How We Survive

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How We Survive:

Chapter Four

"If you fail me again...."

"I won't master!"

"I'll be forced to supervise you more closely. Come now, Quirrel. We've found enough information here. My old books had all the information we'll need."

"Yes master."

The man got up and walked from the room, for indeed, there was only one person there. Harry followed, undetected. He had several reasons for doing so. To start with, he was curious. He wanted to learn more, especially about magic, or whatever it was he'd been using for the past few years. He didn't trust this person, these people, as far as he could throw them, which was not at all, and didn't think it was a good idea to let him, them, get out of his sight before he'd learned more. But first and foremost, he, or they, whichever it was, had mentioned his name, and obviously was up to something. Harry, for one, wanted to find out what.

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"How should we travel to Hogwarts, my Lord?"

"Aparate to Hogsmeade."

"My Lord?"

"How did you think we'd get there, fool? The Hogwarts Express?"

"Nnnno m-milord. It doesn't leave Kings Cross until s-September first. The barrier to Platform nine and three quarters w-will be closed until then. We need t-to get the j-job first."

"And Hogsmeade is the nearest apparation point. Quit wasting my time!"

"Yes m-my Lord."

A loud crack filled the air, and in a moment, they were gone. Harry stared at the empty spot where the man had stood only moments before. How distastefully unsubtle. Harry always traveled without the irritating sound effects. He couldn't follow him, them, whichever it was, at the moment, but he knew plainly enough where he could go to find them. He didn't have a ticket on the "Hogwarts Express," but he could sneak on easily enough, if he could manage to get to Kings Cross.

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The first thing he needed to do was cover his tracks, in other words insure he wouldn't be missed at the pub if he was gone for a lengthy duration of time, which he suspected he would be, and secure transportation to Kings Cross Station. Little Hangleton was, frankly, too small to be connected to the railway system, and it was a fair distance to London. He could try and travel by bus routes, but that would cost money, and he wasn't sure how long he'd be gone; he might need it for emergencies. He didn't know what times all the buses he would need would leave, or how long it would take to get from place to place, which was problematic, and would run the risk of not being able to find somewhere safe to spend the night. His best bet was probably to play off the townspeople's affection and sympathy for him, and so the next day, upon entering the pub, he brought up the issue.

"I might be leaving in little while. Leaving Little Hangleton I mean."

"What?"

"Where? Why?"

"We almost have enough for me to go to a proper school now. We've been saving for years. If only...."

"Sounds great kid, what's the problem?"

"I need to figure out a way to get to London by eleven on September the first if I'm to go. We don't own a car, and public transportation costs money. It's a long ways to travel."

"No problem, kid." It was one of the younger waitresses, who had just come by to collect dishes, who spoke up, "Dad was planning to take me to London sometime next fall, as I need to be looking around at universities. No reason we couldn't go then, and give you a ride."

"Thanks Kait." he gave an innocent, thankful grin in her direction.

One of the customers spoke up gruffly, "Be sure to come back on holidays and visit us all, mind."

"Of course."

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London is, to say the least, a rather interesting city. Whether you're looking for shops, youth hostels, museums, interesting architecture, or the sites of various horror stories, it is a city with something to offer. An interesting mix of modern buildings and old stone ones, many of which now have modern metal roofs, it displays one of the distinct qualities of England- its history. While many of those who have lived around ancient castles and cathedrals all their lives are used to them, visitors are often seen staring at them in amazement (recognizable, of course, by things such as clothes displaying names of places in Britain, cameras, and obvious lack of British accents). Harry wandered through London, looking for signs, and occasionally asking for directions until he found Kings Cross.

He had a disguise of sorts, as he deemed it less than wise to be invisible in a crowded station. His hair was shoulder length now, so that wasn't a problem, as it was much longer than it had been at his relatives or at the orphanage. He wore an old pair of sunglasses and had a bandana tied around his forehead, both items which he'd nicked from houses a few miles from Little Hangleton. As his eyes and his scar were, he figured, his most noticeable features, he thought it was best to keep them covered. It was best, in Harry's experience, to be noticed as little as possible.

