So, here we are at the beginning. Most of the first year is going to progress similarly to canon, before diverging at the start of Book 2, although Harry will be a little more knowledgeable about the wizarding world thanks to his new pen-pal, and Harry's friendship with Ron might be a little strained by Harry's insistence on writing to his 'baby sister'. Ginny is also going to help solve a few of the trio's problems, since she has prior knowledge of the wizarding world and is a much better thinker than Ron. I'll try to avoid rehashing canon too much, but there are definitely some events that will need to be discussed between Harry and Ginny for future events to make sense.
Note that my understanding of Harry's relationship with the Dursleys is that the abuse shown in the books is toned down from what 'actually' happened, as far as reality can be discerned in fiction, and since Rowling sometimes implied abuse much more severe than is actually shown, I'm going to work based on that reality, hence the tentative R rating. I'm not certain the story will need it, but better safe than sorry, eh?
|
Dear Ginny | ||||||
|
Category: Alternate Universe Characters:All Genres: General Warnings: Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence/Physical Abuse Rating: R Reviews: 13 Summary: What if Harry and Ginny had decided to write to each other when they first met on Platform Nine and Three Quarters? Hitcount: Story Total: 8254; Chapter Total: 1474 Author's Notes: |
Next |
|
||||
|
Harry Potter stood alone in the crowd bustling through King’s Cross Station, staring at his ticket as if willing the embossed words to give him some clue of how exactly he was meant to get to the Platform Nine and Three Quarters they so proudly indicated. The guard had been no help, and the glare he received when he mentioned the platform number was reminiscent enough of his Aunt that Harry almost ducked an imaginary flying pan on instinct as he flinched away. He wished he’d had the idea to use Hedwig to write to Hagrid, or even that Malfoy boy, over the month he’d spent waiting for today. Perhaps one of them would have mentioned how to get onto the platform in a letter if he had bothered to contact them. As he watched the clock tick closer to the 11 o’ clock departure, Harry wondered vaguely whether his suspicions that day Hagrid had taken him to London for his school supplies had been true, and the Dursleys had really been playing some long-winded prank on him. Of course, he knew from bitter experience that they had nothing close to the sense of humour required to pull something like that off, and he doubted they’d have let their precious Diddykins be so humiliated in the process. Harry smiled to himself as he remembered the sight of Hagrid pointing his umbrella at his increasingly porcine cousin, before another memory of the pink, polka-dotted brolly took its place. Perhaps Platform Nine and Three Quarters was, like Diagon Alley, hidden behind a wall somewhere, and the only way he could reach it would be through tapping the right brick. He looked up at the clock again in despair at the thought. There were hundreds of bricks on the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten, and he had no idea how he’d be able to test them all in the ten minutes he had before the train left, especially without arousing the suspicions of the people still milling around him. Hagrid had seemed quite worried about the consequences of breaching the Statute of Secrecy, and Harry had no desire to find out what it was that could scare the huge man so much. On the other hand, he wanted even less to return to the Dursleys’ home, and so resigned himself to his search. No sooner had he stepped towards the wall, reaching into his pocket for his wand than he caught an exasperated-sounding voice above the chattering of the crowd behind him. “I don’t know why they insist on having the entrance here, the place is always packed with Muggles, of course.” Hand dropping to his side, Harry spun around, searching the teeming station for the speaker. After a few moments, his eyes fell on a group of redheaded children, four boys and a small girl who was holding the hand of what he assumed was their mother. Each of the boys was pushing a trolley with a trunk like his own, and the tallest of the boys also had a slightly bedraggled, tawny owl in a cage perched in the top basket of his trolley. Harry pushed his own trolley behind them, his heart pounding against his chest as he came to a stop just close enough behind them to make out their conversation. “Now, do you remember the platform number?” the woman asked, smiling down at her daughter. “Nine and three-quarters!” the girl happily replied, before her face fell, a few tears leaking from her hazel eyes. “Mum, can’t I go to Hog-“ “You know you’re not old enough yet, Ginny, now be quiet. You’ll be able to go with your brothers next year. Now, Percy, you can go first.” The boy with the owl on his trolley strode forward towards the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten, his chest puffed outwards. Harry stared after him, straining his ears and forcing himself not to blink in case he missed the incantation to open the barrier, but just as the boy reached the wall, a large group of tourists swarmed through the space between them, cutting off Harry’s sight of the barrier and muffling the words to any spell he might have needed to cast. The boy had already disappeared by the time the backpackers had cleared, and the kindly woman was already sending her next child off, though not before Fred, or was it George, had mocked his mother for confusing the names of her twin sons. Harry had a perfect view of the barrier this time, though it did little to help his confusion as both Fred then George, or George then Fred, strode up to the brick wall and promptly vanished, trolley and all. Harry supposed he had no other option, and pushed his trolley up alongside the remaining redheads. “E- excuse me,” he mumbled to the