"Have you ever heard the sound of bones folding, Mr. Potter?" asked a warm voice somewhere over him. Harry felt the man's gaze fall over his body, like the broad side of a knife gliding across his body from his thighs to his neck before lingering on his face. The cold stone floor seemed to go on forever as he tried to reach for his wand, straining against the magical bindings on his torso. He could almost taste the magical electricity in the air as he opened his mouth to whisper something indistinct and nigh silent. The man moved forward and stood over him with a wand pointed at his face. "Did you say something dear boy?" he said in his smooth voice, as he slightly loosened the binds keeping Harry down. Just enough for Harry to raise a leg and land a kick right in the man's nads. The man cried out and and let go of the bindings completely.
Harry grabbed his wand and quickly took aim, just as the man who had just recovered pointed his wand in Harry's direction. The room was bathed in a green light. As gasps could be heard from all around.
Six months ago, however, Harry was having a blast as the 5th year was ringing in. To be free of the Dursleys was a blessing to be sure. He stood on the side of Platform 3/4ths with his bag slung over his solder and a caged Hedwig in his right hand. As it were a fact that Harry had been going through puberty and as such his right hand had become quite strong compared to his left. You wouldn't be able to tell by looking as him though. Odds are that upon looking at him you'd only see a teenager with an owl. Which while weird elsewhere, was unremarkable on the platform. Exactly as Harry had planned it. He had been planning a practical joke for so long it was almost sexual the amount of release he anticipated from this gag. Every 5 minutes or so, he looked around with a mild smile on his face. Harry didn't have a lot of joy in life so the little things were what made it interesting. Eventually he caught site of several gingers out of the corner of his eye. The Weasleys. He would have preferred Hermione but this would have to do.
He put on the invisibility cloak and crouched down and began the prowl. He stepped aside the pedestrians and giggled at the very confused foot traffic when they jumped at the feeling of something touching them. He was side tracked for a moment at the sight of another ginger standing in the crowd, this one with Ravenclaw uniforms and a ferret for a animal. After a double take to ensure this was not infact, a unknown Weasley, he continued on his way towards his target, and stopped about 5 feet behind Ron, who was listening to his mother discuss the matter of double checks and chocolate frogs on the train.
Harry almost purred. This was it. "What about Harry Potter?"
Harry froze. What about Harry Potter? Harry Potter would like to know. He readied himself to intervene and make a surprise joke when the moment arrived.
"Ron, you still have to be nice to him. Dumbledore's orders." Molly said clandestinely. "Why do I have to deal with the retard?" he whined. Harry winced. like a needle pierced his heart. "At least you don't have to marry him." said a voice to his right. Harry didn't have to turn to know who it was. "I wouldn't be complaining about having to do this if I was getting paid that much." Ron replied. "Would you let him fuck you for that much?" asked a second voice. "Fred! Language!" cried Molly. "I'm not Fred, I'm George!" said the voice. Harry whimpered and it seemed as if Molly heard as she turned her head in his direction but glazed over his invisible form with her eyes.
She was cut off from any words on the matter when she was distracted by Hermione's approaching of the group. "How about you love?" asked George with a laugh. "Would you let Harry shag you for all of his vaults in the old Gringotts?" Harry held his breath. "A fine hello to you to Fred." she said with a mild amusement in her voice. "Oh for fucks sake she's done it the same as mum has."
Harry turned and fled to the side of the train. For a moment, considering throwing himself on the tracks and ending this feeling. It wasn't pain. Not yet. It wasn't anything yet. It was a sore lack of feeling. When the train arrived he got on, cloak still covering him, and slipped through into one of the unoccupied compartments without notice.