Days didn't pass so much as blur, and soon enough, it was the date Harry usually anticipated most in the whole year – September first.
Though normally he counted down the days to today because he wanted to escape the hell that was 4 Privet Drive, today he had another, much more important reason.
His sister, Rose.
Harry had tried not to think about it, about her, but that proved about as successful as trying not to breathe. Every quiet moment dragged him back to that office, when he had found out that he had a sister.
A sister.
The word still didn't sit properly in his head.
If he were being honest, he was still partially in disbelief that he had a sister. The thought of having a family that loved him instead of barely tolerating him at their home was so alien to the dark-haired boy that it still sometimes felt like he was having a good dream.
But it was real.
And she was coming to Hogwarts.
He couldn't wait!
So here he was, in platform 9 ¾, a whole fifteen minutes before the train departed. The Weasleys had arrived in a car of all things to take him to the platform, and he had somehow managed to convince the driver to book it, and had gotten here earlier than they otherwise would have. Fred and George had also agreed to carry his trunk into the train.
The platform had already been alive with noise and motion when Harry arrived, steam curling thickly from the Hogwarts Express as families clustered in tight knots along the platform. Owls hooted, trunks thudded, and voices overlapped into a familiar chaos that usually made something in Harry's chest loosen.
Not today.
Today, his eyes moved past everything else.
Searching.
His eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he stood a little straighter than usual, absently tugging at his sleeves. The new wardrobe he'd purchased fit him much better, and he had been more than glad to burn away Dudley's castoffs.
His fingers brushed briefly against the pendant beneath his shirt as he scanned all the faces around him, looking for one in particular -
- and then he saw her.
Rose stood a short distance away, talking with another girl, posture perfectly composed, like she belonged exactly where she was.
Harry was about to call out to her, but for some inexplicable reason, he hesitated.
Instead, he found himself watching her. He saw the calm and relaxed way she stood, and the mirth in her eyes as she talked. The way she held herself was so calm and confident. She leaned in slightly toward her friend as she talked, one hand lifting in a small, expressive gesture, fingers precise but unrestrained. There was a lightness to her, and her smile came easily in that moment, quick and genuine, softening the sharpness he'd seen before.
It caught him off guard.
Then the moment stretched a second too long, and he pushed through it.
"Rose!"
The Red-haired girl paused in her conversation with her friend and turned around to see her younger brother making her way towards her.
"Harry," she inclined her head as he came to a stop in front of her, noting that the younger boy was rather well-dressed and groomed today, compared to how he had been when they had first met. Her green eyes grew stormy as she realized that he hadn't considered meeting her an important enough occasion to even try to look presentable, or even wear properly fitted clothes.
"There you are," he said with a smile. "I've been looking all over for you. Thought you might miss the train."
Rose's eyebrow arched, precise and controlled. "Do you believe I am careless enough to miss a scheduled departure?" There was no heat in her voice, but there was an edge to it.
Harry blinked, the smile faltering for just a second before he caught it. "No - no, that's not what I meant," he said quickly. "I just thought – well - I could help you get settled. First time and all." He said, scratching the back of his head, "And I wanted you to meet my friends – Ron and Hermione, I told you about them before."
"Thank you for the offer Harry, but it is unnecessary," Rose said. She then gestured towards the girl she had been talking about, "This is Gemma Farley. A seventh year at Hogwarts and one of my friends." She wasn't as friendless or hopeless in the friend's department as her dear brother thought, after all.
"Potter," Gemma nodded, curt and polite. Harry had seen her around at Hogwarts before; he didn't quite remember what house she was in, but she was a prefect, that much he knew. The girl turned to Rose, and the expression on her face grew warmer than the cold front she had shown Harry, "I'll be heading onto the train now. I have a prefect's meeting to attend first thing, but you can sit with the rest of the upper years near the front of the train, and I'll come find you after."
"I'll see you later then," Rose waved her friend goodbye, an action that was reciprocated by the other girl as Gemma walked away and stepped into the train.
The red-haired witch turned to her brother.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Around them, the platform surged with noise and motion. A pair of first years hurried past, trying to drag an oversized trunk between them, nearly crashing into a trolley stacked with owl cages. Somewhere nearby, a cat hissed loudly enough to be heard over the engine. Rose's gaze followed the chaos for a moment. "Is it always this disorganized?"
Harry glanced around. "Yeah, pretty much."
"That seems inefficient."
"It's the Hogwarts Express," Harry shrugged. "I don't think efficiency is really the point."
A group of students suddenly squeezed past the two of them, chatting and laughing as they made their way, with one of the boys nearly clipping Harry with the end of a broomstick. A frown appeared on Rose's face as she smoothly stepped aside before the broom could touch her robes.
