Elian's last few days with his father were surprisingly better than ever before. Albert didn't ground him, even though Elian mocked the Ministry of Magic at every chance he got, nor did he force him into doing anything he didn't want to. With each passing day, Elian realized it wasn't that Albert had suddenly become a better man—it was simply because he'd received the news that Elian had agreed to attend Hogwarts. Albert never asked what caused the change of heart, nor did he wonder how it happened so suddenly, Elian didn't even told him about being owner of four wands because he was sure that Albert will take this matter to the ministry, which Elian will despise the most. He didn't care about Elian himself—only that the son of Albert Vale, one of the Ministry's most celebrated Aurors, would now be walking the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.
Elian remained in his room, always going through his ornaments as though looking for an answer to a question he didn't even know. Other times he experimented with spells and potions from the books he had purchased, producing bizarre and sometimes dangerous improvisations, and sometimes he sent McGonagall letters through Marco just to kill time.
On the last day of August, Elian was in his room as usual when Stephen entered without knocking—something Elian had long permitted.
"Young Master," Stephen greeted, his tone caught between politeness and hesitation.
"He's not coming, is he?" Elian asked, eyes still on the book in his hands, as if the answer was already written there.
"Master has an important meeting tomorrow at the Ministry of Magic," Stephen confirmed. "He's asked me to take you to King's Cross instead."
"Tell me something I don't know, Stephen," Elian said, finally looking up, his voice a dry blend of sarcasm and fatigue.
"That man is my father only on paper," he sneered, his eyes briefly narrowing before drifting back to the book.
"I became an orphan the day my mother died—ten years ago—protecting this so-called wizarding world." The words were sharp, but beneath them lay a quiet, heavy bitterness that filled the room like smoke.
He let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing into resignation.
"Go on, Stephen," Elian murmured, his voice soft yet resolute, then let his gaze return to the pages in front of him.
Elian stirred awake at exactly five o'clock the following morning. He woke Stephen as well right away.
He said under his breath, already gathering his belongings, "We're leaving before he wakes." Stephen mumbled something beneath his breath and paused, then he obeyed. Stephen wore his usual butler's uniform, while Elian opted for a simple Muggle tracksuit—he preferred comfort until reaching Hogwarts, claiming those robes were a nightmare to handle. Stephen merely shook his head at Elian's carefree choice but stayed silent; by now, he was long accustomed to it. Elian checked his Hogwarts list one last time, making sure Marco was safely shut in his cage, before waiting for Stephen to prepare their ride to King's Cross—a Muggle car, no less: a 1980 Rolls-Royce Corniche. He had bought it on impulse, without telling Albert, purely to show off to one of his friend's bullies back at his Muggle school.They took off from Golden Valley, the car gliding gracefully through the air beneath a charm, Stephen had chosen. Once they got to the highway, they descended gracefully, slipping back into the stream of Muggle traffic as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.
They reached King's Cross at quarter to eleven. As soon as Stephen pulled Elian's luggage out from the car, Elian told him to leave. Stephen resisted by saying, "But Young Master, how could I leave you alone?"
"Because I ordered you to, Stephen." Elian said with sarcasm in his voice. "And you should reach home as soon as possible because the elephant in the house should be calmed down by someone, right?"
It seemed as though Stephen wanted to argue, but he couldn't deny Elian's logic. Albert would no doubt be furious with both of them for leaving without informing him. Reluctantly, Stephen let go of the trolley as Elian took control and walked into King's Cross, waving without so much as a backward glance. Stephen remained where he was, watching until Elian disappeared into the crowd.
As Elian reached platform nine, he spotted the same thin-faced boy he'd seen the other day at Madam Malkin's in Diagon Alley, pacing back and forth between platforms nine and ten. Ignoring him as he had at the shop, Elian walked straight toward the barrier.
"Excuse me."
At first, Elian thought he was imagining it and kept walking.
"Excuse me," the voice came again, closer this time.
He stopped and turned. The boy was heading toward him, straining to push a heavy luggage trolley, his face flushed with effort as though each step took all the strength he had.
"Yes, how can I help you?" Elian asked.
"Are you also heading towards platform nine and three-quarters?" the boy asked hesitantly.
"No, I'm heading to a circus with this owl and other strange items," Elian said, his face deadpan and his voice laced with sarcasm.
