The Hogwarts Express rattled along the tracks, the sound of its whistle echoing through the countryside. Inside the compartment, Harry Potter, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbott were engaged in light conversation about what Hogwarts would be like. Harry found himself particularly excited, though he masked his enthusiasm with a calm demeanor. The other two girls, who had already grown accustomed to Harry's subtle way of speaking, seemed equally curious.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the compartment door, snapping him out of his thoughts. A bushy-haired girl and a chubby-faced boy stood in the doorway. The girl looked determined, and the boy looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but there.
"Have you seen a toad?" the girl asked, her voice full of urgency. "Neville has lost it."
Harry, Susan, and Hannah shook their heads, and Harry said, "I haven't seen a toad, but if you want, I could try and summon it for you."
The girl's eyes widened in surprise, and she blushed slightly. It was a reaction Harry was growing used to, though he wasn't sure why it kept happening.
"It's not my toad," the girl clarified quickly. "It's Neville's." She glanced back at the boy, who looked even more panicked now that three pairs of eyes were fixed on him.
Neville wrung his hands nervously. "He likes to escape. I don't know where he's gone this time. His name's Trevor."
"Alright," Harry said kindly, pulling out his wand. "Let's give this a try. Accio Trevor!"
For a few moments, nothing happened. The girl—Hermione, Harry later learned—looked at Harry skeptically. "Is that really a spell? Or are you trying to make fun—"
Before she could finish, a toad zoomed through the air, startling everyone in the compartment. It flew directly in front of Neville, and he clutched it tightly before it could escape again.
"Trevor!" Neville gasped in relief. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
He looked at Harry expectantly, waiting for an introduction.
"Harry Potter," Harry said with a small smile.
Hermione's eyes widened again. "You're Harry Potter! I've read all about you. You're mentioned in several recent magical books, you know. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and this is Neville Longbottom."
"Longbottom?" Harry repeated, glancing at Neville. "I've heard about your parents. They were good friends with mine."
Neville looked stunned, clearly unsure how to respond. Hermione, however, seemed eager to keep the conversation going.
"Do you have anyone sitting with you?" Harry asked after a moment. "If not, you're welcome to join us."
Neville hesitated, clearly overwhelmed by Harry's offer. He felt inadequate, a weak wizard compared to Harry, who had just demonstrated advanced magic right before his eyes. But Hermione, who seemed to have found a human library in Harry, eagerly accepted.
"Of course! We'd be happy to sit with you. Come on, Neville, let's go get our things."
The two hurried back to their original compartment to gather their trunks, and soon enough, they returned. Hermione sat down next to Harry, her eyes full of curiosity.
"So, Harry," she began, "how did you learn that spell? I've read all of our first-year textbooks by heart, and I don't remember seeing it anywhere."
Harry smiled slightly, appreciating her enthusiasm. "Well, I've read a lot of extra books. The Accio Charm isn't something first-years typically learn, but I thought it might come in handy."
Hermione looked both impressed and intrigued. "What other spells do you know? Have you studied magical theory? What about magical history? And potions? Do you—"
The questions came rapidly, and Harry answered them as best as he could. Some of her questions were so complex that he had to think carefully before responding. Despite the barrage of inquiries, Harry found himself enjoying the conversation. Hermione's passion for knowledge reminded him of himself, and her inquisitiveness was contagious.
Neville, on the other hand, remained quiet in the background, still overwhelmed by everything that had happened. He couldn't believe that he was sitting with Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Hermione Granger, who seemed to know everything there was to know about magic. He felt out of place, like he didn't belong among such capable people.
As the train ride continued, the trolley lady arrived, offering an assortment of sweets. Harry, having more than enough money, bought food for everyone. The others were surprised by his generosity, and they thanked him profusely as they sampled the various treats. Neville particularly enjoyed the Chocolate Frogs, though he nearly dropped Trevor in his excitement.
Soon, a stern-looking witch passed by their compartment, announcing that they should start changing into their school robes.
"I suppose we should let the ladies go first," Harry said with a smile.
Hermione and Susan exchanged amused glances, and Hannah giggled. "You're quite the gentleman, Harry," Susan teased as the three girls stood and left the compartment to change.
While they were gone, Neville finally spoke up. "I'm not very good at magic," he admitted quietly. "I've tried practicing, but…well, it never really works out."
Harry considered this for a moment. "You know, Neville, everyone starts somewhere. Some people take longer to find their strengths, but that doesn't mean they won't. You'll get there."
Neville looked at Harry with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "Do you really think so?"
"I do," Harry said firmly. "And besides, you're already better off than most people. You've got Trevor back, don't you?"
Neville couldn't help but smile at that.
When the girls returned, Harry and Neville quickly changed into their robes, and soon the train began to slow down as it approached the station. The excitement in the air was palpable as students hurriedly gathered their belongings, eager to catch their first glimpse of Hogwarts.
As they stepped off the train at Hogsmeade Station, the chill of the evening air nipped at their faces. Harry spotted a towering figure in the distance, waving a large lantern.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" the voice of Hagrid boomed.
Harry, Susan, Hannah, Hermione, and Neville bundled together with the other first-years as they followed Hagrid down a steep, narrow path. The group's chatter filled the air, a mix of nervous excitement and awe.
The path led them to the edge of a great black lake, where a fleet of small boats awaited them. Hagrid motioned for them to climb in.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called out as he climbed into one of the boats himself.
Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Susan ended up in the same boat, while Hannah found a seat in the one next to them. The boat rocked slightly as they settled in, and then, with a gentle push from Hagrid, they glided out onto the lake.
The water was as smooth as glass, reflecting the night sky and the towering silhouette of Hogwarts in the distance. The castle loomed ahead, its turrets and towers outlined against the starry sky, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. This was it. Hogwarts. His new home.
