Posted: 12 September, 2009

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.


Chapter 2 - Taking the Train Again

Sunday, 1 September, 1991

"Have a good term," Uncle Vernon said smiling nastily at him before striding away.

Swaying on his feet, Harry reached out to grasp the cart before him, blinking to clear his vision. Looking around he found himself at Kings Cross Station, a caged Hedwig and his school trunk on a cart before him. Judging by the former presence of his uncle, who had only once accompanied him to the station, he knew it must be the first of September nineteen ninety-one: the beginning of first year. His smile at the success was tinged with sadness as he recalled the last few minutes he had experienced in the future.

He shook his head. "No time to brood now," he told himself through gritted teeth, after a glance at the clock above the arrivals board, "train leaves in sixteen minutes."

Determined not to let grief overtake him just yet, he took all his feelings of loss and shut them away tightly. As the pain eased somewhat, he reflected that the two arduous years practice it had taken him to finally learn Occlumency were well worth the effort. There were so many advantages to knowing the skill.

Next he glanced around briefly searching out a group of redheads. Finding none, he vacillated between waiting and just hurrying along on his own. On the one hand, the Weasley family had been (Or was that 'would be'? Or maybe 'had would been'?) very good to him. On the other, Molly was very smothering and controlling with 'her' children, and since Harry had been considered an honorary member of the family, he'd been subjected to it too. And then there was Ron, who would seemingly never quite grow past his jealousy of Harry. And Ginny, and her awkward fan-girlish crush, which grew into something of a possessive obsession. (He hadn't known till years later that the girl had chased off many of his potential girlfriends.) Was he really willing to put up with all that again? He wavered for a moment before deciding. No, perhaps it would be best to keep his distance from them. Although, befriending the twins could be beneficial …

Shaking his head at his thoughts, he turned his cart toward the ticket booth between platforms nine and ten. At a brisk pace he approached the barrier, not pausing as he reached the seemingly solid wall. Instead of crashing he passed right through, emerging on the hidden platform, nine and three quarters.

As he looked around a wave of reminiscing overcame him. He could hardly believe he was back here. The great red steam engine – the Hogwarts Express – sat waiting on the tracks just as he remembered. Smoke from the stack wafted over the crowd of witches and wizards, owls hooted noisily from their cages, and cats of all colours wove between people's legs. He glanced at familiar faces as he headed for the train, a wistful smile on his face.

Finding an empty compartment he climbed on board, casting a furtive "Locomotor Trunk" to get his trunk up the steps. It was a different compartment to that which Ron had taken with him last time. He didn't dislike the boy and would still be friendly, but as he'd decided before, he'd been abandoned by the redhead enough to want to keep their relationship as no more than friendly acquaintances.

Directing his trunk up into the luggage rack, he gave a start of surprise as a loud *CROAK* sounded. Climbing up on the seat, he found a fortuitous surprise. None other than Trevor the toad was hiding at the back of the rack. He considered grabbing the animal, but he had nothing to put it in, so instead he closed his compartment door so it could not escape. This would be a perfect way to connect with Neville. He just had to wait for him to show up, asking after his lost pet.

Before too long a whistle blew and the train gave a lurch as it slowly began to move. Outside the window he saw students hastily jumping aboard, and others leaning out windows to wave goodbye to their parents, who waved back in turn. Then they were picking up speed, rounding a corner, and the platform was left behind.

To Harry's surprise it was five minutes before the door slid open. He'd expected someone to come by searching for a seat sooner. Looking up his breath caught, and he struggled to look no more than curious. He had to reinforce his Occlumency shields to do so.

"Hello," he said to the worried looking boy.

"Hi, have you seen a toad at all?"

"Actually, I have," he said pointing upwards. "There's one behind my trunk up there. Hold on, I'll grab it for you."

Clambering up on the seat once more, he gave a yelp of surprise as Trevor, perhaps sensing imminent capture, made a leap for freedom. His hands automatically snapped out, catching the airborne amphibian. Unfortunately he'd leant back, and since his hands were now occupied holding the toad, there was nothing to keep him stable.

The air left his lungs with an, "Oomph!" as he landed. Luckily, he connected not with the hard ground, but rather found himself sprawled out on the padded seat opposite.

