DZ2's Den of Delights
Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: The Den of Delights is open once more and I'm both grateful and amazed by everyone that has enjoyed my previous instalments and encouraged my ideas to flourish. I have to admit myself impressed; I never expected most of my ideas to be so well-respected by you, my readers, so thank you;
All right, this one is a response to my newest challenge 'Familiar Family' and has a few of my favourite themes thrown in, but see what you think…
The Water Wizard
Anyone who knew the name Harry Potter could say that the boy had quite a normal life;
All right, it was only made less normal because of how Harry had been raised by his Aunt and Uncle after the deaths of his parents, but aside from that, he was a perfectly-normal boy.
Okay, so maybe that would be pushing things too, given that strange and unusual things happened whenever he was angry or scared, but aside from that, Harry was perfectly normal and happy with his life.
Living with his relatives, the Dursleys, whom were his family on his Mother's side and had not only taken him in, but raised him like a second son, Harry had become a rather average, but smart young man with a talent for caring for others and using his mind to solve puzzles and riddles that would otherwise be impossible. Though he didn't understand the meaning behind the strange and unusual things that happened whenever he got angry or scared, Harry was content to let his Aunt's words about waiting until he was ready put his fears and doubts aside.
Besides, privately, Harry found the things that he could do in said scenarios to be rather cool: like when he was six and this boy from school, Colin Danvers, chased him onto the school roof. He'd driven Harry to the edge and yet, when Harry had turned and yelled for Colin to leave him alone, he'd found his voice somehow amplified to the point that the echoing, booming force of his voice actually sent the boy flying back.
He was soon expelled for bullying a younger boy, but Harry never forgot it; neither did he forget the way that certain people seemed to look at him with a mutual respect and, on one such occasion, when he was in London with his family, a man with absurd-looking clothes had bowed to him in a shop.
Why?
Harry didn't know, but he kind of liked the thought of someone out there liking him with that much respect.
Maybe it was his desire to care for others or maybe it was that respect that he had, but something made destiny nudge Harry in the direction he took following his ninth birthday.
The Water Wizard
It was the start of another hot day and Harry, dressed only in a pair of knee-length shorts and a pair of sunglasses that obscured his eyes from the sun, looked out of the window from the hotel room in Rhyl, North Wales where his Aunt and Uncle had brought him and Dudley for a summer holiday.
"Mind if I go down to the beach?" asked Harry, half-excited and half-curious about the water below the hotel.
"Stay where people can see you," Petunia advised him, already packing her own bag as she added, "Your Uncle and I will be out shortly and remember…"
"I know," Harry sighed, remembering the now-ninety-eight times before this that they'd had this conversation, "Keep my emotions under control and don't let any of the bad kids upset me."
Giving him a motherly kiss on his brow, Petunia let Harry go just as Vernon emerged from the adjoining room, laughing to himself as he saw his nephew and honorary son having so much fun. However, following his nephew's escape to the beach below, the well-tanned, slightly-muscled form of his cousin/brother Dudley behind him, Vernon turned and, approaching Petunia, he gave out a sigh before he hugged her close, his voice gentle as he told her, "You're going to have to have a chat with him soon, Pet: in about a year's time, those letters will arrive and he'll be asking."
"I know," Petunia sighed, "But he shouldn't have to hear this, Vernon: all right, he's been having accidents in the past, but he doesn't need to know the full story…just think about what it could do to him."
"Maybe," Vernon agreed, "But I think he's actually starting to remember it."
"What makes you say that?" asked Petunia, her eyes filled with shock as she heard the definite tone in her husband's voice.
"He's been having nightmares again," Vernon explained, rubbing at his eyes as he explained, "Thanks to my late nights with the firm, I've often gone to bed or woken up in the night and found him coming out of the bathroom himself…sweat all over him…and what looks like a bleed of some sort out of that scar of his."
"A…a bleed?" asked Petunia, "What do you think is doing that?"
"Maybe it's his gifts," Vernon replied, knowing that his wife didn't like it when they used the real word around others, "At his age, from what you always told me, he'd be showing them: maybe remembering that bad night of his is just the first step or something."
"Vernon," Petunia remarked suddenly, her voice tinged with determination as she followed her husband down the hallway of the hotel towards the beach, "I spent too long despising Lily for what was different about us: we both swore when we took Harry in that we wouldn't let that hatred spill over to him. He's just a little boy and…"
"And he's going to be more in due time," Vernon replied, putting a comforting arm around his wife as he added, "His gifts…the friends he'll make…it'll be a world that we can't follow him into, Pet. What are we meant to do? Destroy the evidence before he has a chance to learn the truth?"
