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The Unicorn Prince

Chapter 4: Irritations

The next day Harry woke up with the most peaceful feeling he'd ever had. He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about, but whatever it had been, it had been nice and Hary honestly didn't want to wake up.

Especially when he remembered what had happened the previous day.

Despondently, Harry flopped over onto his stomach and attempted to bury his face in his pillows. Attempted was the key word here. Harry found, to his irritation, that his horn sank right through the fabric (and wasn't that that a strange sensation), and when he tried to pull back, his horn tore through the pillow like butter.

The sound of ripping fabric was loud in the early morning silence and Harry found himself holding his breath, hoping he hadn't woken anyone. He could just see that conversation:

"Harry? You alright? I thought I heard something."

"Oh, don't worry about it Ron, it was just my new horn (that you can't see for some mysterious reason) ripping my pillow to shreds. Really, nothing you need to concern yourself about."

Yeah, that would go over real well.

When no one said anything, Harry relaxed enough to sit up and examine the damage. His conclusion? He'd be needing a new pillow.

Sighing Harry set his ruined pillow aside (it was cut clean in half and the stuffing was everywhere) and set about getting ready for class.

This also presented a problem. When Harry slipped the shirt over his head two things happened. One: the loud sound of fabric rending filled his ears once more, and Two: His arms started burning. The sensation was so bad he literally tore his shirt off to relieve the painful irritation.

A few seconds later the feeling was gone and Harry was alarmed to find his eyes clouded by tears. Furiously he wiped them away and looked down at his ruined shirt in disgust.

Completely fed up with the morning already Harry cast the shirt next to his abandoned pillow, his mind already puzzling over that had happened. First and foremost was the pain he'd just experienced; there had to be a reason for it.

As Harry looked at his arms he realized just what the reason was. The pain had not covered his whole upper body, no it had been originating from his arms. For some reason the silvery spots that decorated his arms and face had become super sensitive. That's what he was guessing anyway, because it merely tingled lightly as his fingers passed over them.

It was odd, but easily bypassed by rolling his sleeves up above his elbows. See, problem solved.

Now for his stupid horn. That thing had proved more trouble than it was worth. How in the world had he managed to get dressed without problems yesterday but he rips his shirt today?

It was stupid and downright aggravating.

Carefully Harry pulled a new shirt on, adjusting the sleeves so the fabric wouldn't touch the sensitive skin on his forearms. Then he slowly, cautiously pulled it over his head, purposefully leading his horn through the hole, not the cloth.

Once that was done, dressing was much easier (not to mention quicker).

Everyone was finishing up dressing by the time Harry emerged. Ron directed a slightly amused look his direction, "Decided overnight to start practicing intense modesty, mate?" He teased.

Harry flushed slightly, suddenly struck with how odd it was to get dressed while still in bed. He chose not to comment; shrugging instead and hoping his friend would drop it.

Luckily he did and together they headed for the Great Hall, Hermione joining them as they passed through the common room.

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The short walk to the Great Hall was very uncomfortable for Harry due to the fact that the sleeves of his outer robe (though loose) still rubbed repeatedly against his silvery flesh.

At first it wasn't painful, just irritating, a slight itch he was sure he could ignore. Halfway through lunch he was proved wrong. Harry was having trouble concentrating on his meal because of the steadily growing burning on his arms.

Every second the pain seemed to climb higher and higher until it finally reached the point that he was forced to remove his robes and drape them over the back of his chair.

Once that was done he turned just in time to see Hermione's inquisitive look. He just smiled a bit and dug into his food. He could feel the girl's eyes on him for a few minutes, but chose to ignore it.

Harry ignored the headmaster as well, he was also staring at Harry intently. Harry wasn't sure if that meant Dumbledore knew bout his changes or not. If he did, then why wasn't he talking to Harry about it?

As the day passed things progressively got worse. It started in History of Magic where you either slept or daydreamed. Unless you were Hermione of course, then you took notes.

Harry was by no means a Hermione and let his mind wander freely as he pretended to take notes (he was really just doodling absently).

