Ok, so I borrowed this idea from someone else. The original author quit writing the story so I decided to pick it up. I couldn't get in touch with them to make absolute sure that it was alright to do this, but... The author never said (To my memory) that others couldn't borrow this idea.

The first chapter or two won't truely belong to me. Sure, I made a few touch ups and slight changes, but not enough to call it truely mine. So keep in mind, everyone, this story isn't entirely mine.

I have always wanted to make a story where the Trio are cunning, sly, intelligent, etc., and so I searched to see if there were any stories like this. I found one and it just called to me.

I don't know where the original author was going with this story, as I can't read German. So, though I may get some ideas frrom the original, everything else will be mine. So please, keep that in mind. I may have sort of stole the idea from someone else, the story still will have some more original conepts.

Don't judge.

Remember: All initial credit for the first few chapters go to the original author. Not me. I have changed a few itsy bitsy things, but not enough to really count.

I also will not continue with this story unless I know people like it and/or would enjoy reading it. Sorry, that is just the way I am. I don't mean to be, but I think I am slightly obsesses with recieving reviews. All you have to do is say: "good job, please continue." There, that is it. That is all it takes. Though I do happen to enjoy lengthy and descriptive reviews. So sue me.

That is it for my daily rambling.


- Lady Iri

Title: The Silver Triad

Author: Lady Iri

E-Mail: Teen (To be safe)

Pairing: None (unless later decided)

Time: 1991, Harry and co's first year


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 Billius 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 many books in a cavernous library, constantly fighting to become smarter and stronger. 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 the 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 prefect this year; Fred and George goof around a lot but they get good marks and they're popular. Everyone 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 don't even remember it! 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 color of my hair or by your scar but by our actions," Ron said.

"Escape their judgment?" 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 of their compartment opened and a young girl stuck her head in.

"Hi - has anyone seen a toad? Wait, what are you two 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 about -"

" - 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 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 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," she said, sitting down, "would have to stop these opinions from even forming, and that's just what we'll do. We'll shock them al, right from the beginning."

Realization seemed to dawn on Harry and he understood perfectly what Hermione was getting at. Hermione, seeing the look on his face, nodded in excitement.


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

Harry looked up at Ron with a gleam in his eyes. "What if a Muggleborn, a Weasley, and the Boy-Who-Lived were sorted into Slytherin?"