Chapter Text
“I know it’s far – can’t you just do two jumps?” Harry asked.
(He most certainly did not whine.)
“Or I’ll Apparate myself and meet you there?”
“You and what license? The Trace would pick you up immediately as soon as you left the property, you know that.” Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair, earning himself a murderous look. “Don’t be such a baby.”
“I’m not being a baby,” Harry said, glaring.
“A puffskein, then.”
“I’m not afraid of Flooing!”
“Coulda fooled me,” Sirius sang.
“Sirius,” Remus admonished weakly. As Harry glanced over at Remus’ pale face, courtesy of last night’s full moon, he sighed internally and forced a smile.
“Whatever. It’s fine. We have any anti-nausea potions?”
With a flourish, Sirius handed him one. “As if I’d let you go without, kid.”
Just as Harry grabbed the potion and stuffed it in his pocket, Kreacher bustled into the sitting room. He made a beeline for Harry and pressed a little bag into Harry’s hands.
“Kreacher made young master Harry lunch for the train.”
“Thank you, Kreacher,” Harry said softly, smiling at the elderly elf, who looked decidedly younger than he had a mere year ago, outfitted in his tidy butler uniform. His eyes were clearer and even his ear hair had been trimmed. Taking pride in their home and being connected to the Black bloodline once more had done wonders for him.
Kreacher sniffed. “You’re welcome, young master. Have a safe trip and do the family proud.”
“I’ll do my best,” Harry promised solemnly. With a final, approving nod, Kreacher patted him on the arm and went back to the kitchen, eyes suspiciously wet.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were Regulus come again with how that elf dotes on you,” Sirius said quietly so Kreacher wouldn’t overhear.
Harry exhaled sharply through his nose in amusement. “I told you, it’s really as simple as being nice to him.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius waved a hand. “Let’s get going.”
Reminded of the impending Floo-travel, Harry grimaced.
“I never realised how stupid it is that everyone has to take the train,” Harry complained. “I mean, we’re way closer to Scotland from here – it would be so simple to just Apparate over or Floo the Three Broomsticks or something.”
Harry shrunk his belongings and stuffed them in his pockets while he spoke but held onto the bagged lunch. He’d sent Hedwig ahead earlier that morning, unwilling to have her cooped up in her cage all day on the train when she could just as easily make her way to Scotland on her own.
“I suppose it is at that,” Remus allowed and got to his feet with a soft grunt of pain. Sirius immediately went to his side, offering an arm which Remus accepted without too much fuss. Harry had tried to tell Remus that it really wasn’t necessary to see him off on the train, but Remus had merely levelled him with such a stern look that Harry had subsided.
Secretly, he felt all sorts of gooey inside at his godfather’s insistence of being there in spite of his pain and exhaustion.
Once Harry felt confident that he had all his things, he stepped up to the fireplace. Since they’d hooked it up to the Floo network before they went under the Fidelius, it remained operational, but all record of it was presumably erased under the charm.
Harry reached up for the little box on the mantle that contained their Floo powder, threw it into the flames and, with a final deep breath and wistful look around the room, he stepped inside, calling out for Kings Cross Station. He clutched his lunch tightly to his chest as he whirled away, closing his eyes in an attempt to stave off some of the nausea.
He tumbled out of the fireplace on the other end onto speckled marble flooring, coughing. He quickly scurried away a few steps, and it wasn’t long after that Remus stumbled out, soon followed by Sirius who, in contrast, strolled out like he’d perfected the art of Flooing without so much as a hair out of place long ago.
Harry downed his potion and the rolling nausea in his gut subsided. Sirius easily siphoned the ash off of their respective clothing then threw an arm around Remus’ waist and Harry’s shoulders as they left the little side room and emerged directly onto platform 9¾.
It was just half past ten, and the platform was filled with people milling around, greeting friends and acquaintances among the sounds of owls hooting and the occasional hisses from stressed cats.
Sirius’ arm stiffened around Harry’s shoulders, and Harry leaned into his godfather in a wordless offer of support as they made their way over to the train. Thankfully, people were too wrapped up in their own greetings and goodbyes to take much notice of Harry and his godfathers.
When they stood next to one of the doors to the train, Sirius let go of Remus in order to enfold Harry in a proper hug.
“I’m gonna miss you, kid.”
“I’m gonna miss you, too,” Harry murmured into Sirius’ chest, hugging him tightly.
For the better part of a year now, he hadn’t gone a single day without his godfathers, and now that they faced separation until Christmas, Harry was reluctant to let go. Never before had he gone off to Hogwarts leaving beloved family behind, and as his chest ached, he wondered how people managed.
