Harry Potter and the Pretty Sorcerer's Balls

Harry closed the door behind Hagrid, wondering how he was going to get wherever he was going. Likely straight back to Hogwarts to deliver the parcel to Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster. Harry giggled to himself, Headmaster might not have referred to the school's leader had his first hope for the school been correct. He sobered quickly and brought himself back to the task at hand.

After a tiptoed peek in at the sleeping Dursleys left Harry satisfied that he had at least the better part of an hour before they awoke, he busied himself tidying up his cupboard to make room for his new books and supplies. Everything in its place, Harry took a seat at the kitchen table and placed the Headmaster's envelope in front of Uncle Vernon's head, currently face down on the table, nose squashed into a pig snout that re-affirmed his title as Dudley's father.

Almost all at once, the memory of the day swept through Harry's mind. It was only the fear that he might accidentally shorten these remaining, if bizarre, Dursley free moments, that kept him planted to his seat and not jumping sailor kicks in the kitchen. In just a short while, Uncle Vernon would awaken to the Headmaster's letter which would explain away - Harry stopped, jerked out of his reverie. Explain away what exactly? He remembered Hagrid's outburst earlier in the day - the Headmaster had written a letter to them 10 years earlier as well, probably much like the one now fluttering on the table with each of Dudley's random snorts. They had known all this time, and all this time they had made every effort to stamp it out of him. Could a second letter possibly persuade them?

Harry took the envelope away from Uncle Vernon's head, and picked up the butter knife Dudley had knocked to the floor sometime during the day. A humph of annoyance escaped his lips, the Dursleys meals required proper cutlery, Harry's dry toast and cheese did not. He eased the knife under the seal where it covered the flap of the envelope, his delicate touch careful not to crack the wax. He could tuck the flap back under the dry seal later, his snooping would go unnoticed.

Harry sat twirling strands of his hair into ringlets, he had become a bundle of nerves. The letter was commanding, kind, precise, and reassuring. The Headmaster clearly thought his muggle relations had held back the letters in an attempt to protect Harry; that after the death of his mother, and his own near death, they were afraid that the wizarding community was unsafe for a young boy; that Uncle Vernon had hoped Harry would follow in his footsteps and attend his own alma-matter. He affirmed repeatedly that Harry would be given the tightest protection. The Headmaster had gone on to try to press upon them how important Harry's presence was to the wizarding community. Had the Headmaster's presumptions been correct, his letter would have sweetened even the most bitter lemon.

Harry was sure the letter's argument and plea for his education would go ignored. He was equally sure that the explanation for the day long breakfast snooze would not. He'd be in the cupboard for the rest of the summer for sure, magic books and supplies confiscated. Perhaps Hagrid would come back to Privet Drive and steal him away to Hogwarts when he didn't arrive on the train like the other students. But the Dursleys were his legal guardians, if they didn't want him to attend there was no one at Hogwarts with the legal authority to overrule their decision.

He pouted in disbelief. He would have thought that the Dursleys would burst with glee at the chance to get rid of him for most of the year ... losing their cook, gardener, seamstress, and house-keep in the process ... only to have him arrive back for holidays, armed with the magic they tried to keep from him.

The sound of wet smacking lips started Harry into motion, Dudley was beginning to stir and the other two wouldn't be far behind. Harry had an idea but he needed more time! He scampered to the cutlery drawer in a flash and with a naughty glint in his eyes he held up his prize, the turkey baster!

Each Dursley had gulped an average of just over half a cup of tea - and that had kept them drooling through both the morning and afternoon. Harry only needed another couple of hours, so they would wake up in time for dinner. He did some quick but careful calculations and used the measurement lines on the turkey baster to ration out what he hoped was about 2 hours worth of potion. Tipping each Dursley's head back in turn, he eased the turkey baster to the back of their mouths and waited. The remaining tea he poured into a plastic storage container, he hoped it wouldn't spoil or lose its potency over time, he would need it again. He watched for a few moments, hand on hip, tapping his foot impatiently, and finally satisfied that they were settling back into deep slumber, Harry set his plan into action.

