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Chapter 3: The Art of Being Convincing

"So there you have it," Harry said, hoarse after talking for over an hour. "After rescuing me from the Dursleys, he took me to a safe-house he had prepared in advance. I've lived with him ever since."

The three brothers sitting before him gave each other doubtful glances. The twins both had their wands out and looked ready to hex him if he as much as breathed wrong. Ron fidgeted in his seat, and Harry was beginning to regret handing the redhead his new wand.

"That seems like a rather fantastic tale to me. Right, George?" Fred said, frowning. Harry was slowly learning to distinguish between the two twins by the subtly different pattern of freckles on their faces.

His brother nodded agreement. "I've never heard of Pettigrew being a rat-Animagus," George said. "And that's a little odd. I don't think there's been more than half a dozen registered Animagi this century."

"He's unregistered," Harry said quickly. "They became Animagi while still in school, and didn't want to face the high fines-"

"In school?" Fred interrupted incredulously. "Are you telling us he did it while still at Hogwarts?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, cursing himself for his slip of tongue. "Well... yes," he admitted, deciding to stick with the truth.

George snorted. "No way. Not even a seventh year could have preformed the necessary ritual without help. Besides-"

"One moment," Fred said, holding up a finger. "You said that they did it while still in school. There was actually more?"

Harry looked from one expectant face to another. "Umm... Sirius and my father."

Fred and George gave him identical looks of disbelief, and even Ron - who had not said a word since the twins entered - rolled his eyes.

"Are you telling us that there were once three unregistered Animagi at Hogwarts?" George demanded incredulously.

"Who on top of it all managed to keep it secret for so many years?" Fred added.

"Look, why would I lie?" Harry demanded in exasperation. "If you are correct, then it means that I'm protecting the man who betrayed my parents to Voldemort!"

There were three sharp intakes of breath, and Ron snapped stared wide-eyed at Harry. "You- you said it!" he gasped. "I had thought- That you of all people-"

"What?" Harry said, looking at the startled expressions in confusion. "Said what?"

"His name! You-Know-Who's name!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "So what? It's just a name."

Fred gave himself a shake and seemed to pull himself together. "Alright, so it doesn't make any sense for you to protect Sirius Black. But that tale of yours still seem rather fantastic to me." He thought for a moment. "What's the Animagus-forms of your father and Black?"

"My father was a stag, and Sirius is a-" Harry's mischievous side suddenly screamed stop, and he quickly changed what he was about to say. "Remember the big, black dog that accompanied me to King's Cross?"

"Yes?"

Harry said nothing.

Ron's eyes bulged. "You're not telling me that was Sirius Black!"

"Why do you think I told him to stay out of trouble?" Harry said, chuckling at Ron's expression. "After all, old Padfoot wasn't too good at that on Hogwarts."

"Padfoot?" Fred said, suddenly interested. "You called him Padfoot?"

"That's his nickname," Harry explained.

The twins gave each other a short glance, then George leaned forward eagerly. "Did he have any friends with funny nicknames like that?"

"Yes, actually," Harry said, a bit surprised. "My father was Prongs. Then there was Remus Lupin, whose nickname is Moony. And Pettigrew, the treacherous rat, is Wormtail."

"And they chose their nicknames based upon their Animagus-forms, right?" Fred asked excitedly.

"Obviously, yes," Harry said, a bit bewildered over their behaviour. "Why do you ask?"

The two twins looked questioningly at each other. Fred raised an eyebrow. His brother seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded firmly. Their wordless conversation complete, they turned to face Harry with identical grins.

"Fred Weasley here," Fred said and rose to shake Harry's hand vigorously.

"And I'm George," the other twin said, grabbed Harry's other hand and pumped it up and down. "Otherwise known as Gred and Forge. Suppose you're Prongs, Jr., then."

Harry was rather surprised but also pleased at the sudden turn of events. "Actually that's 'Mr Raven' to you," he said in a passable imitation of Malfoy's drawl.

"Pleased to meet you," George said, finally letting go of Harry's hand and turning to Fred. "Shall we then go, good sir?"

"Yes, I do believe Lee Jordan mentioned having a huge tarantula," Fred agreed and opened the door.

Ron bolted upright in his seat. "Are you leaving?" he demanded in alarm. "Do you believe him?"

"Certainly," Fred said and stepped outside without further comment.

George stopped in the door and looked back at his younger brother. "Doubt he's dangerous unless you annoy him." And with that, he closed the door after him.

Ron stared at the door for a long moment with a betrayed expression, before turning his gaze toward Harry and biting his lip. Harry said nothing and just looked back expectantly, hoping that he had managed to convince three people today.

