HP fic: Unto the Breach, chapter 1, part two
Kettleburn gave Harry explicit instructions on how to gain entrance to Platform 9¾ and then told both boys to owl him with any questions on the care of their pets. He also left them with the instructions of their shrunken packages, and that a single tap from Harry’s wand would enlarge them without bringing down the Ministry or break the underage restriction of magic.
“Also start reading into some of your classes,” the wizard said. “Particularly potions.” Kettleburn looked as though he was going to say more but then changed his mind.
The two Potters went to their room, upon returning to Privet Drive, while Kettleburn remained a moment longer to speak with the Dursleys. After a moment, they heard the front door open and from their window saw Kettleburn walk slowly down the pavement.
Edgar had already started tapping some of their packages with Harry’s wand, specifically the books. Several were on their bookshelf along with the non-magical classics, and Edgar already had one put aside on the desk for future reading.
Harry was working on the perch for their owl, and the glass tank for his snake. The perch was moved directly beside the window, in a tiny space where the bookshelf failed to meet the wall, and the water tray was clipped to the perch.
Unsure of where to place the tank for his python, Harry finally turned to the snake himself, curled loosely on the lower bunk of the bed and asked. “Where would you like your tank to be?”
The snake looked up and Edgar glanced only briefly over before turning to Harry’s school trunk to unshrink it and shove it at the foot of their bunk bed. He then began piling Harry’s first year texts and potions kit in the trunk.
“Near the window, I think. By the light.”
Harry looked around and bit his lip. “Is the top of the bookshelf okay?”
Both Harry and the snake looked in the direction, while Edgar’s owl from beside the bookshelf looked back at them warily. The bookshelf wasn’t too high-Harry could easily lift the tank on the thick, flat top of it while standing on the chair the Dursleys provided for the desk-but the proximity to Edgar’s owl worried the eldest Potter.
Edgar joined the conversation as he began placing their new wizard robes in the wardrobe. “You won’t eat her, will you?”
The snake hissed in annoyance. “No.”
Edgar shrugged. “I don’t see a problem, Harry.”
“Fine,” replied Harry, dragging the desk chair over the bookshelf and lifting the tank carefully on top. He then added the items Kettleburn said would be best for the snake’s environment and tapped a small rune on the tank which would replicate the right amount of heat for the snake to enjoy.
Slowly the purchases from Diagon Alley were sorted and stored. Harry’s trunk was by the door and at the end of the bed for easy access once he left for Hogwarts, while Edgar’s was under the desk.
Edgar finally decided on naming their shared owl Iris, after the Greek goddess who was a messenger to the Gods (despite Harry bemoaning that everyone will tell him that it’s wrong, and it should be Mercury or Hermes), and Harry decided on Caesar as the name for his snake.
“Why?” asked Edgar, that evening as Harry settled into the bottom bunk and Edgar the top.
“Because legend has it that Cleopatra wore a python regius around her wrist, and she was Julius Caesar’s consort before Antony,” explained Harry.
Edgar was sceptical. “Well, tell him to avoid any Brutus’s you come across then.”
*
Harry and Edgar spent the month leading up to September the 1st by going over Harry’s textbooks, and quizzing each other. Edgar, thought Harry, was going to be spectacular in his first year thanks to all the prep Harry was giving him.
On that September morning, Harry and Edgar woke early to pack Harry’s things in his trunk. Several textbooks had been moved from the bookshelf to the desk to the floor, and the room was rather messy in comparison to the spotless condition it had been when they first moved into the room.
The two developed a single phrase for Edgar to send to Harry if there were any problems at the Dursleys, which Harry didn’t believe there would be with the threat of magic hanging over them. Finally, they decided that Iris would stay with Edgar at the Dursleys, and Harry would use a school owl to send his first letter to his brother, about which house he was sorted into.
Harry decided to wear his uniform of black trousers, white vest, button-up shirt and tie to King’s Cross, with Caesar hidden between his button-up Oxford and vest, enjoying his human’s body heat. Below the tie, a button was left undone for Caesar if he wanted to peak out of Harry’s shirt.
“Are you ready?” asked Edgar, standing in front of his brother and fixing his tie. Harry looked over Edgar’s shoulder into the wardrobe mirror, hung on the back of one of the wooden doors that they had left open while he was getting ready.
“I don’t have a choice,” smiled Harry.
Edgar frowned. “You don’t have to go.”
“I couldn’t stay, either, though.”
Edgar sighed. “I’m going to miss you, Harry.”
Harry smiled at his brother, gently, and hugged him tightly. “I’ll miss you too, Eddy.”
“Write as soon as you can,” the younger Potter demanded, sternly. “I want to know everything about Hogwarts.”
Harry laughed and stepped back, smoothing a nervous hand down the front of his Oxford in an attempt to hide the fidget. “How do I look?”
Edgar smiled. “Like gold.” Edgar walked a few steps over to the writing desk, and picked up the single chessman. He fingered the smooth, cool plastic king for a moment, before turning back to his brother and offering the piece. “Kings to you, Henry.”
Harry took the piece solemnly. “Tell me everything that happens back here, Edgar. I’ll want to know of your conquests.”
“Oh, of course,” grinned Edgar, his dark brown eyes turning a shade darker with an emotion Harry could easily recognise. “You can’t be king forever, Harry. And this dark knight will be waiting for his turn.”
*
Platform 9¾ was the stupidest thing Harry ever heard of in his life. Kettleburn had been very exact in where it was, but Harry spent at least ten minutes staring at the brick wall in disbelief and steadily increasing incredibility.
“You must be joking,” he unconsciously hissed, and Caesar, barely poking out from behind his Hogwarts issued tie, chimed in.
“Are you sure you want to go to this Hogwarts, Henry?”
