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Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)
Harry woke up with a start, realizing he was in his own bed. He looked around, comforted by the sight of his familiar, dingy room. Its grimy walls were bare, the carpet threadbare, and sunlight filtered through the dirty windows. His leather jacket hung on the wardrobe door, intact and unscathed. He shook his head, laughing at the incredibly vivid dream he had.
As he shifted in bed, he felt a pain in his thigh. Pulling back the blankets, he saw a fresh, red scar on the outside of his leg, several inches long. He examined the wound with his fingers, noting it was closed and mostly healed, though it itched intensely.
Was it all real? He wondered about the monster, that strange woman in the mist, and those three...
Remembering the three faces, the blonde he recognized and the two others who emerged from the mist, made his heart beat faster. He had only seen them for a moment, but they were etched in his memory. Each woman was so different from the others—one dark, one red-haired, and the third a golden blonde. Their faces were not similar, but each captured his heart in her own way. He decided to push them out of his mind. If nineteen years of awkward virginity had taught him anything, it was that women as beautiful as those three were far out of his league.
He got up from bed and froze when he saw the black sword resting on the bed. He picked it up with trembling hands, another proof that last night was real. The hilt was silver, old, and worn, with a translucent jewel at the base. The gem was too large and too clear to be a diamond, or if it was, it was the biggest diamond in the world. He grasped the hilt, pulled it out a few inches from the scabbard, and marveled at the silvered steel blade. It looked like a work of art, with wavy patterns of black and silver running along its length, and when he tested the edge, it felt razor-sharp. He looked for the symbol he remembered from the night, but this time he couldn't find it.
He stood up and hid the sword in the wardrobe. He decided to forget about it, along with the madness of the previous evening. He threw on his clothes, grabbed his bag of books, and slipped out of his room.
He dashed down the stairs and past the kitchen, trying to avoid being seen by his uncle and aunt.
"Harry, get over here!" Vernon's voice rang out, tinged with anger.
Harry's shoulders hunched as if to fend off a blow he half-expected and stepped into the grimy kitchen. He tried not to breathe in the smell of old grease or notice the filthy floors and counters. His aunt Petunia was stirring eggs in a pan, a cigarette dangling from her lips, and her old blue robe dragging on the floor.
"You got paid yesterday, right?" Vernon asked, pushing aside a leather kit of needles and drugs.
"Yes," Harry replied, "but most of it went to pay my school bills. I only have thirty dollars left for food for the next two weeks."
"Hand it over," Vernon demanded. "I told you, boy, if you plan to keep living here, you better start paying rent. This isn't a charity; I gotta eat."
"That's all I have," Harry repeated, refusing to let his voice turn into a plea.
The big man stood up quickly, rounding the table, pushing chairs aside as he approached Harry. His anger was sudden and violent. Harry saw that the drugs had taken hold of him. The big man's eyes were wild, and there was no reasoning with him in this state.
Harry realized with sudden clarity that he could kill Vernon, take the man down as he had taken down the monster. Vernon saw the truth in the boy's eyes and flinched for a second. Harry, however, hesitated. Vernon wasn't a bad man, just a foolish and weak one who had succumbed to the lure of terrible drugs. Vernon saw his hesitation, and the bully within him unleashed his fury.
Vernon slapped Harry across the head, throwing him against the wall. Harry was used to being hit and knew how to handle the blow. He felt like the child he once was, cowering and praying for it to end. Something inside Harry hardened; anger filled him.
"Don't talk back to me, boy!" Vernon spat, saliva flying as he jabbed a stiff finger into Harry's chest. "You owe us for everything we've done for you, and I won't be disrespected in my own home!"
The big man reached for Harry's pocket, but Harry grabbed the thick wrist in an iron grip. He felt the bones creak under his slowly tightening fingers, and Vernon gasped in shock, knees buckling as he tried to pull away.
"This is the last time you touch me," Harry said, surprising himself with the coldness of his voice. "Do it again, and I'll repay you."
He released the man's wrist, and Vernon clutched it, eyes wide with fear and uncertainty for a moment before the haze of anger returned and he turned, looking for another outlet.
"You're burning my eggs, you stupid bitch! Can't you do anything right?"
Harry slipped out of the kitchen and fled the house, shame and anger warring within him. Vernon was rarely so unhinged, but it was worse when he was low on drugs and desperate for more. Harry had lived in that house for six years, and each one felt like an eternity.