“Love you, kid.”
“Love you too, Sirius.”
With a final hug, the procedure was then repeated with Remus. Harry’s eyes stung as he hugged Remus, burying his face in his chest.
“You’re gonna have so much fun, Harry,” Remus said softly into Harry’s hair, rocking slightly from side to side. “We’ll see you at Christmas. I love you.”
“Love you too, Rem,” Harry managed through his constricted throat.
He was not going to start crying like a baby on the platform.
“And use the mirror tonight, I have to know which house you end up in,” Sirius said, patting Harry on the shoulder while Harry discreetly dashed away a single tear that was surely due to allergies or dust or something.
Harry cleared his throat. “Oh please, I’m the most Gryffindorian Gryffindor to ever Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat won’t know what hit it.”
Sirius laughed. Remus got a thoughtful look on his face and started to say something but was interrupted by the loud whistle of the train signalling that it was only a few minutes left till departure.
Harry quickly hugged them each one more time, promised he’d use the mirror later that Sirius had gifted him, then got on the train. He found an empty compartment not far from where he’d gotten on and made himself comfortable, then opened the window and leaned out. Sirius and Remus hurried over and reiterated that they loved him, hoped he’d have a nice trip and reminded him for the millionth time to call them often.
When the train eventually left the station, Harry waved to his godfathers as they disappeared into the distance, then slumped into his seat with a deep sigh.
He already felt homesick.
He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, before the door to his compartment slid open, revealing none other than Ron Weasley.
“Hello. D’you mind? Everywhere else is full.”
“Not at all, go ahead,” said Harry, gesturing toward the empty seats in front of him.
Ron came inside, manoeuvring his heavy trunk behind him, and Harry idly wondered why no one had shrunken it for him. Come to think of it, why did most people have their luggage un-shrunken, and their owls with them?
With a huff, Ron stuffed the trunk onto the luggage rack in the corner of the compartment and heaved a heavy sigh as he threw himself onto the seat opposite Harry.
Seeing his first and best friend in the whole world, Harry was struck by a somewhat disconcerting thought: souls, as Harry well knew by now, were real. Not some theoretical concept, but tangible fact. Unless one was called Tom Riddle (or Harry Potter), one body housed one soul; it was unique, and couldn’t be replicated – demonstrated clearly by the simple fact that Harry had taken this universe’s Harry’s spot when he arrived.
Which meant that, despite a short pang of longing, Harry knew that the boy in front of him was nothing more than a stranger.
You could change that, whispered a small voice in his head. Orchestrate the same experiences. Mold him.
Perhaps, if Harry had been less principled or lonelier, he might have listened.
In an attempt to get out of his own head, Harry reached across the aisle and held out his hand. Ron raised his eyebrows but shook it perfunctorily.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Harry.”
“You too, I’m Ron.”
The silence that followed was decidedly awkward, only broken by the soft thunk thunk of the train’s movements along the tracks and students chattering in the hallway outside their compartment.
Harry cleared his throat. “First year?”
Ron nodded. “Yeah.”
“Me too. Any idea which House you’ll get?”
Ron gave him a look that Harry didn’t understand. “No. Either’s fine, I guess.”
Weird. His Ron would have gone on a rant about the evil of Slytherin at that point. Harry blinked then moved the subject along since it apparently wasn’t a very good one.
“Do you like Quidditch?”
Ron lit up and nodded. “Yeah!”
Harry relaxed into his seat. “What team do you root for?”
“Chudley Cannons,” Ron said, getting a look in his eyes that told Harry in no uncertain terms that Ron was ready to go to bat for his favourite team no matter how awful they were.
“They’re alright,” Harry lied, remembering the bludger that killed him. “My favourites are the Holyhead Harpies, though.” They weren’t top of the league, but while he’d started out supporting them only in solidarity with Ginny, Harry had come to like them here too.
“Oh. Yeah, they’re alright, I guess,” Ron said thoughtfully.
The conversation picked up after that and they spent a pleasant half hour debating various Quidditch teams and matches while the English countryside rolled past their window. Just as the subject was starting to ebb, the compartment door slid open to reveal the trolley lady. She smiled and asked them if they wanted anything.
Ron went pink and muttered something about sandwiches. Harry got to his feet and inspected the offerings. He hadn’t checked what exactly Kreacher had packed him, but suspected that whatever it was, it did not include sweets.
He picked out two chocolate frogs, two liquorice wands and two cauldron cakes as well as two bottles of pumpkin juice, paid, then sat back down, throwing one of each over to Ron.
Ron went from pink to red and looked torn between scowling and smiling.
