Chapter Text
Before magic it hadn’t really bothered him; he became used to it. Soon enough he learned not to ask about colours since Aunt Petunia would only sneer at him anyway. Don’t ask questions. Even If he would catch an adult patient enough – and who could tell him about the colours – it didn’t really help any. What good was to know the sky was blue and the grass was green without any idea of what those words meant.
So, Harry let it go, just an itch at the back of his mind sometimes when he noticed a different shade of grey or when something shined in a different way than he was used to.
But the moment he stepped on Diagon Alley, he intensely missed whatever colours could exist in the world because he was sure nothing would ever compare to it. Even in black and white it was the most amazing place he had ever seen in his, admittedly sheltered, life.
Everything was overwhelming, but nothing made him yearn as much as he did at the moment he was with Ollivander and the old man said,
“You have your mother’s eyes.”
He heard the same thing more times than he could count after that, but that moment had been special. He knew virtually nothing of his parents and after the little Hagrid had told him he felt like he knew even less. He always assumed he looked like his father since he had apparently nothing in similar with Aunt Petunia. He never dared ask about them, much less about his mother. He knew from looking at the mirror and back at his aunt’s eyes that not even those they had in common; hers being a shade apparently duller than his. But he couldn’t tell; he couldn’t see.
Later that first year, when he saw his parents for the first time in the Mirror of Erised, he would notice it. That he indeed looked exactly like his father, but his eyes were his mother’s. Lily, who really looked nothing at all like her sister, but had the same eyes as Harry. Eyes that even through a mirror and in shades of grey shone with a love he had never seen before. And how he wished he could see them properly.
But it didn’t happen, not in his first year nor on the ones after that either. He noticed it wasn’t uncommon really; most of the people in his year didn’t have them at least. Ron and Hermione pretended it was nothing but Dean and Seamus got on ever since like a house on fire.
The fact was that Harry had stopped anticipating it.
So, after three years in the wizarding world, Harry wasn’t really expecting it to happen when he was surrounded by people he mostly knew already. But he had never really touched Diggory so when the other boy offered a hand to help him up Harry didn’t even think.
He took it.
For a moment Harry thought it was lightheadedness from being pulled up from the ground, but the sudden foreign lights coming through his eyes felt way too overwhelming to be such a simple thing. He closed his eyes, heard Diggory gasp in front of him, and felt the grip on his hand tighten; Harry was glad because he was sure he wasn’t the most steady at the moment either.
Harry tried to open his eyes very slowly, and cringed. It was still very early morning, and even in the misty moor they were at his eyes felt oversensitive. He could see Cedric in front of him blinking very intently down at his shoes. Harry looked down too, and somewhere in the back of his mind knew the trainers were a different shade of brown.
Odd. He never saw brown before, but somehow, he knew that was it. Like the grass was green, and, if it weren’t so misty, the sky would be blue.
The others had gone ahead after Mr. Weasley had finished talking with the wizards in charge, and he could vaguely hear Hermione calling out to him and coming closer. His mouth was dry, and he didn’t know what to do. Cedric didn’t look much better.
“Harry, we have got to go, our campsite is on the first field. Are you okay?” Hermione looked at his face with concern, and when she gave him a once over her eyes caught where his and Diggory’s hand were still together. She gasped. “Oh, my –”
“Ced, son! We have a bit of a walk ahead of us.” called Mr. Diggory ahead of them; Harry noticed the others were starting to look back to see what the holdup was. He slowly let go of Cedric’s hand, a little regretfully. Cedric just looked at the place where their hands were a little lost and them blinked down at Harry a few times.
His eyes were grey.
“Come on, I’ll help you guys. Let’s go.” Hermione said taking Harry’s arm in hand and standing close to Cedric if he needed. Harry was very thankful to his friend, since he was still very unbalanced; he could see on the corner of his eye Cedric stumble a little.
