Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Silver, Not Gold ❯ Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter Belongs To J.K. Rowling and not to me. I make no profit off this story, so don't sue. Really, don't sue, it'll be a waste of your time anyway seeing as I'm broke.

 

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Sorry this took so long to get out. Since I put the last chapter out on this, I have started a new job, and haven't as much time to write lately. Hopefully I'll get my updates out faster in the future. I'll try anyway.

 

CHAPTER 1

 

September 1st 1991

 

Harry tried not to wince in pain as he got out of the car, forcing himself not to react to the death glare his uncle was sending him from the driver's seat. Some of the wounds on his back had reopened this morning after Vernon had hit him for taking too long to get his stuff in the car, but Harry was able to more or less push the pain away for the moment. He had had worse after all, quite recently in fact, and he didn't want to do anything that would further draw his uncle's ire. The fact that they were in public would usually enough to keep Vernon's temper in check, but the walrus-like man was already so upset about being `forced' to drive his freak of a nephew to the train station that Harry didn't want to push his luck.

 

Fortunately, Harry's fears this didn't come true. Vernon didn't even bother to get out of the car, and instead just sat there glaring as Harry struggled to get a rather unhappy Hedwig, still trapped in her cage, and his heavy school trunk out of the car by himself. As soon as Harry managed to do so, which took far longer than Vernon obviously wanted due to the weight and the pain in Harry's back, Vernon threw the car in reverse and speed out of there, barely waiting for Harry to shut the car door. Harry didn't bother to complain, even to himself. As he saw it, he'd got off light. Things could have gone a lot worse.

 

After retrieving a trolley - which were luckily located nearby as Harry really didn't think he'd be able to manage the heavy trunk any farer without one - Harry left the parking lot and entered Kings Station before slowing down briefly to look at his ticket to find out which platform he needed to head to. Once he did he stopped dead in his tracks to take a closer look. Yep, he was right the first time. Bloody hell, how the fuck had he missed this before now?

 

“Platform 9 and 3 quarters?” Harry muttered under his breath. “Bloody hell, you got to me kidding me. Fuck, it must be like that damn dead-end courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron. Couldn't Hagrid have bloody mentioned this when he gave me the damn ticket?”

 

Truthfully, Harry wasn't all that surprised that Hagrid would forget something this important. The big man, while he seemed very nice and Harry couldn't help but want to trust him at least a little (and for Harry who had long learnt to trust no one, that was saying something), he didn't exactly come across as the most responsible adult Harry had ever met. The man was stupid enough to talk about `top-secret-Hogwarts-stuff' in front of an eleven year old and then expect him not to ask questions, and then left Harry get his own school robes while he went off to the pub. Not that the man seemed to mean any harm, Harry got the impression that the big guy simply didn't think things through too well, if at all. Probably part of the reason he was expelled, actually, Harry reasoned. However, none of this was helping Harry in the slightest right now, and with eleven o'clock fast approaching Harry needed to figure this out, soon.

 

With a sigh of disgust at the whole situation, Harry looked up from him ticket and glanced fugitively around the station as if looking for some kind of sign as to what the hell he was supposed to do. He was not surprised when he didn't see one, but instead saw a number of muggles looking at him with distrustful and scornful eyes.

 

Harry ignored the looks he was getting, he was used to such looks by now, and would be likely getting them even if he wasn't standing around a busy train station like an idiot with a bloody big trunk and an owl in a cage.

 

Harry knew he made a pretty odd picture. At the age of eight, when the size difference between small, skinny Harry and his whale of a cousin started getting to ridiculous levels, Harry had decided to do something about it, and started learning how to sew, using his cousins old hand-me-downs as the raw material. And good thing he did, because Harry didn't even want to imagine how the fuck he'd even get Dudley's clothes to stay on him these days. His school library (what a wonderful place that was to hide from Dudley and his friends, they were all too dumb to ever come in there. And the school librarian Miss Bunny had been such a nice lady who was always happy to see him and even helped him with his homework at times) may not have had a huge collect of books on sewing, but they had enough information to teach Harry the basics. And really, as Harry had never planed to become a fashion designer or anything that was all he cared about. The clothes he had ended up making were ratty looking and fairly often plain strange to look at, but they fit him fine and that was all Harry cared about. Today, for instance, Harry was wearing a pair of baggy black jeans with several patches, a t-shirt made of somewhat uneven black and dark red stripes, a dark green jacket that was still somewhat oversized even after Harry had taken it in three or four sizes and was a little frayed around the edges if you bothered to look closely, and a pair of ratty sneakers Harry had found in a op shop about a week before Dudley's disaster of a birthday. Harry hair had been growing at a shocking rate - even for what Harry now knew from Hagrid to be the infamous, untameable Potter hair that all men in his father's family seem to be cursed with - since the beginning of summer was now past his shoulders and tied up in a ponytail. Vernon had flat out refused to spend any more money on the `freak' to go and get it cut, and Petunia had been refusing to touch him since Hagrid told him he was a wizard and so had not tried to cut it herself like she sometimes would in the past (making poor Harry's hair even more of a mess than it was to begin with, usually). Harry didn't mind though, in fact he kind of liked the look and besides now that it was long enough to tie back his hair didn't seem to be quite as much as a disaster to work with. To top off the look, Harry was also wearing a makeshift, dark green bandana out of a piece of scrap he had found in his leftover fabric pile (Harry thought it might have once been part of Dudley's old t-shirts, but don't quote him on that), which he was using to hide his scar. After the bout of staring he had experienced at Diagon Alley where he first learnt how bloody famous the bloody scar was, he had decided he had no wish for a repeat. Finally, add in the scotch-taped glasses on his face, and Harry knew full well that he looked weird but he simply didn't care, never had and never would. As always, Harry had far more important things on his mind than how the fuck he looked. And right now, Harry's mind was on finding this bloody platform 9 and 3 quarters before the fucking train left without him.

 

“Okay.” Harry said quietly to Hedwig, who was staring at him quietly, as if asking him why they were just standing there. “Let's think this over for a moment. There's platform 9, and there's platform 10. 9 and 3 quarters must be somewhere between them, the only question is how to get to it. Damn it, you think this would be important enough that Hagrid could have told be the bloody trick to it, but nooo.”

 

Harry sighed, and looked up at the barrier between the two stations. Most likely, the way to the platform was through there, but how on earth was he supposed to get through. He remembered how Hagrid had tapped his umbrella on a couple of bricks back at the Leaky Cauldron in order to get through to Diagon Alley, but it wasn't like he could get out his wand and do that here. Even if he wasn't worried about the secrecy the magical world was apparently living under, there were way too many bricks in that damn wall, he could be here for hours without finding the right one if that was indeed what he had to do, which in all honesty he doubted. Seemed like too many people would catch on that something was up if wizards started doing that in a place as crowded as this. People as a whole, Harry knew too well, were stupid but they weren't that stupid.

