This has been bouncing in my head for a little while. Let's see how far it goes.
I don't have a beta and I'm writing on mobile. Please forgive me for any grammatical errors or typos. I also own nothing.
Hermione Jean Granger knows she is a know-it-all.
She'd been called that for the first time in third grade, when she corrected Betty Wilkes in front of their entire English class. She'd been called that several times afterwards, the same cruel intonation carrying from tongue to tongue, always derisive and cold.
She doesn't care that her classmates think she's a know-it-all. It stings the first few times, of course. It stings when she is always the last picked for pairs, always the lonely one at recess, always the one not invited to parties. But she's learned to not care, after a few years.
Her parents - they worry of course - try to get her to join some sort of extracurricular activity, try to arrange play-dates - as if she's two - to no avail. Children, the blessings that they are to adults, are cruel to each other in the ways that most sadists yearn to be. And when one class makes an outcast of a young girl, it bleeds into the very community.
"She hasn't made a single friend Dan!" Her parents don't mean to, but their hush whispers carry across the hallway as Hermione lays in bed, staring at the darkness of her ceiling. "This isn't healthy!"
"What do you want me to do Janet?" Her father sounds weary, Hermione pictures him running a hand over his face in that exasperated way he does when a patient gives him a hard time, or when he receives another missive from his parents about moving closer to them in America. "We've just established our practice here. We cannot afford to leave, transfer her somewhere else, it just isn't possible."
Her mother sobs, the emotional creature that she is. The gasps are low, in consideration for their child who is only a door and a few feet away, but each one strikes Hermione's heart like lightening. She turns over to her side, pulling the blanket as much as she can over her wayward curls, trying her hardest to DROWN IT OUT.
As always, it never works.
"I don't need to have friends," she tells them the next morning, when her mother - bright-eyed and cheery, making the young girl wonder if everything she heard last night had been a dream - asks her if she would like to go to the Easter egg hunt hosted by her school, to try and make some friends.
"I'm going to to be the smartest girl in the world. And the smartest know-it-all isn't going to bother with friends."
Hariel Lilian Potter knows she is a freak.
As a matter of fact, she'd thought Freak was her name for a very long time, until Aunt Petunia shoves her into a classroom with other children. Hariel was registered a month late - she knows this was because Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon wanted Dudley to establish himself with his peers and make friends before she was introduced to the public. And there he is, blond and shiny and quite large, not bothering to hide his laughter as she stumbles into the room, tripping on the hem of his hand-me-down pants.
"Oh, aren't you just the sweetest thing," the teacher coos, stepping closer and leaning down to her level. Hariel tries to smile in response, but it probably comes out like a grimace, as Aunt Petunia's bony fingers dig painfully into her shoulder. "What's your name sweetie?"
"I'm Freak," she says quietly, wondering if her full name is Freak Dursley. The dog's name had been Fido Dursley until he ran away, and since she was like a pet too, her surname must be Dursley. Confident in that logic, she speaks up and repeats her name for the class to hear.
"My name is Freak Dursley."
Aunt Petunia smacks her hard on the head, forgetting their audience for a second. Hariel winces as her head began to throb, and reaches up with shaky hands to straighten her glasses.
"Stop that Hariel!" she hisses, but turns to the teacher, whose brow furrowes deeper and deeper at the exchange, and attempts to laugh it off.
"Children just say the funniest things sometimes don't they?" Aunt Petunia twitters, and Hariel does not have to look at her to know she is getting uncomfortably flushed, eyes darting around to look for an exit, like she does every time she was in a situation she doesn't want to be in.
"Her name is Hariel Lilian Potter. She's only been with us for a few weeks now, which is why she's starting so late, unlike dear Dudley over there," she waves at him, but he pretends not to see. "But she has been watching a lot of cartoon shows, you know, with superheroes and such. Poor little thing has made up her own superhero name hasn't she?"
The teacher doesn't look quite convinced at Aunt Petunia's shrill laughter, but her brow unfurrows just a tad, and she pulls herself up to look the bony blonde in her eye.
"Why don't you find yourself a seat, Hariel sweetheart. I think I spot an empty chair over by Shelly - raise your hand, that's a dear - while your Aunt and I finish up your registration, hm?"
