Chapter Text
Harry feels the red light fly past him, barely missing his robes, before returning a dizzying sequence of spells at the older man that would have killed a lesser man twice. Although his grades at Hogwarts hadn’t been the best, his prodigious record in schoolyard duels had taught him a few tricks that were definitely not illegal, only kind of strictly regulated by the government.
The supposed Lord Voldemort moved economically past three of the spells, especially for someone old enough to be Harry’s grandfather, elegantly sidestepping and ducking under the spells as if it were a dance instead of a deluge of spells that would have switched his finger and toe nails, knocked him out, and disemboweled him respectively.
The light shimmered off the ridged edges of the sharp horns emerging from the dark green verging on black mask that covered the man’s face (which if you asked Harry seemed a rather heavy and impractical way to keep the façade of perfection the man cultivated) perfectly calculated to evoke fear in the hearts of all who saw it with with the rictus of a smile etched upon it, as he flicked his wrist and created a blinding blue shield to block the rest of the spells.
Voldemort stalked forward through the scattered flower petals and ravaged remnants of the carefully cultivated beds of roses and tulips.
Well at least they weren’t near the vegetable garden yet, Hermione would have his head for that if the children didn't get him first for ruining their months of dedication and work. Maybe he should be thanking his high and mighty eminence or whatever the old politician went by these days for the excuse to scrap the flowers that really only held bad memories from his time with Petunia
Harry feels the familiar rage boil into him again as he thinks of his precious charges and the revolting man in front of him. Clawing into motion again, he sharply transfigures the stones around him into a fleet of birds to attack his opponent with a flick of his wand.
The old geezer once again disperses Harry’s attack using a sharp burst of flame with a maniacal laugh. And really? Did he want everyone to think of him as a stereotypical villain? Who even laughed like that? Well, Ron’s laugh did sometimes sound like a seal being boiled alive and their newest four-year old did sometimes sound a bit maniacal when her “ponies stole the cookies, it wasn’t me Harry promise.”
Harry winced at the burst of pain in his shoulder as the rubble from their fight slammed into his shoulder, that would definitely be a bruise in the morning. Taking a leap and ducking behind one of the hedges to avoid the rest of the debris, he clawed his way through the air to forcefully right himself and shoot a nonverbal Augamenti followed by a quick freezing charm at the ground (one of his specialties in their completely official dueling club).
Lobbing one of his personalized smoke bombs at the ground Harry regretted not taking Fred and George up on their offer for more goodies (after the unmentionable incident of 1980 involving 5 different kinds of jams, 4 explosions, 3 beheaded dolls, 2 different auror calls, and 1 very disgruntled Harry all Weasley Wheezes had been banned from the property). Harry took in rapid breaths of the damp summer air with his back to hedge as he listened for sounds of the other wizard, hoping the combination of the frozen ground, limited visibility, and hidden bomb would be enough to delay him for a little bit.
Harry really didn’t mean to get into a fight with one of the most revered politicians of their time, somehow trouble just seemed to find him. Although Hermione and Ron might disagree always nattering on about his ‘savior complex’ and ‘anger issues’. Harry maintained that things just seemed to find him, and nobody could begrudge his desire to protect the ones he loved right? And well who could really say if that happened to be with duels more often than not.
After a muffled curse and the incandescent flash indicating the activation of one of the more brutal facets Harry had added to the smoke bomb, he revels in the feeling of sweet petty vengeance only to miss the shadowy figure to the left until he felt his legs and arms snap together like a petrificus totalus was cast at him.
Harry watched as the sleek man clothed in black cuts an imposing figure through the dispersing fog alongside his signature silver cane.
“I thank you for a most intriguing ball, Harry Potter” Voldemort said, an undercurrent of cruel amusement akin to a satisfied predator belying his easy tone.