Harry heaved a silent sigh. He had managed to get Caesar to stop calling him ‘master,’ but it seemed that his snake was very particular about names and after learning the history behind his. He decided that calling Harry by his diminutive name while he had such a “regal” name, such as Caesar’s own, was ludicrous. Since then, Caesar preferred calling both Potters by their proper names: Henry and Edgar, despite their bandying about of ‘Harry’ and ‘Eddy.’
“Yeah-it gets Eddy and I out of the Dursleys, Caesar.”
Although, now that Harry was thinking about it, it might not be worth the effort. He was not running straight into a seemingly brick wall.
“Are you alright, love?”
Harry jumped, startled and cursing himself for not being more aware of his surroundings. A glance over his shoulder though had him turn fully to face the tall, stately woman in a summer print dress. Beside her was a slightly shorter man, more ruddy-faced with a jovial expression and muddy-coloured hair. A young boy, probably thirteen, was standing just slightly behind them and struggling with the strap to his owl’s cage.
Harry’s stomach swooped. They were magical.
“I’m, er,” Harry paused, trying to regain his speech without stuttering. “I’ve been told how to get onto the Platform but I’m…” he trailed off, with a meaningful glance at the brick wall.
“Oh, don’t worry about it, love,” the woman reassured with a gentle smile. “Cedric will help you, won’t you dear?” the final bit was directed at the teen, who looked up automatically.
The boy, Harry could already tell, was going to be one of those popular rugby players when he was older. He had his father’s shorter, broader build but his mother’s sandy-blond hair and her silver eyes. Harry was reminded of the other very blond haired boy he met at Madam Malkins.
“Sure,” the boy grinned, sticking a hand out for Harry to shake. “Cedric Diggory.”
Harry reached out, shaking the hand. “Henry. But everyone calls me Harry.”
“Nice to meet you, Harry. Are you Muggleborn? Has anyone explained about the train and the houses?” Cedric continued speaking, lining his trolley up beside Harry’s, and motioning for the boy to walk beside him towards the brick wall.
Although nervous, Harry trusted Cedric’s actions and followed the older boy. “I’m not Muggleborn, but I grew up in the non-magical world. Professor Kettleburn showed my brother and me around Diagon Alley and he explained the houses.”
“Your brother?” asked Cedric, pleasantly. “Is he joining you this year?”
“No,” said Harry, tensing as the wall appeared closer, despite the slow walk the two were taking. “Eddy’s a year younger.”
Cedric grinned, leaning forward and Harry shut his eyes, ignoring Caesar’s hiss of “wall Henry!” Cedric did not stop, though, and even found the time to ask, “Eddy?”
“Edgar,” answered Harry absently, opening his eyes and then pausing in shock. He was on the other side of the Platform, staring at a large, old fashioned, red steam engine train. “Bloody hell.”
Cedric grinned over his shoulder at Harry, and tugged him gently by his Oxford’s sleeve. “Best not stand there, Harry-you’ll never know who’ll come up behind you and give you a good scare!”
“Right,” answered the black-haired boy, nodding in surprise and following Cedric toward the train.
Cedric pointed out a free compartment and helped Harry store his trunk. “Did you want company? I can stay with you if you’d like.”
Harry smiled genuinely at the offer. Cedric Diggory seemed like a good sort, and Harry didn’t want to lose a budding friendship after his name was announced at the sorting. It was the first thing he and Edgar had searched for after Kettleburn’s numerous attempts to keep them hidden from the general public at Diagon Alley. Harry being labelled ‘the Boy Who Lived’, thanks to their parents’ deaths, made the eldest Potter brother leery of stating anything more than his name. However, the majority of the texts only wrote about “Harry Potter”, and left off his true birth name of Henry. There was also very little mention of Edgar.
“Sure,” said Harry, finally. “But if you want to find your friends at any time, don’t let me stop you.”
“That’s fine,” agreed Cedric, settling across from Harry on the plush seat. “They’ll find me, or I’ll see them later anyway in Hufflepuff.”
A smile drew across Harry’s face. “Hufflepuff! What’s it like then?”
Cedric playfully scowled. “We’re not duffers like everyone else says, first off,” he began, waggling a finger at Harry. “We work hard and have fun and take care of each other. Hufflepuffs tend to stay out of things, avoiding confrontation. It’s not because we’re scared, but because we don’t get involved. Most of the school just pitches the Gryffindors against the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws think they’re above them. It’s nice staying hidden.”
Harry sighed. “Somehow I doubt I’ll be given that luxury in whatever house I’m in.”
“Why?” asked Cedric, settling back. The two ignored the shrill whistle as the train signalled its final call, and the noises of parents shouting their goodbyes.
Harry tilted his head. “I didn’t give you my last name, did I?” he said, hedging.
Cedric nodded slowly.
“It’s Potter,” said Harry, finally.
The Hufflepuff went, “ah,” and settled back in the seat, gazing at Harry for a moment. Finally, he said, “Well… best of luck then, Harry. This years’ sorting will be squiffy then.”
Harry groaned and slid down his seat. “You reckon?”
Cedric grinned at the younger boy. “Oh, quite.”
The two settled into a friendly conversation about Hogwarts for several hours until the trolley lady came by with some snacks. Cedric said he was off to find his friends, and told Harry to come and find him if there were any problems.
Left alone, Harry idly stroked his shirt where Caesar rested underneath, and pulled out a book to read. Only a few pages in, however, his compartment door opened and Harry was greeted by the silver-eyed blond from Madam Malkins.
“They’re saying Harry Potter’s on the train,” he began, looking right at Harry. “I suppose that’s you?”
Harry paused, placing his book down. “Pardon?”
“I’m Draco Malfoy,” he continued, stepping in. “I never got your name at Madam Malkins.”
“Ah,” said Harry, “you’re right. I’m Harry Potter.”
Draco smiled and held out his hand for Harry to shake, which, after a moment, Harry took. “You should come back to my compartment and meet some friends of mine.”
Harry smiled thinly. “Thank you, but I’m already sitting with someone. He’s gone off to find some of his friends.”
