Chapter 4 – The Journey Begins
The sun was still low in the sky as Harry stood at King's Cross Station, just outside the barrier between platforms nine and ten. A faint breeze stirred his robes, and the quiet hum of magic brushed against his skin.
He looked up at the large clock hanging from the ceiling.
8:42 AM.
"Still early," he muttered.
Beside him stood Hagrid, towering and warm as ever, holding a paper bag filled with rock cakes.
"Yeh all set, Harry?" the half-giant asked, his beetle-black eyes kind. "Trunk packed, owl caged, wand in your pocket?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for helping me get here, Hagrid."
Hagrid smiled and patted his shoulder gently. "O' course, yeh know I'd never miss yer first train ride. Lily'd hex me six ways to Sunday if I did."
They both chuckled.
Hagrid had been in and out of Harry's life ever since he was five, sometimes dropping by with sweets or little magical trinkets, sometimes just to talk. He was the first magical person Harry had ever met outside his family. And in a way, one of his first real friends.
"Go on then," Hagrid said, nudging him forward. "Straight through the barrier. Jus' a nice, steady walk. Don't stop."
Harry took a breath and pushed his trolley forward. The moment he stepped through the wall, the noise hit him—chattering families, hooting owls, and the bright red steam engine waiting on the tracks.
Platform 9¾.
He smiled. He'd read about it in Hogwarts: A History, but being here made it feel real.
---
A Familiar Compartment
Once he loaded his trunk and got Hedwig settled, Harry boarded the train and searched for a quiet compartment. He found one halfway down the train, close enough to hear others but far enough to have space.
He didn't close the door.
He wanted to see who came in.
After a few minutes, someone appeared—arms full of books, hair a bit wild, a determined look on her face.
"Hi," the girl said. "Do you mind if I sit here?"
"Sure," Harry replied. "It's open."
"Thanks," she said, setting down her books. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."
"Harry. Harry Potter."
Hermione's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't gasp or ask about his scar.
"I've read about you," she said. "But you don't seem... like the books described."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do they say I'm like?"
"Well," she said slowly, "brave. Noble. Reckless. Maybe a bit self-sacrificing."
"I don't really believe in throwing myself into danger unless it's worth it," he said honestly. "I'm not interested in saving the world. Just protecting what matters to me."
Hermione seemed thoughtful. "That's… fair."
They talked for a while. Mostly about books, classes, what they expected Hogwarts to be like. Hermione was smart—really smart—but she didn't talk down to him, which he appreciated.
"You've read Magical Theory and Practice?" she asked, surprised.
Harry nodded. "Snape gave me a copy when I was eight. Said I should know the rules before I break them."
Hermione laughed. "He actually said that?"
"Word for word."
---
The Redheaded Boy and His Rat
Not long after, another voice came from the door.
"Er… can I sit here? The other compartments are full."
It was a tall boy with red hair, freckles, and a slightly awkward smile.
"Go ahead," Harry said, and the boy stepped in, dragging his trunk.
"I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."
"Harry."
Ron stared for a moment. "Wait—Harry Potter?"
"Still me," Harry said calmly.
"Wow. I mean—blimey. Didn't expect to meet you on the first day."
Harry smiled politely. "It's just a name."
Hermione, who had been watching quietly, gave Ron a little nod. "He's more normal than you'd think."
They started chatting about Hogwarts, houses, and Quidditch. Ron talked a lot, especially about his brothers, and his pet rat, Scabbers, who was curled up on his shoulder.
"Bit useless, really," Ron said, sighing. "He just sleeps all day."
Harry eyed the rat, eyes narrowing slightly. Something felt off, but he pushed the thought aside.
---
A Friendly Face – Draco Malfoy
Then came a knock—more polite than expected.
Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, hair perfectly in place, robes pressed. Behind him were Crabbe and Goyle.
"Hey," Draco said casually. "Mind if I come in for a bit?"
"Sure," Harry said with a small smile. "Room for one more."
Crabbe and Goyle looked confused, but Draco motioned for them to wait outside and stepped in alone.
Ron frowned but said nothing.
"I was hoping I'd find you," Draco said to Harry. "I didn't want to start the year without saying hello."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, but Harry responded easily, "You sound like someone trying to make an ally before the chessboard opens."
Draco smirked. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No," Harry said, "just honest."
Draco sat, more relaxed than earlier. The boy had visited Harry once or twice before, when their mothers had met by chance in Diagon Alley. There was something different about Draco—he wasn't looking for followers. He was looking for someone who saw him, not his name.
They talked about classes, professors, and which house they might be in. Draco hoped for Slytherin, of course. Ron made a face. Hermione said she didn't care as long as the library was good.
Harry? He didn't say.
---
The Castle Awaits
The hours passed quickly. They bought sweets from the trolley, talked about spell theory, and even had a short debate over whether house-elves should be free.
Finally, the train began to slow. Outside, the sky had darkened, and lanterns flickered near the water.
"We're here!" someone shouted from the corridor.
The train hissed to a stop, and students began gathering their things.
As they stepped off, a booming voice echoed across the station.
"Firs' years! This way!"
Hagrid stood at the dock, waving a lantern.
Harry smiled. "Let's go."
He looked back once at the train, then ahead to the castle in the distance, glowing like a promise.
Whatever happened next, he was ready.