Chapter 39

"Thank you for your help ma'am," Harry said to the redheaded woman and went down the station. He had most of his stuff in his inventory, but he'd stuffed a few of his school books and some odd knick-knacks into his trunk just to blend in a bit. So he quickly found a compartment, and sliding the door close, picked a spot by the window to sit, listening to the chatter of the redhead family by the train for a few minutes before tuning them out and turning to his copy of The Two Towers.

Ever since Harry had learned that Tolkien was a wizard, he'd been reading his books whenever he had free time, which he had a lot of, since he basically absorbed all the information in the all the reference books he had, some of which taught up to and beyond third-year stuff. Harry doubted that he'd ever even need to look at the books again, but even so, the school books each had their own way of describing the concepts and he had fun reading them.

After a few minutes, the door to the compartment slid open, and two remarkably similar-looking redheads; no doubt part of the family he'd met earlier; stepped in.

"Blimey, we found 'im!" said one of them, "Are you-?"

"He is," the other confirmed. Harry had overheard their names, Fred and George, but he couldn't tell which one was Fred and which one was George.

"Aren't you?"

"I'm confused, if that's what you mean," Harry finally replied.

"Harry Potter?" chorused the twins.

Harry nodded, and a grin spread across the two boys' faces.

"Welcome back mate. Hope the time with the muggles didn't scare the magic out of you."

Harry paused a moment, before remembering that everything in his life was public knowledge at this point. Deciding to just roll with it, he chuckled and replied, "I'm definitely hoping not. First class with Professor McGonagall is gonna be really awkward if that's happened."

The twins seemed pleased. "Will you look at that Gred?" one said, and the other continued, "Looks like our savior isn't as airheaded as we were worried he was eh?"

And then the first one picked back up again, "So, any expectations for the house you want to be in Mr. Potter?"

"My parents were in Gryffindor, so I suppose I could go there, but I'd probably do fine in Ravenclaw as well," Harry replied, casting Observe. The results almost made him choke on thin air.

Fred & George Weasley

Lv-7

HP-1320/1320

MP-900/900

Race-Wizard

Str-8

Vit-12

Dex-13

Int-14

Wis-7

Luc-12

Born as conjoined twins and separated at birth by a magical surgery, Fred and George Weasley are consummate pranksters and lifelong purveyors of mischief. They have the ability to subconsciously communicate with each other using their thoughts as long as they are within a certain range of each other. They occasionally work with their friend Lee Jordan and study in their third year at Hogwarts. Their dream is to open a joke shop.

They think Harry is a nice guy and hope that he isn't some stuck up celebrity who judges people by how much money they have.

Harry didn't stare, but he couldn't help but wonder with incredulity at the fact that these guys could communicate with each other in their heads! Curious to see what other special secrets they were hiding, Harry started casting observe on them, hoping for more information while engaging in light banter with them.

Suddenly catching sight of a yellowing piece of parchment sticking out of George's pocket, he observed it as well.

The Marauder's Map

The Marauder's Map is a magical document that reveals all of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not only does it show every classroom, every hallway, and every corner of the castle, but it also shows every inch of the grounds, as well as all the secret passages that are hidden within its walls and the location of every person in the grounds, portrayed by a dot. It is also capable of accurately identifying each person, and is not fooled by animagi, polyjuice potions, or invisibility cloaks; even the Hogwarts ghosts are not exempt from this.

This time, he did stop and stare.

"You alright mate?" George asked, concerned about their new friend.

"Yeah, yeah. Just fine." Harry said, waving away both the screens and their concerns. Just then, their younger brother entered the compartment.

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

"I guess that's it for us Harry," said George, "Take the seat Ron. We've got to get back to Lee. We will see you two later, then.

Harry wondered if he should steal the map from them, but ultimately decided not to. He wanted to try and explore the castle on his own. And if an emergency called for it, he could always ask.

"Bye," said 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've been one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got - you know..."

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry sighed. It looked like Ron was a little clueless. Asking him to show his only scar from the night his parents died was a bit too daft, but figuring that Ron was probably too engrossed in his idea of meeting a hero that he forgot his manners, Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"Wicked," he said.

"Yeah, it was really considerate of Voldemort to give me such a wicked-looking scar when he murdered my family and attempted to kill me as an infant," Harry said dryly, hoping he would catch on and they could move on from the subject.

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

Harry raised an eyebrow. That was what he got from it? That he had said the name of a dead wizard? Not Harry's not-so-subtle ribbing on his tactlessness?

"I know," Harry finally replied, remembering the first time he'd said the name and felt its power. For a dead wizard, his name sure seemed to hold some serious magical weight. Ron, on the other hand, looked torn between the desire to impress upon Harry the importance of not saying Tom Riddle's pseudonym and asking more about the night the two had met for the first time.

Finally, he asked, "Do you remember it?"

"You do realize I was fifteen-months-old, right Ron?" 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 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 don't actually know much about how scars work mate. And to answer your question, yes, a little."

"What do you remember?" Ron asked eagerly.

Harry paused, before frowning.

What did he remember? He'd seen bits and pieces from his nightmare, but he had never really tried to put it all together before. Putting aside the fact that he should be offended that Ron was actually asking questions about what he remembered about the first time someone attempted to kill him, now seemed to be as good a time as any, considering he had a few hours to kill.

"Well," Harry said, closing his eyes and trying to piece together all the flashes he'd seen over the years. The visions effortlessly floated to the front of his mind, "I remember someone…my father…telling my mother to take me and leave. Then there's laughing… and someone else…my mother…begging the Dark Lord to spare my life. He told her to stand aside and let him kill me…but she didn't…she said no and asked him to kill her instead. He-he did, and then there was a lot of green light and my forehead felt like it was on fire…"

Harry's chest coiled more and more, and by the time he had finished and opened his eyes, there were tears flowing down his face.

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