Disclaimer: I do not own the concept and characters of Harry Potter. I own a copy of all seven books and five movies. That's about it… A/N: Please see note at the bottom for answers to reviewers' questions! Enjoy.

Chapter Two

The Hogwarts Chapter

Ronald Anius Weasley woke up to an explosion. This was not unusual in the Weasley residence; a rather top-heavy home with the auspicious name of "The Burrow" that looked to be held up by magic alone, and considering that Ron belonged to a family of wizards, this was quite a likely supposition. Also not unusual, following the explosion came the voice of his mother, Molly Weasley, shouting up the stairs to his next-eldest brothers Fred and George, the twins, about said explosion and damage to their already rather unstable home. For a moment Ron thought about the likelihood of the house falling down because of something the twins did; and had to conclude that it was, in fact, very likely, and his mother had good reasons for shouting.

All these thoughts were driven from his head by a tapping on his window. Ron threw back the blankets on his bed and hurried over to the window in excitement. He wasn't expecting any mail from his owl, Michael-Angelo; this could only be the letter he'd spent the better part of seven years waiting for.

Ron took the letter from the unfamiliar owl with trembling hands; reading the address:

"Mr. R Weasley

Smallest Bedroom Tucked Away Under The Attic

The Burrow

Ottery St. Catchpole; Devon"

…and then turning it over to look at the seal. A stylized "H" surrounded by four animals; a lion, a snake, an eagle and a badger. It was from Hogwarts.

Ron let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and carefully slit the top of the envelope. He pulled out the envelope and read (1):

HOGWARTS SCHOOL FOR WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr Weasley,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…

As he read, Ron felt the most peculiar feeling; like a hot air balloon was rising from his stomach to his chest leaving behind a bunch of butterflies. He almost felt like crying in relief. Ron smiled. Finally.

Mixed reactions had greeted Ron's news about his Hogwarts letter: his mother had pursed her lips (in what he assumed was annoyance that he had placed himself in her notice); his elder brother, Percy (born between Charlie and the twins) had completely ignored his announcement (unlike his pleased exclamation when the twins received their letters); the twins had grinned maliciously and declared that they would take "good care" of "ickle Ronnikins"; Ginny, his younger sister (and the only girl in the family) had burst into furious tears, complaining that it wasn't fair that she wasn't allowed to go yet; and, when he got home from an all-nighter at his office in the Ministry of Magic, his father had made a tired, yet pleased sound and congratulated him whole-heartedly.

Ron rather thought the reactions were typical, if annoying, and wished there had been a way to by-pass telling his family anything at all, and instead just disappearing. He wondered if any of them would have noticed if he had. They certainly hadn't noticed him vanishing for days at a time in the past…

Ron, Age 5

Ron raced back to the Burrow at full speed. How could he have fallen asleep? What would happen if his mother demanded to know where he'd been? What could he tell her? It had taken months to complete his hideaway, the one place his family's indifference couldn't touch him. He couldn't give it up!

Ron was used to studying late into the night; when he became enthralled by a subject he couldn't leave it alone. He usually took care to leave for home at the same time every night, though, a time limit he'd had to impose on himself so he got the right amount of sleep. But last night he couldn't help himself. He'd read straight through his normal deadline without even noticing; kept reading, in fact, until he'd fallen asleep over the large ancient tome. Now he'd missed breakfast and it was getting on towards lunch; and just how was he going to explain?

By the time he'd made it back to his home, Ron decided simply to excuse himself by saying he'd been out walking and fallen asleep outside in the apple tree grove. That would be a good excuse. No-one needed to know about his hideaway at all.

He cautiously approached the back door, mindful of the one time the twins had broken curfew (their mother and father had been lying in wait and the screaming had reached a level of decibels Ron hadn't known existed). Ron carefully eased the door open and looked around. He frowned. No one was there. Perhaps in the living room? He quietly made his way to the family room and looked around in there. He blinked at the scene that met his eyes. His father was not present at all, most likely at work, because his work cloak and briefcase were gone. His mother was calmly knitting in her chair in front of the fire that was alight even though the days were warming up. His sister was stretched out on the couch with what looked like a story book. His brother, Percy, had open Bill's first year charms book and was taking notes with parchment and ink, preparing for his first Hogwarts year that was still a little over two years away, spread out all over the coffee table. For once, his twin brothers were out of their room, and seemed to be playing gobstones. None of them looked overly stressed or worried.

