Chapter Text
Harry still couldn’t believe it. A wizard: he was a wizard. Wizards weren’t supposed to exist. Yet, there he was on a magic train, surrounded by wizards, heading to a wizard school. If Harry woke up to see the ceiling of his cupboard, he would not be surprised. In fact, that felt like the more realistic option. But he popped a jelly bean that tasted like vinegar into his mouth, and the flavor was too intense to not be real.
“What flavor was that?” Ron Weasley, the red-headed boy he sat with, asked from across the train car.
“Malt vinegar,” Harry replied, spitting it out. He closed the box of Every Flavor Beans. He’d had enough of those for now.
“Tough luck mate. At least it isn’t vomit flavored,” Ron said as he bit the head off of a chocolate frog.
“At least,” Harry huffed. He looked around at the piles of wrappers around him. This was the most candy he’d ever eaten in his life. He wondered how Dudley could eat ten times more without getting the awful stomach ache that was already creeping up on Harry.
All of a sudden, Harry saw movement out of the corner of his eye, causing him to jump in his seat. He sighed with relief to see it was only one of those Famous Wizards cards. It would definitely take some time for Harry to get used to pictures moving like that.
“Oi, Harry,” Ron said, mouth full of chocolate. “I have to use the toilet. Do you mind sitting alone for a bit?”
“Oh, no, go ahead,” Harry replied with a smile.
“I’ll be back soon. Make sure to keep an eye on Scabbers, although I doubt the stupid rat will move anyways.” With that, Ron set his rat down on the seat, brushed the candy wrappers off of him, and shuffled out into the hall.
As Harry stared mindlessly at Scabbers, his mind began to wander. What if toilets in the wizarding world could dance, or sing? He’d have to ask Ron when he got back. His very important thoughts were distracted when someone strutted by. He looked over and laid eyes on the Pale Boy from Madam Malkin’s in Diagon Alley.
“Hold on!” The Pale Boy said, stopping in his tracks and standing in the doorway. “You’re that kid from Madam Malkin’s, aren’t you?”
Harry tried hard not to grimace. After their first encounter, Harry had not been keen on meeting him again. His demeanor was uppity, judgemental, a bit like Dudley.
“Hello there,” Harry said. As much as he was unsure of this boy, he wasn’t going to be rude. He didn’t want to get on anyone’s bad side yet.
“Wow,” The Pale Boy said, getting distracted by the mountains of candy Harry had collected. “No wonder all the good stuff on the trolly is almost out.” Harry felt his cheeks burning up; when he put it like that, Harry felt bad.
“Sorry,” Harry apologized.
The Pale Boy shrugged nonchalantly. “If you have money, why not spend it? It’s probably best that you got it rather than Crabbe and Goyle. They don’t need any more candy, in my opinion.” Harry had no clue who those people were.
“Anyways,” The Pale Boy said. “Tell me your name, I don’t think you got to introduce yourself in Diagon Alley.”
“My name is Harry,” he said, causing the Boy’s silver eyes to widen like he had solved a puzzle.
“Harry? As in Harry Potter?!”
Harry nodded yes bashfully. He wondered how many times he would have to go through this.
“I can’t believe it! Gosh, if I’d known in the robe shop…” he trailed off, examining Harry with wonder. He then held out his hand for Harry to shake. “The name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” It was an odd name, but considering there was a wizard out there named Dumbledore, Harry figured strange names were common in the magic world.
Harry, with no reason not to, reciprocated the handshake.
“Do you mind if I sit?” Draco asked. “I’m sure you’ll be far more interesting than any conversation I could have with Crabbe and Goyle.”
“Sure,” Harry said. Perhaps he’d been off putting in Madam Malkin’s, but Harry believed in second chances. Besides, he wanted to make as many friends as he could. “Just be careful not to sit on Scabbers.” He pointed to the rat, who as predicted, had not moved a muscle since Ron left.
“Is that a...rat?” Draco questioned with a slight sneer. He sat diagonal from Harry, as far from Scabbers as possible.
“It’s not mine,” Harry disclaimed.
“Did you bring a pet to Hogwarts? My father gifted me an eagle owl after I got my acceptance letter. He’s one of the finest owls you can buy, came all the way from a luxurious breeder in North Africa.”
“Yeah, Hagrid got me a snowy owl for my birthday. Her name is Hedwig.” At the mention of Hagrid’s name, Draco’s face dropped. Harry braced himself for the conversation to turn south, but luckily, Ron arrived.
“You would not believe the line! Some kid named Neville spent three minutes searching the toilet for his toad before anyone could us-” Ron saw Draco and froze.
“I hope you don’t mind that we have new company,” Harry said.
“Not really,” Ron said. “Bill said I should meet as many people as I can on the first day.” He sat back down where he had been before and placed Scabbers in his lap. “Ron Weasley,” he greeted.