The eggs and sausage were disposed of immediately, though with some regret. Harry had been looking forward to watching them eat the food that had spent a considerable amount of time on the floor. He reset the table for dinner and even went so far as to place the Yellow Tuna's napkin in her lap and half fill her glass with wine. Harry picked Dudley's favourite menu and set to preparing it quickly. While it was cooking, he slipped into Dudley's second bedroom which was really something of an asylum for abandoned toys and unread books. He found 2 knapsacks, one with a broken buckle and the other with merely a snapped string. He humphed again, he had been using plastic bags for his school things for years. He rummaged through the untouched books and removed four from the collection, Dudley would never miss them.

Back in his cupboard, he packed his school books and the stolen novels into the 2 knapsacks. He used his new robes to wrap the breakables (potions vials, writing quills, ink jars, and a collapsible telescope), and placed them all inside his cauldron. His remaining school supplies would be placed on top. The wand box now lay before him and Harry couldn't bring himself to store it, to be away from it for an entire month. Perhaps he could keep it under his pillow at night and tuck it into his sock during the day? Too risky with Dudley around, attacking at every corner, it could break. He opened the box and removed his wand, wanting to have one last look before he put it away. The warmth spread through his fingers again, though, he noted with a pout, not with nearly the same intensity as it had in the store. He gave it its second wave but only the twinkling pink and gold sparkles reappeared. He sighed wistfully.

A soft hoot outside the door sent him dancing in the air. His owl! Harry let her out of the cage and sat next to her, both their eyes wide with worry. The white owl rubbed her head softly against her new owners hands, nipping his fingers gently. He grinned at her, eyes still wide, and petted her down. His wand, still in his hand, emitted another, and much more substantial, wave of the twinkling pink and gold.

"That's what I'll call you, Twinkle!" the owl hooted and fluttered its wings, claiming her name. "But whatever can I do with you?" Harry cooed softly. "I can't put you in for storage, but you can't stay in here." He had another month until he left for Hogwarts. He perked up delighted when the obvious answer spanked him on the bottom. "Hagrid!" The owl hooted in agreement. Harry wrote a quick note to Hagrid, telling him that everything was dandy with the Dursleys, but he wasn't allowed to have Twinkle stay with him at the house. Harry was sure that Hagrid wouldn't mind taking care of her for a few weeks, he'd be so glad that things had worked out well with the muggles that minding Twinkle would be more a joy than a burden.

The knapsacks, the cauldron, and the owl cage were then taken to the storage shed and hidden under an impossible to fold plastic tarp. The Yellow Tuna would bang and yell from outside the door for wake ups and other necessary communications but did enter his cupboard rather often doing her random searches for contraband and spot checks for cleanliness. In her effort to prevent him contaminating her home, she made sure he kept it spot-free, dust-free, and clutter free - which wasn't difficult as until that day he had only a handful of belongings - unfortunately there was nothing Harry could do about the spiders. The storage shed on the other hand - was reserved for Harry alone. Uncle Vernon would go in once every couple of weeks in the summer to get the ladder or some tools but he didn't look around and wouldn't notice the new bulk under the tarp.

He looked in his cupboard again, he hadn't missed anything.

Dinner was ready only just in time, coinciding with the first stirs of awakening. Quickly, Harry dished out food for the Yellow Tuna, Uncle Vernon, and Dursley, so it would appear as though they had just sat down to eat. He put his own meagre plate of greens - with just the tiniest sliver of lasagne - at his place and took a hefty bite out of Uncle Vernon's. He placed the fork in Uncle Vernon's hand then proceeded to eat more than half of the generous portion on Dudley's plate - he was always already halfway done by the time Uncle Vernon took his first bite. Giggling himself dizzy, Harry smeared some meat-sauce across Dudley's mouth and cheeks, then added a greasy mouth print to Uncle Vernon's glass of wine. Making sure his own mouth was free of any sign of having eaten, he waited in the kitchen until the Dursleys were fully alert.

