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Harry Potter woke up, as predicted, around 6 am, eyes still closed, expecting to hear the knocking of his Aunt Petunia. He frowned, hearing only… snoring? Realizing that the place he was sleeping was a lot more comfortable and warm than the cupboard usually was, he opened his eyes, and almost yelled in shock.
The bed he was in was huge, and the room was even bigger, holding four other beds the same size. All the beds were full but one, which seemed to be empty. Something suddenly occurred to Harry, and he turned to his left, seeing a red-haired boy much bigger than him, but very skinny, sleeping beside him.
The boy, who was very pale, and had a freckled face seemed almost familiar, and, despite Harry’s wariness of this new place, he was… glad this boy was with him? He had no idea where that feeling had come from, but it was there and lingered.
Now that he thought about it, the room itself felt familiar too, as if from a dream. Had he dreamed it?
Harry tilted his head and went back to studying the boy. He was sitting on his knees now, looking curiously at his hair. He had never seen such red hair before, and it interested him. It was messy, too, like his, but that might have been because it hadn’t been brushed. His never stayed down, even when it was combed, and for some reason that annoyed Aunt Petunia.
The boy’s blue eyes popped open, startling Harry. He jumped back and almost fell off the bed, but the boy grabbed him before he fell. “Careful!”
Harry blinked. “Thank you,” he said hesitantly. His family would have let him fall, and then laughed at him. He studied the boy again, wondering what kind of boy he was, and why he had been sleeping next to Harry.
“Are you alright, Harry?” This startled Harry even more. How did the boy know his name? “Y-yes,” he responded, eyes wide.
The other boy looked a bit frantic as well, but he was obviously trying to stay calm. “Wait- wait right here, okay? And just- um, just try to be quiet,” he stammered. Harry nodded and watched him as he walked slowly and quietly towards another bed, shaking the boy sleeping there.
He got up almost immediately, and walked towards the bed Harry was in, smiling comfortingly. Harry instantly liked this boy. He was rounder than the red-haired boy, but looked strong, and had dark brown hair combed flat. Just like the red-haired boy, there was also something familiar about him.
“Hey, Harry,” he said quietly, bending down to Harry’s level. “My name is Neville. Is it ok if I take you downstairs? I don’t want to wake up the other boys in here accidentally. They sleep for a looong time.” He pulled a funny face and Harry giggled quietly.
“Ok,” he said, and the dark-haired boy reached out his arms. Harry hesitated slightly. No one had ever picked him up unless they had to, but this boy- Neville- did for some reason. Making a decision, the boy reached out and let Neville pick him up.
Neville was warm and knew just the right way to hold Harry. He put his head on his shoulder and decided that Neville was his new best friend.
/*/*/*/* *\*\*\*\
Hermione was waiting for them when they came downstairs, sitting at a table. She saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes when he saw her. “Good morning, Harry,” she said as Neville put him down on the floor and sat in a chair.
Harry placed his hands on his hips. “How does everyone know my name?!”
Hermione laughed, not at him, but kindly.
“Do you know our names?” she asked. Harry furrowed his brow. He looked like he was concentrating hard, trying to remember. “That’s Neville,” he told her, pointing at him. “He trold me his name. I donnow your name, or his name, though.” He paused, tilting his head. “But he looks like a Ron.”
Ron jumped up excitedly, looking at Harry. Harry stepped back and Neville gently pushed the redhead back into his chair.
“His name is Ron,” Neville told Harry, “and that’s Hermione.”
“And you’re Neville.”
Neville smiled. “Yes. We’re all your friends, Harry.”
He tilted his head and looked at them all. “I’ve never had friends.” Hermione’s shoulders sagged. Harry, worried, walked over to her and hung on her arm. “Did I makes you sad?”
“No, no,” she responded, trying to smile. Harry, satisfied for now, looked back at Neville. “I have a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Where did my cupboard go?”
Neville blinked. “Your cupboard?”
Harry nodded. “The cupboard under the stairs. The one that I sleep in.”
Ron gaped. “Don’t you have your own room?”
The young boy shook his head. “No. Dudley has two rooms; one that he sleeps in, and one where he keeps all the toys that won’t fit in his first room.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at this remark. “That fat pig has two rooms and you sleep in a cupboard?!” Harry looked unsure as to laugh or be scared. “Yes?”
Neville looked at Ron. “He has his own room now,” he responded. “I suppose they gave it to him around the time he came to Hogwarts. He never- never mentioned sleeping in a cupboard, though.”
Harry gazed at them worriedly. “I don’t- I don’t needs my cupboard,” he explained hurriedly. “But my bear is in there, and I’d like to have her.” Neville looked at Ron.
“Worth a shot,” he shrugged, jogging back upstairs to search Harry’s trunk. He returned a few minutes later holding a small, ragged bear with a green ribbon tied around its neck; the same color as his eyes, which lit up when he saw the stuffy. “Lily!” Hermione raised her eyebrows, surprised.
Ron began to say something, but Hermione held up a hand and switched topics. “Harry, how old are you?” He thought, then held out three fingers and twisted his hand in place. She considered this. “You’re three?”
Harry frowned down at his fingers, then fixed it so he was only showing five of them. Neville drew in a sharp breath. “Does Harry know sign language?”
Hermione nodded slowly. “I think so? He used it, once, when we met a deaf student. I’m not sure where he learned it, though. Why?”
“Because he just signed the number 16. I think- some part of him still knows who he really is, and who we are.”
The girl turned back to Harry, who, at the mention of sign language, had begun enthusiastically showing Ron how to sign the alphabet. “Harry? Do you know where you are?”
“Hogwarts,” he answered absentmindedly, correcting Ron’s finger positioning. The redhead looked at the two, his gaze brightening. “He remembers.”
Neville nodded. “There’s still hope.