Witch

Chapter 6. Witch

Harry blinked his eyes open and closed them just as quickly, feeling like someone had shoved a blinding flashlight near his face. He licked his dry mouth and felt something was amiss. Sluggishly rolling his tongue against his teeth, he came to the realisation that his upper incisors were gone, leaving a wide gap in the front.

The sight of someone with a huge gap in their teeth would usually make him hide a giggle, but now that he was the subject of that horror, he could find nothing amusing about it.

As the panic began crawling up his spine, he tried to move urgently. But his body remained frozen, making his heart thunder with unbridled fear. He would've thought he was still lying broken in the common room if not for the soft bed beneath him.

He must be in a hospital, he thought groggily. That might be the reason he didn't feel any pain.

Heeding the familiar voice of his mother, he opened his mouth and gulped down whatever disgusting concoctions the healer thought were needed. And seconds later, he drifted back to a restless sleep.

When he woke up again, his teeth had grown back, which should have been shocking to someone who had lived in the muggle world. But he had heard many tales about the amazing Skele-Gro potion from his mother to really feel surprised. So, he was just grateful that he wouldn't have an embarrassing gap in his teeth.

He slowly fluttered his eyes open and wiped the tears and the mucus with the back of his hand.

The first thing he saw after scrunching his eyebrows was the white ceiling. Then he turned his head right and left, confirming that he was indeed in some sort of hospital.

Wiggling a little, freeing himself from the confines of the heavy blanket, he sat up and propped his back against the wall.

"Mum," he mumbled.

She was sleeping in the chair beside his bed, her head resting on the backrest while her knees were pulled up to her chest. And she was using her red robes as a makeshift blanket.

That didn't look like a comfortable sleeping position.

"Mum," he said again, a bit louder this time. Though it wasn't much, considering his parched throat. He feared his throat would crumble like some ancient parchment if he used too much effort.

She let out a disgruntled groan, and her eyelids snapped open. Her eyebrows furrowed as she put her feet down and looked around dubiously. Then she stretched her spine against the backrest and cringed when the loud click reverberated in the room.

Her eyes widened when she looked at him.

"Water," he said hoarsely.

Instead of jumping him like she wanted to, she silently got out of the chair and leaned over the bedside table. Pouring the water from the jug, she perched on the edge of his bed and gently handed him the glass.

He chugged it in one gulp, and without a word, she filled the glass again.

"Good morning. Is it morning? How long was I out?" he asked, glancing at the window.

It was slightly dark outside, which could mean it was either early morning or late evening.

Instead of answering, she simply pulled him into her arms. And he went limp, leaning entirely on her.

She was soft and warm and safe.

He tugged at her shirt desperately and hid his face in her chest. And once she began whispering tenderly, he couldn't hold back the tears and cried, showing how frightened he was.

One second he had been beating the shit out of that troll bitch, and the next second he was paralysed and getting pummelled to death.

That had become his worst memory.

Never before in his life had he felt so weak and helpless, lying paralysed while the older students brutally kicked him everywhere. And while there was anger, there was a good amount of terror too.

Once he was done crying, she laid him down on the bed and placed a kiss on his head. "Everything is alright. Magical healing is way ahead of its muggle counterpart. So you don't need to worry about your pretty little face."

He snorted and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. "Thank Merlin, I'd have jumped off a cliff if I wasn't pretty anymore. Rather be dead than ugly, right?"

She poked his ribs for that unfunny joke. "Now tell me what happened."

Lying beside him, she dragged him back into her arms and tucked his head under her chin.

Harry sighed, knowing she was going to explode if he told her how he jumped into that fight. Still, what was done was done. He wouldn't lie to her after yesterday. It was not like she'd scold him now that he had just healed from heavy injuries. Right?

So, winding his arms around her, he pressed his face on her pillowy bosom and closed his eyes, slowly relaxing as their shared warmth cocooned him and chased away the lingering fear.