Harry snorted. "You get used to it after a while."
"I sincerely hope not."
Harry laughed at that, more out of surprise than anything else.
Before he could say anything else, the whistle of the train blew again, and the sound echoed throughout the station. It was the second whistle, and he knew what it signalled – that there were less than five minutes left before departure.
"Looks like people are starting to board," Harry said, glancing into the nearest carriage and seeing it fill up with students.
Rose gave a small nod, her attention already shifting toward the train itself.
Harry hesitated briefly before speaking again. "You know, you could come sit with us," he offered carefully. "Ron and Hermione won't mind. It might be easier than sitting with strangers on your first trip."
Rose turned her attention back to Harry. She regarded him for a moment before speaking. "You don't need to concern yourself with me, Harry," she said, her words calm and dismissive.
"I just thought - " Harry opened his mouth to explain further, to say that he just wanted her to meet his friends, to sit with him for the train ride. That he wanted to spend some time with his older sister, to talk to her and get to know her better. He was cut off before he could say anything.
"I know what you thought," Rose interrupted smoothly. "But I am perfectly capable of finding a compartment on my own." There was no cruelty in her voice. If anything, that somehow made it worse.
Harry shifted awkwardly, his hand absentmindedly going upwards and fiddling with the necklace – an action that Rose noticed and frowned even harder at - "Right. Yeah. Sure."
Her eyes flicked over him once more, looking at him with the same analytical gaze that made him feel younger than he was. "You should return to your friends," she said. "They are waiting for you, are they not?"
Harry glanced back instinctively, but there was no one standing, and he suddenly realized that he'd told them that he'd catch up in the train. That he had something to do. When Harry turned back, Rose was already reaching for her trunk. "At least let me help with that," he offered quickly.
"That will not be necessary." Before he could argue further, Rose drew her wand in one fluid motion. "Wingardium Leviosa."
She didn't even swish and flick her wand as one did for the spell, and yet it worked. Her trunk floated up into the air, lifting up smoothly. Harry stared despite himself. The spellwork was effortless. Casual. And utterly perfect – there wasn't even a single instance of wobbling from the floating trunk, it was perfectly controlled and tightly gripped by Rose's mastery of the first year spell.
Rose barely spared him another glance. "I will see you at Hogwarts, Harry."
And with that, she turned and walked toward the train.
Harry stood there, watching her step onto the train, even as the crowd shifted around him. When she finally disappeared into the smoke and noise of the Hogwarts Express without once looking back, he couldn't help but let out a despondent sigh.
Unbeknownst to him, a student nearby had overheard the whole thing. A pair of amber eyes narrowed as their owner contemplated the implications of the entire thing.
A moment or two later, Harry decided to make his way up on the train. Might as well meet up with Ron and Hermione, even if Rose wasn't coming, he thought as he let out another sigh, in the throes of genuine depression over the fact of it.
Just as he was about to climb up into the carriage, he caught something out of the corner of his eye and stopped. Turning around, he saw a younger blonde-haired girl, a firstie by the looks of it – her tie and the rims of her cloak were black and unmarked by the sorting, a clear indication – struggling to pull her clearly overfilled trunk off the trolley.
"You need help?" Harry asked as he made his way to her.
The girl stopped for a moment and turned towards Harry, her bright blue eyes squinting as her gaze landed first on her face, and then on the thunderbolt scar on his forehead. Her eyes widened minutely, but enough to be noticed. "It'd be much appreciated. My sister was meant to help me get my trunk onto the train, but she found some friends and left me all alone." And Daphne had assured her that she would help – she would've gotten her mother to enchant the trunk if she knew her sister would just abandon her alone!
"No problem," Harry chuckled at her story before he grabbed the trunk by the sides and braced, and then, with one swift motion – he pulled.
He was quite surprised to discover the need to steady himself before he sent both himself and the trunk flying. It'd be quite embarrassing to say the least, and that's not to say how cross this firstie would've been at him if he damaged her trunk.
But still…
Either he'd somehow gotten stronger than he was just a few days ago, or the trunk was lighter than he thought. And seeing as how difficult the girl had been finding unloading it from the trolley, he rather doubted that it was the latter.
Welp, something to worry about when he was back in Hogwarts.
He carried her trunk up into the carriage and nodded his head to the side, a silent gesture to the firstie to follow him up.
He was just about to turn around and take her to an empty cabin – or a cabin filled with other firsties if she so asked – when the girl spoke up. "Thank you for your help, but you can just set it down here."
Harry turned to her in surprise, "You sure? I can take it to an empty cabin if you want."
The girl nodded, a determined expression crossing her face. "I am sure. I can take it from here. Thank you for your help Mr. Potter."
