Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

"Why do I need to go to London to get on a train to come right back here?" I wonder.

"It will be a good opportunity for you to meet some of your classmates," Dumbledore says. "Also, it would perhaps be best if they did not realize you had just spent the summer at Hogwarts."

I nod. "Alright."

And so I wind up dragging my trunk through the Floo to get to London and dragging it several blocks to King's Cross station, just so I can get on a train to come back to where I started. My owl, Solomon, having been retrieved from the Hogwarts Owlery, is riding along on top of the trunk and making the occasional protesting sound. I decide not to dwell too much on how it seems counter-productive. I'll be having to deal with the other students for the next seven years, so it would be good to get the proper first impression.

Hauling along the trunk, I try to find Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Hmm, there's nine, and there's ten, with a brick barrier between them. Am I even in the right place? And I'm getting a number of odd looks from some of the people milling about the station. I find myself flushing in embarrassment, wondering what I've done wrong this time.

I overhear a nearby voice, saying, "... packed with Muggles, as always."

I glance over to see who said that, and see a family of redheads passing behind me. There's a middle-aged woman with four boys and a girl, all of them with fire-colored orange hair. The boys are all pushing trunks like mine, and one of them even has an owl.

"Excuse me," I say, approaching them. "Are you guys going to Hogwarts, too?"

"Hello, dear," the mother says. "Is it your first year? Ron will be new this year, too."

I give the group of them a look over. The youngest boy, Ron, seems to be around my age. There's a pair of twins who appear to be a couple years older than us, and another boy who is a couple years older than them. The girl, on the other hand, might be a year or two younger.

"My name is Harry Potter," I say, bowing to them in greeting. "Who might you all be?"

"Harry Potter?" the family exclaims in chorus.

I laugh softly and show them my scar. "No, I'm Harry Potter. You can't all be Harry Potter too! I've got this role claimed!"

The twins laugh, and one of them says, "I like this one, Mum."

"Can we keep him?" says the other twin.

Their mother ignores them, and smiles at me. "I'm Molly Weasley, and these are my sons, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and my daughter, Ginny." She gestures to each of them in turn, and they all give a smile and a friendly wave. "It's good to meet you, young man."

"The pleasure is mine, I assure you," I say graciously. "Could you help me, perhaps? I'm afraid they didn't tell me how to get to the platform, and everyone around here has been looking at me funny. I was afraid I'd gone to the wrong place!"

"Oh!" Molly Weasley says. "That's probably because you're wearing a robe. They're all Muggles around here, you know."

"Oh..." I say kind of dumbly. "Oops, didn't even notice." Or remember that Muggles aren't used to seeing people in robes running around. "Well, all things considered, I suppose I'm lucky I didn't accidentally come naked."

Ron and the twins laugh a bit at that, and Ginny can't help but crack a grin.

"Anyway, to get onto the platform, you just need to walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten," Molly goes on. "And it's important not to be afraid that you'll run into it."

"Ah, I see, if you think it'll stop you, it'll stop you," I say.

"Here, Percy, be a dear and go on through and show him," Molly says.

"Alright, Mum," Percy says. He wheels his cart around and heads straight for the barrier. Then, suddenly, he's not there anymore.

"I see," I say. "Shall I go next?"

"Go ahead, dear," Molly says. "It helps to take it at a run if you're nervous about it."

"I'm good," I say. "Just a little annoyed that somebody forgot to mention that bit to me." I grin and head for the barrier myself.

I can just imagine someone who didn't grow up around magic might have some trouble with something like this. I find it a little hard to comprehend, and I can understand Draco's unease with regards to Muggle-borns. On Lezaria, even people who don't have magic know full well that it exists. But then, Lezaria apparently also has an unusually high level of magic, and most of the people there are what these people might call Squibs.

I pass through the barrier without missing a beat. On the other side, a bright red train waits next to the platform. Students and their families are crowded around the place. Children are climbing aboard the train one by one, poking their heads out of windows, or talking to their families as they wait for their turn. Behind me, the Weasleys come through the barrier one at a time.

"You need a hand with your trunk?" one of the twins says.

"Nah, I'm good," I say. I load my trunk onto the train. It doesn't really seem very heavy. It's been two months, but I'm still used to Lezaria's gravity. I can just imagine when I get used to this place, it'll be difficult to adjust to being back on Lezaria again. Oh well, I can deal with that when the time comes.

