Rosier Mansion, 1990, 9th of August, 1 PM
The day after our trip to Diagon Alley our letter for Hogwarts came. It was a rather simple message that simply confirmed our attendance on the 1st of September. Lun, looking into Hogwarts a History alongside me, had confirmed that the school year usually started on September the 1st and went until the 1st of June, where the Summer holidays would start.
Christmas and Easter added two week breaks amidst the school year, with the possibility of staying at the castle if you wished to during those two holidays. It was very fair to be honest. Especially considering students who had obligations and such to their family's and households. We certainly would use these holidays to expand our scope of knowledge; if Lunaris's pleas were anything to go by...
Besides studying magic and Hogwarts a History we also dabbled in magical History, scoping out what the world remembered of our father. Boy, that knowledge was so far off how our father actually was, that it was scary. Firstly the world had thought my father was homosexual, a fatal error if our mother was to ever learn of it. Secondly, they said that he was a 'dark lord' who wished to bring all magicals and muggles under his foot... Lun had almost choked at that passage in the book... None of these so called historians actually knew what father's goal was.
Well... We didn't exactly know what his ultimate goal was either, but he certainly wouldn't support the nonsense they were saying he did. I mean, really? Ruling over all muggles? Why would the Lord of Grindelwald need to rule over non-magical imbeciles...? It was nonsense. The part about him duelling Dumbledore was most likely true as I remember mother complaining laboriously on the subject of 'that cursed man'. Apparently he was a very confused man and thought that father was his boyfriend or something. Mother really didn't like him. Everything else was interesting if vague, it almost seemed like someone was trying to cover up something. I was intrigued; not that I could do anything with that feeling.
And now, as of three minutes ago, we had started practicing some basic magics from the 1st year charms book. They were quite quaint if a little lacking in detail with regards to how the magic is supposed to move, but that didn't stop either of us from attempting them.
"WingardiumLeviosa"
As we flicked our wand, the magic seeping into the rose gold vines that swept up the majority of its bronze-coloured length, our purple-black aura condensed into a thin string of condensed magic. It stretched out with the speed of a cobra in mid-strike before refining itself, in the last seconds of its travel, into a fine needle that stabbed into the item we were focussing on; metaphysically.
~Hmm, it's just as mum said~
"It is... Magic is a weave of sorts... We just have to find unique ways in twisting it and guiding it."
~Nothing is ever that easy though. Did you notice how the wand did all of the work apart from us excreting the magic?~
"Don't use that word! Ugh..." Mentally I shuddered at the image that came unbidden into our mind; my brother gagging quickly after it showed itself.
~F-fine... I won't, just don't think of that, thing, again~
"Mhm. A-anyway, back to the topic. Yes I saw that the wand did pretty much all the work."
~Mother and Father always told us it was intent, willpower and imagination that powered spells. Perhaps the thread is a combination of that?~
"An assumption, but yours' usually tend to come out at least half correct."
~More tests?~
"Yep!"
...
Several hours later, after casting the Lumos spell, Nox spell, Levitation Charm, Softening Charm, Unlocking charm, Locking spell, Mending charm, Ice Jinx, Knockback Jinx and finally the Fire-Starting Spell, we took a break.
Some had taken more time than others to correctly summon their effects, but ultimately we succeeded after at most three attempts. I would have been proud if it weren't for the distraction that our magic provided... Each spell had uncovered more unique movements, twists and colour changes in the small scale details of the spell. This was felt more than seen, our mage sight not fully developed yet; every single flash of magic appearing more akin to the flashes from those blasted camera contraptions that Galatea had shown us just this morning.
Lun, as a consequence of this, withdrew into the dungeon that was his part of our soul. He wouldn't leave it until he came up with some shard of wisdom or possibility in it for us both. Sometimes he was just too caught up in the minutia of how something works to revel in the fact that we accomplished it... No, apparently that was solely my job and I had to do it without my own brother... I huffed as I, yes I; since he had locked himself away, flopped onto the bed.
