The Light
The village is foreboding. I can think of no other place I have visited that feels as though the very trees are watching me, but he is here. It is his magic that sits vigil.
- The Diary of Cassiopeia Black
It had been difficult to send Aberforth away to Hogwarts with Albus, but it had been much harder for her daughter to bid farewell to her brothers for several months.
Somehow, Ariana had only withdrawn further into herself, and try as she might, there had been nothing Kendra could do for the girl. Her condition had already been most troubling, and now, as much as she was trying to remain hopeful, it was only worsening.
“She ate some of her toast,” Aberforth informed her as he entered the kitchen.
Kendra offered her son a weak smile.
Fortunately, Ariana did eat something most days, and on her better ones, she would even come to the kitchen to do so. For the most part, however, she remained shut away in her bedroom, tormented by her memories, her unpredictable magic, and the knowledge that her father was rotting away unfairly in Azkaban.
Once a month, Percival was allowed to write to them, just one single letter, and many of his words were spent trying to assure the girl that he did not regret what he had done for her, that he would do it again if necessary, and that she shouldn’t blame herself for his predicament.
For a days or so, Ariana was bolstered by the man’s words, but she would inevitably fall back into a deep state of melancholy, and her magic would only become more volatile.
The last time she had lost control, Kendra had been lucky she wasn’t harmed beyond a few burns she’d sustained before casting the spell Albus had shown her, courtesy of a boy who had vanished shortly after.
“Merlin, it’s Harry!”
The excited voice of her youngest pulled her from her maudlin thoughts, and Kendra turned to see him staring out of the kitchen window, where Albus was approaching with another boy.
His crop of jet-black hair was somewhat messy, but tidy I its own way, and he was dressed rather smartly in a long grey coat, white shirt and black trousers. It was, however, his eyes she was drawn to.
She had never seen such a brilliant shade of green, just as she’d not seen such a shade of blue as both Albus and Aberforth possessed.
Her own were a deep brown, but Albus and Ariana had both inherited her auburn hair. Aberforth mostly resembled Percival with his darker locks and slightly rounder face.
“Harry!”
The boy smiled warmly as he was accosted by Aberforth, who bounced on his toes excitedly.
“What happened to you, where did you go?”
“Sorry, Abe,” Harry said sincerely. “There was somewhere I needed to be.”
Aberforth nodded his understanding before pulling him into one of the chairs at the table.
“I just finished my first year at Hogwarts!”
“And how was it?”
Aberforth frowned.
“I liked it, but most people just ask me about Albie,” he answered with a shrug.
“That’s only because they’ve not seen how brilliant you are.”
“I’m not brilliant.”
“Well, I don’t believe that for a second,” Harry chided lightly. “Everyone is brilliant in their own way. You just need to find what you like to do and become the best at it. Albie loves transfiguration. What do you like?”
“I like runes, but I won’t study it until third year.”
“Are there any rules saying you can’t start studying on your own?”
“I don’t think so.”
Harry offered him a pointed look, and Aberforth’s eyes widened, eliciting a chuckle from Albus.
“I still have my books. I will get them out of my trunk for you.”
“Thanks Albie!”
Harry shook his head amusedly before he gaze came to rest on Kendra, and though he wasn’t unsettled by him, there was an undeniable presence about the boy. His magic, she could feel it, and it was the very same magic she could feel whenever she managed to coax Ariana out of the house to visit the peaceful churchyard.
There was something of a chill to it, almost a protective comfort that blanketed the entire village, only this was within the boy.
“Hello, Mrs Dumbledore,” he greeted her.
“Mother, this is Harry Peverell,” Albus introduced him. “Harry, this is my mother.”
He stood and offered her a shallow bow.
It was so strange to meet someone and immediately feel at ease by his presence. Perhaps it was that Godric’s Hollow had become something of a safe haven for her family, who’d been persecuted in their former home, and that vey magic that provided that security seemed to gently radiate from the boy.
“Peverell?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I know it is hard to believe, but yes.”
Kendra had not forgotten what little Bathilda had been able to tell her about the family, and if such things were true, Harry Peverell, if he truly was who he claimed to be, could be a most dangerous person to associate with, and yet, she sensed nothing that caused her concern.
