you raise me up || harry potter

chapter 4: this brilliant light

Harry smiled nervously and ran her fingers through her hair—a nervous reflex. As she opened her mouth to thank them, one of the twins' eyes grew wide as he nudged his brother. Both of them stared at her forehead, and Harry belatedly realized it was her scar they were gawking at. She hurriedly patted her bangs back down. 

"Your—" started one.

"Scar," the other said.

"Helena Potter!" they exclaimed together. 

A distinct awkwardness washed over her. "Just call me Harry," she muttered, trying not to act standoffish. She had a feeling the twins didn't even notice—they kept looking at her over their shoulders as they returned to their family to say their goodbyes. Harry couldn't get away fast enough. Finally coming across an empty compartment, she settled into the seat with a certain degree of relief. Perhaps no one would come in. 

"Mum, guess who we met!"

Harry slid low into her seat when she realized she was within sight of the large redhead family. 

"Who, dear?"

"Helena Potter!" the twins chorused. 

"We saw the scar!"

"Do you suppose she remembers when You-Know-Who gave her it?" one asked eagerly.

The woman's voice suddenly went stern. "Do not say such things Fred. Reminding her of such things, especially on her first day... No, I absolutely forbid you from asking."

Her tone changed again, one of concern and sympathy. "Oh, but how lost she looked... No wonder she was alone and confused, the poor dear. She asked ever so politely..."

Harry felt a rush of gratitude for this stranger who barely even knew her, but it was followed by a certain trepidation. Not everyone would be this kind or thoughtful, she was sure. How would she ever make friends? She suddenly wished she had gone looking for Draco, but the thought of having to come face to face with all these people she didn't know was enough to keep her in her seat. Besides, no matter how much she liked Draco's company, she knew he was the kind of person to surround himself with people she probably wouldn't like too much.

"Stuck up prat," she muttered to herself, but she couldn't bring herself to feel that annoyed.

The compartment door opened just as the Hogwarts train pulled out of the station, and Harry jumped before relaxing a bit—it was Ron, the tall redhead from before. Except he wasn't grinning this time.

"Are you really Helena Potter?" he blurted out.

Harry nodded, already immensely worn out from these displays of awe. "Call me Harry," she said, and turned to look out the window, waiting for him to leave. But he sat down across from her with that same awestruck look.

"I thought you were a boy at first," he said. "But Fred and George told me they saw the scar... I thought they were joking. Do you really...?"

Harry obliged, lifting her bangs to reveal the faint red line, and quickly patted it back down. Ron leaned back, satisfied but still looking vaguely like he would faint.

The first few minutes were awkward—Harry realized the only other person her own age she had ever actually talked to was Draco. Talking didn't come naturally to her like it did to Draco, but she pushed through her nerves. She didn't want to pass up an opportunity to be friends with someone, not after years of being alone, of trying to become friends with Dudley and failing, of being left out because of her weird clothes and hair at school. And Ron wasn't like Dudley, and not even like Draco—his ears went bright pink when he was embarrassed, he thanked Harry profusely when she bought snacks off the trolley cart for him, and he made her laugh.