Chapter Text
Evie was pretty sure she was dreaming. Or having a very vivid hallucination.
"Muggleborn, eh?" said a portly fellow next to Evie, watching as she stared, open-mouthed, at the scarlet steam engine in front of her. The platform swarmed with people — parents waving teary goodbyes, kids greeting friends, and last-minute salesmen offering cheap school supplies — most of which were decked out in robes à la Harry Potter. If it weren't for the train in front of her — the Hogwarts Express! — Evie would think she had accidentally wandered into a crowd of highly devoted cosplayers.
Evie picked her jaw up from the floor and turned to the man. "What?"
The man chuckled. "Pretty impressive, innit?" He nodded at the engine.
If this was a dream, then it was the most realistic one Evie's ever had. She could make out individual faces if she focused on the crowd, smell the smoke billowing out over the platform, and hear snippets of conversation in the background ("Trevor! C'mere, Trevor!", "Wonder who's teaching Defense this year?", "Ten sickles says Snape'll give a detention first day of class")
Evie realised the man was waiting for her to say something. "Y-yeah... I- uh- I've got to..." she gestured vaguely towards the train. This was the first time she had a lucid dream about the wizarding world, and she'd be damned if she didn't at least board the Hogwarts Express.
"No worries," the man said, "Ah, to be eleven again..."
Evie smiled and thanked the man. As she breathed in the air — and coughed up a lungful of smoke — she wondered for a moment when she had started dreaming. Maybe running into the wall had given her a concussion...
"Evie!" Marley had said, grinning in her yellow-and-black Hufflepuff robes, "Isn't this exciting?"
Evie grinned right back. She had been looking forward to this since last year when Marley had gone to Orlando for her wizarding experience. Well, far longer than that, if she was being honest. Evie had wanted to do this since she had first finished Philosopher's Stone way back when she was seven.
Evie was standing in London's King's Cross Station, next to the plaque labelled "Platform 9¾". There was a trolley sticking out from the wall underneath the plaque, but Evie wasn't interested in it. She had her own trolley, one that was filled with Hogwarts school supplies. Of course, the books were blank and the wand was just a stick, but that didn't matter to Evie. She had — after much negotiation with her parents — been permitted to run her trolley into the wall before they left for the airport.
Evie gave one last bright smile to her tearful parents (they were pretending that Evie was really going off to Hogwarts) and squeezed her eyes shut. She was hoping that if she squeezed them hard enough, she could pretend that she hadn't run into the wall at all, but right through it. So she kept them closed, even as she braced for impact. To her delight, it had worked — she hadn't felt a thing!
Evie turned back to tell Marley about her new superpower, but all she saw was a wall. It looked awfully like the one she just ran into, except there wasn't a trolley sticking out under the platform sign. She rubbed her eyes and blinked. Huh. She must've hit the wall too hard, because the trolley was right there, and it was — getting closer? She leaned forward a bit, just in time to get smacked in the face by the approaching trolley.
"Ow..." Evie touched her nose. Her fingers came away covered in blood.
"Merlin, I'm so sorry," said a pair of tall black boots. "Are you okay?"
" 'm pine," Evie said. "Doe worriesh, s'jusht a doeshbleed."
"Just a nosebleed indeed!" the boots said, sounding distinctly feminine. "Your nose looks broken."
Evie frowned. She didn't think boots had eyes. When Evie told them such, the boots clucked at her. "Oh, you poor dear. How hard did you hit your head? Give me just a moment, and I'll make you right as rain."
There were shuffling noises, then — "Episkey!"
Evie touched her nose again. It felt fine. She sat up and stared at the woman who healed her. "Woah."
The woman smiled kindly at Evie. "Feel better?"
Evie nodded vigorously. "Thank you so much!"
The woman laughed. "You're very welcome. Run along now, the train's about to go."
Evie thanked the woman again. She had not taken three steps when she stopped, having caught sight of —
"The Hogwarts Express," Evie breathed. She trailed her fingers along the wall as she padded down the corridor, trolley completely forgotten. After a few minutes of wandering, she opened a door at random and flushed bright red at the snogging pair of Ravenclaws in front of her. Evie could hear them laughing after her as she power-walked down the hall, determined to get as far away from them as possible.
