Chapter 1

Warning: This Chapter does contain scenes of physical child abuse.

October 31, 1995

Harry Potter had been missing for three weeks, and Daphne Greengrass's life was pretty much over. While it wasn't directly her fault he was gone, she wasn't going to refute the culpability she had in his disappearance. Because of that, she now sat in the great hall at the Slytherin table alone, as none of her peers would come within five feet of her any more. The Hogwarts rumor mill always traveled faster than a Daily Prophet front page story, and everyone knew what had happened in Potions on October 10th. To further exacerbate the situation, today was Halloween, a day in which people usually celebrated Harry Potter.

Granted, the Professors had done an excellent job of covering up the disappearance the first week, but now the entirety of Wizarding Britain knew as it had been all the Prophet had reported on for the last two weeks. So naturally there were several reporters from various newspapers scattered through the great hall tonight, as they prepared for the annual Halloween feast. To say that the mood was reserved and somber would be an understatement.

Gone was the usual twinkle in the piercing blue eyes of Dumbledore; he carried heavy bags under his eyes and his beard and hair looked askew, as if he hadn't slept in days. Harry's disappearance hit him hard, Daphne knew, as she'd been there in that Potions class when it all went to hell.

When I made it all go to hell, she thought sadly.

She scanned the staff table, noting Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Hagrid. The Defense chair sat empty, the only positive of Harry's disappearance: that foul toad, Umbridge, was gone and being tried by the Wizenmagot. All of them, even Snape, wore varying levels of guilt on their faces. Madam Pomfrey sat on the far end of the table, weeping quietly. Daphne could only assume she blamed herself for missing the signs when she treated Harry over the years.

The self-loathing Daphne could handle. The scathing looks from other students, she could ignore. The disappointed glares from various Professors, even Snape, over the last two weeks she had been able to shoulder. But what Daphne could not bear, and what had completely shattered her Ice Queen façade, was her sister, Astoria Greengrass's reaction to Harry's disappearance.

It was no secret to anyone in Hogwarts that Astoria and Harry were close. Over the last two years, she had become his best, and only, friend. Astoria carried a natural happiness and cheer that allowed her to make friends easily, but her blood curse and the Greengrass reputation for being a 'Dark' family caused many problems for the girl when she first came to Hogwarts and was sorted to Gryffindor. The shock could only be compared to an imagined scenario of Harry Potter being declared a Slytherin… Preposterous.

Until three weeks ago, when Harry had shouted, in that same Potions class the last he was seen, to Draco Malfoy that he was a hat stall between Gryffindor and Slytherin. That single sentence had crippled Draco's hold on the Slytherin power base. Many were rightly pissed at the lost renown the Boy-Who-Lived could have brought their house, which was often considered to only be good for producing the next Dark Lord.

So, when Astoria had been sorted into Gryffindor, and the whispers, mutterings and jeers began, and the automatic shunning started, only one person stood up and put a stop to it. Daphne had watched as third year Harry Potter got out from his seat, walked over to her baby sister, and gently grabbed her hand before pulling her to sit directly next to him. Daphne did not miss the light pink blush that peppered Astoria's cheeks that night. All children in Wizarding Britain grew up reading the stories of Harry Potter's greatness, generosity, and charity. He was like one of the Arthurian Knights come to life. And at that sorting, he lived up to every legend, when he embraced a scared little girl who had been clearly sorted into the wrong house.

Even when it became known that Astoria suffered from a terrible blood curse, Harry never seemed to treat her differently. It was something Astoria was quick to point out to Daphne, who constantly treated Astoria like a glass doll. Daphne would argue that this was because Astoria's condition was worsened through too much stimulus, be it physical, magical, or emotional. She was literally shaving years off her life every time she had an episode, and they were increasing in frequency.

Nevertheless, Harry Potter was a constant encourager to the girl, never doubting her. He'd even helped her cast the Patronus charm in his fourth year, something that had put Astoria out of school for two weeks while also placing Daphne in a horribly embarrassing situation with the second task. Daphne had retaliated with a savageness shortly after which immediately made the front page of every major newspaper for the following week.

Now Daphne watched as Astoria wept quietly, alone, at the Gryffindor table, her back to Daphne. Astoria had refused to look at Daphne the past three days, but every time Daphne had seen her, her eyes were red and puffy. The emotional strain on Astoria had nearly killed her last week, and Daphne knew that Astoria blamed her, even though she'd never say it out loud.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and stood to begin his speech when the candles in the great hall flickered and suddenly went out, leaving the room illuminated only by the house ghosts that floated around. Seconds later, a flash appeared in the center of the great hall before elongating into a large white rectangle that shimmered but was not translucent. Many muggle-born and half-bloods began whispering amongst themselves, and the world 'screen' was heard and passed around.

