Ch2

"Well, there you are, boy," Uncle Vernon said, a nasty grin on his face. "Platform nine-platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're some kind of moron, you know that? And no, I wouldn't recommend trying anything in front of all these witnesses," Harry said casually as he watched his Uncle's face begin to purple. He figured he was reasonably safe saying anything he wanted to him seeing as how he wouldn't see him for nine whole months. "Of course they don't have the platform be obvious; it's a train for wizard children with wizard items that would attract far too much attention."

"Then where is it, boy?" Vernon spat.

"You just walk right through the portal. I know it looks like a brick wall, but I assure you it's not. How is that possible, you ask? MAGIC. In fact, you can come with me, if you like, and see it for yourself," Harry suggested.

Uncle Vernon looked like he was about to lunge at Harry, but Harry just nodded towards the local constable who was standing not twenty feet away and Uncle Vernon reluctantly backed down. "You'll pay for that, boy," he whispered menacingly and then walked back to his car. As they drove away, Harry saw Dudley and Aunt Petunia laughing; clearly his Uncle had lied about the encounter.

Now, Harry was fully aware of the fact that antagonizing his Uncle was probably not the best plan, but he had stood up to people a hundred times more intimidating than the likes of Vernon Dursely and so he wasn't about to just cower as he would have when he was really eleven. Harry could basically write off any chance off improving relations with his Uncle, but the rest of his family were a different story.

He knew that his Aunt Petunia had once loved her sister and was more scared of what Harry's presence would mean in terms of her family's safety and jealous that Lily had always been the favorite. More than fifteen years of resentment would be hard to overcome, but Harry had always hated summer and the fact that he never had anything to do, so he may as well try that. Dudley was another avenue that Harry could pursue. Granted at this point in time he was little more than a spoiled bully, but he did eventually come to accept Harry after the Dementor incident. He wasn't quite sure how he could speed up a reconciliation with Dudley, but it might be worth looking into. It would definitely make life at Privet Drive more peaceful, that was for sure.

"-packed with Muggles, of course-"

Harry looked up abruptly as he heard Mrs. Weasley's voice. He quickly hurried after them.

"Now, what's the platform number?" Molly asked. Harry wondered briefly how in the world she managed to forget the platform number since she'd been doing this for God knows how many years.

"Nine and three-quarters!" Ginny piped up. "Mum, can't I go…" Harry couldn't help but grin. While they were both currently way too young for him to be having any romantic thoughts about her, she was still a cute kid.

When all the Hogwarts-bound Weasley's save Ron had gone through, Harry approached them.

"Excuse me," Harry said.

"Hello, dear. First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too," Molly said kindly.

"Yes," Harry nodded before turning to Ron. "Hi, my name's Harry Potter."

As he anticipated, the reaction was immediate. Ron's eyes immediately flew to his forehead and Ginny started squealing. Well, at least this way she wouldn't complain about not seeing him, though watching the love of his life act like a fangirl was somewhat irritating.

"Are you really?" Ron asked.

"Are you really Ron?" Harry asked.

"Of course I am," Ron said, looking confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I could say the same to you," Harry replied.

"But…but I can't believe that you'd be Harry Potter!"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I suppose someone has to be, right?" he said, casually brushing his hair out of his eyes and revealing the most famous scar in the history of magic. "So anyway, I was wondering if you could help me find the platform?" he asked, turning back to Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley, whose eyes had filled with tears upon finding out who Harry was (probably because such a polite boy had had such a tragic life and at such a young age, too), nodded. "Of course, dear. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

Harry thanked her for her help and walked through the platform. Harry looked around, smiling a little at the sight of everyone so much younger than the last time he saw them.

Suddenly, one of the Weasley twins approached him. "Want a hand?" he asked. Unfortunately, Harry had no idea which one it was, as he had never been able to tell them apart to begin with and George had lost his ear the summer after his sixth year and then Fred had died so he never really got an opportunity, even after he had married into the family.