Then he told her what happened, sparing no details.

He felt her stiffen many times in rage, but he just squeezed her and continued.

Once he was done, he realised how tightly she was holding him. Not that he minded. For a brief moment, while getting kicked by his housemates, he almost thought he was going to die and would never see her again.

That made him realise how grateful he was for her presence. He'd rather suffer her embarrassing tight hugs than think about the cold death that would separate them some day.

"I'll fuck Narcissa up. She made it sound as if those four fuckers tried to pull you off of that Flint boy. But it seems they just wanted to take out their anger on you. I'll find a way to kill them all. I'll give these people a real reason to fear me instead of that demon summoner crap."

Clutching her as she trembled from barely contained rage, he said, "No. I did go overboard in hurting that trollson. So maybe they really had a reason to get angry with me. Maybe it had nothing to do with your reputation. So you shouldn't butt in."

"But—"

"Mum, they punched and kicked me. It is only right that I get to hurt them. It will be my revenge. I want you to seriously teach me to use Magiscape. I don't want to just punch them. I want to make them my puppets. I want them to dance naked when I wish. I want them to trip and fall on their faces when I wish. I want to take away their sleep when I wish. It's not just a simple brawl anymore. They tried to kill me. It is war. I'll destroy them completely by the time they leave Hogwarts. I'll fuck them up so bad that they won't forget it even after fifty years. I want to ruin their lives over this. Am I a bad person for feeling like that?"

If he had screamed and raged, she'd have thought these were just some angry words from a child. But as he pulled back his head and told her all that in a calm, serious tone, she knew he meant every single word. And if she were someone else, she'd have kissed his cheek and told him to forget about it. If she were somebody else, she'd have told him not to waste his time and energy on this meaningless confrontation.

But she was not someone else. She was Lily Evans, and his words just made her proud and fired her up to work on the Magiscape.

Cupping his face, she brushed her lips on his and nodded, touching his forehead with hers. "No, it just makes you human to feel like that. As for the training, you'll have to dedicate two hours every night if you want us to progress rapidly. Can you manage that on top of your studies?"

"I will."

"Good. Meet me tonight. I've marked my classroom on the map."

After that, they discussed the magical contract.

He was disappointed that it wasn't really illegal if the parents didn't raise a fuss. Because Professor Black was their guardian in loco parentis, she had the authority to put up that rule. And since the Slytherin house was filled with pureblood families who were okay with this shady cult thing, he couldn't do much about it.

Well, he'd find another way to damage them.

~xXxXx~

After checking him thoroughly, Madam Pomfrey allowed him to leave. Though she advised him to take it slow and not pick up another fight for a week. He couldn't be sure if she had been sarcastic or scolding about it. Maybe a bit of both.

As he walked through the corridor beside the Grand Staircase, he felt a weight fall on his shoulders.

Fuck, he hated being a Slytherin. How he hated that piece of rug for sorting him into this hellhole. If he ever got his hands on that hat, he would honestly burn it to ashes.

Why couldn't he have been in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff? He was brave, wasn't he? And he was loyal too, wasn't he?

Shaking his head off those thoughts, he halted before the blank wall.

Thanking his whimsical luck that the password hadn't changed, he hurried down the stairs once the section of the wall slid down. He stopped at the threshold of the common room and took a deep breath, trying not to tremble in apprehension.

Cursing his quivering hands, he shoved them in his pockets and flounced into the chamber with the confidence that he didn't feel.

Unexpectedly, no one stared at him.

They gave him brief glances before turning their gazes away.

Well, he could happily get used to it.

Returning the courtesy, he ignored them too and turned right, walking towards the right stairway. He frowned when that brown-haired girl stood up from her seat in the corner and followed after him.

Why wasn't she ignoring him?

Not giving it much thought, he climbed the stairs. But when she followed him to the boys dormitory too, he couldn't ignore the stalking anymore. Turning on his heels suddenly, he crossed his arms and glared at her. "What?"

