No More Eating
He sighed, smacking his head against the window pane and closing his eyes again. He could feel the warmth of the Suns rays through the glass as he leant against it. He was lucky his glasses wheren’t needed anymore, otherwise they probably would have made his face hurt more than it already did. Interrupted yet again, and he had been making more progress than he usually did during the day. He normally had to wait till night until he was able to work.
He moved from the chair and proceded to down the glass, rubbing his temples and and stretching his muscles after being sat for so long. He lost track of himself when meditating, he sometimes sat for hours without realising, just in a sort of trance. Unfortunately, living in the Dursley household did not ensure that he could get the silence and peace that his clarity required. He was getting better and better at shutting them out, but now and again a shout or a crash from somewhere else in the house would interrupt the only moments of peace he had.
It had started as properly training at Occulemency, without having his mind raped or being ridiculed at every oppertunity. He just wanted to shut it all out, the prophecy, Sirius’s death, his friends trying to reach out for him to open up, he didn’t need any of that. All that did is cause him pain. If he didn’t feel anything then he wouldn’t feel the pain. The dissapointment. The burden that kept him awake at night, unable to find any rest.
And so, he decided to block it all out. He had sat on his bed, cross legged for hours, eyes shut, just trying to block everything out. The stillness enveloped him, he felt complete just completely absorbed by his being, and nothing else.
Yet, something alien still was there, lurki ng. It stayed just beyond anything he could grasp, deeply rooted within his being, intwined with him and yet completely different. He spent hours trying to look into it, to see the thing that had avoided him for god knows how long. Concentrating until his head literally hurt, he looked deeper and deeper until he finally grasped it.
And then he woke from the trance. It was incredible, he felt like he had seen through the eyes of another, as if he was expieriencing a past life! He wasn’t sure how he had done it, his memory was all jumbled, everything hazy and blurred. He had started as soon as he woke up, and now it was dark outside, no-one else in the house was moving.
Since that moment he had devoted all his time to reaching that state again, and had managed several times. He was at every possible moment meditating, it was slowly becoming an obcession for him.
He had started to notice changes as well, in his appearence. He looked into the mirror, barely recognising the person he was seeing these days, not that he cared. His body didn’t matter, only his mind and the state that he achieved and could unlock. His pale, worn out face stared back in the reflection with a grim look of determination. He stood away from the desk and sat cross-legged on his bed. He slowed and deepend his breathing and closed his eyes, his face becoming a blank canvas. It would be a long time before Harry Potter surfaced again.
Harry walked down the sidestreet, a mist had fallen down as he strolled with no purpuse. He kept his hands jammed into the pockets of the hoody, staring down at the ground as he walked. He had been interupted again, Vernon swearing at the Tv, apparently his betting on the boxing hadn’t gone well. Normally this would have brought a small smile to his face, but having been interrupted from his meditation he decided to go out and cool off before his accidental magic gave into the anger that was building up. His magic had been on the fritz a bit recently and getting out of the house was the best option. The less conflict in the house, the better, in his opinion.
Harry came to a stop when he heard shouts and a cry up ahead. It was late at night, and this wasn’t exactly the nicest part of town, being close to a council area. For all Harry knew, someone was getting mugged up ahead. For some reason Harry felt drawn to this, not to interrupt or participate, but to observe. He needed to see this, what was up ahead. Pulling his hood up, he stayed close to the wall, crouching in order to keep away from the light the lampposts provided up ahead.
Not really to Harrys surprise, it was Dudley’s gang who was doing the harassing, at least some of them. The gang had never been harmless, but especially now they had taken a more vicious and violent streak. Harry was pretty sure Dudley was addicted to crack, he was constantly smoking and had become really paranoid and anxious in the few instances Harry had been unfortunate to bump into him. Now here he was, with Piers and another boy Harry didn’t know, holding up some girl, trying to steal her phone or who knows what. Harry stayed crouched, watching from the shadows.
The girl, who must have been around 14, was surrounded by the three boys. Shaking, with her back against the wall, her eyes flicked from face to face, wandering what was going to happen, where the first attack was going to come from. Dudley stood directly in front of her, his fat pig-like face twisted into a vicious grin. The grin of someone completely confident the situation was going to go exactly how he wanted to. He snatched the purse from the girl, who screamed and cowered away at the sudden movement. He tossed it to the other boy to rake through, getting anything valuable to sell on, never taking his eyes of the girl. It was then that he pulled out the blade, its steel shining in the night, drawing the attention of all eyes.
It was then that Harry stood up, and walked towards the group. He raised his hand, the knife that Dudley had held flew out of his hand and straight into the boy raking through the bag’s throat. He was dead before his slack body hit the ground. Dudley stared down at his shaking hand in disbelief as Harry flicked his own, causing the knife to again move through the nights air. Piers was caught in the stomach, the force of the blade being shoved into him causing him to fly back. His last moments consisted of looking up at Harry as blood poured from his belly, signalling the end of his life.
Dudley looked down on his dead friend and then up to his advancing cousin. The dark figure Harry cut out walked slowly, confidently knowing he was in control of the situation. The mist seemed to swirl round his hidden form, but Dudley knew who it was. The wizard, the freak that had been the person he had beaten and mocked for as long as he could remember. Now this powerful being was stalking towards him, hunting him down, the way he had done as a kid. Dudley had never been so terrified in his entire life. Turning he ran as fast as his large frame allowed, but only made it a few steps. Hot flames of pain travelled up his leg, causing him to fall, smashing his face against the concrete. His vision blurred, his jaw ached and he was only dimly aware that his hands where clawing against the pavement, trying to move his huge body as far away from the threat as possible. The knife stabbed into his side the time, forcing him onto his back, his entire body racked with pain. He gasped for air, unable to move any longer, his chest coming up and down frantically trying to get air back into his system. The knife he was going to use to threaten and allow him to rape the girl was hanging over his head now, dangling as if on an invisible string. As Dudley Dursley saw the weapon fall swiftly toward the ground, he closed his eyes and saw no more.
The girl looked around, shocked at the bloodbath that had happened in a mere five seconds. Shakily, she let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and looked at the only boy left alive. He simply stood there, silent, looking at the corpses. Trembling, she reached for her back and turned to the boy. He didn’t seem to realise she was even there, his eyes passing through her, taking in the scene.
“Thanks.” This was all she could say, as she ran as fast as she could. She didn’t know who he was, but he had saved her, she had no doubt about that.
The mist continued to swirl around Harry, who took one last look at the dead bodies of the first people he had ever killed. He didn’t feel empty, or filled with regret or any of that. Strangely he felt content, as if he was picking up a task he had left and was on the right path again. He cast one last look over the scene, the last time he would ever see his cousin no doubt, and left. The hood may have obscured his identity, but his red eyes shone in the night as his face broke out on his face. Yes, he had got onto the right path yet again, of that he was sure.