Harry and I had a truce since he interfered with my revenge efforts with his delicate sensibilities. We had an unspoken agreement to keep out of each other's way.

Harry was the one who broke that agreement for the most fascinating reason. While he still couldn't make objects move with his power, he had been practicing using it, and had discovered how to create light.

Of course I asked him to show me immediately, and he was only too willing to do so. He always seems awkward when we talk about this power we have. He has slipped up in the past and referred to it as 'unnatural' or even 'freakish'. I think he feels guilty when he purposely tries to use it, some leftover reaction from his relatives that he really should have grown out of by now. But I know too well the excitement that the feel of this power gives. It feels so right, like it is something we were always meant to have it. If anything it feels more natural when you use it than when you don't.

I can see that Harry feels the same way. I see the gleam in his eyes, the lightness in his step as we rush up to our room to experiment with it. We have something in common that even our different moral code can't divide. This power is above all morals, above each of us as individuals. This power is all that matters.

He says it works best in absolute darkness, so together we rush about, drawing the curtains, stuffing our pillows against the gap in the door so that even that slither of light is cut off.

That's when he begins to explain it to me. How he makes this application of our power work.

"It's good like this" he says "pitch black, so you can't even see your hand in front of your face."

"Then, you have to concentrate" he goes on "shut your eyes and in the pitch black think about light. You have to imagine it. The light of the sun, how it warms your skin when you are under it, how it makes all the colours around you so much more vibrant and bright. Focus on it. Picture it. Long for it."

I was with him till then, but I'm not really the 'longing' kind of person. He spoke about light as if it were a great treasure. I've never seen something so simple as sunlight in the kind of way he was talking. He spoke as if he was often locked up and deprived of the sun. As if it were a great friend that he was yearning to see after years apart. I found it a little strange so decided to stop trying to follow his instructions and just observe to see if this nonsense of his really worked.

I opened my eyes and saw him sitting across the room on his bed. He was curled up with his chin resting on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him as if he was praying. His eyes were scrunched tight shut and – wait. The thick, heavy curtains on the windows are shut tight. We even sealed the gap of light coming through the door. It was so dark I could barely see the outline of my hands in front of my face. I checked and I still could barely see my hand.

Harry was glowing. Ok, so maybe glowing is too strong of a word. His whole body was emitting light, but it was such faint light that you could hardly tell. If the room wasn't so dark I wouldn't even have noticed.

Then he moved on to the next step of creating this light he was talking about.

"Once you have concentrated, and really got it into your head. Then you have to focus on the light coming to your hands" he explained.

"You imagine the light falling almost, and being caught between your palms."

Even as he was saying it I could see the light drain from his body and pour into his hands, till all I could see was a warm, pale orange light glow out from shining through his fingers. Then he opened his hands up as he opened his eyes, and in his hands was a small orb of white light. It wasn't that bright. Barely enough light to read by really, but it was impossible. It's impossible for someone to create light with their will alone. This was most certainly the result of Harry using his power. It was spectacular.

We grinned at each other in the tiny steady light Harry's power created. Anyone who saw us would have thought we had found a treasure chest full of gold. This was much better than gold.

Unfortunately my enthusiasm soon faded. I just couldn't get the hang of it, and if there is anything I hate more than idiots who don't understand how to do even the simplest of tasks, it's me not understanding how to do something. It is infuriating.

Harry was very patient. Though it pains me to admit it, he is a good teacher, and even though I knew I still didn't grasp it, with his instructions every now and then I could produce a little flicker of light. It didn't take long though, for me to snap. Even the most patient and long suffering person won't stay around and help when you fling a dictionary at them I found, so since then I practiced mostly alone.

Harry still checked up on my progress, and he soothed my pricked ego by mentioning how hard he was finding my trick of moving objects every time he saw that the progress I made on making light was next to nothing.

It took me three months. Three whole months before I had a break through.

I should have figured it out earlier. It's always so obvious when you know how. It was a Friday night. I couldn't get to sleep so was practicing with my power instead, but I was getting nowhere again. I was just getting so frustrated. Lack of sleep makes me moodier at the best of times, but added to my lack of progress with my power and stupid Mrs Brown, so proud of stupid little Olivia when her stupidly perfect grandparents came to take her stupid little whiny self away!

Anyway, I was focussed on all that mess in my life and trying to create light at the same time when it happened. And by it, I mean a big explosion sound and a fireball – a proper football sized fireball held aloft between my hands!

Harry woke up straight away of course. He has always been a light sleeper and this sound was big enough to wake almost anyone.

He looked up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, saw me with my FREAKING HUGE FIREBALL and laughed and grinned and gave a proper victory leap as he rushed out of bed to get a closer look. Sometimes, I decided, it was good to have Harry around. Having him to discuss how amazing this was and to get excited with just prolonged the great rush of pleasure and accomplishment that came from it.

That's when we heard the loud stomping of a Mrs Brown who had been woken from her 'beauty' sleep. My fire was out in a second and we rushed back into our beds and under the covers, hoping desperately that our drumming heartbeats and fast breathing wouldn't give us away.

The door creaked open slowly, the slit of light getting slowly greater as Mrs Brown's grey, tattered slippers crept into my view. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to quench the sound of my heavy breathing. Finally, she was satisfied. The door was shut again and we got away with it. I heard an audible sigh of relief coming from Harry, and had to stem the urge to burst out laughing with relief myself.

In that moment, I kind of got why people wanted friends. I always thought that they were just a contingency plan, so if you have a hard time and you are too weak to cope with it on your own you could hope that they would help. It never seemed worth it to me because I was strong enough to cope with the hard times on my own, so would have to be socially obliged as a 'friend' to help them out while gaining very little benefit from them in return.

This was different though. Having someone to share good times with, having someone by your side to revel in your accomplishments. I have to say, it felt good.

(Plus, I made a huge fireball and Harry only made a little marble sized orb – I totally beat him!)


Coming up next: Tom finds out part of what is happening to Harry.
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