Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter Universe. All recognisable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I do not claim ownership.
Harry Potter: Whispers of Winter
By 5Jupiter
Book 1: Frostfall
Chapter 1: Magic
Seven Years Later
A boy sat awake in the storeroom beneath the stairs, wondering how long it would be until he turned he could escape this hellhole. His eyes, a dull emerald green, closed as he tried fiddling with his crooked spectacles. His unruly hair pulled back lest it interfere with what he was attempting.
He had only done it once before, and that had been out of fear: His aunt's vintage Nordic vase had fallen as a result of him trying to escape from Dudley, and as his cousin ran to fetch Petunia to get him in trouble, he knew he was as good as dead. Staring desperately at the scattered ceramic pieces, he had begged that they fix themselves, and surprisingly, they had.
He could only stare at the seemingly repaired Vase, now on the floor as his Aunt marched in, seemingly intent on giving him another beating.
Her steps faltered as she came across her seemingly unbroken vase. Dudley, now standing beside her, looked at Harry in dismay. "Mummy, I swear he broke it! I saw the broken pieces!" shrieked Dudley, looking at Petunia in dismay. Petunia, her face now as pale as could seemingly be, took a step back, seemingly terrified. "I'm sure he did, Diddikins. Why don't you go up to your room and mummy will bring up your favourite snacks, hmm?" the already overweight boy acquiesced, only too happy at the thought of food before tea time, going up the stairs as fast as his chubby little legs would allow him, Petunia focused her sights on Harry once more.
"You..you dare use your freakish powers under MY ROOF", she whispered out, seemingly set on ending the boy. Harry backed up, terrified at why he would get scolded when he fixed the broken vase. Petunia had grabbed him by the scruff of his already loose shirt, pulling him up and towards the cupboard that had become his bedroom in recent years.
"If you EVER use your freakish powers again, you'll be out on the streets, protections be damned!" she whisper shouted, slamming the door on a terrified and befuddled Harry.
He had been six then, and had been properly terrified by Petunia. That being said, it didn't take more than a few months for him to begin wondering what Petunia meant by his 'freakish powers' and how she had seemed so vehemently sure that he had them, especially considering the Dursley family's view on things such as Magic, a word that was not even allowed to be uttered in their household.
The only time Harry had seen the Dursleys deny Dudley anything, was when the boy had wanted to see a magic show, inciting an almost tomato-red Vernon Dursley to devolve into a rant, continually saying that "There is no such thing as magic, Dudley, and if you say such a thing again, you'll be grounded!"
Through some extensive deduction work, he was sure that he had magic! After all, he had just looked at the broken vase and begged it to fix itself, and it had.
That elicited the activity he was currently attempting, and one he had been attempting for a good seven months now: To fix his glasses.
When his Primary School headmaster had asked the Dursleys why they let him continue wearing broken glasses, they had lied, claiming that he was a 'troubled child' and that he had broken them out of spite.
He scowled as his eyes clouded with rage just thinking about them. He had stopped wondering about what he might have possibly done to deserve such treatment. He knew that wasn't natural because of how they treated Dudley and how other parents lavished their children with attention. He tried hard to be good and perform well in school, but all he got was disdain and humiliation.
Unbeknownst to him, as his anger continued to grow, the irises of his eyes shifted into an icy sheen, and he felt a slight, cold sensation course through his body. With a slight pop, his glasses had restructured itself.
He stared, in disbelief. After more than half a year, he had done it! A broad grin broke through his mood, he had performed magic!
From that day forward, he embarked on a new path, attempting to learn and master magic to the best of his abilities. He knew that the world was vast, and there were countless mysteries waiting to be unravelled. But for now, he relished in the moment of triumph, savouring the feeling of disbelief and wonder at what he had accomplished.
Two Years On
The months breezed by, and the boy continued to attempt to harness his newfound ability in secret. He experimented, trying to bring out the sensation he had felt within him.
Each night, after the Dursleys had retired to their bedrooms, Harry would sit cross-legged on his ratty mattress, alone in the dark. He was an avid reader, whenever he could sneak out to the local library or nick one of Dudley's books, one of them had a passage detailing exercise to improve one's focus. He would concentrate on his breathing, trying to find that place of calm within himself.
It was during one of his late-night practice sessions that Harry noticed something peculiar. It was only when he felt strong emotions—be it frustration, anger, joy or even a state of pure serenity—the icy sensation seemed to return, permeating throughout his body. It was as if his emotions were somehow connected to his magical power.
The mysterious connection between his emotions and the icy power intrigued Harry. He wondered if there was a way to control and channel these feelings into his magic intentionally. To test his theory, he decided to experiment further during his nightly practice sessions.