Harry gently placed the trunk down on the floor. He couldn't help but let out a light laugh when he heard the girl call him Mister. "You can just call me Harry, Mister Potter was my Dad. And you're welcome, it wasn't a problem, really."
She nodded, "But you still helped me, so I have to at least thank you for it." Her hand, which had been settled at the side of her skirt, squeezed before coming up as he thrust towards him as if wanting a handshake. "So, once more, thank you for your help, Mister Potter, I'm - "
The train's whistle blew once more, deafening all noise as it echoed through the entire train – and the train started moving again.
" – Astoria Greengrass."
Harry ended up not catching what the girl had just said, owing to her voice being drowned out by the train-shaking, ear-deafening whistle. Harry chuckled and ruffled the girl's head, "Nice to meet you kiddo. You already know my name, but I'm Harry Potter."
Astoria's bright blue eyes narrowed, "First of all, do not call me 'kiddo'. And second, do you have any idea how insulting it is when you don't shake hands with someone on your first introduction? It signals that you are either snubbing them or that you consider them and their family unworthy to be your allies. Both of them can get you in trouble if you are not careful." The girl finished her Hermione-like rant/lecture with a pout and arms crossed under her chest.
"Fine, shorty it is then," Harry grinned at her, making her heart suddenly beat hard enough that she felt it through her chest. "And I wasn't snubbing you or your family at all. We can do it again if you want?" Harry offered, and before waiting for her, he continued, "I'm Harry Potter, and you?" he asked, putting his hand forward as if asking for a handshake.
Her pout somehow intensified, "You can't just redo it again, the moment's over when it's over."
She started dragging her trunk into one of the empty cabins. Harry lowered his hand and watched, and though he was tempted to go lend a hand, he didn't.
It was only when he heard her close the cabin door and lock it shut did he move from where he was. As he made his way through the train, thoughts darted through his mind. He thought back to the last time he had rejected someone's hand the same way as today – It had been Malfoy, and it had been on the train ride to Hogwarts back when he himself was a firstie.
After what he learned today, Harry figured that might be the reason that the pale bastard had been so antagonistic for all these years. "Good riddance," he said to himself. He knew how to tell the wrong sort for himself, thank you very much, and the whole Malfoy family definitely qualified.
///
It took him a few minutes to find the train cabin Ron and Hermione had taken. The train had already started moving by the time he went inside said cabin. He stopped, suddenly pausing in his gait as his eyes landed on an older man asleep on a seat next to the window.
The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places, and looked ill and exhausted. He looked quite young, but his light brown hair was still flecked with gray.
"Who's he?" Harry asked in a whisper as he took a seat next to Ron.
"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione whispered back. She elaborated further when he cocked an eyebrow at her, "It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters. "He will probably be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"Well, I hope he's up to it," Ron said, staring at the man with obvious doubt. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he?"
"Anyway…" he turned to Harry. "Where's your sister?" Weren't you going to ask her to come sit with us?"
A sad expression crossed the Potter boy's face as he just silently shook his head.
Looks of understanding dawned upon the faces of Hermione and Ron, and they both tried to distract Harry with different topics. Sirius Black and how he might be after Harry came up, but Harry wasn't as interested in the Azkaban escapee as he once might've been. The sneakoscope that the Weasley twins had gifted Harry had suddenly started shrieking loudly, forcing Harry to stuff it below several layers of his new clothes – and didn't having clothes that didn't belong to someone before bring a certain warmth to Harry's chest – to prevent it from waking the professor up.
He did not want to lose points before he even got to Hogwarts.
They talked about Hogsmeade, and Ron completely derailed Hermione's lecture by talking about Hogsmeade, and the more he talked, the more Harry wanted to go there. As they were discussing about exploring Hogsmeade together, Harry had to let them down by telling them about his lack of a signed permission slip – even as his mind raced with thoughts about using his invisibility cloak to sneak out.
Then, other than the disaster with Crookshanks the cat and Scabbers the rat, the train ride was looking at becoming a pleasant one.
Then, Malfoy had to show his ugly mug.
Draco Malfoy – as always, had his hair slicked backwards in a way that reminded Harry of a ferret – appeared at the door of the cabin, followed by his two cronies.
"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Potty and the Weasel."
The two cronies who just seemed to exist to do their master's bidding – Crabbe and Goyle, chuckled trollishly.
"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," Malfoy smirked. "Did your mother die of shock?"
Ron stood up so quickly that he knocked Crookshanks's basket to the floor, an absolutely enraged expression on his face. Harry's hand subtly fingered his wand as he glared at the unwanted eyesore, ready to cast spells if needs be.
"Who's that?" Malfoy asked, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted the sleeping professor.
