The Fabrics of Fate

The Fabrics of Fate

By Crystelle D'Monique

One choice, one moment, these are the things that we get in our lives. One change in their pattern and the seams of the quilt of life are ripped open and sewed haphazardly back together. It can be something simple. Deciding to take a walk could lead you to meet the love of your life, or run into the serial killer that will murder you, for example. We get one chance at life, then its over.

~~~~~

"Hello, o most beautiful goddess of the universe," Sirius greeted Lily, head sticking out of the fireplace, humorous teasing with his best friend's wife.

"Haven't you grown out of the flirtatious stage yet?" she asked exasperatedly, but good-naturedly.

"Will I ever? How's things at your place?"

"Pretty good," Lily answered. "Harry's been walking around, exploring everything he can. I kind of wish we could take him outside. Kids his age should experience nature, you know?" An absentminded affectionate smile crossed her face that made Sirius grin as well. She snapped back to reality. "And you? How're things going with you?"

"Alright but it's boring, could use a night out," he practically moaned. "Is James around?"

"Yes, hold on a second while I go get him."

Sirius waited patiently as she strode off deeper into their house looking for her husband. Soon, he emerged into the living room, holding Harry in one arm.

"Hey, kid," Sirius greeted, smiling at the tiny child.

"You talking to me?" James joked with a grin.

"Lily tells me things have been going well."

"Harry's been a bit exhausting," he commented with a laugh and a smile. "But all in all I feel...cramped, like I need some fresh air."

"Yeah, we're even going to miss all the Halloween celebrations." Sirius sighed in disappointment. "Maybe you could come over, and we could have our own private little celebration."

There was a pause during which James seemed to be pondering something. "We could go out," he suggested. "It is Halloween, no one would notice two extra wizards when everyone else is out partying."

"Only two? What about Moony and Wormtail?" Sirius questioned.

"Four wizards would be more conspicuous than two, don't you think?"

"And Lily?"

"I'll invite her, but I don't know if she'll want to come."

She walked into the room at that moment, having overheard the entire conversation from their kitchen. "I'd love to go with you," she responded almost gleefully, but then she sighed resignedly. "But..."

"But what?"

"We can't leave Harry here alone. He's too young, obviously. He can't even sleep for any length of time without waking up and wrecking havoc."

James paused, trying to decide what to say. He didn't want to leave Lily and Harry alone, even though he knew they were in safe hands with Peter as their Secret-Keeper. There was a natural pit in his stomach of worry that something would happen, but it was overruled by his desire to get out.

"Do you want me to stay home?"

Smiling at him, Lily gave him a quick kiss. "You do whatever you want to. Just be careful. I'm perfectly safe here." James grinned back.

As he met up with Sirius outside The Wild Pixies, though, he hesitated. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked. "The party sounds like it'll be a ton of fun."

"It's just...leaving Lily and Harry alone makes me nervous," James confessed.

"Don't worry. They're as safe as possible with Wormtail in hiding," Sirius pointed out.

"You're right, of course, but that doesn't keep me from worrying," James finally conceded. At last he let a smile take over his face as they approached the building.

Inside, music thrummed against their eardrums as they lost themselves in the sea of dancing bodies. The lights changed colors with the rhythm of the music. Throughout the night, James found himself being pulled towards various witches searching for a dance partner. Their bodies meshed together, the beat of the song vibrating through the floor and into their ears.

"There you are," Sirius nearly screamed over the music to be heard. It had been hours since they'd last seen each other in the throbbing mass of bodies.

"You think we should head home?" James asked.

"Yeah," Sirius agreed.

It was when they were Apparating home that the bomb went off. There, in the rubble of the house, stood Albus Dumbledore and Rubeus Hagrid. In Hagrid's arms was the tiny shape of a baby, curled up and sleeping almost serenely. The street was silent enough to allow the soft scuffing of their footsteps to be heard clearly. All along the street, the lamps had been turned off, so the only source of light was the soft glow of a crescent moon.

Dumbledore turned as he heard them approach, eyes behind half moon glasses tired and sad. The wrinkles around his eyes seemed more pronounced than usual and the knot in James's gut twisted tighter, his pulse beating rapidly in his throat.

"I'm very sorry, James," Dumbledore said slowly, taking his glasses off and wiping them clean before setting them back on his face. The wind blew, causing the tops of the trees to sway and cast odd, misshapen shadows on Dumbledore's face and the rubble behind him. "Lily's been killed."

The news caused James to freeze, eyes wide, disbelieving. "No," he choked. "She can't be." Sirius stood unmoving beside him, eyes searching the rubble and the trees behind for any signs of life at all. Hagrid sniffed loudly, great beard twitching with the movement.

"I'm most remorseful for your loss," Dumbledore expressed.

