DISLAIMER: That part of this world and those characters you've seen before belong to their Creator: JKR. The rest is mine - although I cannot quit my day job as I make no $$$ from this…

A/N: A couple of reviews noted that a train from Surrey cannot pull into Piccadilly. I misread my own notes on the Underground and National Rail and fixed the error in Chapter 3. The train from the town over now pulls into Waterloo Station. Sorry. In the same section of my notes re: train from Surrey I also had the Underground Route from Camden Towne to Heathrow wherein one must change to another line at Piccadilly.

CHAPTER FIVE: FINDING A FRIEND

SATURDAY, MAY 14, 1988 - ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL, LONDON, U.K.

Harry woke up at around seven the next morning. He found that an orderly was waiting for him to wake up. He was told he was allowed to leave the bed only for trips to the loo, otherwise he was to remain in bed for the next few days at least. His left arm was in a cast and he soon found his upper torso was wrapped in bandages. There were also bandages on both of his legs and his right arm. He had asked about that. It seemed that the Doctors had to re-break some bones and pin them together so they could heal properly. These were old breaks, but while it was painful to shuffle to the loo, at least he could manage it. All things considered, he was in far more pain the day he went to the library.

Another orderly washed him. He could not take a shower or a bath due to his cast, bandages and other reasons. The cleansing was far from thorough, but better than nothing. This orderly, a young woman, also washed his hair. He was placed in something not unlike a barber's chair for that. When she was done his hair laid fairly flat for the first time Harry could remember.

"What did you do to my hair?" Harry asked in surprise.

"What? Don't you like it?"

"It's not that. It's just - well - it never looked like that before. What did you do?"

"Not much, really," the young woman said. "Just the right selection of hair care products for those with unmanageable locks. Of course, using these, you'll need your hair washed every day."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Your girlfriend is coming today. Can't have you looking like a wild man now, can we?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," Harry protested.

"Wouldn't tell her that if I were you. She's been here every day since you arrived here. I think she likes you."

"I was asleep the whole time."

"Still. She seems nice. I think you could use a friend about your own age."

Harry nodded.

He soon enjoyed the largest breakfast - no the largest meal of any kind he had ever remembered having. He was stuffed. Had he been properly fed, he would have thought little of the meal. But to him it was amazing and he would have complimented the chef had he known it was customary to do that.

Cleaned and fed, he sat in his adjustable bed reading his book. Part of him was still very concerned about what the Dursleys would do and say about this. He was not supposed to interact with anyone, lest his freakish nature bring shame to them. Still, it was as if he was on holiday.

At a little after nine in the morning, as Harry was reading his book, movement caught his eye and he saw the door to the room opening. Expecting some kind of Nurse or something, he was surprised to see a girl about his age enter. She had brown, curly hair that seemed almost as unruly as his own, even though his was strait and nearly jet black. She was carrying books with her and seemed lost in thought as she entered. She was not beautiful, but Harry thought she was quite fetching in her own way. He liked her immediately.

She looked up and the thinking had seemed to stop once she saw Harry. Harry's gaze returned to his book out of sheer embarrassment and he could tell he was blushing. He wondered if this was the "friend" who had been by his side every day since he had come here. He was surprised when he realized almost immediately that he hoped she was. She then smiled at him. That was all it took for her to become his friend. She had such a nice smile, he thought.

"You're awake," she said softly. She had a nice voice, Harry thought.

"Yeah," he said at a loss for words.

"I…" she blushed furiously.

After an awkward silence, Harry finally decided someone had to say something. "I - er - was told that someone has been visiting me every day since I was here - erm…"

She blushed even more and could do little more than glance at him.

"A girl, they say. She - er - well - she and her parents found me?"

The Girl nodded.

"They - um - they didn't say she was pretty," he said softly.

"I was the girl," she said defensively.

"I know - er - well I guessed so."

"I am not pretty!"

"To me you are. Are you an angel?"

"No!" She replied in shock.

"Sure fooled me," he said. "Only an angel would look after a sorry sod like me."

"Language!" she said. "And why wouldn't I? You looked like you could use a friend," she added defensively.

"I'd like that," Harry said softly. "It's just…" He couldn't help it. He didn't want to, but he began to cry.

