A/N Sorry for not updating recently! I have chapters up to 7 completely read so once I catch up, the schedule will be back to normal (every Sunday 6-7am AEST).

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Despite Harry's previous happiness about being left alone, it started to get depressing. While he was used to being ignored by the Dursleys, they didn't avoid him completely like this. Before, Aunt Petunia always jostled him from his sleep by rapping furiously against his cupboard's door each morning to get Harry up to make breakfast for everyone. Harry, of course, only got the tiny bit that was left over, and once he had eaten as much as he could, he was given a long list of chores to do.

You see, because he looked so much like Lily, Aunt Petunia could barely stand to look at him, and therefore Harry was given as many chores as the Dursleys could think of that would keep Harry out of their sight. Uncle Vernon always had something to say about Harry's outrageous hair, glasses or generally messy appearance and Dudley never passed up an opportunity to threaten Harry or play his favourite game, "Harry Hunting."

Now, Harry woke up to a cold, measly breakfast waiting outside his door each morning. Even when he finally ventured outside of his room, the Dursleys wouldn't look at him nor speak to him, not even to sneer or yell. He truly started to feel as if though he didn't exist when Dudley's gang passed by him without even a backwards glance one day after he finally decided that anywhere was better than the Dursleys' home. He was wrong, apparently.

After that incident, Harry mostly kept to his room, reading through his school books or chatting with his owl, Hedwig. The only things Harry had to keep him sane was the constancy of cleaning up the dead mice Hedwig kept bringing him as gifts, counting down the days until September and, as sad as it sounded, imagining his new life at Hogwarts. He hoped he and Draco were in the same class – or, well, house.

On the last day of August, however, Harry had decided that he had put it off long enough and that it was time to talk to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross Station the next day. He really hoped they wouldn't say no, as he had most likely left it too late to owl Hagrid if there were any problems. And so, Harry went down to the living room, where the Dursleys were lounging around watching the TV. He cleared his throat and winced at how loud it seemed in the room. The Dursleys swung around to look at him. As soon as he caught sight of Harry standing in the doorway, Dudley squeaked and ran off.

"Er – Uncle Vernon?" Harry licked his lips; his voice was croaky from the lack of use. Grunt. Harry assumed this meant he was listening, so he continued. "Er – I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to go to Hogwarts." Grunt. "Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?" Pause. Grunt. Harry hoped this meant yes. "Thank you."

He tried to make a quick getaway to prevent the chance of Uncle Vernon changing his mind, but the man spoke before he could dart back around the corner.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Harry didn't say anything. Years of enduring the Dursleys made Harry (rightfully) fear angering Uncle Vernon.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted quietly, realising that he really didn't know. He pulled out the ticket Hagrid had given him and read over it, despite knowing the words off by heart from rereading it again and again whenever he couldn't believe that this wasn't some crazy, long dream he was having.

"It just says to take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," Harry stated.

His aunt and uncle stared, looking at him properly for the first time in a month.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters." Harry couldn't quite keep the uncertainty from his voice.

"Don't talk rubbish," spat Uncle Vernon, not caring how Harry flinched, "there is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on my ticket," Harry protested quietly.

"Barking," Uncle Vernon gave a nasty sort of laugh. "Howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, desperate to steer things back to (or as close as he could get by Vernon's standards) a friendly conversation.

It didn't work. "Taking Dudley to hospital," Uncle Vernon growled dangerously. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

Harry bolted before he could make the situation worse.

–

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine – platform ten." Uncle Vernon spoke, grinning nastily. "Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, have they?"

Harry felt his chest clench upon discovering that he was quite right. There were two big plastic numbers displaying "9" and "10" on their respective platforms, but not a "9 and ¾" anywhere to be found.

"Have a good term," Uncle Vernon said all too happily, leaving without another word. Harry, finally breaking out of his shock, turned to tell Uncle Vernon to wait for him, because that couldn't be right, surely, but the man was already gone. This had to be the first time in his life that Harry had ever wished for the Dursleys' company.