Daphne watched Dumbledore wave his wand several times, probably casting detection spells or attempting to restore the candlelight. Nothing happened. A collective gasp echoed through the hall, however, as Harry Potter walked into view on the… screen? It was clear to Daphne he wasn't there, but somehow an image of him was. She watched as the image conjured a plush chair and took a seat, seeming to stare directly at her. She would later learn from others that everyone in the great hall that night felt as if he was talking directly to them.

She heard a heavy cough, and looked over to Astoria, now bent over the table, hacking heavily. She made to move to her sister, feast rules be damned, when the image began speaking.

"Hello," Harry's voice carried easily through the great hall, almost as if he'd cast a Sonorous charm. Daphne froze in her seat. A chill went down her spine at the sound of his voice. She remembered well how cold he'd been in that Potions class. Any memory of the raw power coming off him in waves, to this day, caused goosebumps to erupt down her arms. She involuntarily shuddered.

"I suppose many of you feel I owe you an explanation," the image continued. "Frankly, I don't think I owe anyone in Wizarding Britain, except a select few, anything. But we'll get to that. For now, allow me to introduce you to the hell that is my life. To avoid any accusations of what you're about to witness being falsified or altered, I've brought a friend from the Department of Mysteries to validate what you're about to see."

Harry leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands as a much taller, and imposing, figure cut into the screen, wearing dark gray robes and a mask that concealed his face. Running down both sleeves was the word, 'Croaker', which caused quite a stir in the great hall from those who knew the name. This was the Head Unspeakable of the Department of Mysteries. There were maybe two or three people in Wizarding Britain who knew more about magic than this man.

"Greetings," the emotionless voice called out. "As I'm sure you've no doubt derived, I am Head Unspeakable Croaker. Lord Potter-Black has requested the Department of Mysteries to authenticate what you are about to see. Therefore, I shall place the D.O.M. runic seal at the bottom of this memory, which can be vetted at the Ministry as needed. Additionally, at Lord Potter-Black's request, we have used a rather…unknown memory magic to display what Lord Potter-Black wishes to be seen. You will undoubtedly note that the view will not exclusively be from first person perspective, but will also allow for views outside of the memory-holder's eyes, much like a pensieve. Most jarring for those unfamiliar with this magic, is that the memory holder's thoughts will be heard. It is important that the D.O.M. stresses that everything you see, and hear, is exactly as it occurred without edit."

"Raw and unfiltered," Harry quipped as Croaker waved his wand briefly, carving the runes into the bottom of the screen. "After all," Harry raised his right hand to the screen, showing the horrible scars just above his wrist from the blood quill. "I must not tell lies."

Croaker, now finished, took a final bow and departed from the screen.

"Seeing as how it's Halloween," Harry continued in his cold, harsh voice, "I'm sure all of you are celebrating the day of Voldemort's defeat, no?"

A collective shudder ran through the great hall.

"Funny, how all of you can sit back and breathe a sigh of relief over the supposed actions of an orphan who lost everything that day."

The silence was palpable. Daphne swallowed heavily.

Harry leaned back, his hands still steepled, his emerald-green eyes flashed briefly. "Dementors are right bastards," he said randomly. "What do you hear when they are near? What do you relive? Thanks to those disgusting creatures, you'll get to see exactly what I hear and see. I'm sure you'll find it riveting. Something worth celebrating on this day."

He waved his right hand, and the screen began to shimmer. "See you soon."

The screen flashed October 31, 1981. The D.O.M. rune burned brightly, reminding everyone this was beyond contention.

"Lily! Get Harry and run! He knows! Peter betrayed us!"

James Potter stood at the doorway to their home in Godric's Hollow, wandless, having just seen Voldemort apparate within the Fidelius Ward. Suddenly, it was blown off its hinges, sending drywall, brick and wood throughout the entry way, and James flat on his back. Voldemort stepped inside the home, watching as Lily Potter cleared the stairs and turned left toward Harry's room.

James struggled to get to his feet, bleeding from several cuts, his wand not even in hand. "Fight me!" He called out to Voldemort, who was moving past him. "A duel to the death!"

Voldemort laughed, it was high-pitched, mocking, and cruel.

Crucio!

