Here is the second chapter. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: Isn't that why you decided to read the story? If so, then why repeat it?
I suppose I should start at the platform. Hogwarts is a funny school. You get a letter that tells you to go to Platform 9 ¾, but does not inform you HOW to get to such a place. I suppose they assume that everyone will automatically know that spontaneously running like a suicidal idiot at the barrier between 9 and 10 will magically transport you onto the platform instead of crashing into a brick barrier as all normal human logic would imply. I don't know, maybe that's just because I've been mostly raised in the muggle world. I suppose that running into seemingly solid objects is a normal thing in the wizarding world. Or maybe they all suffer some sort of brain damage and tend to run into every solid thing they come across for no good reason, so they figure that by making the entrance way a solid brick thing, the wizards would find their way onto it eventually.
Perhaps it's just wizard logic. Maybe they were taught some abstract sort of logic, something that makes them go "Hmmm, I wonder where the platform is. There's platform 9… there's platform 10… AHAH! I know; it must be that barrier between the platforms. That's it! I'll run into that seemingly solid brick to get there. If it fails, I'll crash and most likely break a few bones, not to mention look like an idiot, but who cares? Spells can heal those broken bones in a jiffy, so why NOT risk breaking them?"
Anyway, for us wizards with muggle logic, like me and my dad(my mom had to stay home to do… something. I don't really want to know), there are always big loud, red-headed families shouting out about muggles for the world to hear. I'm sure that they don't suppose that while they shout out "muggles", the muggles shout out "asylum". Either way, by asking the loud and ignorant family of red-heads, we got onto the platform, where I met a ghost. The poor muggle already suffered from stress, high blood-pressure, and heart problems when he accidently fell through the barrier between 9 and 10 and had a heart attack.
Jonas Biggley was a confused looking spirit. He wondered around the platform, clearly in distress, wondering what in the world was happening around him. Now, I suppose that when you think about ghosts, you expect them to be corporeal and float around. This is not the case. They look as real as you and me, at least to my eyes, and their touch is warm and solid like any living person would feel. They can touch me, hug me, and make contact with my person, but they cannot hurt me in any way. The only type of spirit that can harm someone is a poltergeist. Their anger, misery, and frustration build up a dark energy around them and they use it to move objects around and create winds. They don't hurt people intentionally, but if a flying desk accidently crushes your skull by accident, it unfortunately doesn't make you any less dead.
Now, with this information, I'm sure you wonder how I knew that the man I am speaking of was indeed a ghost and not just some confused looking guy. Well, my dad got me a very useful book for my birthday from a rare book store, "The Haunts of Hogwarts". Wizards, unlike muggles, know for a fact that ghosts exist and very rare individuals have ways of telling who haunts certain places. They can't see them and know little to nothing about them, but through some complicated magic, they know they are there. "The Haunts of Hogwarts" had the names and pictures of the ghosts that died at or around Hogwarts. Under each picture was a brief history of who they were, how they died, and a speculation of why they are there. It was VERY useful. I keep it on me at all times, well, except for now. It's locked in the cupboard under the stairs, unfortunately.
Jonas looked like he had been a normally cheery fellow in life. In fact, his biography said he was aspiring to be an actor, specializing in comedic plays. He was a friendly-looking somewhat-chubby man with bouncy brown hair and wide blue eyes. I smiled at him and he ran over to me and my dad in distress. That's another thing; ghosts seem to know that my dad and I could sense them. Even if I hadn't smiled at him, he would have known. He waved his arms back and forth in front of me and my dad and moved his mouth in what would have been speech if any sound would have escaped him.
I looked around me to see if anyone was watching. People were of course, I was the flipping boy-who-lived. I think a girl in the direction I smiled at thought the facial expression was directed at her and fainted. I smacked my forehead and shook my head at the distressed spirit. He frowned and silently sighed, deflated. Dad looked between me and the ghost and smiled, nodding at the spirit and bending down to give me a hug. I hugged him back tightly, wishing he was able to come with me.
My dad and I were rarely apart and we've been through so much together. Life-threatening experiences really bring two people together. As I hugged him by the train station I remembered the time we were tied up together on railroad tracks in the desert, prey to either hungry coyotes or train that was due to squish us in a half hour. Anyway, back to the situation at hand. As my dad hugged me, he whispered in my ear so that no one else could hear.
"Good luck with that one. He will be the first one you deal with on your own."
"I don't want to do anything without you, Dad. I wish you could come."
"You'll see me soon enough. Who knows? Maybe you'll end up having so much fun; you won't want to come home when the time comes."
"Never!" I hugged him tighter. "I'll miss you Dad."
He squeezed tighter as well. "I'll miss you too son."
Then he let go and sent me off to the train. Although I didn't want to leave him, I needed to find an empty compartment to talk to Jonas. If he was going to move on, he needed to be told about the wizarding world and how he died. I had a feeling he lingered because he needed to understand fully what happened to him and accept it before being at peace enough to move on.
