Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter.
"So this is it huh?" A young, eleven year old boy spoke slowly to his old friend.
"Oh, come off it. We'd still see each other-"
"Only after the year," he mumbled.
"-and really, you should be looking forward to it! You and your cousin are headed off to different schools. You wouldn't have to face him everyday,"
Harry potter sighed. That much was true, but he still could not fathom the idea. For the first time since he registered his friends presence beside him, he forced himself to look at her. He could see the sombre expression adorning her face, the notorious curls of her hair seeming to have lost their vibrant vibe.
It was the summer of 1991. Well, to be more precise, the end of summer. The start of a new school year loomed on the horizon. To say that the children across Britain were in a state of dread would be quite a fantastic understatement. Yet for these two young friends in Surrey, the coming of a new semester had a whole different meaning.
For as long as these two could remember, the two best friends had always been the outcasts, their brilliance and ingenuity overshadowed by the cold shoulders and jealousy of their peers.
They, through thick and thin, had weathered the past 3 years together. They ate recess together, studied together, scored together, learned together, but most importantly had been there for one another. The new semester did not only mean the resumption of the onslaught that was schoolwork. It meant the dissolution of a friendship, one that they both cherished with all their heart.
That alone was quite too much too bear. What had killed Harry on the inside though was that he had to lie. Lie to his best and only friend. For as much as he deeply cared for Hermione, as much as he cherished their friendship, he could not tell her a secret. A secret that even he didn't know for most of his life, but really wanted to share. Harry Potter is a wizard. But as a wizard, he cannot reveal the world of magic to those who did not know.
So he lied. Stonewall high was where his horrid relatives wanted him to go prior to the revelation of him being a wizard. His uncle still used it as the cover, though. As far as they knew, nobody in Little Whinging, or in fact in all of Surrey, had been to this school, and it wasn't particularly well-known and was pretty distant. It was a boarding school too, meaning that it was the perfect cover. So Harry lied.
Harry gazed upon his one friend and gave a weak melancholic smile. Apparently, her genius had warranted a direct admission into a private school in Northern England. "What good is that, exactly? There would always be gits like him in every school. It's just… it's just that this time… I wouldn't have my best friend with me,"
A flash of misery and sadness crossed her face, before she reigned in her emotions. Harry caught it though, and it made him feel even worse.
"But w-we'll make new friends eventually. You don't have to worry about that," Hermione replied. Harry could tell that she was struggling to keep her voice steady.
Harry looked at her with a sad expression. "Maybe, but nobody can replace you." Hermione's eyes widened. Harry swallowed, before continuing "I just… I just wish that after all of this, we would still be friends,"
Harry looked away as he felt a tear slide down his cheek, followed by another. Then another. Then another. Without warning, he felt the distinct sensation of being smacked in the head by one Hermione Granger with a book.
"Like I'd ever forget you! Honestly, do you really think that I would leave my best friend for new ones? Heck no" She yelled indignantly, before pulling him into a hug. "Harry James Potter, I don't know your opinion, but the last three years of my life were the best! Do you know why? It is because of you!"
Hermione could feel a tear of her own streaking down her cheek. "Before I met you, I-I was alone. N-nobody wanted to be friends with me. Nobody w-wanted to talk to me. All I had were Mum and Dad. B-but when I was transferred to a different primary school, it was as if the sun had risen after a cold dreadful night. I no longer felt trapped in a world of dull grey. For I had you. You brought that bit of colour and fun into my life. You were always there for me. Harry James Potter, you were the one who brought that bit of happiness into my life. I'll be damned if I ever forget that,"
Harry felt his eyes widened considerably. He tried to speak, but no words came out. Truthfully, he could say the exact same things as what she had mentioned. He gave her a teary smile, before finally managing a "Thank you, Hermione".
Watching the drama unfold between their daughter and the boy they considered as the son they never had, Dan and Emma Granger smirked. In the hands of Mrs. Granger was an unusual book. A history textbook, actually. Their daughter had complained about having misplaced this very intriguing wizarding book.