Tracey bumped into him before stumbling back.

Righting her glasses, which got skewed due to the small collision, she gave him a sheepish look. "I just wanted to thank you for saving me. And I also wanted to talk to you about something."

Harry blinked and regarded her quizzically. "I hope you do know that I fought with the trollson because he badmouthed my mum. I didn't do it for you. So no need to thank me."

She peered at him with her odd golden eyes and cupped her chin. "I think that's a lie. I think that was just an excuse to get into the fight without looking like you started it on my behalf. I mean, are you really so thin-skinned to go crazy when someone calls your mum a whore or mudblood?"

"Yes, I'm very thin-skinned when it comes to my mum," he said with narrowed eyes and stepped back, uncomfortable by how close she was standing to him.

"I see. Maybe it was a bit of both. Don't think I didn't see you giving me sympathetic looks. Whatever, just take my thanks. And I also wanted to offer an alliance. Since we're the only two outcasts in this house, it wouldn't be too bothersome to help each other out." She announced confidently, stepping forward and offering her hand. "I'm Tracey Davis. Nice to meet you."

He scrunched his eyebrows and pulled his head back so their faces weren't too close, then he alternated between staring at her face and her hand. "I didn't think you'd be this bossy."

She cracked a grin at that. "Now that I'm not trying to fit in with these rich snobs, I'm feeling all light and happy."

Her grin was cute and contagious. So he shook her hand. "Fine. You can use my name to protect yourself from the big, bad Slytherins. I can do that much for a fellow pariah."

Tracey chuckled and squeezed his hand. "You're smarter than you act."

"That was a compliment, right?"

"Sure. I'll be going to the Great Hall for breakfast soon. If you feel like joining, meet me in the common room."

Harry nodded, glad that he had at least one friendly face in this snake pit.

Asking her to wait downstairs, he stepped into his room and took a quick shower. Putting on a simple pair of shirt and jeans, he hurried down and found her sitting alone in a chair near the stairway.

She flashed him a bright smile and shoved the book back in before slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Not wearing robes?"

"Nope. I hate those."

"I kind of like it," she disagreed, "makes me feel rich and noble."

"Not from a wealthy family, are you?"

She shook her head. "I was living in an orphanage when Professor McGonagall whisked me away. I thought Hogwarts would be fun and magical, like stepping through a wardrobe and finding Narnia. And it was in the beginning. Then I realised it was just the same as the muggle world, but with the addition of magic."

He remained quiet, not knowing what to say. And she didn't seem to mind as they walked in silence.

As they entered the Great Hall, he took her hand and led her towards the Hufflepuff table.

She froze momentarily but followed after him when he gave her a tug.

"It's fine. They are far better than those rich snobs," he whispered under his breath.

"Harry!" Susan got up from the bench and embraced him, then grabbed him by his shoulders and examined his body. "You alright?"

He smiled and nodded. "Totally."

"Good. Because when I visited yesterday, you looked like some troll had angrily smashed you with his club."

He laughed, sliding on the bench beside her. Tracey took the seat on his other side.

"Nope, I easily smashed the troll but got mob lynched for doing it," he said before greeting Hannah and the other Hufflepuffs.

Seeing their questioning looks, he told them what happened in the common room, breaking the most important rule of the Slytherin house.

They were all horrified and quickly adopted Tracey as an honorary Hufflepuff, unable to imagine why the Slytherins would do that to their own members.

When Neville and Hermione asked him what happened during lunch, he retold the story.

By the end of the day, everyone knew what happened in the dungeon, and the Slytherins were hated and despised some more.

If he thought Professor Black's smile was icier than before, he didn't care.

Fuck the prissy bitch.

Fuck all the Slytherins.

~xXxXx~

His mum's classroom was situated on the first floor in another section of the castle. Reaching there would have been tricky if he didn't have the map. But with its help, he found it quickly.