"No, that's impossible. She'd have fought," James argued. "She'd have hidden."

"It wasn't just Death Eaters." Dumbledore took cautious steps towards the two men. "It was Voldemort who killed her." James took a step back at the information.

Harry let out a soft whine, bring James's attention to the child. "If-if Lily is d-dead," James questioned, "why is he alive?" His finger pointed tremblingly at the baby. "Voldemort was after Harry, not Lily. He wouldn't be alive if it had been Voldemort.

Dumbledore sighed, fixing his glasses with an almost nervous twitch of his hands. "It is hard to say, James, but for whatever reason Voldemort's spell backfired and destroyed him."

"He's gone?" Sirius asked.

"The evidence would suggest yes," Dumbledore answered.

"That can't be true," James uttered. "I don't believe you. H-how can he just be gone? How can Lily be gone?"

"Prongs," Sirius said simply. James turned his head sharply to look at him, and found him staring into the rubble with eyes brimming with unshed tears. Following his gaze, James's eyes landed on a pale white shape in the midst of the rubble. Lily's hand lay limply on the ground, her body buried beneath the wreckage. Dumbledore closed his eyes, as if he'd been hoping James wouldn't notice that.

"James," he muttered soothingly.

"No! No no no no no no no no no," he murmured his mantra, clinging to the last fading hopes that she had survived.

"I'm so sorry."

"HOW COULD YOU?" he demanded, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, voice hoarse. "HOW COULD YOU LET HER DIE?"

"There's nothing I could have done, James."

"NOTHING YOU COULD HAVE DONE? YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE HE FEARS! YOU COULD HAVE FOUGHT HIM!" He was screaming things without thinking, fists clenching as his body trembled violently. Sirius lightly reached a hand out to try to comfort him, but James slapped the hand away. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

The three other men stood quietly, not knowing what to do, as James breathed deeply, trying to regain control of his rampant heartbeat. Hagrid clenched the child a little tighter, trying to shield him from his father's shouting. Harry began to stir anyway.

James's eyes shifted at the movement, white showing all around his iris. At the sight of Hagrid comforting his child, he stomped over to him.

"Give him to me," he demanded, snatching Harry up. Almost instantaneously, the baby woke up and began to cry, the street echoing the heartbreaking wail of the Boy Who Lived.

Hours later, Sirius cradled Harry as James grunted in his sleep on his couch, tear streaks covering his face. He held the baby fondly, as if he were the proud father instead of his best friend. Harry, who had taken to weeping whenever James was in close proximity to him, began to quiet and finally drift off to sleep.

A knock sounded on his door and he answered it. On his door step stood a tired-looking woman, her usually keen eyes world-weary. He welcomed her inside, shutting the door gently, trying not to wake the sleeping child.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," he greeted. "How can I help you?"

"That is the child?" she questioned. Sirius nodded. "How's James been?"

"Bad. I don't think he's going to be okay for a very long time. Lily was his only light these days," Sirius told her, setting Harry down in a temporary crib they were using until James could find another house.

"She was an amazing witch," McGonagall replied somberly.

Sirius fidgeted, unsure what to say in response. "How's the rest of the world been reacting?" he asked, uncomfortable with the topic.

"As well as can be expected," she sighed. "They've gone mad, celebrating and throwing parties, and giving no thought to the Muggles, practically broadcasting our existence to them."

"You can't blame them," Sirius argued. "They do have much to celebrate."

"Yes, I suppose you would defend them. According to Dumbledore you don't even need a reason to celebrate," she snarled. Sirius's eyes hardened.

"Is that why you're here? To yell at me for taking James out to have some fun? Do you think I don't regret what I did?" His fists clenched, digging nails deep into his palms. His eyes burned with the effort not to shed a tear. "Lily was James's life. He lived for her. I wouldn't ever have done anything to endanger her. Not on purpose." He dropped into a chair, hands clenching at his hair. Looking up at McGonagall, he felt the tears spill over and down his face.

As if sensing the tension and distress in the room, Harry began to cry. Sirius was on his feet in moments, trying to wipe away his tears as he heard McGonagall slam the door on her way out. Gently, he picked Harry up.

The baby looked at him with sad green eyes. On his forehead was the scar Voldemort had given him, shaped like a lightning bolt. Sirius gently ran a hand over the baby-fine tuft of black hair on the child's head.

"It'll be okay," he promised softly.

Miles away, Dumbledore finished giving a report to the Minister of Magic. The man somberly took off his hat and raised a glass of wine, Dumbledore following suit. The two glasses clinked together ominously.

"To Lily," Dumbledore said.

"To Harry Potter," the Minister added.

In eerie unison, wizards and witches all over the country raised their glasses as Harry curled up and went to sleep in his godfather's arms.

"To the Boy Who Lived."