As they drew closer, the castle's grandeur became even more apparent. It was more magnificent than anything Harry had ever imagined. He could see the twinkling lights in the windows, hear the faint sounds of laughter and chatter drifting across the water. For a moment, everything else faded away—the worries, the uncertainties, even the questions about the future. All that mattered was that he was here, and that Hogwarts was waiting for him.
Beside him, Hermione gasped in awe. "It's even more beautiful than the books described."
Neville looked equally mesmerized, though he clutched Trevor tightly as if the toad might try to make another escape.
The boats carried them steadily across the lake, finally coming to rest at the base of the castle. Hagrid helped them out one by one, his massive hands easily lifting them onto the shore.
"Everyone follow me!" Hagrid called, leading them up a flight of stone steps and into the castle itself. The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and they stepped inside, the warmth of the castle immediately enveloping them.
As Hagrid led the first years to the grand doors of Hogwarts, his towering figure disappeared inside, leaving the students to mill about nervously. The gigantic doors loomed above them, intricately carved with magical symbols and creatures that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. The first years exchanged glances, some wide-eyed with awe, others jittery with anticipation. Among the crowd, whispers began to ripple like a wave through the group.
"Is that really him?" a voice asked in hushed excitement.
"Harry Potter... the Boy Who Lived!" someone else whispered, and the murmurs grew louder, a mix of curiosity and reverence.
Harry stood quietly, feeling the weight of their stares pressing down on him. He had never been comfortable with attention, and now, surrounded by strangers who seemed to know all about him while he knew nothing of them, he felt exposed.
Suddenly, a boy with slicked-back blonde hair and an air of practiced confidence stepped forward, cutting through the crowd like a knife. His sharp features were framed by hair that gleamed unnaturally under the lights, clearly plastered in place by copious amounts of gel. He was flanked by two large boys who looked more like bodyguards than fellow students.
"Are you Harry Potter?" the boy asked, his tone polite but with an unmistakable undercurrent of superiority.
Harry, sensing the insincerity, nodded curtly. "Yes, I am."
The boy's lips curled into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, I'm Draco Malfoy," he said, his voice dripping with an affected politeness that only served to irritate Harry further. "Of the noble House of Malfoy." He emphasized his family name as if it were meant to impress.
Malfoy continued, his voice slipping into a rehearsed tone that reminded Harry of a sales pitch. "Mr. Potter, I can help you find suitable friends in the wizarding world. Not all wizards are of equal standing, you see, and there are some families you'd do well to avoid." He glanced around, his eyes lingering disdainfully on a red-haired boy standing nearby.
Harry's patience was already wearing thin. He had dealt with enough arrogance and superiority at the Dursleys'—he didn't need it here as well. But before he could respond, the red-haired boy stepped forward, his expression a mix of determination and nervousness.
"You don't need his help to choose friends, Harry," the boy said, trying to inject confidence into his voice, though it came out awkwardly. "I'm Ron Weasley, by the way," he added, extending his hand as if they were old pals.
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew about the Weasleys—specifically, Ron Weasley. He had heard stories from Luna about how this boy had cruelly teased her, calling her "Loony" and making fun of her at every opportunity. Luna, who was practically a sister to Harry, had never complained, but he knew how much the teasing had hurt her. The thought of befriending someone like Ron Weasley made Harry's blood boil.
In a voice as cold as ice, Harry responded, "I can choose my own friends, Weasley. And you're not one of them.
"Ron's face flushed red, his hand falling awkwardly to his side. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out, Draco Malfoy let out a sharp laugh.
"Looks like Weasley here got rejected," Draco sneered, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Not that anyone's surprised. Who'd want to be friends with a poor excuse for a wizard?"
Ron's face turned an even deeper shade of red, and he clenched his fists at his sides, clearly struggling to hold back a retort. Despite Harry's cold rejection, Ron still seemed determined to warn him about Draco, muttering something about Slytherin and dark wizards. But to Harry, it all sounded like childish gossip, the kind of thing he had no time for.
Draco, meanwhile, continued to press his advantage, sneering at Ron. "Honestly, Potter, you'd do well to stay away from the Weasleys. They're not exactly the most respectable family in the wizarding world. Poor as dirt, the lot of them."
The bickering between the two boys was growing more intense, and Harry could feel his patience snapping. They were both so wrapped up in their own petty rivalry that neither seemed to notice Harry's growing frustration. It was as if they were fighting over who had the right to be his friend, as though he were some prize to be won. Harry's hand instinctively twitched towards his wand, ready to curse both of them if they didn't shut up.
But just as he was about to intervene, the massive doors creaked open with a groan that echoed through the corridor. A stern-looking witch with sharp eyes and a tight bun of gray hair stepped through the doorway, her presence immediately silencing the squabbling boys.
"I am Professor McGonagall," she announced, her voice firm and commanding. "If you would all make a line and follow me into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony."
Her gaze swept over the group, lingering briefly on Ron and Draco, who both quickly averted their eyes. The tension between them dissolved under her watchful eye, and the first years hurried to form a line, falling into step behind the professor.
Harry, grateful for the interruption, let out a small breath of relief. He didn't need this drama on his first day—he had enough to worry about without getting caught up in schoolyard rivalries. As they followed Professor McGonagall down the corridor, Harry focused on the path ahead, determined to keep his distance from both Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley.
He had made his stance clear: he would choose his own friends, and he certainly wouldn't be pressured into alliances by either of them.
As the group of first years filed into the Great Hall, Harry found himself thinking not of the Sorting or the Houses, but of how he would navigate this new world on his own terms. The sooner people understood that, the better.