Chapter 11
"That was… a lot easier than I expected," I exhaled in relief, finding the platform on my first try—the one and only Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. It sat neatly between Platforms Nine and Ten at London's King's Cross. It was logical, straightforward, and getting to the right area was simple.
And after that… there were no problems either. The moment I focused even a little on my sensitivity to magic, I immediately understood exactly where I needed to go. Walking through—let's call it a magical barrier—was easy. Just like that, I was where I needed to be, admiring the half-empty platform and an old-fashioned steam locomotive.
"Funny. Looks like I'm too early," I concluded after taking in my surroundings. "Which isn't surprising. I asked Uncle Vernon to bring me early so I'd have extra time to find the place if something went wrong… Who knew that two hours before departure the train wouldn't even be open yet?"
"Young man, first time going to Hogwarts?" a very tall man suddenly called out, apparently noticing my uncertainty.
"Something like that," I hesitated, then nodded to the shamelessly smoking wizard. Right in front of me he finished off one clearly hand-rolled cigarette and immediately pulled another from a grimy cigarette case.
"Yeah, you're early," the man puffed out smoke—apparently one of the station workers. "Most people show up about half an hour before departure. Go to the last carriage, I'll open it for you. You can grab a compartment first."
"And… why the last carriage?" I asked, honestly surprised. I hadn't expected a staff member to spot me that quickly, much less decide to help. It was very convenient, sure—the morning air was chilly, and I didn't see any proper benches on this magical platform… Still, it was unexpected luck.
"That's where the first-years usually ride… What, are you Muggle-born or something?" my new acquaintance frowned slightly, sounding like he had certain prejudices about kids from non-magical families.
"I'm half-blood. And an orphan," I snapped a bit, instantly putting on an annoyed expression.
"Oh. Then that explains it," the smoking wizard exhaled awkwardly. "Go on, run to the last carriage."
"Thanks," I still decided to say, heading toward the end of the train. The doors to the last carriage were already open, letting me climb inside with some effort. My luggage had been lightened by charms, but it was still bulky and awkward to handle.
At one point I thought I was about to drop everything while trying to haul it into the carriage… but I managed. Inside the compartment, storing the luggage was easy. There were special spaces for it—spaces that seemed to play with expanded storage again. Convenient… and a lot more comfortable than standing outside for at least another hour.
The problem was that inside the train, I had nothing to do for that hour… I considered practicing magic—on the Hogwarts Express it supposedly wasn't forbidden anymore. But I wasn't completely sure, so I didn't risk taking out my wand. Same with books: on a wave of enthusiasm I'd already read most of them, and I didn't feel like digging through my baggage right now.
So I just sat there, letting lazy thoughts drift through my head, barely noticing when sleep began to pull at me. Lack of sleep finally caught up, hinting that going to bed late and then waking up early for a long trip wasn't the best routine for a young body that was still growing fast. And the stress and nerves of the last few days before Hogwarts didn't help…
It wasn't surprising that once I dealt with the main problem—getting onto the famous train and feeling certain that the school of witchcraft and wizardry wasn't going anywhere now—relief and fatigue caught me and sent me into sleep within ten minutes. Well, as peaceful as sleep could be while sitting upright.
I wasn't used to it, so somewhere deep down I still felt a bit uncomfortable… and yet I clearly sensed the moment the train began filling with people. I even felt when someone entered my compartment and started talking quietly… but I didn't listen. I wasn't about to climb out of my doze. Passengers were passengers—who cared…
"Except I do," I noted lazily, opening my eyes sleepily right after the train departed. Staying asleep was impossible. The motion of the train and the noise of other voices made proper rest difficult. Besides, nearly two hours of relatively calm sleep felt like enough to make me a bit more alert.
"Oh, finally awake!" a high but clearly boyish voice snapped me fully out of the last remnants of sleep. "Didn't think the famous Harry Potter would just… sleep in a Hogwarts Express compartment."
"Hm? And who do I have the honor of speaking with?" I asked, stretching with pleasure and feeling my spine crackle.