James screamed and collapsed as every nerve was lit on fire. Voldemort held it for fifteen seconds, reveling in the agony he was inflicting. He pulled the spell, leaving a twitching James Potter on the floor. The young man was sturdier than anticipated, however, as he forced himself upright and stumbled to a nearby coffee table where his wand lay. He nearly made it before a bright flash of green lit the room and he fell, dead, to the floor.

Voldemort had just hit him in the back. Not even giving the man the honor to die in a duel or with wand in hand. The Dark Lord stalked up the stairs, knowing that Lily Potter and the brat would be going nowhere with his anti-apparation and portkey wards in place. He rounded the corner, relishing the fear he felt from behind the closed door to the nursery. A wand motion and the door was ripped from his hinges, disintegrating before touching the Dark Lord.

"Please!" Lily cried, shielding the crib with her body, "He's just a baby!"

"Move, girl!" Voldemort snarled, reaching out and grabbing Lily by the hair. She shrieked and fought, refusing to budge. Voldemort finally tired of her refusal.

Avada Kedavra!

A green flash, and Lily Potter fell to the floor, dead.

Harry Potter and his green eyes stared into the red eyes of the snake-faced Voldemort. Time seemed to stop only for a moment.

"And with this, I conquer death," Voldemort said matter-of-factly.

Avada Kedavra!

The green beam of light impacted Harry right in the forehead before ricocheting into Voldemort. The concussion from the rebound shattered every piece of glass in the room. In place of the Dark Lord was a gaping hole in the wall and roof, now showing the night sky. Baby Harry Potter stared down at his mother's lifeless corpse and, not realizing she would ever hold him again, reached out and cried for her. The screen faded to black.

The next moments in the great hall happened almost in slow motion for Daphne. Everyone paled considerably, even the ferret Malfoy, some students retched at the murders. McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid were openly sobbing. There was movement in the great hall as many tried to leave, only to find the doors sealed shut somehow. Daphne watched as Astoria collapsed on the table, convulsing from the stress. She screamed and sprinted over to her sister who was coughing blood and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Harry!" Astoria wailed.

Daphne wrapped her sister in her arms and rocked her back and forth. What was she supposed to say? It's going to be okay? I'm sorry? This is all my fault?

The screen flickered once more.

Suddenly, they were looking down on the house from the air, as Sirius Black flew in on his enchanted motorcycle. He landed, hard, and bolted from the vehicle, sprinting to the house.

"Oh, Merlin, no!" He said frantically, clearing the doorstep and seeing his best friend dead on the floor. "NO! James!"

James didn't respond. Sirius sobbed harshly while cradling James' body. "I'm sorry!" He repeated over and over. "I'm so sorry!"

The cries of Harry called from upstairs.

"Harry!" Sirius gasped, bolting up the stairs two at a time. He looked at the body of Lily and his legs failed him, dropping him weakly to the floor. "Lily, no!" He sobbed. With a herculean effort, he crawled to the crib, staring at Harry (now sporting his famous lightning bolt scar) who, not understanding the situation, giggled and reached through the bars to grab a wisp of Sirius's long black hair.

Sirius staggered to his feet and lifted Harry from the crib, clutching him like a lifeline to his chest.

"I've got you," he whispered brokenly. "You're safe."

"Pa'foo," Harry cooed.

Sirius sobbed and held his Godson tighter, leaving the home and shielding his eyes from seeing his father's corpse. He cleared the threshold of the front door to find Hagrid, out of breath, standing by the motorcycle.

"Hagrid?" Sirius called.

The large man was sobbing heavily. "Sirius?"

"Where's Dumbledore?"

"Sent me, he did," Hagrid responded. "Got ter take Harry to his family."

"He's with his family, Hagrid," Sirius responded. "You know I'm his Godfather."

"Dumbledore wants you ter go after Peter," Hagrid replied. "He was spotted not far from here."

"Peter!" Sirius swore viciously. He gently handed Harry over to Hagrid. "I'll trust Dumbledore on this, Hagrid. Take my bike. But know that I'm coming back for my Godson immediately after!"

"Alright," Hagrid nodded.

The screen went blank once more and Daphne called for Madam Pomfrey who, seeing Astoria, came running and began diagnostics on the girl. Astoria was stubbornly watching the screen, refusing to look away at this point as Daphne continued to hold her.

Harry appeared once more, seated in his chair and looking impassive. "Sirius Black, my Godfather, provided the memories you saw from his perspective to me before he died. The one's that appeared to be from Voldemort's perspective…" He trailed off for a moment, appearing pensive. "Well, they are from his perspective."

