The rail to Hogwarts
There were days during which Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore missed the days when he'd still been a humble Transfiguration Professor, those distant days before he'd been Head of Gryffindor House and later Deputy Headmaster. So much less paperwork to deal with, so relatively few people looking at him for advice... though granted, even in those early days, he'd had the attention and the ear of countless people, through his prowess in his many magical fields and through his intelligence. Some days, he wondered why the hat hadn't put him in Ravenclaw, though he suspected his own self-aggrandizing and boastful tendencies all those years ago had played a large part in his placement in Gryffindor.
If he was honest with himself, he deeply regretted how he had presented himself in his youth, though he knew that there was no use in bemoaning it all, as he wouldn't try to travel through time to change his younger selfs outlook. Still, he felt somewhat melancholic, especially now, as Hogwarts was readying itself to once again take in the flowers and energies of youth, and he felt the weight of his a hundred and ten years in his body more than usual.
This year would be incredibly important, he knew that already now, even more important than all other prior years he had been here both as a student and as a teacher combined. Harry Potter would be beginning his schooling, just as he would hide the Philosopher's Stone in Hogwarts. It hadn't been an easy decision; but Hogwarts was the safest place to keep Nicholas' greatest achievement, especially with all signs pointing to the would-be thief being no mere human - or no mere mortal, for that matter.
Of course, he had his suspicions as to whom Voldemort had running his errands; but one of the harshest lessons Albus had learned over the course of his long life was that sometimes, things needed to play out without interference to reach the best possible outcome, and he felt that this was one of those times. He did not like it, but his hands were tied, and he doubted that Quirinus would get too far on his own, even if he knew one of the obstacles set. He had always been more of a scholar, not an actor, and once he made his move, Voldemort would stand alone and ripe for the taking.
Albus had no wish to kill Tom, not truly; but he had failed the boy, and had let him turn into Voldemort under his watch when he'd still wrestled with the fallout of Gellert's downfall. Tom had grown into something far worse than Gellert ever had, having lost even the final bit of sanity, even going so far as to create at least one intentional Horcrux - not counting the shard which had broken off that fateful night and embedded itself within Harry. Trouble was, Albus had no idea where Voldemort would keep his Horcrux or Horcruxes, and so, he needed the remnant of his soul captured to discover it - and banish it.
Yet if that would resolve the issues at hand, he did not know. Hagrids report on Harry and his living conditions had given him much pause, and he wondered if Minerva had mayhaps not been right in her assessment that night. Albus had hoped that Petunia had grown as a person, but it seemed as though a reminder was needed. He could not afford to remove Harry from the Dursleys, unfortunately; the sacrifice of Lily Potter had transferred the greatest magical protection onto all those who shared her blood, most of all Harry, and with Tom and his minions still out there, and the shard of his soul bound to Harry, he needed all the protection he could get.
And yet, it looked as though Albus may have miscalculated, as he gazed upon one of the many devices he had set in his office, the one which was meant to monitor Harry and the protections around him. Four years ago now, it had alerted him to a change; one of the wards seemed to have fallen, yet on further inspection, he had found them all in order. Still, it had given him pause; something had caused the machine to alert him, and he suspected that what had happened was a stirring on part of Tom's soulshard. Trouble was, he did not know what the extent of it had been, or why none of the wards had in fact fallen or alerted him at all. Hagrids report had been somewhat relieving; it did not seem that the shard was influencing Harry directly, and having watched Tom's fall had taught Albus that his most recent failure preferred to handle things directly.
Nevertheless, the situation recquired further investigation and monitoring. Between the shard being possibly active, and Harrys experiences in the care of his family - none of which seemed to have been fortunate -, there was no telling just what kind of person would enter Hogwarts on the first of September. Albus had already failed two great wizards, one his lover, one his student; he would not - could not - fail a third.
Harry meanwhile was thoroughly enjoying his last month at the Dursleys before going off to Hogwarts. His relatives treated him as though he wasn't there, likely for fear he'd whip out his wand and turn them into pigs ('Would be an improvement, and I think I can still manage the spell', had been Toms comment), so they left him alone, mostly in his new room.
Usually Harry would've been somewhat downtrodded at being ignored like that, but he had his new books to tear through, and Toms memories and knowledge for company, and so, it was by far the most bearable summer month he could fathom.
