Alone, but not lonely

The saying ‘the beginning is not the end’ was changed for Harry into ‘the end is a new beginning’. He had been 17 years old, was considered an adult in the wixen world, but now he was no more then a ball of live in his mother’s stomach.

He wouldn’t remember his past, at least that is the deal he agreed to. But he also wouldn’t be alone, which was the reason he had agreed to this deal and no other. He wouldn’t be alone when he comes into life, he wouldn’t be alone the night his parents would die, and he wouldn’t be alone during the years at the Dursley’s. He would never be truly alone until the moment his twin sister died. A twin who had been created by the splitting of his 17 year’s old magical core into two equal parts and sending them both back to be born again. And she wouldn’t die for a long time, at least that’s what death had told him. And who better to ensure the time of the living than death themself?

Don’t misunderstand the situation though. Harry might have not felt truly alone, but everyone knew he was an only child. Everyone knew about how he, just 15 months old, defeated the Dark Lord, all alone. And everyone in Private Drive knew that the Dursley’s took him in out of the goodness of their heart. He was a troublemaker no one wanted their children to play with. A born criminal, a freak, a burden. And there was just him, Harry Potter. No parents. No siblings. All alone.

When he was young, there was always that feeling, deep deep inside him, that there was someone out there who loved him. Him, just the way he was. Every time Aunt Petunia told him no one could ever love a freak like him, he reached out for that feeling deep inside. Every time his Uncle Vernon told him he was a burden, no one would ever want, he reached out for that feeling of not being alone. Every time he saw the love and care his aunt and uncle had for their child, care and love he longed for, had tried to receive by following every rule and taking care of all chores, even though he had already realised nothing would ever make him worthy of the same, he reached out for that feeling of unconditional love. And the feeling answered.

A little girl sat on the pathway of some house. It was the fifth house she had seen since her fifth birthday. Or rather her finding day. It was on the first of November, some old man had found her crying, a bit over a year old, and had informed the police. They hadn’t found anyone looking for her, or anyone still living who the house she had been found at belonged to. It had been an old farmhouse, that had partly burned down several months before, taking the couple who had lived there with them. Anne, who had been send by child services, had talked with her. She had been too young to actually talk, but Anne had still found out, that she listened to the name Ares. Not Iris, which she apparently made sure Anne would not call her. So, Ares it was. As she hadn’t been related to the couple - they had been in their sixties and never had any children - she had gotten her own last name. And because of her skin colour Anne had tried for Asian countries. Ares completely agreed to Indian, as much as a one-year-old can agree to anything.

A car parked before Ares and Anne got out. She put Ares bag in the trunk and let her sit in the booster seat in the back, before she got in herself.

“Don’t think about it. They’re just too stupid to comprehend how extraordinary you are.” With those words she started the engine and they drove away.

Ares knew it wasn’t that. She knew she was different and complicated. Just like others knew the sky was blue and the gras green. Even though it never looked like one great mass to Ares. Even on the days when people said the sky was blue no cloud in sight, Ares didn’t see one blue mass. She saw everything the way she always did. Swirls of images and sparks which looked how drizzle felt on her skin. Those images where how she knew what the couple had told Anne over the phone after they had thrown her out. Those images where how she knew that Anne had tried to stand up for her, defended her. Those images where how she knew that Anne hadn’t found a place for her to stay the night, so she would be staying on the couch in the Orphanage, because all the beds where full and putting a bed in one of the other children’s rooms had only ever caused tears and cries for hours. No one wanted that. She didn’t mind the couch. She didn’t sleep as much as the other children anyways.

As they drove Ares reached out with her own sparks to find that one person out there, who was also inside herself, and pulled and pushed the walls and bounds keeping them separate. She felt for the swirls that already seeped through and knew, they were also trying to reach out, like they often did. So, she kept at it, even after arriving, after dinnertime, and long into the night, until she fell asleep from exhaustion.

The next morning when Harry woke up in his cupboard and he knew he had to get up and make breakfast soon, he reached for that feeling deep deep inside him, which wasn’t as deep anymore. Startled from the closeness he retreated and listened for his aunt’s steps. The house was quiet. So, he reached out again and what he found wasn’t just a feeling. What he found was a presence who lay comfortable on something soft, fast asleep. Not wishing to wake her he retreated. He didn’t know how he knew they were a ‘she’, he just did. The same way he knew that she was his twin sister. She was not a parent or guardian like he had always hoped the feeling was coming from, but he wasn’t disappointed. Yes, a sister would not be able to take him in. And yes, she might have a better guardian, but he was staying with his aunt, and he knew she was related to him, just like he knew he had a twin sister. So, bringing attention to her might lead to her having to stay with him. And he would never let that happen. He loved his sister. She was the most important and precious person in the whole world. She deserved the best and kindest guardian that has ever lived. He would not take them away from her, the way he took their parents life’s when he distracted them in the car. And if they weren’t the best and kindest, then he would do everything in his power to help her find them.