Harry tapped his temple. "Voldemort's been in here ever since that night. You'll see more of that later, though."

Daphne noted Dumbledore paled significantly, appearing dumbstruck, at this admission.

"So, there you have it," Harry continued. "Maybe next time you are enjoying a nice celebration regarding the downfall of the now resurrected Dark Lord, you'll remember what it cost." He snorted. "Yes, you heard right. Now resurrected. You'll see. That's the whole purpose of the D.O.M. rune." He pointed down to it. "Thanks again for that, Croaker."

"No problem, Lord Potter-Black," came the emotionless response.

"I'm sure by now some of you have attempted to leave the great hall," Harry said casually, causing many to gasp in shock. "Don't bother. I've taken control of the castle, as Albus has no doubt realized. You will be allowed to go once you've seen this to completion. Seeing as how many of you contributed to my…life. It's only fair you have your beliefs challenged or verified."

He reached down and pulled out several children's books, all of which had been read to Daphne and Astoria. Daphne felt bile rise in her throat as she looked at those books. She had no doubt that Harry was going to make an example of them, and with the current tone of this 'memory' thus far she was not looking forward to it. Astoria, her coughing now under control after several healing spells from Pomfrey, was whimpering in her arms.

"How many of you recognize these?" Harry called casually. "I'm sure all of you born in the magical world had at least one of them read to you. Grew up believing Harry Potter was raised in a life of luxury and glory, right? Or I was off slaying dragons and saving princesses when I was four, yeah?"

He chuckled, but it was hollow.

"My arrogance surely knows no bounds, because of the wonderful childhood I, the savior of the Wizarding world, must have led, right Snape?" Harry spat the name out with distaste. "Or I've never had to work a day in my life, and I've always been handed everything, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, right, Malfoy?"

Daphne noted both Snape and Malfoy actually flinched.

"You gits," Harry scoffed. "Let's watch my childhood so you can see how much love I've known before I learned about my heritage."

The next hour caused roughly half the great hall to have a physical reaction to what was being displayed. Many passed smooth out, others became violently ill, and some, mostly, Gryffindors, actually shot curses up at the screen which passed through with ease, not even distorting the images. Astoria faded in and out of consciousness throughout, the stress causing blood to begin running from her ears. Daphne felt her grip on sanity straining and vowed that if her little sister died during this shitstorm, she would hunt Harry Potter down and kill him herself.

What they saw, however, would never leave their minds. Daphne had seen the scars during that Potions lesson, but now she was, with everyone else, living each and every one.

Harry's first day of school, he introduced himself as 'Freak' because he truly believed that was his name. He was four.

Images of Harry, at four years old, presenting his grades from pre-school, which were higher than Dudley's. He was backhanded by his uncle so hard one of his baby teeth flew out, an instant bruise forming. Lifted by his ear, he was hurled into the cupboard beneath the stairs that would be his home for the next 6 years.

Dudley stomping on the stairs daily, preventing Harry from a good sleep and knocking the spiders atop him. Harry being only allowed one tenth the portions of his cousin, while being forced to cook breakfast, lunch and dinner daily.

At five, Harry dropped bacon on the floor when it spluttered and burned him. He was shoved from the stool he was standing on, landing on the tile and breaking his wrist. Vernon laid into his back with his belt when Harry began screaming in pain from the injury. The reason: wasting food and being ungrateful. They went to the doctor, and Harry was forced to lie and say he fell down the stairs. They made sure to wait until the welts from Vernon's beating had subsided. By that time, his wrist had swollen and was dangerously close to being infected. The laughed it off as Harry not being communicative and having a high pain tolerance when questioned by the doctor.

At six, Harry was beaten heavily by Dudley, who was starting boxing lessons. For months, Dudley would spar with his cousin who would suffer heavy beatings from Vernon and his belt if he hit back. Harry learned how to dodge and move quickly, but always ended up injured.

Also at six, Harry was treed by one of Aunt Marge's dogs, who had bitten his leg shortly before. Blood ran down in rivulets, feeding the bloodlust of the beast. That was his first bout of accidental magic. Right after being bit, he had practically teleported up the tree. Vernon waited until Marge had left and beat Harry to within an inch of his life, all the while roaring about how he would beat the freakishness out of his nephew. Petunia refused to treat the bite. It got infected, and when Harry was feverish and unconscious they finally took him to the doctor, who informed them that had they waited any longer, he would have lost his leg. They made some cock-eyed story about how Harry always wore jeans and didn't tell them to hide what they'd done. Again, they'd waited until the bruising and welts had faded before taking him in.

