The Amplitude, Frequency and Resistance of the Soul Bond
Part Three: The Amplitude of the Soul Bond
Book Three: Bad Vibrations
Chapter Twenty-One: Vibrations
Hot.
Hot.
Hot.
Needless to say, it was a hot summer day that Harry found himself, clambered on his knees, the soft grass scratching at his bare, sweaty legs as he worked on the garden. The loud, yet warbled sound of a television sung softly through the open windows that the Dursleys had uncharacteristically left open.
"When is the air-con going to be fixed?" Harry heard Dudley whine.
"Better be soon Dudders," Vernon replied gruffly, "Or there'll be hell to pay." Harry winced slightly at hearing his uncle's voice. He may have been a rather dimwitted man, but he was stubborn and motivated when he wanted something, two qualities that allowed him to thrive in the Muggle business world.
Harry wiped a dirt smeared hand across his forehead, grimacing as he felt the familiar contours of his lightning bolt scar. He was almost done with the garden, but he knew that the moment he was finished, he would simply be assigned another job. Choosing to rather laze in the backyard then fan Dudley on the couch for the next hour, Harry pretended to meticulously prune the rose bush.
Lazy ass.
Say that again. I dare you to say that again.
Harry felt Ginny smirk. He looked through her eyes, and saw a wondrous blue sky, devoid of a single cloud. The sky looked very similar to Harry's, and the familiar heat was just as intense. The difference however, was that Ginny was being a lazy ass, and dangling her feet into the cool water of the Weasley Pond.
I heard that, scar-head.
Shut it, freckle face.
Harry suddenly felt a force enclose his hand firmly around the rose bush. The sharp thorns jutted into his skin, pricking into the blood. Harry swore as he yanked his hand outwards and began sucking on his injuries.
You bitch! You made me do that!
Don't call me freckle face!
Someone's on their period…
Say that again. I dare you to say that again.
It was Harry who smirked this time. He gave up his charade of gardening and walked to the sliding door that separated outdoors from indoors. He rapped softly three times. Aunt Petunia was there in an instant. If Harry hadn't known better, he would have said it was magic.
"What do you want?" His aunt asked him shrewdly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"I cut myself," Harry said simply, holding up his palm, revealing the dripping tendrils of blood. "Could you grab me some band-aids please?"
His aunt huffed under her breath at being asked to do something, but after seeing his hand, she shuffled away. Moments later she was back, with a small box full of Dettol wipes, wet-wipes, band-aids, and various other minor medical aids.
"Don't drip any blood on the tiles!" Aunt Petunia snapped.
"Yes aunt," Harry muttered, as she turned her back to him. Sighing, Harry got to work cleaning his wound. He placed the Dettol wipes on his hand, disinfecting the cuts.
Ow that stings…
Wuss.
Ginny felt a strange sensation overcome her. Her arms fell to her side, and pushed her forwards roughly. She fell, screeching, into the pond, clothes and all.
"Why'd you do that?" Ron asked his sister curiously. He was already in the pond, but had changed into his swimwear before jumping in. His sister was now splashing around angrily in her summer dress, her petite shoes dragging her slowly downwards.
"I don't know why Ronald!" Ginny snapped. "Because I wanted to!"
"Sheesh, leave me out of this then," Ron said, raising his hands in a surrendering fashion.
Harry was glad to see that his friend was looking well. The last year had been good for Ron. His shoulders had broadened, and he was slowly developing a solid physique. His active lifestyle at the Burrow, mixed with his enthusiasm for playing mock Quidditch at Hogwarts had combined to make him fitter than the average teen.
Ginny managed to flounder to the edge of the pond. She staggered outwards, the heavy weight of a sodden dress causing her knees to buckle somewhat. She shook her head, reminiscent of a dog, but angrier. Droplets of water glinting with mesmerizing flashes of rainbow glistened outwards as the sun glared down upon her.