The others started walking when they came close, and Harry was glad no one seemed to notice anything amiss. He had no idea what the hell to do now. They walked for about twenty minutes before reaching a small stone cottage next to a gate and even if the mist dulled whatever colours there were there it still was more than Harry had ever experienced. He could make out the shape of hundreds of tents beyond the gate, rising up the gentle slope of a large field towards a dark wood on the horizon.
At that point, they had to depart with the Diggorys. Harry very nervously looked up at Cedric who was tentatively looking at him already.
“I – I’ll see you around.” it came out more like a question than a statement but Cedric seems to relax hearing it.
“Yeah, definitely.” Cedric gave him a smile and after a moment turned to go with his father.
Harry felt like he trudged through helping Mr. Weasley with muggle money as if in a daze and when they finally reached the campsite he was very glad Hermione still kept by his side and she quickly stabilized him once more.
There were so many tents in so many colours Harry didn’t know where to look, and all kinds of colour names were getting jumbled in his mind. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bell-pulls, or weather-vanes. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off it and Hermione had to pull him along.
They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read ‘Weezly’.
Mr. Weasley insisted they had to do everything the muggle way and put up the tents by hand. Harry had never gone camping in his life but with Hermione’s help they managed. The only problem being that neither him nor Hermione could possibly imagine how the ten of them would fit into the two tiny tents. That question was quickly resolved once they stepped inside it.
Harry felt his jaw drop. He had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three-roomed flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Oddly enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs Figg’s; there were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs, and a strong smell of cats. He felt oddly enthralled by it all. With its faded blues, yellows and browns; he wondered if Mrs Figg’s house would match it or if it would be a different experience.
He didn’t notice Ron come in but heard when Mr. Weasley asked them to go fetch water, and with some grumbling from Ron they went to the girl’s tent to get Hermione.
After a quick tour of the girls’ tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys’, though without the smell of cats, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans. Hermione kept close to Harry still, and would look at him as if he would stumble with just about anything.
“Ok, you two are acting weird. Something happen? You look kinda pale Harry.” asked Ron just as they had taken a few steps and looked at both Harry and Hermione with his brow furrowed.
Harry shared a look with Hermione then turned back to look at Ron.
“You know, your hair really is very red.” Ron sputtered, and Harry had to let out a laugh. It was true though; he hadn’t noticed before when they were walking, and now he wondered if all the Weasleys had the same shade or they varied between them. He took in his friend’s freckled face, blue eyes, and long nose as if seeing Ron for the first time. In a way, he was.
He turned to do the same to Hermione, and looked right at her startled brown eyes that after a moment rolled at him. She took a step back, and put her arms apart as if presenting herself; she was humoring him but Harry didn’t care. He looked at her bushy brown hair, large front teeth, and the dark shade of her skin.
“Are you done?” asked Hermione, her lips forming an amused smile.
“I think so, yeah.” Harry smiled back and was interrupted by Ron who had finally snapped out of his stupor.
“Blimey, Harry. You don’t just drop something like that!” Ron exclaimed and then looked at him expectantly. “Did it happen today? Yesterday? Merlin’s ball, don’t tell me it’s Bill.” Ron looked as if he was dreading the answer and Harry burst out laughing.
“It’s not Bill. Maybe it’s Charlie.” Harry tried to tease his friend, but Ron just rolled his eyes.
“Pull the other one. Charlie is already matched.” that made Harry pause for a moment. Even if he had just met Charlie briefly the night before the man didn’t really seem like a matched person; but what did Harry know really? He looked back up at Ron’s expectant face. “So?”
“It was today. When Cedric pulled me up after the portkey.” Harry let the statement sink in, and just stared at Ron, not really knowing how his friend would react and all of a sudden feeling anxious about it.
“Blimey.” was all Ron said for a long moment while he rubbed his neck and seemed to stare at nothing. When he looked back at Harry and gave a tentative smile. “Well, he seems like a decent bloke. Good enough flyer, I guess. Just don’t tell Fred and George I said so. Actually, you better hope Fred and George don’t know about this any time soon, or Diggory is in for a test drive of their products, probably.”
“It’s going to be a very long time before Fred and George hear about this from me.” Harry grinned widely at Ron knowing things were good; Ron grinned back.