Ron slipped into the room quietly, but no-one even noticed he was there. Just like, he realized, no-one had even noticed he'd been out all night. No-one had missed him at supper, no-one had missed him at bed-time, no-one had missed him during the night, and no-one had missed him at breakfast. Not one member of his family had realized that Ron had been gone for more than twenty-four hours.

No-one had missed him.

Not one of them.

The revelation was nothing new to Ron, though to see it proven beyond a shadow of a doubt hurt like he'd never hurt before.

His family truly didn't care about him. At all.

-

...End Memory...

-

Ron sighed, and wondered just how long it would have taken them to realize he no longer lived with them. Still… I suppose its time to introduce Michael-Angelo to the family…

Ron was rather apprehensive about approaching his father about his owl; he knew it would be much easier if his family finally knew about Michael-Angelo, but he hadn't very much experience with the unfamiliar individual that was his father.

That was not to say that Ron thought he was a bad person in any way; it was just that Ron didn't have very much experience with the man. He knew that his father brewed potions and had even helped a few times, but mostly his father hadn't wanted him around the volatile ingredients when he was so young. Ron supposed this could mean his father loved him; although it might also be that his father didn't need the inconvenience and expense a hospital trip would cost.

Other than that, Ron knew his father worked very hard to support his family, and didn't have much time with them in consequence; and that he enjoyed shutting himself away in the back shed on Sundays, a habit that drove his mother insane.

Still, he knew that to approach his mother on this matter was akin to virtual suicide, and he didn't feel like expiring just yet… and that left Arthur Weasley.

Ron set his shoulders and walked over to his father's sitting chair with a determined stride.

"Father… for the last three years I've been saving my money and doing odd jobs for people in the village so that when it came time for me to go to Hogwarts, I could purchase my own owl. May I? I promise I will take care of it – " Ron's speech was interrupted by an enthusiastic cry.

"Ron! Of course you can! I must say, I'm quite proud of you, son. I must tell your mother…" the man beamed at his son, clapping him manly on the shoulder, and then quickly went in search of his wife, leaving behind his youngest son, who was standing where he left him, frozen.

Ron was rather shocked. "You… are?" My father is… proud… of me? He wondered at the startling revelation; but soon put it to the back of his mind. Ron knew he would have to consider this puzzling turn of events, but it would wait… for now.

It was three days later. Three horrible, tense, excruciating days later. Molly Weasley's lips had thinned and she had frowned severely every time she laid eyes on her youngest son – granted that wasn't often, Ron wasn't stupid, after all – at the same time as she praised and boasted about Percy being chosen for Prefect and the mock complaining about the twins' behaviour and the spoiling of her precious daughter. Ron bit his lip and said nothing, veiling his hurt emotions at his mothers' behaviour behind icy blue eyes.

But now the weekend had arrived, and they were going shopping. He was going shopping for Hogwarts. He was going to Hogwarts!

Ron looked around Diagon Alley in quiet excitement. His mother had handed him a small bag of money and his list and told him to meet everyone back at the Leaky Cauldron to floo home in two hours. After that she had herded the rest of her large family away, without once looking back. Ron had looked after them with a pang in his heart at the treatment; but then shook it off. He had known for a long time that if he wanted acceptance and love he'd have to get it elsewhere; this was nothing new. He had two hours. That left him little time to do everything he wanted. He'd have to get moving, instead of sitting here pining for something he'd never have. Ron quickly went over the mental list he'd made and nodded, then moved off.