When Evie decided she had put enough distance between herself and the Ravenclaws, she went searching for a suitable compartment to sit in, this time peering into each one before she went in. After a series of unsuccessful attempts, she came across one with a single black-robed boy sitting in it — a first-year, like her.
"Can I sit here?" Evie asked.
The boy nodded and Evie plopped down across from him. "I'm Evie, Evie Cox," she said, sticking her hand out.
"Harry," said the boy, returning her handshake, "Harry Potter."
Evie's brain short-circuited. A few seconds passed, then she realised that she had been holding onto the boy's — Harry Potter's! — hand for far too long.
"Sorry," she said, "It's just — you're really famous."
Harry freaking Potter ducked his head.
Evie stared at him again. She was meeting Harry Potter. On the Hogwarts Express. After someone healed her broken nose with magic. She hoped fervently that this dream would never end.
A beat passed, then Evie realised two very important things. One, you weren't supposed to be able to get injured or read words in dreams. Two, Harry Potter was born July 31, 1980.
"H-Harry," Evie said urgently, "What year is it?"
Harry tilted his head at her. "1991, why?"
Evie swallowed thickly but didn't answer. This dream... it wasn't like any she's ever had. Everything was so incredibly realistic — was it possible that, somehow, it wasn't a dream? That she'd actually been transported to another dimension, one where Harry Potter was real and time was running twenty-eight years behind? No, she was being ridiculous. This was just a — a fantastical dream, and she was going to wake up soon. Yes, that's it. Nothing to worry about. In the meantime, Evie needed to not come off as crazy to her childhood hero.
"I- uh..." Evie licked her lips. How would Hermione act in this situation? "I was just checking, in case I was dreaming. I mean, I just found out a few months ago that magic actually existed. Then I went to- to freaking England and went to a magic alley to buy school supplies for a wizarding school in Scotland and read about a kid my age who apparently defeated a magic terrorist and then I ran through a wall and broke my nose and some lady healed my nose with her magic wand and now I'm meeting Harry Potter, the kid who defeated the magic terrorist, so I just — gotta make sure I'm not dreaming, y'know?"
Harry seemed to accept that explanation. "Are you from America?" He seemed to find the prospect rather interesting.
Evie blinked. "Um, yeah? I thought it'd be obvious, 'cause I don't have the accent."
"What're you on about?" Harry said. "You've definitely got an accent."
"Uh, no," Evie said, "You're the one that's all posh sounding. Like"— Eve tried her best to imitate Harry's accent —"'Pip, pip, cheerio, care for a cuppa?'"
Harry wrinkled his nose. "No one says that — 'least, no one normal says that. Maybe the wizards do."
"Oh yeah," Evie said, "They'd definitely say that. I bet wizard kids talk like- like they're in Hamilton or something. Well, not like Lafayette. Imagine Draco Malfoy trying to rap."
"Er — definitely," Harry mumbled.
Oh, Evie thought, That's right. Hamilton came out — will come out — in 2015. 'Course Harry has no idea what I'm talking about. And — he probably thinks it's just one of those things he missed out on, with the Dursleys and all.
"Oh right," Evie said, pretending to have just remembered something, "Hamilton isn't out in Britain yet — you have no idea what it is, don't you?"
Harry shook his head.
"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Evie said, rubbing her hands together, "Good news, Harry — you're about to get an All-American crash course on the greatest musical of all time."
For the next few hours, Evie happily chatted away about Hamilton — and a multitude of other things, as she could never keep the same train of thought for long.
And if Evie also told Harry about certain wizarding things he wasn't supposed to find out yet — well, what's the point of having knowledge of the future a lucid dream if she wasn't going to do something about it?
