Revelations
It was a minute away until midnight, and Harry gazed woefully at Hedwig's cage. He'd left her at Hogwarts with Hagrid, figuring that at least there his owl could hunt and fly whenever she needed.
Harry missed her tonight though, she'd been his gift for his eleventh birthday and he'd celebrated his twelfth with her. Now, for his thirteenth birthday, he was alone again.
His watch beeped, signalling that it was now July 31st. Harry stared up at the ceiling, willing himself to sleep, but suddenly, a slight tapping at his window had him sitting up.
A smile lit his face and he rushed over to the window to let in Hedwig and three other owls he didn't recognise; he'd already gotten his Supply List along with a Hogsmeade Form a couple of days ago, so he knew these owls weren't from the school.
Harry relieved them of their load first and two of them took off immediately, but the screech owl remained. He then took Hedwig's package and directed both owls to her perch, and filled her dishes with food and water. However, his owl took a moment to groom a bit of his hair and snuggle his face before joining the other owl.
He took the letter attached to the package from the Screech Owl and opened it.
Dear Harry
Happy Birthday.
Luna contacted me about the assignment I gave her for our study sessions, and she reminded me that your birthday was coming up.
I hope you like it, as I wasn't too sure which you might prefer, so I got a few of each.
Write back to me back with any questions you may have concerning your own assignment if you need to. Again, have a happy birthday.
Percy
P.S. My owl's name is Hermes, and place the gift somewhere sturdy before you pull the ribbon at the top to open it, then step back. Don't worry about the magic, the Ministry won't detect it. Also, will you be coming to camp? I really think you'd benefit from the practicals, you'll learn lots of magic that they don't teach at Hogwarts.
Harry smiled, he was enjoying the research for his assignment, and he made a mental note to pen a quick thank you letter to his friend later. Then his smile dimmed as he read the P.S. He had yet to figure out how to convince his aunt and uncle to let him go to the camp.
Pushing that worry away, Harry didn't waste another second. He did as Percy had said and placed the small package on the floor next to the bed, then pulled the ribbon and sat back.
A dull flash made him blink for a couple of seconds, and when he looked down, a large basket of fruits, meat pies, chocolate bars and a ton of other candies was before him. Harry swallowed heavily, blinking at the burning behind his eyes. At least he wouldn't have to get his stomach used to food again his next year at Hogwarts. Taking one of the meat pies, he shut the lid, making the basket shrink to its original, easily hidden size, then it retied itself with the ribbon. Harry wondered at the magick used that it was undetectable.
As he wrote his letter to Percy, munching on the pie, his affection for his tutor grew. Harry wouldn't exactly call Percy a best friend, their age difference and interests made that difficult, nor would he call the other boy a mentor, but Percy had been really helpful all last year. He grinned as the thought came to him, the Prefect had been acting like a responsible big brother. Understandable since he had younger siblings, and Harry was grateful Percy extended that care to him.
The coming term would be Percy's final year at Hogwarts. The Prefect already informed them that their study sessions would be shortened to every other Friday since it would be difficult for him to study for his N.E.W.T.s and tutor them at the same time.
The next package had just a card that said 'From Luna'. Inside were two books that looked old but well kept. Harry knew that the books had to be ones she'd had for a long time, or she'd spent a lot of Galleons on his gift.
The Fundamentals of Disenchanting Enchantments — How to Create Protection Spells and Nullify Them - by Pandora Moon
He skimmed the index and a shiver of excitement vibrated through him.
The other book was just as intriguing and even older, and he couldn't wait to learn more about that rare branch of magick. Harry couldn't believe that Luna had guessed his hidden ability. It had to have been a coincidence that she got him this next book.
Innovations of Wandless Sorcery.
Harry decided that he would write to her later in the morning, the gifts were too precious for a short thank you note; he thought that maybe he should even return them to her after reading them. Maybe there was a way for him to copy them.
The next card made his breath catch and he paused to study it. All it said was:
Harry, I'm really sorry.
He didn't know who wrote it or sent him the gift, but he carefully opened it anyway.
It was another book, quite large and newly published.
A Comprehensive Guide to Potions Brewing - by Vladimir R. Demetrios
Harry scanned the Table of Contents, the book contained potions from first-year to apprentice level brewing. Who sent him this gift and why wasn't it on Hogwarts Supply List?
