Times of Trouble

Albus stared out the carriage window at the busy London streets. As far as he could tell no one even noticed that he wasn't engaged in the ongoing conversation – and that was fine with him.

The last month had been absolutely horrible for him. It should have been a month filled with excitement with all of the focus on him – instead it had been a nightmare.

First, his birthday had been ruined. His mother had decided that since Neville's birthday was the 30th, Harry's the 31st, and his own the 1st they could just have one large celebration on the 31st instead of three small ones.

Albus did not like sharing his birthday.

Second, his parents had been so busy talking in whispers with Uncle Donald and Uncle Marcus that they didn't even notice when he broke the singing teapot. That teapot had been a wedding gift from Aunt Belinda and he'd once gotten his ears boxed for putting it down on the table roughly.

He freely admitted that he'd broken it on purpose.

Third, the fact that he was going to Hogwarts wasn't a big deal anymore. The morning his Hogwarts letter had arrived it had been accompanied by four other letters. Richie had been visiting, since Uncle Donald was there, so Albus had expected to see his letter.

It was the other three that were the surprise.

One had been to Uncle Marcus letting him know that he'd gotten the favor from the Headmaster that he'd wanted. From his snooping and eavesdropping Albus knew that the favor involved getting the two time-travelers into Hogwarts without anyone realizing they were from the future. They'd made up some story about Harry being Uncle Marcus's son from a muggle woman, which wasn't entirely unheard of it. Neville had been more difficult, but he was finally labeled as some long lost cousin from a squib, no one would believe that Uncle Donald had a son.

They'd gone to Diagon Alley to get supplies the day after getting the letters and Albus spent the entire day trailing along behind the group. For some reason Albus couldn't understand Richie had attached himself to Harry and Neville, not quite acting like a moonstruck calf, but much closer to that then Albus had ever thought possible for his cool, collected friend. Aberforth and Ariana had been the true moonstruck calves, following right on Harry's heels and hanging on his every word.

It made Albus want to be sick.

That was the fourth bad thing about this past month – he'd lost his siblings to Harry Potter. No longer did they want to play with him or follow him around, now they looked to Harry for entertainment. He felt like an old, broken toy when they were around. A toy that you can't bear to throw out, but you really don't want anymore.

And so, as the carriage navigated the busy London streets Albus stared at the window and sullenly plotted how to make everything go back to the way it had been before.

Even if it took him years, he'd make sure things got back to normal, no matter what.

XXX

As soon as the carriage rolled to a stop Aberforth swung the door open and hopped to the ground. Quickly he turned and pulled the step out for Ariana. It took a little maneuvering for her to get out of the carriage. She wasn't used to wearing such a fancy dress.

Once she was down he pulled her over to side and out of the way so that everyone else could get their things. Watching the growing activity around the carriage, Ariana's small hand in his, a lump began to form in Aberforth's throat.

It was hard for him to believe that it was September 1st already. It seemed like only yesterday that Harry had rescued Ariana from those boys. When he'd first stumbled into the spare bedroom with Albus and seen Harry lying on the bed he never could've imagined that Harry was so amazing.

From listening to Neville and Harry talk Aberforth knew that there was an extremely evil wizard in the future and that Harry had met him and survived four times. The adventures the two of them talked about made his feet itch. He wanted to set off and find his own adventures, like they had.

Realistically he knew that the only adventure he had to look forward to was getting his Hogwarts letter in three years. Until then he'd just have to wait.

After all, you couldn't go on an adventure without a wand.

XXX

Ariana squeezed her brother's hand as she watched the four older boys disappear, one by one, through the platform barrier.

Tears stung her eyes as she realized that it was just going to be her and Aberforth until Christmas. She didn't want to go that long without seeing Albus, Harry, Neville, and Richie.

She gave a little sniff, trying to stop from crying. She was a young lady, young ladies didn't cry. It took every ounce of willpower in her little body, but she managed not to shed a tear, at least for the moment.

Later, as the train began to pull away from the station she felt herself finally losing the battle with the tears. She was just about to break down when Aberforth pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her blonde head.

"Shh, they'll be back soon. I'll keep you company until then."

"Really?"

"Of course, I'll never leave you."

The two of them turned as one and waved at the train. They didn't know if they waved at their friends and brother or not, neither of them could make out the student's faces through their tears.