~~~~~

Five years later, Harry awoke to the sound of pounding on the door of the flat he shared with his father. Stumbling from his room and rubbing his eyes, he walked slowly past his sleeping father, who had passed out on the couch after a night out with 'Uncle Sirius.' Remus Lupin stood in the doorway and Harry smiled, glad that he wouldn't be spending the day alone with his father.

"Hey, Harry," Remus greeted, leaning down to give Harry a quick embrace.

"Hi, Uncle Remus," Harry responded, using the name he knew always put a smile on the man's face.

"What happened to your father?" the older man questioned. Harry shrugged, glancing back at the man.

"I dunno. He went out with Uncle Sirius and told me not to leave the flat." Tears pricked at Harry's eyes at the memory his childish mind had suppressed until that moment. "And when he got back he hit me and told me to get to bed." Harry rubbed at his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. Remus held him gently, worrying his lip between his teeth.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll talk to your father," he promised. "Now why don't you go get dressed and I'll take you out for breakfast?" Harry's entire countenance changed, a smile alighting his face.

That night, Harry listened from his bedroom doorway as Remus woke his father at last, having let him sleep all day. James awoke with a loud grunt.

"Here, take this," Remus offered. "It's good for hangovers."

"Thanks," James responded hoarsely. There was a long pause while James drank whatever Remus had given him.

"James...about what you did to Harry," Remus began.

James cut him off, "You're not going to tell anyone, are you? They'd take him away."

"Maybe that'd be best for him, James. He doesn't deserve what you've been putting him through," Remus argued.

"He's the only part of Lily I have left. I know I haven't been the best father, but I promise I'll try, Moony," James argued.

"Fine," Remus conceded. Harry tiptoed back into his room. As he was drifting off to sleep he heard the door slam, signaling Remus leaving. Footsteps approached his room and he forced himself into wakefulness as the door opened.

After the first hit he passed out.

