Pressure and Power

Tom's instructions had been very clear. Arrive at the platform early, find an empty compartment, and open a book.

"Let them come to you, Harry. They will come – you needn't seek them out."

Who they were, Tom hadn't been too clear on, but Harry trusted him, as always.

To be perfectly honest, he wasn't too eager to meet his potential new friends anyway. It wasn't that he didn't want friends - on the contrary, he was thrilled at the prospect of making friends who could, like him, do magic. It was the meeting them part that had him worried. Tom had been quite confident that his experience at Hogwarts would differ greatly from his time at muggle primary school, but there was still a part of him that was afraid to be disappointed. People had a habit of disappointing him, after all. And what if they thought he was a freak too? Tom had told him that even among witches and wizards, he was a rarity.

"Power like that which you possess is not a common thing, Harry. I cannot stress the unlikeliness that four immensely powerful wizards – Grindewald, Dumbledore, you, and myself – have all lived within the same century."

And apparently, he didn't just have power going for him.

"You are entering a world in which you will be blessed with money, fame, and power. Do not waste it."

It was a lot of pressure...he certainly didn't want to mess things up on his first day. So he did exactly as Tom told him – he arrived at Platform 9 3/4 at 10 am, and boarded the Hogwarts Express immediately, easily locating an empty compartment and sealing the door behind him before he sat down and opened his copy of Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) and the diary Tom had given him. Tom had said that he could practice magic on the train, and so he intended to do just that. His goal was to try every spell in his diary and the first chapter of his textbook. It was a lofty goal, but Tom said that doing magic with a wand was much easier than doing it without. Harry hoped he was right.

As for Tom himself, he was off possessing some poor bloke who was buying coffee near King's Cross station at 9:58 am. Before he'd left, Tom had warned him that he would be sorted into his house by a talking hat that happened to also be a skilled legillimens. Harry was quite entranced by the whole idea but was also fairly nervous, and he would have liked to have Tom there with him...but he understood Tom's concerns. Tom didn't want anyone to know he was there, especially not a talking, mind reading hat - that probably wasn't a good combination when it came to secret keeping. Because of this fact, Tom's consciousness was taking a brief vacation from Harry's head, so as to not alert the hat to his presence. Even then, Tom was clear about taking precautions.

"Don't let him in, Harry. Just ask him to sort you into Slytherin and be done with it."

"Why Slytherin?"

"Because you're my heir, and therefore the Heir of Slytherin, you foolish child."

So apparently Harry was going to be in Slytherin.

By about a quarter hour after train started moving, Harry had tried all the spells he was able to do wandlessly with his wand. As Tom had said, it was much easier. Pleased with his success, Harry was quite eager to start working through his textbook. But just as he was about to practice his wand movements for the tickling charm (never know when that might come in handy), his compartment door slid open.

Standing awkwardly in the doorway was a boy about his age, his face covered by freckles and framed by fiery red hair.

"Excuse me," the boy began nervously, "Do you mind? Everywhere else is full."

Harry looked at him curiously. "No, not at all."

The boy sat down across from Harry. "So, who 're you?"

"It's polite to introduce yourself first," Harry commented mildly.

The boy started. "Oh, right! I'm Ron, Ron Weasley."

Weasley...Harry mused. Where did he know the name from? Ah, right, the Order of the Phoenix. A potentially valuable ally, then.

Harry smiled at him. "I'm Harry Dursley."

....

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