“I am pleased to meet you, Harry,” she replied. “Your spell, it certainly came in useful when I needed it.”
He offered her a brilliant smile.
“I’m glad.”
Kendra returned the gesture.
“Would you like to stay for lunch? It’s not often we have guests.”
“I would really appreciate it.”
(Break)
He watched as the spells intercepting the other competitors seemed to erupt from nowhere, but everywhere at the same time. At first, Marius thought they were fighting among themselves to slow down the pursuit of those getting nearer to their targets, only to quickly realise that wasn’t so.
Someone was somehow concealing themselves flawlessly or perhaps using the cover of the darkness to interrupt the occasion.
He looked on curiously, following his wife, watching closely for any sign of the boy she claimed to have seen, and then it came.
It was brief, so brief that he barely caught a glimpse of his vanishing once more, but he did not miss what Cassandra had described. He was indeed young, not so young that he didn’t know better, but certainly not yet a man. However, it was his eyes that Marius was drawn to. They were a distinct shade of green like no other, and as he was pulled from the pensieve, he could only shake his head.
He'd never seen the boy before, but there may be someone who had.
“Was it as she said?” Orion asked.
Marius nodded.
“A boy,” he confirmed. “He interrupted the hunt. How he learned of it, I do not know. Perhaps one of the others let it slip, but I do not think so.”
“Maybe he was just there. He might even live in the area.”
“That would be a strange coincidence. There are no houses for several miles.”
“Then he is quite the mystery, no?”
Marius hummed unhappily, though his expression shifted as his niece entered the study.
At only five-years-old. Cassiopeia was a Black through and through. Orion had spoken of his concerns that she might already be showing signs of one day falling victim to the madness of the family and was already teaching the girl the Mind Arts. Oh, Marius would not deny that she was spirited, but that wasn’t unusual for one of their blood.
No, Cassiopeia would be an exceptional witch and was already keenly interested in the magic the family wielded.
“Hello, Uncle Marius,” she greeted him.
“Little Cassie,” he replied fondly. “And what have you been doing today?”
The girl shrugged.
“Trying to get into the library,” Orion said disapprovingly, though he was not truly irked by her efforts.
“I just wanted a story.”
“You know damned well there are no story books in there.”
The girl grinned in response; her expression of innocence not being believed for a moment by either man. Most would be fooled by the countenance, but Marius knew better.
The girl was too like his grandmother, who had become rather notorious more than a century prior. Maybe Cassiopeia would follow in her footsteps and make a name for herself one day.
Whether it would be a reputation of good standing, Marius did not know, but already at her tender age, she was curious, inquisitive, and showing signs of brilliance already.
“Stay out of the library until you are older, Cassie,” Marius chuckled, ruffling the girl’s hair. “Anyway, there is someone else I need to speak with, and check if the rest of the group have written back.”
“Did something happen on your hunt, Uncle Marius?” Cassiopeia asked.
“Someone interfered,” he huffed, “but not to worry, your Uncle Marius will ensure they don’t do it again.”
He placed a kiss on the girl’s head before throwing a handful of floo powder into the fire and stepping through into his own home. It wasn’t as grand as Grimmauld Place by any stretch, but it was more than suitable for his needs.
Where the main family home was rather excessive in size, the one he resided in was a little humbler, though no less protected.
“Any word from the others?”
Cassandra nodded, grimacing as she stood.
The curse she had been struck with in the melee would leave no lingering effects in the long term, but it had certainly left its mark on her.
“They’ve all written, demanding to know what happened,” she explained, gesturing to the small pile of missives on the kitchen table. “None of them saw a thing.”
Marius hummed thoughtfully.
“Maybe it is for the best. I’m going to look into what you saw, discreetly, of course, and see if I can identify the little brat.”
Cassandra nodded and took her seat once more.
“Was he just a boy?”
“Just a boy,” Marius confirmed, “who has quite the knowledge when it comes to curses from what I saw. He created enough chaos, and we are lucky no one was killed.”
“But what was he doing there?”