You're in so much shit for that Harry.
You started this war.
Having no response, Ginny simply stormed back to her small backpack she had brought with her. Realizing that she had somehow forgotten a towel, she nicked Ron's, and began drying herself.
Harry had finally finished bandaging his battle wounds-
You're an idiot.
-and was cleaning up to return into the house. Aunt Petunia would be furious if he brought in dirt with him, so he made sure to clean meticulously.
Harry snuck up to his bedroom, crashing onto the bed with a heavy sigh. His feet dangled off the edge, causing him to both grimace and smirk at his newfound height.
The rest of the room was a mess. Books were strewn around the room, and there was no longer any space on the desk to write his essays. He had taken to his old habit, and now wrote upon his mattress. It didn't help that writing with a quill on such a soft surface caused the writing to be largely illegible. Deciding that Snape would have failed him, legible or not, Harry found the he didn't overly care.
Hedwig was perched upon her cage proudly, as if asserting her dominance over the metallic beast that usually kept her locked away. In her claws she held a curious pocket knife in an almost reverent fashion. Harry smiled, the cheeks on his tired face stiffening with dried dirt. Sirius had given him the pocket knife as an early birthday present. As with anything Sirius ever tried to give Harry, it had far more mischievous purposes than one would expect.
There were four blades within. One blade was able to unlock any Muggle lock. It was for that reason that Hedwig so reverently held the knife, having been freed from the metallic cagey beast by it. A second blade was able to disable any Muggle electronics if he swiped at it. Harry had found many uses for that one within the Dursley household, for example…
"Dad! Hurry and get the air-con working!" Dudley whined loudly from downstairs
The third blade was able to cork or uncork and bottle of alcohol with a simple push of the blade. Sirius had assured him that, in time, this blade would be the most useful.
The final blade simply screamed at Harry loudly and incoherently whenever he withdrew it. Harry decided that this blade was best left untouched.
Harry glanced at the other side of his room. Small clothes, large clothes, ratty clothes, holey clothes, ugly clothes, obnoxious clothes and strangely enough a woman's dress lay strewn across the ground. The good, wearable clothes remained shoved within his school trunk. Unfolded and perfectly wrinkled of course.
The Firebolt and the Nimbus 2000 drifted lazily across the ceiling, occasionally bumping into each other, as if greeting an old friend, before drifting apart again. Harry often found Hedwig resting upon one of the floating brooms.
It wasn't much, but it was all his. With a satisfied sigh, Harry closed his eyes, preferring to see what Ginny was up to.
If Harry's room was a mess, than it was safe to say that the Burrow was a disaster. Ginny was walking back to the house, a towel wrapped around her pleasantly wet body. The towel bulged out, more than slightly, as it lay draped across her chest.
You really like these two babies, don't you?
What can I say?
How about sorry?
We both know that's not true in the slightest.
Both teen's grinned ruggedly. They had long passed the stage of embarrassment of staring. It wasn't necessarily because they had wanted to, but a simple necessity of sharing a soul bond. Especially one that had evolved to a third stage. First it was mind speech, then the mind's eye, and now it was the mental body manipulation.
Ginny glanced away from her chest, and up to the Burrow. Disaster was certainly the correct word. Arthur had done some expanding over the last year. A two decker Muggle tour bus now protruded from the edge of the third story at a steep incline. Harry was reasonably confident that Arthur had charmed the bus to fly, crashed it into the house, and then to avoid his wife's wrath, had claimed that he was expanding the Burrow.
Needless to say, Harry couldn't wait to check it out himself.
Boys.
Oh come on, even you have to admit that it looks wicked. I bet you the Malfoy's don't have a double decker tour bus in their house.
Yes. They have a castle instead.
Psh. Castle's are overrated anyway.
Ginny made her way inside, and headed straight to the kitchen.
No surprise there.
Listen here scar-head, I was playing nice before. Don't make me angry.
Do your worse, carrot.
