Title: A sky, far, far away

Author: remind me to breathe a.k.a. Claire

E-Mail: clairestreber24.de

Rating: PG-13 (to be safe)

Pairing: none

Time: 1991, Harrys first year

Disclaimer: I own not a thing. Due to the fact that this story covers one of the years already written, the majority of the events and some of the dialogue comes straight from the book.

Thanks to: Healer Molly for the excellent beta


Great stories don't begin at midnight or at any specific time, they don't have to begin in a frightening or historical place. They don't begin with a bloodcurdling scream or a muffled shot. They begin gradually, in the shadows, when no one is looking. This story begins on September 1st, 1991, somewhere in England. But this story wouldn't be believable and thrilling if you could predict what would happen. On this particular day, nothing happens, nothing too unexpected…

What does a three-year old boy think when he realizes that some children are loved and some are not?

What does a four-year old girl endure when someone tells her that her mum really wanted to have a boy?How does a five-year old boy feel when all his brothers receive praise and he does not? What does a six-year old boy say when he learns that his good marks aren't as respectable as someone else's good marks?

How can a seven-year old girl understand that she isn't allowed to paint because it would be useless for her future?

Who does an eight-year old boy question when his brother gets a new coat and he has never had anything new?

These weren't unreasonable questions of children. They understood what was happening. They had accepted the hostility of society without question. Maybe their vision of a world where they would be judged only by their actions was unrealistic. Nevertheless, even while their spirits were being broken, they held their heads high into the sky. They simply wanted acceptance, perhaps even retribution. Most of all, they wanted justice and the chance to be themselves.

Hermione Jane Granger, Muggleborn: a burden to carry for her parents. She would someday be a wife and a mother to one son. She wanted to prove to her parents that a girl could be worth something. She learned, and she waited for her day to come.

Ronald Bilius Weasley, Pureblood: the last person on a hand-me-down chain. He would someday be a husband and a fighter for the Light. He played chess because it was the only thing for which he received praise. And he listened, for one day, it would be useful.

Harry James Potter, Halfblood: a servant during the early years of his life. He would someday be a hero and a role model for the Light. He read the books that his uncle had bought because their covers matched nicely with the new colour of the living room. And he dreamed of the day when he would be loved.

Their time would come. Can you fight what fate has predetermined? Can the future be changed? Can justice always be served? Does society need a mirror to see its weaknesses? Why don't people learn from history's mistakes? And just what the bloody hell were the former headmasters thinking when they decided to have the magical journey to Hogwarts last six hours?

Six hours, three desperate children, and a revolution was born.

"Five brothers," Ron said. "I'm the sixth in our family to attend Hogwarts, so everyone expects a lot from me. Bill and Charlie have already graduated; Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was Quidditch Captain. Percy is a prefect this year; Fred and George goof around a lot but they get good marks and they're popular. Everybody expects me to be good at something, but what if I end up not being good at anything?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," said Harry. "Everyone thinks I'm so special because of what happened ten years ago, but I'm just Harry! I wish I could show people how mistaken they are, that their preconceived opinions are wrong."

"We share the same dream. Someday, Harry, someday we won't be judged by the colour of my hair or by your scar but by our actions," Ron said.

"Escape their judgement?" asked Harry. "No, people have already made up their minds about us. When they see us, they'll think they know who we are because they know our parents, our relatives…our reputations."

The door to of their compartment opened and a young girl stuck her head in.

"Hi – has anybody seen a toad? Wait, what are you talking about? Martin Luther King?" she asked.

"Actually, no," Harry answered, "are you a first-year too?"

"Yes. I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger. And you are…?"

Ron spoke first, "I'm Ron Weasley, and this is Harry Potter."

"The Harry Potter? I've read – "

" - read about me and now you think you know me," Harry interrupted. "You see, Ron, people know more about me than there really is to know. We won't get the chance to show anyone who we really are."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked interestedly.

"Prejudices… expectations," said Harry. "Ron, as a Weasley, will never be seen as an individual because half of the world knows someone from his family. It's even worse for me. We'll be judged the moment we step into Hogwarts and get sorted into our houses."

"I understand. I'm a Muggleborn, so I've been stereotyped too," Hermione said.

"We'll never be able to get rid of these images," Ron said dejectedly.

"No, I suppose not," Hermione said, looking preoccupied. "Unless…"

"What?" Ron asked.

"It's a ridiculous idea. You, no, WE would have to stop these opinions from even forming, and that's just what we'll do. We'll shock them all, right from the beginning."

Harry had a puzzled look on his face. "I don't understand," he said.

Hermione sat down. "What if a Muggleborn, a Weasley, and the Boy-Who-Lived were sorted into Slytherin?"