Oliver Hatt sat in the train currently waiting at platform nine and three-quarters. He had brown hair and brown eyes, and was already dressed in black school robes. He took his eyes off of the book in his lap, and looked out the window, anticipating the journey to the train's final destination: Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

The compartment door slid open. 

"Excuse me? Do you mind if I sit here?" A soft voice spoke, causing Oliver to turn his head.

"Sure, go ahead, mate." 

"Thanks."

The owner of the voice, a dark-haired boy wearing a pair of round glasses which were much too big for him, walked into the compartment and sat across from Oliver, next to the window. 

Oliver returned to the book in his lap, Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling. 

"Um, what's your name?" Asked the dark-haired boy.

"Oliver. Oliver Hatt."

"I'm Harry."

Oliver paused for a moment, and looked up at Harry. 

"Ah, I see," said Oliver, before returning to his reading. Harry was taken aback. 

'How lucky I am. Harry flipping Potter in my compartment. I'd rather stay away from all of the chaos that will happened this year,' thought Oliver.

Harry looked out the window, to see a redheaded family standing on the platform, getting ready to say goodbye to each other.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose," said the mother.

"Mom -- geroff," said the boy whose nose the woman was rubbing.

Oliver's eyes came out from his book to peak at his distracted acquaintance, confirming the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead. 

'So we are in cannon. Thank god.'

After a few minutes of silence, the door slide open again. One of the redheads from outside the window stood outside the compartment, whose name Harry remembered was Ron.

"Hey, is this seat taken?" He said, pointing to the spot to the left of Oliver, who didn't respond.

"No," said Harry, timidly.

Hearing this, Ron walked through the entrance and sat down. 

'Great. I'm stuck with this idiot for the rest of the ride. Another member of the trio, just my luck. I guess I'm probably in their compartment in the original story.'

Two red-head twins poked their heads from out the corner of the compartment door.

"Hey Ron," one of them said, "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train -- Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"What's your name?" The other twin asked, looking at Oliver, who was absorbed in his book. 

"Oliver Hatt." He replied, not moving his gaze.

"Right. Well, Oliver and Harry, our names are Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. 

The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron finally asked. 

Harry nodded.

Oliver stuck earplugs in his ears in attempt to blot out the conversation. Though he had an eleven year old brain, his 19 years of experience living in his previous world saw him unwilling to engage in conversation with other children. Instead, he was fascinated by magic.

At the same time, however, he hated the vague descriptions that his books contained regarding the laws of magic. In the muggle world, there were exact mathematical formulas. The magical world, on the other hand, was a bit less... scientific. Understandable, yet annoying.

The First Law of the Fundamental Laws of Magic in the book he was currently reading was a good example. It essentially said that the further one went in meddling with the deepest, most ingrained laws of magic, the more drastic the consequences will be. 

To Oliver, there absolutely must be more to explore in that area, and it astounded him that the First Law as described by Waffling was as imprecise as it was. How could more magical scholars not have delved deeper into experiments to quantify and understand more specifically this law?

To be fair, he knew that the First Law was probably somewhat true when observing the plot of Harry Potter. Creating a Horcrux, which involves the splitting of one's own soul through a ritual involving the murder of an innocent, causes one to be stuck in limbo after death, unable to move on or return as a ghost. This could be an example of the First Law, although the process of becoming a ghost is unclear.

Rather, it is probable that becoming a ghost is impossible as they are only an "imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth," if Oliver remembered correctly from what Snape said about ghosts in The Half-Blood Prince (the sixth book in the Harry Potter series). 

Ron tapped Oliver on the shoulder, interrupting his musing.

"The cart is here, Oliver," said Ron, after Oliver had taken out one of his earplugs.

"Would you like anything, dear?" Asked a lady stood next to a cart full of sweets.

"No, thank you," Oliver responded.

After the lady left, Oliver put the earplug back in, and his eyes went back into the book which he wasn't actually reading.

Instead, he was back to thinking about the intricacies of magic. 

Perhaps it isn't that nobody has bothered to look deeper into the rules of magic, but that their research has been purposefully hidden. After all, the Ministry of Magic regulates the contents of the Hogwarts Textbooks pretty hard throughout the series. And, the have the whole Unspeakables department.

Oliver shuddered, remembering the floating brains which must have been their work.

Or maybe, it is that witches and wizards simply fear the consequences of even trying to set up an experiment which breaks a law of magic due to the influence of propaganda or common sense.

Along that vein of thought, Oliver considered that maybe the laws of magic as described by his textbook are using the word law differently than the laws of muggle science do. Perhaps, instead of being a rule of reality that is always upheld, the laws of magic are more akin to governmental laws that are enforced by magic itself. 

