Note:

*This note is a description of how this and future stories of mine came to be.*

I suppressed my author self for years, indulging in occasional writing, but only briefly. There are two reasons for this.

First, I listened to people who deemed writing a waste of time and criticized my stories to the point where I doubted their quality. These are people close to me, whose opinions matter.

Second, I suffer from multiple progressive illnesses that worsen over time, leading to the possibility of blindness. Despite doctors' disbelief, I clung to certain activities that gave me solace, like painting and sports, but eventually had to give them up.

Finally, the day came when I had to let go of books as well, losing my escape and feeling trapped in my deteriorating body. Even writing became a challenge as prolonged screen exposure started to blind me. It left me feeling hollow and trapped.

But despite the difficulties, I love writing and stories. Since childhood, I've been enamored with them, dreaming of writing a book that helps others escape their own confines.

So, despite the obstacles and the breaks I'll need from screens, I've decided to write again. It may be a struggle, and I may never be great at it, but writing brings me joy and a sense of freedom. Perhaps one day, I'll write that book.

Until then, my fanfictions will serve as a starting point, offering a glimmer of rainbow colors in your life.

Chapter 1: Embers of the Past, Flames of the Future

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, the Man-Who-Conquered, stood frozen in disbelief. The words spoken by his cousin, Dudley Dursley, echoed in his mind, but they felt like fragments of a shattered reality. His voice came out hollow, devoid of emotion. "Could you repeat that, please?"

Dudley rolled his eyes impatiently, his expression tinged with frustration. "There are seven Flames of Sky in this world," he repeated, raising a finger with each Element he mentioned. "Rain with the characteristic of Tranquility, Storm with Disintegration, Lightning with Hardening, Cloud with Propagation, Mist with Construction, Sun with Activation, and Sky with Harmony. I'm a Storm Flame user." Dudley concentrated for a moment, and a flickering red flame appeared on his gloved left palm.

Harry's mind spun, struggling to reconcile the new revelation with his understanding of reality. The mention of Elements and Dudley using words like "propagation" only deepened his confusion. It seemed inconceivable that his cousin, who grew up in a mundane Muggle household, would be discussing something so reminiscent of magic. At times, Harry found himself questioning if the killing curse had done more than just end his life, not once, but twice.

He continued to gape, unable to find his voice amidst the whirlwind of thoughts. Dudley sighed, exasperation filling his eyes. "I'm not as ignorant as you think. I've been reading and learning," he explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

After a pause, he added. "Besides, no one too lazy to lift a book, could ever date Susan Bones." Dudley chuckled and held up his hands in a what-can-you-do pose and added. "She is quite insistent on that. So she might have increased my interest in books. Quite the strong minded woman, that one."

Harry stared at his cousin, dumbfounded, as if he had suddenly transformed into a devotee of Shakespearean literature. Dudley, who had once been his childhood tormentor, now revealed hidden depths. Scratch that, he did not know he had any depth at all besides his hobby of boxing and love to stuff his face like a pig. The thought made him smile bitterly, thinking about himself locked in his room, starving, while Dudley had extras. It made his muscles tight with remembered hostility and envy.

Dudley's unexpected connection to the magical world was a headache of its own. The fact that he was dating Susan, of all people—the most righteous girl he knew—added another shocking layer to the revelation.

Dudley noticed Harry's astonishment and felt the need to clarify. "Yes, I'm dating Susan Bones,'"he said, blushing slightly. "She is so full of righteous determination. A hard working hufflepuff indeed." He couldn't help but sigh dreamily as he continued, "She's beautiful, you know? And when she thinks, she wrinkles her nose in the cutest way.

Harry's mind raced, contemplating the implications of his cousin's newfound involvement with a witch. But his thoughts were quickly overshadowed by the weight of his own turbulent past.

Vaguely he heard Dudley explaining how he met Susan in a bar in muggle London. It had been a coincidence, but they hit it right up. When Dudley realized she was a witch, he had already been in love. That had been months ago. Apparently in the beginning stages of the repairs after the battle of Hogwarts.

Flashes of the Battle of Hogwarts tore through Harry's mind, a relentless onslaught of pain and loss. In rapid succession, memories of Sirius, Cedric, Fred, Tonks, Remus, and Snape surged forward, threatening to engulf him in an overwhelming sea of darkness. Their deaths echoed relentlessly within him, intensifying the already consuming hollowness and chilling emptiness that gripped his very soul.

It was made worse by the fact that the memory of some deaths made him feel colder than others. Made him feel like his very soul shook and trembled reminiscing about what was lost. As if more than the people died that day. He could practically feel a hole, where a part of his very essence should be. He shuddered.

As Harry's mind was inundated with gruesome scenes from his past, Dudley's voice cut through the chaos like a sharp blade. "I couldn't believe it when she told me you emerged from that forest engulfed in Flames," Dudley said, his words emphasizing the extraordinary nature of the flames. "Not any Flames either, but Sky Flames," he added, his remark intensifying the juxtaposition between Voldemort's menacing face and the haunting echoes of his followers' cruel laughter.

"Once I understood that, I knew we had to act." He fixed Harry with a serious expression. "Flames of the Sky are sought after by all Flame Actives. They are the royalty of the mafia."

For a moment Harry managed to focus. His lips formed the word 'mafia'. It was a question more than anything else.

