boy sat down. “I assume this means we’re going to be sharing small talk.” She flipped a page. “Don’t expect much from me.”
Harry grinned at her brutal honesty. “I think I like you, Hermione Granger.”
She blinked a few times, confused as she looks up at Harry. She tilted her head, watching him for a few seconds. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, she gives him a small smile. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to say the same, Hadrian Potter.”
His responding smirk faded when the new arrival nearly fell out of his seat. “Wait, Potter? You’re Harry Potter?”
Harry and Hermione both rolled their eyes, Harry looking at the boy unimpressed. “Obviously, I think I would know my own name.”
“Honestly, how immature,” Hermione muttered.
The redhead’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two. “Do you remember it? When you killed You-Know-Who?”
Harry stared at him. “Did you seriously just ask me if I remembered my parents dying within a minute of you sitting down? Before you’ve even introduced yourself?”
“Not to mention, he would have been, what, not even two years old? Research suggests children don’t start retaining long-term memories until at least age three.”
The boy swallowed. “Um… Sorry. I didn’t…” He straightened his spine. “I’m Ron, Ronald Weasley. It’s not an excuse, but it’s just that I’ve been hearing stories about you for as long as I can remember. Meeting you is just… bloody weird.”
“Language,” Hermione said as she flipped a page.
Harry stuck out his hand. “Hadrian. And please realize that I’m eleven and have no idea what I did or how, so please don’t treat me any differently because of it.”
Hermione spoke up. “It makes much more sense that one of your parents performed some kind of protective magic than assuming that an infant killed a Dark Lord.”
Harry tilted his head in thought. “Maybe. To answer your question, Ron, I don’t remember, nothing past dreams. And I don’t know enough about that night, or, well, anything about this world, to give you the kind of answers you want.”
Curls flew as Hermione’s head snapped up. “What do you mean, you don’t know anything? I know you said you were muggle-raised, but no one ever told you that you were magic? You have books written about you!”
Ron’s indignant “Raised by muggles?” was ignored as Harry looked down and scuffed a foot, then scolded himself for showing how frustrated he was in front of strangers.
“Before I got my letter in July, I didn’t know anything about my parents. I didn’t even know my father’s name. My relatives were very… convincing that I not believe in magic. Anything I did that could be seen as accidental magic was… not looked upon lightly. It’s only because I’ve spent the last month at the Leaky that I’m even this well-versed.”
“I cannot believe you weren’t told! How does someone withhold the truth like that to an orphaned child? What utter… bullies!” Hermione’s hair had begun to frizz, and a sense of magic coiled in the compartment like a snake ready to strike. “Hadrian, I insist that you let me give you history books to read, we both have catching up to do it seems. A personal favorite saying of mine is that it is better to be overinformed than unprepared. Things would be easier if we had a friend to learn with, I think.”
“I have a few that the shop assistant at Flourish & Blotts suggested, but I’d be happy to compare lists with a friend.” Harry nodded with a grin while watching Ron’s confused look.
“You… you saved the world. You lost your parents for our society, our culture. You don’t even know about your own heritage, the world you lost so much to save?” He pulled out a rat from a pocket and began stroking its fur. “My brothers and sister… We all were told your story like it was a fairy tale, like you were a hero who would go on to solve adventures. You’re the most famous child in our world, and you were just… tossed to these muggles?”
Harry shifted uncomfortably as both of the others watched him. “I guess no one really remembers the collateral damage when the good guys claim a victory.”
“You are not collateral damage! You are a child that this world hails as a hero! If this is how the good guys treats their hero, I can’t imagine how they treat their enemies.” Hermione’s hair had settled at this point, the tension decreasing to an uncomfortable thrum.
“Why do you care how we treat the bad guys?” Ron asked from where he had slid as far away from the girl as possible.
She turned to stare at him. “The treatment you accept for those you consider your enemies can be used by those same people on you and yours later on.”
Ron shifted, blinking furiously. “Oh. I guess that makes sense.”