As he sat on his mattress, Harry recalled moments of intense emotion. He thought about the times he had felt overwhelming anger at the Dursleys' cruelty, the moments of joy he experienced when he found a hidden spot in the park to read, and the serenity he felt when the Dursleys went on a trip.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to evoke those emotions once more. He summoned the frustration he felt when the Dursleys belittled him, the happiness he felt when he escaped into his books, and the tranquillity he found in simple moments of solitude.
As he focused on these emotions, he could feel the icy sensation surge within him, almost as if his emotions were igniting the magic that lay dormant within his core. He allowed the power to flow through him, savouring the feeling of connection and control.
Opening his eyes, Harry held out his palm, thinking of light. To his astonishment, a subtle white light filled his cupboard. The sensation flowing through him seemed to itch, demanding to be let out. Harry was of a similar notion, projecting his desire for light even further, and the ball of light burned even brighter, somehow having no effect on him.
He set the light down on his bed, willing it to dim, lest the Dursleys notice the bright white light emanating from his dark cupboard. Joy flooded through his body. After months and months of effort, he had finally been able to perform magic!
With a determined glint in his emerald eyes, Harry decided that he wouldn't stand for his imprisonment any longer. He knew he had the power to unlock the door; he had seen what his magic could do. Tonight, he would put it to the test.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the icy sensation within him, allowing it to envelop his thoughts. He summoned the memory of the Dursleys locking the door, their voices full of disdain as they did so.
Drawing upon that frustration, Harry willed his magic to do his bidding, "Open," he thought.
A faint shimmer of light emanated from his outstretched hand, and he held his breath, hoping to hear the familiar click of the lock releasing. But to his disappointment, the door remained firmly shut.
He refused to give up. Harry knew that unlocking a door required finesse, a delicate touch of magic that he had yet to master. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, focusing on a memory of a time when he had felt a sense of serenity, a moment of quiet calm in the midst of the chaos that surrounded him.
"Open," he thought once more, this time with a calmer and steadier state of mind.
The shimmer of light intensified, and for a moment, Harry thought he felt a shift in the air. But the door remained resolute, mocking his attempts to escape.
Frustration and disappointment threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed those emotions aside. He had to stay focused. He needed to believe in his magic and in himself.
Drawing on every ounce of determination, Harry tried a third time. He pictured the lock in his mind, visualizing it turning, unlocking itself under the power of his magic.
"Open!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with conviction.
This time, the shimmer of light grew brighter, and the air around him seemed to hum with energy. Harry felt a surge of hope as he heard a faint creaking sound.
The door shuddered, and then, as if defying the Dursleys' will, it swung open, revealing the dimly lit hallway beyond.
A triumphant grin spread across Harry's face. He had done it! He had used his magic to unlock the door. The sense of accomplishment swelled within him, washing away the bitterness of his imprisonment.
Careful not to make a sound, he slipped out of the cupboard and closed the door behind him, leaving it unlocked. He knew that he would have to be cautious and relock it in the morning, but for now, he relished the taste of freedom.
As he made his way to the kitchen, Harry felt a newfound sense of empowerment. His magic was his ally, his lone companion in this world, bar his few books. The Dursleys may try to keep him hidden away, but they couldn't lock away the power that lay within him.
These relatively simple acts of magic however, had left the boy exhausted, and stumbled back to the cupboard, using the magic coursing through him once more to lock the door, hoping beyond hope that it actually locked, in before he blacked out.
From that night on, Harry continued to practice shaping his magic, primarily by attempting to unlock and lock the cupboard door and trying to summon different colored lights simultaneously. It was slow going, and there were times when he felt discouraged. He had, however, decided that magic was akin to a muscle, and he knew that with each attempt, he was growing stronger and more adept at calling it up.
Little did he know that this was just the beginning of an extraordinary adventure, one that would take him to places he had never imagined, and test him in ways he had never foreseen. But for now, he cherished the memory of that triumphant moment, where he had broken through the barriers of disbelief and realized that magic was indeed real.
Author's Note:
Hello Again! I have returned faster than I expected. The beginning chapters are quite easy to visualise after reading so many fics. I would like to start off by just saying Thank You for all the support, it's been quite surprising in all honesty. The messages have been rather unexpected but very much appreciated :)
This chapter is nearly double in length, so there are likely typos or errors that skipped by me, so once again, critiques and tips/recommendations are very much appreciated, and a special thank you goes out to the people who took the time to message me a comprehensive list of critiques, it genuinely helps.
So I wrote this chapter out, but I didn't know just how much wandless stuff to actually incorporate given the level of difficulty I want it to have, so I hope that this doesn't seem like an absurdly OP Harry. Any advice on that end is also very much welcome because I feel as if this may end up being an Edgy! Harry type of fic and I'd rather avoid that. Harry also isn't going to be some type of perennial Wizard in all things off-rip, but Ice is going to be fairly important for him the way I plan on devising this. No, Harry isn't going to be a demon with Elemental magic as of yet either, dw.
Hope you enjoy it, and criticism is appreciated, once again. See y'all soon.