Nocturne in Silver and Blue

Chapter 1- Magic

The first time it happens, Harry is four.
See, Gemma's been growing a little seed she found in an apple. She put it in a pot and carefully put earth over it and watered it every day until there was a tiny green thing coming out of the earth. And when it happened she squealed and smiled and told everyone she'd plant it in the backyard when it was big enough and eat its apples and maybe put a swing on it. Harry liked the little thing just fine, even if he didn't see much point to sitting and waiting around until it got big. Lots more interesting things to do in the meantime.

But now– but now they've just come back from a weekend trip to his Aunt Lydia's and back in Holmes Chapel it's properly cold, the kind of cold that'd made Harry's nose and the tips of his fingers pink when he stepped out of the car. And now they're in the kitchen and it's much colder than Harry remembers it being before and Gemma's clutching at the pot that was on the windowsill and crying.

Mum sees her and rushes to her. She looks into the pot and her face does something quick and sad. "Oh, darling," she says, and holds Gemma close, letting her sniffle into her jumper and mumble things that Harry can't make out.

He walks up to them and tries to peer into the pot. "Can I see?" he says. Gemma ignores him. Maybe she hasn't heard. "What's wrong?" he says, louder this time. Gemma cries harder.

He meets his mum's eyes instead. She looks more tired than she usually does. "Gem's plant died, baby," she says, softly. Harry feels like his tummy's suddenly heavy.

He frowns. He doesn't understand. "But, but she's been giving it water every day! And it had lots of light too, didn't it?" He looks at Gemma and pats her elbow. "Maybe if you give it more water it won't be dead anymore."

Gemma shakes her head from where it's buried in Mum's jumper. Harry opens his mouth, wants to ask why, but Mum says, "It doesn't work like that, Harry."

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "Can I see?" he asks again. He doesn't remember ever seeing a dead plant before. He reaches up and tugs the brown pot from where it's squished between Gemma and Mum and peers into it curiously. It doesn't look all that different, but Harry thinks he understands, because before it was green but now it just looks slumped and... sad.

Harry looks up at Gemma and sees her still sniffling, grabbing at Mum's jumper with closed fists. He looks down at the plant again, and feels bad for not caring about it before. It was pretty, and it made Gemma happy, even if it took ages to grow. He wishes– he doesn't know what he wishes, not really. He wants to make it better. He wants to give back to the plant the thing it had to make it not look dead. He prods it gently with a finger and wants.

And then suddenly the cold Harry was feeling is gone, and there's a warmth that feels soft and glowing, like watching a fire. He hears himself breathing but it's really loud, almost like he's covering his ears, and then– and then, so slowly, the plant begins to curl upwards and turn green again, only this time it's a green that's dark and wonderful. Harry can hear his heart, boom boom boom in his ears and his chest. The plant twists, and its stem grows taller and taller, and suddenly, slowly, something at the tip of it changes and a flower opens up, its petals spreading out in brilliant red. More flowers bloom along the stem, opening into the light. Harry remembers what he's been told at school and wonders if by touching the plant he made spring happen.

Because he made this happen. He knows it.

His heart isn't so loud anymore. The flowers have stopped appearing. He tugs on Gemma's sleeve. "Gem," he says. "Gem, look."

Gemma looks. Her mouth opens but she says nothing. Harry feels uneasy suddenly. He looks at Mum, and she's already looking at him. For a second, Harry gets the distinct impression that he's done something terribly, terribly wrong, and he feels his eyes get itchy with sudden tears. But then his mum is letting go of Gemma and picking him up like she only does sometimes now. "Harry," she whispers into his hair, "Harry, my wonderful, wonderful boy," and that's all he needs to feel okay again, really.