The next day, he would turn nineteen and no longer be a ward of the state. He had been saving for years to move out, but he hadn't yet found a place. He resolved to change that as soon as possible.
He pulled his coat tightly around himself and frowned at the gray sky, threatening rain. His face burned where Vernon had hit him, but the shame burned deeper. He walked the narrow street, careful to avoid broken glass, trash, and cracked sidewalks.
It was a three-mile walk to school, and he always tried to leave his neighborhood before the drunks and toughs woke up and started prowling the streets, looking for easy targets. He pulled his coat tighter and pulled up his hood, his long legs carrying him swiftly down the road. He started thinking about the previous night when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Feeling eyes on the back of his head, he turned and looked around but saw no one. He was about to turn back when he noticed something out of place in this impoverished area. At the end of the street, across from his house, was a black Bentley with tinted windows. It was parked at the curb, idling; its sleek lines looked out of place.
Harry could see the driver, but the windows were so dark he couldn't make out more than gloved hands on the wheel. As he stood there staring at the car, he had the sense that whatever was inside, it was watching him. A sense of fear built inside him, some subliminal feeling that whatever was inside that car was not his friend.
Anger replaced fear. Harry refused to run anymore and started walking straight toward the Bentley. He hadn't taken two steps when the engine roared, and the car pulled away, speeding down the street. Harry stood still, shaking his head; he had no doubt now that it was following him. Suddenly, he felt very exposed and wished he had the sword with him. But going back home was not an option, given Vernon's mood.
Still feeling watched, Harry hurried to school. He cut across abandoned fields and an elementary school playground. Anxiety built with each step that took him farther from home. Finally, he saw the large brick building and sighed with relief; relief from what exactly, he wasn't sure, but he felt the eyes withdraw as he approached the school.
Colin was waiting for him outside, as usual. He sat huddled in his thick coat, his soft frame hidden, nose always buried in a fantasy novel. Harry smiled as Colin looked up, his best friend peering at him with owlish eyes behind glasses as thick as cola bottles.
"You didn't call last night during Twilight Zone," said the tall boy in his typically abrupt manner. "Did Vernon start a fight?"
"No," Harry replied, his face becoming troubled. "Something else happened. You'll never believe it. I'm not even sure I believe it, and I was there."
"It's a day for the unbelievable," Colin said, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, suddenly anxious.
"There's a new professor," Colin said, his cheeks flushing a deep red, which was very unusual for him. "I saw Dean Thomas meet with her a few minutes ago... she is... do you believe in angels, Harry?"
"I'm not sure," Harry said with a laugh, opening the door. "Why?"
"The new professor looks like an angel." The boy's voice was low and distant, his gaze vacant. "I've never seen a more beautiful woman, not on TV, not in movies, not in magazines... she's... otherworldly."
Harry stopped, accustomed to Colin's oddities—the boy was on the spectrum. But this was entirely unlike him. He was about to joke when his eyes were drawn to a sleek, black car parked on the street. It wasn't the Bentley from earlier, but it looked equally expensive and out of place. There was something sinister about its tinted windows, and once again, Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
He shoved his friend into the school, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
They headed to their lockers, Colin chattering about the new blonde professor, wondering what subject she taught. Harry's mind was uneasy. Between the chaos of the previous night and the strange cars this morning, he wondered if he was going mad. Crazy people often felt they were being followed or that some massive conspiracy was happening around them.
As he stashed his bags, he noticed Daphne Greengrass, and all those thoughts flew out of his head. He stood in front of his open locker, hands busy pulling out books, his eyes tracking the beautiful blonde cheerleader talking with a small group of her friends.
He had harbored a crush on Daphne for years, but she didn't even know he existed. She was the epitome of the pretty, popular blonde. Kind to everyone with a heart of gold, she spent most weekends volunteering at the local shelter—the head cheerleader dating Cedric, the king of the jerks and the jock of the campus. The blonde guy stood behind her, covering her eyes with his hands and saying, "Guess who!"
Harry turned away as Daphne and her friends giggled at the guy's antics. His heart broke again, realizing she would never notice a nondescript kid like him. Colin was still talking, oblivious to his friend's lack of attention.
Chapters 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 are already on Pa tr eon
If you would like to read the next chapters faster, see exclusive content, or support my work, please visit
Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)