I climb aboard the train and look around for a seat. The place is pretty full already, but I manage to find an empty compartment. I'm half-tempted to just bring out a book and spend the trip reading, but if I were going to do that, I might as well have just stayed at Hogwarts.

"Hey," says a boy poking his head into the compartment. It's the youngest of the Weasley brothers, Ron. "Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is taken."

"Come on in," I say, smiling at him. "Ron Weasley, right?"

"You actually remembered my name?" Ron says.

"What, I just met you five minutes ago," I say. "It usually takes me at least ten minutes to forget someone's name!"

Ron laughs lightly. "It's just... you're really Harry Potter! You've got the scar and everything! Do you... do you remember anything about it?"

"Not really, no," I reply honestly. "I was only a baby, after all." I have to think how much it would have sucked if Harry had my ability. At a year old, he wouldn't have been able to do anything to avoid his immanent death. I have to grimace just thinking about it.

Ron misinterprets my expression. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's alright," I assure him. "Don't worry about it."

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," Ron says. "But you've got an American accent. Were you raised by Muggles there?"

"The Muggles bit was just a cover story," I explain. "I've never actually lived with Muggles. I was sent to the States and taken in by a wizarding family there, and went by a false name. I know they weren't the ones who birthed me, but it's hard to think of anyone else as my real family."

"Oh, I see," Ron says. "What were they like?"

"Pureblood, a little crazy -- excuse me, I should say 'eccentric'," I say, chuckling. "Just don't get them started on family or they'll bring out a family tree and start babbling about how amazing their fifth great-uncle was. They pretty much kept to themselves, though. Lived out on an estate near a tiny Muggle village, nothing but farms for miles in every direction."

"They remind me a lot of my own family," Ron says.

They might all be dead at the moment, for all I know. But it's easier to think of them as if they're still alive. I don't know what happened to them, so I've resolved not to worry about it. And I'm a damned time traveler. I don't know how I'll get back that far again, but I'm certain that sooner or later, I'll figure something out.

"My adoptive mother, Anara, is quite the fierce woman, though a bit obsessive with work sometimes," I go on. "My aunt, Thelsa, is great with plants. My grandmother, Keli, travels a lot. And my great-grandmother, Hawthorne... hoo boy. Best duelist I've ever seen, and she's got a thing for swords. She must be about ninety, and she can swing around a greatsword like nobody's business."

"Wow," Ron says.

I go on, "I've got two cousins, Helga and Hilda, twins, who are about the same age as your sister. They were like sisters to me, growing up. I kind of wish they could join us at Hogwarts next year, but I don't think it's going to happen. So what's your family like? They seem pretty great from what little I've seen of them."

"Well, my mum used to be a champion duelist when she was younger," Ron says. "My dad works for the Ministry of Magic. My oldest brother, Bill, works for Gringotts as a curse-breaker. The next oldest is Charlie, who went off to study dragons in Romania. Percy's a prefect, takes himself a bit too seriously at times. The twins, Fred and George, are big pranksters. And Ginny, well, she's a little sister, what can I say?"

"It must be nice to have brothers," I say.

"Eh, not really," Ron says, shrugging. "You've got a lot to live up to, and you never get anything new. I got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat." Ron pulls out a fat, sleeping gray rat from his robes. "This is Scabbers. He's completely useless. Sleeps all the time."

"Well, I hope he doesn't get eaten by all the owls," I say.

Ron's face goes a little pale at that thought. "I sure hope not."

A woman pushing a cart full of candy comes by. "Would you like anything, dears?"

It's been a while since breakfast, and a lot of what she has looks tasty, so I buy several sickles worth of treats. I haven't actually had a chance to try a lot of this stuff before.

"You must be hungry," Ron observes.

"Just a little," I say, munching on a Cauldron Cake.

"I just have sandwiches..." Ron says a little glumly.

"What kind?" I ask.

"Corned beef," Ron says, making a face. "I hate corned beef. Mum always forgets that, though. She doesn't have much time, you know, with all of us."

I wonder what this 'corned beef' tastes like. "I forgot to pack a real lunch, myself. I'll trade you for some of this."

"Oh, you don't want this, it's awfully dry and all," Ron says.

