"You're up again," Arven said, tone knowing. Harry shrugged, slipping on his socks and shoes for the evening. Spring had come, but it was still cold in the early mornings.
"I'm gonna go outside," Harry muttered, not feeling like conversing with the book right now. Things had been a bit strained for reasons Harry couldn't quite comprehend.
"Make sure to tell your father," Arven remarked. Harry clenched his fists. He didn't like how the man said the word. Didn't like how he talked about his dad like he was evil. Marvolo Riddle was NOT evil. He was just strict and pushy, but those were good things. Arven just didn't understand that.
Maybe that's why they weren't getting along.
"Always do," Harry muttered, resisting the urge to slam the door. It closed with a solid click, and he walked the short hallway to Father's room.
Father had moved upstairs after he had heard of Harry's nightmares. But he had seemed proud of Harry for being apple to 'apparate' so young, whatever that had meant.
"Dad?" He knocked on the door. "Are you in there?"
No answer. Harry headed downstairs, taking the steps slowly and one at a time, careful not to slip like he and Theodore had done last week. It had been funny, but waking up the next morning covered in inhaled bruises was not.
"Dad?" Harry knocked on the office door.
"Come in." Harry opened it slightly, peeking his head in.
"I'm gonna go play outside."
"Alright, Hadrian." The man nodded, returning to his paperwork. Harry closed the door gently and ran outside.
The sun hadn't even risen yet. Though that was fine. Harry enjoyed being outside when it was dark and cloudy like this, the cold breeze messing with his hair. Harry pulled a strand of it down. It was getting quite long. Father would want him to cut it again.
Harry walked across the fields, watching the stars twinkle above. It was his favourite morning activity since he started spending more time outside. His skin had gotten a beautiful golden tan, his hair had grown longer, and he was feeling happy.
Especially when he lay on the cool ground, feeling the grass around him as dawn approached,
Rolling in the dirt, Harry couldn't help the soft breaths of laughter that escaped him. He was doing well in the lessons with his father, learning the basics of magic. "A wand is like a focus point; it shoots and amplifies the magic you have inside." And "magic is not just from what's inside, but is drawn from the earth, created by Mother Magic".
Maybe that's why Harry enjoyed being outside so much.
Ceasing his rolling, Harry looks around with a happy sigh, feeling the wind on his face and the dirt on his hands. He hears rustling from far away and opens his eyes, staring at a familiar sight.
"Banwell!"
"Hello, child." The ghost smiles but does not move closer. With a quick glance back, Harry got up from the ground and rushed over to his old saviour.
"You're here!"
"I'm always here," he let out a soft chuckle. "I've seen you outside quite a bit, child. With two other small ones."
"That's pansy and Theo! They're my friends!"
"Friends, you say?" Harry nods, grinning. It had been a while since he had seen the ghost. A long while.
"Uh-huh! We played outside a lot, and Dad even built us a playroom because he didn't like us messing up my room. Oh! But Theodore says it's not playing anymore since we're big now."
"You are much bigger than when I last saw you, child. You have grown."
"Yeah! Dad says I could be as tall as him one day. But Theo says that I could also be the height of my mom."
"Your mother?"
"I don't actually have one. I mean, I know I do because that's how babies get made; Theo told me about it. It's super gross, but she's not here."
"I'm sorry for your loss then, child."
"It's okay! I have Dad."
"You talk about your father a lot, hm?" Banwell moved into the forest. With a glance back at the house, Harry followed.
"Yeah, I guess. I've been studying with him to be a wizard!"
"A wizard, you say? Ah… that…" the aspiration trails off, but Harry keeps talking.
"Yeah! How do you hold a wand? What is magic? That kind of stuff. It's hard work, but I like it. I do math with Theo sometimes, but I don't like it as much. Theo does, though. Pansy prefers girly stuff. Like makeup."
"Most young ladies do."
"She tried to put it on me once, but then I looked in the mirror and kinda ran away like a baby. But Pansy didn't care! She said she'd just keep practising so I could look at myself one day if I wanted to. I don't really want to, though."
The ghost just hummed.
"Pansy and Theo are really nice, though, but they don't always get along because Pansy is like WOAH, and Theo is just…oh. And I'm like, woah. So it evens out. You know?"
"I do not."
"Oh." Harry looked down for a second. Then he shrugged. "That's okay. I understand it. Do you have friends?"
"I did, once before I became a ghost. A couple of boys from the nearby village."
"Oh, woah. Did you like them?"
"Very much," the ghost laughs as they continue walking through the forest. They reach a small clearing, the sun just beginning to rise. Banwell stops. "They were good people."
"What were their names?" Harry asked, listening to the birds twitter in the forest and the squirrels run underfoot.
"It's been so long, I do not remember."
"That must be sad," Harry looked at the man. The ghost smiled.
"Not at all. I do not remember their names, but I remember the way that they made me feel. That is what truly matters in a friendship, child."
Harry nodded, watching the sunrise. The green grass was covered in yellows and pinks and the soft blue as midnight turned to day. Harry smiled, watching the stars, the bigger star, be painted away by the sun as the world woke up. Animals became active as mothers fed their young. the trees swayed gently as they conversed with dreams and prayers. The grass moved in the melody of the wind, singing songs that no one could hear but the bugs that scurried on the ground.
Harry loved the sunrise.
The sun is a star, Hadrian. Did you know that?
