Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, sadly, that right still belongs to JK Rowling.

A/N: I am realizing now that the summary may not have been the strongest, but, well... I hope the story is better.

A/N 2: I feel like I've seen a lot of fanfictions where Snape treats Harry better because he has his mother's eyes, but they're not that well written. It starts off in, like, fourth year or whatever, and Snape suddenly goes from hating Harry's guts to being nice and helpful. And I hate that. I told a friend, and she told me, "if you don't like it, make your own!" And that's exactly what I did. Please note, though, that this does not start off very strong… it sort of gets there in chapter 2, which will be written at the same time as chapter 1, but posted a week later. And, so, without further ado, may I present… Lily's Eyes.

Chapter 1

Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything, or shout at him — in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while.

Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to vacuum anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first. The only problem was that he had no idea how he was supposed to get to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

On the last day of August he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room. Harry stifled a smirk before turning to Uncle Vernon.

"Er — Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er — I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to — to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harry, realizing this for the first time.

He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket. "I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read, brow creasing confusedly.

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on my ticket," Harry protested.

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother." This piqued his curiosity.

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

-ooOoo-

Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes — he'd change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Harry's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry (after about twenty minutes of wheedling, coaxing, and almost-begging), and they had set off.

They reached King's Cross at a little over nine (Harry figured that Uncle Vernon might have wanted to get rid of him as fast as possible, and as a result Uncle Vernon had driven very fast - so much faster that Aunt Petunia had screamed when he'd slammed on the breaks at a red light and they'd all lurched forwards). Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine — platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. Harry's mouth went rather dry. What on earth was he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. He'd have to ask someone.

He stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Harry was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten. But before he could do this, he heard a young girl's voice.

"Yes, mum, Professor McGonagall was very clear on how to get onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters." Harry looked up excitedly. People had begun to drift away and the station had started to clear - and there was the speaker!

A girl around his age with bushy brown hair was standing with her parents, looking a bit impatient.

"But are you sure this is the right place?" her mother asked anxiously. "There doesn't seem to be anything there."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Yes, mum - 'right between platforms nine and ten, stop before it and just run through the barrier.' Those were Professor McGonagall's exact instructions."

"Well, alright," her mother said, and the trio exchanged hugs before the girl wheeled her trolley to face the barrier, looking determined. She squared her shoulders, then ran straight through the barrier - and vanished!

Harry blinked a few times. He looked uncertaintly at the barrier, then at the girl's parents, then back at the barrier. Finally, he made up his mind and walked over to the two adults.

"Excuse me," he said, feeling rather meek, "but what did she just do?" The father started guiltily, his eyes darting around the station.

"What did who do?" he asked.

Harry fumbled inside his pocket and pulled out his ticket. "I go to Hogwarts too, but the man who told me - he didn't tell me how to get on the station," he explained, and the couple relaxed.

"Well," the mother said, "she just walked right through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, which is what Professor McGonagall told her to do - just like that. She added to 'best do it at a run if you're nervous,' I think."

"Oh," Harry said, looking uneasily at the wall. If this didn't work, it wouldn't be very pretty.

The adults stepped back and wished him luck, and he lined up his trolley with the wall.

He started to walk toward it, his stomach twirling. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble — leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run — the barrier was coming nearer and nearer — he wouldn't be able to stop — the cart was out of control — he was a foot away — he closed his eyes ready for the crash —

It didn't come… he kept on running… he opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it. Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the few people who were there at that time.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat.

Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot. He managed it in the end, though, and sat down with A History of Magic.

After a bit, the girl he had followed onto the platform came in, dragging her trunk behind her.

"Hi," she said, sounding nervous. "D'you mind if I sit here? Everyone else is claiming compartments already and I didn't exactly want to sit with too many strangers."

"Sure, come in," Harry said, smiling at her. She smiled back (he noticed that she had rather large front teeth, but brushed that off) and pulled her trunk in behind her.

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," she said.

"Harry," he told her.

He helped her lift her trunk up and grunted quietly at the weight.

"Just how many books did you bring?" he asked jokingly - but instead of smiling again, her eyes dropped to the floor, and Harry had a feeling that she'd been picked on in the past and he'd struck a nerve. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean it that way - I like to read, too!" This was apparently the right thing to say, as she brightened up again. He added that his favorite was A History of Magic.

"Oh, that one was good, too," she agreed. "But my favorite is Hogwarts, A History. Have you read it?"

"No," Harry admitted, and she told him that she could lend it to him if he wanted to read it. He said he already had it, but promised to read it soon.

"I assume you're a Muggle-born as well?" she inquired. "I've actually read all of our course books and I've tried a few spells already - just a few simple ones, of course. I hope we're not at a disadvantage, it'd be so embarrassing!"

She said all of this very quickly, and paused at the end, giving him a rather sheepish look. "Sorry, I tend to prattle a bit when I'm excited."

Harry grinned. "It's alright, I've never had that many people to talk to anyways." She cocked an eyebrow at him, but he didn't really want to talk about how Dudley scared away all the people who were friendly to him.

