metamorphosis

“Remus! Remus, we’re going to be late!” Harry shouted, tumbling out of his room as he dragged his trunk behind him with his full body weight. Remus was sitting on the couch, his ankle tucked over his opposite knee as he leaned back to read the sheet of paper in his hand. The house was nearly unrecognisable from the bare, desolate place that Remus had brought Harry back to a decade ago. The walls had been painted a cheerful yellow and were adorned with shelves full of books, photos of Harry and Remus, and potted plants. The grey couch remained, but there were colourful throw pillows at either end, transforming the grey from lifeless to tastefully understated. The coffee table and end tables of a decade ago had been refinished and stripped down to their natural, light wood. The coffee table was currently hidden underneath a layer of papers that Remus was in the process of grading.

“I know,” he said simply, not looking up from his papers, “Actually, I told you that half an hour ago, remember?” Ignoring this comment, Harry continued,

“Let’s go. If we leave now, we’ll make it in time.”

“That’s true,” Remus agreed, finally looking up, “but you still aren’t wearing shoes.” Harry looked down at his feet, surprised to see them bare.

“Shit. Thanks, Remus.” He left his trunk in the living room as he jogged back to his room. After a minute of frantic searching, he located his trainers and hurriedly shoved his feet into them. This time, when Harry re-entered the living room, Remus was standing by the door waiting for him, his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.” Harry replied, still breathing heavily. They stepped out of the house, shielding their eyes against the unusually sunny September day. Remus unlocked the car and opened the backseat door. While Harry clambered into the passenger seat, Remus pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at Harry’s trunk, still sitting in the living room. It lifted into the air and Remus directed it into the waiting car. Remus’ face showed poorly disguised amusement at Harry’s impatience as he waited for Remus to buckle and start the car.

His excitement was so all-consuming that he wasn’t able to carry on a single conversation on the way to King’s Cross. Remus didn’t seem to mind, though. That was one of the many wonderful things about him, in Harry’s opinion. He was always happy to see Harry happy. The car ride seemed agonisingly slow, the buildings crawling by, every red light lasting an age. When they finally pulled into King’s Cross, Harry was first out of the car, sick of being cooped up in his energetic state. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as Remus loaded Harry’s trunk onto a trolley – without magic this time, seeing as they were now surrounded by Muggles – and Harry began to walk off, assuming Remus was right behind him.

“Oh, one more thing.” Remus called after him. Harry turned around, surprised to see Remus still at the car, rummaging in the backseat. Harry walked back, pushing his trolley in front of him. To Harry’s amazement, Remus pulled out a cage that Harry was quite certain hadn’t been there during the drive. In the cage stood the most beautiful owl he had ever seen. It was snow white, and held itself with an aristocratic air, looking down its beak at Harry. He stammered for a moment, lost for words, before managing to say,

“How did you do that? I was just in the car!” Remus chuckled and gave Harry a mysterious smile.

“Magic.” Harry shook his head disbelievingly before stepping forward, tentatively.

“Is she,” he paused, struggling to believe it, “for me?”

“All yours.” said Remus, smiling and setting the cage on Harry’s trolley. Harry was struggling to find the words to tell Remus how grateful he was. He gave up, and simply stepped forward and hugged Remus around the middle, trying to convey his thanks in the tightness of his grip.

“Thank you.” he said, his voice slightly muffled by Remus’ stomach.

“Just be sure to use her to send some letters, yeah?” Remus said after Harry had released him, squatting down to ruffle Harry’s hair. “I want to hear all about your adventures.”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed, suddenly finding a lump in his throat. He sniffled, trying to pull himself together.

“Hey,” Remus said, surprised, “What’s wrong? You’re not nervous, are you?”

“No,” said Harry, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, “I’m just gonna miss you.”

Remus suddenly started blinking rather rapidly.

“I’m gonna miss you, too, cub. But you’re going to have a great time at Hogwarts, you know. And I’ll see you in just a few months for Christmas break.” He wiped away another tear that spilled down Harry’s cheek.

“You won’t decorate without me, right?” asked Harry in a very small voice. Remus drew an imaginary X on his chest with his finger.