"New teacher," Harry said curtly, the green of his eyes glinting with unconcealed danger.
But Ron didn't care about any talk about the teacher. "What were you saying, Malfoy?" He snarled
Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed; he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.
"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.
Ron sat down again, still absolutely enraged out of his mind if the expression on his face was anything to go by. Harry waited for a few moments, in case Malfoy and his two cronies came back, but he finally withdrew his hand from his wand after a while.
"I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," Ron practically growled. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and —"
Ron made a violent gesture in midair.
"Ron," hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be careful…"
The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.
"We must be nearly there," Ron muttered, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.
The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.
"Great," the red-haired boy stood up and walked carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast…"
Hermione checked her watch, "We can't be there yet."
"So why're we stopping?"
The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows. Harry, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out, and they were plunged into total darkness.
"What's going on?" Harry heard Ron shout as he heard the sounds of shuffling and moving.
"Ouch!" Hermione gasped in pain. "Ron, you idiot, that was my foot!"
"Oi!"
Harry felt his way back to his seat. "Do you think the train's broken down?"
Hermione's voice was uncertain as she replied, "I don't know, Harry."
There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.
"There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard…"
People?
In the middle of the journey?
The compartment door suddenly opened, and someone fell painfully over Harry's legs. "Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry —"
"Hullo, Neville," said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.
"Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"
"No idea! Sit down —"
There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.
"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," Hermione said as she made her way through them all. Harry felt her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.
"Who's that?"
"Who's that?"
"Ginny?"
"Hermione?"
"What are you doing?"
"I was looking for Ron —"
"Come in and sit down —"
"Not here!" Harry shouted as he felt a weight try to settle on his lap. Someone was trying to sit on him. "I'm here!"
"Ouch!" Neville cried out
"Quiet!" a hoarse voice suddenly sounded out throughout the cabin, silencing all the chaos in an instant. Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last.
Harry could hear movements in his corner.
None of them spoke.
There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary. "Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.
But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it.
Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood.
Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water…
But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak. And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.
An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart…
Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder…
And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams.
He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't… a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him —
His eyes rolled back into his head behind his glasses, and the boy passed away. The last thing he heard before the darkness was a cacophony of concerned noises. And the last thing he saw before the black was a…flame, made out of an ethereal white.
///
Rose stared around the Great Hall of Hogwarts, and she had to admit – it was a beautiful place
The walls stretched so high that the entire Hall felt less like a Hall and more like a Cathedral or a Mausoleum made for giants. The Ceiling above opened into the night sky, showing the full brilliance of the galaxy beyond – and though Rose had read about it before, and how it had been enchanted, it was still mesmerizing and awe-inspiring to see with her own two eyes.
There were floating candles all around the upper half of the Hall, all enchanted to not drip any of the Wax, and probably even to never run out. There were 4 long tables arranged in the Hall, with two on each side. She could tell that they had been segregated by the houses and which house each Long table belonged to from the ties of the students.
Gryffindor.
Hufflepuff.
Ravenclaw.
Slytherin.
And here she was, standing in the midst of eleven-year-olds. Waiting to be called for the sorting Ceremony. And to be honest, she was tired and hungry and just wanted to get this over with. But of course, none of this could be seen in her gait, and to the others, she just looked like a confident older girl standing amongst children.
Eventually, her turn arrived.
"Rose Potter!" Professor McGonnagal called from her podium.
Rose straightened her back as she confidently walked forward, uncaring of the rumours and whispers that erupted around her. She's been surrounded by awe and whispers all her life, and had long since gotten used to being the center of attention. So, all his whispers about her did not bother her.
Then, she heard what was being said.
"Rose Potter?!"
"Potter? Like Harry…?!"
"Potter's got a sister?"
"Who is she?"
"Why is she so much older than the firsties?"
"Is she transferring from another school?"
And more.
Her eyes turned sharp and stormy as it became evidently clear that Harry hadn't told anyone that he even had a sister. He'd been attending Hogwarts for over two years now, but hadn't told anyone about her.
She sat down on the rickety old stool that creaked audibly when she did, much to her embarrassment – it was clearly meant for eleven-year-olds and not an almost adult.
"Hmm," a rough voice said in her ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"
The Hat was clearly giving her an option – Gryffindor or Slytherin.
As she tried to make the choice that would define her next two years in this castle, her eyes inadvertently wandered towards the long table where the entire Gryffindor house was sitting. She raked her gaze across every one of them, but she couldn't find who she was looking for.
Fine, she thought. If her brother didn't even care enough to come witness her sorting, then why should she care about what he thought?
And so she made her decision.
And with a loud bellow, the Sorting Hat announced her house.
"Slytherin!"