Title: Bewitch the Mind and Ensnare the Senses
Disclaimer: Out of courtesy, I am compelled to state that I do not claim ownership over the characters I am using. They are the original creation of J. K. Rowling, as is the rest of the Harry Potter World.
A/N: Hello readers! This is not my first fanfiction, but it is my first story on this account. I have it all mostly planned out, but please provide feedback early on, as I might still modify future chapters.
Chapter 1: An Unwanted Warning
. . .
Pshhhh. Pshhhh. A few seconds later the sound of a paper towel being ripped off of its roll.
Harry put down the spray bottle full of cleaner and wiped away at the picture frame he was holding. It was only the beginning of a whole wall of Dudley that adorned the front hallway of Number 4 Privet Drive. The frame was painted bronze with carved edges which Harry was now scraping the dust out of.
Behind him was a cupboard under the stairs which the Dursleys forced him to sleep in for the first 11 years of his life. Often, they would lock him in there for days, and Harry learned at a young age how to handle an empty stomach and no access to a bathroom. Although currently, the only thing that was collecting dust in his cupboard was all of his school supplies.
Well, I did try to ask Vernon if I could have my school supplies back, and that ended poorly. Harry held his hand to his ribs, tenderly feeling the bruises that speckled his abdomen. In the past few days, his wrist had also stopped swelling, thankfully, although Harry still thinks the bone had been broken and it was only due to his magic that it had healed within a few weeks. Vernon had been in a relatively good mood recently, so Harry has been able to avoid receiving any more injuries.
Harry fumbled around with the frame, moving it around until he found the nail and hung it back in its spot. He held back a wince as a sharp pain flared up his wrist when he rotated it a few degrees in the wrong direction.
Anything related to magic was currently forbidden by the Durselys, they were terrified of Harry, and he was using that to his advantage. He would say nonsense phrases and wave sticks around like they were wands so that Dudley avoided him. Vernon, out of fear, had allowed Harry to move into the room upstairs. Harry was grateful for the increased amount of space but still felt that he would start his second year at Hogwarts already behind compared to his classmates who had the whole summer to look at their new spellbooks.
Pshhhhhhhhhh. Harry sprayed a bunch of frames at the same time, unconcerned at the extra cleaning solution that now dripped down the wall in between frames.
Harry had also wanted to show some of his spellbooks to his sister Calla.
Calla Lily Potter, the unborn child that nobody knew about when the Potters went into hiding, was a year younger than Harry. She had been eager to learn anything and everything about the wizarding world. Harry hesitantly told her about his numerous near-death experiences at Hogwarts as him and his friends looked for the Sorcerer's Stone last year: finding Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, fluffy the three-headed dog, a giant game of chess, fighting off a troll, and coming face to face with Quirrell. Calla was rightfully unimpressed at how frequently Harry seemed to find himself in danger, but none of her brother's tales could lessen her excitement to attend Hogwarts herself.
Harry realized he had been drying off the same perfectly poised photo of the Dursley family for a while now. He grabbed the spray bottle and moved to the next row of Dudley portraits.
At that moment, Dudley opened his bedroom door and came thudding down the stairs. He had a smug look on his face. Harry picked up a delicate looking frame that hung next to him and slowly wiped at it with his paper towel.
"I know what day it is," Dudley taunted.
"Yeah me too, this is the day of the week that I practice my transfiguration spells," Harry jested, returning the smirk.
Dudley paused at the bottom of the stairs and eyed his cousin wearily.
"No, I mean it's your birthday, and none of your friends sent you anything! And nobody got you anything, and Daddy and Mommy don't even remember, and you don't even get a cake!" Dudley jeered.
Harry pretended not to hear him. "Yes, I think I could transfigure you into a painting, and then for 24 hours, you would be stuck in this frame. Dudley, you'll have to let me know how it feels to be two-dimensional, but just as soon as I grab my wand-"
"NOOO, HEY! Daddy said you weren't allowed to do any of your m- ma... your, tricks and stuff," Dudley cried out.
Harry shrugged. "Yeah, you're right, you might not fit in this frame, even if you went down a dimension. Ah well, I guess I'll just have to practice transfiguration on something else."
"Don't even say that word, transmigration- or whatever!"
Dudley had balled his hands into fists. Harry kept spraying the frame and dusting it off, amused at his cousin's temper.
His mood suddenly brightened up. "Well you know can't do 'trains-mitigation'? Your freak sister!" Dudley pushed Harry to the ground hard with one meaty hand, making Harry's head smack against the wall. Then Dudley ran towards the kitchen, straining his thick neck so that his head could look in every direction.