"I...I am sorry...I didn't." The boy stammered.
"Relax, I was just kidding," Elian said. "Unfortunately, yes, I am heading towards platform nine and three-quarters."
That boy asked with a mix of relief and intrigue, "Can you please tell me—"
"How to reach platform nine and three-quarters," Elian finished for him. Before Elian or the boy could say anything else, they overheard a few words from people passing just behind them.
"—packed with Muggles, of course—"
They both turned around, the boy with a quick swing, Elian with an almost lazy, carefree twist. The speaker was a plump woman, chatting to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk much like the one in front of Elian and the boy.
"You know what?" Elian said.
The boy looked at him expectantly.
"I'm not exactly brilliant at explaining… so they're probably better candidates than me."
Without waiting for a reply, Elian steered his trolley toward the group, the boy trailing after him like a sheep following its shepherd.
As he pushed his trolley, the boy said, "By the way, my name's Harry Potter, and you might not remem—"
"Yes, I remember," Elian cut in without missing a beat. "You were in Madam Malkin's shop."
He kept pushing his own trolley, tone as casual as if he were recalling the weather.
For the first time since entering the wizarding world, someone took Harry's name so casually. It caught him off guard — no widened eyes, no gasp, no awkward whispering. Instead, Elian just kept pushing his trolley as if he'd been told the weather forecast. The unexpected normality made Harry feel oddly relieved, though he kept his thoughts to himself. Both Elian and Harry stopped just close enough to catch the woman's words.
"Now, what's the platform number?" asked the boy's mother.
"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl with bright red hair, clinging to her mother's hand. "Mum, can't I go—"
"You're not old enough, Ginny. Now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."
The eldest boy strode towards the space between platforms nine and ten. Harry stared fixedly, afraid to blink in case he missed the trick. Elian, however, merely scratched the back of his head, looking more impatient than impressed, as though this were a minor errand he had to suffer through.
Just as Percy reached the barrier, a tide of tourists surged in front of them. By the time the last oversized rucksack passed, the boy was gone.
"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.
"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"
"Sorry, George, dear."
"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done, because a second later, he had gone – but how had he done it?
Now the third brother was walking briskly towards the ticket barrier – he was almost there – and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't
anywhere.
There was nothing else for it.
"Go ask her, like you asked me." Elian nudges Harry. "Will you please come with me?" Harry asked.
"Ah yes, of course every eleven-year-old needed moral support while asking help from strangers." Elian said, his voice caught between sarcasm and teasing.
"Is that a yes or a no?" Harry asked hesitantly and genuinely confused, but Elian was already approaching the woman.
Harry caught up with Elian just as they reached the plump woman.
Without a word, Elian gave Harry a light push forward, then stepped back with a faintly amused expression, as if watching an experiment unfold.
"Excuse me," Harry began.
"Hullo, dear," the woman said warmly, her eyes flicking between Harry and Elian—lingering for a curious moment on the odd assortment of ornaments hanging from Elian's attire.
"First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." She nodded toward the youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangly, with freckles, oversized hands and feet, and a nose that looked like it had grown ahead of the rest of him.
"Yes," said Harry. "The thing is—"
"That we have no idea how to vanish into thin air like your other sons just did," Elian cut in, pointing at Harry with mock solemnity. "So, if you'd help this young man — who might otherwise take years to reach the platform — he'd be eternally grateful."
Ginny gave a quiet chuckle. Harry blinked, his face caught between surprise and amusement; the jab felt different from anything the Dursleys had thrown at him — light, teasing, and entirely without malice.
That woman gave Elian a kind smile.
"How to get on the platform?" she said warmly, and Harry nodded.
"Not to worry," she said. "All you boys have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop, and don't be scared you'll crash into it — that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now, before Ron."
Harry glanced at Elian, silently hoping he'd take the lead. Elian, however, gave an exaggerated bow toward the gap between the platforms. "Ladies and curious wizards first," he declared with a flourish.
"Er—OK," said Harry.
He steered his trolley around, eyes fixed on the barrier. Up close, it looked unshakably solid. People bustled past, hurrying toward platforms nine and ten.
Harry quickened his pace. His mind filled with the image of smashing headlong into the ticket booth, followed by a very awkward explanation. Heart thudding, he broke into a run—the barrier looming closer—no way to stop now—just a foot away—he shut his eyes and braced for impact… and then he was gone.