Harry put it aside for later and turned to the packages Hedwig had brought him. Hermione had sent him a rather large muggle fantasy fiction book, The Lord of The Rings.
Everyone, no matter who you are, should read this book at least once. Happy Birthday, Harry, her note said.
His gift from Dean made him smile. His friend had sent him one of his spare Muzete uniforms, and under it was a football.
Harry chuckled at the short note.
You never know, some footwork drills might come in handy someday, and it's great for strengthening your legs. Trust me. Enjoy your birthday, mate.
Harry took out the ball and appreciated its dark red colouring and the standard hexagonal lines before putting it back in the box. He'd never be able to use it with the Dursleys watching his every move. Then Harry moved on to the last package, and read the note.
Happy Birthday, Harry. From Hagrid
Smiling, he ripped open the brown paper wrapping. An intricately carved wooden object, about three inches in length sat on the cover of another book. He picked up the piece of wood to study it.
It was a dragon on its hind legs, the tail wrapped around its feet and its wings tucked in at the sides. One end had the head, thrown back and snarling or roaring, Harry wasn't sure which but the other end, where the tail wrapped around, was open and he realised the carving was hollow.
Lifting the scraps of paper, Harry found the letter that came with it.
Hiya Harry,
Happy Birthday.
I found out about your assignment from Luna and thought I'd make that the theme of your birthday gift.
The carving is a handle for your wand, whittled it myself. It's the same type of wood as your wand and all, and I thought you might like to have one of my books on dragons too.
I've had it since I was a lad, and read it front to back for years, and now I want you to have it. I know you'll appreciate it much as I did, I remember how much you liked Norberta. There's a section in there that might have some information on what you're looking for, somewhere around the three-hundredth page.
I'll see you when school starts. Got lots to do and to prepare. Well, you'll find out more about that soon enough.
Enjoy your birthday, Harry.
Hagrid
Harry turned the wand handle in his hand, appreciating its polished beauty. He'd wondered —ever since his observation of some witches and wizards with handles attached to their own wands— how the wand was able to connect to the wizard through the handle. Harry had guessed correctly that it would work if the handle came from the same type of wood as the wand.
Harry stood, then knelt to stack his new books in the furthest corner, against the wall underneath the bed.
His task done, the boy took his wand from under his pillow and attached the dragon carving. Nothing happened until he held the wand at the handle, and he felt the familiar warmth when his magick connected with it. Harry smiled as he remembered the theme of all his letters; Luna Lovegood was an amazing friend, she understood him like no one else ever had. He would cherish her friendship forever.
Admiring the new handle, Harry went to lie back when a crackling of paper had him looking at his pillow in confusion. There was an unopened letter on his pillow that he hadn't noticed with any of his packages. There were no markings, but the envelope looked and smelled old.
Tucking his wand back under his pillow, Harry opened the letter.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ : *. .* : ﾟ. ───
My Dear Harry
Happy Birthday, my beautiful boy.
As I sit to write this letter, I'm overcome with so many emotions, they're difficult to put into words.
If you're reading this letter, it means that you've turned thirteen today, and I am gone. There is so much that I want to tell you, but I don't have much time, James will be home soon.
I'm sorry I have to tell you this way, but —because a large number of years were necessary— you must have noticed the difference for some time now. James is not your father.
He never knew either, as I'd put a Glamour Charm on you that would affect everyone around you; but there's something else, I also took a potion that changed a small part of you before your birth. It's the reason why you can't see well without glasses.
It was very important that I changed the way your eyes looked once you were born, and so I made sure that you would have my eye colour but James' unfortunate eyesight. It was the only way he would believe you were his.
If I hadn't, everyone would have known you weren't James' the moment they saw your eyes.
Your real father chose an evil path that I wanted no part of, and your safety was the most important thing to me; I left him when he became a Death Eater and married James. Do not search for your father, Harry, or you would never be safe again.
I chose to use a revised version of the Glamour Charm so that it cannot be removed by accident and would last —as I said, it was necessary— for years. If I'd had the power, I would have made it last forever. Sadly, it should be fading by now; however, the potion I drank to change your eyes is permanent.
I promise you, sweetheart, everything I've ever done was for your benefit and safety. You have such an amazing Destiny ahead of you, my son. If your father has died before you received this letter, then you shall learn soon enough about the Destiny I speak of.
James is here.