Harry shook his head, ignoring Arvens words. Why were they ringing in his head now of all times? Simply because he watched the sun wake up the world? Harry frowned in distaste.
Banwell moved across the small field, and Harry followed, careful to avoid bugs and any hills and scared bunnies that ran around. They walk into another part of the forest, this one just as lit up as the rest but feeling deeper.
The air was heavier here.
"Oh, look! A bridge!" Harry points out, rushing to it. It was a small stone bridge above a silent stream that weaved around the terrain. Its bricks were mossy and green, chipped away from the water.
"When the rain gets heavy, so does the stream," Banwell explained, floating above the bridge. Harry looked down as much as he could. He didn't want to fall in. "It eats away at the rocks."
"Why?" Harry asks, confused. It's just water!
"Too much of anything, even something as soft and simple as water, can be damaging." His response confused Harry, but the child just kept walking after him.
"We're pretty far from the house," Harry says, looking around. The trees were much denser here, making Harry walk behind the spirit instead of beside him.
"Ah, I know, child. It is alright, and I shall guide you back out once we're done."
"Oh yeah, you're good at that. You've been here a while, huh?"
"Very long." Banwell nods. He does not look at Harry. Harry follows anyway, intrigued.
"Where are we going?" Harry inquires, watching wide eyes as a red fox approaches, sniffs, and bolts away.
"Anywhere, child. I have no destination in mind. This is a hidden place. Not many people have been here."
"Really?" Harry 'oohs' as he trails behind. Eventually, they come to a decrepit house, catching Harry's attention. It was made of old wood, appearing grey in the low light. The trees were so many and so thick that the sun's morning rays barely pierced through. Harry stepped closer.
"Would you like to explore?"
Harry shrugged, taking a step closer to the house. The grass around was squashed and flattened against the ground as if the house had just been plopped there, suddenly taking up previously unoccupied space. Harry inched closer and closer, taking in the withered wood, the peeling paint, and the open door.
Open door? Harry carefully stepped on the rotten steps, walking up the porch and avoiding any holes he saw. It smelled old and stale like nothing had gone inside for a while. Would he be the first?
"Banwell, should we-" Harry turned around, but the ghost was no longer there. "Banwell?"
"Inside, child." Harry heard from inside the house.
"You went in without me? That's mean," Harry laughed, pulling open the door further and stepping into the strange house. He steps into the living room, and for the most part, it seems normal. There are old, dusty furniture, empty shelves, and broken photographs. It's pretty boring, so Harry continues inside.
"Banwell?"
With no response, Harry continues forward, searching through the house. He opens every door, admiring the scorch marks on them. He reaches the kitchen, and it's as barren as the rest of the house.
"Banwell, this is boring," Harry tells the spirit, walking back to the front door. His foot snags underneath the lifted carpet, and he falls, hitting his head on the couch. With a groan, Harry rolled over, clutching his pounding head. He stared up at the ceiling.
All above him were lightning strikes, thin and thick lines growing elsewhere, searching out paths of destruction. Harry felt his head spin, and the light began to grow. Harry rolled back onto his knees, crawling away as he moaned in pain. Yet the more he moved, the more the room spun.
"Banwell…Dad…Dad…" Harry muttered, desperate for help. "Banwell, please."
"It's almost over, child. You'll be alright." Banwell muttered, staring down at him. "This is what happens to people that aren't good."
"What?"
"A boy like you can never be good, Hadrian," Banwell said, his polite smile growing large. "A boy of Charles' blood will never be good. You're related to a murderer; you'll never be good. Bad, bad child."
"No, no, I'm good," Harry groaned, grasping at his head. Who was Charles? His dad's name was Marvolo! "You don't- who are- I don't-"
Something wrapped around Harry's ankle and pulled. He felt his back slide and rip on the broken floor, a few pieces even penetrating his sides. He cried out sharply, kicking what was holding on to him.
"Let go!" Harry screamed, feeling his cold sides warm up as he bled.
"It's me, Hadrian. It's me."
"Father?"
Harry feels strong arms wrap around him, and Harry can't help but hug back. His dad is here, he's here!
"What were you doing out here?" The man demanded. His voice was rough, but he was holding Harry, actually holding him; he couldn't be mad! No, he was just worried! Harry's had spun.
"Banwell! I followed him, and then, now we-"
"Who?" Marvolo's hands shook with barely restrained fury.
"Banwell! A ghost! I saw him when I was running from the wolf! And now- he was- this house- and-"
Tears fell down his cheeks before Harry could stop them. Marvolo stared at him, gaze unreadable, before he waved his wand and muttered a few words. Harry felt the blast of heat before he saw it. It warmed him to the core.
The old house had gone up in flames.
"We must start teaching you earlier than I thought," Marvolo mutters, still holding Harry close, watching as the house burns with a simple spell. Harry marvelled at the display of power. With just a flick of his wrist, that awful house had erupted in flames.
"Teaching me what?"
"You are my son, and with that comes responsibilities. You must grow stronger, be stronger, in order to not fall for little tricks like that. Had I not been able to follow you, that poltergeist could have eaten up your soul, and you would have died." Harry gripped the man harder. He no longer felt like a big, strong boy. In his father's arms, he was a child. And a weak one at that. "I do not wish to see you dead, Hadrian."
Lightning flashes overhead as Harry lifts his head up. Gentle rain drops on them.
Dad cared about him. He really, truly cared.