Harry put a bread basket on the table, "Dudley, you scamp! You didn't even wait for the bread!" he exclaimed. "You know you love nibbling my warm buns with dinner."

Dudley looked around the table, his expression of bafflement more pronounced then usual. The Yellow Tuna and Uncle Vernon were fairing no better.

The Yellow Tuna recovered first, "You'll get him a second helping," she snapped.

Dinner went smoothly after that. Uncle Vernon complained about work and his incompetent employees. The Yellow Tuna complained about their wicked nephew. Both agreed that Dudley's academic achievement had been held back due to the Harry's presence in his classes and he was sure to excel the following year once the offending party was gone.

The next day when cleaning the front closet, Harry scooped up an armful of out of place items and gasped when he felt a tug at his navel. He slammed into something hard and wailed as the armful of items tumbled to the ground. He fluttered his hands about his face to give himself more air.

He was in Diagon Alley.

Harry wailed a second time and scrambled around to pick up the dropped items. He made sure to pick up the newspaper last. Hagrid must have forgotten it the other day.

Back in the closet, Harry nearly wept with joy. He had yet to even begin to fathom how he might get himself to King's Cross station and here was the answer, poking at his navel. Hagrid had said that they had to go to London to get his things, King's Cross station was in London as well.

He had to wait nearly a week before the Yellow Tuna went for tea and gossip across the street and Dudley was out bullying with his friends. He portkeyed to Diagon Alley and skipped merrily along back to the Gringotts bank.

He looked around keenly - keeping his eyes open for that delightful Griphook - until he found what he was looking for. In a section near the far end of the counter stood a tall man wearing khaki pants next to a shorter woman in a tweed skirt set. Both were looking around rather nervously, the woman latching onto the mans arm like a vice grip. Muggles. He continued to watch. After a few minutes the couple exited the bank. They hadn't been led to a cart. That meant they didn't have a vault! Harry crossed his fingers, and made his way to the counter they had left.

"Hello," Harry stood on his tippy toes both for comfort and in an attempt to appear more mature. "I'm here to change some money."

The goblin gave him an appraising look but nodded without asking any questions. In the end, goblins were goblins, and goblins loved money - they didn't care whose it was or where it came from.

A rush of relief swept over him and Harry put just over half of his remaining Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, on the counter. After a quick count, the goblin handed him 75 pounds and some change, and a hand written receipt of the transaction.

Harry tucked the notes into his shoulder bag and left with an enormous grin on his face. Phase one (of three) was complete.

He smiled and fluttered his lashes at the first dashing older gentleman he came across.

"Um.." he pouted, "I'm supposed to meet my parents but I don't remember how to get back." He made sure to gape shamelessly at anything and everything decidedly magical.

"Muggle London, then?" the man smiled. And led him to a place about a block and a half away. After Harry was truly spellbound - and gaped rather shamelessly - at a brick wall that after a quick sequence of wand taps, was there - decided to do the jimmy shuffle - and then wasn't, they walked through a small walled courtyard and then into a somewhat dark and shabby sort of pub.

"The Leaky Cauldron," the man announced. He looked at Harry with a kindly smile but with eyebrows raised with worry.

"There they are!" Harry exclaimed, setting the man's fear to rest. "I don't know why they're outside though - oh they look a fright." The man glanced to what was surely an honest to goodness hag sitting at the bar with a plate of something raw, and felt he understood what led them to wait outside. Harry gushed and thanked him, then scrambled through the pub and out the door.

Muggle London.