It started as a slightly irritating tickle, but slowly morphed into a distracting itch. When the marks finally stared burning, Harry dropped the quill with a hiss of pain.

Deprived of the contact, the sensation vanished almost instantly.

This was getting downright weird.

In annoyance Harry raised his hand to his face for closer inspection.

As he had noticed the previous morning, the silvery marks were not the same texture as his skin. They looked softer somehow, smoother, almost silky. They did not cover his hands completely, his palms and the pads of his fingers were blessedly clean.

When Harry brushed his fingertips over them, he felt a light tingling, almost equivalent to a gentle breeze. Slightly nervous, Harry pressed more firmly against the marks, deliberately holding the contact for a few minutes. The gentle tingling faded within moments as Harry waited for the pain to set in.

It never came.

Confused, Harry trailed his hand across the spots again absently, the tingling following his fingers like fire on a trail of gasoline.

At length, Harry picked up his quill and twirled it absently between his pointer finger and thumb. The quill was one he'd had for a couple months and had used often. It was an ordinary, everyday quill.

Cautiously Harry brushed it over the marks on his arm, deliberately keeping the stroke light. The tingling feeling returned. It was not only stronger, but a lot more irritating and lasted a few moments longer then when he used his fingers.

Harry's eyes narrowed in concentration as he slowed the next brush stroke, deliberately pressing the feather more firmly against his arm. The tingle turned rapidly into an itch. Then Harry stilled the feather altogether and the itch became the all to familiar burn.

The longer he held it against his flesh, the worse it became and Harry was forced to stop or risk crying out in pain.

He sat, breathing deeply and the world around him returned with his senses. Harry became uncomfortably aware of his two friend's eyes on him.

Harry looked up into Ron and Hermione's faces, both were watching him intently and it was obvious they had been doing so for quite some time.

Harry felt his cheeks flush in embracement at being caught, but neither said anything about his extremely odd behavior.

H was eternally grateful for that because he couldn't think up a good excuse anyway..

Next was Defense against the Dark Arts, and again he was reminded how complicated his life had become.

They were split into pairs and told to dual against each other so the professor could more accurately plan the lessons based on their skill level.

Now, Harry had no problem casting the spells; in fact, it seemed much easier then usual. No, the problem arose when his partner shot a spell at him.

He felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. The hair on the back of his neck and on his arms stood on end and the prickle at the base of his horn returned.

Harry gasped inaudibly, eyes locked on his partner.

"Strange." Dean mused, looking passed Harry, then to his wand in confusion. "My spell didn't hit you, did it?" He didn't wait for Harry's conformation, but kept on talking, "It must have missed you by a hair, but it didn't hit anything behind you."

Dean was frowning, and Harry seized his confusion to cover up, "Yeah, weird."

Dean shook it off to grin at Harry, "Wanna try again?"

Harry wanted to protest, but before he could get a word out that icy rush returned as well as the prickle of skin at the base of his horn. It was extremely uncomfortable, and caused Harry to shiver slightly.

Frustrated at his lack of success, Dean subjected Harry to three more bouts of icy sensations. Harry had to force himself not to shiver violently, refusing to let his teeth chatter. He finally caught enough breath to interrupt, "Dean! Stop! This isn't getting you anywhere. Why don't you go practice a bit on your aim. We'll try again later, alright?" That was a lie. He wasn't one to deliberately place himself in undesirable situations such as that, he found himself in enough of those without deliberately looking for trouble.

At his friends downcast expression, Harry almost felt bad about it. 'Almost' being the key word here. He was still freezing and offset by the prickling feeling, so he easily cast any guilt aside.

Well, at least he knew his magic was working, even if Deans wasn't. What was up with that anyway?

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Harry skipped lunch in favor of the library (a very Hermione thing to do), spending a good hour pouring over books in hopes of uncovering some answers.

He got nothing. None of the books he looked through said anything about Unicorn Maidens, but there was a ton of useless information about normal unicorns. It was very distressing for the poor boy.

Lunch was over before he knew it and he headed out to Hagrid's hut, despairing if he'd ever get his answers. It was starting to look like he'd have to ask Hermione for held. Harry had hesitated in asking her though, she was far too clever and chances were high that she'd figure it out.