“I have no idea,” Marius sighed. “It’s not as though we were anywhere near the closest city, or even village for that matter. I will have a look around, I think, and see if I can find anything in the daylight. Before that, I want to speak with the boy. Where is he?”
“In his room.”
Marius hummed as he took his leave of the kitchen, ascending the nearby staircase and pausing outside of the door to his son’s room.
“Alphard?” he snapped, hammering on it. “Come here, boy.”
Alphard had already proven to be different to the rest of the family. He was no fool but took little interest in the magic of the Blacks. Instead, he fancied himself as something of a scholar and spent much of his time studying Arithmancy and Potions.
For the most part, he was unsociable, quiet, and kept away from others, preferring his own company. Still, he was observant, and judging by his OWL results, was talented with a keen mind, even if he seemed to lack any notable ambition.
The door opened, and his pale, scowling son eyed him questioningly.
“Do you know of any boy at Hogwarts with distinctly green eyes. I expect he is around your age.”
“How distinct?”
“You would notice them. They are very prominent. I am certain he is dark of hair, which is quite messy.”
“The only dark, messy-haired boy you would find is William Potter, but he doesn’t have green eyes.”
“Maybe another Potter then?”
“There are no other Potters,” Alphard pointed out. “Just William, his father Henry, and wife, Alice, and William isn’t exactly a boy. He’s in his seventh year.”
Marius hummed before shaking his head.
“So, there is no one else you can think of?”
“No father.”
“Fine,” Marius grumbled, descending the staircase, pondering just who this mystery boy could be.
Perhaps he would find something in the forest.
Evidently, it was the only lead he had to follow to figure out just who had the audacity to interrupt the hunt he’d been rather enjoying until it had been unceremoniously and abruptly ended.
(Break)
The first man he came upon did not manage to block his hastily cast tripping spell,, and he thudded to the ground, his robes becoming rather soiled by the mud he’d skidded through.
He cursed as he stood, his gaze falling upon another just a short distance away, and he sprinted after him.
“You cheating bastard!” he seethed. “I was about to catch mine!”
The other man looked at him confusedly for a brief moment before continuing his pursuit, unleashing a girlish scream as he too was sent sprawling.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Belby?” he demanded to know as he pushed himself back to his feet. “You know Black will disqualify you when I tell him.”
“I did nothing!” Belby hissed. “You tripped me!”
“I did no such thing!”
“And I didn’t trip you!”
The two men glared at one another, but Harry was already moving along to intercept the pursuer with a wand, catching the man on his flank with a concussion spell. Before Harry could stun him, however, he had the wherewithal to activate a portkey, and he vanished.
“Bloody hell,” he grumbled from within his cloak, pressing forward, and coming upon another man who seemed to have his wits about him.
“Who’s there?”
His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and wand poised. What he did not expect, nor was he prepared for, was for Harry to skirt around him. What Hary had not considered, was that he was in a wooded area, though that changed quickly as a loud snapping sound came, courtesy of his right foot crunching through a stick.
Ducking below a rather vicious, blue curse sent towards him, he returned fire with one of his own, compliments of the Blacks. The shield his foe summoned managed to absorb much of it, but more than enough got through to elicit a gasp of pain and surprise from him.
Were it not for his defence, he would’ve been rather horribly burned. Fortunately for him, the effects were muted, and he was slightly scolded. Still, he thought better of remaining where he was, but fired another spell before activating a portkey of his own.
It was another gasp that caught Harry’s attention next, and he hurriedly pulled his cloak back over his head to conceal himself, catching the wide-eyed woman on her left leg with modified version of a bludgeoning curse, eliciting a scream from her as she hurried away as quickly as she could.
Nonetheless, she was not doing so unscathed.
Not only would it leave her in considerable discomfort for a few days, she would begin to feel rather feverish and nauseous until the effects of the spell wore off for a further few days.
Even so, she had undoubtedly caught a glimpse of him at the very least, and Harry chastised his lack of preparation, and not taking the additional few seconds to ensure he would not be detected.
The cloak was not infallible, after all, not without a myriad of other charms to bolster its usefulness. It may hide him from the gaze, but he could still be heard, and perhaps even smelled.