“That’s very wise.” they started sniggering and Hermione huffed at them.
“Boys, honestly.” she rolled her eyes and shook the saucepan she was holding. “Come on, we still have to get water.” they started walking again.
Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. Harry really didn’t know where to look and it was only just dawning on him how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; he had never really thought much about those in other countries.
Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn’t work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire.
“It’s so weird. I just look at stuff and know what colour it is called. How is that possible?” Harry asked honestly puzzled, and both Hermione and Ron both turned to look at the purple fire he was staring.
“Oh, that drove me crazy at first.” there as a quick moment of tension between the trio; it was an unspoken rule that they didn’t mention anything about Ron and Hermione’s match. Hermione just took a deep breath and continued on. “My mum tried to tell me it was because we tried to attribute different shades of grey to the names of colours, and when we could actually see them, we would just know.”
“And you just accepted that?” asked Ron skeptically.
“Not really.” Hermione scrunched her nose and then shrugged. “But it is what made more sense since then, so…”
Suddenly they reached a part of the campsite that had Harry holding on to both Hermione and Ron not to fall over.
“Er – is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?” said Ron.
It wasn’t just Ron’s eyes. Harry opened his slowly and all around was green. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those which had their flaps open.
Soon they found Seamus and Dean, together with Seamus' mother. After a quick chat, they went up to see how the Bulgarian tents were like.
The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was of course moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.
“Krum,” said Ron quietly.
“What?” said Hermione.
“Krum!” said Ron. “Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!”
“He looks really grumpy,” said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.
‘“Really grumpy”?” Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. “Who cares what he looks like? He’s unbelievable. He’s really young, too. Only just eighteen or something. He’s a genius, you wait until tonight, you’ll see.”
There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Harry, Ron and Hermione joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.
“Just put them on, Archie, there’s a good chap, you can’t walk around like that, the Muggle on the gate’s already getting suspicious –”
“I bought this in a Muggle shop,” said the old wizard stubbornly. “Muggles wear them.”
“Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these,” said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.
“I’m not putting them on,” said old Archie in indignation. “I like a healthy breeze round my privates, thanks.”
Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that she had to duck out of the queue, and only returned when Archie had collected his water and moved away again.
Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, they made their way back through the campsite. Here and there they saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. Oliver Wood, the old captain of Harry’s house Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged Harry over to his parents’ tent to introduce him, and told him excitedly that he had just been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team. Next, they were hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth-year, and a little further on they saw Cho Chang. She waved and smiled at Harry, who slopped some of the water down his front as he waved back. Harry frowned the rest of the way back, thinking something felt different already and tried to ignore the looks Ron and Hermione were trading behind him.
“You’ve been ages,” said George, when they finally got back to the Weasleys’ tents.
“Met a few people,” said Ron, setting the water down. “You not got that fire started yet?”
“Dad’s having fun with the matches,” said Fred.
Mr Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.
“Oops!” he said, as he managed to light a match, and promptly dropped it in surprise.
“Come here, Mr Weasley,” said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and starting to show him how to do it properly.
At last, they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. Harry made himself comfortable a little way away from the fire and just looked at the tents and people around. A few moments later Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him.
“Alright mate?” asked Ron cautiously.
“Yeah, just watching everything and thinking.”
“Oh?” prodded Hermione gently and Harry smiled shyly at her.
“Would it be weird if I asked if you have a mirror, Hermione?” asked Harry and Hermione’ eyebrows immediately rose before her brown eyes warmed in understanding. She ran quickly into the tent and was back in a moment, handing him a compact.
He took a breath before looking into it.
Green, startling green looked back at him. He couldn’t even think of a comparison, and he thought about how the yearning he had felt before he never felt like this. All he could do was try and imagine how his mother’s eyes would be like now, in that mirror so many years ago.
“There is one particularly good thing about all of this.” said Harry after some time. Ron and Hermione just looked at him quizzically and Harry said as seriously as he could. “I can stop being terrified of touching Malfoy now.” there was a beat of silence before all three of them burst out laughing.
