He could hear them screaming and shouting. They ran around and around, their little hearts beating with surprising ferocity. Their faces contorted in ways that tugged at his heart. They, a brother and sister, were playing in the front yard, and he, Harry, was playing in the front yard. It was just that the siblings played games, and the solitary child played with the flower bed. He dug deeper into the earth, a fire burning within him. He could hear them shout out and felt the joy pierce the walls that he had carefully set up.

They were strangers—people that he didn't know both on a surface level nor intimately—and yet, they managed to hurt him so much. Without realizing it, they had just thrown salt and vinegar on open wounds. It was that damned carelessness and joy, wasn't it?

SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.

He took a shuddering breath and redoubled his efforts to fix his Aunt's flowerbed. He weeded the flimsy weeds from the ground, crushing the life out of them, and making it so that only the best things in the flower bed remained.

He did his best to shut his ears off, focusing on the task at hand. His mind went blank, dulling the throb of boredom and hatred in his mind. He could feel his mind suffocate under the blanket that he'd just thrown over it. Menial work was such a great way to suppress it, for the time being. That's all he needed.

After a while, Harry stood up and dusted off the tattered remains of his pants. Picking up the tools, he cleaned the area and removed any evidence of his presence.

Out of sight, out of mind.

He could remember his aunt berating him. With soft footsteps, Harry entered through the backdoor.

He washed his hands and wore new tattered hand-me-down. He went to the kitchen, surrendering his mind to his Aunt's lessons, and started to cook. His fingers danced with the utensils, creating works of art that would go under-appreciated. He smiled as the aromas assaulted his nose. All that he had to do was not to think of what would happen afterward.

With that, a dark thought dared to enter his mind. Harry's eyes flicked towards the cupboard.

Mmm-hmm. That's my home.

His cupboard. Shudders travelled down his spine as he retreated from the sight and set his eyes firmly on the food in front of him. His singlemindedness took over, shoving those other thoughts into a deep pit.

It didn't matter that he could feel the pit steadily filling up. It was simply better if they were tucked away.

Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock. Harry found himself thinking about clocks, having made close friends with one in his time at the Dursleys. It stood just outside his door as his silent guardian. A grandfather clocked the chimed at every hour of every day. It was one of the many things that ruled his life.

A cage of limbs trapped Harry in the middle of the station; the walls of Men pressed in on him. He had a palpitating heart and not even a defibrillator could fix it.

Tick. Tock.

Not time was left as a pit of anxiety slowly pulled him downwards—an animal trapped in a pit of quicksand. Harry struggled against it, desperately doing his best to get out, but he was sucked down even faster. The longer he spent running from anxiety, the faster it overtook him.

Tick. Tock.

Harry fought the losing battle as more people started to crowd around him. He was supposed to be safe here, wasn't he? Safe from the Dursleys, on his way to the Wizarding World. He'd been given a reprieve, and what? He'd just squander it?

DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNG!

The once silent clock in the train station struck its bell, marking another hour. It was 10 o'clock. He had an hour left. With the sound still in his ears, Harry found the strength to shove his emotions into that pit of his.

Get a hold of yourself you fucking bastard.

Making a conscious effort to force his body to move, Harry pushed the trolley and parted the sea of mixed colour, glancing down at the slip of paper in his hand.

"Platform 9 ¾," it said. It whispered thoughts of hope and freedom as well.

Muttering the number again and again under his breath, Harry retreated back into the single-mindedness he'd developed.

Clean the dishes, wash the clothes, find the Platform.

His mind no longer wandered, having been given a new purpose. His single-mindedness forced him to make his way through this industrial jungle. The trains, nay, the footsteps thundered in the background while the whistles of the trains—the kettles—kept him focused.

Harry fought for that focus that he desperately desired. In no time, Harry found himself at Platform 9, and his obsession melted away. Looking back down at the paper, confusion slipped into his mind. There was no sign for 9 ¾. There were only signs for Platforms 9 and 10.

Making his way closer to Platforms 9 and 10, confusion birthed panic. Confusion and panic waltzed together, making their way around his mind.

He was back in that damned room, shaking in fear with each footstep that resonated throughout the house's interior. Again, he had to shove these thoughts back down into their cages as he forced himself to look for patterns, for things that he could use.

An idea hitting him, he found himself parking his trolley against a pillar.

He placed his hands against a pillar, ignoring the strange looks that he was getting. He could feel the pillar humming, vibrating with…magic.

For once, it felt liberating to use magic for something other than cuts and bruises.

Reaching into the stream of magic, he found something interesting in one of the pillars near Platform 10. There lay a massive portal on one side of the pillar. His lips curled into a smile. It was an entrance, wasn't it?