Goodbye, Harry. I Love You,
Mum.
Harry allowed the sheet of old parchment to drop from his hand, then he turned onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow, breathing heavily. At first, he'd been ecstatic to receive a letter from his mum, but as he continued to read, it began to bother him.
Harry wasn't shocked about James not being his father, he'd already guessed that. But if James really had just blindly accepted that a pregnant Lily had been carrying his child and married her immediately, then it could only mean one thing. Lily had been cheating on either his father or James… or she'd just been using the both of them.
His mother did say in the letter that she left his father when he chose evil —she could only have meant Voldemort— his father had chosen to side with the evil wizard, and it seemed as though it had been easy enough for her to run to James.
What kind of people had birthed him?
Lily was… was a… Harry couldn't even think about it! Also, his father was evil…
A Death Eater, what even is that?
Maybe Harry was reading too much into the letter. On the other hand, if his parents really were such terrible people, what did that make him?
Who am I?
─── ･ ｡ﾟ : *. .* : ﾟ. ───
Harry trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen to begin making breakfast.
Aunt Petunia had knocked on his door in her usual manner only some minutes ago, but Harry had been up for about two hours before. His mind had been racing all night about his mother's revelation in her letter, even during sleep. After an hour or so of restlessness, the boy finally gave up any hope for a peaceful slumber and began to read Innovations of Wandless Sorcery.
Harry had just filled the kettle and placed it on the stove, then his aunt's panicked voice had him spinning around.
"Who are you? What are you doing in our house? Vernon!"
Aunt Petunia was standing just inside the doorway and holding a frying pan aloft; she was staring directly at him.
Oh, right.
He'd forgotten that the James Potter Glamour would fade. Harry was so used to his true face already, seeing it in the mirror as he normally does every day hadn't been a shock.
"Aunt Petunia, it's me, Harry." The young wizard fiddled with his baggy pants and peeked up at her from behind his curtain of hair.
Petunia stared at him blankly, her eyes taking in his appearance from head to toe. Then she did something Harry hadn't been expecting; she began to chuckle lightly until it turned into full out laughter.
Harry didn't know what was going on, and he wasn't sure what to do. Was his aunt having a breakdown?
Sinking into a chair at the dinner table, his aunt wiped at her eyes as her laughter died down.
"Oh my, I knew it," she chuckled, "I just knew it! The proof's right there in front of me. Finally!"
"Proof? Aunt Petunia, are you alright?"
Her smile remained, but her eyes hardened a bit as Petunia focused on him.
"I'm quite alright, just really happy that Lily's hypocrisy, her infidelity, her imperfection, is there in you for all to see."
Harry felt his heart race; his aunt knew something, the question was, would she tell him?
"Aunt Petunia, do you know who my father is?" He knew his mother had asked him not to search, but Harry needed to know.
"Have no fear Pot-, excuse me, Harry," Petunia smirked, "once your father sees you, I have no doubt he will claim you, and I await that day in sweet anticipation."
"Did you shout for me, Pet?" Uncle Vernon waddled into the kitchen and stopped as he spotted the stranger. "Who the devil are you?"
"Vernon, it's just the boy. Let's go to the sitting room to talk, and you-"
Petunia turned from her husband and took a key from the hook and held it out to Harry.
"Pet!"
"Trust me, Vernon. We'll speak in the sitting room."
Uncle Vernon left the kitchen as Harry gingerly took the key from his aunt.
"Take your school things from the cupboard, do your homework or whatever kind of assignments they give you."
Harry couldn't believe his luck; he was being allowed to do his homework and have all his things!
"Tomorrow, or whenever, you can have the day to go to that Alley place and get your school supplies. You'll have to find yourself there and back as we won't be here from today; that means you'll have to get food too. We'll be spending the next four weeks at Marge's."
"Yes, Aunt Petunia. T-thank you." Harry was thrilled she didn't plan on dragging him along too.
Petunia sniffed and left the room. The boy finished up with breakfast, ate his share quickly and went to get his trunk. As he passed the door to the sitting room, he heard the voices of his aunt and uncle.
"Vernon, if his father is who I believe it is... you can't lay a finger on that boy again."
"But, Pet, you only just let me—" his uncle huffed in irritation, and Harry heard the springs on the sofa squeal in protest, "besides, they wouldn't dare come here; all these years and no one's ever come."
