Disclaimer: Any names, places, spells, creatures, and everything else that you have heard before in one or more of the books of the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling DO NOT belong to me. Anything that you've never heard of before DOES belong to me. Get it? Use your heads, people! This is not an act of copyright infringement!
Prologue
Ten minutes of yelling and horn honking seldom failed to guarantee a parking spot, and this cloudy June day was no exception. Thus, voice hoarse and face red and glistening with perspiration, Vernon Dursley finally piloted his shiny company sedan into a spot in the very back of the lot at King's Cross train station. Today was not a good day.
Vernon was a very large, beefy man whose chin rubbed his collar bone every time he turned his head. He had coarse, grey hair with a bald spot and a giant handlebar mustache. After extricating himself from behind the steering wheel, which was no small task, he began walking towards the station with his wife Petunia only to realize his son, Dudley, was not following and be forced to turn around and drag the barely awake sixteen year old boy from the car. Dudley would have been every parents dream with his bright blonde hair, baby blue eyes, and rosy cheeks were it not for his gargantuan size and horrible temperament. He was, if possible, even larger than his father. There seemed to be no definite point where his head stopped and his body began. Petunia, on the other hand, resembled a sick cross between a horse and a giraffe. She was skin and bone with blonde hair pulled into a painfully tight bun. As she walked, she held her nose in the air as though indignant that the ground should be so dirty when it was well aware that every year she would be walking on it in order to pick up her nephew from that wretched school.
"Here we are," Vernon grunted as the family arrived at the station. It was something of a tradition that every year they walked just past the information center and sat on a bench where they could be seen from all of the platforms. They did this for two reasons, the first being that they were never quite sure what platform the boy arrived at. Sure, he had told them it was nine and three quarters, but of course that was just an absurd and horribly planned hoax that the boy cooked up to annoy them. As it seemed, he simply appeared out of the air with those red heads and that snobbish brunette.
"Speak of the devil," Vernon murmured.
"Sorry dear, what was that? Are you okay?" Petunia asked.
"Peachy," Vernon snapped, his eyes focused in front of him. "Just peachy." Following his gaze, Petunia chest instantly tightened, and she sniffed indignantly.
"It's him!" she hissed. There, standing in the middle of the station, as though he'd been there the whole time, was Harry Potter.
He could hear his own heart beating; it was like playing a record on a turntable while someone sporadically flicked the needle, causing a random, unordered beat that clashed with the steady, rhythmic thrum of the train. He could feel his chest expanding and deflating at a mournful rate; he briefly wondered why he wasn't dead yet. He could taste the dryness of his mouth; there should have been cacti growing on his parched tongue. He could smell the foulness of the depression that hung everywhere; like there's a dementor here, he thought. Worst of all, he could see a bright, vibrant field of soft, long, red hair flowing delicately over the shoulders and halfway down the back of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen; the sight of her verdancy mocked him, as if life itself knew he'd lost her forever. Maybe...his mind began...Oh shut up! You blew it! he berated himself.
A thousand painful memories began assaulting his consciousness for the thousandth time that day. So much for occlumency, he thought. Immediately, the thought of occlumency brought about thoughts of the man who had supposedly taught him occlumency, which triggered thoughts of said man's most recent crime.
For the thousandth time that day, Harry Potter cried, and slowly he fell into the blackness and suffocating dread of despair. His tears ceased as he felt death grip him from the inside and, against all better judgement, he willed his soul to depart so he could be at peace.
Suddenly, out of the darkness, a sweet sound like bells sounded, lightly at first, then louder and louder until the darkness left and he was free to cry again. The sound remained, soothing him. At first, he thought it was phoenix song, but he couldn't remember any phoenix ever actually speaking to him...
"Harry, you will look at me this instant!" That didn't sound very much like phoenix song at all, Harry thought. Suddenly, a sharp pain registered on the side of his face, and his eyes snapped open in record time.
"Don't you dare do that to me again, Harry, especially when we're alone." Harry looked toward the exceedingly stern voice and found Ginny Weasley, who looked as though someone had just died.
"Don't...do...what...huh?" Unfortunately, or possibly fortunately, depending on how one were to view it, all further conversation was cut off by the best kiss of Harry's young and otherwise miserable life.
They say that ignorance is bliss, but one can hardly ignore the sensation of a sharp knuckle finding that sensitive spot on the back of your skull. Thus, Harry and Ginny abandoned bliss and found the disturbance to be a very peeved Ron Weasley. Behind him, just out of his line of sight, Hermione Granger was making a valiant attempt at stifling her own laughter.
Ron shot a death glare at Ginny and Harry in turn, and Ginny gave one right back while Harry just stared incredulously. Finally, the silence was broken by Hermione.
"Oh, please, will you lot knock it off already?" she said.
"Knock it off? Knock it off, she says!" Ron cried. "I'll knock it off just as soon as they do! That's my baby sister and my best friend, Hermione, and the first thing I imagined seeing when I walked into this compartment was most definitely NOT the sight of those two sucking each other's faces off!"
Hermione gave a very conspicuous cough and muttered something that sounded like Hypocrite, and Ron promptly stopped ranting, his face crimson. Hermione, her face also slightly pink, gave Harry and Ginny each a wan smile, which they both returned.
Ron and Hermione sat down opposite of Harry and Ginny, and they all slowly fell into conversation about nothing. Before long, they found themselves fighting to retrieve their trunks from the overhead rack, joining the flow of students, and finally arriving on the platform where Mrs. Molly Weasley was waiting for them with an auror escort.
Harry took one look at the group of aurors and decided he didn't like them. Ginny noticed his scowl and low grumbles.
"What is it, Harry?" she asked.
"Where were they that night?" he growled. Forget this, he thought. Before anyone could stop him, he had detached himself from the group and disappeared through the gate.
For the thousandth time that day, Ginny Weasley cried.
A/N: As I mentioned in the summary, this fic might seem familiar to some people, especially in later chapters. This is because I wrote a few chapters of this months ago, hated it, abandoned it, and have now begun to rewrite, so I don't want to get a bunch of review saying how I stole this. It's the SAME GUY!
Obviously, all other reviews are welcome. I won't beg for them or threaten to stop posting or bitch and squeal and whine like an infant if I don't get reviews, but I always enjoy hearing how my work sounds, even if you have nothing good to say, just so long as it's constructive. I don't claim to be a professional author, and my work probably won't be professional quality. As such, I'd love to hear what I could do better. If you somehow find the need to waste your time and mine by flaming me needlessly, guess what? I will not even dignify you with a response.
My apologies to all you normal people out there; I understand that I'm preaching to the choir, but there are a few jerks out there who want everything in a fic to go their way, so I have to get it out there that this fic is going to go MY way, not theirs. I just wanted to get all this administrative junk out of the way now so we can all be cool later on.
BTW, I'm working on designing an HTML version of this story that will go on my Web site. I'm still working on formatting it and finishing the code. Check my bio for details. I'll keep you all posted.
One more note. This fic will be written in AMERICAN English as opposed to ENGLISH English, so take that into account before telling me about a bunch of spelling errors.
Merci, et au revoir!