 

Just as Harry was about to growl out loud in frustration in at not being able to figure this out, he was drawn out of his musing when he heard someone say, quite distinctly, “Packed with muggles of course.”

 

Although part of Harry wanted to just spin around and frantically look around for the woman who had spoken, years of trying not to draw attention to himself made him move slowly and carefully, using his long mastered skilled of looking around without appearing as if he was. Fortunately, it wasn't hard to figure out who had spoken, a plump red headed woman standing with her brood, all clearly belonging to her if their matching flaming red hair was any indication. They all had the same vibe about them, as if they were trying to look normal and were just a little bit off. Harry wasn't quite sure what it was, but there was just a general air of `not normal' about them that he was quickly coming to associate with wizards. Besides, the owl was also somewhat of a giveaway.

 

Harry did pause for a minute though, and blinked slowly a couple of times to confirm that no, his glasses were not in fact that bad, and that yes, there were two copies of that one boy. Damn, those bloody twins were even dressing alike. Harry didn't think anyone really did that in real life, but maybe it was part of their idea of a joke.

 

Although Harry knew the easiest way to find the platform at this point would be to just go over and ask his natural distrust of people he didn't know, and most of those he did, made him hesitate so he decided to settle back to see what he could learn by just watching them. Slowly Harry's eyes travelled over the woman who was obviously their mother, her four boys all with trolleys and one girl without. There was something about the apparently eldest boy that put Harry's defences on end. He wasn't sure what it was, but he vowed to himself that until he did he would be certain to keep some distance between them. The twin boys had an air of immaturity about them, despite the fact that they were clearly a couple of years older than Harry. As for the girl, well she was just a girl really, young and with a real sense of innocence about her that told Harry she had likely been sheltered all her life. Harry envied her, he wouldn't have minded a bit of sheltering. Hell he'd settle for just not being hated by everyone around him.

 

However, it was the last boy that drew most of Harry's attention, and Harry wasn't exactly sure why. He did seem to be the odd one out in the family, granted. Tall for his age and thin, with pale skin and spiked up hair. His clothes were all black and Harry who had spent the last three years working as his own tailer suspected that they were not that colour to begin with. But that wasn't it, it was something else. Something deep inside Harry seemed to be drawing him to this boy in a way he could not explain. He had the feeling he had felt kind of like this before, but couldn't' place where…

 

Before Harry could figure it out, he noticed the oldest boy way moving, right towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Harry watched closely, hoping he was about to be shown how this was done, but just before the boy reached the barrier a group of tourist moved and blocked Harry's view for a brief second. Unfortunately, however briefly they were in the way, it was enough and by the time the moved on the boy was gone and Harry was still in the dark about how to get to the platform.

 

Harry was rather annoyed at this, but as there were three other boys, not to mention the girl and their mother, Harry simply decided to stand back and watch the rest of them closely. Unfortunately he didn't have much more luck with the second boy either. After a brief conversation with his mother (what do you know, Harry was right, the twins were dressing alike as part of a joke), the second boy also moved towards the barrier when once again Harry's view was blocked just before he reached it, this time by a fat old vendor pushing a cart along.

 

If Harry hadn't been so adapt at hiding his emotions he would have groaned outloud at that, of all the rotten luck. Mentally cursing fate, Harry had to admit to himself that if he missed the third boy go through he would probably have to bite the bullet and ask rather than hope he got lucky with the last boy. He couldn't afford to let this chance go to waste, and if he relied solely on watching the last boy when he went through, with the way his luck was going Harry would probably still be waiting here when next year's train was getting ready to leave.

 

However, for once fate seemed inclined to throw Harry a boon, because when the second twin started heading towards the barrier, this time no one walked in front of Harry spoiling his view and Harry was able to clearly see the boy quickly walk straight up to the barrier, reach it, and keep going. Straight through the wall.

 

Harry blinked a couple of times, surprised, and almost missed it when the last boy also walked straight up to the barrier a minute later and, just like his brother, walked right through. Harry shook his head in something of disbelief as the mother and daughter hurried to follow them. Once again his view was blocked, but after seeing the process twice now Harry was far less worried about that this time around.

 

So, he just needed to walk through the wall did he? Simple, yet way too complication for Harry's taste. I mean really, is the magical world so obsessed with secrecy that they won't even let wizards catch a train from a normal platform? Do they really think that muggles are so nosy that they have to hide every single thing they do? Harry had a hard time seeing how watching a bunch of school kids get on a train would give anything away to even the most curious and paranoid muggle. Hell, it had to be less obvious than god-only-knows how many people walking straight through a solid brick wall.

 

Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry headed towards the barrier. He hadn't even started at wizard's school yet and he knew one thing for certain. Wizards certainly liked to make things far more complicated than they needed to be.

 

SNG*SNG*SNG

 

While on the outside Ron knew he probably looked rather indifferent to everything around him - the concerned looks his mother kept shooting his way seemed to support that theory - Ron's mind was busier than he suspected it had ever been, even when he was trying to cram as much information into his mind as possible in his ongoing quest to become stronger than Percy. Ron's mind was racing, trying to think of a plan for what he was going to do before he got to Hogwarts, but with so many gaps in his knowledge, he didn't even know where to start. Even those things he did know didn't make much sense when put altogether, too many contradictions for Ron to come to any kind of real conclusion.

 

Ron was about to go to Hogwarts for the first time, was standing right next to the train that would take him there. This fact alone filled him with some seriously conflicting feelings. On one hand, Ron had been looking forward to going to Hogwarts for years, ever since he had first heard about the great school of magic that all his family had gone to for centuries. In fact, just last year Ron had been here seeing the twins off, trying to convince his mother to change her mind at the last minute and send him a year early, like little Ginny had been doing only a few minutes ago. Actually, just last night, Ron had been looking forward to going to Hogwarts. He'd been hoping that being at Hogwarts would help protect him more from Percy, at least a little bit.

 

However, ever since Percy had made that comment about having his own private room last night, that hope had been dashed. In fact, since thinking it over Ron had come to the horrible conclusion that things may even be easier for Percy to have his way with Ron there. At least at home Percy had to plan his way around their parents being around all the time. At Hogwarts, with so many more students to look after, the teachers would be hard pressed to keep an eye on everyone all the time and of course Percy would have an easier time getting what he wanted out of Ron with less supervision. The fact that Percy was a prefect just made everything so much worse, because it meant that he had more responsibilities and in turn allowed more freedom than other students. At home, if Percy was caught in the corridor outside Ron's room in the middle of the night, for instance, he might struggle a bit to come up with a decent excuse, although Ron knew chances were even the flimsiest excuse would probably work for perfect Percy as far as their mother was concerned anyway. At Hogwarts he wouldn't even did to do that, he could just say that it was prefect duties and no one would ask any more. The fact that being a prefect also put Percy in a position of direct power over Ron certainly didn't help his case one little bit either. Not to mention the fact that people obviously trusted Percy at Hogwarts and held him in high esteem, the same way his parents did at home. Why else would the teacher's offer him the position unless the respected him? Merlin, even at Hogwarts he would never be believed even if he did have the courage to tell someone what Percy had been doing to him. Would this nightmare never end?