I loved him fully, especially since he could be my only family left in this world, but sometimes he was just annoyingly self-absorbed.
"Hmmm... If only there was something else to do other than practice spells. I'd kill for some letter from a vassal or, anything really, I just need it to be different." Our voice, though solely controlled by me at the moment, echoed off the walls of our bedroom... Feeding the gaping hole of silence that usually followed the lull in sound.
*FWOOSH*
The windows clattered open as a stark black owl fluttered onto the bed, its beady orange eyes glittering in the late afternoon gloom. On its leg a signed letter sat, a singular crest with a skull at the top of a shield with an armed gauntlet holding a wand high; three ravens staring out at the beholder of its visage as if they were Odin's eyes and ears themselves.
Picking it up the wax seal turned dark red, the wax dripping into words that spelled out: Toujours pur.
I smiled wide at the interruption, the boredom curling back with a mighty pop of magic as the letter unfurled and automatically splayed itself out for me in mid-air. It seemed our magic was just as excited as I was.
...
4 Privet Drive Surrey, 1990, 9th of August, 5 PM
Soap bubbled deeply in the sink as the noises of a cartoon played in the background, his disgusting pig of a cousin glued to a shimmering screen of failed dreams and hopes for the boy, Harry Potter.
Once, he had wished to watch the tele like his cousin. Wished to be embraced by his 'family', loved and cared for. It had never eventualised. More than even that, it had been an impossibility since he had first started having bouts of his 'freakishness' as they called it. Harry was smart though... He knew that what was happening wasn't normal for the imbeciles at school or dear old diddy-kins. No... He had power, a power they knew not, and he would eventually find out how to manipulate it, how to use it...
Then... Then he would get his revenge on the foul demons who had cursed his childhood. Oh, he knew that he was not treated normally. After going to a park for so many years, all to escape his aunt, uncle and despicable cousin, he had run into normal families. The crying and whining of the little runts as they complained that they couldn't have another ice cream; as if a single ice cream isn't enough... Not that he would know anything about how ice cream tasted.
Ask him the taste of leftover sardines, he could tell you of their revolting smell and the liquid grease that clung to it like he did to his thin blankets during winter nights. Ice cream was luxury to little Harry Potter... Freak, Harry Potter. He couldn't have that, no, that would just be a sin against existence... If your were to ask Vernon or Petunia.
The dishes clinked harmlessly as he stacked the drying rack, his hands having turned pruned an hour ago from the unending dishes. His task wasn't aided by the continuous stream of plates and cutlery from his elephant of a cousin; though his intelligence, memory and wisdom would find themselves lacking to truly be considered an elephant.
"Boy! Why have you not finished the dishes!?" A booming, grunting, voice echoed from around the corner, Vernon lumbering down from upstairs where some disgusting noises had been blaring out for a while. The thought made the young boy want to gag. He may not be of age to have relations with girls, but the thought of his aunt and uncle getting it on in any way was enough to make anyone physically wish to toss themselves off of a bridge. He was all of a sudden glad that he wasn't born a girl, he didn't know what could have happened if he were and he was still in this house...
"Dudley keeps on adding to it uncle." His tone was perfectly measured... Not too loud as to be considered challenging but not too soft as to be considered weak. It was something he'd had to learn through his 11 years of life, an aspect of himself that he found useful for communicating with teachers; despite how many times they ignored his reports about domestic abuse.
"Humph! Hoppy-Cock! FINISH THE DISHES NOW!" His fat pudgy hand slammed on the stairway's banister, the entire house shaking slightly with the force of his punch. The marsh-mellow man had spoken and thus he was stuck having to speed through the dishes. Harry always liked that part of that movie... Well, it was the only part of a movie he'd ever seen since his cupboard door was nailed shut until the morning; unless they forgot about him, in which case he starved until they remembered.
His hands continued to fly across the plates and forks, the wash-cloth darting back and forth with practiced ease. Internally he was fuming, but that couldn't be acted upon, no, it was far too dangerous here considering the lack of snakes or control over his gifts... His efforts were getting close, but he still needed some time.