Finally, when the train was nothing but a speck in the distance, they allowed their parents and uncles to escort them off the station.

Neither of them noticed the ragged person watching them from the shadows.

XXX

Harry gave one final wave out the window at little Ariana and Aberforth before the train rounded a bend and the children disappeared from sight. Plopping back on his seat he grinned across the compartment at Neville.

"We're going back to Hogwarts."

Neville grinned back, the smile transforming his face, "And I have my wand back finally."

"When did he give it back?"

"Right before I got on the train."

Harry chuckled, "I don't think Uncle Donald trusts you."

"I don't think he trusts anyone. Remember? The tailor at the robe shop almost went into shock when he heard I was living with him."

Harry frowned as he remembered Mr. Fuller. The little bird-like man had given a squawk of surprise and almost tripped over a stool when he heard Neville's last name. When he'd found his voice again he'd said, "Donald Longbottom let someone sleep in his house?"

"Yeah…I wonder what the story is there?" Harry said curiously.

"Uncle Donald was abandoned by his mother when his father died. He grew up all alone in that huge house. According to my mother he didn't even shed a tear when he got the letter saying his mother had turned himself into a rock in the Himalayas." Richie said calmly before burying his nose back in his potions book.

Harry blinked in surprise. Uncle Donald's mother was a rock now?

Before he or Neville could wrap their minds around that little bit of information the compartment door slid open to reveal a tall, black haired boy already in his school robes, a prefect badge on his chest.

His eyes scanned the compartment coolly before settling on the empty spot next to Harry. A small, cold smile curved his thin lips.

"Ah, there's apparently room in this compartment." His voice was high, cold, and strangely familiar.

Harry was half afraid he was going to sit in there with them, but instead he pushed a small girl into the compartment.

"Miss Thompson, please stay in here for the remainder of the trip. I don't need mudbloods cluttering up my compartment."

The blood began to boil in Harry's veins at the use of the word "mudblood", especially so freely from a prefect. His hand started to edge towards his wand, but before he could do anything the boy gave a curt nod and slammed the compartment door shut.

The girl just stood there in front of the closed door, not moving. She was already in her school robes and they looked a little worn, like they were second-hand. Her dirty brown hair hung in a curtain over her pale, bony face.

Harry didn't think he had ever seen a more miserable looking human in his life. He opened his mouth to say something, but Neville beat him to the punch.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Neville got to his feet as he said this and pulled her over to sit beside him and Richie, tossing Richie's stack of books onto the other boy's lap.

If the situation had been different Harry would have burst out laughing at the sight of Richie trying to frantically hold on to all of his textbooks.

The girl nodded slowly and then asked in a quiet, almost indiscernible voice, "What's a mudblood?"

"A cruel and vicious insult for those of muggle-birth," Richie answered promptly as he finished stacking his books on the seat across from him.

Harry had a weird sense of déjà-vu. Could Hermione and Richie be related? Wait, where was Hermione? Was she even in this time period? Uncle Marcus had been on the lookout for her in the Ministry and Harry had at least expected to see her at Platform 9¾. She knew the train always left at eleven on September 1st.

Harry's attention was drawn out of his thoughts and back to the girl sitting between Neville and Richie. A rather foul and uncouth word had just popped out of her mouth.

"So, he's a bully and a prefect?"

Richie shrugged, "Most likely. That was Sirius Black, the son of our very pureblood Headmaster. The Blacks are not exactly known for liking those of muggle-birth."

At the name something twisted in Harry's stomach. That boy had been a Black? Did that mean he was related to his Godfather? With how small the Wizarding Community was they probably were related somehow.

"So all that's different here is that we get to carry twigs and mumble magic words at each other?"

Harry couldn't help but wince at cynicism in her young voice. He also didn't like the idea of his wand being called a 'twig'.

"Most likely, human nature is the same the world round. The main difference here is that the people like Black end up in Slytherin, so we more normal people can avoid them much more easily." Richie's voice was a little softer now than it had been since they'd boarded the train.

"Slytherin? What's that? A magic spell?" The girl asked in confusion as she pushed the stringy hair off her face so that she could see Richie more clearly.

"No, it's one of the four School Houses: Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. Slytherin is for the ambitious. Hufflepuff takes the loyal. Ravenclaw is for the brains. Gryffindors are the brave ones. Normally though they just act first and think later."