Harry could just not stop looking at everything, and he was very glad for Ron and Hermione catching him at times. The walls of the stadium were gold and the carpet of the stairs a rich purple. Once they reached the very top all he wanted was to notice all the hundred thousand witches and wizards that were taking their places in the seats. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light that seemed to come from the stadium itself. The pitch looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. Opposite to them, almost at Harry’s eye level, there was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant’s hand was scrawling upon it and then wiping it off again; watching it, Harry saw that it was flashing advertisements across the pitch.
The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family – safe, reliable and with In-built Anti-Burglar Buzzer … Mrs Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess-Remover: No Pain, No Stain!… Gladrags Wizardwear – London, Paris, Hogsmeade …
After the surprise of meeting another house elf, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had the unpleasant company of the Malfoys cast upon them. It was a tense moment for all of them, since Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy also despised each other.
However, there was a moment that, as if in sync, Harry, Ron and Hermione glared at Draco and then turned to glance at each other. The same thought came to their head and they started giggling madly. Draco sneered at them and it just made them more hysterical.
Soon enough Ludo Bagman charged into the box.
“Ladies and gentlemen … welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”
It started.
A couple of days after the World Cup, Harry found himself sitting against the broom shed of The Burrow watching Crookshanks chase around the garden gnomes. All the Weasleys were busy with something, or another; Ron was finishing up the rest of his homework while Hermione sat watching and pretending she would not revise it later. Neither Mr Weasley nor Percy was at home much the last few days. Both left the house each morning before the rest of the family got up, and returned well after dinner every night.
Harry sighed and looked down at the papers on his hand. One was the Prophet; it was still going on about the riot that happened at the cup. And while Harry’s mind was filled with the horrors he saw that night together with the apprehension that he hadn’t hear from Sirius yet, what was on the front of his mind right now was the smaller piece of paper he had.
It was a letter from Cedric.
It had arrived last night while him, Ron, and Hermione were talking in Ron’s room, and for that Harry was glad at least. He had no idea what to say if any of the other Weasleys asked what it was; specially Fred and George.
He must have read it over four times since then, and he had no idea what to think properly, or even answer. He hit his head against the broom shed and groaned.
“The garden not really that great to watch?” a voice from up and next to him said and Harry snapped his eyes open. Looking down on him wasn’t someone he would expect. Charlie’s very freckled face smiled down at him in amusement.
“Er…sorry, no. I’m just… thinking.” Harry said lamely and feeling a little off kilter. While Ron’s older brothers seemed great, he had not really talked to either of them alone.
“Mind if I sit?” Harry shook his head and Charlie sat also leaning on the wall, looking at the garden with a faraway look. Then suddenly he laughed. “You should try it in the spring. I remember when I came home for the Easter holidays in third year, and just sat here trying to name all the colours I could. Pink, magenta, orange, yellow, purple. That not counting the butterflies that come around. Of course, I’m a little biased since is my home, but it really is different to be able to see things like that you know.” Harry just stared with his mouth agape at Charlie; the older boy laughed.
“No need to look at me like that! Ron didn’t tell me anything, I just pick up on these things.” Charlie looked down and picked on one of the callouses on his hand. “I guess it is because I had it the longest of us; well, not counting Fred and George. They never knew what it was like to not see colours.” Harry still had no idea what to say and just stared. Charlie looked back up at him and gave a half smile. “I guess I’m just trying to know how you are holding up.”
“I’m fine, really.” Harry deflected but Charlie just chuckled at him.
“So fine you are hitting your head against the broom shed?” Harry felt his face flush, but Charlie just shook his head. “I’m not trying to make you talk if you don’t want to. I just know that it is disorienting the first few days, and I was only at school. You were in the middle of the bloody world cup! I’m surprised you didn’t fall over.”
“Well, Ron and Hermione helped me stay mostly upright.”
“That’s good. I worry about Ron sometimes; you know how he is. I don’t think he spoke with any of us about it ever since it happened.” Charlie looked back to the house and frowned.
