Chapter Text
_________
Harry Potter
loved
his birthdays.
That wasn't to say that the Dursleys ever did anything much for him, no, but it was the night of the
Visions
.
Aunt Petunia had told him about them on his seventh birthday, and he often wondered what Visions he had received before that age, because, of course - he didn't remember them anymore.
"Did you dream about anything last night?" Aunt Petunia asked, abruptly, tersely, right after Uncle Vernon went out the front door and Dudley left to go to Piers's house. Harry almost upset the frying pan in his hand, so shocking was the question - Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon
never
wanted to hear about things as
abnormal
and
imaginary
as Harry’s dreams tended to be.
"I - nothing new," Harry mumbled, eyes wide as he avoided Aunt Petunia's eyes, focusing his gaze instead on the scars on his wrists, both red, angry gashes, even though it had been a long time since he'd gotten them burnt.
They weren't keloidal scars, just pink, flat and harsh.
"I don't remember any dream, actually," he added, because she had pursed her lips in apparent annoyance.
"From next year," she said, looking hesitant. "You will get up on your birthday and write down what you dreamt of, the night before."
That was weird, in itself, but also very hurtful - because Harry had somehow convinced himself that nobody had wished him on his birthday because they were simply forgetful.
Also, he didn't remember Aunt Petunia telling
Dudley
to do anything like that.
He nodded a little. "Er," he began.
"Every night before your birthday," Aunt Petunia looked like she was physically pained to say this. "You will dream something special, called a Vision, that will help you find your - your
soulmate
."
Soulmate?
"Er," Harry said, again, blinking at her. "I didn't know - "
"You will never mention it in front of anyone," she cut in, firm. "Ever. Just write down your birthday night Vision, and - and do not tell anyone about it. That's all."
"What is a soul - " Harry began, feeling overwhelmed. He could guess, but
surely things like that were just stories?
"You're burning the bacon, boy!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, suddenly, and Harry bit his tongue.
He went to the Primary School Library the next day, and asked Ms. Gina all about Soulmates, and checked out as many books as he could without Uncle Vernon finding out about them.
There was somebody out there who was destined to love Harry. Who was made for Harry. It could even be more than one person.
But now, Harry was three hours away from his eighth birthday, and it was time for him to get his first Vision. He usually didn't sleep till midnight on his birthday, but he couldn't afford to miss his first Vision.
His Vision Diary was ready next to him, a new journal that Dudley had been given for his birthday by Mrs. Tacet in Number 8, and had thrown out because he didn't want to
'write a diary like a little girl.'
Harry had asked him if he even knew how to write.
He fell asleep in a matter of minutes, tired out from all the weeding he had done in the frontyard during the day.
He didn't know exactly what he had expected, and when he woke up with Aunt Petunia's screaming the next day, he didn't have much to write. But something about the Vision had felt so
right
. It made him smile a little, as he pulled out a spider from his dirty pencil pouch, grabbing a pencil and writing it down.
They had been flying.
He was sure of that, they had been flying, though that wasn't possible, was it?
They had been flying, and Harry was laughing and smiling - there were people cheering - something small and golden glinted in Harry’s hand -
"Up! Get up!"
Harry stuffed the pencil back in the pouch, biting back a small smile, absently scratching the angry, red scars on his wrists, and opening the cupboard door.
Happy Birthday, Harry,
he thought, firmly.
__________
The first Vision that Ronald Weasley remembers, is the one he gets on his sixth birthday. Its sort of specific, compared to what a lot of his brothers have told him about.
He's choking, strangling, there's definitely something around his neck, he feels like he's dying - and then there's someone screaming -
He eyes the little black tattoo flying around his shoulders.
It's a
book
, of all things - a book with wings, and its pages flipping continuously. Fred and George say that he should probably start reading if he wants to impress his soulmate. Ron says that maybe its the Mark of his enemy, instead.
Blue flames surround him, and he's falling, falling -
He cranes his neck to see his other tattoo, the one that's on his back, which said, in bold, black script - '
STOP OR SHE DIES
!!'
Its his Mum, Dad and Bill who tell him about Soulmarks and Soulmates.
Nobody exactly knows how the Marks appear or how the Visions work, some are direct names, some are important moments that a person might share with their soulmate.
Often, people have multiple Marks and lines, Visions every birthday, and even the symbols or lines spoken by their worst enemies at the worst moments of their lives. There are Marks which signify Platonic Relationships, Marks that mean Mortal Enemies. There are Marks which describe the personality of their soulmate, marks which describe their enemy. There are visions of the future and the past, or anything really, that can give a clue to lead a person to meet their soulmate(s). They can be first words, or last words or any sentence that strikes in the middle. Sometimes, they're words which are spoken by people who barely matter to the person - it's all random, and yet, in the end, it makes sense.
Even Muggleborns have them, the Marks and the Visions, but only very few Muggles can actually
see
the Marks of Witches and Wizards. They were usually quite personal, and nobody asked about them, atleast "
not in polite society, Ronald Weasley, and you will do good to remember that.
"
Soulmarks are considered prophetic and although, many people don't believe in them, Mum says that they always prove true. Its the kind of Magic that never fails.
The blue flames burn everything except him, and he falls down to the ground safely -
It isn't Human Magic, Soulmarks are little puzzles, jigsaw pieces that Fate imprints upon Wizards and Witches, and everyone has atleast one Mark, every wix gets Visions.
Its a beautiful concept, Mum says.
She smiles, and rolls her eyes at him,
and every Vision ends like that.
Ron wishes he could see her face, but he's still happy he can feel her smile.
__________
When Hermione Granger is born, her parents almost go spare when they see her.
She has
Marks.
All over her body. Black marks, that spin and move around, but the doctors can't see them. Only Jean and Daniel can, and they're scared.
Terrified, really -
because is this some form of a Devil's Mark? They don't believe in things like that, but it definitely doesn't look like a disease. The Marks
move
, all over her shoulder blades and collarbones and heart - and they're pretty, but the fact that nobody else can see them - it's unnerving.
A little puppy barks at them from behind her right ear. Later, while Jean is researching all possible legends and myths, because
logic
is certainly not the way to go about this, she doesn't find much, but she does find out - the dog's breed is Jack Russell Terrier, and it grows old along with Hermione.
When Daniel gives Hermione a bath, he takes care to be extra gentle with the row of Marks on her right forearm, three chess pieces - a Knight, a Bishop and a
Queen
.
When Jean braids her hair into little plaits, she grimaces at the words printed on her upper back, mostly because she has no idea what they mean. But they're jagged and blood-red,
'
Look, Draco, isn’t it the Granger girl?'
Nobody else except the three can see the flitting Marks.
Hermione gets used to never mentioning them, her parents get used to their daughter always searching for books with stories that match her situation. She never finds anything which she deems 'logical,' but she doesn't give up either.
New Marks come up all the time, and they disappear all the time, except for the ones she was born with.
A pair of antlers dances across her palms, as she writes her homework and she pretends that it doesn't make her curious in a way that almost
itches
.
________