By the time the trolley witch came by, Evie had long since finished going over the plot of Hamilton. She was talking with Harry about the differences between soccer ("Why isn't it called football, if you're playing with your feet?" "Why do you call grilled cheese sandwiches toasties if don't make 'em with toasters?") and Quidditch ("So witches do fly on brooms!" "Yeah, and they brew potions in cauldrons too, funny ingredients and all.") when she heard a voice say, "Anything off the cart, dears?"
It was then that Evie's stomach reminded her that she'd only had some eggs and half a muffin from the hotel for breakfast. She got up and padded after Harry, who had leapt to his feet the moment he caught sight of the cart loaded with food. When Harry pulled out silver Sickles and bronze Knuts, however, Evie realised that she had no money. Sure, she could ask Harry for food, but Evie had an idea — she, like any good Potterhead, had (painstakingly) read through Cursed Child and was especially fascinated by the trolley witch's hidden powers. This was the perfect time to check if it was canon!
Evie adopted an expression of childlike curiosity. "Hey, Missus Witch. You look real cool! What's your name?"
The trolley witch peered down at her. "I'm not quite—"
"You look really old," Evie said, "I bet you are! I read that witches and wizards are way older than they look — is that true?"
"I—"
"You could even be a hundred! Missus Witch ma'am, are you a hundred?" Evie frowned. "If you're a hundred, can you eat candy? My mom says that really old people and little kids can't eat candy, or else they'll get cavities. Can magic people get cavities?"
"Well, I suppose—"
"No, or else you wouldn't have so much candy. You have so much candy! And"— Evie reached out to grab a Cauldron Cake —"there's desserts, too! Holy cow, what's the sugar content on this thing?"
"What?"
Evie pretended not to hear the witch's question. She pulled out a Pumpkin Pasty and looked at the packaging. No nutrition facts, no ingredients list. Same for Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Acid Pops, Sugar Mice... none of them had any bit of information. Evie waved a packet of Fizzing Whizzbees at the witch, "Ma'am, do you know what ingredients are in here?"
"The recipe is kept secret by—"
"So that's a no, then." Evie gazed at a bag of Cockroach Clusters in fascination. "Are those actual cockroaches? Is that even legal?" A thought occurred to her. "Do witches and wizards have, like, FDA? Or whatever the British version of the FDA is? Do witches and wizards answer to the Queen?"
"We fully respect Her Majesty's rule—"
"Actually, the Queen doesn't really have much power... I know the Prime Minister knows about the wizarding world, so there's some oversight, or like co-dependence. Hey, Missus Witch ma'am, do you know the Queen?"
The witch opened and closed her mouth. "Do I know the Queen...?" she said faintly. When Evie didn't interrupt her again, the witch shook out of her daze. "Good heavens, no! Why on earth would I know the Queen?"
"Well, I read somewhere that the Queen sends cards to everyone 100 years and older," Evie said, "Did she give you a card for your 100th birthday? When's your birthday?"
"I... I can't recall..."
"You don't know when your birthday is?" Evie furrowed her brow. "Then... then when do you get presents? Do you get presents for Christmas?" Evie paused, then she asked hesitantly, "Missus Witch, did anyone ever give you a Christmas present?"
The trolley witch didn't seem to know how to respond. Finally, after a few quiet moments, she gave an odd laugh and patted Evie on the head. "My, you're a precocious child, aren't you? I'd love to keep chatting, but I've rounds to do. Enjoy your free sweets — oh, don't make that face, I know what you were up to."
"I— uh— I'll be sure to get you something nice for Christmas," Evie said, and she meant it. She frowned slightly; that conversation hadn't revealed anything about the witch's powers. She had hoped that stealing from the cart would've done something, but oh well.
When she turned back to the compartment, Evie found Harry staring at her with not a little awe.
"Brilliant," Harry said, "Are all Americans like that?"
"Like what?" Evie said.
"Tricky, and clever, and," Harry smiles sheepishly, "a little bit loud, yeah?"
"Oh, we're stupid loud, go to New York City and you won't be able to hear yourself think," Evie said, "We can't whisper at all. Personally, I'm not offended you think I'm loud. From my point of view, everyone here's just... overly quiet. But uh... no, not all Americans are 'tricky and clever'. I just happen to be more Slytherin than most."
