Bound by Soul

A Headache in Excess

I feel so evil for this one guys... 😬

The next several months passed quickly, as the new term started, and the teachers began preparing everyone for their exams.

Harry and Theo often found themselves in Gryffindor tower every other weekend, Theo making bets, while Harry played an assortment of games against the Gryffindors. Percy Weasley would glower at everyone involved in bringing the two Slytherins into the common room, but everyone ignored him.

At first, Hermione worried that they would get in trouble, but after one weekend where Mcgonagall walked in on their exploding jenga tournament, told them all not to keep the first years up past curfew, then went over to speak with Percy as if it was all perfectly normal, Hermione relaxed and cheered Harry on, throwing glares at Theo whenever he made a bet.

Harry was swamped with homework, using every spare moment he had in the library, trying not to throw himself into a panic, as he half ignored Hermione muttering beside him. The classes themselves weren't so bad, the worst were History and Defense. The latter because ever since Christmas, mere proximity to Quirrell would give Harry a headache. As it got closer to the end of the year, Quirrell started looking paler and paler, and the headaches Harry would get, only got worse, until finally, the last exam was over.

Harry was relaxing in the common room, reading his book on quidditch, while the other first years chatted about their summer plans. Theo had gone to ask professor Sinistra a question, despite it being nearly curfew, and Harry was trying to ignore how itchy his arms were. It wasn't the bone deep itch that usually lead to bloodied bandages, instead it was just a surface itch, reminding him he hadn't cut in months, and now his arms were actually healing. The itch was uncomfortable, and more insistent then the bone deep one, but could be abated with a brisk rub. 

One of the chasers from the Colonel Corps, a quidditch team from America, scored a goal, and took a celebratory lap, as Harry stared at the page, not really seeing it. So much had happened this year, somehow, it didn't even feel real. Magic existed. Wizards were real. Harry was one of them! His parents had been as well.

And they had been murdered.

After thinking they had died in a car crash his whole life, Hagrid had told him the truth. A Dark wizard, Lord Voldemort, had killed them. Had tried to kill Harry. Nearly a year later, and it was only now sinking in.

He felt... nothing.

Shouldn't he be scared? Or upset? Or something?

But no. He wasn't scared. He wasn't upset. He wasn't even angry. He had spent his whole life wishing for anyone to take he away from the Dursleys. For his parents to have miraculously survived as well, perhaps unaware they had a son, but that they would remember him, and come take him away.

But they didn't. Couldn't. The fact they had been murdered didn't change that. It didn't change anything.

It was just as that realization hit, when suddenly pain lanced through his scar as never before. It felt as though his head was on fire, and being lanced with a dull blade, all at once. He couldn't stop a cry from leaving his lips, as he doubled over, his book falling to the floor.

Draco was at his side in an instant, the other students who were still awake leaping to their feet, and crowding around the couches. Someone yelled for Professor Snape to be fetched, but Harry barely heard them, barely noticed Draco's hand on his shoulder, as he clutched his forehead, agonized tears rolling down his cheeks. His head felt as if it would split open.