Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 12: Potion
"Would you like some cookies, Harry?" Mrs. Figg asked him with a smile.
"Ehm…no, thanks." Harry responded.
He was sure it would be the same cookies that he had rejected months ago. This woman buys new ones and keeps offering him the same exact dusty, hard cookies every time he visits.
At the Dursleys, they starve him, but here, they offer him things that he could not eat. This made Harry wonder which one was worse.
"Oh well, we can watch some pictures together." The old woman placed a large photo album on top of the coffee table. "I have taken many new ones since the last time you were here."
Harry groaned. Chores were definitely better than this.
At least with those, he had the freedom to occupy his mind with something more pleasant.
But Mrs. Figg likes to comment on every picture she shows him and then asks him questions like 'how do you like this one?' or 'isn't Mister Peanut adorable when playing with his new toy?.'
Harry thought that this old woman had no room in her mind for something other than her cats.
There was one saving grace, though, and he just needed to wait a bit longer.
Harry gave a side glance at the front window of the house. The sun was coming down, and it would soon be dark.
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One hour later.
"Uff…finally." Harry leaned back on the couch before taking another look at the woman sleeping on the other side.
The only good thing about staying with Mrs. Figg was that as soon as it was nighttime, the old woman would fall asleep, and he was then free to do what he wanted until his aunt and uncle came back.
Usually, he would wander around the house or watch some TV with the volume at a minimum to avoid waking her up.
But tonight, he had a different idea in mind.
Over this past month, Harry managed to collect everything he needed.
Most of the ingredients were very basic, and he was able to find them at the local grocery shops.
The rarest one was valerian root, which required him to take a trip to a herbal apothecary in London.
The money...he had no choice but to steal it. It mostly came from his cousin Dudley, who is always receiving cash from his aunts and grandparents but rarely uses it because he has no clue how to get things for himself.
So Harry was always finding loose bills when cleaning Dudley's room.
He had never taken a single pound from them because he was too scared of being caught and punished. Until now, at least.
"This is important…I know it. Deep down, I know it." Harry muttered to himself as he sneaked out of Mrs. Figg's house.
The Dursleys had closed their home when they left, and of course, they never bothered giving Harry a copy of the key.
So he made sure to leave one of the windows unlocked.
It was already dark, and this was a quiet neighborhood, which meant that going from one house to the next without being seen was a really easy task.
Harry opened the window and jumped inside, finding himself in the entrance hall.
Without turning on any of the lights, he rushed to his bedroom and reached for a small parcel hidden beneath his wardrobe.
This is where he had left all of the items he had collected over the last month.
"If they saw me with all of this…I would be dead." He was sure of it.
Especially his uncle Vernon, who was very easy to anger.
Harry opened the parcel and started to organize the items on top of a small blanket.
"Oh, I'm going to need a glass container to put everything…" He just realized.
It was too late to stop now, and he didn't know when he could get another chance like this one.
'Probably not until Dudley's birthday, that is months away.' And by then, the ingredients that he had so painstakingly collected would have spoiled.
"No choice then." Having made up his mind, Harry went back downstairs and made his way to the kitchen.
His aunt Petunia had a few mason jars, and luckily for him, some of them were still empty.
"That will have to do."
This was nothing like the utensils used by Merlin at his tower, but Harry had no access to that kind of stuff in London.
"Ah, I will also need this." Harry picked up a small kitchen knife.
His blood was the most important ingredient, and he would need something to prick his finger with.
With the two items in hand, he returned to his bedroom and got everything ready.
After putting some water in the container, he had to add the ingredients one by one in a specific order while constantly stirring the contents in the mason jar.
At the same time, he had to be continuously chanting the spell.
" I seek the truth I used to know.
From depths where shadows twist and weave,
I call the thread. I still believe.
Let misted scenes be drawn to light,
From a silent, starless, endless night.
Unlock the door and loosen the chain,
Return my past to me again.
No more the echo, but the voice,
By will and heart, I make this choice.
Let what was lost now find its way,
As I will, so mote it be."
In total, he repeated the chant three times while adding ingredients, and then it was finally time to add a drop of his blood.
Harry took the knife.
"Ouch!" Some of his blood fell into the jar.
Harry saw an immediate change in the potion. As soon as his blood touched the liquid, all of the ingredients appeared to blend and mix into a smooth pink liquid.
An eerie mist was now emanating from the mason jar that contained the potion.
"It… it's done?" Harry gulped. He had not expected this transformation to occur out of nowhere.
It had almost seemed like real magic. But that was supposed to be impossible.
Harry stared down at the completed potion in front of him.
There was only one more thing to do now…he had to drink it.
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