Rewrite of my other Dark Gold story (posted from a different account because I'd forgotten the password to this one) from my other account TheTurquoiseBookworm. I hope you enjoy, things will be only slightly different, maybe even a bit more realistic. Anyway, on with the story!
At the tender age of four, Harry ran away when he realized the Dursley's would never love him like they loved Dudley. Hermione ran away when she began getting bullied, thinking her parents to deserve better. Ron ran away when his mother favored his sister over him. Three children on the run, thinking themselves worthless, stupid, little freaks... but the Trio are meant to be together. They shall travel the world, seeing and learning amazing things, unaware of how the Wizarding World was searching for them. In this world, they are still gold, but not entirely. Just a... darker gold. The Wizarding World is in for a shock... meet the Dark Gold Trio, my friends.
Three Little Runaways
Four year old Harry was sitting in the cupboard under the stairs, big fat tears running down his chubby cheeks.
He wasn't sobbing like most four year old's would, because if he did, he was sure to wake his Aunt and Uncle. No, instead, he cried silently, forcing down the hiccups that tried to escape his mouth. Harry rubbed his eyes with his small fist, pushing his tear-stained glasses up his nose.
It had happened hours ago.
It had been just after the Dursley's had finished dinner and Harry had yet to be thrown back into his cupboard. He had wanted to make his Aunt happy. So he'd hugged her.
But instead of hugging back like she would have done with Dudley, Aunt Petunia had pushed the small boy away and into the table, a look of utter disgust on her face. Then his Uncle Vernon had yelled at him, his face completely purple, before throwing him into the cupboard under the stairs without a scrap of food.
It was then that Harry knew that the Dursley's would never love him.
Then why should you stay?
Harry stopped rubbing his eyes, allowing his glasses to fall back onto his nose, processing the sudden thought. He wasn't loved here. He probably wasn't loved anywhere, really. The Dursley's didn't- and never would- love him. He was a waste of space. A freak. An animal they didn't even want or care about. So why bother staying? The Dursley's wouldn't look for him. They wouldn't even care. They'd probably throw a party, actually.
Taking a deep breath, Harry got to his feet and began digging under his cot, wiping away the tears from his cheeks. He got a way-to-big-for-him worn out white t-shirt, a pair of (also way-to-big-for-him) blue jeans, a small pair of sneakers that had seen better days, some underwear and a thin, dark green coat. They were all Dudley's hand-me-downs that Aunt Petunia had given Harry.
After taking off his PJ's and putting the clothes on, Harry grabbed an old school bag that was duck-taped in most place's, and put some more clothes in it. He expertly pick-locked his cupboard door, which he had learned to do so he could sneak out to steal some food, and tip toed across the hall, closing the door quietly behind him.
Harry entered the kitchen and pulled up a chair from the kitchen table. He took it to the fridge, wincing every time it screeched against the hard floor, and climbed up, reaching up to the top, where his Uncle Vernon kept his wallet. After feeling around for a bit, Harry finally felt the thick leather and grabbed it. He opened it, finding it full of cash and change.
Swallowing and looking over his shoulder to make sure the Dursleys weren't coming down for a glass of water or something, Harry took as much as he dared. He'd gotten the hang of counting rather fast. He took a hundred, using fives and tens.
Harry put the money in his jeans pocket, replaced the wallet and put the chair back at the table. He grabbed some apples, bananas, oranges and made three ham sandwich's, which he wrapped in tin foil and tucked away in his bag.
The small boy tip toed across the hall and to the front door. Reaching up to grasp the handle, he took one last look over his shoulder, at his cupboard and the place that had been his hell for four years.
Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the door, closed it slowly, and walked away.
Not once did he look back.
Four and a half year old Hermione sat on her bed, the stars twinkling from her window, crying into her hands.
Those mean girls, Betty, Jane and Lisa, had approached her in the park that afternoon. Her mum had been getting them ice cream and Hermione had been sitting on the bench, reading her new book. The girls had just walked right up to her and began saying things. At first, Hermoine had denied them altogether. But, the more she thought about, the more she realized they were right.