"Thanks," Harry replied.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!" Okay, now Harry was reasonably sure that Fred was the one who had approached him. After all, the twins never actually referred to themselves by their proper names, as apparently that was for 'lesser pranksters.'

Once the twins helped him, he again brushed his hair out of his eyes, this time more because the effort of lifting his school trunks (he should probably put a charm on it to lighten it) than because he had any great need to reveal himself to people who would hear him announced to everybody at his sorting soon enough. It was strange, though, to see George with two ears again. To see Fred ALIVE again. His heart constricted briefly and he tried to imagine how it'd be to see some of the other people he'd lost. Especially Sirius, who was still in Azkaban.

"What's that?" George asked. Now that Harry had a good idea as to which one had first approached him, he knew that he'd be able to tell them apart—at least until they left his line of sight. Apparently Bill was the only one who had been consistently able to tell them apart, hence he was their favorite sibling. Well, Bill and Percy, but the latter was far too uptight to ever be idolized by the Weasley twins.

"Blimey," said Fred. "Are you-?"

"He is," George confirmed. Harry couldn't help but notice how surreal it was that the Weasley twins were, for once, NOT finishing each other's sentences. Hm. No matter how well they knew each other, that must be pretty difficult. Were they Legilimens? "Aren't you?"

"Well, I'm seriously confused, if that's what you mean," Harry told them.

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.

"Nope," Harry said cheerfully.

"You're not?" Fred asked, bemused.

"No, I'm not. Have you ever met him?" Harry asked.

"Well, no, but-" George began.

"Then what makes you think I'm him?" Harry demanded.

"Well, you've got a scar," Fred offered.

"So does Dumbledore, are you going to go accusing him of being Potter next?"

"Of course not!" George said, looking thoughtful. "Filch, on the other hand…"

"So who are you then, if you're not Harry Potter?" Fred asked skeptically. "And why do you have a lightning bolt scar on your forehead?"

"Well, after that nasty little incident with the Dark Lord, my mother decided that lightning bolt scars were 'in' and shot a cutting curse at me." Harry paused. "At least, that's the official story. I think that was before my father had the courage to be cut off for three months by telling her that maybe she should leave the cooking to the house elves." Fred and George just stared at him. "Hey, don't judge! And I'm Draco Malfoy, by the way." He peered at them suspiciously. "You ARE Purebloods, right?"

Wordlessly, Fred nodded.

George found his voice first. "YOU'RE Draco Malfoy?"

"You have a problem with that?" Harry crossed his arms.

"No, but…aren't your parents blonde?" he asked.

"Your point being?"

"How can two blonde people have a black-haired son?" George asked reasonably.

"No, my mother was not having a very public affair with Severus Snape, how dare you even suggest that!" Harry screeched.

Fred held up his hands. "Calm down, he didn't mean to offend you."

"Well he did," Harry sniffed. "In fact, I'm going to write to father right now."

"Isn't he still at the platform?" George asked, perplexed.

"Yes he is, but actually talking to your relatives is for half-bloods," and with that Harry stormed off, wondering how on earth he had managed to keep a straight face through that entire exchange. One thing he knew, though, was that he definitely would have the twins' respect after they realized he'd tricked them.

"Hey, Mum, guess what. Guess who we just met on the train," Harry heard Fred say.

"Who?" Molly asked.

"Draco Malfoy!"

"That's nothing, I met Harry Potter," Ginny told him, still sounding awestruck.

"Why'd you want to meet a git like him anyway?" Ron asked.

"Meeting him wasn't the interesting part," George explained.

"Then what was?" Ron asked.

"Apparently his mum and Snape were having an affair and he's the by-product!" Fred exclaimed.