Hariel shuffles over dutifully to the table, where Shelly and two other children sit, crayons and paper scattered all over. She glances behind her, Dudley's table is across the room. He wouldn't try anything here, would he? She would be safe wouldn't she?
Shelly smiles at her and shoves her bag off the unoccupied chair to make room for the new girl. Hariel mutters her thanks, and is even more shocked when the boy across from her hands her his crayon and a blank sheet of paper to use. No one has ever shared with her before.
"Thank you," she says to him, taking the offered seat. In response, he grins, showing off his missing front tooth.
"I'm Roger," he says. "That's spelt R-O-G-E-R. How do you spell Hariel?"
She blinks. She doesn't know how to spell it, because until a few minutes ago, she didn't know it was her name at all. "I don't know," she finally answers. "I-I'm not good with my letters yet." It was a lie; every few days, Hariel sneaks into Dudley's second bedroom and "borrows" anything she could find that isn't torn apart or broken. More than often, that tends to be books.
Shelly, who seems to be the most outspoken member of the table, declares, "Well, why don't we figure it out. It kind of sounds like Harry, which I know how to spell because it's my dad's name," she shakily scribbles H-A-R-R-Y on her own sheet of paper, "but it's got 'Elle' at the end - that's spelled E-L-L-E," she suggests, watching as the dark haired girl slowly but steadily follows her writing.
"Harryelle," she breathes, sighing happily at the finished product. No longer would she be Freak Dursley, she has her own, special name and it sounds way better than Freak anyway!
"That's an ugly name, Freak," Dudley declares suddenly from behind her. All around her, her table-mates stiffen. It seems that even in the short time that they have been acquainted with Dudley Dursley, he has managed to instill the same fear that Hariel has for him into them.
Righteously angry for them, Hariel's eyes unknowingly flash and she retorts, "My name is Hariel, Dudley! I'm not Freak anymore. You should go back to your table, jerk."
The chubby blonde scowls down at his smaller cousin. The moment their teacher and his mother left the room, he wasted not a single moment to assert his dominance over his cousin. He wants her to know that even here, with everyone around, he is still the boss. He did not, however, expect her to retort back, suddenly brave in the face of new companions. He has to show her that nothing has changed, she is still and will always be the friendless freak.
Reaching past her, he grabs the paper with her crayon scribble, ignoring her indignant shout and raising it above his head. Hariel stands immediately, trying futily to grab the paper back.
"What kind of name is Harryelle, anyway?" he sneers, inwardly pleased to be getting a rise out of her. "It's a dumb, freakish name, and no one is going to remember it. All you're ever going to be is F-R-E-A-K." With every letter he rips the paper in two, basking in her soft wail and the horrified gasps of their classmates. After he is finished, he releases the pieces, letting them flutter down onto his cousin's head and around her.
"I learned how to spell it, just for you," he finishes smugly, feeling victorious.
Silence reigns, but only for a second. Hariel's destroyed sheet of paper comes to life around her, swirling angrily, steadily, around the girl, who stands still in the scene of her cousin's cruelty. With a gasp, Dudley tries to take a step back, only to find himself immobile. His gasp turns into a whimper, and then an all out yell as Hariel reaches for him with shaking hands.
"You..." she whispers, her voice carrying across the room despite its softness. "You are the worst family member in the world. I wish it was your parents that died so that you had to come live with mine. I wish it was you!"
With a yell, she shoves him, as hard as she can. If it had been merely a physical shove, she would not have been able to make him budge an inch. Unfortunately, this shove holds years of pent-up frustration, years of muffled cries and sobs. Years of magic, kept at bay only by a thin barrier. The barrier snaps, and Dudley Dursley flies from where he stands into the wall behind him, landing with a sick thud. His head bounces on impact in a twisted parody of what he does with his own toys.
From behind her, Shelly screams. She is not the only one. Before Hariel can turn to face them, to order them to shut up right now, the teacher runs in, Aunt Petunia right on her heels. Aunt Petunia screams loudest of all as she takes in the sight of Dudley on the floor, knocked unconscious on impact. Shoving both the teacher and Hariel out of the way, she reaches her son in record time, cradling his head gently and sobbing incoherently.
"What in the blazes happened?" the teacher demands, looking about the room for some sort of clue to what could have possibly knocked out such a large kindergartner in the mere matter of minutes that she had left the room.
