Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel
Written by: NeuroticNeko
I will endeavor to keep everyone as in character as possible. Most people who were killed in the war are staying dead in this fic. Except for three significant characters, who? Well, keep reading to find out.
Day before start of term
Harry hoped that he hadn't forgotten anything.
He cast a final glance at his room and hoped that he'd had enough time to eat something.
"Kreacher?"
"Yes, Master Harry?"
"I'd like some toast, please"
Kreacher beamed and disappeared.
A crackle from the fireplace caught Harry's attention. He strode into the green and silver-themed living room and crouched by the fireplace.
"Heya, Ron"
"Harry! I fire-called earlier and you weren't here!"
"Sorry, still sleeping"
"Well, whatever. The train's leaving in ten minutes, you'd better come over soon," Ron warned. "Dad made a Portkey under the rose bush in the garden of Number 9, it stops working in a few."
Harry frowned.
"Can't we Apparate to Kings Cross?"
"Ministry's banned any Apparating within the station and around it in a one mile radius," Ron's image rolled his charcoal eyes. "The Ministry doesn't want to risk any desperate, dying-breath attacks by yet-to-be-captured Death Eaters, I guess. The Portkey will take us to the Burrow, and we will Floo to an abandoned building near Kings Cross."
"See you later then, mate." The image of Ron's face, faded away and Harry straightened. He devoured his toast in a few bites, shrunk his trunk and dashed out of Grimmauld Place.
"Bye, Kreacher!" He shouted, and closed the door behind him.
A blast of fresh, cold morning air seared his lungs and Harry grinned widely, elated to be returning to Hogwarts. He peered down the street for any sign of Muggles before casually strolling to Number 9. The picket wasn't that much of a challenge thanks to Harry's new-found height and he swung a leg over easily. As soon as he dropped into the garden, he realised there would be a big problem.
Harry raised his brows and affected a wry smile.
There was more than one rose bush. The whole garden was made of rose bushes.
He looked to the left -
Rosebushes
He looked to the right -
Rosebushes
Stumped, Harry sat on a small clearing of fluffy grass in the middle of the garden. Sighing, he peered under the dense foliage. Dark earth, a few worms and a rotted apple core were all he could see. There was were bottle caps and even an old sock. Time was running out and Harry had no idea which was the port-key.
Someone up there really hates me. Harry thought remorsefully and lay down onto the grass. A pleasant breeze carried the aroma of the roses and Harry relaxed his mind.
A moment later, he felt the frond-like tendrils of magic that existed in the area and reached for them. Concentrating all his newly sharper senses, he tasted the air until he found something stronger, newly placed.
A strand of orange-smelling magic tickled his face. Harry grabbed it by its figurative ruff and followed it to a rose bush on the far right of the garden, which had yellow flowers and had a small, rusted metal key beneath it.
He vowed to give Ron a piece of his mind later.
Unbeknownst to him, a blob-like piece of shadow detached itself from a rosebush's silhouette and sped after him.
Harry fell into a couch with an ungainly thump! He rubbed his head as he bumped it on the brick wall.
"Someone help him!" A voice yelled from a few rooms away.
Strong arms wrapped around Harry's midriff and helped him stand on his feet. When he looked up, he was disconcerted to find someone's eyes inches away from his. Harry went cross-eyed trying to see who it was.
"Harry!?"
The eyes backed off and Harry found himself looking at the grinning face of one Bill Weasley.
Harry grinned.
"Hey, Bill."
"Blimey, Harry!" Bill crowed, eyes moving up and down Harry's body.
"What have you been eating!?"
The stockily-built Weasley flicked his fingers at Harry's hair.
"What insanity is this?!" Bill grinned so wide, it looked like his cheeks might split, "You're tall now!"
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Wow, I really didn't notice"
Bill's grin just grew wider.
"Hey Fleur!"
Harry groaned. Stepping gingerly off the couch, he cast a Scourgify on himself and what he had just landed on just before a white-blonde stuck her neck around the corner.
"Who iz zat?"
Bill flung his arms around Harry's shoulders and was briefly surprised at how broad they were.
"It's our Harry!"
Fleur dropped the small table cloth she had been holding and hurried to Bill's side.
"Non, ziz cannot be true!" and yet, even as she spoke she knew it was he.
The boy had changed greatly and though he stood fidgeting in front of her, he couldn't hide the power, the magic he radiated. Her veela could sense it, this wasn't just some freak growth spurt - however - Fleur had no pressing need to know. Harry would tell them once he was comfortable enough to.
"Well, Harry. Nice to zee you again, you have grown even more dashing and handsome zan before," Fleur offered, smiling as she hooked an arm around her husband's waist.
Harry ducked his head shyly.
"If they didn't want to jump you before, I'm sure every one at Hogwarts will now," Bill chortled. Fleur stifled a giggle at Harry's expression discomfort.
Harry blushed. Save me, he thought in despair.
At that moment a carrot-top haired boy poked his head into the lounge room.
Harry looked pleadingly at him. Ron took in the scene and laughed.
"Harry we gotta go, train leaves in five minutes."