The Prophet reported the news of Harry's unsightly bruise the following day, and Harry never spoke to Remus again.

~~~~~

"So which book do you want to read today?" Sirius asked a six-year-old Harry. The child surveyed the stack of books Sirius kept for just such occasions with interest.

"This one," he pointed, picking up Tina's Bad Hair Day. Sirius nodded as Harry sat himself down on the couch and allowed his godfather to read him the short book.

"Uncle Sirius?" Harry asked once they finished the book. "How did Mommy die?"

Sirius stared off into the distance for a few moments, confused as to how to respond. "Once upon a time there was a very bad wizard, and he didn't like your Mommy and Daddy." Harry wrinkled his nose at the mention of his father. "One night, he came to attack your parents, but it was just your Mommy and you there. And he...well, he killed her."

"Oh," Harry said. "So the bad wizard is the reason Dad punishes me?"

"Yes, you could say that," Sirius agreed.

Harry was quiet for a few minutes, thinking. "Uncle Sirius, did I do something bad? Am I the reason Mommy died?"

Sirius looked into Lily's eyes, wide and innocent, hurting and pleading for forgiveness. "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

After a few moments he queried, "Harry? Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

Harry shook his head.

"Why don't you speak to Uncle Remus anymore?"

A slight pout formed on Harry's face. "Uncle Remus trusts Dad, but Dad is lying when he says he won't hit me. And Uncle Remus knows it."

"Maybe he didn't know," Sirius offered. Harry shook his head dismissively. Suddenly the front door opened and Remus strode in, carrying a stack of papers.

"Sirius, I finally got those reports you asked for..." He cut himself off as he looked up and saw Harry. "Hi, Harry, I didn't know you were here." The boy threw himself off the couch and ran up the stairs, further into Sirius's house.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I didn't know he was here. I'll come back later," Remus apologized, starting to leave.

"We were talking about you," Sirius told him, eyes soft and apologetic. "About why he doesn't talk to you anymore."

Remus paused, unsure of whether he wanted to hear Harry's reasoning or not. "What..." He cleared his throat, "What did he say?"

"That you know James lies when he says he won't hurt Harry, and that you were wrong to trust him."

Remus stared at the floor, feeling a hot flush start on his face with embarrassment. "Strange how he knows exactly how to get to the heart of a problem," he commented.

"That is the root of it. We both know James lies when he says he won't hurt Harry, yet we want to believe him, so we do." Sirius held his head in his hands. "I wish I knew what to do."

"Me too," Remus agreed. "I can't take Harry away from James because I know he would probably kill himself without him, without his last reason for living."

"Even though he hates the kid?" Sirius asked scathingly.

"It's not that simple. He hates him and yet he loves him. He resents him for holding Lily back that night and causing her to be killed, yet loves him because he is the last remaining link to Lily he has. He's doesn't know what he really wants."

"I wish there was some way to sensibly explain to him that it's not Harry's fault," Sirius exclaimed. "And Dumbledore hasn't been any help, merely insisting that Harry stay with James, giving no explanation whatsoever."

Suddenly, they both turned at the sound of a sob from the stairwell. There stood Harry, tears flecking at his eyes as he looked at the two men.

"You trust Dad too?" he asked Sirius, voice confused and scared.

Sirius looked down at his hands instead of at the distraught child. "Harry, you shouldn't have been eavesdropping," he chided, half-heartedly trying to change the subject.

Tears running down his face, Harry dropped to the floor, and rested his head on his knees. "Now I'm all alone."

~~~~~

Seven-year-old Ron was fixing the strings of decorations on the Christmas tree as a knock sounded at the door. Mrs. Weasley ran to answer it, and Fred and George peeked their heads out from the stairwell to see who the newcomers were.

"That must be the Potters. Dumbledore sent me a letter saying they were coming. He said Harry could use getting to know some wizards his own age, and some getting away from the press," she explained to her children.

Ron smiled at the thought of making a new friend, especially the boy who had vanquished You-Know-Who.

When the door first opened Harry couldn't be seen from behind his father. James had dark circles under his eyes and his posture was limp, hunched in on itself as if trying to silence the darkness within. He stank of alcohol and smoke, causing Ron to raise a hand to his nose.

"Hello, James," Mrs. Weasley greeted, trying to ignore the stench he carried with him. He was so different from the James she'd known before Lily's death, the daredevil of a man, willing to take on the world and more. "Why don't you come in?" James nodded, giving a tiny half-hearted smile and entering. Mr. Weasley led him into the kitchen, away from the children.

On the front step stood a scrawny boy with messy jet black hair. His jacket looked to be an old one of his father's and was too big as well as sporting several holes. His green eyes bore similar circles to his father's but there was a determined set to his jaw and a flash to his green eyes that spoke of utter defiance. On his forehead was the thin scar, his single most identifying feature.