Harry let go of the pillar and wiped the dust off his hands. Through the portal he went,

Harry found himself surrounded by a good deal of people dressed in long flowing robes.

Magicals.

It was an odd change, and a bit disorienting, but he could get used to it.

Managing to find his way through the crowd, Harry could feel this weight in the air around him. It was an interesting thing, to feel the very air of a place saturated with magic. Harry could feel his mind singing which was odd as...

…her surroundings were aesthetically uninteresting. No one could blame her for saying that as despite being lavishly decorated, she'd lived here all her life. She sat in the parlour, feeling that dull throb of boredom at the edge of her mind.

After all, all of her things had been packed and sent to Hogwarts via House Elf, and now she was just in the foyer. She was only waiting for Tracey to finish getting ready and to come downstairs. Apparently, her friend was obsessed with appearances. Who knew? Tracey Davis, the brunette who rarely wore makeup and never took the time to pick out her clothes, but she really didn't need it anyways. She was certainly pretty enough.

Daphne sighed, opened her bag, and reached in for a book. There were only a few things that kept her preoccupied in the house, and one of those things would be the books. Hundreds and hundreds of books in the Greengrass Library, detailing everything from arithmetic to history. There were basic books on maths and magic. And, oddly enough, there were books on Muggle science and history as well. She had read nearly all of these books for the past twelve years, absorbing each and every single word.

But of course, few people knew that. Actually, not that many people actually knew much about her despite the fact that she had become 'friends' with them. Of the people that she knew, only Tracey who was privy to the things in her life. Another person, her uncle, was the one who'd hired tutors over the years and left her to the library.

Trying to steer her mind away from her Uncle, she flipped open to a spell. She'd opened to the Levitation Spell, and it was in the seventh chapter. Perhaps not the best thing to try to tackle in a few minutes, but she decided to at least try. After all, there were books in her library which detailed basic spells like the Wand-Lighting Charm, Unlocking Charm, and the sort. She could never find any more advanced spells, so long ago, she'd come up with the idea that her Uncle was controlling the things in her library, reserving said spells for her later years.

That was an idea so likely that it had sent a jolt of frustration coursing through her body. Of all the things, her Uncle just had to take control of one of the few things in life that he didn't control. He just had to find another way to control her after forcing her to learn all of that fucking trash.

The rabbit hole was starting to go places she didn't want to, so she took control of that train of thought and let it crash and burn. She'd deal with it later—now was certainly not a good time. Closing her eyes, breathing deeply, she grabbed her wand.

The spell.

It was a simple swish and flick of the wrist. Daphne enunciated the words as the book instructed her to.

Pointing the wand at the book, she felt her magic flow out of her. It floated with ease. It was as if it were an extension of her hand for Daphne could 'feel' the book. She was manipulating the very laws of nature.

Daphne heard someone coming. Quickly, she tucked the wand away and grabbed the book before it dropped to the ground, hastily putting it in her bag. It was her uncle and Tracey, her favourite brunette.

"Ready, Daphne?" Uncle strode towards the Floo, grabbing a bit of powder before pausing and turning to look at his daughter.

Straight back, neutral face. Don't meet his eyes, walk with purpose. Exactly as Uncle had said.

"Yes, Uncle." Daphne put the book away into her satchel and stood next to Tracey.

Daphne's uncle said nothing in response. No wishing of good luck nor a goodbye as it was unnecessary. He cast the powder into the Floo and spoke clearly, stepping aside with his feet apart and hands behind his back. Daphne, knowing what he wanted, walked into the fire and flew through the Floo system. A few seconds later, she found herself at Platform 9 ¾. She stepped aside, making room for Tracey who came through.

"Is…my uncle coming through?" A tinge of hesitation appeared in her voice, scared to even ask that question.

Tracey smiled. "Nope."

Daphne felt relief surge through her; she suppressed the small smile that threatened to break out on her face. After all, it would only disappear under the overwhelming wave of pain that would come later.

"Well," Daphne started as if she had said nor heard a thing, "we should find a seat, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah."

They walked towards the train, people saying hi to the two of them. Daphne recognized most of them—it was kind of hard not to when they kept coming over to her house because her uncle wanted her to keep meeting up with them. Tracey and Daphne had just entered the train when the blonde noticed something. "Are you sure that you put on makeup? You look the same."

"Hey, I did!"

Daphne suppressed a smile at her friend's indignance. "Really? I'm rather sure that you just spent most of the hour up there just trying to figure out which thing does what." Daphne glanced at her as they walked through the train. None of the compartments were empty. They'd come in too late.

