Author's Note:
I have a review. Cool beans. On the other side of the equation, I'm still trying to figure out how I want to rewrite my Summary, but you'll find out a LOT of hints in part of this chapter.
Twenty cookies if ANYONE can figure out who the first enemy is.
- AN -
- Chapter 4 – See Me... Feel Me...
Life at the Granger Home was a breath of fresh air for young Harry. It started off a little... difficult, especially after he blew up at Hermione for reasons he really couldn't state at the time. A long conversation with the strong and poised Mr. Granger... err... DAN... Set helped set Harry straight on exactly where his feelings were coming from.
He apologized quietly to Hermione and only received a half-hearted threat to never do it again. He also apologized to Hermione's sister for upsetting her 'Sissy'.
The difference between the Grangers and the Dursleys left Harry at a loss on how to proceed. Whereas all the 'family' interactions he ever watched in his old home had a... ... forced?... quality to them, the Grangers love for each other remained on display for all to see. The family, which now somehow included Harry somewhere, always sat down for dinner each evening and traded happy stories each day in polite conversation unlike anything Harry ever experienced before. Even Hedwig, who arrived alongside Harry, was quickly accepted as part of the family and became a centerpiece of conversations at dinner because of her great intelligence and mothering of Harry, a fact that satisfied his vain little owl completely.
It wasn't until his fourth day with the Grangers that Hermione asked where his schoolbooks were. Harry felt oddly... hesitant about revealing his... Sanctuary. In the end after some not-so-polite prodding by Hermione, he finally told her about his trips to Diagon Alley on his birthday and discovering only just before his... incarceration how Dobby screened his mail over the last few weeks. He didn't even get a chance to read the letters!
He did however keep quiet about his dreams with Cloak and hearing the man's voice in his head. Regardless of the constant assurances that yes, he was a perfectly normal and wonderfully polite young man, and no, he was not a freak or anything similar, Harry knew only wack-jobs admitted to hearing voices in their head.
Hermione and Harry jumped the fence under his Invisibility Cloak while Dan stayed in the car. It was... surreal to know that the elder Dursleys were both in jail for child abuse. Harry nearly threw up when the realization hit him when the tent was halfway down.
He never considered himself abused. He wasn't... or at least... he never thought he was. Dan disagreed. The man's quiet confidence forced Harry into breaking down a third time when the man quietly told him that if he really wanted to heal and be a true friend, a true person, and a real father for his future children that Harry NEEDED to admit, if only to himself, that he was in fact abused. Harry TRIED to deny Dan's words until the stern-faced man asked him in a determined voice if he would ever willingly put his children through what he suffered. That was about the time Harry broke down.
The first week passed in a wonderfully brilliant haze for Harry, who couldn't help but wait for the other shoe to drop. After the initial... disagreement with Hermione, Harry quickly forced himself to adapt and became an accepted and welcome addition to the Granger family. Harry had at least a half dozen quiet conversations with Dan, a man who TRULY understood Harry in a way no-one he ever met to date could. Hermione's little sister Miranda had Harry wrapped around her little finger thoroughly and Harry cherished every minute of it. The bubbly, chattering little flower didn't so much break through Harry's carefully constructed defenses as much, the opinionated (and fascinated) little girl just ignored them completely.
Harry couldn't help but wonder how a single child could be such a... tornado at times. Her bedroom went from being cleaned and organized each night under either Dan or Emma's stern gaze to a disaster area in need of quarantine by noon each morning. Toys, books, clothes, and more were strewn across her room by the easily distracted girl as she practically leapt from playing dolls to dress up, make-up to ponies, and back again in a non-stop display of energy that made Harry tired just WATCHING her.
Hermione's mother, who looked (and sometimes acted) frighteningly like an older blue-eyed Hermione, appeared on the surface to be everything Harry ever imagined his own mother might be. She held herself with a quiet, pleasant dignity that Harry instantly respected and held no small amount of esteem for. She openly displayed her pride in both of her girls and didn't hesitate in the slightest to compliment Harry with that same warm, proud smile as often as she did her own children.
However, like all good things in Harry's life, the other shoe did in fact drop, after he went to sleep on his seventh day after a completely brilliant and utterly mortifying trip to the family's favorite clothes shop for a complete wardrobe. There are many, many things that Harry would not hesitate to share or participate with his best FEMALE friend, but discussing his choice in undergarments would never be one of them. That didn't even include his complete lack of knowledge on the available options since he refused point blank from a young age to wear Dudley's brown-striped and hole-ridden hand me downs of the delicate nature. His mortified blush would never have vanished if Hermione managed to piece together the fact that Harry had gone commando since age seven.