At seven, the pain from the belt hardly registered with Harry, who now carried several scars from the constant beatings. With pain tolerance came confidence. With confidence, mouthiness. The first time he mouthed back was during the winter holidays, and Harry wanted to go outside to see the snow for the first time. His reward, being stripped naked and thrown into the backyard, where Vernon proceeded to drag him through the three foot snow drifts that had accumulated. Harry was allowed back inside roughly two hours later, shivering and suffering minor frostbite on his toes and fingers. To stimulate him, he was given a ratty blanket and thrown back into his 'freak lair', as they had dubbed it.

At eight, Harry had another bout of accidental magic when Petunia attempted to cut his hair. She shaved him bald, thinking it faster and easier and saying it would be a perfect look for a freak. Later that day, when his full head of hair was back, she screamed and grabbed the poker from the fire, stabbing him in the left shoulder with it. Harry screamed and tried to run, managing to get back to his cupboard and accidentally causing it to magically lock. Petunia shrieked that he would pay for his freakishness when Vernon got home.

Pay he did. Vernon had worked himself into a rage after a phone call from his wife. He arrived home and ripped the door open, dragging Harry out by his wounded arm and up the stairs. When they made it to the top, he threw him down, watching as the boy tumbled to the bottom. Harry felt pain acutely that day, as his right shoulder dislocated, and his left leg broke. This time there was no doctor. Vernon reset the shoulder by shoving Harry into the back door frame. Once Harry blacked out, Petunia splint the broken bone. Harry was fed 'half-rations' while recovering, for being unable to contribute around the house. He was out for eight weeks and suffered another infection that he only managed to fight through due to his magical heritage. Those were some of the most painful days he'd ever experienced, curled up on his meagre pallet in the cupboard, feverish and drenched in sweat.

At nine, Harry had learned how to somewhat mitigate the raging tempers of the Dursley's and thus reduce outbursts of violence. On a particular night, when Vernon and Petunia almost seemed pleased with his chores, and had been liquored up, he asked about his parents. That's when he found out they had died in a car-crash, having been drunk, and he ended up with that freakish scar. Unfortunately, Harry asked what their names were, and Vernon beat him into unconsciousness for his cheek, dragging the bleeding boy back to his 'freak-den' and tossing him inside, locking the door. They didn't let Harry eat for three days.

At ten, Harry began talking to the spiders and darkness late in the nights.

"Will you be my friend?" the boy questioned. The spider he was holding scuttled away, causing him to sigh. "One friend. Someone who doesn't call me freak. Someone who doesn't hurt me."

Harry sobbed quietly and whispered brokenly, "I don't want to hurt anymore."

Daphne, who had been silently crying while watching the horror show, felt a dull ache in her chest. She'd used the same word as those despicable muggles when she'd erupted on Potter during that Potions class three weeks ago. Astoria was failing to hold it together. Daphne imagined out of everyone in the room, this was hurting her the worst. Astoria loved Harry like a big brother.

"Oh, Harry!" Astoria hiccupped.

Madam Pomfrey, having seen every injury she'd glanced over or dismissed over the many visits Harry had to the Hospital Wing, was stunned. Daphne thought someone had used Stupefy on her. The only indication that wasn't the case were the tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks.

June 23, 1991 – Harry learned he was a Parselmouth, accidentally setting free a boa constrictor. It had been the first time, ever, that Harry was allowed out of the house for something fun, even if it had been Dudley's birthday. Vernon upgraded from the belt that day and beat Harry into oblivion with the fire poker. At least it wasn't heated.

July 24, 1991 – The first Hogwarts letter arrives, and Harry is allowed to move into Dudley's second bedroom. Dudley pitches a fit and throws Harry down the stairs before being softly reprimanded by Petunia. Harry, miraculously, only sprains an ankle from his tumble.

July 31, 1991 – Harry is trying to stay warm in the shack they were staying in. Softly singing happy birthday to himself and wishing for a friend. Hagrid shows up.

"I-I'm a Wizard?" Harry questioned softly.

"Blimey, Harry," Hagrid responded. "Don't tell me you don't know about your parents?"

Harry calmly explained what he knew, which quickly escalated into the Dursley's being cowed and Dudley sporting a brand-new tail. Harry was then whisked away to Diagon Alley.