So considering the first Principle Exception to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration (that describes the fundamental laws of Transfiguration), which states that food cannot be created out of nothing, perhaps what determines what is and isn't food is magic itself, and the consequences of creating a Horcrux are also decided by magic.

Oliver sighed, and looked out the window of the train. Although magic was an extremely interesting subject, it was equally frustrating to him because of just how confusing it was to the human brain.

He looked to his left, away from the window, and noticed a certain bushy-haired girl sitting next to Harry. 'When did she get there?' he thought.

He took out his earplugs and put them inside the bag underneath his seat. 

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then," the girl was saying.

"Er -- alright," said Ron.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow," chanted Ron, as he waved his wand at a sleeping rat. Nothing happened.

'When did Scabbers get here? Oh god. He's actually Pettigrew. How revolting.'

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Questioned the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried practicing a few spells and they've all worked for me. Everyone in my family is muggle, so it was a surprise when I got my letter from Hogwarts, but I was ever so pleased, of course, since it's the best school of magic in the world, so I've memorized all the textbooks by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough -- I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you guys?"

'She sure does talk a lot.'

"I'm Ron," said Ron.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" asked Hermione.

'Thank goodness they are getting sidetracked, so I don't have to introduce myself.'

Oliver went back to tuning out the conversation around him and looked out through the window again. 

Eventually, Oliver was disturbed from his solitude, when a gang of three boys opened up the compartment door.

"Is it true?" the one in the middle said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you is it?" 

"Yes," said Harry.

"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," said the middle boy, gesturing to the two others standing next to him. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron coughed, a half-hearted attempt to hide a snigger. Draco looked at him.

'Ah, to get to see the famous Weasley-Malfoy feud in person. What a privilege.'

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are," said Draco, "since my father told me that all Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more offspring than they can afford."

Draco turned to Harry. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are superior to others, potter. I can help with that." Draco then saw Oliver in the other corner of the compartment. "And who are you, there?"

"Oliver."

"... what is your last name?" Draco asked.

"Hatt. I'm Oliver Hatt."

"So you're a muggle-born, are you?" Draco began, before Oliver interrupted him.

"How would I know, I'm from an orphanage. Never knew my parents. The matron gave me my first and last names."

Draco looked taken aback. 

'I guess Draco really is just pretending to be mean-- he has a good heart, after all.'

"Oh." He turned back to Harry. "Well, anyways, as I was saying, Potter, I can help you with knowing which families are better than others in the wizarding world." 

'Never mind.'

Draco held his hand out to Harry.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are myself, thanks," said Harry.

'Ouch!'

Embarrassed, Draco responded, "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a little politer you'll die the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around riffraff like the Weasleys and Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up.

"Say that again," said Ron, getting up close and personal.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" said Malfoy, smirking, his hands folded across his chest.

At this point, Oliver decided to get involved.

"Oy, stop that, people," he said, standing up. With a flourish, his wand fell out of his sleeve and into his left hand.

"First person to throw a punch gets to taste the effects of the Knee-Reversal Hex, courtesy of yours truly. Good luck going through the sorting ceremony with your knees on backwards," Oliver threatened, with a goading smile on his face. 

'God I hope they don't call my bluff-- I was too scared to experiment with magic without a professional nearby, so I don't know any spells. Wait, what am I thinking, they're literally eleven. Eleven year old are dumb as crap.'

The other boys paled, and Draco took a step back. 

"Well, I suppose for the orphan's sake, I can let you two go, but you better watch your backs," said Draco, forcing a smirk. Then, Draco and his goons turned around rapidly and stumbled out of the compartment.

Oliver return his wand to its hiding place in his sleeve, and sat back down.

The door opened again, and Hermione was back.

"What on earth has been going on?" she asked, looking at the sweets that had fallen from the laps of Harry and Ron when they stood up. 

"We had a run in with Malfoy," said Harry. 

"I've heard of his family," said Ron, darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My father doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't needed an excuse to over to the dark side." 

Ron turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry and put your robes on. I asked the conductor, and he said we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!" 

"Oliver has been the one doing the fighting, not us," Ron said, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving us while we change?"

"Hey! Threatening isn't fighting," said Oliver, absentmindedly.

Hermione blinked.

"Alright, then -- I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left the compartment.

While Harry and Ron changed into their robes, a voice spoke from the speaker on the ceiling.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken separately."

'Good old house elves. Interesting that with all the tools wizards have had available, a.k.a. magic, they had to resort to slavery to do their chores for them instead of magical functions, like the Room of Requirement. At least the elves seem to be happy.'

Eventually, they reached their destination, and Harry, Ron, and Oliver left their compartment and filed out of the train with the other children, waiting for Hagrid to take them on their next step towards Hogwarts.