Harry Potter was, currently, worried. He was more than worried. He was, in actual fact, panicking. He was sure that his chest was heaving and yet it still felt as if no breaths were being taken. The busy station of King's Cross hummed with life, the general public swarming around him like wasps as he stood there, clueless. He looked down at the train ticket Hagrid, the half-giant who had introduced him to the wizarding world, had given him weeks before in advance, wondering if he had somehow misread the information despite knowing that he'd scanned it too many times to count. Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. But no such platform existed. He'd already gone up to a rather grumpy attendant, asking where he could find such a place, only to be told to, in no uncertain terms, 'bugger off'. His Uncle Vernon had dropped him off roughly twenty minutes earlier, departing with a hearty laugh and a reminder that, if it turned out that this platform didn't exist (as he wholeheartedly believed), the door to Number Four, Privet Drive would remain locked until the Summer. If he didn't solve this mystery, Harry was sure that he would be stranded here forever, doomed to stalk the train station like some cursed ghost.

Why had Hagrid not told him more useful information? Harry couldn't bring himself to be truly annoyed with the one friend he'd ever had, even if he didn't know if they could exactly be considered friends since they'd only been together for a day. And Hogwarts' Keeper of the Keys was substantially older than he was. Despite that, Hagrid had been the one to give him Hedwig, the gorgeous snowy owl who was, at the moment, looking at him with his large amber eyes as if he had lost the plot, and didn't friends give one another gifts?. But surely it would have been crucial to tell him how to make it to the train that held his destiny. The nightmare scenario was quickly approaching Harry, in which he would miss out on his only chance to become who he truly was meant to be.

Beyond frustrated, he ran a hand through his messy black hair and tapped his foot impatiently. Maybe the rhythmic beat would help him unearth the solution to his struggles. Or maybe it would drive him so mad that he'd give up. Either way, it would put an end to his suffering. Once again, he found himself examining the ticket that was infuriatingly lacking in detail. The train would be leaving promptly at 11:00am. It was now 10:21am. Thirty-nine minutes to solve the puzzle. He'd just wasted ten standing there and having a minor tantrum. He could still do this in time. It was feasible. Hagrid had said that he was famous in this world. The people in the Leaky Cauldron, the pub that led to Diagon Alley, had made that abundantly clear with their strange behaviour when he'd turned up. Someone that famous couldn't fail at the first hurdle. He'd be a laughing stock. They'd write several books on how stupid he'd been to have not even been able to get on a train. Harry Potter held his head in his hands, wanting nothing more than to scream out in annoyance. This wasn't what it was supposed to be like. Life was meant to get better now he was free of the Dursleys. It would be much worse if he'd get given a taste of these new possibilities, only for them to be snatched away immediately.

"Will you stop panicking? Please?" Harry was startled by the sound of the voice, looking around to find the source. He spotted a young boy sitting on the bench right next to the stone pillar he was using as cover. He had no idea how he hadn't noticed the small figure, who seemed to be of the same, or similar, age as himself. Despite that fact, he cut a peculiar sight. He was reading a newspaper, glasses perched on the end of his nose. His hair was cut short, a chestnut brown. There was a walking stick propped up by his side, the wooden object carved with a myriad of designs and patterns. He was wearing normal clothes, nothing like Harry had seen the wizarding public in, yet it still felt like, if anyone was looking, he would stick out like a sore thumb. There was something about him, something about the air around him. Harry was intrigued, and also desperate for any help he could find.

Harry didn't know if he was able to stop fretting but, if he did anything, it seemed to please the boy. He folded up the paper and, for the first time, looked directly at the famed Boy Who Lived. The thing about his blue eyes that struck Harry was how...warm they appeared. No one had ever looked at him like that in his life. "Thank you. You were starting to give me a headache." The boy stood up with the help of his cane, leaving the newspaper on the bench, and moved closer to his new companion. "Hogwarts?" he asked in a stage whisper, though there was no one close enough to them to hear anything they said. The station was far too busy at this time of day for eavesdropping to be successful.

The mention of the wizarding school broke Harry from his daze. It was like a jolt of electricity, giving him hope that perhaps he wasn't as doomed as he first thought. And the main thing that surprised him was that the boy was the first person of a wizarding background not to make a remark about his scar or his namesake. Either he didn't know, which seemed unlikely from recent experience, or didn't feel the need to bring it up. Harry hoped it was the latter. He then realised that he hadn't said a response to the question, instead having those internal thoughts, the boy looking at him expectantly.