“Cross my heart.” Harry gave a watery smile at that and shook his head like a dog trying to shake water out of its ears.

“Okay,” he said, smiling at Remus, “I’m ready.” Remus stood up and briefly squeezed Harry’s shoulder in a comforting gesture before taking Harry’s trolly and leading him into King’s Cross Station.

***

The station was packed full of people. Harry found himself jostled in all directions until it was all he could do to remain upright. Thankfully, Remus noticed this and grabbed hold of his hand. Harry was a little embarrassed to be holding hands, trailing behind Remus like a toddler, but mostly, he was just glad that he wasn’t going to get lost in the crowd. They reached a clearing in the crowd and Remus slowed to a stop and dropped Harry’s hand. They were standing in between platforms nine and ten. Only then did it occur to Harry how very strange the platform number on his ticket was.

“Er–” he began eloquently, “Where’s Platform 9 ¾?” Remus smiled down at him, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“It’s right in front of us.” Exasperated, Harry opened his mouth to say that there was nothing in front of them but a brick wall, but he never got the words out. At that moment, a small army of heavily freckled redheads filtered out of the crowd and stood right next to them, also staring at the brick wall. Harry counted five children and one adult, who he supposed must be their mother. Harry glanced at Remus and saw that he had noticed the family as well. He saw that Remus’ gaze had alighted upon the woman and his face broke into a smile.

“Molly? Molly Weasley?” The woman looked up in surprise and, noticing Remus, her face broke into a smile of her own.

“Why, that’s never– Remus Lupin!” The two adults embraced, leaving their children to stare at them in complete bemusement. The two broke apart, still beaming.

“It must have been years since I last saw you,” the woman, Mrs. Weasley, said, “Oh, Arthur will be so disappointed he missed you.”

“Say hello to him for me, will you?” said Remus, as Mrs. Weasley grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him into better light.

“Of course I will. Just look at you!” Mrs. Weasley brushed imaginary dust off of Remus’ shoulders, “When did you grow up? What have you been up to all these years?”

“I’ve been raising Harry–” Harry felt Remus’ arm around his shoulder and found himself suddenly pulled against Remus’ side, “–and teaching at a Muggle university.” Mrs. Weasley looked at him and her eyes widened slightly. Harry expected her eyes to flit up to his scar, as had happened on the few occasions he’d been introduced to witches and wizards, but she just smiled warmly at him.

“My goodness, Harry, the last time I saw you, you were no bigger than a Kneazle. I’m Molly Weasley. I was in the Order with your parents.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry replied, politely.

“Call me Molly, dear.” Still smiling, Mrs. Weasley gestured to her children, still standing awkwardly behind her. “Kids, meet Harry and Remus. Harry, Remus, meet my children. This is Percy.”
She pointed to the tallest one, whose glasses made him look very formal, despite the very cosy looking sweater he wore. When he was introduced, he stood a little straighter, making the badge pinned to his sweater stick out. At a closer look, Harry realised it said “Prefect” on it. He looked up to see that Percy had noticed him looking at the badge. His stoic posture didn’t change, but Harry thought he saw delight in the other boy’s eyes and perhaps the tiniest hint of a proud smile on the tugging on the corner of his mouth.

“These are the twins, Fred and George.” The twins seemed to be the inverse of Percy. They were also wearing the cosy sweaters, but where Percy’s sweater was pressed and smooth, the twins looked distinctly rumpled. Where Percy’s hair was carefully combed and trimmed, the twins’ flaming heads of hair were windswept and overlong.

“I’m George.” said the one on the left.

“I’m Fred.” said the one on the right. There was a pause while their mother fixed them both with an intense, reproving stare that Harry sincerely hoped he would never be on the receiving end of. After a long, tense moment, the one on the left sighed.

“Okay, fine. I’m Fred.” he said.