“Oh?” asked Draco, “What house is he in?”
“Does it matter?” replied Harry, curious. He folded his hands over his book.
Draco nodded. “Of course! What house you’re in will define you at Hogwarts. It could make all the difference.”
“Hmm,” was all Harry offered.
When it was clear that Harry was not going to say anything more, Draco made a few more attempts to draw Harry out of the compartment to explore the Hogwarts Express, but Harry politely turned the offers down without completely disregarding Draco’s offers. Finally, the blond left with a polite, “see you later,” that Harry echoed.
Harry turned back to his book. He was fairly sure that Cedric wouldn’t return before reaching the school. He only got a few more pages in when a boy with stringy sandy, light brown hair poked his head in, his mossy green eyes darting from one end of the compartment to the other. Harry watched him with undisguised amusement.
“May I help you?” he asked, watching as the boy-already in his Hogwarts uniform-eased his way into the compartment.
“Malfoy’s not been by yet, has he?”
Harry smiled. “He has, actually.”
The boy sighed in relief and moved fully into the compartment, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Our fathers are friends, and he’s been trying to hunt me down and get me to join him in his compartment. I’ve only barely escaped with my life. I think I lost him by the toilets.”
Here, Harry grinned. “Good for you. I doubt he’ll be back after I already turned him down, too.”
The boy grinned at Harry and settled into the seat across from him. “Merlin, he was driving me spare.” He glanced at Harry’s book and asked, “How are you finding 1001?”
“It’s pretty good, actually. A bit too vague though, only listing the hexes and curses and not really delving into the theory or history behind them as I wanted,” explained Harry, relaxing. The boy hadn’t even asked his name or introduced himself.
The boy nodded, relaxing into the plush red seats. The two began to discuss the various books they’ve read, moving on to discuss what they knew of Hogwarts and their experiences with others on the train.
“Diggory? Really?” the boy across from him-he still hadn’t given a name-scrunched his nose up a bit in surprise and slight disgust.
Harry nodded, suddenly wary. “He didn’t have to explain anything, but he did.”
The boy nodded, slowly. “Nice of him, I guess.” The boy paused, and suddenly sharp eyes were zeroing in on Harry.
Harry could see the wheels spinning in his brain; wondering just who Harry was, what his background was; was he Pureblood, or Mudblood?
Before anything could be said, the compartment door slid open and Cedric Diggory stumbled into the room, hair askew and cheeks flushed, his mouth in a wide grin. He stilled, slightly, at the tension in the air, and turned to Harry, asking, “All right there, Henry?”
Harry nodded, suddenly very grateful for Cedric using his birth name instead of the one that everyone knew. The boy across from him slowly sank back, as if exhaling a sigh-of relief, or something else, Harry didn’t know.
Cedric nodded politely at the other boy. “Nott.”
“Diggory.”
The two got on well enough, with Cedric sitting next to Harry on his side of the compartment seat. Cedric pulled out his Hufflepuff nature and extended a metaphorical hand of friendship to the other boy and began chatting. “I saw Malfoy up at the front of the train. He’s holding court with a few other firsties, and imagine my surprise when I didn’t see you or Zabini.” Cedric paused. “Well, Zabini’s always really been a loner, so it’s no surprise he wouldn’t consider allying with Malfoy.”
Nott nodded-Harry wondered at his first name-and answered Cedric’s comments. “I ducked in here to avoid him.”
As Cedric’s head turned to Harry, he jumped in: “He’d already been by, Cedric. I met him at Madam Malkin’s in Diagon Alley when I was getting my books and robes.”
Cedric grinned. “And his impression on you…?”
Harry just smirked in reply.
“So which House do you think you’ll be sorted into?” asked Cedric, relaxing.
“Not sure yet,” answered Harry, while Nott said, “Probably Ravenclaw or Slytherin.”
Cedric nodded, at both young teens. He then jerked his chin at Nott and then the window. “You’d best get into your uniform, Nott-we’ll be there soon.”
Both boys glanced out the window, startled at the darkened skies and elongated shadows as the train continued to steam through a thick forest and empty pastures.
Nott nodded, and mumbled a quick ‘excuse me’ while he left to the toilets to change. Cedric immediately turned Harry and nearly demanded, “Did he ask your name yet?”
Harry shook his head. “I think he was about to, when you came in. What do I need to know?”
Cedric smirked; it was a look that startled Harry because he didn’t think he’d ever see such a dark look on the handsome boy’s face. Harry knew Cedric was intelligent enough, as he didn’t comment on Harry’s name other than to comment on the sorting, and then carefully steered conversation away from the Boy-Who-Lived title and myth.
“His name is Theodore Nott, only child to Theodore Nott, senior. He’s a junior, but I wouldn’t ever call him that if you can avoid it,” said Cedric, his words clipped and fast, low and meant to be spoken in confidence. “There are a lot of rumours around the family; his mother hung herself from the family estate’s ballroom when Nott was five and his father was thought to be a Death Eater, a servant of You-Know-Who’s. Gossip seems to lean towards Mrs. Nott having a lot of bruises and a very timid personality-you can figure out the rest. Nott senior remarried barely a year later, but the woman’s a shrew and my mother tends to avoid the society events when the new Mrs. Nott is out. The woman’s a bitch, frankly, but don’t go around repeating it. With two strong, dominant personalities, I’m not sure where Nott’ll fall-if he leans more towards the Pureblood traditions his father favours, or elsewhere, especially once he learns your real name.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully. He and Edgar had done quite a bit of reading about Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and Harry was sure that any friends he’d make at Hogwarts-and he used the term ‘friends’ loosely at the moment-would either be very true friends or those who sought to use him for other purposes. At the moment, Harry couldn’t reason out why Cedric would help him-he was older, intelligent, and popular, what would he need Harry for?-and thus firmly settled the Diggory heir into a “true friend” category.