"What's - what's wrong?" she asked.

"I've never had a friend. I wanted one. Nobody wants to be my friend!"

"Why not?"

"'Cause I'm a freak! 'Cause my Cousin Dudley and his gang will beat up anyone who smiles at me. 'Cause I'm worthless!"

"What makes you say that?" and there were tears in her voice as well.

"'Cause that's what they've always told me!"

"Your parents told you that?" she asked in shock.

"My parents are DEAD," he sniped back, immediately feeling guilty. "Sorry," he said as she took a step back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way." She seemed to relax. "Sometimes I wish it was tattooed on my forehead so people would not ask."

"What?" she asked.

"Parents Dead. Everyone seems to think things - like they're alive. But they died when I was just a baby."

"So who takes care of you?"

"No one really. I live with my mother's sister and her family, but they hardly care for me at all. They hate me."

"Why?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm a freak and I cost them money and…"

"Nonsense!"

Harry shrugged. "It's what they say to me all the time."

"They're wrong, Frodo."

"Frodo?"

"Oops. Sorry. I…" She blushed.

"You think I'm a freak too?"

"No! It's not that!" She said defensively. "You didn't - er - have a name and I couldn't call you 'Boy' or something."

"Why not?" Harry asked bitterly. "They do."

"'Cause you're a person. You deserve a name, so I picked one that I thought suited you in a way."

"Frodo?"

"You're reading the book."

"Barely started," Harry said. "Struggling through the Council of Elrond now."

"Frodo is brave, kind and tragic in a way," the Girl said. "Don't know why, but it seemed to fit."

Harry smiled. "Well, I guess I kind of feel like Frodo did when he woke up in Rivendell after almost dying after the flight from Weathertop. Is this Rivendell?" he quipped.

The girl giggled. She then just shrugged.

"I'm Harry, by the way. Harry Potter."

The Girl relaxed. She then rolled her eyes and groaned. "Honestly! Where are my manners!" she exclaimed. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Hermione?"

She nodded.

"That name suits you, I think."

"Why? Nobody likes it."

"Nobody fits it like you," Harry said. "It's pretty in a way most names are not, like you."

Hermione blushed again.

"Oh hush," she said. "I am not pretty."

"Suit yourself," Harry replied. "But can I at least think that?"

She blushed again. "I'm the one supposed to be making you feel better, H-harry," she said softly.

"Why?"

"You've been hurt."

Harry nodded.

"Who? How? Why?"

"Do you really want to know?"

She nodded.

"It's not a good story at all."

She shrugged.

Harry sighed. "I woke up yesterday, you know. You weren't here either time. I spoke with Nurse Gail first and someone else later. Before yesterday, I would never have told anyone anything. I was scared what they might think, and even more scared about what my relatives would do if they ever found out. But not anymore. When I finally did talk about it, I actually felt better. Are you sure you want to hear? It's not a nice story."

She nodded slowly.

He then began telling her the story of his life, such as it had been. It took him until lunchtime. She quietly cried through most of it. She never knew people could be that cruel for no apparent reason. The beatings, practical slavery, constant put downs, the fact he never had a birthday nor a present; all were more than she could imagine. The fact that his Cousin was spoiled beyond belief at the same time made even less sense. As bad as her life was - for she had no real friends - his was far worse and she felt a little guilty at her own unhappiness. At least her parents loved and accepted her. Harry did not even have that.

"Why?" she asked.

"They hated my parents," Harry shrugged. "Said my dad was a lay about drunk and my Mum a tart - whatever that is. I just know it's not good. I don't believe it. Never have. Still…"

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"Not your fault. You like me, right?"

She nodded.

"A first for me. I like you too, by the way."

"R-really?"

Harry nodded.

"Aside from my parents and teachers, nobody likes me."

"Then they are the stupid ones. What are you reading?" Harry asked looking at her books.

"Chronicles of Narnia," she said. "After the Lord of the Rings, I needed a lighter read, I guess."

"Did it opposite," Harry said. "Already read those books before The Hobbit and now The Lord of the Rings. Maybe I should have done it your way."

"You like reading?"

