Disclaimer – Everything you recognise belongs to JKR. All the rest is simply me playing in her sandbox.

-oOoOo-

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Chapter 13

"What in the world are you wearing, Harry?"

Harry looked up from the Flourish and Blotts catalogue, so engrossed had he been that he hadn't even heard the door to the tiny cupboard open.

"Hermione! You're back!" he exclaimed, a massive grin on his face.

"The Express got in early," Hermione informed him as she moved to sit on the upturned bucket. "But you haven't answered my question: what are you wearing?"

Harry looked down at the dark green jumper with the golden lightning bolt emblazed across the front.

"It's a jumper that I got for Christmas," he told her.

Hermione eyed it critically, her nose crinkled with her obvious distaste. "Did your Aunt and Uncle give it to you?"

Harry violently shook his head. "Them? I don't get presents from them! No, Mrs Weasley, Ron's mum, sent it to me."

"Why?"

"Apparently the twins told her that I didn't expect any gifts this Christmas and I guess she felt sorry for me," he shrugged. "It is nice and warm though. And it fits me pretty well."

Hermione nodded, her mind shooting back to the ugly ill-fitting clothes that he'd wearing the first time that they'd met.

"I see that you got the book. Do you like it?" Harry asked shyly, having realised she was cuddling to her chest.

"Oh, Harry, it's wonderful. There're so many interesting facts in here, not just about the four founders, but about the castle too," she gushed. "Thank you ever so much."

"You're welcome," he smiled. "Thank you for the quills, too, I've been needing some new ones since Halloween."

Hermione smiled. "I know. So, tell me, what's Christmas like here at Hogwarts?"

"Amazing," Harry breathed. "The best Christmas that I've ever had. You should have seen all of the food! And the crackers! Wow! I got a Grow-Your-Own-Wart kit and a new Wizard's Chess set and an admiral's hat and some gigantic luminous balloons from them. There were also some real live mice, but they got away."

Hermione smiled at his enthusiasm and the way his emerald eyes lit up behind his glasses. "Did you get any other presents?"

Harry nodded. "I got some chocolate frogs from Neville and wait until you see this …"

After digging into his bag, Harry pulled out a length of shimmering silky cloth and threw it over himself.

Hermione gasped. "Is that …?"

"Yep," Harry said, pulling the cloth off of his head so that it appeared to float in mid-air. "An invisibility cloak. No idea who sent it to me. The note just said that it was my father's and that I should have it."

"May I?"

"Sure," he replied, handing the cloak across.

Harry watched as Hermione admired the cloth before throwing it around herself. Instantly, she disappeared. A small scrape was the only indication that she'd moved before Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw a smiling Hermione reappear and hand the cloak back.

"How was your holiday, Hermione?"

"Oh, it was fine," she replied off-handedly. "Come on, let's get out of here and go for a walk."

Harry's reluctance was plain to see and Hermione relented, sitting back down on the bucket. She regarded her friend carefully. His head was down and he was fiddling an awfully long time with his bag after tucking the invisibility cloak away.

After the conversation that she'd had with him just before Christmas and the way that Professor McGonagall had also agreed to help him with keeping his academic successes away from his relatives, she'd thought that he wouldn't retreat back to the cupboard. Obviously, as this was the place that she'd found him after returning to the castle, she'd been wrong.

"Harry, why do you like hiding out in here?" she asked cautiously.

His eyes snapped up momentarily before once more seeking out his bag. "I told you why. It's so that I could do my homework the way that I needed to."

"But you don't have to do it like that any more," Hermione reminded him. "Besides, there's no way that either Professor McGonagall or I will let you get away with such poor work any more. Not now that we know what you're capable of."

"I'm not that smart, Hermione," Harry whispered.

"Yes you are! I read all of those rolls of homework that you've got hidden away in that box. You should have been getting Outstandings or Exceeds Expectations in every subject. We've just got to work on your practical work to bring it up to the same level."

Hermione saw Harry's eyes dart to her before a deep crimson blush spread across his face. Her eyes narrowed and the image of a quill darting across the floor and shooting up a troll's nose flashed before her eyes.

"Have you been hiding that as well?" she spluttered indignantly. "Harry! How could you?"

"You know why," he replied quietly.

"That's no longer an issue. From now on, you are going to do your best. I want to see just how good you are. I bet if you put your mind to it, you'd be better than me."

Unexpectedly, Harry laughed. It started out as a chuckle and gradually grew. Hermione stared. She'd never heard him laugh before and for some reason, she wanted him to do it again.

"No one's as good as you, Hermione," Harry finally managed.

A small wave of pride spread through her at his words and this time she was the one who was blushing.

"I'll bet you that you are," she said and then, in a rush of inspiration, she continued. "In fact, I'll bet you that you can beat me in every subject."

Harry's snort of disbelief didn't stop her. She knew that there was a way to motivate him and if that's what it took to make him work the way that he should, then she determined to do it. She just wouldn't allow the fear of him succeeding stop her.

"You beat me in at least one test in every subject and I'll let you teach me how to fly a broom properly."