Harry would have slumped against the hedge if he wasn’t already utterly paralyzed. His head was already spinning with spells that would get him out if he could just move that one last inch. Harry should have known that this furious duel wouldn’t end well- his spur of the moment ideas never did. He could feel his breath catch in his throat as the panic swelled in his chest. He hated being trapped, every second that he couldn’t move only reminded him of the unforgiving claustrophobic embrace of his cupboard.
“Just like your mudblooded little friend, weak and corrupted by the filthy muggles. Being raised by muggles will ruin our kind”
Harry felt the familiar rage rise up within him as his magic struggled against the opposing restraints. He feels the mindless rage give him a burst of energy smashing the Voldemort's spell and giving him control of his limbs again to raise his wand to cast a stunner that clips Voldergrot’s shoulder to send him stumbling back.
“Hermione is a hundred time’s the wizard you’ll ever be, you homicidal megalomaniac. “
As Voldemort turns to regain his footing, Harry sends a wall of fire at the grass in front of him with an overpowered incendio before turning to run away.
He hears the splash of spellfire behind his back as his opponent struggles to counter Harry’s literally flaming wall of rage.
Harry feels a sickly yellowish curse slide past him as he leaps over the hedges running in the opposite direction towards the empty grove. Well suppose that means the wall didn’t devour Voldemort in a flaming ball of rage he wanted to. More’s the pity.
He did rather feel that the fiery wall was an embodiment of his entire sentiment towards the politician and you know the world wouldn’t have been a lot worse if he’d been just a little singed. Hermione did always say that his spells seemed to be a little more eager to follow his will than typical, but magic was just an extension of himself anyway right? Somehow Mrs. Griffin never seemed to buy that excuse when his clothes were a little singed or torn up.
As he stumbles into the empty grove surrounded by a ring of stones he hears Moldemort right behind him, readying his wand for their final confrontation.
Voldemort sends a swift cruicio at him only to be blocked by Harry’s swift conjuring of a boulder for the spell to splash harmlessly onto- a tip he picked up in countering the unforgivables in his fourth year with Moody.
Harry feels the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he retaliates by summoning a cluster of stones behind the older man, the stones almost slamming into said wizard’s back until he shifted his body weight to cast a powerful bombarda, dispersing the heavy stones into a gentle powdering of dust. Harry casts another swift bone-breaking hex at Poldemot’s arm, leading Voldemort to once again cast an overpowered Protego that reflects Harry’s spell back at him, forcing him to lean back in a 90 degree angle to avoid his hex. At least the Yoga classes that rich patron had donated had finally come of use, what value the exercise would have for a group of hyperactive traumatized children Harry would never understand.
Harry felt the terrible thrill of exhilaration fill him as the two exchanged a rapid sequence of spells, dancing around each other in perfect harmony for as much he despised it he never truly felt alive except in a duel fighting for his life like this.
Voldemort simultaneously sends a series of three vicious Vertigo hexes at him, leaving him unable to dodge or cast a shield in time and force him to take one.
He felt overpowering nausea overtake him as his surroundings appeared blurry and unable to focus. Time to end this little tête-a-tête then.
At the same time as he shot off an Experilliamus with a shout and a blinding flash of light he saw a bright green light flash his way as he heard his opponent furiously incant,
“Avada Kedavra!”
Harry had just resigned himself to a momentary death, hoping his wards would be fine when he saw a curious phenomenon unfold. In a brilliant flash of light a silvery bond formed between the wands of the two opponents where the two spells met in the center of the grove. As a silvery dome started to unfold around them, Harry saw a flash of recognition and surprise in Voldemort’s face.
With a swift crack his duelling partner apparated away, leaving a baffled Harry in the spelltorn grove only convinced he wasn’t a ghost because of the lingering bruises peppering his skin and the adrenaline still rushing through his veins. Oh Merlin Hermione would kill him when she saw the state of his robes. And that was before she even saw the garden. It really was lucky that they had decided to ward the garden separately for the evening to hide the renovations.
----
“So let me get this straight. You somehow got in a duel with Voldemort, one of the most inscrutable bigoted politicians of our generation in front of Malfoy and Zabini, the heirs to some of the most influential politicians on the Wizengamot, despite my many many warnings to not piss anyone important off??”
