Happy Birthday to Me
The summer night was sweltering. There was no breeze coming through the open window and Harry was drenched, the threadbare covers were already in a pile on the floor with his clothes. This summer had been the worst than all of the others. Sirius was dead. The image of him falling through the Veil played on repeat. Growling in frustration, Harry tossed around on the lump of a mattress that he had.
Sadly, Sirius's death wasn't the worst thing in Harry's life at the moment.
No, it was the itching under his skin and the fever that had been building for the past two weeks. The itch had been progressively getting worse ever since the summer started. On top of the itch and the fever, had been the mood swings. They had been bad during the school year but Harry had assumed that was due to Voldemort. Now he wasn't so sure. This felt different. Like something was burning within him but not at all like how the possession had felt.
He had tried contacting Dumbledore during the beginning weeks of the summer but each of his letters went ignored. So now, he had given up on help from the Headmaster.
Harry gasped out as his muscles seized for about a minute, the longest yet. The seizing had only started about three days ago. Thankfully the Dursleys had been avoiding him for the past week once his condition got to the point where he could hardly walk properly. Which was probably for the best, plus for the past month it seemed that his touch was only detrimental to the garden. It was like the plants just whithered if he just looked at them long enough which was absurd. However, with no other explanation, his aunt had made it so he only did the indoor chores before locking him in his room completely. His aunt or Dudley would push a pitcher of water and some bread through the flap in the door every morning, but that was it. It was still something. Harry doubted he would have been able to stomach much else anyway. He supposed he should be grateful for the small kindnesses of his aunt and cousin which was another absurd thought.
Tears pricked his eyes as Harry desperately tried to figure out what was happening to him. Hedwig watched from her cage, concern in her yellow eyes as she watched him writhe on the old mattress. The worst was it was his birthday tomorrow and he doubted he'd feel better by then and the Order hadn't made a single attempt at contacting him the whole summer. Rage flared at the reminder of how he had been shut away, it joined the heat already building within him.
Clawing at his skin to try and get the itch and the burn to release, Harry cried out as the worst pain gripped his bones and shredded his muscles, it was like the Cruciatous Curse filled with fire. Just as Harry thought he was about to pass out from the pain, an icy chill crept through his veins infusing his bones with icy splinters. Shivering uncontrollably as the inside of his body felt like it was freezing over while his skin still felt like flames danced across it. Harry whimpered as his body felt like it was fighting itself. He gasped out as he felt frozen tendrils encircle his pounding heart and pierce his scar. Was this it? He had faced Voldemort and survived the Dursleys only to succumb to death by some unseen force?
His mind was losing its grip on reality as the pain, the heat, and the cold brought him to a breaking point. He distantly heard his clock chiming the stroke of midnight before he slipped into the dark embrace of unconsciousness.
***
Blinking his eyes open, Harry squinted at the bright light streaming through the open window. It took him a moment to orient himself. He knew that he was still at Privet Drive but he wasn't in pain. In fact, his body felt better than it had years, his whole life even. His head felt lighter too like an unknown weight had been lifted. Which didn't make sense... The last thing he remembered was firey and icy pain. Slowly he sat up. Nope, still no pain. Frowning in confusion, he stumbled off the bed and attempted standing. He hadn't been able to stand in a couple of days. No dizziness, no pain, but he did feel gross with the sweat of a couple of days clinging to his skin and the stench that came with it.
Still trying to figure out what was happening, Harry stumbled to the door and tried the handle, luckily it was unlocked. His Uncle had probably thought him too weak to try to leave and so hadn't bothered locking it. Peaking out his head he saw the hall empty but could hear the muffled sound of voices downstairs, his relatives must be having breakfast.
Taking advantage of the solitude, he slipped on some boxers and darted into the hallway bathroom and turned on the shower. As the water heated up, he glanced into the mirror. He looked the same. Black hair in all directions, however, the days of sweat seemed to be keeping the mess somewhat contained. The scar that had set him apart his whole life was still red but it didn't look as angry as it had in the recent months. With his eyes he traced the scar arching across his forehead with small tendrils wisping out but luckily not spreading across his entire forehead, with the longest end just brushing the start of his eyebrow. His green eyes still sparkled bright and vivid. It was staring at his eyes that Harry gave a start. He didn't have his glasses on and yet he could see perfectly. How strange! But he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Sure the glasses had given him another connection to his dad but they got in the way more than anything.