It was something he would need to address.
For now, however, he had another problem.
Somewhere in the distance, he could hear another man calling for the woman he’d been seen by, but more pressing was the arrival of Belby, who had arrived to investigate the commotion.
Already having pushed his luck enough, Harry did not wish to take any more chances and waited for the man to pass him by before hurling him into the next clearing with a banishing curse, using the distraction to bid a hasty retreat as he idly wondered where he was, and how he would get out of here.
Fortunately, it did not take him so long to do so.
The woodland had been quite vast, but he’d eventually found himself on something resembling a road, and although he’d not been certain if it even existed, he stowed his cloak away before raising his wand.
The Knight Bus arrived with a loud bang, and did not resemble the same double-decker Harry remembered with little fondness.
Instead of the enormous, purple monstrosity, he found himself standing before a large carriage being pulled by half a dozen thestrals with only a driver wielding a whip perched at the front.
“Where are you going, lad?” he asked.
He was an older man, his dark hair liberally streaked with grey, and Harry was certain he was blind from the milkiness of his eyes. Despite his apparent age, he was thickly built, but pale of skin; a stark contrast to the pawing, horse-like beasts.
Were he not familiar with such creatures, he did not doubt he would feel rather unsettled by the rather grim image before him.
“Godric’s Hollow, please.”
“That’ll be a sickle.”
Handing over the fare, Harry opened the door to find that he was the only passenger, and not bucking the one-time tradition of the journey, the driver spurred the carriage on before he’d managed to take a seat, which he was thrown into.
“I hate this bloody bus,” he huffed.
Much to his relief, the journey had not been a lasting one, and in a matter of moments, they arrived in Godric’s Hollow, with Harry vowing to never use it again.
Soon, he would be taking his apparation lessons at Hogwarts, and he did not need any more motivation to succeed at that than the two memories he now had of the alternative form of transport.
It had been an incredibly strange experience having met Albus Dumbledore as a boy around his own age, but to be sitting at a kitchen table with him, his younger brother, and mother, was completely surreal.
Harry had never considered what the woman had looked like, but Albus inherited most her features, and even hair colour. What he noticed about Kendra that stood out to him, however, was just how similar her magic was to her son’s.
Although Harry was far from being an expert in identifying the magic he encountered, he could feel the resemblance between them.
Still, what stood out above everything else was just how tired Kendra appeared to be.
Her smiles were warm, and even genuine, but her countenance beneath spoke of hardship and ongoing difficulty, and the mere mention of her daughter had made her stiffen.
“I have no intention of making things worse, Mrs Dumbledore. I just wish to meet Ariana.”
She was uncertain, and Harry understood her reticence.
“Her magic is…”
“Volatile,” Harry broke in gently, “and I cannot promise that I can help her fully, but I am certain I can help. The person I spoke of her condition to has experience in these matters and researched them for many years because of it.”
“Then why aren’t they here?”
“Because they aren’t here, Mrs Dumbledore,” Harry said apologetically, though pointedly enough that the woman would draw her own conclusions.
Once more, he did not feel so good about manipulating those round him, but this time, it truly was for the most noble of causes, and it wasn’t as though he could well tell them the truth of the matter.
After a few moments, Kendra nodded worriedly.
“I will introduce you to her,” she agreed, “only because I know you can manage if her magic flares, and I want to believe you, Harry.”
She had her reservations, undoubtedly about him and whether or not he could truly make a difference to the girl. Harry had those very same ones, but when it came to magic, his own Albus Dumbledore had not steered him wrong yet.
He only hoped that this wouldn’t be the first time, and as he followed Kendra Dumbledore up the staircase just outside of the kitchen, he used that time to calm himself as best he could, not wishing to alarm Ariana more than she would likely already be.
Harry truly wished to help her in any way he could, for the sake of all of the Dumbledores.
“Ariana?” Kendra called gently before pushing the door open.
The room was almost completely dark except for a single candle flickering away on the bedside table. Looking into the flame was a pale, auburn-haired girl, who resembled her mother uncannily.