“I’m George.” said his twin, sounding resigned. Mrs. Weasley nodded approvingly at them. Harry looked between the two boys, trying to find a distinguishing marker. They seemed to be completely identical. However, after a minute of looking at them, he noticed that Fred’s features were slightly longer, whereas George was slightly more stocky and broad. Filing this information away for later, Harry turned his attention back to Mrs. Weasley as she continued introducing her children. She pointed to the smallest boy, standing with his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved in his pockets, as though he was quite eager not to be seen. He looked up through his lashes at Harry as he was introduced.

“And this is Ronnie–” Mrs. Weasley began warmly.

“–Ron’s fine.” the boy interrupted, a dull flush creeping up from under the neckline of his shirt, his eyes cast down at his trainers. Everyone fell silent for a moment. Harry had no idea what was going on. When it seemed apparent that no one else was going to talk, he searched around for something to say.

“Short for Ronald, is it?” As Harry spoke, Ron looked up at him and straightened a bit.

“Yeah.” Ron said. Harry nodded, trying to think of something to say as the tension mounted again, but Ron broke the silence for him.

“Is Harry short for– for Harrison or something?”

“No,” said Harry, “It’s just Harry.”

“Ginny’s short for Ginevera.” interjected a young girl, the only Weasley Harry had not been introduced to. She spoke boldly, as though she was leading a rally. This tone was an odd juxtaposition to her innocent appearance. She was a head shorter than Harry, with long hair and big brown eyes. After a pause in which Harry stared at her blankly, she elaborated. “I’m Ginny.”

“Oh,” said Harry, nodding at her, “It’s really nice to meet you all.”

“It’s Ron’s first year at Hogwarts, too,” said Mrs. Weasley, entirely ignoring her daughter’s interjection.

“I was just about to tell Harry how to get onto the platform,” said Remus.

“He doesn’t know?” said Mrs. Weasley, sounding shocked.

“He went to Muggle primary school – for a background, you know – and I don’t run in many wizarding circles anymore,” Remus explained hastily, “The most magic he’s seen has been me healing his papercuts.”

And piecing me back together after every full moon. Harry thought wryly.

“It might be more fun if you just showed him,” Remus continued.

“Oh, Remus, you don’t want to shock the poor boy,” Mrs. Weasley replied, almost reprovingly.

“Come on, Mum,” said Fred, with an impish smile, “I’m sure Harry can handle it.

“It won’t shock him a bit,” said George in an unconvincingly innocent tone. Before Mrs. Weasley could protest, Fred took his trolley and began sprinting at the brick wall, George right on his tail. Harry almost shouted a warning, but it was too late. The twins were going to slam into the barrier and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He closed his eyes as Fred approached it, bracing for the impact, waiting to hear the inevitable crash that would surely attract the attention of every Muggle in a mile radius. But it didn’t come. Completely nonplussed, he opened his eyes just in time to see George’s back disappearing through the brick wall.

“Go on, then,” said Mrs. Weasley, shooing Ron and Percy forward. Prepared for it this time, Harry kept his eyes open and watched as the two boys sunk through the brick wall as though it were a mere hologram. Harry looked around at Remus, who began to laugh at the stunned look on Harry’s face.

“It’s a portal, Harry,” he said, clutching at a stitch in his side. “It’s disguised as a brick wall.”

“A portal…” said Harry reverently, walking up to it. Remus nodded, wiping his eyes. Harry approached the brick wall and made to experimentally stick his hand through it.

“No!” yelled Remus and Mrs. Weasley at the same time. Startled, Harry drew his hand back. Remus walked over and took his elbow, guiding him away.

“Harry, what do you think would happen if your hand entered the portal, but you didn’t?” Harry’s mind generously produced the image of him clutching a stump where his hand had once been, his face in agony, bleeding all over the stone floor, and his unattached hand dropping lifelessly with a sickening thud as it came out the other side of the portal. He blanched, feeling slightly sick.

“Exactly,” said Remus

“It happened to Bill,” said Mrs. Weasley quietly. Harry and Remus’ heads both whipped around to look at her, and she continued hastily, “Not his hand, thank goodness. His trolley. It was his first year, his first time getting on the train, and he was nervous. Arthur went first and I stayed behind to make sure he got through alright and– well, he wasn’t confident and he went through a bit too slowly. I guess the portal got impatient because he was still hanging onto his trolley when half of it went through. Bill felt it happen and hurried through himself, but the damage had been done. His trunk was cut clean in half and his books and clothes were spilling out all over the ground. He was mortified. Arthur cast a quick mending charm on the trunk and used a packing spell to put it all to rights, but the twins still tease him about how half his year saw his underpants.”