"I think he fell!" Hariel declares, before anyone can say otherwise. "I think he was coming to greet me, and he tripped - and then he fell! It's my fault," she finishes with a whimper, forcing the tears that she had not allowed to fall earlier to return to the surface. If Dudley can get away with pushing her around by pretending, then she can too, can't she?
"Of course it's not your fault sweetheart," she replies, turning her around and hugging her tightly. "He should have been more careful, honestly, and he knows the rules of staying in his seat unless I say otherwise. Mrs. Dursley, do you need a telephone, to call 999?"
Aunt Petunia, whom Hariel doesn't have to look at to know she is glaring straight at her, simply sniffs and heaves her son into her arms - a feat that the teacher isn't sure how she accomplishes - and walks out the door. Hidden in the folds of her new teacher's dress shirt, Hariel face breaks into her first of many smirks.
The Dursleys are right, she is a freak. But she is much more than that - she is special.
Ronald Bilius Weasley knows he is a waste of space.
He isn't like any of his older siblings: smart and cool like Bill and Charlie, or clever like Percy, or funny and imaginative like the twins. He just is.
It is alright at first, for him to just be, because Ginny is there with him. They play chess and gobstones together, and climb trees and play "pass the Quaffle" on their training brooms, only the Quaffle is a gnome and if one of them don't catch it properly, it takes a great big chomp down on their fingers.
Together, they just are. Until the Lovegoods move in.
Luna visits for the first time on a quiet, idyllic Saturday. It is a cloudless day, with song birds twittering about the Burrow. Mother completes her weekly routine of cleaning their lopsided home. He and Ginny sit downstairs, underneath the kitchen table, comparing their Chocolate Frog card collections, when their Floo roars to life, and the brightest robes Ronald has ever encountered fall through.
"Oh hello there Xenophilius, settle in alright?" he hears his mother ask as she enters their foyer, turning down the wireless.
"Yes, well enough, thank you," the man in the blinding green robes replies. Ronald sees him turn away, facing the fireplace as it lights green again, and a second pair of horrendously green robes appeared. By now, Ginny has shoved herself beside him, so she can have a good view of what's happening.
"And this must be dear Luna," his mother cooes as Xenophilius brushes soot off the smaller figure. "Oh she's a beauty, Xeno!"
"Thank you Mrs. Weasley." The girl's voice is high-pitched and lofty, albeit serene in an odd way. "Daddy always said I take after Mommy."
"It's took now, my little moon," the man murmurs. "You took after your mother."
Ronald hears his mother make a small sound - it's one she makes sometimes when she reads one of her after-dinner books. 'Corny novels' Bill and Charlie secretly calls them in the safety of their bedroom, chuckling to themselves. Ron doesn't get why the books are corny, or why that's funny, but he laughs along with them anyway.
"Well, come on in," she exclaims, ushering them away from the fireplace. "Make yourselves at home. Luna, I've got a daughter who is your age as well! She and her brother are always up to something, why don't I see if I can find them for you..."
As Molly voice fades away, the two young Weasleys hear Xenophilius trail after her, commenting on their home.
"What a lovely aesthetic, Molly," he compliments. "How did you manage to lure so many Luminating Bilimbats in here?"
"Er...that might be a question for Authur, you know the Burrow has been in his family for quite some time..."
Luna stays behind in the foyer, swaying slightly in place. Ron and Ginny glance at each other, questioning. Somewhat excitedly, Ginny points at the garish robes, indicating her desire to go up to introduce herself. Scowling, Ronald emphatically shakes his head, gesturing to their unfinished card collections. He doesn't want to share his sister with a newcomer.
Shrugging, Ginny crawls out of their hidden space and straightens herself, brushing her knees absentmindedly. Ron scowls harder, but he follows her lead and crawls out from under the table as well.
"Oh hello," Luna says as they come to view. She is looking in their direction, but her large eyes seems to look through them rather than at them. "I have been waiting for you two to show yourselves."
"Hello," Ginny replies with a grin, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I'm Ginevra, but everyone calls me Ginny. And this is Ronald, but everyone calls him Ron." Half-heartedly, he waves at the blonde. She wiggles her fingers in response.
"Hello, Ginevra and Ronald. It's a pleasure to meet you both," her voice is wispy and Ron is immediately creeped out, though he would never admit it to anyone.