Tracey rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

Daphne let the small smile break out on her faced. "I'm serious. What happened to your face?"

"Now it's as if something attacked my face!"

"And it really looks like it did. A grindylow perhaps, or a griffin?" The smile grew just an infinitesimal amount.

"Just shut up," Tracey said, narrowly avoiding a trolley. "What the bloody hell are these people doing?"

"I would say…pushing their trolley?" Daphne asked, questioning Tracey's intelligence. Tracey swatted Daphne's shoulder. "That hurt!"

Tracey then said, "Good. Maybe now you'll shut up." A grin had appeared on the brunette's face.

Daphne merely rose an eyebrow but said nothing. There seemed to be an empty compartment at the end of the hallway they were in which was something that the two of them wanted. There were things that weren't supposed to be said in front of others. When Daphne saw that there was a Wizard in there once she came close, she shrugged her shoulders. It didn't seem like there were other compartments that were as empty as this one.

"I go in first?" Tracey asked, a glimmer in her eyes.

Daphne scoffed. "No, this is where I spontaneously decide to greet a random stranger. Of course, you go in first! You're better at these things."

"Says the person with all the friends," Tracey said, smiling. The smile disappeared as she saw Daphne start staring at her, and the brunette winced.

"It's…fine." Daphne closed her eyes, barely managing to remove the memory from her mind.

"I don't think it is, Daph. Do you wanna look somewhere else?" Tracey asked. Her eyes were overflowing with concern.

Daphne shook her head. "We're probably not going to find another compartment as empty as this one." There was a pregnant pause as they stood right outside of the Wizard's view. Deciding to break the silence between them, Daphne asked, "Should we go in?"

"We should." And with that, Tracey slid the door open and came face to face with a boy whose…

…book snapped shut; Harry's reading session was interrupted by a latch that clicked and clacked. Through the open door, there was a blonde and a brunette, though something was off about the former.

"Yes?" Harry queried, keeping his eyes from staying on the blonde for far too long. Possible conversation topics raced through his mind, just to maintain his 'confidence.' He knew what to and what not to say, how to cook the right dish by adding the right ingredients into the mix.

But there was some unknown ingredient in this, something that impaired the ability to cook properly. Something had gotten inside his head, taking over and forcing his attention on the blonde. To him, she wore a dress of blinking lights. Harry just barely managed to focus on what the brunette was saying.

"…sit here?" she said.

"All other compartments are full?" Split into two sides, his mind had to make a decision.

GET RID OF THEM.

"Yep. And since—"

Harry cut her off, feeling the silent promises of friendship in her voice. No need to waste her breath, right? "Sure, I'm fine with it. It's free game, isn't it?" He forced a smile, the best approximation of a natural one, as the lie passed through his teeth. He liked the shock in both their eyes—the brunette at his interruption and the blonde, perhaps at recognition or the fact that he seemed to budge over so quickly.

She can see through it.

"When you put it that way," the brunette started, "I guess you could say that."

Interestingly, blonde had said nothing so far. Not a word nor a gesture, just a steady stare at him. Harry felt his smile turn into a smirk as he saw her gasp slightly. "You've guessed, haven't you?"

The blonde didn't bother answering the question and confidently said, "You're Harry Potter."

"Sadly." A slight tilt of his head and shrug elicited a semblance of shock from the blonde. "Now you know my name…"

"Daphne. Daphne Greengrass" The blonde curtly responded and gestured to the brunette. "And she's Tracey."

"You know, I've been wondering if someone put a sticker on me? Perhaps a sign? Maybe one those neon signs," Harry added as they sat down. "I just wonder how people keep guessing that I'm Harry Bloody Potter."

"Could it be the fact that you've got a scar on your head?" Daphne asked, a slight sarcastic edge to her tone.

Harry laughed. His ears hurt when that sound—nails scraping a chalkboard—reached his ears.

That wasn't even funny, Potter.

"So that's how people kept guessing my name. Well, that's as good as a sign, isn't it?"

It was Daphne's turn to laugh. It was bubbly and cold. "Perhaps it is."

"Are you ready to go to Hogwarts?" Perhaps Harry could start a conversation with her—to find out what was so special about her.

Daphne shot him a look, politely questioning his intelligence. "Would I be on this train if I wasn't?"

"That was a stupid question, wasn't it?" Harry asked, a genuine smile creeping across his face.

The witch nodded, lips slightly curved upwards. For a moment, silence blanketed the compartment, and the cold crept under his skin.

Why didn't I get rid of them?

Tracey broke the silence. "So, Harry…" her voice trailed off before returning, "which House do you think you're going to get in to?"