"Um. It was nice seeing you two again. I uh, I've gotta go and catch the Hogwarts Express," Harry nodded at the highly amused Bill and Fleur, blushed again, and then hurried out of the room. He joined Ron in the hallway and followed him to the fireplace.
They landed in an abandoned muggle shop. There were boxes scattered about with thick layers of dust on them. A few cobwebs hung on the corners of the walls - the air in the room was curiously warm and stuffy.
Harry just managed to stay on his feet this time, wobbling dangerously for a few moments. Ron stabilized him, before grinning, "Seems like our Golden Boy isn't the best at everything he does, eh? What a shocker."
Harry rolled his eyes and punched his friend lightly on the shoulder.
Ron waded through the mess and Harry followed, cautiously, as to not cover themselves with decades of dust. Just before they opened the door, they both cast notice-me-not charms on themselves and then pushed the rickety door open. The Muggles passed by them, oblivious.
"Four minutes till the Express leaves. Were going to be pushing it a bit. Couldn't you have gotten to the Burrow sooner, Harry?"
Harry glowered at him darkly, "You gave me bad directions." His new stature made it almost intimidating. Almost.
"They were the ones that Dad gave me."
"You told me that the Portkey was under a rose bush, Ron. The whole garden was filled with rose bushes"
Ron grimaced, "Well, you know my Dad."
Harry grunted and the two off them fended off the crowds in their battle towards the station.
"Two minutes."
Harry leapt into the seemingly solid brick wall and fell through to the other side. Stopping, he straightened his clothes and smiled at the other wizards and witches that were walking towards the train.
Something collided into him from behind and Harry fell face forward onto the hard concrete ground.
"Ow," Ron complained, rubbing his knees.
"Not as 'ow' as me - get off me you wanker," said a muffled voice.
"Is that you I'm sitting on, Harry?"
"Yes. Please, kindly remove yourself from my person."
Laughing, Ron stood and pulled Harry after him. They dusted themselves off and picked up their luggage.
"Harry!"
A bright voice reached his ears and Harry had to crane his head to see the speaker. It was Hermione.
"Hey."
Hermione dragged Harry and Ron over to the nearest train door. An instant later, the whistle blew and the Golden Trio had to jump and dive. They tumbled onto the deck, a jumbled mess of books and bags. Behind them, the doors closed with a crisp snap! Harry was glad to be sprawled on the floor instead of decapitated.
The trio clambered up, picked up their mess and straightened their robes.
Harry looked left and right, "Are all the cabins full?"
Ron shrugged, "We'll have to check."
The Savior but his lip - if he didn't have to, he'd rather not parade around. He did not wish to be ogled and stared at by everyone on the train, like he had been in Diagon Alley. Hermione looked at Harry and seeing hesitation there, she sighed.
"We'll just go under the invisibility cloak then."
Relieved, Harry took his trunk from out of his pocket, reversed the charm and then laid it on the floor.
"Harry - that isn't - you haven't stuck both sides of the trunk together with a charm have you?"
Hermione asked, eyes wide with incredulity.
Harry looked up from where he was prying both sides of the trunk apart.
"Er . . . No?"
Hermione just rolled her eyes. Harry rummaged through his things.
"Found it!" exclaimed Harry, as he held up a rather tattered-looking invisibility cloak.
Hermione ducked under it as Harry held it up. Ron joined them and all three struggled to not bump into each other excessively. It was getting too hard for all of them to fit under it anymore. As it was, Ron and Harry were so hunched over they were beginning to get a pain in their back.
Shoulders bumping and knees knocking, the trio struggled to move from cabin to cabin.
"So how was your summer with your grandmother, Neville?"
"Horrible," Neville shuddered. "She tried to make me knit stockings!"
Seamus and Dean winced.
"Yeah, why make them if you can't wear them," joked Dean.
"Unless you really wanted to," Seamus put in, "French wizards like to wear stockings under their robes"
Dean guffawed, "Really?"
Seamus nodded, "'Suppose they think it looks good"
"Maybe they're just poufs!"
Neville frowned.
"What's a pouf?" Images of a fluffy dessert came to mind.
Dean shrugged. "You know, men that snog other men. Sorry, I guess its not a nice thing to say... its a little bit derogatory - gay people are fine," he ended, flushing.
Neville's face cleared up, "Oh, that's a funny name for gay wizards. It's a pretty common thing here, I mean, every magical family has someone who was born to two male parents. That's probably why, you know, um, why we don't have any kind of bad name, I guess, for them."
Seamus and Dean leaned closer to their friend, curiosity and shock widening their eyes.
"Really?"
"Yeah, my grandma showed me the family tree a few years back. Around, seven generations ago, I think, the Longbottom heir conceived a child with another man. I think my great-great-grandfather, also."
"Actually!?" Dean demanded, convinced Neville was pulling his leg.
Seamus looked equally astonished and horrified. He imagined something growing inside of him and felt queasy.
"But... but how would the baby, you know... come out?" Seamus inquired, pale-faced.
Dean flopped back on the seat, looked pointedly at Seamus and made a deliberate slicing motion with his hand. Seamus looked distinctly green around the gills.