"WHAT?" Molly asked. This is much better gossip than last year's 'Albus Dumbledore was madly in love with Gellert Grindelwald.' Honestly, you'd think Rita Skeeter would learn to stop making up such sensational stories. Obviously Dumbledore was struck speechless by the blatant lies and thus couldn't be bothered to deny it.

"It's true, he practically admitted it," George confirmed.

"I've got to go find Andromeda," Mrs. Weasley muttered. "Be good kids!" And with that she hurried away, Ginny trailing along behind her and casting longing looks back at the Express.

"Anyone sitting here?" Ron asked, entering Harry's compartment hesitantly.

"Nope, go ahead," Harry invited.

"Hey, Ron," George said, entering their compartment. "Listen, we're going down the—Why are you sitting with Malfoy?"

"Malfoy?" Ron looked confused. "You mean him?" he gestured to Harry.

Fred nodded.

"But that's not Malfoy, that's Harry Potter," Ron explained.

"What?" Fred asked. "But…but you told us you were Draco Malfoy."

Harry shrugged. "What can I say? Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy…Sometimes I get confused."

"George, I think we've been pranked," George said.

"Are first years allowed to do that?" Fred wondered. "Does that mean that what you said about Snape's not true either?"

"It might be," Harry said neutrally. "Feel free to spread the rumor in any event."

Both twins' eyes lit up at this and they ran off down the hall. Harry felt slightly guilty for doing this when he was planning on making a sincere effort to not make Draco Malfoy his arch-nemesis (because honestly, if he really wanted one that badly, there was always Voldemort), but then decided that since Draco had spread that same rumor about his mother and Snape, turnabout was fair play.

"You're my hero," Ron blurted out.

"Because of my facial disfigurement?" Harry asked.

"No, because you pranked Fred and George," Ron explained. At Harry's incredulous look, he hastened to add, "But your scar's pretty cool, too."

"Yeah, it was really considerate of Voldemort to give me such a wicked-looking scar when he attempted to brutally murder me as an infant," Harry said dryly.

Ron just stared at him, fascinated and a little horrified. "You really shouldn't say his name, you know."

"You know, the more people tell me that, the less likely I am to actually listen to them," Harry remarked casually.

Ron looked torn between the desire to impress upon Harry the importance of not saying Tom Riddle's silly little pseudonym and asking more about the night the two had met for the first time. "Do you remember it?"

"You do realize I was fifteen-months-old at the time, right?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know!" Ron defended, although his tone of voice indicated that he didn't seem to really grasp that Harry was far too young to have even properly remembered the event, much less actually play some secret part in Voldemort's downfall. "I just thought that you might remember because of the scar."

Now it was Harry's turn to stare. "You know, I'm starting to think that you people don't actually know anything about the way that scars work," he said, remembering how everyone had thought that his scar made him a lying schizophrenic fifth year.

"What do you mean 'you people'?" Ron asked.

"You know, wizards," Harry explained.

"But you're a wizard," Ron pointed out.

"Yes, but I was raised by Muggles," Harry explained.

"What does that matter?" Ron asked.

Harry smiled at Ron's inability to comprehend why it would matter. He was so innocent back then… "Muggles don't have magic and as such are forced to be much more sensible."

"Oh." Ron paused and looked expectantly at Harry.

Harry sighed. "And to answer your question, yes, a little."

"What do you remember?" Ron asked eagerly. That was the annoying part about Ron being so innocent; he tended to have the tact of a troll. He'd gotten much better at not asking such painful questions such as what he remembered about the first time someone attempted to kill him after he'd started dating Hermione.

"Well," Harry said, trying to piece together all the flashes he'd seen over the years. "I remember someone who I assume is my father telling my mother to take me and go. Then there's laughing, someone who I assume is my mother begging Voldemort to spare my life, he tells her to stand aside and let him kill me, she says no and asks him to kill her instead, he does, then there's a lot of green light and my forehead felt like it was on fire," Harry explained.

