Revelations

Chapter 10. Revelations

There was no fear on his face as he passed by the four older Slytherin boys. However, he was unable to stop himself from flinching when they looked in his direction.

It was small, fortunately, and went unnoticed. He wouldn't have been able to bear the shame if they knew how terrifying they were in his eyes.

The boys glowered at him as he pushed past them with Susan in tow, his heart thundering from apprehension and yet his face remaining stoic.

He hated it.

He hated the fear that crawled up his spine every single time he was in their vicinity. The dread of being frozen while kicks rained down on his body still startled him awake at nights. And he could only hope to conquer it in the near future and have his well-deserved vengeance. Because the thought of forever being afraid of them was nauseous and humiliating.

"You alright?" Susan asked, shooting him a worried look.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" He grinned, pulling her into the compartment where all the friends were supposed to gather.

He found Tracey and Hannah seated on one berth, while Hermione and Neville were on the other. Greeting them with smiles, he pushed Hannah away from the window, ignoring her loud protests.

In the end, she reluctantly shifted from the prized seat, allowing him to have it.

Harry dropped into the window seat and stared at the crowd on the platform. When Julian caught his gaze, he waved. The two brothers had gotten closer in the last month, having spent hours upon hours together on the SNES as they went through dozens of games. So it wasn't too weird that he'd miss his little brother following the deepening of their bond.

The whistle rang above the noise of the bustling crowd, and the train began its journey back to the castle.

Pressing his face against the glass, he gawped as the city slowly vanished, replaced by rolling hills and vast stretches of plains.

It was otherworldly.

The late morning light had warmed the glass window, and Harry revelled in the mild heat as it seeped through his skin. Though when the white clouds parted and the sun shone in its full glory, he pulled away and settled back.

He whipped his head towards Tracey, considering asking her if she wanted to share the window seat.

But she wasn't there, having vanished while he had been gazing out.

Hannah and Susan were chattering amongst themselves while Neville and Hermione had a huge book opened between them, muttering and arguing about something.

He decided against asking them about his best friend's whereabouts.

Pushing his face back against the glass, he focused on the beautiful scenery; the sun had vanished in the clouds once again.

Though his awed smile had dimmed, an ugly feeling grew in his heart. It was dark and slimy, wanting nothing more than to coil around Tracey and keep her attached to him. Only him.

'She must've gone to meet Greengrass.'

Moments later, Tracey returned and plopped beside him, shoving Hannah and Susan further away. Disregarding their annoyed grumbles, she stood on her knees on the seat and perched her chin over Harry's head to see what he was staring at.

It was just plain old countryside. Nothing interesting.

She slid down as he turned to face her.

"Where were you?"

Tracey frowned at his irritated tone.

"Loo," she said, blinking when a relieved smile flashed over his face.

That was definitely weird.

Before she could question him about his moodiness, he fished out Game Boy from his pocket and offered it to her. "Want to play?"

She nodded with wide eyes, aware of how much he adored this new model that his mum had bought for him. "Sure." She must've done something good if he was being this generous.

Taking it before he changed his mind, she hung her legs down the berth and leant against the backrest, determined to beat his high score.

Her face reddened as he scooted very close, pushing his chin over her shoulder and instructing her what not to do.

She was far too occupied with the way he was leaning on her to play properly.

Was this his nefarious plan to stop her from achieving her goal? She didn't know, nor did she care. Because his warm sighs on her cheek whenever she lost just gave her extra incentives to keep losing.

~xXxXx~

Near the end of September, Harry woke up with a brilliant idea. A genius idea that might resolve the problem halting their progress in Magiscape.

Jumping out of bed, he humoured the thought of rushing to his mum's room to test it. But then discarded it immediately, knowing it would be near impossible to hold the experiment before night.

The rest of the day went by with excruciating slowness, testing his patience. He was almost ready to declare that some 'fel magic' had overtaken time and reality when it finally ended, giving him the opportunity to visit his mum.

Hurrying towards her classroom an hour earlier than usual, he barged in with an eager grin.

Lily stiffened as the door slammed open, the noise making her paranoid self jump into a fighting stance. Not that she could do much here other than dodge spells and run away.

Noticing that it was none other than Harry, she relaxed and sat back at the desk, resuming the task of grading the assignments.

Cameras are like magical eyes, you know. I'm sure that science is nothing but propaganda to make muggles seem more important and intimidating. Science is nothing but magic stolen from us and morphed into bastardised spells. All the cogs and the components are just for show, I'm almost sure—

"Mum, I've got an idea." Harry interrupted her, slamming his hands on the desk and leaning forward on his elbows, his green eyes bright.