"All right then," Ron finally sighed, tossing back Harry's wand. "Anyone who strings up a Malfoy like a side of beef can't be a dark wizard." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Harry grinned and put his wand back in the holster. "You don't like his particular type of pureblood, either?"

Ron shook his head. "Naw. I mean, my own family has been wizards and witches for generations, but we don't buy into any of the 'purity of blood' talk. Dad is actually crazy after all sorts of Muggle gadgets-"

He stopped himself as the door went up again, revealing a girl about their age with lots of bushy brown hair. She put her hands on her hips, glaring at Harry and Ron. "What do you two know about the boy who was hexed right outside your compartment?" she demanded in a bossy sort of voice.

Harry and Ron exchanged grins. "What boy are you talking about?" Harry asked innocently. The girl seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place her.

The girl's eyes narrowed. "The boy who hung from the ceiling, wrapped in about a mile of magical rope. The boy who said that someone in this compartment did it to him."

Ron snickered and said nothing.

"Well, then he has to be mistaken, don't he?" Harry said in the same innocent tone. For some absurd reason, the girl reminded him of books. "We are both first years who doesn't know any magic, yet."

She stared suspiciously at him for a moment. "What's your name?"

"Harry."

"Harry, what?"

Suddenly he remembered where she had seen her before; on the public library in Penzance. "You know, it's rude demanding to know the names of others without introducing yourself first, /Hermione/," Harry said, stressing her name.

Hermione blinked in surprise. "How do you know my name?"

"We bumped into each other at a library in Penzance," Harry said, and waited expectantly for her reply.

For a moment she just looked at him in confusion, before her eyes widened in realization. "But you don't look anything like him!" she exclaimed.

"Of course not," Harry said matter-of-factly. "After all, I had brown eyes and blonde hair at the time."

She gaped at him. "But you- But I-"

Ron laughed at her dumbstruck expression. Hermione shut her mouth with a click and gave him a murderous glare, before turning back to Harry who grinned back cheekily at her.

"How come you were disguised?" she demanded. Suddenly her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward to peer at him. "What's that?"

Harry shifted under her gaze. "What's what?"

She pointed a finger at his forehead. "That. On your forehead."

"Oh," Harry said and patted his fringe. "Well-"

"It's a scar isn't it?" she asked, still with the same intense stare that made Harry feel like a bacteria being examined by a Muggle scientist under a microscope. "Shaped like a lightning-bolt. You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Um, yes," Harry said. On the other side of the compartment, Ron held his breath.

Hermione straightened and gave him a look of incredulity. "Then what on Earth are you doing on this train? You're a dark wizard, it says so in /The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts/!"

Harry finally lost his patience. "Well, then The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts is wrong then, isn't it?" he snapped. He jumped up from his seat and shoved her roughly out of the compartment. "Get out of here! Out!" Slamming the door shut he sat back down, still fuming.

Harry scowled down at the floor, wondering how many others would react like Hermione and Ron's mother. How was he suppose to get anything done, if he couldn't convince people that he wasn't about to begin casting Unforgivables on them?

On the other side of the compartment, Ron shifted in his seat and gave Harry an uneasy glance. "So, what have you and Sirius Black been doing these years?" he asked timidly, in an attempt to start a conversation.

"A little of this and a little of that," Harry said evasively. He wasn't about to bring up his rather unorthodox training in self-defence. Ron still seemed rather nervous to him. "We've just tried to keep our heads down, basically. By the way, I've got my photo album with me. Want to see?"

At Ron's nod he lifted down his trunk and opened the secret compartment, where he stored his most prized possessions. He took out a photo album titled: "Memorable Pranks" and handed it to Ron, before putting the trunk back into place.

"Memorable Pranks?" Ron asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, old Padfoot has been on the receiving end of quite a few over the years," Harry said slyly.

Ron gaped at him. "You pranked Sirius Black?" he demanded in a sort of horrified fascination. Despite everything Harry had told him, he was apparently still under the impression that pranking Sirius was just a strange way of committing suicide.

Harry gestured toward the photo album in Ron's lap. "Well, open it, then," he said impatiently and sat down beside him.

Ron did as he was told, and promptly goggled in shock. The first picture was of Sirius standing in the living room in a robe that had been changed into a pale pink dress, adorned with red hearts. As if the alteration to his robe wasn't insult enough, someone had not only transfigured his hair into a spiky mess, but also coloured it in a particularly glaring shade of yellow. It clashed so horribly with his clothes it made both Harry and Ron blink. The picture of Sirius looked faintly sick as he stared down on his robe-turned-dress in distaste, before looking up at them to shake his first. He couldn't quite keep the corners of his mouth from quirking up, however.

Ron seemed to be at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed several times, before he finally regained his voice and blurted out: "And he didn't kill you?"