 

Part of Ron wanted to refuse to go, to beg his mother not to send him. At this point, living like a muggle seemed preferable to continuing to serve as Percy's personnel whore. But Ron knew that wouldn't work. For starters, his mother would never let him get away with something like that without a damn good reason, and the only one he had was a truth that he couldn't possibly tell her. She'd never believe it, and he would not be able to hear his mother call him a liar over this, to see anger and disgust in her eyes as she denounced him for daring to attempt to sully the name of her precious Percy. He honestly felt he'd rather suffer his so-called brother's repeated rapes forever than experience that. Besides even if - and this was a big, huge, gigantic if - his mother agreed to let him stay home and not become a wizard, he would only be safe during the school year. At eleven years old he couldn't exactly move out, so he'd still be there every holiday when Percy came home, most likely feeling extra horny at having to wait so long to get his hands on Ron again. And if Ron didn't go to Hogwarts, then he would never be able to learn enough magic, become strong enough to successfully fight back.

 

And that wasn't even the biggest problem with that plan, Ron decided as his eyes strayed to his sister who was trying one last time to convince their mother that she was old enough to go to Hogwarts, despite the fact that she didn't have a wand, or school robes or books, or anything else that was required for the school year.

 

Ginny, his sweet little sister. The one and only member of his family he still felt comfortable enough with to smile around. She was so innocent. That's not to mean that she couldn't argue with the best of them, out scream their mother, or prank well enough to impressive even the twins when the mood took her. It was that she was such a happy girl, so excitable and full of dreams. She still believed in a world of endless opportunities and was able to find joy in the littlest things in life. What's more, she was so nice. Sure she had a temper. She was a Weasley, they all had tempers. But Ginny was not and would never be cruel. She would never hurt someone just because she could, Ron was sure of that.

 

If Ron didn't go to Hogwarts, or purposely got himself kicked out like he found himself thinking about in one desperate moment last night, next year Ginny would go to Hogwarts. With Percy. And he would not be there to protect her from him. Ron wasn't sure if Percy would be interested in fucking Ginny the way he evidently was in fucking Ron. For all Ron knew Percy was a strictly male rapist, however he could not take the chance that he wasn't, not when Ginny was on the line. Not his sweet, innocent little sister. Besides, Ron suspected that Percy would happily swing both ways. Some of the looks Ron was sure he'd seen the bastard send their sister's way when he didn't think anyone was looking certainly seemed to confirm the idea. So far Percy had not made any moves towards Ginny. Ron had been keeping a close enough eye out to be sure of that, but Ron suspected that was mostly because Percy had Ron to keep his attentions. If Ron wasn't there, there would be nothing to stop Percy from turning his sights fully onto Ginny. Ron simply could not let that happen. He had to go to Hogwarts, if only to be there when it came time for Ginny to go. He needed to protect her. It was that reason that had stopped ultimately Ron that summer from running away or… or something even more drastic.

 

With one plan out the window, not that it was ever really viable anyway, Ron was desperate to find another way to stay out of Percy's grasp throughout the year. The first idea that came to mind was to get sorted into a house other than Gryffindor, the house Percy, and also Fred and George, were in. While this most certainly wouldn't keep Ron out of Percy's hands permanently, it would at least limit just how many opportunities he would have, especially if he somehow managed to get sorted into Sytherin, with which Gryffindor had a rather strong rivalry, going all the way back to the school's founding if the stories were true. However, this plan also had some rather big flaws in it, starting with the fact that his parents and especially his mother would be very upset if he got sorted into any house other than their own Gryffindor, not to mention into Sytherin which was known to have bred the most dark wizards out of any house there is.

 

His parents' disapproval however was the least of Ron's problems with this plan. At the forefront was the fact that he had no idea how to make this plan come to pass. Ron had no idea of how the houses were sorted or if there was any way he could influence which house he would go in. Hell, for all he knew, whoever was doing the sorting might hear that his last name was Weasley and decide to put him in Gryffindor without bothering to learn anything else, with how long his family had been in that house. He'd tried to find out from the twins during the course of the summer how the first years were sorted, but all he managed to get out of them was some stupid story about having to wrestle a troll. Really, how dumb did they think he was that he'd actually believe that? His parents wouldn't answer him at all, simply tell him that he's find out at the Sorting. It was the same with Bill and Charlie when they visited. And Ron had no intentions of asking Percy anything, let alone something like that which might give Percy some kind of insight into what Ron was hoping to do in order to get away from him.

 

When it came down to it, Ron couldn't think of one single plan that would actually work to get him out of this situation. Every option was riddled with more and more problems. All Ron could do was wait, hope he got sorted in any house besides Gryffindor - despite the fact that every single Weasley in the last five generation had gone there - and work on his plan of slowly growing stronger so that Percy couldn't continue to take advantage of him.

 

God, Ron hated this. He hated feeling so powerless. He had been feeling this way for far too long now.

 

Shaking himself out of his depressing thoughts for the moment, Ron tried to focus on the here and now. This would be the last time he would see his mother or sister for a couple of months after all, he might as well take the effort to at least say goodbye to them properly after all.

 

“Now you boys behave this year.” Molly Weasley was saying to the twins as Ron came back to the present. “If I get one more owl about how you've… you blown up a toilet seat or whatever…”

`Blown up a toilet seat? We've never blown up a toilet seat.” Fred objected, trying to sound offended but not really able to pull it off with the smirk that was trying to make itself known across his face.

“Great idea though, thanks Mum.” George added, not even trying to hide his own smirk. Ron almost smirked himself, the twins could be amusing at times, at least when they weren't tormenting him. Not to mention that their mother should know by now not to give the twins ideas.

“That's not funny.” Molly insisted, looking annoyed with how irresponsible her boys still were. “And look after Ron.”

 

Normally, this would have been where the twins would have said something along the lines of `don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us', or some other silly nonsense like that. However, after how Ron had been acting the past summer, and how concerned the twins had become over said behaviour, they simply nodded, looking suddenly unnaturally serious. It actually sent a little bit of a chill up Ron's spine, seeing his brothers act like that.

