Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters. They are the property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and associates. However, any created characters are my property and are going to stay that way. If you wish to use one of them, you may ask and I will probably give permission to do so. Enjoy, and RR please.
Harry James Potter woke up with a start at about four in the morning on September the first. He looked around; trying to get a quick build on his surroundings before he remembered that he was at number 12 Grimmauld Place. It was that same scene in his head, a constant repeat of the last few moments of his godfather's life. Lupin's voice just kept repeating in his head too. Like a broken record. There is nothing you can do for him now. Yes, there was, Harry thought miserably, if he had just used the magic mirror. Sirius would be alive. This wasn't the only problem; up at Hogwarts a certain silver haired and bearded man was pondering something equally important.
Dumbledore: But, why Tom? Why are you so interested in this boy? What does he have?
Phineas: Dumbledore, you are treading the same path as the Potter boy. That is the first sign of madness, speaking to your own head.
Dumbledore: You are correct, except for two things. Harry is not mad, nor is he whom I am concerned about for once. Neither am I talking to myself, just to someone who cannot hear me.
The next morning was a bustle of action; Mrs. Weasley was diving about the house looking for anything missing. Harry was still sleeping pleasantly until.
Ginny: Harry! Mum, is going to curse you out of bed if you don't hurry up! We're going to miss the train!
Harry was roused out of his pleasant sleep, the first pleasant dream he'd had in a long time. A dream of soon to come, out on the pitch with Ron and Ginny playing quidditch. Harry got out of bed and walked downstairs to hoots of laughter from the twins, they didn't tell him but Harry had a sock on his head and his hat on his foot. Ron came down after him.
Ron: Nice fashion statement Harry.
Harry looked down, amazed at his own stupidity. In that moment everything seemed to speed up as soon as the sock and hat were on properly, he was shooed out the door by Mrs. Weasley. They bustled down the street to King's Cross, Lupin and Kingsley chatting about business at the office and the ending to Sirius's search. Harry caught enough from them to understand that things were not well.
Kingsley: I'm getting downsized now… Without searches for Sirius to lie about I've no need to be an executive. Tonks thinks it's dead funny that she'll be my boss.
Lupin: I'm sure Dumbledore would help you out but with that other thing going on in North America, and the Canadian minister for magic is feeling pretty highly against giving You-Know-Who a reason to cross the Atlantic.
Harry was anxiously awaiting a chance to get onto the platform; some sort of muggle celebration had the station filled with people bustling here and there. Normally, that would make it easy but it seemed that even the guards were edgy. Harry thought disgusting thoughts as he passed through the barrier. What in the hell do they have to be edgy about, they don't know about Voldemort, or the truth about Sirius? An evil feeling came over him; he could curse them… It would be short, and quick. It wasn't until Ginny had dragged him into a compartment and he sat down that he realised that his scar hurt. Ginny was shuffling away from a person who was sleeping in the corner; she hadn't forgotten what happened last time someone was sleeping in her compartment, that was the Dementors though, not Lupin's fault.
Ginny: I've never seen him before, I wonder where he's from.
Harry: I'll guess Canada. Judging by the hat, the stickers and the tattoo on his wrist.
Ginny gave him a look over, he seemed to be older then her, but why hadn't she seen him on the train before. She listened intently and heard no heavy breathing; he didn't seem to be asleep.
Ginny: Wonder if we should get a new compartment?
Harry: Why? Are you afraid of him?
Harry had to stifle a laugh.
Ginny: No, it's just that he isn't asleep, which means we can't talk…
The guy in the corner started shuffling, he sat up.
Aaron: About what? Your private love life?
Ginny stared at him in the small period of time before Harry registered what the guy had said. He was not too much older than she was, he seemed to be a confident person, with short brown hair and brown eyes, they were a dominant feature, they were pale, almost like a blind person's.
This puzzled her; he couldn't be blind… He was staring right at her, or was he?
Harry: Woah, private love life. You've made some mistake; Ginny and I have never. Or ever wanted too.
Aaron made a small laugh but turned it unnoticeably into a cough.
Aaron: Anyway, I'm Aaron.
He turned to each in turn.
Harry: Harry Potter and this is Ginny Weasley.
Aaron hid his tattoo, as Ginny couldn't help staring at it. The sun was starting to set and Aaron didn't feel to good about being on a train where he was vulnerable. The compartment door swung open to allow entrance to a tall, lanky, red-haired boy who was obviously Ginny's brother and a stunningly pretty, blonde girl who had tear lines on her cheeks that gave unmistakable signs of recent crying.
Harry: What happened?
Ron: Same old, same old. Malfoy couldn't resist attacking her with no teachers around.
Aaron realised that he had seen that boy's picture in the daily prophet before, he was Ronald Weasley. Eyeing the prefect badge he decided to be sarcastic.
Aaron: You should've been with her, obviously.
Ron gave Aaron that loathing look that was normally saved for Malfoy but Hermione smiled.
Hermione: Like I need protection from Ronald when it has to do with Drac… I mean Malfoy.
Aaron made out another laugh. He thought about that classic rule, opposites attract. This blonde haired girl was obviously smitten with that Malfoy kid. Odd considering that he had just attacked her. The introductions were short, the girls stayed out of the boys heated debate about quidditch… and as night fell and the school came within view, the puzzle assembled itself.