Harry pretended like he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, busying himself with opening his packed lunch. He peered inside it and couldn’t help the smile stretching across his face. Aside from two Cornish pasties and a green apple, there was also a slice of treacle tart wrapped in a cloth napkin.
The feeling of homesickness gripped his heart like a vice.
He fished out the apple and took a bite while looking out the window. Ron had also begun eating. They both kept silent, but it wasn’t as awkward now. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see that Ron’s furious blush had receded, and he kept darting glances at the sweets resting by his side.
Ron was much like Remus; the trick was to not make a big deal out of anything if one wanted them to accept help or gifts. Harry didn’t know if he and Ron would end up as close this time around, but he clearly knew him well enough to realise that.
Another little while later, there was a knock on the compartment door. It slid open to reveal the round face of a young Neville Longbottom, and Harry smiled in greeting but quickly dropped it once he realised how tearful Neville looked.
“Sorry,” said Neville, “but have you seen a toad at all?”
“No, sorry mate,” said Harry.
“I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!” Neville wailed.
Harry blinked. “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
“Yes,” said Neville, miserably. “Well, if you see him…”
“Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” said Ron once Neville had left. “If I’d brought a toad, I’d lose it as quick as I could.”
Harry frowned at Ron. “It’s his pet, of course he’s bothered.”
Ron shrugged and looked out the window.
It wasn’t long until the door opened once more. Neville was back, but this time he had Hermione with him.
Harry smiled at the sight of his other best friend.
Not mine, he was forced to remind himself.
“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.”
Harry shook his head. “No, sorry, we already told him we haven’t.”
As Hermione nodded and made to close the door, Harry hurriedly asked them both for their names, eager to prolong their first meeting.
“Neville L–Longbottom,” said Neville, inching closer.
“I’m Hermione Granger,” said Hermione, stepping fully into the compartment and taking a seat by the door like she belonged there. “Who are you?”
“Ron Weasley,” said Ron.
“Harry Potter,” said Harry.
Ron made a strangled sort of sound, and his eyes widened.
“Are you really?” Hermione lit up. “I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in ‘Modern Magical History’ and ‘The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts’ and ‘Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century’.”
Harry smiled fondly at her enthusiasm. Sure, she sounded awfully conceited while she rattled all that off, but it was so familiar that he didn’t mind. This, much like Ron, wasn’t his Hermione, but he couldn’t help but feel like she could be.
“Don’t believe everything you read,” Harry said calmly.
“Whyever not?” Hermione sounded scandalised.
Harry leaned toward her and said, in a conspiratorial sort of voice, “They’re all unauthorized. There are plenty of quotes in them, but I haven’t spoken to anyone, and neither have my godfathers.”
Hermione gasped. “Why on earth were they allowed to be published, then?”
“The Wizarding World isn’t big on truth in publications,” Harry said solemnly, leaning back. “You can’t sue people for libel for some reason, so anything published is accepted as gospel, even if it’s straight up lies.”
“He’s right,” said Neville. “M-my gran is always saying the Daily Prophet is ‘one line truth, ten lines lies’.”
Harry nodded approvingly while Hermione looked like her world had just been turned upside down.
“You’re really Harry Potter?” Ron blurted from his corner, apparently uninterested in their current conversation.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“Have you really got–you know…” He pointed, rather rudely, at Harry’s forehead.
“Yes,” Harry replied shortly.
“So that’s where You-Know-Who–?”
Irritation creeping into his voice, Harry again said, “Yes.”
“Do you remember it?” Ron asked, eagerly.
Harry stared at him. Hermione and Neville remained quiet.
“Partly,” Harry eventually said, coolly. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He turned back to Hermione, who was gnawing her bottom lip, looking between him and Ron.
“Anyway, just take whatever you read with a grain of salt, especially concerning the Daily Prophet,” said Harry gently.
Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose that might be best. I’ve already learned all our course books by heart, of course, but I’ll keep that in mind when I re-read them.”
Harry snorted in amusement, his previous irritation draining away.
Hermione jumped back to her feet. “We’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. It was nice to meet you.”
Harry itched to go with them rather than be left alone with a weirdly starstruck and, frankly, quite rude Ron. Instead, he smiled, wished them luck and said he’d see them later, and they left.
Now unwilling to engage Ron in conversation, Harry looked out the window and sipped his pumpkin juice.
While Harry knew, rationally, that Ron’s reaction hadn’t been all that odd, it still irked him.
It was starting to sink in that once he got to Hogwarts, he’d have to get used to the stares, the whispers and the rumours that dogged his every step all over again, and the reminder did nothing to improve his mood.