The unconditional support and love Harry received over the last week left him reacting in a completely new manner than ever before to the impending threat against the family that welcomed him with open arms.
Harry was pissed.
- 4 - 4 - 4 -
"Have you ever tried your hand at weaving young Harry Potter?"
Harry blinked, thinking (wrongly) that he had long since become accustomed to the... man's non-sequiturs. "I... um... Can't say that I have." Harry said after a moment, looking around the dilapidated building. Despite the greyish stage of his dream, the walls of the building looked somehow a much... worse and ugly shade of grey. The panelling looked to have been routinely cracked and re-plastered by a subpar, but well-meaning mechanic. The pastel layered paint hung loosely from the walls in strips. Harry knew some areas of the United Kingdom that the humidity and constant rain tended to be complete enough to leave buildings in such a state without a near constant level of attention, but he never personally witnessed any such building until now.
Cloak nodded silently and started walking slowly down the hall towards a set of doors at the other end. After looking a little closer around him, Harry started to catch a number of details that escaped him only moments before. Yes, the building is undoubtedly run-down, but the walls, floors, and ceiling appeared to be at least well cleaned and semi-maintained. Dozens of pictures were lovingly hung up and down the wall in a rather inspired collage that made Harry think of a smile. Each picture showed the same tired yet happy elderly woman with thick glasses and sensible wool robes that reminded Harry a little of Professor McGonagall. Alongside the unknown woman in various poses, whether affectionate hugs, macho stretches, or dainty curtsies. As each picture on the entire wall was taken using a magical camera, Harry couldn't help but notice the fond, proud smile the woman graced each of the children with when their attention diverted from her.
Perhaps the owner just does not have the income for a proper repairman? What is this place?
"When weaving a tapestry a failing many weavers get in to is to focus on a single set of threads to create the perfect design. This can sometimes lead to bad pieces of thread, tears, or even holes and missing chunks of tapestry. Do you understand?"
Harry thought about what he might be implying and he had to admit he could sort of see where Cloak might be coming from. It sort of referenced what his primary school teacher once said about seeing the forest from the trees in a painting. When someone gets so entirely focused on painting the 'perfect' tree, they sometimes focus on painting that one tree to the exclusion of everything else.
It made sense, but Harry had no clue what Cloak meant by such a statement.
"I... am not a God... or anything similar Harry." Cloak started slightly in a halting fashion, a sense of uncertainty and trepidation rolling off of him companion's form.
Harry nodded agreeably, still semi-certain that he was going insane, so the thought that Cloak isn't a God didn't really disturb him much.
Cloak chuckled slightly, a huge sense of amusement roiling off his form almost in excess beyond the waves of greyish, blackish mist that sometimes seem to compose his companion's very being in everything except the small burning balls of yellowed flames that made up his eyes. "No. You are not going insane young Harry Potter. As I once said to you before. I am merely a friend. We can actually meet in person upon your return to Hogwarts."
"Really?"
"Yes. Unfortunately, after a rather... debilitating accident I can no longer actually leave the school."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Thank you, but I believe our conversation has gotten off track. We were talking threads if memory serves."
Harry nodded.
"I am not, despite how brilliant it would be, omniscient either." Cloak paused, his amusement being replaced again by a distinct sense of uncertainty. "The... the reason I have been absent the past week is I noticed a thread that I've never actually seen before and... it... worries me... ... I... have... been trying to... determine... hmm... not really where the thread came from so much as where the thread WENT I guess."
Harry cocked his head at an angle. He... didn't like the sound of that.
Unfortunately, true to form, Cloak can't seem to just say things how that are and be upfront. "Divination Harry is, as you once were told, a very wooly subject."
"Annnnddd?" Harry asked with a slight amount of impatience, annoyed by Cloak's habit to dither and the fact that despite walking during the entire conversation the duo seemed no closer to the doors than they were a few minutes ago.
"And nothing. Maybe. That's the point. I don't know. What I DO know is the fact that in a few week's time you were to accompany Hermione and her family to Diagon Alley to purchase your school supplies where Hermione makes a handful of comments on how she enjoys being an only child." Cloak stated in his usual monotone, irritation and annoyance rolling off his form.
Harry flinched visibly.