I'm a Wizard, he thought. This was the first time his thoughts had been shown in the memories thus far. And Hagrid knew my parents. Would I have had friends if they were alive?

"Hagrid," Harry asked softly. "Did my mum and dad have friends?"

Hagrid looked surprised. "Well of course they did, Harry!" He laughed at the odd question. "Why, your mum was best friends with Aria Greengrass. She was also close with Amelia Bones and Alice Longbottom. Your dad, well he had tons of friends. Caused quite a bit of trouble at school with three others he formed a group with."

Greengrass, Bones, Longbottom, Harry thought. Funny names. But I won't forget. My mum had friends.

When Hagrid showed Harry how to enter Diagon Alley, the young boy was spellbound. He stared around in awe.

I love magic.

The thought echoed around the great hall, filled with both longing and a sense of completion, like Harry had finally found something that made living worthwhile.

"Let's start with Gringott's," Hagrid pointed to a large white building. Harry followed along, gazing around in wonder.

Gringott's was an adventure in of itself. Including the mysterious package Hagrid acquired. Harry's vault caused many to intake sharp breaths. It was true that Harry was well-off, but based on his childhood, all now knew why he wore Dudley's hand-me-downs. Loaded with a bag of galleons, they began with Madam Malkin's. Hagrid dropped Harry off at the door and begged off, stating he needed to get Harry's birthday present.

Harry, now alone and completely confused, entered the shop with trepidation. He saw several people seated along the right wall, and moved to join, but there were no empty seats. He stood awkwardly by a blonde-haired adult woman, who, upon noticing him, smiled brightly.

"Here you go, dear," she stood and motioned to the seat. "Have a seat."

"T-thanks," Harry murmured, sitting down awkwardly.

"First year?" a soft voice questioned to his right. Harry turned to find the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen staring back at him with striking blue eyes the color of the ocean. She had the same blonde hair, straight and falling just past her shoulders, as the woman who had offered him the seat. In fact, she looked like a clone of that woman. With her sharp nose, aristocratic features, and lithe body, Harry was momentarily breathless. She sat straight as a board, regal and looking every bit the pureblood princess she was.

Daphne, still holding Astoria, stared gob smacked.

Shit. She thought.

Harry's thoughts were echoing around the great hall. She has nice eyes. I shouldn't stare. Staring leads to pain. She is really quite pretty, though. Probably not proper to say such a thing. Oh! She asked me a question! Not responding leads to pain.

"Y-yes," Harry nodded dumbly. "Hogwarts, right?"

The girl sat straighter, if possible, "Of course! Is there any school better?"

"Uh," Harry shrugged. "No?"

That answer seemed to placate her.

Phew. I had no clue what to say there…

"I'm Harry," he tried to keep conversation going, even though the girl was staring straight ahead. To his left, the mother was biting her lower lip and attempting to not laugh at the clumsy boy. "Harry Potter."

The woman gasped while her daughter raised an eyebrow and turned to look at him.

"The Harry Potter?" She leaned forward to view his forehead, causing Harry to flinch. Seeing the scar satisfied her disbelief and she nodded curtly.

"Daphne Greengrass," she held her hand out which Harry took and shook, causing the girl to frown in displeasure. It did not go unnoticed by Harry.

Greengrass! Harry practically shouted in his mind. This is one of mum's friends! It's one of the names! Maybe we can be friends!

He turned to the mother. "Excuse me," he questioned politely. "Are you Aria Greengrass?"

"Yes, I am. I was close friends with your mother," Aria affirmed. "I must say it's a surprise to see you after all these years, Harry. No one has known where you've been!"

"Oh, uh, I was living with my relatives," Harry responded softly.

"Well, that sounds lovely," Aria smiled.

Not how I'd describe it… Harry thought bitterly.

"Yeah," he offered before turning back to Daphne. "I'm sorry if I offended you. This is all new to me."

"Your relatives are muggles?" Aria asked in surprise.

"What now?"

"Muggles, non-magicals," Daphne interjected.

"Oh," Harry nodded emphatically. "Oh, yes. They hate magic."

Aria frowned.

"You caught me off-guard is all," Daphne informed. "Tradition dictates that you should kiss the knuckles of a Lady's offered hand while performing a half bow."

Harry stood up immediately. "Can we try again?"

Daphne smirked. "I suppose."

Harry grabbed the offered hand reverently, bowing as instructed while placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles. He was rewarded with a blinding smile that sent goosebumps down his arms.

Whew! Must have done it right! I'll do that every time if it makes her smile!