What the hell does Dudley want to do? Fight someone? Harry wondered, but he immediately worried for his sister.
He closed his eyes and allowed emotions to flood his thoughts: fear, ambush, dismay, surprise, anxiety, distress, danger, belligerence. His breathing quickened, and he let the emotions spread deeper throughout his consciousness.
Be careful Calla, stay away from Dudley, he thought to himself. Watch out for Dudley.
Harry paused and waited, hoping she had felt it.
. . .
Calla had been just putting away the trimmers in the shed when she noticed it.
Harry's mind had always been familiar, even when they weren't in the same room, she could always reach out with her mind and find Harry. He was always the easiest person for her to read, and without even thinking about it, she always maintained the mental connection that she had with her brother; being able to know how he was feeling and thinking at any moment had always reassured her.
Harry's emotions had shifted.
Harry felt anxiety...danger...things were cloudy and grey, Calla couldn't quite make it out. She also sensed worry and panic. Calla continued to listen, waiting for words to form out of the mist of emotions. She walked out of the shed and towards the side of the house, feeling mentally alert.
Be careful Calla... stay away...Dudley.
The intensity of Harry's emotions allowed his message to be much clearer.
Calla heard Dudley barge into the backyard, shouting… something? Then it sounded like he punched a bush? Calla snuck silently around the front of the house and approached the front door. As she walked into the house, she met the green eyes of her brother. He looked up at her from the ground, and smiled, relieved.
"Why are you on the ground?" Calla asked in a chipper tone.
"Oh nevermind that. Stay out of range of Dudley's fists, he's uh-."
"He's in quite a mood, yep, I heard you. He's been watching boxing again, yeah?"
Harry sighed, "something like that. And don't worry about me, I've come up with a few more fake spells to scare him off if he decides to use me as a punching bag again." Calla smiled and continued upstairs to Harry's bedroom.
The last year had been difficult because Calla wasn't able to sense Harry's mind and emotions since Hogwarts was so far away. She had spent the first 10 years of her life figuring out how to read Harry's thoughts, and Harry had spent a lot of time helping her develop this skill. Growing up, Dudley and Vernon would both take their anger out on the two of them, and Harry did his best to protect Calla. There were a few times when Vernon was on a rampage and Harry didn't want to risk Calla getting hurt, so he would imagine someone running, and Calla always knew that meant to get out of the house for the next few hours. Unfortunately, that meant Harry would take the brunt of Vernon's rage, but Harry made her swear to always get out of the house if he sent her that message.
Calla didn't exactly know what she was doing at first, it took her a few years to realize she was hearing other people's thoughts and not hearing voices in her head. Reading into other people's minds felt so natural for her. People are easier to read when they're emotional. So when Harry needed to send her an urgent message, he would force himself to feel emotional. Calla would notice the change in Harry's mind and the heightened emotional state that he put himself in usually helped Calla understand his thoughts, and Calla could translate his thoughts into words much easier.
At least that's what the two of them have figured out thus far, again, they had no idea what it was they were doing.
Trying to interpret thoughts wasn't like opening a book and perusing through a neat bulleted list of ideas. In reality, Calla often sees images or memories or concepts which she later puts into words. Everyone's mind had a unique flow to it, and she had learned the fingerprint of Harry's mind quite well over the years. Calla enjoyed comparing her skill to watching smoke. You can see it, and you know what shape the smoke might look like in one moment, but the smoke can swirl and shift into another image seconds later. Anytime Calla tried to verbally describe what she was doing when she read into someone's mind, it was like she was grabbing at the smoke and pinning it down...but smoke isn't something that is meant to be held in your hands.
. . .
Once Dudley returned to watching television in his bedroom, Harry and Calla had spent the rest of the day cleaning the windows, washing the car, mowing the lawn, trimming the flowerbeds, pruning and watering the roses, and repainting the garden bench. It was half-past seven in the evening when at last, exhausted, Harry heard Aunt Petunia calling them in.
"Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!"
Harry was more than happy to move inside and out of the heat. On top of the fridge stood tonight's pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven.
"Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!" snapped Aunt Petunia, pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table. Calla had already started eating her portion and she glanced at her brother with a frown. Harry washed his hands and bolted down his pitiful supper.
The moment he had finished, Aunt Petunia whisked away his plate. "Get upstairs now, and be quiet the rest of the night! Hurry!" Aunt Petunia shooed Calla and Harry out of the kitchen.