"Um...yeah," he said. "How did you know?"

"You weren't exactly hiding it. I've seen plenty of kids like you wandering around here today, all confused. It has been quite entertaining, I must admit, as they try to figure it out." His accent sounded Northern, which was already a novelty to Harry. "First-year muggle borns tend to struggle."

"I've got my ticket for the train but…"

"You don't know how to get there," the boy finished for him.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed sheepishly.

"You'd think that'd be the main thing they included but I guess they wanted to save on ink. Or maybe they like to test the newcomers."

"Are you a first-year too?" Harry was rather surprised when the boy nodded his head. He acted far too composed and knowledgeable for a so-called 'newcomer'. "But then how do you know how to find it?"

"Because I like to read. Did you not open your copy of Hogwarts A History before you came here?" There was no accusation in his voice, more an element of curiosity. "There was an entire chapter dedicated to the Express. I'd recommend it if you're interested in locomotives. Anyway, the main reason why I seem to know what I'm talking about is that I've seen loads of people come and go."

Harry appreciated the fact that the boy didn't lord over his apparent knowledge over him, instead admitting the true source of his information. It spoke of a humility that, again, was rare for him to experience. Harry saw a glint of something in the boy's eyes that looked remarkably like anticipation, and it imbued Harry with a sense of nervous excitement. He was well aware of the clock ticking down quickly so knew he would have to sadly cut this conversation short. But maybe they wouldn't leave one another afterwards. That would be nice. He was rather looking forward to getting to know someone who was like him, someone who spoke to him as if he were normal.

"So...how do you do it? Is there like a secret password I have to tell someone? Or is there magic involved?" Harry looked at the ground, slightly embarrassed. "I don't know any spells though."

The boy gestured to a pillar just in front of the pair. "Run into the wall."

Harry's heart sank. For a moment there, he had actually thought it was possible for someone to be nice to him and yet it was all just an elaborate prank to make fun of him. "You know, I don't appreciate you getting my hopes up only to mess with me."

"No, no, no!" The boy looked startled at the quick turn of events. "I'm being serious. It's a sort of...portal. I guess that would be the Muggle term. All you have to do is walk through, though I've heard it's best to run when it's your first time." He could tell that Harry was nervous so put an arm around the fellow student. When Harry automatically flinched away from the contact, he gave him a concerned look and made sure to log that away for a later date. "We'll go together, deal? I'd rather get a compartment before it becomes too busy so, really, you're doing me a favour."

Harry rather nervously nodded his head and, pushing his trolley, they moved towards the pillar. There was a slight pause as Harry composed himself, before they ran as fast as they could towards the solid object. It was getting closer. This was insane. They were going to crash. He would end up breaking several bones in his body, all because he was so gullible. As the bricks became all he could see, Harry clamped his eyes shut and braced for impact.

Impact that never came. He was aware of a brief tingling sensation and then he could feel a new source of light hitting his eyelids. For a moment, he was sure that he had made it to the afterlife, since that had something to do with bright lights. But then he felt a nudge in his back, forcing him to look at his surroundings for the first time. His eyes immediately went to the magnificent red train waiting for them, his mouth agape in wonder. He could hardly process what had happened. Another platform, conjured out of nothing. And there, on a swinging sign above them, were the words 'Nine and Three Quarters'. Harry looked back at the barrier, which still looked like stone. Magic , he thought to himself with glee. The people on this platform couldn't have been more different from what he'd just seen. There was still the same hustling and bustling, people shoving others out of their way or stopping to have quick chats with people they knew. But where suitcases had been dragged around, now there were trolleys holding large trunks and pets. The clothes were vibrant and strange, multicoloured cloaks being the norm. It was completely absurd, what he was experiencing. And Harry smiled.

"Come on," the still unnamed boy said. "We should move. We don't want to be blocking the entrance. Just imagine how painful it is having a trolley rear ending you. Not pleasant, let me tell you." He began to walk off, his walking stick beating methodically against the ground, Harry dutifully following behind with his belongings. He was curious as to why such a young kid would need a cane but didn't want to ask such an invasive question so soon after meeting him. It was rude, the sort of thing Dudley would do and Harry would do everything not to be like his cousin. It was possible that he'd had an injury. Or it could have something to do with magic. He was so new to the magical world that it could have been the most normal of things and he wouldn't have realised.