After a quick trip into Gringotts, were he withdrew some of his own money to supplement what his mother had given him and to exchange some for muggle money, his first stop was Ollivanders. Thankfully it didn't take much time at all to find his own wand: fourteen inches of Ash containing a single unicorn hair, for five galleons, ten sickles; then he moved off to get his trunk. He picked up a second-hand one that was in quite good condition with three secret compartments and a rather handy shrink-and-grow charm, quite a bargain at just under fifteen galleons. Next he went to Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore, to pick up his required reading list. He also picked up a catalogue that he'd look over later. Parchment and ink, potions ingredients, his own cauldron, a set of scales, a telescope, and a set of phials were purchased in short order and everything stored in his new trunk. After a quick stop at Madam Malkin's for all his uniform needs, he slipped out into muggle London and into a department store. After purchasing himself some thick notebooks and good-quality pens, as well as a few new t-shirts and jeans to supplement his shrinking wardrobe (or was he growing?), he made it back to the Inn with time to spare, as well as some change for his mother. All in all, Ron felt he'd accomplished quite a lot.

The next day Ron woke early as usual, dressed in jeans and t-shirt, grabbed his pre-packed book bag and left the Burrow silently. Munching on an apple he picked from his families land, he hurried towards the small muggle town as he did every weekday. It was fortunate that his family had chosen Sunday to do all their shopping, as that meant he wouldn't miss out on a day and he wouldn't have to go to the trouble of forging a sick note. As Ron neared the town, his steps grew quicker and more excited. When he arrived at his destination he ducked into the bathroom to change into his uniform.

When Ron had joined the local muggle primary school, he'd quickly been added to the "special unit" run by the school for advanced students. They went through an accelerated school program that, once he'd caught up, was no problem for Ron to handle. The unit included several optional summer courses that Ron always took.

As he entered the unit building, he was greeted by Neil Davies, the unit mentor.

"Morning, Ani, how are you today?" Neil Davies was a tall, middle-aged man with tidy ash-blond hair, intelligent blue eyes hidden behind horn-rimmed spectacles, and a kind, open face. He took his job of molding brilliant young minds very seriously.

"Fine thanks, professor," Ron answered. When he'd joined the school, he'd used his middle name, Anius (2) and Westley as his last name. It had quickly been shortened by his teacher and classmates. Ron found he didn't mind, it was the first time since his brother left for Hogwarts that someone had given him an affectionate nick-name (somehow he doubted the twins' "Ronnikins" counted) and he'd quietly enjoyed the immediate acceptance he'd been welcomed with. He'd been surprised at first; but had come to the conclusion that there was nothing wrong with him; there was nothing about Ron himself that stopped people from liking him. Once he'd accepted that, and after he'd seen how his classmates were accepted at home, he'd had to conclude that there was something wrong in his family for them to treat him the way they did.

Ron made his way to his own desk and put his book bag down beside it. He was early, as usual, but it didn't bother him at all. He simply withdrew his course books and settled in to read until class began…

Summer classes only took the morning hours, so once the lesson was over and homework assigned Ron changed back into his casual clothes and made his way to the town centre, where he bought some lunch and then buried himself in the local library to do his homework and finish off his summer project on the computers there.

The accelerated primary unit was designed to allow its students to jump straight into a secondary accelerated program or skip the first two years at a school without a program. The summer classes, being optional, were usually an extra credit class that wasn't offered in an accelerated secondary education – like ancient history or languages. At the moment, Ron was taking an advanced math course that covered the entire curriculum in the subject for all of his secondary school education. If he ever made it to muggle secondary school, he wouldn't have much to do, as he'd completed most of the required courses over the years.

Once he'd finished all his homework, Ron packed up his book bag and headed off to the Ottery St. Catchpole House of Art. The art gallery was owned by Sara Richards, and Ron had been attending her "creative hands" classes for years. From the moment he'd walked into the gallery as a seven-year-old, he'd been hooked. He'd tried his hand at many different mediums, and though he was quite talented in all of them – extremely so, though he never seemed to believe it – he'd found his passion in sculpting. Clay, wood, glass, metal – the substance didn't matter; he had the unique ability to see something in raw, untouched material and draw it out.