The classroom door was wide open.

It was like any other classroom. Moderately big and filled with benches. Though it was quite airy with the five large windows present on the left wall. Unable to squash his curiosity, he slid onto one of the benches and looked down through one of the windows.

Below was an inner courtyard with a fountain in its centre. He could only imagine the view if her classroom had been on the top floor. Moving back to the aisle separating the two rows, he ambled ahead, looking around with intrigue.

In the front was a platform on which sat a desk. And behind it, on the wall, was a big blackboard. This classroom wouldn't have looked out of place in a muggle school.

Though there was one thing that challenged this illusion of normal. A small door was set into the corner of the wall beside the platform.

Knowing his mum was in that room, he opened it and slipped in.

The room was half the size of the classroom. But it was more comfortable and personal than the previous room. The walls were light green. A mahogany shelf and a desk were pushed against one wall. But he was taken aback by the canopied bed placed in the other corner.

There was really a freaking canopy bed in this room, and that too for a mere teacher. He almost thought of becoming a Hogwarts Professor in the future just for this perk, but then he realised how boring and unexciting the job would be. Not to mention the little brats he'd have to suffer. And that was a dealbreaker. Being a Professor was definitely a big no.

"Did you eat properly?" His mum asked, sitting on the edge of the bed with her leg thrown over the knee, wearing a baggy t-shirt and cotton shorts.

"Yep. Why wouldn't I? I'm not some shy princess." He responded, climbing into the bed and bouncing on his knees to see if it was better than his own bed.

It was.

"Don't break the bed. While the salary is nice, I don't want to pay Dumbledore for destroying the bed," she said amusedly, pulling her legs up and shifting to the centre, sitting cross-legged before him.

"He can just use magic to fix it. On that note, teach me how to use the Mending Charm. I think I broke my bed. Its one leg shakes and creaks whenever I jump on it." He grinned, copying her pose and sitting cross-legged himself.

"Then just don't jump." She rolled her eyes.

"I won't. But I still need to learn it in case I ever break something."

"Fine. I'll tell you how it's done before you go back. Now, close your eyes and go into the Magiscape." She ordered, tying up her hair in a bun and looking at him expectantly.

Bobbing his head, he did as told.

Closing his eyes, he instantly dove into the sphere of light situated somewhere inside him. Then he shot through the golden mist and waited for the slight tug. When he felt a slight pull on his consciousness, he rushed in that direction and allowed himself to get sucked into the wormhole that opened up to welcome him.

He didn't know how much of it was real and how much of it was his brain dumbing it down to make it comprehensible. Because he was damn sure that there were no convenient wormholes located inside witches and wizards that would take them to another world.

That was just too absurd to be true.

Whatever, it didn't matter. The process felt real enough.

The next instant, he was sitting on a grey shadow bed. All the colours had disappeared, leaving a shadow world behind. He had heard his mum's hypothesis about this world. About Magiscape. She thought that this was less of a physical world and more of a spiritual one for the magicals alone. She had told him to think of these two worlds as separate pieces of paper stacked over each other, with the real world at the bottom and the Magiscape on top. Touching entirely but still remaining distinct.

That had been confusing the first time, and he had simply responded, "Can I think of it as an upside-down mirror world hidden beneath our feet?"

She had given him an exasperated look that was followed by a shrug.

And that was how he imagined this world. An upside-down mirror world where the world turned grey, a bright golden ocean replaced the floor, and swirling mist hid the sky.

Presently, everything was submerged in the golden water except the surface of the bed where they sat.

As always, he couldn't move and was frozen in place. That was the law of this world. Everything had to be still except for the mist churning over their heads.

Of course, he knew that there was a loophole, and he had been trying to learn that for the past week with no success.

Just a foot before him was a golden silhouette that represented his mum.

Without wasting a second, he commanded his own silhouette to sprout tendrils.