How many of them had read the same books Hermione had? How many of them had these preconceptions of who he was, and thought they knew him?
In his petulance, he wished he could have been homeschooled.
Harry’s mood must have been recognizable even to Ron, because he made no further attempts to talk to Harry, though he kept darting glances at his forehead. Every time Harry caught him, his irritation rose another little bit, and he was just about to snipe something when the compartment door opened again.
He sighed and turned his head.
This time, it was Fred and George Weasley.
…well, it could be worse.
“There you are, Ronnie,” exclaimed one of the twins.
“We’ve looked all over for you,” the other admonished. “Wanna come see Lee Jordan’s tarantula?”
Ron paled and glared at them. “No!”
The twins snickered. “Suit yourself,” said one, then nodded to Harry. “I’m Fred, this is George. We’re Ron’s older brothers.”
“Nice you meet you, I’m Harry.”
“Potter,” Ron interjected, and Harry shot him a quick frown.
When he turned back to the twins, they looked delighted. “Well, well, well,” said George.
“Not every day one meets a renowned vanquisher such as yourself,” said Fred, grinning.
Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but mirror their smiles. “Right, you ever run into a Dark wizard, owl me and I’ll come running.”
The twins snorted.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” said George. “Anyway, we just wanted to make sure ickle Ronnie was alright, mum would have our heads if we shirked out brotherly duties this early.”
“See you boys later,” said Fred.
Once more left alone, Harry wished there was at least one other person who could’ve taken up a spot in their compartment. A buffer would have been nice, since he wasn’t all that eager to chat with Ron while he was busy staring at Harry’s forehead.
“I’m just gonna use the loo,” Harry eventually said and got to his feet. He left the compartment behind and drew a quiet, deep breath of relief in the corridor. He meandered down it, dodging the odd other student, glancing into the compartments as he passed, recognizing quite a few people both from his year and above, but most people were unfamiliar to him.
Luckily, no one took any particular note of him.
He ducked into one of the loos at the end of the carriage and took the opportunity to unshrink his messenger bag, hauling out his robes. He got changed, stuffed the ridiculous pointy hat in his pocket, but left the bag in its normal state.
He'll get used to me, he tried telling himself as he returned to his and Ron’s compartment, bag swinging against his hip. We could be friends again eventually.
He came to a stop and frowned at three boys leaving his compartment, then huffed a laugh under his breath as he recognised Draco Malfoy, flanked by Goyle and –
That wasn’t Crabbe.
The brown-haired boy looked familiar, but Harry couldn’t connect a name with the face. Nor did he have time to search his memory before Malfoy caught sight of him and lit up.
“Harry!” He hurried down the corridor, the other boys following at a more sedate pace.
“Ah, hey Malfoy.”
Malfoy wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I told you, call me Draco, please.”
“Right, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I heard from someone that they’d heard you were in this carriage, so I came to find you. Come sit with us!”
Harry blinked, then shrugged. He figured Draco was probably better entertainment than Ron at this point anyway. “Yeah, alright. Just gotta grab my lunch.”
Draco beamed and waved him past, falling into step next to him despite lack of room. Harry ducked quickly inside the compartment, stuffed his things in his bag, and told Ron he’d go sit with some friends in lieu of something else to call the other boys.
Ron sighed mournfully but didn’t object further, though he glared at Draco over Harry’s shoulder.
Once Harry stepped back outside, Draco led the way up the train toward their own compartment. When they eventually found it and took their seats, Harry again recognised the person already inside without being able to remember a name.
The girl sitting in the corner was rather pretty, with straight honey blonde hair, and bright blue eyes.
…had he really been this oblivious to his year mates?
Or were they unique to this dimension?
“Harry, these are my friends, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott,” Draco pointed toward the boys and Harry dimly recalled the name Nott now that it’d been mentioned, “and that’s Daphne Greengrass.” Again, now that he’d heard it, Harry recognised the name.
Not unique then.
“Pleasure,” he said, setting his bag on the floor.
“Nice to meet you,” Daphne said with a small smile.
Theodore Nott nodded at Harry and echoed Daphne’s words, then got out a book from his own bag and buried his nose in it.
Goyle merely grunted.
All four were already wearing their Hogwarts robes, much like Harry.
“How long have you known each other?” Harry asked curiously.
“As far back as I can remember,” said Draco. “We’re practically family. Speaking of family; mother was so happy when Mr Black sent her a letter, thank you for talking to him.”
“Er, no problem.”
“You should have heard Draco go on and on about meeting you in Diagon,” Daphne teased.