 

“I'll be keeping an eye on young Ronald too, Mother.” But not as much as that, Ron reflected fearfully as Percy spoke up. The boy might have been speaking to their mother, but he was looking right at Ron with a gleam in his eye that spoke volumes to Ron, all of it bad for him. Unfortunately no one else realised what that look meant, not that Ron expected them to. They hadn't all summer, why should they start now?

 

“Thank you Percy, you're such a good boy.” Molly Weasley said happily as she hugged her third oldest son. Ron felt nauseated by the very sight. “You better get off to the prefect car now, I'm sure you'll have lots of responsibilities this year, so you better get started on them.”

“Too right Mother, I'll be going now.” Percy said in that self-important tone he seemed to love using so much. “I'll see you at school Fred, George, Ron.” Ron tried not to shudder at the emphasis on his name, but it was hard when he was suddenly sure that unless he somehow managed to get sorted into another house Percy would find some way of getting Ron into his room that night. His private, prefect room.

 

Ron was, gratefully, pulled out of that line of thought a moment later when his mother gathered him into a tight hug. Ron tried not to stiffen too much, but after the summer he'd had, any kind of physical touch made him understandable uneasy. Fortunately Molly seemed to notice his unease, even if she didn't know the cause, and pulled back after a minute to look her youngest son in the eyes.

“Now Ron, I expect to get a letter from you very week, you hear me young man.” Molly said firmly. “And remember, your father and I might seem far away, but we're really only a short floo trip away. If you need anything, or wish to talk to us about anything just send us an owl and we'll be happy to listen, okay?”

 

Ron knew what his mother was really saying, she still wanted to know what was bothering him from this summer, and that he could trust her with whatever it was. He knew that while she might sincerely mean that, or at least think she meant it, he could never really tell her. No matter what she said now, Ron knew that in reality she would never truly want to know that her wonderful Percy had raped Ron multiple times over the summer and wanted to repeat his actions at Hogwarts. However, he also knew there was no way Molly would let him go now without some kind of comment.

 

“I'll write.” Ron said, deciding that this was a pretty good compromise considering. It would make his mother happy, and he never said just what he would be writing about.

“Good.” Molly said, looking happy that she had managed to get that much out of her son who had closed himself off so much in such a short amount of time. “Now you better go and get settled on the train. Go on now, before I start crying. I love you Ron.”

“I love you too.” Ron said so quietly only Molly heard it, causing her to beam in delight. Deciding that he better hurry before his mother dragged him into another hug, Ron quickly grabbed his trunk and the cage containing his new pet and quickly boarded the train.

 

Once out of sight from his mother and her constant worry over him, Ron paused slightly to glare down at the small animal in the cage he carried. Oh how he hated that rat. He would rather have had no pet that Percy's old one but that would have caused too many alarm bells to go off with his parents who would never understand why he turned down Percy's generous `gift'.

 

Scabbers wasn't a gift, Ron knew, not really. He was a `ha, I've got the best and you've got my leftovers' kick in the face from the bastard who had been gloating over his owl ever since he got it. Not that Ron actually wanted Hermes, not after actually meeting the bird at any rate. That owl was just plain mean, biting anyone other than Percy who came near it including the recipients of the mail he delivered. Probably why his parents got the bloody thing so cheap. Still, Ron hated having to deal with anything that came from Percy.

 

When it came down to it, Ron would rather have killed the rat than look after it. He wouldn't of course, picking on an animal especially one so much weaker than him wasn't something he could bring himself to do, no matter how angry he got. It seemed to much like what Percy was doing to him when he bothered to think about it, preying on the weak. And Ron refused to be like Percy. That said, he had no intention of playing with the damn rat or getting attached to it. It would spend the whole school year in it's cage. Ron would fed it, and make sure it had water, and clean out the cage when needed. But he would not hold it, he would not play with it, he would not carry it around in his pocket like Percy used to do. Probably do the stupid thing a favour in the long run, Ron mused. How the hell the damn thing hadn't gotten eaten by someone's cat before now he didn't know. Nor did he care.

 

There was something else about Scabbers that made Ron somewhat uncomfortable too, not just the fact that he not so long ago belonged to the boy who used to be his brother and was now his hated and feared enemy. The rat had been living in a cage on Ron's bedside table since the start of summer when Percy had first given him to Ron. As a result the rat had been in the room every single time Percy had come in and… used his little brother. This thought alone would be enough to put Ron off from liking the rodent, but things also went one-step farer than that. A couple of times over the summer, Ron had happened to glance up and in the direction of Scabbers cage during the act, and every time he did he would see the rat up by the side of the cage, watching. Logically Ron knew the stupid animal was probably just wondering what all the noise was about, or perhaps hoping his old owner had come to bring him food.

 

However, ever since the first night Ron had noticed this he couldn't shake the feeling that Scabbers had somehow known what was happening and was enjoying watching the show.

 

SNG*SNG*SNG

 

Once he managed to find his way onto the platform, and more importantly fought his way through the masses of wizards and witches who were acting more like this was some kind of huge family reunion rather than a train ride to school, Harry got on the train and started seeking out an empty compartment. He did feel like sharing with anyone if he could help it. Fortunately with so many people still massing around outside, it wasn't too hard to find a compartment still perfectly empty.

 

After a brief struggle to get his trunk stored properly without opening too many of the wounds in his back, Harry was able to sit down in relief. He really didn't like crowds having to walk through the masses outside had tested his nerves quite a bit. Add in the pain of his ribs and back - which of course only got worse every time someone jostled him, which was frequently in the middled of that mess - and it was hardly surprising that Harry was happy to be able to sit, quietly, by himself, in this nice little compartment for a while and relax for a bit.

 

Harry smiled slightly at Hedwig, who also looked happy now that they were evidently going to be staying in one place and not going back out into the crowds of noisy people who keep bumping her cage, and gingerly bent over to reach into his trunk for his potions book. He might as well take advantage of this time and get to studying. He needed to become stronger after all.

 

After a while Harry, who always had one ear on his surroundings as was pretty much a necessity in the Dursley household unless he wanted to find himself beaten up even more than already was, noticed that the corridor outside the compartment was steadily getting nosier. No doubt the students outside were starting to realise that they weren't just here to talk to old friends, and that yes, they actually had to get on the train. Harry more or less ignored them. After all, as long as they weren't in the compartment with him they couldn't hurt him, and thus he was content to just sit there reading his textbook.

 

That was until the door to the compartment opened suddenly without warning.

 

Harry jumped slightly in place, trying not to wince as the wounds on his back started throbbing anew from the sudden movement and cursing himself for being so compliant that he hadn't realised that someone was about to coming in. Angrily, Harry turned to glare at the boy who was still standing in the doorway.

