NOTE: Originally published in "The Harmony Drawer" where it remains for now. Harry doesn't hold back on what he thinks about people demanding to see his famous scar.

Not wanting to be ungrateful, Harry made conversation with Fred and George.

"Quite a few of you going to Hogwarts, eh?" It sounded clumsy, and he regretted it immediately. But the redheaded twins did not seem to mind.

"A year or three ago and you'd have caught Bill and Charlie," one said. "And the blushing little girl over there will be the last one next year."

"Wow!" Harry responded. "Seven of you in all? Must be nice!"

The twin gave Harry a sympathetic look, then shrugged. "It has its good sides and its bad sides. I don't think our youngest brother is exceptionally fond of it."

"Oh?" said Harry, surprised.

"When you're Number Six, everything is hand-me-down, isn't it?" said the other twin.

"We've had our share of that, of course, but it's probably worse for Ron," said the first twin.

At that point, Harry's trunk was on the train, but he couldn't help but ask about an old woman who was standing aside and glaring at the family.

Harry jerked his head in her direction and gave a questioning glance.

"Oh, her?" said the other twin. "That creature is a Bile-filled Muriel. Quite dangerous, and it's not said to be edible."

"Poisonous indeed. It's a shock to magizoologists that they're related to the Weasley Magnificus, but there you are," said the first twin.

"She ... hates you?" asked Harry. "Why?"

"She criticized our mother for marrying Arthur - said she was disgracing the Prewett family by marrying a "poor squib who'd never make anything of himself."

"And when Percy came along, she predicted if Molly kept having children, they'd undoubtedly become squibs. Which, to be fair, is what happened."

"Oh wait," said the second twin, and he muttered something that sounded like "incendio" and waved his wand in a complex pattern. Harry saw the word "NOT" appear in the air. It was quite impressive.

Then the other twin wrote "SQUIBS YET," which was even more impressive. Even Harry laughed. The woman's scowl looked like it could kill with a glance. Harry was almost glad he had the Dursleys instead of her. She even stamped her cane on the ground and looked away.

"The main problem is she knows our great uncle and she talked him into disinheriting our cousin, who really is a squib."

"CPA whatever that is."

"Nice man."

"Anyway, that meant that the Weasley heirship passed to our dad, and it will pass to Bill."

"Which would normally please her. Dad's no slouch as a wizard, nor is Bill."

"But she's written the Weasleys off twice - once out of looking down on Dad, once on her stated conviction we'd all - me and Fred and Ron and Ginny - be squibs."

"Hence, her bile."

Harry found a compartment, the first one with a window seat, and settled in. He was able to observe the Weasley family dynamics further. The youngest Weasley opened the door to the compartment.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full.

Harry was a bit surprised, as he'd taken a compartment near the front so he could observe the platform. Still, maybe everyone went to the back out of preference. He shook his head.

They hadn't been long before the twins came back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there," said the first twin.

"Right," mumbled Ron."

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our
brother. See you later, then."

He gave Harry a wink.

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"Oh — well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron.

"And have you really got — you know . . ."He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar.

Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who — ?"

It really wasn't Ron's fault, though he was annoying.

"Voldemort," said Harry, bluntly.

Ron looked at him in shock.

"According to Hagrid, that's his name. So I know who."

Harry probably had a scary expression on his face. He thought about explaining patiently and kindly. He thought about it for two seconds.

"So. Ronald Weasly, correct?"

Ron still looked stunned, but managed to nod.

"Okay, Ronald. Do me a favour. Try imagining with me. Can you do that?"

After a while, the stunned Ron Weasley nodded again.

"You're a year and a quarter old. But you're pretty precocious. You're already doing accidental magic, you've ridden your first broom, you've learned to identify your parents and some family friends. If it helps, pretend you're already two. With me so far?"

Another stunned nod.

"My point is, you're pretty aware of what's going on for a fifteen-month-old toddler. That's not a good thing, Ronald."

"Anyway, for whatever reason, somehow Voldemort has found the Weasley family. He's there to kill, not just any Weasley, but you, Ronald. For whatever reason, old "You Know Who" wants you dead."

"But that's not to say he won't enjoy the work. No, not at all. Your father - you have one, right?" Harry asked.

More nods.

"Yeah, your father. He yells to your mother to take the kids and flee upstairs. They've tried to leave by whatever ways you wizards have of leaving but for some reason they don't. Your dad holds Voldemort off. Then he's snuffed out like a candle. Like a candle, Ronald."

"Next, he comes up. Say goodbye to Bill. And Charlie. And Percy. And the twins. And oh, little Ginny. Sorry about little Ginny. And you get to see the life leave their eyes as they drop to the floor. You know it's bad, you just don't fully understand the badness. You're too scared to cry. You're a toddler, and you're too scared to cry."

Ron was very pale.

"Now, your mother comes into her own. This is the part you remember."

"'Don't kill him!' she says. Meaning, don't kill you, Ronald. 'Take me instead! Have mercy! Have mercy!'"

"Do I need to tell you whether Voldemort takes her up on her offer?"

Ron shook his head.