"Sure I do," I assure him. "I'm sure it tastes like love! Please?"

Ron looks at me strangely. "You're weird, you know that? Alright, alright, if you want them that much, you can have them."

I swap some of my treats from Ron's sandwiches, and take a bite of one. "Mmm. Your mom's a great cook. These are delicious. Thanks."

Ron grins and takes a big bite of a Pumpkin Pasty. "I'll be sure to tell her you said so."

I did keep some of the sweets for myself, one of each kind at least. "They didn't have a lot of this stuff where I grew up, either," I say. I finish the sandwich and open up a Chocolate Frog. It startles me and almost hops away.

"They've got cards in them that you can collect," Ron says. "I have about five hundred of them, but I'm still missing Agrippa and Ptolemy."

I pull out the card that came with the frog and say brightly, "I got Dumbledore!"

"I got Morgana again," Ron says. "I've got about six of her. Do you want it? You can start your own collection."

"Sure, why not?" I say. Next I turn to the bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Or I suppose I should say 'Flavour'. What's the extra 'u' for, I wonder? They sure spell things funny in this world sometimes.

"Be careful with those," Ron advises. "They really do mean every flavor. You might get good ones like lemon, cherry, or mint, or you might wind up with stuff like onions, or broccoli, or vomit."

"Weird," I say. Frowning a little, I pick one out and toss it in my mouth. "Ugh. I think that one was dung. You can have these. I'm not feeling adventurous enough for this."

"Rotten luck," Ron says, accepting the bag of flavored beans from me.

I eat through another of Mrs. Weasley's sandwiches. A boy pokes his head into our compartment and asks, "Have either of you seen my toad? I've lost him and I can't find him anywhere!"

"Haven't seen any toads," I say. "I hope he didn't get eaten by an owl."

The boy's eyes widen a little, and he says, "I sure hope not! Let me know if you see him." He hurries along.

"What's it with you and wondering if people's pets will get eaten by owls?" Ron says.

"Maybe the owls are trained well enough to recognize what prey is off limits," I say, shrugging.

"Well, I don't think I'd be too upset if something happened to Scabbers," Ron says. "The way he sleeps, he might die and you'd never notice. I tried to turn him yellow yesterday, to try to make him a little more interesting, but the spell didn't even do anything. I'll show you."

He pulls out an old, battered wand that looks like it has seen its better days. Before he can show me the spell he means, however, a girl with bushy brown hair appears at the door to the compartment.

"Have you seen a toad?" she asks. "Neville's lost his."

"I think he was the one who just came by," I say. "I told him we haven't seen one."

"Oh, are you going to cast a spell?" she says, coming in to sit across from Ron. "Let me see."

"Well, alright," Ron says awkwardly. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." He waves his wand over Scabbers, but nothing happens.

"I don't think that's a real spell," the girl says.

"I think whoever taught you that 'spell' was pulling your leg," I point out.

"Aw, man," Ron says, making a face. "I should've known the twins would try to put one over on me."

"I've tried out a few simple spells so far, and they worked for me just fine," she says. "It was such a surprise when I got my letter, since I'm the first in my family to have magic. I'm afraid I might be behind those students who have grown up around magic, so I read through all our course books and a few extras as well. My name is Hermione Granger, by the way."

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron says.

"Harry Potter," I say, bowing a little in my seat. "Pleased to meet you."

"Are you really?" Hermione says.

"I'm pretty sure," I say with a crooked grin, showing her my scar. "At least, that's what they tell me. I mean, maybe the whole country's playing a huge joke on me, for all I know!"

"Why would they joke about something like that?" Hermione says.

"Well, you see, I grew up in secret with a different name, was adopted by another family and everything," I say. "I've been Lexen all my life. It's weird to think of myself as Harry now. But they said it was to protect me, so I guess I'll take their word for it."

"You grew up without even knowing who you were?" Hermione says.

"Hey, I know perfectly well who I am," I reply with a grin. "I'm me. And that's all that's really important, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Hermione says. "Do either of you know what house you might be in? I hope I'll be in Gryffindor. That sounds like the best of them, for sure."

"I wouldn't go so far as to think any of them are any 'better' or 'worse' than any others," I say. "They're just different."

"Even Slytherin?" Ron says. "I imagine that would be horrible. That's the house You-Know-Who used to be in, after all!"

