The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy poked his head in.
"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."
Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.
"Hey, Ron."
The twins were back.
"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train—Lee Jordan's got a giant ferret down there."
"Right," mumbled Ron.
"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.”
"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.
"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.
Harry nodded, not really knowing what else to say.
"Oh-well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got—you know..."
He pointed at Harry's forehead. Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.
"So that's where You-Know-Who...”
"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."
"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.
"Well—I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else. The rest of it’s kind of like a blur."
"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.
"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him.
"Er—Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but that’s by choice. He still has the magic in him."
"So you must know loads of magic already," Harry said. The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.
Ron made a face that showed clear discomfort. “My brothers certainly do—they’ve all been to Hogwarts before, but they never taught me any of it. Made lots of jokes, though, as you might have seen.”
“Ah,” Harry said. “They do seem very...excitable.”
“It’s a lot,” Ron said. His eyes shifted and then fell back on Harry. "I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"
"Horrible—well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. I didn’t even know I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday.”
Ron’s eyes went wide. “What? Like...not at all?”
Harry shook his head. “No, I had lived not knowing anything. Not thinking...anything, really. I wish I'd had three wizard brothers."
"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left—Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch.”
“Oh, I met Bill about a month ago,” Harry said.
When the confused look came, Harry explained.
“It was at the bank—Gringotts. I was there to...well, I was being shown around Diagon Alley by a giant.”
“Oh, that must have been around when we were out shopping for our textbooks and the like. I guess we must have just…” his voice trailed off for a moment. “Did you just say a giant?”
Harry had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was a weird sense of irony that he had experience with something that this boy had not with something magical. “Yeah, but it wasn’t a big deal,” Harry said, he was the one who came to let me know I was a wizard. Said he was working for…” he reached for the name that Hagrid had used… “Dumbledore.”
Ron’s eyes flashed with recognition. “Oh, Hagrid I hadn’t met him myself, but my mum and dad and the others have told me about him. When you said giant I was thinking…” he made a motion with his hands to show a vast size.
“They come bigger than Hagrid?”
“From what I remember he’s only half giant.” Ron explained.
That was sounding more familiar, he wondered how huge a full giant would be.
“Honestly though, I’m trying to not fall into the trappings of all the stories of my family,” Ron continued. “My parents both graduated from Hogwarts—both of them were Gryffindors. Now Percy's a prefect—Gryffindor, of course. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny, both Gryffindors. I have this feeling that everyone is expecting me to fit the mold—to do as well as the others, or worse, to surpass them, but if I do, then it doesn’t really matter because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat...not that he liked Scabbers anyway…”
As he said the rat’s name, the tiny little body scampered out of Ron’s pocket, It squeaked, and Harry saw the rat was missing a toe on one of its front paws. The thing looked...well, it looked like a pitiable little thing. In this compartment of woe it seemed to be the thing that deserved most to complain...and yet there was something about its eyes that made Harry uncomfortable—almost as if the rat were taking him in and studying.
“I can’t imagine it feels good,” Harry said. “I’m sorry for wishing for that,” Harry said.
Ron laid his head back against the seat, shaking his head. “No, it’s nothing to apologize over. I didn’t mean to complain in place...not knowing what you are for your life sounds like it bites just as much. Just...taking account of it sucks sometimes. I’m not really sure what I’m hoping for by the time we get there.
“It’s lucky that the wand that chose your brother chose you too,” Harry said.
Ron offered a confused look, but then understood Harry’s meaning. “No, we didn’t end up in Ollivander’s for it. Charlie ended up making his own wand once he left school. He’s off in Romania now tending to dragons—used his own dragon heartstring. Mom and Dad were so proud—I thought it was cool too until I realized,” he held up his wand. It looked like any number of wands that Ollivander had him test out.”
“It’s still exciting though, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Ron said, glumly, “But it’s not like we can affor—er, it’s good at least it’s within the family,” Ron said. His ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.
“I...know what it feels like to wear hand-me-downs,” Harry said, sheepishly. “These robes here—” he motioned to the folded robes to his side, “they’re the first ever pair of clothes of my own. Everything else was always something passed down from my cousin, Dudley...well, except for these I guess,” he then pointed to his glasses. “At the very least they were the one things my Aunt and Uncle got for me that didn’t go through him first.”
