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Author: angelmorph Story: A Different Boy Who Lived Rating: Everyone Setting: AU Status: WIP Reviews: 5 Words: 62,801
It all started during morning recess the first day of school, when the children were out playing in the schoolyard. Neville and Harry were in the middle of a game of dodge ball with some of the other boys in their class when suddenly the yard went totally still. The ball they had been playing with hung in mid-air. Harry turned to his brother and said, “Neville!” In response the other boy threw his arms up in exasperation, “Wasn’t me! Bet you just stopped everything cause my team was winning!” “Were not! Did not!” “'Course you did, 'cause it wasn’t me, and we’re the only wizards in the whole school. Lily said so. I’m going to tell her you did magic at school.” “Don’t you dare! You know we’re not supposed to upset her because of–” “Well, you started it!” While the boys engaged in their argument, the source of the problem, a tiny bushy-haired girl with big front teeth, finally got over the shock of seeing the playground and, more specifically, the bullies who had been picking on her, freeze in place and began to scream. The sound stopped the boys mid-argument, and they turned and ran towards it – not without a final glare at one another. Harry reached her first, and led her out of the circle of bullies, “Shhhh… just calm down.” “Stop yelling or someone might come…then how are we going to explain the entire playground being frozen?” added Neville Slowly her yells quieted to whimpers. Harry offered her his hand, “Here, that’s it, calm down…” “It happens to the best of us. We all lose control sometimes, why Harry was just accu…” Harry shot him a glare that shut him up, “You’re not helping,” turning back to the girl he said, “Now we need you to reverse the spell. Do you think you can do that?” “Bb...bu…bu…but…” “You’re the one that cast it. You have to reverse it,” Neville offered, “Just try to think of everything starting up again.” “You can do it.” And she did. Unfortunately, the children forgot to take into account what had been going on before she froze things in the first place. Across the playground, the classmates that the boys had been playing with looked around in confusion. A few feet away, the bullies that had been mocking the girl registered first confusion, then anger that their quarry was no longer in the circle they had formed around her. The leader of the group, a burly ten-year-old, turned on the trio, “You, freak, come back here and get what’s coming to you!” Harry and Neville, in an instinctive decision to protect their new friend, stepped in front of her, shielding her with their bodies. However, Nick Forte, the bully who’d been picking on those smaller than him all his life, wasn’t about to let two five-year-olds keep him from his chosen prey and began to advance towards them. Luckily for the two wizards and the witch they were protecting, the boys’ playmates, having figured out where they’d disappeared to were on their way to join them. Nick might not have qualms about beating up three five-year-olds, but two dozen at once was a bit out of his league. He didn’t stick around to find out what they wanted. It was probably best that he didn’t since they had no interest in engaging the bully in a fight; they were only on their way to ask Harry and Neville to come back and finish the game. Even at the tender age of five they knew that a scared and confused Muggleborn witch was a more pressing matter that a game of dodge ball. They stayed with her. As soon as the rest of the boys had left, the little girl, still clinging to Harry’s hand, turned to Neville and said in a manner that you wouldn’t expect from a girl her age, “You said that it was normal for me to lose control, that you had done so yourself, would you kindly explain what you meant by that?” The boys were a little taken aback by her phrasing. “Well you see… it’s your magic, you just lost control of your magic…” Neville offered. While that had been enough of an answer for Neville, the same could not be said for their new acquaintance. She scoffed – yes, scoffed – and countered, “Magic? Magic exists only in the world of make-believe.” Evidently, she didn’t believe in magic, despite the evidence before her. After all, there were no monsters under her bed, no boogieman, and no tooth fairies; her parents had told her so. Fairy tales didn’t come true, and she couldn’t be a princess when she grew up. They had told her that as well. Disbelief in all things magic had followed naturally. Harry attempted to pick up where his brother had left off, “I know Muggles don’t know about magic, because they aren’t magic but magic is real…you did magic…” “Muggles?” “People that aren’t witches or wizards, like your parents… You’re a witch, Neville and I are wizards,” he continued. “And you could freeze the playground too?” “Well, I’ve never frozen a playground before…” replied Neville. “Me, neither,” added Harry but seeing her frown he quickly added, “But I did freeze Dad once… and Neville freezes people all the time…he likes to cheat at tag…” “Do not!” “Yes, you do!” “I don’t do it on purpose, it just happens.” “Sure it does…” “Does too! Lily says it’s wild magic, that it’ll go away when we grow up.” “Doesn’t mean you don’t cheat!” “BOYS!” the witch demanded their attention, dropping her formal stance for the first time since she’d stopped screaming. Upon getting it, however, she once again became prim. “I’m Hermione Granger, pleased to make your acquaintance.” She offered them her hand. “Neville Longbottom,” the elder replied awkwardly, attempting to give her five, “and this prat is my brother…” “Harry Potter,” the boy in question cut him off, “and don’t listen to a thing he says about me.” “If you’re brothers, why do you have different names?” “Cause he’s adopted…” She looked at Neville for confirmation, not sure if she should believe Harry’s story. Her