"They don't let me watch the Telly," Harry said. "I guess there are a lot of normal things they don't let me do. I've never been to the pictures, never been to a restaurant, never been allowed to go on a field trip, never seen the sea, never had a birthday or Christmas present. Until I went to school, I didn't know that most kids did those things. I just thought is was something my Cousin got that I didn't get."

"That's horrible, Harry."

Harry shrugged.

"They would take my Cousin places and I would be left with Mrs. Figg. She was a bit daft and was always on about her bazillion cats. But she was nice to me and taught me things. She taught me to play piano and I could read by the age of four. Used to go to her place on my own just to read. She got sick last year and I started going to the library instead. When she got better, I went there for piano.

"My relatives don't know about any of that. Mrs. Figg and the Library were places were I could escape, where I was safe if only for a little while. My relatives don't know near as much about me as they think. I'm not sure they know I can read. Reading is - well - an escape from them. Every chance I get, I'm in a library."

"Me too. And school?"

"I was finishing my second year before this," Harry said. "Top of my class, my teachers said. Never let the relatives know. They would have beaten me for doing better than their Dudley. I found where the teachers kept the reports and forged the ones my relatives saw, making sure I was no better than the dumb kid of theirs. I also forged my Uncle's signature on my real reports. Not honest, I admit. But, I'd rather not think of what would happen if they were to learn that my teachers wanted to promote me a grade while they held my cousin back."

"I'm a third year," Hermione said. "My parent's started me a year early. I guess we should be the same year, normally."

"Maybe we will be. I've practically finished third year as well."

"That would be wonderful, Harry. We could study together and everything!"

"Just so long as you don't mind coming in second to me on occasion."

Hermione pouted. "I always like being the best."

"Think of it this way," Harry said. "Now you could have someone to help you be your best and I could have someone to help me be mine."

"I - well as long as it was you, I guess I could live with that. But Harry? You don't go to my school. How could this happen?"

Harry shrugged. "They've told me I probably will not have to return to my Aunt and Uncle's place. They say I probably will live with another family. They haven't said who." Harry now sounded concerned. "Who knows where I'll wind up? I am an orphan."

"Harry," Hermione said in a small voice, "I've been begging my parents to let you live with us."

"They said no way, didn't they."

"No, Harry. I've been begging them for a brother or sister for a while as well and they've never told me no. They just say 'we'll see.' It's the same about you except my Dad said 'we'll try.' I think that means that there is a chance you'll be living with us, Harry."

"But not a great one."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, Harry. But assuming you have that chance?"

"Need to meet your parents."

Hermione nodded. "I think I can kind of understand. They are good I think. They're my best friends - until now."

"Well, I'd like to meet them then. I mean, even if I go somewhere else, maybe we could keep in touch?"

"I'd like that, Harry. Rather it was - well, you know."

Harry nodded. He had decided Hermione was indeed a friend. Now that he found her, he did not want to lose her - ever. Little did he know then that the feeling, whatever it was, was mutual. He barely noticed that she was now sitting beside him and had his hand in hers. He was too busy staring into her brown eyes to notice. When he finally realized she was holding his hand, he did not mind at all even though it was the first time he had ever let someone do that without getting upset. She was smiling at him and it was hopeless. He could not help but smile right back.

He had no idea how long they were like that. Had he thought about it, it was a little weird. He was only seven. Girls were supposed to be "icky." For some reason this Hermione was not and he did not know why nor did he care. She seemed natural to him, as if she was supposed to be here.

Hermione was having similar thoughts and similar lack of thought. Boys were not supposed to be interesting at her age - except as a point of conversation about how messed up they all were. You most certainly were not supposed to feel this way about them, much less want to and need to hold their hands - or worse. She really wanted to hug him, but the injuries she knew he had sustained ruled out that option for now - FOR NOW. Honestly, she thought. Why do I even want to? Because he needs a hug, she then rationalized.

"Her - Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Yes Harry?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

He knew he could, but he was scared. "It's, well, I've never told anyone this and I'm afraid you might not like me if I do."

"Don't be silly, Harry…."

"I'm serious, Hermione. I'm scared you won't like me."

"Harry? Is it bad?"

"I don't know. I don't know what it is, but it scares me and it could happen and I'm afraid it might scare you and I won't have a friend."

"Harry, I promise not to be scared and to always be your friend."

"Okay," Harry took a deep breath. "You know my Uncle beat me - a lot."