And Tom had really stepped into his element, pointing out helpful bits - like a small loophole in the 'no magic at home during the holidays' rule. That one actually only went into effect after the students first year it turned out, leaving Harry to try out all sorts of fun things in the one month he had left. Dudley's junk was perfect for this, and soon, all the broken toys in the room had either been fixed or transformed - transfigured, as Harry found out - into all sorts of stuff, both animate and inanimate, or in a few very rare cases, blasted into oblivion when the two-souls-team bit off more than either could chew.
Most of the time was spent reading the books. Tom had many opinions, most of them somewhat good, with the odd snide comment here and there on how stupid first years usually were. The only book he really took issue with was History of Magic, which seemed to be horrendously outdated.
'I swear, if they still have that snoozefest Binns teaching, I will attempt an exorcism', was his enraged comment. 'That man has been dead since before Dumbledore was even born, and they still let him teach in my day.'
Unfortunately, Harry had forgone asking Hagrid on his professors, so he only knew of Quirell (Defence against the Dark Arts), McGonagall (Transfiguration), possibly Binns (History) and the headmaster, who did not teach. Tom did still speculate, however, on who from his day might be teaching now.
'Wouldn't be surprised if Pomona ended fulfilling her dream and teaching Herbiology. She was always brilliant at that... better than old Beery was, at any rate. I suspect Poppy Pomfrey may have made good on her threat to whip the medical wing into shape again, too... I do hope that Irma isn't around, she was already unpleasant as a firstie, and I doubt that age lightened her mood. Old Slughorn has likely retired by now... bit of a shame, his networking skills were quite useful... Pringle's likely dead or retired by now, thank Merlin, hopefully his sucessor isn't as bad... Wonder if Kettleburn has enough limbs left to teach...'
Toms teaching skills also improved, now that he actually had books to use as a basis instead of his fragmented memories, as did Harrys magic skills, now that he had a proper wand - though Tom did cheekily suggest showing off his wandless skills from time to time. 'Might be a good way to establish yourself', was his reasoning, though Harry was more keen on fitting in for the time being until he had more of an impression of what the Wizarding World was truly like - for some reason, he wasn't too certain Tom was the most objective guide.
He also spent quite a bit of time reading Hogwarts: A History - one of the books which hadn't been on the list, but which Tom had recommended as a novices guide to the school and urged him to buy. Hogwarts, as it turned out, was incredibly old as an institution, having been founded in 990 - though Tom added that this was only the formal founding, with the grounds having already being used for teaching and training for at least another century prior to that - and the current castle was the result of various restorations and renovations, the most notable being the ones of 1690, 1733, and finally 1815, which saw the school modernised quite thoroughly. 'I wonder how the castle holds up today', Tom mused. 'There was some talk of another renovation effort when I graduated, and I'm curious to see if anything came of it.'
Harry also learned just how the school had managed to remain hidden, which was through extensive spells and wards which detracted muggles and made them see nothing than a ruin at risk of collapse. 'An ingenious work of magic', was Toms opinion. 'Though with todays youth, I wouldn't be surprised if some idiot tried running around in these supposed ruins.'
Harry himself meanwhile was more curious about hidden spaces within the school, something to which the book aluded, but also put down as mere rumors and myths. 'There's quite a few, mostly hidden under layers of history, deep within the original structures', Tom stated when asked. 'Hidden passages to and from the school, hidden rooms... I found quite a few of those in my day, though I don't know if they haven't blocked off by some narrow-minded adult. Gonna have to check at some point, might've forgotten something in some of these places...'
Where Tom openly disagreed with the books author was on the split of the Founders. 'Bloody propaganda', he grumbled. 'Slytherin didn't want to only have pure-bloods as students, that wasn't even a proper term back then. He wanted to keep proper muggles as far away from Hogwarts as possible, and as a matter of fact, the other three agreed on principle, if maybe not on the execution. And he didn't leave because of that, he left because he was curious to explore other corners of the world and learn their magical secrets, and had Ravenclaw not fallen sick, she'd likely have gone with him - I may have found some ancient records buried somewhere in one of those chambers at some point.'
This in turn prompted Harry to ask just what 'pure-blood' meant, as it sounded rather self-aggrandizing. 'It's a term for mages who come from a proper magic family', Tom explained. 'Usually used when both parents can boast a lineage of wizard and witches in their ancestry. That usually comes with a sense of supperiority, as you can imagine - you did meet that ferret, after all.' Harry winced at the memory.
'So, I'm guessing there's lesser bloodtypes, as well?', he stated as he made the old toy plane fly by itself.
'There's two more, yes. Half-bloods are, depending on whom you ask, either mages who have one wizarding parent and one muggle parent, or mages who have a proper pure-blood parent and one magic parent who came from a muggle family. The other term is the most straightforward, a muggleborn's simply a mage who doesn't have any sort of wizarding background - your mom, for example.'