Harry chuckled at the description of Gryffindor. He'd been known to do that a few times. He shared knowing look with Neville as they remembered the times they had saved the thinking for later – when Hermione let them.

"How do you know which House you'll be in?"

Richie shrugged, "They pick the best one-"

Richie was cut off by the compartment door sliding open quickly and then slamming shut as someone threw themselves into the compartment.

A girl stood there in a very odd and garishly colored dress. She stood there for a moment, trying to catch her breath, as they all watched her curiously.

A group of people moved noisily through the corridor outside before she put her hands on her hips and spoke.

"Now, are you four going to say somethin smart? Or can I stay here?" Her voice had a rather strong and odd accent to it. Harry knew he had heard an accent like it before, but he couldn't remember where.

Miss Thompson pointed over at Richie, "I think he says a lot of smart things, or he has in the past few moments. Is that a bad thing?"

One thin eyebrow on the new girl's face rose until it was almost touching her braided hair. "What sorta smart things?"

Miss Thompson shrugged (Harry made a note to ask their names as soon as he could), "He was telling me about the School Houses."

"Those sorta smart things ain't bad. I think I'll stay here." Then, without another word the girl pushed Richie's books onto the floor and plopped herself on the bench next to Harry, pulled a thick book out of her bag and began to read.

Since the book was much too small to be a school book Harry was curious. He leaned forward just a little so he could see the author and title.

From the Earth to the Moon

Jules Verne

Harry's eyebrows shot up a little. He wasn't that big into reading, but he recognized the name Jules Verne. One of his teachers when he had lived at the Dursleys had loved what he called "Classic Science Fiction". Jules Verne was one of the authors his teacher had raved about.

Harry looked up from the book to catch the girl staring at him.

"Ya got a problem with me choice of book?"

Harry shook his head quickly, "No, I was just curious. By the way, I'm Harry Potter, what's your name?"

The girl eyed him suspiciously for a moment before responding. "I'm Illyria Wooten."

"Nice to meet you, this is Richie Potter, Neville Longbottom, and uhhh….Miss Thompson." Harry had been pointing each person out as he said their name and now his hand hovered in mid air, pointing at Miss Thompson as he realized he didn't know her first name.

"I'm Emily Thompson, pleased to meet you," she filled in for him.

The girls stared at each other for a moment, as if they were measuring each other with their eyes. After a moment they broke into matching grins.

"Can I call you Em?"

"Only if I can call you Illy."

Illyria made a face at this and shook her head, her thin, beaded braids swinging out and hitting the wall as she did so. "Ugh, no, I'll call you Emily."

Emily's grin broadened, "Works for me."

The trolley came by a few minutes later and soon the five of them were buried up to their eyeballs in sweets. The way Emily ate them Harry wondered if she'd eaten for days. It was later, as they were slouched around the compartment, slowly digesting their goodies, that Harry learned the interesting backgrounds behind these two girls.

Illyria was a muggleborn her father was Jamaican shopkeeper that had been unlucky enough to fall in love with an English woman. The two of them had ended up eloping and now spent their lives doing one of the few jobs still open to them – entertainment. Illyria had grown up on the road with her four brothers. It had been a rather pleasant shock to her when she'd gotten her letter since she'd never much fancied being an entertainer.

Emily's parents had died in a fire when she was very young. She rolled the sleeves of her robes up a little to show the burn scars covering her arms before quickly rolling them back down. She rather pointedly didn't say anything about the years between the fire and the present, though Harry noticed that she did keep playing with the rough wooden cross around her neck as she told them that she had a cousin on board the train, but that he had bumped into some blonde boy and then disappeared, leaving her to get into trouble with Sirius Black.

As the train continued it's long journey north Harry couldn't help but wonder what would be different at Hogwarts. But the question that really kept plaguing him was: Where was Hermione?

XXX

Back in London the Leaky Cauldron was doing a steady stream of business. Every room in the small inn was full as parents with all of their children off at Hogwarts had a small holiday.

The barkeeper, Old Tom, moved quickly behind the bar, filling drinks as fast as people could drink them. His wife, Marsha, was in the kitchen churning out more food than they usually sold in a week.

He didn't give a second thought to the small squib girl helping his daughter wait on tables. He was just grateful to have extra help for the cheap price of a pallet by the fire and three meals a day.