With any luck, he would have followed my dad instead of me. Ah, but it was not to be, he looked between me and my dad as I left and then, seeing me struggle to get my trunk onto the train, ran after me. He stopped next to me and attempted to help me with my trunk, which was really nice of him, but was reminded that he couldn't lift physical objects when his hand went right through. Thankfully, two of the red-heads I had met earlier walked by and offered to lift the trunk onto the train.
After that, I walked through the aisles of the train to find an empty compartment. It took a while, but eventually I found one towards the back of the train. I sighed in relief and dragged my trunk into the compartment and waited for Jonas to walk in before shutting the door. He might be able to walk through walls, but it was still better to be polite. He sat down across from me and twiddled his thumbs nervously, opened his mouth, and then closed it again, remembering that no sound would come out anyway. I thought a minute on how best to approach the subject before speaking.
"This is the wizarding world."
He only looked more confused.
"Well… you're a muggle so you wouldn't know about it."
He mouthed the word I assumed was "muggle" in confusion, looking at me as if I had grown an extra head.
"Uhm… It means you aren't magic. You see, there are wizards in the world. These people do magic with wands and cast spells. Now, of course, wizards hide their existence from non magical people.
"If they didn't, they would react in fear, hate, and greed. They would try to find ways to make us use our magic to help them all the time and create laws to enslave us. Their fear and greed might eventually lead to them killing us off.
"Now, since we want to stay alive, we hide our existence. We have our own government and magical schools. When you stumbled through what looked like a brick barrier, it was actually the entrance to a train-station leading to a magical school called 'Hogwarts'."
He stared at me blankly, trying to process everything I just told him, still looking upset and confused. I didn't blame him. I flipped through my book and found his page.
"If it makes you feel any better, after you died, they put up charms to prevent muggles from stumbling through it again…"
He nodded absentmindedly and stood up to take a walk. He seemed to need some time alone to process everything he just discovered. He waved at me distantly with one hand and walked through the wall to my compartment. Just as he walked out, one of the boys from red-headed family walked in. He was tall, freckled, and had a smudge of dirt on his nose.
"Uhm, do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."
"No, go ahead."
He dragged his trunk in and sat right where my new ghostly companion was sitting only moments before. I smiled at him and paged through my book.
"So… You're Harry Potter." He said after a few minutes.
"Well, no. I was Harry Potter in a past life, but now my name is Harry Odd Thomas. You can call me Odd, or Little Odd as people who know my dad call me."
"Odd?"
"Yes Odd, it's my father's name." I smiled brightly, full of pride at having my dad's name as a middle name, and even more pride at being called Odd most of the time. You see, I want nothing to do with being called 'Harry', the name that people hold in fame, so people call me Odd, Little Odd, Odd One, Little Odd One, Oddie, or Little Oddie instead. I love people calling me by my dads' name. It gives me a sense of pride.
Apparently, the boy didn't think so. "Odd?"
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, Odd. Now, since you already know my name, how about telling me yours?"
"Oh, I'm Ron. Ron Weasley!" He grinned and held out a hand, which I shook awkwardly.
"Nice to meet you Ron," I said. It was true, believe it or not. The boy might be a little annoying and hero-worshipy, but he was a nice enough kid. After that, we sat in silence for a good while, before Ron spoke again.
"So… do you really have the… scar?"
"Unfortunately, why?"
"Can I… can I see it?"
I sighed in frustration and brushed back the hair across my forehead to let him see the lightning-bolt scar that followed me like a thorn at my side into my second life. Just then, a girl with bushy brown hair walked in.
"Has anyone seen a- Hey! You're Harry Potter."
"Nope," I said. It was getting annoying when people still called me Harry Potter when they know I was reincarnated.
The girl got a confused look. "No? But you have the famous curse scar! You got that from surviving the killing curse from You-Know-Who?"
"Oh yes, this thing…" I dropped my hand from my hair, letting it fall to cover up the red lightning-bolt again. "Yes, I have it."
"So you are Harry Potter."
"No, I'm Harry Odd Thomas."
"Oh yes, you were reincarnated. Well, nice you meet you Harry, I'm Hermione Granger."
I shook her hand and grinned. "Call me Odd or Little Odd."
"Why would you want to be called Odd?"
"Because it's my dad's name."
"Oh…"
Then, a blond-haired boy whom I have grown to know and hate burst through the door with his two troll-like excuses for student body-guards.
Oh, look Malfoy, it's you! If you haven't unfortunately died of shock yet, feel free to let your already big head inflate even more at being mentioned in the biography of the famous Harry Potter. Ah, yes, let it swell with every word you read about yourself and, with any luck, your head might just become so big, it will explode all over the pages of my written words and shower them with your blood. By all means Draco Malfoy, do the world a favor and rid me a rival by letting your head get even bigger and explode. It would mean so much to me! Oh, sorry folks, I got a little excited there. Uhm… let's get back to the story, shall we?
I looked over at the annoying sod and instantly remembered him from earlier in Madam Malkins as I was getting fitted for school robes.
I looked around the shop and stood on the stool next to a blond-haired boy with a rather pointed face and aristocratic look about him. The madam slipped a long black robe over my head and started to pin it.