"Mercy!" Harry cried as he found his hands reaching out towards the wayward dress sprawled on the ground.
I can't hear you.
Mercy!
"It's good to see you smiling so much dear," Molly Weasley said to her daughter. "You seemed so confused last holiday, and then the holiday before… well…"
Everyone's minds fell away back to the Chamber. The place where it had all began. Especially for Harry and Ginny.
Do you regret it Harry?
Don't ask stupid questions Gin.
Ginny pouted as her mum began spreading a thin layer of jam upon a sandwich for her. Her mum glanced up, and with a frown, began laying on the jam with a fury.
Of course I don't regret it.
Ginny's smile became brilliant, and Molly smiled to herself as she passed Ginny a sandwich that was more jam than bread.
Man, I love your mum's cooking… Say his to your mum for me.
"Oh, by the way, Harry says hi," Ginny said to Molly, who beamed at her daughter.
"Harry's been sending you letters?" Molly asked curiously.
"Sure. Why not?" Ginny replied evasively.
"I'm so excited," Molly said excitedly, shaking her hands as excited as her excitedly excited voice sound. She left the kitchen to venture upstairs, but not before Ginny heard her murmur.
"What theme should the wedding be?"
Let's pretend we never heard that.
Deal.
Ginny polished off the sandwich, and then ventured up the rickety stairs, licking the tips of her sticky fingers, much like a cat might. At the third floor, a strange, large, gaping metal door blocked half of the hallway, causing Ginny to turn sideways to squeeze by. On the edge of the door "London Tour Bus" could be read in neat, computer generated handwriting.
That is so sweet.
Ginny rolled her eyes and continued to her bedroom. Finally within, she kicked the door shut with her foot, and collapsed onto the bed. Her room, like Harry's was a mess, but unlike Harry's the mess had a rhyme and reason to it.
You keep telling yourself that… Ow! Don't use my own hand to slap me!
To begin with, the floor of Ginny's room was not flat. So much expanding upon the house had done strange things to her room. What used to have been a slight dip in the floor boards was not a half a meter slope. Arthur had propped up a leg of Ginny's bed that sat in the slope with a microwave. Molly had then painted the microwave maroon to match with the hand-made bed sheets.
Naturally, there being a dip in the floor, the mess of the room seemed to gravitate towards the dip. One side of the dip held dirty clothing, while the other side stored her Hogwarts supplies. A precarious stack of romance books were supported by a tall vacuum cleaner that Arthur had remodeled into a book shelf. A corner of the bus poked it's head into the room above her bed, and Ginny used it to dangle various sparkly charms. Arthur had managed to slip a toy airyplanet-
Aeroplane
-to one of the strings, and it now puffed in wide circles above the bed.
It was a bit of a climb, but if you could squeeze through the window, that had once been square, but was now triangular, Arthur had built a small yet comfortable veranda out of the wood that had been knocked out when the double decker bus had made it's appearance into the Burrow.
Your bedroom is wicked.
Wait till you see the twin's room.
I just want to see the inside of the bus.
Ginny rolled her eyes, before grabbing a pillow and hugging it to herself.
Harry sighed, and opened up his eyes.
I know Gin. I want to be with you too.
What is Dumbledore making you wait for!
I dunno. He said that he was almost ready though.
Harry felt the chord that connected himself with Ginny throb angrily. Harry sighed again. He knew that there was a reason Dumbledore was making him stay with the Dursleys, but for once, he wished that Dumbledore was wrong.
Harry…
Yeah?
Do you think that we can do… that… again?
Harry groaned. He didn't want to do… that. It was embarrassing. He wasn't even that good at it. Ginny was far better when she was doing it.
Please! We'll make it a quick session.
Quick for you is different then me. I'm done far earlier.
They both paused as they thought about what they had been saying.
You know, that conversation could have easily been misinterpreted.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter.