Cloak stopped and his eyes turned to evaluate Harry in silence for a minute before one of his burnt skeletal arms lifted Harry's chin. Glowing emerald met burning orange in silence for a few moments before a veritable flood of emotions rolled off of Cloak like a tsunami, making Harry both nauseous and more than a little dizzy.
Cloak dropped his hand and muttered to himself in... Latin?... for a full minute. Harry just leaned against the wall in order to regain his bearings. Up seemed like a very attractive down at that moment and left certainly had the right of it.
Cloak's skeletal hand made a odd motion that Harry would call the equivalent of pinching the bridge of his nose if in fact there is a nose hiding under that cowl. "You should read the section in your grandmother's book about Empaths young Harry Potter."
Never having heard the word before, Harry just nodded. The young Gryffindor regretted that action when his stomach informed him he is an idiot.
"I suggest as well you stay on your toes and watch the young Miranda closely. I will tell you more in a few days if I can find anything out."
Harry growled. "What's that supposed to mean?!" He demanded angrily, ready to wash his hands of Cloak completely if the... man didn't start making sense.
Cloak sighed. "I don't know. And that makes me uncomfortable. I never thought you would end up at the Grangers young Harry Potter. I had other plans for your summer than you pretending to be a normal child."
Harry became incensed. "YOU had plans? We're you going to tell me those plans? Or just lead me around by the nose like a dog? What if I WANT to be normal for once?"
"Stop being a petulant child!"
That did it. "Get out! Get out of my dreams, get out of my head, get whatever 'plans' you have and LEAVE!"
Cloak's essence ripped away through the grey expanse in hundreds of tiny black shreds of mist, vanishing from Harry's dream, thoughts, and mind.
- 4 - 4 - 4 -
Hermione obviously caught on to his bad mood almost soon as he served breakfast the next morning, but dropped it when he frowned and mumbled "Nightmare."
He still can't decide whether he is happy or not that Hermione, and in fact her whole family, actually has an idea how life for him at Privet Prison was for most of his life.
On one hand, the past few days passed in a near-haze of absolute mortification. Regardless of the state the Grangers actually found him in when he awoke after his escape, life in his relatives home was only very rarely that bad. No more than four or five times a year did he end up in such a state, and the damage generally was inflicted by Dudley, not his guardians. Instead of knowing he had a... hate-hate relationship with his relatives, Hermione seemed to think he was abused. Harry had been shown pictures and stories of abused children by his Aunt many times in his life, he knew he wasn't abused. Unloved? Definitely. But abuse...? No.
On the other hand, he felt a sense of... relief...?... that someone knew and disapproved of the the life forced on him over a decade ago. Dan definitely became Harry's absolute, no-question role model when the quiet, strong man proved that it IS possible to live a life the two of them did and still have a future.
A Future. Such a word had always been an interesting catch twenty-two for Harry. His entire future plans always involved escaping his relatives, yet if found himself planning or hoping too much towards that lofty goal... Well, despite how he might seem, Uncle Vernon had a propensity of being a very perceptive, devious, and cut-throat man. The man was drawn to the proverbial scent of blood like a school of starving sharks in the ocean. Whenever Harry finally resolved to make plans of exactly HOW he would escape his relatives, Vernon inherently knew and set out doubly hard to break him of said determination using the same instincts that saw an overweight, hideous, sexist, bigoted, walrus of a man with a horribly tacky mustache gain a Directorship position at a world-wide drill manufacturing company (namely Grunnings, which Harry intended to remember should he ever make it rich).
Nearly a week later, after Dan finally resumed taking appoints at the dental practice (mortifying and stupefying Harry even more that the man would actually take off two weeks of work for HIM of all people), Harry finally took the advice of the now silent Cloak on opening the book written by his grandmother so many years before.
To my descendants of Potter and Black, I greet you with ill tidings.
Within the last century, Doom has come to the Most Ancient and Noble Houses.
Charlus and I have read the signs and the Faith are being silenced, family by family.
The last Augury went silent during Grindewald's rise, and I fear after the loss of Dumbledore's Phoenix that they too will be lost to the Faith.
Lost too is Delphieus's Journal, without our Oracle, how will Magic survive the Rise of the Muggles?
The foreword continued with stern warnings of Omens and failed Rituals, nearly all of which were worse than meaningless to the young Potter.
What does it matter that Muggles were able to find the corpse of the Great Sphinx of Giza?