"A spell of some sort?" Neville had no idea.
The doors slid open, revealing a familiar sneer.
"Malfoy," Dean frowned, thoughts of pregnant men flying out of his mind immediately. "What do you want?"
The platinum blonde was backed by two of his friends, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. They stood between the doors and looked at the three inside, arms crossed.
Neville looked at them, curiously devoid of feeling. When he was confronted with Malfoy's gang, he just felt pity, it was like Malfoy was holding onto something he no longer had. His eyes met pale grey ones, and they held for an awkward moment. Draco's shifted away. Neville supposed it would be even weirder if Malfoy suddenly declared they should reconcile and become bosom friends.
"This is our cabin," Malfoy said, flicking his pale blonde hair. Parkinson and Zabini looked at them impatiently.
Dean rose in indignation but at that moment Neville grabbed him and Seamus and dragged them out of the cabin.
Malfoy's laughter drifted behind them.
"What was that for, Nev? We could've -" Dean started.
"What!?" Neville asked, "Fight them before we had even stepped on school grounds? We don't need that and frankly, neither does Malfoy, he's going through a lot. His father's trial... its going to be before a full Wizengamot, you know... in two or three weeks time. A lifetime sentence hasn't been ruled out yet, at least, according to the Daily Prophet."
"Besides, we really had been sitting in their cabin. Parkinson's trunk - it was shrunk - but I think I may have been sitting on it."
Dean struggled for words and Seamus put his hand on his shoulder.
"It doesn't excuse him for being a prick, but, well, I think it was the right thing to do. Leaving, that is."
Dean seemed to bristle for a few minutes but then he slumped a little in defeat.
"Yeah, sorry guys. It's stupid to get so riled up over a few words. Hard to let go of years of school-boy antagonism."
Seamus and Neville just nodded solemnly.
"I guess, after a war like that, things have to change." Dean rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
They walked down a few carriages before they came before a empty cabin. This time they made sure no items belonging to other people could be found. Neville settled down on a seat and removed a chocolate frog from his robes.
"Want some?" He asked, waving it under his friends' noses.
"No thanks, I had a whole packet of Bertie Bott's before leaving the house. The vomit-flavored one has had my stomach in knots all morning," said Seamus, before sitting. Dean took one and settled down near the window.
Suddenly Neville frowned, feeling a bit to warm. Contemplating for a moment, he realized the seat of his pants felt bizarrely warm. Perhaps someone who had been sitting on the seat for a long time had left moments ago? Hoping that they would not be asked to vacate this cabin when the stranger came back, Neville turned to his friends and saw Dean and Seamus staring at him, mouths open like goldfish.
Seamus' jaw worked. Eventually, he spat out, "Blimey, Nev, you're sitting mid-air!"
Neville looked between his thighs,and was chilled to find that he was hovering over the seat by a couple of inches! Baffled, he prodded the space beneath him. The empty air felt solid, but soft at the same time. Almost like -
Abruptly, a severed hand grabbed his fingers tightly.
Neville released blood-curdling shriek, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Just as he was about to faint dead away, warm arms looped around his waist and pressed him back against a broad chest.
"Hey, it's okay," a low voice said, close to his ear.
Neville's heart beat rabbit-like in his chest. Warm breath puffed against the shell of his ear. Neville felt his whole body break into goosebumps.
"W-who?"
"Uh, well, I think I should have spoken up earlier... but um... well, there didn't seem to the right opportunity...um, it's Harry, by the way."
Neville was gently lifted onto his feet. Fabric rustled. As he turned, Neville saw Ron and Hermione sitting on either side of a handsome stranger, stifling giggles. Neville's mouth dropped open.
"Harry?" he questioned himself, tempted to rub his eyes. The boy he had been sitting on smiled warmly at him, eyes crinkling. Neville's heart pounded harder. Almost against his will, he gave him a quick look-over. Merlin. This was Harry Potter? Neville hard to avert his eyes, every second staring at that sensuous mouth, the broad shoulders and those shapely long legs were a second closer to committing sacrilege.
Neville was not the only person in the cabin shocked into silence. Dean's mouth had dropped wide open and Seamus kept checking Harry over, shaking his head in confusion, and then checking him over once more.
A large, warm hand grasped Neville's wrist carefully. His eyes rose to meet golden-green ones.
"Are you alright, Nev? I'm sorry for shocking you like that. It was my idea to wear the invisibility cloak, so we wouldn't be bothered by the whole student body... I've kind of changed, you see, and I didn't want everyone to freak out."
"S-sorry for freaking out," Neville stuttered.
Ron patted his shoulder comfortingly, "There, there. Don't worry, we weren't going to make you sit on Harry's lap the whole train ride to Hogwarts."
Harry laughed. Neville, still blushing, moved to sit next to Seamus and fidgeted with his hands. If he was stamping down on feelings of disappointment, no one had to know.
Sweet baby Jesus, my old author's notes were so cringe worthy I couldn't NOT delete them.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember, feedback is the lifeblood of an author, so do not hesitate to tell me what you think :)
- Neko