 

Harry was surprised, and yet strangely not, to see the youngest red haired boy standing in the doorway. In one hand he carried a rat in a cage, as if he would much rather not be, and the blue eyes that took in the dark hired sitting there with the same wariness Harry suspected was in his own. The second said eyes met, that same feeling Harry had felt when he first saw the boy outside the platform was back and stronger that ever, the same sense of something drawing him to this boy.

 

However, if the red head felt it too he gave no sign.

 

“Is anyone sitting here?” the red haired boy asked wearily. “Everywhere else is filling up fast.”

“No one else is here, your welcome to sit provided you let me read and don't bother me.” Harry said darkly. Whatever this feeling was that that was drawing him to this boy may have made Harry want to invite him into the compact, but ten years at the Dursleys was still making it all but impossible for Harry to be nice to him while doing it.

The red haired boy didn't seem to take offence though, if anything he seemed somewhat pleased by the response. “Do the same for me and we'll get on fine.” He said, and in short order had his trunk stored, his caged rat sitting as far away from him as possible (Hedwig spent a short while observing said rat as if debating whether or not to eat it, before she apparently decided that with both of them being in cages it was too much work to attempt right now) and was sitting down with his own textbook in his lap, this one a transfiguration one.

 

“By the way, the names Ron.” The boy said sticking his hand out for a handshake. The formal gesture looked like he was mostly introducing himself because he felt he should. “Ron Weasley.”

“Harry Potter.” Harry said warily, reaching out to shake said hand wondering if the boy was about to start fawning over him like those idiots at the Leaky Cauldron had.

 

The moment their hands touched however, something happened that drove all other thoughts from both of their minds. The strange feeling inside Harry suddenly, well, `exploded' was the only word Harry could think of. All of a sudden it was like Harry could sense Ron's soul like it was his own, and instantly knew that the boy sitting across from him had just as much emotional pain in his life as Harry, even if it seemed to come from a difference medium. He also knew, somehow he truly knew, that this was someone who he could trust completely with all of his secrets, someone who would never betray him and instead would stand by him through all his hard times. Someone who needed Harry, just as much as Harry needed him.

 

And just as Harry knew all of this, Harry also knew that Ron could sense the same about him.

 

Feeling overwhelmed by everything he was feeling, Harry dropped Ron's hand like it was red hot and collapsed back in his chair, just as Ron did the same. Instantly the feeling faded greatly, although it was still there, simmering in the back of his mind as a constant reminder that what just happened was in fact real. For a few minutes the two just stared at each other in shock, until finally Ron broke the silence with the thought of both boys minds.

 

“What the fuck was that?” Ron demanded.

“I don't know.” Harry said, sounding every bit as shaken as Ron felt. “I take it that's not normal for wizards.”

 

Ron shock his head in amazement. He had never felt or even heard of anything like that in his entire life. What had just happened seemed way too weird to be real, and yet somehow Ron knew it was. Somehow he had just looked into this boy's, this Harry's, soul and had his own looked into in return, and found within someone he could finally trust in the crazy painful world that had become his life. It was all too much to process and too think that Harry Potter was the one who… wait a minute….

 

“Harry Potter?” Ron asked in disbelief, part of him feeling rather relieved to find something other than the emotionally overwhelming experience the two boys had just gone through. “The Harry Potter?”

Harry looked annoyed as he answered. “Yes, the Harry Potter. And if you start fawning over me like those idiots did at the Leaky Cauldron you'll see just how well I studied up on hexes this summer.”

Ron smirked, amused by the comeback and relieved that even if Harry was famous he didn't seem to act like a stuck up like he would of expected him to. “Damn. You saw as Hell don't look like most people would picture from the name. You'll be crushing the dreams of fan girls everywhere when you get to Hogwarts.”

Harry simply snorted, not looking the least bit offended. “Well that's just too bad, isn't it. Serves them right for getting all dreaming eyed over someone they've never even met. Besides, you're name doesn't exactly seem to suit you all that well either you know.”

“No, it doesn't does it.” Ron said, looking more thoughtful than anything. “So maybe we should change that.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “I have no intention of changing my looks to make someone else happy Ron.”

“That's not what I meant.” Ron said, shaking his head. “I meant if we don't think our names suit us, we should choose new names that do. You know, nicknames. Ones we actually want to be known by.”

“New names, huh?” Harry repeated, looking thoughtful now. While it probably wouldn't help all that much with the adoring hoards in the long run, Harry found the idea of having a new names the whole wizarding world didn't automatically know quite appealing. “Sure, why not? I'm in.”

“Cool.” Ron said with another smirk, this one almost a smile. “Now, what to pick?”

“Personally, I think you should go with Burn.” Harry said suddenly, somehow knowing that this would be the perfect nickname for his, dare he say it, new friend.

“Oh really?” Ron asked, not looking the least bit offended. “Why do you say that?”

Harry shrugged as he answered. “First off, that fiery red hair of yours. Second, that hot temper I can sense is under that cool exterior of yours. Third, because it sounds blood cool and dangerous, which I get the feeling is what you were hoping for.”

Ron looked rather pleased when Harry was done explaining. “Put it like that, and you're right, Burn does sound perfect doesn't it. And since you choose mine, it's only fair I get to choose yours.”

Harry grimaced slightly but nodded. “Fine, but if you choose something stupid, my threat to hex you comes back into practice.”

“Fine.” Ron, or Burn as he was already starting to think of himself, said calmly. He had no intention of giving Harry a stupid nickname after he had given him, Burn, such a brilliant nickname in return. Now what to choose?

“Do you really have that scar?” Burn asked suddenly as a thought came to him. Harry looked wary, but he did pull up the edge of his bandana enough to reveal the famous lightening shaped scar briefly before covering it again. Ron looked pleased, as he now knew he had the perfect nickname.

“Bolt.” Burn said firmly, leaning back into his seat. “Partly because of the scar, don't look at me like that, I ain't done yet. And partly because I get the feeling that your as dangerous and unpredictable as a real bolt of lightening. People might stare in amazement, but only the idiots of the worlds treat lightening with anything less that extreme caution and respect.”

“Bolt, huh?” Harry said thoughtfully, looking happier once he realised that Burn wasn't giving him a cop-out nickname based solely on the damn scar on his forehead. He actually rather liked the imagery Burn had given him. “I can live with that.”

“Good.” Burn said, looking pleased.

“Now, weren't we going to read?” The newly named Bolt said, picking up his potion textbook. As much as he was enjoying chatting with Burn, he still fully intended to become as strong as possible and knew that constant studying would likely be the best way to get there.

Fortunately, Burn didn't look the least bit insulted and instead simply picked up his own textbook and went to reading it without a word. Bolt smirked slightly at the sight before going back to the many uses for newt eyes. Something deep inside told him that this was the start of a beautiful friendship… the first one he'd ever had.