"I'd be hoping Ravenclaw or Slytherin." It was an instantaneous response. After all, these were the two Houses prided themselves on knowledge and information. The other two houses were interesting, but not wholly so…only if the books were to be trusted.

Tracey nodded, obviously processing this information. "You know, the one House that I don't wanna be a part of is Gryffindor."

"Why?"

She started a list, putting a finger up. "First, Slytherin and Gryffindor are historic enemies." Another finger went up. "Second, I'm really attached to her," she pointed at Daphne, "'cause she's my friend, and she definitely won't go into Gryffindor. Don't ask." A third finger rose. "Finally, I've got parents who've got plans for me in the future."

Understandable, wasn't it? Harry was quiet for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. Instead it was forced shut by the sudden jerking of the train.

"Seems like we're leaving," he said instead.

Of course, Daphne then took the opportunity he'd made. "You have such a talent for stating the obvious."

"Well," he mirthlessly smiled, "I do my best. It's really hard, you know, for me to state the obvious because in my experience, I'm typically the person to ignore it."

Daphne took the bait. "How? Doesn't seem like you've got much trouble doing it now"

"I mean, look at when I was one. I was the last person to notice that there was a Dark Lord in my room. Even after everyone else died, I just stayed there—should've run, should've fought, should've showered him in my heroic tears, but I just stayed there because I didn't notice that there was a big bad Wizard in my room," Harry said with a straight face. "Oh, and I was a bloody idiot."

Tracey was already chuckling halfway through and that last bit earned a smile from her friend.

"You really hate the fame, don't you?" Tracey asked once everything had died down.

You just had to make it fucking obvious? Just had to make it easy for people to read you.

Harry felt something somersault within him. "Was it the disparaging comments that gave it away? I can give you some more if you want…"

"I'm good," she said as she smiled. "Enough to last me until tomorrow."

And oddly, Harry didn't take offense to this. With that, they all fell silent when Tracey started talking with Daphne about clothes or something. Harry moved to get his book but was rudely interrupted.

The door was swung open and shut closed, the latch clicking and clacking once more. It was a boy with olive skin.

"Blaise?" Daphne asked with a raised eyebrow, "Why so late?"

"There were some family complications," he managed to get out before he sat down, closed his eyes, and expunged the pain via his mouth. "You know, all that crap with my Mum and 'Dad.'"

Daphne hummed in interest. "What happened this time?"

"Oh, some unfortunate accident while flying a broom across the plains of Scotland," he said, meeting her eyes steadily.

"She's gonna run out of options soon," Tracey butted in.

Blaise muttered a careless "eh." Then he said, "Honestly, I don't give a fig about what's happening."

The Witches nodded, just like it was normal that his mother was killing men left and right.

"And who're you?" asked the olive-skinned Wizard.

Here we go…

Harry grinned before making his scar visible.

He looked for the tell-tale signs of awe—the widened eyes, the sudden gasp, and the rise in the head—but he was disappointed. Instead he was just greeted with a nod of the head and a question.

"Do you remember when you got it?"

Huh. That's new.

Harry rose an eyebrow and was about to answer before Daphne decided to cut into the conversation.

"Blaise, come on. He was a year old—a baby! Do you remember what happened when you were just a few years old?" The Wizard shook his head. "And why in the world would you ask that question anyways?"

Blaise seemed to struggle between scrutinizing her and rebutting her. Instead, he chose to then say, "Sorry. Just popped into my head."

"The day that happens is the day that Tracey becomes a master at makeup," Daphne muttered.

"Hey!" The brunette exclaimed to Daphne's amusement.

"It's fine," Harry said, then he turned to Daphne with a smirk. "And thank you for defending my honour."

She smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "All I can say is 'you are welcome.'"

And with that, Harry found himself being catapulted back into the world that he had been so rudely removed from. The others were talking, but he didn't pay much attention to them.

A/N: I would say that's a good start. Future me will regret posting this, but I'm currently happy with how this turned out. This'll be a more contained story than that...clusterfuck I wrote last year. On that note, I'll say that there'll be a few similarities between this story and that one.

Sorry if the scene transitions are jarring. There'll be less of those in the future.

Giving credit where it's due, I took a page out of SquareRootBeer's story (10084910) with the thoughts, and I took another page out of "What Happens When the Stars Go Out" by TheJesseClark (from Reddit) with the weird scene transitions between Daph and Harry. My iterations of both weren't as good, I've to admit, as the original. But I liked the concepts, and they were fun to write.

I promise to take my time with this story and put some genuine effort into it. As always, critique is welcome.

HHS