Harry glared dubiously at the blank piece of brick that separated Ron and himself from platform 9 ¾ and therefore Hogwarts. The stupid mound of muggle architecture had denied him entry – HIM! Giving the wall a vicious kick; Harry turned in time to see an angry looking train conductor glowering at him.

“Fell over,” Harry muttered at the guard’s direction, refusing to meet the uniformed man’s eyes as he picked up Hedwig’s cage. The snowy owl did not look impressed. Neither did the guard who was ambling away muttering about ‘teenagers’. Harry was almost tempted to call out and correct him. He had a year until he was a teenager after all. But he shook his head disdainfully – he was used to people thinking very little of him – and he turned to Ron.

Ron’s face was ghostly white. “We can’t get through,” Ron unnecessarily informed Harry in a dead panned voice. In any other circumstance, Harry supposed he would find this funny. But not now, not when Harry’s last hope of getting to Hogwarts was pulling out from the station. He felt his stomach drop dreading his immediate future. Feeling as if his freedom from the Dursley’s for a whole year had suddenly been snatched from his hand.

“It blocked us out,” Ron reintegrated.

“Yes, I can see that,” Harry said dryly.

Ron backed his trolley up a few more steps; took three gigantic steps and rammed straight into the brick wall.

“That’s not helping, Ron,” Harry pointed out helpfully.

“Well, you do something!” Ron snarled, rubbing his bum and glaring at Harry from his vantage point on the cold tiled floor. “What if mum and dad can’t get back through?”

Harry tried valiantly not to roll his eyes. “Why don’t we wait by the car? They have to come back for the car at some point.”

“Harry you are a genius!” Ron cried, getting up and wheeling his cart back in the direction of the car park.

“I am?” Harry mumbled feeling a little disconcerted at Ron’s enthusiasm.

“We’ll fly dad’s car to Hogwarts.”

“Hold on? We, as in you and me?” Harry stood frozen unsure if he should be befuddled or bemused by his friend’s blatant stupidity. “ Fly? To Hogwarts? Ron...”

But Ron was already marching even more determinedly towards the exit.

Thankfully, despite Harry’s mental list of why flying a car, while cool and adventurous, was not a good idea did not have to be used. There was one minor problem that Ron had not taken into account. They didn’t have the keys and Harry was not going to tell his best friend that he had learned to hot wire a car back in the days he was still desperate to be friends with Dudley.

Of course since Dudley’s gang had dared him to hot wire the Head Master’s car – Harry was inevitably caught and spent three months in his cupboard after school and on weekends. Mr. Norland, the Head at the time then gave detentions to Harry for the whole semester. It was the best semester of Harry’s life.

While contemplating his car theft days, Harry watched as Ron panicked sitting in the front seat (Mr. Weasley had forgotten to actually lock the car) and pressing any buttons that his fingers could press.

“It should be simple!” Ron exclaimed “I watched the twins driving to rescue you!”

“We need the keys Ron,” Harry supplied. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Ron slumped in the front seat and crossed his arms. “It was a good idea.”

Harry sighed and pulled out a piece of spare parchment. “We’ll write to Professor McGonagall.”

“Why not Dumbledore?”

“He’ll be too busy to read our letter,” Harry didn’t feel like telling Ron the real reason behind not writing to Dumbledore. He wasn’t feeling terribly charitable towards the old man.

“Yeah well you are Harry Potter,” Ron muttered mutinously as Harry started to scribble frantically on the parchment.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry almost snarled.

As Harry and Ron bickered about who to send the letter to, Mr and Mrs Weasley turned up.

“Hey, ho, boys what are you still doing here?” Mr Weasley cheerfully inquired, despite the murderous look Ron was getting from his mother. Harry doubted that Arthur Weasley ever got mad.

“The brick wall won’t let us through to the platform,” Harry said quietly. “We’re writing a letter to Professor McGonagall.”

Mrs Weasley looked doubtfully at the two boys. “Hurry along dears, we’ll floo you through to Hogsmeade and you can walk up to the castle. Stay by the car, Arthur.”

Ron and Harry followed Mrs Weasley down the street until they came to a familiar looking street.

Harry recognised it instantly as the road where the ‘Leaky Cauldron’ was.

Mrs Weasley breezed through the establishment and pointed imperiously to where she wanted to boys to sit. Ron and Harry sat and watched as the older woman went to speak to Tom the barkeep.

“I’ve gotta bad feeling,” Ron muttered.

Harry only nodded. But anything would be better than being sent to live the year with the Dursleys. Well almost anything.

The two friends watched in trepidation as the older witch returned looking rather triumphant. “It seems one of your Professors is in the ally for last minute resources... you’ll be able to floo with him.”

“Who?”

Harry already had a funny feeling of who it might be. The one man who he didn’t want to see – after Dumbledore of course.

“Professor Snape, dear.”

Harry’s stomach nearly lurched. ,‘I think I’ll stick with the Dursley’s,’ he thought sardonically.

It turned out that they had to wait longer than anticipated for Professor Snape to return. Harry had counted the number of cracks in the wooden floor under his shoes and had identified no less than six steps that creaked when someone stepped on them. He was about to pull out his last minute essay he had written for Binns, who Harry was sure never actually marked any student work, when Snape stalked in.

“Ah Severus, Molly Weasley would have a word with you before you leave,” Tom the barkeep called out at Snape’s black silhouette. Molly Weasley stood and briskly marched over to Snape indicating the boys to follow. Harry and Ron stood like prisoners being marched to the gallows.