They had been sorting through her new textbooks one day and had found something peculiar when they accidentally dropped this one. As they picked it up, they saw something that made them freeze. On the corner, they saw the name "Harry Potter"
Intrigued, they read the rest of the chapter. At first, it seemed absurd that the humble, quiet and overly-polite boy was a celebrity. Contemplating it for quite a while, the realisation dawned on them.
The history book clearly had a fair bit of exaggeration, but what the understood was that the "boy-who-lived" was only one year old when some power-hungry bloke, whose name sounded like "mouldy-volt", murdered his parents, before attempting to kill him on Halloween, 1981.
The Harry Potter they knew had been living with his relatives since his parents died on Halloween, 1981.
The book claimed that the boy obtained an unusual scar from the attack, one shaped like a lightning bolt.
The Harry Potter they knew had the exact same scar.
When an old Scottish lady knocked on their door and revealed that their daughter was a Witch, she had mentioned that early signs of magic include doing things that seemed impossible.
The Harry Potter they knew had mentioned getting in trouble for multiple things he could not explain. From turning the colour of his teacher's wig blue to somehow ending up on the chimney of the school to being blamed by his abusive relatives for somehow vanishing the glass of a zoo exhibit.
It all seemed to fit. The old Scottish lady, one Minerva McGonagall, had also explained about the secretive nature of the magical world, given the attitudes of muggles in the past and, to a much lesser extent now, towards "unnaturalness". That they understood. They assumed then that Harry's guardians fit into the small category of "muggles" who knew about and loathed magic.
It made their blood boil whenever they saw the boy, whom they considered to be the son they never had, bloody, bruised and/or limping. As much as he tried to hide it from them, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were not fooled. The whole thing screamed abuse. Many a time, they had complained to child protection services, the school and even the police, yet surprisingly nothing was done.
Strangely, when they asked about it, they would look at them confused, stating that they had made no such report. Now, Dan and Emma Granger were no experts, but at the age of 36 and 35 respectively, they highly doubt they were suffering from Alzheimer's or dementia. They let it go eventually, opting to support the boy whenever and however they could.
It was a bit of a déjà vu when they got to know Harry more. He was quite the genius (though not as much as their daughter) and had subtly tried to be as helpful, open and friendly as he could. Yet, he was still ostracized by most of the people in his level and, by extension, the neighborhood, developing a nervous, somewhat shy attitude and low self esteem. Courtesy of a certain Dursleys family.
It was too painfully similar to their own daughter's experience. They never regretted befriending him, though. In fact, it seemed his continued friendship with their daughter had benefited her, infiltrating Hermione's bossy façade, breaking her shell of introversion and her own lack of self esteem.
That isn't to say they didn't enjoy teasing either of them, though in Harry's case they had to tone it down quite a bit for obvious reasons. And now, they were possibly pulling one of the biggest jokes ever on the 2 unsuspecting eleven year-olds, though they would have to settle for a letter instead of witnessing the inevitable explosion from the two of them.
Harry eased himself into an empty compartment at the very back of the train. His reasoning was that everyone else would go for compartments in the forward and middle sections. He just needed some time alone, although he pretty much was alone on that platform. His uncle dropped him off at King's Cross at the crack of dawn while on the way to a private hospital for Dudley (given a pig tail courtesy of Hagrid) and eventually to work.
Hagrid had said that the train would leave from a hidden platform, the entrance of which was apparently a pillar between platforms 9 and 10. He was somewhat sceptical about running headfirst into a solid brick pillar. But he had nothing to worry about as he closed his eyes and, when nobody was really paying attention, dove into the pillar.
To his immense surprise upon opening his eyes, he was not in an A&E ward in some hospital with his relatives howling with laughter at their prank. Rather, he found himself standing on a rather deserted platform, the other platforms nowhere to be seen, with a large scarlet locomotive just to his right. The words "Hogwarts Express" were emblazoned on the side of the boiler. Needless to say, he was gobsmacked.