When he'd first started his technique had been unrefined, but being tutored by Sara herself had soon changed that, and one rich, eccentric art collector had soon meant that Anius Westley's work was in great demand. Ron had been thrilled when he found someone wanted to buy his work, and flabbergasted by the amount he'd been paid. Soon he'd been earning a high, if somewhat unsteady, income; which had allowed him to open his own Gringotts vault and purchase various things like new magical and muggle books and Michael-Angelo, his familiar, a regal-looking barn owl; which allowed him to keep in contact with his account manager and goblin investor. It also paid for his tuition in the local muggle school (which he'd been eager to join), and allowed him to buy a modest wardrobe – he wasn't interested enough in clothes to go overboard – but for the first time in his life, Ron had been wearing new clothes, that fit, were bought just for him, and catered to his tastes.

Ron greeted Sara, the owner of the gallery and a much-in-demand artist (she painted landscapes and personal portraits), and Rene, a twenty-something-year-old "modern" artist who was, quite proudly, "punk". She reminded him of Bill a little – at lest after he'd grown out his hair and gotten the earring.

Ron settled into a work station and pulled out the rather thick branch he'd brought with him last time he'd been there. He placed it on the bench in front of him and settled in to study it. Eyes drifting over the wood, fingers touching the rough surface, the tactile sensations giving him a clearer picture of what he had to work with; Ron delved into an almost meditative state. Soon an image seemed to seep out of the wood, and once it was fixed in his mind, Ron began to work…

It was finally time. Tomorrow Ron would begin a new chapter in his life – the Hogwarts chapter. He'd finished his advance math course with honours, the branch had been transformed into one of his best works yet – a sculpture of his familiar, Michael-Angelo – and the bidding was still going strong for it. Ron had authorized Sara to complete the sale and he'd packed quite a few different raw materials to work with, as well as all his tools, into one of the secret compartments of his trunk. He'd continue working while at Hogwarts, and send the completed pieces to Sara via Michael-Angelo. He'd informed Mr. Davies that his parents had chosen a boarding school for him to attend and asked that his school records be forwarded to a London post-office box; they would then be forwarded to him, as it was a branch maintained by Gringotts for muggle-wizarding communications. Ron had explained that Hogwarts School for the Gifted was a prestigious traditionalist school that his parents had both attended, and asked if there was any way for him to continue his more modern subjects. Mr. Davies had gladly put him in touch with a correspondence school that catered to that very type of student; and arranged for a copy of his transcripts to be sent there also. Ron charmed his hide-away with preservation spells and set the wards to their maximum setting for the duration of his time away.

His life in Ottery St. Catchpole had been put on hold.

Ron carefully packed all his books, parchment, ink, and other school supplies into the main compartment of his trunk. His potions ingredients were stored in a handy storage rack he'd created to attach to the inside of the trunk's lid. After that he packed all of his clothes in an old second-hand chest and shrunk it to fit inside his trunk. It sat solidly at the bottom, and he moved his books and other materials to secure it. He then opened one of the secret compartments in his trunk and put in all of his other books, notes and projects he'd collected over the years. One compartment remained empty and the other was filled with his art supplies. Ron was satisfied.

His new life was ready and waiting for him.

The next morning had come; full of the usual bustle and hustle the Burrow was probably famous for ever September the first. Ron had used the shrinking charm on his trunk to shrink it down and slip it into his pocket. He snagged a piece of toast from the breakfast table and spent the rest of the morning trying to convince an offended Michael-Angelo to ride in his new cage for the trip. Once that was accomplished, Ron slipped quietly into the back seat of his fathers Ford Angelina.

Ron suspected his father was tampering with it in the shed on Sundays, but the only solid proof he had of this theory was the fact that all four Weasley boys could fit comfortably in the back seat – none of his brothers realized this was in any way strange, but Ron knew that it should have been impossible; therefore, magic had to be involved – and the fact the car was slowly developing a personality. Ron supposed he should be grateful the car seemed to like him. He knew his father was still experimenting with the vehicle, and wondered what else he had planned.