"It's just a precaution, Vernon. The man is a soulless bastard, if there's any chance that he decides to take the boy, and I'm certain he will, we need to be careful."
"Well, alright, dear. We'll do it your way."
Moving away from the door, Harry unlocked the cupboard and pulled out his trunk. It took him a while, but he was finally able to drag it up the stairs and into his room. Something was wrong with his trunk, the charm that used to make its contents lighter had faded.
Harry sighed as he considered the amount of money left in his vault at Gringotts, he could probably afford a new trunk, considering he hadn't spent any of his money the last school year, and hopefully, he would be able to access the Fund for the Half-Blood Prince's textbooks. Even if he had to trade newly purchased textbooks for them, he would, and that was only if he could afford to purchase the textbooks after getting a new trunk.
As he sank onto his bed to rest his aching back, Harry thought of his aunt's generosity. It had nothing to do with finally caring about him, but the fact that Aunt Petunia was afraid of Harry's father.
Who was this man, that he scared Petunia Dursley?
Harry smiled, there were just a couple more things his aunt needed to do for him before she and her family left for Marge's.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ : *. .* : ﾟ. ───
Harry stared at his reflection in the mirror. He'd always known what he looked like, and what was strange to him was that everyone he'd ever met had been seeing someone else. Now he tried to see himself as others would.
He was going into Diagon Alley later that week, and though he was glad that no one was going to recognise him, he wondered what people would think of the 'new' Harry.
The boy held up a picture of James Potter as a teenager. James seemed to be the same age as Harry hence the reason he chose that photo. There were three other boys in the picture as well, but Harry wasn't interested in them after noting that he didn't look like any of them either.
James had messy black hair, hazel coloured eyes and wore glasses; he was slim and tall —taller than Harry was at the moment— and there was a smugness about him that reminded Harry of Dudley or Malfoy. Moreover, this was what everyone had seen when they looked at him and saw Harry Potter.
Harry looked back at himself. He wasn't as tall as James —probably an inch or two shorter— and was slim-built; his hair was black, reaching just past his shoulders, sleek and shining blue in the right light.
The young wizard had noticed in pictures that his mother's hair had the same silken quality and he guessed that he inherited that from her, unless of course, his father's hair was like Harry's. He could see a slight resemblance between him and his mother, with the angular cheekbones; his skin, a light-beige that had a warm and healthy pink tinge, and his eyes emerald-green behind round wireframes.
Now that Harry knew that his mother had forced those green eyes on him, he was no longer proud of them. Yes, they were a nice colour and all, but they weren't his; he already didn't know who his father was, and in turn, Harry felt he didn't know himself.
I have to find my father.
Lily Potter was the reason he had to wear those ridiculous glasses; the number of times they'd been knocked off his face and broken in the two years he's been in the wizarding world.
Harry vowed to find a way to fix his eyes…
And his scar…
… his crooked teeth…
Maybe, do something about his skinny frame.
God, his slouching really didn't help either, did it?
I look like a praying mantis!
Actually, the boy was terribly malnourished and slightly anaemic compared to other boys his age.
But, now that I'm allowed to eat better, I can work out, maybe go jogging or whatever. Those two weeks at camp should be a good start.
There had to be potions or spells that he could use and he would find them, but first, Harry thought he would try an eye specialist in the wizarding world on Monday when he got to Diagon Alley. He decided that he would wait until then to go shopping, as he wanted to complete all his school assignments so that he could relax and enjoy the day out.
Consciously standing straighter to combat his slouching frame, Harry put the photo of James back into its sleeve in the album and shoved it to the bottom of his trunk. Leaving his room, he went downstairs to the kitchen to refill an empty bottle with water.
The Dursleys had left half an hour before, to visit with Marge for a month, so Harry was free to go into any room of the house he wished; except for the Dursleys' bedrooms, as Vernon had locked them all before they left. Petunia hadn't allowed the man to lock Harry in his room and so his uncle chose the next best thing.
His water refilled, Harry returned to his room and took out a couple of mince pies from the basket Percy had sent him, then settled back to continue his reading of Wandless Sorcery.
Harry was almost finished with that book —which might be a favourite compared to anything he's ever read— and hoped to complete the book Hagrid had given him.
Chronicle of Dragons & Wyverns and The Dangers of Breeding Them.
