Brilliant title, I know /s

Summary: AU where the trio is Sorted into Slytherin... with a slight twist

Ship(s): golden trio friendship

Additional notes: hints at powerful!trio; out of character

Word count: 1677

Through narrowed eyes, Harry watched the red-haired family bustle past. Each of the four boys pushed a trunk much like Harry's own, and they had an owl. One by one, they lined up and took off at a brisk pace, disappearing into the dividing barrier between platforms nine and ten. Harry looked around. No one seemed to have noticed. How odd. They weren't exactly being inconspicuous, running into a wall.

Shaking his head, Harry pushed his trunk so he was directly in line with the barrier. Then, like the red-haired family moments ago, he walked forward. He half expected to crash despite seeing six other people go through with no problem and was delighted when he emerged, blinking, to see the scarlet steam engine next to the platform.

Harry began to search for a compartment, passing a round-faced boy with his grandmother. An older boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd. Harry only just caught a glimpse of a long, hairy leg poking out of the box in his arms.

He found an empty compartment near the end and tried to haul his trunk up the steps, only to drop it onto his feet.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired boys he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With their help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry.

"No problem, mate."

"Happy to help."

They went to rejoin their mother, and only then did Harry wipe the sweat from his forehead. He had experienced the gawking once when Hagrid quite loudly announced his presence, and that was enough to last a lifetime. Of course, Harry supposed with a shudder, he may as well get used to it.

He sat down next to the window. The red-haired family was close enough so he could hear their words.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose," the mother was saying.

The youngest boy jerked his head back, but his mother grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his long nose.

"Mum — geroff."

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" one twin said.

"Shut up," Ron muttered.

"Where's Percy?" their mother asked.

"He's coming now."

Harry leaned back as the oldest boy came striding into sight.

He opened a book and began to read. Well, he was actually rereading. In the month between getting his supplies and boarding the train, he had read all of his required books and then some. He wondered what other books Hogwarts would have to offer.

As the train was taking off, the youngest redheaded boy opened the door. "Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down.

The boy looked at the book curiously. "I don't remember that being on the list," he said.

"It's not. I bought a couple extra ones that looked interesting," Harry replied.

"I barely touched any of mine so far. Anyway, name's Ron Weasley."

"I'm Harry Potter."

"Really?" Ron's eyes widened slightly. "Have you really got — you know..."

"The scar that Voldemort gave me? Yes."

If possible, Ron's eyes went even wider. "You said You-Know-Who's name! I'd have thought you, of all people would never dare to say it!"

"Can't really be scared of a name when I have barely any memory of that night," Harry pointed out.

"True." Ron changed the subject. "Heard you went to live with Muggles. What are they like?"

"They're all right. My aunt and uncle and cousin aren't, though. What about you?"

For some reason, Ron's expression darkened. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left — Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first."

"What does it matter what others expect? You don't have to live up to others' standards. I bet you'll do great."

Ron didn't reply, but Harry thought he was sitting a little bit straighter.

When a woman came by around half past twelve, Harry didn't hesitate to share what he bought with Ron. After all, that's what friends do, right?

Later, a round-faced boy knocked on their compartment door, looking 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!"

"I read this spell that could help," Harry said, jumping up at the chance of using magic. He stood up and took out his wand. "What's your toad's name?"

"Trevor," the boy said.

"Accio Trevor."

A moment later, a large brown shape came hurtling into Harry's hand.

"Trevor!" The round-faced boy looked very relieved as Harry handed him his toad. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I'm Neville, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Harry, and this is Ron."

"Thank you again." Neville left in higher spirits.

Ron had been silently gaping at Harry ever since the toad had appeared. "That was brilliant!"

"Thanks. I didn't really think it would work, honestly. The spell doesn't normally work on animate objects, the book said."

"The risk paid off, then," Ron said admirably.

The compartment door opened again. This time, it was a bushy-haired girl with large front teeth. "I saw what happened," she said. "Have you tried that spell before?"

"No, why?"

"First time? That was really good," the girl said, impressed. "I've tried a few spells myself before. They've all worked. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

"Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really? I've read a lot about you. You're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" Harry said, feeling dazed. "I hadn't really looked at them." He had deliberately avoided them because he didn't want a reminder of his apparent fame. Perhaps he should reconsider...

"Oh, I wouldn't bother looking at them for just yourself," Hermione said, a hint of scorn in her voice. "Honestly, the way they talked about you made it sound as if you've been on many adventures. Have you?"

"No." Unless she counted hiding from idiotic cousins and vicious dogs.

"Then ignore what they say about you. But other than that, they're a very interesting read. Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, although I'm a bit unsure of where I want to go. Gryffindor sounds all right, so does Ravenclaw."

"All of my brothers and my parents are Gryffindors," Ron said glumly.

"Is it tradition for all members of a family to go to the same house?" Harry asked.

"Pretty much. The Malfoys are all Slytherin. Can't see that ever changing."

"Your parents were both Gryffindors," Hermione told Harry, taking a seat.

"Well, I don't really care what house I'm in," Harry decided. "I just want to do well."

"Me, too," Hermione said.

Ron nodded.

And thus, a friendship was born.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked after a moment of silence.

When he received two blank stares in response, Ron eagerly went into detail about the sport and everything involved, from the balls to the players and their positions.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched. Maybe he shouldn't have eaten all those sweets. He glanced at Ron's pale face and felt a little better. Hermione had an expression of nervous anticipation.

The three stepped off the train and onto a tiny, dark platform.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Hagrid beamed over the sea of heads. "C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

No one spoke as they followed Hagrid down the narrow path, which eventually opened up to a great black lake.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were followed into their boat by Neville.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then — FORWARD!"

"Do you know how they sort us?" Harry asked Ron as they waited in the chamber.

"Some sort of test, I think," Ron replied. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but he was probably joking."

"A test?" Hermione repeated, looking more worried by the minute. She closed her eyes as if by sheer will power she would remember the few spells she had learned.

"Hermione, relax," Harry said. "I hardly think they'd expect us to know any spells."

Several people behind them suddenly screamed.

About twenty ghosts had just materialized through the walls. They seemed to be arguing.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —" one of them was saying.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

There were a few nods, but no one spoke.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

I generally don't like chapters much longer than 2000 words, so I split this into two parts. And the twist hasn't happened yet, in case you're confused.