She slashed a big cross in red ink over the fourth-year Hufflepuff's assignment and put it on the 'done' pile. "Later, Harry. I'm working."

He frowned and opened his mouth to whine before shutting up, deciding not to disturb her.

Trudging to the first bench in the row, he flopped over. Then he took out his Game Boy and tried to kill time.

It was not surprising that he pushed it back in his pocket after a couple of minutes, unable to enjoy his favourite activity while his mind was brimming with the great idea.

Moving to the other row, where the benches were lined against the wall with big windows, he stared out at the courtyard. Obviously, it was empty since it was night. Though the glowing silver water rushing up out of the fountain was interesting enough, it was only able to hold his attention for seconds.

Standing up, he moved back towards the desk where his mum was working.

She didn't even spare him a glance as he slipped behind her chair.

"Mmm," she hummed encouragingly as he squeezed and began massaging her shoulders. While doing that, he looked at the assignment she was reading.

Guns are the bane of wizards and witches. The bullets are hard metal. The velocity is deadly and unblockable. And no shield charms can protect us if it isn't already up by the sound of gunfire. I can only dread our extinction if we are ever attacked by normal people (I won't use the disparaging term 'muggle'). Normal people have nuclear and other thousand types of weapons in their hands. And what do we have? A primaeval magic that gets innovated at a pace that would make a snail proud. Our only hope is to keep on hiding and pray that normal people never discover us. Because if they do, there will be cleansing and genocide by religious groups first, which will then be followed by human experiments. The only thing we sorry magicals can do is hide and pray to God for salvation. After all, if we can't even face a simple gun, then what are our odds of survival against superior weapons?

Harry knitted his eyebrows when she put a failing grade on the paper before placing it over the stack to her right.

"That wasn't bad," he said in the student's defence, not finding anything wrong in the essay.

Lily pulled another paper from the stack on her left and began reading it. Though she didn't ignore him for long and responded after finishing the next paper.

"It was full of bias, self-hatred, and incorrect assumptions. For example, guns aren't as fatal to magicals as he fears. Compared to muggles, our bodies are incredibly stronger and more resilient. There've been many cases where the bullets didn't even penetrate the skin and left a mere welt. Muggles are dangerous, no doubt. But it is more due to their sheer, mind-boggling numbers than any weapons. While it is not tested, I can assure you that if the Hogwarts' wards are strengthened to their fullest, then there's a pretty good chance it can even stand a direct nuclear missile hit."

Harry nodded with wide eyes, not having been aware of that. Mostly because he never thought about a war between muggles and wizards.

"Why did you stop massaging, peasant? Continue servicing your princess," she said in a dry tone, not looking up from the next paper.

"You're too old to roleplay as a princess." He mumbled amusedly but did follow her instructions and resumed kneading her shoulders and neck.

"Did I hear someone call me old?"

"Nope."

It took another fifteen minutes for her to be done with her work, and Harry expectedly got bored of roleplaying as a masseur and simply leant forward on her back, reading the assignments from his perch on her shoulder. Some were funny, some were too serious, and some were half-blank. The latter reminded him of his own homework because he too left the pages half empty, writing just enough to get an acceptable grade.

After arranging the stack of papers, she stored it in the drawer and rose to her feet.

Harry winced at the series of cracking sounds as she stretched her back.

"Ah, that felt good." She moaned before starting for her room.

He trailed after her and closed the door behind them.

"So?" She slumped on the bed and gestured to him to begin.

Scampering before her with a growing grin, he blurted out his brilliant idea. "What if we try to bypass the subconscious magical shield while they're sleeping? Maybe then our golden tendrils can go in, allowing us to control magicals just like muggles."

Her lips twitched as she stared at him, and a chuckle left her. "That's your idea?"

"Yep."

"I'm sorry to say that it won't work. The inherent magical shield is always up, yes, even when we're asleep." She revealed gently while pulling the band and undoing her hair, letting it fall over her back. Running her fingers through her blood-red hair, she straightened the tangles.

"But have you tried? Shouldn't we at least try before branding it as a stupid idea?" He said in a defensive tone.

She shook her head, getting up and peeling off her crimson robes.

Standing in front of him, she patted his head. "I didn't say it was stupid, Harry. Far from it, you tried to think outside the box. And there's nothing wrong with that. But this idea won't work."

