Imogen Six

Imogen pressed on through the crowd until she found a compartment near the end of the train. She put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave her trunk toward the train door. She tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice dropped it painfully on her foot.

"Your poor thing, would you like some help?" A small wizarding family was standing there, concerned. The parents, a kindly but mousy motherly little woman with a bun of blonde hair and a tall, salt and pepper haired man, were wearing robes. They were accompanied by a slim, pretty blonde girl around Imogen's age and a curious-looking little redheaded girl with a natural fiery, defiant expression.

Imogen laughed in embarrassment. "Oh, no, it's alright," she said, amused. "I've got it." She took out her black ebony wand, waved it, and the trunk levitated itself neatly into a little corner of the compartment.

Both of the parents were impressed. "Oh, my!" said the mother.

"Yes, indeed, that's quite impressive," said the father frankly. He turned to the girl about Imogen's age. "Daphne, you should sit with her. You might learn a lot."

"Oh, I'm sure she'd have plenty of things to teach me, too," said Imogen, smiling uneasily, but just then she'd brushed her hair out of her eyes.

"What's that?" said the smaller girl suddenly, pointing at Imogen's lightning scar.

"Oh - well -" Imogen stuttered out. The family was suddenly staring at her avidly.

"That would explain a great deal about why you're alone, and why Daphne would have a lot to teach you," said the mother, who was sharper than she'd seemed at first glance. "You wouldn't happen to be her, would you?"

"Who?"

"Imogen Potter!" said the small, fiery redhead, sounding very impressed.

"Oh, her," said Imogen. "I mean, yes, I am."

For some reason the family smiled. "We're the Greengrasses," said the mother, taking Imogen's hand and shaking it. The father reached out to do the same. "All wizarding family. These are our daughters. Daphne is a first year like you; Astoria is two years behind her."

"I've heard your story. You're very impressive," said Astoria loudly. "It very much figures you're already clever enough to know magic."

"Oh… thank you," said Imogen, smiling, bewildered and not quite sure what to say.

"Now, now, Astoria. On her first day, I'm sure she doesn't want to be treated any differently from the rest," Mrs Greengrass scolded gently. "No treating her like a circus show and no asking her rude questions."

"Can I sit with you?" said Daphne curiously. "I mean, we mentioned it before, but… if you'd rather not…" she added slowly.

"Oh, no, go ahead! It would be wonderful having someone to sit with!" said Imogen quickly.

So she clambered onto the train and Daphne Greengrass clambered on with her. But Daphne leaned out of the window to talk to her family.

"If you need anything, just let us know," said Mr Greengrass simply to Imogen. He seemed a man of few words and much matter of factness.

"Yes… some all wizarding families but can be a bit snobbish, but though we are rather well to do, we try to stay out of that sort of thing," said Mrs Greengrass kindly, patting Imogen's hand.

"I'll warn you, we're not normal," said Mr Greengrass honestly. "There are normal families. Just none currently in this compartment."

"Isn't that the truth," said Astoria baldly.

"Oh!" Mrs Greengrass gave a gentle swat at her husband's arm.

"Alright… thank you," said Imogen slowly, surprised but not in an unpleasant way.

"Okay. That's enough scaring away the first real person I've met," said Daphne to her family, smiling wryly. She leaned out the window to kiss her parents goodbye. "I'll learn lots," she told them. "I promise."

"Oh…" Mrs Greengrass's eyes began to get rather damp; she hurried away before anyone could see her cry.

"You know your mother," said Mr Greengrass, smiling quietly. "Take it from me that we both love you." He winked once.

Daphne smiled back. "Yes, Father," she said.

"In two years, I'll be coming after you," said Astoria loudly, pointing. "So you'd better get good, or else I'll beat you!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Daphne, grinning at the competition. "Well, we'll just see about that!"

A whistle sounded.

"Let's get all your things!" said Mr Greengrass quickly, hefting Daphne's trunk and a fluffy white Persian cat in a cat carrying case into the compartment. "Everyone have everything?"

For some reason, he turned to Imogen too.

Imogen nodded, curious. "Yes, that's it!" said Daphne, giving one last look-around. Mrs Greengrass hurried back and suddenly threw her arms hard around her surprised daughter.

"Be good," Imogen heard her whisper in Daphne's ear. Imogen looked awkwardly away from the touching moment, feeling somehow like an intruder. Then Mrs Greengrass pulled away.

The train began to move. Sitting next to Daphne, who was also looking out the window, Imogen saw the Greengrasses waving. The train gathered further speed. The platform full of waving people fell behind them.