Ginny snorted at that last comment. Her mother looked around at her, using the same withering glare that she had used on Fred and George earlier.

“Achoo,” Ginny added, lamely, making eye contact with her mother. Harry repressed a snort of his own.

“Bless you,” he added, helpfully. Mrs. Weasley turned away, throwing her hands up exasperatedly, and Ginny shot him a grin from behind her mother’s back.

“I’ll go first then, shall I, Harry?” said Remus, “Just in case your trunk gets sliced in half.” Harry glared at Remus, who only winked back at him before striding confidently through the barrier. Harry went to follow, but hesitated.

“Go ahead, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley gently, “There’s nothing to worry about if you do it quickly. I’ll be right behind you.” Harry swallowed and ran directly at the solid brick wall, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he was facing Remus, who looked just as excited as Harry felt.

“Welcome,” said Remus, stepping back so Harry had a clear view, “to Platform 9 ¾.”

Harry had expected a normal platform. He had expected many harassed looking people, pushing others aside in an attempt to make their train, like the busy commuters outside. He had expected an unremarkable train – maybe grey or a dark green – to chug in at the last minute. He had not expected this. The platform was crowded, but not by harassed commuters. It was full of cheerful witches and wizards, all standing around and chatting animatedly. Many of the children seemed to be wearing Muggle clothes, but the adults were wearing vibrant robes – brightest yellow, shimmering periwinkle, deep emerald, and a hundred more striking shades – and it made the platform a riot of colour. Many of the witches were wearing bold hats topped with bizarre things. Harry actually thought he saw one witch with a vulture on her hat, but she disappeared into the crowd before he could take a closer look. The train was a brilliant red, puffing out copious amounts of steam that hung in the air, making the whole scene fuzzy around the edges, like a dream. Above the chatter, there was the sound of owls hooting and cats mewling as the movement of their owners jostled their cages. One wall was lined with fireplaces. As he watched them, one fireplace suddenly glowed green and a wizard tumbled out of it, followed by his young son. The father brushed soot off of his son’s clothing and proceeded towards the train, as though they had done nothing more interesting than stepping out of a car.

Harry looked back at Remus, his eyes full of wonder.

“It’s amazing,” Harry whispered. Remus gazed down at him with distinct pride.

“Hogwarts is even better,” said Remus, smiling nostalgically. Then, checking his watch, he added, “We only have a few minutes before the train leaves. Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so.” Harry turned to Remus, ready to wave goodbye, but suddenly found himself engulfed in one last hug.

“You’re going to have a great year, cub.” Harry held on tightly for a moment. He buried his nose in Remus’ jacket, breathing in the familiar scent of laundry soap and chocolate and home. He felt his eyes begin to prick again and pulled away quickly.

“I’ll see you in a few months,” Harry said, clearing his throat. Remus nodded in agreement. Harry turned his back and watched towards the door to the train. As he entered the train, he carried the bird cage under one arm and carried his trunk with his free hand. The long hallway in the middle of the train was filled with children racing around, shrieking and laughing. Harry hauled his trunk and owl all the way down the corridor, gazing into compartments as he passed, but they all seemed to be already claimed by older students. He was nearing the back of the train and getting rather nervous when he found the last empty compartment. Blessing his luck, he went inside and opened a window to let a cool breeze in. He set his owl on the seat and attempted to push his trunk into the luggage rack. Unfortunately, the luggage rack was above his head and his trunk was rather heavy. He was in the middle of a fruitless attempt to lift it – which was taking all the strength in his arms – when he felt it suddenly become weightless and lift itself into place. He looked around, surprised, but he was still the only one in the compartment, and there was no one in the hallway either. Finally, he looked out the window, where he saw Remus standing with his wand raised.