Her gaze softened. “Not used to hearing an opposing idea?”
“Not like that. No.” He looked over at Harry. “I’m sorry, mate. Sounds like you had a pretty tough run of it. If I can help you figure out our heritage, I’d be more than happy to help.” His eyes flicked to Hermione. “For either of you. We aren’t much into the traditional side of things anymore, but I reckon I know enough to at least help you not make enemies right away. And the rest I can ask my brothers, or find someone at school who can help.”
The other two nodded gratefully, and an awkward silence fell for a few minutes before Ron’s bouncing leg wasn’t enough to distract him.
“Reading about Gringotts, Harry? Why would you care about that?” Ron asked, tilting his head comically to read the title of Harry’s book.
He slammed the book closed with a sigh, realizing any chance he had of concentrating was gone, before turning to answer the question with a raised eyebrow, resigned at the boy’s use of his nickname. “They have all of my money, and one of the goblins is currently managing my fortune in a way that will hopefully increase it before I graduate. Why wouldn’t I want to know about them, their culture, and how to make sure I don’t make them mad at me?”
Hermione looked at the book thoughtfully. “Good idea, Hadrian. Maybe I can borrow that book? My parents were planning on opening an account for me there, have at least a bit of money in both a muggle and a wizarding bank.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll let you know when I finish it. And that’s a good idea, to have some money in the muggle world. Even if it can’t be used in the wizarding world, if something were to happen to the goblins it would be good to have a back-up.”
Ron shifted in his seat again. “My older brother, Bill, actually works for Gringotts. Maybe I could write him for some suggestions on other books?”
He blushed when Harry shot him a brilliant grin. “That would be awesome, Ron. This one is great, but doesn’t talk a lot about how to address the goblins.”
They went silent again, Harry looking out the window at the passing scenery.
Harry sighed after a few minutes at the leg moving in the corner of his eye. “Ron, doesn’t your mum know that shouting about muggles is bound to break the statue of secrecy?”
Both Ron and Hermione looked confused.
“When I met your family on the other side of the barrier. Your mum was talking about muggles and your sister practically shouted the station number.”
“Oh, dad has her do that every year as a favor to a buddy in the ministry. She has a muggle-repelling charm on all of us and then talks about Hogwarts so any first years, say, with dark hair and green eyes, who don’t know how to get on the platform, can get through with us. Apparently a family with a bunch of kids is more approachable than a ministry stooge standing around awkwardly. That’s why we’re always nearly late, too. We catch all the stragglers.” He grinned as he tugged at Harry’s hair, Harry batting his hand away with a blush.
“Say Harry, reckon you’ll be in Gryffindor, just like your parents?”
He reached up and readjusted his beanie, hiding the lock of hair Ron had pulled at. “Dunno, Ron. Didn’t really know them well enough to know if we were similar, did I.”
Ron swallowed nervously. “Right. Sorry. I figure they’d be proud either way. As long as you aren’t one of those slimy snakes.”
Harry murmured, barely heard over the train moving. “Snakes aren’t slimy, they’re actually quite sleek and smooth.”
Hermione flipped a page. “All four houses have merit. The sorting tradition is over 2000 years old, and apparently able to see things in you that you don’t see yourself. Of course, I’ll let it sort me wherever it thinks I need to go. Not that I think I’d do well in Hufflepuff, I’m not quite enough of a ‘people-person’ for that. But having talked for the past while, Hadrian, you would most likely do well in any house. I do hope we’re in the same house, though. You seem like someone who could keep up.”
Harry smiled at her again before turning away again. “Call me Harry, then.” He side-eyed Ron. “Both of you.”
She grinned and continued. “Gryffindor seems a little too… Rambunctious for me. Slytherin a little too formal. Ravenclaw seems like a good choice, though, the chance to learn as much as possible.”
“Infinite knowledge is great and all, but what’s the point of learning all of this knowledge without understanding it, and understanding how to use it.” Harry piped up again, glancing at her with an eyebrow raised.