“Daphne,” Draco hissed, rubbing a hand down his face, pale cheeks turned pink. He turned toward Harry with an apologetic look. “I didn’t, I just mentioned it.”
“Sure, about a million times,” said Daphne, then pitched her voice slightly higher. “Daphne, Harry seems so smart, he told me about Castelobruxo, did you know they let students become animagi there?”
Draco looked mortified and shook his head. Harry’s lips twitched into a smile.
“I’m afraid I can’t quite live up to the hype,” said Harry amusedly.
“We’ll be the judges of that,” Daphne sniffed, eyes glittering.
“Anyway, mother said she and Cousin Sirius are having tea next week,” said Draco with a glare at Daphne, and Harry wondered if these reminders about the people they had in common was some sort of ingratiating tactic. Harry wouldn’t put it past him, but the unfamiliar earnestness in Draco trying to find common ground was surprisingly… endearing.
It was far better than Ron’s stolen glances at his forehead, at least.
“Oh right, he mentioned that.”
“I hope he likes the Manor; mother spent the last year redecorating and she’s been eager to show it off.”
Where was the pompousness? The haughtiness? All Harry could hear was warm pride and fondness and it threw him for a loop.
“I’m sure he will.”
“You’ll have to come over sometime,” said Draco eagerly, as if that mere statement didn’t make Harry’s head spin. “We could even play Quidditch! Do you play?”
“Er, yeah.”
“I sure wish first years were allowed brooms,” Draco continued mournfully. “I hope we get to borrow the school brooms to at least go flying sometimes, I don’t think I could go months without it.”
Harry, to his surprise, wholeheartedly agreed and told Draco as much.
They whiled away the remaining time until they arrived at the Hogsmeade station with talk of flying, Quidditch, brooms and eventually turned to current news – much of which was dominated by Dumbledore stepping down as headmaster in June due to health reasons – and eating a leisurely lunch together.
Over the course of the afternoon, Harry was invited to call each of the others by their first names, even nicknames in Theo’s and Greg’s cases, and he dazedly agreed to let them call him Harry. He doubted they’d keep it up when they inevitably sorted Slytherin, but Harry figured it didn’t hurt to be friendly for now.
When the train started slowing down, the children stood as one and filed out of the compartment, giddy with nerves. They left their luggage behind as it would be transported separately to the castle, but Harry kept his with him, shrunken in his pockets. He asked Draco why more people didn’t do that and got an incredulous look back.
“I mean, it sounds convenient, but I don’t know the spell to unshrink my trunk, even if I got my parents to shrink it for me. Are you saying you can do it?”
Harry jumped off the train onto the platform. “Well, yeah.”
“Do you think you could teach me?” Draco hurried to stand side by side with Harry.
“Er, sure, I suppose.”
“Firs’-years! Firs’-years over here!” A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Hagrid’s frame towered over them.
“C’mon,” said Harry eagerly, dragging Draco with him.
Once all the first years had gathered by Hagrid, he led the way off the platform down a steep, narrow path which led to the edges of the Great Lake. Hagrid’s lantern barely afforded any light, though, so Harry drew his wand and muttered a Lumos, unwilling to fall and break his neck in the darkness.
Draco blinked at the sudden light then smiled widely. “Brilliant,” he breathed and hooked his arm through Harry’s.
It was decidedly strange, but Harry thought he could get used to this version of Draco Malfoy.
They reached the shore not long after that, breathless exclamations of awe travelling through the group of children as they caught sight of Hogwarts rising out of the darkness up ahead. Even Harry made a sharp intake of breath.
“No more’n four to a boat,” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore.
Harry and Draco clambered inside, followed by Daphne and Theo, with Greg ending up in a boat with Neville, Hermione and Ron. Harry caught Draco sending a guilty look in Greg’s direction, but the other boy merely shrugged and looked up at the castle with a small smile.
The trip across the lake was silent aside from the soft sounds of water lapping at the moving boats, everyone soaking up their first view of Hogwarts in the hushed quiet. When Hagrid yelled at them to keep their heads down by the giant cliff upon which Hogwarts towered, the sound was jarring and felt distinctly out of place regardless of its necessity.
The boats carried them through a curtain of ivy, along a dark tunnel, and came to a stop by the underground harbour.
Everyone climbed out of their boats, Neville found his toad thanks to Hagrid, and Harry kept close to Draco as they ascended the passageway, only Hagrid’s lantern and Harry’s wand lighting the way.
They emerged onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle, then walked up a flight of stone steps to the huge, oak front doors where Harry extinguished his wand.
Hagrid knocked on the doors.