Nott, however, Harry could see him falling either way. If he truly disliked his home life, the two could easily form a bond over it; life at the Dursley’s was hardly chocolate cake, either. But if the boy was raised to be like his father, a Death Eater, Harry would probably have to go against him one day and he wasn’t keen on making enemies just yet.
“Sickle for them?” asked Cedric, nudging Harry in the side.
“Just wondering if I should tell him my name, or not,” answered Harry.
“Everyone’ll know soon enough,” the older boy replied, pragmatically. “Your choice though.” He hesitated, as if wondering to suggest something.
Harry noticed. “Say it. I trust your judgement, Cedric.”
Cedric smiled at Harry. “He’s not sitting with Malfoy-that’s a good sign, Harry.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
“Our fathers are friends, and he’s been trying to hunt me down and get me to join him in his compartment. I’ve only barely escaped with my life.”
“He didn’t want to sit with him. I doubt Nott knew who I was when he walked in, too,” said Harry slowly.
Cedric stretched and yawned a bit. “Your choice then.” He closed his eyes and lazily looked out from underneath them.
Harry nodded, distracted, and while doing so the compartment door slid open and Nott stumbled in, cursing under his breath as the robe’s bottom hem caught in the door while he slid it shut.
Harry grinned. “Bit of trouble there?”
Nott mock-glared at him. “I’d ask for help, but somehow I think you’d just gloat.”
“Quite right!”
Nott settled opposite of Harry, nodding to Cedric who dipped his chin in greeting. Harry saw him fidget, and then finally said, “I never caught your name or introduce myself. I’m,” here he licked his lips in a blatant nervous manner, “Theo… Theodore Nott.” A distasteful, bitter smile crept onto his face for a moment as he finished. “Junior.”
Harry nodded and took the offered hand in his, feeling similar calluses on the finger pads and palms. “I’m Henry Potter, or as everyone else calls me, Harry.”
Nott paused, briefly, minutely, while shaking Harry’s hand, but continued through with the motion. “Pleasure,” he said, sounding very grown-up.
“Likewise,” answered Harry, curling his lips into a wry smirk.
Theo’s eyes slid to Cedric, who was watching the two, silently. “Oh, I already knew, Nott. Not my place to say anything, is it?”
Theo nodded, but Harry’s gaze sharpened on the Hufflepuff. Oh, how you lie, Diggory. You did say quite enough while he was out. Aren’t you a smart one?
A whistle blew, cutting through the air and an excitable murmur rose from outside the compartment. The train began to slow and Harry glanced out of it.
“Hogsmeade,” Cedric said, as both boys gapped in surprise at the dark train station. “You’ll be able to visit it in your third year.” He rose, and Harry and Theo turned to look at him. “Time for you to get to Hogwarts, and get sorted.”
*
Harry and Theo stood side-by-side, near the back of the group of first year students, waiting for Professor McGonagall to return. They had shared their boat ride with a pudgy-faced girl Theo knew as Pansy Parkinson and a silent, moody girl by the name of Lisa Turpin, who avoided Pansy.
Harry spent the silent ride contemplating Cedric’s whispered goodbye: “Be careful what you choose, Harry, but know that whichever house you go to, I’m your friend. Yours, and your brothers’.”
When McGonagall did return, and began to shuffle the nervous first years into the Great Hall, Harry took a deep breath and reminded himself that the only person who he was interested in pleasing was back in Surrey.
He watched in feigned disinterest who was sorted where, but made a note of each face and their house association.
He clapped politely when everyone was sorted, but made a bit more effort when Mafloy, Draco was declared a Slytherin, and whispered “good luck,” to Theo before he took his turn… and was sorted to Slytherin as well.
Finally…
“Potter, Henry!”
“Henry did she say?”
“Do you think she means Harry Potter?”
“THE Harry Potter? Where is he?”
Harry stepped forward, and glanced up at McGonagall as she smiled slightly and dropped the hat on his head. There was silence, and then: “Well, well. You are not what I was expecting.”
The voice was coming from everywhere and nowhere, and considering that he hadn’t heard any other comments from those being sorted, he assumed it was coming from his head.
“Impressive. Good deduction skills, Mr. Potter. Ahh… now, let’s see what we’ve got here, shall we?” the androgynous voice continued, sounding eager. “Oh, a good mind, no doubt; and a thirst to prove yourself.”
Yes, thank you. I do realise I have a large amount of ambition, thought Harry wryly.
“Oh, yes, no false modesty. And certainly no lack of courage and loyalty to those who earn it, even if it just belongs to young Mr. Edgar Potter at the moment.” The hat paused, humming and hawing. “Oh, what’s this?”
Distantly, Harry could sense a vague, shadowy memory surface: a woman screaming, pain, a flash of green light, and then words, voices-his brothers’, a female he knew was that of Petunia, another woman’s, a man’s: king’s to you, Henry… The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…Not my babies, please, no… ah, who caught the snitch today, but my clever, clever Prongslet? Yes, yes you did…
“You could be great, it’s all there, you know, in your head, and heart. And of all the houses, there is only one which will help you, Henry James Potter. You have the courage to fight your way to the top in this house, and you give and inspire the loyalty you will need later in your life. You are intelligent, ambitious, and observant enough.”
Harry was mesmerised. The voice was haunting, persuasive and encouraging. Harry didn’t really care about being the Boy-Who-Lived, or making other people happy. Edgar was his responsibility and he would go where the hat thought he could protect his brother best-and if it did some ego-stroking in the meantime, who was he to complain?
“Yes, Henry James Potter, this house is for you,” it finished, confident. “To the future, Mr. Potter, and to-” the voice went from inside his head to announcing his house choice in the whole Hall-“Slytherin!”
It took a short time, not more than two minutes, for his sorting, and the Slytherin house erupted in cheers, while the others sat dumbfounded. As Harry removed the hat, ready to turn to his new housemates and his friend, Theo Nott, the hat’s voice whispered once more in his mind, chilling Harry.
