If Things Were Different: The Sorcerer's Stone
Chapter Four: Back to London
Summary: What if Harry left the Dursley's behind? What if he grew up far from Privet Drive? What if he wasn't a Gryffindor? What if he had different friends? What if he wasn't the golden boy that they wanted him to be? AU first year. NOT slash. R/R
A/N Hey everyone thanks for the support so far. I'm surprised those of you who reviewd seemed to like the story so far. Please continue to read and review. Once again R/R Special thanks to all my reviewers s far, these include:
Destruxion, Layce74, Byproduct of Evil, and scholcomp25....thanks again for the support!
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this (besided the plot/ Original characters) then I would would be one rich ass 16 year old... sucks that I don't own it.
Harry sat idly fingering the piece of "trash" that Snape had left in his possession, it was an old, broken, portable CD player, smashed in the middle. It was a portkey.
Harry yawned and made sure he had a firm hold of his trunk, it was 5:28 in the morning in Flordia, that made it nearly 10:30 in London. The portkey was set to go off in about two minutes.
Harry thought back over the last month. He had had no more contact with the magical world since his trip to Diagon Alley, but this bothered him less than one might think. Much of his time was spent letting everything sink in. Its not every week that you discover that your a famous wizard hero, travel to a hidden part of London, and learn that the majority of the next seven years of your life will be spent in a foriegn, magical boarding school.
Once Harry had accepted this sudden change in his life, much of his free time was spent pouring over his textbooks, eager to not be completey ignorant of the world he had become a part of. He wasn't studying to get a head start on his work, no. By no means did he considered himself to be turning geeky. On the contrary, he simply wanted to be as up-to-scale with his future classmates as possible. Afterall, he had thought, they all probaly grew up in large famlies full of magic.
Studying the text books, was not the only way Harry was preparing for his stay in Britain. Much of his free time was also spent packing.
Luckily for him, he had decided on purchasing a large trunk with seven different compartments, opened with seven separate keys. It had cost a pretty galleon, sure, but Harry decided that it was worth it.
In the first compartment he had stashed all his normal clothes along with his Hogwarts robes. The second compartment was filled full of books ranging from The Lord of the Rings (his favorite books), to A Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, to 999 Nasty Hexes and Most Potent Potions (both of which he had purchased in Diagon Alley, even though they weren't on the book list).
The third compartment was filled with various items, ranging from CDs, to posters of his favorite bands, to his electric gutiar and amp. Harry was, obviously, very much a 'music person.' It was one of the few ways that he had found that could release some of the stress that was built up from raising himself, whether it was by throwing on a CD or playing his guitar, it always helped.
Harry had first picked up a guitar when he was about nine years old. He had been hanging out at Andrew's house (one of the younger men on the construction team) and had found an old beat up guitar. He had picked up the desperatly out-of-tune guitar and started messing around on it, and it wasn't long before it became obvious that he was a natural. Before long Harry had bought a guitar of his own, and had been playing ever since.
The fourth compartment was one of Harry's favorite. It was charmed to keep a cool temperature, so that food could be kept in it. Harry fully took advantage of this, as he didn't know what type of food wizards ate. He stuffed the compartment full of junk food, ranging from cases of soft drinks, to boxes of pizza, choclate bars and other such things that he thought "necessary."
The last three storage compartments (one of which was a little room), were left empty for future use.
Harry glanced down at his watch and yawned, 5:29 AM, he had about thity seconds before the portkey activated. He reached into the pocket of his red hoodie, which had the name 'Jimi Hendrix' written in big black letters over a silhouette of a man playing a guitar on its front, and fingered his wand - the brother wand of Lord Voldemort's.
He had about 10 seconds left before he would pop off to London. He reached out and grabbed a hold of his trunk and counted down the seconds. With a relatively familiar pull at his naval, Harry disappeared from his Daytona Beach apartment.
His eyes were shut when he landed, so the first thing he noticed was not where he was, but what it smelled like. And it stank. Like trash. Trash that was about a week overdue being taken out.
He slowly opened his eyes, and understood where the smell was coming from. He was in a dumpster, across the street from Kings Cross.
"Fucking Snape." He muttered, figuring that only he would arrange a portkey to land you in a dumpster.
Harry peeped his head out of the dumpster to see if anyone was looking. When he thought it was clear he heaved his trunk out of the dumpster and jumped out after it. When he had dusted himself off the best he could, he glanced around.
An old couple was standing several yards away, gaping at Harry, no doubt thinking he had been digging through the trash on purpose. Harry flashed the old couple a fake smile, and flipped them off. He was already quite irrated with his start for the day, and he didn't need two old geasers feeling pity for him.
