The Child of the Seventh Month

12. The Divide Within

On the first of September, King's Cross Station was a chaotic blend of noise and crowds. Waves of oddly dressed individuals kept crashing through the sea of people only to suddenly disappear between platforms nine and ten.

Having experienced it before, Harry had no difficulty with the crossing. He had simply pushed his trolley at the barrier separating the platform numbers - the unsuspecting brick wall - and, instead of hitting the wall, had found himself in a bustling station that was entirely different from the King's Cross he had just left. Almost immediately, a familiar nest of bushy hair caught his eye, and before he could react, a girl his age lunged at him with a squeal of "Harry!"

Harry's only friend, Hermione, gave a wide grin. She looked exactly the same as he remembered her - unruly mane of hair and a bunny teeth smile. She was dressed in her muggle clothes, a green sweater and a pair of jeans, while Harry's unbuttoned robe trailed after him rather pathetically.

"Hi," he couldn't help but respond with the shadow of a smile, a glimmer of brightness breaking through the sulkiness that had dominated his mind for the past two days.

Since the Lord had left his book in Neville's hands, Harry hadn't experienced a moment of happiness. He was heartbroken to leave the Manor again, and the Lord's favoritism had only added to his bitterness. Harry had hoped the Lord would at least bid them goodbye as he had the previous year, but only Lucius had shown up to take them to the station earlier in the morning.

Harry hadn't spoken much to Neville since the other boy received the book either. In his frustration, Harry decided to ignore him and his good luck. Despite Neville's attempts at conversation, Harry responded with stony silence. Even when Neville offered to let Harry have a look at the book, he declined. Whenever he looked at Neville now, he was filled with a sense of injustice and jealousy.

"How are you? How was summer?" Hermione asked.

"It was fine," Harry dismissed, but Hermione sensed his sour mood and wisely refrained from prying further.

"You need to give me your address next time," she said, throwing her arms around him, and Harry patted her back awkwardly, unaccustomed to such affection. "I've sent letters to you with a few different owls but they all came back, none of them could find you. Where do you live?"

Harry stepped back, glancing around in embarrassment, hoping that no one had seen that a girl had hugged him. "I'll give it to you later," he said, knowing Hermione didn't believe him, but she let it go without fuss.

She had asked about his mysterious guardian many times before - he wasn't able to reveal much because of the strength of the Lord's spell, but he had managed to come up with some believable story about how he couldn't reveal anything as it was possibly dangerous. Yet, she was too smart for her own good, and considering that Harry had been progressively warming up to her, he had begun being less careful with words, letting slip a few details about his life he would rather keep to himself.

"Hi Neville," she turned to the boy, who had just made his way through the barrier to the platform. She smiled at him politely, and barely managed to hide a scowl at the sight of Ron Weasley, who was standing nearby with his large family, raising his hand in a wave. He had been a tall child for his age last year but he seemed to have grown impossibly taller over the summer break; he towered over all the nearby children and over some of their mothers too.

Ron quickly hugged his mother before he made his way towards the trio. Harry didn't conceal his dislike for the redhead, letting his expression close off as soon as he had entered his line of vision.

"Hi," Ron grinned.

"Hi!" Neville smiled back.

"We'll better go looking for a compartment," Hermione noticed the subtle change in Harry's demanour, and tugged him along towards the entrance of the train. "What is it?" she asked once they were out of earshot, in the middle of the noisy crowd.