London, King's Cross Station
3rd Person POV
Something moved at a speed difficult to follow with the naked eye and stopped behind King's Cross Station — the Knight Bus, triple-decker, settled with a sigh. A group of people, among them several children, climbed out. Some were perfectly fine. Others had visibly shaking legs and were supported carefully down the steps by the recent Hogwarts graduate and new conductor of the bus, Stan Shunpike, who held their hands and led them down with genuine patience. Stan was a thin young man with protruding ears, quite a few pimples, and unkempt hair.
One of the children stood out — shorter than average height, dark circles under his eyes. He was wearing a blue jumper and green trousers. Alex was visibly healthier than he had been when he first left prison.
The children started moving toward the station and Alex followed. One by one they ran into a wall and entered Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. At last, Alex was the only one remaining on the Muggle side.
Unlike many stories he had read in his previous life, there was no special encounter here — no dramatic moment, no guiding hand.
He let out a quiet breath, steeled himself, and walked into the wall. The sensation was like walking through a thin yet thick layer of jelly — there was resistance for a moment, then none.
He opened his eyes. The world had changed. A train was waiting on tracks that had been empty moments ago. The people had changed — robes instead of suits and casual clothes, children and parents and cages of owls and cats. The platform was full of noise and movement as parents sent their children off to Hogwarts, seeing them more clearly than ever knowing they would not see them again for at least a few months. The only thing that had remained the same was the clock above, showing there was still a quarter of an hour before the train left the station.
Alex boarded the Hogwarts Express.
Alex POV
I strolled down the aisle, looking into the filled and half-filled compartments, searching for somewhere quiet. Near the end of the aisle I found an empty compartment. I went in, closed the door, and pointed my wand at my trunk.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The trunk flew up smoothly and settled into the overhead rack. I sat down.
I started reminiscing about the past month. In the past month I had done nothing except read the first-year books and a few additional books about the wizarding world and society, suggested by Professor Flitwick to help me understand the magical community better. My magical knowledge before had been entirely practical, built by repeated practice, wandless magic built by desperation — but it had no theory. I had learned almost all of the first-year magical theory in the past month.
My knowledge had been like a document with most of the pages missing — usable, but full of gaps, just like the Epstein files. But I had started to fill those gaps over the last month, although a very large part was still missing.
I had woken up early today and decided a nap was a good idea.
For the next fifteen minutes I slept, until a knock jolted me awake. The train was already moving. Through the window I saw the countryside crawling past and trees sprinting by. I opened the latch on the door.
A boy came in — one I recognised easily. Short and thin with black hair, similar to me, but that was where the similarities ended. He had green eyes behind round glasses, and the distinct lightning-shaped mark above his right brow.
It was Harry Potter.
"Can I sit here? The other compartments are full," asked Harry, seeing I was the only person in the compartment.
He looked a little nervous, probably still not used to being somewhere new and having freedom.
"Sure," I said. "Go ahead."
I reached into my pocket and took out a chocolate. Chocolate was, in my experience, an excellent social tool. Easy to offer, easy to accept, and it gave both parties something to do with their hands before the conversation started flowing. I offered it to Harry as he settled into the seat across from me. He happily accepted it. I then pointed my wand at his trunk.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The trunk rose and joined mine in the overhead rack. Harry looked fascinated by the magic.
"I'm Alex. Are you Harry Potter?"
"Yes." He looked at me. "What was that magic just now?"
"A levitation charm." I paused. "Want to see another?"
He nodded. I turned my wand toward his glasses — cracked at the bridge, one lens slightly askew — and cast the mending charm. The crack sealed. The lens straightened. Harry's eyes went slightly wide as he reached up to touch them.
We were about to continue when there was another knock on the door.
A red-haired boy put his head in — blue eyes, freckles — and asked the same question Harry had asked me. We agreed to share.
As Ron settled in, his gaze moved to me and I watched the flicker of recognition cross his face — he had seen me somewhere but could not remember where exactly. I offered him a chocolate, the same as I had offered Harry. He took it with a smile.
Ron introduced himself and we introduced ourselves. Ron's eyes went wide at Harry's name. He asked to see the scar with the directness of someone who had heard that name his whole life. Harry agreed easily. They started talking about their respective lives and their families.
Then they turned toward me.
"Alex, tell us about yourself," said Harry. "We've both talked about our lives."
"Go on," said Ron.
"If you are that curious, then I will tell you," I said. I had no intention of hiding any of it — my story was public knowledge anyway. "I don't remember much from my early years. I grew up in an orphanage. When I was seven, I was kidnapped and placed in Azkaban in place of the actual criminal. Two months ago, I was rescued by Hogwarts Headmaster Dumbledore and Deputy Headmistress Professor Minerva McGonagall," I said without much fluctuation in my voice, but I could see that Ron had recognised me.