It was not difficult to see that Ariana Dumbledore was indeed rather unwell, and as she looked up, Harry caught a glimpse of the inner turmoil in her eyes.
“There is someone here to speak with you.”
Ariana frowned.
“You’re too young to be a healer,” she whispered. “It is only healers who visit me.”
“I’m not a healer,” Harry replied.
Ariana nodded as she continued to stare at him, her eyes widening slightly as she did so.
“Your magic,” she whispered. “It’s like the magic around the village.”
“You can feel it?” Harry asked curiously.
Ariana swallowed deeply.
“It is always getting stronger. My magic doesn’t like it very much. My magic doesn’t like anything.”
It pained him to see her speak of her ailment so casually, almost as though she’d already accepted it. Maybe she had, and perhaps, although he wished to help her, he might already be too late.
Even so, he knew he had to try, and as he took a seat next to the girl, she flinched.
“It’s not a good idea to get so close to me,” she warned. “My magic…”
“Is trying to protect you,” Harry comforted. “It sees everything as a potential threat and reacts to your emotions. You haven’t lost control of it completely.”
“But I will.”
“Not necessarily. What does my magic feel like?”
Ariana frowned at him.
“Calm, mostly, and it is cold but not uncomfortable. Your magic is very dangerous to people that upsets it.”
“It can be,” Harry agreed. “What does yours feel like?”
He already knew the answer to the question.
It was chaotic, powerful, and needed to be controlled. Already, Ariana was doing her utmost to do so, and was remarkably successful, which meant that she had not given in to, not yet, at least.
“I don’t know,’ she replied.
“Can I show you something? It will help you understand just a little more.”
“Okay,” Ariana agreed nervously, and Harry took her gently by the hand as he drew his wand.
“You say that my magic is cold, and that it is dangerous, but it’s not always like that. Look. Expecto Patronum,” he murmured.
The bright light that erupted from the tip of his wand was quite blinding, but it was the shape of the thestral that caught Harry as much by surprise as it did Ariana and Kendra.
The woman was looking at him in shock, likely due to the mastery of such a complex spell, but it was Ariana Harry was focused on.
Why his patronus had changed so dramatically, he did not know, but that was something he would need to ponder later. For now, he was watching the wide-eyed girl watching the thestral.
“It’s so warm,” she whispered.
She tentatively reached out a hand until it was only a few inches away from the ethereal creature and closed her eyes to simply bask in the magic.
“Now how does my magic feel?” Harry asked.
Ariana smiled.
“Protective, happy…”
“But it is still my magic.”
She nodded as she opened her eyes, her expression becoming one of disappointment as the thestral faded, plunging the room into darkness once more.
“Magic can be many things. It can be cold and terrifying, chaotic and feel untameable, but it can also be warm, happy, and comforting. Sometimes, when things feel cold and dark, we just need to remember to turn on the light,” Harry spoke, remembering that Dumbledore had told him something similar.
“I don’t think I can remember how,” Ariana choked.
“I know, but I am going to help you as much as I can; I know what it is like to lose yourself to the horrible thoughts and dreams you cannot escape. They have been with me for as long as I can remember.”
“How?”
“By helping you take back control. It won’t be easy, but I know you can do it. You just need to believe it yourself and come to trust me enough. It will take time, but we can do it.”
Ariana was not convinced, but she offered him a resolute enough nod for Harry to hope that it could be so.
“What was that magic?”
“It is called a patronus charm. It is used to fight off dementors mostly, but it is so much more than that. It is a spell created using the most positive emotions you can find within yourself.”
“And it is a creature?”
“It can become one if you are powerful enough. Everyone has a unique patronus to them. Mine used to be a stag because my father was an Animagus and could turn into one. Now, it is a thestral.”
“Could I do that?”
“One day you will, and when you are ready, I will teach you myself. We have a lot of work before we get there, and I need you to read this book for me. Most of what I can do now is because of this,” Harry assured her, removing the book on Occlumency he’d liberated from the Black library, having ensured it was dated before where he found himself now. “When you learn to empty your mind, everything inside you that you struggle with every day just becomes that little easier to cope with. This is a very difficult type of magic to learn. It takes a lot of patience and dedication from you, but I promise it will be worth it.”