"Correct. In what I now see as a strange response, he demands your mother should stand aside and let him at you. She, being a mother, refuses. Cue the green light. Now, your mother looks like Bill and Charlie and so on. Like little Ginny. And she drops to the floor. I guess it's your turn, Ronald."

"The man laughs. His voice is unforgettable, but only now do I think it has a quality. It's quite high, and sounds like he has a clothespin on his nose. Do wizards have clothespins? Never mind. He laughs and tells the toddler - you - that you won't win. Then he says 'Abracadabra' and he points his stick at you and you see the green light again. Everything hurts, and then you fall asleep."

"When you wake up, some family friend has you. Who are your neighbours, Ronald?"

"Umm ... Diggorys ... umm ... Lovegoods ..."

"Okay. So Mr Lovegood comes and picks you up and you wake up. The bodies of your family minus your dad are still piled up on the floor. There's also a pile of wizard's robes, but that's not something you pay attention to. Their eyes, Ronald, their eyes are all still open. You know things are bad and scary, and you're still too scared to cry. You also feel really sad, but you don't really understand your feelings."

"Then a big, big man comes and pulls you out of Mr Lovegood's arms. He flies you somewhere. It's actually the first good thing that's happened in a long while. When you arrive, there's an old man and a very stern-looking woman. They leave you on your cousin's doorstep like a bottle of milk. The cousin that does accounting. That means keeping track of money like the goblins at Gringotts. You know that cousin?"

"Never met him, but ..." Ron mumbles without finishing his sentence.

"Anyway, you better get to know him. He's your new guardian. He finds out next morning leaving for work. There you are in a basket. Thanks to his treatment in the wizarding world, including the Prewett family and his own Weasley father, Ronald, he hates wizards, he hates magic, and he hates ... YOU, Ronald. He hates you on sight. Anyway, in retrospect, the main thing you remember the old man saying was that he wouldn't remove your scar if he could. And the stern woman says your cousin isn't an appropriate guardian, but I guess no one cared."

"So does his Muggle wife, by the way. Hate you, I mean. And their Muggle child is trained to do the same."

The first thing you know, you're inside a cupboard under the stairs. They change your nappy once a day, usually with a cuff to the ears. They feed you table scraps and whatever's peeled away while making dinner. You drink water. Not quite enough water."

"Even better, they want to get in good with your Aunt Muriel. You are, after all, the last Weasley. Moreover, though it's been arranged you won't ever know about it, you're the Boy-Who-Lived. You even have a nice ugly scar disfiguring your forehead. Get used to it. It's the only thing anyone will ever care about concerning you in the future. Anyway, she visits, and she hates you, too. More than your cousin. More than his wife. More than your cousin's child, who literally beats on you every day. Your cousin and his wife are a little more selective. They only beat you for what they think are good reasons. Something went wrong in their lives, for instance. But she punishes you for breathing. She has her dog rip your flesh. She laughs. It's one of the few things that can make her laugh, in fact."

"Imagine how sad the funeral must have been, Ronald. Eight coffins. One of them is quite tiny. But you won't be there. You're going to be told by your cousin that your whole family are squibs. That your mother used Muggle's drugs and paid for them by being a whore. That your father killed your whole family somehow in an accident while drinking, which he did every day, all day. That they survived by begging. Anything you remember is a lie, like being magic or flying a broom. All lies."

"One day, a bunch of letters come in, addressed to your cupboard. But your cousin still hates the wizarding world. He won't let you open it. Instead of sending someone to talk to you in person, they send tens of thousands of letters, driving your cousin into an insane fury. He yanks his family and you out and relocates to a remote island. Finally, the wizards send the big man that took you from Mr Lovegood. He terrorizes your cousin and his family and brings you to Diagon Alley. Everyone mobs you. Everyone calls you the Boy-Who-Lived, Ronald. You're famous! Really famous! It's a little hard to understand. You are still thinking your family were drunks and Muggle drug addicts. The big man sets you straight. Voldemort murdered your family, it wasn't an accident. And you have money. You didn't have to wear the baggy torn clothes your cousin's son no longer needs. You could have bought enough food not to be small and skinny. But no one told you. Still, you know what, Ronald?"

Ron shook his head.

"It's all worth it. Because, let's not forget, you're the Boy-Who-Lived! 'Hey, Boy-Who-Lived, show us your scar!' 'Me, too! Show me, too!' You're like a Muggle celebrity. Of course, it's a little weird you never ever got any mail from anyone in the magical world. You'll have to look into that. But fame, Ronald. And fortune! Well, it's not really a fortune anymore, but it's better than nothing. And nothing is better than being famous."

"Anyway," said Harry, moving his hair aside again, "Yes, this is where You-Know-Who thought he'd killed me, the last of my family. Ended me and my line. The Potter line. I assume it's magnificent-looking, but for some reason when I have a mirror handy, I don't really look at it much."

There was a very long, very tense pause.

"If you didn't want to show me," said Ron Weasley, finally, "you could have just said so."

Neither of them said anything after that until a girl burst in asking about a toad. Harry took the opportunity to help her look for it, and did not return.