Mother Magic and the Philosopher's stone

Chapter Five

'Happy birthday, Speaker,' Ouroboros hissed into Harry's ear. It was July 31st, 1991, and if the pink streaking the sky was any indication, it was far too early to be awake. The boy scrunched up his face, batting his friend away from his ear.

'Ouro! You know I hate it when you hiss in my ear like that,' he exclaimed, sitting upright to rub the sleep out of his eyes. If snakes could smirk, that's what he did; a lopsided serpentine grin that split his fanged maw in two. Eleven. At long last. Nothing felt different, but then again, nothing ever did at six in the morning.

'It's not every day a snake's speaker turns eleven no?' Harry smiled, brushing his hand against the smooth scales of his companion.

'I suppose you're right,'

'As per usual,' He replied, slithering off the plush bed and around the small stack of presents at the foot of it. His tail flicked over a small burlap bag, tied together with a single piece of string. 'Open mine first speaker!'

'You got me a gift too?'

'Aye, of course. The perfect gift for a serpent's companion.' Harry leaned forward to pick it up, whatever was inside was warm and moving? Tentatively, he pulled open the bag, making sure his face was far away from whatever moving thing was inside.

'Mice?'

And there was at least a dozen small white mice crawling over each other, squeaking merrily as if they were also wishing him a happy birthday.

'Of course! What better present than the gift of feeding your favourite serpent a tasty meal?'

Harry laughed, shaking softly as small peals of joy radiated from him. He took a small mouse of the bag, and placed it on the floor. Immediately it began to squeak and run around on the plush carpet. Ouroboros' tongue flickered, and in a single moment, the mouse was no more.

Harry opened the rest of his presents gleefully, vanishing the wrapping paper with a tap of his finger, just like Lady Magic taught him. Inside was a journal, Two new cloaks and a small pile of books.

'You get your Hogwarts letter today, my ward.' Magic said, tidying up the books into the bookcase. 'I'm sure your... relatives will be so kind as to leave the letter on your doorstep, as instructed.' Harry nodded, caressing the smooth leather bound journal in front of him. It felt special, and the boy had a very sudden and instant desire to know why.

'What do I use this journal for?' he asked, leafing through the pages. The pale sepia was clear and unmarked, but he could still feel that unmistakeable pull.

'It is not what you will use it for, but what I will.' She replied, 'pay attention, closely now son,'

The lights appeared to flicker on the walls, and he could almost make out something forming on the page. He squinted, trying to make out just exactly what the shape was, and suddenly he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

'Where am I?' the boy asked, feeling weightless and impossibly heavy. He could see nothing, an inky blackness that covered everything, but at the same time still see his blue and gold bedroom, the pile of unwrapped presents, and Ouroboros chasing yet another mouse. In the distance he could see the figure of a woman, long black hair sweeping the floor and a Celtic gown adorned with gold stitch upon her. He floated forward, and walked too, and as her form became clearer, so did the familiar feeling of home.

'You are in my domain, my ward.' The woman said, training her soft periwinkle eyes on her boy.

'Mother?'

'Aye, it is I. I'm sorry it has taken so long, but I couldn't risk taking you here before you were ready. I'm afraid your core has been too unstable until now to do so.'

Harry ran at Lady Magic, jumping into her arms with tears in his eyes. His mother-his mother! Real and physical and here (and not here) all at once. It was all he ever wanted, he was sure it was all his birth parents ever wanted too, but his mother was here, with her arms around him and he could feel her squeeze him gently, wiping his tears as his body was racked with sobs.

'You're –hic- really –hic- here?' He blubbered, sitting in her embrace.

'Yes my love, and anytime you wish to visit I will be here, waiting with open arms.'

'Are you trapped here?' She smiled a soft smile, breaking out on porcelain features.

'No, I am not a tangible being, and in this place neither are you. I can travel where no mortal can tread, I am every spell you will cast and the very core of your being. But to you? I am your mother, and that will never change.'

Harry nodded, sniffing as he used his sleeves to wipe his red rimmed eyes.

'I can see you whenever?'

'Just open your journal and you'll be brought here, to me. Now go, I think breakfast is in order.'

Harry blinked and he was not floating anymore. Everything was tangible and real, and he grasped at the bed sheets beneath him, feeling their soft fabric under his hands. Home again.

Upstairs, a letter addressed to Harry James Potter sat, waiting to be read.