Chapter 13 – The Light Mother
Oliver Wood winced as the quaffle hit him in the knee. The bright red ball bounced off his knee guard and he caught it. He threw it back to Kotelnikov, who flew back around and attempted another shot. Oliver twisted on his broom, smacking away a shot on the far hoop, forcing Delman to dive to catch it. Three more shots glanced off him before he finally let one in.
He landed, and Kotelnikov and Delman joined him on the grass. The three boys clasped arms and shook hands.
"Sixty-three seconds and fifteen shots blocked against two chasers with no defenders," Kotelnikov's thick Eastern European accent made him hard to understand at times. Still, Oliver could tell the older boy was impressed. "That is not bad, Wood. Not bad at all."
Oliver nodded. "Thanks, I suppose. Good to know the past month hasn't been for nothing."
Delman snorted, his voice carrying the slight nasal lilt that was indicative of German heritage. "I would hope so. My papa would be furious if all the money he spent to send me here was for nought."
Kotelnikov grinned. "Well, when you are attracting all the scouts over at Beauxbatons, I am sure it will feel worth it, da?"
"I suppose you are right," Delman grinned back. "When we are all facing against each other in the Euro League, I'm sure it will feel worth it."
"Cheers to that," Oliver raised an imaginary goblet in the air as the three boys left for the changing rooms.
The boys emerged in the common area, where the rest of the Quidditch boot camp was gathered. Instructors passed between groups, offering compliments and goodbyes as the teenagers mingled.
Oliver exchanged farewells with the few friends and acquaintances he'd made at camp, before joining the other Britishers at the portkey to London. He found an open stretch of the long rope and held it. Once everyone was accounted for, a camp employee touched it with his wand and Oliver felt a jerk as if he were being hooked from behind his navel.
There was an intense spinning sensation, and Oliver stumbled and collapsed onto the hardwood flooring of the Leaky Cauldron. He bid farewell to the other campers and nodded to Tom the bartender before walking to the floo.
He internally groaned, seeing the congestion around the only fireplace in the pub. He approached, hoping to jostle his way through, when he noticed the people crowding the fireplace all had red hair.
The Weasleys spoke to each other in hushed, frantic voices. Mr. Weasley looked at the floo nervously before swishing his wand – a weasel made of silvery mist came out the end and ran out the back door that Oliver knew held the entrance to Diagon Alley. The twins and Ron looked uncharacteristically serious, and even Percy's usual severe countenance was marked with worry.
Oliver tried not to think about Percy, as he knew where his train of thought would lead. He had avoided thinking of her the entirety of the summer and was making progress getting over it. He didn't think dwelling on her would be conducive in any way.
He approached the twins who brightened when they saw him.
"Captain!" exclaimed the twin he'd long since learned to identify as Fred. "What brings you to this little hole-in-the-wall establishment?"
Oliver rolled his eyes. "I was heading home when I saw you lot blocking the entrance. Anything wrong?"
"Oh, about that," Fred winced. "We sort of lost Harry."
"You lost Harry?" Oliver repeated slowly. "What's he doing with you lot? I thought he couldn't visit. Also, what do you mean, you lost him?"
"Oh yeah, you don't get mail at that camp of yours," George shook his head. "Oliver, you are very behind on the times, my friend."
Oliver frowned as the twins recounted the events of the last few weeks. "A house elf? That's new. And what's this about Harry's relatives?"
The twins exchanged a look. Fred shifted uncomfortably. "You know how Harry mentioned that he and his relatives don't get along? We think they mistreated him. We saw a little makeshift bedroom under the staircase. We think they made him sleep down there."
Oliver's jaw clenched, but George chimed in before he could say anything. "Hey, look – there's Alicia and Katie."
Oliver turned around to see two of his chasers behind them. Edward, his uncle and Katie's father waved from behind the rapidly approaching girls. He waved back, surprised.
"Oliver! I didn't know you were back from camp," Katie punched him in the arm in greeting. He pulled her into a headlock and ignored her cry of outrage, opting to greet Alicia instead.
"Had a good summer so far, Spinnet?"
"Not too bad," Alicia shrugged. "I've had the house to myself for the most part – Bradley is staying with a friend in London to be closer to the ministry, and Mum and Dad are always at work."
"That sounds dreadfully boring," Oliver grimaced. Alicia shrugged again.
"What are you doing here? Also shopping?"
He shook his head. "I was waiting to use the floo when Fred and George told me they lost Harry."
He turned to the twins. "Still haven't told me what that means, by the way."
Katie stopped struggling and looked at the twins. "Whaddya mean, you lost Harry? You haven't even gone into the alley yet."
"He got lost in the floo," George said, and Katie gasped. "He didn't mispronounce anything too badly – he probably just skipped a grate or two. Maybe he's snooping around the back of Zonko's or something."
Alicia's eyes narrowed. "Should we go look?"