The train station itself was bustling with people preparing to board trains to various places. Harry had arrived by 10:15, and as he wasn't entirely sure where to go next, he spent his first few minutes glancing around. The ceiling was high, and arch-shaped. Set of train tracks could be seen, with people hurrying to get on board, and in some cases get their luggage to the baggage car. Each platform was clearly marked, and an electronic sign read, 'Welcome to Kings Cross.' A set of stairs near by lead down, away from the trains, to the subway. He followed a sign on the wall, which read, 'Platforms 9-11,' finally reaching Platforms nine and ten. Then he stood to the side, eyes scanning over the crowd, listening alertly in search of something that might give him a further clue as to what to do next.

It was a red headed family that finally caught Harry's attention. They used odd vocabulary (such as 'Muggles,' whatever that meant), and one of the older children had a owl. After watching them disappear through the barrier between nine and ten, he switched to invisibility and followed.

Walking through something that looks solid is decidedly odd. It felt, in a way, like an acknowledgement that nothing would ever be normal in his life. On the other side, a scarlet steam engine could be seen by a Platform that was, unfortunately, packed with people. He dodged through the crowd as carefully as possible, and slipped into the last empty compartment on the train to sit down, invisible. He decided against moving far into the corner. He need to be able to move if necessary.

Glancing out the window, he could see the red-headed family. It was rather unsurprising that he had noticed them, they were a rather conspicuous bunch. Oddly enough, it was mostly children boarding. It seemed rather ironic, almost as if this Hogwarts place was actually a school, as he'd told those he did associate with in Little Hangleton. Hell, with his luck it probably was a school. He took a moment to tune into what they were saying in hopes that he might learn something useful.

"Can't stay long Mother. I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves-"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once-"

"Or twice-"

"A minute-"

"All summer-"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" asked one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term- send me an owl when you get there."

Well, it was definitely a school then. A boarding school, by the sound of it. Send an owl, however? That and the fact they'd had to walk through a wall to get here indicated that it was almost assuredly not an ordinary boarding school.

"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. Any look after Ron."

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

"Shut up," said Ron again.

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. Their younger sister began to cry.

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

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mum."

The train began to move, starting its journey to take Harry to the school, Hogwarts, where ever that was. A school where Quirrel was in some sort of plot with a voice in his head over the theft of a rock, which despite sounding like pure lunacy, it was important to some extent at least, because he knew something of Harry. I short, a train was taking him on some crazy wild goose chase over something he'd heard, but he couldn't have stayed at the manor without finding out, as they'd gone in there before, and strangely, despite the craziness, he didn't regret being here. The red-headed boys' mother and sister were running beside the train, half laughing, half crying, until the train gathered speed. Moments later the platform was out of sight.

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The compartment door slid open and the youngest of the red-headed boys, Ron, came in and sat down. Harry watched him for a little while, before, dozing off. It was best to get some rest now, while he had a chance, and there isn't much you can do when you're invisible without giving away your presence. The train ride passed, for the most part, without event. He was awakened briefly on several occasions. The first time was when a snack trolley was brought through, carrying an assortment of unfamiliar quantities: Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Ron stayed in the compartment, and got out a lumpy package which turned out to contain four sandwiches. Harry couldn't help wishing that he could get something off the trolley, or at least get some food out from his bag. Unfortunately, he didn't think any amount of pounds would help him, and he couldn't get food from the trolley or from his knapsack without extreme risk of detection. Unzipping the bag, or opening the compartment door to reach the trolley were hardly subtle moves.

The next time he awoke it was to a knock on the compartment door, just before it slid open. A round faced boy came in, looking rather tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When Ron shook his head, he wailed. "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Well, if you see him..." he trailed off miserably.

He left.

Several minutes later, he was back, this time accompanied by a girl.

"Anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

She was wearing long black robes. Odd... but then again, so had been every other event recently, so Harry wasn't bothered, just curious. He paused his pondering to tune in on what she was saying.

"...Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard- I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it be enough- I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Harry, of course, while finding it all rather surprising, not to mention extraordinary to believe, thought it explained a lot. 'Very best school of witchcraft,' was certainly explanatory when it came to all the odd happenings on his way here, and, in a way, it explained something about all the seemingly impossible skills Harry had come to rely on for the past few years.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

There was another awkward silence.

"You'd had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

Several minutes later, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Ron got up and went out to join the crowd thronging the corridor, and Harry followed, invisible, bringing his knapsack with him. It wouldn't do to leave any evidence of his presence.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. Upon exiting the train Harry found himself out on a tiny, dark platform. It was night, and the air was slightly chilly. Moments later a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and voice could be heard calling out: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

It was a giant of a man, face almost hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair, and a wild tangled beard. You could make out his eyes, however, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

"C'mon, follow me- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Harry made a hasty decision not to go with the first years. He was trying to find information on Quirrel, not an introduction for attending school.

He followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Harry could only assume, by an invisible horse, because once he'd boarded one of the less crowed ones and the door had been shut, the coach started off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.

The carriage was headed towards a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars. After passing the gates, the carriage picked up speed for a long, sloping drive. Harry could see it now; perched atop a high mountain, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers, a castle that Harry knew, without a doubt, must be Hogwarts.

At last, the carriage swayed to a halt. Harry waited for the other students to get out, so as not to be noticed, then followed them, out, down on to the path, and up the stone steps to the castle.

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While Harry had followed the rest of the school to the carriages, the first years were trudging a different path, down towards the boats, led by Hagrid, they were fairly quiet, for a little while at least.

"He seems glum," muttered Ron, glancing at the gamekeeper.

"Of course he is, all the staff probably are. Don't you know anything?" exclaimed Hermione, quietly enough not to be heard by Hagrid.

"Why don't you enlighten us then, if you know so much," Ron retorted, obviously annoyed.

"This is the year Harry Potter was supposed to have come to Hogwarts."

"And we should care, why?" sneered a blond boy near by.

"Because its Harry Potter," Ron glared back, "Just who do you think you are, anyway?"

"Draco Malfoy." Ron snorted. "No need to ask who you are. Father told me all Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children then they can afford.

"And I don't see why you bother. All it took to kill the pathetic brat was a house fire."

The group continued in silence. After Hagrid had to stop and separate the two, that is.

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The red-headed twins were in a small corridor, near the entrance hall, bent over what appeared to be a bunch of prank supplies, and a map.

"... have to do something different this year."

"Wait, someone's coming."

"Look at the name, brother dear. I think we may have found a solution."

"Blimey, isn't he dead?"

"Apparently not..."

"Show yourself, Potter, we know you're there."

Harry chose to comply. They were pranksters, after all, and likely wouldn't be too hard to deal with. He sat down beside the twins, and glanced at the map. It appeared to be a map of Hogwarts, complete with all the people within it, and what seemed to be secret passages.

"So," one of twins spoke up, "will you help us with a prank?"

"If I so decide, you owe me help in the future, should I need it. Within reason, of course."

"Quite."

"Agreed. So here's the plan."

"At some point during the feast, we'll set off fireworks."

"When we do, you make yourself visible so that you're there when the smoke clears."

Harry looked at them questioningly, eyebrows raised.

"And this is a decent prank, why?"

"We'll say a few things to set it up..."

"...And it'll be shocking!"

"You do know everyone thinks your dead, right?"

There was a brief pause.

"No, I didn't, actually," Harry answered, smirking slightly.

"Oh, alright then-"

"-We'll fill you in later."

"But at any rate-"

"They're likely to think-"

"-for a moment at least-"

"That you're a ghost. There are ghosts here by the way."

"I see. Two things to consider, then; Do you actually plan on trying to make me look like a ghost to further the effect, and what am I supposed to do once I've let it be discovered that I'm here?"

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