"Much better," Daphne complimented. "Are you excited about going to Hogwarts?"

Harry smiled back while returning to his seat, not recognizing it was one of the first time's he'd ever smiled. "I am!"

"What house do you think you'll be in?"

"House?"

Daphne rolled her eyes.

"Daphne," Aria admonished. "He doesn't know." She smiled down at Harry. "Seeing as how you look just like James, I'd bet you'll go straight to Gryffindor."

Harry shrugged. "What about you, Daphne?"

"Ravenclaw or Slytherin," she replied with a smirk. "Mum was Ravenclaw and dad was a Slytherin."

They continued talking for several minutes, Daphne gradually opening up and letting her guard down while Aria observed curiously. Harry had never smiled so much in his life. When Madam Malkin called him back for fitting, seeing as he was the last boy, he thanked both Aria and Daphne for the company. As he made to follow Madam Malkin he paused, turning back to Daphne.

"Daphne," he said softly, seeming to struggle to find the words. "Can we be friends?"

The girl seemed taken aback. She bit her lower lip and brushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. Her mother, having taken the seat next to her once more, elbowed Daphne sharply in the ribs. "Yes, of course. You'll write to me then?"

"Uh," Harry paused and kicked his feet nervously, looking at the ground. Aria, understanding, gave a lighthearted giggle.

"Just give us your address dear, and I'll have Daphne send the first letter so you can reply. After that, I imagine owl-post will make much more sense."

Harry brightened and opened his mouth, "4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging."

The smile Harry left with didn't leave for the rest of his trip. Not even his initial meeting with Draco Malfoy could wipe it out, although he did have harsh thoughts about the prick for his views on Hagrid. At that time, he had no idea that Daphne was raised with less extreme, but similar views. The students in the great hall were shocked to learn that his wand was the brother of Voldemort's. Throughout the trip, Harry kept his eyes open for anyone named Bones or Longbottom, but never found them. He was thrilled with Hedwig, his owl, and so happy to have someone to talk to, even if she couldn't talk back. Without realizing it, he immediately established a familiar bond with the gorgeous snowy owl.

But the thoughts that echoed throughout the rest of his trip centered mainly around Daphne, his first friend. He was beyond thrilled, and counted their discussion among the best conversation he'd had to date in his life. Additionally, he had something to look forward to for the entire month of August! Letters from Daphne! The beautiful, he really did think that quite a bit, girl who just so happened to be the daughter of his mum's best friend.

It's like fate wants us to be friends! For once in my life, something good happened!

During the Diagon Alley memories, the atmosphere of the great hall had begun to change. Students, staff and reporters were beginning to root heavily for the abused boy, hoping he could find some modicum of joy. Even the ghosts were enthralled. While terribly awkward for Daphne, who was sitting in the great hall with them, most seemed rather encouraged at their interaction. Some of the girls were even eyeing her curiously, wondering why she'd gone suddenly pale.

The Ice Queen, as she was known, suddenly felt her mask fail. She knew what was going to be shown, and she felt sick.

I'm fucked. Daphne thought miserably. I'm such a bitch…

Harry was back at the Dursley's, sitting on his bed in his room, with more space than he'd ever known. The same smile he'd worn ever since meeting Daphne still plastered on his face. He rocked back and forth in anticipation, chattering quietly to Hedwig who watched him intently.

"She's going to write me!" Harry exclaimed. "My friend is going to write me! I can't wait to know her better, Hedwig!"

The owl hooted.

"She was my mum's best friend! How amazing is that? It must have been magic that introduced us!"

He sighed happily and flopped back on the lumpy bed that suited his needs far better than the meagre pallet he used to sleep on.

I love magic!

Most of the females, caught up in the obvious burgeoning romance, leaned forward in anticipation for that first letter. The days began to flicker on the screen. As each day flashed, a memory of Harry, eagerly awaiting, was shown. And each night, he went to bed without a letter, but always with an excuse from his friend.

"Maybe it takes awhile for Owls to deliver mail?" Harry asked Hedwig in confusion after two weeks had passed.

Hedwig hooted indignantly.

"Well maybe she's busy," Harry shrugged. "I'd imagine there's plenty to do on the magic side."

Three weeks had passed without a letter from Daphne.

"You know, Hedwig," Harry mused while staring at the ceiling, having eaten a cold bowl of soup that barely filled him, and given Hedwig the crusts of the single piece of bread he'd been allotted. "I think Daphne may have forgotten."

Daphne felt Astoria suddenly clench her robes harshly, taking a sharp breath.

