One hour.
Harry has already spent over an hour flipping through the magazine. He couldn't find anything. Nothing. But he does know a lot about the latest fashion trends and some juicy gossip about the Seeker of the Holyhead Harpies and a reserve player of the Chudley Cannons. Harry sighed. He was convinced it would contain a secret message. He flipped through to the end of the magazine with reader submissions. One of these entries drew his attention:
The Pecking Snow Owl
What a contradiction. As fierce as the hottest fire, but with a scornful look that makes you freeze.
What a cold beauty.
What would I do for it, that one day she would speak my name and kiss me lovingly.
C.L.
'It doesn't even rhyme,' Harry thinks unimpressed. Harry reads the entry once more. It made him think about his loyal companion. His best friend Hedwig. The initials C.L. didn't ring a bell, but something told him that this was something noticeable.
"C.L." Harry grabbed the magazine and gave it a quick kiss.
Nothing. 'Wow, feeling like a classic Dunderhead now.' Harry thinks. He was sure that it would work. "Speak my name and kiss me lovingly... Speak my name.." Harry's eyes widen. Of course, how stupid!
"R. Singulier." And he gave it a kiss, once more.
A strange glimmer slid on the smooth paper of the magazine. On the page with reader submissions appeared a letter. Harry couldn't believe his eyes, he was right! Hah! Take that Hermione! He can deduce, well, when he really wants it!
Dear Still Living,
I approve of your need for an alias. How very Slytherin of you.
There my hymn for you ends. I must confess that I am disappointed with the content of your letter. Traditions and customs are, as in any culture, of great importance. Certain stories are passed on from father to son, so our history is always remembered. How can you expect to participate in our society if you don't want to make an effort to get to know it?
But I admit, the Hogwarts curriculum leaves much to be desired. When my father went to Hogwarts, there was a subject that dealt with traditions and rituals. The original holidays were also celebrated. Over the years, more and more classes were dropped. Everything in the name of Muggleborns. I mean this very objectively. They have tried to make these new witches and wizards feel more "at home," because what could be nicer than celebrating Christmas?
And I'm not even talking about the Dark Arts. After all, these are not inherently harmful, with good intentions they can even be very useful. But I will not elaborate on this, after all, it will not be appreciated. Or does it?
I will not tell on your secret, only my father knows about this. Unfortunately, this is insurmountable. Because... I'll tell you a secret. My father will be an intermediary, for the time being, otherwise, my mail would not get through. You see, my freedoms are limited. I am allowed to receive mail once a week and even this privilege is an expensive commodity. And yet I hope to receive another letter from you. Ask me candid questions and I will answer in good faith.
I also have no bad intentions. I have been told many things, but things told in confidence, will not be repeated to another. I expect you to be an honorable wizard as well. Also, I will not judge, I hope to receive this favor from you as well.
I hope to hear from you soon.
Your friend,
R. Singulier
Harry's thoughts were swirling all over the place. This man was clearly a Slytherin. A self-righteous Slytherin. But that was expected. What did surprise Harry, was that he actually agreed with the man. He didn't understand the need to drop a class about traditions and rituals. Especially for Muggle-raised witches or wizards. He heard from Mr. Weasley that many muggleborns or muggle-raised witches and wizards return back to Muggle society. It's a waste that is. The loss of good Witches and Wizards is not suited for a thriving Magical society. But when they never learn the ways of magical society, will they ever feel at home?
Harry's eyes were drawn to the secret of Mr. Singulier. His freedom was limited. Why is that? And who is his father? Is it the mysterious C.L.? And is he a friend or foe? Harry didn't know. But he was very curious and would like to know more about this R. Singulier. Harry made a decision at this point, he would not betray R. Singulier's trust. Nor will he judge without all possible information.
Harry got up and unlocked the door. He decided to get ready for the night. He put the magazine under his pillow. He will write back tomorrow. A good night's sleep will do him good. And maybe the next day would be a better day.
***
'Of course, the next day isn't a better day.' Harry frowned in the mirror. His 'ghost' scratch had changed. The scratch itself was black in color, the red irritation had disappeared. What was the biggest change were the branches. They were no longer black veins, but a kind of tribal-like tattoo. It still ran from his shoulder to his left chest, but the (for the lack of a better word) tattoo was more elaborate. Harry traced the tattoo with the top of his fingers. It felt like it was on top of his skin, like an extra layer. The lines themselves were ice cold and delivered a shock through fingers. The whole sensation felt powerful. Exhilarating. Harry put on a shirt over his tattoo. Part of it was still visible, some Rune-like veins were ending at the base of his neck. But looking at the reaction of Remus and Ms. Weasley yesterday, the tattoo will not pose a problem.
Harry went downstairs to the kitchen. He started mixing batter for pancakes, and after a couple of minutes, a small stack of blueberry pancakes graced the kitchen worktop. Harry continued to make breakfast, humming to himself. He cut extra fruit and made coffee. After half an hour, Harry had finished preparing breakfast and picked up a plate for himself. A few minutes later Sirius and Remus entered. They stopped in the wonderfully scented kitchen.
"Harry, did you make breakfast?" Sirius asked, nearly drooling from the sight of the pancakes.
"Why yes, Siri, I did. You can grab anything you like. I left the poison out of the batter this time." Harry winked.
Remus and Sirius did not hesitate for a second and both grabbed large portions of food as if feared that the Weasley family would burst in. Groaning with pleasure, they ate breakfast. The young teenager at the table had a hard time with the two men, the moaning noises shot through to his private parts. Thankfully only blush on his cheeks betrayed Harry's state of mind. After a few more awkward minutes, on Harry's part, everyone had finished eating and were enjoying a cup of coffee.