Harry was suddenly struck by how many people there were walking about, if he wasn't careful his airy little feet would be edged along with the swell and he'd find himself completely lost. He bit back both his fear and trembling lip and remembered his portkey. If he figured correctly, it should take him back to the Dursleys no matter where he was. Just in case, he made note of the address of the Leaky Cauldron. He wandered about until he had found a call box, he noted with pride that today's ensemble had garnered more than one appreciative glance. He looked up a taxi company and after stating his cross street, found out the approximate fare to King's Cross Station. He breathed another sigh of relief, he had more than enough money in his shoulder bag for the trip.

He had been out long enough. Hagrid had mentioned that it was best not to use magic in front of muggles, so he darted to the nearest bare alleyway and took the newspaper out of his bag. He had put it in a plastic bag so he wouldn't be sent back and forth every time he reached inside. He got down on his hands and knees (so he wouldn't fall over on the landing) and grabbed a hold of the portkey.

He had made it.

After some rather painful conversions using the Gringotts receipt and his slightly shady recollection of each coins worth, Harry figured he had about 20 pounds left on hand in Wizarding coins, plus whatever muggle money remained after his cab ride. He didn't know if there were things he would need to buy at Hogwarts but he did know that he wouldn't likely have another chance to get to Gringotts before the end of his first year. The heavy weight of 4 Galleons, 36 Sickles, and 81 Knuts, suddenly felt very insubstantial, this money would have to last the year. And he still had no idea what he was going to do once the year was over. He would worry about that later.

The rest of the holiday passed dreadfully slowly for Harry. He worried himself sick on more than one occasion over the possibility of the Dursleys finding his wizarding things in the shed.

He had been doing a lot of thinking about his time at the Dursleys, now that it appeared to be nearing its end, and he had come to the conclusion that the Dursleys - the Yellow Tuna and Uncle Vernon at least - didn't just frown on anything they declared abnormal, they absolutely detested it. Maybe it had started after he arrived and wasn't like their Duddikins, the hate deepening when his magic began spilling over accidentally. Or maybe it went back even further. For a long time Harry had just assumed that strange little boys like himself were supposed to be treated as he was. If there was something wrong with what the Dursleys were doing, surely the teachers at school or the nurse or the guidance counsellor would have stepped in. They seemed to think it was fine that Harry was too small and thin, and that he was constantly sewing his oversized clothes. The neighbours never said anything about the thin child who tended the garden and re-sod the lawn each spring, heaving enormous bags of fertiliser on his own but was never seen outdoors playing like the other children. But who knows what stories may have been told to keep people from asking questions.

He supposed they did enough, he did eat, and he had clothing and shelter. There was no law that said you had to love the children in your home. Harry used to wonder why the Dursleys didn't simply put him in an orphanage once it was clear they didn't want him but now he understood. They were too afraid of being caught - of his abnormality somehow tracing back to them, or by the wizarding world who they worried would come to check on the boy one day. No, they wanted him where they could keep an eye on him, keep him in check.

Harry eyes misted over as he wondered whether he would miss them, in spite of everything, they really were his only family. Two images fought for his audience, one of the previous Christmas when Dudley had tossed a wet snotty tissue at him and said it was his gift. The Yellow Tuna told him to 'say thank you' and to stop being so ungrateful. The other was of Hagrid telling him that he was a good boy and not to forget it. No, he would not miss them one bit. In fact, the more he thought about leaving the happier he became.

Harry arrived at Kings Cross station on September 1^st without incident. He had stayed up late in his cupboard the previous night, filling plastic bags with his scant possessions. He would 'borrow' a proper trunk from the Dursleys in the morning but wanted to have everything as ready as possible beforehand. In the morning he added the leftover sleeping tea to the pot, watched the Dursleys fall straight to sleep - though it didn't seem as deep at it had been before - perhaps the dilution and age effected it. It didn't matter. He retrieved his stored items from the shed, and packed what he could into the largest trunk of Uncle Vernon's that had wheels and a pulley.