Harry had a confused sort of frown. "But I thought..."
"Oh!" Evie said, "Lemme guess, everyone you've met has given you the impression that Slytherin is like... the bad house, and Hufflepuff's the incompetents, and Ravenclaw has all the stuck-up nerds, and Gryffindor is the only good one there is, right?"
"Well, I've only heard of Slytherin and Hufflepuff so far," Harry said, "But that seems to be how Hagrid thought of them, yes."
"Hagrid — bless his half-giant heart — is far too biased to be telling you about the houses," Evie said, "So I'm gonna tell you about them, from my completely unbiased American perspective."
Harry's mouth twitched. "You're just using America as an excuse to tell me things, aren't you?"
"Probably," Evie admitted, "But that doesn't matter. Now, about the houses. I'm gonna get my opinion out of the way first: Hufflepuff is, by far, the best house. Its common room is right next to the kitchens, it's the nicest house, and if you go in it, you'll always have at least a fourth of the school on your side. Which'll be super useful to you, 'cause celebrities are usually treated more like punching bags than actual people. That said, here's Evie Cox's Totally Unbiased Overview of the Hoggy Warty Houses:
"So, Gryffindor's the house your parents were in, just so you know. It's the house of the brave and chivalrous, but the hat has historically been kind of... lenient on the chivalry part. So, if you wanna go into Gryffindor, just make the hat — oh yeah, you're sorted into your houses by a magic mind-reading hat, cool right — think that you're brave. Play up your saving-people thing, that'll do it. Now, the stigma against Gryffindors is that they're reckless cannon fodder. The rest of the school — save Hufflepuff, 'cause Hufflepuff is the best — think of Gryffindors as brave little fools, Slytherins especially. That's another thing you need to know — Slytherins and Gryffindors loathe each other. Everyone's expecting you to go into Gryffindor, and it's not a bad house, really, none of them are, but I think it's best if you don't go, 'cause of all the expectations that'll be put on you if you do. Plus, one particular professor would definitely hate you if you went, more on that later.
"Next up, we got Slytherin, the most hated house. Slytherins are s'posed to be ambitious and cunning, but again, the hat is kind of lenient. The hat sorts kids based on what house they'll do best in, not what house they belong in. So if you convince the hat that you'll live the best life if you go to whatever house you've set your mind on, chances are it'll put you there. Now, everyone thinks that Slytherin's the house full of dark wizards and witches. Which is, yeah, they've got the most evil overlords coming out of them, historically, but that's only 'cause Slytherins are the most ambitious, and evil overlords gotta be ambitious. That said, a lot of Slytherins do agree with Voldemort — remember when I told you 'bout blood purity? Yeah, Slytherins have the most blood purists. No one's gonna expect you to be in Slytherin, what with you defeating Voldemort and having a muggle-born mother. So, I'd say going into Slytherin's a pretty bad idea, 'cause you'll be spending the next seven years of your life with people whose parents wanna literally kill you, regardless how cunning and ambitious you are. And the hat knows it too — that's why there's no muggle-borns in Slytherin.
"Then we have Ravenclaw, which is the house of the witty and intelligent. It's also the house of the wise, but there's not a lot of wise eleven-year-olds. The hat'll be looking for someone with a 'thirst for knowledge'. So basically, think about the magic things you don't know but really want to and it'll put you there. Thing is, Ravenclaw is full of... sorta uptight people. They pride themselves on originality and thinking outside of the box, but they'll bully you for being too out of the box. You'll do fine there, but some Ravenclaws might treat you weirdly when you come up with muggle ideas. That's why there's not a lot of muggle-borns in Ravenclaws, even though they're probably the most eager to learn. Also 'cause being introduced to magic overrules your base personality for a bit, so the hat tends to ignore the muggle-borns' surface thoughts. Now, if you wanna go into Ravenclaw, you'll be facing a lot of academic stress as opposed to social stress, which you'll get from Gryffindor or Slytherin. Plus, no matter what house you go into, there's gonna be some people treating you like a Gryffindor 'cause there's been literal books written about you and how you're the perfect Gryffindor.