Now Ron looked horrified. "I'm sorry, mate, I didn't think-"

"It's okay," Harry cut him off. He really SHOULD have thought, but then again, he was only eleven and, knowing Molly Weasley, living the most sheltered life imaginable. "Are all your family wizards?" Harry asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Er – yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

Harry froze. He couldn't believe he'd never realized that the first time around, but to be fair, he was only a child at the time. "Why not?"

Ron looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Your accountant cousin, is he magical?"

"No," Ron replied, still not getting it.

"Is that why you don't talk about him?" Harry asked.

"Er…" Clearly Ron had never thought about WHY they pretended they didn't have a Squib relative. Just like how the Dursley's liked to pretend that they didn't have a wizard nephew. If the Weasley's of all people could succumb to Pureblood prejudices like that, no wonder Voldemort's only real opposition came from vigilante groups who functioned more like Albus Dumbledore's personal cult in his quest to atone for helping Grindelwald all those years ago. Still, the fact that Ron had never realized that his lack of magic was the reason they ignored their cousin was to his credit, and so Harry supposed he couldn't really take his frustration with the sorry state of the wizarding world where everyone was prejudiced against everyone out on him. Not to mention that it would completely destroy any chance they'd have of being friends.

----

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," Hermione said, entering the compartment, Neville trailing behind her.

"No, but you could always summon it," Harry suggested.

"I don't know the spell for that," Hermione admitted, sounding embarrassed that she didn't know how to do a spell that they didn't teach for several more years.

"Here, I'll do it," Harry volunteered and took out his wand. "Accio Neville's toad!"

Nothing happened for a moment and Hermione looked doubtfully at him. "Are you sure that's a real spell?"

Harry nodded. Oh, he was sure all right.

"Well, it's not very good, is-" but she was interrupted as Trevor flew through the door. "Oh!"

Ron looked over at Harry, surprised. "If you knew how to summon his toad, why didn't you do it the first time he was here?"

Because he'd wanted to see Hermione again and hopefully make a better first impression? "I guess I didn't think of it," Harry lied.

"I've tired a few simple spells, too, just for practice, and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise, but I was so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the best school of witchcraft there is."

"Then isn't it convenient that it just happens to be the one geographically closest to wear we live?" Harry muttered.

Hermione gave him a Look. "I've learnt all our set books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger by the way, who are you?"

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron finally managed to say after staring blankly at her for three whole minutes.

"Harry Potter," Harry told her.

"Are you really?" Hermione asked, curiously.

"What is it with people not having faith that I know my own name?" Harry asked Neville, who just shrugged. "And Hermione, I didn't know that I was a wizard until I got my letter, because my relatives refuse to acknowledge that magic exists, and Ron was telling me that there are plenty of Muggle-borns around, so I'm sure you'll be fine. Besides, I doubt that anyone else actually bothered to memorize all of the textbooks, so I think that not only is it enough, you're way ahead of everyone else."

"Really?" Hermione perked up.

"Really," Harry confirmed. "Although, I did memorize our Potions textbook," he admitted.

Ron looked horrified at the thought of his potential best friend being a bookworm and scooted closer to Neville.

"But that's just because I heard that our teacher hated my dad and I don't want to give him a reason to hate me," Harry quickly added. Not, of course, like Snape would need a reason, but at least he wouldn't embarrass him now with his first day surprise questions. Harry probably could have just looked up those specific questions, but then Snape might get mad and ask him some more. Not to mention that it'd been years since his first class with Snape and he honestly didn't even remember what the questions were or how many of them there were.

"Oh, that's okay then," Ron said, relaxing.

"You're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, you know," Hermione told him.

"Well, I wouldn't believe everything you read," Harry told her, a bit uncomfortable.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"Because by this time tomorrow, the Daily Prophet AND Witch Weekly will have probably run a story on how Draco Malfoy is Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape's love child," Harry told her.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Hermione frowned. "Who are-"

"Don't worry about it," Harry told her. "You'll find out soon enough."

