A/N- This is hopefully going to be a multi chaptered fic. But I've thought that before. Truth is I have lots of ideas but I'm terrible at follow through when it comes to stories so if you like it and want to read more….REVIEW!
In the latter half of his life Harry Potter began to wonder when exactly it was that he lost all semblance of a childhood. What specific event broke him so completely as a child, it turned him into the man he would become? It was only in the last couple days of his life that he finally decided what it was.
His seventh birthday was a normal enough day. Aunt screams him awake, tortured at school by cousin and gang, then come home for another rousing episode of ignore the slave until you get upset and hit him. That's how it was. Every day, all day, for as long as he could remember. Except that day.
Harry entered the pristine number 4 behind Dudley as usual that day. Walking straight to his cupboard to do his homework and trying not to make a sound as the bruises from that day's beating (both the one at breakfast and school) when he saw his uncle standing in front of the door. He looked up but only to neck level, Uncle Vernon had a habit of going crazy if Harry ever dared to look him in the eye.
"Just where do you think you're going!" Uncle Vernon said, spittle flying from his mouth in fury.
"T-to my cupboard, sir"
"Not Today!" Grabbing Harry by the arm he drags him into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia is standing by the bread drawer and Harry's heart sank, knowing this could only end in tears.
"Do you know why we are here?" Uncle Vernon's looking at him now, a strange mix of fury and expectation.
"No, sir", but he did. It was an often occurrence in number four privet drive for Harry to be denied food. Last night he was sent to his cupboard with no food in his belly, for the third night in a row. So he snuck out around midnight and stole some bread from the kitchen. He had to, if he didn't he would DIE! But standing here now he feels, maybe it wasn't the wisest decision.
"Well, now we know what a despicable, lying little shit you are don't we?" Uncle Vernon gives a nasty laugh and looks at Petunia. Then turns back, grabbing Harry's little arms in a vice grip and screaming directly in his face.
"You STOLE FROM US! After all we've done for you, you ungrateful-" This is when the hitting starts. He always knew it was going to but for some reason, in his little 7 year old mind, he thought this couldn't happen today. It was his birthday. He started crying as he was knocked to the floor and tried to crawl away.
"Please st-stop, it's my birthday" he sobbed. And they did stop but only to laugh. When Uncle Vernon turned back to look at him on the floor, pathetic and sniveling, he had the most evil smile Harry had ever seen. And he just knew, there was no way he was going to get out of this. And it was going to be terrible.
It happened a little earlier for Hermione. Of course it did, she was always more mature than 'her boys', and things had always affected her differently because she was, in all modesty a genius. She was, the school had her tested.
She always had been, ever since she was a little girl teachers had tried bumping her up a level in school and she would run home excitedly to tell her parents how well she did. But they were important dentists and couldn't be bothered with caring about or for their little lonely daughter.
The teachers almost made up for the neglect of her parents. Almost. Whenever she got bumped up to a more advanced class the teachers always gushed over her, all anxious to leave their mark on the little genius before she grew up to "be something… something great". Because she was smart that was what was expected of her and since she had never received any sort of affection for anything else in her life she had always felt obligated to do just that.
Maybe that's why she became what she did. Well, that and what happened one summer day when she was five. Because all that neglect and pseudo-love from artificial sources due to her genius is enough to severely mess anyone up but not to break them. Not turn them into one third of the most ruthless and power hungry trio of killers ever to set foot in the Wizarding World.
It was the end of another school year. Something that always upset Hermione Granger. She was five years old but she knew far more than most people her age, far more than most adults. And she knew what the end of school brought. Loneliness and neglect. She doesn't know why her parents don't love her, she tries so hard to prove she's worthy of it.
Hell, she five years old and in the ninth grade at school, going to advanced classes with people almost three times her age. You'd think that would be enough to make them proud. Yet every day she comes home from school, her dad is in his favorite chair reading the paper and only says 'that's nice', her mother is at the table doing a crossword saying 'good job sweetie'.
Neither of them looks up, in fact she can't remember the last time they looked at her. Sometimes she thinks that if they were in a mall together, her parents wouldn't be able to pick her out of the crowd. But genius is nothing without persistence and so she keeps trying. That's why she was sitting here in the principal's office on the last day of school, trying to get the schedule for university classes she was going to take over the summer.