What's an Alfgar and why does it matter that their cities were burned?
Who the hell are Delphieus, Loki, and Baldur? Why does it matter if some barmy Oracle hundreds of years ago said 1993 (creepy that) was 'The year the first betrayer flaunts his mark'?
What is a Melchior? A Caspar? A Balthazar? How does something created IN the Earth break?
The Table of Contents were certainly odd enough for a supposed history and genealogy book about Purebloods. Perhaps the name was a misdirection?
If Harry was honest with himself, he was almost certain before opening the book that half the chapters would be about ritually slaughtering Muggles, the Holy Grail of maintaining inbreeding, and how to be a bloody pompous arse. (In his defense, the Rituals were in there, but only as references with dates and reasons they should be performed, not instructions on how to do them.) The curious boy did find it strange, even through the cloudy fog of his dazed state, that the last three chapters had been obviously ripped out of the book. None too gently either.
The very first page on the bloodlines of the Wizarding World rocked the foundations of nearly everything Harry had ever learned about blood purity to his very core.
I. Active Bloodlines
Many unlisted bloodlines have been lost through the ages due to death, mutation, or squib births of more than two generations. One such example, Rowenda Ravenclaw's ability to manipulate time and space, as seen within the reaches of the Come and Go Room within the Heartroom of Hogwarts, was lost when she had her only child murdered for the theft of her Diadem. The control of lightning within the Franklin family was lost forever when his only son was born a Squib and left for the Muggle World, subsequent Squibs every generation leaving the Family little better than Muggle.
The Wizarding gifts given to those of the Faith, and those of the Circle, by the Alfgar and the Fae are irreplaceable by modern magicals. Once lost, except with the case of the metamorphmagus, these bloodlines have since been permanently lost to the world. From the journals of both Black and Potter, I have managed to reconstruct the reason for the inbreeding that has begun to plague our society within the last four hundred years. Blood purity is not a lie per say, despite what the many of the muggle-loving fools would have one believe.
The Alfgar warned those of the Faith to beware those whose blood is new to, or only having just reawakened, magic. If the original Faith were to have kept better record of their allies and enemies, I would document whether the gifts listed below were given by Faith or Fae, but alas that knowledge has long been lost within the sands of time.
Both races, being as capricious and unpredictable as they were known to be, would find endless amusement within magicals being forced to become their own great-aunt's, or grand-father of their grand-mother through marriage in order to maintain the gifts given to our society. The marriage of my niece and nephew, Walburga and Orion, is a good example of a scenario the beings would find amusement with.
After reading nearly a dozen journals, and learning of the loss of five bloodlines and the mutation listed below, I have to agree with the need to ensure the purity of blood, but only within the retainers. No retainer of the bloodline should ever marry less than a third generation magical. The wild, chaotic, and untamed power flowing through their magical core does not appear to solidify until at least two full generations of the Family's connection with the gift of Magic to maintain the connection with the bloodlines gift.
Should a retainer breed only with one so chaotic, the Bloodline will be either irrevocably lost or mutated forever more.
Metamorphmagus
Retainer(s) - None.
Abilities - Shape-shifting at a near-cellular level almost equal to the great Alfgar of old. gender, age, weight, height, and length of limbs are all subject to modification.
Knowledge - The lost bloodline of Helga Hufflepuff herself holds a sad and horrendous past, filled with slavery and exploitation of the worst sort. After dozens of kidnappings and forced breeding, it is little wonder that Helga's gift was lost less than three centuries after her passing. If I were to guess, the unstable first-generational magic within Theodore Tonks was from a Squib line of one of the poor slaves that was used and left for dead during some of our darkest times. Paired with the cross-generational stabilization within the purified Andromeda, the outcome would be obvious. As there has not been a single scenario of spontaneous metamorphmagi since before the loss of the Alfgar, this must be assumed.
Despite being a mutation of the metamorph bloodline, the metamorphmagus bloodline is listed first as a warning to retainers of the folly of sullying the purified blood with the wild and chaotic first and second generation magicals.
The metamorphmagus was documented by John of Gaunt as proof of his ancestor's concerns with first-generation magicals and I have been unable to dispute his findings. Two of our greatest ancestors held the metamorph bloodline of a much more powerful sort. Widely known, and documented within the Potter Annuls as accurate, is the duel between Lord Emrys and the Eternal LaFay wherein the powerful magi were able to assume forms through their innate gifts from dragon to dung-beetle with nary a waste of their magical reserves. Since the mutation deep within the War of the Roses, such amazing metamorph abilities have been lost.
