AN: I read the summary and possibly first chapter of a soul mate story where the first words your soulmate speaks to you are written on your skin and Harry Potter's was 'Avada Kedavra' called Sound The Death Knell by Tsume Yuki. I thought the idea was interesting. Beyond Harry's soul mark, the two stories are absolutely separate and I'm sure that I'm not in anyway plagiarizing the original work.
Disclaimer: I do not own soulmates, soul marks, Harry Potter, my car, England, or Mars. I think I still own my soul though.
Harry Potter could remember the worst day of his life. To the surprise of many, if he had ever told anyone, it wasn't the day Lord Voldemort murdered his parents and tried to kill him. It wasn't even when Voldemort had tried to kill him his first year, or his second, or when Dementors attacked him and his godfather in his third.
No, the worst day of Harry Potter's life was his very first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Moody. The day he learned exactly what his soul mark represented. The day he learned who his soulmate was.
Ever since he could remember, written near his heart, were the words 'Avada Kedavra'. At first, before he knew he was a wizard he thought that it was someone who mispronounced abra kedabra. The stories of their meeting that he had dreamed up while locked in his cupboard were amusing. Perhaps it was someone who wanted to be a magician, but was forgetful and forgot the proper words. Perhaps his soul mate's mark was 'Abra Kedabra' and they wanted to see who would correct them. Harry enjoyed creating the stories, dreaming about the person who would love him unconditionally. When he learned of magic, he realized that it must be a spell, although he could never find the incantation.
He knew that not every person's soul mate had that person as a soul mate. History was full of tales of those who had met their soulmate and had to suffer and watch as they married someone else. On Privet Drive there had been a scandal, when Mr. Number 12 had first spoken to Mrs. Number 1 and the two spouses had recoiled, glaring at the two. Apparently Mr. Number 12 and Mrs. Number 1 were soulmates who had thought they would never find their soulmate and married someone that had them as a soulmate. Mr. Number 12 and Mrs. Number 1 had run off together, leaving two angry and spurned spouses behind.
Harry dreamed that he was his soulmate's soulmate. He had so little that he thought it was only fair he get something in return. No parents, no loving guardians. He was owed something by Fate.
Turns out, Fate hated him with a burning passion.
Avada Kedavra, the killing curse. The curse that Lord Voldemort had cast at him when he was a little over a year old. Making Voldemort his soulmate. Harry wanted to cry. He didn't live because of his mother's love, he must have lived because of the bond of soulmates. Or something like that. Maybe wizards and witches were unable to kill their soulmate.
He wasn't even sure that Voldemort was capable of love anymore. Maybe not ever. It was hard to picture Voldemort as a young boy wishing to meet his soulmate. What were his first words to him? 'You killed my parents?' Was that why Voldemort became what he was?
The words that had once brought him comfort that there was someone out there for him now tormented him. He withdrew from people, blaming the Tournament and his unfortunate forced participation. It wasn't until Hermione confided in him about her soul mark that he was able to move forward with his life.
Although Ron's soul mark proved that Hermione was his soulmate, Hermione had learned her soulmate had a different soulmate. She had learned that when she was ten, and her then best friend and fellow teacher's pet who Hermione had known to be her soulmate since day one had his face light up when a transfer student had joined their class. Apparently his mark was 'I transferred from St. Aggie's'. Hermione had drifted away from him, hurt from the fact that her love was not reciprocated. She had managed to come to terms with that fact, and decided that she would try and not let her life be defined by the fact her soulmate would never love her. She had read books about people who had no soul mark and still lived fulfilling lives, with love. So when Ron confessed to Hermione, stuttering and red, Hermione said yes. When Harry had congratulated Hermione on finding her soulmate, she had confided in him.
With that knowledge, that just because Voldemort was his soulmate didn't mean he had embrace it, he felt freer. A burden had been lifted. Which was a relief, because Harry hadn't been sure he would be able to live with the person who had murdered his parents and condemned him to a living hell, even if their love was fated.
Even more so when he learned the prophesy. Soulmate or not, Harry Potter wanted to live with his friends more than he wanted to protect the love of his life. Who he didn't really love in the slightest.
He was really concerned about what exactly might make him ever even look at Voldemort that way in the first place. If it weren't for the fact that the words matched up, Harry would be absolutely certain that Voldemort could not be his soulmate.
He had never heard of anyone detesting their soulmate as much as he did his.
After he killed Voldemort in what would have been his seventh year, he happily put his soul mark and soulmate out of mind and went on with his life.
Years later, after marrying Ginny (who had Harry as her soulmate) and having three children he adored, he was fighting in a battle with Auror equivalents from all over Europe. A new dark lord was trying to gain traction, and the ICW had decided that no, they were not going to stand another attempt like Voldemort. Everyone was still picking up the pieces. So all the Aurors and Hitwizards from all the different countries had come to fight the dark lord and wipe him and his followers out. Or arrest them. Depends on who you asked.
"Avada Kedavra," a voice shouted, and someone accidentally pushed Harry into the path of the oncoming spell. Harry looked up into the petrified blue eyes of the castor, who had clearly been aiming for the dark lord follower behind him who was using him as a shield. In those few seconds between realization and impact, he smiled.
"I love you," he said, meaning it. Clearly, Voldemort was not his soulmate. He had spent his teenage years worrying over nothing. The murderer of his parents, responsible for the murder of so many of his friends and family, had never been intended to be his soulmate. He loved the person in front of him because this person was not Voldemort.
Clearly, fate still hated him, but not as much as making his soulmate a psychopath who had murdered his parents.
"Well, I found out what I would say to get someone to admit they love me as their first words," Harry's accidental killer said, plopping in a seat, head propped up by hands.
"What?" One of accidental killer's best friends asked, signaling the bartender for a drink or five.
"Avada Kedavra. My soulmate must have been suicidal or something."
"You killed your soulmate?"
"Yep."
"Fate must hate you with a burning passion."
"Yep. You're designated not drunk person. I'm getting wasted."