Q&A: Here are the answers to several questions and some questions of my own, I suppose.

I want the second main character to come out is hermione and in this fic could you make harry become friends with harry
kikihoe lol, I don't quite understand this. I get that you want Hermione to be the 2nd main character, but then you say you want Harry to become friends with Harry. That is what I don't quite understand. Could you please clarify that for me?

If Harry knows what will happen, he will most likely use this to his advantage, like trying to turn Draco Malfoy to the light or getting a better start with Snape. That is a possibility, isn't it?
Yes, I suppose it is a possibility. Whether or not this will happen completely depends on where I am mentally when I get to Hogwarts, though. I am not a huge Draco Malfoy fan, though. If you are waiting for something like this, you'll have a better time rooting for Snape.

Harry has to steal food, but a policeman catches him, then a very cute looking litle girl with big, grey eyes comes over and starts reprimanding harry like she knows him, then she apologizes to the officer for her "brother's" (she means Harry's) behavior and she promises that he'll never do it again. The officer is soft hearted, so he laughs and lets them go, so the girl takes Harry's hand and walks him away a bit before she introduces herself. You can come up with a name, but what do you think? Could it work?
Yes, it could. Harry will probably make several different friends along the way, but that does not mean they will be main characters. If I'm ever lacking for an idea on this story, this could definitely work.

Note: The new character appearing in this post is not the decided original character. She is simply one of the several characters that will pop in and out of Harry's life when not at Hogwarts. Also, this is a bit of an info chapter, and for Harry, this takes place at the beginning of November.

Harry sat in his corner of the library, one that he had claimed two months ago. More often than not, one would be able to find Harry curled up on the small padded bench every afternoon. He would come as soon as he saw other children get out of school so that no one would suspect him of not going to school. On the weekends, he would hole himself there for the whole day. As it was getting colder and rainier, the warm indoors was more than welcomed. Harry didn't know what exactly he should teach himself so he usually just picked a good book and read it. He even asked the librarian what were good stories. The old lady was fond of older books rather than the children's section, and Harry found himself reading Sherlock Holmes at the moment. It was a heavy book, and he was always asking the librarian, Mrs. Newton, what a lot of the words meant. She finally got so fed up with him two weeks ago that she bought him his own paperback dictionary, that was geared towards a child, as the other dictionaries in the library were not child friendly. He never would have thought that his very first gift would be a dictionary.

Mrs. Newton was curious about him often enough. She had asked him why he spent so much time at the library and so he weaved an elaborate tale to the woman as though it were real. His father, Sirius Black, was in prison for something that he didn't do, and his mother was dead because of a drunk driver running her over. He lived with his aunt who worked all day and rarely got home before nine in the evening. He didn't like being alone in the house and he didn't like the bullies that would chase him around, so he came to the library because there was always someone around and the bullies didn't even come to the library. They also lived in the poorer section of London, and that was why his clothes were so shabby. They couldn't afford any new clothes for him. On top of that, his aunt didn't really care for him and so she didn't care what he did or wore. He didn't forget to mention that his name was Jamie Black.

The older woman bought the story and Harry had no problems with her curiosity anymore. One day, she was even kind enough to bring in an extra sandwich so he could have a dinner. Her explanation for doing so was that he was already so skinny that he needed some meat on his bones. When she saw him wolf it down with barely even breathing between bites, she had made a habit of this. Every Monday thru Friday, Harry was blessed with a variety of different sandwiches for his evening meal. Often enough, Harry found the sandwiches being his only meal of the day and used his money to purchase something at the grocers to last for Saturday and Sunday. He didn't know what he would do without Mrs. Newton's charity. In the beginning, he had figured that the two hundred and thirty pounds he had managed to pilfer from his relatives would have been plenty for a long while, but he had found himself using more than he expected, but had limited his spending to ten pounds a week from the very beginning, especially when he realized how fast it would all go. When Mrs. Newton started bringing him hearty sandwiches (filled with meat, cheese, lettuce, and tomato), he was able to get away with purchasing only four or five pounds of food for the weekend. Her generosity had been going on for three weeks now. Already eighty five pounds were gone and he would have probably spent more if it were not for her sandwiches. He did his math and found that if he only spent five pounds a week for food, he could last for thirty weeks. He had highly underestimated his want and need for food and how much it was. While at the Dursley's he would eat about the same as he was now, he was always left a little hungry. Now, he was not restricted by anyone. The only problem there would be was if the older street boys caught up to him and stole his belongings. So often that happened and he had to rely on his magic to get them back. He would often will it back to him, a silent and wandless accio, and that always left him so tired and exposed him more often. What would happen when the people around him wised up and realized that he was capable of doing such a thing?

