A/N: This was my original intention when writing. My question is, should I work on this or should I work on the other, or should I just alternate updates?
Harry walked across the train, knowing full well that his so-called friends wouldn't invite them into their carriages. He had tried last year and they hadn't noticed him. Well, that wasn't exactly true with Hermione, who had offered her carriage. But he had refused because he saw that she was doing it out of curtesy. No one listened to him, no matter how much he tried. He tried bellowing their name in the Great Hall repeatedly and even tapped their shoulder after the incident with the Chamber of Secrets. Nothing. They seemed to either ignore him like the rest of the school or they simply didn't notice him.
Harry thought of the previous two years he had spent in Hogwarts. He had been naïve, so innocent. Always, he had risked his life to protect those around him. There was the incident with Hermione and the troll, then there was the one with Quirrell in which he risked his life to protect the Philosopher's Stone. Then there was the Chamber of Secrets. He had nearly died, basilisk venom coursing through his veins, only being countered by the healing nature of phoenix tears.
That was the thing that changed his outlook on life. He would no longer needlessly risk his life for those around him unless they were true friends and family…if he even had a family. Last year, he would have called the Gryffindors his family, but seeing the complete fear and rejection that they had directed toward him changed his views. None of them had tried to comfort him after the Chamber. No, they simply pointed, stared, and whispered. They let rumours fly despite the fact that he was one of them, he was their Golden Boy. Not once did Ginny, Hermione, or Ron stand up for him. They simply sat there, letting everything go on. He was slowly isolated, something that he embraced, and even he had purposefully distanced himself from those around him. It was depressing, but Harry was used to it. The Dursleys were the things in his life that made his home a living hell. Over and over, they would shout at him, hit him, and all sorts of other things. They forced him to clean their dishes, to wash their clothes, to do all of their things. And not once did they thank him for it. His reward? A small scrap of food. And oh how he cried. He cried enough to fill oceans, rivers, and enough to satiate the thirst of humanity, yet they didn't care. They didn't fucking care. His life consisted of working, saving, and learning. Not once was he able to relax, to wind down. He was always tense, knowing that the people around him were out to get him. They were looking to get a piece of the bloody Boy Who Lived.
Slowly, he made his way to the end of the train, lifting his trunk full of books from the Chamber of Secrets into one of the few racks that had space. There had been a library that he discovered tucked away in a small corner of the Chamber. After recovering, Harry went back down into the Chamber to visit the beast that he had slain.
Harry grabbed several of those books from his trunk, knowing that his classes would become easier with the amount of 'ancient' information that he had spent studying over the past 7 months. And this year, he would certainly try, putting as much effort into it as Hermione. He wanted to rival her in terms of education, and it seemed that he was well on his way to beating her. He had seen the things that she had been able to achieve on her own, seeing the possible implications of knowing more than your average 14-year-old wizard. Of course, that wasn't to say that he hadn't extensively read during his first two years at Hogwarts. He read several books a night covering magical theory, creatures of all sorts, spells of all sorts, and potions. The only reason that he hadn't gotten good grades was because he was breaking habits, habits that had formed with the bloody Dursleys. Had they never tried to beat him into submission, shouted at him for getting good grades, for surpassing the vegetable they called their son, then he would have been the top of his class with Hermione as his rival. His mind was set on doing such a thing, knowing that his ambition was rekindled by the things that he could do to impress his teachers, to utterly crush Hermione. He wanted to crush her academically yet still be friends, and from a nonlinear, non-subjective point of view, he very well could crush her. Remember, he hadn't tried.
'This was going to be an interesting year,' He thought, thinking of the ways that he could wipe that smirk off of her face.
Heading towards his intended compartment, he saw that there were two girls chatting away.
'Merlin, why?' Harry mentally groaned. He had wanted an entire train ride by himself, but alas, this was the only compartment on the train that he could bring himself to sit in. It offered protection from those unwilling to sit with him, something that Harry loved because he valued his mental state. Seeing their glances, he decided illogically that he had no choice at the time. Here, he could have turned back, looked for another compartment. Yet he didn't. It was a funny thing, the mind, always making illogical choices.
He slid the door open to hear a soft voice full of venom ask, "What are you doing here Potter?"
Harry looked at the girl. She had black hair that rolled down her shoulders, piercing grey eyes that were clear as day, and perfect skin. She seemed slightly haughty, directing a small sneer towards him. He now knew who this was and regretted his choice to come into the compartment. It was the rumored Ice Queen who stared at him. Supposedly, she had been so angry at a fourth year as a first year that she had frozen his bits off, permanently removing his family jewels. Inwardly, he shuddered, but he knew that to do so would give her satisfaction.
In an indescribable tone, he replied saying, "I'm here to get to Hogwarts. How about you?"
The girl to his left, a brunette who seemed to be a mix of various European countries, slightly shook her head. Her oddly familiar green eyes seemed to pity him while she seemed to be on edge.
"Give me a straight answer," Daphne demanded.