"A blond boy," I noted, already starting to understand who I was dealing with. The resemblance between the boy sitting across from me and the actor who played Draco Malfoy in my old world was obvious. And the two large boys sharing the compartment with us strongly suggested my guess was correct. The only question was how he recognized me—my fringe should still be covering my forehead…
"Ahem, yes, we haven't been introduced," the fair-haired boy recited as if from a script. "I am the heir of the Malfoy family—Draco Lucius Malfoy, a pure-blood wizard. And these are… my squires and longtime friends—Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe."
"Ah. Nice to meet you," I nodded to all three, starting with Draco, unable to hold back a yawn. "You seem to already know me, but I'll introduce myself anyway—Harry James Potter. Half-blood."
"Pleasure," Malfoy nodded with that same drawn-out manner of speech. "Is it true you personally killed the Dark Lord?" But he couldn't keep up the aristocratic act for long, and his gaze turned… if not fan-like, then at least intensely fascinated by my story.
"Ask something easier," I waved the question off calmly, adjusting my fringe so I didn't flash my scar unnecessarily. It had shifted while I slept. "I was tiny back then. I remember… nothing at all. Sometimes I get strange flashes and images in my head when I think about that day, but that's it."
"Damn… even so, that sounds insanely cool!" the blond boy assured me, trading quick looks with his friends. They seemed to agree, which amused me. "So which House are you aiming for? I'm going to Slytherin—my whole family studied there."
"Slytherin, huh?" I turned thoughtfully toward the window. "Funny, but that's the one House I'm not even considering."
"Why?" the blond immediately perked up, and his friends tensed a little too… Goyle looked almost offended.
"As far as I know, your House has too many students obsessed with blood purity. I don't think it would be easy for me to study there as a half-blood," I answered lazily and as calmly as possible, which threw off the momentum of the boys who were starting to get worked up.
"Well… that's true. But if you choose the right friends, no one will dare pick on you in our House, Harry Potter," Malfoy said, regaining his practiced tone and giving me a look that carried a very clear hint.
"I'm flattered by your concern," I said softly, choosing my words so I wouldn't offend him. He hadn't done anything to me yet and likely wouldn't, unless I insulted him outright. "I'm not against being friends with you—or anyone among future Slytherins. But I still don't really want to end up in your House."
"Yeah? Then where—Gryffindor, I bet?" Malfoy asked, a bit hurt but not angry.
"Maybe," I shrugged. "And don't look at me like that. I know about the old conflict between lions and snakes, but my feelings about Gryffindor are about the same as yours are about Slytherin. My parents studied there, and I can't just ignore that… Though honestly, I want Ravenclaw more. I've heard their common room is in one of the highest towers. And the ravens supposedly live in separate rooms…"
"Not always. It depends on how many new students there are," Gregory Goyle corrected me in a strangely instructive tone, speaking up for the first time. I even gave him a grateful nod for the useful information.
"But Ravenclaw's still not bad," Crabbe added, apparently wanting a bit of the celebrity attention for himself. "If you end up with the ravens, you'll be able to talk to us normally."
"As if anyone could forbid us from talking if I end up in Gryffindor," I snorted, though despite my words, I could easily imagine that happening. Especially if it wasn't just rivalry between Houses, but an outright war.
"No one will openly make a scene, probably. But if you end up in Gryffindor, the kids in your House won't be happy about you hanging out with us," Draco said darkly, as if asking whether I was really sure.
"Sounds like their problem. Especially if there isn't some direct, official taboo against talking to students from another House… And anyway, you're looking way too far ahead. Let's see how the Sorting goes first. Maybe I really will end up in Ravenclaw," I smiled, making my position clear—and that seemed to calm the three boys from not-so-simple magical families a little.
Of course, the future Slytherins had no intention of dropping the subject there. They insisted passionately that I should aim for Ravenclaw specifically. They even shared a "secret" with me: the Sorting Hat usually sends a student exactly where he asks—especially if he asks sincerely, from the heart.
In short, my companions on this trip had absolutely no desire to let me go to the lion House. At the same time, they no longer tried to pull me toward the snakes either, surprisingly easily accepting my firm refusal on that point… Apparently even they understood that I might not feel very comfortable in a House full of pure-blood wizards whose parents once supported the Dark Lord I was said to have killed. A surprising amount of tact and awareness for boys their age.