“You have a touch of destiny about you, Henry James Potter. Do not forget it.”
*
Next...
*
“Also start reading into some of your classes,” the wizard said. “Particularly potions.” Kettleburn looked as though he was going to say more but then changed his mind.
The two Potters went to their room, upon returning to Privet Drive, while Kettleburn remained a moment longer to speak with the Dursleys. After a moment, they heard the front door open and from their window saw Kettleburn walk slowly down the pavement.
Edgar had already started tapping some of their packages with Harry’s wand, specifically the books. Several were on their bookshelf along with the non-magical classics, and Edgar already had one put aside on the desk for future reading.
Harry was working on the perch for their owl, and the glass tank for his snake. The perch was moved directly beside the window, in a tiny space where the bookshelf failed to meet the wall, and the water tray was clipped to the perch.
Unsure of where to place the tank for his python, Harry finally turned to the snake himself, curled loosely on the lower bunk of the bed and asked. “Where would you like your tank to be?”
The snake looked up and Edgar glanced only briefly over before turning to Harry’s school trunk to unshrink it and shove it at the foot of their bunk bed. He then began piling Harry’s first year texts and potions kit in the trunk.
“Near the window, I think. By the light.”
Harry looked around and bit his lip. “Is the top of the bookshelf okay?”
Both Harry and the snake looked in the direction, while Edgar’s owl from beside the bookshelf looked back at them warily. The bookshelf wasn’t too high-Harry could easily lift the tank on the thick, flat top of it while standing on the chair the Dursleys provided for the desk-but the proximity to Edgar’s owl worried the eldest Potter.
Edgar joined the conversation as he began placing their new wizard robes in the wardrobe. “You won’t eat her, will you?”
The snake hissed in annoyance. “No.”
Edgar shrugged. “I don’t see a problem, Harry.”
“Fine,” replied Harry, dragging the desk chair over the bookshelf and lifting the tank carefully on top. He then added the items Kettleburn said would be best for the snake’s environment and tapped a small rune on the tank which would replicate the right amount of heat for the snake to enjoy.
Slowly the purchases from Diagon Alley were sorted and stored. Harry’s trunk was by the door and at the end of the bed for easy access once he left for Hogwarts, while Edgar’s was under the desk.
Edgar finally decided on naming their shared owl Iris, after the Greek goddess who was a messenger to the Gods (despite Harry bemoaning that everyone will tell him that it’s wrong, and it should be Mercury or Hermes), and Harry decided on Caesar as the name for his snake.
“Why?” asked Edgar, that evening as Harry settled into the bottom bunk and Edgar the top.
“Because legend has it that Cleopatra wore a python regius around her wrist, and she was Julius Caesar’s consort before Antony,” explained Harry.
Edgar was sceptical. “Well, tell him to avoid any Brutus’s you come across then.”
*
Harry and Edgar spent the month leading up to September the 1st by going over Harry’s textbooks, and quizzing each other. Edgar, thought Harry, was going to be spectacular in his first year thanks to all the prep Harry was giving him.
On that September morning, Harry and Edgar woke early to pack Harry’s things in his trunk. Several textbooks had been moved from the bookshelf to the desk to the floor, and the room was rather messy in comparison to the spotless condition it had been when they first moved into the room.
The two developed a single phrase for Edgar to send to Harry if there were any problems at the Dursleys, which Harry didn’t believe there would be with the threat of magic hanging over them. Finally, they decided that Iris would stay with Edgar at the Dursleys, and Harry would use a school owl to send his first letter to his brother, about which house he was sorted into.
Harry decided to wear his uniform of black trousers, white vest, button-up shirt and tie to King’s Cross, with Caesar hidden between his button-up Oxford and vest, enjoying his human’s body heat. Below the tie, a button was left undone for Caesar if he wanted to peak out of Harry’s shirt.
“Are you ready?” asked Edgar, standing in front of his brother and fixing his tie. Harry looked over Edgar’s shoulder into the wardrobe mirror, hung on the back of one of the wooden doors that they had left open while he was getting ready.
“I don’t have a choice,” smiled Harry.
Edgar frowned. “You don’t have to go.”
“I couldn’t stay, either, though.”
Edgar sighed. “I’m going to miss you, Harry.”
Harry smiled at his brother, gently, and hugged him tightly. “I’ll miss you too, Eddy.”
“Write as soon as you can,” the younger Potter demanded, sternly. “I want to know everything about Hogwarts.”
Harry laughed and stepped back, smoothing a nervous hand down the front of his Oxford in an attempt to hide the fidget. “How do I look?”
Edgar smiled. “Like gold.” Edgar walked a few steps over to the writing desk, and picked up the single chessman. He fingered the smooth, cool plastic king for a moment, before turning back to his brother and offering the piece. “Kings to you, Henry.”
Harry took the piece solemnly. “Tell me everything that happens back here, Edgar. I’ll want to know of your conquests.”
“Oh, of course,” grinned Edgar, his dark brown eyes turning a shade darker with an emotion Harry could easily recognise. “You can’t be king forever, Harry. And this dark knight will be waiting for his turn.”
*
Platform 9¾ was the stupidest thing Harry ever heard of in his life. Kettleburn had been very exact in where it was, but Harry spent at least ten minutes staring at the brick wall in disbelief and steadily increasing incredibility.
“You must be joking,” he unconsciously hissed, and Caesar, barely poking out from behind his Hogwarts issued tie, chimed in.
“Are you sure you want to go to this Hogwarts, Henry?”
Harry heaved a silent sigh. He had managed to get Caesar to stop calling him ‘master,’ but it seemed that his snake was very particular about names and after learning the history behind his. He decided that calling Harry by his diminutive name while he had such a “regal” name, such as Caesar’s own, was ludicrous. Since then, Caesar preferred calling both Potters by their proper names: Henry and Edgar, despite their bandying about of ‘Harry’ and ‘Eddy.’