Harry almost crashed into him when he suddenly came to a stop. His new found friend (was it too early to call him that?) was looking over at a girl, who appeared to be struggling with the size of her trunk. She was already wearing her Hogwarts uniform, her large bushy brown hair covering part of it. The boy was quickly heading in her direction, tapping her on the shoulder, which caused her to jump in fright and drop the trunk onto the floor.

"Do you need some help with that, miss?" he asked gentilly. The girl appeared to debate how to respond, surprised to have anyone talking to her. A part of her seemed to be determined to do this on her own but she reluctantly nodded her head. He smiled and tapped the trunk with his staff, causing it to lift up into the air and stow itself away within a pile of cases ready to be put on the train.

"How did you do that?" she asked in astonishment.

He looked to be searching for an appropriate response. "Oh...um...all Hogwarts trunks are fitted with that setting. You must have missed it in the manual."

She was about to respond that it hadn't come with an instruction book and, if it had, she certainly would have read it, but he was already strolling towards the train. "Come on, let's find a compartment. It's starting to get busy and I'd rather not have to sit next to someone who smells."

Harry had been watching this strange interaction just off to one side, bemused by it all, but soon found that the girl's attention was now focused on him. "Is your friend always like that? So...how should I put it? Full of energy?"

"I've only just met him," he answered truthfully. "But yes, I think so." An awkward silence descended between them, Harry trying to think of what he was meant to say now. "Do you...want to...join us in our compartment? If he's found one. I've just been following him around because that seemed like the safest thing to do." She looked quite startled at his question and he worried he had somehow put his foot firmly in his mouth. "Unless you already have plans, of course! You must have friends waiting for you."

He noticed the small smile on her face slip for a moment before she controlled her expression again. "No...um...I'd love to. Like to, I mean. Yeah...that'd be nice."

After searching through numerous compartments, much to the annoyance of the occupants, they eventually found the boy sitting in an empty room, waiting patiently for them. A trunk was placed underneath one of the seats and, mysteriously, his walking stick was nowhere to be seen. Just like when Harry had first seen him, he had a pair of reading glasses on as he looked over a heavy tome. The girl's eyes lit up at the sight, taking a seat close enough to get a look of her own without being too close to make it weird.

"Where did your trunk come from?" Harry asked, a frown on his face. He definitely hadn't been dragging one. Harry had made sure to place his own in the same pile on the platform, trusting the attendants to do their job and properly look after Hedwig.

"Hmm? Oh, I always had it with me." He didn't look up from his book as he spoke, as if he were hiding something. Again, Harry felt like he wasn't close enough to him to press on with his questioning. "You need to start paying more attention, Harry."

That took him by surprise. "You know my name?"

The boy put his book down, glancing at Harry in almost a bored fashion. "Did you expect me not to? You must know how famous that scar of yours is."

"Harry Potter," the girl whispered reverently. She was trying, and failing, to not look at his scar, making the boy in question hide it under his fringe. "You're included in loads of the books I've been reading! Modern Magical History , The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century all have features on you."

Harry wasn't too pleased with this development and he crossed his arms as he sat on the bench, facing the other two. "Well then, if you know my name, then I should get to know yours."

"I'm Hermione Granger. I bet you're really looking forward to going to Hogwarts." Hermione was looking at him with renewed interest but Harry could tell that it had less to do with his fame, and more to do with his potential to provide her with new information. "It all came as a bit of a shock to me and my parents when the letter first came. We thought it was some sort of strange prank. But then Professor McGonagall arrived and explained everything. My parents wanted to deny it but it explained so much about the strange events across my childhood." She was speaking at some pace and it was often difficult to keep up.

"McGonagall? Who's she?"

She gave him a confused look, as if she expected everyone to know such basic information. "The Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor of Transfiguration, and Head of Gryffindor House. Did you not get the introductory brochure?"

"My family would have thrown it in the bin or set it on fire, no doubt. They...um...don't like magic too much." He left it at that, not wanting to go into any unnecessary details. He could feel the other boy's locked on but he did his best not to show any sign of discomfort.