Harry passed his two friends in the Halls on his way down, they both shot him worried glances. They were most likely concerned that he hadn't eaten lunch.

He didn't have time to talk to them before class, or he'd be late, so he simply smiled reassuringly and sped by. Neither of them were taking Care of Magical Creatures with him this year. Ron had dropped it in favor of Muggle Studies (at his father's insistence), and Hermione thought Wizarding Law would be more useful later in life.

Harry was rushing down the front steps, resigning himself to ask for Hermione's help later, when a brilliant thought snuck up on him from behind.

His footsteps slowed visibly as he rolled the idea over in his mind. It was so obvious he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. He'd ask Hagrid.

The class was relatively small now, and growing smaller every year. Harry could tell it bothered the friendly giant, but there wasn't anything he could do but support him.

"Hi Hagrid." Harry greeted cheerfully as he approached, "I was wondering if I could talk to you."

The big man grinned down at Harry, "Sure 'Arry, jus' let me git class started."

After the other students were occupied, Harry approached his professor again, "So, wat did ya wan ta know?" Hagrid questioned.

"Well," Harry said slowly, thinking about his wording carefully. "I was wondering if you knew anything about…Unicorn Maidens."

Hagrid looked surprised, but answered anyway, "Sure I do, 'Arry. Tha's gotta be one 'o the oldest legends. How'd ye 'ear 'bout it 'nyways? It's not much talk'd bout now'days."

"I-uh, read something about it in the library, but it didn't way much, just in passing, really. I couldn't find anything about it and was curious, that's all." He tried to explain evasively…which turned out to be a bit tricky and he found himself wishing he'd thought up a better reason.

"Most o' the old family's pass down the stories." Hagrid explained.

Harry thanked him and wandered back to his assignment to get started on it before the end of class.

Maybe he wouldn't halve to ask Hermione at all; he could talk to Ron about it instead. He would also be heading back to the library that night as well, turns out he was looking in the wrong section the entire time.

He'd have to have a peek in the Myths and Legends section instead of the Magical Creature's section.

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Draco spent what little time he was not in classes, in the library. Sadly the section covering his Gift was decidedly small and most of the tomes were bogus anyway.

He did find one mention of someone having a Dream similar to the one plaguing his sleep recently. The book referred to the experience as a 'Soul Seeking Trance', whatever that meant. The text had not gone into detail and no other references could be found.

Draco was left with only one option: He'd have to speak with the Professor about this and hope his father never found out.

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"Ah, Lucius, Severus. Just the Death Eaters I was looking for." Lord Voldemort intoned as his two servants apparated to him, bowing low.

"What is it you require, my Lord?" Lucius purred as he straightened.

Voldemort smiled cruelly, "I have just come across a marvelous revelation regarding our little Golden boy."

"Oh?" Professor Severus Snape inquired with a raised eyebrow. How odd, he hadn't noticed any change in the boy, and Dumbledore hadn't mentioned anything to him.

"Oh, yessss." The Dark Lord hissed, obviously pleased with his find, "The dear boy has begun having Soul Mating visions."

At this Lucius' eyebrows raised in surprise, "Indeed, this is a surprise." he agreed readily. There hadn't been a Soul Mating reported in well over a thousand years, "But what do you require our services for?"

Voldemort's twisted smile sent foreboding chills down the Potions Master' spine. "I need you and Severus to work on a way to trap the boy inside these dreams. With your brilliant Spellman ship, Lucius, and Severus' excellent potions skills I'm sure you will not disappoint me."

Again the two men bowed obediently and left, already discussing details between themselves.

Lord Voldemort reclined back in his throne, smiling in wicked amusement. If things went accordingly Harry Potter would be out of his hair in a few weeks.

Well, there we are, all done. I hope you all enjoyed that little chapter, I'll get working on the next one. Now, one thing I want to make perfectly clear, I do not want this story becoming like all those other creature fics that all blend in and are identical...I want this to be orriginal with orriginal idea's, so if you think I'm starting to sound like I'm slipping in that direction, please tell me.

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