Harry tucked his feet underneath him on his favorite chair in the library, an eye wrenching burgundy monstrosity that had been reparo’d too many times to count, and gave Hermione a look that would bear a startling resemblance to that of their most mischievous three-year-old when she was about to pin all of the blame on her twin.
“You should have seen James’s face. I couldn’t just do nothing”
Hermione sighed deeply and for a second it seemed as if the weight of the whole world rested upon her shoulders as her eyebrows pinched together and the frown lines that had slowly been becoming more frequent on her face than the joyous crinkles around her eyes seemed to become more pronounced. The shimmers of dust sparkle through the rays of light dancing through the high windows of the library highlighting the picture of remorse, pity, and bone-deep understanding in Hermione’s eyes. Outside of the one-way muffliato they could hear the children giggling as they pored through their reading of the day.
“I know Harry. But think about what could happen, we could lose all the funding we worked so hard for and the children don’t have anyone else”
Harry felt a sharp pang of remorse curdle within him. The kids deserved better than what they could give them. They deserved their parents. They deserved a normal life. They deserved to not have slimy politicians bad-mouthing them.
It broke his heart to have to think of rambunctious little Sara be exposed to prejudice at large so soon. And for Alina and James to have to remember the loss of their parents at such a young age.
“M’ sorry Mione, How’s James doing?” Harry said, his eyes downcast.
“Eh, not that much worse than usual. He hardly gets a chance to think anyway with Sara and Richie flanking him and distracting him every possible second of the day”
Sure enough to their right Sara was doing something that looked like teaching James how to braid hair on Richie, an incredibly futile task considering the length of Richie’s hair and the fact that Sara herself did not know how to braid. At least James seemed to be enjoying it, muffling his giggling behind his hand at Richie’s furious exclamations as his head was tugged every which way and Sara’s bossy admonitions at the lackadaisical approach to the task the two boys had taken.
“And anyway what was that about the ‘glowy silvery bond thingy that made Voldemort freak like a spooked horse’ you mentioned?” Her dubious tone showing exactly what she thought of Harry’s rather passionate description of the battle. His storytelling skills were just so underappreciated.
“Exactly like I said, I cast an Experilliamus and he cast a Killing curse and they met in the middle and created a glowing silver bond between our wands. It felt kind of like that game of tug of war we played one time actually? Except instead of rope it was a pulsing strand glowing magic backlash I guess?”
“But that’s not what usually happens when two spells connect Harry. You’d know from all of our practice in duelling club. All that usually happens is neither of the spells working or the more powerful spell overtaking the weaker spell. Which would mean that Voldemort’s Adava Kedavra should have-”, she stopped abruptly coming to the very real possibility that Harry could have very nearly died.
“Well I guess it's lucky I’m so good at evading death isn't it ‘Mione? Almost like I’m fated for it or something. And with my propensity for trouble I can’t say it doesn’t come in handy.” Harry stated, a crooked smile on his face practically tempting the stars to smite him.
Hermione rolled her eyes, successfully distracted from her pseudo existential crisis of what she would do if Harry died.
“Well someone who can evade death so easily shouldn’t have a problem helping me research this right?”
Harry groaned, “It was probably just a fluke backlash Hermione, no reason to go on a research binge again.”
“If you agree to help me research, I won’t tell Ron”
Harry had to take that offer. Ron’s patented ‘Harry I’m so disappointed, you could have died’ look that was the perfect practiced mixture of sad baby goat, crushed hope, and something something could probably even make the masked old dude Vooldimoo feel bad. Well maybe not him. It could make anyone but Voolds feel bad.
--
Hours of poring through boring texts and one rambunctious meal later Harry had naught but the start of a migraine and useless material about the history of Elm trees where magic was most prevalent and their steady extinction by way of muggles and wizards. Even Hermione looked a bit forlorn, her hair half coming out of her bun and nose wrinkled as it usually did when she focused staring at one of the many open pages among the teetering piles of books surrounding her from where she sat cross legged in the center of the library like a particularly stringent mistress surveying her kingdom.