Typically, the first indication of metamorphic ability within a wizard either involves magical control of hair length, fingernail length, or (rarely) waking up suddenly having grown more than two inches in a single night's sleep as the subconscious realizes the body has growth, despite the body's control over preventing the growth.
This was information not a single pureblood every thought to provide to the shocked Potter. Skimming quickly through the definitions of the various bloodlines, he wondered if perhaps he was not a metamorphmagus himself. As far back as he can remember his hair had only ever been cut once, and grew back exactly as he liked it overnight. Add in his rather large (three inch) growth spurt this summer and he felt it might actually be possible.
Parselmouth
Retainer(s) - Tom Marvolo Riddle Forty-nine Years
Abilities - Able to speak the language of serpents. This includes, but does not appear to be limited to: All snakes, lizards, chameleons, Dragons (of all semi-intelligent forms), etc.
Knowledge - The Parselmouth bloodline has long been held solely within the recently cursed Gaunt line though, as the author and catching my Husband out once when we took our son James to the Muggle Zoo I know the Potter's hold the Bloodline as well. Dear Charlus actually admitted that the Potters and Gaunts both received the gift through our common ancestors, the Peverells. Tom Marvolo Riddle (of the House of Gaunt) acquired his gift from his squib mother and the second-oldest of the Three Brothers. The Potters from the youngest of the trio.
The young Potter tried to tell Hermione about his find and his grandmother's notes about their family, but kept talking about the weather, the latest mugging, and finally (to his embarrassment) how long his last trip to the lavatory took. He abandoned further attempts at discussing what he realized were Family Secrets after that.
Harry thought back to his OWN trip to the Zoo with the Dursleys a few weeks before Hagrid's arrival and smiled. Even with his mother being a Muggleborn, the Potter's still hold the Parselmouth Bloodline. It made him feel at lot more connected to the family he never knew. He did wonder though why no-one knew the Potters were Parselmouths.
The Potter Journals from late in the 17th century indicate that nearly a dozen curse-breakers tried to crack the insidious and incestuous curse placed on the family by the wizard hired during the War of the Roses to deal with John of Gaunt's descendants. Lord William Charlus Potter, the Head of House during the crisis, suffered magical exhaustion for nearly a week in bed when his fiancé realized to her disgust that the only male she could bear to touch her was her only brother. May whomever cast such a heinous curse burn in the deepest Hells for such an atrocity. With the murder of the last of the Gaunt line decades prior, I can only assume that perhaps our ancestor Delphius was mistaken in his assumption that the Slytherin bloodline would re-emerge, purified from the disgustingly incestuous curse.
Harry, and Hermione who joined him in reading the untold history with an unbidden glee (despite only getting parts of the information), actually had to stop and retch after reading the passage. The two felt horrible for the ancient Potter and his fiancé. To have your very ability to physically be attracted to the one you love taken from you sounded absolutely horrible and both wholeheartedly agreed with Dorea's thoughts on the matter.
Empathy
Retainer(s) - Pollux Black, Walburga Black nee Black, Dorea Potter nee Black, Bellatrix Lestrange nee Malfoy, Sirius Orion Black, James Charlus Potter
Abilities - Ability to read or sense the emotions and/or control the emotions or feelings of others.
Knowledge - Having this particular ability has given me an in-depth understanding of the trial and error method of exploiting this ability to the greatest benefit. An Empath must first and foremost trust his or her instincts above all else. It is as if the very air we breath, the sounds we hear, and the things we touch are ingrained with a near constant stream of feelings from those around us. Animals, humans, centaurs, goblins, and more. The only creature that I personally have never been able to sense on an empathic level are snakes, perhaps due to the magical nature of the Parselmouth's abilities.
An Empath should be particularly wary of any and all contact with Dementors. Their aura of fear and dread is multiplied ten-fold around an Empath, and multiplied more when there are others around feeling the same effects. Perhaps to maintain Balance within Nature however, Arthur's gift allows for a near instinctual understanding of the counter-charm to the presence of the Dementor. Any known Empath should be trained within their first year of formal magical schooling in the casting of the Patronus Charm, found most recently only within the folds of the The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 7) written by the Ministry stooge Miranda Goshawk.
The Empath should beware detection, because few of those pretending to be honest and upstanding when they are not can bear one so empowered to live. As of writing this book only my husband and son are aware of the familiar abjuration that allowed the manifestation of my bloodline.
