Sunday, 1 September 1991
Harry was enjoying himself. His new cousin was rather funny, nothing like Arcturus and Sirius' descriptions of Lucius Malfoy which was a relief. Theodore was wickedly intelligent and seemed to know more about runes than Harry did which was insane seeing as Harry had been educated by Merlin himself. He was going to have to get those two in a room at some point. Greg was quiet, he seemed to be following Malfoy's lead but Harry could tell he was happy they'd chosen kindness.
Ron was quickly becoming Harry's favourite person. He knew a lot from his older brothers and was more than happy to share that knowledge, he was whip smart and an absolute menace at wizard's chess. He seemed like the sort of person who knew how to have fun, enjoyed an adventure, and stuck by the people he considered family. In other words, exactly the sort of person Harry wanted to befriend.
As Ron beat Malfoy a third time in chess, resulting in a good amount of good natured teasing and whining, the compartment door slammed open revealing a girl with bushy brown curls and an apologetic look on her face, like she hadn't realized how much strength she'd put behind pulling the door open. She looked almost afraid of what their reaction would be so Harry put on his kindest smile and said, "hello, were you looking for someone?"
"Erm, no," she stuttered slightly before seeming to gather herself and rolling her shoulders back, "a boy named Neville's lost his toad, have you lot seen one?"
"I haven't but I'd be happy to help look," Harry said, genuinely happy to lend a hand. The bright smile the girl sent him only solidified his decision.
"I'm Hermione, by the way," she said, voice gaining confidence the longer she stood in the doorway. "Hermione Granger."
"Oh!" Draco said, sounding oddly excited. "Are you related to the Dagworth-Grangers by chance? They're historically great potioneers."
"I don't believe so," Hermione said, looking almost afraid of disappointing him. "I'm a muggleborn."
"Ah," Draco said with a simple nod, so far departed from what Lucius Malfoy likely expected of him that even Harry felt his head spin, "that's neat, I bet it was a bit of a shock for your parents. I'm Draco Malfoy, it's nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too," Hermione said, smiling brightly once more, "and it was a bit of a shock but they've made sure to tell me they're proud. Professor McGonagall helped a lot with explaining everything, it's nice that the school sends someone with the letter for Muggleborns, I can't imagine just trying to figure it out all on my own."
"You'll have to tell us how she explained it sometime," Theo said, that curious glint Harry had quickly learned to recognize back in his eyes, "we've all grown up around magic and it'd be interesting to hear how it's explained from an outside perspective. Oh," he said, shaking his head slightly and then putting on a kind smile, "I'm Theodore Nott, call me Theo though. And this is Greg Goyle."
"Good to meet you both. I'd love to learn more about what growing up with magic was like too, it's all just so new and exciting."
"I'm Harrison Potter-Black," Harry cut in, "everyone calls me Harry, though." He saw her eyes light up in recognition and before she could inevitably mention that she'd read of him in some book or another, he gestured toward Ron, "and this is Ronald Weasley, he goes by Ron."
Hermione paused for a moment, looking like she was trying to decide if she wanted to call out the Harry Potterof it all before coming to a decision and simply smiling at the two boys, "it's lovely to meet you."
"Alright," Harry said, clapping his hands lightly as he stood, "we've a toad to find."
"I'll help too," Ron offered, following Harry and Hermione out of the compartment. "Whose toad did you say it was?"
"Neville Longbottom."
"Does the toad have a name?" Harry asked, deciding these two were likely to figure out his strange magic soon enough so he might as well get it out of the way and use it to find this toad instead of searching the entire train top to bottom.
"Trevor."
"Alright," Harry said, pausing and stretching out his right hand. He felt the space behind his eyes warm slightly and knew they were glowing gold. A moment later, a toad hit his outstretched hand with a thump, "is this him?"
"How did you do that?" Hermione asked, simply sounding excited at the prospect of new knowledge.
Ron looked shocked, likely understanding what, exactly, Harry had just done, "was that wandless magic? And your eyes turned gold! That's a signal of Druidic Magic isn't it? At least it is in the stories I've heard."
"It is," Harry confirmed, turning to Hermione to explain now that he knew Ron truly understood, "I have Druid blood on my father's side. Druidic Magic is more based in natural magic than our sort of sorcery which filters ambient magic using foci like wands or, if you're a thousand years old, staffs. It's the magic that comes most naturally to me, meaning it's easy for me to use wandless and intent based magic but it'll be rather tough to adjust to using a wand for classes."
"I've read several books on wand theory," Hermione offered. "Maybe we could help each other? You could teach me about your natural sort of magic even if I'm not able to use it and I could help you study to use a wand?"
Harry was rather certain he'd read the same books Hermione was referencing but it was always good to learn from another's point of view and she seemed like the sort of person he'd like to have in his corner. He also got the vibe that she was so excited about all of this that she might come across as a bit of a know it all and he figured having someone to learn with might temper that a bit, "that sounds great, Hermione," he said with a bright smile.
"Could I join?" Ron asked, sounding a bit shy. "I've learned about both types of magic but honestly thought Druidic Magic was a bit of a myth, it'd be cool to see more of it."
"Course," Harry said easily, slinging his free arm around Ron's shoulder, still keeping a secure grip on Trevor the Toad. "Hermione do you know where Neville's sitting? We can return his toad and maybe make another friend."
"We're friends?" Hermione asked, looking genuinely shocked.
"Why not?" Harry shrugged. "You seem like just the sort of person I'd like to be friends with."
"I've never really had friends before," she said quietly, almost to herself. When she looked back up she had the widest smile Harry had seen her give and unshed tears sparkling in her eyes, "I'd love to be friends."
"Good," Ron said. "Because I might be smart but I'm nowhere near as good a researcher as you seem to be. We can all help each other out."
