The Anger .

"Yeah," said Harry. "Some people seem to think my name is Porter, instead of Potter."

"Aw! Poor baby," mock simpered Tracey. The train had only just begun moving, and he was about to retaliate against Tracey, when they were joined by a thin young blonde girl with hair in pigtails Harry had never met before.

"Hi!" she said, stepping over legs and sitting next to Susan.

Susan said, "Harry, this is my friend, Hannah Abbott. Hannah, this is also my friend, Harry - Harry Potter."

Hannah looked at him in shock and squeaked, "Really?"

Harry replied, "Yes, I'm really Susan's friend."

Hannah had the grace to blush. "Sorry," she said.

Harry smiled back and said, "No, I should be; and am." Susan and Hannah then engaged in a quietly spoken discussion about 'girl things' and what they'd been up to over the past few days since they'd last seen each other. Neville was having trouble keeping his pet toad from jumping out of the compartment, or into trouble anywhere else, so he got down Hedwig's cage and gave it to the other boy.

"Put Trevor in this, Neville," he said. "It'll keep you from losing him."

Gratefully, Neville quickly accepted the cage and suggestion, housing the toad locked inside.

Harry was feeling a little irritated about the day already, so sat back with the intention of mediating for a while.

However, before he had a chance to sink into it, the door was yanked opened by the smallest of the aforementioned redheads. The boy took a look around before his eyes alighted on Harry. Stepping through the door he said, "Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

Harry stared back at him, annoyed his meditation was interrupted by him. "No, it's not. I just walked past a good half dozen compartments that had less people in them than we already have in here. I do not like liars."

"Errr - They have Slytherins in them," the boy tried again.

"They're in here, too," Daphne snapped back.

"But - but, that's Harry Potter!" the boy stuttered, pointing at Harry. "He can't be sitting with snakes! It's not right!"

"And now we come to the heart of the truth," snarled Harry. "You don't want to sit in here because 'everywhere else is full'; you want to sit in here because Harry Potter's in here. Well, Harry Potter's not interested in sitting with a liar. Now, get out before you find yourself thrown out!"

With a face reddening with either embarrassment or rage or a combination of both, the boy muttered something about 'arrogant gits' and 'fame's gone to his head' before he backed out and slammed the door shut behind him. Harry watched him stomp off down the passageway dragging his trunk behind him.

Sitting back with his eyes closed Harry said, "Sorry. He pushed all my buttons, that one."

"'That one' was Ron Weasley," said Susan, also upset. "He's the youngest of six boys. His only sister is the only one younger than him in their family of seven kids. His father works for my Auntie and heads the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. I've met him at various DMLE parties over the years. He's a greedy-guts when it comes to food and is often jealous of what other people have. I suggest staying well away from him."

"I, for one, intend to," said Harry.

After managing to lightly meditate for a while, and get a bit of a handle on his rising temper, they were next interrupted by a young bushy haired girl already wearing her school robes who appeared to be upset. Knocking on the door before opening it, she asked in a soft voice, "Can I sit in here please?"

Susan took one look at her and said, "Come in, and take a seat."

The girl entered and sat next to Susan, sniffling a bit.

"What happened?" Susan asked in a gentle voice. "These older girls, up there," she indicated towards the front carriages of the train, "called me names when I said my parents were muggles. Then they threw me out of the compartment. I don't know what I did wrong," the girl sobbed.

"Nothing," said Daphne. "You did nothing wrong. You will find - Miss?"

"Granger," the girl replied. "Hermione Granger."

"You will find, Miss Granger, that there are those in the wizarding world who allow their bigotry to rule their lives. They think of muggleborns, such as yourself, as beneath them. That just makes them idiots," Daphne calmly said. "However, because you're a muggleborn, I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to dealing with the likes of them. It's the same bigotry that has white people call black people 'gollywogs' in the muggle world." "How do you deal with it?" Hermione asked Daphne.

"I don't have to," replied Daphne. "I'm what's known as a pureblood. I can trace my family on both sides back many wizarding generations. The same applies to Susan, and Neville," she said indicating the two of them. "Tracey and Harry, here, on the other hand, are what's known as half-bloods. One wizarding line; one muggle line. And I'm Daphne, by the way."

After looking around as Daphne indicated the others in the room, Hermione's eyes rested with a quizzical look on Harry. Suddenly her eyes widened a little in surprise. "You're Harry Potter!" she exclaimed. "I've read all about you..." and her voice trailed off.

As soon as Hermione exclaimed 'you're Harry Potter' Harry's expression changed to one of great disappointment, he dropped his chin to his chest and groaned.

Realising she'd just done something wrong, she said, "Ummm - I guess that wasn't the right thing to say. I'm sorry." Her face screwed up and it looked like she was going to cry again as she, too, dropped her chin to her chest.

Sighing, Harry looked up and said, "Sorry. You weren't to know. I just do not like being considered famous.

Looking up with tears in her eyes, Hermione near-plaintively asked, "Why ever not?"

"Think about why it is I'm famous," said Harry.

"Ummm - you're supposed to be the Boy-Who-Lived. The one who killed Voldemort," replied Hermione. She didn't see most of the others wince at her casual mention of the name.

"Am I?" asked Harry. "No. I see it as - I'm famous for what happened on the night of the 31st of October 1981. The night my parents were brutally murdered by a psychotic sociopath right in front of my infant eyes. The night I became a lonely orphan. Every time someone harps on about the Boy-Who-Lived, I'm reminded of my parent's murder."

"Oh, God!" exclaimed Hermione. "I'm soooo sorry. I didn't think..."

Harry held up a hand to forestall any more. "No one really everdoes see it from my side," he softly said. "They just don't think it through. For them, the 31st of October is a day of joyous celebration; the day the threat of Voldemort was removed from their lives. For me, it's one of self-pity and sorrowful memoria." When he finished speaking Daphne leaned in to him and softly planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Harry," she said. "Thank you for helping me understand it from your point of view."

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