Imogen watched the Greengrasses disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Imogen felt a great leap of excitement. She didn't know what she was going to - but it had to be better than what she was leaving behind.

"So… Imogen Potter." Imogen looked around to find Daphne watching her from the seat across the compartment with keen interest.

Imogen smirked. "Yes?" she asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Daphne grinned and took the challenge. "This is rude, but I'll ask anyway. Do you remember him? You-Know-Who?"

"... I remember a jet of green light and a pain in my forehead," said Imogen with solemn honesty. "And I remember this really cruel laugh. Nothing else."

"He was laughing as he killed them." Reserved distaste had come over Daphne's face. "That's awful," she said sympathetically. "Not to mention distinctly unclassy."

Imogen relaxed. "That's what I'd call it," she said dryly. "Unclassy."

A moment of defensiveness came over Daphne's face - and then she realized Imogen was kidding. They shared a chuckle.

"My family is a really old wizarding family, not openly on the Light side so we're supposed to be big You-Know-Who supporters?" Daphne looked skeptical. "Especially as we're Slytherins. But that's a stereotype. We're not actually like that at all.

"We agree with most Light views. We're just survivors. We prefer not to get involved in things that could kill and incriminate our family.

"So we're outcasts both ways: the Dark Side doesn't like us, but neither does the Light Side." Daphne shrugged. "We keep to ourselves, so we don't really mind."

"You seem nice. To go against a family for not being extreme politically is stupid," Imogen decided, sympathetic.

"It is what it is," said Daphne simply, sounding rather like her father for a moment.

"So… I heard from Hagrid, the person who took me to Diagon Alley, that all the Dark wizards and witches are supposed to come from Slytherin…" said Imogen slowly. She was curious to see what Daphne had to say in response.

Daphne scoffed. "That's ridiculous. We have both Light and Dark, and so do all the other houses - they just don't like admitting it. But we're a house that is loyal to our own, to our friends, and we're a house that prizes greatness, achievement, ability, ambition. We care about Slytherin and are not afraid to be a bit utilitarian to propel both our friends and ourselves into good things. We also have a reputation for being a bit edgy and walking on the wild side.

"All this means that other houses are a bit afraid of us. That's where a lot of the rumor comes from. But being intimidating can be kind of fun. It means no one crosses us and threatens us for one thing, which is a big deal in a whole training school crammed full of growing witches and wizards. And we make plenty of friends in-house. Like I said, if you want Light friends… we have those, too. Mostly, we try to keep to ourselves.

"And we're better than the other houses. Hufflepuffs are losers, Ravenclaws are swots obsessed with grades. Gryffindor, our arch-rival, tries to be as powerful as us but just ends up coming across as the popular jock who doesn't quite measure up in craftiness, cleverness, and wizarding power.

"Us, meanwhile, we focus on cleverness, ambition, and what very dramatic Slytherins call the seeds of greatness. We're also deathly loyal to our friends and loved ones, even if we try to avoid obvious harm most of the rest of the time. And we're curious and high-achieving - two more things we never get credit for.

"Slytherin is a fine house. That's my argument and I'll defend it to the death!" Daphne smiled.

Imogen slowly smiled back. "You're right, it seems like a fine house," she admitted, "especially if your family's in it. I mean, they seem nice, right?"

Perhaps Slytherin was like the Greengrasses - tough, forcing itself to pretend it didn't care, and frequently misunderstood.

"What about your family?" said Daphne politely. "You went to live with Muggles, right? No problems for me there, by the way."

Imogen smiled reluctantly. "Well, my aunt and uncle are horrible," she admitted. "They're terrible to me. But my cousin and all my childhood friends growing up were very nice. Still… I wish I'd grown up with a wizarding family like you. My aunt and uncle… they never gave me any money, they hid the truth of who I was from me."

"That's a crime!" said Daphne heatedly.

"Yeah, well…" Imogen shrugged. "That's why I have an owl," she said. "Don't get me wrong, I love Hedwig, but part of the reason I don't have a cat is that my family will never get a mail owl. So I need one."

"Oh. This is Cliodna. She's named after an ancient Druidess," said Daphne, smiling, unlocking the carrying case so fluffy white Cliodna could climb into her lap. "Good job naming your owl after an ancient saint burned at the stake for witchcraft!" She grinned, her nose wrinkling. "That's badass!"

Imogen let out a surprised laugh. "Thanks," she said, laughter still in her voice.

"So… your aunt and uncle really never told you anything?" said Daphne in a low, morbidly curious voice.

"No. Until Hagrid told me I didn't know anything about being a witch or about my parents or Voldemort -"

Daphne gasped.

"What?" said Imogen.

