Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 6: Trains and Tricksters

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

A/N: Many thanks to those readers who are supportive and understanding about the fact that caring for my child takes precedence over writing a story that offers no return other than the warm fuzziness of reviews. I am doing my best to write when I have the time. However, at the moment, that time equals out to about six hours of my baby sleeping (not counting overnight as I sleep then too) and at least three hours of that must be devoted to studies if I ever want to finish school, get a job, and move in with my baby daddy (couldn't resist the ghetto-eese). Thank you again for your patience.

After his near spectacular failure to persuade Harry to return to No. 4 Privet Drive, Headmaster Albus Percivel Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Bearer of the Order of Merlin – First Class, made a further three attempts to meet with Harry, and change the boy's mind about staying at the Leaky Cauldron. These follow up attempts were neither failures nor successes, as Harry had said all he was going to say on the subject and point blank refused to attend the meetings.

The Headmaster was forced to admit – to just himself - that Harry's unexpected forthrightness had put him on the back foot and wrested the initiative away from him. In an attempt to regain that initiative, the headmaster unleashed his attack dogs, one after the other. Minerva McGonagall was first. As Transfiguration Professor and head of Gryffindor house, she attempted to regale the boy with tales of his parent's exploits. What she didn't know was that Harry had heard every story she told from those who knew them best. His refusal was polite and semi-formal to the Scottish Professor, and she left with a certain amount of admiration for the young child that had refused her so politely, yet firmly, at the same time.

Lily had excelled at many subjects during his years at Hogwarts, as had James, but she stood out foremost in the mind of Professor Filius Flitwick, Charms Professor and head of Ravenclaw House. As his mother's favourite teacher, and as professor of her favourite subject, he – unfortunately for Dumbledore – was met with the same firm but polite refusal, mainly due to the fact that Harry was worried he might slip up in front of the diminutive professor and mention something he shouldn't know.

It was with a measure of shock and irritation when Severus Snape, former school mate of both his parents, as well as, arguably, his father's arch nemesis while at school, arrived. The internationally renowned potions master and head of Slytherin House had no problem making his disdain for Harry very clear and was swiftly and brusquely directed out the door.

The last – and what Harry and his parents thought – desperate attempt to get him to return to Privet Drive came from the Herbology Professor and head of Hufflepuff house. In her capacity as an unbiased representative, with no ties to his parents, she was the closest to success, but ultimately saw her efforts end in miserable failure as well.

While the professors were loyal to the headmaster for a variety of their own, personal reasons, the three unbiased professors come to roughly the same conclusion in their debriefing with the venerable head of Hogwarts, sharing many of Harry's insidious comments regarding the fallibility of all men, and the near hilarious nature of their task in trying to exert the Headmaster's control over a near-eleven year old boy. It left them however with serious food for thought over whether their loyalty – while a good thing – need be so blind. They also found themselves impressed, much to Snape's horror in agreeing with the assessment of his fellow heads of house: For an almost eleven year old boy, Harry Potter was incredibly mature, level headed and even tempered. It was possible, Flitwick conceded, that given who his parents where and the events surrounding that fateful night, Harry Potter could well be a wizard to watch out for.

Between the almost clockwork like houndings from the Hogwarts staff, Harry spent his time out in Diagon Alley, befriending shop owners and picking up gossips on everything going on in the magical world, ranging from the mundane (if exciting and ever changing) love lives of Quidditch superstars to the under-the-table-backhanded-smoke-and-mirror dealings of the current Minister of Magic; Cornelius Fudge.

Within his trunk, the library continued to grow with both new titles and several more ancient and valuable tomes from Flourish and Blotts. Harry also added the large variety of different ingredients he purchased from the apothecary, and ate his way through every flavour of Florean Fortescue's ice cream. The Magical Menagerie owner, Ms. Aimes fast becomes a friend, with her indulgent guidance, educating him in magical creatures and a multitude of magical snakes, including the rare and ever sought after runespoor, a rather remarkable snake with three heads that made conversation not only extremely unusual but also somewhat confusing.

{O.o}

When Harry awoke on the 1st of September, he was excited to be finally going to a place where he can learn to use the magic he has been reading about, and the wand motions he'd been practicing with his quill. He placed Arc in to her room within the trunk, where she immediately set about trying to reduce the mouse population and lets his snowy owl fly from the window, sending her ahead of him to the castle. Shrinking his trunk, he slipped it in to his pocket and made his way to King Cross Station.