Harry was trying not to panic. His train left in ten minutes, he didn't know how to get onto the platform, let alone find it and he had just been left in the middle of an unfamiliar station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocketful of wizard money he had no idea how to use and a large, attention-catching owl. To make matters worse, the guard he asked didn't seem to know anything about Hogwarts or a train that left at 11 o'clock and had thought Harry was wasting his time on purpose.

Just as Harry was considering getting his wand out and tapping the bricks between the platforms like Hagrid had done to get into Diagon Alley, a group of people passed behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"-packed with Muggles, of course –"
Harry swung around. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair that rivalled Harry's. Each of them were pushing large trunks that resembled his own in front of them – and one of them had an owl. Gathering up his courage, Harry pushed his trolley after them. When they stopped, he did too, just close enough to hear what they were saying.

He listened to their conversation as Ginny, the smallest and only other girl besides the woman who had spoken first, begged to go to Hogwarts. From the girl and what was presumably her mother's interactions, Harry learnt with excitement that they were indeed talking about Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He also felt as if though he was forgetting something, something that had to do with this big group of people that had red hair like his.

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first," the woman said, ushering a boy – Percy – forwards. He looked like the oldest of the five children and strode forwards confidently, heading straight to the divide between platforms nine and ten. Harry watched, desperately willing himself not to blink in case he missed it – but just as Percy had reached the brick wall, a large crowd of tourists rushed in front of him, obscuring his view. When they were all gone, the boy had disappeared too.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

With a jolt, Harry realised that the two identical boys in front of him must be Fred and George Weasley, the twins Hagrid had told him about. There was that feeling again. Surely he had forgotten something, something about the Weasleys...

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy the woman had gestured to, breaking Harry's train of thought. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?" Harry felt a pang of sympathy for George, although, he could hardly blame the mother, as they looked exactly the same. The fact that they were wearing matching outfits certainly didn't help.

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the same boy, and off he went. Harry decided he really liked the twins (the red hair had nothing to do with it, he swore). Fred's twin, George, called after him, telling him to hurry up, and he must have done, because when Harry turned back to look at him after examining George, Fred had gone – but how had he done it?

Now the second twin was walking briskly towards the ticket barrier. He was almost there, and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't. Harry took a deep breath. There was no other choice. He walked over to where the woman was standing with the final brother and girl – Ginny.

"Excuse me," Harry said nervously, capturing their attention.

The woman turned around, but she was trying to console Ginny so she didn't really pay Harry any mind. "Ron, there you are! What are you waiting for, just walk right through!"

Harry figured that she must be talking to him, which only confused him further. "Uh, I think you're mistaken. I'm not Ron."

A hand landed on his shoulder, causing Harry to jump a little.

"Mum, honestly. First you can't tell Fred and George apart, then you can't tell me apart from a stranger!"

Harry turned to see a young boy with freckles and bright red hair, much like Harry's. That was where the similarities ended. Ron was tall, or, at least, taller than Harry was. He was also thin, but not as thin as Harry's half-starved self, and he had a long nose (with a smudge of dirt on it, but Harry felt it would be rude to point it out). Another difference was Ron's decidedly not hazel eyes.

The boy gave Harry a large smile, which Harry returned, hoping that this boy would become his second ever friend.

The woman laughed. "Oh my, you'll have to forgive me, dear. With so many children, you begin to lose track of them all! Now, child, what did you want?"

"Oh, well, you see, it's my first time at Hogwarts but the thing is, my ticket says nine and three-quarters but I don't know where that is." Harry, not for the first time, felt he was rather uneducated about wizard-ongoings.

"Not to worry. It's Ron's first time too, so he'll show you! All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between the two platforms. Go on then, Ron!" She waved the other boy forward and he took off in a slow run.