“Um,” Draco said with uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to be there anymore. “Draco Malfoy.”
"Malfoy?" Ron sounded just as uneasy. "Is your father Lucius Malfoy?"
Draco lit up with pride. "Yes he is!" Once again, Harry was left out of the loop as to why that was significant. Draco's eyes fell next to Harry, where an uneaten pumpkin pasty lay.
"Want it?" Harry offered. He'd already had three of them, he didn't need more.
"Sure." He grabbed it and began to munch away. "So Harry, from what I've heard, you've been living with muggles ever since...you know. How horrible is it? Living with them?"
"Not great," Harry said. "They made me sleep in a cupboard until this summer."
"A cupboard?! That's dreadful! I couldn't ever imagine living in a cupboard for the best broomstick in the world." Draco seemed truly empathetic.
"Not all muggles are bad, though," Harry said. "Most of them are nice enough."
"Like my second cousin, the accountant," Ron chimed in.
"Well my father says-"
"Excuse me," A bossy voice interrupted Draco. They turned to see a girl with bushy hair and a large pair of front teeth in the door; behind her was a pudgy boy with a shy look on his face.
"That's the kid who lost his toad," Ron whispered.
"Have any of you seen a toad? Neville’s lost one," The girl asked. Harry couldn’t help but notice she was already in her robes. They all shook their heads in unison. She sighed with stark irritation.
"I've learned every spell I could, and none of them are useful for finding toads. Sorry Neville, Trevor isn't here, you'll have to keep looking." Harry and Ron exchanged worried looks. Harry hadn't even used his wand apart from inside Ollivander's, but this girl already knew multiple spells? Was he already behind?
"While I'm here, I might as well introduce myself. My name is Hermione Granger, who are you?"
"I'm Draco Malfoy." At his introduction, Neville seemed to flinch. Harry tried to hide a frown, just who had he let sit with him?
"And I'm Ronald Weasley."
"Harry Potter."
Hermione gasped at his name. "Are you really? I've read all about you of course- I got some extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Greatest Wizarding Events of the Twenty-first Century .” This was quite a shock. Him? In history books? Surely he wasn’t that interesting.
“Am I?”
“Well of course you are,” Draco said. “How else would everyone up and down this train know your name?” He looked at Harry with a smirk, like he was amused that everyone knew more about Harry Potter than Harry Potter did.
“I have a lot to learn, I guess,” Harry said with a shrug.
“So do any of you know what houses you want to be in?” Hermione randomly asked. “I’ve been asking around, and Gryffindor sounds the best, but Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad I suppose. Anyways, Neville and I should continue to look for his toad, we’ll see you later.” As she went to leave, she paused and turned back. “Oh, and by the way, I recommend you all change before we get there. You’ll look ridiculous if you don’t.” With that, they continued the search for the lost amphibian.
“Whatever house I’m in,” Ron said once she was out of earshot. “I hope she’s not in it.”
Draco let out a snort. “Agreed.”
“What houses are your brothers in, Ron?” Harry asked.
“Gryffindor. Mum and dad were in it too, I can’t imagine what they’d say if I didn’t get in. I guess Hermione was right, Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad, but imagine being placed in Slytherin.” Draco’s face twisted, he seemed greatly offended by this statement, but Harry brushed it off.
“That’s the house Vol-I mean, You-Know-Who was in, right?”
“Yeah,” Ron confirmed.
“Just because You-Know-Who was in Slytherin, doesn’t mean it’s a bad house,” Draco snapped. “Slytherin has produced many excellent wizards over time. There’s nothing wrong with being in Slytherin, I don’t know where on earth you got that idea.”
“My dad said that there hasn’t been a dark wizard that wasn’t in Slytherin.”
“Well your dad is obviously biased, seeing as he was in Gryffindor. No matter what, Slytherin has the best Quidditch team at Hogwarts, hands down.”
“That’s bloody mad! You haven’t even seen them play!” From there on out, Harry was a mere observer to their heated discussion about a sport Harry hardly comprehended. At least Ron had someone to talk to that understood Quidditch, as much as they disagreed about the Chudley Cannons being “the best sports team to ever grace the planet”.
This went on for a while, until at long last, they began to laugh together at a team they both agreed was utter rubbish.
“What do you think, Harry?” Draco asked, looking at him with a bright smile.
“I don’t know. What is Quidditch, exactly?” They both gasped like Harry had kicked a puppy or something. Then, they went on a whole excited tangent, taking turns trying to explain the game to Harry. By the end of it, he was more confused than he had been at the beginning. They were abruptly interrupted when two boys the same size as Dudley appeared in the door.
“Oi, Draco, we’ve been searchin’ the whole train for you,” one of them said. “Have you been here the entire time?”
“So what if I have, Goyle?” Harry bet these boys were the Crabbe and Goyle Draco had mentioned earlier.