Platform's nine and ten at the station were actually in a separate building from the main station and two intervening rail tracks. He was just about to approach the barrier when a snippet of loud, almost shrill conversation reached him, "…packed with Muggles, of course..." Looking ahead, Harry spied a plump redhead surrounded by five equally redheaded children: Four boys and a young girl, two of the boys appeared to be identical twins, "Now, what's the platform number?" asked the woman.

"Nine and three quarters, mum can't I go...?" Her daughter exclaimed in a shrill voice, oddly loud for standing only two feet from her mother.

He paused, leaning against a wall out of the way, and turning his attention inward, "Who are they? Don't they know about the Statute of Secrecy? It's obvious they know where the platform is, her three oldest children are at least old enough to be in their fourth and second years. Why on earth is she yelling about it in the middle of the station?"

James had a dark look on his face as he replied, "They're Weasleys, a pure blood family, and very much on the 'light side', blindingly so. She is Molly Weasley, her husband, Arthur Weasley, works in the Ministry; at least he did ten years ago, so they definitely know not to go shouting about it in a train station."

Lily nodded, "I think she was put up to it to get you to ask about the platform, notice none of the professors told you how to get to it. If you didn't know and you heard someone yelling about muggles would you have talked to them?"

Harry nodded as well, "I certainly would, and I would have been lost without you, both of you. I would have also been worried about missing the train and would be supremely grateful to whoever helped me."

James nodded in turn, "So it seems Dumbledore is trying to get you connected with a light family. Her youngest son is starting school this year as well, he will most likely attempt to befriend you."

Harry frowned, "If he's only going to try to be my friend because Dumbledore told him to he can keep his friendship, I don't want to confide in someone who's just going to betray my trust." With the Potter family, trust was more than a lofty ideal, on par with loyalty, honour and courage. Trust or more specifically, a lack thereof, was what had gifted Harry Potter the life he had. In the few moments that the internal discussion had taken place, all of the Weasley children had passed through the barrier, leaving the Matriarch of the clan looking around the platform one final time before passing through herself. That settled it: She had been waiting for him.

He walked through the barrier, confident in the fact that his parents wouldn't steer him in to a solid brick wall, and emerged to get his first look at the scarlet steam engine that is the Hogwarts Express. His parents had deliberately kept their memories of their train rides from him to avoid spoiling what would be one of the most magical moments of his young life. They had done the same for their memories of Diagon Ally, Hogwarts, and Hogsmead as well. Harry was glad that his trunk actually fit in his pocket as, with the slightest hint of a smirk, he watched the students struggle. They were in a one sided fight trying to get their trunks first on to the train, and then, onto the luggage racks. And that was not counting the plethora of caged owls, cats and other pets, often balanced precariously atop the trunks.

While some of the students were helping each other with their luggage, all of the help was confined to their fellow housemates. There was, Harry quickly realized, absolutely no inter house cooperation and it extended into the clusters of gathered students: Everywhere he looked, students stuck to their houses, with all of the as yet unsorted first years left helpless on their own. He shared his parents' amazement that the school would promote such divisiveness at such a young age.

As Harry made his way to the train he passed a round faced boy in the midst of telling the severe looking woman accompanying him that he had just lost his toad, "Oh, Neville," the old woman sighs, and Harry is stopped short by his parents exclamations.

"That's the Longbottom boy!" James shouted.

"It's Alice's son!" Lily cried at the same time.

He winced at the sudden burst of noise, and his parents cheekily whispered apologies he can barely hear. He'd deal with them later … a practical joke when he dropped in to his mindscape for a visit perhaps. Advancing to the pair, Harry held out his hand to the elderly woman, "Mrs. Longbottom I presume, my name is Harry Potter. I had been hoping to meet you and your grandson. From what I learned at Gringotts he and I should have grown up together. Certain events occurred to prevent that unfortunately. They also informed me of the current condition of his parents. My deepest condolences to you both, while I know almost exactly how you may feel, I believe you may have it worse."