At that moment, Uncle Edward, who'd been talking to the Weasley parents, ushered them into the alley. Oliver reluctantly released Katie from the headlock and followed the large group.
"Does anyone have something of Harry's? Or perhaps something he gifted you?" asked Uncle Edward.
"Oh," Alicia quickly pulled off her bandanna and unclasped the little broomstick pin. "He gave me this last Christmas."
"Recent enough – that should work. Thanks, Alicia," Uncle Edward took the pin and performed a complication wand motion over it before floating runes appeared in front of him. It wasn't a language Oliver recognised, though that wasn't saying much, considering he'd never taken Ancient Runes. Edward nodded. "That's good. He's nearby. Definitely within the alley."
Oliver saw the other adults visibly deflate. His uncle returned the pin to Alicia, who promptly clasped it to her bandanna before tying her hair back.
"Let's go find him then," Alicia said, and the twins nodded eagerly.
Mrs Weasley glared at her identical sons. "We can search for him, but you two—" she pointed at the twins. "If I find even one of your toenails touched Knockturn Alley, I will have you degnoming the yard and cleaning out the chicken coop for a month straight."
"Yes, mum," the twins intoned mournfully. Oliver suppressed a snort. Very few people could cow the twins, and it was a glorious sight to witness whenever it did happen.
The team separated from the rest of the party. His uncle dragged a complaining Katie to a dentist, promising she could spend the rest of the day with her friends after her check-up.
"So, what was that about Harry's relatives?" Oliver asked the twins, and Alicia looked at them sharply.
"You told him?" Alicia asked, and Oliver felt a spark of outrage at the disapproval in her voice.
"Do you not trust me to know?" he asked frostily. Alicia shook her head.
"No, no, that's not it. Harry really looks up to you, and I know you – and the rest of the team – only have his best interests at heart. I just – I think it's not our place to go around telling people," Alicia shrugged. "I mean – I get why you wrote me, Fred, and I'm glad you did, but at the same time, it's not something Harry would want people to know."
Oliver deflated. "I suppose you're right. Sorry for snapping at you."
"We all trust you, captain. Don't worry about it," Alicia smiled and patted him on the shoulder. She turned to the twins. "Who else knows?"
"The four of us and Ron," Fred said. "Flitwick and McGonagall were there, so I'm pretty sure they know."
"We mentioned to Mum that they were starving him – not a lot of specifics, though," George frowned. "I don't think she took us seriously."
"Well, let's keep that between us then," Oliver said, nodding at Alicia. "We'll help how we can, and let Harry tell the others whenever he feels he's ready."
Fred and George nodded. Alicia suddenly cried Harry's name, drawing the attention of the three boys.
Oliver saw the tiny black-haired boy turn a corner, followed closely by Hagrid. He saw Harry turn at the sound and gasp at the sight of the chaser. The two broke into a sprint and collided into a hug in the middle of the street. He was surprised to see Harry's open display of affection but even more by the tears running down Alicia's cheeks.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She whispered. "I didn't know… Why didn't you say anything?"
Harry's elation turned to confusion, and Oliver had the feeling he knew what she was referring to.
"Come on, you two," he gestured to the twins. "Let's go find the others and let them know we found him – Alicia, Harry, meet us at Quality Quidditch."
He got an absent nod from the reunited friends and dragged the twins off.
A few minutes later, Oliver found himself in Quality Quidditch Supplies after getting the Weasleys to call off their search. He was reading through the information pamphlet for the Nimbus 2001 when the doorbell chimed.
He glanced over and saw Alicia and Harry enter the store. Tucking the pamphlet in his pocket, he made his way over.
"Is that the reigning Hogwarts Quidditch Champion, Harry Potter?" he stage-whispered as he shook the boy's hand vigorously. "I'm such a huge fan, Mister Potter."
"Merlin, are you Hogwarts Quidditch Champion Oliver Wood?" Harry asked with wide eyes. "I've always wanted to meet you."
"Well, all your dreams are coming true," Oliver twisted an imaginary moustache.
"Boys," Alicia rolled her eyes. "We're in public. Behave."
"Yes, ma'am," Oliver and Harry chorused, saluting with identical grins.
"Oh, how badly I want to jinx you both right now," she grumbled. "Just you wait till we're back at Hogwarts…"
Oliver shook his head and dragged his younger friends deeper into the store, prattling off different facts he'd memorised about the Nimbus 2001. Harry soaked in the information, staring at the top-of-the-line broom with awe, while Alicia looked supremely bored.
Half an hour had passed before Alicia reminded Harry that they'd come back to do shopping for school, not to look at brooms. When Harry grudgingly allowed her to drag him out of the store, Oliver decided to call it there and return home. He waved goodbye to his two teammates and returned to the Cauldron. Thankfully the floo terminal was empty, so he got to the fireplace without much delay.
