July 1st, 1993. Little Whinging, Surrey.
The local weather station had promised a sunny summer for Little Whinging, highlighting that it would be one of the warmest so far. In response, most of the families simply locked their spring wear, far too used to the heat that visited the little town every year. The Dursleys were not an exception.
Harry Potter remembered this fact the moment he left King's Cross and spotted the rare sight of the sun. Grimacing, he also remembered his private promise of buying clothes for himself, as his cousin Dudley's hand-me-downs surprisingly didn't fit him anymore. And the promise of another batch of Dudley's old clothes disgusted him enough to want to give himself something for once.
He hadn't. His final month at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been so stressful he hadn't even studied for his final exams. Thankfully, in light of the events that transpired over the year, the headmaster cancelled them. In its stead, every student had received a month's worth of homework for each of their subjects and Harry didn't think he could be able to finish everything in time, not when the Dursleys' version of a homecoming was to lock his things in his former cupboard. Aunt Petunia's leniency stopped at him getting his clothes out of his trunk.
Harry was grateful for his jumpers and scarves. On the fourth day upon his return, Little Whinging experienced its first thunderstorm ever recorded. Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had joined the little mob that gathered outside the radio station, dragging Dudley with them. Harry, seeing the opportunity, took a leaf out of Anya's book and tried to pick his cupboard's tiny lock; it took him longer than it had taken her, but he was nonetheless proud. Once his trunk was back in his room, he stole one of Dudley's raincoats and left the house.
Harry thought he would end up drenched like a rat. It was pouring like hell. But the raincoat was so big he had to roll the fabric several times and hug himself so that it didn't flap. He also had to pull up the hood several times, as it often covered his glasses. Fortunately, the streets were empty; he had yet to see a car pass him when he arrived at the town's orphanage.
The distance between him and Anya Barton was ten minutes. On a normal day, it took from twenty-five to thirty minutes to walk all the way from Privet Drive to Magnolia Road, when one had to take many shortcuts through alleys.
Harry arrived in eight minutes. The storm above him was looming dangerously, promising more than rain. He ran so fast he surprised himself; he usually relied on his Nimbus 2000 for that.
St. Louise's Orphanage for Girls looked like something out of Coronation Street. Old-fashioned but carefully maintained to keep up with the times. From what he little remembered, the inside rooms were just as cosy, if not a little detached. With the day's weather, it looked like the perfect setting for a coppers' movie.
He shivered. He had had enough of chases.
Harry hadn't thought what he would do once he arrived; it hadn't occurred to him the gates would be closed. Cursing, he turned on his heel, but a flash of blue and red halted him.
A blurred figure ran towards him, face undistinguishable. It was a girl–all the people in St. Louise's were–certainly more prepared for the storm than Harry. Not only was she wearing a raincoat and rain boots, she was also protected by a blue umbrella. She carried another one, longer and red with gold accents. The coincidence rattled him for a second, making him miss the girl's arrival.
"Oh, thank Merlin it's you," said Marie Harlaown, her blue eyes squinting at him. She pushed the red umbrella through the bars and poked him in the chest. "Help me find Anya."
![STARMAN; 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 [1] de walkingdisster](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/371340284-80-k259121.jpg)
"Anya's out? In this weather?" Harry accepted the umbrella, fighting to open it. He didn't notice the girl roll her eyes at him.
"She's the one causing it!"
Caught by surprise, he dropped the umbrella and stared.
"You're joking!" he shouted. The rain was pouring harder; he wouldn't be surprised if hail followed it.
Marie looked genuinely offended. "I'm not!"
"You're telling me" —Harry raised his voice; scepticism laced every word— "Anya changed the weather?"
"She's done it before!" Marie exclaimed. "Well, not affecting the weather—I mean–ugh. Don't believe me then! But she's really out there and she—she's not okay." She shook her head and reached inside her raincoat. Harry barely caught it in time as she thrust it at him, and he blinked down at the object in bewilderment.
"A tape recorder?" The bulky rectangular device had its headset cord wrapped around it.
"I don't know where she is, but if—when. When you find her, put those on her ears and press play."
"Why?"
"That's the only way that can calm her." Marie sneezed. "You've got your wand?" He nodded warily. "You know how to send up sparks, right? We'll both send up red sparks if we find her." Harry thought it odd that she would suggest that when he suddenly noticed the wand poking out of her raincoat's pocket.
His stomach dropped.
Anya's wand was particular in its appearance. Out of all the wands he had seen, it was the flashiest and the longest next to Professor Dumbledore's. Harry had held it many times and in all of them he'd been about to die, so he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it sending shocks through his arm. It happened, if he remembered correctly, when he thought about giving in. The shock, in a way, was very much like its owner—it reacted the same way Anya would. He had no doubt she would have slapped him to his senses if she'd been awake back then. Other than that, the wand was never far from the girl's reach. Whether it was in her pocket or under her sleeve, she would flick it into view with just one move.
Seeing it in Marie's possession made him acknowledge something truly wrong was going on. So he quickly grabbed the umbrella, turned on his heel and ran.
•••◘◘◘•••
Marie lost sight of Harry quickly despite following him closely with her eyes. The rain seemed to swallow him, and Marie only had a few minutes of solitude before a new presence joined her side.
She tried to ignore the girl next to her, cursing Potter for not coming over ten minutes earlier. It would've saved Marie the embarrassment of having to beg Carol Davis for her help and hers alone. But no matter how hard she tried, Marie felt the girl keenly next to her, as if they were touching.
Stubbornness was such a funny thing. If Anya wasn't so headstrong in her hatred, she would've seen that something was genuinely wrong with Carol. The older girl's hurt was usually hidden under wraps but here in the silence, her agony felt akin to a hex.
Despite all that, Carol still looked as perfect as a porcelain doll.
Perfect skin. Perfect body. Perfect hair and perfect dress.
What is she? Marie wondered. Other than her personality, everything about Carol was perfect. But after the thing last year, Marie barely glimpsed that ugly version of the girl most of St. Louise's was afraid of. There were no tantrums, no fighting against work, no thinly veiled threats against the other girls. Carol simply changed overnight quietly, and no one dared to mention it in fear of bringing her old self back.