"That's a shame. But I guess people are always scared of what they don't know. So you...lived with...the term used is Muggles, I think. The books didn't cover what happened to you...after you know what. I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be bringing it up but curiosity often gets the better of me." She stared at him for a moment. "People will be really happy to find out you're okay."

Harry looked out of the window, considering her comment. A group of redheads rushed past, obviously leaving getting on the train to the last minute. He was most nervous about that, how people would act around him. Would he be treated differently because of something he'd known nothing about? He was determined to read through the books the two had mentioned so far, to understand how he was viewed in this world. The train jolting forward and starting to roll along the tracks broke him from his reverie, making him realise that his companions were looking at him concernedly.

He was about to respond when the door to their compartment rolled open, revealing a group of three boys, two on the large scale and one that Harry distinctly remembered from his trip to Diagon Alley. The pointed features, pale skin, and slicked-back hair were unmistakable.

"Ugh, this one's taken too," the boy, obviously the leader of the small group, muttered. His drawling voice hadn't changed either. "Crabbe, Goyle, why did I let you convince me to get on the train later? You idiots may cost me the best seat." He was going to turn away before his eyes properly landed on the people before him. "It's you. People up and down the train are saying Harry Potter is in this compartment but I didn't expect to see you . How I missed that great big ugly scar back at Madame Malkin's is a mystery. Anyway, I must apologise for my mistake. As a Malfoy, I should have known better. Draco Malfoy." He looked past Harry to examine the other occupants. "I don't know you two."

"Hermione Granger," came one response. The way she said it spoke of her disdain for the new arrival.

"Granger? That doesn't sound like a magical family name."

"That's because it isn't. My parents are both from the non-magical world."

Draco's face fell immediately, transformed into a disgusted sneer as he quickly turned his attention to someone apparently worth his time. "And you?"

Harry was incredibly interested to find out the answer to that question, as the mystery boy glared at the invader. "Matthew. Matthew Mormont."

If it was even possible, Draco's face went even paler. "You don't understand wizarding society, Potter, so I'll give you this advice for free: be more careful with who you choose to associate yourself with. People like us have reputations to uphold, so you don't want to be friends with the wrong type of people. I can help you navigate that." He stretched out his hand but Harry made no move to take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he replied coolly.

Malfoy looked as if he had been slapped. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. If you're not piloter, you'll end up the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either."

Harry glared daggers at him but it was Matthew who reacted, standing up slowly. From nowhere, his wand was in his hand, though it was only pointing at the ground. All of a sudden, the boy appeared a lot more menacing, something more than just a student. "I'd advise you to leave before I make it impossible for you to do so."

Malfoy was about to fire off a retort but then blanched as he saw the look in Matthew's eyes. "I'm getting bored of this anyway." And with that, he was gone.

As the trio left, Matthew sat back down, the scary persona dissipating instantly. "Sorry about that. I wasn't going to stand for him insulting you like that. People like him talk a big talk but are chickens when it comes to actually doing anything."

"Were you actually going to use your wand on him?" Hermione asked, fearfully.

"There was no chance of me having to," Matthew reassured her with a shake of his head. "He doesn't know enough yet to go through a duel." The point that was left unsaid was the implication that Matthew did .

"He recognised your name," Harry pointed out. "He was scared of it. Are you going to tell us why?"

Matthew shrugged. "The simple answer is that I don't really know. My family wasn't a large part of wizarding society. Not a lot of money so people like the Malfoys wouldn't be jealous of that. Maybe he knows another Mormont who's scarier than me. I'm not going to complain if it keeps him quiet." The sound of a woman in the distance calling out about a trolley caught their attention and he slapped his hands together. "Now, enough about me. We've got a long train journey ahead of us to get to know one another and I'd like some sweets."

The door slid open again, the fabled trolley appearing. Harry's eyes went wide at the sight of the exotic confectionary. "Anything from the trolley?" the plump old lady said. He didn't even give it a moment's thought before he asked for one of everything, deciding that, if he now had his own money, he was going to use it.

Once a pile had formed of sweet delicacies, Hermione scanned it warily. "My parents are both dentists. They wouldn't want me rotting my teeth on all of this junk."

"The good thing about going to Hogwarts," Matthew said, biting into a bar of Honeydukes' finest," is that your parents aren't here to monitor you. Live a little, Miss Granger. It won't hurt you." He watched her debate his words before she hesitantly picked up a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Harry and Matthew shared a smile as she tucked in.