"But still, just try one time?"

Looking into his imploring eyes, she couldn't bring herself to deny him, even when she was sure this effort would be fruitless. Then again, their effort had remained fruitless for half a year, not showing any progress in their understanding of Magiscape.

"Alright. Go try to sleep while I take a quick shower. I'll see if I can infiltrate your mind when you're unconscious."

Giving her an exuberant nod, he hurriedly changed into his nightclothes before jumping on the bed.

…

'Damn it, I can't sleep.'

It had been ten minutes since his mum went into the bathroom, and she'd be out any moment. He should've been asleep by now. But the enthusiasm to see his idea succeed filled him with far too much energy. And that overflowing energy stopped him from dozing off.

As his mum stepped out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around her and moved towards the wardrobe, he couldn't help but comment snarkily. "Don't you always tell me to get my clothes before jumping in the shower?"

"Shouldn't you be sleeping instead of being cheeky?" She muttered distractedly, grabbing a baggy t-shirt and shorts.

"I can't. I tried." He rolled on the bed, facing her. Though he quickly rolled in the other direction when she dropped the towel and began changing right there, uncaring that he was present. Sometimes he feared his mum was a nudist, then he reassured himself that she simply didn't care if it was only him.

"Hmm, I wish I could still use spells. Then I could've simply charmed you to fall asleep." She plonked down beside him in the bed.

"How about you teach me that spell? Then I can charm you to sleep and test if my theory works or not."

She twirled her finger in her slightly wet red hair and declined. "No, it's better if I test it since I'm more familiar with Magiscape than you."

He groaned and slumped back onto the bed. "So what now?"

"Come here; I'll return the gesture and massage your head. That should do it." She patted her lap.

…

He fell asleep two minutes later.

Lily caressed his hair with a loving smile before activating the sight.

Instantly, the floor was replaced by golden sea and the ceiling by golden mist. Harry's body, too, gained a golden sheen, mirroring the magic. She herself gained the sheen too, even when her magic was defective in a traditional sense.

With a mere thought, a single tendril grew from her side. It swayed gently before approaching Harry. Her breath stuck in her throat as the tendril neared the glowing sheen of her son's body.

There were now three possible outcomes to this experiment. First, she could be thrown away if his magic reacted negatively to the intrusion. Second, the tendril wouldn't connect with the golden sheen and would simply pass through his body. And lastly, by some miracle, their magic would connect, giving her access to his mind.

She prepared herself to be flung away in the worst-case scenario and touched his magic with her tendril.

It simply passed through his body.

Releasing a disappointed breath, she readied to wake him and reveal the dispiriting conclusion.

Just as she was going to shake him awake, another idea made her hesitate.

Maybe she should try it directly from Magiscape instead of half-arsing it.

Closing her eyes, she pushed her consciousness towards the cracked golden ball that was situated somewhere inside her. Was it really a golden ball or just an image representing the manifestation of the door leading to Magiscape? Probably a bit of both.

She stood in the familiar grey-gold world. The bed, the walls, the sheets—everything lost its colour and became shadowy. Even Harry lost his body, and in his place was just a golden, featureless silhouette lying on the bed. Of course, the golden sea and the mist were still the same, but somehow more vibrant and breathtaking.

Concentrating on the task, a golden tendril sprouted from her silhouette and tried to merge with the other silhouette.

But just like before, it passed through without connecting.

Releasing a defeated sigh, she opened her eyes.

As expected, sleeping targets were just as impenetrable as waking ones.

~xXxXx~

She pushed open the door to reveal the pitch-black classroom. The only bright spot was the square on the floor, formed by the lights spilling from the entrance.

As she stepped in and shut the door, even that bright patch of light disappeared.

It didn't remain dark for long.

A sudden flash of light washed over the entire room. The epicentre of this phenomenon was the blonde girl standing in the middle of the aisle. Her wand was raised, and a giant sphere of light was hovering over her head.

Her golden hair—which almost looked white in the brilliance of light—was drawn in a single plait at the back of her head. And her deep azure eyes contained a perpetual hint of malice.

Though her intimidating look was ruined by the cute white-blue bunny-themed pyjamas.

"You're late," Daphne said, the malice vanishing from her gaze.

"I know," she answered, closing the distance between them before following her to the teacher's desk.

These secret meetings began last year.

On a particular morning, she had been roaming the castle alone for a change when she collided against the blonde. Instead of a fight, all she got was a whispered question.

"Do you know that there's no such thing as muggleborn?"