"Mum? Dad?" Oliver called when he stepped out the other side. The only response was silence. His shoulders slumped and he let out a long breath he'd been holding since that morning. He collapsed into an armchair in his living room and stared into the fireplace which still glowed green. He watched the embers turn back to their natural shade of red and orange. He closed his eyes, humming to the tune of a Weird Sisters song as he processed the events of the day.
His fingers dug into the plush armrests as he remembered the twins' words.
Harry had been mistreated – abused. He tried to reconcile the witty, clever boy with his mental image of an abused child. He couldn't. He supposed that only showed that victims came in many forms.
Still, there were signs in hindsight. He could see now, Harry's scars that ran far deeper than the one on his forehead. Harry's aversion to touch, and his propensity for self-blame. The way he expected betrayal and abandonment at every turn.
His immense relief at just being accepted.
What seemed like an insecure pre-teen now looked like something far more insidious.
He felt responsible for all his players, and the guilt of letting Harry's suffering slip through the cracks gnawed at him.
Another reason to feel incompetent.
Oliver watched the dying embers of the fireplace and tapped his fingers against the armrest. That familiar black feeling bored away at his insides. It always came back. The only way to make it go away was to distract himself – with his friends or Quidditch – but the moment the curtains were drawn, and he had a moment of solitude, the feeling always returned. It was an oddly juxtaposed feeling – somewhere at the crossroads of a scalding cup of tea travelling down your throat and feeling overwhelmingly numb.
Then the fireplace roared a brilliant emerald green and an older woman stepped out.
"Oliver!" she exclaimed, and he rose to hug her, a smile plastered back on his face effortlessly.
"Mum! You're home!"
Harry Potter lay in bed that night feeling awfully giddy. He'd gotten to see his friends today! Katie, Alicia, and Hermione, and even a surprise appearance from Oliver. He was still bounding with energy from the trip, full of that unfamiliar warmth he always seemed to have after spending time with his friends.
He closed his eyes and steadied his thoughts, entering the Nothing. By now, it was nearly unrecognisable to the dark expanse it had been when he'd first begun his occlumency training. Now, it was more akin to a starry night, with the vast expanse of memories, good and bad, dotting the sky like an interweaving constellation. A cluster of unprocessed memories banded together almost like a moon. They were the deceiving pearly white that all unprocessed memories were. These were the memories that were too difficult to process — the memories from his childhood.
He cast those aside – he didn't care to organise them. He wanted to block them out and pretend they never happened.
Instead, he sorted through the day's events, reliving much happier memories. Sadly, the first memory he found didn't start out all that fun. He watched himself in the dingy antique shop, peeking out from the cracks in the cabinet. He watched Malfoy's father haggle with the shopkeeper and got his first sight of Knockturn Alley. Then he ran into Hagrid and was hurriedly escorted out of the shady street, and back into the main alley. Then, he heard his name.
"Harry!" A feminine voice called behind him. The voice was startlingly familiar, and he turned around. He first noticed the golden broomstick pin glinting in the sunlight. The second was its owner nearly running to him. He matched her stride and met her in the middle.
His arms met around her middle with desperate, relieved strength. Relief from having his fears of abandonment proven wrong. Her very presence was proof that he hadn't been wrong to believe in his friends. She had stayed, just like he thought she would. And even though he'd already known this after reading the letters Dobby withheld, knowing and hugging the concrete proof were two very different things.
Then he felt wet tears on his shoulder and froze. Was she worried he'd gotten lost somewhere dangerous? Was she angry he hadn't written? He'd explained in the letter, and she seemed to understand.
Then again, the Dursleys hadn't had much patience for his 'excuses' either.
"Why didn't you tell me? I didn't know… Why didn't you say anything?" she whispered between heaving breaths.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused. She scanned him over, and he shifted uncomfortably.
"Your aunt and uncle – the twins told me how they found you," she confessed, and Harry stiffened.
"It's nothing," he said blandly. She frowned.
"Harry –"
"It's nothing, OK?" his words came out sharper than intended and she flinched. His shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell."
"It's okay," she said unsteadily. "I won't force you to talk about it – just remember that I'm here for you, ok? So is the rest of the team – Ron and Hermione too. If you ever need us, you need only ask, Harry. We're all here for you."
He nodded weakly and they walked in silence in the general direction of the Quidditch shop.
"I'm sorry about not writing," he mumbled.
"'S not your fault," she shrugged. "I thought maybe you were in some secret base where you weren't allowed mail. A house elf, though? That caught me off guard, I can't lie."
Harry's lip quirked. "That is a little odd, isn't it? I thought you lot forgot about me or didn't want to write me or something."
"Oh, Harry," Alicia hugged him again, and he revelled in the warmth. "We all care about you and very much want to write you. I missed you this summer – I met with Angelina and Katie twice and all Katie would talk about were different plots to break you out for Quidditch."