It was a difficult task. It was like trying to grab something without using your hands. And his mum's advice to simply will it into existence wasn't that helpful.

He watched how the shadow version of his mum grew thin tendrils. It was akin to octopus arms, but instead of eight, there were a dozen. The thick tendrils flowed through the air between them and touched his golden shadow.

Since he had learned how to lower or strengthen his innate magic, it was easy to allow her entry. The thick golden tendrils sank into his shadow, and a voice echoed inside his head.

"Don't use logic. Rational thinking has no place here. Just will your magic to possess tendrils. The stronger your beliefs, the quicker they will grow."

Just like always, he flinched. The voice inside his head was his own, but the words were his mother's.

He was not going to lie; he had been thoroughly creeped out the first time she talked with him in his head with his voice. That memory still gave him goosebumps. There was something very wrong about listening to your own voice and knowing it wasn't your own thoughts. If he didn't trust his mum with his life, he'd have been scared, not knowing whether the thoughts were really his own or not. But he trusted her enough to believe she wouldn't abuse him with this power.

Concentrating on the task at hand, he followed her new advice. He stopped asking hows and whys. He didn't know how the tendrils would grow from the shadow. He didn't know why the tendrils would bloom from his shadow. He knew nothing except that the tendrils would grow in a moment.

He felt her elation through their bond when a single tendril sprouted from his chest. But it disintegrated seconds later.

"Again. You're doing good. I'm proud of you."

It was definitely weird hearing his own voice tell him that. But he was getting used to it. Sort of.

The next two hours were spent like this, where he tried to imitate his mum's silhouette and grow tendrils. He had some success. But it wasn't enough. He only had a limited number of years before those four fuckers would graduate. He needed to become adept in Magiscape quickly to get the maximum number of opportunities to torment them. To break them.

Graham Montague. Cassius Warington. Peregrine Derrick. And Lucian Bole.

These were the four who had brought ruin upon him and themselves. And his rage and terror wouldn't fade until he paid them back hundredfold. Only when they became a laughing stock for the entire school would he be able to overcome the fear they'd instilled in him. Only when they were enslaved would he truly be free.

"That's it for tonight. Do you want to go back or sleep here?"

In response, he flopped on his stomach and crawled towards the pillow.

Patting his head, she took off her top and lay beside him, spooning him, feeling exhausted herself.

But watching him progress so rapidly made it all worth it.

She'd make him one of the most powerful mage to ever exist.

~xXxXx~

Survival.

That was one thing Tracey knew perfectly.

She had survived being thoroughly doused after her irresponsible mother hid her under a bush in front of an orphanage. It was two hours later that a pedestrian noticed the wailing of a newborn child over the loud pitter-pattering of the rain.

She had survived pneumonia the very day she was born, left under some bush like trash, her mother uncaring if she froze to death.

But she hadn't. She had lived.

The matron of the orphanage had called her a miracle child who fought death and walked away to tell the tale.

She'd later come to think that it was more than luck that kept her alive.

It must be her magic that kept her warm in the icy rain.

That was what must have saved her after her birth. And that must be what came to her rescue many times over the years in her direst need.

She had survived the bullying of her fellow orphans, knowing when to cower and when to roar.

Usually, if the bully was one or two people, she'd fight like a feral cat and show herself to be someone not to be messed with. But when it was a whole group, she'd lay down and accept the kicks and the punches before trying to join that very group and put someone else as target.

Pride and sympathy were luxuries she could go on without during crucial moments.

She had even survived being branded a witch.

She had lived through her exorcisms.

Various exorcisms—some gentle and some inhuman—had been performed on her, trying to rid her of the devil that had latched onto her soul from birth.

She had cried and sobbed after those exorcisms, unable to believe something was wrong with her, unable to suffer the pain and the shame. Just because she could break things when she got angry didn't mean she was some witch.

