Like Bad Muggle Spy Movies
It was Sunday. The best day, in Harry’s opinion, because he didn't have class. Not having class meant he didn't have DADA, and not having DADA meant he didn't have to see Snape, who was even worse than usual for reasons Harry wasn't sure.
He also liked this Sunday because it was the second month of classes in their 6th year. This meant that they would get their soul marks today.
Soul marks were given to every Witch and Wizard in their 6th year of schooling, or when they turned 16. They were a mark somewhere on your body that would change after you touched your soulmate. Every person's mark was on a different part of their body—the same part of their body as their mates.
There would be a school gathering in the Great Hall after lunch, and the 6th years would be called up in order to receive their mark.
Hermione was extremely stressed, and though Ron was trying to comfort her, he looked even more stressed than she did.
Harry was excited, but also nervous. What if his soulmate was someone he touched all the time? Like Hermione or Ron. Harry grimaced at the thought They were his best friends.
When lunch finally rolled around, every 6th was jittery with nerves and excitement. Some didn't even eat lunch; they were so nervous. Finally, Dumbledore stood up in front of the student body and cast a quick Sonorus, which made his voice boom around the room.
Every 6th year was on edge for what he was about to say, but unlike usual, he just said “Line up alphabetically in front of the sorting chair.” When they did as they were told, he said “There is a cauldron on the chair. When instructed to, place your hand in the liquid, it should tingle. Then McGonagall will start the ceremony. It shouldn't take long. You may start, Minnerva.”
Harry having the last name Potter made him not last, but definitely not first in order. Many 6th year names were called out before anyone he truly knew.
“Granger, Hermione!” McGonagall yelled out next.
Hermione looked scared but went up with only a slight quiver in her step. She walked to the front of the Great Hall and nodded at Professor McGonagall.
“Please stick your dominant hand into the cauldron, Ms. Granger.” The head teacher said briskly.
Hermione took her right hand and slid it into the metal container. She shivered, looking slightly uneasy about what was in the cauldron.
“Ego, Capitis Domus Gryffindori, Hermione Granger notam animae eius do, significans nexum eius ad aliam animam ignotam. Sit futurum ut tua mens valeat, do mea benedictione. Animam crea signum.” said McGonagall, her eyes flashing with power.
A burst of magic a little stronger than usual washed over the room, making the other students gasp. Almost the entire hall clapped for her as she walked back to the Gryffindor table. Hermione couldn't seem to stop smiling.
The many students after Hermione were very much the same, save for a Ravenclaw who ran to hug her 8th year friend, only to find out they were her soulmate. They had made quite the intimate spectacle with their tongues, and had to be dragged out by a stern looking teacher.
Then it was Malfoy’s turn.
“Malfoy, Draco!” Yelled McGonagall.
He walked to the cauldron and placed his hand in quickly, as if he just wanted to get it over with. The head teacher frowned before starting the ritual.
“Ego, Caput Gryffindori Domus, da Draco Malfoy notam animae suae, significans nexum alterius animae ignotae. Maneat mens tua acris et vera, do tibi benedictionem meam. Animam crea signum.” Magic flared, but it was like no spectacle seen so far.
Light bounced off the walls like laser beams in bad muggle spy movies. Sound waves crashed into every student, pushing them away from the front of the hall. The entire hall smelt of ink and roses freshly picked, and ingesting the air felt like the best kind of drunk. The spell made Malfoy look like a god, standing there covered with translucent light. It was like the world was ending and he was the last living soul. Then it all stopped and the room lapsed into silence.
A loud clap sounded from the Sytherin table, and soon every green-uniformed student clapped too.
Malfoy looked too stunned to speak, but he quickly shifted his demeanor and smirked, walking to his house table.
Harry was still recovering from the immense power still lighting his skin. He shook his head, this was no time to be distracted by Malfoy, the prat. He was about to get his soul mark.
McGonagall, who was still quite frazzled looking, called up the next student. Then, after many others, it was Harry’s turn.
“Potter, Harrison.”
He stepped in front of the simmering cauldron, stopping directly in front of the stool and placing his left hand in the cool liquid. He shivered drawing in a quick breath.
It felt like the cold silk of a skirt, or maybe the soft fabric of enchanted curtains.
Whatever it felt like, it was soft and flexible and definitely didn't feel like liquid. He looked up into McGonagall's stern blue eyes.
“Ego, caput Domus Gryffindoris, Harrison Potter notam animae suae do, significans nexum suum ad aliam animam ignotam. Confortetur cerebrum tuum sicut magicae tenebrae tuae, do tibi benedictionem meam. Animam crea signum.”
That is when he felt it, the tingle under his skin growing stronger. Light circling his limbs, seeping into his bones.
He couldn't remember anything that happened during the supposed two minutes of blinding magic, but when it was over, everyone had their eyes trained on him, looking stunned.
McGonagall cleared her throat quietly. “Mr. Potter, you can go sit down now.” She whispered.
He nodded stiffly before walking slowly to his house table. He sat down next to Hermione, his whole body still feeling like it was on fire.
He felt eyes watching him, and he met Malfoy in a piercing stare. Harry’s eyes widened and he hissed through his teeth. His right forearm stung when he met the Sytherin's eyes.
He pulled away the fabric quickly, gasping when he saw a large, colorless, mark on his arm. It wasn’t the dark mark, but it was too close for comfort. This was his soul mark, and it was stinging so strongly he had to stop moving for a second to deal with the pain.
Soul marks weren't supposed to hurt, not like this, and he had only felt this pain once before. When he had been in a dream with Death Eaters and Voldemort, he had felt this pain when he was Lucius. When Voldemort had summoned him.
This was the pain of a marked summoning, not a soul mark.
What was going on?