"No," Petunia answered, "When…when it happens, we'll have a word with him…but…I just don't want him to lose himself to…to them like Lily did."
"He's a bright kid," Vernon reasoned, shaking his head as he chuckled to himself, "I doubt he'll let that happen before we get the chance to do likewise: now come on, the boys are waiting for us."
The Water Wizard
Harry had always enjoyed the holidays and, as he ran along the sands of the beach, feeling its warm sand push up between his toes, he couldn't help but enjoy this part of it too. With the cool waters lapping at the shore and the feel of the summery breeze on his skin, the young boy felt a sense of liking that he'd never really known before.
At the same time, he made sure that he was in sight of his family, a smile showing on his face at the thought of his family: his Aunt Petunia, who was his Mother's sister, had always said that he was a special little boy and, in due time, he would find out how and why. His Uncle Vernon, who'd once made a living as a bodybuilder before an injury forced him to take over his Father's business with Grunnings, had also tried to bulk Harry up and show him the meaning of real strength, whatever that meant.
However, despite his best efforts, Harry was left as being of medium height for someone his age, his skin tone and muscle being no better than a lean, slightly-lanky person. The few muscles that he did have on his skin were mostly on his shoulders and abdomen, though not as defined as some of the people Harry had seen on television.
At Aunt Petunia's request, Harry had also gone through a procedure of surgery to heal what was close to being poor eyesight had they not treated it when they did. This made sure that his emerald-green eyes – a last gift from his Mummy, Aunt Petunia had said – could shine brightly in the sun and show the world his radiance and innocence. His dark hair, which was from his Dad's side of the family, usually stuck up wildly like he'd just gotten out of bed, though when Harry chose to brush it down, it was usually with his bangs covering his forehead to hide the one dark thing about his life.
A scar, no bigger than maybe a 50p piece, in the shape of a lightning bolt that was over his right eye; he didn't know where it had come from, but lately, Harry had dreamt of a flash of green light, a high, cold, cruel laugh and a woman's voice screaming his name.
When he had these nightmares, they were often followed by him waking with a cold sweat, needing to use the toilet and unable to get back to sleep for a while. Ever since he'd turned nine, Harry had asked a teacher of his about dreams and memories and, when he did, he was then asked by Aunt Petunia after the next parents evening to just let it go.
She'd explain everything when he was ready, or so she said, but Harry didn't know when that time would be:
Why was his Aunt keeping so many secrets from him?
Were they about his Mum and Dad?
A feel of cold against his toes startled Harry and, as he looked down, he felt a childish giggle escape him as he realised that, lost in his thoughts as he had been, he'd accidentally waded towards the rock-pools along one side of the beach. Now the sea was washing over his feet, soaking his sandshoes and tickling his feet in the process.
Climbing out of the water onto the nearest rocky outcropping, Harry turned back, his eyes searching for his family when, all of a sudden, something else caught his eye.
It looked like a light of some sort; smallish and blue and appearing to glow from within one of the rock-pools.
'Curious, but bright and warm,' thought Harry, remembering what his Uncle had always said about him: it was true as well. He enjoyed learning as much as he could about anything and everything and, over time, he became one of the best in his class while also achieving the level of Free Reader at school.
Often times, the librarian would keep new books aside just for him and he would spend hours on end hungrily reading through their pages, learning all that there was to know and more.
And now, a new mystery called out to him: approaching the light, Harry peered into the pool and there, at the bottom of the watery depths, surrounded by small crabs and other such creatures, there was a small blue sphere, no bigger than a gumball.
"What?" asked Harry, reaching into the water and, avoiding the sharp claws of the crabs, he wrapped his fingers around the small sphere; lifting it out of the water, Harry held it up to the light.
It was strangely see-through and yet it was heavy and warm to the touch: lowering the orb again, Harry shrugged ruefully before he pocketed the sphere, deciding to take a better look back at the hotel.
However, as he went to step across back to the shoreline, Harry's foot slipped on a particularly damp piece of seaweed and, before he could stop himself, he found himself falling towards the sea, his world going black in an instant.
The last thing that he heard was a sound like the roar of the waves and, just over its roar, a strange voice that called out to him…
'My Prince…'
And there we go; a pretty random idea, I grant you, but one that wouldn't leave me alone: I don't know if I will develop it, but I needed to get it down on paper;
Anyway, next idea in my Den of Delights to come very soon…