The Song of Me
Black Island, 29th December 2003
Seated on a waterproof picnic blanket on the tidal line at the beach, I fiddle with the edge of a stack of transparent plastic sheets that I nicked – with written apology – from Justin’s new office in the London flat I rented till a few days ago. Truth be told, Zabini’s warnings and Black’s displeasure have caused me to have third thoughts about practising the Song here and now…. But if I don’t, what will I do with the Jaffa in the trunk and those that Teal’c will send next?
But hesitating when casting a spell – any spell – will result in either nothing, a weak something, something else altogether, or a disaster. Even a firsty at Hogwarts would know that. And no doubt I’m doubting things, now, hence hesitating.
“Damn,” I ggrumble, even as I mix and dump some watercolour paint on each of the plastic sheets, anyway; the first of the stages of my experiment. I can’t stop, now, or I shan’t start ever again. Occlumency might help me focus, when comes the time to try to peel the paint off the top-most sheet without making a hole on it or the sheets below, like Zabini showed me back at Grimmauld yesterday.
Blue, red, green, yellow, pink, brown, purple, black, grey, white – I got ten sheets, ten colours, and ten chances to try on this “simple exercise” with the Song, which I must perform while in my baseline form.
All right, then. Ready yourself, Harry. No doubts! You can do it!
Now: Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale….
I close my eyes, relax my physical muscles as well as my magical ones, open my senses as wide as possible except for my sight, soak in the ambience – the nature all round me, the magic of the island that is regarding me curiously and expectantly – and gather my own magic together with every breath that I inhale.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale….
With magic saturating my being, I delve deeper into my escence, into what makes me… me. Something that Zabini painstakingly guided me a day long, until early this morning, and warned me to never tamper on.
Well, not a chore, that. I’m not going to let myself become – no, no, no, no, no, no, focus, you! Don’t think about him.
Again. Again. – Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale….
I delve into my escence again, let myself revel in the indescribable experience for a moment and an eternity, let myself get a grip on my own being, cradle it, explore it, cherish it.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale….
There are links attached to me, leading out to quite a few places, more than I thought I would have: my combined Houses, Fawkes, my friends….
Mother.
Sibling.
Father.
And, fainter, what feels like more distant siblings.
My breath hitches. – I did not find this out even in the last time I delved in, early this morning!
I have living family members!
No. No. No. Not now. Not now. Later. Focus. Focus. Come on….
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale….
I want to peel off some paint. I want to peel off some paint. I want to peel off some paint. Just that. Without hurting the plastic sheet. Just on one sheet. Come on, I can do it. I want to do it. I can do it. Just peel off some paint on one sheet without touching the sheet itself.
But I can use the sheet to give me a picture, too, can’t I? There’s already some paint on it, and on other sheets, and in the tubes nearby….
I want to know. I need to know. Mother. Sibling. Father. Other family members. I need to know. Some familiarity. An anchor. Please.
My escence stirs, reaches out, vibrates, moves.
I am a passenger. I am the doer.
I am mesmerised, myself.
The power, the escence – my power, my escence – flows like water: up and down, side to side, gentle, slow, like my first boat ride across the lake to Hogwarts Castle before my first year there.
No, no, no, no. Not Hogwarts yet. Hogwarts is no more but my family members are still there. I want to know. I need to know.
Curiosity. Longing. Hope. Love. – I know you. I don’t need to know you more to care for you. I want you. I need you. I love you. Where are you?
I travel far, wide, away. Something anchors me in place but also boosts me to go forward, ever forward, ever afield. Something not of myself, and yet my own. Something that marvels, hopes, loves, supports me.
I revel in it, as well, even as I go farther and farther and farther, carried on the tide of my own escence, of the links that act as guiding ropes.
A huge alien with blue skin, no hair, silvery markings and red eyes is the first. My escence acknowledges them as mother, and I swarm ecstatically round them. `Mother, mother, mother,` I sing, and they in turn warble out, `Child, child, child,` with thick, viscous droplets running down their thin cheeks.
My sibling is next. My twin. The other half of the one. – They look just like me! Black hair, green eyes, fair skin, and all. But they seem to freak out, instead of welcoming me….
`Sibling, twin, half,` I sing, nonetheless, and envelop them in me, in all that I feel for them, in all that I feel for us, in all that I feel for our mother.
They become… disbelieving… and then distraught, when I repeat my song for them.
The Song cannot lie. The soul cannot lie. I found it out. They are finding it out, now, too… to their shock and grief, somehow.
Why shock? Why grief? Don’t they know me? Don’t they want me? Don’t they need me? I know-want-need them!
I ask.
They shove me away.
My eagerness and cheer fade, just so. I don’t even have the energy and desire to seek out other links.
I return to my point of origin, to my body, to my mundane senses, slowly and dispiritedly.
I am me. I am Harry. I am also Loki Laufey-childe, I suppose, now that I have undeniable evidence that I am not just Harry.
I am me. I am… lying down?… on a damp surface, inhaling and exhaling slowly, surrounded by the sounds of suffing waves and the rumbling of more beyond.
I am me. And now I know myself.