Ignoring him Dudley continued. "They have the ability to harmonize not only with their surroundings, but also and most importantly with other Elements." Harry took a sip of his tea, darly wishing it was something stronger. "Harmony is like coming home." Dudley added dreamily, leaning forward like he was telling a secret. "It took me years being in the gang, to figure out I had Flames. Only when I activated them during an incident with another gang, did I get properly introduced to the mafia world. Harmony was one of the first things I was told then." He leaned closer. "As a safety measure." His voice went lower. "Turns out failed Harmonization, Fixation and broken bonds regularly drive people insane."

Harry's cup slipped from his fingers, landing with a soft thud as Dudley's face loomed ever closer. It was uncomfortably close, dredging up a flood of memories he'd rather forget. Absent-mindedly, he began to rub the scar on the back of his hand, a familiar gesture born out of anxiety and unease.

"And your stunt in front of such an audience. Quite a few of which having connections to the mafia, was a sure fire way to get attention." He leaned back. "The wrong kind." Harry knew what his cousin said was important, dangerous even, but Doloris Umbridge's face kept coming to the forefront of his mind. Pink. Way too much pink. Pain. Pain. Pain.

Shivers ran down Harry's spine, causing him to instinctively wrap his arms tightly around himself. He longed for warmth and comfort, but they remained elusive, slipping through his fingers like sand. The mention of fleeing to Italy and the impending arrival of a dangerous ally felt distant, a mere echo in the back of his mind, just like the warmth he so desperately craved.

But before all of this, Dudley had contacted Harry through a letter sent to an address Harry left the Dursleys for emergencies. The letter contained the story of how Harry had tried to grow out his hair and Aunt Petunia shaving him in response. Only the Dursleys would know this. Of course, there was always the chance of someone using Legilimency on them, considering they were only Muggles. Dudley could have also been forced to write the letter.

Still, Harry being Harry, he went anyway. He was a Gryffindor at heart, and his saving-people-thing had made the choice in the end. If he had been able to ignore the cold he felt or shake off the haunting memories long enough to properly think, he would have taken someone along with him. Or at least told someone where he went. But, alas, he didn't.

His heart did feel a bit lighter for the first time after the Battle of Hogwarts when he did actually find Dudley there. He never would have thought he would ever be happy to see his cousin.

His fingers still trembled as he looked at the swings. Memories of dark figures, his mother's screams, and Dudley's desperate babbling made bile rise in his chest. It also made him think of Sirius, his only hope for a true family he ever had. Only one of the many deaths he was responsible for.

Dudley took him to the house of Piers Polkiss, who apparently was watering their plants for them while they were on vacation. There Dudley made him tea, of all things, and started his tale of Flames. Insisting Harry what he called a Sky Flame user.

Dudley's words punctured the haze of Harry's thoughts, jolting him back to the present. "You've been bleeding Flames all over the place," Dudley stated matter-of-factly, his voice carrying the weight of urgency. "Probably has been since the Battle of Hogwarts."

A knock sounded on the door. Dudley came over, his hands tightly clenched around something small and familiar. He placed the object in Harry's palm, his eyes betraying a mix of concern and urgency. "She said I should give this to you. You should know how to use it."

Harry's curiosity piqued as he examined the object in his hand—a small, worn coin with an intricate design etched on its surface. Recognition washed over him, and he realized it was one of the communication coins they used in Dumbledore's Army. A surge of memories flooded his mind, reminding him of the secret meetings, the camaraderie, and the fights they faced together.

His grip tightened around the coin, his heart skipping a beat. Memories were a double-edged sword for Harry, often pulling him back into the horrors of the past. He struggled to keep his mind grounded in the present, fighting against the ever-present temptation to lose himself in bittersweet nostalgia.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice laced with anticipation.

Dudley's expression turned serious as he turned towards the open door. 'The person who can help you, the one Zabini's mother contacted, is here.' Harry frowned. Apparently he had been so distracted by his own mind that he had missed an important chunk of the conversation. Because he had no idea when Dudley had said anything about Zabni or her mother.

He did vaguely recall him saying something of him fleeing to Italy. Something about the mafia? When he focused really hard, he thought there had even been something about the Black Widow. Wasn't that what Zabini's mother was called? Was the mafia involved in her title? Didn't the Zabinis come from Italy? Hiarry rubbed his aching head.

A shiver ran down Harry's spine, his heart quickening. He focused on the coin in his hand, using it as an anchor to tether himself to the here and now. It served as a reminder that while the past held pain and loss, the survivors had earned their present through it. A here and now, hard earned, he needed to focus on.

Dudley locked eyes with Harry, his voice a mix of caution and anticipation. "Zabini vouched for this person's trustworthiness, but Harry, you must understand, they are dangerous. This is no ordinary ally."

Harry nodded, a wry smile briefly lighting his face. "Of course the Zabinis are Slytherins. Snakes tend to keep dangerous company."

His mind flickered between the memories he carried and the task at hand. It was a constant battle to prevent his thoughts from spiraling, to keep his focus on the path ahead. The cold in his whole body made it incredibly hard.

Even so, his grip tightened around the coin, his determination unyielding. He couldn't let the past consume him. Not now, not when the future demanded his attention.

Dudley quickly made his way out of the room. Giving the dark figure room to approach Harry alone. Shadows danced across their face, obscuring their features. The air crackled with an aura of intensity, and Harry could sense the gravity of the situation. This was no mere coincidence; it was a convergence of fate. And Fate loved to screw with Harry.

As the figure stepped closer, Harry's instincts screamed at him to be cautious. He steeled himself, drawing strength from the present moment, as he battled against the haunting echoes of the past. With each passing moment, the suspense grew, and Harry found himself holding his breath, ready to face whatever lay ahead.