Snape meanwhile had stopped and watched stock still as Mrs Weasley approached with two Gryffindors. “I suppose it is too much to hope that you’re here to inform me these two miscreants are not returning to Hogwarts this year?”

“Severus, your foul disposition does not fool me.” Molly tsked. Ron watched in amazement as she peered closely at his least liked teacher. “When was the last time you had a decent meal?”

Snape blinked. “Quick metabolism,” he murmured glaring at the two Gryffindor boys as if daring them to laugh.

Molly Weasley looked as if she didn’t believe a word Snape had said. “Hmm yes well the boys claim that the brick wall at the platform would not let them through.”

Snape snorted as if to ask the witch what she wanted him to do about it.

“Perhaps it is the same person who tried to scare me off going back to Hogwarts earlier in the summer,” Harry pointed out. There had to be a logical explanation after all.

“Eh, what’s that?” Mrs Weasley demanded. “You never mentioned that to me Harry! I know I may not be your mother but I hope you know young man that...”

“Mum!” Ron cried, rescuing his friend from further embarrassment. “That’s all we’ve been talking about since Harry’s been with us! You know the rouge house elf.”

“Rogue house elf indeed,” Molly sniffed.

“I suppose it is up to me to floo these two hooligans to Hogsmeade?”

“If you would Severus.”

Snape did not look pleased. But he turned sharply on his heel and glided over to the fireplace.

“Watch for Harry, Severus dear... don’t know where that one will end up!”

Harry turned and stared in mortification at Mrs Weasley who waved and bustled back out of the inn.

Snape’s heavy hand landed on Harry’s shoulder. “I suppose I should be thankful for small miracles. As shocking as it may seem Mr. Potter, you didn’t go into insane heroics to get yourself to Hogwarts. It may seem that congratulations are in order as your thought processes seemed to have caught up with you.”

Harry sighed and let Snape lead him to the fireplace. “You first Weasley. Potter will come with me.”

Harry just about died on the spot. Ron didn’t look too sure about the situation but he hastily jumped into the fireplace and called loudly, “Hogsmeade.”

“Come Potter.”

Snape stepped into the fireplace, nearly dragging Harry with him. “Relax,” Snape muttered turning Harry abruptly and snaking one arm securely around his chest. Snape’s arm tightened around Harry’s middle before the horrible sensation of the floo took over.

Moments later Snape stepped out of the fireplace and released Harry before striding out of the shop and out into the village of Hogsmeade.

Harry followed with Ron at his side – Snape was a few paces ahead obviously not too bothered with two second years.

“I forgot how new you are to the world... it’s just a wizarding village,” Ron muttered staring at Harry who was staring with avid interest at the unfamiliar surroundings of a wizarding village.

“Ron whadda you know about adoptions?” Harry asked when he was certain Snape wasn’t listening.

Ron laughed. “You aren’t adopted Harry.”

Harry sighed and decided he better give Ron at least some truth if he was going to get any information out of the red head. “I found something I probably shouldn’t have at my Aunt’s house.” Harry glanced up to ensure that Snape was still ahead and not listening. “I found out that she’s not my aunt... so that means someone was adopted along the line, right? Maybe I’ve got some real family or something.”

“Look, Harry, I’ll be your family... you don’t need some muggle losers to rescue you.”

“Thanks Ron... but don’t let Hermione hear you talking like that.”

“Indeed,” Snape put in dryly from up ahead.

Harry was sure he was going to die from embarrassment.

“Feeling down, are we Potter?”

Harry glared up at the sorting hat. “I don’t think I know what I am anymore.”

“That is simple,” the hat told the Gryffindor matter-of-factly. “You are a son of Gryffindor... proud and noble and not a bore!”

“That’s not a very good rhyme,” Harry pointed out rather unhelpfully. He was feeling a tad testy after Dumbledore had called him into his office and then made him wait with a bowl of unappetising ‘chortling custards’ and a dusty talking hat for company. He’d much rather be with Ron who was probably enjoying the free rein of the school right now. It just wasn’t fair!

“Yes I know... but this year I have used all my best rhyming words for the Sorting,” the hat was explaining excitedly.

Harry’s chat with the sorting hat came to an abrupt halt as Dumbledore walked in, wearing a lime green robe. “Professor Snape tells me you have some concerns. Lemon Drop?”

“No thank you.” Harry opted for the shy school boy approach and crossed his feet and stared resolutely at them.

“I can tell you without a shadow of doubt that you are related to your Aunt. Whatever nonsense you have found is exactly that – nonsense.”

Harry felt his blood boiling. Here was the old man, who very well knew the Potters had purchased him – and he was lying to him to his face.

“I was hoping perhaps there was more family?”

“I’m afraid not child,” Dumbledore said in his best grandfatherly voice.

“Perhaps someone else who would want me?”

“Child...”

“Why do I have to stay with them?” Harry whined plaintively. “They hate me.”

“Young man, you must not say such terrible things about your family. And you must stay with them for your own safety. I don’t want to hear another complaint. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Harry mumbled. “Can I go?”

Harry felt glad to get to his four poster bed that night. The sorting feast had seemed such a chore while Harry felt so miserably alone and angry.

Frustrated Harry had demanded he first shower and was in bed before the third second year Gryffindor had gotten into the shower. That night, for the first time in years, Harry cried brokenly into his pillow.