"I won't judge them," I say. "What if I wound up in Slytherin? I'm pretty ambitious too, you know."

"Well, er," Ron says awkwardly. "But you're not a bad sort, I don't think."

"I imagine there are plenty of Slytherins who aren't bad sorts," I say. "It's just the few of them that are who get the attention."

As if on cue, three boys enter the compartment. I recognize the middle one from the tailor in Diagon Alley. Draco Malfoy. The other two are heavyset and fierce-looking, and they seem to give the impression that they're guarding Draco.

"Ah, hi, Draco," I say cordially. "Want to come sit with us? We've got some candy left, too."

"You know him?" Ron says. "But he's a Malfoy..."

"And you must be a Weasley," Draco says. "My father told me all about them. Red hair and more children than they can afford."

"Funny, they didn't seem to be starving or naked to me," I say. "And they're sending all their children to Hogwarts. That doesn't really strike me as particularly poor."

"Well, they're also Muggle-lovers..." Draco goes on.

"That sounds a little strange, but hardly reason for hostility," I say. "I mean, come on. Have you two even met each other before? Are you going to hate people right off the bat just because your parents tell you to?"

Draco and Ron look at me in unison and say, "Yes."

I put my face in my palms. "Why can't we all just be friends?" I wonder aloud.

Draco snorts softly. "And who's this other new friend of yours?" he asks, looking over to Hermione.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she says.

"Granger?" Draco repeats. "I've never heard of any wizard named Granger before."

"No one in my family has had magic before," Hermione replies.

"So you're a Mudblood then," Draco says.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asks.

"He means that he thinks his family is better than yours, Hermione," I tell her. "As if there's only one way to judge a person. Draco, if you can't be nice, would you please leave? My friends have done nothing to you to deserve this."

Draco is quiet for a few moments, and then says, "Fine. I didn't want to hang around with this lot, anyway." He and his companions leave the compartment again.

"Sorry about that, Hermione," I say. "Would you like some Chocolate Frogs?" I offer her some candy.

"Oh, thanks, but I really shouldn't," Hermione says. "My parents are dentists, you see, and they say that too much sugar is bad for your teeth..."

I give her an odd look. "I've never heard of anything like that. And it sounds awfully dull to me. Well, I've still got one of these corned beef sandwiches left if you like. Ron's mom made them, and they're delicious."

"Oh, that sounds good," Hermione says, accepting the sandwich from me and taking a bite. "Thank you."

"Does everybody like those except me?" Ron says.

"You don't like your mum's food?" Hermione says.

"No, I just don't like corned beef," Ron replies. "But she always gives it to me anyway."

"Why don't you just tell her that, then?" Hermione asks.

"She never remembers," Ron says dejectedly. "Harry, how do you know Malfoy?"

"I met him at Diagon Alley when I went shopping for school supplies," I reply. "And you don't need to warn me about his family. I've heard it all already."

"Then why were you so friendly to him?" Ron wonders.

"Children are not their parents," I say. "I'd rather make my own judgments. Although, he's not really doing much to endear me to him so far." I roll my eyes. "He's just a bit of a brat, not an evil dark wizard, though."

"I suppose," Ron says reluctantly. "I still don't like him, though."

The train rolls on, and we soon arrive at Hogsmeade Station. Hermione had to leave our compartment so that we could get changed into our school robes. I like my regular blue-gray ones better. Wearing black just makes me feel like a walking evil cliche.

The students all stream out of the train, and the first years are separated from the lot and directed to the lakeshore, where a number of boats are waiting to take us across. Many of the students get their first real look at Hogwarts, and react suitably impressed at the sight.

I share a boat with Ron, Hermione, and Neville on the way across. We arrive at the far side in silence, and are brought up into the castle. There we're directed to wait for the Sorting Ceremony to begin.

"Fred said we're going to need to do some sort of test to be sorted into our houses," Ron says. "He said it'll hurt a lot. I hope he was joking."

"I think you shouldn't listen to anything your prankster brothers tell you," I say with a smirk.

"I reckon you might have a point there," Ron admits. "Especially considering he was hinting about wrestling a troll."

"And you still listen to him?" I say. "I mean, come on, we're eleven! And we haven't even had any classes yet! What would they seriously expect us to do against a troll? Use harsh language?"