Hermione just went quiet with a thoughtful look, prompting Ron to break the silence.
“Hufflepuffs are duffers, but they’re loads better than getting into Slytherin. Can’t imagine what would happen if I got sorted there. My parents would probably disown me,” he said as he began to shift through his bag.
“Disown you for what? Getting sorted into one of four possible houses?” Harry looked over, incredulous.
“Not just any house, Harry. Slytherins are all… evil snakes. There’s not a witch or wizard that went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. They say You-Know-Who was a Slytherin.”
Hermione shifted. “If everyone in Slytherin is evil, then why hasn’t anyone at the school done anything about it? Like, some sort of remedial program while they’re, oh, I don’t know, inside of the school for ten months of the year? Besides, it’s a statistically impossibility that a fourth of the school was evil enough at age eleven to warrant being discriminated against by the rest of the school.”
“Look, books are all well and good, but there’s not one Death Eater who wasn’t a Slytherin.”
The girl’s hair frizzed bigger as she turned a page, eyes flicking to Harry, who was still staring out of the window. “Was your family in the war, Ron?”
The redhead’s jaw tightened. “My mom lost both of her brothers to a band of Death Eaters, and both of my parents fought for the Light before my brother was born.”
Hermione nodded. “Then surely you know about Sirius Black? Graduated one of Gryffindor’s golden boys, only to betray the…Potters to You-Know-Who before killing a street full of Muggles and getting sent to Azkaban?”
Harry’s head flipped back to the conversation. “Sirius? My godfather? What did his arrest have to do with my parents?”
Neither of the others would meet his eyes. “You didn’t know, mate?” Ron said, knee bouncing, tightening his grip on his pet rat, who had started to squirm.
Hermione hissed under her breath. “He literally just told us he didn’t know anything about this world, Ronald, of course he doesn’t know about Sirius Black.”
“Know what?” His voice was filled with venom.
“Harry… Sirius Black was in the same year as your parents. Apparently, the same night you killed You-Know-Who, Black killed another one of their year-mates and… Well, and blew him and thirteen innocent muggles into… Literal pieces.” By the end of her explanation, Hermione was wincing out of both disgust for the act and pity for Harry.
Ron chimed in. “When my mom would tell me about that night, one time she mentioned Black. She said that he was secretly a Death Eater, and that night he told You-Know-Who where you and your parents were so he could go... Well, kill you all.”
Hermione groaned and smacked Ron’s leg with her book. “You have the emotional capability of a teaspoon, Ronald.”
Ron just gave her a look that was part regret, part affront, part amusement.
“And he was in Gryffindor?” At his new friends’ nods, something in Harry’s eyes hardened as he turned back to the window with a sharp nod.
Ron shot back with, “Maybe he was trained to be Gryffindor so he could spy and betray them later on. Blacks are Dark, Slytherins, have been for generations, everyone knows that.”
Hermione rolls her eyes. “Firstly, obviously not everyone knows that, as Harry and I were both raised by muggles. Secondly, he would have been eleven, Ronald. Surely whatever method they have for Sorting us is sophisticated enough to know what the family of the incoming class is like. And don’t think I didn’t pick up on that comment about Dark magic. I may not know much about the magical world yet, but I refuse to believe that there is magic that can be intrinsically evil, and you can bet that I’m going to be researching that as soon as I find the library.”
Ron blushed. “Only Slytherins use Dark magic. You don’t know it yet, either of you, but you’ll see. They’re evil, they’ll look down their nose at all three of us because we don’t think muggles should just be murdered on sight.”
Hermione slammed her book down. “And how is the mindset you’re going into this with any better? You’re criminalizing an entire subset of the population just because they happen to portray traits that aren’t ones you find attractive! When both sides refuse to be openminded and see the facts, how do you expect a war to end? How do you expect anything to get better?”
Harry immediately vowed to introduce Hermione to Flick as soon as possible.