Neville blinked in surprise and nodded, "I didn't think anyone would ever see it that way, everyone always says that I've got it better because they're 'still here'. They don't understand… what it's like… seeing them that way," the boy hesitated, "knowing that they'll never get better, never recognize me or anything…"

Harry gave the boy a supportive smile, "I was able to make peace with what happened to my parents and move on, but you got stuck in a kind of limbo. They may never heal and it will be many years before they die, it seems as though you're trapped in a waiting game, wait for them to either fade and die or heal and live. That is much worse than simply losing them, in my opinion." Harry didn't tell Neville that the main reason he was so accepting of his parents' death was that, to him, they'd never died. He didn't know if he'd ever tell anyone, it just seemed too personal. Though, if he did ever decide to 'come out' Neville would be the one he spoke to first. In truth, their parental situations had become the exact opposite of each other. Neville had his parents' bodies without their minds, while Harry had his parents' minds without their bodies. Yet they also had their similarities; neither boy could ever adequately introduce his friends to their parents, they could never receive an honestly physical loving hug, nor, unless the Longbottoms' condition changed, truly attend any of the important events in either boys' life; graduation, marriage, children.

Mrs. Longbottom smiled at Harry and shook his offered hand, "If only you had been able to come to us, how much better both your upbringings might have been."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, it seemed Mrs. Longbottom knew a bit about his relations, "Indeed, I don't believe mine could have gotten much worse."

At her slight nod his suspicions were confirmed, "It seems we may have more to discuss than our time currently allows, will you allow me to correspond with you? I'm sure it will be beneficial to us both."

At her nod Harry turned to Neville, "Come on. We'd best get on board before the train leaves us behind." He picked up one end of Neville's trunk, his still secure in his pocket, and helped him lug it to an empty compartment. Halfway there he spotted a small green toad hopping along the platform and scooped it up mid-jump. He showed it to Neville before sticking it in his pocket and Neville smiled and nodded his thanks. After securing their compartment Harry pulled the toad back out and handed it to Neville, who immediately placed it on his right shoulder.

"Thanks for finding him, some stupid owl had a go at him and he scarpered, shot off my shoulder like he was attached to a rocket."

Harry frowned, "that's rather rude, people should be more careful with their pets, I sent my owl on ahead so she wouldn't have to deal with the train and crowds, and my other pet is in my trunk. Do you know whose owl it was?"

Neville nodded, "It was one of the red head boys, the oldest one. I actually watched him let it out, before it attacked Trevor." He did a double take, "Where is your trunk?"

Harry smiled and pulled out his miniaturized trunk. Neville let out a low whistle of approval, "That is quite a departure from the norm. How many compartments did you get?"

"There are seven; or the basic flat with a spare room for my lovely familiar, whom I rescued from London Zoo." Harry expanded his trunk and opened Arc's room, "Neville, I'd like to introduce you to Arc-en-ciel, my Black Mamba. Arc this is Neville, my new friend."

Neville had been cautiously admiring Arc until Harry spoke to her; his reaction was almost identical to Ms. Aimes, "You're a Parselmouth?" He whispered, but there was no fear in his voice, only awe.

Harry nodded, "I wanted to get it out in the open so if it bothers you we can go our separate ways sooner rather than later. It's not a dark ability; it was just associated with some dark people recently. Merlin was one, too."

Neville nodded in agreement, "I remember reading about that in one of the books in my family's library. I thought it was odd that one of our most revered ancestors had this supposedly dark ability. When I looked further into it I found that speaking Parseltongue is a celebrated ability in places like Australia, Africa, and China, where poisonous snakes are prevalent."

Harry smiled and extended his arm out to Neville slightly, offering to let him hold Arc. Neville accepted her without hesitation and held her up to his face, looking into her eyes. Arc cocked her head to the side and stared intently at Neville for a moment, her tongue flicking out a few times, before turning to Harry and hissing at him. Harry laughed in response.

Neville raised a brow, "What did she say?" he asked.

Still chuckling, Harry replied, "She said she likes you - even if you do smell of toad."