Harry put his head out the window, wanting to say thank you, but just as he did, the train began to move. Instead, he waved goodbye, watching Remus wave right back at him, until he couldn’t see him anymore. Then, he sat down next to his owl and watched the countryside fly by. When he had cooled off enough to close the window, there was a knock at the compartment door, which slid open a moment later. There stood Ron, the boy he had met outside Platform 9 ¾. He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke.

“Can I come sit? Everywhere else is full.”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry replied, smiling.

“Thanks,” said Ron, looking like had actually expected Harry to refuse. Ron settled into the seat across from him. As Ron tried to put his trunk on the luggage rack, Harry jumped up to help him. Surely, he thought, between the two of them they would be able to manage it. Ten minutes later, he had to admit that he might’ve been wrong. The two boys collapsed back down on their seats, both sweaty with exertion.

“Why,” Ron began, panting, “do they make it so bloody hard to get those trunks up there?”

“I just want to know how everyone else did it,” Harry added, fanning his face.

“Hey,” Ron said, sitting up suddenly, “How did you get your trunk up there?”

“Remus did some sort of spell on it to make it go up there on its own.”

“Oh,” Ron said, eyes on his trunk, which was precariously balanced on the seat with one corner resting on the luggage rack. “Wish I knew the spell.”

“How much magic do you know?” Harry asked interestedly. He’d always known about magic, of course. He knew that he would go to Hogwarts when he was eleven. He knew that Remus could do magic, but he usually did it without speaking, so Harry had no idea what the spells were. Like Remus had said to the Weasleys, they had spent most of their time in the Muggle world. It was safer that way, Remus told him. Muggles were much less likely to be suspicious of a child and a professor who called in sick the day after every full moon. Harry didn’t mind this, but he was intensely curious as to what life looked like for a family fully immersed in the magical world, like the Weasleys seemed to be.

“I don’t know anything,” said Ron, looking unconcerned.

“Not anything?”

“Wizard kids aren’t allowed to do magic outside school.”

“But you must’ve seen your mum and dad doing magic!”

“A bit,” Ron conceded, “but they never taught it to me. Anyway, how was I supposed to cast anything before I had a wand?”

“I thought you might’ve borrowed one of their wands,” said Harry carefully.

“Nope. I probably would have blown up the house.”

Harry simply nodded mutely, turning to look out the window at the countryside. Though he was careful not to show it on his face, he was quietly perplexed. He knew he wasn’t supposed to do magic, but Remus had never enforced that rule. His main concern was keeping the Muggles from seeing any magic, but when the two of them lay on the forest floor after transformations, there were no Muggles around to see the wandless healing spells. If he wore a shirt that didn’t conceal the scar from his bite, he had to keep his neck glamoured, and it was too much trouble to ask Remus to do it for him every time. Had it been dangerous to do these things without a wand? He looked down at his lap, turning his unused wand over in his hands, feeling the smooth polish underneath his fingertips. There was just so much he didn’t know.

“I reckon the spell for it is somewhere in our schoolbooks,” said Ron excitedly, interrupting Harry’s musings. He jumped slightly.

“What?”

“The spell to get my trunk up there. I bet it’s somewhere in the books.” Ron manoeuvred his trunk so it was laying flat on the seat, opened it, and gestured to the many books inside.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry said, his eyes roving over them, “I bet you’re right.”

“Well, we’ve got hours before we get to Hogwarts. Fancy trying to find it? Maybe we’ll find the spell to get your trunk down, too.”

Harry had a sharp mental image of trying to ease down his trunk from the tall rack and losing his grip, the trunk slamming into his face, and falling unconscious to the floor.

“Yeah,” Harry said before he could come up with any more worst case scenarios, “Let’s look through the books.”

Not wanting to risk getting Harry’s trunk down, they divided Ron’s books and began looking through them. They had barely started when a woman’s voice interrupted them.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” asked the kindly old witch, sticking her head into their compartment. “I’ve got Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Botts Beans, Fudge Flies…” she trailed off.

“Do you have anything to drink?” Harry asked, realising how dry his mouth was.