Harry snorted. That sounded like her all right. "Thanks."
"Anytime," she smirked and ruffled his hair. He swatted her hand away playfully, and they both smiled at the familiarity of the routine.
In the Nothing, the memory was assigned to friends, Alicia, Oliver, Fred and George, relief, anxiety, and warmth. The next memory picked up after he and Alicia split up from Oliver. The duo found themselves outside Flourish and Blotts, staring in horror at the huge crowd.
They waded through the customers of the bookstore.
"Why's everyone here as old as Mrs Weasley and a girl?" Harry asked Alicia as he dodged a cursing man with a camera. "Especially during Hogwarts shopping season."
"There was a poster outside that said Lockhart was having a signing," Alicia wrinkled her nose. "Likely his entire fan base showed up."
"Lockhart?"
"I forget you grew up with muggles," she shook her head. "Lockhart's a celebrity. Wrote a bunch of books that middle-aged women especially just eat up. He's something of a Casanova. A bunch of girls my age fancy him too."
"What about you?" Harry asked innocently, a teasing gleam in his eye. "You're a girl your age. You don't fancy him?"
Her face twisted like she smelled something foul. "Not my type. He's too..."
Harry peeked through a gap and saw a man signing books at a desk. He laughed at the words of a woman around Mrs Weasley's age, and his shiny blond curls bounced in a way that Harry found very artificial. He smiled – blinding and with a little too much teeth – and the woman swooned. Then he turned away and surveyed the crowd. His gaze crossed Harry before turning back and staring with a slack jaw.
Obliviously, Alicia gestured and pointed through the gap in the crowd. "See, he looks like a ponce."
The crowd quieted as Lockhart looked at him and Alicia, and the latter flushed as every nearby woman turned and glared at her. Then a hushed whisper carried through as the crowd's gaze turned on Harry, who fidgeted uncomfortably and shifted behind the older girl. It was for nought as Lockhart himself stood up and strode to them, with the crowd parting like the Red Sea around him. Lockhart grabbed Harry's arm, and the young boy flinched as the famous wizard's ironclad grip felt painfully reminiscent of Uncle Vernon.
Alicia tried to get to him, but the crowd closed around them as Lockhart returned to the middle with Harry in tow.
"My, my, if my eyes don't deceive me – Harry Potter!" Lockhart brandished Harry to the cheering crowd like some kind of prize. He tried to wrench his arm out of the older man's grasp, but he was surprisingly strong.
Lockhart pulled Harry into a pose for a reporter, who took their picture with a blinding flash. A gobsmacked Harry blinked away spots from his vision as his head hurt, in an overwhelming sensation remarkably similar to activating his mage sight in the Palace of Light.
"I've been sitting on this little secret for a while now," Lockhart winked at an old, grey-haired woman whose knees gave out beneath her. "But I feel now is the perfect time to announce it."
Lockhart looked at Harry, and the younger boy saw a predatory gleam in the older man's eyes. He mumbled quietly enough that only Harry could hear, "Between you and me, we'll surely make the frontlines. Don't you agree, Harry?"
He opened his mouth to say something crude that would get him into trouble with Mrs Weasley or Hermione but Lockhart didn't let him, turning back to the crowd.
"My good witches and wizards – when young Harry came to Flourish and Blotts today, he did so with no greater desire than to purchase a copy of my latest novel and autobiography, but little did he know, he and his classmates would be getting a taste of the real Magical Me! Yes, my dear witches and wizard, I have accepted the Defence against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts!"
Harry stared at Lockhart; abject horror etched into his face.
"For being such a dedicated fan, young Harry will also be leaving with signed copies of my full collection – free of charge!" The crowd cheered as Lockhart shoved a stack of books into Harry's arms and posed for one last picture before shooing him off.
Harry stumbled back to Alicia who was watching him with a mix of outrage and amusement. She glared at the back of Lockhart's head before smirking at Harry. "How was your five minutes of fame, Harry?"
He made a rude gesture, and she snickered. They navigated the crowd, searching for an open area to breathe. They found one near the back-to-school section. They let out sighs of relief as their crushed feet cried from the newfound freedom.
The freedom didn't last long as Harry was suffocated by the infamous Hermione hug. He stiffened and felt a moment of panic before Alicia, sensing his distress, squeezed his shoulder.
It's not the Dursleys. It's not the Dursleys. It's not the Dursleys.
The mantra repeated in his head as he forced himself to relax. When she pulled away, she seemed none the wiser to his emotional turmoil.
Alicia's hand left his shoulder.
"Harry! It's been so long! You didn't respond to your letters, and we were ever so worried!" She rambled, just barely on the edge of coherence. "And we got here, and Ron said you'd gotten lost in the fireplace, and they nearly called the Ministry – did you know that the Ministry regulates all floo travel? How fascinating! How do you think they track who goes in and out? Some kind of tracking charm? Or maybe a –"
"Hermione, darling, let the boy breathe. He looks like he's been through a storm," Olivia Granger gently pried Hermione away, receiving a grateful smile from the dishevelled boy. "Harry, dear, how have you been? Have a good summer?"