"Finally, there's my personal favorite, Hufflepuff. Hufflepuffs are hardworking and loyal and all about equal treatment. They're pretty special 'cause the hat is actually the most selective about Hufflepuffs, which is weird since the whole point of Hufflepuff was supposed to be 'everyone deserves to be in it'. But yeah, the hat'll only put you in Hufflepuff if you are hardworking and loyal and all about equal treatment, instead of you really really wanting to be around hardworking and loyal and equal-treatment people. Well, unless you're like super traumatized or something. Basically, unless you really need love and affection, the hat's not putting a non-Hufflepuff into Hufflepuff. Wow, that sounded weird. Anyway, if you go into Hufflepuff, people'll treat you mostly like a normal person. See, they're expecting Harry Potter to be, like, The Gryffindor, magical wizard extraordinaire, but they're also expecting Hufflepuffs to be the level 0 noob wizards, so those two stereotypes oughta cancel out, right? Plus, the entire house of Hufflepuff is like one big happy family, which is objectively fantastic. Now, I bet you're hardworking and loyal and all about equal treatment, 'cause Dursleys, but even if the hat doesn't think so you're probably traumatized enough for the hat to put you in Hufflepuff, 'cause also Dursleys. You could get into any house you wanted, lucky ducky.
"So — Gryffindor brave, Slytherin ambitious, Ravenclaw curious, Hufflepuff loyal. If you go into Gryffindor, people will think 'Harry Potter is exactly who we thought he was, and he better continue to be exactly who we think he is, now that he's lived up to our expectations' and Slytherins and Professor Snape — uh, the "particular professor" I mentioned earlier; he hates you because your dad used to bully him and he was in love with your mom — will think 'Harry Potter is exactly who we thought he was, he absolutely sucks, we will hate him with our dying breath'. If you go into Slytherin, people will think 'Harry Potter is nothing like we thought, this man is evil, he killed Voldemort 'cause Voldemort was a threat to his reign, better watch out' and Slytherins and Professor Snape will think 'Harry Potter is nothing like we thought, but we hate him anyway, now it's just easier to murder him in his sleep'. If you go into Ravenclaw, people will think 'What the heck Harry Potter is a nerd? Absolutely not we won't have it he tricked the hat somehow, there is no way Harry Potter is a nerd'. And if you go into Hufflepuff, people will think 'What. The. Actual. Fffuuuu—' and hopefully leave you alone. So, there you have it. Man, my throat hurts."
Evie beamed at Harry, who looked a bit overwhelmed.
Harry stared at Evie for a bit. "Do er— do you normally..."
"Yeah, spontaneous speeches are kinda my thing," Evie said, "Someday, I'm going to either be a very successful politician or everyone's least favorite lawyer."
"Well, er— good luck," Harry said. "Should I go to Hufflepuff, then?"
"I think you should," Evie said, helping herself to a Chocolate Frog, "But you shouldn't listen to what I think. Where do you want to go?"
"Hufflepuff," Harry said instantly. When Evie raised an eyebrow at him, he grinned. "Well, it sounds the nicest out of the houses you've described. Maybe my parents went to Gryffindor, and maybe I won't be so far behind if I went to Ravenclaw, but it sounds like I'll have friends in Hufflepuff."
Evie's heart softened a little. Oh, that's right, she thought, I said Hufflepuff was like a family, and Harry...
"No matter what house you go into," Evie declared, "You'll have me. Promise."
"Promise promise?" Harry asked.
Evie nodded sagely. "Promise promise."
Evie and Harry were experimenting with Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans when there came a knock on the door. Evie had time to remember hearing a boy call for 'Trevor' back on the platform when a blond, round-faced boy entered.
“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”
When they shook their heads, Neville Longbottom wailed, “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!”
“He’ll turn up,” said Harry.
“Yes,” said Neville miserably. “Well, if you see him...”