“I’ve got some pumpkin juice–” she started, but Harry cut her off.

“Yes, please,” he said eagerly, “I’d like two pumpkin juices and two chocolate frogs.” He handed over a portion of the spending money Remus had given him, accepted the chocolate and juice with a word of thanks, and closed the compartment door. He tossed Ron a juice and a frog and plopped down in his seat. He drank the first half of his pumpkin juice in one gulp. Sighing contentedly and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he noticed that Ron was staring at him, looking rather gobsmacked.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, “Don’t you like pumpkin juice?”

“I– yeah,” Ron stammered, looking away from Harry and shaking his head, “I do, yeah, thanks.”

Even though his face was turned away from Harry, he saw that Ron was flushing and the back of his ears had turned red. Harry blinked, confused, but decided not to press the issue, since Ron was obviously not keen to discuss it. They ate their chocolate frogs in silence as they perused Ron’s books. Harry was skimming through A History of Magic when a name jumped out at him.

“Hedwig,” he said absently, “That might be a nice name for my owl.” Ron scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

“Sounds like an old lady's name,” he said. “It should be something cool.”

“Hedwig is cool,” Harry insisted. Ron shook his head, apparently disgusted.

“Name her something like Nightwing or Talonstorm or Darkflight.” A choked laugh escaped Harry’s throat.

“What was that last one?”

“Oh, shut up,” said Ron, as Harry started to laugh, but Ron was laughing, too. He tossed his chocolate frog wrapper at Harry, who tossed it right back at Ron. Harry expected Ron to throw it again and brought his hands up to block it, but Ron instead grabbed Harry’s leg and pulled him off of the compartment seat. Grinning at Ron, Harry tackled him. They rolled around the compartment floor, each trying to get the other to surrender. Harry had a fistful of Ron’s hair, trying to squirm out of the headlock Ron had him trapped in, when the door slid open again.

“Have you seen a toad? A boy called Neville–” the authoritative young voice stopped abruptly as the speaker caught sight of Harry and Ron. Harry slowly raised his eyes to look at her, first taking in her shiny black shoes, then her black Hogwarts robes, then her curly brown hair, and finally her disapproving glare.

“Hi,” said Ron, awkwardly. Harry would have greeted her as well, except Ron still had him in the headlock, and he was finding it rather difficult to breathe. The girl blinked a few times before visibly collecting herself and clearing her throat.

“Neville here has lost a toad.” Harry waved helplessly at Neville with the hand not tangled in Ron’s hair, his brain starting to feel fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. Neville waved back.

“We’ve been going from compartment to compartment trying to figure out if anyone’s seen it. Have you?”

“No,” said Ron. Harry started tapping urgently on Ron’s leg, both because he felt like he was on the verge of passing out and because he’d had an idea. Ron didn’t seem to feel it at all.

“I think you might want to let go of your friend there,” said the girl, her lips pursed disapprovingly.

“What? Oh, yeah!” said Ron, suddenly releasing Harry, who slumped on the floor, gasping for breath. Ron patted him on the head apologetically. “Sorry about that, mate.” Harry waved away his apology, taking deep breaths. Once he’d recovered enough to speak, he said,

“I think I read a spell that could help with that.” He climbed to his feet, straightening his rumpled clothes, extending a hand to Ron, who was still on the floor.

“Really?” asked the girl, looking surprised. “I’ve memorised all our coursebooks and it doesn’t say anything about spells to find a toad.” Harry paused, taken aback.

“You’ve memorised all our coursebooks?”

“Yes,” she stated, stepping inside the compartment. Neville followed her and she closed the door behind them, “I didn't want to be behind. My parents are Muggles.” She raised her chin defiantly, as though daring them to say something rude about this.

“That doesn’t mean you’re going to be behind,” said Ron, looking her directly in the eye.

“Yeah,” Neville piped up, “I’m from a Pureblood family, and I don’t know any magic at all.”

“Pureblood?” Harry asked, confused.

“It means both your parents and all four of your grandparents were magical,” Ron explained, “and Neville’s right. I’m from a Pureblood family, too, and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“My Gran says I’m going to be the worst in the year!” Neville added, helpfully.