“Yeah-it gets Eddy and I out of the Dursleys, Caesar.”
Although, now that Harry was thinking about it, it might not be worth the effort. He was not running straight into a seemingly brick wall.
“Are you alright, love?”
Harry jumped, startled and cursing himself for not being more aware of his surroundings. A glance over his shoulder though had him turn fully to face the tall, stately woman in a summer print dress. Beside her was a slightly shorter man, more ruddy-faced with a jovial expression and muddy-coloured hair. A young boy, probably thirteen, was standing just slightly behind them and struggling with the strap to his owl’s cage.
Harry’s stomach swooped. They were magical.
“I’m, er,” Harry paused, trying to regain his speech without stuttering. “I’ve been told how to get onto the Platform but I’m…” he trailed off, with a meaningful glance at the brick wall.
“Oh, don’t worry about it, love,” the woman reassured with a gentle smile. “Cedric will help you, won’t you dear?” the final bit was directed at the teen, who looked up automatically.
The boy, Harry could already tell, was going to be one of those popular rugby players when he was older. He had his father’s shorter, broader build but his mother’s sandy-blond hair and her silver eyes. Harry was reminded of the other very blond haired boy he met at Madam Malkins.
“Sure,” the boy grinned, sticking a hand out for Harry to shake. “Cedric Diggory.”
Harry reached out, shaking the hand. “Henry. But everyone calls me Harry.”
“Nice to meet you, Harry. Are you Muggleborn? Has anyone explained about the train and the houses?” Cedric continued speaking, lining his trolley up beside Harry’s, and motioning for the boy to walk beside him towards the brick wall.
Although nervous, Harry trusted Cedric’s actions and followed the older boy. “I’m not Muggleborn, but I grew up in the non-magical world. Professor Kettleburn showed my brother and me around Diagon Alley and he explained the houses.”
“Your brother?” asked Cedric, pleasantly. “Is he joining you this year?”
“No,” said Harry, tensing as the wall appeared closer, despite the slow walk the two were taking. “Eddy’s a year younger.”
Cedric grinned, leaning forward and Harry shut his eyes, ignoring Caesar’s hiss of “wall Henry!” Cedric did not stop, though, and even found the time to ask, “Eddy?”
“Edgar,” answered Harry absently, opening his eyes and then pausing in shock. He was on the other side of the Platform, staring at a large, old fashioned, red steam engine train. “Bloody hell.”
Cedric grinned over his shoulder at Harry, and tugged him gently by his Oxford’s sleeve. “Best not stand there, Harry-you’ll never know who’ll come up behind you and give you a good scare!”
“Right,” answered the black-haired boy, nodding in surprise and following Cedric toward the train.
Cedric pointed out a free compartment and helped Harry store his trunk. “Did you want company? I can stay with you if you’d like.”
Harry smiled genuinely at the offer. Cedric Diggory seemed like a good sort, and Harry didn’t want to lose a budding friendship after his name was announced at the sorting. It was the first thing he and Edgar had searched for after Kettleburn’s numerous attempts to keep them hidden from the general public at Diagon Alley. Harry being labelled ‘the Boy Who Lived’, thanks to their parents’ deaths, made the eldest Potter brother leery of stating anything more than his name. However, the majority of the texts only wrote about “Harry Potter”, and left off his true birth name of Henry. There was also very little mention of Edgar.
“Sure,” said Harry, finally. “But if you want to find your friends at any time, don’t let me stop you.”
“That’s fine,” agreed Cedric, settling across from Harry on the plush seat. “They’ll find me, or I’ll see them later anyway in Hufflepuff.”
A smile drew across Harry’s face. “Hufflepuff! What’s it like then?”
Cedric playfully scowled. “We’re not duffers like everyone else says, first off,” he began, waggling a finger at Harry. “We work hard and have fun and take care of each other. Hufflepuffs tend to stay out of things, avoiding confrontation. It’s not because we’re scared, but because we don’t get involved. Most of the school just pitches the Gryffindors against the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws think they’re above them. It’s nice staying hidden.”
Harry sighed. “Somehow I doubt I’ll be given that luxury in whatever house I’m in.”
“Why?” asked Cedric, settling back. The two ignored the shrill whistle as the train signalled its final call, and the noises of parents shouting their goodbyes.
Harry tilted his head. “I didn’t give you my last name, did I?” he said, hedging.
Cedric nodded slowly.
“It’s Potter,” said Harry, finally.
The Hufflepuff went, “ah,” and settled back in the seat, gazing at Harry for a moment. Finally, he said, “Well… best of luck then, Harry. This years’ sorting will be squiffy then.”
Harry groaned and slid down his seat. “You reckon?”
Cedric grinned at the younger boy. “Oh, quite.”
The two settled into a friendly conversation about Hogwarts for several hours until the trolley lady came by with some snacks. Cedric said he was off to find his friends, and told Harry to come and find him if there were any problems.
Left alone, Harry idly stroked his shirt where Caesar rested underneath, and pulled out a book to read. Only a few pages in, however, his compartment door opened and Harry was greeted by the silver-eyed blond from Madam Malkins.
“They’re saying Harry Potter’s on the train,” he began, looking right at Harry. “I suppose that’s you?”
Harry paused, placing his book down. “Pardon?”
“I’m Draco Malfoy,” he continued, stepping in. “I never got your name at Madam Malkins.”
“Ah,” said Harry, “you’re right. I’m Harry Potter.”
Draco smiled and held out his hand for Harry to shake, which, after a moment, Harry took. “You should come back to my compartment and meet some friends of mine.”
Harry smiled thinly. “Thank you, but I’m already sitting with someone. He’s gone off to find some of his friends.”
“Oh?” asked Draco, “What house is he in?”
“Does it matter?” replied Harry, curious. He folded his hands over his book.
