Magic's Heir| A Harry Potter Fanfiction

|1 NEW

Berkana

:new beginnings:

"music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything." - Plato

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UNTIL THE SONGS HAD STARTED, the only thing unusual about Ocean Blue Turner had been her name. Named for both her grandmother's love of large and often violent bodies of water, and the disposition the doctors and nurses concurred would be hers once she grew a little older.

It was an odd name, she knew, after going to school surrounded by Jessicas, Taylors, Ashleighs and Keiths. Her best friend all through elementary and middle school had been the only other black girl Blue's age, and her name was Sophie Braxton, a pitifully normal name.

Thankfully, because Sophie collected bugs as a hobby, the kids in class called her by a nickname - a highly unoriginal bug spin on her real name --  Mothie, which, admittedly made Blue feel better as she wasn't the lone girl in class with the weird name.

She was, however, the only girl who heard songs, and not just the ones she blasted through her headphones. They'd come from all places -- rings at the local antiques store, books in the library's donation bin, and certain gravestones in the cemetery.

At first, they were nothing but faint murmurs underpinning a teacher's lesson plan or the annual town harvest parade, but every year after she had turned eleven, they'd gotten harder to ignore.

This past summer had been the worst. While trying to enjoy the break between freshman and sophomore year, Blue had accompanied Sophie to the arcade after Sophie insisted she needed to work out her frustration regarding her boyfriend and fellow bug-hunter, Craig, because he'd skipped their weekly jaunt into the Connecticut wilderness to hang out with his new football bros.

All had been well, Blue dominating in Street Fighter, when the songs became the loudest they'd ever been. A slender woman had accompanied six kids to a birthday table set up in the arcade's special room. They looked normal, albeit, all eerily similar with black hair, dark eyes, and golden skin. But to Blue's disappointment, the whole lot of them sang. An unwelcomed concert exploded in Blue's brain, the pain so intense, she'd blacked out.

When she awoke, she thought she ought to come clean, as it was either that, or she was certain the songs would kill her. So she had, confessing everything to her father about the songs - about when they started, how they'd gotten worse, about what, and sometimes, who, sang. He'd listened, not once dismissing her claims as fanciful or imaginative.

She thought he'd be her ally - that's what parents were supposed to be, right? But the next morning, Blue had come down to breakfast to discover her suitcases packed and a one-way ticket to London had been purchased.

Her first experience with seeing an actual ocean had been from the window of a plane after her dad shipped her halfway across the world to rid himself of her, and all the problems she'd caused. Her, the freak daughter, who heard songs no one else did, and who was all sorts of trouble with a capital T.

She had never hated her namesake more.

Now in London, sat on a bench awaiting the arrival of her Aunt Thea and Uncle Herry who lived in Essex, Blue ignored everything except the Billie Eilish song screeching through her headphones.

She wasn't the least bit interested in her new surroundings - London was grey, abysmal, dirty and loud - the train station, much the same.  All she wanted was to get it over with - the extended stay with the aunt she barely knew-- and to stop hearing the damned songs that got her sent here in the first place.