He had dreamed about getting a bit of revenge before he left, hiding cosmetics or a Piers Polkiss signed love letter in Dudley's room to be found by the Yellow Tuna later on, or giving Uncle Vernon a good smack as he lay sleeping in a pool of his own drool. But in the end he said goodbye with a simple note.

It was from the heart.

He pulled the larger of the two knapsacks over his back, slipped on his absolutely smashing brand new shoulder bag (courtesy of the Yellow Tuna's closet), grabbed the handle of the trunk and Twinkles cage in one hand, and the portkey in the other.

Once at King's Cross he was faced with an entirely new dilemma. One he had not for a second considered before then. There was no platform 9 and 3/4! There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in between stood nothing at all.

As soon as Harry realised that he would rather spend the next year running around the train station looking for platform 9 and 3/4 than go back to the Dursleys, he was able to contain his coos of distress and take a deep breath.

"I'm such a silly billy!" he admonished himself, "Of course they wouldn't have the wizard platform in plain sight of everyone - this is a muggle station after all." The Leaky Cauldron required that you pass through a courtyard then tap the bricks before gaining entrance to the wizarding side, which would certainly keep unsuspecting muggles out.

He stood near the two platforms and waited for other students and families to approach. If he was indeed in the right place, they would certainly be coming soon.

A group of people approached the in-between and looked around casually. So casually that it seemed terribly suspicious to Harry's watching eye. He continued to watch, knowing he was staring but not daring to take his eyes away for a second. The group consisted of two adults and two teenagers. They were dressed in muggle style clothing - very three seasons ago, Harry noted with a prim frown - but were pulling trunks along with them. Harry began to wonder if the neighbouring platforms were for trains to other boarding schools, he didn't see an owl cage or any hint of anything out of the ordinary among them - aside from the fact that they seemed to be growing more and more uncomfortable with the stares they were getting from the small young boy just metres away. One of the group began tapping his foot impatiently.

"Hey!" a finger poked him hard from behind.

Harry swirled around, surprised. "You!" he exclaimed. He turned back to the in-between but the group had vanished. "Oh poop! Now I've missed them."

The pale boy from the robe shop sneered at him, "There's a reason we don't tell muggle borns how to get to the platform."

"Really?" Harry asked, ignoring the sneer. "I didn't know muggles could give birth to wizards," he thought back to the Dursleys, the Yellow Tuna was certainly not a witch, though her sister, his mum, had been. "Though I suppose they must."

The pale boy looked at Harry suspiciously.

"Don't look at me like I've got my hand in the cookie jar. I haven't told anyone how to get to the platform - seeing as I don't know myself!" Harry sniffed, now understanding the boys unwillingness to help. "I get it, my parents died and left me with muggles so now you're not allowed to tell me how to get on the train?" Harry sniffed again and nodded. "Then leave me be so I can figure it out in peace." He turned back to watch the barrier.

The boy pulled him back around. "Don't you turn your back to me!" he snapped.

"I'll turn my back when I like, thank you very much! You'll just have to learn to control yourself." He humphed as he returned to view the barrier. A new group were approaching.

"I was talking." The boy turned Harry around again. "Your parents were both wizards?"

Harry nodded impatiently.

"Well why didn't you just tell me?" the boy dragged Harry by the arm toward the barrier. After a moments annoyance at Harry's slow progress, he grudgingly took the owl cage from Harry's arms. "You just walk through it!"

And with that, Harry stepped through the barrier that wasn't, and found himself facing a scarlet steam engine and a platform scattered with waiting people. A sign over head said Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock.

They found an empty compartment, deposited Harry's things, then went back outside.

"Why were you back on the other side of the barrier?" Harry asked.

"Waiting for a couple of friends of mine," he seemed to speak with disdain.

"Oh, should you go back then?" the boy snorted and shook his head. "You never told me - why aren't we supposed to tell muggle born wizards how to get to the platform?" he thought it must be a test or initiation of some kind.

The boys face darkened, "Because they shouldn't be here," he sneered.