Ron's expression shifted as a flush marked his face.
Harry was looking at me with a combination of confusion and sadness. He did not know what Azkaban was specifically, but he understood wrongful imprisonment well enough.
"I'm sorry," said Ron, and he meant it. "I shouldn't have asked."
"I also pushed," said Harry. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," I said, as I took out two chocolates. "It is public knowledge anyway and I have already put it behind me." I smiled as I offered them the chocolates. It helped them get over their awkward guilt and they visibly relaxed.
'They are good,' I thought. 'Both of them.'
The compartment was about to settle into a little awkward silence before the trolley witch appeared at the door. Harry, clearly delighted to have both money and people to spend it on for the first time in his life, was generous. We started to eat chocolates, but I found them too sweet and ate moderately. Ron shared his sandwiches with us — they were really good.
'Mrs Weasley knows what she is doing.'
With that, the awkwardness disappeared before it even settled. We talked. I mostly listened and asked questions.
Eventually I decided I genuinely needed sleep and closed my eyes. Some time later — I estimated an hour and a half — I woke to find both Harry and Ron also dozing, apparently inspired. I drank some water and looked out the window.
Plains. Rivers. Woodland. Hills in the distance. The afternoon light coming sideways across it all. It was quite beautiful.
Though the peace did not last long, as someone knocked on the door.
'The fourth time today.'
I was beginning to wonder if someone had put a sign on the door. I flicked my wand and the latch opened. Harry and Ron stirred at the sound.
A girl stepped in — bushy brown hair, slightly buck teeth.
'Of course it is her.'
"Sorry to disturb you — have any of you seen a toad, brown, medium-sized? I am Hermione, by the way," she said.
"Haven't," said Ron, with the irritation of someone whose nap had just been interrupted.
The girl absorbed this and then looked directly at me.
"Are you the student from Azkaban?"
"Yes."
She sat down next to me and began asking questions, which within two minutes had transitioned into her talking mostly. I caught the important parts: many Muggle families subscribed to the Daily Prophet and other newspapers specifically to monitor the state of the wizarding world, out of concern for their children's safety. My case had been covered not only in the Prophet but in several other publications too. The result had been a wave of worried Muggle parents questioning whether Hogwarts was actually a safe environment. Several professors had been dispatched to personally reassure families. The Grangers had been one such family.
"By the way," said Hermione, pivoting without pause, "do any of you know how the sorting works? I want Gryffindor — both the current Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress came from Gryffindor, and Headmaster Dumbledore is considered the greatest wizard of the century."
"My brothers told me you have to fight a troll," said Ron, with a slightly worried expression. "Though they're exactly the kind of people who would lie about that. Dad mentioned something about trolls from his time too. I want Gryffindor — everyone in my family has been, or was. Any house is fine really, except Slytherin. They're all dark wizards."
We listened as I saw Harry nod a little before he spoke. "My parents were both Gryffindor," said Harry. "Hagrid told me it is the best house, so I also want to be sorted into Gryffindor. Hagrid is Hogwarts' gamekeeper — he was the one who told me about magic and helped me purchase things for Hogwarts."
After Harry told his preference, they looked at me. I knew they wanted my opinion too.
"Any house except Slytherin is fine with me," I said, "though not for the reason Ron said. Not all Slytherins are dark wizards, and dark wizards have come from every house. The problem is the blood purity obsession, which is a nuisance — and the fact that a significant number of them are children of Death Eaters. I've met a few of their parents in Azkaban." I paused for a moment. "If you want a genuinely peaceful Hogwarts experience, Hufflepuff is probably the honest answer. They are the only united house and support each other. Gryffindor will do whatever it wants, which has consequences. Ravenclaw is studious and tends to keep to itself." I continued. "If it were a few decades ago, before the Dark Lord and the escalation of blood purity obsession, it would probably be my most likely house."
Ron looked satisfied that I had rejected Slytherin, though I could see he had not fully registered the parts where I had complicated his reasoning. Harry looked like he had already decided that wherever his friends went he would follow, though preferably Gryffindor. Hermione looked like she had noted my answer and filed it without changing her existing conclusion about Gryffindor.
She was about to continue when the door opened again — this time directly, without any knocking. This was the fifth time today.
At the doorway stood a boy with sleek white-blond hair and pale complexion, along with two large boys who were definitely on the verge of obesity and had clearly come from very well-fed families.
He looked around the compartment with the easy arrogance of someone who had almost never been told no by anyone he considered important.