"And there he goes," Elian muttered with a smirk.
The woman glanced at Elian and said, "Now your turn, dear."
"Oh, please, ma'am, take the lead. I'm already thankful enough that you helped us," Elian replied, his tone hovering between gratitude and sarcasm.
"Oh, no need to be thankful; it's just what anyone would do," she said.
"You're being modest, ma'am. I'd love to talk with you more, but I believe your son is also getting late." Elian nodded toward Ron. "So, please, after you."
Eventually relenting, that lady vanished through the barrier with Ron and Ginny trailing behind.
Looking at the simple wall, Elian moved up to the area between platforms nine and ten.
"Here we go," he said under his breath.
Beginning at the very end, he sprang to run, eyes glued to the strong brick. He leaped on the trolley's edge at the last minute—because why go about things the dull way?
A gust of wind, a blink, then whoosh.
The crimson steam engine stood ready, gleaming beneath the station lights, its smoke drifting slowly into the air. Above the sign proclaiming in gold letters "Hogwarts Express—11 o'clock," a busy throng swirled about it.
Smoke from the engine lazily floated over the busy throng, twisting into the crisp air as cats of all colors nimbly wove between legs. Above the buzz of noises came the odd angry hoot from the owls, their cages shaking with every movement. Students crammed the first few carriages already, some leaning dangerously far out of the windows to talk with their families, others locked in spirited debates over who had claimed which seat.
The crowd suddenly jolted aside as a trolley, with a boy riding on it, came barreling through. He shouted with the most carefree voice, as if everything was under control, "Give way if you don't want to crash into me!"
It was none other than Elian. Judging by his wobbling balance, leaping onto the trolley's edge at the last minute before crossing the barrier hadn't been such a great idea. As Harry had just settled into the empty compartment he found near the end of the train, he heard voices outside. Leaning his head out of the window, he saw the commotion Elian had caused. He tried to call out to him, but quickly realized he didn't even know Elian's name.
From there, Harry's attention was caught by the red-haired family nearby, and he overheard their conversation. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.
"Ron, you've got something on your nose."
The youngest boy tried to jerk away, but she caught him and began rubbing at the end of his nose.
"Mum—gerroff." He wriggled free.
"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got something on his nosie?" one of the twins teased.
"Shut up," Ron muttered.
"Where's Percy?" their mother asked.
"He's coming now."
The oldest boy came striding into sight, already dressed in his billowing black Hogwarts robes. Harry noticed a shiny red-and-gold badge on his chest with the letter P on it.
"Can't stay long, Mother," he said briskly. "I'm up front — the prefects have two compartments to themselves—"
"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" one of the twins said with mock astonishment. "You should have told us; we had no idea."
"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," the other twin said.
"Once—"
"Or twice—"
"A minute—"
"All summer—"
"Oh, shut up," Percy the prefect snapped.
"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" one of the twins asked.
"Because he's a prefect," their mother replied fondly. "All right, dear. Have a good term — send me an owl when you get there."
She kissed Percy on the cheek, and just as he was about to leave—Thud! A trolley slammed into him from behind. He tumbled to the ground with a grunt. All the redheads turned their heads in perfect unison. It was Elian. Mrs. Weasley was already at Percy's side, fussing over him to see if he was hurt. "Well, should I be sorry for unintentionally hitting you, or grateful that you stopped my trolley?" Elian said, his tone casual but tinged with awkwardness.
"You're the boy with the weird ornaments from the station," the twins said in unison, their voices a mix of mischief and curiosity. Before Elian could reply, Percy stood up and jolted towards Elian furiously. "Have you lost your mind?" Percy snapped. "Do you think this is a playground?"
"Well, I can understand your anger. If someone would have ruined my brand-new uniform, I would also be very furious." Elian said, his voice calm.
"It's not about that!" Percy shouted. "It's about the misconduct you caused on your first day of school, and that too with a prefect!"
"Don't you think misconduct is a stretch? I was also a victim here." Elian said. "I believe I was in full control of my trolley, but due to a bit of calculation error, I ended up losing control, and for that, I deeply apologize," Elian replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm laced with apologies.