"You must be Harry," Mrs. Weasley said as he entered and she closed the door behind him. "This is my son Ron, he's your age," she introduced them. Harry smiled at her, a smile that was too wise for his age.

"Thank you for having us, Mrs. Weasley," he addressed her. "I'm sorry about my father's..." Here he paused, eyes glinting sadly, "Condition."

"Oh, it's no problem, dear," she assured him. "Why don't you go help Ron with the tree? Dinner will be ready in a little while." She bustled out of the room and Harry took a seat on the floor next to Ron.

"So you're Harry Potter," one of the twins commented. Harry craned his neck to face them. Softly, he nodded.

"What was You Know Who like? Do you remember anything?" the other asked. Ron's face flushed with embarrassment at their bluntness, yet he leaned in to hear Harry's answer all the same.

"I remember...a flash of green light," he told them, gazing up at the tree ornaments.

The twins wrinkled their noses. "Nothing else?" they asked in unison. Harry shook his head and they disappeared up the stairs.

After a few moments, Ron muttered, "You're so lucky. Getting all the fame. Nobody notices me with five older brothers. You'll meet the rest of them at dinner." He jerked his head towards the stairs to indicate where they were. Harry turned to him.

"I envy you," he responded, before turning his eyes back to the Christmas tree.

For the first time in many years, Harry got to spend a normal Christmas. His enjoyment was muted, however, by the realization that it wouldn't happen again, while other children like Ron would get to experience that joy every year for the rest of their lives.

~~~~~

On his ninth birthday, Harry let himself be shuffled from the house by a drunken father, a desperate godfather, and a well-meaning friend. Sirius and Remus forced smiles onto their faces as they led Harry to the Magical Zoo.

"See, Harry, these are the reptiles," Sirius indicated. Harry's green eyes swiveled to look into the darkened cages, full of lizards with wings and intelligent eyes, but he didn't say a word. "And these are the snakes." Harry turned his head to glance at them, and stopped in his tracks.

"Fascinating, aren't they, Harry?" Remus tried, finally seeing something that Harry was interested in. His hand rested for a moment on the top of Harry's head, his hair growing past his earlobes, not quite long enough to be pulled back, before Harry jerked away from the touch as if shocked.

"Personally, they give me the creeps," Sirius commented in a low tone to Remus, while trying to support a stumbling James.

"He doesn't need to know that," Remus whispered back.

At that moment, James began to puke onto the tile flooring and had to be dragged away to the bathroom, thus leaving Harry alone with the snakes. Gently, he edged towards the cages, laying a palm against the cool glass.

"Hello," Harry murmured, voice hoarse with disuse. One of the snakes turned silvery, intelligent eyes to him. "W-what's your name?" he questioned.

"Thessiiuss," the snake responded. He was a tiny snake compared to the others, young and slender, colored a vibrant blue in contrast to the larger, dully colored snakes around him. It was the snake's gorgeous cobalt color that had caught Harry's attention, and as he leaned in for a closer look, his nose pressed against the glass.

"You're beautiful," he muttered, eyes fixed on the snake. "So much smaller than the others."

"They've got size," Thessiiuss hissed back, offended. "But I have something much more potent." He opened his mouth, almost in the shape of a smile, showing long, retractable fangs. "Venom."

Harry leaned even closer and his eyes widened as the glass shattered.

People were screaming in an instant. Everywhere around him, they were running away with horrified looks on their faces. Harry couldn't understand why until he looked down and saw Thessiiuss slithering towards him, a blue streak on the brown floor. Harry bent down and Thessiiuss twined around his arm.

"Please don't bite me," Harry pleaded with the snake.

The snake rubbed his head against Harry's arm. "Don't worry, I won't."

Remus and Sirius ran into the room, having left James to wait out his sickness alone after hearing the commotion. The first reporters arrived mere moments later to pester The Boy Who Lived.

"Mister Potter! Do you have any comment about your knowledge of Parseltongue?"

"Where did you learn to speak it?"

"Did anyone teach you?"

"How long have you known it?"

"What else are you hiding?"

Harry gently raised his arm, allowing Thessiiuss to be clearly seen. The reporters backed off a few feet, before starting up their questions again. Sirius tried to usher them away while Remus attempted to escort Harry away without getting too close to him or his snake.

A worker at the Zoo came up to them, holding gloved hands out, ready to remove the snake by force. Thessiiuss moved to the ground and slithered towards him menacingly, which caused the worker backed up, fear in his eyes.

"Don't bite him," Harry hissed warningly. The snake stopped just in front of the man, displaying his fangs warningly. "He's coming with me," Harry said to the employee, picked up Thessiiuss again and strode out of the room, the reporters parting around him. Remus and Sirius followed him out.

On the way home, Thessiiuss hid himself in Harry's sleeve. Though Remus and Sirius knew about him, James didn't, and none of them wanted him in a fouler mood than he was. So Harry took Thessiiuss home and fed his companion on table scraps and let him hunt the mice and rats in their flat, making sure to keep him hidden from his father.

"The two-legger is most unpleasant," Thessiiuss hissed, after having watched Harry be beaten by him.

"I don't like him much either," Harry responded. "But you call him a two-legger like it's an insult."

"It is an insult," Thessiiuss explained.

"But I'm a two-legger too," Harry said questioningly.

"You speak our tongue and respect our ways. To us, you are one of us," Thessiiuss clarified. Harry smiled with a faint sense of pride.