cousin Amy was always saying that her little sister Jane was adopted, but her aunt and uncle had told her it wasn’t true, just something siblings said about each other. So when Neville responded, “Well, sort of, anyways…” “He lives with us, but his Gran won’t Mum and Dad adopt him…” “She doesn’t want to let me go… I’m all she has left,” supplied Neville. “She is really strict. But she’s nice. She lets me call her Gran, since I don’t have a Gran of my own.” “What happened to your real parents?” Hermione asked, without really meaning to be rude. “They were killed by an evil wizard…” Neville answered, but left it at that. “That’s where he got his scar,” offered Harry. “Harry!” While the pair argued once again, Hermione searched his body for a scar. She finally found the lightning bolt scar hidden beneath his fringe, but by then they were deep into an argument and she didn’t interrupt. “Well, it’s true…” “But we’re not supposed to talk about that.” “We also aren’t supposed to talk about magic, and you just told her all about it.” “Did not! You told her about us being wizards.” “You started it!” “Did not!” “Yes, you did!” The ringing of the school bell, calling them back to class, interrupted the argument. And so it was that a new friendship began. Unfortunately, while the two wizards may have been quick to befriend the lonely witch, no one else seemed to want to. The bullies left her alone, though certainly not out of fear of reprisal, seeing as when not accompanied by Harry or Neville, she was usually by herself. No, the more likely explanation was that Nick had spread the word of her mysterious evasion and they were all spooked. Within a couple of weeks the story had twisted so completely that… Well, let’s just say the story of her single-handedly knocking out two dozen bullies in the blink of an eye or the one of her conjuring an army of ninja body guards was enough to frighten off any potential bullies and give her, Neville, and Harry a good laugh. Actually, Neville and Harry did most of the laughing. She simply inquired as to the feasibility of each story given what they knew about magic. Her use of the word “feasible” simply set off the laughter all over again. Still, even without the bully problem, she still had to cope with the teasing of her classmates and her lack of any friends other than the two wizards. Whenever the boys were invited to join in a game with their classmates, she was always left out. Sometimes they’d decline in favour of hanging out with her, and talking about magic. Everyone likes being the centre of attention once in a while and she seemed fascinated by everything they had to say: tales of Invisibility Cloaks, enchanted alarm clocks, mirrors that actually talked to you, moving photographs, talking portraits – basically things that she had given up on as being nothing but make-believe. The only problem with these discussions is that they more often than not ended in her asking more questions about how magic worked than either of the two young wizards could possibly know. So sometimes they chose to join the games and she’d be left watching in the sidelines. Now Hermione was a smart girl – even at five – and she knew enough to know that she was being ostracized – and, yes, she did know what the word meant. In fact, one day, a week into the school year, she turned to her two friends and asked, “Why don’t any of the other kids like me? I feel that I’m being ostracized.” Now Harry’s first response was to ask her what ‘ostracized’ meant but Neville, who incidentally didn’t know the meaning of the word either, cut him off with the reply, “'Cause you’re a know-it-all teacher’s pet!” It was probably not the best thing to say, judging by the reaction it garnered: Hermione burst into tears and Harry rounded on him quite violently and yelled, “Neville!” But, having grown accustomed to his brother’s temper, Neville was hardly about to be frightened by it. Despite being Hermione’s friend, he wasn’t immune to the view that she was a little too much of a know-it-all. “Well it’s true, every time the teacher asks a question herhand is up in the air waving like the flag. Why do you always raise your hand, like that, 'Mione?” Her response, “Because I know the answer…” was barely audible above her sniffles. “Well, I know the answers too sometimes, but the teacher never calls on me because your hand is always up there waving about.” Hermione just continued to sniffle so Harry suggested, “Maybe if you give other people a chance before raising your hand… people might like you a little better.” She nodded reluctantly. Harry turned back to his brother. “I think you should say sorry.” “Sorry,” the response was a bare mummer. “Sorry for what?” “You sound like Lily…” Neville responded. Harry just continued to frown at him with his piercing green eyes, so like his mother’s. Finally, swallowing his pride, Neville amended, “I’m sorry for calling you a know-it-all teacher’s pet.” “And?” “…and I’m sorry I yelled at you.” The young girl stifled her sobs and replied primly, “Your apology is accepted.” “See, most kids would have just said…” “You might also try talking less like a grown up and start using words we can understand…” Harry interrupted and that was the end of that. The dispute was forgotten and the trio went back to being friends. Hermione, true to her word, attempted to be less of a know-it-all and, while she wasn’t exactly drowning in offers of friendship, as time went by, she was no longer shunned so much, until eventually the sneers stopped completely and the children moved on to a new target. The first time she was included in an invitation to play mixed dodge ball, in mid-September, she thought she might be imagining it. She almost said ‘no,’ wanting to avoid the embarrassment of being exposed as a bad player. But a nudge from the boys brought out her courage and she actually enjoyed herself and found out she wasn’t all that bad at it. After the game, Harry confided