“You’re talking about people who would rather kill you than listen to your argument, Hermione!” Ron’s spine straightened. “They don’t care that they don’t come across as openminded, and they definitely don’t care if we are. They wouldn’t listen.”
The girl stood, magic expanding the curls of her hair as she stomped her foot in indignation. “Well, we need to make them listen. Both sides.”
“They’re the children of Death Eaters, they’re just going to turn into their parents, and they’re going to use Slytherin to do it,” Ron leaned forward, head in his hands.
Harry placed a cautious hand on his arm. “Ron, when you spend a child’s life telling them they have no chance of being anything other than a monster, that’s all they think they can be. But if you want things to get better, we have to be better.”
Ron bit his lip, visibly choking back words as he reconsidered the entire worldview his parents instilled in him.
“Besides, snakes are nice. I met a snake in a zoo a few weeks ago, and he seemed very interesting and we chatted about not knowing our parents.”
The others both stilled, Hermione with a look of interest and Ron with one of dread.
“Harry… You talked to the snake?” Ron’s voice was shaking.
Harry nodded, ignorant of the looks he was receiving as he looked out the window. “He was in the enclosure at the zoo, but I accidentally made the glass disappear. He made sure to thank me before he left, though. He was trying to go back to Brazil.”
“I didn’t think talking to animals was possible, even with bonded familiars,” Hermione asked, looking at Ron for confirmation.
“Only… Parselmouths can talk to snakes. Those descended from Slytherin himself. You-Know-Who was one, said to turn snakes into weapons.”
Harry looked back towards his friends, confusion and horror leaking onto his face. “Oh, shit.” He started to speak again, but when the door to their compartment was opened abruptly, his mouth snapped shut.
Three figures loomed in the doorway, two hulking masses and a familiar slim blonde with slicked back hair. “Is it true? Harry Potter is in this car?” The blonde crossed his arms and sneered around at the three of them.
Harry shifts, thinking through what he recalled from his books on Wizarding culture. “Hadrian, Heir Malfoy. Let’s not presume that one brief interaction in a clothing store leaves us with our less formal names.”
The other boy straightened even further. “Apologies, Heir Potter. I was unaware that you knew of your standing in our world, especially with how our last conversation went.”
Harry gave a mocking grin. “I wouldn’t call that much of a conversation, as it was rather one-sided if I recall.” The other two sitting with him snickered as they watched with cautious eyes. “And it’s interesting to know that had I not known the minimal societal niceties, rather than tell me that, you would prefer to just look down on those less educated than you.”
Malfoy sneered again. “Careful, Heir Potter, you are dangerously close to losing a valuable connection.”
Their eyes met. “Heir Malfoy, let me say this. I understand the divide between our two families in the past. But as I’ve been telling my new friends here, I refuse to believe that we are to inherit the biases created by our parents. Not to mention, we’re eleven. We haven’t even walked through the doors to the school yet. If we are to establish or lose any connection between us, let it be for our merits, not for what the generation before believes we should continue.”
The other boy watched him warily before looking at the others. “Excuse my poor manners, Heir Potter. Let me introduce Vincent, Heir of House Crabbe, and Gregory of House Goyle. And your own companions?”
Harry raised an eyebrow at the others, who both nodded towards him, deferring to his introductions. “This is Ronald of House Weasley, and Hermione Granger, a first-generation witch.”
Malfoy’s expression twisted, suddenly looking like he had swallowed a lemon. “Interesting choice of friends you have, Heir Potter. These two aren’t likely to move you up in our world, however. A Weasley, from a family with more children than money and sense, and a mudblood?”
Harry held a hand up towards Ron and Hermione, both of whom looked furious but held back at Harry’s gesture. “Apparently you didn’t hear what I literally just told you. I don’t know how my friends here will fare in our world, but I prefer to let them show me themselves, rather than assume that because they come from what you consider a less fortunate background, that they won’t contribute to our culture.”
Harry stood, head tilted as he watched the blonde. “The real question is, do you want to risk losing the value of a connection to me, just to snub the idea that a Weasley and a muggleborn could be worth something.”