"I guess I should be going, now that you found Trevor," Hermione said, getting up, Neville reluctantly following suit.

Ron, being eleven, didn't notice that they obviously wanted to stay, but Harry did and his heart went out to his past and future friends. "Hey, why don't you guys stay a while? We've got way too much food; we need some help eating it."

Hermione beamed and sat right back down again.

"Thanks, Harry," Neville said quietly.

A short while later, Draco Malfoy entered the compartment.

"Neville Longbottom," he proclaimed proudly.

"Uh, yes?" Neville asked, surprised.

"Not you," Draco told him. "Him," he said, pointing at Harry.

"Sorry," Harry told him. "But that's Neville."

"Oh. Was I close?" he asked hopefully.

"How could you be close? I'm either a Longbottom or I'm not. Which, for the record, I'm not."

"Well, you could be related to him," Draco pointed out.

Harry snorted. "I probably am, due to all the inbreeding."

Draco chose to ignore that, partly because he wanted to find out who Harry was (as he had most likely spent the past month obsessing about it) and partly because it was true. "Then who are you?"

"That's Harry Potter," Hermione said helpfully.

Draco laughed. "No, really, who is he?"

Harry simply lifted his bangs up.

"Wow, you ARE Harry Potter," Draco said, sounding a little astonished.

"Yep," Harry said, vaguely recalling something from his first time around. "Weren't people talking about that?"

"Well, yes," Draco admitted. "But they were also spewing the most ridiculous story about my being Professor Snape's lovechild."

"Really?" Harry asked innocently. "Wow, I guess people will believe anything."

"But Harry," Hermione looked puzzled. "Didn't you already-"

"Know that people will believe anything?" Neville, surprisingly, cut her off; having figured out that Harry had started the rumor. "Yeah, he did, but he's been a celebrity for years, so I suppose he would have."

"You're Draco Malfoy then?" Ron sniggered, his eleven-year-old maturity level finding the new rumor about him hilarious.

Fortunately, Draco misinterpreted Ron's amusement. "Think my name's funny, do you?" Or perhaps not so fortunately. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

"Wow, that's oddly specific," Harry remarked. "I take it that your fathers' know each other? And are probably not on the best terms?"

Draco nodded. "You'd be right, Potter. You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Harry groaned inwardly. It was like Malfoy was trying to become his enemy or something. Not, of course, that Harry could possibly consider an eleven-year-old boy his enemy, but he knew that his school years would go a LOT smoother with one less person out to destroy him. How to best handle this? He couldn't shake Malfoy's hand, of course, but that would give him the wrong idea AND alienate everyone else in the compartment. But how could he NOT shake it and still get out of a pointless seven-year rivalry?

Finally, he said, "I'm sure you could, Draco, but the thing is, I'm still new to this whole 'Magic is real' thing and so I'm not sure if I could really make an informed choice at the moment. You wouldn't want me to pick Ron just because we bonded over candy and you thought I was Neville, do you?"

Draco considered. "I guess not."

"And besides, I'd really, REALLY like to at least make it to school before alienating anyone," Harry said diplomatically. "So maybe at some point I'll decide that you're right, Ron is the root of all evil, and take you up on your offer of help. Maybe not. But in the meantime, I still need to figure out which of you is right." Bull, he knew exactly who was right and who he would ultimately choose if either Malfoy or Ron forced his hand. But it was a pretty reasonable thing for someone who barely knew either of them to say.

"Alright," Draco agreed reluctantly. "But you'll soon see that I'm right." And with that he left, the bridge unburnt.

Note: Since people keep asking, let me clarify that I did not write scenes of Harry angsting about leaving behind the canon universe or Ginny and his unborn child. If this bothers you, you can feel free to imagine that he is doing it off-screen. There is an entire month between him arriving and when the story picks up again when Harry gets on the train. For all we know, he spends the entire month coming to term with what happened.