------------
After a miserable night, the old scary man hustled Harry out of his dive-like room above the Leaky Cauldron. The same black woolen cap thrust over his head kept his scar hidden. It smelled of his stale fear-sweat leftover from yesterday's ordeal. This day felt like a scorcher, and Harry really wanted to dump the confining hat.
He was too afraid of Severus to do so. The man had given him another shite-potion for breakfast, and forced him to drink. He'd tried spitting it out on the floor, but the liquid got magiced back into mouth. Harry was forced to swallow the vile stuff with an added layer of floor grime. He'd started to hurl, but his tormentor warned that he'd be forced to swallow back whatever came up.
Harry found out the hard way Snape didn't lie. Still nauseous, he plodded behind the man on pain of death. Whatever wonders Diagon Alley offered, he didn't notice. Instead Harry concentrated on how clean the cobblestones were, and how Snape's black shoes made no noise when he walked over them.
They went to the London train station, and stopped before a brick wall. Harry felt his life pass before his eyes as the man picked him up by the scruff of his back shirt collar, and shoved his face straight at the bricks. An invisible wave broke over his forehead, it wasn't water or sound, yet he somehow felt it.
Rather than brains over concrete, Harry Potter found himself shoved again into the middle of platform nine and three quarters. An old-fashioned passenger train with the name Hogwarts Express painted across the engine car was the center of a crowd. The bustle of anxious parents looked and waved at the non-regulation magical train, which was nearly set to leave.
Severus stopped long enough to sneer in loathing at the Weasley clan. Their children, like most others, had already boarded the train, so Molly Weasley thrust out her tongue and flipped him the bird. Arthur put his hand on her shoulder to lend support, though a random bystander might mistake his gesture to mean he was holding her from attacking.
Snape smacked Harry on the back of his head. "Get on the train boy. Your things are at the school. Don't take off that hat until you have to put another hat on. The consequences will be severe if you disobey." Severus reinforced this with a firm throat-slitting finger violently raked along Harry's neck. It left a raised red scratch that would disappear in ten minutes.
The boy gulped and walked up the stairs into train. He glanced back and watched the man he loathed and feared talking to a blond man and his blond son. All of them looked like reanimated zombies in their robes.
Not meeting a conductor and only wanting a quiet place to cower, Harry started looking into the train compartments. If he wasn't so driven, he might have noticed how the train lacked the old spat out gum and cigarette buts common in the non-magical variety. He might have noticed all the rooms were semi-private; there was no public seating area for 'lower' class passengers.
The compartments were filled with laughing older children, half of which told the stupid firstie to get lost. The other half had no room for another person. He felt the train start moving as he continued walking down the aisle, but surprisingly it didn't even jolt him. Harry realized he felt it with the same strange sense being rammed through the fake brick triggered.
His attention on this new way of perceiving, Harry was tackled. His head hit the wooden floor with a thump, and his vision unfocused. Being unprepared for the contact, he didn't properly break his fall.
"Oh, so sorry! Have you seen a toad? I'm Neville, Neville Longbottom. I can't find Trevor, my toad." Harry gave the other boy a look of incomprehension. Now that he thought about it, the kid resembled a toad with his jumpy attitude and unattractive face. Still, he couldn't believe this insincere fool's excuse for hurting him. Neville helped Harry back up to his feet, before running off again. Choked laughter from the compartment off to the right confirmed in Harry's mind he'd been set up.
"I don't like him." Harry muttered, rubbing the back of his skull. A lump was coming up. When he struggled back to his feet and started moving again, the limp in his right leg was worse.
Deciding to hell with this, Harry went all the way to the end of the train and found the large baggage holding area. He opened the door marked 'Authorized Wizards Only,' and shut it behind him, enjoying the comfort of a space that was his own. The light was dim, and trunks and luggage were stacked haphazardly on top of each other in rows. Some looked precarious balanced, but even when Harry accidentally bumped into one such arrangement, it didn't fall. 'Must be magic,' he thought. In short, the perfect place for a nap. Sighing, Harry selected a large brown trunk mostly veiled in darkness, sitting at the end of row without additional luggage stacked on top, and prepared to relax. He mounted. With distaste, he felt a wet clammy feeling spread across the seat of his pants.
"Gyaahhh!" He jumped up in shock.
The guts of a dead, squished toad spread over the top of the trunk he'd chosen to sit on. 'So much for poor Trevor.' Thought Harry, as brushed toad intestines off the back of his pants. A banging on the door made him freeze.
"Manny! We knows you're hiding in there. We hears you." A voice filled with anticipated cruelty boomed through the baggage area. Harry paused with his hands full of toad guts, but decided it didn't concern him.
"Poor little bird, too bad you didn't die when the your muggle toy exploded. Mudblood witches who like other witches shouldn't disgrace the noble house of Slytherin. If we catch you little bird, you won't be graduating this year either."