He made his way across the street and into the train station. He quickly found Platforms 9 and 10, but, not exactly trusting Snape after the dumpster incident, Harry found a dark corner that had a good view of the barrier. He quickly noticed that, every couple of minutes a group of people would walk up and walk straight through the wall, just as Snape had said.
He glanced down at his watch. 10:45. He saw a large, red-headed family that practically screamed "Magical!" heading towards the barrier. 'Better now then never,' Harry thought. Not wanting to get stuck behind this large family Harry headed straight over towards the barrier.
Not being exactly sure how to go about going through the barrier, Harry casually leaned up against it, and was quite surprised when he fell straight through, onto a whole new platform, packed with magic folk.
He glanced up in awe at the scarlet steam engine, straight in front of him. He glanced at it's name, "The Hogwarts Express." Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the crowd as a loud whistle sounded and a voice called out.
"Ten minutes! Ten minutes left to board!" As many of the students began to say their final farewells to their families Harry decided that he had better go find a good seat. He found an empty compartment near the end of the train and first placed the owl he had bought in Diagon Alley on inside the compartment (I'll call it Hedwig, even though I know the chances of him deciding on that name under different circumstatnces are slim). He then began attempting to heave and shove his trunk up the steps, he may have been well built, especially for his age, but getting a trunk up steps was not an easy procedure.
"Need a hand." It was one of the members of the red-headed family he had passed through the barrier in front of. Standing next to him could only be the identical twin.
"That'd be tight." Harry said as the twins each grabbed hold of the trunk.
"Tight?...You must be.."
"..an American." The other twin finished, interupting his twin.
"Yeah, but I used to live over here." Harry replied, remembering from his time in England that not everyone liked Americans. They finished tucking the trunk into a corner of a compartment.
"Oh... Sorry that we..."
"Forgot to introduce..."
"Ourselves..."
"I'm Fred and this is..."
"George..."
"But you'd be better off calling..."
"Us Gred and..."
"Forge..." The two twins said this all very fast, and Harry suspected that they might have rehersed it previously.
"Alright. Gred, Forge," The twins looked elated that he used these names, "Nice to meet you. I'm Harry."
"Blimey...you aren't Harry..."
"Potter, are you?... Yes, there's..."
"The scar!"
"Yeah, well, that's me." Harry mumbled, hoping that he didn't get this reaction from everyone in the wizarding world, but it seemed that this was the case. Soon the twins mother called them, and Harry sat down in relative peace, running his fingers through his black, blue-streaked, hair, making it even more untidy.
Soon a knock came at the compartment door, and Harry called the stranger in. It was a short, sandy-haired boy that could be nothing but a first year.
"Can I...um...sit in here." Harry nodded, deciding that he ought to try and make some friends.
"Terry Boot." The boy said extending his hand, which Harry shook.
"Harry Potter."
"Really?" Harry lifted up his black and blue bangs to reveal his scar.
"Wicked."
"I guess." Harry replied somewhat coldly, already tiring of the attention. Terry seemed to sense this and quickly changed the subject.
"So, what house do you think you'll be in?"
Harry pondered this question for a moment. He had read of the houses in the Hogwarts section of his 'A History of Magic' book, plus Snape had informed him he would make a good Slytherin.
"Ravenclaw or Slytherin. I'm not 'noble' enough to be a Gryffindor, or 'trusting' enough to be a Hufflepuff."
"That is what I like to hear. Except you need to replace 'noble' with 'stupid' and 'trusting' with 'daft.'" A new voice had joined the conversation. Both Harry and Terry glanced at the door to see an aristocratic looking blonde boy with a pointy nose standing next to a strangaley looking boy with dark eyes and and black hair. These two boys were flanked by two very studpid, very large looking boys.
"I'm Draco Malfoy, and this is..."
"Blise Zabini."
Draco Malfoy then continued, motioning to the large boys behind him saying, "Stupid and Stupider here deserve no name, but if you like you can refer to them as Crabbe and Goyle." He then paused, for what must have been a dramatic affect. "They've been saying up and down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. As your a Boot then that means that..."
"Harry Potter." Harry said, lifting up his bangs for confirmation.
Draco smirked, if outward appearances had any say in the matter then, he thought, he and Harry would soon by the reigning Co-Princes of Slytherin. He offered out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Harry. Maybe we could sit with you."
Harry observed Malfoy's hand for a second, before reaching out and grabbing it. Just at this moment the door burst open and their stood a red-headed boy, no doubt Gred and Forge's younger brother. When he saw Harry and Draco shaking hands his eyes widend with disbelief and let out a shout.
A/N Haha. Left you with a tiny little cliff hanger. Hope your enjoying reading this fic half as much as I am writing it. Any comments/ suggetstions will be greatley appreciated WHEN, not if, you R/R. Thanks.