As they passed the door to the living room, Harry caught a glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bow ties and dinner jackets. He had only just reached the upstairs landing when the doorbell rang and Uncle Vernon's furious face appeared at the foot of the stairs.
"Remember - one sound -"
Harry and Calla exchanged glances and crossed to their bedroom on tiptoe, slipped inside, closed the door softly. Harry turned around, expecting to only be greeted by his snowy owl.
Instead, he found himself staring at a creature that was bouncing gleefully on his bed. It made a cheerful little laugh as it soared through the air. The little creature had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. Calla gasped and grabbed Harry's arm, standing behind him.
"Er- hello," said Harry anxiously.
"Harry Potter! What an honor it is to meet you, sir! And who is Harry Potter's friend?" The creature's voice was high-pitched, almost a screech, and Harry worried that it would carry all the way downstairs.
"This is my sister, Calla." Harry stepped to the side a little as Calla let go of his arm.
"Allow me to take your coat, Mr. and Mrs. Mason," Dudley said politely at the front door.
Dobby's bulging eyes seemed to bulge even more when a look of surprise passed over his face. "Dobby is humbled to be in the presence of you both."
"Who are you?" Call said accusingly.
"I am Dobby sir, Dobby the house-elf," the creature replied.
Aunt Petunia let out an obnoxious laugh and invited the Masons into the living room.
Harry had a feeling that Dobby didn't mean any harm, so he took a cautious step towards him. "Look, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but this isn't a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom."
"Dobby understands, sir, Dobby is only here to tell Harry Potter something… and I suppose to also tell Calla Potter the same thing, uh… it is- it is- difficult sir, Dobby doesn't know quite where to-" Dobby continued to grab at his clothes with his hands, looking down at the ground, embarrassed.
Harry offered, "Well, why don't you sit down?"
"S- Sit… sit, d- down? Sit down?" Dobby burst into tears, wailing loud enough that the voices downstairs faltered.
"Shhh, I'm sorry-" Harry was at a loss for what he had done to offend Dobby, and he looked at his sister, hoping she could maybe glimpse Dobby's thoughts.
Calla moved quickly and knelt to look at Dobby at the same height. "Hey, uh, it's okay. I know it is weird that Harry asked you to sit down, uh, that is very unusual, yes. He was being kind." That only seemed to make Dobby wail louder, and Harry looked to make sure his bedroom door was closed. Calla spoke rapidly, "And, we need you to do us a favor and quiet down! Please, please stop crying Dobby."
Dobby covered his sniffles with his ragged clothes but was still breathing quickly. He locked eyes with Calla and nodded in understanding, slowly settling down.
Once he had composed himself, the house-elf stuttered, "Dobby has heard of your greatness sir, but never, never, has Dobby been asked to sit down by a wizard, like… like an e- equal."
Harry narrowed his gaze, not fully making sense of where this creature came from.
"No, Dobby has never met a wizard as kind as Harry Potter...and Dobby has never met a legilimens that is as talented as Calla Potter. What an honor to have met you, how great are Harry Potter and Calla Potter!" Dobby bowed again.
"Well, er, thanks Dobby," Calla said before asking, "What did you say about me?"
Dobby seemed delighted with himself to explain to Calla what she could do. "Calla Potter is a legilimens. House-elves do not have the same magic as witches and wizards, but I can still feel when another is searching through my mind… your skills are impressive Calla Potter."
Calla stuttered, "Uh okay..."
"So that's what her skill is called? Calla is a legilimens?" Harry asked, kneeling so that he was eye-level with Dobby. Dobby nodded and shifted his eyes to Harry.
Calla blinked a few times, processing the onslaught of new information. "Uh...that's good to know, I guess. And Dobby doesn't mean us harm, he is being honest, I was able to read that much...I think, but it felt really different."
Harry looked at Dobby. "Well, he's not human." Calla tilted her head and continued to look at Dobby, trying not to peer into his mind too much since he said he could feel it when she did.
"Right," Harry continued. "Well, I'm glad you don't mean us any harm Dobby, but why are you here?"
Dobby paced a little around the room as he spoke. "Dobby had to come. Dobby has to protect Harry Potter and his sister. To warn them. Harry Potter and Calla Potter must not go back to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry!"
Calla looked baffled. "What?"