Draco nodded. “Of course! What house you’re in will define you at Hogwarts. It could make all the difference.”
“Hmm,” was all Harry offered.
When it was clear that Harry was not going to say anything more, Draco made a few more attempts to draw Harry out of the compartment to explore the Hogwarts Express, but Harry politely turned the offers down without completely disregarding Draco’s offers. Finally, the blond left with a polite, “see you later,” that Harry echoed.
Harry turned back to his book. He was fairly sure that Cedric wouldn’t return before reaching the school. He only got a few more pages in when a boy with stringy sandy, light brown hair poked his head in, his mossy green eyes darting from one end of the compartment to the other. Harry watched him with undisguised amusement.
“May I help you?” he asked, watching as the boy-already in his Hogwarts uniform-eased his way into the compartment.
“Malfoy’s not been by yet, has he?”
Harry smiled. “He has, actually.”
The boy sighed in relief and moved fully into the compartment, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Our fathers are friends, and he’s been trying to hunt me down and get me to join him in his compartment. I’ve only barely escaped with my life. I think I lost him by the toilets.”
Here, Harry grinned. “Good for you. I doubt he’ll be back after I already turned him down, too.”
The boy grinned at Harry and settled into the seat across from him. “Merlin, he was driving me spare.” He glanced at Harry’s book and asked, “How are you finding 1001?”
“It’s pretty good, actually. A bit too vague though, only listing the hexes and curses and not really delving into the theory or history behind them as I wanted,” explained Harry, relaxing. The boy hadn’t even asked his name or introduced himself.
The boy nodded, relaxing into the plush red seats. The two began to discuss the various books they’ve read, moving on to discuss what they knew of Hogwarts and their experiences with others on the train.
“Diggory? Really?” the boy across from him-he still hadn’t given a name-scrunched his nose up a bit in surprise and slight disgust.
Harry nodded, suddenly wary. “He didn’t have to explain anything, but he did.”
The boy nodded, slowly. “Nice of him, I guess.” The boy paused, and suddenly sharp eyes were zeroing in on Harry.
Harry could see the wheels spinning in his brain; wondering just who Harry was, what his background was; was he Pureblood, or Mudblood?
Before anything could be said, the compartment door slid open and Cedric Diggory stumbled into the room, hair askew and cheeks flushed, his mouth in a wide grin. He stilled, slightly, at the tension in the air, and turned to Harry, asking, “All right there, Henry?”
Harry nodded, suddenly very grateful for Cedric using his birth name instead of the one that everyone knew. The boy across from him slowly sank back, as if exhaling a sigh-of relief, or something else, Harry didn’t know.
Cedric nodded politely at the other boy. “Nott.”
“Diggory.”
The two got on well enough, with Cedric sitting next to Harry on his side of the compartment seat. Cedric pulled out his Hufflepuff nature and extended a metaphorical hand of friendship to the other boy and began chatting. “I saw Malfoy up at the front of the train. He’s holding court with a few other firsties, and imagine my surprise when I didn’t see you or Zabini.” Cedric paused. “Well, Zabini’s always really been a loner, so it’s no surprise he wouldn’t consider allying with Malfoy.”
Nott nodded-Harry wondered at his first name-and answered Cedric’s comments. “I ducked in here to avoid him.”
As Cedric’s head turned to Harry, he jumped in: “He’d already been by, Cedric. I met him at Madam Malkin’s in Diagon Alley when I was getting my books and robes.”
Cedric grinned. “And his impression on you…?”
Harry just smirked in reply.
“So which House do you think you’ll be sorted into?” asked Cedric, relaxing.
“Not sure yet,” answered Harry, while Nott said, “Probably Ravenclaw or Slytherin.”
Cedric nodded, at both young teens. He then jerked his chin at Nott and then the window. “You’d best get into your uniform, Nott-we’ll be there soon.”
Both boys glanced out the window, startled at the darkened skies and elongated shadows as the train continued to steam through a thick forest and empty pastures.
Nott nodded, and mumbled a quick ‘excuse me’ while he left to the toilets to change. Cedric immediately turned Harry and nearly demanded, “Did he ask your name yet?”
Harry shook his head. “I think he was about to, when you came in. What do I need to know?”
Cedric smirked; it was a look that startled Harry because he didn’t think he’d ever see such a dark look on the handsome boy’s face. Harry knew Cedric was intelligent enough, as he didn’t comment on Harry’s name other than to comment on the sorting, and then carefully steered conversation away from the Boy-Who-Lived title and myth.
“His name is Theodore Nott, only child to Theodore Nott, senior. He’s a junior, but I wouldn’t ever call him that if you can avoid it,” said Cedric, his words clipped and fast, low and meant to be spoken in confidence. “There are a lot of rumours around the family; his mother hung herself from the family estate’s ballroom when Nott was five and his father was thought to be a Death Eater, a servant of You-Know-Who’s. Gossip seems to lean towards Mrs. Nott having a lot of bruises and a very timid personality-you can figure out the rest. Nott senior remarried barely a year later, but the woman’s a shrew and my mother tends to avoid the society events when the new Mrs. Nott is out. The woman’s a bitch, frankly, but don’t go around repeating it. With two strong, dominant personalities, I’m not sure where Nott’ll fall-if he leans more towards the Pureblood traditions his father favours, or elsewhere, especially once he learns your real name.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully. He and Edgar had done quite a bit of reading about Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and Harry was sure that any friends he’d make at Hogwarts-and he used the term ‘friends’ loosely at the moment-would either be very true friends or those who sought to use him for other purposes. At the moment, Harry couldn’t reason out why Cedric would help him-he was older, intelligent, and popular, what would he need Harry for?-and thus firmly settled the Diggory heir into a “true friend” category.
Nott, however, Harry could see him falling either way. If he truly disliked his home life, the two could easily form a bond over it; life at the Dursley’s was hardly chocolate cake, either. But if the boy was raised to be like his father, a Death Eater, Harry would probably have to go against him one day and he wasn’t keen on making enemies just yet.