Ariana nodded as she accepted the book.
“Occlumency,” she murmured questioningly.
“The most important magic that you can learn right now. Why don’t we try turning on the light for just a little while so you can read the first bit of the book, then I can help you.”
With a flick of his wand, a gently glowing ball of light hovered above them, and with another, small, fiery creatures began leaping out of it, bathing the room in enough of a glow that Ariana would be able to read comfortably.
Cautiously, she nodded before opening the book, and Harry offered the silently weeping Kendra a nod of encouragement.
She smiled in return before slowly leaving the room, and Harry kept hold of Ariana’s hand, ready to help her with anything she might need.
(Break)
“Do you think she is okay?” Abe asked worriedly.
Albus offered him an encouraging smile.
“Harry wouldn’t risk her coming to any harm.”
Abe nodded, and the two of them remained in silence, each pondering what was happing upstairs. Although he did not doubt Harry’s intentions, Albus could not deny that he was rather nervous.
If Ariana took exception to him, his efforts could not only be for nothing but could see either him or the girl hurt. It was quite the unsettling thought, though a sudden wave of the most serene magic he’d felt washing over him put his mind at ease.
“What is that?” Abe questioned.
“Magic,” Albus whispered, basking in the warmth of it. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“Me either.”
They said nothing else, and only a few moments later, their teary-eyed mother entered the kitchen.
“Is everything…?”
She smiled.
“She’s speaking to him. He just sat down with her, and she was hanging onto his every word.”
“What was that magic?”
“Oh, it was wonderful,” their mother beamed. “Harry cast a patronus, and Ariana was in awe of it. I think I was too.”
“A corporeal patronus?” Albus choked.
That was an exquisite piece of incredibly advanced magic. He had read of the spell and intended to learn it for the sheer challenge of doing so. There were not many wizards who could wield it so effectively that it took on a form, but with everything he undertook, Albus would do so until he managed it.
Now, it had become something of a priority, especially if it would help Ariana.
“He’s going to teach her Occlumency.”
“Occlumency?”
“It is a branch of magic that involves being able to defend your mind,” their mother explained with a frown. “I can’t say I know much about it other than that, but Harry seems to think it will help her. At the very least, your sister is willing to give it a try.”
Albus had never heard of such magic, and once more had something else he would look into for himself. If it helped Ariana, he was all for it, though he found himself pondering the rather enigmatic boy he had and Abe had made the acquaintance of.
Where had Harry learned of it if he did not attend Hogwarts, and how had he mastered such a spell as the patronus charm?
Albus had many questions, and yet, for now, they mattered little knowing that the boy was going out of his way to help Ariana in ways that not even the best healers had been able to thus far.
(Break)
She squeezed his hand a little tighter, trying not to focus on the maudlin thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. For as long as she could remember, they had been with her, ever since she had been set upon by the group of muggle boys.
Ariana had been playing in her own garden, merely prodding at some flowers, watching them grow and wilt at her touch.
So fascinated by it, she had not heard the boys approaching, and before she knew it, their jeering had turned to violence. Truthfully, she only remembered the blows raining down on her, and how she had screamed for help, only to wish that she hadn’t.
She’d never seen her father angry before, and certainly not as furious as he was when he’d drawn his wand and began cursing the boys.
It was their turn to scream, but her father did not relent, and only did so when her mother had intervened, disarming and all but dragging him and Ariana into the house.
The aurors had arrived before the healer, had taken her father away, and Ariana had only seen him once since, and that was only a matter of months ago when his final appeal had been denied.
He had looked unwell, more so than she did when she cared to take in her appearance.
Azkaban had not been kind to the man, and yet, he had offered her the warmest of smiles as he’d been led away by the aurors.
“It’s okay,” Harry soothed. “I know it is difficult, and it is not something we have to do now, but when the time is right, we will confront those memories that haunt you. Now, we only need to work on emptying your mind. Just take a deep breath. I’m here with you.”
Ariana did so, and her grip relaxed somewhat, even if her own mind continued to plague with the thoughts she wished would simply vanish.
It was her fault.