It was Halloween, Ares Birthday was tomorrow. She had moved from house to house over the last year. No foster family had kept her long. Not even a month. She was getting older too. People liked small children, preferable babies. She knew the chances for her to get adopted were slim. But she wasn’t alone anymore. Her brother, which she kept calling brotherheart in her head was there too. His world looked so much different. There were the adults, who were either mean or didn’t care. Then there was this boy who seemed to be in a lot of the images. He was blond and fat and locked a bit like the cruel adult couple. They seemed to be her brotherheart’s keeper. They were all mean and sometimes, brotherheart send the pain through there bond. It was still muffled she knew. But it hurt a lot. Ares always send as much love and compassion and braveness through the bond as she could spare at that moment. She never saw his room, or bed. At first, she didn’t realise it, but then she did and started to look for it. By now there was this nagging thought in her mind, that he didn’t have a bed. She knew he had ended up in the cupboard under the stairs a lot and it locked like a small room, but she didn’t want to believe her brother’s room was so small, with no bed or mattress. His clothes also never seemed to fit; they were way to big. Ares also had clothes that didn’t fit perfectly, but at least they were only about one size to big or small, not on the other end of the size measure.

She worried about him. He seemed so full of kindness, from seeing the other children in the foster system she knew that at some point all of them lost their kindness, it changed into tread and jealousy. Ares was scared that the kindness her brother had for her now would change into jealousy, when he realised that while she was thrown out every other week, she at least had a bed during that time and a coach during the nights were no one wanted her. He didn’t. He was always with the same people, at the same house. But just like she stopped calling the places she was send to a home, he couldn’t call the place he stayed a home either.

Those worries kept her awake some nights, but she still did her best to strengthen their bond, to build a stable bridge. When the idea had first crossed her mind, there was only sparks which she jumped on, like a constellation. And every time she jumped the way and he jump the way in the other direction they left more sparks in between. Then she had gotten ill. Like very ill. The people she had stayed with at that time, didn’t call for a doctor right away, but just let her sleep it out. When she woke up, she saw the full moon shining bright through the window on her. She bathed in its light for a while, then she realised that she had never seen the moon so clearly. It was still not like the images she had seen in the swirls of what the moon looked like. When she looked around some more, she saw that everything was more clearly. There were still swirls and sparks, but she could tune them out now. She could only look at what was around her. The walls, the door and window, the table and chair, the bed with cover. Her hands were still full of swirls and sparks, and after she pulled away the cover, she saw that her whole body was swirls and sparks. That night she realised that the swirls were thoughts and memories of herself, and the sparks were the energy force, that made stuff happen around her. She could float a book with them, and she could call the book to her. Then she was tired. But she knew she would get stronger and would be able to make it rain in the house like she had done before. She knew she could set something on fire like she had done that one time when she had been angry. She knew she could heal her injuries. And she knew that the people she stayed with didn’t have sparks. She knew Anne didn’t have sparks. But that was fine. The sparks were just a sign for her being different and Anne already knew that.

Only later in the morning Ares found out that not only her sight changed. She saw herself in the swirls of the people around her and knew that they had seen her different before. It was the first time she had run away from a house. The first and only time so far.

Thank goodness she wasn’t alone. Her brotherheart was only a line of sparks away and a raven found her. A raven with a ring full of books.

Harry was disappointed. He knew it was irrational, he had never been allowed to join the other children on the street to go trick-or-treating, but he had still hoped, if he fulfilled all his chores and even made a bit more that he was allowed to go. He wasn’t. He was sent into his cupboard. At least he had gotten a piece of bread and a glass water today.

He reached out for the feeling inside him, which he now knew belonged to his sister. He had started calling her sistersoul in his mind. The way to her was getting easier to take with each time he went it. Deciding to be a bit reckless today he tried to slither the way. Like he had seen the people on the television do, the one time his aunt had wanted to look at ice skating. Somehow it worked and he slithered the way after a few stumbles. On the other side he saw his sistersoul. She was beautiful. He knew in theory, that he had never actually seen her. He couldn’t tell anyone what her hair colour was, or which height she reached. But he knew her character. She was kind and confident, hopeful and optimistic, but also realistic. She was strongminded, but she listened to others in topics which were knew to her and always tried to understand their point of view, to ensure that she would find her own opinion on the topic. And once she made up her mind, she stayed by it. She was also committed and courageous.

Every time he went to her the world would swirl and sparkle with colours. Some colours were kind some not, but most were indifferent. He had thought it normal for their bond first. By now he thought that she maybe saw that way. Maybe her eyesight was also not good. He had gotten glasses during first grade. Maybe she needed glasses too, but no one had gotten some for her, and she didn’t know she needed them because her world always had looked that way. He wanted to ask her. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to know her favourite colour. What food she liked best and what books she liked to read. He wanted to know so much about her, but all he reached were those swirls and sparks. He tried to reach further, like he had done before. The way felt endless, like it had felt before. The end out of reach, so far away. But he had time. So, he went along.

“Brotherheart.” A muffled sound reached him.

“Hello, sistersoul.” He answered.

Over the next months the bridge became solid. In one of these conversations, which were more like shouts through a storm she had managed to explain her idea about building a solid bridge. She had thought about a bridge made from wood or stone, but her brother had understood obsidian bridge through the ‘void’. Because it was so difficult to shout words to him, she hadn’t tried to correct it and simply started to form a mass of the stone on her side. She knew it was a black-blue stone which was fine by her. She liked the colour, and because her favourite colours where black and red, she added a bloodred shimmer here and there. It looked great. She still hopped over to her brother and tried to talk with him, just like he came over to talk with her. And the closer their ends came, the faster she could walk over to him and the easier it was to communicate. By the time winter turned into spring the bridge was connected. They finally understood every word the other said. By the time the first flowers fade, they learned how to pull the sight of the other over their own eyes for a moment.