Volumus Amicum
A friend. That was all Harry ever wished for. Someone he could talk to, play with, and share secrets. Someone who would listen to him and cheer him up. But the Dursleys, his relatives, would never allow him that. But magic has a way of responding to wishes, especially in the presence of other arcane spells...
Chapter 1: A Wish in the Dark
In a normal house, in a normal neighborhood and with a normal family, there lived a boy. Normally, the family he lived with was a picture perfect unit, with a respectable lawn, respectable garden and respectable reputation. Yet, there was one problem with this picture... that of the boy named Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was not normal. That wasn't a bad thing, he just wasn't. It came with being a wizard, although he didn't know it at the time. Strange things would happen around him, like the hair color of his teacher changing when he panicked, or suddenly appearing on the roof of the school when he was being chased.
Harry Potter was not normal. He was exceptional. Yet, his 'family' didn't understand that. They were obsessed with 'normal', and anything departing from that sense of normality was shunned. Shunned, and punished.
Harry lived with his aunt, uncle, and cousin: Vernon Dursley, a whale of a man, Petunia Dursley, a sharp and harsh women, and Dudley, a rather opulent child if there ever was one. His relatives were not kind. In fact, they were anything but 'normal', though they would never admit it.
What normal uncle would whip and beat a child for doing well in school?
What normal aunt would force a toddler to attend to the weeds and garden?
What normal cousin would terrorize and beat his cousin for fun?
What normal family would purposefully starve, threaten, abuse and berate a growing child for nothing than the mere fact of existing in their household?
Yes, Harry Potter was not normal. If anything, he was exceptional for the fact that he remained kind and held hope despite his dark surroundings. He was exceptional because he still believed that someone would save him from his family. He was exceptional, not because of his magic, but because he remained 'human' despite all of the effort from his inhuman relatives.
He was kind. He was hopeful. He was intelligent. But even so, he was lonely.
Harry didn't have much. His relatives kept him locked up in a tiny cupboard underneath the stairs. Most of the time, they kept him inside the cupboard without food, hoping that he would vanish if they forgot he was there. The rest of the time, he was out and about, but only because the constables would investigate if he suddenly vanished from school.
There was one thing that Harry had, however. His most precious belonging that, ironically enough, was given to him by his cousin.
It had been on Dudley's seventh birthday. Like always, Harry was the one who cooked, and he was expected to set the table, as well as bring out the food.
The Dursley's had a vindictive sort of humor, and while Harry was putting the food out, they had Dudley open his presents. A cruel display since the towering pile of presents would never happen for his birthday.
"Go on Dudders, open'em up!" Vernon clapped his son on the back, giving a side-long glance at Harry as he did.
Harry ignored it and finished the preparations, not even bothering to grab a bite to eat before heading back to his cupboard. Along the way, he noticed Dudley open a relatively large package.
Peeking out from behind the wrapping paper was a small house, made of plastic, and a doll. Idly, Harry wondered why Dudley would want a porcelain doll, but thought nothing more of it until later.
Time passed, and Harry spent the time in his cupboard thinking, as he was prone to doing. He rolled over on his single ratty blanket and pillow and imagined once again what it would be like to have someone to talk to. He imagined the faces of his parents many times, despite what the Dursleys told him, and that they were caring and loved him. But this time, he wished for a simple thing: a friend.
At school, there were times when some other kids sought him out and talked to him, but Dudley, like everything else Harry had, would ruin it. The morbidly overweight kid would bring his equally bullying friends along and threaten the person trying to talk to Harry. That, coupled with the rumors spread and enforced by his relatives that Harry was a problem child at home, typical of an orphan they said, and within that first week, no one approached Harry. Even the teacher kept a wary distance.
So, Harry wished for a friend. It was the one thing that should have been gifted to him, a right that should never have been taken away. Yet it was, like everything else. The small, black-haired child shivered in that tiny space as he thought about his bleak life.
"I wish I had someone to talk to..." Harry let out those words in a tiny whisper. A heartfelt plea, a wish spoken in despair. It showed just how terrible the Dursleys were that the child wished not for love, but the simple companionship of a friend. Of a person, a single person, that he could talk to.
At that moment, the cupboard door wrenched open. Harry turned towards it, and saw that Dudley was standing there with that same doll in his hands. A dark, gleeful expression was on Dudley's face. "Hey, freak." From the look of it, there was nothing but malice in Dudley's intentions. Even so, Harry just let out a sigh and sat up.
"What do you want Dudley? Don't you have some new toys to play with?"
Dudley let out a feral grin. "I figured I'd give you something too. You know, so that we both can have fun."
If it was any other person, Harry might have believed them. But Dudley never had good intentions, especially when it came to Harry. It didn't come as a surprise when the porkish bully raised up the doll and threw it.
The fragile figure crashed against the wooden floor and shattered, causing the porcelain shards to scatter and cut Harry. Sharp, pearly bits flew through the air and cut across his arm, stained crimson with Harry's blood.
Dudley laughed at the sight. "There!" The piggish child let out a snort. "That was fun, wasn't it, freak?" Dudley laughed again, and then slammed the cupboard door shut. A click later and it was locked.
Harry was stunned. He had watched the doll fall through the air towards him, but didn't act. The lonely expression on that beautiful doll had mesmerized him, and the fact that Dudley would destroy something like that shocked him into inaction. Harry hadn't even noticed he was bleeding.