Ok, ok… I was just saying…
Harry picked himself up off the bed and began shuffling around the room.
"Where did I put it?" He muttered to himself, moments before he bashed his toes against something relatively solid.
"Sonuva- oh, there it is," Harry said bemused. He reached down at the empty ground, and with his dexterous, nimble fingers lifted pinched a segment of the invisibility cloak. As he swished the cloak at the corner of the room, consequently causing Hedwig to vanish, an acoustic guitar revealed itself upon the floor.
Harry picked up the guitar reverently. Sirius hadn't been the only one to give Harry an early birthday present. Remus had gifted Harry with a guitar that belonged to none other than James Potter.
Once upon a time, it had probably been a sleek, masterwork guitar, with barely a blemish or a scratch upon its rosewood body. However, Remus had explained that James despised anything orderly or clean. Chaos was much preferred.
Now, tacky stickers littered the body of the guitar. A wolf, a hound, a stag and a lily were all crudely chiseled into the wooden body. It was James's own handiwork, according to Remus. There was also a rat somewhere, but Remus had covered it up with a tacky sticker of his own.
Despite now looking like a piece of junk, the guitar still sounded like the sleek beauty it must have once been. James may have liked chaos, but he liked his chaos sounding good.
Sitting down on the bed, Harry let his fingers flick over the metallic strings, causing soft, humming vibrations to pleasantly reach out and encompass his body. As usual, Dumbledore has been right when he said that music was a magic beyond all that was taught at Hogwarts.
Alright, what song do you want me to play?
Oh! Oh! The one with the clapping!
The slow one?
Mmm, no. The faster one.
Alright, here we go.
Harry winced as he buggered up the first note. The guitar made a horrible buzzing sound, but he ignored it and kept strumming, building up a rhythm. He was by no means a good guitarist yet. He had only been practicing for this holiday.
Still, the good vibrations that reverberated from the instrument were enough to keep Harry motivated to keep playing. If that hadn't been enough though, there was more.
Ginny sprung herself off the bed, and feeling the vibrations of the guitar to the fullest through the chord, she began clapping to the song. It was fast and lively, causing her to twirl around the room. The rear side mirror of the bus that Arthur had position in her room revealed a peek of her red hair pulsing outwards like a living flame as she twirled her body.
Harry let a serene smile wash across his face, before putting more effort into the strumming, making sure each finger released a pure, melodic note.
It was then that she started singing.
It wasn't perfect, but what Ginny lacked up in talent, she made up in volume. She belted out the lyrics to the song as she skipped from one side of the room to the other. Harry felt the hair on his arms, which he had only discovered this summer, prickle outwards as he let the vibrations of her voice rush over his body, pleasantly crushing him like a generous waterfall. It reminded him of when she used to sing in the shower, to distract her mind and prevent Harry from seeing her naked body. He had always liked her singing. Even without the naked body to go along with it.
All too soon, the song was over.
Another one! Another one Harry!
You said this was going to be a quick session…
Well, I lied. Now, play the one about the sun.
You're such a nuisance sometimes.
Harry rolled his eyes, and sent a twinge of annoyance through the chord, but Ginny replied by sending a flood of affection. Harry grinned, his mock-annoyance fading.
Alright then, let's see what we've got here…
The summer holidays were always the hardest for Harry and Ginny. Being apart was excruciating for them.
Yet somehow, Harry thought to himself as he let his blistered fingers press the vibrating strings down, and Ginny's voice wash over him, they managed to make things work. They would always survive, together.
It's not really a chapter. More of a teaser, or a prologue. It was helpful for me to blast back into writing.
Sorry for being away for so long, fellow readers. I had to think deeply about how to best construct the next story, and then I got sidetracked by my writing my own original novel after coming up with so many ideas. Hopefully, the fact that this is the start of a new book, means the lack of previous updates for a while won't be too confusing eh :P
Point is, I haven't abandoned you :D
Cheers
-Council