"I'll wait for you!" Ron called over his shoulder, just as he was at the barrier. The next moment, he was simply gone.

"Now, off you go! I'm sure Ron will help you with anything else you need," the woman said kindly.

"Er – okay," mumbled Harry, feeling his heart jump when he pushed his trolley around to stare down the barrier. It looked extremely solid. Very crash-able, if you asked Harry. Then again, the other boys had made it just fine, surely he'd be alright.

He started to walk towards it, feeling his palms already start to sweat. People jostled him on their ways to the separate, most certainly real, platforms nine and ten. Harry walked quicker, wanting to get this over and done with as soon as possible. He was going to smash right into the barrier, and then he'd be laughed at and oh god, what if the guard thought he was making more trouble? He broke into a heavy run, regretting it when the barrier came nearer and nearer and there was no way he'd be able to stop now, his trolley was out of control. He made a mental note to never trust an adult again. He berated himself for being so stupid when he came to about a foot away. If living with the Dursleys had taught him one thing, he should never trust adults. He squeezed his eyes shut as he readied for the crash... which never came.

He peaked out from one eye and saw he was still running. He then opened both eyes and saw a scarlet steam engine waiting next to a platform packed full of people. There was a sign informing him that this was Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock and an archway behind him where the ticket box should've been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. Underneath stood Ron. He had done it.

–

Harry sat in the empty compartment by himself, his trunk and owl safely tucked away in the corner. Ron had left to chase Scabbers – his pet rat – through the crowd, promising he'd find Harry on the train. Getting his trunk onto the train had been hard, but luckily one of the Weasley twins saw him struggling and called over the other to help.

For the second time in his life, he found himself telling people that yes, he was Harry Potter. He had squirmed a bit when it came to this, still not used to the attention, but luckily, the twins were called away by their mother.

He had watched them with their family for a bit, laughing at the twins poking fun at Percy for proclaiming he was a Prefect. They then slipped onto the train along with the other two brothers, just before the train started moving. Harry was officially on his way to Hogwarts. He watched as the red-headed girl he saw before run after the train along the platform as much as she could, crying and waving. In that moment, Harry felt a pang in his chest. He had always wished he had a sister, or any kind of sibling, really.

Then, the door of his compartment slid open and the youngest red-headed boy came in. Harry wondered where his trunk was.

"Anyone sitting there?" Ron 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 and seemed surprised that Ron was there. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron. The twins grinned at this. Harry felt he was missing out on some kind of joke (which wasn't surprising considering the three were family and Harry was still rather clueless about a lot of things).

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. You'll be hearing a lot about us. See you later, then."

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them. A moment of silence passed.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.
Harry nodded, resigned to having this conversation with everyone he met.

"Oh – well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," Ron mumbled. "I didn't think that you'd have – you know – red hair, like me." Harry smiled, recalling Draco mistaking him for a Weasley. That's when he finally remembered the thing that had been nagging at his brain.

"My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford," was what Draco had said, among other nasty things. But perhaps he was wrong about them. He had been wrong about Hagrid. Besides, Harry didn't even know what "blood traitor" meant. It couldn't be that bad if that's what the twins who helped him and this boy in front of him were. Their mother was nice, too. Draco was mistaken, surely.

Shaking his head, Harry discarded that thought and focussed on Ron. He seemed to be waiting for an answer.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Harry asked.

"Have you really got – you know..." He gestured up at Harry's forehead.

Harry frowned for a moment, before understanding. He pulled back his messy hair to reveal the jagged scar. He shifted uncomfortably under Ron's stare.

"So that's where You-Know-Who -?" he trailed off again.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. He wondered if Ron had ever finished a complete sentence. "But I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" Ron asked, shifting forward in his seat. Harry debated if this counted as a full sentence.

"Well – I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

When Ron didn't say anything else, Harry took the chance to ask the boy questions of his own. After all, he only found out he was a wizard a little more than two months ago.