~~~~~

A year later, Harry sat by himself on the Hogwarts Express, his lightning-bolt shaped scar marring his too pale skin. When glanced at, he appeared downtrodden, bent in on himself, but his face held a flickering of determination uncommon to boys of his age as he scanned the book he read. Outside the train, three men watched in silence as the train picked up speed and whirred away from them, carrying its precious cargo with it.

Harry Potter drew himself into a corner, hoping nobody outside would look in and see him. In his hands sat a weathered copy of The Dark Forces: a Guide to Self-Protection. The pages were dog-eared and there were creases along its spine from the times it had been cracked open to the same pages over and over again. His legs were drawn up into himself as he made brief notes in a small notebook he carried with him.

The door to the compartment shot open, and he looked up into a familiar face. He thanked his lucky stars it wasn't someone he didn't know, who would fawn over him once they recognized his face from the pictures the Daily Prophet posted of him almost weekly. The red-haired boy sighed, rolling his eyes as he saw who was in the compartment he thought was empty.

"Hello, Potter," he greeted blandly. Harry's green eyes flickered with annoyance.

"Weasley," he acknowledged. "Can I help you?"

"Only available compartment," Ron grunted. Harry sighed in resignation before returning to his notes. "Weirdo," the red-haired boy muttered under his breath. Harry glanced up and glared for a moment before looking back down.

The sound of the train's wheels clicking was lulling, an endless noise that seemed to induce feelings of sleep in Harry when there was no other noise. Later, the shrieking giggles of some girls out in the corridor awoke him, and scowling, he returned to his notes.

The door shot open again, and Harry growled in infuriation. A blond boy stood in the doorway, gray eyes mocking. Harry's eyes narrowed, angry as a spiteful cat. He didn't give a second glance to the thickset boys behind their frail-looking leader; he could recognize mindless thugs when he saw them.

"Just wanted to come meet the famous Harry Potter," the boy enunciated arrogantly. He held out a pale hand. "My name's Draco. Draco Malfoy." Harry didn't take the hand, but instead met Malfoy's cool gray eyes with his own green ones.

"Pleasure," he muttered. Ron watched the exchange with slightly nervous detachment, not wanting a fight to break out. Malfoy blushed faintly, and Harry allowed himself a smirk.

"I see you've chosen company," Malfoy sneered, glancing over at Ron.

"It's no business of yours who I choose to associate with," Harry retorted. "Now get out before I forcefully remove you."

"You think you could take on all three of us?" Malfoy asked, surprised and mocking.

