Disclaimer: Umm... I think Christopher Columbus came up with the original idea for Harry Potter- after all he is accredited with almost EVERYTHING!
I would like to thank everyone who reviewed:
Dovoo: Sorry you didn't like my story; feel free to make some suggestions as to how to make it less "awful" as you put it. Mamandalikesswords: I'm glad you liked it. Those paragraphs are a bit scary but this is my first fanfic ever and I had no idea how to format the first chapter. Will be changed. Pronto! I hope they didn't scare you away. Kitschymitch and Maddyladdy: Thanks! I hope you like the next chapters too. Highlow: As to your questions…You'll just have to wait and see!
Please Keep on Reviewing!
Special Thanks to a certain beta who shall remain unnamed for dealing with all of my ridiculously convoluted words such as "convoluted" and icky comma usage.
Goodie2Shoe
Harry pulled off his shoes and jumped otherwise fully clothed into his bed. He jerked the covers over his head and had just begun to regulate his breathing when the door opened and Ron tiptoed in. With his back turned to the door, Harry's eyes fluttered open. For some reason, Harry's eyebrows were knit into a deep scowl. He wasn't sure why he was so incensed by Ron's early morning visit to Hermione.
They are allowed to talk without me – even if it is in the early morning when no one else is awake…They don't have to bother waking me up when they want to have a private…Well, Harry wasn't exactly sure what it was. Although it would be nice, considering that I tell them everything!
Harry added, well almost everything, in all fairness. Harry was annoyed at his pragmatism. He was annoyed with Ron for sneaking out to see Hermione without him and…
Harry lay in bed, his anger simmering down and his curiosity slowly percolating. Now hewas wondering what his two best friends needed to discuss that he wasn't allowed to hear. Somehow, despite his anger and budding curiosity, Harry managed to fall asleep, only to be shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley an hour or so later.
Not bothering to check if Ron was awake, Harry jumped down from his bed and slipped his sneakers back on. Ron, unperceptive of Harry's coolness towards him, smiled cheerily,
"Good Morning, mate! Can't believe we're going back already!"
Harry opened his mouth quickly ready to shock Ron with some questions about his disappearance that morning, but thought better of it. He decided to not let on what he had heard that morning or that he knew Ron had snuck out of their room to see Hermione.
Everyone in the Burrow woke up yawn-faced and trudged downstairs in varying states of dress, Fred and George having only enough energy to pull on their socks and a sweater over their pajamas. Even Hermione's hairappeared a little more unruly than usual, and it seemed to Harry that Pig's feathers were sticking up in different direction, indicating that they had not been cleaned and groomed properly by their owner.
Somehow, Mrs. Weasley managed to herd everyone out of the house, including a fully clothed Fred and George whom she coaxed outside with the threat of force-feeding them some of their own merchandise.
Fred and George claimed that they had to pick up some "supplies" in Diagon Alley, but Ron whispered to Harry that they were really coming along to make sure that nothing went wrong.
"What are they going to do – make sure that no Death Eaters lunge out at me from behind the bookshelves at Flourish and Blotts?" Harry asked Ron, completely forgetting to be angry with him.
Actually, on the other side of breakfast, Mrs. Weasley's delicious waffles and French toast, Harry had to admit that perhaps the events of that morning weren't so bad as he had initially thought.
Maybe Ron went to the bathroom or something and stopped by to say good morning to Ginny and Hermione.
Truthfully, Harry wouldn't put it past Ron to go ask Hermione some small last minute homework question the day before returning to Hogwarts, such as "Hermione, it's just that…my homework…Could you do it for me?"
One sooty fire place ride later, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys found themselves in the middle of Diagon Alley. Mrs. Weasley immediately took off in search of some household cleaning potions mumbling something about maundering mildew that had gotten out of hand.
By midday, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Fred and George had already bought the majority of their school supplies at Flourish and Blotts (no Death Eaters to be seen) and had bought Ginny a second-hand robe at Madam Malkin's.
Ginny met a friend of hers on their way to buy supplies for Potions, and they left together, giggling as they walked in the other direction, presumably to meet up with some fourth year boys. Ron followed the two girls with a worried stare as they walked down the street, his gaze only broken when Hermione gave a fell tug on his robes, half dragging him into a store.
Hermione had anxiously reminded Harry and Ron all morning that they needed new ingredients for Potions.
"Honestly, Ron, if you don't buy more newts' eyes or powdered dragon scale, then you are not going to be able to do any of the assigned work. And you are not going to borrow from me again! Last time you returned an empty jar of asphodel to me and you mixed up the labels of my chopped salamander skins and powdered billywig eggs! You know I like to alphabetize! And that goes for you too, Harry."
Harry and Ron exchanged a guilty look, remembering the expression of disbelief on Hermione's face when Ron had told her they had just placed the jars of borrowed ingredients in her potions set wherever they fit.
At this point, sensing that Harry was in no immediate danger after all, the twins disappeared down the street, mumbling something about "new clientele" in a direction that looked conspicuously as though it led straight to Knockturn Alley.
As they exited the small potions shop – Ron and Harry laden with heavy jars wrapped in brown paper and Hermione carrying one small vial with a look of approval on her face – a familiar blonde head appeared in the crowd.