The weaponized version of the charm was lost during the Ministry Dark Arts purges after their successful negotiation with the dozen still living Dementors when they became the Wardens of Azkaban after the Accord of 1675. My status as a Black however allowed for learning of the charm from our Ancestral Library, the Encyclopedia Magicka. I urge any Empath to entreat the Black Family Head of House for tutoring with the spell.
Controlling the emotional actions and reactions of others is tricky at best and downright dangerous at worst. Only an Empath with full control of his or her ability should consciously attempt such an endeavor, and then only under controlled circumstances. Making an enemy or friend feel happy, feel great desire, or other action is the equivalent, for example, of a full Veela's Aura. See the records of the rapes, murders, tortures, and deaths of numerous Veela through the ages on the consequences of removing another's inhibitions. At times the most bloodthirsty and disgustingly debase are those one would least expect.
Removing, or dulling, emotional reactions from those around the Empath however, are decidedly less dangerous and have little chance of eliciting an unexpected reaction.
As my dear Charlus can attest, an Empath is a powerful ally throughout any walk of life. Their truth-reading skills surpassing even the vaunted Veritaserum used within the Ministry. If untrained however, secure the beleaguered soul instruction in the Mind Magics post-haste. An untrained is victim to the emotions and intent of all those around him or her without sufficient mental defenses. What a horrible fate to bestow upon even the young. Despite their horridness, the Goblins can also be relied upon for creation of warded amulets that will mimic the effects of Occlumency for a calendar year if the need arises. Standard Occlumency, despite the texts indicating otherwise, was insufficient for controlling the emotional output other others around me during my development. Father told Pollux at one point that the Black Family wrote the texts as such intentionally. An Empath that succeeds in clearing their mind, as necessary for Occlumency, is actually collapsing all protections and shields they may have. One should be wrapped... ...
Harry cursed loudly when he turned the page to find that the rest of the information on how to control empathic abilities were ripped out along with the missing three sections of the book. He tossed it in his rucksack after slamming it shut and cursing loudly.
Had gave a very real grin and a fond smile to Hermione when she unconsciously corrected him, despite the fact that they were the only two people in the house. Both her parents were working the day at the dental practice and Miranda ended up going on a mid-summer sleep-over a the neighbors.
Hermione, being the far more mature and sophisticated lady that she is, stuck her tongue out at him and blew him a raspberry.
"So where would we find information on Empaths and Octo... Occo... Occlumency?" Harry asked, munching on his B.L.T., getting a frown from Hermione for talking with his mouth full. She didn't actually comment since he didn't spray it everywhere as Ron is wont to do, but it is still a less than endearing habit. Then his eyes widened at what he might have unintentionally revealed. "I mean... um..."
Whatever Hermione might had said in response became delayed when two ugly, tired looking owls slammed into the recently cleaned sliding doors at full speed. Luckily for the owls the glass didn't shatter, but that might be up for debate.
The pair of teens cheered and started chittering excitedly (after they for the owls settled with some bacon and water) over the arrival of their Hogwarts letters for next year. Harry tried to grab his and open it, but Hedwig had other ideas.
After a rather impressive aerial dive-bomb, Harry's unopened letter found its way in her beak where she promptly tossed it directly on to the lit Bunsen-Burner Hermione planned on using to help Harry prepare for the upcoming years potions. Harry tried grabbing at his crazed familiar before she managed to destroy his letter, but Hedwig proved that she is more than a match for Gryffindor's star Seeker. Harry reached for it, but the letter burst into a plethora of green, blue, yellow, and red sparks that scorched the table and doused the flame.
The two teens stared.
"What...?"
Hermione, being the living encyclopedia that she is, not only recovered first, but realized exactly why Hedwig reacted in such a manner. "H-Har-ry... Stop!" The emerald eyes boy stopped in chasing after his deftly spinning and flapping familiar to give his best friend a questioning stare. "I think your Hogwarts letter had some sort of charm on it. Hedwig protected you."
Harry looked confused, but Hermione's words were confirmed when Hedwig dropped on to Hermione's shoulder and nodded at her ofttimes annoying and frustrating Pet before nibbling lightly at the bushy-haired girl's ear in an affectionate manner. The look the vain little owl turned on Harry clearly said 'SHE deserves it. You may apologize now.'