*Tap* *Tap* *Tap*
Looking over discretely Harry noted the presence of an Owl at the window, its dark green eyes glaring back at him with expectation and tiredness. He frowned but quickly worked on the last of the dishes, the sound of his uncle slamming into his arm chair drawing a soft squawk of surprise from the owl.
Harry panicked, looking around towards his uncle who was completely oblivious, breathing a sigh of relief when he found that Dudley too was none the wiser as well. He finished the dishes in a moment of hurried concern, his steps utterly silent as the wash-cloth was dropped and he snuck out the back of the house.
Looking around he smiled at the sense of freedom that the open space provided, though it was mildly tainted with the humming of Petunia around the front of the house. He loved gardening but hated his aunt and that was what she was currently doing, only because he had been too busy washing dishes she didn't feel like doing.
His thought process and relief was blasted away when the owl swooped down to the small playground set in front of him; long abandoned since Dudley had found out about cartoons, and lifted its leg. He looked around in nervousness as he considered the price of being caught interacting with anything remotely positive. Caution was thrown to the wind though as he understood the cost of continuing under their oppression.
Walking up to the avian he watched as it observed him just as much as he did to it... It was weirdly intelligent looking and more so seemed rather, happy, that he was interacting with Harry. That read threw him off a touch, someone, or in the case, something, being happy to see him was mind boggling... He'd never been loved or cared for, why should things change now, an indignant part of his subconscious crowed at him as he regarded the proffered leg.
A letter was attached to it! He quickly reached forwards and undid the little rope-knot, his lessons in survival, from the PE teacher at school, aiding him at this precise moment. The parcel unfurled into perfectly unwrinkled paper before flaring outwards and presenting itself to him.
---
To, the boy who lives under the stairs...
---
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore(Order of Merlin- First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Leader of the Light)
Dear Harry Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find the enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment alongside the letter within the Owl's pouch. This list also acts as a portkey, a form of magical teleportation. Simply speak the passcode: Pride, and you will be taken to your destination. This method of transport will be monitored by myself, Minerva McGonagall, and I will meet you where you land.
The First Term of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry begins on the 1st September, don't be late.
We await your owl by no later than 31st August.
Yours sincerely,Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.
---
"Magic exists!?"
A startled gasp shot out from behind him as the clattering crash of a flower pot breaking made him flinch. Turning around he witnessed his aunt paling and growing fervoured, her eyes dark daggers of hate and revulsion. If she hated him before, she certainly detested him to bloody murder at this stage.
"NO!!! YOU WILL NOT BE GOING TO THAT-" Her voice cut off as Harry's fight or flight kicked in, the latter winning the argument as he immediately yanked out the list of items he would need and shouted out the pass code.
"PRIDE!"
He felt a sharp tug in his navel before he felt the world swirl and space constrict around him until it felt akin to being shoved down a cold tube of stones and granite... covered in the ichor of a recently dead animal...And all of this being conveyed in the seconds before, during and after transporting...
His feet landing on the other side with a steadiness that was usually impossible for the average wizard; considering they'd never had to be beaten with pots and pans whilst cooking food for ungrateful family members.
Silence met his presence as hundred of men and women all stared at him... His hair blown out of the way during his landing to reveal his forehead. He was dressed poorly and felt even worse as the entire crowd burst out into chatter and shouts. Multiple people came towards him all as a fireplace off to the left of him flared a violent green and a woman stepped out in outdated clothing.
'Well, this is better than facing aunt Petty-bitch...' His thoughts turned semi-elated as he felt the tension in his body relax. He couldn't care about the bloody hubbub or annoying people around him. Finally, finally... He was away from his relatives.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have a Patreon where you can get exclusive Discord roles, vote on Fan fiction decisions, and even suggest Extra Chapters for me to write. Join here: patreon.com/user?u=111976696.
If you'd like to further support my work, here's my PayPal: paypal.me/RBSMFF.
Feel free to join my Discord community here: https://discord.gg/wVZXpPpUQn.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------