This seemed to help cheer Ron up, and that made Harry happy.
“I can imagine how crazy everything must be...how big the change is.”
“Yeah, up until a month ago I didn’t know anything about wizards, magic, Voldemort...any of it.”
Ron gasped.
"What?" said Harry.
"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people—"
"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry, I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn...I bet. I was up almost every night looking through my textbooks so I could get some sort of idea of what things would be like." he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."
“Oh, I doubt that,” Ron said. “You were able to defeat the baddest wizard alive while you were a baby. I’m sure you could muster at least a passing grade,” Ron laughed. “But that’s something double I couldn’t even imagine—I opened the textbooks once to make sure they were all there on the inside and I started feeling groggy just beginning them. But that’s what the professors are there to help—not make it so….” he motioned with his hands. “so dry,” he said. “Besides, you’re far from the last person who’s coming to Hogwarts who come from Muggle families—it’s not all that uncommon nowadays according to Fred and George. They’ve got plenty of folk in their year that knew nothing coming in.”
While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.
Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"
Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry went out into the corridor.
He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry—but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.
“Will this be enough?” Harry asked.
“Oh more than plenty, dear,” the woman smiled and accepted the coins, placing them in a small bag hanging off the side of the trolley. The coins looked like they disappeared into a void, and Harry scooped the lot into his arms.
Ron stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.
"Hungry, are you?"
"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.
Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef," Ron muttered.
"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on—"
"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."
"Go on, have a pasty, have two. I’ve got more here than I’ll be able to finish," said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry's pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).
"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?" He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him.
"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."
"What?"
"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know—Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect—famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."
Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.
"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.
"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "
“Hagrid mentioned him...and so did my letter, but anything further…” Harry shook his head as he looked at the man in the portrait.
Harry turned over his card and read:
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS
Albus Dumbledore, one of the most revered wizards of his time, made significant contributions to the magical world. Dumbledore currently serves as the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and has overseen teachings after being employed as the school’s Head Professor of Transfiguration.
Dumbledore stood as the founder of the Order of the Phoenix, a key figure in the fight against darkness. Even before his opposition against You-Know-Who, Dumbledore is perhaps more known for his legendary duel in 1945 with the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, Dumbledore's victory brought an end to Grindelwald's reign of terror.
Dumbledore's prowess in Transfiguration was unparalleled, earning him respect and admiration in magical academic circles, including that of discovering the twelve uses of dragon’s blood in conjunction with his then-partner, Nicolas Flamel.
Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.
"He's gone!"
"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgan Le Fay again and I've got about six of her...kind of a shame really. Really thought I’d have gotten someone new...do you want it? You can start collecting."
“Sure, let me see,” Harry said, taking the card. He looked over the picture of an adult woman with long raven-colored hair and a paralyzing gaze looking back at him.
MORGAN LE FAY
ARTHURIAN ENCHANTRESS
Morgan Le Fay, a powerful sorceress and sister to King Arthur, played a pivotal role in Arthurian legend. Renowned for her magical prowess, she was associated with both benevolent and malevolent deeds. Morgan was a healer, skilled in the arts of herbalism and potion-making, but her complex nature led her to be a figure of mystery and intrigue.
Known for her expertise in magical healing, Morgan Le Fay developed potent potions and spells to mend wounds and cure ailments. Morgan was closely tied to the mystical island of Avalon, where her magical influence shaped the enchanted realm.
Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."
"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"
Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgan, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.
"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor—you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once."
Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner. "Bleaaargh—see? Sprouts."
They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.
The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.
There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three quarters came in. He looked tearful.
"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"
When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"
"He'll turn up," said Harry in an attempt to placate the obviously stressed boy’s woes.
"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him…" he nodded to the both of them, then left.
"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."
The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap. It’s little paw twitched as if to respond.
"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."
He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.
"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Seems to jut out the more I try to use it.”
A confused look shot across Harry’s face. “Use it? Wait...I thought you weren’t allowed to do magic outside of school?”