"Hello," the boy said in a rather bored air "Hogwarts too?"
"No, I'm just getting a robe pinned here at the time before school starts for no reason at all."
The thing about my sarcasm is, I'm really too good at it. People tend to take what I say seriously. For example, someone could say it is raining and when I respond saying "No, really? That's rain? I thought it was pixie dust!" they will think I'm being serious. In fact, I said that very thing to a rather nasty looking lady that had me and my dad tied up and held hostage at gun-point one summer. She thought I was serious, screamed at me for being stupid, and shot me. I still have the scar from the bullet. Anyway, the boy gave me a strange look before rambling about things that I could have lived without knowing or caring.
"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands…"
"Well, she can look all she wants; you don't exactly have a choice at what wand you get… 'It's the wand that chooses the wizard' I said in an imitation of Ollivander's voice."
The boy continued on as though he didn't hear me. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one-"
I cut him off. "Drag off your parents?! Bully your father?! Good luck with that. You'll be lucky if you don't get slapped for attempting such a thing. You'll be lucky if you even get a broom."
"Shut up! What do you know anyway?"
"Well, I for one know that your father isn't just some kid you can bully around. He's your father and he'll probably punish you for cheek."
I didn't like the boy, he was stuck up and a bully no less.
"Well, anyway. I'm great at Quidditch, much better than the likes of you."
"You don't even know me!"
"My father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say I agree."
"Well then, I suppose I'd be arrested if I was your captain, because I'd never pick some idiot who thinks they can bully their father. Just imagine if you were a seeker! The snitch would probably flutter right behind your head and you wouldn't even know it."
"SHUT UP YOU! Do you know who my father is?!"
"Oh, you mean the one you want to bully?"
"That's enough boys or I'll throw you both out of my shop!" Madam Malkin shouted.
The blond idiot seemed to calm down. "Do you know what house you would be in if you went to Hogwarts?" He really thought I wasn't going. Like I said my sarcasm….
"Why are you still talking to me?!" Really, I didn't understand it. I obviously didn't like him, and he obviously didn't like me. Oh well, I heard boredom makes people do weird things. He must have been bored out of his mind.
"I'll be in Slytherin, that's for sure."
"I suppose I'd be in Gryffindor." I said just to spite him.
He looked at me disgustedly and FINALLY shut up.
Remembering the idiot then, I grimaced at him.
"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry potter is in this compartment. So it's you, is it? Wait a minute… You said you weren't coming to Hogwarts!"
"Oh for goodness sakes! It's called sarcasm, and Harry Potter is not in this compartment or on this train at all."
"Liar! You are Harry Potter."
"No I'm not."
The arrogant blond reached forward and pulled my hair away from my forehead. "Yes you are, you have the scar to prove it!"
"Harry Potter died years ago. My name is Harry Odd Thomas and I'm his reincarnation. Why do you people insist on calling me Harry Potter?! It's not my name anymore!"
"My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Ah, a name to go with that annoying face.
Ron snickered and Malfoy whipped his head around and glared at him.
"Think my names funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me that all Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children then they can afford."
"You mean that out of the whole wizarding world, the Weasleys are the only freckled red haired poor people? Wow Ron, your family is unique."
Ron laughed a little at that and Malfoy fumed. "Serves you right for making assumptions Malfoy," Ron snickered. "I guess he wouldn't be able to tell the Weasleys from the Prewetts, my moms' family."
Malfoy turned sharply to look at me. "You'll find out that some wizarding families are much better than others Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
He held out a hand and I shook my head and laughed in his face.
"I can't believe you! First off, you are rude to me in the robe shop, and in here. I clearly don't like you. You brag about wealth and have the nerve to say you can bully your father-"
Ron burst out laughing at this.
"Then you insult my new friend here and basically offer me a choice. I can either continue my friendship with him, a boy who has so far been nice to me, or hang around your pompous ass. Why don't you just get out of here Malfoy, no one wants you here. Oh, and it's Thomas to you Malfoy, or Odd if you must."
Malfoy growled and turned a faint pinkish color. "I'd be careful if I were you Potter-"
"Thomas"
"Unless you're a bit politer-"
"Oh, we have a hypocrite! Don't talk about me being impolite when you yourself act rude and snotty. Now grab your cronies and get out!"
"Oh, but we don't feel like leaving, do we boys? We see this girl here has a chocolate frog and I want it." Draco grabbed the open chocolate frog right out from Hermione's hands.
I smirked. "Oh, well, if you really want to…"
Malfoy smirked back. "Oh, I think I do." He took a big bite.
"Ah… shame about that. You see, Ron's rat here…" I pointed to the rat.
"Scabbers," Ron supplied.
"Right, you see, Scabbers there took a piss on that chocolate a little before you came in. Hermione was going to throw it out, but if you don't mind eating urine-marinated chocolate…"
Malfoy spit out the chocolate and ran out of the room, horrified, probably looking for a 7th year to spell his mouth clean. We all laughed as he left.