"Could've been worse," Harry responded vaguely, not meeting the older woman's eyes. He didn't miss the way they narrowed at his answer.
An awkward silence settled over the group, promptly broken by another familiar voice.
"Harry!" The veritable ball of energy that was Katie Bell thankfully didn't hug him. The reason became obvious as the giant cage half her size rattled as the eagle owl within flapped its wings. "Look what Dad got me!"
"Whoa," Alicia commented from behind him. "That's wicked. What are you calling him?"
Katie pointed to a spot on the bird's head, where its feathers were discoloured in the vaguest facsimile of a lightning bolt.
"There's no bloody way," Harry mumbled.
"I'm calling him Green Lightning!" Katie grinned. He facepalmed as the owl squawked in approval.
"At least he seems to like it," Alicia mumbled, covering her laughter with her hand. He glared at her. She snickered.
Katie stared at them, nonplussed. "I'm kidding. His name's Algernon. Why would I name my owl after this prat – he didn't even wish me a Happy Birthday."
"Today's your birthday?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Nope," she grinned at his exasperation. "It was in July – on the thirteenth. Still didn't get me a present though."
"A house elf was stopping my mail," Harry pointed out.
"I missed the part where that's my problem."
He rolled his eyes.
"July thirteenth, got it," Harry mock saluted. "I'll get Hagrid to find you a dragon for next year."
That was assuming the Dursleys let him get any writing done next summer.
"Yeah, I think I'll pass," Katie said dryly. "I think I saw an ice cream parlour. I'm sure I can be convinced to forgive you over some mint chocolate chip."
"Katie, stop extorting the poor boy," said an older man with Katie's sandy blonde hair as he approached the children. "I'm Katie's father. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Harry."
"Nice to meet you too, sir," Harry shook the older man's hand.
"None of that sir nonsense," Mr. Bell waved him off. "Call me Edward. I feel like I've already known you forever given how much my daughter talks about you. Katie spent all of Christmas break last year telling me about how you're so much nicer than she thought you would be."
Harry pinked, but it was nothing compared to how red Katie got.
"Dad!" She hissed angrily. He snickered.
"What do you mean, nicer than you thought I would be?" He asked in mock outrage.
"I expected you to be a big-headed little snot, Mister Boy-Who-Lived," she said innocently, shrugging off her father's disapproving look.
"That's more Lockhart's forte," Harry said and received angry looks from Hermione and Katie.
"Lockhart isn't big-headed!" Hermione said hotly and Katie nodded vehemently. "He's a very accomplished wizard and our professor."
"Don't remind me," Ron grimaced. "Bloody hell, imagine listening to that peacock for a whole year."
Harry nodded solemnly and Alicia snickered. The other two girls' glares only intensified.
"You know, we never talked about your owl, Katie," Alicia said sanctimoniously before the girls could explode on the boys. "What kind of name is Algernon? Did your owl also storm Normandy against Grindelwald?"
Katie looked over her shoulder to see that her father wasn't looking her way, before making a rude gesture. Alicia returned it with gusto.
"Potter the celebrity," a young, male voice sneered from behind, and Harry scowled. He turned around and glared at Draco Malfoy. "Can't even go into a bookstore without making the front page. Do you enjoy it, being paraded around like a unicorn?"
Harry's scowl deepened and he started a retort but was interrupted. Not by Katie and Alicia, who glared at the Slytherin when he announced his presence, but by Ginny.
"He didn't ask for that!" She said, squeaking when Harry and the others looked at her with surprise. Malfoy sneered.
"Look at that; you've got yourself a little girlfriend, Potter!"
Ginny turned the same colour as her hair.
"Just because no girl will touch you with a ten-foot pole doesn't mean you have to be so jealous," Katie said sweetly, batting her eyelashes in the picture of innocence – at least, to anyone who didn't know her.
Malfoy flushed and began what Harry was sure was a scathing retort, but his jaw clamped shut when the silver snakehead of a wooden cane came to rest on his shoulder.
A man who could only be Malfoy's father sneered down at the teenagers, his gaze lingering on the Grangers the way someone looked at a pile of rubbish tossed on the street. He threw around some insults with Mr. Weasley and effectively provoked him into a fight. What Harry was sure Malfoy didn't expect was for Mr. Weasley to tackle him into a bookshelf.
It was a spectacle, with the kids all cheering for Mr. Weasley while Mrs Weasley yelled at her husband to back off. Ultimately, it took Hagrid appearing out of nowhere and physically prying them apart to get them to stop. The Malfoys stalked off after a parting jibe.