Harry wasted no time in alternatively thanking and apologizing to his devious little friend profusely until the owl deigned to acknowledge his apologies and let her human shower her with praise.
They discussed the potentially charmed letter for a few minutes before deciding to shift their focus on the school booklist accompanying Hermione's letter instead. They could figure out the issue with Harry's letter later.
"Gilderoy Lockhart?" Harry mumbled aloud, unfamiliar with the author of seven of the eight books needed for the upcoming term.
Hermione GUSHED. Completely unused to such a... girly reaction from the prim and proper Granger, Harry just stared. "Oh my gosh! Gilderoy Lockhart is the greatest wizard of our age! ... They say he's the next Dumbledore! I've read all of his books! Well not 'Magical Me' of course... As you of course know, he hasn't released it yet. I already asked Mum if we can go to the book signing on Wednesday..."
By the end of her rant, which she somehow forced out in a single breath, she cheeks were flushed red all the way back to her neck. If Harry was a more normal teenager, he would probably tease his friend about her obvious crush, yet he found he really couldn't care less. After his... less than stellar Professor trying to kill him the year before, not to mention just how terrible of a teacher Voldemort made, Harry's enthusiasm for his favorite subject waned more than a little bit. Beyond that, Harry's ability to interact with Hermione on... girly things extended about as far as he could throw Dudley with two broken arms. Instead he just gave her a small smile.
"Um... Right. I'm... gonna head to the training room." Harry finally said after a few minutes, more than a little creeped out by the dazed looking smile on Hermione's face and the slightly glazed look in her eyes.
It did hurt a little but though when she didn't even acknowledge his departure.
- 4 - 4 - 4 -
Frustration and rage.
Pure, unbridled and unrivaled rage.
Still trapped and stranded alone and unknown in the ever expansive darkness, the gem-eyed being summoned hundreds, if not thousands, of random objects ranging in size from a marble to a mountain before blasting or having them blasted out of existence. The very air filling the limitless expanse became supercharged by hate and madness filled magic, the dark expansive becoming colder and even more unwelcoming as the spirit burned through its all encompassing rage.
Both gems slowly started to bleed into an anger and hate-filled purple as the inferno of emotions expanded throughout the now thoroughly lavender-tinted air filling the expanse before intensified ten times over.
The vengeful revenant cursed in silence for days before the twin gems finally dulled back to their original colors, the energies and ancient magics powering the spirit's tethered existence finally spent, if only for a short while.
One green, one blue, both gems sparkled a promise of direst vengeance in the silent, judging, and unforgiving darkness.
- 4 - 4 - 4 -
Harry never felt more welcome, or more of an estranged outsider, than the following trip to Diagon Alley to witness Gilderoy Lockhart's book signing and purchase their school supplies for the upcoming term.
Thankfully Ron and the rest of the Weasley clan met them in the Leaky Cauldron, giving Harry an outlet outside of Dan and Emma to avoid Hermione's... fanatical state. Since the school letter arrived on Saturday, his best friend couldn't seem to think of anything else but the 'dreamy' and 'amazing' Lockhart. Harry, in response to the rather blatant snubbing offered by Hermione once the booklist arrived, spent a great deal of time in the training room. He had even talked with Hermione about teaching her the wandless magic he worked out with Cloak (not really planning on mentioning said mentor), but in the end just practiced alone.
Mrs. Weasley surprised Harry by sweeping him up in a heavy-handed hug that he swore popped his back a few times while cheerfully greeting the Granger family. He did not however miss the calculative look Mrs. Weasley tossed between Ron and Hermione a few moments later that unsettled him a little. She turned out to be a rather plump yet cheerful mother to every child in he general vicinity. The rest of Ron's family, along with Mrs. Weasley herself, all sported the same blazing orange-red hair their entire family is apparently known for throughout the Wizarding World. Harry didn't get a chance to meet Ron's dad since (as it is a Wednesday) he had to work. Ron's little sister Jimmy squeaked and ran behind Mrs. Weasley when Harry said Hi, so the raven haired teen had to consent himself with greeting Percy and the Twins.
"Hey... Um... You alright mate?" A very embarrassed and red faced Ron questioned in a nervous mumble as the two browsed the newest brooms on sale after separating from the enamored women of the group. The Nimbus 2001, if Quidditch Weekly is to believed, sports a top speed almost fifteen miles an hour higher than own Nimbus 2000. After reading more than few critiques on the slower turn radius and hesitant response to vertical climbs made Harry even more content with his trusty Nimbus 2000 since the Wronski Feint (a rather death defying dive straight at the ground) happens to be Harry's go-to move for messing with the heads of opposing Seekers.