“I doubt that’s true,” said Harry. “I mean, I didn’t even know what a Pureblood is until right now. You can't be any worse than me.” The girl was looking at them all warily, as though waiting for the punchline.

“I’m Ron Weasley, by the way,” said Ron.

“I’m Hermione Granger.” she said, some of the tension leaving her.

“Neville Longbottom,” said Neville, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Harry Potter,” said Harry, absently, glancing out the window. It wasn’t until the unnatural silence filled the compartment that Harry remembered that this was big news in the wizarding world. He looked back around to see all three of them staring at him with stunned expressions. He sighed, trying to recall the questions he’d been asked by magical people before. He pushed up his bangs to reveal the scar on his forehead and began speaking.

“No, I can’t remember Voldemort killing my parents. No, I don’t know how I did it. No, I don’t know where he is now. I went to live with my dad’s friend Remus and I’m very happy there. Does that cover it?” Ron was the first one to break the silence, his freckled face breaking into a grin.

“No, that should pretty much cover it.”

"You said you-know-who's name," said Neville, regarding Harry with a wide-eyed mix of respect and incredulity.

“Oh, yeah.” Harry remembered Remus telling him that most wizards wouldn’t use Voldemort’s name. “Remus uses it, so I grew up hearing it, for one thing. For another, I just don’t want him to have that much power over me. I’m not going to let him make me so afraid of him that I won’t even use his name. Does that make any sense?” Neville gave a short laugh and shook his head.

“Well, I think I know what house you’re going to.” Harry smiled at him.

“Thanks, Neville. So, let’s find your toad, yeah?”

“Right,” Hermione agreed, “Where did you find this spell?”

“It’s not in our coursebooks. Ron, will you give me a boost?” Ron nodded and obligingly laced his hands together for Harry to step in. Harry did so, steadying himself on the luggage rack as he dug through his trunk. Finally, he extracted the book he was looking for, and Ron set him back down on the floor.

“The Practical Prankster?” Hermione read dubiously, spotting the cover.

“Yeah,” said Harry, scanning the pages, “It’s all about thinking outside the box and using simple spells creatively.”

“Right…” Hermione said, regarding the book cautiously.

“Here it is!” cried Harry triumphantly, “The summoning charm. I figure we can summon your toad, Neville.”

“It says here it’s a fourth year level spell!” she protested, reading over Harry’s shoulder. He scoffed.

“So what?”

“So we can’t do it!”

“Speak for yourself. I–” Harry stopped himself, closing his mouth before he blurted out his experience in underage magic. “I think I could.” he finished, lamely. Hermione’s eyes narrowed.

“What makes you think I can’t?” Harry handed the book over to her, holding his hands up in surrender, remembering their conversation of a few minutes ago.

“Nothing. Give it a shot.” She gave him one last dirty look before immersing herself in the page. Then, she rolled her sleeves up and grabbed her wand from the pocket of her robe. As she slid open the compartment door, she turned to Neville.

“Neville, what’s your toad’s name?”

“Trevor,” said Neville, looking nervous.

“Alright. Accio Trevor!” she cried, sweeping her wand in a dramatic arc. They all waited with bated breath. Nothing happened. Hermione huffed and crossed her arms.

“I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“Let me have a go,” said Harry, holding his hands out for The Practical Prankster.

“It’s not going to make a difference,” she said resentfully, plopping the book in Harry’s hands.

“Just let me try,” he said absently, waving his hand vaguely as he scanned the page. Then, he took out his own wand. Focusing on his mental image of a toad, he repeated Hermione’s wand motion. “Accio Trevor!”

Silence fell as they all waited for something to happen.

“See, I told you it wasn’t going to–” but Hermione cut herself off as a croak sounded from down the hallway. A second later, a toad sped into the compartment, flying neatly into Harry’s hand.

“Trevor!” yelled Neville, gleefully, and ran to take him from Harry. Carefully cradling Trevor in his hands, Neville looked up at Harry. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” said Harry, smiling.