When he made to leave, Evie said, "Hey, wait — why don't you sit with us? Your toad'll probably find you if you stay in the same place, instead of running around the train."
"Are you sure?" he said, "I don't want to be a bother."
Evie had forgotten how Neville was back in Sorcerer's Stone. He'd probably have an anxiety attack if he saw Deathly Hallows Neville.
"You're not a bother at all," Evie said, "I'm Evie, and he's Harry. I met Harry this morning, and I've decided that Harry and I'll be best friends. Having only one best friend is boring, so you can be my best friend too! What's your name?"
Both boys looked rather taken aback. It took a few seconds before Neville introduced himself.
"I'm Neville," he said, "Neville— Neville Longbottom."
"Well, Neville Neville Longbottom, have you tried these beans?" Evie said, "This one here"— she nudged a bright red one —"tastes like strawberry, but that one"— she pointed to another, nearly identical bean —"is jalapaño-flavoured. Isn't it wild?"
"Not really," said Neville, "Bertie Bott's are always like that; Gran says he came up with them by accident and decided to market them."
"Oh," said Harry, "Like the microwave!"
"What's the microwave?" Neville said curiously.
Harry looked at Neville. Neville looked back.
"Are you... are you a 'pureblood'?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Neville said. "Are you muggle-born?"
"Er—" said Harry. "Both my parents were magic, but I was raised by 'muggles'. I think I'm a 'half-blood'?"
"Oh," said Neville. "Sorry — I thought you were a pureblood."
"No worries," said Harry. "I thought you were 'muggle-born'"
The boys stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment. Evie was just about to say something — probably about plants, that ought to get Neville talking — when the door opened again.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," said Hermione freaking Granger. "Oh— there you are, Neville. Have you found your toad?"
Neville shook his head. "Evie said that he'd find me if I stayed in the place."
"Oh—" said Hermione (Hermione Granger!). "Well, I hope you find him."
She looked slightly unsure of herself, now that she no longer had to go up and down the train to look for missing toads.
"What's your name?" Evie said, breaking the awkward silence, "I'm Evie, that's Harry, and you already know Neville Neville."
"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said, "Are you sure his name's Neville Neville? I think it's just Neville."
"Oh," Evie turned to Neville with a serious expression on her face. "Is your name Neville Neville or Just Neville?"
"I'm just Neville," said Neville.
"Alright, Just Neville," said Evie, "I'm sorry for messing up your name."
"I, um," Neville said, "My name's Neville. There's— there's no Just."
"Well, Neville," said Evie, "I'm still sorry for messing up your name. Please accept Pumpkin Pasty as my apology"— she grabbed a sweet at random from the table —"Uh, Licorice Wand."
Neville stared at the wand, then looked back at Evie, "I think I'd prefer a Pumpkin Pasty, if that's alright."
"'Course you can have a Pumpkin Pasty. In fact, I officially give you permission to eat anything on this table," Evie said grandly, "I don't think me and Harry could finish all this by ourselves. And Hermione, you can sit down, y'know. Plenty of space here."
Hermione sat. A few moments passed, then—
"Did any of you know about magic beforehand? Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard — I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough."
Harry and Neville shared equally horrified looks. Evie laughed.
"Neville's the only one who was raised magic. Me and Harry were both raised by muggles, and we were both real surprised when we found out magic was real"— Evie conveniently didn't mention that she'd found out after accidentally stumbling onto Platform 9¾ —"I'm sure learning your course books by heart is more than enough, I don't think Neville's even read the first page of his— I certainly haven't. I was more interested in how the wizarding world worked — y'know, the social, political, and economic climate — so I haven't even touched the textbooks. Did you know," said Evie, "that Harry bought that entire mountain of candy for four dollars? And this is only half of what we started with."