After a moment, Harry reached towards the doll and picked it up. The poor thing wasn't completely destroyed, but a good portion of its face had been cracked and broken on the impact. Harry felt his heart wrench at the sight.
"I'm sorry," Harry said in a small voice. "Dudley's a mean person. You shouldn't have been given to him."
Harry knew the doll wasn't alive, but he couldn't help feel the injustice heaped upon it. The poor thing was meant to be with someone that cared for it and loved it, not someone like Dudley. The entire situation reminded Harry too much about his own and how he had been placed with the Dursleys by something out of his control.
Emerald eyes began to glimmer as tears threatened to spill. With a shaky breath, he blinked them away and began gathering up the pearly pieces scattered around the cupboard. It wasn't much, but the least he could do for the doll was to put it back together.
For the rest of that night, Harry pain-stakingly pieced together the doll. The sharp bits cut his fingers, but he ignored it, determined to help another that had suffered the injustice of the Dursleys. So involved in his work, he didn't realize that the pieces were impossibly melding together as he placed them. Neither did he realize his bleeding gradually slow and his cuts heal the more the doll was repaired.
Eventually, the doll sat against the side of the cupboard, completely restored and once again in pristine condition. Shoulder-length golden hair framed a delicate face. Amethyst colored eyes stared back at him, and a small smile accompanied it. Her outfit was a deep violet Victorian-era dress with pure, white lace embroidery. All-in-all, she was beautiful.
Harry smoothed the dress and patted the doll on the head. "There you go. As good as new." A smile appeared on Harry's face and he picked up the doll and placed it by him. "Dudley probably forgot all about you by now. I think he wanted to hurt me and then have me throw you away afterward."
Again, the doll didn't reply, but Harry liked to think that the glimmer in its eyes meant it understood.
"I guess you're stuck with me then. Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be tossed in the trash." He lifted it up and looked it in the eyes. "Now, what should I call you?" Harry pondered for a moment, but then smiled. "I know. Since you're dressed in a pretty violet dress, I'll call you Violet. And since you look like a princess... Edlynn. Violet Edlynn. A pretty and noble name for a pretty and noble princess."
Harry gently set Violet down on his left side, away from the view of the door, and tucked her in. "It's been a long night, so let's get some sleep." Harry yawned. "Good night Violet."
From that point on, the lonely wizard had someone to talk to. No matter what the Dursleys made him do, or what they did to him, he knew that he had Violet waiting for him so it didn't matter. He worried for a while that the Dursleys would find out, but for some strange reason they never found Violet, even when she was obviously visible.
Time went by and Harry all but poured his heart out to Violet as he told her all his concerns, dreams, and wishes. The doll sat attentively every time with that small smile on her face. And so the years went by until one summer Harry received a letter addressed to him, the boy in the cupboard.
At that point, everything changed, for better or worse. Annoyed and angry at the numerous letters, Dursleys moved everyone to a shack on a deserted island. In the rush, Violet was left behind in that tiny cupboard.
A prophecy was made before Harry's birth, leading to his parent's death when the Dark Lord learned of it. The following events found Harry in the 'care' of the Dursleys by one Albus Dumbledore's actions. It was expected that Harry would be protected by the blood wards and protection left behind by his mother, Lily Potter. Her blood, which flows within Harry and Petunia, allowed protection from Voldemort and any dark wizard seeking to harm him.
Yet, an unexpected event had occurred. Magic often had a mind of its own, and that particularly applied to powerful and ancient magic like that invoked by Lily Potter on her death and sealed by Dumbledore's charms. The horcrux created and left behind by Voldemort was included in that regard.
On the day that Harry pieced Violet back together, his budding magic reached out to his desires and answered. The blood he willfully spilled in sacrifice to heal laid the foundations for a ritual. The wishes and dreams he told Violet, as well as their companionship through the years gave it form. And then, Harry's departure gave it purpose.
Sacrifice of blood to heal.
Sacrifice of time to bond.
Sacrifice of distance for purpose.
In the empty house, hidden in the cupboard under the stairs, arcane magic was enacted and what was established changed. The blood wards, sealed to Lily's blood, found a new medium to protect and responded, adding to the ritual. The accidental horcrux, bonded to Harry by soul and magic, realized the ritual for a new body and followed the bond of blood. Then, Harry's own lingering magic, awakened on his eleventh birthday, resolved the swirl of arcane power.
The desire to protect Harry and the power to do so, sealed by Lily's blood, was instilled into the doll that had absorbed the same blood to heal. The soul fragment that tethered Voldemort to the world was erased and rewritten by the protection and paid the price to grant new life. Then, the magic stained with the wishes of a young and lonely child granted form.
On July 31st, at the stroke of midnight, a giant broke down the door to a haphazard shack in the midst of a stormy sea.
On July 31st, at the stroke of midnight, a beautiful young girl with golden hair and brilliant violet eyes opened them for the first time. She sat up in the dark cupboard and swept her gaze around the enclosed space, then let out a small smile, reminiscent of the one that usually adorned a similar looking doll. With a sigh, she leaned back down on the worn pillow and sheets. "Happy birthday Harry." The girl whispered those few words and then drifted off to a restful sleep.
A/N: Thank you for reading. This is an idea that occurred to me one day while reading certain stories that just would not let me go. I've never written a story like this, or for Harry Potter, but I hope that it leads me, and to you who are reading, to an enjoyable conclusion.