“How did you do that?” Hermione demanded, advancing on Harry angrily.

“I don’t know,” said Harry, turning away to set The Practical Prankster on the seat, careful not to look her in the eye, “Got lucky, I suppose.”

“You have to show me how you did it!” she insisted, struggling to regain her composure.

"I mean," Harry began, playing for time, "I don't know about that?"

"Why not?" she spat. Harry cast around for an excuse, but was saved the necessity of coming up with one when Neville came to his rescue.

“Well,” said Neville, stroking Trevor contentedly, “We’re not even supposed to do magic before we get to Hogwarts, are we?”

“We aren’t?” Harry asked, genuinely surprised, “Why did you let me do that spell?” Ron looked confused.

“Did you want us to stop you?” Before Harry could respond to this, Neville added,

“I thought you just didn’t care much as long as there was no one here to catch you.” Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione cut him off, looking at him shrewdly.

“Would it have made a difference if you’d known?”

Not wanting to admit that any of them were right, he deflected, speaking to Hermione.

“Well, what about you? Why did you try the spell? I didn’t peg you as the type to break the rules.” She stammered, flushing deep enough for Harry to see, despite her dark complexion.

“Well, I obviously didn’t think it was going to work! It’s not breaking the rules if you don’t actually do it.”

“You didn’t think it was going to work?” asked Harry sceptically.

“No!”

“Hmm,” he said, working to keep a straight face, “Maybe that’s why it didn’t work.” He saw her jaw clench out of the corner of his eye as he turned away, but before she had the chance to retort, Ron had begun a new conversation with Neville.

“If it were me, I wouldn’t have bothered trying to find it,” said Ron, sitting against the wall and stretching his legs out across the seat.

“Why not?” asked Neville, sitting by Ron’s feet at the far end of the seat.

“C’mon, Neville,” said Ron, placing his hands behind his head, “Everyone knows carrying around a toad makes you look like a prat.” There was an awkward silence that followed this as the other three in the compartment stared at him. Ron looked around at them, apparently confused.

“What?” he asked.

“Why would you say that?” asked Hermione, looking at Ron as though he’d suddenly started to smell bad.

“Because it’s true! I mean, why would you buy one of those things in the first place?” Hermione opened her mouth to fire back, but Neville placed a hand on her elbow.

“It’s okay, Hermione.” He turned to Ron. “He was a gift, actually. My family thought I was born without magic. They were all really disappointed in me, I think. I was eight when my Great Uncle Algae finally managed to scare some magic out of me. They were all so proud and Great Uncle Algae bought me Trevor. I know they aren’t very popular, though.” Neville ducked his head and looked out the compartment door, avoiding anyone else’s eye.

“I–” Ron looked distinctly embarrassed. “Sorry, Neville. I don’t know what I was talking about. My pet isn’t exactly popular, either.”

“You have a pet?” Neville asked.

“Yeah,” said Ron eagerly, reaching into his pocket, “A rat. This is Scabbers. He’s old as dirt.” He certainly looked his age, his whiskers greying and his fur thinning, but there was no doubt that this rat was well cared for. He was well-fed, well-groomed, and sleeping peacefully in Ron’s hand.

“Oh, hello Scabbers!” crooned Neville, scratching behind Scabbers' ears.

Ron smiled, then held the rat out to Hermione, inviting her to join in. She moved forward cautiously and stroked Scabbers’ head.

“He’s very sweet.” she said, quickly withdrawing her hand, as though frightened that he would suddenly wake and bite her.

“What about you?” Neville asked her, “Do you have a pet?”

“No, not yet. Maybe someday though. I’ve heard owls can be useful.”

“Is that owl yours?” said Neville, catching Harry’s eye and nodding at Hedwig.

“Yeah,” said Harry, smiling at the snowy owl in her cage, “I just got her today.”

“What’s her name?”

“Hedwig.” said Harry, at the exact same time Ron said,

“Talonstorm.” Hermione and Neville looked back and forth between Harry and Ron, completely bemused.

“I think we’re missing something.” Neville murmured to Hermione as Harry and Ron fell into a helpless fit of laughter.