“Me, neither. I think they are both happy to pretend it didn’t happen for now.” Harry said also glancing back at the house, and thinking about Ron and Hermione back inside.
“They’ll figure it out sooner or later. So will you by the way, though probably later.” Charlie turned back to Harry and just seem to wait for him to speak. Harry took a deep breath.
“You said it happened at Hogwarts?”
“Yeah, third year. We were leaving class, and suddenly they just tripped over me. It would have been a very cliché romantic novel thing if I didn’t run away right after.” Charlie scratched his neck in embarrassment and Harry blinked at him.
“You ran? Why?” Harry was boggled; for as much as he was surprised by it happening, he could not think of actually running away from Cedric.
“You see, Harry, I honestly thought I never would find a soulmate. I wasn’t interested in what came with one.” Charlie’s eyes had a faraway look again while he looked out at the garden. “There is a certain pressure that comes with matching with someone. Unless you are like Fred and George, there is a certain expectation by most people that you two will eventually get married, have children, settle down, and whatever more there is to it. I am not saying that is bad, just that I never wanted it. Still don’t want it, and don’t see it changing any time. I think it drives mum mad a little.” He gave a small laugh, but it didn’t reach him and Harry frowned.
Harry could admit that he was in that percentage of people Charlie told about that assumed matched pairs just got married in the long run if nothing bad happened. But now that he was confronted by it he could consider how maybe not all people were meant for that.
“What happened then? With you and your match?” Charlie shook himself off whatever he was thinking and looked back at Harry. He smiled brilliantly.
“We are still very happily matched. We are best friends, and I can honestly say that I don’t know how my life would be without them. Soulmates do usually work you know; you are matched for a reason.” Charlie smile dimmed and he sighed. “But it wasn’t easy. We did try, the romantic thing and all. It didn’t work, and I blamed myself. It was a long road for the both of us to figure it out how to work. But we got there.” They fell silent and Harry let it all sink in.
“I feel like I don’t know where to go from here.” Harry admitted, feeling oddly like he could trust Charlie with this.
“No one really knows. I just really wanted to talk to you to let you know whatever it is you want it is okay. Wanting things is good. Not wanting them is good too.”
“Thanks.” said Harry, meaning it.
“Don’t mention it. I just really wish I had someone tell me this years ago.” Charlie said with a rueful smile before nodding down at the paper on Harry’s hand. “Did they send you a letter?”
“Yeah, I don’t really know how to answer.” said Harry frowning down at the letter and Charlie patted his shoulder friendly.
“Well, the fact that you want to answer is already something. There is your first step right there.” Charlie got up and stretched. “Well, I have to go and fire call the reserve. Check if one of the females laid her egg already. If you ever need anything just send me an owl. Though I do hope no more illegal dragons come my way.” said Charlie over his shoulder with a laugh before going back into the house.
Harry picked up the letter one more time and read it.
August 27th
Dear Harry,
I’ve just spent about thirty minutes looking at this parchment thinking on how to address you, before I noticed it was probably a stupid thing to worry about, and started writing.
It is a little awkward to be writing when I don’t really know what to say. No one ever really tells you what kind of protocol there is for this situation. You’d think we’d know better by now.
Things have been hectic around here with all that happened in the Cup, I reckon it must be at the Weasley’s too. Father told me what happened, and I’m sorry about him. He gets overexcited at times and forgets himself. That also applies to the quidditch comment he made when we met up; I am truly sorry.
But I ramble. I guess what I really wanted to know with writing this is if you would be willing to meet up when we get to Hogwarts. I would suggest before but I don’t assume to pressure you, and as I said, things are a little frantic.
I would like for us to get to know each other. We never really did talk properly have we? I hope we can remedy that.
Send me a letter telling me what you want before we get to school if you can. If not, I guess we will see each other around.
Sincerely,
Cedric.
Harry stared at the letter for a moment more before feeling his lips tug upward. He got up, and walked back into the Burrow.
He would ask Ron if he could borrow Pig; he had a letter to send.