"There is a plot. A plot to make the most terrible things happen." Dobby added in an urgent whisper, "If Harry goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in grave danger!" Calla tried again to gather something from Dobby's mind, but his thoughts became a blur the more panicky he became. Calla had never seen mental images fly by so quickly.
"What terrible things? Who's plotting them?" Harry asked.
Dobby panicked and looked around his room and began banging his head against Harry's desk. The noise was definitely carrying downstairs.
Calla "Stop it, Dobby, no!" She immediately reached out with her mind and felt the desperation and frightened panic that Dobby was drowning in.
I must...BAD DOBBY...punish myself...BAD! BAD! His thoughts were sharp and had a darkened gloomy feel in her mind, but Calla sensed a sort of normalcy to his actions as if punishing himself was a daily occurrence.
"You're not bad Dobby!"
Dobby froze, not sure how to respond. He looked intently at the younger Potter girl, opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. He was about to swing his head into Harry's desk again when Calla shot her hand out and put it in between Dobby's head and the desk.
"No." Harry watched as Calla and Dobby seemed to speak wordlessly through their minds. The house-elf straightened up and swallowed, looking nervous.
Vernon's voice downstairs laughed uneasily as he said, "Oh don't mind that, it's just the uh, cat!"
"But Dobby must punish himself, Dobby-"
"That's cruel and just wrong, why would you do that? Why would you feel like you have to do that? You're not bad Dobby, no, that's just wrong!"
Dobby looked completely befuddled. "Dobby is a house-elf and is bound to serve one family. If Dobby does not obey orders, then Dobby must punish himself."
"Well can you do it later? You make too much noise when you hit your head like that," Harry asked.
Dobby took one look at Calla's upset face and nodded, though he still looked a little troubled.
"What's going to happen at Hogwarts, you need to tell me Dobby," Harry said in a stern tone.
Dobby shook his head and both of his tiny hands grabbed at his ears and pulled. He gritted his teeth and let out a little squeal.
"You can't say exactly what will happen? Or you're not allowed to tell us…" Dobby waved his head around and made a few more mutters under his breath.
"Eeek, err, no, Dobby- can't-"
Calla sighed, "Well, it doesn't matter. We have to go back to Hogwarts."
Harry agreed, "We belong in your world, with other witches and wizards. It's the only place we've got friends."
Dobby let go of his ears and spoke up finally. "Friends that don't even write to Harry Potter, sir?"
"Well, I expect they've been… hang on-"
"You've been stealing Harry's letters!" Calla deduced, seeing clearly into the mind of the house-elf now as he sheepishly reached into his pillowcase that he wore for a shirt.
Dobby cowered and held the stack of letters in front of him. Harry could make out Hermione's neat writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked as though it was from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.
"Dobby has them here." He looked upset as he stammered, "Dobby thought… thought that Harry would not want to return to Hogwarts... if he thought his friends had forgotten about him. You mustn't be angry with Dobby."
Harry held out his hand. "Dobby, give those back, now!"
Dobby clutched the letters and let out sort of a scared squeal, evading Harry's hand which tried to grab him. He opened the door and in a few bounds was at the top of the stairs. Like a ping pong ball, Dobby rebounded down the stairs and raced towards the kitchen before skidding to a halt.
"Dobby, get back here!" Harry whispered aggressively racing after the house-elf.
Calla followed behind her brother, trying to make as little noise as possible. She leaned over the stairwell, observing them both argue in the front hallway. Harry was trying to get Dobby to get out of the kitchen doorway.
Dobby raised his arm and snapped. The pudding that Petunia had worked on for hours was now hovering above its plate.
"Dobby, please, no," Harry begged.
"Harry Potter must say he won't go back to school!"
"I can't, Hogwarts is my home!"
Dobby looked pained. "Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good." He snapped again and the pudding moved silently towards the couch in the living room. Harry pushed past Dobby and raised his hands, thinking he could catch it before it fell.
Calla put her hand in front of her mouth, feeling very alarmed, and then stared right at Dobby. He had a funny look on his face, and while they were making eye contact, Calla tried to push through the house-elf's racing thoughts to understand what Dobby was trying to warn them from.
Blonde haired man, Dobby was being kicked aside, wizards showing up at a manor, it was an incredibly nice house, they were exchanging words, "raids by the ministry", she saw a disgusted expression, Calla was looking up at the men from a low angle, as if from Dobby's perspective...
Dobby was talking to another house-elf that was cowering in the corner and shaking his head, Dobby was trying to say something, it seemed urgent...