Ginny on the other hand, seems to think the blonde is the most charming person she has ever met. She giggles, stepping closer into Luna's personal space. "Why do you talk like that? You sound all grown-up, like Percy."
Luminous blue eyes blink slowly at the girl, as Luna processes the question. "I read a lot of books," she answers simply after a pause.
Ginny nods sagely as if that explains everything. "Percy does too."
Suddenly, their odd guest turns to Ron, for the first time looking right at him, rather than through him. He resists the urge to take a step back at the unexpected focus.
"Did you know that you have Mimbling Pippernaks all over you, Ronald? I can barely see you behind all that fluttering." Luna leans forward and squints to prove her point.
Turning around, Ginny stares hard at her brother, who in turn lookes down at himself and spins in a circle, searching for any sign of what Luna is talking about.
"I don't see anything," Ginny declares finally, tone accusing.
"Well, of course you don't," Luna replies calmly. "You've probably been exposed to them all your life. The longer you're in a Mimbling Pippernaks' presence, the less you can sense it. Honestly, I'm surprised you're not covered in them yourself. They are usually very contagious."
Warily, Ginny takes a step back from her brother, closer to Luna. "Contagious like dragon pox?"
Luna nods, silkly blonde hair falling to her sides at the motion. "Yes, Ginny, exactly like dragon pox. You're very lucky to not have an infestation like poor Ronald here."
"Oi, I don't have dragon pox!" he defends himself, the tips of his ears burning. "Matter of fact, I had it two years ago, remember Gin? And I definitely don't have any Pipper-whatsits."
"Yeah, but didn't you have to stay up in the attic with Sir Ghoulinton so you didn't get me sick?" his sister recalls thoughtfully, although she had been fairly young when this happened. "Only Mom, Dad and Percy could come see you."
Ronald recalls perfectly well. He had been so lonely and bored up there, his parents roped Percy to visit him once a day, to play chess. His other brothers, although they had all been infected previously, couldn't be bothered to visit him either way.
Agitatedly he says, "But that was real, not a dumb made up disease by some dumb girl -"
"Don't call her dumb, she reads lots of books! Probably knows ten times as much as you, dungbrain," Ginny emphatically defends her new friend. "Come on Luna, we're going to my room. I'm not playing with Ron anymore until you or Mom say it's safe."
With that she snatches the blonde's hand, stomping up the stairs with her. Ron watches them, dumbfounded for a moment, before his entire face flushes as red as his hair.
"I don't want to play with you anyway!" he yells after her, ears practically smoking in his anger and frustration. "Stupid girls!"
Neither of them bother to reply back.
Hidden under the kitchen table, the youngest Weasleys' card collections lies forgotten. Later that night, Molly magics both binders into their respective rooms, but it is the last time they will sit together and bond over their collections.
Later that evening, after Luna and her father Floo away, Ron offers to help his mother clean the kitchen, just to not feel so useless.
"Oh sweetie, that's nice of you, but you'll only be in the way," she says distractedly, pausing her wand-waving briefly to stroke his ginger waves. The dishes pause in the air until she returns her attention back to them.
"If you have nothing to do, why don't you go up into the attic? I know Sir Ghoulinton always keeps you entertained."
And so Ronald is relegated back into the lonely attic, heart heavy and eyes burning. He rushes in, because he knows the twins will torment him forever if they catch him crying.
Slamming the attic door shut, he furiously wipes the tears off his face. Sir Ghoulinton grunts a hello in recognition of the one Weasley he sees the most and continues wandering aimlessly around the dimly lit attic. Ron ignores the creature, sitting on the door to prevent anyone else from coming in.
His cries are silent, but his body wracks almost violently. The ghoul bangs at the pipes noisily in agitation, and it takes everything for Ron to not scream back at the creature.
After a few minutes, he wipes his eyes one last time. He's stopped crying, but his heart aches like no child's ever should.
"One day," he says to Sir Ghoulinton finally, "One day I'll find who doesn't think I'm a useless waste of space. They'll care about me for me, no matter what. And I won't ever let them go."
Currently I'm deciding whether or not I want to do time skips or write out their school years in detail from the beginning. Updates will be very sporadic, but positive response are always a good way to encourage me.