"Nothing, it's just… back in the war, if you said You-Know-Who's name, you could have been killed on the spot," said Daphne in a low, shocked, impressed voice. "That's why no one's supposed to do it, even today."

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Imogen. "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn. I bet, in spite of all my study," she added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying her a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"Nonsense. Plenty of Muggleborns grow up to become just fine witches and wizards," said Daphne, nonplussed. Then she added curiously: "... How much extra study have you done?"

So Imogen told her. Daphne's eyes slowly got very round in shock.

"Wow!" she said, impressed. "No one does that much study of magic itself before Hogwarts! Especially of things like key concepts and practical, creative applications. Keep that up and you'll be the best in the class, not the worst. You are definitely one of those keen, brainy, career-type girls!"

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

"Oh, you should see some of the sweets they have here," said Daphne, smiling, and she and Imogen leapt to their feet and went eagerly out into the corridor to squat before the cart, each carrying jangling coins.

The woman had so many sweets Imogen had never seen before, nowhere close to the kind Dudley used to buy for her when they were children. Imogen bought a package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, a pack of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, a Chocolate Frog, a Pumpkin Pasty, a Cauldron Cake, and a Licorice Wand. She and Daphne both paid a big pile of Sickles and Knuts for their goodies. They went back into the compartment and each tipped their loot onto an empty seat.

They sat down and each began eating their way through their own set of pasties, cakes, and candies, chatting as they went.

"What are these?" Imogen asked Daphne, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?" She was starting to feel that nothing would surprise her.

"No," said Daphne. "But each pack does have a famous witch or wizard card - you know, for the boys to collect, mostly."

Imogen unwrapped her Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a moving, smiling picture of a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Imogen.

"Oh, yes," said Daphne, disinterested. "My family have never thought he's a bad sort, but be careful, because he doesn't tend to like Slytherins."

Imogen turned over her card and read:

Albus Dumbledore

Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

"I'm keeping this," Imogen decided proudly, "to commemorate my very first Chocolate Frog being unwrapped."

Daphne smiled, seeming fondly amused. "Suit yourself," she said.

Imogen tucked the Chocolate Frog card into the bottom of her trunk and forgot about it.

Next she went to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"Be careful," warned Daphne. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor - there's chocolate, peppermint, and marmalade, just for example, but then there's also spinach and liver and tripe. Neither Astoria nor my father will touch them. Astoria once got toe lint flavor and my Dad once got hairball flavor."

Still, Daphne and Imogen had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Imogen got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end of a funny grey one Daphne wouldn't even touch, which turned out to be pepper. Daphne laughed as Imogen made a face, Imogen smiling wryly in amusement.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Imogen had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Don't worry," said Imogen kindly. "You'll find him. Everything will be all right."

The boy sniffled. "Yes," he said miserably, "I suppose so. Well, if you see him…"

He left.

"Poor Neville Longbottom," Daphne sighed.

"Is that his name?" said Imogen curiously. "The sniffly kid?"

"Yes. He's from an old Light Side all-wizard family, but for a long time everyone thought he might not have any magic at all. He's always been like that - very sniffly, clumsy, and slow. I don't know how the poor thing's going to last at Hogwarts, where everyone has to fend for themselves," said Daphne primly.

Just then, the compartment door slid open again. A thin boy with glasses and curly brown hair stood there, his expression reserved but his stance casually confident. His trunk was beside him.

"Excuse me, is anyone sitting with you?" he asked.

"... No," Daphne admitted, but she sounded for some reason reluctant. The boy put his trunk in the compartment and sat down. "Imogen, this is Theodore Nott," she said with some amount of distaste. "Nott, this is your lucky day, because that's Imogen Potter."

"Theo," said the boy, reaching out to shake her hand, and then he said still shaking her hand with the same amount of intentness, "you should know, my mother is dead and my father is very Dark, but I hate my father so I find you spectacular."

Imogen smiled despite herself. "That is so honest I don't know what to say," she admitted.

"My father's an idiot," Theo sniffed, sitting back. "He's convinced you're the next Dark Lady. Can't see that you might aspire to something morally higher than that. He doesn't have much of a spine, my father, but the only thing you can say about him is that he sticks to his Dark principles."

Imogen yet again had no idea what to say.

"What are you doing here, Nott?" said Daphne, still with distaste.

"I keep telling you to call me Theo. Nott is my father," said Theo, sounding irritated. They were clearly both from all-wizarding families; they had met before and hadn't exactly grown up liking each other. "I needed a place to stay after spying on all the other first years in our class. Ask me for any piece of gossip, I can tell you all you want to know," he said matter of factly.

"That's totally immoral," said Imogen warmly, amused, "but a useful skill."