Dobby was polishing a set of armor, 'who keeps a set of armor in their house these days?', Calla mused, suddenly the man with the long blonde hair burst into the room and went straight for the desk and looked furiously through the drawers, cursing to himself, Dobby looked back at the armor and watched in the reflection as the man seemed to find what he was looking for, something small and black that he clutched in his hand, Dobby wiped again at the armor, he was using a maroon cloth...
The sound of pudding falling ungracefully onto Mrs. Mason's head interrupted Calla's focus. What followed was a few seconds of stunned silence in the Dursley household. Dobby turned back towards Harry and then disappeared with a CRACK!
Vernon said, "I'm so sorry. It's my nephew, he's very disturbed. Meeting strangers upsets him."
At first, it looked as though Uncle Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. He shooed the shocked Masons back into the dining room, promised Harry he would flay him to within an inch of his life when the Masons had left, and handed him a mop. Aunt Petunia dug some ice cream out of the freezer and Harry, still shaking, started scrubbing the kitchen clean. Calla walked down silently and began helping him clean up.
As they were dumping the icing into the trash, Harry avoided Calla's gaze.
Calla sensed Harry thinking something along the lines of, what will Vernon do?
"Harry-"
"-it'll be fine."
Calla nodded, hands shaking as she wiped the floor clean.
"I uh, tried to look into Dobby's mind, but it didn't make any sense, I couldn't figure anything out, I'm sorry…" Calla was not sure what else to say.
Harry didn't reply but moved on to the section of the couch that had been most covered in pudding. He listened to his uncle and hoped that if the rest of the night went well, the beating he would get later wouldn't be as bad.
Uncle Vernon might still have been able to make his deal - if it hadn't been for the owl. Aunt Petunia was just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when a huge barn owl swooped through the dining room window, dropped a letter on Mrs. Mason's head, and swooped out again. Mrs. Mason screamed like a banshee and ran from the house shouting about lunatics. Mr. Mason stayed just long enough to tell the Dursleys that his wife was mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this was their idea of a joke
Vernon had a demonic glint in his eyes. He advanced on Harry, brandishing the letter and hissed, "Well go on, read it, boy!"
Dear Mr. Potter,
We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.
As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).
We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.
Enjoy your holidays!
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE
Ministry of Magic
Harry looked up from the letter and gulped.
Vernon waved his finger at Calla. "You've been lying to us this whole time? Both of you aren't allowed to use any of your freakishness while you're here?" Harry moved and stood between Calla and his uncle.
"Don't touch her. She did nothing wrong."
"She's a freak just the same as you are, BOY!" There was a mad gleam in Vernon's eye and he started to raise his arms.
Harry wrapped his arm behind him and held onto Calla. Thinking fast he said, "and she needs to continue cleaning before the pudding stains the carpet."
"FINE. The freak can stay and clean up. Boy, upstairs, NOW," Vernon spat.
Harry climbed the stairs two at a time to stay ahead of his uncle who was barreling through the house behind him. Vernon slammed the door to Harry's room and was standing over him in a second.
He shook his head and waved his arm flippantly and spat, "You ruined this evening, you cost me what could've been the biggest sale of my CAREER!" He swung his arm into Harry's chest, where the bruises from a few weeks ago hadn't fully healed.
Harry exhaled and fell on his knees, reeling from the pain. Vernon kicked him in the side a few times, and Harry curled up into a ball so that his knees protected his chest.
"Stand up, boy!" Vernon yelled.
Harry didn't move fast enough, and Vernon kept kicking at his legs. Vernon finally grabbed Harry's shirt and hoisted him up and slammed into his closet door. Harry's knees started to buckle so Vernon hooked his elbow into Harry's neck and held him upright.
His fist swung at Harry again and, a few times at his head which smacked roughly against the closet door. Black spots danced in his vision. Vernon let Harry fall to the ground and kicked at him again, making his head collide with the edge of his closet door. Blood trickled down his face. Vernon took a step back and paused, breathing heavily.
"Now I'll have to explain this to my boss! You've cursed this whole household, you and your freakishness-"
Harry groaned and sat up, hoping that meant this was over for now. He coughed. His entire chest ached.
Vernon heaved, "As if I haven't already taught you how I FEEL ABOUT YOUR LITTLE TRICKS!"
Vernon grabbed Harry's arm and forced him to his feet.
"Uncle, it won't happen again, I swear-" but Harry was interrupted when Vernon slapped him across the cheek.