in her, “If you thought that was fun wait till you learn to play Quidditch. Now that’s wicked…” Neville cut him off. “Harry! Stop being a snoot.” Turning to Hermione, he added, “We’ve never actually been allowed to play. Lily won’t even let us ride a real broomstick…” “You actually ride brooms? Like in the movies? Wizards too? I thought it was only witches… What’s Quidditch? What do you mean real brooms? Do you have to imagine now? Or do you ride those little plastic ones they sell at the toy store? What colour is your toy broom? Do all brooms fly? Would it work if I went home and tried with the kitchen broom?” and so started the endless string of questions, such that by the time she stopped for a breath, the boys had already forgotten what the first one had been. Luckily they were saved from having to bluff their way through another of Hermione’s drillings by the bell… The subject came up again after lunch, but by then she had calmed down somewhat from spending time in class, and her questions came out one at a time. Still, half the questions were of the type that even full-grown wizards would have been hard-pressed to come up with an acceptable answer. But by then they were used to it. However, being used to Hermione’s questions didn’t mean that they didn’t sometimes get frustrated with her. The problem was compounded by the time she got around to asking the same question for the tenth time. Honestly, how was a pair of five-year-old wizards supposed to know why some children were magical and others weren’t? Asking, “Why isn’t my cousin a witch like me if our parents are twins and we even look alike?” didn’t make the question any easier to answer. So naturally, the eleventh time she brought up the subject – in a span of merely two weeks –Harry lost his temper. “I don’t know!” A pleading glance in Neville’s direction provided her with no better answer to her question. “Don’t look at me like that, I don’t know either.” But Hermione was nothing if not persistent and so she decided to come up with a different solution to her problem. After all, she really did want to know the answer to the question –almost as much as she had wanted to know where babies came from before she had got her parents to tell her. How did she deal with the dilemma? She invited herself over. That’s right, she said quite clearly, “Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to come home with you after school and ask your mother. I’m sure she’ll know.” The reaction she got from her friends was certainly not what she expected. From the look they exchanged, it was obvious that they were silently arguing as to who would get the honour of explaining to her that that wouldn’t be possible. She took it out of their hands. “What, why can’t I come to your house? Are you hiding criminals in your cellar?” Neville gave an uncomfortable shrug and Harry answered, “Cause of the Secret…” “What secret, magic? But I know about that… we talk about magic all the time. I know all about your funny clock and walking cloak hanger, and fireplace that people pop their head out of and…” “No, not magic, Neville…” “But Neville’s not a secret, silly. He’s right here.” By now the boy in question was staring at his feet and looked uncomfortable enough to use accidental magic to escape the conversation. In a whisper he cut in, “I’m not a secret, but where I live is…” “'Cause he’s famous,” offered Harry. The comment warranted a beet-red blush from Neville and an indignant response from Hermione, “He’s not famous, silly.” Harry giggled, “Not for Muggles, they don’t even know about You-Know-Who, but Mum says every witch and wizard knows about Neville, 'cause of what happened when his parents died.” “You-Know-Who? What happened?” Harry replied, “He was a really bad wizard, he gave Neville his scar,” just as Neville responded, “We’re not supposed to talk about it…” Deciding that she wasn’t going to get anything out of them the way the conversation was going, she tried a different approach, “Fine, but why can’t I come over? I promise I won’t tell. Besides, if he’s not famous for Muggles, no one I would tell would care either way…” “'Cause of the Secret.” “But I just said…” “No, no you don’t understand…” Harry cut in. “The Secret is a spell…” “So that no one can see him at home unless the Secret-Keeper tells them he lives there” “Huh? You mean he disappears? But what if someone follows him home? Then they’ll know where he lives…” “It’s the magic. They wouldn’t be able to see him at home and as soon as they leave they won’t remember where the house is anymore unless the Secret-Keeper tells them…” “So? We’ll just ask the Secret-Keeper to tell me then. Who is he? Could he come by tomorrow? Or I could go home with you anyways. I mean, it would be kind of funny not to be able to see Neville. But then I can talk to your mum and she can answer my question, and…” “We’re not allowed to bring anyone home. ‘Sides, Gran doesn’t want anyone else to know. She didn’t even want to tell Colin.” “Colin?” “He’s our neighbour,” offered Harry. “And he thought I was Harry’s imaginary friend.” “But Mum made her change her mind.” Hermione responded, “Well then… you can ask your mum to convince her again. I’m sure she’d love to meet me.” Just as Neville finished his brother’s thought, “But she said never again.” She frowned, finally at a loss for a solution. “Oh…” “We’re really sorry, we’ll try asking…” “But she’s going to say no…” Trying to lighten the mood, Harry suggested, “Maybe we can go to your house one day…” “Gran would never allow it…” “We’ll ask.” * * A.N.: Well there you have it... my longest chapter yet. I considered splitting it up so that it'd last longer but decided against it. It flows better this way. I hope you all enjoyed. Please review. Thank you to everyone who has already review, especially those that keep it up every chapter. I’d also like to thank my beta, Arnel, for all her help.
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