It was written by the same author of Innovations of Wandless Sorcery and Harry could tell that he was going to enjoy the dragon book just as much. At the moment, there was a chapter on Wandless Sorcery that had the raven-haired boy riveted.
… except for a chosen few, magick must be studied and practised for years before one is said to be skilled or called a 'Master'.
In recent years, most magickal people are taught spells that are rattled off without much thought. Yes, they must still be learned and for some, learning a new spell —even something as simple as a levitation charm— can be quite difficult. This should not be.
There is more to magick than will ever be understood by the minds that seek it out; yet, for every step forward in magickal knowledge, that understanding grows infinite.
Countless ages past, when magick embraced the earth and her people, those truly born of magick —those born to Destiny— were few and far between; but the rest of the earth's sons and daughters could choose to enhance and practise this gift.
Once chosen, once embraced, magick surged through the body, heart and soul of the sorcerer; magick would mark him with its presence, and anyone who looked upon a being gifted with the Knowledge of Magick, would know the sorcerer by the golden glow of his eyes.
Sorcerers of today no longer embrace their gifts as they should, and for many, it is a sign of their so-called importance which in turn corrupts it. For others, magick is merely a wonderful convenience, barely scratching the surface of the various miracles it can achieve for those who've, sadly, forgotten its existence.
Do you understand where I am going with this, my dear student? Well, as I have said at the beginning of this book, there is a reason that most of my written works are forbidden.
Anyone can study and practise magick, my friend, there is no such thing as muggles; only those who shun magick; only those who do not know that they can seek this knowledge.
In this modern world, and which is quite lamentable, when a young 'wizard or witch' reaches the 'suitable' age, a wand is only the beginning of being a practitioner of magick. Don't get me wrong, a wand can help to focus young —or even limited— sorcerers, but for most of us, a wand is a crutch we need to wean ourselves off, and an impediment we must overcome.
Most of you —and I am quite certain of this— were not truly born with magick; dear student, you had an affinity for it. And it is recognisable at birth or a young age when vulnerable. Especially now, to those that are searching for that affinity.
Another implementation that is most grievous and criminal, as far as I am concerned, is their tracing of the affinity to a particular wand. They say they remove this 'trace' once the magickal comes of age but this is not true, dear student, no one should ever be able to perform a Priori Incantatem on your wand.
The tracing of a wand does not only mean that they are tracking the wand and magick. They copied the infant's affinity to a specific wand; hence, 'the wand chooses the wizard' shtick they like to sell you. This limits young, less knowledgeable magic users to a crippling degree.
While I do use a wand myself at times —you know, to blend in— it has always been and will always be a wand that I created myself; for that is how it should be with all magick users who do need one.
Harry slouched back onto his pillow and stared at the ceiling as he thought over the author's words. Did this mean that if he did wandless magick it wouldn't be detected?
That couldn't be right. Dobby did that Fire Charm and Harry had gotten a letter. Then again, Dobby had been trying to get Harry into trouble, so maybe the House-Elf had made sure that the Misuse Of Magic Office would detect it.
As a child, Harry had done magick unknowingly and had never been approached or warned by anyone in the wizarding world and Hermione had never mentioned any such thing happening to her.
Yet, they knew we had magick… Hogwarts knew we had magick, and once we bought a wand, so did the Ministry.
"Embrace my magick. Hmm."
Harry added 'search for more books by Emerson-The Unknown' on his list to take with him to Diagon Alley; then he looked at his hand as he wondered if he should try his wandless magick again. Ever since they'd been warned about using magic outside of school, Harry had stopped using his wandless abilities.
Sitting up, he looked at the book Hagrid had sent him where it lay on the desk. Harry took a deep breath and raised a shaky hand. Clenching his fist, he sighed heavily and dropped it back to his lap; he didn't want to risk expulsion. But, being able to practise his magick outside of school would be extremely helpful.
Making up his mind, Harry returned his attention to his books. He'd once heard a group of older Ravenclaws talking about their trunks; some that had whole libraries and other rooms that they could go into and no one could detect the magick inside.
Harry decided that he would search for one of those when next he went to Diagon Alley. When he got to a chapter with practical wandless spells, Harry fervently wished he had time to finish reading this book and Hagrid's before his trip, and hoped that he could prevent himself from trying one of the spells.
Later, he would be reminded of old childhood magicks that used to get him into trouble.