As he settled in for the long wait and then the long journey, he locked the door to the compartment, before reaching into the pockets of his jeans, purchased and gifted to him by the Grangers. He pulled out a small photograph, his face contorting into a sad smile.
It was taken on the 19 of September, 1990. Hermione's eleventh birthday. There he was, smiling a very happy smile while being tackled into a hug by his best friend. Behind them, her parents were looking on, laughing at their antics.
He felt a tear run down the side of his cheek. Those were good times. Heck, any day with Hermione in it was going to be a good day, he thought as he drifted off to sleep. But those days were over. Their paths would diverge. Boy, was he wrong
The sound of his compartment door being forced open (yes, a door with a magically enhanced lock being forced open) made him bolt upright. He was a bit miffed that someone was violating his privacy and waking him up. He turned to give his best imitation of a stern, cold annoyed glare. Only for it to falter under the much more intense glare of a certain bushy brown-haired-
"H-Hermione?! What are you doing here?"
He took note of his surroundings from the corner of his eyes. The train appeared to be departing. He could see the parents of countless other wizarding children waving, some sobbing. The growl that emanated from his best friend brought him made him jump. A sudden possibility hit him. Surely, his best friend was not-
"I could ask you the same thing!" She yelled, before flicking a wand and shutting and repairing the door behind her. Ok, definitely a witch, he thought before feeling a palm impact his head.
"Why didn't you tell me, damn it?!" His best friend screeched.
"I could ask you the same thing-" he mumbled, before receiving another slap.
"Do you have ANY idea how painful it was for me, believing that my best friend was going to a different school? That I wouldn't be there for him? That he would forget me? That I would be alone AGAIN?"
"Do you think I was happy not telling you? Don't you think I felt THE EXACT SAME WAY? You're angry that I didn't tell you I was a wizard, yet YOU didn't bother to tell ME that you ARE A WITCH?" He yelled back.
Silence followed as Hermione sat down on the opposite seat, facing away from him. He felt his anger go away as he realised what had happened, his guilt soaring as the first tear fell from her face.
Before either knew it, he had pulled her into a hug, muttering apology after apology. Hermione's sobs eventually stopped, as she returned the hug, embracing Harry as strong as possible.
"I'm sorry," Harry said as he felt a tear of his own race down his cheek. "I wanted to tell you. I really did," he hesitated "I was afraid. Afraid that you would not believe me, or call me weird or-or a freak. I was scared that you would hate me for what I am. I was scared that I would hurt you by revealing what I am. I-I didn't want to lose you,"
Hermione looked up and stared him dead in the eye, her tear stained face now took on a slightly offended look "I would never hate you, Harry. I would never, ever say those things. You are my best friend, and I'll be damned if I turned my back on you,"
Harry looked back down on the girl, before saying one last "I'm sorry"
"Don't," Hermione replied, "It was my fault for yelling at you. For slapping you and not telling you I was a witch. So I'm sorry," she paused, giving him a very serious look. "Promise me, Harry. Promise that you would always be there for me,"
Harry looked at her incredulously. "Hermione, I would always be there for you, as you have always been for me,"
And with that, the two best friends settled themselves in for the journey, as Harry helped stow Hermione's trunk. They proceeded to banter with each other, talking about various things, such as how and why her parents had hid a book, how they may have known about Harry's magic and tried to keep it from either of them, and how to get back at them.
They were interrupted by a rude, obnoxious redhead, a young boy looking for his toad and a pompous aristocratic bigot. They told the second boy to try asking an upperclassmen for help, and kindly told the first and the last ones to bugger off. All the while, Harry couldn't help but think that his life had indeed made a sharp turn for the better.
As long as Hermione was there with him, he felt he was ready for anything.
First HP fic. Please follow, favourite and share if you enjoyed. Constructive criticism would be welcome. Any, ideas, improvements, your thoughts, etc.