The mother sought to intervene, but the volley of words covered over her voice. The twins grinned, obviously loving the conversation. Ginny held on to her mother's hand, wide-eyed at the sight of someone so easily sparring with her brother. Ron moved awkwardly and looked about as if trying to distance himself from the entire conversation.
"What is your name? I will show you what I can do!" Percy mocked.
Elian responded, his voice as smooth as always but with sarcasm rippling at the margins, "Oh, I'd be honored to tell you, Prefect, but aren't you a little too busy right now... keeping the train in order?"
As soon as Elian spoke, Percy's eyes darted to the enormous clock hanging over the station.
"I'll deal with you later," Percy said stiffly before striding away.
Elian let out a quiet sigh, then turned to the mother. "I apologize for the commotion, ma'am."
"Sorry?" Fred grinned. "That was one of the best things we've seen all day!"
"Even we've never managed to get under Percy's skin that much," George added, sounding almost impressed.
"Shut it, both of you," their mother said, then looked at Elian. "And don't worry, dear, Percy will do nothing."
"Well, he has to do something, as he is a —prefect—," Elian replied, "but thanks anyway." He then walked away as the twins' scolding started by their mother.
As Elian passed on through the crowd, he heard someone saying his name. "Elian!" He heard a familiar voice; as he turned, it was Harry waving at him. Elian walked towards the apartment Harry was sitting in. Elian put Marco inside first next to Hedwig and then, with the help of Harry, shoved his trunk towards the train door.
The train began to move. Harry and Elian saw the boy's mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up.
with the train until it gathered too much speed; then she fell back and waved.
Harry and Elian watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry was excited, but on the other hand, Elian couldn't care less. As soon as the train left the station, Elian pulled out a book from literally nowhere and began to read it. Harry's eyes widened for a second, but he had at least learned this much: that anything was possible with magic. He looked at Elian like he wanted to ask a thousand questions but restrained himself, as Elian's eyes hadn't even blinked in a while, so Harry thought it wouldn't be right to interrupt him.
"So... from where did you learn my name?" Elian asked without looking up as he noticed Harry wanted to talk.
"Oh—I noticed it when you boarded the train. Sorry for peeking."
"No, no, it's fine; just be careful to not peek at something someone is trying to hide from you." Elian said, his voice caught between sarcasm and advice. Harry didn't understand what Elian said, but before he could say something else, the door of the compartment slid open and the youngest red-headed boy came in. He looked at Elian awkwardly, but Elian gave him a wink in response before immersing himself back in the book. The boy's eyes widened slightly in confusion.
"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat next to Harry and opposite to Elian. "Everywhere else is full."
Harry shook his head, and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry, then at Elian, and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked.
"You are fooling no one." Elian said with a sarcastic voice without looking up.
"What did you say?" Ron asked, acting like he didn't hear. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.
"Hey, Ron."
The twins were back.
"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan's
got a giant tarantula down there."
'Right,' mumbled Ron.
"Harry and the lad with the strange but stylish ornaments," one of the twins said with a grin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this here is Ron, our little brother."
"Well, I quite like the nickname you gave me," Elian replied, tilting his head with his usual sarcastic ease, "but you can also call me Elian Vale."
The twins exchanged a knowing smirk, chuckled, and gave a mock salute before heading off down the carriage.
"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out, leaning forward with wide-eyed curiosity.
Harry gave a small nod. Elian, sitting nearby, barely spared them a glance—this kind of awe-struck chatter wasn't exactly his cup of tea.
"Oh—well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," Ron said, a bit sheepishly. "And have you really got—you know …"
He gestured vaguely toward his own forehead.
Harry brushed back his fringe, revealing the lightning-shaped scar. Ron's eyes went wide.
"So that's where You-Know-Who—"
"Yes," Harry interrupted, "but I can't remember it."
"Nothing?" Ron pressed, almost leaning out of his seat.
"Well—I remember a lot of green light," Harry admitted, "but nothing else."
"Wow," Ron breathed. He sat there staring at Harry for a moment longer before suddenly realizing it and awkwardly turning his gaze back to the window.
Elian smirked faintly, thinking the whole exchange felt like watching a fan meet their idol—only the idol wasn't enjoying it much.
"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry.
"Er—yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."