Harry scowled at him.

"Not that he would," Ron hastily added. "I just thought that he might, um, get angry. Or something."

"Oh, not as long as I remember the First Rule of Pranking," Harry said. Seeing Ron's clueless expression, he quoted: "'It's okay to prank, but not to be cruel.' Sirius said he learned that the hard way. Whatever that means."

Once Ron got over the shock, they had a good time looking through Harry's photo album, pausing only to buy a dozen chocolate frogs from the witch pulling the tea trolley. They were chuckling over a picture of Harry with pink hair, vainly trying to fend off the romantic affections of a pillow, when the door to their compartment went up yet again.

A tall and thin boy with a Prefect's badge and horn-rimmed spectacles stood in the opening, scowling darkly at them. His bright red hair gave him away as another of Ron's brothers. For a moment Harry was certain he had caught a short glimpse of bushy brown hair behind him.

"Hello, Percy," Ron said. "It's okay-"

"What's your name?" Percy demanded. His eyes flickered around as if he wasn't sure of who or what to look at.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry sighed and braced himself.

Percy's scowl deepened. "Let me see your ticket," he ordered, addressing a point a few inches above Harry's left shoulder.

Harry dug into his pocket and gave him the ticket Dumbledore had given him. Despite the impressive glare Percy was now sending at the ticket, Harry had a feeling that he was actually rather nervous and trying to cover it up by appearing angry.

"Where did you get this?" Percy asked suspiciously, looking up.

"From Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. "If Hermione has a problem with that, I suggest she take it up with him."

There was a gasp from somewhere outside the compartment, followed by rapidly retreating steps.

Percy seemed to debate with himself over what to do. After a few moments, he apparently came to a decision and turned toward his brother. "All right. Let's go, Ron."

Ron glanced at Harry. "No, I think I'd rather stay."

"Stay?" Percy repeated in disbelief. "Ron, that's Harry Potter you're sitting next to!"

"And guess what; I haven't tried to kill him," Harry said, annoyed.

Percy gave him a look that clearly said he didn't expect the situation to last. "No arguments, Ron," he said firmly. "You're coming with me."

"I said no," Ron said stubbornly. "I don't think he's any dangerous."

"Have you gone crazy?" Percy exclaimed in exasperation. "Haven't you heard what the Ministry has said about him? He has already hexed one student, and Sirius Black has had ten years to teach him all kinds of Dark Arts-" Percy suddenly stopped himself as a look of horror appeared on his face. "The Imperius Curse," he whispered at Harry. "You're using the Imperius Curse on him, aren't you?"

"Of course not!" Harry said, offended and angry. "I-"

Percy didn't wait to listen. Wide-eyed and pale, he whipped out his wand from a pocket and shouted: "Expelli-"

He never got any further. Harry's right hand moved with abnormal speed. "Stupefy!"

The pulse of red light knocked Percy backwards and sent him sprawling on the floor outside the compartment. Cursing, Harry jumped up and levitated Percy's prone form back inside, shutting the door behind them.

"This is just wonderful," Harry muttered sarcastically to himself, as he deposited the older boy on a seat. "I've already hexed two students - one of them a Prefect! - and I haven't even arrived at Hogwarts, yet."

Ron had put away the photo album and stood. "What are you going to do?" he asked worriedly.

"Disarm him, I suppose," Harry sighed. He took Percy's wand, which was still in his grip, and pocketed it. Then he pointed his own wand at Percy and said, "Ennervate."

Percy lifted his head and looked around groggily. "Eh?"

"Morning, Percy," Harry said wryly, sitting back down.

Percy's face went white as he realized what had just happened, and that he was now unarmed.

This is going to be a really long trip, Harry thought and grabbed the bag of chocolate frogs he had bought earlier. "Chocolate frog?" he offered.

III

On the train station, they were rounded up by the enormous man Sirius had identified as Rubeus Hagrid, and then led down a path to the lake where a small fleet of boats waited for them. Percy the Prefect had stumbled off the train and boarded a horseless carriage, as soon as Harry gave him his wand back. Ron was still with him, though.

Despite growing up listening to Sirius' stories about Hogwarts, the castle was even more magnificent than he had imagined. It was massively huge and imposing, with a jumble of towers and battlements. Judging by the gasps coming from the other first years as they were ferried across the lake, quite a few found Hogwarts pretty intimidating. Not Harry. He drew in a deep breath of utter satisfaction as they were taken into the Entrance Hall, and his green eyes glittered in the twilight.

Inside, a strict-looking witch who identified herself as Professor McGonagall met them, and lectured a bit about the different houses. "You'll soon be brought into the Great Hall to be sorted, and I suggest you tidy yourself up as best as possible," she concluded, glancing at Harry's shoulder-length hair and Ron's too-short robe. Turning, she left through the doors to the Grand Hall.

