The Golden Trio?... If you believe that then you obviously don't know us. The REAL us. We're much to scarred to be gold. Trust me... but we still wear that golden mask. When, really, we are black.

Black Under Gold

The Face can Speak

A Thousand Emotions,

But it Can Easily Mask What

The Heart Truly Feels.

Don't be Fooled,

For the Most Happiest Face

May be Masking the Most

Hurting Heart.

He lay there, trembling. His emerald eyes were wide with fear, scarlet blood sticking his hair to his forehead. His back shrieaked with blinding pain, his breath coming out in short painful gasps. His leg was bent at an odd angle, and he was covered head to toe in dark purple bruise's.

His Uncle Vernon grabbed him by the hair, ignoring his cry of pain completley. He tossed the boy into the cupboard under the stairs as if he were a rag doll and slammed the door shut, showering the trembling boy in spiders.

For so long, Harry faced the Dursleys at Number 4, Privet Drive. When he began going to Hogwarts, he hid under glamours. Only his friends Ron and Hermione knew the truth of what happens in the place he call's Hell. They had promised him that they wouldn't tell anyone, and instead they took to trying to get him away as soon as possible. In return, he kept their secrets.

Before he got his letter, he didn't even know his name. He'd given himself a name: James. Kinda ironic, huh?

For as long as he remembered, he was a slave. A human House Elf. A toy that you hunt. That you harm. That you scare. Harry would cook the Dursley's breakfast, as he had been doing ever since he was three, and then, without any breakfast of his own, he'd be given a list of chores to do by sunset. Or else it was another beating. More blood. More fear. More pain.

At first, he'd tried to get to stay at Hogwarts. Dumbledore said no. And then he tried to stay at the Burrow. Dumbledore said no. And then he tried to stay with Sirius. Fate said no. And then he wanted to run away. But then Dumbledore would catch him and he'd be sent back and he'd, for sure, be dead the next day. Dumbledore said no.

When at Hogwarts, he hid under a mask. A 'golden mask.'

The "Golden Boy." Leader of the "Golden Trio." Gold... but no one knew the truth. If they did, they wouldn't think him gold. They'd think him black. Blacker than black. For he was to scarred to be any sort of gold. They all were.

She sat on her bed, listening to her parents fight, as they said words that were causing her pure agony. For no matter how many times she heard it, it still hurt like hell.

She listened as the door slammed shut and the two cars drove away. She sighed and walked out of her room and down the stairs into the kitchen. She drew out one of the kitchen knives. For a moment, she starred at the glittering blade, before rolling up hers sleeve and pressing the sharp tip her arm.

Slowly, she steadily ran the sharp knife along her arm, drawing blood. A smile played against her lips. She drew away the blade, watching the trickle of scarlet blood running down her arm, savouring the pain.

Ever since her mother found out she had been pregnant with her, she'd been hated. She had forced her parents the marry each other when they were not in love.

And so they would fight, call her an "it", blame her, blame each other. Hermione knew her parents didn't love her. How can you love the child if you don't love the one you created it with?

In third year, she and Ron had found out Harry was abused. At first, he'd down right denied it. But then they told their secrets.

At Hogwarts, she wore a mask. She continue's cutting, but not as much as she does during the summer. She made another cut.

Her parents hadn't even named her. So she'd named herself Hermione. It was a name she got out of one of her favorite books.

During school, she pretended to be a know-it-all bookworm. Well, she was a know-it-all bookworm, but at Hogwarts she pretends to be excited about answering questions, when really, she would have much rather stayed in her shell. And let no one in. Except for Harry and Ron, of course.

"The Brains of the Golden Trio." She'd chocked on her pumpkin juice when Ginny had told them about that. But then she had quickly put on a fake blush and a shy, pleased smile, when inside she was disgusted. Golden. Yeah, right. None of them were gold.

She made another cut.

He ate the last of his apple pie, smiling and chatting with the others.

Still smiling, claiming he was going to the loo, Ron exited the kitchen and walked up the creaky stairs. As soon as he'd closed the bathroom door behind him, his smile vanished.

Sighing, Ron leaned against the wall oppisite the toilet, starring into it's water.

He didn't know why or when it started. It just did. He thinks it started a little while, maybe a year or two, before he started Hogwarts. He kept it secret, until third year. Harry had admitted abuse. Hermione had admitted cutting. And he, Ron, admitted as well.

He was always overshadowed. Bill was a Curse Breaker, had been Head Boy and Prefect, and his grades were fantastic. Charlie played with dragons, and had been one of Hogwarts best Seekers. Percy was smart, had great grades, was a Prefect and Head Boy. Fred and George were funny- no, helarious- everyone thought so! Ginny was the only girl, smart, beautiful, and was some wierd magnet that attracted boys. And then there was him, Ron. What special was he? The only attention he got was because he was friends with the famous Harry Potter.

Ron sighed again, before leaning over to the toilet and sticking his hand in his mouth.

He was stupid. Useless. Couldn't do anything right. He was poor, everything he owned was second hand.

His stomach churned and then all of his dinner was coming up and into the toilet. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the toilet seat, sticking his head into it's bowl.

He was the most useless member of the "Golden Trio." Ginny had said that everyone called them that and that Harry was the leader and Hermone was the smart one. Then who was he?

He knew that Harry and Hermione didn't like their titles. Heck, even he didn't like being called the "Golden Trio." But could they have at least given him a role?

But they weren't gold. Not Harry, not Hermione and not him. Harry was abused, beaten every day. Hermione was a cutter, her parents arguing 24/7. And he, Ron, had an eating disorder, his siblings overshadowing him constantly.

They had secrets. Dark ones. And no one, no one, but them would ever know.

For there was really black under all that gold.