{O.o}

The boys settled comfortably in to their compartment, lounging across seats and space normally reserved for at least six people. Arc had found a comfortable perch, coiled around Neville's waist and along his arm. Trevor had settled in on Harry's outstretched leg and with Neville's trunk on the floor between them, they had an impromptu card table. Harry had brought a muggle deck of cards with him; something Neville thought was brilliant as he hated playing with exploding snap decks. Harry taught him simple card games such as Black Jack and War. They bought a little of everything each from the lady with the snack cart; Harry's favourite being the Pumpkin Pasties and Neville's being the Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. After an hour or two their compartment door slid open; standing in the doorway was the youngest redheaded boy. He surveyed the compartment, noting the pile of sweets and the muggle cards before he noticed Arc wrapped around Neville. His eyes widened and he pointed to her with a shaky hand, "What have you got a great bloody snake wrapped around you for?"

Lily hissed in indignation at the boy's language and Harry frowned, "She's my familiar, she's wrapped around Neville because she likes him." Neville started stroking her head to emphasize the point.

The boy's mouth dropped open before he stuttered out, "H-How do you know it likes him?"

Harry's frown deepened, "SHE told me she likes him, that's how I know."

His eyes snapped to Harry at this and his voice hardened, "You're a Parseltongue?" he exclaimed.

"First off, he is a Parselmouth; Parseltongue is the language he speaks. Secondly, so what if he is?" Neville demanded, "Merlin was a Parselmouth too. Just because two famous Dark Wizards were Parseltongues doesn't mean that everyone that inherits the ability is born dark. You shouldn't judge people based on things they have no control over, it would be as if we automatically didn't like you because you have red hair. It's not something you can choose to have." Neville was on his feet by now, Arc sliding around his arm and waist, in constant motion from Neville's agitation.

The boy's features darken and he shook his head, "Its evil."

"Show's what you know. It is a precious commodity in countries like Australia, Africa, and China because of all the indigenous poisonous snakes there, like Arc here." Harry said, gesturing to her as he also stood, shifting Trevor to his shoulder.

His eyes snapped back to Arc and his face drained of colour, "It's poisonous?" he asked taking a step back and out of the compartment.

"Yes, SHE is and SHE does not appreciate being referred to as an 'it', nor do I. So if you would kindly take your narrow-minded bigoted views somewhere else." Harry made shooing motions at the youngest redhead as Neville slammed the door in his face, using his left hand to practically thrust Arc as close to the rude boy as possible.

No sooner did they settle back down before their door was slid open once again, this time revealing a skinny, pointy faced boy with silvery blonde hair. "That Weasley boy was complaining about a poisonous snake in this compartment. I see he was correct," there was admiration in his voice as he studied the still coiled snake for a moment, "That, is a beautiful Black Mamba."

Arc hissed at his words and noticeably preened. Harry laughed and shook his head.

"What did she say?" Neville asked a small grin on his face as he stroked her head again, to her enjoyment.

"She said she knows she's beautiful." Harry laughed.

The pointy faced boy's eyebrows shot up in shock, "You're a Parselmouth?"

Neville groaned as Harry rolled his eyes, "Not this again." Neville mumbled, his face in his palm, "At least he knows that it's Mouth and not Tongue."

"Yes, I'm a Parselmouth and no, I'm not a 'Dark Wizard'" Harry said, again making air quotes, "Just because I was born with certain abilities doesn't make me inherently evil."

The boy raised his hands in a placating gesture, "I didn't say you were evil, I was just surprised. It's a very uncommon, if not rare gift."

"Well at least your open minded, this is Arc-en-ciel, Trevor, Neville Longbottom," Harry said, pointing to each in turn, "and I'm Harry Potter."

As expected, the boy's eyes shot to the scar on Harry's face, but he immediately lowered his gaze to Harry's eyes, "Sorry about that, it was a reflex. It's a pleasure to meet you both; my name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Harry smiled at his name and Draco's eyes narrowed, "Do you think my name is funny?"

Harry shook his head quickly, "No, I like it. It means dragon."

Draco smiled at that and moved further into the compartment; offering his hand first to Neville, then Harry.

"Would you like to join us for the rest of the trip?" Neville offered, lifting his feet off the seat in invitation.

"Yes, feel free; we have plenty of treats too. Nev and I already ate all of our favourites, but you're welcome to the chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, and Bertie Bott's." Harry added, gesturing to the pile of sweets. Draco nodded, grinning, and took the offered seat and a box of the every flavour beans.