Some time later everyone else piled in and they were off. Of course, it wouldn't be the trip to Hogwarts without someone forgetting something; and they stopped before leaving the driveway for Fred to run back to the Burrow and returned ten minutes later for George and Percy to grab something. Thankfully the traffic wasn't too bad, and they made it to the station with plenty of time to spare. The Weasley Patriarch helped them pull trunks out of the back, said goodbye to all of his children, kissed his wife, and was soon off to work.

In the commotion, Ron was able to find a trolley, un-shrink his trunk, and load it and Michael-Angelo on without anyone noticing, for which he was grateful. Soon Mrs. Weasley was directing them expertly through the stations crowds, as she had every year her children went off to Hogwarts. Ron had found it incredibly amusing when his mother had appeared that morning, dressed as a muggle, with a muggle dress – firmly on backwards. He still hadn't said anything, and he wasn't going to; Ron's family had little to smile about in his short life and he wasn't going to spoil it.

They made it to platforms nine and ten and through the barrier with little fuss; and Ron once again took in the magical sight of the Hogwarts express. He hadn't seen it since he'd turned seven and started muggle school, but it was still exactly as he remembered.

Ron smiled; then shrunk his trunk, picked up Michael-Angelo, slipped away from his family, and climbed on board. He made his way through the hustle and bustle to the back of the train, where there was a compartment that held a single student that, Ron thought, had to be a first year. He was small and slight, with black hair that curled all over his head, which was turned to watch out the window.

Ron screwed up his courage, and knocked on the door. He opened the door wide enough to look through, and then spoke to the other boy.

"Hi. Do you mind if I sit with you?" he asked.

The other boy smiled and answered, "sure, no problem," his voice was quite, yet compelling in some way.

Ron smiled back and opened the door fully, walking into the compartment with Michael-Angelo in one hand, and pulling out his miniaturized trunk with the other.

"Shrinking charm," he explained, "came with it. Good value, I found." Ron almost flushed when he realized he was babbling, but was able to stop himself. For some reason, he wanted to be friends with this boy… he quickly cancelled the shrinking function, resizing his trunk and settled it next to the boy's; he put Michael-Angelo up with the other two pet carriers.

"This is Michael-Angelo; and I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley," Ron introduced himself and his familiar to the other boy.

"Hi. I'm Harry Potter," he said hesitantly.

Ron blinked. Well… that was unexpected. Ron's head dropped to the side like a curious puppy as he examined the other boy. He was short, and skinny; but more than that, Ron sensed a likeness between them. He knew then he'd met his first ever friend.

Ron smiled. "It's good to meet you," he said firmly, putting his hand out for Harry to shake.

Harry looked at the taller, gangly red-haired youth, obviously impressed. He smiled shyly and took Ron's hand.

"Likewise," he said as he shook the hand in front of him.

Just as they were settling in for the ride, their compartment door opened. Standing in the door, holding her trunk and looking rather awkward was a girl. She had out-of-control, bushy brown hair; kind – if a bit aloof – chocolate coloured eyes; a small, straight nose; and full lips; she wore high-classed muggle clothes and had the kind of body that would fill out nicely as she grew. She looked at the two boys and smiled tentatively. She had a nice smile, and they could now see she had larger-than-normal front teeth.

"Hi. I'm Hermione Granger. Do you mind if I join you?"

TBC...

(1) Letter copied from Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone page 42.

(2) Pronounced "An – eye – us". Some people's middles names I simply didn't know; some I wanted to change.

And so we meet Ron. Next chapter will be all about Hermione. Basically this story is to explore the "what-if?" factor; what would have happened if the Trio had a more cynical, mature psyche? Hopefully my story will meet all your expectations, and no, they won't be too evil. I'm hoping to keep them rather balanced, but still very wary of trusting anyone that hasn't proven themselves to them. We will meet Sky later in the story, but not for a while, and there will be a flashback with her in it as well. Also, do not fear! I have plans for Scabbers the Rat; it's all worked out.

I'm also sorry for the late update of this chapter. I've been extremely busy with my other responsibilities; and I got sick about a week ago on top of that, all of which seemed to block the flow with which I write. Thankfully that problem is now solved, and I hope to keep regular updates.