They discussed families briefly, Ron saying that his family were all wizards. Harry figured that the Weasleys must be one of the old wizarding families Draco had mentioned, but didn't dare ask what pureblood and halfblood and muggleborn meant. He wanted to make a good impression, and revealing his cluelessness was not the way to go.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," Ron said suddenly. "What are they like?"

"Oh-" Harry began, before being cut off by a familiar, drawling voice.

"Horrible," Draco stated, before plonking himself down beside Harry. The boys must have been too involved in their conversation as neither heard the compartment door slide open. They both jumped.

"And you are?" Ron asked pointedly, glowering at their intruder.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco answered, glaring back.

"Of course you are," Ron scoffed. Harry looked back and forth desperately between the two. He couldn't lose his first two friends. "I bet you say that about all Muggles."

Before Draco could say anything and make the situation worse, Harry jumped in.

"Ron, the Muggles I live with really are horrible, but not all Muggles! It's just my aunt, uncle and cousin. I think. I don't really know many other Muggles. Wish I had three brothers, though."

"Five," Ron said gloomily. He explained how he was the sixth out of all his siblings to go to Hogwarts, hence never getting anything new. He then pulled out the fat, grey rat that he had been chasing on the platform.

Draco shrieked. "Put that thing back!" He scooted along the seat to press against the wall, as far away from the offending animal as he could get without leaving the compartment.
Harry hid his smile whereas Ron had no qualms about laughing, pretending to let it go just to watch Draco yell again before he set the rat down on his lap.

"Shut up!" Draco scowled. "That thing's dreadful! Why don't you get rid of that old rat, anyway?"

"I would, except it's been in my family for ages. His name's Scabbers and he's useless; he hardly ever wakes up! Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a Prefect, but they couldn't aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead."
Draco shot a pointed look at Harry, which he ignored. Ron only stared at the floor, his ears a bright pink.

Harry rushed to say that he had never gotten much either. He told Ron about never having any money at all in his life until Hagrid took him to Diagon Alley. He even mentioned that all his Muggle clothing were from Dudley and not getting proper birthday presents.

Ron was slightly cheered by this.

Draco piped up after Harry had finished, saying, "I told you they were horrible people!"

There didn't seem anything else to say, so they settled into an awkward silence. Harry hated silence as it always felt like people were mad at him whenever they didn't speak. Probably the Dursleys' influence again, he figured.

Luckily, an elderly witch knocked then. "Anything off the trolley dears?" She asked, and the trio caught sight of the trolley she was pushing. Their eyes lit up when they discovered it was loaded with sweets.

–

A compartment of sweets and lighter pockets later, Ron, Harry and Draco were happily chatting away.

Wracking his brain, Harry finally gathered up enough courage to say something. "So, er, Ron, do you like Quidditch?"

Both Ron and Draco sat up excitedly.

"Yes, I bloody well love Quidditch!" Ron exclaimed.

The boys seemed to forget all about their previous animosity and started discussing the latest broomstick – something called a Nimbus 2000 – as well as the finer points of the game. They argued good-naturedly over teams briefly, before realising that Harry didn't know anything about Quidditch. They apologised, but Harry just shook his head and smile. He was happy to see his two new friends getting along.

"So, to recap, the Quaffle is passed among Chasers and is worth 10 points. The Bludgers go for players randomly and are hit away by Beaters. The Snitch-"

"- is worth 150 points and the Seeker of each team try to find and catch it. It ends the game, but the Snitch is very small and very fast, making it hard to catch," Harry finished, cutting off Ron. Draco seemed to be proud with Harry's progress as he beamed at the boy.

Just then, there was a hesitant knock on their door. A round-faced, tearful-looking boy stood there, trembling.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?" When the trio shook their heads, the boy wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," Harry offered.

The boy nodded but didn't look very hopeful. "If you see him..." He left.