"I don't know," Ron says.

We're finally brought into the Great Hall. It's a massive, cavernous room, lit by many candles floating overhead. Hermione, behind me, is muttering something about Hogwarts, a History. I really ought to find the time to read through that sometime.

At the front of the room, an old, battered hat is sitting on top of a stool. I remember seeing this hat in Dumbledore's office. Is this what is used for the Sorting, then? I have to blink a little when the hat starts singing, of all things. Whatever I might have expected, this isn't it.

Once the hat is done singing, Professor McGonagall begins to call our names one by one to come up to the front and try on the hat. I stand back, watching quietly as each student comes forward and gets directed to one of the four tables. I make an effort to try to match a name and house to each of their faces, but I think I'm going to wind up forgetting most of them.

Hermione and Neville get Gryffindor, and Draco gets put into Slytherin, predictably. Then, McGonagall calls for "Potter, Harry!"

There's a buzz of talk around the room as I walk forward to try on the hat. "Well, hello, Lexen," says a voice inside my head. "Yes, I've been sitting in the Headmaster's office. I've heard everything. Now, let's see, where to put you..."

"I honestly have no idea," I think back at the hat. "I think I'd like to try them all..."

There's a soft chuckling sound in my mind. "You'd do well in any of the houses, I think. You're courageous, intelligent, hard-working, and ambitious, yes, you have all of those in spades, in fact. You're a difficult one to place."

"I'll be happy with any of them," I think. "Where do you think would be best for me?"

"Hmm... I think it's your courage that stands out the most," the hat tells me.

"Is it really courage when I know I can't really die?" I comment.

The hat chuckles again. "Perhaps, perhaps not. And do you really believe that Sardill could not find a way to kill you if he so wished to?"

"Ugh, don't mention Sardill..." I think, feeling a little ill at its words.

"You set yourself unflinchingly against impossible odds, all for the sake of helping others," the hat says. "You could go anywhere and do anything, and yet this is what you choose to do. I'm going to have to say GRYFFINDOR!"

This last word is shouted aloud to the rest of the room. There's uproarous applause from the Gryffindor table. I go over to take a seat next to Hermione. Ron joins us shortly as well. Once everyone is sorted and seated at their tables, Professor Dumbledore stands up, beaming at us with open arms.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore says. "I'm glad to see you all here today. I'd like to say a few words: Kumquat! Scuttlebutt! Doofus! Duck!"

I have to laugh aloud at his choice of words, and call, "Hear, hear!"

Piles upon piles of food appear on the table, and the feast begins. I feel like just digging in and stuffing myself today. I absently listen to the conversation at the table as I eat. Stories about how Seamus's father didn't know his mother was a witch until they were married, or about how Neville's family were worried that he might not be magical.

I'd thought at first that the strangest thing about this world was the use of wands and incantations to do magic, but now I've changed my mind. The strangest thing is definitely the separation between the magical and Muggle worlds. The use of foci and arcane words is just a little odd, but the complete division of magical and non-magical people is utterly baffling to me. They must go to great effort to make sure that no one finds out about magic. I can't even imagine how they manage to keep it contained like this.

Once the feast is over, Dumbledore stands up again to give some announcements. A note about the Forbidden Forest being forbidden, which sounds pretty redundant to me. Quidditch tryouts that I'm not really interested in. A reminder about not using magic in the corridors between classes, which I don't think anyone will pay attention to anyway. And a warning that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is to be avoided by anyone who doesn't want to die horribly.

"Something special on the third floor?" I wonder, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," says Percy Weasley. "He usually gives a reason for things like that. But he didn't even tell us prefects about it."

We're directed to bed now, as it's getting late. I follow the way to the Gryffindor tower. This entrance is hidden by a portrait requesting a password, with a round hole to climb in. I go in with the others and look around my new common room. I think I like this one better than the Slytherin one. It's more brightly lit, for one thing. This one's primarily decorated in red, and seems very comfortable.

I don't hang around the place too much at the moment, however. It's late, and it's been a busy day. Percy is directing the first years to their dormitories, and I head up to mine. Our trunks have already been brought in and placed in our dorms.

I'm apparently sharing a room with Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean. I've never shared a room before in my life, and it makes me feel a little uncomfortable. But at least our big, four-poster beds have curtains that I can close.