Of course, that question intrigued her more than anything. For an orphan like her, it was the biggest question of her life, and the slumbering urge to know more about her origins snapped awake that day. When she found her alone in a classroom the following week, Daphne answered without any further prompt.

"Magic comes from magic; it's that simple. With that in mind, muggleborns can be either descendants of disgraced squibs… or bastards of sin. Maybe your mother doesn't even remember how she got pregnant with you and ended up dumping you."

That had shaken her to the core. And for someone like her, that was an acceptable story. Her mother dumped her not because she didn't love her, but because she was taken advantage of, because her mind was meddled with. If she had been conceived normally, her mother would've loved her.

"Why are you telling me this?" Tracey had asked.

"Because you're my half-sister."

…

That had been the day of revelations. The day of truths. The day she fell down and wailed against the unfairness of the world.

Apparently, Daphne's—her father raped her mother during a Death Eater raid before removing her memory. And it wasn't just a single instance. He was actually a serial rapist who didn't even spare purebloods, living freely in the chaos of war. Tina Wood ended up marrying him since no other pureblood would have damaged goods. It was all the justice she got. A marriage with her rapist.

Daphne came from that unhappy reunion.

"How do you know all this? Where's the proof?"

In response, Daphne handed her a diary titled 'Book of Conquest'. It had entries on every page. First there was a photo of a naked woman, followed by her name and then a grade. She had turned green and puked when she noticed an image of a familiar brown-haired, golden-eyed woman.

Name: Viviane Davis

Grade: Exceeds Expectations

Daphne had then flipped to the last page with the entry of her own mother. It was a stunningly beautiful woman, similar in appearance to the blonde.

Name: Tina Wood

Grade: Outstanding

"They all deserved it." Daphne had said coldly after consoling her.

"They're our mothers! How can you say that?"

"They suffered because they were weak."

Presently, Tracey stopped at the desk where a spell book was opened.

By now, she had realised that Daphne despised weakness above everything and set strength on the pedestal of God himself. In her eyes, strength was everything. It was the freedom to safeguard against suffering.

That was the reason why her half-sister had bullied her on the first day.

"You were so weak and frail, doing everything the others said in hopes of being accepted. You were such a disappointment. But when you defied everyone and joined Potter in a bid for survival, I realised that there was still hope for you. It wasn't just cowardice, but an unbending strength to survive."

Those words had both stung and made her proud. There was a special bond between them, or so she'd like to think. It was only during these meetings that Daphne dropped the polite mask and acted carefree. And while most often it came out in the form of cutting remarks, there have been a couple of fond smiles shot her way too.

"I'll kill our father." That was her pledge after getting the truth.

"Too late. He has been in Azkaban since the Hogsmeade Massacre, just like every other Death Eater. He must be already on the verge of death." Daphne had her eyes filled with immeasurable sadness. Tracey was sure that the sorrow was because of the missed chance to exact revenge rather than their father's deteriorating condition.

That had left Tracey purposeless. What was she studying for? What was she working for? What was her end goal? Because the secret dream of burning down her orphanage didn't sound as great anymore; rather, it felt petty and inconsequential.

"I still don't accept you as my sister. You're too weak to stand beside me, to have my affection." Daphne had declared without mercy.

That declaration had given her a new purpose.

Instead of revenge, she could now finally have a family.

A sister.

That was the point where she had asked to study together, to become stronger together, to become an unstoppable team.

Daphne had graced her with a rare smile and accepted her plea.

"Get your head out of your arse. Concentrate." Daphne snapped, startling her and pulling her to the present.

She shot her sister a sheepish smile, to which the blonde rolled her eyes.

Looking down at the spell book, she read the theory again. It was an old spell book from the Greengrass library, with the bindings made from some sort of leather and the thin pages nearly crumbling. Most of the spells were too taxing for their young bodies, but a couple of minor ones were doable.

She loved these sessions—where she could talk and study with her sister—more than anything. And she could only hope to become strong enough to receive her acknowledgement.

That was her goal.

To convince Daphne to accept her as a sibling.

…

The only hurdle to that goal was Harry.

She wished she could reveal why the two had gotten so 'chummy', as he liked to point out. But Daphne had forbidden her from doing so, not wanting this secret to be revealed to anyone. Not even to Harry.

That raised many problems. Chief among them was Harry's growing jealousy. It was as if she had signed some contract where the two weren't allowed to have any other best friends. And she didn't particularly dislike it, rather enjoying the notion of being special to each other. But juggling both his jealousy and her desire to spend time with Daphne was becoming annoying.