His magic. That was another thing that he constantly had to be concerned about. In the mornings, when other children would be at school, Harry could be found hidden away practicing his magic. It was very difficult and tiring, but he wanted to be able to do any spell without a wand. The way he was progressing, that seemed to only be a pipe dream. He couldn't accomplish any transfiguration at all and the spells that would be taught in defense against the dark arts were mediocre at best, only really accomplishing small blasts of magic that would send something careening against the opposite wall of the abandoned factory he practiced in. The only magic that was somewhat accessible to him was that of charms. He was able to do a tickling charm, he could make things float, he could do an accio, he could unlock basic locks, he could make things change color, and he could make a book dance across the floor. That was it, really. He wanted to be able to do more, though. The whole reason he was practicing his magic was so that if he fought against Voldemort he would not have to worry about his wand not working against the man. The more he practiced, though, the more it seemed that it was misplaced hope. He told himself that it was because he was only eight, but then he would think about the time that he had allowed himself to apparate to the school roof to get away from Dudley a little more than half a year ago. That was powerful magic, he supposed, as his books told him that you weren't allowed to do it earlier because of age. Harry figured if he could do that as seven, then he should be able to do the rest as well. Only now, he was figuring out that he wasn't really super powered. Still, what kid wouldn't want to be super powered? He also figured that he was already powerful if he could do wandless magic, because how many people could actually do as much wandless magic as he could? Briefly, he wondered if he should try to figure out occulumency.

Voldemort. Harry wanted to claw the man's red eyes out. He wanted the man to pay for killing his mum and dad, for making him an orphan. He didn't want to have the man have Peter Pettigrew kill Cedric and he didn't want him to go after the prophesy and have Bellatrix Lestrange kill Sirius Black either. Often, he wondered if other eight year olds thought like this? Perhaps they would if they knew what could happen to them. Harry certainly did not want to die, and he wanted to make sure others didn't either.

Harry turned his attention back to the Sherlock Holmes story he was reading. It was one of the first in the book, and was about a red-headed club occupying the time of a man so that someone else could dig a tunnel in the man's basement of his shop. To be honest, he would prefer to read stories with magic, but Sherlock Holmes was alright. It just didn't hold the appeal that was necessary for an eight year old to read it. Still, Mrs. Newton always asked questions about the stories he read, so he would finish it, then tell her what he thought. After all, she was a firm believer in finishing what you started.

"How are you doing, Jamie?"

He looked up to find Mrs. Newton standing above him. He smiled. "I'm well."

She took the book from his hands and marked his place with a piece of paper. She then handed him a ham sandwich with all the fixings. "Watch the crumbs."

He nodded. Looking at Mrs. Newton, he guessed that she was in her sixties somewhere. Her hair was silver but her face held few wrinkles.

Harry immediately dug into the sandwich, making certain that the crumbs landed only on the plastic wrap that the sandwich had come in. He immediately balled up the plastic wrap with all the crumbs after he was finished. "Thank you, Mrs. Newton."

"No worries, Jamie. How's the reading coming along?"

He shrugged. "It's fine, but some of it is really boring."

"Oh? What would you prefer to read? What sort of stories?"

"I like magic."

"You know magic isn't real, don't you?" She gave him a small smile rather than the angry, frustrated, one that Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia would give him if he said such a thing to them.

"Yes, but I still like it." He wouldn't dare to tell her that magic was really real.

"Well then, perhaps you would like Lord of the Rings. It has plenty of magic there."

"Really?"

She gave him a matter-of-fact nod. "Finish reading the tale you are reading, not the whole book, mind you, and I'll find you Lord of the Rings, or at least the first book."

"Alright."

"Jaime? I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What?"

She paused only briefly. "How often do you get a decent meal? How often does that aunt of yours make certain you get fed?"

Harry looked down at his lap. What did he say to that? He couldn't possibly tell her the truth.

"I see."

His head shot up. "See what?"

"I live only a few streets away from here. If I told you the way, do you suppose you could find my home?"

"Yes, ma'am." He was still confused about where this was heading.

"I'll give you instructions to get there, then. If you ever need a good hearty breakfast before you're off to school, come then. I don't leave for work until eight thirty. You just need to give yourself some time to both get to my house, eat, and get to school. You can come anytime near the weekend. Understand, lad?"

"Y-you don't have to do that."

"Come now, Jamie, I'm not about to let you be hungry if I can help it. I don't know what to make of you being so skinny already."

Harry looked properly embarrassed. He never meant to make someone feel they needed to care for him.

"Also... if you ever need to use anything in my house, you're more than welcome." He knew she was referring to a good bath. He did try to stay clean, and he always gave himself a wash using a bathroom he could wash, using the sink and soap provided, but that was not more than two or three times a week, and the streets dirtied him up quickly, especially as he had to sleep on the ground and his clothes had not had a wash since he left Privet Drive. It was embarrassing and he was surprised that Mrs. Newton could even stand to be around him when so many looked at him in disgust. He was surprised, also, that she let him anywhere near the books. Then again, He always made sure his hands and face were spotless when he came into the library. Maybe she saw that. Maybe she saw that he didn't like being dirty. Maybe she realized that he couldn't help it. Maybe she knew that he actually lived on the streets, but didn't dare say anything to him.

He felt himself turn redder than a tomato. "Thank you."

She gave him a pleasant enough nod before going back to her work. Harry went back to his own book.

I'm still open to suggestions for the 2nd main character. So far, Ron is in the lead with Sirius being second, thus that is where I'm going to start heading for the next chapter if I don't get other suggestions.