"Are you alright?" a concerned voice asked.

Blinking he looked up at the younger version of his friend, and dumbly – for he was still a little stunned by the fall – held out his hands in offering.

"This him?"

"Trevor!" Neville cried joyfully, taking possession of his pet. "Thank you so much. I thought I'd lost him."

"No problem. Don't you have a cage or tank or something for him?"

Neville shook his head. "No. Well, yes, but the terrarium's too big and heavy to carry around, so it's shrunken in my trunk. Gran says to ask an older student to enlarge it for me when I get to my dorm."

"Do you have anywhere to sit yet? You could stay here and we could close the door. That'd keep him contained for the train ride."

Neville looked at him in surprise. "Sure! I mean, I haven't really got a seat yet. I've been busy looking for Trevor. I just left my trunk in a spare compartment."

"Great!" Harry grinned. "Do you need to fetch your trunk, or can it stay there?"

Neville shook his head. "No it should be okay," he said, taking a seat opposite. "Gran told me you just leave your luggage on the train and it gets taken up," he explained, but then looked worried. "Do you think it matters what compartment I leave it in?"

"Nah, probably not," he said and the other boy relaxed. "I'm Harry by the way. Harry Potter."

Predictable Neville gaped at his introduction, though in contrast to when Harry had sat with Ron last time around, this boy had the good grace to look abashed and apologetic at his reaction. He also made no requests to see his scar or tactless comments asking whether he remembered the night of his parents' murders.

"Sorry," Neville mumbled, looking nervous.

"It's okay," he said immediately, hoping to put the blond at ease. "I'm kinda getting used to it, even if I don't much like all the fuss. It's a bit odd really, thinking I was perfectly normal all my life, only to find out I'm actually a wizard, and a celebrity at that."

"You didn't know?" was the shocked reply.

"Nope. I live with my aunt and uncle." He wrinkled his nose. "They're Muggles."

"Oh," Neville said quietly, hesitantly. "Y-you don't like Muggles?"

"Oh no," he assured, "I'm fine with Muggles. It's my relatives I don't like." He hurried on, not wanting to bring the mood down by talking about them. "Living Muggle, I never found out I was famous. A man named Hagrid came to deliver my letter. He was the one who told me. Of course I didn't really believe him till he took me to the Leaky Cauldron. They practically mobbed me." He shivered at the memory, not entirely unfeigned, and Neville looked sympathetic. "Believe me, it was not fun. Anyway what about you? Is your family all magical?"

"Yes, all of them. Gran brought me up and she's a witch. They family was so happy when I finally showed some accidental magic. They thought for awhile," he whispered, "that I must be a Squib."

"Squib?" he pretended confusion.

"Yeah, a Muggle born to magical parents," he explained. "Great Uncle Algie was always trying to catch me off guard, to scare some magic out of me. Once he pushed me off Blackpool pier, and I nearly drowned. It finally happened when I was eight though. He was hanging me out an upstairs window when Aunt Enid offered him a meringue. He completely forgot about me and let go, but then I bounced all the way down the garden to the road!"

Harry frowned, unsure whether to simply smile along, or express his true opinion. He never had liked the sound of Neville's family. His great uncle basically terrorised him, putting him in dangerous situations, as though his great nephew being magical was more important than his safety. His great aunt never participated but also never objected. Then there was his grandmother who forever spoke down to him, making Neville feel unworthy – something that took him years at Hogwarts to grow out of.

"H-Harry?" a hesitant voice asked, and he realised some of his feelings must have been visible on his face.

"Sorry, it's just-" he hesitated himself now before deciding to be blunt. "You make it sound like they cared more about you being a wizard than your wellbeing. You said your great-uncle nearly killed you at least twice." He shrugged. "Sorry, it's not really my business. It just doesn't sound right is all."

Neville looked a little bewildered, and then thoughtful and considering. Silence enveloped the compartment for a time and he watched as the other boy's expression slowly shifted, looking at Harry with hesitant appreciation. He knew it was because he wasn't used to someone standing up for him.

"I guess," he spoke, breaking the silence, "I never thought about it that way. I- I'm sure they meant well," he said but his tone was less than confident.

"Maybe," Harry agreed, not wanting to make things any more awkward.

