Sound The Death Knell
Chapter 3
The Summer of Speculations
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Ponytail of coal black hair whipping from side to side with every step she took, Harry Potter let out a harsh breath as she turned the corner onto Privet Drive. It'd been two weeks since she'd returned home from Hogwarts, and she used the term 'home' loosely.
She certainly didn't consider the place home, more of a side quest, an unavoidably pit stop between the key moments of her life. A normality that was forced upon her because she lacked any other place to rest. Certainly not something as comfortable, as friendly, as what the term 'home' implied. Letting out a jagged breath, Harry hunched over, hands on her knees and inhaling sharply.
For years she'd been running, mainly from Dudley in the physical aspect. She'd also spent the past year or so running from her thoughts, running away from the implications that her soul mate was a Dark Lord, a man who had attempted to murder her.
Always running, it seemed.
Grimacing, Harry wove her fingers together before angling them back, stretching out her back as she righted herself. The muscles in her abdominal whined slightly in protest, but other than that, she was perfectly content to head back inside.
Walking up the pathway to the front door, Harry tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, musing over how she would be spending the rest of her summer.
She had two whole months of free time to spend on her own academic pursuits, two months to dedicate solely to herself. No need to jump through hoops and complete homework -seeing as that was already done- no need to duck out and away from social obligation that her housemates seemed to believe she was duty-bound to attend.
No, just two months that belonged to her in everything.
With the Dursleys too terrified of her obvious ability to use magic, even if she could only perform such acts within the confines of her heavily warded trunk, it meant nothing was holding Harry back over this holiday period.
Grinning to herself, Harry unlocked the front door, stepping inside and sliding off her running shoes. In one smooth movement, she kicked them upwards, catching them expertly before making her way up to her room.
Time for some experimentation.
.
Drawing her wand slowly across the surface of the Philosophers Stone, Harry watched with belated interest as golden sparks spluttered out at the point of contact.
It was the first time she'd gotten the stone out of the secret compartment within her trunk, the first time she's weighed its weight between both her hands and just stared into its gleaming red surface.
It was blatant curiosity that had seen her exploring the Third Floor corridor. The idea of something being off limits, something she was unable to explore, called to her. That Dumbledore, the man who insisted she remain with the Dursleys despite the fact there was no feelings lost between anyone of them, had declare it out of bounds was just the icing on the cake.
If she were to attempt describing her foray through the Third Floor corridor, the best she would be able to come up with was a comparison to a leaf in the wind. There had been some backtracking, never quite moving in a straight line, but never once halting her movement either. In the end, she'd managed to retrieve the prize and, had she been at this stage a year past, would have assumed it was nothing more than a pretty stone.
Now though, now that there was an undertone, a secret message and meaning to every tin that occurred in her life, Harry had not been so quick to dismiss it. Praise the high heavens for a higher level of thought, otherwise she'd have ended up abandoning The Philosophers Stone.
And yes, it all deserved capitals. The discovers she could make...
Unable to help the smile that stretched across her face, Harry placed her wand upon the table she was working on, gathering the shards of golden sparks in a dustpan, ripping them into the glass jar nearby.
The Goblins would be discreet, that much she knew for sure. She'd promise not to crash the economy by instantly flooding it with far too much gold, and the goblins would let her slide by. If she just so happened to slip them some little golden bars, then who were they to mention it to anyone?
Lips tilting upwards in a smirk, Harry reached out with one fingertip, running it down the sharp faces of the stone.
Magic brushed up against her own, locked tightly inside that little stone and constant churning, replenishing itself. It was a volcano of power, appearing dormant on the surface but beneath, beneath there was a bubbling energy roaring, coiled up inside and ready to break free at any moment. With the slightest push from her own magic, unlimited possibilities sat upon her desk.
Harry fell just a little bit in love.
.
Spending as much time as she had within the safe confines of her trunk, her heavily warded trunk, Harry did not get to witness their visitor.
The Dursleys however, did.
It wasn't until she surfaced in the early hours of the morning did Harry get to witness the wreckage that'd been wrought within her room. The nightstand was overturned, the third-hand bed the Dursleys had begrudgingly provided was laying pitifully upon its side and the window on the eastern wall was broken, a hole that looked suspiciously like Vernon had put one of his golf clubs right through it in a the midst of a roaring temper.
Well aware that she would be unable to stay here, for when the Dursleys awakened, she was sure to be attributed to the cause of destruction, Harry slapped the top of her trunk down, letting out an aggressive sigh.
There always seemed to be something that would get in the way of her desire to remain unbothered, be it a troll on Halloween night or an elaborate challenge created by a man with questionable intentions towards her wellbeing.