Harry and Ron turn towards Elian in sync, hoping for an answer as well. Elian glanced at them, sighed, and then said, "Yes, everyone in my family is a wizard, at least the ones I know about."
"Um—what does that mean?" Ron asked.
"It means, Weasley, don't believe everything anyone says." Elian replied before going back to read his book.
Ron and Harry both looked visibly confused, so they didn't push Elian further, and then they both talked about their families. Ron told everything about his siblings and his pet rat Scabbers, and Harry told about the Dursleys. They both shared their different experiences while Elian was just in his book listening but didn't contribute anything to the conversation, as at least Ron and Harry had some kind of family experience, but all Elian had was silence in the name of family.
Everything was going fine.
"…and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard, or about my parents, or Voldemort—"
Ron gasped. Elian, however, didn't even flinch.
"What?" Harry asked.
Elian tilted his head. "Well, you just said Voldemort's name—"
Ron gasped again, louder this time.
"You both said You-Know-Who's name!" Ron blurted, eyes wide with a mix of shock and awe. He jabbed a finger toward Harry. "I'd have thought you, of all people—"
"I'm not trying to be brave or anything," said Harry quickly. "I just never knew you shouldn't."
Both of them then turned toward Elian, curiosity and a touch of unease in their eyes.
Elian met their stares with a half-smile. "It's just a name. If you're scared to say it, I can't imagine what you'll do if he actually comes back."
Ron and Harry looked visibly surprised and impressed by Elian's reasoning—especially Harry, who had never met another wizard and that too of his age who wasn't afraid to say You-Know-Who's name. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The train had already carried them far out of London, and now fields dotted with cows and sheep blurred past the windows.
Around half past twelve, a great clattering sounded in the corridor, and the door slid open to reveal a smiling, dimpled woman.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked warmly.
Harry bought a bit of everything, his arms quickly filling with sweets. Ron watched him in astonishment, while Elian, having finished the book he'd bought earlier out of sheer boredom, had already dozed off in the corner—utterly uninterested in both the trolley and the conversation. Elian dozed through most of Ron and Harry's conversation, catching only scattered words about chocolate frogs drifting into his dreams.
A sudden shout from somewhere down the corridor—someone wailing about a lost toad—stirred him awake.
Ron noticed and brightened. "Oh, you're awa—"
Elian, without missing a beat, had already rolled over and gone straight back to sleep.
Harry chuckled while Ron muttered, "What's with him?"
Harry was starting to get used to Elian's carefree nature, though his curiosity about him only deepened.
Elian's nap didn't last long. Just a few minutes later, the compartment door slid open again. Standing there was a round-faced boy and a girl already in her new Hogwarts robes.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said in a brisk, bossy voice. She had a head full of bushy brown hair and rather prominent front teeth.
"I believe you're forgetting something," Elian said, lazily stretching his arms.
She frowned. "What?"
"Oh, I don't know… maybe something called politeness?" His tone was smooth, but every syllable dripped with sarcasm. As the girl tried to say something,
"And we've already told him we haven't seen it," Ron cut in, more focused on his wand as he pointed it at his rat. The girl seemed to forget whatever retort she had prepared, her eyes narrowing instead at the wand in Ron's hand.
"Oh, you're doing magic? Let's see it, then."
Without waiting for an invitation, she plopped herself down beside Elian.
"I don't recall this being a public compartment, young lady," Elian remarked dryly.
She shot him a sidelong glance—half challenge, half dismissal. Elian raised both hands in exaggerated surrender. Ron, caught between them, looked like he'd missed three conversations at once.
"Er—alright," he muttered, clearing his throat.
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,
Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
He flicked his wand with an air of forced confidence.
Nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fat asleep.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice, and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all; it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course. I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is. I've
heard—I've learned all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough—I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who
Are you?"
She said all this very fast.
"Hold your horses, girl, or this train engine is powering your mouth as well," Elian said, raising an eyebrow.
Ron coughed—a sound that was suspiciously close to a laugh—while Harry tried, and failed, to hide a grin.
Hermione shot Elian a quick, assessing look.
"I am Elian Vale—"
"Wait, Vale—are you the son of Albert Vale?" Hermione cut in, her voice laced with curiosity.
Elian's jaw tightened ever so slightly. His tone cooled a fraction. "That's… not a topic I care to discuss."