"Well here you go Miss Granger, sorry for the wait." He passed her the schedule with a genial smile. Scrambling away from her thoughts she replied with a small thank you. As she got up to go he said,
"Your parents must be so proud of you" They always said that and it always hurt. She waited a beat too long before saying,
"Of course they are, why wouldn't they be?" She left quickly after, hoping he didn't see the scared look on her face. She left through the back of the school when they caught up to her. It was Tommy and his gang, her main tormentors. They were so jealous of her intellect and too stupid to know that's why they hated her. She sped up hoping they wouldn't keep following her, as usual hope was futile.
"Well, well boys what do we have here?" Cue stupid, ugly, laughter. They had stopped right in front of her and quickly surrounded.
"What do you want Tommy? I've got to go home." She made herself sound bored to keep the fear at bay. Last time they did this after school they left her hanging upside down in a tree. It took forever to get down and it was almost 10pm by the time she got home.
"We couldn't help but hear about your little brown nosing ass in the principal's office today. Seems you're going to college, huh. You sure are full of yourself, thinking you're so smart, you come up in here and make the rest of us look like fools. I DON'T THINK SO!" With every word he got angrier and louder. Stepping closer and closer to her until she had backed into one of his goons. That's when the real trouble started.
They descended on her with mean smiles and grabby hands, talking so loud and fast she couldn't distinguish their words. They took her backpack and threw it to the side before ripping her clothes off. She started crying and they slapped her. Tommy took out a knife and started cutting off her long curly hair.
They pushed her around a bit until she was on the ground, sniveling and whimpering pathetically, staring up at them as they called her names and laughed while she tried to cover herself and hide her face in shame. She was practically bald now and couldn't hide behind her hair so she just stared at the ground as her eyes got darker. She looked up coldly at the boys retreating backs. Tears dried on her face as she got up and walked home.
She walked through the door and there was father reading the paper. He didn't look up but said,
"Welcome home sweetie, how was school?" She didn't answer but went into the kitchen. He kept reading, unconcerned. Her mother was at the table doing a crossword.
"Are you hungry? What do you want for dinner?" She asked. When Hermione didn't respond Mrs. Granger glanced up then back to her crossword before she remarked,
"Did you do something to your hair? I like it." With that, the last bit of hope Hermione had was broken. There was no fairness or justice in a world that belittled and tortured her for her gifts. No love or compassion is possible if the only people in the world that are genetically obligated to feel that for you can't be bothered.
She wanted to scream but instead she went to her room and got dressed. Knowing someday she would have revenge and after that, she'd make sure no one ever made her feel that small and powerless again.
Growing up Ron was probably the last person you'd ever suspect of becoming what he did. He was a happy-go-lucky kid with an eye for adventure, though few noticed that about him. He came from a big and loving family and despite not having very much money, no one could really say they were poor in the ways that mattered.
Although all of that was true, no family is perfect. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had seven kids and each one was known for something, they had a place. Bill was the oldest, a natural protector, he created cool; he just oozed it. Charlie was the athlete, strong and confident even as a child he was known for his passion for adventure and testing his limits. Percy was the good one, always did his chores without complaint always tattled because of his unshakable belief in a black and white version of right and wrong and the consequences for both.
Then there were the twins. Fred and George were so close in personality and friendship everyone pretty much counted them as on person, even they did. They were the troublemakers, the pranksters that always brought a smile to everyone's faces even in the tensest of situations. Last but not least was Ginny.
The only girl in a house of boys she never had trouble standing out. She was known for being sweet yet spunky, she could hold her own in a fight with any of her brothers but she had the advantage of being the baby and therefore, never getting into trouble for anything she did. At least not like anyone else would get into.
That was it, everyone in the family. Well, except for Ron.
Ronald Weasley, nobody ever really thought of him when they thought of the Weasley family. For some reason he was just… forgettable. Being the youngest boy with five older brothers to compete with is no laughing matter. It seemed, to him at least, by the tender age of seven that no matter how hard he tried nobody in his family even knew who he was and they couldn't even find the time to get to know him.
Too little to play with his brothers, he couldn't play with Ginny unless he wanted to be ridiculed, and his parents were practically oblivious to him. He wasn't polite and helpful like Percy or funny and outgoing like the twins. He was just average. And in a loud and boisterous family like his, average was synonymous with invisible.