The final days passed, and Harry was going to Hogwarts at last tomorrow! Yet Daphne had not written him a letter.

"Tomorrow is the day!" Harry called over to Hedwig, who hooted at him happily. "I'm so excited! We'll get to see Daphne again! I'm not even going to bring up the letter thing, though. I don't want to upset her. She told me she'd be my friend, so that's enough for me. She's my first friend, after all!"

Hedwig hooted.

"Well, you're my second friend, Hedwig," Harry assured. "I can't help that Daphne found me first."

Another hoot.

"Okay, yes," Harry huffed. "She's very pretty. And I really like her smile. Speaking of which, I need to practice!"

He got out of bed and faced Hedwig, bowing at the waist and miming holding Daphne's hand, kissing the air regally. He kept this up for almost an hour, until Hedwig finally nipped his outstretched hand.

"Oi!" Harry shook his hand in agitation. Hedwig hooted indignantly and turned away from him. "Fine!" Harry huffed. "You're very pretty too, Hedwig!"

The owl turned to stare at him with one eye.

"The most gorgeous of all owls!"

Hedwig hooted, satisfied with the compliment and turned back to him.

But Daphne's prettier. Harry thought while smirking at his familiar.

The screen went blank once more.

"No!" Astoria whispered, causing Daphne to look down at her, not realizing that quite a few people in the great hall were staring at her. "No. Way."

"Tori?"

"Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?!" Astoria shrieked the last word, shoving her sister violently. Daphne spilled out of the bench, landing on the stone floor, hard. She looked up at Astoria with shock and hurt plastered on her face. Astoria stood and trembled with rage, coughing sporadically and uncaring that the blood was now running freely out of her mouth.

"One letter, Daph!" Astoria screamed. "It makes sense now! All the shit he went through! FOR YOU!" She coughed violently, doubling over. Blood splattered the ground at her feet. Daphne moved to help her. "DON'T!" Astoria roared. "Don't touch me!"

Daphne fell back, wounded and scared. She'd never seen Astoria so angry.

"Do you have any idea what you've done to him?" She asked in a warbly voice. "Dear Merlin, Daph. You're smart enough to have seen it. He's been hopelessly in love with you! And because of what he's BEEN THROUGH he doesn't recognize what love is!"

Daphne's mouth fell open and she found no words to offer as Astoria continued her tirade.

"And every time he tried, what did you do to him? You HURT HIM!" She screeched. "Do you know how many times I've defended you these past two years? How many times he's asked what he's done wrong? Merlin! I should have tried to get him to love me the way he does you! At least I wouldn't have drug him along all these years and ripped his heart out!"

"I didn't-" Daphne protested.

"SHUT UP!" Astoria pointed, uncaring that she was beginning to feel faint. "You don't get to talk! You don't deserve him, Daph! I'm so utterly disgusted by you right now. Don't pretend you didn't know! Why, Daph? WHY?! Is it because he's a half-blood? Because he was raised muggle? What the fuck does that matter? He saved you from a bloody basilisk!"

Astoria seized by a horrible fit of coughing but managed to stand her ground and not topple. She began sobbing pitifully, shaking her head. "He told me about that, you know," she said in defeat. "I'm sure he's going to show it. You'll see." She looked over to Ron who looked guilty, for some reason. "He had to choose between Daphne and your sister, Ronald," Astoria called. "He has never forgiven himself for that awful choice."

She turned to look at Daphne, "I'm not sure he made the right choice anymore."

Several people gasped in horror.

"Tori," Daphne croaked, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to break free.

"No, Daph," Astoria coughed and felt her legs give out. She fell to the ground, breathing heavily. "They're going to see. He's the most noble, sweetest, loving boy I've ever met. The embodiment of Gryffindor. And you broke him."

Astoria forced herself to her feet and sat back down at the table, hacking weakly. She turned and spat on the ground. "Go sit with Malfoy, it's where you belong. Him and Snape are the only two who've come close to hurting Harry the way you have."

The screen began to shimmer once more and Daphne, feeling sick, staggered to her feet and fell back into her seat at the Slytherin table. She could feel the hatred from the majority of the hall angled at her. Only the new images flashing across the screen pulled attention away from her.

My life is over, Daphne thought miserably. And what's worse is Tori's right. I knew. And I didn't care. I'll be amazed if I'm alive by the end of the week.

She looked over at Tori, who was openly crying, sobbing, and beating the table with her fist furiously.

I'm not sure I want to live, anyway