* * *
Neville was going to die. His grandmother was going to kill him. He'd only been on the train three hours and he'd already lost his toad and he had no clue how to get him back. He'd thought to try the summoning charm he'd seen Gran use before but his wand hadn't so much as warmed. The nice girl named Hermione had offered to help him and while he was thankful, he was feeling rather down about the fact that, instead of befriending her by talking about school or their interests, he'd likely made her pity him.
This day was not going well.
"Neville!" Hermione called as he reached the end of the third car he'd searched. "We found him."
Neville let out a sigh of relief as he turned around, surprised to find not only Hermione but two boys. One who looked like a Weasley and the other who fit no description he knew … that is until he saw the bolt of lightning carved into the right side of his face.
Before he could panic about the fact that Harry Potter of all people had found his toad, he felt his eyes gloss over and heard what he knew to be the Longbottom Magic all but screaming brother in his head.
"Longbottom," Harry whispered, stepping away from Ron and Hermione, "are your parents Francis and Alice by any chance?"
"Yeah," Neville said softly. "Why?"
"Your mum's my godmother," Harry said, matching his tone, "also, my Potter ring's currently shrieking at me."
"The Longbottom ring too," Neville said, feeling himself start to grin. "Your parents were my godparents."
"My godfather was Sirius Black," Harry said, an odd look on his face that Neville chose to chalk up to the whole betrayal rumour. "But my magic has decided you're my brother so we're brothers now, sorry, you don't get a say," he added with a crooked grin that settled something in Neville's chest.
"Brothers works for me," Neville said, returning his grin and instinctively holding out his hand, hardly a second passed before Harry gripped his forearm, threads of magic visibly twisting between them in the most beautiful display Neville had ever seen. "Woah," he whispered, seeing his awe mirrored in Harry's eyes.
"Fealty," Harry whispered to himself as the oddly crown shaped ring on his forefinger heated against Neville's skin. The warmth set off several questions in Neville's mind, none of which he knew how to answer. He didn't recognize the ring at all and it wasn't a signet so there was no clear indicator of what family it could be from but Neville's magic was telling him that Harry could be trusted above all others, that he'd come to Neville's aid and protect him from danger.
It was clear that this was more than the generational brotherhood of Houses Potter and Longbottom.
It felt like something ancient had been reborn.
* * *
"Hello firsties!" a voice cried out as the door slammed open once again.
Harry looked up as Ron let out a groan to see two identical boys, maybe a couple years older than them, standing in the doorway grinning like loons.
"I'm George," the one on the left said.
"And I'm Fred," the other said, a distinctly mischievous glint in his eye.
"And I think you're lying," Harry said, looking up at them with an eyebrow raised.
"They are," Ron confirmed.
"Wow," the one he was now certain was Fred said, eyes open so wide they looked like they were about to pop out. "That's the fastest we've ever been found out and you've never even met us before, how'd you know?"
"I'm quite good at spotting lies," was all Harry offered with a slight shrug, deciding to keep the fact that his magic (most especially the magic he credited to his Gryffindor blood) could sense dishonesty to himself.
"Think you'll always be able to tell us apart?" George asked.
Harry paused for a minute, really looking at the pair. They were the exact same height and build, they had the same haircut, and they were currently even wearing the same thing. But if someone looked close enough, there were physical differences. Fred had a mole on his neck and dark brown eyes while George had slightly darker freckles and lighter brown, almost hazel eyes.
And for Harry who could sense others' magic, and even see it if he focused hard enough, the difference was obvious.
Fred's magic was like a wild bonfire, sparking around him in a way that promised chaos and when Harry pushed his mind to focus, he was unsurprised to discover that his magic was bright orange.
George was just as powerful but he kept his magic wrapped around him like a cloak, it moved in measured waves but something told Harry that it'd strike out if faced with a threat, it was a soft orange, almost sunset pink. As George's magic washed over him, Harry felt his breathing slow and his mind, always hyper-active, always on alert for a threat, finally relaxed. He didn't have it in him to feel shocked at the peace he felt, he simply decided to enjoy it.
"Yeah," Harry said after a minute, "I'll be able to tell."
When he looked up again, George had an odd look in his eye, something Harry couldn't begin to decipher.
* * *
George was fucked.
He'd barely gotten a glimpse of Harry earlier on the platform before going to inform his mum that the boy was safe and cared for but now, as he watched him genuinely observe the pair, cataloguing their differences and committing them to memory, he had the chance to actually look.
Harry was adorable. That easy smile and those blue green eyes, his summer freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks. He looked subtly strong too, stronger than an eleven year old should logically be. George found himself thinking, strangely enough, that he looked like someone who'd been trained to fight, to wield a blade with lethal accuracy, to defend himself and others.
It was an odd thought but now that it was in his head, he couldn't seem to push it away. There was just something in the way he held himself, something that said he was more than an 11 year old kid, more, even, than the Scion of House Potter. He held himself like a warrior, like a knight of old.
And here he was, sitting on the floor of a train compartment surrounded by the oddest group of people George had ever seen. The girl on the left had her head buried in a book titled Muggleborns and Finding Your Magical Core but was comfortably sat between Theodore Nott and Gregory Goyle. Draco Malfoy was on the floor next to Harry, his once immaculate robes ruffled and wrinkling as he dealt out cards for exploding snap. Ron was on the other bench, his legs crossed with Scabbers sleeping peacefully on his thigh and Neville Longbottom sat next to him.
He had to blink a couple of times to make sure he was seeing it right.
Three children of accused Death Eaters happily sitting with a Weasley, a Longbottom, a Muggleborn, and the Boy-Who-Lived himself.
He was snapped out of his thoughts as Harry spoke again, "yeah," he said, voice confident, "I'll be able to tell."
So, yeah, George was absolutely fucked.