Harry looked at the boy quizzically, "What do you mean?" he asked, "if they weren't supposed to go to Hogwarts, they wouldn't get their letters, would they?"

The boy launched into a lecture about wizarding blood and the necessity to keep it pure of anything muggle.

"My family comes from one of the oldest wizarding lines. Name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." The boy thrust out his chest proudly.

"Harry Potter." Harry reached out to shake the other boys hand.

The boy didn't reach back, his eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed darkly. "Yeah right," he smirked.

Harry shrugged. The boy - Draco - did have his moments but on the whole, he didn't seem very nice at all. All that talk about purity of blood gave Harry the willy-nillies.

"The train will be leaving soon, I'm going to find my seat." Draco didn't invite him to come along but didn't dismiss him either, it was evident that Harry was supposed to ask to join him.

"Well, ta ta for now, then." Harry looked around the now crowded platform. Students were running in and out of the train, suddenly his eyes found his escape. "Ah," Harry's voice was gleeful, "twins!" he scampered away from Draco towards two young and beautiful, identical Indian girls, wearing matching plaits that ran the length of their backs. He rushed past them and didn't stop skipping until he was just shy of his goal. Their bright red hair shone like fire on a wintry night. He grinned shyly and nearly swooned when they looked his way in unison, finally noticing him.

They smiled together. "First year?" the one on the right asked.

Harry nodded, batting his eyelashes and displaying his most winning smile. His eyes flickered from the boys just long enough to notice the mass of red haired people assembled behind the twins, finishing their goodbyes.

One of the twins nodded toward the youngest boy in the bunch. He was tall, thin and gangling, with freckles - not quite as cute as those the twins were sporting - with big hands and feet and a long nose. "That's Ron, he's just starting this year too."

Their mother seemed to be wrestling with the young boy, who valiantly fought off her handkerchief attack.

"Mum - geroff," he wriggled free finally.

The unspoken twin winked at Harry - who's heart threatened to leap from his chest - and turned to his younger brother. "Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" he teased.

"Shut up," said Ron, making his way to Harry and the boys. "I'm Ron Weasley," he said, holding out his hand. He really was very cute.

Harry grinned and took his hand as though he were a Lord greeting a Lady of the court. He kissed the boys hand with a giggle - Ron's eyes widened in surprise and he blushed redder than his hair but grinned. "Harry Potter at your service."

The three boys mouths dropped in shock.

"Wicked!" the twins exclaimed in unison.

"And have you really got - " Ron gulped, "you know ..." he pointed to Harry's forehead.

Harry flicked the curl he habitually wore on his forehead to hide the scar from the Dursleys ridicule.

"So that's where You-Know-Who - ?"

Harry nodded.

"Wow," the three redheads said together. After a moment one of the twins shook himself and poked his two brothers to stop their staring.

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? I'm Fred and this is George -"

George continued without missing a beat, "- the tall ugly one over there is our older brother Percy, and the little one there is Ginny - "

"- but she doesn't start till next year."

Their mother kissed the tall ugly one - who wasn't as cute as the twins but far from ugly in Harry's opinion - and then turned to the twins.

"Now, you two - this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've - you've blown up a toilet or -"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."

"It's not funny. And look after Ron."

'Don't worry, ickle Ronnikins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again, his hand inching back to his nose to shield it from his mother.

The four boys climbed aboard the train. The Weasley boys leaned out of the windows so their mother could kiss them goodbye and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't cry, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls -"

"- and a Hogwarts toilet seat!"

The twins turned to Ron and Harry, "Our friend, Lee Jordan, has a giant tarantula on board, let's go see it."

Harry noticed Ron shaking his head and shuddering visibly, and pulled him in the opposite direction. "My things are this way." He said.

Ron nodded gratefully, "I hate spiders!" he mumbled.

They found Harry's empty compartment and settled in.