Hermione nodded.

"I rarely ever broke any rules or did anything that asked for it. I think I was a good kid - better than most at staying out of trouble. Still he beat me a lot. He and my Aunt say I'm a freak and they wanted to beat the freakishness out of me."

"That's horrible, Harry. That's…"

"Please," Harry begged and Hermione stopped. He looked scared and she felt nothing but concern for him. "Sometimes, I make strange things happen," he said in a soft voice.

Hermione paled and part of Harry thought she was going to run away from him just like everyone else. She did not. She simply squeezed his had a little harder. "Like what? You can tell me, Harry. I'm not afraid and I won't leave you, ever."

Harry sighed. "It's not predictable. It happened only when I am really upset. It's like I want to lash out and then I do, but I don't move or say anything. Stuff just happens."

She nodded.

"Like last week. A couple of days before you found me, my Aunt was getting ready for my Uncle's sister's visit - now there's a piece of work. Anyway she felt I needed a proper haircut. She took me to the barber and had my hair cut so short I looked bald. I hated it. I hated it so much.

"The next morning, I woke up and she freaked when she saw me. My hair had grown back overnight. My Uncle beat me senseless. I think that's when he broke my arm and hurt my ribs.

"You must hate me."

"Why would I hate you, Harry?"

"'Cause that's not normal. 'Cause I'm a freak."

Hermione felt very sorry for him. "Harry. I don't hate you. I agree that that's not normal. But if you're a freak then so am I."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Well, I've never grown my hair back overnight, but strange things happen to me as well. It's almost like magic." She then told Harry about some of the odd things that had happened to her. In some ways, hers were even stranger - and arguably more dangerous than any of Harry's "freakishness." There was a time the year before when she was walking home from somewhere when three older girls and two boys, neighborhood bullies, tried to beat her up. She curled herself into a ball to protect herself and they got very mad. Suddenly she burst into flames. Hermione actually laughed at this memory, the thought of four of the five soiling themselves was rather funny, Harry thought.

"Do your parents know?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded.

"And they don't hate you?"

"No Harry. They don't. Most of my - er - outbursts are far more benign. They say I have a special gift. They try to help me learn to control it. But they love me and would not have me any other way. I always thought I was the only one like me."

"Me too."

"I'm glad I'm not, Harry. I'm glad you're like me. I'm glad I'm not alone."

"Me too." Harry then laughed.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"As bad as my life has been, Hermione, the best day before today was the day your Dad almost ran me over."

"Why?"

"Because that day led to today. I finally have a friend and someone like me to talk to."

"I'm glad we met too, Harry." She then surprised Harry by kissing him on the forehead. Harry blushed furiously.

"Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to," Hermione said, "and you looked like you could use it."

"Nobody's kissed me before."

Hermione blushed. "Well…"

"What?"

"I have."

"Have what?"

"Kissed you before, Harry. But you were asleep. It's nicer when you're awake."

"So, you're my girlfriend?"

They were both blushing now.

"We're a bit young for that," Hermione finally said. "One day. Maybe."

"Yeah," Harry said. "That would be nice. Maybe."

Sensei observed the entire scene as the two children became friends and he was surprised. The Harry Potter he knew would not have either been so open to this new person, nor would have been comfortable with either her touch or that kiss. The Harry Potter he knew was very closed off and extremely uncomfortable with any form of physical intimacy. That Harry Potter did adapt, but the introvert remained a major part of his being for the rest of his days.

This Harry Potter was only momentarily uncomfortable and clearly opened up to this Hermione quickly. This Harry was not uncomfortable around her or with her as the original would have been. Something had clearly changed, Sensei thought and he pondered.

Until one week ago, this Harry and the original were one and the same person. They had the same memories, experiences and personalities. Why did meeting Hermione now change things? Why was he able to talk to Nurse Gail about his home life, something the original had rarely ever done and even then it was seldom intentional and never in any detail. The Harry in this hospital bed was already very different than the last time. What had changed?

Then Sensei recalled that horrible month of May 1988 the last time around. Before that beating, before being left for dead, both Harry's still had hope in their hearts. They both hoped that somehow, someday they would be accepted by their family and by others. They both worked really hard at everything in the hopes that someone would see that they really were not as worthless as claimed.