Before Hermione had the chance to steer them in the opposite direction, a cool voice yelled out,
"Well, if it isn't Weaselby, Potty, and Granger! Say, where'd you get the money for all that, Weasley? It's your lucky day! I just found a knut in the street. You can have it- hold on…"
Draco pulled a small copper coin out of his robes and extended it to a red-faced Ron, who looked prepared to drop his precious purchases at any moment and give Draco some what for.
Hermione and Harry, having become aware of this, had already grabbed his arms.
"What's this? Apparently, Weasley has neither money nor manners," Draco added, thrusting the knut into Ron's chest.
"Don't you know that when a benefactor gives you charity, you ought to take it? Or has that patchwork quilt clad mother of yours taught you noth…."
Ron didn't give Draco a chance to finish his sentence,
"Why, come here, Malfoy and I'll take your knut – I'll take your knut and shove right up your self-righteous–"
"Ron!" Hermione interjected, cutting him off with redoubled efforts to restrain him. Harry was only hanging on to his arm half-heartedly now, and he privately felt that if they didn't get away from Draco soon, Hermione would have to hold him back as well.
Then, suddenly, Harry felt the strangest sensation, he no longer heard the insults Ron and Draco exchanged, he felt an emotion surging through him, beginning at the pit of his stomach. Hot, and burning, it coiled through his body as though he had just swallowed boiling water. Suddenly, he hated Ron, hated him right down to his last freckle. He wanted to…he wanted to hit him, punch that stupid Weasley, right in the center of his second hand robes.
Harry shook his head, his glasses sliding down his nose and his grip on Ron's arm slackening. Two voices in Harry's mind were arguing. He was in the center of a tumultuous clash of emotion. He hated Draco, he hated Ron, he hated Draco…he hated…he hated…
Harry didn't remember falling down. When he looked up she saw Hermione's and Ron's worried faces floating above him. Ron had a bloody lip and a scrape on his cheek while Hermione's cheeks were furiously red.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
"Yeah, I think…What happened?" Harry heard himself croak.
His throat was dry and he felt beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. Draco was nowhere to be seen.
"You sort of collapsed, Harry, it must have been the heat and Draco…" Ron drifted off.
Harry stood up quickly, all of the blood rushed from his head, he was burning now, looking around, hoping that there was no one around who saw him fall.
"Where is Draco?" he asked
"Well, when you let go of Ron's arm…" Hermione trailed off.
This explained Ron's torn robes and his bloody lip, which he was now wiping with one of his sleeves. "Sorry, Hermione, I couldn't help it. When he said that about my mum…" Ron too trailed off.
Ron exchanged another guilty smile with Harry, who now smiled too, thinking that Draco was off somewhere in a far worse condition than Ron.
"Really, Ron, you have to learn how to ignore Malfoy." Hermione repeated, although not with her usual fervor. In fact, Harry could have sworn he saw a small smile sneak onto her lips.
"Hey, Ron, Harry, we've got to show you something." The three spun around to see Fred and George running up to them.
"It's the latest model," George added, "extremely sleek and light, with a compass and a scratch-proof charm – hey, what happened to your face?" Fred continued, now spotting for the first Ron's injuries.
Ron muttered, "Malfoy" and the twins nodded knowingly.
"George, I told you we shouldn't have gone to check out that shop…" Fred said, before receiving a sharp elbow in the ribs from George, as they helped carry some of Ron's and Harry's brown paper packages, one of which was leaking a foul smelling substance.
"Reparo" George said, tapping the jar with the tip of his wand. The leak sealed instantly but the smell lingered.
"Well, let's go get lunch," Hermione said, changing the subject, and the group headed down the streetdodging between a fat witch in purple robes and a goblin carrying a brown satchel, giving them a look indicating that he was of a foul disposition.
Harry walked on pretending that it had been the heat and the anger Draco inspired that had caused him to fain---pass out. He would rather have Ron and Hermione think it was heat stroke than…whatever it had been.
What was bothering Harry now was that there was still a shadow of that strange feeling in him, he felt a wave of hatred for Ron pass over him, only less intense than before. Harry didn't have much time to ponder what had just occurred because he caught Hermione appraising him worriedly and decided that he would have to think about it later.
Right now the only sensation Harry could think about was what was leading them to one of the small restaurants on a side street off of Diagon Alley—hunger.
To Harry, the rest of the day was a blur. One minute the Weasleys, Hermione, and he were traveling through Diagon Alley and the next they were returning for the night to The Leaky Cauldron, all of them carrying large packages wrapped in brown paper and twine.
The next moment they were at the barrier to platform 9 ¾, and a kiss and a tight hug from Mrs. Weasley and a clap on the shoulder from Mr. Weasley later, the red Hogwarts Express was somewhere deep in the English countryside.
Harry was almost surprised to find himself sitting in one of the familiar compartments of the train, waiting for Ron and Hermione to return from their prefect's compartment.
They joined Harry and Neville in one of the thestral drawn carriages to the castle. After the Sorting ceremony and a fantastic feast, Harry and Ron mounted the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory, the events of the past few days swimming noisily around in Harry's mind.
He remembered seeing Draco Malfoy's customary sneer as they entered the Great Hall and was glad to see he now sported a black eye from his scuffle with Ron the previous day. He waved at Hagrid, sitting at the staff table. He had steak and kidney pie for dinner, and then headed to the dormitory with the rest of the Griffyndors. The banister beneath his hand was freshly polished and their trunks had already been brought up. Harry heard Ron saying a yawned "goodnight," and he fell asleep the moment his untidy, ebony locks hit the pillow.