Words

Chapter 1

Staring at the ceiling proved to be boring. Mainly because, like everything else in this house, it was bland, uninteresting and 'normal'. Maybe also because he had stared at it so many times, that he knew every single crack by now.

Harry James Potter was dying from boredom. And also trepidation. He was forcing himself to sleep, to close his eyes and make his mind shut off, but he was too wired up.

Today was the 30th July. And in just a few hours, he was going to turn 15. Which was... well... which was a lot.

Especially because he was going to get his Soulmate Mark tomorrow.

Dear Circe.

His own Soulmate Mark. A small lettering appearing on his skin, telling him who his Soulmate was.

Everybody looked forward to their 15th birthdays. Finding out your Soulmate's 1st words to you, was exciting. Everyone kept saying how becoming 15 was a huge thing and how you stepped out of childhood forever on that day. How you were going to find your soulmate, your significant other, your everything.

But Harry feared that once he woke up the next day, he wouldn't find anything. He knew the probability of that happening was extremely small. Only 0,9% of the planet didn't get a soulmate. But even that was just about 77 millions of people.

He had never met someone without a Mark, but he knew how society viewed them. Everyone knew, that if you didn't get any Mark, you were worthless. The God has not bestowed a Soulmate on you – you were not worthy of one – so how could you be good at anything?

Once again with the 'Everyone's. Merlin, how much he hated those opinions. He hated most of what society thought 'normal' and 'completely acceptable'. Probably because of the Dursleys.

But even he didn't want to end up Markless. Even though he himself had nothing against them, he felt sad for them. And truly, he didn't want to not have a Soulmate.

He could see it. Everywhere he looked, from everything he'd heard... having a Soulmate was beautiful. Harry had always dreamed of someone taking him away, showing him a nicer place, someone who would understand him and truly love him.

He didn't even care who, he just... he just really wanted that.

But his luck has been the worst, so...

Harry rolled to his side and closed his eyes.

He remembered the first time he had seen a Soulmate Mark. He was just about 3, or... maybe 4? He wasn't sure. Aunt Petunia had been scorning him for dropping one of the cups, even though it hadn't broken. She had waved her hand around, and Harry noticed a string of an ugly scrawling on her upper arm.

He'd asked her about it and she'd got a weird expression on her face. It had been the first time he'd seen her blush and the loving look she gave it, freaked him out. "It's my Soulmate Mark. These are the first words your Uncle has ever said to me. He has mine as well, of course."

Harry had peered at it. In the nearly unreadable writing that he later learned to recognized as Uncle Vernon's stood: Watch where you're going.

Aunt Petunia had continued. "You get your Mark on your 15th birthday. It shows you the greatest person for you..." then she'd sneered, "of course, freaks like you don't get Soulmates. Now go and clean this up!"

And that was the end of it. Harry had in later years heard the story of how his relatives had met – they like to say it to everyone who'd listen (with the exception of him, of course) and he overheard them telling it to Dudley.

It was very mundane, normal and boring – just like that bloody ceiling. They both had been going their ways on a certain street, when they managed to bump into each other. Vernon had been rude - as always – while Petunia had hastily apologized.