Happy Birthday to me, he thought pleasantly.
Pleased at the improved eyesight, Harry put off worrying about how for the moment and tried checking for any other changes. His skin was still just as dark as usual during the summer months, nothing unusual, his darker pigmented skin was apparently another gift from his fathers' side of the family. His muscles still toned from the years of Quidditch playing, even if he had been banned this season, traversing the stairs of Hogwarts still kept him in moderate shape. Satisfied that nothing else seemed different, Harry turned to hop in the shower when something caught his eye. Turning back to face the mirror, he frowned and then looked down at his chest. There, right above where his heart, was a symbol. He couldn't discern what the shape was from his angle looking down. But in the mirror it looked like a triangle with a small circle inside of it with a line dividing the triangle and small circle in half, and then from each triangle point was a small spiral jutting out and joining together to form a larger circle over the whole triangle and atop the large circle looked like what could pass as a simple crown. The whole thing wasn't any bigger than the palm of his hand. He traced it with the tip of his finger and didn't feel anything. Like the image was a tattoo and had always been apart of his skin.
Unease flickered in his stomach and his mouth went dry. What had happened last night? What was going on? He really needed to write to Hermione. She might know what the symbol meant. He knew that she hadn't been sending letters but hoped that the hint of a mystery would intrigue her enough to respond to him. Just the thought that there needed to be an academic question posed for his best friend to talk to him left a sour taste in his mouth but before the anger could get too overwhelming, he got in the shower. Hoping the hot water would help his mind. He was after all thrilled that he was able to get out of bed no longer in pain. And he was sixteen today. Another reason to celebrate, he had survived another year. And in return had gotten corrected eyesight and some weird tattoo. It could be worse, he consoled himself.
Determined to look on the positive side of things since he was feeling so much better than he could ever remember, Harry took to scrubbing his skin and washing his hair with renewed vigor. It was actually working until a pounding on the bathroom door brought him back to reality.
"BOY! Stop wasting all of our water! Get out of there right now! You think you can just lay about in your room for weeks without doing any of your chores and then use up the water! Get out here boy."
Growling a little at the sound of his Uncles' voice, Harry did turn off the water and step out of the shower, grabbing a towel. His uncle continued to pound on the door and Harry was surprised that it wasn't splintering yet. Hurrying in drying himself off, Harry slipped on his boxers again, held the towel over his shoulder, and pulled the bathroom door open.
His uncle sneered at him, grabbing his arm and yanking him out of the room. Harry dropped the towel on the floor in the process and he gritted his teeth as he was thrown into the wall. "Listen here, you ungrateful freak!" His uncle began pressing his forearm across Harry's chest and pushing him harder into the wall. It was at this moment that his uncle noticed the mark on his chest. "A tattoo! Is that what you've been doing? Sneaking out and getting tattoos? Disregarding the kindness of your aunt and I and going to get all marked up? I'll show you, you freak! I'll show you boy what it means to pull one over on us."
At this point, Harry tuned his Uncle out as a cold rage started to build within his gut and spread through his blood. He could feel it bubbling and building. It was unlike anything he had felt before but it was giving him a heady feeling. One that Harry wouldn't normally associate with rage. His skin prickled at the contact from his Uncle and as if some other force was controlling his body, Harry brought his hands up and gripped his Uncle's throat.
Harry felt strangely calm as he felt this icy fire sensation dance across his skin and down to the fingertips currently encircling his Uncles' fat neck. He was numb to all outside stimulus, detached from what was happening; the power high acting as a screen to filter how he processed his actions and emotions. All Harry could see was his Uncles' hideous face as it slowly started turning grey and the power high he was feeling in the process.
A shrill piercing scream ripped through the air and a solid body knocked into him. Blinking out of his dazed high, Harry glanced up from his position on the floor. Dudley had knocked him over, his cousins' eyes wide with fear and his Aunt was still shrieking. His Uncle was a grey corpse, all life drained out of him and slumped in a heap on the floor.
Harry stared wide-eyed at the man. Had he done that? Harry couldn't even fully remember what he had done but he remembered that feeling. The icy fire and power he had felt. All he remembered was the hatred he felt towards his Uncle and was finding it difficult to find remorse over his apparent murder. Suddenly there were people charging up the stairs, Harry was still slow to react trying to figure out what had just happened and barely registered Moody's peg leg coming into view when a red light hit him in the chest sending him into darkness.