Feeling a strong inclination to hide, Harry decided he'd had enough. He walked over to the compartment door, and opened it. A red beam sizzled over his head, into the baggage area. It blackened the side of a maple trunk.
"Aw, it's just a disgusting firstie," said one older black robed teenage boy to another. They all had elegantly carved batons in their hands, pointed into the baggage area. They looked to be in their last year of schooling, according to Harry's well-developed sense of bully age.
"Wands down men. We'll resume the hunt after the feast."
"Wait, my lord," said a henchman to the alpha bully. "Why's this firstie got entrails on his hands?"
"Good question McGurdy." The tallest boy glared down at Harry. "Speak up boy! You sacrificing things to the Dark Arts?"
Staring defiantly at the evil brown-haired black-robed teenager, who towered over him by at least two feet, Harry sneered, "What if I am?"
"Be more discrete, lad." The lead bully winked. "I wanted to kill that annoying kid's toad too, but smearing the evidence all round isn't classy. Scroungify!" The older boy waved his wand over Harry's head, and the toad guts disappeared.
"Let's go you lot. We'll probably see this one in Slytherin after the feast." Nodding, the minions shuffled off after their boss. "Better put your robes on kid." Said McGurdy as they left.
Opening the door, and retreating into the baggage area, Harry knew he wanted to avoid Slytherin at all costs. Whatever Slytherin was.
Harry carefully looked before he sat this time, and was reward by not slaying another familiar. Gratefully, he settled his butt onto a fine mahogany trunk. It was at the end of the second row; Harry wasn't sure how many rows there were. The space inside the baggage area warped, as if the volume had increased in another direction somehow. Ignoring the metaphysical, he propped his feet against a taped cardboard box, leaned his head against the wall, and closed his eyes. His rest lasted for thirty blissful seconds.
Heat made him open his eyes. An intimidating black-robed woman held an ugly gnarled stick near his face with a large ball of fire floating in air at its tip. She stood very close to six feet tall. Her blonde hair was chopped unattractively short in a military style, and her right check was disfigured by a crosshatch pattern of jagged healed scars, like she'd face-slid along asphalt laced with pebbles of broken glass.
"Answer truthfully, or die." Snarled the psycho. "You in league with those bloody arseholes?"
"No ma'am." Said Harry. His voice squeaked.
"You sacrifice that dumbass kid's toad in a profane ritual?" The fireball loomed closer, and Harry swore his eyebrows started smoldering.
"I sat on him by accident! Don't kill me!" He cringed from the flames.
The scary woman sighed, and turned off the heat. She looked at him, appraising.
"So what's your name kid? It looks like I owe you one, and I pay my debts."
"Harry Potter, though I'd prefer it be changed to Harry Dursley. My Aunt tried her best, but somehow the government won't grant permission until I reach my age of majority."
The blond witch looked shell-shocked. Then her expression became determined. Before Harry realized it, she'd yanked off his cap and parted his hair around the scar. Her fingers danced along the lightning bolt, and he felt a tingle.
"Hey!" Harry didn't much enjoy the invasion of his personal space, and noted the witch in front of him smelled like machine oil. "An evil strangler told me not to take that off."
Amused, the blonde shoved the hat down over his eyes. Harry fixed it and glared. She met his stare with cold gray eyes.
"His name is Severus Snape." Harry said. When the teenage witch in front of him only smiled, he added, "Who are you anyway?"
The girl laughed. "You don't even know what being Harry Potter means, do you? Your Aunt who raised you, I bet she wasn't even magical."
"So? You still haven't given me a name." Harry said.
"I'm Amanda Hawking, seventh year Slytherin thug for hire. My parent's weren't magical, so I'm what my housemates like to refer to as a filthy mudblood. The Sorting Hat warned me I'd hate my house because I had no subtlety, but my thirst for power and recognition left it with no other choice. Bloody thing was right."
"Slytherin? Sorting Hat? What are those?" Harry asked, his hunger for knowledge awakened.
"They really left you in the dark, didn't they. Answer a question for me Harry: are you related to the Vernon Dursley who saved a girl last year? Her motor scooter blew up from a magical time bomb."
"It was around Bath, wasn't it? My Uncle made her comfortable while I ran and called the paramedics."
He still remembered asking Uncle Vernon to pull over that weekend, because the bleeding animal crawling down the roadside ditch looked like a person. With a curse, the older man took his eyes off the pavement and stomped the breaks. He'd yelled at his nephew to call for help, and ran to the rescue. Sprinting to a police box, Harry had remained calm under pressure, explaining exactly why an ambulance was needed.
"That was me." Amanda said. "I guess I owe more than I expected."
"But, we called the hospital. They said you'd never walk again!" And refused to release the patient's name to non-relatives, but that wasn't important now.
