Lux [h.s]

forty-seven

Cora was relaxing in the warm water of the bathtub when someone suddenly entered her room.

She gasped and turned around, reaching for the clothes she'd abandoned on the floor, the tips of her hair falling in the water. She didn't dare to make a move nor let out a sound, and after some instants a voice spoke.

"I'll leave your breakfast on the table."

Cora let out a relieved breath. It was only Dwyn.

She waited for the other to leave her bedroom and then got out of the bathtub and dried herself off quickly. Dwyn usually made the water in the stone bathtub disappear after her baths, but Cora didn't know how to. She made a mental note to ask her to teach her and walked back into her room. Her hair was dripping water on the floor, but she ignored it, knowing it would dry off in moments.

There were some clothes on her bed; a few dress shirts and dark trousers. There were also a couple of dresses, one of them a deep, dark red that reminded her of the one Harry had given her as a present over a month before, and Cora blushed faintly as she put it away.

She put on some practical clothes and turned to her breakfast. Her eyes widened. Sweet tea, orange jam and walnut bread. She distinctly remembered having told Harry what she used to have breakfast with some weeks before—she hadn't expected him to remember.

The sun shone through the gossamer curtains and Cora ate as fast as she could, not wanting to give Harry a reason to come looking for her as he'd promised he would.

She left her bedroom and ran through the corridors, almost crashing into a lemon tree on her way out. When she finally made it into the garden, Harry was already there. She stopped in the door frame, looking at him, mesmerised.

It was cold outside, but he wasn't wearing his coat. He was standing in a ring of white fire that grew taller and taller with every second, spinning around him like an angered flock. He threw his hand out and the fire jumped into the sky like a winged snake, twirling and turning against the clouds before falling back down towards him in a thousand fireflies. He closed his eyes and let his glittering stardust fall all around him, looking like the very definition of magic.

Water splashed around him and put out his fire, vapour rising in the sky. He dried the wet earth with a blade of fire of a dark burning red, and then let his own white flames intertwine with the red ones in an arch that momentarily hid him from view. Then with a snap of his fingers it was all gone, and rabbits of white fire were running all around him. They grew bigger and bigger and suddenly they were no longer rabbits, but two mythical creatures with sharp claws and large wings. They walked around him as dogs do with their master, and then they disappeared in a flicker of blue.

Cora had never seen Harry use his magic like that. He'd always been too aware of his surroundings, too careful not to let it slip from his control. What she'd just witnessed, though, was a confident display of power. He wasn't using his magic to protect himself, but to exhibit his talents. It was magic made to be witnessed, to be enjoyed.

She pictured a younger Harry standing in the centre of a crowd under the bright blue ceiling of the Pavilion, creating magical images with fire for everybody to see as people cheered him on. She imagined the winning smile on his face, his confident strides around the tent and the way he might've addressed people. That was who he was, who he'd been. Who he'd no longer be able to be. Sadness enveloped her and her gaze darkened.

Harry waved his hand and butterflies of white fire flickered around him. He turned his head, and his gaze locked with hers. His lips curved in a smile, and the butterflies disappeared.

"You're late," he said walking towards her, but he didn't seem to mind.

"I got distracted."

He stopped in the centre of the grassless area. "Come here."