They had said she was stupid. That she was weird. A freak. And they were right.
Her parents could do so much better. Deserve so much better. She was just a stupid, worthless freak.
Then why should you stay?
Hermione's cries came to a sudden stop. She raised her head slightly, pondering the thought that had entered her head so suddenly. Her parents didn't deserve to have such a freakish girl as their daughter. They deserved much, much better that her. She didn't have any friends that would miss her. Her parents would cry, but they would get over her.
Giving a little strangled whimper, Hermione got out of bed and opened her cupboard. She grabbed her backpack and began taking down clothes. She took off her PJ's and put on a sky blue t-shirt, dark blue jeans, sneakers and a pink hoodie. She put the rest of her clothes in her backpack and her most favorite books.
Hermione hesitated. Should- could- she go through with this?
She shook her head, reminding herself that it was for the best. She tip toed out of her room, closing her bedroom door quietly behind her, and down the stairs. Hermione entered the living room and took her dad's wallet off the fireplace mantel. Hesitating for a moment, she took a hundred out, making sure it was all in ten's. She hesitated again, knowing this wouldn't be enough, before taking another fifty and putting the wallet back.
Stuffing the money in her pocket, Hermione tip toed into the kitchen and grabbed a bunch of fruit, three packets of crisps and made six sandwich's, wrapping them in tin foil before putting them in her pack.
The small girl tip toed out of the kitchen and into the hall. She placed her hand on the front door's handle, took a look at the stairs, where her parents were, sleeping peacefully, before turning back to the door, opening it and walking down the street.
She took one last look at the end of the road, blinking back tears. Hermione took a deep breath and continued on her way.
Hopping she wouldn't look back.
Four and a quarter year old Ron sat on the floor, leaning against the side of his bed, holding back heart-wrenching sobs as tears poured down his chubby cheeks.
Fred and George had been playing Quidditch and Ron had wanted to join in. They had said no and when Ron had insisted, they'd snapped at him, going as far as to call him a 'waste of space.' Then they'd flown off to continue their game.
Ron had then gone inside, only to find his three year old sister, Ginny, had eaten all of their mum's home-baked cookies, which she had left on the table to cool.
The thing was, Ginny had jumped down from the table, just as their mum had come in, and had begin accusing him, Ron, of eating all of the cookies.
Of course, Molly had believed Ginny, calling her a good little girl for standing up to her brother, and Ron had been given a time out in the corner.
To make matters worse, their mum had baked another batch of cookies and Ron hadn't even been allowed in the kitchen while the others ate them.
It was then that he'd realized that it was true, it was all true. He was a waste of space. A standout. A freak.
Then why should you stay?
Ron froze, his small hand posed to wipe away some of his tears.
Why should he stay? No one wanted him here... they'd be much happier if he'd left. They might not even notice he was gone at all.
Swallowing the large lump in his throat, Ron got to his feet, wiping away his tears. Slowly, he walked over to the chest at the end of his bed and took out his backpack. Hesitating for a split second, Ron grabbed some of his clothes and placed them on his bed, setting the backpack down and stripping off his PJ's.
He pulled on the dark red t-shirt, light blue jeans, sneakers, a dark red jumper over his shirt and a red and white baseball cap.
After stuffing some other clothes into his backpack, Ron tip toed down the stairs, avoiding the floorboards that creaked. He entered the living room and went into the kitchen. He took a bunch of fruit, made eight different kind of sandwich's, wrapped them in tin foil and stuffed them in his pack.
The little boy tip toed back into the living room and placed his hand on the front door's handle. He looked back, hesitating. Before opening the door and walking away, making his way to St. Otter Catchpole.
He refused to look back.
And that's the first chapter of the rewrite done! It's not that different from the other version, which will have been deleted by the time this is posted so I can actually post it.
Anyway, the vote for which house they will go in will re-start here. So any other previous vote on the other version will be completely deleted. You can only vote once, but can change it at any time. The vote will stay up until the Hogwarts sorting.
Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and continue to read and review. Have a good day/night!