"I was raised by my aunt and uncle," he told her. "They're Muggles, so I didn't know about magic until my eleventh birthday. My parents were killed when I was younger." Hermione gave him a sympathetic look.

He shifted uncomfortably for a moment before she sensed it, and they moved onto the topic of which House sounded best.

"I've read about all of them in Hogwarts, A History, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad…" Harry smiled.

"It'd definitely fit you," he said. "I'm pretty sure Ravenclaw is for clever and intelligent people - I think you fit that really well." Hermione blushed but gave him a pleased smile all the same.

"But what about you?" she asked suddenly.

"I dunno," he said. "I mean, I guess I'd just go to Hufflepuff, it seems like the place for people who haven't got that much talent."

Hermione gave him a shocked look. "Don't say that," she said, looking nonplussed. "Maybe you could be in Ravenclaw, too. And, besides," she continued, adopting a tone that was a bit like a teacher giving a lecture, "Hufflepuff is the House of loyalty and kindness - so if you get sorted there, it just means that you're a good friend. Each House has its own qualities - like you said, Ravenclaw is for the clever and intelligent, Gryffindor for the brave and chivalrous, and Slytherin for the cunning and ambitious."

"Yeah… I guess," he said, feeling lighter.

Further conversation stopped briefly when someone knocked on the door of the compartment. A round-faced boy stood there, looking tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him…"

"We'll keep an eye out," Harry offered. "By the way, I'm Harry, and this is Hermione - would you like to sit with us once you've found your toad?"

The boy looked at him, hope in his eyes. "R-really?" he asked, and Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

"I'll help- er, sorry, I don't know your name," she said awkwardly.

"Neville," the boy mumbled. "Neville Longbottom." Harry nodded.

"Well, I'll help Neville look for his toad," Hermione continued. She turned to Harry. "Can you hold the fort while we're gone?"

Harry grinned at her. "You bet I can." Hermione smiled back, and she and Neville left.

Harry pulled out Hogwarts, A History to see what Hermione liked so much about it, and before long, Hermione and Neville were back, Hermione pulling another trunk and Neville quietly scolding the toad he held.

They chatted amicably for a while (and somewhere along the way, Hermione and Neville had wheedled out of him that he was Harry Potter - they were briefly awed and then waved it off) before another person rapped on the door.

The door of the compartment slid open and a redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting here?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry nodded, but Hermione frowned.

"It shouldn't be," she said, adopting her "lecture voice" again. "I read in Hogwarts, A History that the Hogwarts Express is supposed to be charmed to never be full." Ron gave her a blank look.

"And we passed two empty compartments when we were heading back," Neville added before blushing brightly as everyone looked at him.

"Well, they must've filled up," the redhead said, frowning. "Anyways - can I sit here?" The trio exchanged a look and shrugged.

"Why not," Harry said, and Neville scooted over to make room for him.

"I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley."

"Hermione Granger."

"N-neville Longbottom."

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"Blimey!" said Ron. "And have you really got — you know…"

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar, feeling mildly irritated. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who — ?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well — I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again. Hermione looked on disapprovingly - Harry suspected she didn't like Ron's questioning of him.

"Are all your family wizards?" she inquired suddenly.

"Er — yes, I think so," said Ron, taken aback. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know a bunch of magic already," Hermione said.

The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about, Harry realized.

"Actually, no," Neville said. Everyone's attention shifted to him and he blushed, but plowed on determinedly. "You're not supposed to do magic at home - only at school. There's something called the Trace, which somehow tracks you until you come of age, then you can do magic outside of school."

"So I wouldn't be able to show my parents what I learn," said Hermione, sounding disappointed.

Ron looked at her, bemused. "Are they Squibs or something?" Hermione flushed.

"She's Muggle-born," Harry said.

"Oh!" said Ron, as if it explained everything.

"Yeah," Hermione mumbled. "Not very impressive, but, well…"

"Ron, there you are!" someone said, and the four of them looked up. Two redheaded twins were standing outside of the compartment door.

"C'mon, Ronnie," one of them said. "What're you doing bothering these people?"

"I'm not- I'm not bothering them!" Ron protested.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. The twins looked to her, but she simply stared out the window aimlessly.

"Well, what I want to know is what Ronnie is doing here," the other twin said.

"Yes," the first one chipped in. "He was sitting in our compartment, when all of a sudden he just got up and left."

"No warning…"

"…No explanation…"

"…Absolutely nothing!"

"Well, c'mon, Ronnie, you're coming back with us," one of them said (Harry had already lost track of which one was which) and they pulled him away.

"That was weird," Neville said, and the other two agreed.

It was turning out to be a very strange year.

Very strange indeed.

-ooOoo-

A/N: When Akira was reading my chapter (As you were writing it, too - Oh, stuff it - never), she suggested to bold the 'best to do it at a run, if you're nervous' because the book says 'best to do it at a bit of a run, if you're nervous.' Funny thing is, I didn't mean to quote it. Onto the next chapter soon.