“Well, technically,” Ron explained. But the Ministry only knows where magic is being done. Since everyone in my family is a wizard, they aren’t able to see specifically who is performing the magic. Of course, I had to do it in secret so that my mum and dad didn’t find out—that’d be punishment enough...anyway”,
He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. This time it was a girl with bushy brown hair and almost fierce She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, and rather large front teeth.
"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand. A sort of excitement filled her eyes and she changed tracks. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." She sat down. Ron looked taken aback. Harry had no clue what was going on.
"Er—all right," Ron said. He cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" asked the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice since we’ve gotten on the train and it's all worked for me. 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—I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?” She said all this very fast.
Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either. He had read quite a bit of them, sure, but there was so much information he had to admit that he wouldn’t know everything within before he got to Hogwarts.
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.
"Harry Potter," said Harry.
"Are you really?" said Hermione. "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.
"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.
Hermione's eyes darted from Ron’s to Harry’s, her words tumbling out in rapid succession. "Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," she exclaimed, her tone brimming with enthusiasm. And before either of them could respond, she shifted gears seamlessly, her curiosity driving her forward. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in?" Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as she moved from topic to topic, her mind already racing ahead to the next topic “I've been asking around, and I’m quite at a mix myself. Ravenclaw seems the most obvious, but hearing Professor Dumbledore, it sounds by far the best; I hear the Headmaster was in Gryffindor and he’s one of the most legendary wizards of the age according to my reading...Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."
And she left, quickly and simply as she had entered. The door had closed behind her, leaving Harry and Ron to look at each other in confusion..
“Dumbledore was a Gryffindor?” Harry asked.
“Oh, yeah. I guess it was like that,” Ron said. “It’s hard to imagine someone that old spending his time in school, but yeah. My Mum told me that some time ago, said she was proud to honor the house that Dumbledore graduated out of.” He looked back to the wand in his hand and remembered his failed incantation. He sighed and set it aside, clasping his trunk back shut again. "Stupid spell—George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."
“I guess we shouldn’t tell him you tried it,” Harry said. “Could always say you knew he was trying to mess with you and save some face.”
“If you’ve seen George then you know Fred will have a counter-joke prepared a mile ahead.” Ron said. “It’s not a big worry though. Guess I’m just not all that excited to be sorted into Gryffindor. Though I can’t imagine anything else.. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."
"That's the house Vol—, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"
"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.
"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So you said your brother Charlie was out in Romania following dragons? Is that a normal job wizards get after they’ve graduated? I mean, I know Bill works at the bank—” Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.
“Charlie’s like a…” Ron tried to think of a perfectly normal way to describe one that tames and takes care of dragons of all creatures. “Well, he’s sort of like a zoo keeper of sorts. I know Muggles got those because of some reports my Dad has had to file dealing with magic spilling out at the London Zoo. But basically, he tries to take care of Dragons out in the wild—make sure they’re not being hunted down and able to keep their eggs safe while also protecting the people who live nearby. He learned a lot of what he knew while he was at Hogwarts—at least, that’s what he’s told me. I used to listen to his stories all the time with wonder.”
“Sounds like you two were close,” Harry said.
Ron nodded, and Harry could see some of the gloom in his face disappear. “Yeah, he’s great. Mum and Dad thought he’d go into Quidditch professionally since he was the star player in his day—but he up and chose to follow what he loved. That’s the kind of thing I...well, I guess it’s what I want to try to be like,” he said, trailing off into a sheepish tone as he started to get nervous. “Bill’s a bit different. Everyone felt he would end up where he is,” he continued. “You saw him off his normal duty. Normally he’s out in the world exploring lost tombs or mysterious labyrinths for treasure. Cursebreaker’s they’re called. On account of the...well, curses and traps they have to work around. Wizards who had treasure to hide never laid them out in the open.
“Oh, I didn’t even think of that,” Harry said. “Magic being so old is going to be something I get used to.”
“Oh right, have you heard about the news?” Ron asked. “Gringotts has been all over the Daily Prophet,” He said, but then remembered, “Oh, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles—someone tried to rob a high security vault."
Harry stared. "Really? What happened to them?"
"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."
Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You- Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.
"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked. Harry was thankful that he had changed the subject, but the nature of the question confused him all the same.
"Er—I don't know any," Harry confessed.
"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world—" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.
Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley. It brought an immediate sense of unease.