His gaze landed on Harry and immediately recognised the scar.
"Good afternoon, Harry Potter. I am Draco Malfoy — son of Lucius Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy family." He stepped forward and extended his hand. "You'll find that certain families in our world carry more weight than others. I think we could be friends." Draco ignored Hermione and me, his eyes making clear he was saying this about the Weasleys.
Ron's face was already red with an angry expression. It was clear from Harry's expression that he too did not like the newcomer trying to belittle his friend. Draco's behaviour probably reminded him of Dudley.
"No, thank you," said Harry clearly. "I believe I don't need others to tell me who to be friends with." At Harry's words, Ron's face broke into a smile as he glared at Draco.
Draco had never expected to be rejected like this. It made him go blank for a moment before his expression shifted and became unpleasant.
"You... you will reg—" his words were cut off as I flicked my wand and closed the door in his face.
I applied the Imperturbable Charm so that no voice could come in or go out.
I turned to see the trio looking at me with confused expressions. Just now Hermione had been frowning and Harry and Ron had been getting ready to argue — and I had disrupted this.
"He was obviously about to start a meaningless argument and throw insults about blood and money, so I ended it before it started."
"That's... disrespectful as hell. I approve," said Ron, giving me a thumbs up with a smile.
We ate more chocolate. A few minutes later Hermione reminded us we were approaching Hogsmeade and excused herself. We changed into our Hogwarts robes.
Hogsmeade Station
3rd Person POV
The train came to a stop at Hogsmeade Station. Students streamed out onto the platform in the cool evening air.
Alex, Harry, and Ron stepped down and found Hermione waiting with a round-faced boy who was fidgeting with his robes and had a visible lack of confidence. Hermione introduced him as Neville Longbottom, whose toad was missing and whom she had been trying to help.
From somewhere in the dark, a voice like a loud horn called the first-years. The students started moving toward it. Harry looked excited and pulled the group toward the front of the gathering crowd, greeting Hagrid with a smile and introducing the others. Hagrid was holding a lantern in one hand and beamed at the sight of Harry already having made friends.
The path was muddy, dark, and uneven, and Alex had no desire to fall.
"Lumos."
The tip of his wand glowed with steady white light, illuminating the ground immediately around him. Harry, Ron, and Neville moved instinctively closer. Hermione also tried the charm and succeeded on the second attempt. Several other first-years noticed and attempted the same, until the group had organised itself into small lit clusters following Hagrid's lantern through the dark.
At the Black Lake's edge, boats were waiting — four students to each boat. Alex, Harry, Ron, and Neville took one together. Hermione went ahead with a group of girls, one of whom Alex vaguely noted as Lavender Brown.
The boats moved out onto the Black Lake. Something moved beneath the surface of the water. There appeared to be some merfolk swimming, watching the passing boats.
They passed under a bridge and Hogwarts appeared in view.
The castle sat on high ground above the lake, its towers rising at different heights against the dark sky, lit from within so that every window was a small warm square of gold. The lake reflected it back doubled, so that the castle appeared to float between sky and water equally. It looked like something straight from a fairy tale.
Alex's mouth fell open for a moment before he came to his senses. He had read descriptions of Hogwarts before, but seeing it for the first time was an entirely different thing.
The boats docked at an underground harbour. Hagrid led them up stone steps and through a heavy door, and there was Professor McGonagall — unlike the last time Alex had met her, she looked stern and upright today. She looked professional, regal even.
Hagrid greeted her and left the students in her care. She explained the four houses. She told them they would be sorted soon. She led them into a small chamber and told them to wait.
A handful of ghosts drifted through the walls while they waited, which startled several students considerably and delighted others. The ghosts greeted the first-years with varying levels of enthusiasm, some openly promoting their respective houses. Nearly Headless Nick was particularly earnest.
Soon McGonagall returned and led them into the Great Hall. The hall was long, with four long tables, one for each house. Though the most striking thing was the ceiling, which was enchanted to look like the night sky outside. It was beautiful.
In the centre of the room, on a stool, sat an old hat. As Professor McGonagall came to a stop in front of it, it opened a tear near its brim and began to sing about the glory of Hogwarts and the four founders.
The song ended and Professor McGonagall produced a long scroll.
"Hannah Abbott."
The hat barely touched her head. "Hufflepuff!"
The table on the right erupted. The sorting continued, name by name, the hall marking each decision with either cheers or polite applause depending on the house and the student. Draco Malfoy's name was called. The hat had not fully settled before it shouted Slytherin. The green and silver table received him without much surprise.
McGonagall looked down at her scroll.
"Alex Mercer," called the professor, her eyes locking on him.