Hermione's eyes sparkled. "Fascinating. Does this mean that wizarding goods are cheaper? Or do they place less value on food, since it must be easier to make — even if you can't create food, it's possible to duplicate or enlarge it, so that must mean it's near impossible to go hungry; maybe money is more of a status symbol for wizards, all the necessities are taken care of by magic — did you know that you can make things bigger on the inside? So you could, theoretically, live in a trunk. Money must not then be that important, which means that jobs are not necessarily necessary, so would wizards not have jobs? That would make school pointless, wouldn't it?"
"Hermione, you're thinking like a muggle," Evie said. At Hermione's look, Evie raised her hands in defense. "Hey, it's not a bad thing or anything, it's just — magic folk don't have far too much common sense. They're very traditional, and they're not overly concerned with why and how — they're like... inertia. 'An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion unless an outside force acts upon it.' Magicals'll keep doing something, even if it makes no sense, unless it's obviously bad. Case in point: the history teacher at Hogwarts who's literally a ghost. When he died, he just got up and continued teaching. I don't think he knows he's dead, actually. He's definitely not getting paid.
"Now, for a muggle-raised person like me and you and Harry, that'd make no sense. This man's dead! Why is he still working? He definitely shouldn't be teaching history, since all his information will be extremely outdated. Plus, he's not even getting paid! That's free labour! Someone should just tell him he's dead and let him deal with that! That's what we would think. A magical would say that, sure, he's dead, but he's been teaching for a long time, so he ought to be good at it, and really, telling him he's dead wouldn't change anything, it's not like he can move on, so let's just not bother him. Which is... magical logic, I guess.
"While magical logic isn't the best, it's the reason why the wizarding world still has an economy. I guess witches and wizards logic extends to goblins, 'cause if I had complete control of another nation's economy from one of the most secure buildings in the world and an entire army who knows the territory, I wouldn't stage a rebellion or anything, I'd just lock myself and my army into the building and shut down all the operations, and then that'll completely crash the economy. It's pretty good for the witches and wizards that they're so harsh on muggle-borns, 'cause if a muggle-born ever came into power, they'd completely destroy the system.
"See, money is basically useless in the wizarding world and that there's no need to get an education or a job or anything to live a comfortable life, and the only reason to want to earn money is status. Basically, rich people are important, and poor people aren't. Which would be fine in the muggle world, I mean there's no need to be like, the prime minister or something, there's nothing wrong with, say, a boring office job, but for wizards importance is everything. That's why muggle-borns have such a hard time. They're not considered important.
"So, witches and wizards place a huge amount of value on money, but they're not really sure on why money is valuable. Literally anyone can get food and water and shelter, so money's only really useful for like jewellery or front-row tickets to Quidditch games. It's why even official magic news is basically tabloids. Nobody cares about the stock market or wizard-goblin relations or equality, they want to hear about the latest Quidditch game"— it's also why Harry's life is probably going to be utter hell for the next seven years, but Evie didn't say that —"School isn't really about learning things. They wouldn't hire half the teachers if it was. For magicals, school is more like... beginner's politics. You get to bump shoulders with all the important people for the next decade or so — that's why there's only one school for all of the United Kingdom — and get a basic idea of what the world's gonna look like in ten years. That way, it won't be like a radical change when everyone graduates.
"Plus, seven years of magic boarding school makes sure none of the muggle-borns get too uppity — kids' brains are super impressionable, and by spending the majority of their development in the magic world surrounded by magicals, muggleborns'll graduate thinking like magicals. This is why I don't think your personality traits really matter for the houses you're sorted into. It's more of a way to determine who you'll be spending the rest of your life with, and how you'll turn out — if everyone thinks that Gryffindors are reckless thrill-seekers, then you'll be treated like a reckless thrill-seeker by three-quarters of the school. Even if you aren't a reckless thrill-seeker, you'll be acting like one by the time you're seventeen.
"I mean, I think the house you're in will basically determine your career path. Quidditch player or curse-breaker or Auror — magic police — or duellist if you're in Gryffindor, Ministry jobs or journalism or Unspeakable for Ravenclaws, musicians and magizoologists and artists are mostly Hufflepuffs, and politics and activism for Slytherin. That sort of thing. It doesn't matter to me, 'cause no one cares about your house after Hogwarts so there's not gonna be any, like, bias towards Gryffindor if I wanna be a dragonologist or something, but for people who don't realise what I do, their house is gonna determine what job they're gonna pursue when they graduate. But again, that's not gonna affect me so I'm still picking my house based on how I wanna be treated for the next seven years." Evie did not mention that she wasn't expecting to stick around for seven years, or even one.