He walked forward, hand extended. “The choice is yours, Heir Malfoy. Keep your father’s bias alive, or take us as we are—new to the world, and eager to be a part of it.”
Hermione and Ron watched the conversation with no expressions, but fixed their eyes on the outstretched hand. Malfoy looked between Harry’s hand and the two of them before pursing his lips. “I will hold my judgements until I can make a more… educated choice. A pleasure, Heir Potter.” He clasped Harry’s hand and shook it once, before leaving with his shadows only a step behind.
“Bloody hell, Harry, that was insane! How did you know to say all that?” Ron leaned forward as soon as the door was closed.
“Language, Ronald.” Hermione seemed just as invested in the answer, however.
Harry just shrugged. “I did a lot of reading, both in muggle and magical, this past month. The Malfoys are Dark, and an old family. Having met Malfoy Jr. even briefly in the Alley, I could tell that he puts the idea of power above everything else. I knew I would run into him again, so I’ve been thinking about how best to keep him off of my back until I can prove my worth for more than being the Boy-Who-Lived. That’s why I hope you’ll stay true to your word, Ron. I need all the help I can get to figure out the traditions of this world, before I start making enemies just because I don’t know the rules of the game.”
Ron nodded, a mix of confusion and pride marring his features. “I’ll do my best, I promise. Both of you, Harry, Hermione. I promise I’ll help you the best I can.”
“Interesting choice of language, though, Harry.” Hermione asked, flipping a page as she met his eyes above her book.
“Honestly? Pride and Prejudice is a favorite of mine, I just tried to sound like Darcy.”
She burst into laughter before putting a hand to her mouth, trying to silence herself, even though watching Ron’s confused look made that difficult.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before another knock sounded. “Anything off the trolley dears?” An older lady with a cart of sweets peeked her head in.
Ron shook his head, pulling out a few sandwiches covered in a cloth. “Mum sent me with lunch, sorry.” He tried his best to hide the disappointment on his face.
Hermione’s eyes were keen with interest, but she was also shaking her head. “My parents are both dentists, they wouldn’t want me spending my allowance on sweets.”
Looking between the others, Harry took a moment to enjoy the fact that he not only had money for once in his life, but people he wanted to spend it on. “We’ll take a few pieces of whatever you suggest being best, please.”
When the others tried to decline, Harry asked for more. The trolley witch smiled at their antics, and left them with a wink and handfuls of candy, which Harry sat on the floor in the middle of the compartment before settling beside it.
“Mate, I appreciate it, but I’ve got my sandwiches. Mum always packs a few too many, I’ve got plenty of…” He opened a sandwich to look inside, and a look of disgust marred his face before he hid it behind a grimace. “Plenty of corned beef to eat.”
Harry leaned forward, pulling Ron’s arm to drag him down to the floor beside him, then snatching the sandwiches out of the redhead’s hand and replacing them with a package labeled Chocolate Frog. “Don’t worry, Ron, I’ll eat anything, but I need you to eat things first so I know it’s not going to do anything weird to me.” He opened the package of sandwiches and took a bite. “I also love corned beef.” He grinned at his new friend, who had a look of embarrassment hiding a gleam of hope.
Ron beamed back. “There’s preservation charms on them, too, so if you don’t want all of them right now, they’ll last a day or two.”
After Hermione gracefully declined a sandwich before sliding down to join them and taking a Sugar Quill from the pile, Harry tucked the rest of the sandwiches in his bag.
Hermione had to quickly school her expression when the movement caused a massive bruise on Harry’s upper arm to show, distinctive fingerprints outlined in purple even on Harry’s dark skin.
The three of them sat and chatted for what seemed like hours, Ron introducing them to each kind of candy as well as some of the history behind the industry, which he attributed to his twin brothers, who were apparently obsessed with learning how to make wizarding sweets and incorporating pranks in it. He made the others show him each card that came from the Chocolate Frogs, swearing he only needed a few rare cards to complete his collection.