She didn't care to stick around and find the source of the current mayhem. With the Dursleys being the unreasonable creatures that they were, there was no doubt in her mind that peace would be none existent come morning. Pondering on all the things she'd learnt regarding the Wizarding world and its transportation, Harry began making her way down the stairs, uncaring of the trunk that struck each wooden step with a vengeance.
The bellow of her uncle awakening was inconsequential, seeing as she'd be out the door and at the roadside before he'd even gathered his bearings. Pulling up at the end of the pavement, Harry held her wand aloft, jumping despite her anticipation as the Knight Bus arrived with a thunderous bang.
"The Leaky Cauldron please."
.
Harry ended up spending only one day within the comforts of the Leaky Cauldron.
As it just so happened, Hermione and her parents spotted her sat up to one of the worn tables eating her breakfast, having come to Diagon Alley themselves to retrieve Hermione's school supplies.
Upon learning the reason why she was present in such a, questionable looking establishment, Mrs Granger had all but insisted the green eyed student accompany them home, to spend the rest of her summer holiday there.
A stranger to familiar affection, Harry had spent most of the car ride sat back, watching the interaction between Hermione's parents and trying to puzzle out their relationship, having noted the matching soul marks they wore proudly upon their skin. Mrs Granger's wrapped around her ankle, visible through the skin coloured tights she wore with her skirt, while Mr Grangers wrapped around his bicep in thick, blocky words. Hermione had once told her that her own parents had met while studying for their A levels. They had, perhaps appropriately, been debating the ideals of romanticism in literature.
At one point, Mr Granger seemed to notice her gaze upon his arm, because he grinned cheerfully, unbuckling the seatbelt he'd been wearing.
"Looking forwards to meeting your soul mate the young lady?"
Beside her, Hermione cringed. Harry didn't have to be a Legilimency to know that her bushy haired best friend had failed to impart the knowledge upon her parents that she knew who her soul mate was. And that he was a complete washout not worth her time.
"I'm afraid I fall into that enviable category of those with a highly unsuitable soul mates Mr Granger, it's something of a tender topic I'm afraid."
The man copied his daughter in cringing, but Harry just offered up a disarming smile, well aware of the tempest that was raging within her stomach. It wasn't the fault of Hermione's parents that others were lucky enough to have a decent soul mate. It wasn't their fault they'd so unknowingly dipped her festering wound into a bucket of salt, leaving her to burn with jealously. And she wouldn't let them know how she felt either.
Little Princess Hariel was long gone, her dreams dashed and buried in an unlabeled box to never be opened again.
Now there was just Harry, who would make her own way, her own life, and would never have to rely on the idea of a soul mate again.
Still, the ideal of marriage, of settling down seemed to still persist within the deep dark depths of her mind, within crevasses and canyons way below the ocean's surface that she dare not venture to just quite yet. Her deeper thoughts were not to be touched yet, she refused to face them until she had complete mental stability in conscious part of her mind.
Until such a time, she would leave the unconscious untouched. After all, that was what the Occlumency book recommended.
So for now, she would leave all those thoughts to rest.
.
Magic, Harry had concluded, was a sentient being.
After two months of research, she was reasonably sure of her conclusion. Ever since arriving at Hermione's house, the dark haired Potter had been lying awake at night, attempting to summon up a bought of wandless magic, encouraged by the memories of her accidental magic as a child. Surely there had been a time in years long gone past, in a time where wands were nothing more than a dream, in which witches and wizards had used their magic without such a foci. What was stopping them from doing such a thing?
For several days, Harry had tried forcing her magic out of her arm, out of her fingertips to make it twist and turn around and complete whatever task she asked of it.
And every day she was met with failure.
Until the night before her birthday, in which she'd laid awake, staring up at the ceiling and recalling the day Petunia had said she was taking her to a cosmetologist to remove her mark. She could remember the absolute fury, the sheer incredulity that this woman dared to try and take such a precious thing from her. Her magic had been in complete agreement, stoking her rage and letting it burn to new heights, a combustion of energy the likes of which she'd never reacted before.
Both she and her magic had been in complete agreement, there had been no rife between them at all as they decided that Petunia had to be stopped.
During her research on soul mates -and oh, how Harry had researched- she had read many a theory that magic was linked deeper to the soul mate, that the soul mate meant far more to one with magic than it did to a muggle.
So perhaps, she didn't need to so much as force her magic, as to let it simply be. To work together. Instead of attempting to force a handful of jelly into a thimble and having to deal with the disappointing lack of results -and in some cases, messy explosions that came about- Harry merely allowed her magic to just flow, mentally asking for the book on her lap to just levitate the slightest bit.
To her absolute shock and everlasting joy, there was a moment of peace, before the book began to steadily rise. Within her, the energy seemed to almost purr in pleasure.