In the original timeline, all true hope and desire died on the hallway floor of Number 4 Privet Drive where that Harry lay alone and ignored for a week. What ever drive he had died there too. He went from the top of his class to near the bottom the next term and never tried to climb back up. It had been one blow too many and he closed himself off from everyone. After that horrible May, he believed all the horrible things his relatives said about him and his parents. It left him alone for a long time. It also left him starving for any sign of acceptance and that would be a major problem in later years.

When Harry finally made friends, he still kept them at an emotional arms length. Yet, at the same time, he became perhaps too dependent upon anyone whom he came to trust. He trusted certain people blindly, never arriving at his own conclusions unless he possessed all the information. This was not to say he lacked intelligence. Far from it. What he lacked was any real sense of self worth or true independence. These character flaws all began to permanently manifest themselves that horrible May and were always lurking beneath his surface. His relationship with others never was what it might have been. And his blind faith in others led to critical mistakes and misjudgments that would have disastrous consequences. So what was different?

This new Harry's hope in a brighter future might just have been rewarded. Should this progression of event continue, this Harry would be very different than the last one and hopefully it would be for the better. Only one roadblock remained. This Harry could never be returned to his relatives. That would destroy him almost as assuredly as that May destroyed the last one. Sensei had little doubt that the Dursleys were in for a time, but he could not discount the ability of another to ruin this boy's renewed hope and blossoming sense of self worth. This was certainly a time where Sensei regretted his nature and inability to physically intervene in this world.

The door opened and two adults entered. They were not dressed as medical staff and Harry's grip on Hermione's hand tightened instinctively. She gripped back, both to comfort him and to save her hand from being crushed.

"You must be Harry," the man said. "I see you've met our daughter."

"Mr. Granger?" Harry asked.

The man nodded with a smile. "Fair warning, my wife and I are dentists. As such, we don't approve of children having sweets a lot. Just thought you should know that under the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Harry asked.

"Hermione has been pestering us…"

"Have not," Hermione began.

"Oh really?" the woman who had to be Hermione's mother said. "This boy has been all you could talk about for a week. Ever since we found him…"

"As in nearly ran him over with the car," Hermione's father added.

"Fine," the woman said. "Hermione? You've been all but begging us to let him live with us."

Hermione looked at Harry who looked back in shock, and a tiny bit of hope in his eyes.

"Well," Mrs. Granger drawled, "last Sunday your father and I spoke with the Social Worker here at the hospital. Everything depended, of course, on Harry here waking up and giving evidence. I mean, his relatives would have him back unless he were to show that they were abusing him. The physical evidence was - er - obvious. But until yesterday, there was nothing anyone could do.

"Harry spoke with Nurse Gail yesterday. That cinched it. He is for now a Ward of the State and will most likely be sent into foster care once he's released from hospital. Last Sunday your Father and I volunteered to become his foster parents. We just had a meeting with the Social Worker and we've been approved, pending completion of the paperwork."

"Mummy!" Hermione squealed with delight.

"Now don't get your knickers in a bunch," Mr. Granger said, earning a glare from his wife. "It's up to Harry, really. 'Best interests of the child' they call it."

"Me?" Harry asked.

Mr. Granger nodded. "If you want, you can come and live with us when you are better. If not…"

"I'd love to, Sir! But…"

"But?" three voices asked.

"Hermione told me about her - um - special gift and…"

"That bothers you?" Mrs. Granger started.

"No," Harry shot back. "No! Not at all. Does it bother you?"

"I admit, we don't really understand it, Harry," Mrs. Granger replied. "But it does not bother us. She's our daughter. She would be special to us in any event. The idea that she may be unique, well…"

"She's not unique, Ma'am. Special, yes. But not unique in that way."

"What do you mean?"

"I have that gift as well, it seems."

"Really?"

Harry nodded.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Mrs. Granger gushed. Harry was stunned. "She won't have to figure this out alone! This is wonderful! Isn't it, Robert?"

Mr. Granger simply smiled. "Harry," he said. "The offer stands. We would love you to become part of our unique little family."

Harry's eyes filled with tears. He was barely able to say what he said next. "I'd like that very much."

A/N: They got their approval awfully fast, but that will be explained.