Chapter Four: Back to London
Summary: What if Harry left the Dursley's behind? What if he grew up far from Privet Drive? What if he wasn't a Gryffindor? What if he had different friends? What if he wasn't the golden boy that they wanted him to be? AU first year. NOT slash. R/R
A/N Hey everyone thanks for the support so far. I'm surprised those of you who reviewd seemed to like the story so far. Please continue to read and review. Once again R/R Special thanks to all my reviewers s far, these include:
Destruxion, Layce74, Byproduct of Evil, and scholcomp25....thanks again for the support!
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this (besided the plot/ Original characters) then I would would be one rich ass 16 year old... sucks that I don't own it.
Harry sat idly fingering the piece of "trash" that Snape had left in his possession, it was an old, broken, portable CD player, smashed in the middle. It was a portkey.
Harry yawned and made sure he had a firm hold of his trunk, it was 5:28 in the morning in Flordia, that made it nearly 10:30 in London. The portkey was set to go off in about two minutes.
Harry thought back over the last month. He had had no more contact with the magical world since his trip to Diagon Alley, but this bothered him less than one might think. Much of his time was spent letting everything sink in. Its not every week that you discover that your a famous wizard hero, travel to a hidden part of London, and learn that the majority of the next seven years of your life will be spent in a foriegn, magical boarding school.
Once Harry had accepted this sudden change in his life, much of his free time was spent pouring over his textbooks, eager to not be completey ignorant of the world he had become a part of. He wasn't studying to get a head start on his work, no. By no means did he considered himself to be turning geeky. On the contrary, he simply wanted to be as up-to-scale with his future classmates as possible. Afterall, he had thought, they all probaly grew up in large famlies full of magic.
Studying the text books, was not the only way Harry was preparing for his stay in Britain. Much of his free time was also spent packing.
Luckily for him, he had decided on purchasing a large trunk with seven different compartments, opened with seven separate keys. It had cost a pretty galleon, sure, but Harry decided that it was worth it.
In the first compartment he had stashed all his normal clothes along with his Hogwarts robes. The second compartment was filled full of books ranging from The Lord of the Rings (his favorite books), to A Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, to 999 Nasty Hexes and Most Potent Potions (both of which he had purchased in Diagon Alley, even though they weren't on the book list).
The third compartment was filled with various items, ranging from CDs, to posters of his favorite bands, to his electric gutiar and amp. Harry was, obviously, very much a 'music person.' It was one of the few ways that he had found that could release some of the stress that was built up from raising himself, whether it was by throwing on a CD or playing his guitar, it always helped.
Harry had first picked up a guitar when he was about nine years old. He had been hanging out at Andrew's house (one of the younger men on the construction team) and had found an old beat up guitar. He had picked up the desperatly out-of-tune guitar and started messing around on it, and it wasn't long before it became obvious that he was a natural. Before long Harry had bought a guitar of his own, and had been playing ever since.
The fourth compartment was one of Harry's favorite. It was charmed to keep a cool temperature, so that food could be kept in it. Harry fully took advantage of this, as he didn't know what type of food wizards ate. He stuffed the compartment full of junk food, ranging from cases of soft drinks, to boxes of pizza, choclate bars and other such things that he thought "necessary."
The last three storage compartments (one of which was a little room), were left empty for future use.
Harry glanced down at his watch and yawned, 5:29 AM, he had about thity seconds before the portkey activated. He reached into the pocket of his red hoodie, which had the name 'Jimi Hendrix' written in big black letters over a silhouette of a man playing a guitar on its front, and fingered his wand - the brother wand of Lord Voldemort's.
He had about 10 seconds left before he would pop off to London. He reached out and grabbed a hold of his trunk and counted down the seconds. With a relatively familiar pull at his naval, Harry disappeared from his Daytona Beach apartment.
His eyes were shut when he landed, so the first thing he noticed was not where he was, but what it smelled like. And it stank. Like trash. Trash that was about a week overdue being taken out.
He slowly opened his eyes, and understood where the smell was coming from. He was in a dumpster, across the street from Kings Cross.
"Fucking Snape." He muttered, figuring that only he would arrange a portkey to land you in a dumpster.
Harry peeped his head out of the dumpster to see if anyone was looking. When he thought it was clear he heaved his trunk out of the dumpster and jumped out after it. When he had dusted himself off the best he could, he glanced around.
An old couple was standing several yards away, gaping at Harry, no doubt thinking he had been digging through the trash on purpose. Harry flashed the old couple a fake smile, and flipped them off. He was already quite irrated with his start for the day, and he didn't need two old geasers feeling pity for him.