Neville seemed relieved he'd decided not to pursue the subject. In the future it had been post-Hogwarts before the blonde boy gave this subject such consideration. If it had been an unpleasant realisation then, he could only imagine how uncomfortable an eleven year old Neville must feel thinking on the topic.

"So," he said, "are you excited about Hogwarts then?"

The question worked. The atmosphere relaxed and conversation flowed from there. Neville explained that his parents had been Gryffindors, but he'd probably be a Hufflepuff. Harry, not liking the self-deprecating tone stanchly asserted that loyalty and worth ethic were admirable traits to have. But if he really wanted Gryffindor, he was sure Neville could find within himself what it took to make the cut.

"Besides," he added with resolve, "I've decided I like you. Unless you object I'd like us to be friends, no matter what houses we both end up in."

Neville seemed partly sceptical that he had the guts for Gryffindor, pleased and embarrassed that Harry liked him, and also grateful for the support. Harry's observant eye also noted the way he straightened in his seat, looking a touch more confident.

The rest of the trip passed in companionable conversation. The trolley lady stopped by partway through, and both he and Neville bought a few sweets. As the sky darkened and the train neared Hogsmeade, and they began pulling on their robes, Harry took a moment to wonder why Malfoy had yet to stop by and introduce himself. He quickly realised that without the Weasley twins spreading word of his presence, Draco hadn't known to come look.

..ooOOoo..

An hour later Neville and Harry were happily sorted into Gryffindor. And some hours after that, both boys were settled in their dorm room, comfortably ensconced in their four-poster beds along with the rest of their new dorm mates.

As he lay there, Harry slowly allowed some of his Occlumency repressed emotions to rise. He had learned the hard way that using the skill to bottle emotions for overlong was a bad idea. It just built up pressure till you exploded. Harry had done so only once, in spectacular fashion, with accidental magic to highlight the screaming, crying and hysterical laughing. After that he had learnt his lesson and made sure to let his true feelings rise regularly.

Looking up at the roof of his drawn and silence-spelled curtains, he felt tears prick his eyes. Merlin but this whole situation was bittersweet. Seeing all these faces that he'd seen die, but realising that now they were alive. Only, Harry still remembered their deaths. Especially Neville. Neville who was so shy and innocent and lacking confidence in this time. Neville who had died for him.

Turning away from his grief for a moment, strengthening the shield over the emotion, he instead contemplated another thought that was now swirling about his head. Neville had kissed him. Neville kissed him, and he had kissed back. What did this mean?

Opinions on homosexuality differed in the Wizarding World, as compared to the Muggle one. It was much more accepted and those that way inclined were much less persecuted. Not to say that there weren't those against it, but for the most part the practice was viewed as a personality quirk, and something of an oddity. Not flattering, but not malicious either. The main objection to homosexuality came when pureblood scions wished to practice it exclusively. After all, same-sex pairings couldn't really produce children, and purebloods families lent such high importance to the 'carrying on of their line'.

But the real question was, was he homosexual. Well no, obviously not. If his awkward 'thing' with Cho didn't highlight that he got stupid for girls, then the few purely sexual encounters he'd had over the years at least proved he was attracted to them. But then, he reflected, there had been that drunken fumbling with the handsome Italian wizard who had joined the resistance. He'd put the whole thing down to alcohol at the time, but what if there had been more to it. Perhaps he was bisexual?

He sighed and rolled onto his side, realising he was asking himself the wrong questions. The question was: was he attracted to Neville? He considered the man he remembered. Round faced, well muscled, with blonde hair that fell over sky blue eyes, and a sweet grin. He was cute, he admitted, definitely cute. It was hard to tell with this pre-hormonal body, but he thought the attraction was there, even if he'd never noticed before.

He sighed once more, deciding that he wouldn't really need to worry about this for a few years yet. That is to say if Neville even became fond of him that way again. He'd already changed things after all. Still now was not the time to worry about that. He had a boatload of grief trapped behind mental shields that he wanted to begin working through tonight.

And so he lowered those barriers fully, and let loss and defeat and grief overwhelm him. Harry cried himself to sleep that night, but it was a cathartic experience. By morning, with the reassurance that this new chance was real, he felt lighter and happier than he had in a long time.


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