The blonde absently ran two fingers over her scarred cheek. "If I wasn't a witch, that would've been true. It took me six months to regain the use of my arms and hands well enough to use my wand again. After that, it was only a simple matter to heal myself. My enemies succeeded though. I didn't graduate last year, missed my NEWTs and half a year of classes. I chose to keep my face like this as a reminder to myself."
Harry looked at her like it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.
"Yeah kid, I know it wasn't very smart. This scar, its part of my identity now. A lot like that lightning bolt should remind you of your parents. It means I'm a tough bint who won't let anyone intimidate me. Plus it attracts the type of woman I like."
"I don't understand." Said Harry. "Why should my scar remind me of my parents, and why would you want other women to notice you?"
"Harry Potter, you don't know anything about the wizarding world at all, do you?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry waved his arms in exasperation, not understanding why Amanda knew more about being Harry Potter than he did.
"Before I begin explaining, let me tell you something important. I'll be nineteen this April. I repeated my fifth year when five Slytherin girls trapped me in the Forbidden Forest and I didn't show up for my Ordinary Wizarding Level Exams. That means I'm a ninth year student, with the extra knowledge and experience behind it. Headmaster Dumbledore couldn't punish those witches because their daddies are on the Board of Governors. What he could do was give a full ride to Hogwarts, until my seventh year education was done. It's up to me to protect myself, and I'm still here."
Harry looked like he wanted to speak, but Amanda snarled and he physically jerked back, shut up, and listened.
"My non-magical parents are divorced, and my Dad is in the Navy, overseas. My Mom moved to America, and never writes. I'm twice over a pariah, once for not coming from a magic family, and twice for being a girl who likes other girls. I have no money or power, and no patron. Even the good guys can't help me because it's not worth stepping on some stuffed shirt's sensibilities."
Amanda stopped her monologue and pointed at Harry's chest. "You could be my out!" She shouted.
"What?" Harry said.
"Your parents were rich in the magical world. Your fame is legendary. If I somehow attached myself to you, I could siphon power and influence. It would be the easiest thing in the world. The fact is kid, you need my help, and I want to help you. Being up front about my dreams may be against the spirit of my house, but it's how I operate. Plus, without you and your Uncle working together, I'd be dead."
Amanda Hawking started pacing across the cramped aisle of the baggage compartment, as if wrestling with her conscience. Balls of blue and purple light flickered into existence, lighting up dozens of trunks. One or two appeared marvelous with wooden carvings of dragons and gryphons that twisted and moved. The rest looked like they could have come from the storage area underneath the Dursley's stairs.
Sure she'd almost fried him, but by far Amanda was the most kind and stable magical person Harry had met. He felt deep down, that if she gave her loyalty, it would be without boundaries. Whatever magical money she might demand from his magic fortune, still an abstract concept, would be a pittance. She impressed him as one of those people who was too proud to gracefully accept charity. A lot like his Aunt Petunia.
"Miss Hawking." Harry broke the tension. "I'll make it official for both us. Be my bodyguard. Protect me. I don't care if you use me for a leg up, as long as you faithfully shield me from harm."
Amanda looked delighted and surprised, not realizing she'd been the only kindness Harry had encountered in days of torment. He pretended not to notice the small tear she brushed from her eye.
She told him about the four houses of their school, the legend of his parent's death defeating the dark lord Voldemort, and explained the uses of wands. When it became apparent he had no robes to put on, she transfigured a set of her spares into his size.
Amanda's support and forthrightness finally convinced Harry. His bodyguard only knew he'd had a bad couple days, not that he'd been kidnapped and exposed to dark magic. When he tried speaking of specific details, some power that sent his new sense tingling along his scar prevented the words from coming out. Amanda just gave him space and tried to be cheerful. She wasn't good at it.
Harry accepted he had no chance of escaping from Hogwarts. Even if he ran, the evil men who captured him were tenured professors of magic. Locating him would be child's play. Plus they could always threaten his family again.
Harry asked questions, rapidly absorbing information like the school nerd he'd become. Before they knew it, the train stopped, and Amanda snuck them off. She slipped him an enchanted parchment. What one person wrote appeared on both scrolls.
"I'll buy another if I find a special girlfriend this year. Good thing I came prepared." Amanda pointed him to where the bearded giant man who'd captured him a few days ago was yelling for first years. She stiffened in surprise when Harry hugged her before joining his future classmates.
The huge man broke into a tearful apology as soon as he saw Harry, and suddenly the poor boy found himself the center of a great deal of attention and curiosity. Exactly the last thing he wanted to deal with. Plus those fanged black vampire-horses looked hungry.
--------------
AN: Please leave me feedback. Thanks! Oh, and if this work appears angst-dark or slow, that will change soon. This is an action/adventure story.