"Oh—you are from that Vale family!" Ron blurted, his eyes widening as if a memory had clicked into place.
Harry glanced between them, frowning in confusion. "What Vale family?"
"Seriously? You've never heard of the Vale family?" Hermione asked, disbelief sharpening her tone.
"No," Harry replied quietly.
"The Vales are one of the most respected wizarding families. They were among the few who led the revolt against You-Know-Who and his followers. Albert Vale and Elisa Vale were the most renowned of them all. Unfortunately, Elisa Vale—"
"Enough!" Elian's voice cracked like a whip, raw fury in his eyes.
Hermione, Ron, and Harry froze.
"S-sorry," Hermione murmured. An uneasy silence settled over them until Ron, ever the peacemaker in awkward moments, cleared his throat.
"Uh… anyway, I'm Ron Weasley."
"Harry Potter," Harry added.
"Sorry for the inconvenience, guys," Elian said, quickly switching his tone back to sarcasm.
"You lot carry on; I urgently need to go—nature's calling."
He left the compartment, returning a few minutes later from the bathroom. But instead of heading back to his seat, he lingered at the train's end, leaning against the doorframe and staring through the narrow glass pane at the blurred scenery rushing past.
"I shouldn't have shouted," he muttered under his breath.
After a short while, a voice broke through his thoughts.
"You should wear your robes; we're about to arrive."
He turned slowly to see Hermione standing behind him.
"Oh, Granger, you should be more true to yourself," Elian replied in a teasing tone.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, brow furrowed.
"Do you really want me to spell it out? You're feeling bad for talking too much earlier."
"Of course not," Hermione said with a quick frown. "I was just on my way back to my compartment and happened to see you here."
"Riiight," Elian said with a smirk.
"That's the truth," she insisted, a little too quickly, her cheeks tinged pink.
Before Elian could reply, a sudden commotion erupted outside his compartment. They walked towards his compartment, and on the way they met the same pointed-face boy Elian saw at Madam Malkin's shop next to Harry. Elian and Hermione ignored him and the other two fat kids behind him. The pointed-face boy looked at Elian's ornaments from behind, trying to remember him but couldn't. As they entered the compartment. "What has been going on?" Hermione said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.
"Jeez, I left for a few minutes, and you guys already looked like you were picking a fight with someone." Elian remarked dryly.
"I think he has been knocked out," Ron said.
"Be careful, Ron; he looks like a pretty good actor," Elian said, pointing at Scabbers. Ron looked at Elian, half confused, half starting to get used to his witty nature.
"You've met Malfoy before?"
Harry explained about their encounter in Diagon Alley.
"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to crawl back to our side after You-Know-Who vanished. Claimed they'd been bewitched. My dad never bought it—says Malfoy's father never needed an excuse to join the Dark Side."
He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"
"Oh, she's here to help us put on our robes," Elian said, his voice dripping with deadpan sarcasm.
Hermione flushed. "I am not! People were being childish, that's all. And—by the way—you haven't been fighting, have you? You'll land yourselves in trouble before we even get there!"
"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," Ron muttered with a scowl.
"That rat must have some killer moves if he's the one picking fights," Elian remarked.
"You're not helping, Vale," Ron grumbled.
"Not trying to, Weasley. And Ms. Granger," Elian added with a polite nod toward Hermione, "pardon us, but we need to change."
Hermione gave him a pointed look, rolled her eyes, and swept out of the compartment. Ron glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep-purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down. He, Elian, and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him; you could see his trainers underneath them. A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately." Harry's stomach lurched with nerves, and Ron, he saw, looked
pale under his freckles, while Elian, as usual, was indifferent. Harry and Ron crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets, while Elian waited for them , and then they joined the crowd thronging the corridor.
The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way towards the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform.Elian was looking like the cold wasn't affecting him. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! All right there, Harry?"
Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads, his stare lingered a second longer on Elian's ornaments. "C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now!
Firs'-years follow me!"
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there, while Elian looked around like he wore darkness like a second skin. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice. "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud "Oooooh!".
The narrow path had opened suddenly on to the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.
"No more'n five to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron and Elian were
followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione."Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself,
"Right then – FORWARD!"
And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out on to rocks and pebbles.
"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them."Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then
they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadow
of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. "Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.