"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Ron gave a slight cough, Draco Malfoy looked at him with an offended sort of look.
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."
He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.
Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks. It was clear that Draco did not get rejected often.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."
Both Harry and Ron stood up.
"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.
"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron.
"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys?” Goyle asked, his voice was deeper than could Harry though he could muster. “We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."
Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron—Ron leapt forward seeing that he was reaching toward Scabbers, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.
Scabbers was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle—Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.
"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.
I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No—I don't believe it—he's gone back to sleep—”
And so he had.
"You've met Malfoy before?" Ron had asked.
Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.
"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been put under to follow him.. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He then turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"
"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"
"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"
"All right—I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?" Hermione's words cut through the air with an air of disapproval, her tone tinged with exasperation. She stood with an air of superiority, her gaze fixed on Ron, who met her disapproving glare with a mixture of frustration and defiance.
As Hermione swept out of the room, her departure marked by the subtle swish of her robes, Ron's glare lingered in her wake, a silent retort forming on his lips but left unspoken. Harry, ever the mediator, shifted his focus to the window, seeking solace in the changing landscape outside. The train hurtled forward, its rhythmic motion a comforting backdrop to the brewing tension inside.
Beyond the confines of the train, the world seemed to stretch endlessly, a canvas painted in hues of twilight. Mountains rose majestically in the distance, their peaks obscured by the encroaching darkness. Forests whispered secrets in the fading light, their ancient boughs swaying in silent conversation. Harry felt a pang of longing, a desire to escape the confines of the train and lose himself in the vast expanse of nature spread out before him.
Yet, even as he yearned for freedom, the train continued its journey, steadily slowing down as it approached its destination. The impending arrival brought with it a sense of finality, a reminder that their adventure was drawing to a close. Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of melancholy at the thought of leaving behind the familiar comforts of the train and stepping into the unknown. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.
As Harry and Ron shed their jackets and donned their long, flowing black robes, the transformation was immediate. The familiar weight of the fabric settled around their shoulders, a tangible reminder of the world they were about to enter. Ron's robes, slightly too short for his frame, gave him an endearingly disheveled appearance, his sneakers peeking out from beneath the hem with every step.
As they adjusted their attire, the voice of the conductor resonated through the train, a harbinger of their imminent arrival at Hogwarts. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately. First years, you will meet with Hagrid upon the stop to be taken to the castle.”
As Harry's nerves churned within him, his stomach felt like a tempest of butterflies fluttering wildly. Beside him, Ron's usually rosy complexion appeared drained of color, his freckles standing out starkly against his pale face. Despite their apprehension, they sought solace in the remaining sweets tucked into their pockets, a last vestige of comfort before facing the unknown.
As they emerged into the crowded corridor, the throng of students pressing around them added to the cacophony of emotions swirling within Harry's mind. The anticipation was palpable, a tangible energy that crackled in the air like static before a storm. With each step, the train's gradual deceleration mirrored the rapid beating of Harry's heart, each lurch forward bringing them closer to their destination.
Finally, the train shuddered to a halt, its metal wheels screeching in protest against the tracks. With a collective surge, the students surged towards the door, eager to step foot onto the unfamiliar platform awaiting them. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he stepped out into the chill of the night air, the biting cold seeping into his bones.
Amidst the darkness, a solitary light flickered to life, casting eerie shadows against the stone walls of the platform. The bobbing lamp, held aloft by an unseen hand, drew closer, its glow illuminating the figure of a familiar giant of a man. Relief flooded through Harry as he recognized the booming voice that echoed across the platform, cutting through the clamor of the crowd.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Hagrid's unmistakable accent rang out, a beacon of reassurance amidst the chaos. Harry's tense shoulders relaxed slightly at the sound, his gaze darting through the sea of faces until it landed on the comforting sight of his friend. "All right there, Harry?" Hagrid's voice carried across the platform, a warm smile spreading beneath his bushy beard.
With a grateful nod, Harry followed Ron towards the sound of Hagrid's voice, a sense of anticipation building within him.
Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. "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 Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.
"Ye' all 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 take. 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.
"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 Ron 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.
"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 harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.
"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. 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.
"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.
The doors opened slowly with a methodical heft—the sound elicited feelings of grandeur.
Hogwarts was open.