It was as if all the planets had aligned, the last jigsaw piece had fallen into place and the picture was complete. This was how things were suppose to be, how things were suppose to have always been. Her magic was not something to be controlled.
It was an energy, a force that laid to rest within her and was suppose to be worked with, not controlled. Her mind and magic were two interlocking systems, different forces that had always meant to work with one another. Like the multitude of muscles within her arm, working together to ensure that she could eventually lift her arm. It was the best comparison she could come up with in such a short amount of time, but everything felt so right.
Quickly scribbling down her discoveries, and reverently praying that she would be able to read her own handwriting come the morning light, Harry rolled over and pressed her face down into the plush pillow she'd been given.
Finally it seemed like she was accomplishing something within her life right now, everything was going perfectly well right now.
.
"The Park?" Harry repeated dully, watching her bookworm friend scowl at her tone. In fact, her bushy hair seemed to expand with her indignation, looking all for one like a peacock defending its territory. Or a Gryffindor defending their idea, Harry mused with a smirk.
Before her best friend could take the facial expression the wrong way, Harry smoothed her features down, creating a calm mask as she looked back at the muggleborn.
"Why the park Hermione?"
Burnt umber eyes rolled skywards, almost as if she were praying for patience, before Hermione's soft hand closed around her own wrist.
"It'll be fun Harry. I've never been to the park with a friend before."
Scoffing but secretly feeling warmth spread about behind her ribs, Harry followed after the girl, admiring the thin material bracelets upon her wrist that Hermione had made her. Friendship bracelets, apparently. Harry had heard of them, but having never really experienced something as entrancingly quaint as friendship during her time at muggle school, she'd never had the experience of making or receiving one. Nor had she any real experience on what to do regarding a sleepover, or having her friend's mother take her out shopping.
Harry had been foresighted enough to exchange a reasonably amount of galleons into pounds during her trip into Diagon Alley, and as such was able to purchase a great quantity of clothes to wear over the next year or so. Right now she was in a pair of ripped denim shorts, perfect for the summer heat, with a lightweight, carefully patterned scarf acting as a decorative belt. Coupled with the white tank top and sandals, she felt like an actually teenaged girl for the first time in her life so far, following after Hermione in her floating honey coloured sundress.
It was as if they were simply two girls, two best friends who had nothing better to do with their days than to run around and play wild, to be nothing other than the average teenager that'd never actually met their soulmate. Only, they did without the wish wild dreams of future ambitions regarding their one true intended.
It was only as they were stood face to face, swaying back and forth atop the same plastic board that made up the swings, that Harry realized what was going on with her.
Before she'd only really had these fluttery feelings whenever she looked at the marks upon her arm, back when she'd had no idea what the syntaxes meant, been oblivious to their true sinister nature.
But now, as she looked at Hermione's glowing face, it wasn't hard to figure out that she was starting to develop, well, something towards her fellow witch.
While there were all different types of soulmates, the romantic ones in the muggle world were all of the male and female variety. If a muggle had a soulmate that was of the same gender, they were usually intended to be platonic soulmates, even if the potential to become something romantic was there. Mainly due to the issue of future offspring.
The Wizarding World didn't have that problem though, seeing as a selection of potions and spells could ensure a child born to what the religious muggles would otherwise dub an 'unnatural pairing'. There was no issue between same sex couples in the Wizarding World, even if they were still significantly lower in number than that of the typical male and female pairing.
All these thoughts ran through Harry's head as she stood there on that swing, hands clenched around the metal chain that was no doubt starting to leave imprints within the delicate flesh of her palms.
Hermione too seemed to be coming out of some kind of daze, because she blinked slowly, the lightest scattering of dusky pink blooming across her cheeks.
"We should probably head home, Mum might get worried," the bushy haired girl mused, looking over at the setting sun. Considering it was still summer, that had to mean it was nearing nine o'clock, and Harry was more than happy to bow to Hermione's request.
Stepping back and down off the swing, Harry offered her best friend a grin, pushing down whatever feelings had been trying to surface during that moment. Feelings were confusing, and right now, they had no place within her world.
Harry refused to worry about them, she'd deal with them later, when she had time to think over all that was running through her mind. Right now, she was just going to be Hermione's best friend, and Hermione would be hers.
That was all it would be, Harry did not need more in this moment, and neither did Hermione. They were both reeling from the disaster that had been the soulmates, there was no need to add more to that plate.
Not yet anyway.
Mmm, this came much quicker than I thought it would. So here we have Harry's peaceful summer. And yes, there will be a brief relationship with Hermione but it won't last.
The end pairings for this are HarryxTom and HermionexDraco after all. How those come about, well after lots of character developement of course, so stick around for that I guess.
Yes, we'll get a bit of Dobby soon. A bit of how and why Harry got the stone, though there'll be more on that later.
Tsmue
xxx