If she had not called out for help…
“It isn’t your fault,” Harry whispered.
“Can you see my thoughts?”
“No, but I can feel your reaction to them. You feel guilty for something you shouldn’t.”
“What do you know about it?” Ariana snapped, opening her eyes.
Harry did not recoil from the venom in her voice but instead squeezed her hand in return.
“Both of my parents were murdered by a dark wizard before I was two years old. My father died trying to protect me and my mother, and my mother gave her life to protect me. I am here because both did what any loving parent would do for their child. Even now, I still feel guilty about their deaths, but I understand their decision. Neither would’ve been able to live with themselves if they did not make that sacrifice. Your father did what he did out of the same love as my parents, and I would bet my life that he does not regret it.”
Ariana swallowed deeply.
“How did you get over it?”
“I didn’t,” he answered honestly, “but I learned to live with it. I realised that I should not feel guilty for a decision they made out of love or allow it to consume me. I use their decision as motivation to be the best that I can, so that their sacrifice will not have been for nothing. They gave me a chance, that’s it. I have to make sure I am worthy of their sacrifice. It is the only thing that me, and you can do.”
Ariana nodded her understanding.
Although it made sense, it certainly was not so easy to just dismiss all that haunted her.
“It will take time, and that is why we are doing this,” Harry explained gently. “I can help you, but more than anything, you have to want to help yourself.”
“What if I don’t?”
Harry shook his head.
“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me now. You want to get better, you just don’t know how. You’re stuck in here most of the time,” he murmured, pointing to her head. “Little by little, we need to get you out of it.”
Ariana nodded.
She was terrified, and already, she knew the battle ahead of her would not be easy, but Harry as right. She didn’t want to feel the way she did anymore, didn’t want her magic to be so unpredictable.
Oddly, since he had been sitting with her, and especially when he’d explained his own rather contradictory magic, Ariana did feel better. It gave her just a little glimmer of hope that things wouldn’t always be this way.
Dealing with all of the memories and emotions they elicited within her was not something she was relishing the thought of. However, maybe, just maybe, the future wasn’t so bleak, after all.
“Would you like to learn how to use the light?”
“I can control it?”
“Yes, and you should do so as much as you can. When you feel like things are becoming too much, you need something to focus on. Look.”
With just a wave of the hand that was not holding Ariana’s, the light changed colour from a simple warm glow to a soft pastel blue, and then a gentle pink.
Ariana could feel the magic, could feel how Harry was manipulating it.
“You can make it as bright or as dim as you like just by waving your hand over it and thinking about what you want it to do.”
She frowned as she raised her own hand sceptically, her own magic not as calm or controlled as Harry’s, and the colour of the light changed rapidly, so much so that she had to close her eyes when the myriad of tones became overwhelming.
“Calm,” Harry urged. “If that happens, stop, take a breath, and try again. You might need to stop more times than you like, but the calmer you are, the more it will cooperate. Ready?”
She did take a deep breath and allowed Harry’s presence to sooth her chaotic magic before attempting it once more, smiling as she managed to get the light to obey her a few times before she lost control once more.
“That was brilliant,” Harry said encouragingly.
“But it made me feel so tired,” Ariana yawned.
“Because that is the first time you’ve tried to take control of your magic for a very long time. It will make you tired, but you just proved that you can do it. That is more progress than I thought we might make today. You should be proud of yourself.”
His praise was sincere, and Ariana smiled despite how exhausted she felt.
“You should rest, but I will come back tomorrow, if you would like me to?”
She nodded eagerly, and he gave her hand a final squeeze before standing.
“You really can do this,” he encouraged, closing the door gently behind him.
Immediately, Ariana felt the anxiety and guilt she was plagued with fill her once more, but she did not hide under her duvet as she usually would. No, her gaze remained on the ball of light Harry had created, and she watched the fiery creatures leap from it.
Although it was still rather dim, it was the most light she’d allowed to be in her room for as long as she could remember, and even if she wasn’t ready to make it brighter, what was here was just enough to help her calm her warring mind somewhat.
“Turn on the light,” she whispered to herself, echoing the words Harry had spoken. “Just turn on the light.”