 

SNG*SNG*SNG

 

Neville Longbottom was feeling rather sick to his stomach at the moment, and it wasn't just motion sickness from the train ride so far.

 

He'd awoken this morning with the early morning sun in his eyes to find that he'd fallen asleep in the green house again. This wasn't a good thing. Neville loved the green houses, always had. When he was little he used to sneak in there and listen and watch the gardeners work. To the young boy the plants contained within seemed to hold a magic all their own. And Neville wasn't just referring to things like the Abyssinian Shrivelfigs and Puffapods. Even the simple mundane flowers seemed magical to the young Neville, the way they grew so strong and beautiful from things and simple as sunlight and a little water. And it was so peaceful in there, just the quietly growing plants and him. It was like his like oasis of calm within the crazy world of disappointment and impossible expectations that was Longbottom Manor.

 

Neville's grandmother on the other hand did not approve of Neville spending so much time in there. Gran didn't seem to mind so much when he was younger, although Neville guessed that maybe she simply didn't notice that he was spending so much time there when he was younger, she did go through periods of attempting to ignore him after all. Either way, as Neville got older Gran began to scold him more and more for being in the greenhouse. She claimed it was not fitting for the scion of such a powerful family to spend all his time around plants and dirt like that. That plants were simply there to be used in potions or to improve the overall look of the manor, not for him to spend his every waking minute in there. And that even if he was such a pathetically weak wizard and a disgrace to his father's name he was still expected to act in a way that was befitting the name of Longbottom.

 

When Neville tried to explain that he felt safe in there, Gran got even worse. She had even slapped him (as much as Gran yelled at Neville and complained about everything he did, she rarely ever hit him), and got into a huge tirade about why wouldn't he feel safe around the rest of the manor and how ungrateful he was about everything the family had done for him over the years. Neville had wanted to say something about how Great Uncle Algie had almost killed him several times over while attempting to `scare' the magic out of him over the years and how that was a damn good reason not to feel safe around the manor, but he didn't think his ears would be up to the resulting tirade after how the last statement had just set her off.

 

But the day that Gran had woken to discover that Neville's bed had not been slept in the night before, only to find him in the green house where he had evidently slept, was the worst by far - excluding of course that awful day that when Gran had screamed at Neville how she hated him and wished he was the one in the chronic ward at St. Mungos rather than his father. After a long, very long, bout of yelling about how he couldn't do anything right Gran had finally screamed that if he insisted on living like a bloody servant she would let him be a bloody servant. That she would disown him, refuse to send him to Hogwarts, and set him up as an assistant gardener for the rest of his life.

 

Well, the assistant gardener part Nevil didn't mind the sound of all that much. He would love to spend his life working with such beautiful plants. But never go to Hogwarts? And worse, be disowned from the Longbottom family? As much as his family's words and action had hurt him over the years, they were still his family and he couldn't bare the thought of loosing them. He couldn't let that happen.

 

Hence, when Neville had awoken to realise that he'd fallen asleep in the greenhouse again, he'd had a minor panic attack, thinking that his greatest nightmare was about to come true. Fortunately, after a few minutes of pure panic common sense began to return to the boy and he realised that one, his grandmother wasn't there, and that two it was too early for her to come looking for him as the sun was only just starting to peak past the horizon. If he hurried out of there she would likely never know. And so, after finding Trevor hiding amongst the water-growing Gillyweed, Neville had hurried back to his room, not quite believing his luck. Although he'd spent the whole morning terrified that his Gran would still somehow find out about him sleeping in the greenhouse and punish him for it, it appeared he was in the clear.

 

Not, of course, that this helped him with the sick feeling of dread in his stomach. A feeling that wasn't the least but helped by his Gran's on going lectures throughout breakfast about how he better not do anything at Hogwarts to disgrace the name of Longbottom. Which in turn continued during the short floo ride to the Leaky Cauldron, and the longer taxi ride to the train station, and further on till they were standing at platform 9 and 3 quarters. By the time Neville had bordered the train, all his Gran had done was all but convince poor Neville that he was all but destined to flunk out within his first week, forever shaming his family's name.

 

Even now, away from his Gran and well on his way to Hogwarts, the sick feeling still hadn't left, even though he tried to hide it from the other boys in the compartment with him. The boys in question all seemed nice, but they were mostly ignoring him, so caught up they were in their discussion on Quiditch and some Muggle sport. One of the other boys was a pureblood, Terry Boot (Neville had vaguely heard of the family but had never met him), and was going on and on about how great the sport was and how nothing could compare. Another of the boys, and Dean Thomas was a muggleborn and valiantly trying to defend muggle sports, especially one he apparently loved which was known as `rugby' which Terry had never heard of and claimed could never be any good if it didn't involve flying. The last boy, a Seamus Finnigan Neville thought, was a half-blood and familiar with both and was partly playing mediator but mostly trying to convince Dean about the awesomeness of Quiditch.

 

As a result of the intense discussion, the other three boys seemed top have forgotten that Neville was in the compartment with them. While part of Neville told him that was fine, and that he didn't really want to get drawn into the discussion anyway, and besides he was never much of a sports fan (although most of that was because no one in the family would eve play sports with him, let alone take him to see a game and so had never had a chance to become a sports fan) and would not be able to contribute much to the discussion anyway. However, another part of him kept saying, in a voice that was eerily similar to Gran's, that the other boys likely somehow realised what a weak excuse of a wizard he was and were already trying to distance themselves from him. After all, who wants to be friends with and almost squib.

 

Neville tried to ignore the voice, burying his face deeper into his Herbology textbook, and once more reaching down to check that Trevor was still in his pocket. He'd almost ecaped twice already, the last time only a quick grab from Seamus who had been reaching down to pick up a dropped chocolarte frog and just happened to see him had stopped him getting away. Neville told himself over and over that the voice was wrong. That they weren't ignoring him on purpose and that he didn't care if they were. He would be fine. He would get stronger and then people would know he wasn;t worthless. He would. He had to.

 

SNG*SNG*SNG

 

Hermione Granger had not had a good day so far. Despite the fact that she was now on a train on her way to a school for magic, she couldn't quite bring herself to be overly happy about it, after the way her morning had gone and with the on going annoyance she was dealing with right now.

 

First, she had awoken to find that neither of her parents had come home the night before. This was not exactly an uncommon occurrence for her. Her parents had been doing that more and more over the years. And it wasn't exactly as if she could expect great big family breakfasts even when they were home. Her parents would usually just ignore her while drinking their coffee and glaring at each other in the morning those times that they were home, occasionally with one or both of them fighting a hangover, while Hermione would help herself to a bowl of cereal and hope the milk wasn't off this time. Not exactly what Hermione would call a wonderful loving family time. Still, it was annoying when they would stay out all night and ignore the fact that they even had a daughter. It would be nice to be acknowledged a little more, especially on a day like today when she would be leaving and they wouldn't see her again for several months.