“Come back and sit where you're meant to.”
“No,” Draco declared. He glanced at Harry and continued. “I like it better here.” The two glared daggers at him and clenched their fists like they were ready for a fight.
“Don’t be stupid, Draco. What would your father say if he knew you were sat with a Weasley ?” The other one, who must have been Crabbe, spat; like Ron’s last name was something he found on the bottom of his shoe.
Draco leapt to his feet. “You? Calling me stupid? What a hypocrite! It’s a shame your knuckle is bigger than your brain, don’t hurt yourself trying to use either.” Harry huffed a laugh, he was starting to warm up to The Pale Boy from Madam Malkin’s.
As Crabbe and Goyle stalked closer, Ron and Harry stood up, ready to throw down with Draco. But none of them made the first move; in fact, it was Scabbers who launched himself through the air and sank his teeth into Goyle’s sausage-like finger. He let out a scream of bloody murder as he flung his hand everywhere, trying to throw the rat from his finger. Harry felt squeamish as drops of blood splattered the walls of the compartment. Eventually, Scabbers let go and fell to the floor. He went limp, hopefully he was just unconscious.
Crabbe and Goyle didn’t stick around, they sprinted off in complete panic, Goyle clutching his red finger. As Ron hastily tended to Scabbers, Harry and Draco shared a look of immense pride, even though Scabbers had done all the hard work.
“Merlin! Phew!” Ron fell back into his seat with the heroic rat, relieved. “He’s still breathing.”
“What is going on over here?” Hermione returned looking very concerned.
“Ron’s rat got into a fight,” Harry explained.
“He looks dead.”
“He’s just unconscious.” Ron stroked Scabber’s back. “You’re getting an entire baby carrot tonight, you stupid little thing.”
“Just be glad it was the rat fighting and not you, you don’t want to get into trouble before we even arrive at the school, do you? Now like I said before, I recommend you change into your robes, we’re almost there.” She walked away again, but this time, they listened to her.
---------------------
Harry’s heart was racing. He watched Hermione take a seat on the stool and swallowed dryly. A big portion of the other first years had already been sorted, and the wait dragged on slower with every passing minute. He was standing in between Ron and Draco, who also seemed antsy, but Harry thought there was no possible way anyone could be as nervous as he was at that moment. The worst scenarios raced wild in his mind, what if his house didn’t want him? What if he wasn’t sorted into a house at all?
“Gryffindor!” The hat shouted from atop Hermione’s head. As she dashed over to her new house with a beam, Harry heard Ron groan beside him.
Then Neville went, and was also sorted into Gryffindor.
“Malfoy, Draco!” Professor McGonagall, the strict woman in charge of the ceremony, called.
“Good luck,” Harry whispered to him.
“Thanks. I’ll see you on the other side.” Draco swaggered up to the stool. Harry found himself envious of Draco’s confidence, he was so sure of himself with every movement he made. The Sorting Hat barely touched Draco’s head before the decision was made. “Slytherin!”
Harry’s heart sank. Out of all the tables, the Slytherins had the most unpleasant looking people, like Crabbe and Goyle. He wasn’t keen on being sorted to Slytherin, but at least if he was, he would have one person to talk to.
McGonagall continued down the list, and as she got closer and closer to Harry’s name, he felt queasier and queasier. Then the moment he’d been dreading arrived: she called his name. Whispers erupted across the Great Hall as Harry dragged his feet up the stairs. He saw the crowd of craning heads, then the black insides of the Sorting Hat.
“Hmm,” said the small voice. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes-and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting...So where shall I put you?”
Harry held his breath as he waited for the verdict. “Hmmm, better be...Gryffindor!” His entire body was shaking as he walked towards the Gryffindor table. He was incredibly relieved for it to be over with, and to have been put in Gryffindor, but he saw Draco’s grumpy face across the room and felt a little bad.
He mouthed a quick "sorry" before Percy the Prefect started shaking his hand vigorously, and the Weasley twins started shouting, “We got Potter! We got Potter!” Although he wasn’t that sorry, there was nothing he could have done to help where he was put.
The ghost across from him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, so he looked anywhere but there. He found himself observing the High Table, where Hagrid shot him a thumbs up. Harry smiled at him, then spied the large golden chair where a man with a flowing beard sat: Albus Dumbledore. He was unmistakable when remembering the Famous Wizard’s Card he’d received on the train. Quirrell from the Leaky Cauldron was there too.
A couple of minutes later, Ron was sorted into Gryffindor, which thrilled Harry. The table welcomed him with open arms, and the rest of the feast commenced. It was a jolly old time. Harry stuffed himself so full he swore he’d never eat again, met the other first years sorted into Gryffindor, had a good laugh when he saw the Bloody Baron sit next to Draco, and learned the name of the mean looking Potion’s teacher, Snape. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a dinner so much.