plump woman, her hand still firmly clasped around her daughter’s. Harry vaguely wondered what she might have done to be grabbed like that, after all the Dursleys only seemed to touch him for long enough to throw him back into his cupboard, he’d never been bad enough for them to hold onto him for that long. He shrunk back slightly as both the woman and girl turned to him, although they didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, hello dear,” she replied, looking down at him. “Is it your first time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.” She gestured at the last tall, thin boy at her side. He grinned back at Harry, his freckled face aglow with excitement. “Y--yes, Ma’am,” Harry said, dipping his head slightly in preparation for the blow “T-the thing is, I don’t really know how I’m meant to-“ “Get onto the platform?” she said kindly, and Harry nodded in shock. Perhaps she didn’t want to hit him in public. “Not to worry, all you have to do is walk straight at that barrier there.” She pointed to the barrier where her other children had disappeared. “Don’t stop, and it’s very important you not be scared that you’ll crash into it. You’re probably a bit nervous, so best do it at a bit of a run. Go on now, you can go before Ron.” “Er-“ Harry wasn’t sure exactly how running towards the solid wall was meant to make him any less frightened of crashing into it, but the others had managed it alright, and the woman didn’t seem to want to hurt him yet. “Okay”, he said, looking up at her. He pulled on his trolley to face it towards the barrier, and stared at the cold, unyielding wall before him, looking for any shimmer or sign that it wasn’t quite as hard as it looked. The orange-red bricks, as if sensing his gaze, stubbornly refused to do anything at all. He shrugged and started to walk towards them, but just as he took a step a flash of fiery red caught the corner of his eye and he faltered, to a hoot of annoyance from his caged owl. Glancing apologetically towards Hedwig, Harry turned again to the girl, whose blazing hair he now realised had been the source of his distraction. She looked back at him for a moment, a questioning expression in her teary eyes, before bowing her head away from him, a slight pink tinge on her cheeks. Hedwig ruffled her feathers again, clearly wondering what exactly the delay was, and a flash of an idea struck Harry. He walked over to the girl, heart pounding in his chest, and took her free hand loosely in his. In the edge of his vision, he saw the boy, Ron, straighten up slightly, the tips of his ears reddening, and a memory of Dudley’s last birthday morning swam to the front of Harry’s mind. He gulped and looked back to the girl. “H-hey,” he stammered, mentally cursing himself. That wouldn’t do. He took a breath and tried again. “My friend Hagrid bought me this lovely owl, but I don’t have much for her to do. You see, I don’t really have anyone to write to outside of Hogwarts.” She’d almost turned her head back to look at him, but with the mention of the school the girl had sniffed and looked away again, though she left her hand where it was. Harry supposed he’d better get to the point quickly, so he didn’t upset her any more and blow his first chance at a new friendship. “I-I was wondering whether you’d mind if I were to write to you, G-Ginny.” Her head snapped up, eyes wide. He’d insulted her, he knew it. “Only so you could know some more about Hogwarts before you-“ Harry only got halfway through his spluttered apology before he’d felt arms close around his torso. He flinched, but she didn’t seem to notice as she thanked him profusely, tears now streaming unabated down her cheeks. “Thank you thank you thank you I’d love to finally have somebody to write to thank you so-“ her eyes widened again as she caught herself and pulled back, looking up in fear at her mother, who was gazing down at the pair. “If it’s OK for me to write to him, Mum,” she whispered, a pleading tone in her voice. Her mother seemed stuck for a moment, but a warm smile quickly spread across her face. “Of course you can write to your friend, Ginny,” she gushed, embracing her daughter in a deep hug, by chance catching a glimpse of the large clock on the wall behind her. She stiffened slightly and turned back to her Harry and her son, whose cheeks had taken on a slight redness of their own. “Oh dear, I didn’t notice the time. You two need to get onto the platform quickly, or you’ll miss the Express! Off you go now, Ron.” The lanky boy took off towards the barrier, bumping a young tourist couple out of the way as he passed, but vanishing before they could turn to admonish him. They looked at each other in confusion before hurrying on towards the other side of the station, leaving Harry, Ginny and her mother momentarily alone. “Now then,” the woman said, her tone suddenly business-like, “no more time for dawdling, get yourself through that barrier if you want to make it to school on time. Do try not to knock any muggles over though, dear. I don’t know how Ron manages to be so clumsy” Harry grabbed his trolley and began to stride towards the wall, head filled with worry at the prospect of being late for his first day at school. He had no idea how he’d get to Hogwarts if he missed the train. As he neared the brickwork, a voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Oh, I almost forgot. Who should we address your letters to?” He hadn’t thought of that. He wondered briefly how letters in the magical world made it to the right person, but he supposed he’d just have to hope nobody at Hogwarts shared his name. “Harry Potter”, he replied, moments before the whole world seemed to twist around him as the front of his trolley touched the barrier, and he stumbled out onto the yellow tiles of Platform Nine and Three Quarters. On the other side of the barrier, a squeal pierced through the chattering of the crowds bustling around King’s Cross Station. “Harry Potter’s going to write to me!” |
| Reviews 13 |
Next
|