He made his way across the street and into the train station. He quickly found Platforms 9 and 10, but, not exactly trusting Snape after the dumpster incident, Harry found a dark corner that had a good view of the barrier. He quickly noticed that, every couple of minutes a group of people would walk up and walk straight through the wall, just as Snape had said.
He glanced down at his watch. 10:45. He saw a large, red-headed family that practically screamed "Magical!" heading towards the barrier. 'Better now then never,' Harry thought. Not wanting to get stuck behind this large family Harry headed straight over towards the barrier.
Not being exactly sure how to go about going through the barrier, Harry casually leaned up against it, and was quite surprised when he fell straight through, onto a whole new platform, packed with magic folk.
He glanced up in awe at the scarlet steam engine, straight in front of him. He glanced at it's name, "The Hogwarts Express." Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the crowd as a loud whistle sounded and a voice called out.
"Ten minutes! Ten minutes left to board!" As many of the students began to say their final farewells to their families Harry decided that he had better go find a good seat. He found an empty compartment near the end of the train and first placed the owl he had bought in Diagon Alley on inside the compartment (I'll call it Hedwig, even though I know the chances of him deciding on that name under different circumstatnces are slim). He then began attempting to heave and shove his trunk up the steps, he may have been well built, especially for his age, but getting a trunk up steps was not an easy procedure.
"Need a hand." It was one of the members of the red-headed family he had passed through the barrier in front of. Standing next to him could only be the identical twin.
"That'd be tight." Harry said as the twins each grabbed hold of the trunk.
"Tight?...You must be.."
"..an American." The other twin finished, interupting his twin.
"Yeah, but I used to live over here." Harry replied, remembering from his time in England that not everyone liked Americans. They finished tucking the trunk into a corner of a compartment.
"Oh... Sorry that we..."
"Forgot to introduce..."
"Ourselves..."
"I'm Fred and this is..."
"George..."
"But you'd be better off calling..."
"Us Gred and..."
"Forge..." The two twins said this all very fast, and Harry suspected that they might have rehersed it previously.
"Alright. Gred, Forge," The twins looked elated that he used these names, "Nice to meet you. I'm Harry."
"Blimey...you aren't Harry..."
"Potter, are you?... Yes, there's..."
"The scar!"
"Yeah, well, that's me." Harry mumbled, hoping that he didn't get this reaction from everyone in the wizarding world, but it seemed that this was the case. Soon the twins mother called them, and Harry sat down in relative peace, running his fingers through his black, blue-streaked, hair, making it even more untidy.
Soon a knock came at the compartment door, and Harry called the stranger in. It was a short, sandy-haired boy that could be nothing but a first year.
"Can I...um...sit in here." Harry nodded, deciding that he ought to try and make some friends.
"Terry Boot." The boy said extending his hand, which Harry shook.
"Harry Potter."
"Really?" Harry lifted up his black and blue bangs to reveal his scar.
"Wicked."
"I guess." Harry replied somewhat coldly, already tiring of the attention. Terry seemed to sense this and quickly changed the subject.
"So, what house do you think you'll be in?"
Harry pondered this question for a moment. He had read of the houses in the Hogwarts section of his 'A History of Magic' book, plus Snape had informed him he would make a good Slytherin.
"Ravenclaw or Slytherin. I'm not 'noble' enough to be a Gryffindor, or 'trusting' enough to be a Hufflepuff."
"That is what I like to hear. Except you need to replace 'noble' with 'stupid' and 'trusting' with 'daft.'" A new voice had joined the conversation. Both Harry and Terry glanced at the door to see an aristocratic looking blonde boy with a pointy nose standing next to a strangaley looking boy with dark eyes and and black hair. These two boys were flanked by two very studpid, very large looking boys.
"I'm Draco Malfoy, and this is..."
"Blise Zabini."
Draco Malfoy then continued, motioning to the large boys behind him saying, "Stupid and Stupider here deserve no name, but if you like you can refer to them as Crabbe and Goyle." He then paused, for what must have been a dramatic affect. "They've been saying up and down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. As your a Boot then that means that..."
"Harry Potter." Harry said, lifting up his bangs for confirmation.
Draco smirked, if outward appearances had any say in the matter then, he thought, he and Harry would soon by the reigning Co-Princes of Slytherin. He offered out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Harry. Maybe we could sit with you."
Harry observed Malfoy's hand for a second, before reaching out and grabbing it. Just at this moment the door burst open and their stood a red-headed boy, no doubt Gred and Forge's younger brother. When he saw Harry and Draco shaking hands his eyes widend with disbelief and let out a shout.
A/N Haha. Left you with a tiny little cliff hanger. Hope your enjoying reading this fic half as much as I am writing it. Any comments/ suggetstions will be greatley appreciated WHEN, not if, you R/R. Thanks.