Harry found himself drawn to the idea of creating his own card collection, especially as Ron seemed so enthused about his, and promised him any extras he had. Hermione just read the descriptions and handed the cards back, though tucked a rare Nimue card in her book, one that Harry slipped her with a finger on his lips as Ron was adjusting the rat on his knee.
Ron’s pet rat, Scabbers, was mostly quiet, squeaking occasionally. Ron attempted, to bouts of laughter, to perform a spell on it that his brothers taught him, but the twins apparently weren’t the most trustworthy, even though they had slipped him the incantations of a few hexes that he shared. He told the others that he wasn’t the most thrilled about having a pet rat, but it was, like most of his things, a hand-me-down from one of his older brothers.
Harry told them about his pet owl, Hedwig, that Hagrid bought him for his birthday. They both noticed the joy in his eyes when he was talking about his first pet, one he considered one of his first friends. When he mentioned that, Hermione and Ron locked eyes, a look passing between them at the idea of small Harry not having any pets or even friends growing up.
Hermione was withdrawn for a lot of the ride, only jumping in with occasional facts she supported by pulling out tomes out of her bag, and giving the boys a soft smile when they actually leaned forward in interest in response to the information she shared. Harry even pulled out his own book to argue a fact about the mixing of muggle technology with magical environments, which Ron was able to contribute to due to his father’s role in a muggle-centric department of the Ministry. His stories of the mishaps the Ministry had to fix left them all laughing, and also taking notes on what magic can do if one was to think creatively.
Hermione also seemed extremely interested in the home magicks that Ron explained, ones that his mother used around the house that weren’t necessarily taught at Hogwarts. Harry pulled out yet another book about Hearth Magicks and Runes, and the three of them fell into another debate about institutionalized magic versus traditional.
Ron was appalled by Harry’s insistence that potions class was going to be fun, no matter who the professor was. Harry’s extreme enthusiasm for Care for Magical Creatures, however, made him grin. Hermione refused to choose before actually having a lesson in each of the classes. Ron was mainly looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts, and flying, which took him down the path of trying to convince two new wixen why the Chudley Cannons were worth following. Hermione refused to get pulled into Quidditch talk, but Harry dove in with discussions of rules in school league versus professional.
At some point in the evening, Hermione pulled out a small film camera, and shyly asked if she could take a photo of the two of them. The picture she took ended up being of a grinning Harry explaining how muggle cameras worked to a confused Ron, piles of snacks between them and Ron handing Harry a Chocolate Frog card.
Her parents would be expecting the film to be sent to them soon so they could develop the pictures and send them back to her. When she first got the camera, she had assumed that most of the photos would be of the library, maybe the grounds. Watching the two boys who made a point to keep her involved, even when she was nose deep in a book… She had higher hopes. Maybe she could ask for a polaroid camera for Christmas that year, and share the photos with her new friends.
By the time they noticed the night falling around them, signaling they were close to reaching the Hogsmeade station, the three of them had filled the compartment with comfortable conversation for what seemed like ages, laughter still ringing as Ron taught the other two how to play Exploding Snap.
Each had their own passing thought of the comfort and familiarity that naturally came in their cabin, even with the lingering debate over politics hovering over them. There was something about the first friends you make on your journey that binds you together in a way you don’t expect, and the three were relishing in their luck of sitting in this car.
The only other interruption their compartment had was a shy, round-faced boy with tears in his eyes. With shaking hands, he opened the door and waved at the three on the floor. “So sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?”
When they all shook their heads, he hid his face in his hands. “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me, and now we’re almost at Hogwarts and he’ll be lost on the train forever!”
Hermione stood, brushing off her skirt. “My name is Hermione. Why don’t we go find a prefect and see if they have a spell to locate pets? Surely you aren’t the only student with a wayward friend.” She gave the boy a soft smile as he told them his name was Neville Longbottom.
Before heading out, she turned back to Harry and Ron. “Why don’t you two change into your robes while I’m gone? We’re sure to be getting to the school soon.”