"I'm a strategist." Theo shrugged, sounding bored. "I play wizard's chess, too."

"That doesn't make you a good person," Daphne snapped.

"Being a good person," Theo declared, "is highly overrated. So is being an evil person. Being a smart person? That's better." He pointed at them.

"Well I don't want to hear private things about my classmates," said Daphne, cold and snobbish now around Theodore Nott.

"Then let's trade gossip about something everyone does know about," said Theo, rolling his eyes. "Did you two hear about Gringotts? I know Daphne probably did, but I heard Imogen went to live with Muggles." Interestingly, he never asked about that, never commented one way or the other. "So she might not know?

"It's been all over the Daily Prophet. Someone tried to rob a high security vault," he told Imogen seriously.

Imogen stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news," said Theo. "They haven't been caught."

"But I know my parents said it must have been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts," said Daphne intently. "Everyone's wondering if You-Know-Who's behind it."

"Everyone's always wondering if You-Know-Who's behind it," Theo offered scathingly, with impressive poise. "But he never actually is."

Imogen turned this news over in her mind. She was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. She supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

"So," she asked Theo, "are you hoping for Slytherin as well?"

"It's probably where I'll end up," said Theo neutrally, shrugging. "I'm like a chameleon, I can blend in anywhere. But I fit the profile and all my family have been Slytherins."

Just then, the compartment door slid open again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy or even the cart lady this time.

Three boys entered, and Imogen recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. Her eyes narrowed. The boy was looking at Imogen with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he asked. "People overheard you talking on the platform. They're saying all up and down the train that Imogen Potter's in this compartment. I already know Nott and Greengrass, so it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Imogen. She was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Imogen was looking. "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

"... I suppose not," said Imogen stiffly. Malfoy sprawled himself with what seemed purposefully elegant laziness in a seat of the compartment.

"Nott," he said, smirking, "how are you?"

"I'm fine. You, Malfoy? Still believing what your father feeds you? Dear Draco's from a family like mine," said Theo fearlessly, smiling humorlessly, "only he listens to his father."

Malfoy sat up heatedly. "Just because you hate your father, Nott, don't pin that on me," he said heatedly. "I can see what kind of company you choose to keep. A Greengrass? Really?"

"Sod off, Malfoy," Daphne snapped.

"Or you'll do what?" Malfoy sneered. Daphne flushed and glared but fell silent.

Malfoy turned to Imogen. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. Nott's alright, I suppose," he said slowly, "but overall, you really don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Imogen's, but Imogen didn't take it.

She smirked. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," she said softly, her narrowed eyes dangerously frigid but somehow mocking.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but he lowered his hand and a pink tinge did appear in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he snapped. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Greengrasses and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on y -"

But at that moment Draco Malfoy broke off, his eyes widening in surprise. Imogen's hand with her wand hidden up her sleeve had moved subtly sideways, and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been thrown with a slam against one compartment wall. A second later, they were thrown the other way with a second slam, shouting all the while.

Malfoy looked at Imogen's hand in a moment of genuine fear. "Let's go," he muttered to his cronies, and all three of them scrambled out of the compartment, letting the compartment door slide shut behind them.

"It really is too bad he'll probably be a Slytherin," said Imogen distantly and clinically, staring after Malfoy.

Daphne snickered. "That was awesome," she admitted with reluctant admiration.

"You should know from the beginning," Theo told Imogen, more serious, "his family accepts mine because of two big connections: we're both wealthy, and we both have fathers who secretly worked for You-Know-Who but got off by saying they'd been bewitched. The difference is that he admires his father - and I don't exactly aspire to become mine," he said in a tone of deep, reserved disgust. "As a result, my childhood was… rather unpleasant."

Daphne was looking at Theo in concern she'd never have admitted to, Imogen felt.

"Anyway." Daphne purposefully and cheerfully tried to move past the encounter, standing. "Let's put our robes on, yeah? We must be nearly there."

They slipped their black Hogwarts robes on over their clothes. Imogen peered out of the window. It was getting dark. She could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

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."

Imogen's stomach lurched with nerves. Daphne swallowed, looking anxious, and even the normally fearless Theo seemed a bit sick. They joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. Imogen shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Imogen heard a familiar voice in a thick West Country accent: "First years! First years over here! All right there, Imogen?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"Come on, follow me - any more first years? Mind your step, now! First years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Imogen thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"You'll get your first sight of Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "just round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto 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 than four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Theo, Daphne, and Imogen were followed into their boat by a thin, reserved girl with long sheets of brown hair hiding her face.

"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 that 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 harbor, where they clambered out onto 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 onto 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 your toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.