“Sickle for them?” asked Cedric, nudging Harry in the side.
“Just wondering if I should tell him my name, or not,” answered Harry.
“Everyone’ll know soon enough,” the older boy replied, pragmatically. “Your choice though.” He hesitated, as if wondering to suggest something.
Harry noticed. “Say it. I trust your judgement, Cedric.”
Cedric smiled at Harry. “He’s not sitting with Malfoy-that’s a good sign, Harry.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
“Our fathers are friends, and he’s been trying to hunt me down and get me to join him in his compartment. I’ve only barely escaped with my life.”
“He didn’t want to sit with him. I doubt Nott knew who I was when he walked in, too,” said Harry slowly.
Cedric stretched and yawned a bit. “Your choice then.” He closed his eyes and lazily looked out from underneath them.
Harry nodded, distracted, and while doing so the compartment door slid open and Nott stumbled in, cursing under his breath as the robe’s bottom hem caught in the door while he slid it shut.
Harry grinned. “Bit of trouble there?”
Nott mock-glared at him. “I’d ask for help, but somehow I think you’d just gloat.”
“Quite right!”
Nott settled opposite of Harry, nodding to Cedric who dipped his chin in greeting. Harry saw him fidget, and then finally said, “I never caught your name or introduce myself. I’m,” here he licked his lips in a blatant nervous manner, “Theo… Theodore Nott.” A distasteful, bitter smile crept onto his face for a moment as he finished. “Junior.”
Harry nodded and took the offered hand in his, feeling similar calluses on the finger pads and palms. “I’m Henry Potter, or as everyone else calls me, Harry.”
Nott paused, briefly, minutely, while shaking Harry’s hand, but continued through with the motion. “Pleasure,” he said, sounding very grown-up.
“Likewise,” answered Harry, curling his lips into a wry smirk.
Theo’s eyes slid to Cedric, who was watching the two, silently. “Oh, I already knew, Nott. Not my place to say anything, is it?”
Theo nodded, but Harry’s gaze sharpened on the Hufflepuff. Oh, how you lie, Diggory. You did say quite enough while he was out. Aren’t you a smart one?
A whistle blew, cutting through the air and an excitable murmur rose from outside the compartment. The train began to slow and Harry glanced out of it.
“Hogsmeade,” Cedric said, as both boys gapped in surprise at the dark train station. “You’ll be able to visit it in your third year.” He rose, and Harry and Theo turned to look at him. “Time for you to get to Hogwarts, and get sorted.”
*
Harry and Theo stood side-by-side, near the back of the group of first year students, waiting for Professor McGonagall to return. They had shared their boat ride with a pudgy-faced girl Theo knew as Pansy Parkinson and a silent, moody girl by the name of Lisa Turpin, who avoided Pansy.
Harry spent the silent ride contemplating Cedric’s whispered goodbye: “Be careful what you choose, Harry, but know that whichever house you go to, I’m your friend. Yours, and your brothers’.”
When McGonagall did return, and began to shuffle the nervous first years into the Great Hall, Harry took a deep breath and reminded himself that the only person who he was interested in pleasing was back in Surrey.
He watched in feigned disinterest who was sorted where, but made a note of each face and their house association.
He clapped politely when everyone was sorted, but made a bit more effort when Mafloy, Draco was declared a Slytherin, and whispered “good luck,” to Theo before he took his turn… and was sorted to Slytherin as well.
Finally…
“Potter, Henry!”
“Henry did she say?”
“Do you think she means Harry Potter?”
“THE Harry Potter? Where is he?”
Harry stepped forward, and glanced up at McGonagall as she smiled slightly and dropped the hat on his head. There was silence, and then: “Well, well. You are not what I was expecting.”
The voice was coming from everywhere and nowhere, and considering that he hadn’t heard any other comments from those being sorted, he assumed it was coming from his head.
“Impressive. Good deduction skills, Mr. Potter. Ahh… now, let’s see what we’ve got here, shall we?” the androgynous voice continued, sounding eager. “Oh, a good mind, no doubt; and a thirst to prove yourself.”
Yes, thank you. I do realise I have a large amount of ambition, thought Harry wryly.
“Oh, yes, no false modesty. And certainly no lack of courage and loyalty to those who earn it, even if it just belongs to young Mr. Edgar Potter at the moment.” The hat paused, humming and hawing. “Oh, what’s this?”
Distantly, Harry could sense a vague, shadowy memory surface: a woman screaming, pain, a flash of green light, and then words, voices-his brothers’, a female he knew was that of Petunia, another woman’s, a man’s: king’s to you, Henry… The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…Not my babies, please, no… ah, who caught the snitch today, but my clever, clever Prongslet? Yes, yes you did…
“You could be great, it’s all there, you know, in your head, and heart. And of all the houses, there is only one which will help you, Henry James Potter. You have the courage to fight your way to the top in this house, and you give and inspire the loyalty you will need later in your life. You are intelligent, ambitious, and observant enough.”
Harry was mesmerised. The voice was haunting, persuasive and encouraging. Harry didn’t really care about being the Boy-Who-Lived, or making other people happy. Edgar was his responsibility and he would go where the hat thought he could protect his brother best-and if it did some ego-stroking in the meantime, who was he to complain?
“Yes, Henry James Potter, this house is for you,” it finished, confident. “To the future, Mr. Potter, and to-” the voice went from inside his head to announcing his house choice in the whole Hall-“Slytherin!”
It took a short time, not more than two minutes, for his sorting, and the Slytherin house erupted in cheers, while the others sat dumbfounded. As Harry removed the hat, ready to turn to his new housemates and his friend, Theo Nott, the hat’s voice whispered once more in his mind, chilling Harry.
“You have a touch of destiny about you, Henry James Potter. Do not forget it.”
*
Next...
*