Harry felt suddenly nervous. The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families Draco Malfoy had talked about. They seemed absolutely delightful now but that may change once they found out that his aunt was a muggle.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, trying to feel him out.

"Er - yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

Harry relaxed.

"I heard you went to live with muggles," Ron continued. "What are they like?"

Harry stopped himself before blurting out that they were positively dreadful, he didn't want word to get out about life with the Dursleys in case someone decided it should be looked into.

"They're okay," he said cautiously. "I wish I had three wizard brothers though. Well," he flushed and giggled, "not brothers, neighbours instead!"

Ron laughed and blushed again, "Actually, I've got five brothers." He was looking gloomy for some reason. "I'm the sixth in the 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. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot but they still get really good grades and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, 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 -" he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat grey blob, "Percy's old rat."

"Oh honey, I know just what you're talking about!" Harry launched into great detail about having to alter Dudley's elephantine hand me downs.

"Why do you only get hand me downs? Do the Dursleys not have much money?" Ron flushed again and began stammering an apology.

Harry waved it away and leaned towards Ron. "If I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell anyone else." Ron nodded eagerly, and swore his oath. Harry threw caution to the wind and told him all about life with the Dursleys.

"You mean you've run away?"

Harry nodded. "I don't think they'll bother look for me but if anyone at Hogwarts finds out I'm not really allowed to be here -" he voiced a dramatic 'eek,' "-they might send me back."

Ron shook his head, "I won't tell, I promise!"

The rat on his lap shuffled slightly. Both boys jumped.

"Well now I know he's not dead." Ron poked the rat gently. "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 ... " he lowered his voice, and eyes, "um, they uh, couldn't afford a new pet for me, so I got Scabbers instead."

Harry smiled coquettishly, "We'll have to share our pets then, I don't have anyone to post so you can use Twinkle - and I can play with Scabbers, he's like a stuffed animal, and I've never had one!"

Ron grinned back.

Around half-past twelve there was a great clattering outside 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, thought a candy bar was a reasonable expense for his limited funds. He squeaked out an 'oh my' before waving Ron over to help him sort through the items on the trolley - Harry didn't recognise a thing! They selected a few items and Harry paid the woman six silver sickles and 13 bronze Knuts.

Ron talked him through a set of Pumpkin Pasties, Liquorice Wands, and finally Chocolate Frogs, which came with a collectors card featuring a famous witch or wizard. Harry stared for a second at a picture of Albus Dumbledore, the man who had placed him in the Dursleys care, before turning the card over to read the back. When he turned the card back to look at the Headmaster again, he jumped with shock.

"He's gone!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again ... do you want it? You can start collecting."

Harry was still awed by this display of magic, "... Good heavens, in the muggle world, people don't move about in pictures - that's for the movies."

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and a round-faced boy looking teary eyed, came in.

"Oh dear," Harry pouted, "You look a fright, whatever's the matter?" he sat the boy down beside him.

"I'm sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?" the boy sniffed. Harry and Ron shook their heads. The boy wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"There, there," Harry consoled the boy.

Ron rolled his eyes as Harry dabbed the boys tears with his handkerchief, but said "It'll turn up."

After the boy left, Ron broke into snickers. "Blimey Harry, do you flirt with everyone?"

Harry's mouth dropped open, he was lost for words. Ron continued to snicker until finally Harry broke down and giggled as well.

Just then, their compartment door slid open again.

Draco Malfoy entered, flanked as if by bodyguards by two of the ugliest brutes Harry had ever seen - and he had been to Gringotts!

"So it's true then, you really are Harry Potter."

Harry raised his head in acknowledgement and humphed. He turned to Ron, "This is Draco Malfoy -" before he could finish the introductions, Ron gave a snort and tried to cover it with a cough.

"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 then they can afford."

Harry jumped up, enraged, "Now see here, missy! That was downright uncalled for. Ron shouldn't have laughed but you went too far! Now, if you can't be nice than you had better hustle your little behind back out again - and take your two great lumps of ugly with you!"