Harry didn't remember exactly what he'd been thinking when he dumped his full set of Lockhart books into Ginny's arms. It was rather rude of him. Thankfully, neither she nor the rest of the Weasleys seemed to hold it against him.
The memory ended, and Harry retreated from the Nothing. He stared at the moonlit shadows on the ceiling in Ron's room as he laid in his conjured camp bed. The shadows shifted and Harry blinked, his vision coming awash with colour.
Spells layered upon each other, from the protective charms on Scabbers' cage to the very wards that held the Burrow aloft. Harry noticed with satisfaction that the cage seemed to be awash with magic – the protective spells he'd gotten on it must be rather powerful. Money well spent if you asked him.
He spared the cage no more than a cursory glance, staring up at the ceiling where a cacophony of wards and charms intermingled in an odd tessellation of energy. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but Harry thought he saw a fiery red shimmer and glinting spots of green.
He pushed away that train of thought, which unwittingly pivoted to the beginning of that last memory. It only served to make him feel worse. Alicia's wounded expression when he snapped at her was burned into his eyelids like the camera flash in Flourish and Blotts.
Wherever you go, only ruin follows, spoke the high, sinister hiss in his mind. Its voice was lulling and entrancing, despite its venomous intent. First your parents, then your friends. When will their suffering be enough?
Harry clamped down on his thoughts, forcibly shutting them out. He forced himself to fall asleep, but his slumber was restless.
His eyes opened to blinding white and he groaned. He looked around his chambers and saw he was alone. He hadn't been back here since his mother had departed. He left his room, walking the hallway to his training room, his feet dragging with every step.
He pushed the large birchwood doors open, crossing the room with familiarity. As he approached, he noticed someone sitting inside the gazebo. The woman was engrossed in a book, and Harry initially thought Luna had come to speak with him.
As he drew closer, he recognised the woman's silver hair. She wore a flowy white sundress and a floppy white hat with a wide brim. He stood at the lip of the gazebo, drawing her attention.
She looked up from her book and smiled—her grey eyes shone like mercury in moonlight.
"The poet of apprehension, Patricia Highsmith," she said, gesturing to her book. Her voice was strong and gentle. "Brilliant writer. Non-magical, of course. I find that magic has made wizardkind rather… complacent with the written word. At least compared to their mundane counterparts."
She nodded to herself, contemplative. "Something about the powerlessness of the mundane existence stirs the imagination in ways that magicals have long forgotten. It is rather tragic that your kind no longer imagines for the sake of imagining. Perhaps there is not much use for such trivialities when anything you could possibly imagine can instantly become reality."
"Theia," Harry breathed, awe colouring his words.
"Yes, Chosen," the Light Mother smiled. "You know, normally when people meet a goddess, they bow."
Harry started and bowed awkwardly. Theia chuckled.
"I said most people – you are not most people," she put her hands on his shoulders and brought him to eye level. Her hands were cool. Comfortably so, like the glass windows in cars and trains that you fall asleep on. "You are my Chosen– you are family."
Harry smiled, hesitant. "Family, yeah."
Theia stood and gestured for Harry to follow her. She strolled into the small garden behind the gazebo.
"Luna tells me that your training is progressing at an excellent pace," the goddess stood by a white flower and plucked it from the stem. She smelled it and smiled. Then she gently closed her hands around it and brought it to her lips. She muttered under her breath in a language he couldn't understand, and light slipped through the cracks between her fingers. She opened her pale hands and within them laid a silver bracelet with a white lily charm.
"She also told me how devastated you were to say goodbye to your mother," the bracelet floated from her hand and clasped around his wrist. The charm jingled softly. "I imagine you would enjoy a keepsake. Something to remind you of her. A reminder to live life to the fullest and bring pride to this house. Live your life so well that –"
"So well that it's enough for three lifetimes," Harry finished, nodding with shining eyes. He surreptitiously wiped them off on his sleeve, under the guise of admiring his new bracelet. "T-thank you, milady. This means a lot."
"You are welcome, Chosen," Theia nodded before turning back to the path. "I believe that my favoured, Nicholas, has reached out to you with an offer of tutelage?"
"Yes ma'am."
"You will accept, of course," she instructed. "He will teach you ways of magic long forgotten. Magic that this bracelet will help you harness. What you will study goes beyond spells. You will apply the theory that your mother taught you to shape magic, in its purest form, to your very will. This is ancient magic, and I expect you to treat this with the respect and discretion it is due."
Harry nodded, and she seemed to notice despite not looking in his direction.
"Nicholas will teach you everything you need to know to become a fully realised Chosen of Theia. By your fifteenth birthday, you will have completed your training and been knighted by me. Nicholas and you will work out the specifics of your studies, I am sure."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry nodded resolutely. "Because of you, I got to know my mother – I will make you proud."
She turned around and appraised him critically. She nodded and smiled. "I believe that, Chosen."
Harry smiled shyly.