 

Though in reality it was probably better this way, less hassle for her. Knowing her parents they way she did, they would likely make the morning as difficult as possible just because they could, and hold everything up until she would be at risk of missing the train.

 

After eating breakfast of dried cereal (the milk was off again, and Hermione didn't think there was time to go out to the not-so-near nearest store and buy more if she wanted to be sure she would make it to the train on time), and Hermione grabbed the downstairs phone to call for a taxi, and was soon on her way to Kings Cross Station. The taxi driver was surprised when his fare was so young and travelling alone, but he was sympathetic when she told him that her parents both being dentists were called in early for an emergency procedure and that she needed to catch a train to get to her boarding school. It was a lie she had told many times in the past to explain why she was travelling along after she realised that people didn't want to hear that her mother was out banging a younger man and her father was getting wasted at a cheap bar.

 

Fortunately the driver wasn't sympathetic enough to insist on going through with his offer to help Hermione get her luggage on the train when she told him she would be fine. She would hate to have to think up an excuse for the obviously muggle taxi driver as to why she needed to walk through a wall to get to her platform. It was a god thing Professor Flitwick had explained that to her properly when he came over to help introduce her to the muggle world earlier in the summer, even though she never did get a satisfactory answer about why the platform had to be hidden. Diagon Alley sure, it only made sense to find store that sold magic wands and flying broomsticks, not to mention the bank run by goblins, but a damn train platform? What was the point of that? And if wizards were so stupid that they couldn't even get on a train without giving themselves away and needed to hide said platform, didn't anyone think that maybe there were better places to hide it that bloody Kings Cross Station which was filled to the brim with muggles on a good day? Really, was the whole wizard world lacking common sense?

 

The mass of idiots standing around laughing on Platform 9 and 3 quarters when she managed to get to it seemed to support that theory, and she couldn't get onto the train and settled into a nice empty, quiet compartment soon enough. It wasn't long before Hermione was contently reading her charms textbook and waiting for the journey to get underway.

 

Unfortunately for Hermione the nice, empty and quiet compartment she had found didn't stay empty or quiet for very long. She soon had a couple of other girls her age sitting across from her and talking to each other. Now normally she would be able to ignore the presence of the other two girls. She had lots of practice ignoring the idiots at her last school after all. But these two… it wasn't that they had been talking constantly since they sat down, or even that they were doing so in voices far too loud for the small compartment. It wasn't even that their choice for their topic of conversation was hair and makeup and just what in fact made a cute boy cute. Hermione was sure she would be able to handle all of that just fine, if it wasn't for that one last thing. The giggling. They wouldn't stop giggling. On and on and on, until Hermione just wanted to rip some ears off… hers or their's she wasn't sure, just as long as the increscent, inescapable, indescribable and OH-PLEASEGOD-MAKE-IT-STOP giggling would just end.

 

Finally, about half an hour into the journey Hermione decided she couldn't take it anymore, and that she needed to get out of there. There was no way she could stay in that same compartment with those two the whole way to Hogwarts, if she did either would go crazy, or else Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil would never make it to Hogwarts alive. Hermione knew which one she would prefer but since she figured that the professors would likely not appreciate she murdering two of her fellow schoolmates before they even got to the school, she was better off taking option number three and so picked up her book and headed for the door. She felt safe leaving her trunk there, she doubted that those two would even notice she was gone until they reached Hogwarts anyway and the damn thing was too heavy for Hermione to want to drag it after her right now. She come back for it before it was time to get off, but right now all she wanted was to find somewhere quiet to read for the rest of the journey.

 

However, as she walked down the corridor glancing into the compartments as she past them she got the sinking feeling that this would be easier said than done. Every single compartment she past had someone in it talking enthusiastically, some even more so than those two twits back at her original compartment were doing. Hermione got more and more frustrated as she walked along, and was starting to consider if maybe she was better off either hiding in the lavatory or else just staying out here in the corridor when she finally spotted the answer to her dreams.

 

It was nears the end of the carriage she finally spotted it. The compartment was much emptier than most, only two boys that looked about her age and who both had much more `punky' styles than most of the other boys on the train she'd seen so far. Seeing as that was closer to her own style she approved. But what really grabbed her attention was the fact that both boys were sitting there quietly, and they were actually reading. What's more, they were reading their textbooks (Hermione was more than capable of recognising the covers). From what she had unwillingly heard from Lavender and Parvati, as well as what she'd seen in the other compartments as she walked along, Hermione was starting to suspect she was the only one on this whole damn train to even look at their textbooks. In fact, from the way Lavender was going on Hermione would be surprised if she'd even brought them in the first place. Parvati she was willing to believe had them, only because of the way she had gone on about her `bratty, brainy sister'.

 

Hoping that they wouldn't mind her sitting with them to read for a while, Hermione opened the door to the compartment.

 

SNG*SNG*SNG

 

Bolt wasn't sure how much had past when he heard the compartment door open again, but he was sure it couldn't have been more than an hour at most. Not at all happy about being interrupted from his reading again, Bolt looked up ready to give whoever it was a peace of his mind. However, the second his eyes fell on the girl standing in the doorway the words died in his mouth.

 

The girl was obviously in their year, and was slightly taller than Bolt, though not nearly as tall as Burn. She had brown hair that was cut very short, only just long enough for Bolt to be able to see that it was naturally curly. Her brown eyes were very knowing, and Bolt suspected she would likely give him and Burn a running in the grades department. She was wearing a dark purple t-shirt advertising one of those punk-rock bands that his aunt and uncle loathed over a long sleaved black top, and three-quarter length black pants. On her feet were a pair of what was either Doc Martins or a pretty high-end rip off. In all, she looked a whole lot cooler than most of the girls he'd seen on the platform earlier but that wasn't what stayed Bolt's tongue.

 

The second Bolt looked at her, the feeling came back. The same one he'd had when Burn had first walked into the compartment. The sense that something within him was drawing him to her, that there was something important about her. Bolt wondered if he touched her, would he have the same feeling of being able to sense her soul that he got from Burn? He longed to find out, but it wasn't like he could just ask to be allowed to touch her. She'd no doubt think he was some kind of perverted freak if he did that. Hell, he'd have thought he was some kind of freak if he was in her shoes. Besides, having only felt like this one time before, with Burn, it wasn't like he was really sure what this feeling meant or anything. For all he knew, he might be imagining it, wanting to feel like that again, wanting to be able to find someone else he truly felt he could trust.

 

While all these thoughts were running through Bolt's mind and holding his tongue, Burn - who was not privy to such strange feelings at this time - had no problem speaking up.