“Don’t you think it's time to take a break ‘Mione? We’ve been at this for hours”.
“No, come here” Hermione said, beckoning him over with an ink-stained finger.
“I think I found something, look at this”
‘A bond dictated by fate between the two souls of Wizards shall be indicated by a bond of the purest argent when a matter of their two energies collide. These bonds indicate a most ardent connection of two souls intertwined between lifetimes. Often this soul connection will also manifest in the matching of the conduit’s of their energy and shall be perfectly matched across the two. These two beings will be each other’s counterparts and be the perfect balance for the other to reside in the universe. Fate shall engineer events and places to unite the two in any matter of ways possible. Often indicated by a wizard most powerful, these wizards will find each other through time and space by law of fate and once connected shall be the most meaningful relationship for the other. ’
“What book is that? Romance for Dummies? Everyone knows soulmates are a load of tripe and nothing but stories like in Beedle and the Bard”.
“Harry, it's the only thing that mentioned anything remotely like what you said happened. And you know that some of your feats of magic are well beyond that of the average wizard.”
Harry felt a frisson of concern and real worry snake down his back as he seriously began to concern that the book and subsequently the weird bond thingy wasn’t completely bollocks.
Just then they heard a loud crash far off and the sound of sniffles.
Hermione sighed, “I’ll go get it okay, just think about it.”
But that was the exact opposite of what Harry wanted to do. Now that he thought more about it he could remember being an excited eleven year old receiving his first wand and blurring out Ollivander’s whole speech about his wand being a lot like some other dude’s and being ‘destined for great and powerful things’. At the time it seemed like the same motivational positive rubbish all teachers went on about, talking about all the things one could achieve if they just tried. But now. Now not so much. But was his counterpart really Voldemort? Harry refused to call it soulmates, the concept seemed entirely too romantic and fantastical to be associated with an old geezer like the unmentionable politician.
And what if Voldy actually was his counterpart? The politician was extremely secretive about his whereabouts and identity, nobody really knew how to reach him. Harry definitely had experience with that difficulty when delivering the invitation to the ball. And oh how disastrous the ball had been, maybe at least now he could blame it on weird soul voodoo. The only thing Voldy seemed to be exemplary in his relationships was his ability to piss Harry off. Perhaps they were counterparts, counterparts that brought out the worst in each other.
Harry slid into Hermione’s vacant seat, skimming the rest of the chapter looking until he found AHA there it was.
Confirming or Finding One’s Truest Soul Connection
A soul connection is an incredibly rare bond that should be cherished throughout life. Most people are not lucky enough to have this so read on to see whether you have a soulmate. While a connection is usually reverberated through both parties upon first contact, it can be confirmed through this simple ritual.
Blah blah blah something something cautious. And there.
To confirm and locate your soulmate just complete this simple set of runes alongside the northeast corner of your domicile and place one drop of blood in the center while chanting the following phrases.
Seemed easy enough. Harry would enjoy having something to hold over Hermione’s head again, it had been so long since the last time she had been wrong.
Completing the diagram Harry knelt in the center of his makeshift rune circle readying his small pocket knife to shed a drop of blood and chant some dubious-looking Latin when he felt a niggling concern that it might not be the best idea to be so hasty. Oh well, live and learn.
Chanting the last verse and watching the red drops trickle from his forearm Harry suddenly felt a sharp wind pick up in the library. But he could not dare stop, broken rituals tended to get horribly bad which he had seen himself after the incident in fifth year.
All of a sudden with a sharp glow Harry felt himself grow incorporeal as if his entire existence was being threaded through a needle- a sensation startlingly like a portkey except a thousand times worse. As he felt the surroundings of the library disappear from his eyes the last thought he had was:
Hermione is totally going to say ‘I told you so.’