"Now, you must return to the real world," Theia clasped her hands together. "You must await correspondence from Nicholas. I presume you know the way back to your quarters?"
Harry nodded and, recognising the dismissal, left the room. He returned to his chambers and tucked himself into bed. Once more, he forced himself to fall asleep.
Images of a singular flower permeated his dreams for the rest of his slumber. The petals changed colour between red and white and couldn't seem to settle on one. A red petal would turn to white, and another red petal would fall off. Then, a white petal would turn red, and a white petal would fall off. As the final petal turned from red to white, Harry was jolted out of his slumber.
He rose early the next morning feeling rather unsettled. The lurid orange wallpaper (and the many similarly coloured flags, posters, and other adornments) burned his tired eyes. Ron's loud snoring assaulted his ears.
He laid claim to the bathroom before anyone else and took his time getting ready. He stared at his thin face in the mirror and rubbed at the lines under his eyes, stifling a yawn. His hand came to cover his mouth, and he noticed the silver bracelet on his hand. The white lily glowed slightly, as if in greeting.
His lip quirked upward.
From downstairs, he heard pots and pans clanging and crashing as they soared through the air, preparing the breakfast fare.
"Hullo, Mrs Weasley," he said as he sat in the kitchen. "Would you like some help?"
"Good morning, Harry dear. And no, I'm almost done here," Mrs Weasley smiled at him before pointing to the counter. "There was a letter for you this morning."
Harry jumped out of his seat excitedly and grabbed the expensive parchment. He frowned at the nondescript wax seal – he'd been hoping for the Hogwarts crest.
Harry Potter,
We will begin in September.
May the divine light guide you,
Nicholas Flamel.
Harry whistled under his breath and tucked the letter into his pocket, trying to hide his disappointment.
"Waiting for your scores, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked as she slid him a glass of pumpkin juice. "You're looking a lot like Percy was when he got his OWLs last week."
"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," he sipped the sweet beverage. "And yeah, I was hoping the professors would've sent them over by now."
"These things take time," she said sagely. "Back when I was in school, Professor Binns didn't return Lisey Hoodwinkle's History exam till next October. She still got the highest score in the class."
"Do you think they forgot?" Harry asked absently. "They must be busy…"
Mrs Weasley laughed. "No, no. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall have been doing this far too long to simply forget. Try not to think about it, Harry. I'm sure you did fine."
He nodded stiffly. Percy came down the stairs, followed closely by the twins. Harry noticed the mischievous looks on their faces as they trailed their older brother, who watched them with narrow eyes.
"I'm going to wake Ron," he pushed back his chair. "He'd never forgive me if he missed breakfast."
Mrs Weasley let out an exasperated sigh, then nodded. He winked at the twins as he walked past.
"Good luck," he mouthed, and the twins grinned wide. Harry shook his head before climbing the stairs. He entered his and Ron's room and frowned at the sleeping redhead. He looked around, searching for a fun way to wake his best mate. His eyes landed on a small, orange replica of a cannon. Harry hypothesised it had something to do with Ron's favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. A small grin appeared on his face, and he activated his mage sight.
Harry instantly screwed his eyes shut. He opened them again slowly, re-entering his enhanced vision. The hues of the magic surrounding him were so much sharper. Details of the charms around him that he hadn't been able to discern just last night stood out like a sore thumb. He eyed the protection charms on Scabbers' empty cage. An unbreakable charm was combined with weather-resistance enchantments. In the past, he'd had to touch an object to discern its magical properties, and it'd taken him a few seconds. Now, it was instant and didn't require contact.
Harry looked down at his bracelet and frowned. The white lily charm glowed white, matching the symbols on his hands that travelled up his arms.
He blinked away the mage sight and the magical colours faded to the bright orange of most things in Ron's room.
The charm no longer glowed but felt warm against his skin. He focused on that sensation, reactivating his mage sight. The warmth intensified, and Harry felt shimmering white magic pour from the bracelet into the pores of his skin. It became one with him, strengthening his senses.
Harry grinned. He made a mental note to thank Theia profusely the next time he saw her.
Reactivating his mage sight, he refocused on the cannon. It glowed a dull blue – it was charmed to make some sort of sound and puff out smoke. He could make an educated guess as to what that sound would be.
Harry picked up the cannon and held it right next to Ron's ear. Biting his tongue to stifle his laughter, he pushed against the charm on the cannon, triggering it.
KABOOM!
A loud bang like a – well, like a cannon firing – filled the bedroom, and an orange plume of smoke exploded out the barrel. Ron shrieked and tumbled out of bed, knocking the cannon out of Harry's hands as he passed.
Harry clutched his stomach as he rolled with laughter. He sat on Ron's bed as the other boy sat up, untangling himself from his orange duvet that had bright red quaffles printed on it.
"Good morning," Harry grinned.
"Oh, sod off, wanker," Ron grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "What in Merlin's name was that for?"