'That was a good thing,' Harry thought. 'At least she isn't treating me like Malfoy does. Sure, she's hostile, but at least she's civil.'
"I can't sit in the other compartments. They were full."
"No, they weren't. There were many that weren't filled with people," she said with a bit of venom, thinking that he was lying.
"But," Harry said, choosing his words carefully. "I didn't say what the compartments were filled with, did I? They were full of people that I'd like to avoid for my own sake, and this was the compartment that I intended to sit in."
The girl seemed to contemplate this. After a few seconds, she said in a slightly less hostile tone, "Would you care to share said reasons with me?"
"And why would I do that?" Harry asked incredulously. "You know, you aren't being very subtle with all of your information gathering."
"It was worth a try," she said, turning back to her companion who seemed to have relaxed slightly.
Harry interrupted their conversation that had not yet begun 1. "Can I sit here?"
The green-eyed girl looked at him, responding as Daphne opened her mouth. "Certainly Harry. I hope that Daphne here would be able to be a bit more civil with people we haven't met. My name's Tracey."
Obviously, there were implications hidden in the sentence. But Harry cared little for them. Deciding to be civil, Harry said in a guarded tone, "Thanks Tracey. You, perchance, don't happen to have a last name, do you?"
"It's Davis."
"Good to know. You already know my name. I'm Harry Potter, the person with those bloody titles.
That last part caused the two Slytherins in front of him to raise their eyebrows. Had Harry expected them to say anything, he'd be disappointed. Promptly after saying that, he simply sat down, conjured a pillow, and lay there, reading.
The rest of train ride passed rather quickly, Harry falling asleep for a bit, woken only by the opening of the door. The two girls had left with the train pulling into the station. Harry left his trunk alone, knowing full well of the Elves that would do it for him. Quickly, Harry composed himself, knowing that there would be people watching him. He left the Express, seeing Hermione and Ron who walked over to him.
"Hey Harry," Hermione started, "Are you okay?"
"Huh? Oh yeah. I just had something to do." Apparently, she thought that there was something wrong with him due to his refusal, knowing that he would have normally accepted.
Ron stepped into the conversation. "Harry, you missed the best train ride I've ever had. There- "
He was promptly interrupted by Professor Snape. "I believe that the three of you should be on your way to the carriages. If not, then you would have to join the first years, and I believe that Potter," at this he sneered, "would enjoy the first years fawning over him. He is, after all, our celebrity."
Looking suitably chastened, Hermione started to pull Harry towards the carriages while Ron reluctantly followed. Harry noticed the massive skeletal horses that pulled the carriages. They were called thestrals from what the books had said. He approached them in awe, setting his satchel in the carriage. He fondly touched their noses, feeling the slight breath that the supposed creatures of death had. It was cold and hot at the same time, a strange sensation, although it wasn't moist. They snorted at his hand, their eyes glowing in the shadows, and let him fondle them. Their skin was hard, similar to that of an exoskeleton, and was fashioned in such a way that it seemed as the thestrals wore armor. Harry thought that they were beautiful.
A dreamy voice interrupted his thoughts. "You can see them Harry, can't you?"
Hermione and Ron glanced at him, their quiet conversation coming to an abrupt end. Hermione looked at him curiously while Ron, he simply went back to his fantasies of the food at the Feast.
Harry looked towards the carriage and saw a girl with blond hair, clear blue eyes, and a dreamy expression on her face. Her eyebrows were positioned in a way so that it seemed like she was permanently questioning something or someone. "Yes, I do…You can see them too?"
"Yes, I can," she replied. "When was yours?"
"First year."
"Mine was when I was nine. Mum loved her experiments. I know that I'll see her again someday. Unlike your friends, you have no wrackspurts."
"Wrackspurts?"
"Tiny creatures that fly in between your ears, making your brain go all fuzzy," she said with a straight-face and in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Interesting…" was all that Harry said.
Hermione looked certifiably confused while Ron, he was oblivious to everything around him. "Harry?" she began, Harry knowing full well of what was about to happen. "What are wrackspurts? What are you touching? What are you talking about? Who is this? Why aren't you in the carriage?"
"She," Harry gestured to the girl. "Just explained it. A thestral. Death. No idea. I don't know."
"What?" Hermione became even more confused by what he said.
"I answered your questions." This caused the girl to giggle and Ron to chuckle slightly at Hermione. She simply glared at him.
"Now, let's go," Harry said, refusing to wither under her gaze. With that he climbed up the carriage and sat next to the girl who was reading a paper called the "Quibbler" upside down. Harry once had a friend like this. "What's your name?" he asked, addressing the girl.
"Looney Lovegood," Hermione blurted out, immediately blushing at what she just said.
"Tactful," was Harry's remark.
"No, it's ok," the girl said. "My name's Luna, although many call my Looney for some reason."
"Yes, I wonder why," Ron said, suddenly meeting the intense gaze of Harry and withering under Harry's snake-like stare.
A/N: At least I'm trying to properly characterize characters. Sorry for any similarities between the other story.