'So... what does that make me, then?', Harry wondered.
'A wizard', Tom replied with a chuckle. 'Besides that... well, it somewhat depends on how you look at things. Some will call you a half-blood, because your mom's from a muggle family, while your dad was pure-blooded, and others will see you as a pure-blood, since both your parents were mages... it's hairsplitting, honestly. Magic is magic, and magic is power, that's how I see it.'
This was also how Harry saw it, for that matter, though Tom did stress that this opinion was something of a minority, and especially that second part may easily be misinterpreted, so better not mention it right of the bat. He then revealed a few tidbits of information on himself. 'I was about as half-blooded as you can get', he said. 'My mother was a fairly weak witch from an old pure-blood family, and actually used a love potion on my father to ensnare him - he was about as muggly as you can get, would've likely gotten on well with the Dursleys. Never properly met either of them, she died giving bírth to me, and I don't know if I ever reconnected with him... anyways, my mothers family was actually descendant from Slytherin himself, which gave me something to swing around after I found out. Might be an idea for you to look at ancestry as well, even on your mothers side, you never know whether a squib from a major line married a muggle somewhere...' Squib, as Harry found out after, was a term used to describe magicless people born to magical families - a source of great shame for them, according to Tom, 'and usually the product of too much incest. That's what screwed over my mothers family, or at least one of the things that did... I imagine they bore some resemblance to the Habsburgs.'
Eventually though, August came to an end, and Harry remembered he still had to get to King's Cross to board the Hogwarts Express. Thankfully, the Dursleys had business in London - getting Dudley's pig tail removed - and so they begrudgingly agreed to drop him off. The journey to the station was surprisingly civil, safe for some insults thrown towards the wizarding community, to which Harry simply rolled his eyes and kept his mouth shut, and a final venomous sendoff by uncle Vernon as they dropped him off at the stations gates.
'Alright, now where the hell is platform 9 3/4?', he asked himself as he pushed his trolley.
'See that column between platforms 9 and 10?', Tom guided him. 'It's enchanted to function as a gate, you simply need to run through it - yes, yes, I know, I thought the exact same thing back in my day. Bloody miracle no one ever stumbled over the damned thing, especially during the war...'
Surprisingly, Tom was right; Harry watched incredously as a large family of redheads went through said column without problems, and when he tried it, he wasn't met with solid brick, instead passing through what he could only describe as a portal to... well, if he was honest with himself, it had to be some sort of pocket reality, taking the form of a train platform, complete with a red steam locomotive.
'Yup, they're still using the same train', was Toms only comment as Harry once again marveled at the place while moving through the masses of what had to be primarily wizards in search of some compartment in which he could stay. Eventually, he did, relatively far in the back, and to his relief, he was alone in it - though he doubted it would stay this way for the whole journey.
The first thing he did once he was settled in was change out of his normal clothes - Dudleys handdowns - into his new Hogwarts robes. True, they were a bit dark, and formal, but they fit far better and were far more comfortable than what passed for 'clothes' in the Dursley mind - at least where Harry was concerned. His fingers brushed the still gray areas where his house crest and colors would soon be, as he thought on the matter.
'Still set on Gryffindor?', Tom asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.
Harry nodded mentally. Hagrid had revealed to him on the journey back from Diagon Alley that both his parents had been in that house, and it had sparked some desire in Harry to join it to have sort of connection to them other than a name and a general appearance.
Tom, naturally, had opinions. 'I understand why you're thinking the way you are, but you really shouldn't base your reasoning off of that alone.'
Harry shook his head. 'No offence, Tom, but I don't think that you really understand', he replied as he scrolled through the pages of Hogwarts: A History again.
This prompted a sigh from the elder soul. 'Maybe not', he admitted. 'But my point still stands.'
Harry was about to reply when he heard the door open. "Excuse me, is this compartment still free to sit in?", a girl asked in a tone which sounded somewhat bossy, even if it did seem as though she did her best to not sound that way.
He looked up to face the speaker. The girl in question was a tad taller than he was - not surprising, he was small for his age -, with fairly pale skin, bright brown eyes which burned with intelligence, and a mane of bushy brown hair. She was a first year, too, based on the gray fields where house crest and colors ought to be, though the fact that she was already in her robes as well indicated that she was either motivated or used to them, the latter would mean that she was from a wizarding family.
Harry shrugged and nodded. "Sure, come on in", he invited and indicated the seating across from him. The girl stepped in and shut the door before sitting down.