It wasn't she who was wrong, but everyone else.

Though her stubbornness had thawed in the need for survival, she had played along with the priests, screaming when necessary and 'fainting' when the devil left her body, freeing her from its evil clutches.

After those exorcisms, she had been careful never to show her powers. That didn't mean she had given up on her gift. Far from it, she had tried to train in the secret, trying to understand how it worked and finding a way to use it for her survival.

She didn't get far into her exploration when an elderly woman visited her and told her she was a witch.

At first, she screamed in denial, telling her how she had been purified last year. But when the woman gave her a sympathetic look and told her what witch really meant, she wore the biggest smile of her life, proudly accepting herself as a witch.

Professor McGonagall had then taken her to the other world, where witches were admired instead of exorcised.

She had really thought she would finally find her people and was excited to meet fellow witches.

Of course, the world wasn't that kind. Even before she could talk with the hat, she'd been sorted into Slytherin. She had tried to be optimistic, hoping all the rumours were just gross exaggerations.

But sometimes even rumours hold a hint of truth.

And the Slytherin house was the worst place she could ever be.

But she had played this game before. She knew how to survive when surrounded by bullies. Alas, unlike the orphanage, there were no other targets to be sacrificed for her safety. For all its faults, the snake den was overly protective of its own.

The problem was that only she and Harry Evans were considered outsiders.

But unlike her, Harry Evans wasn't an orphan. He wasn't an easy target. He had powerful parents who would demand blood if he was harmed. So she had given up on shifting their attention to him and suffered their thinly veiled insults about her blood, as if she cared. They could say anything about her parents, and she wouldn't even bat an eye. Hell, she would even add more insults along with them.

Noticing that their insults weren't working, the girls ganged up on her and made her their chore girl. Making her do all kinds of things, from carrying their bags to massaging their feet. And she was smart enough to grin and bear it, knowing there was no other option.

But she had overestimated herself, and when the boys too began humiliating her, she was pushed to her wit's end.

She had reached her breaking point.

She didn't know what would have happened next if Harry hadn't butted in and given her a new option for survival.

Generally, a group always trumps individuals. More always wins over less. That was the rule of the world. That was why she signed her name on the parchment and joined the horde.

And even after all the humiliation, she wouldn't have had the courage to break free from the group if she hadn't seen Harry's power.

He single-handedly beat an older boy to near death. Though the instant when he himself got battered did make her doubt her hope.

But when Madam Black banned the four students from the quidditch team and gave them detentions for years, her doubts were blown away, and her next course of action solidified. If the strict punishments weren't enough, Harry walked away from that mess without any punishment, even when he started that fight.

That was pure power. Physical and political.

The allure of that power and safety had made her brave enough to cross out her name from the parchment and become a pariah before the great group.

Following him didn't even come with any costs, she pondered after a week.

He didn't humiliate her like everyone else, and he was kind and considerate. And unlike Daphne Greengrass, who hid her malice behind soft, gentle smiles, Harry was frank and wore his heart on his sleeve. She'd have written him off as a dumb, noble hero, but she was too good at observing people to be fooled by his brash personality.

There was a sharp mind behind those kind green eyes, and that just made her more excited to follow him and see what he'd accomplish.

And maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to convince him to share a fraction of his power with her.

After all, power was everything in this world. And she knew who to bet on to survive and win.

And she had chosen Harry Evans.

Because Tracey Davis excelled at one thing.

Survival.

And she'd survive and become powerful, no matter what, no matter the price she'd have to pay.

She would breathe and live even if the entire world disagreed.

And for the first time, she had seen a single boy overpower hundreds into submission. If he could do that, she could too.

"Oi, stop staring like that. You're scaring me," Harry said with a grin, standing before her.

She grinned back and jumped to her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Just thinking."

"It must be something intense. Whatever, let's hurry. I'm starving."

Smiling at him, she walked by his side, aware of his curious glances.