That caused Harry to freeze. While he knew that Hermione had passed Madam Hooch's flying lessons, it'd been a very near thing. Everyone knew of her fear of heights and her distaste even of getting onto a broom, let alone trying to fly one.

"Deal," he agreed, reaching out a hand.

After shaking on it, Hermione once again attempted to get Harry out of the cupboard.

"Come on, let's get to the library to study," she said.

Once again, Harry refused to meet her eye.

"What's wrong, Harry? Why don't you want to be out there?" she asked, starting to get annoyed at his reluctance.

He gulped, looked away, looked back, looked away again and finally spoke in something that started as barely above a whisper.

"Everyone's always staring and pointing at me. Ever since Hagrid took me to the Leaky Cauldron on my birthday," he continued. "The whole pub crowded around and wanted to shake my hand and pat me on the back and they just kept coming and coming and coming," he paused here to shake his head, "and then when we went into Diagon Alley, it got worse. Everyone staring at my stupid scar and falling all over themselves just because I'm 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'!

"What does that mean anyway? I'm famous because some mad evil wizard killed my parents but couldn't kill me? They tell me that I stopped a war. A war that I can't even imagine! And my parents died! I don't even remember them. I don't know anything about them at all.

"Hagrid's shown me a couple of pictures. They're the first ones that I've ever seen of my parents! Who wants to be famous and stared at and pointed at and talked about behind their back because of that? And it's just kept happening here at school too. Everyone knows who I am! Everyone knows all about me! I bet I'm the one who knows the least about me! This is the only place that I've had to escape. No one knows about it. No one, except you."

Hermione stared, her hands covering her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. She'd never imagined what it must be like for Harry. She knew what the school was like and the way that he always tried to escape, to hide. For the first time, she thought that she had an inkling of how he was feeling. Firstly being mistreated at home and now finding out that he's famous in the wizarding world. Her heart broke for him.

"I guess it hasn't helped that I rescued you from that troll and then became the youngest seeker in a century," Harry said bitterly. "Just gave everyone even more reason to stare at me."

"I'll help you, Harry, if you'll let me," Hermione stated quietly.

He looked at her, surprised that she was still there after his outburst. He'd nearly been screaming by the end of it.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll help you find out about yourself. I've read some of the books and I'm sure that we can find out about your parents, maybe if we look hard enough, we can find out some other things, like who your grandparents were and where they lived, stuff like that."

"You'd really do that?" he asked, wonder clear in his voice.

Hermione smiled at him. "Yes, Harry."

"Thanks," he said simply, wiping his arm across his face to banish the tears in his eyes.

"How about we go to the library now and see if we can find some old school yearbooks with your parents in them," Hermione suggested.

"Okay, I'd like that," Harry replied, snatching up his bag.

-oOoOo-

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore strolled the corridors of Hogwarts enjoying seeing the exuberance of his students after their return from the two week break for Christmas. Occasionally, he would stop and talk to one or another, asking about their Christmas in that grandfatherly way that he'd so carefully cultivated.

Rounding a corner not far from the library, he happened upon a most unexpected and yet gratifying sight. A small, bespectacled, black haired boy walked towards him accompanied by the bushy-haired muggle-born witch that he was so often seen with. But what particularly caught Albus' eye was the dark green jumper with the golden lightning bolt that Harry was wearing.

"What a striking jumper," he remarked once the two first years reached him. "If I'm not mistaken, that looks to be the work of Molly Weasley."

Harry smiled shyly up at him. "Thank you, Sir. Mrs Weasely sent it to me for Christmas."

"Wonderful, wonderful," Professor Dumbledore intoned. "I hadn't realised that you'd had the opportunity to make Mrs Weasley's acquaintance as yet."

"No, Sir, I haven't," Harry replied. "This was Fred and George's idea. They got their mum to send it to me."

"Excellent, Mister Potter. It always warms this old teacher's heart to see friendships being formed," he replied, twinkling his eye at the boy.

Professor Dumbledore noted the way that Harry shared a look with the girl at his side. She in turn switched her gaze from the library entrance back to Harry.

"I see that you two are off to the library for a spot of study before classes resume tomorrow, so I'll let you go. Have a pleasant evening, Mister Potter, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Sir," Hermione replied.

"You too, Sir," Harry smiled.

Albus resisted the urge to turn and watch the two as they walked past him, instead continuing on his own course down the corridor. A smile appeared on his face as he contemplated what he'd just seen.

He'd been most annoyed that Molly had missed the opportunity to meet with Harry at King's Cross and to begin the friendship that he had hoped that Harry and the youngest Weasley boy should have had. But no matter, no matter. It seemed that Harry's friendship with the Weasley clan was beginning anyway, if in an unexpected way.

Albus considered his plans and deemed them worthy to continue. Harry would return to his Aunt and Uncle's house for the school holidays and, at the appropriate time, he could plant the idea in the twin's mind that they needed to check up on the boy and to bring him to the Burrow for some of the holidays.

And once he was there, Molly's mothering instinct would take over and with the right suggestion or two, Harry's short but ultimately tragic part in the destiny of the wizarding world would begin – guided, of course, by the wisest and most powerful wizard alive: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.