She prayed that there wouldn't come a time when she had to choose between them—between her best friend and potential sister.

"Tracey!"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm focusing now!"

~xXxXx~

In just five minutes, it would be November 24.

Her birthday.

Susan buried her face in the pillow, trying to stop thinking about it and sleep instead. Being obsessive over it wouldn't make it come any sooner or later.

It could never be known if she'd have succeeded in falling asleep because Hannah released a cackle and jumped into her bed, right on her back.

"Happy Birthday! You have one less year to live!"

The ginger hid a smile and turned over, gently shoving her off to get some space. Now that was heartwarming, even though she should've known better to even think Hannah would forget.

Sitting up, she received her other roommates well wishes.

"Thanks. I better go to bed, tomorrow is a busy day."

Hannah shook her head and pulled her to her feet. "Don't be selfish, there are people waiting outside. You must talk to them."

"It's past midnight."

"So?"

"The Prefects will have our heads if we sneak out."

"Don't worry about them." Hannah waved off her concern and grabbed her hand, leading her away from her comfy bed.

Susan sighed, resigned to her fate. But then her eyes widened. "We're going out?"

"Not too far."

Well, that was unexpected. She had thought there'd be a huge crowd in the common room to wish her well, but it seemed her assumption had been wrong.

The common room door sprung open, and the two girls stepped out into the corridor.

Susan was surprised to see the gathered group. Though she wasn't given much time to stare at them, the next instant, Harry had her in his arms.

"Happy birthday," he chirped up, giving her a squeeze.

She mumbled a shy thanks before stepping back. Hermione and Tracey too gave her hugs, though Neville refrained from doing so. While Susan and Neville remained polite in this group, no one would mistake them for friends. The memories of their earlier disagreements before Hogwarts were too strong for that.

"Alright, enough greetings. We have a cake to vanish," Harry said with barely contained eagerness and gestured for them to follow him.

Susan was going to protest about moving too far away from the common room when he halted before a painting that served as the entrance to the kitchen.

He tickled the pear in the picture.

A handle appeared after the giggling petered out.

The kitchen was a replica of the Great Hall. There were four house tables and a head table arranged in an exact manner, not unlike the Great Hall above this room.

The elves rejoiced at their arrival and pointed them towards a small table tucked away in the corner.

It was their usual sitting place.

Susan had a fond smile on her face as she slid into the chair. The cake was already there with thirteen candles. She couldn't help but laugh as her friends sang the birthday song. It was like a chaotic jumble of notes, each trying to take the lead instead of attempting harmony.

She blew out the candles and cut a small piece from the cake. Which she gave to Harry, who bit into it before sharing the rest with her.

"Fine, I guess Harry can have the first bite since he baked it." Hannah pouted.

"Oh? I didn't know you cooked." Susan commented with wide eyes, feeling happy that he put so much effort into it.

Harry shrugged with an embarrassed smile. "I didn't until yesterday. Then Hannah was babbling about throwing you a party, and I decided to learn."

Susan planted a kiss on his cheek before doing the same to Hannah. "Thank you."

"Give me the second bite, and I'll consider us even." Hannah huffed, unable to hide her blush.

Susan smiled and shared the cake with everyone. But her gaze and attention always returned to Harry, her chest brimming with warmth, watching his infectious smile and listening to his rumbling laughter.

"Hear ye, hear ye! I, Hannah Abbott, assign Harry Evans as our personal chef. He now shoulders the responsibility to bake each of our birthday cakes." Hannah yelled, raising her glass of hot chocolate with her other arm slung around his neck.

Harry rolled his eyes but didn't complain, accepting his fate.

~xXxXx~

The next day, during breakfast, a parcel was dropped before her on the table by an owl. She didn't have to read the letter to know who it was from.

Still, she read the letter and asked Hannah to open the box for her.

"Whoa!" The blonde exclaimed.

It was a beautiful golden necklace with an emerald pendant.

"It will look good on you, Susan," Harry said as he and Tracey leaned towards her to see the dazzling jewellery.

Susan smiled stiffly, taking it from Hannah. "It is pretty."

But that was all it was.

Pretty.

She had half a dozen of them stashed in her room at Potter Manor.

'You could've at least chosen a blue gem to match my eyes, dad. Maybe even that was too much effort.' Susan thought bitterly, her eyes returning to the top of the letter again and again.

To,

Susan Bones

She hated being Susan Bones.