Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns the Potterverse, whether you like it, or her, or not.
I stood looking wildly around him, trying to figure out where Platform 9 3/4s was. His uncle, Vernon Dursley, had just left him after taunting him about no such thing existing. I was starting to hyperventilate. That was when he heard a stern woman talk under her breath to a boy that looked about his age.
"Why can't they just add a floo-gate to the platform?!" Said the old lady who was wearing a dress with a hat that, for some odd reason, had a vulture on top. "Seriously, I am tired of hearing about how we need to practice dressing as muggles," she continued while practically storming the boy through the barricade between Platforms 9 & 10. I could only blink rapidly before he heard a unique accent, one that was distinctly one of the Yank accents he heard from various ambassadors from the States when they talked on Uncle Vernon's news programs on the Tele.
"Mom, wasn't that Neville?" The boy asked very rapidly, faster than even most of us Brits could speak. This boy was dressed very bizarrely as well. He was wearing this bright blue jersey that had silver stripes on the sleeves and a giant white number 20 on the front. He had a matching hat that he wore a bit crooked. He also wore baggy blue jeans with a silver chain on his right hip. He had these weird looking trainers that had flat soles that was almost the same shade of blue as his hat and jersey. He also had a silver-looking watch on his left wrist and a weird looking leather-cuff bracelet that had spikes and chains on it. He had a good number of silver necklaces on as well, too many to make any definitive descriptions of any. I noticed that his hair was a shade of raven black, or jet black, whatever you prefer. And his eyes were like bright onyx, looking at his face I notice some more silver in his left ear. Whomever this kid is, apparently he like silver and blue.
His mum, on the other hand was dressed in a fashionable muggle dress, not too conservative as Aunt Petunia wore, but nothing that was what she would call demeaning. Just a simple, yet elegant, sky blue summer dress complete with a hat the same shade as her son's, this time, I noticed there was white outline on the hat in the shape of a lion.
"Yes that was Neville with his Grandmother, I can't believe she still wears that hat," she laughed, her son pulled his hands out of his pockets to beat the air a few times in celebration, allowing me to notice some silver rings on his finger, the most eye-catching having an onyx on it.
"I knew it, now all we need to find is Harry and our Godbrother trio is complete!" He said happily, I initially thought he was talking about me, but I don't have any Godbrothers, let alone Godparents.
"I wonder what he looks more like his mom or his dad? Then again he most likely has that trademarked unruly Potter hair that caused his grandfather to become a Potions Master trying to tame," she said with a small giggle.
I hesitantly walked towards them at the mention of my family name. Could I potentially be the God brother he mentioned? I just had to know, so as soon as I got close enough I cleared my throat.
"Ahhhem, I c-c-vouldn't help but over hear you t-talking, my name is H-h-harry, am I the one you're talking a-about?" I asked nervously. I was answered by a quick, but gentle hug, by the woman.
"OH Harry! It is you, you look almost exactly like James, though you have Lily's eyes," she said rapidly, though the boy looked happy to see me at first started to get angry, and mumbling under his breath.
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The Marauder's HeirsFanfiction
Harry Potter, orphaned Savior of the Wizarding World who's routinely abused by his so-called family. Neville Longbottom, almost Squib child of aurors tortured into insanity, belittled regularly by his own Gran. Ozzy Black, unknown, or rather forgott...