A few minutes later, Ron and Harry were standing in the corridor of the train so Hermione could change in the compartment, Neville waving cheerfully with a large toad in his hand as he walked back towards his own seat. As the door opened so they could reenter, an announcement sounded throughout 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 pulled out his shrunken items and tapped them with his wand, restoring both his trunk and the empty owl cage back to full size in the corner of the compartment, ignoring Hermione’s wide eyes. “Shall we?” He gestured towards the door with an excited grin.
Ron stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Harry, we need to talk about your Parselmouth. Not right now, but just… Don’t tell anyone else about it until we can figure some things out, yeah?”
Hermione bit her lip worriedly as she watched him, but nodded when he looked to her.
“Yeah, Ron. Okay. If I learned anything from my aunt, it’s the power of secrets. I guess I wouldn’t want anyone to use something I don’t even understand against me.”
Ron gave a worried laugh and shrugged. “If that’ll get you to keep it hush, I’ll take it.”
They all jammed the last of the sweets into their pockets, and suddenly no one felt confident as they felt the train slow to a stop. They followed the crowds as people pushed their way out to the platform. Harry pulled his robes tighter around himself as the Scottish air sent a chilling breeze through the trio. As he hid behind Ron’s taller frame from the wind, a lantern above all of the students’ heads, swinging from Hagrid’s massive hand.
“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, Harry?” His big beard parted to show a beaming smile above the other students as Harry sent him a small wave. While Harry found Hagrid a bit crude, he knew the man was a valuable source of information, and he was quite nice to him during the tour of Diagon Alley. Maybe his new friends wouldn’t mind visiting with him—he’d feel more comfortable with the large man if he had some sort of backup.
The older students walked towards what seemed to be a small village, chimneys with smoke pouring out of them and families wandering around, as Hagrid ushered the first years down a steep, narrow path. Ron, having the advantage of longer, lankier limbs, helped the other two down the path towards a large lake that shone in the darkness.
“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called from where was leading the pack of students. “Jus’ round this bend here.”
An astonished gasp ran through the group as the path opened onto the edge of the lake. On the other side, perched in the side of a high mountain, windows sparkling, was a vast castle. Harry was salivating at the want that ran through him when he thought about what he could do at this school.
“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of small wooden boats sitting by the shore. Ron ran to the closest boat, claiming it for the three of them. He held the boat steady, a hand extended to both Harry and Hermione to help them climb in. He settled in beside them, all three crammed on one bench so they could all face forward to watch their approach.
“Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who was perched precariously in a boat by himself. “Right then—FORWARD!”
The boats all glided forward at once, moving across the smooth surface of the lake. No one was speaking as they stared at the place they had been preparing for. Hogwarts towered over them as they headed towards a cliff-face beneath it.
Harry looked up at the immense castle, with looming towers and stone as far as the eye could see. As they drew nearer, he could feel an incoming thrum of power, until finally a wash of power ran through him, so similar to the surges he felt when he was doing something ‘freakish’, and his nerves mostly settled in his chest. This, this was going to be a home. With Ron and Hermione leaning forward as eagerly as him, each nudging him excitedly, he knew that no matter what, he had a place in this world.
“Heads down!” yelled Hagrid as his boat reached the cliff. A curtain of ivy split as the hoard of boats entered the cave that was hidden there, leading towards beneath the castle itself. They stumbled out onto the docks of an underground harbor, pebbles and stones sliding beneath their feet. Hagrid led them up a passageway in the rock, spilling into damp grass on either side, lit by Hagrid’s lamp and the shining windows of the castle above them. With every step, Harry’s grin grew, even as his nerves still squirmed in the bottom of his stomach. Ron and Hermione, flanking him, both took one of his hands as they looked up at the floors and turrets and opportunity that was towering over them.
“Everyone here? You there, you still got yer toad?”
When Neville gave a nervous grin, Hagrid raised the hand not holding the lantern and knocked on the massive wooden doors of the castle three times.