Hermione and Neville looked bemused by Evie's outburst, but Harry only smiled slightly.
"Spontaneous speeches are 'kind of her thing'," Harry informed the others. "She gave me one on Hogwarts houses."
It was then that the door slid open yet again, and this time three boys stood there. Evie marvelled at how similar Crabbe and Goyle looked, despite not being related. Or maybe they were related. Evie couldn't be sure — she made a point to never look up wizarding family trees, because the less she knew about incest, the better. Draco Malfoy was looking at Harry like he was a particularly interesting zoo exhibit.
"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment"— Neville and Hermione let out a quiet gasp, then immediately turned to stare at Evie with judgemental looks (Hermione's look was very judgemental) —"So it's you, is it?"
Harry opened his mouth, but Evie cut him off. "Wait, who's this they and why would they know Harry Potter's in this compartment? I know for a fact I haven't told anyone a thing." Evie looked between Harry and Draco and gasped dramatically. "Dude, are you stalking him? Harry, you've got a stalker!"
"And who're you?" said Draco, "You're a mudblood, aren't you?" Neville began to look rather stormy at that.
"What, no!" Evie said, "Don't you know? I'm an American princess! My father is the head of the MACUSA. I'm gonna tell him what you called me."
Draco paled considerably at that. It made him look rather like a vampire.
"I'm so, so sorry, your majesty," he said, "Do accept my humblest apologies."
Evie sniffed at him. "I suppose I'll think about it."
Draco looked between Evie and Harry, clearly considering whether or not to push it. After a few tense moments, he bowed stiffly and left. The moment the door closed, Evie let out a decidedly un-princessly laugh.
"Oh my god, did you see his face?" Evie said between breaths, "Priceless. Wonder how he'll look once he finds out that I'm not a princess at all. Maybe he'll actually faint, knowing that he bowed to a mudblood."
Neville, who had been looking quite lost for the majority of that conversation, turned to Evie.
"You oughtn't say that," he told her.
"Why not?" Evie said. "I'm a mudblood and I'm proud of it. No offence to you, Neville, but I'm not too keen on having three generations of incest behind me."
Hermione made a face. "Oh, so that's what purebloods are. The books were rather vague on the exact definition."
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”
There was a mad dash as the boys raced to pull on their robes. Neville's was too small for him and Harry's was too large, so they swapped. They crammed their pockets with the last of the candy and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.
When the train finally stopped, people began pushing their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. The group huddled together, careful not to get crushed by the older kids. Evie shivered in the cold night air. Her cosplay robes were not meant for Scottish weather. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Evie heard a booming voice: “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, Harry?”
Rubeus Hagrid’s big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. Evie's eyes widened — she'd never realised just how giant Hagrid was. The books were always too vague, and —
“C’mon, follow me — any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Evie thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice. Evie leaned over, "Hey, you'll be fine. I bet you'll find your toad here — they like damp, dark places."
Neville brightened at that.
“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”
There was a loud “Oooooh!”
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Hogwarts, thought Evie giddily, I'm actually at Hogwarts.
“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Indeed, those boats looked like they could barely hold three. Still, Evie and Harry were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione.
“Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. “Right then — FORWARD!”
And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. Evie could feel her excitement bubbling.
“Heads down!” yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. Evie noted that their group seemed to be the first to have been there since last September. It seemed like a decent place to hide.
“Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.
“Trevor!” cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands.
Evie grinned, though Neville couldn't see it in the dark. "See? What did I tell you? Everything's going to be just fine." Evie wasn't sure, but she thought that Neville might've smiled back.
Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. Evie wondered how it wasn't rotted, then remembered that magic was a thing.
“Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?”
Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.