Draco reddened slightly at the reference to his friends, who, didn't seem to have picked up the insult. "I'd be careful Potter, you hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid and it'll rub off on you."

"I warned you back at Madam Malkin's, you rascal! One more word against my friends and I'd slap you silly!" Draco's guards growled and seemed to enlarge. Ron stood up next to Harry, and glared at the invading trio.

"My father says -" Draco began.

"With all the things your father says you'd think he would have told you that you can't make up for an ugly boyfriend by having two of them!" Harry found himself for the second time, waving his finger at Draco.

"They're not my boyfriends!" Draco spat back.

"All they do is grunt and growl, you're certainly not with them for the conversation!"

Draco reddened again.

"Now either call off your dogs and mind your manners - or get out!" Harry breathed finally, his hissy fit over.

The two brutes looked puzzled, and looked to Draco for instruction. Draco reddened even further at their show of stupidity. Finally, after seeming to weigh the pros and cons, he tilted his head toward the vacant seats and he and his henchmen sat down.

The five of them sat in awkward silence until Ron, choosing simply to ignore the new arrivals, turned to Harry and asked if he knew about Quidditch yet.

Draco's eyes widened in shock, "You don't know about Quidditch?!" and the two were off, competing for the floor, glaring constantly at each other, but not arguing, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games they'd been to and the broomsticks they had or wanted. The conversation went on and on, the two beastly boys nodded and grunted, laughed when Draco laughed but didn't seem to properly keep up with the discussion.

"Trust a Malfoy to follow the Wimborne Wasps - dirtiest team in the league!" Ron exclaimed.

"And who do you like Weasley? Let me guess, the Chudley Cannons - they haven't won a game in going on fifty years!" Draco snorted as Ron turned beat red, declaring the Cannons as his team.

Harry peered out of the window, it was getting dark and the train seemed to be slowing down a bit. The compartment door slid open again, and the boy with the lost toad came in again, this time with a bushy brown haired girl with rather large front teeth.

The boy - who introduced himself as Neville Longbottom - eyed the two large, now sleeping boys - who Draco had finally introduced as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle - and squashed himself into the small space between Ron's and Harry's seats. The girl remained standing as the round of introductions went on. The boys turned back to their endless talk of Quidditch before being interrupted by the bushy haired girl, Hermione Granger.

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on," she said. "I've just been up the front to ask the driver and he says we're nearly there." She turned to leave, then said to Ron in a sniffly voice, "You've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left.

"And that, Harry, is why we don't tell muggle borns how to get to the platform." Draco said with a snort. After a moment of shock, a laugh escaped Ron and even Harry and Neville burst into giggles.

"How can you tell she's muggle born?" Harry asked after a moment.

"It's like a bad smell," Draco started.

"Oh shut up," Ron interrupted. "There are just things that muggles do differently that are easy to spot sometimes."

"Like her teeth," said Neville, sheepishly. "If she had even one magic parent, they'd have fixed them ages ago."

"I think my mum might have been muggle born. My Aunt Petunia is a muggle."

"She was," Draco said, "But don't worry about that, the Potter line is almost as old as ours -" he stopped short when he saw Ron and Harry rolling their eyes at each other. "Fine," he said, defeated. He got up and kicked the sleeping forms of Crabbe and Goyle. "We have to put our school robes on."

Neville left a moment later as well, leaving Harry and Ron to change. Ron's robes were a bit short for him, you could see his trainers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train, announcing their arrival at Hogwarts and telling them to leave their belongings behind.

Once the train had stopped they pushed their way out into the night. Harry shivered in the cold night air and wiggled to keep warm. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, little dainty?"

Harry waved as Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

The first year students followed Hagrid down a steep narrow path, ooh'ing at the first glimpse of the magnificent castle that was Hogwarts and finally climbing in groups of four into a fleet of little boats that took them the rest of the way.

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door, announcing their arrival.