"Thank you", she replied - Harry noticed that she had slight overbite as she spoke - "It was rather loud everywhere else. Can't form a single clear thought in all that chaos, it's unbelievable." She huffed and opened the book bag she'd had over her shoulder seconds earlier.
"I know what you mean", Harry agreed. "Good thing these compartments seem to be enchanted to keep most noise out, otherwise I wouldn't be able to concentrate myself." He held up the book he'd been 'reading' to underline his point.
"Yes, that would be an explanation, though it appears these enchantments only work if the doors are actually closed, which is something I haven't really seen so far", the girl commented. "Really though, they ought to put such information in the books, if they already do not hand out booklets for first years and their parents."
"It would certainly make things easier", Harry agreed. "Dunno if I'd have found the platform if I hadn't -- spotted a bunch of people passing through the column. Such things ought to be written down somewhere."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't this said at your orientation?", she asked, her voice sounding slightly bossier due to her curiosity.
Harry chuckled. "Well, I don't know who did your orientation, but I don't think my guide had much experience on the muggle side of things. He was marveling at parking meters at one point."
The girl huffed again. "Honestly, it's almost as though we're being seen as some kind of exotic animal species. When I was in Diagon Alley, there was this old woman, when I told her that my parents and I were muggles, she scrunched her nose, and if your guide didn't know what a parking meter was... you're muggleborn too, right?"
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Muggle raised", he corrected with a slight smile. "My parents were magic, but... well, they died when I was a baby, and..." He shook his head, not wanting to talk on the Dursleys.
The girl looked somewhat abashed. "Oh, I'm so sorry", she said, and she really did seem to mean it, which was a refreshing change of pace, both from mages in general and from his peers.
Harry waved his hand. "It's okay", he replied. "Like I said, they died when I was a baby, so I'm used to it just being... well, me."
She looked like she wanted to say something more, but thought better of it, instead saying: "So, if you've been raised by muggles, I'm guessing this is all new to you as well, then?"
He snorted a bit. "Pretty much", he admitted. "Has been quite exciting, all things considered. Good thing I bought a bunch of extra books, otherwise I'd be going in completely blind." He patted his own book bag.
The girl smiled appreciative. "So did I", she admitted. "I also used the time between the journey and today to learn ahead already. My parents aren't magic at all, so they couldn't help me, unfortunately, but it's been great trying to read through all our course books - I think I might've memorized them already, I just hope it'll be enough, I mean, Hogwarts is the best wizarding school there is --"
'Does that girl even need to breath?', Tom wondered as she rattled on. 'And to say that Hogwarts is the best may be exaggerating things. At least in my day, Beauxbatons' potions courses were on par with Hogwarts, and Durmstrang, Faustus and Blocksberg-am-Brocken offered a much more sprawled out curriculum, especially where the more fringe matters were concerned, and that's just Europe.'
'Self-advertising seems to be the same everywhere, it appears', Harry answered, somewhat amused.
Meanwhile, the girl was still talking - he had to agree with Tom's earlier assessment, she really did not seem to breathe in between. "--I just wonder how exactly we'll be sorted, I mean, it has to be some kind of test, I overheard someone from a higher year tell someone else they had to fight a troll, which seems irresponsible, but I just hope I won't fail, because I really, really don't want to go back to muggle school - oh, God, this makes me sound incredibly arrogant, doesn't it?"
Harry did his best to surpress his laughter, fearing it may not go over well, and used her brief break to somewhat gently butt into her monologue. "Don't worry", he assured her. "I don't want to go to middle school, either. And I don't think that Hogwarts would come up with some sort of crazy test to sort pupils."
The girl nodded, calming down somewhat. "I hope so", she said. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."
Harry smiled and extended his hand. "Harry Potter", he introduced himself.
The girl - Hermione - shook his hand just before realizing just what he had said. "You're... Oh my god, I've read so much about you! Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century...."
Harry winced. "Yes, well, much of what's in these books isn't too accurate when it comes to me. I honestly barely even remember anything that happened that night." He sighed. "Sorry, it's all still a bit overwhelming."
Hermione looked somewhat abashed. "I guess if you only found out about everything recently, it must be", she said. "Sorry, I guess I come off a bit strong from time to time."
"Ah, it's alright", Hary reassured her. "At least you didn't faint."
Hermione laughed. "Wait, did that happen?", she then asked.
"Pretty sure it did", Harry shrugged before gazing at her bookbag. "What else did you pack?"
"Oh, quite a bit!", Hermione answered. "Here, I'll show you."