In later years Ron would reflect on all of this and wonder how different his life would have been if just that one thing was different. If his parents and brothers just noticed him. Maybe if he was a different person it wouldn't have turned out like it did. See unlike Harry, Ron always knew what it was that broke him and it wasn't all his family's fault. In fact, for most of his life, he blamed himself.
He was seven when it happened. He was practically invisible to his family and none of his siblings wanted to play with him, so he spent most of his time wandering Ottery St. Catchpole exploring. The muggle village had many interesting things that he was more than happy to investigate. Maybe he could even nick something and bring it home for dad.
It was fall, school had just started and Ron's teacher was so nice to him. He always put a smiley face on anything he gave back to Ron, even Ron's math homework which was never very good. But it was the most anyone had paid attention to him in his short life and he always beamed whenever he saw his cool teacher Mr. Addison.
He beamed at him that day, the one burned in his memory. Over the years he forgot that he used to do that. But he remembers every aspect of that day. He was bored, it was Saturday and the twins were playing Quidditch. Bill, Charlie, and Percy were at Hogwarts since school had started, and Ginny was making cookies with Mum. They loved having their special girl time and he knew he couldn't interrupt.
So he went exploring. Walking up the north walk toward the outskirts of Ottery he was kicking a rock around when he bumped into Mr. Addison. Looking up he beamed hello and Mr. Addison smiled.
"What'cha doing 'round here Ronnie?" Ron always thought it was weird Mr. Addison called him that. Only his mother ever had and that was when he was sick. It felt too intimate for his teacher to throw around so casually but… whatever.
"I'm just walking." Ron replied.
"Well, that's very healthy" He chuckled. Then turned serious and looked around.
"I live not far from here. You must be hungry, would you like to come over and eat?"
"Well…"
"I've got cake" He wheedled. Ron was excited instantly; they almost never got such sweet deserts like cake at home, now he could have some all for himself.
"OK!" They walked a little ways to Mr. Addison's cottage, a small one room thing where the door opened into the kitchen which led to the bedroom. Ron noticed the messy bed right away and giggled. Teachers really were human.
Ron went right for the table as Mr. Addison got a slice of cake out for him. As Ron ate he began to feel uncomfortable. Mr. Addison hadn't given him a fork so he just dove right in with his hands and now Mr. Addison was staring at him. It was a strange stare too, not like his mother's mad one if any of them forgot their manners for even a second. When he finished he looked up at Mr. Addison and asked what was wrong. He scooted over to Ron and enveloped his tiny hand within his huge one.
"You're very special Ron, you know that right?" No one had ever told him that before and it made him blush. The way Mr. Addison was looking at him, and stroking his hand, it all felt like too much and he wanted to go home. He told Mr. Addison as much, and that's when things changed.
"Not just yet, I have a game to play first. Weren't you complaining just the other day about how your brothers never let you play with them? Well now you can play with me." And he smiled but it was meaner now and his grip on Ron's hand was tighter as he dragged Ron into the bedroom.
"Well, look at that face. How messy! Let's get that cleaned up shall we?" He was smirking as he leaned down. Ron remembered that very well, the smirk… and his eyes. That first time, the image never left him.
It was rough and Ron cried and screamed and bled through parts of it and in the end all he was left with was a sore bottom and the memory of those eyes.
It was 9:30 by the time he made it home that night. The dishes were cleaning themselves in the sink, so they'd already had dinner. He wondered for a moment why no one had come looking for him when he didn't come to dinner but dismissed it. Why would they? He was nothing to bother with, he had always known that deep down but never had it sunk in so deeply, or stung as sharply as when he walked by the den to get to the staircase.
Here was his family, reading a letter from Charlie by the sounds of it. Mum was hold Ginny on the couch as they listened and the twins were comparing chocolate frog cards by the fire as Dad read the letter aloud, amusement in his voice. None of them asked what was wrong, or where he was, they didn't even notice him standing there.
He had never felt so small and insignificant in his life. It always hurt when he was ignored but what just happened….he couldn't even form an opinion on what had just happened to him but he knew he hated it. Standing there, he felt powerless and weak. Pathetic. And if it was the last thing he did, he would make sure he never felt that way again.