"Nothing should've happened tonight at all! You went out of your way to screw things up for me!" Vernon tightened his grip on Harry's arm, practically cutting off circulation and making Harry grimace.
"And do you know what else? Now I know that you're not allowed to use magic when you're not at school! And you've been taunting my Dudley with that for the last two months!" Vernon threw Harry onto the ground.
Calla heard a thud from the second floor as she sprayed more carpet stain remover. She shuddered, fearing the worst for Harry. For the next ten minutes, she heard the sound of Vernon's fist coming into contact with Harry only interrupted by Vernon screaming insults at her brother. Calla cleared her throat and choked back a few tears. If it wasn't already torturing enough to have to listen to this happen every time Vernon was angry at them, Calla could feel her brother's pain through his mind. She felt his hurt and his desperation.
A few years ago, Harry made Calla swear that she would never do anything to try and stop Vernon because that typically only ended up making the beating worse. Harry would always take the blame, and anytime Vernon threatened Calla, Harry would step in, and Vernon usually didn't go through the effort of trying to get past Harry to beat Calla. Calla wanted so badly to try and protect Harry, but every time she did that, it made everything worse, and both of them ended up too hurt to take care of the other.
Finally, she heard the sound of Vernon's footsteps going down the stairs and into the dining room. Calla retreated into the kitchen and finished rinsing off the dishes as fast as she could. She grabbed a cloth and moistened it with cold water then moved towards her and Harry's bedroom.
When she opened the door into Harry's room, he had already pushed himself onto their bed and laid facing the wall, curled up on his side.
"Hey, you alright? Oh, Harry…" Calla said sadly as she reached her brother. She gently touched his shoulder and allowed Harry to roll over onto his back as he made a quiet whine of pain. He opened his eyes and met his sister's concerned expression but grimaced, and moved his arm so that it was clutching his side. He tried to focus his eyes on his sister but his vision swam in front of him, and vertigo made his stomach lurch. He squeezed his eyes shut and took shallow breaths, trying to calm nausea.
Calla used the cloth to wipe at the blood on Harry's face.
Harry swallowed and said, "Calla, I need you to try to-"
"Shh, it's okay, just think it, and I'll do my best to read them." Calla put the cloth on Harry's forehead, allowing the coolness to soothe his aching head and she rested her other hand on Harry's arm.
I need you to try and pick the lock on the cupboard again, Harry thought.
"You want me to try to get to the cupboard? I couldn't do it last time."
You can do it, while the Dursley's are asleep, you'll have as long as you need. Harry let out a breath and brought to mind his school trunk and the pocket that contained the medical supplies that he had snagged from Madame Pomfrey last year.
"You said to look in the pocket of your trunk instead of sleeping. Oh, while the Dursley's are sleeping. Okay, I hope I can pick the lock, Harry, I'll try really hard."
Harry made an "Mhmm" sound from his throat. He lay very still, not wanting to move his arms or his legs because each of his limbs had received more than a few blows from his uncle.
Calla looked at Harry's chest, fearing the sheer number of bruises that were forming under his shirt.
It's okay, Calla.
Calla's face was set in almost a scowl, and she wiped at her face and the tears that hung in the corner of her eyes. "I'm sorry, Harry, I thought we would be able to get through the rest of the summer without stupid ugly Vernon just-"
Calla shook her head, trying not to become angry.
She grabbed the pillow and gently lifted Harry's head so it was resting on the pillow. Harry's mouth twitched as the movement agitated his head. She watched as Harry forced his expression into something more neutral.
"Try to rest, Harry." Calla put her hand softly on her brother's hand as reassurance. She allowed herself to look into the smokey textures of Harry's mind and saw the peace that he felt because she was here. She saw his anxiety about whether or not he would be able to hide these injuries from his friends. She felt his sadness and guilt over tonight's event, his confusion regarding Dobby, the lingering fear because of how aggressive Vernon was earlier.
She reached over him and grabbed the other pillow and pulled out the sleeping pad that the Dursley's had given them for a second bed. She set up her bed, but sat down and listened as the Dursley's fell asleep.
She watched the unsteady rise and fall of Harry's chest. His expression didn't show the amount of pain he was feeling throughout his body. A bruise on his face started to gain more color as the hours passed. I'm going to figure out how to pick the lock on the cupboard one way or another.
. . .
Thanks for reading! If you've never read hurt comfort, and aren't used to some of the violence, just know, that's part of the genre! Let me know what you think about Calla, or what you want to see from the brother/sister relationship, as she is a non-canon character.