 

“What the hell do you want?” Burn asked. Despite the harsh words, his tone was more curious than anything even though the look in his eye made it clear that she better have a damn good reason for being in their compartment.

”Mind if I sit here for a while?” She asked, her voice carefully neutral. “I had to get out of my last compartment to get away from the incessant talking and giggling, and really need to find someplace quiet to read for a while.” As if to offer as proof of her intentions, the girl held up a copy of what Burn and Bolt both instantly recognised as a copy of the first year charm text.

After taking a quick glance at Bolt to be sure he wasn't about to object, Burn turned back to the new girl and shrugged. “Just don't bother us talking non-stop and your fine.”

The girl snorted slightly. “I could have sworn I just told you I left my old compartment to get away from too much talking. Why would I come in here just to start chatting you up?” Burn didn't bother to answer, and the girl stepped into the compartment.

 

However, fate seemed to take a hand in matters at this point. Or maybe it was just a rather convenient coincidence. Either way, the second the new girl took that step the train suddenly went around a very fast bend, which was enough to throw off her balance and cause her to start falling over before she could stop herself. Almost instinctively, Bolt and Burn both reached out to grab and stop her falling. They succeeded, but in doing so, the same thing that had happened between Bolt and Burn happened again, only this time it was this strange yet cool new girl's soul that Bolt was sensing. Either way, the same sense of pain and longing was there, along with the thoughts that this was someone he could trust. What was more, a quick look was all Bolt needed to know that although he was not sensing him too this time, Burn could also sense from this girl what he could, which most likely meant that she was now sensing both of them.

 

The second the girl had regained her balance, she quickly straightened up and took a step back staring at the two boys in shock.

 

“What the fuck was that?” She demanded, looking every bit as shocked and overwhelmed as Bolt and Burn did when it first happened to them, if not more so. Which Bolt supposed was only fair, if his theory about her sensing both boys at once was true.

“I don't know.” Bolt answered honestly. “But that's the second time it's happened. The same thing happened to the two of us earlier.”

 

The girl shock her head in something between amazement and disbelief and she sat down next to Burn and stared between the two boys in shock. By unspoken agreement, neither Bolt or Burn said anything, giving her this time to come to grips with the weird experience she'd just been through. Not to mention themselves, just because they'd gone through it once before didn't mean that they found it any less overwhelming.

 

Finally, the girl in question seemed to shake herself out of her funk, at least enough to realise that she had no idea just who it was she was sitting with and suddenly felt she could trust with all that she was.

 

“I'm Hermione Granger.”

“Hermione?” Burn repeated in something of disbelief. “Merlin, and I thought our names were unsuitable, your's doesn't even come close to suiting you.”

“He's Ron Weasley, but you can call him Burn.” Bolt said quickly, when Hermione started to look somewhat annoyed with the critic on her name. “And I'm Harry Potter but I'd really prefer if you called by Bolt.”

“Harry Potter?” Hermione repeated raising an eyebrow. “As in the boy who's in at least a dozen different books on history of the dark arts, that can't seem to agree on anything other than your name?”

“Yeah, hence why I prefer not using that name.” Bolt said with a wince. “I don't even need to read those book to be sure that they're wrong when you consider the fact that the only living witness there that night has never been interviewed and happened to be one bloody year old.”

Hermione nodded. “Alright then, Bolt it is. Sounds a whole lot cooler than Harry anyway. And Burn sound better than Ron too.”

“Thanks.” Burn said. “And look, not to sound insulting but I mean it when I say that Hermione doesn't really suit you. Seems too formal not to mention goody-two-shoes for a girl like you. We came up with our nicknames because we wanted to go by something we thought fit with our personalities, and I think you should do the same.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked, looking at Burn with a challenging looking although she didn't seem as angry as earlier. “And just what would you suggest?”

 

Bolt looked at Burn as well, wondering just what kind the other boy thought would suit a girl like Hermione, as right now he couldn't quiet seem to think of anything that would suit her.

 

Burn was silent for a few long moments as he studied Hermione. For some reason she was harder to choose a name for than Bolt had been, and he really wanted to get it right. It didn't help matter that she was watching him like she was half expecting him to fail to come up with something good either.

 

“Brigid.” Burn said finally, causing Hermione to raise an eyebrow and Bolt to frown in confusion.

“And who, pray tell, is Brigid, Burn?” Bolt asked. “Care to share?”

“Celtic goddess of knowledge.” Burn said calmly, not taking his eyes off Hermione as he spoke. “Read a book about Celtic myths that one of my brothers left lying around earlier in the summer, and for some reason she stood out. She was a powerful goddess of knowledge, loyal and protective to those she was close to but if you ever crossed her, look out. Kind of reminds me of Hermione here, and when I was looking of a nickname that's what came to mind. So, what do you think?”

“Brigid.” Hermione repeated thoughtfully, testing out the new name. “Yeah, I kind of like that. It'll do. You were right about Hermione being too stuck up, anyway.”

“Good. Well, Brigid now that that's settled, weren't you going to read this?” Bolt asked, passing over the charms book that Brigid had dropped while trying to avoid dropping herself.

 

Brigid smiled slightly, and took the book back without a word before she opened it to start reading. However neither Bolt nor Burn were the least bit insulted by her sudden ignoring them. Instead, they just picked up their own books and followed her example.

 

After all, they all understood without words. They all had the same desire to become stronger.

 

Chapter 1

 

Author's End Notes

 

Just a couple of quick facts for those who are interested.

 

One, Harry's mysterious ability to `connect' with Ron and Hermione will be explained later if you keep reading. And yes, it going to be an actual part of the story, not just a way for the three to become friends quickly.

 

The idea of Harry hiding in the school library actually came about from something I used to do when I was twelve and I was bullied by a group of girls in my school. They used to follow me around and generally tried to make my life miserable. I would hide in the library during my lunch break and read my way through the fantasy section. After one term of this my parents got fed up with the school not doing anything and changed me to another school, where things instantly got better for me. Obviously Vernon and Petunia wouldn't change Harry's schools, but as I can't imagine Dudley and his friends would go in the library unless forced, so it seemed to be like it would be as good a hiding place for Harry as it was for me. On more or less the same topic, Miss Bunny was actually the name of my school librarian when I was in primary school, I kid you not. Really nice lady actually, even though as you can imagine her name was the butt of a lot of lame jokes around the school.

 

Also, if anyone's worried that I'm leaving Neville out, don't panic, he will become a valuable part of the team before too long, but I'm leaving him separate for the moment for a reason. Remember, Hermione wasn't friends with Harry and Ron in the cannon until the troll incident and look at how that turned out. However, it will not be a troll that brings the four together. As to what will, you'll just have to wait and see.