"I defeated You Know Who, didn't I? Surely you don't think you three are any match for him." All of the other boys flinched at the mention of the wizard the entire world had reason to fear. Malfoy's look of annoyance deepened, but he left.

The compartment became quiet once more. Ron shifted, nervous and uncomfortable now that he had seen Harry defend him somewhat.

Desperately, he tried to strike up a conversation, "So, what house do you think you'll be in? Gryffindor like your parents?" At this, Harry lifted his eyes to glare at Ron.

"No," he stated. "I don't think I will be sorted into Gryffindor."

"Why not?"

Harry sighed, "All the Gryffindors I've known are cowards. My father drinks and sleeps, occasionally he hallucinates and makes time for eating. He was reduced to a vegetable by my mother's death and instead of doing something about it, he continually mourns her. My godfather and my father's friend, both Gryffindors as well, know that my father is horrible and yet never say anything about his terrible parenting. Their rational is that they think he needs me as a link to my mother. The fact of the matter is that they don't want to have to lose their friendship with him. As if friendship with a shell of a man means anything."

Ron shifted uncomfortably under Harry's piercing gaze before the green-eyed boy returned it to his book. As he lifted his hand to turn a page, though, a soft hissing noise started. Harry glanced up at his bags.

"Crap," he muttered, and, opening one of the zippers and reaching into it, he lifted out a slender blue snake. Ron jumped at the sight of the creature twining itself companionably around Harry's arm. A frightened squeak sounded from Ron's pocket and he grabbed hold of his pet rat, ineffectively attempting to silence its squeaking. The snake began to hiss louder and Harry met its eyes, Ron watching them with fright.

"You're not allowed to have a snake at Hogwarts," Ron informed him, trying not to let his nervousness show in his voice.

"Try to tell Thessiiuss that," Harry retorted, running soothing fingers down the snake's back.

"I-I thought you could speak Parseltongue," Ron offered timidly. When Harry glared at him, he added, "It was in the Prophet two years ago. On your birthday."

"Ah, yes. That mess. I didn't mean it literally. I meant that he won't leave me, no matter what I try to do."

A girl stumbled into the compartment and Harry looked up at her. "I-Is that a snake?" she questioned, fear in her voice.

Harry smiled faintly. "Yes, I do believe it is."

She took a step back, bushy hair swaying about her. "You're not allowed to have snakes at school." When Harry didn't say anything, she continued, "There's a boy looking for his toad. Have you seen it?" she inquired, eyes at all times on the snake.

"Sorry, can't say I have," Ron responded.

"Oh well." She turned to go but caught sight of Harry's scar. "Are you...Harry Potter?" she asked, astounded.

"Yes," Harry replied, an almost sad tone in his voice. "You know of me then?" he asked, sarcastically bitter.

"Of course. I did loads of research on the wizarding world as soon as I got my acceptance letter. Information about you is everywhere." There was an intelligence to her face and a business-like tone to her voice that Harry had only respect for. "I must say, you do look remarkably like your father."

Harry was on his feet in instants, expression snapping from calm to angry, wand held dangerously close to her throat. Her eyes were wide and fear filled.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, shocked.

"I am nothing like my father," he snarled, removing his wand from her throat, and he watched her scamper out of the room with angry green eyes.

The compartment was silent, Ron watching Harry with a fearful cast to his features. The silent, loner boy they had had over at Christmas one year was replaced by this infuriated creature, eyes wild and angry, wand still held at an intimidating angle.

"Don't say a word," Harry ordered. Ron shook his head and drew himself into a corner as the black-haired boy sat down again, hissing softly and soothingly to his pet.

As the scenery began to change, Harry was the first to speak again. "We're probably almost there. We should get changed."

They both stood, pulling out their robes. Ron happened to glance over at Harry as he took off his shirt, revealing a long bruise that ran diagonally along his back. It was turning green and yellow as it healed, a dark purple at the center. His ribs stuck out plainly with malnutrition, and there was a hunk of scar tissue on his left shoulder as if he'd been wounded and had tried to heal it himself and done it improperly.

Wisely, he didn't say a word.