"I'm fine." Harry responded back in his own embarrassed mumble, trying to get Ron to move back on less annoying topics. Harry felt a huge sense of happiness and contentment when Hermione told him that Ron and the Twins actually tried their own ill-advised rescue mission on the night Harry made his escape. That didn't help however the small feelings of resentment that still blossomed in Harry's chest whenever he thought about Ron and the Weasleys and even to an extent Hermione herself. He couldn't help it.
Despite everything Harry and Hermione went through the prior year... The Cerberus, Professor Snape's constant vitriol, getting Hagrid's baby dragon (a soon to be massive, deadly, fire-breathing, poisonous Norwegian Ridgeback that the gentle Half-Giant named 'Norbert'), meeting Quirellmort and the centaurs in the woods while trying to save a dying unicorn (for a detention with Hagrid assigned over the dragon debacle), and the quest for Nicolas Flammel's Philosopher's Stone... yet... in the end... Just like all the chores through his childhood, the Harry hunting, ... even the shade of Quirrellmort in the forest and the final step to protect the Stone itself... Harry faced his trials alone.
The idea that, invariably, Harry would face all the greatest trials of his life completely and utterly alone just would not leave him. It was one of the spurring factors (outside of Hermione's snubbing over the last few days) in his decision to start working and studying on his own for the upcoming school year. Even Hermione's... rescue didn't come until Harry managed to free himself from Vernon's pseudo jail-cell just like Dumbledore's rescue came through after Quirrell already died under Harry's hands.
"Um... Good... Brilliant!" Ron mumbled happily, the reddish tint to his ears fading slightly at the perfect excuse to drop the subject. Ron Weasley likes taking things as they come. If his best mate Harry Potter says Harry Potter is fine, then obviously he is. End of story.
"Harry! Ron!" An excited Hermione called loudly from outside the shop, "Come ON! The book signing has started! HE'S HERE!""
"Mental, that one is." Ron muttered to Harry with a fond grin aimed at the retreating back of their other friend. With her behavior over the last few days, Harry couldn't help but agree with a nod of his head.
The duo dutifully followed their zealot of a friend as she squealed her way back into line next to a cheering Mrs. Weasley and an equally squealing Mrs. Granger. Looking around, all Harry can see in any given direction is cringing and cowering men and boys everywhere paired with alternatively squealing, cheering, blushing, and (to Harry and Ron's absolute horror) throwing their underwear.
Harry felt even more horrified then ABSOLUTELY mortified when one of the younger witches, possibly one of his own classmates, saw him and chunked her rather lacy underwear to Harry with a saucy wink and a lick of her lips.
"Blimey Harry!" Ron gasped out, drawing the attention, unfortunately, of a poncy blonde man sitting at a nearby table surrounded by no less than five dozen (at least) pictures of himself in various poses. His fashion sense left EVERYTHING to be desired as in every picture he appeared with a glaringly white smile with teeth that reminded Harry of the perfectly formed dentures one of the older neighbors at Surrey wore and clashed wretchedly with the glaringly painful eyesore robes that matched his equally semi-glowing eyes. All in all, in the two-ish seconds Harry had to evaluate the man before he found an arm wrapped around his shoulders, the only picture Harry could draw from the man came out of the greedy and rather evilish gleam that passed through his eyes.
"HARRY POTTER!" The man cheered out loudly, drawing the attention of pretty much everyone around as Harry struggled to free himself from the surprisingly strong grip of the man. Memories from his childhood that he kept at bay for years by sheer force of will started to overwhelm him when a bright flash stole his eyesight.
CRACK.
Harry's eyes adjusted to the sounds of gasps echoing outward a like a wave and he felt himself freed and clutched protectively in a familiar pair of strong arms accompanied by the now familiar scent of old leather.
"I don't know who in the HELL you think you are, but as far as I'm aware molesting and assaulting children in public is illegal for anyone!" Harry's eyes cleared to find himself in the arm of Dan Granger while his other remained pointing down with a burning glare towards the ponce on the ground.
"C'mon Harry; we're leaving. We'll get our supplies another day when potential child molesters aren't around."
Hermione and Mrs. Gra... Emma started to protest, but a stern glare from Dan silenced them both.
- 4 - 4 - 4 -