"It's nearly noon – I thought I'd have some fun waking you up."
Ron made a rude gesture and stomped over to the bathroom across the hall. Harry yelled into the closed door, "Don't take too long, otherwise breakfast will go cold."
He only got incoherent grumbling in response. Harry snickered as he went back downstairs to the rest of the Weasleys.
"Oh, good morning, Ginny," Harry smiled awkwardly at the youngest Weasley, who'd peeked out of a room at the commotion. "Breakfast's ready."
She turned, saw him, and squeaked out an incoherent response before running down the hallway into another room.
Harry blinked and frowned. Wasn't that Percy's room? He shook his head and continued walking.
Downstairs, the twins and Percy ate in silence, with the latter glancing suspiciously at his identical younger siblings. Mrs Weasley smiled when Harry turned the corner and fixed him a plate. He thanked her enthusiastically before gorging himself on delicious fried eggs, veg, bacon, and sausage. When he first arrived at the Burrow, he found he couldn't stomach as much food as he had at Hogwarts. He'd learnt that the hard way when, in an I-can-eat-whatever-I-want euphoric state, he'd eaten far too much and had later retched violently into the toilet. Now, he was getting back to eating full, healthy servings, though Mrs Weasley did try to coerce him into going back for seconds.
She thought he was far too thin for a growing boy and pegged him for a picky eater. He didn't disabuse that notion.
Down the stairs came Ginny, who adamantly refused to look anywhere in his direction.
As he chewed on a particularly large mouthful, he glanced at Percy, who seemed unbothered as he sliced his sausage into neat, bite-sized pieces.
He looked at the twins who only winked at him. It was very disconcerting watching two identical people wink at the same time, each closing a different eye.
Harry's musing was interrupted by the haphazard flutter of wings. A barn owl landed on the windowsill, dodging pecks from an irate Hedwig, who seemed to have claimed the Weasley household as her territory. Hedwig allowed Errol, the Weasley owl, to remain largely out of pity.
Mrs Weasley took the letter from the owl and read the address. A line of cold sweat ran down Harry's back when she glanced at him.
Wordlessly, she handed him the letter and Harry shakily unsealed it. His eyes widened as they roved down the page.
A relieved laugh bubbled out of him.
"Well?" Mrs Weasley prompted, a smile playing on her lips. Considering how anxious Harry had been the past few days, everyone, excluding perhaps the twins, was curious about his results.
"Outstandings in Defence, Transfiguration, and Charms. Acceptables in Herbology and Astronomy. And – and Exceeds Expectations in Potions," Harry said in disbelief. "I got an EE from Snape."
"Bloody hell, mate, you got the greasy bat to give you an EE?" Ron came down the stairs still yawning, though his surprise mirrored Harry's. "At least all that time you wasted studying during the summer was good for something."
Ron wrinkled his nose, and Harry shook his head exasperatedly.
"Ronald Weasley, you mind your language else I'll clean your mouth out with soap," Mrs Weasley scolded. Ron blanched and mumbled an apology. "And you'd do well to be more like Harry. If you studied harder, you might have passed Potions like he did."
Ron's ears turned red, and he sat quietly next to Harry.
"Sorry you got yelled at because of me," the dark-haired boy said quietly.
"Wot?" Ron asked through half an egg. He only half swallowed before continuing. "What're you apologising for?"
Harry frowned. "Nothing."
Ron shrugged before turning back to his plate. Harry picked at a stray tomato slice. Watching Ron get scolded because of Harry's scores reminded him eerily of the Dursleys. It reminded him of how his aunt and uncle would punish him if he did better than their precious Dudley.
Harry had thought Ron would feel similarly resentful – that Harry was unfairly upstaging him. Instead, Ron simply hadn't cared. He didn't know what to make of that.
While he was lost in thought, he absently noted Percy excuse himself. A few minutes later, a loud screech was heard from upstairs.
"FRED, GEORGE, WHY IS MY PREFECT BADGE PINK AND COVERED IN GLITTER."
Harry snorted and ducked his head, watching the twins get scolded by their mum. Ginny buttered her toast, looking innocuous – too innocuous. He met her gaze and gave her the slightest incline of his head. She smiled brightly despite the blood that rushed to her face.
Not for the first time, he reminded himself these weren't the Dursleys. They were something much, much better.
A/N: Sorry for the late update. School's started up again so expect irregularity like this now :( I'm literally uploading this fifteen minutes before I have to get on the train so never say I'm not dedicated to you guys lol
I've also been unsatisfied with the quality of my writing for chapters 11-13. Fourteen is a little better, and I think fifteen is closer to my usual form. I guess that's writers block for you.
Thanks again for all the reviews and kind words. It means a lot. I'll probably respond to some of them on a later chapter, but in the meantime, never doubt that I read all of them.
Next chapter, we return to Hogwarts. Until then!