Exited whispers broke out almost immediately. "How d'you think we'll be sorted?" Ron asked Harry nervously. "My parents refused to tell me a single word about it."

Harry shrugged, feeling a bit giddy himself. "Have no idea. Sirius said we had to duel Dumbledore - but I'm sure he was joking," he quickly added when Ron blanched.

A chubby boy beside them gave a nervous laugh. "My grandmother said they'd measure our talents. Whatever that meant." A toad tried to crawl out of one of his pockets and escape. The boy quickly stuffed it back inside and offered Harry a hand. "Name's Neville, by the way."

"I'm Harry," Harry said, shaking the boy's hand. "This is Ron."

McGonagall returned a few minutes later, clearing her throat to catch everyone's attention. "Everything is ready, now. Please form a line and come with me."

"Excuse me, Professor," a girl's voice spoke up. Harry bit back a groan when he saw it belonged to that Hermione-girl he and Ron had met on the train. Now she was pointing a finger directly at Harry. "Are you aware that Harry Potter is here?"

There were startled intakes of breath as every head turned to stare at him. Beside him, Neville went white with shock. A few quick-thinking first years began backing away from him, and that spurred on the others. Suddenly, there was a mad scramble to get as far away from Harry as possible, while still staying in the Entrance Hall.

"HALT!"

McGonagall's shouted command brought all activity to a sudden stop. Dozens of eyes turned toward her, some pleading and some filled with panic.

"You will cease and desist this foolish behaviour at once!" she barked. Her piercing eyes swept across those assembled. "Mr Potter is here with the Headmaster's knowledge and permission, and you will treat him like you would any other student."

Many of the first years just gaped at her, and there were murmurs of disbelief and confusion.

"Enough!" McGonagall said sharply. "The Sorting is about to begin. Form a line and follow me."

There was some more confusion and chaos, as everyone tried to form a line that didn't leave them with their backs toward Harry. Eventually, McGonagall sorted them out. Hermione and Neville were unlucky enough to end up right in front of Harry and Ron. Particularly Neville looked less than pleased with the arrangement, and had managed to become ashen during the few, short minutes that had passed.

As the line began to move, Ron leaned forward and whispered: "It's okay, Neville. Honest."

Neville gave him a look of desperation over his shoulder, and said nothing.

Although Harry was gloomy due to his reception so far, he couldn't help but be amazed at his first look at the Great Hall. He had heard Sirius' descriptions of it, but nothing could substitute for the real thing. It was even vaster than he had imagined. Thousands of floating candles lightned up the huge room, and the ceiling displayed the evening-sky outside, just as Sirius had said it would.

Hundreds of heads turned to watch as McGonagall led them to the far end of the room. They came to a halt near the staff table, where an ancient, pointed hat rested on a stool. Harry wondered what this was all about. But then, to his surprise, a tear near the brim opened like a mouth and it began to sing:

Oh you may not think me pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!

"That's it?" Ron exclaimed in disbelief as the applause broke out. "All we have to do is to try the hat on? Oh, I'll murder Fred! He was going on about having to wrestle a troll!"

Harry silently agreed and made a mental note to prank Sirius silly, when he went home for the summer.

McGonagall now unrolled a parchment and began calling out names. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A blonde girl with pigtails ran up to the stool and put the hat on. A moment passed, before the hat opened its mouth again and shouted: "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Looking visibly relieved, she removed the hat and hurried over to the Hufflepuff table, where the students were applauding and welcoming her.

"Bones, Susan," McGonagall called.

The sorting went on for several more minutes. Hermione, whose last name turned out to be Granger, spent almost a full minute on the stool before the sorting hat decided she was a Gryffindor - to Harry's dismay. Neville Longbottom was also sorted into Gryffindor, although he forgot to take the hat off and almost ran off with it.

And then, finally:

"Potter, Harry!"

Whispers broke out all over the Great Hall as Harry left the line.

"Did she just say Potter?"

"Surly not that Potter?"

"If it is, then Dumbledore has finally lost his last marble. That's a Slytherin for sure!"

"It can't be. Harry Potter would never be allowed in here."

Harry glanced around nervously as he approached the stool. Quite a few students were taking out their wands from various pockets. Not here in the Great Hall, he thought fervently. Dear Merlin, not here in the Great Hall. Without thinking, he brushed his fringe out of his eyes.

Damage done, a girl he brushed past saw his scar and went white with shock. She made a half-strangled sound that sounded like, "Gikk!" before she promptly fainted and slid down to the floor.

The boy sitting beside her gaped at her for a moment, before looking back up at Harry.

"You killed her!"

III