"Say, Harry, is that tattoo new?" Sirius asked slyly.
Harry made a choking sound and squirted coffee all around. He looked at Sirius in bewilderment.
"Can you see it?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Yes, I can see some black lines at the base of your neck. I didn't see it yesterday."
Harry took off his shirt enthusiastically. The tattoo was now clearly visible to Sirius and Remus.
"Yes, this was what I was talking about yesterday. Look here is the scratch of the Dementor, but around it, there is a kind of tattoo. But it doesn't really look or feel like a tattoo... It's more like a burn mark."
Remus traced his fingers over the lines. His eyes flickered golden. He bowed his head and took a deep breath. He made a whining noise and quickly withdrew.
"Harry, you smell like death. But more.. sweet I guess? I never encountered such a phenomenon. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you yesterday. It was badly done, Harry. Can you forgive me?" Remus looked at him pleadingly.
Harry walked over to Remus and drew him in a warm hug. His eyes started to water and after a few moments, he started to cry. Remus held him silently. He just gave comfort.
"I was scared it was all in my head. Just like those dreams of Voldemort. Like I don't know the difference between reality and fantasy. Siri, Remus, do you know what these marks mean?" Harry looked from Sirius to Remus. Both men looked lost. Only silence remained.
"I will look for references in some old tomes. I may need to map out the tattoo in order to do better research on it. I will get back to it later." Remus gave Harry a pat on his shoulder.
"Don't worry about it, pup. Look at me: I'm still handsome with all these tattoos. It gives me a dangerous look, don't you think? Give it some time and you become devilishly handsome." Sirius winked and gave Harry a kiss on his forehead. "Just don't worry about it, please. Moony is on the case."
***
After the disturbing breakfast, the morning passed uneventfully. The rest of the guests at Grimmauld Place saw nothing wrong with Harry. To them, Harry was the same as always. Harry and the rest of the kids were ordered by Mrs. Weasley to clean the house and Harry offered to tackle the drawing-room. This was the space where he had started to embroider earlier, and he liked to explore the space better. In the corner of the room was a large, heavy cupboard. When opening it, Harry found a beautiful purple robe, which was wonderfully soft against his skin. He smelled it and was again overcome by a sense of longing. He decided to keep the robe and use it himself if necessary. He also found a silver snuff box with beautifully engraved vines around the words "Toujour Pur". He didn't know what to use a snuffbox for, but he thought it a shame to put it away. After a while, what felt like an eternity, came Mrs. Weasley to check how the work was progressing. After a very short period of time, she came out of the room screaming, wrapped in a purple robe, with a silver box dangling from her index finger.
"Take them off! TAKE THEM OFF! AAHHHHHHH!" Mrs. Weasley cried out in blind panic.
"Stains of dishonor, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth!" Mrs. Black screeches.
Harry was overcome by a laugh attack. Mrs. Weasley was almost choked to death by a purple robe. A coat that didn't affect him before. Stupid woman. That would teach her to touch things that weren't hers. Harry couldn't do anything other than help Mrs. Weasley. He unwrapped her from the robe and folded it carefully. He pressed it to his chest and walked to his room. He put the parcel carefully in his trunk, promising that he wouldn't throw it away. It felt safe and after the display with Mrs. Weasley, he liked the robe even more. Needless to say, Harry didn't have to help clean up after this. Instead of cleaning, he continued to explore the house and enjoyed the peace and quiet.
***
At the end of the afternoon, Harry decided to write a letter back to his mysterious friend. He decided to talk about the Dementor attack and his strange dark tattoo. His friend seemed to be very familiar with the Dark Arts, perhaps he had read about such phenomena before. Harry was secretly curious about his friend's reaction. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione about it yet and didn't want to. Not until he had an idea what he was dealing with. He was scared that their reaction was like him being a Parselmouth, they accepted it, but didn't like it. And they were still scared about it. Harry often thought about getting a snake as a familiar but decided against it every time. He didn't want to be ostracized at Hogwarts or hearing any whispers about being the Heir of Slytherin. At these moments Harry was disappointed that he had gone against the wish of the Hat. The thought of having friends who didn't give him a cold shoulder at displaying his normal behavior was crippling. At such times he was overcome by feelings of loss and anxiety. He also put these feelings on paper and decided to be honest about being a Parselmouth. He also decided to ask for his friend's real name, or if he could get at least a hint. Once satisfied with his letter, he sought out Hedwig and sent her on his way.
***
The days crept by and there was no new answer. Harry jumped up at every owl and was sometimes teased about looking out for the latest version of Witch Weekly. Harry grew more and more nervous because as the days passed, his hearing drew closer. His friends became more affectionate by the day and Hermione came bearing more and more new, thick books, that should offer the solution for his defense. Harry finally decided to just nod yes and secretly ignore everyone. He did ask Walburga and Kreacher for help with an outfit to the Ministry. He learned from his version of Witch Weekly that beige trousers paired with a white shirt were casual chic. With the attention from Kreacher, Harry decided on a tight pair of Wizard trousers, made from fine virgin wool, and a crisp white shirt made from Acromantula silk. He looked great in his outfit and secretly liked the blackness of his tattoo against the white of his shirt. He looked young and powerful. Harry couldn't help but notice the difference between the boy he was mere weeks ago, and the young man he was today. Tomorrow was a new day, a day to also win over the Ministry.