"Poor kid," Draco muttered, not very sympathetically. "Though, if I had a toad, I'd probably lose it as fast as possible."

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed, shocked.

Ron jumped in. "He has a point, you know. I mean, sure, Scabbers sucks as a pet, but imagine having a toad. Which reminds me, Fred and George gave me this spell to turn him yellow. Might as well try it out."

Draco and Harry shifted forward eagerly. "Go on then," Draco prompted.

Ron cleared his throat and raised his wand. Just then, the compartment door slid open yet again. The boy was back looking even more distraught. Harry felt a pang of guilt as he recalled their conversation mere seconds ago. Harry then caught sight of a girl next to the boy.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. Her tone reminded Harry of his old primary teacher who nobody liked because of how bossy she always was. Harry noted that the girl had lots of wild brown hair and rather large front teeth. She was also already in her new Hogwarts robes.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," Ron snapped, annoyed, but the girl wasn't listening, or perhaps she just didn't care.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then," she demanded, flopping down onto a vacant chair.

"Er- all right." Ron cleared his throat and raised his wand again. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!" He exclaimed, jabbing his wand in the direction of his rat. Nothing happened.

"That's not the incantation," Draco muttered the same time as the girl asked, "Are you sure that's a real spell?"

They all looked to Draco in shock. "How would you know?" the girl asked, rather snobbishly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's obvious, isn't it? I mean, for one thing, nothing happened. And besides, the colour charm is colovaria." He pointed his wand at Ron's rat as he said this, and Scabbers turned a bright yellow. Harry grimaced. It was even uglier than before.

"That's an advanced spell," she whispered, breaking the shocked silence, her voice akin to something like awe. "It was mentioned very briefly in 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1', but it said to not bother trying to learn it, as it's a Fifth-Year spell."

Draco's chest swelled with pride. "Well, I am a Malfoy. Not to mention a Slytherin, as well."

Harry didn't miss how the girl's face flashed with slight distrust. However, whatever problem she had about Slytherins seemed to be surpassed by her desire to know more. "How do you know which house you're going to be in?" She shifted forward eagerly in her seat. Harry realised Neville was still standing there, looking awkward.

He was about to offer him a seat when Draco replied. "Well, as I told Potter," he pointed at Harry, and the boy in question watched as both the girl and Neville's head swivelled towards him, "nobody knows which house they'll be in before the actual Sorting, but my entire family have been in Slytherin."

"Oh! Do you come from an all-wizarding family? Those are rare now-a-days." Without giving Draco a chance to reply, the girl continued. "You must know a lot of magic already! Nobody in my family is magical at all, and it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter."

Harry caught Draco's scowl upon learning that she came from a muggle family and elbowed him. "I was so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, or so I've heard. I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough. Oh, but maybe it won't be considering you already know a Fifth-Year spell! I didn't know we could learn those already, but of course we could, I should have known, oh," she paused her rambling to take a breath. She didn't seem to have noticed the exchange between the two boys moments ago.

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and you," Hermione looked at Harry, "are you really Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded his head weakly.

"I know all about you, of course – I've 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?" asked Harry, feeling a bit sick. He wondered if they were supposed to have read through all their books already. He had tried, but they were simply too big, and to memorise them in just two months...

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," Hermione said. This just made Harry feel worse. "Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

She stood up and left, leaving Neville to trail behind her.

"Did we really have to read through all our textbooks?" Harry asked faintly. What if his lack of knowledge got him kicked out? He could just imagine everyone laughing him out of Hogwarts when he tried to do the smallest bit of magic. Maybe they had made a mistake? Harry Potter wasn't that odd a name, was it?

"Cheer up, Potter. Of course not," Draco scoffed. Harry noted that Ron had also relaxed when the blond boy told them this.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered. "I hope I'm not in the same house as her."

Draco and Harry agreed, then the three boys got up and finally got changed into their school robes.

Not long now, Harry found himself thinking.