Aphrodite's Destiny by Mistress_Lrigtar
Summary: *** Winner of Best Overall & Bond Relationship & The People’s Choice Award in The Bond Challenge ***
When nearly ten-year-old Ginny drinks a love potion she and Luna Lovegood brew, the outcome is not at all what she expected and she finds her life irrevocably changed forever.
Rating: PG
Categories: The Bond Challenge (2012-4), SIYE Challenges new, The Bond Challenge (2012-4)
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: Aphrodite's Destiny
Published: 2012.10.15
Updated: 2012.11.11
Aphrodite's Destiny by Mistress_Lrigtar
Chapter 1: Prologue - The Potion
Author's Notes: ‘Aphrodite, goddess of love,
One who watches from far above.
Show me please that which is to be my fate;
Reveal the face of my soul mate.’
Ginny Weasley stared at her friend in disbelief. “You’re joking, right? I can’t say that. I’d feel completely foolish.”
“It’s part of the spell,” Luna replied serenely. “Aphrodite won’t answer if you don’t beseech her. It says so in the book.”
Ginny rolled her eyes and pulled the tattered potions book over towards her so she could read the text for herself. The recipe was at the top of the page, followed by the directions on mixing the ingredients and then the incantation that Luna had just recited. Ginny grimaced at the picture of a young witch mouthing the words and gazing longingly at the steam that swirled over the boiling cauldron, waiting to see her true love’s face. Would this even work? She and Luna weren’t officially witches yet; being nearly ten years old, they weren’t even allowed to perform magic unless it was accidental and they wouldn’t be attending Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry for another year.
“Are we going to get in trouble for doing this?” Ginny asked, fingering the dog-eared page nervously.
Luna turned her large, blue eyes towards her friend. “Of course not. We both live in magical households. My father says the Ministry cannot tell who is actually performing the magic within magical houses. Besides, we don’t need to use wands; we are simply brewing a potion and drinking it. Well, you’re going to drink it. I am not anxious to know who I am destined to spend my life with. I rather like surprises.”
“So, you think I shouldn’t go through with this then?” Ginny asked.
“Oh no! I think you should!” Luna insisted. “It’ll be a grand experience! Not to mention that I have already gathered all the ingredients.”
Luna stood up from where the two girls had been sitting cross-legged on the floor of her sitting room and headed into the kitchen. It was cluttered with dishes, goblets, and cookware piled on many of the surfaces. Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink and on the stove, and scattered amongst it all were various plants with trailing vines, that dipped into the standing water in bowls and cups. Strands of dried garlic, onion, and peppers hung from the ceiling, and Luna pushed these out of her way as she entered.
She walked over to the sink, pulled aside the curtain that hid the cupboard under the sink and rummaged through the pots and pans stored there until she found an old, rusted cauldron in the very back and yanked it out. Stumbling back onto her bum, pots, pans, and lids tumbled out of the cupboard and onto the floor. Still clutching the cauldron, she stood up, ignoring the mess around her and returned to her friend.
“I think we should brew this in my room. It’s less cluttered and we won’t disturb my father while he’s printing The Quibbler,” Luna said. “He’s in quite a quandary over the latest article one of his columnists submitted regarding the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”
“The what?” Ginny asked, still sitting on the floor, flipping through the book.
“The Crumple-Horned Snorkack,” Luna repeated. “Surely your parents have told you about them. They are very rare and very valuable.”
“Oh, maybe my mum hasn’t reached that part in our copy of Magical Beasts,” Ginny said, although she had looked through that book numerous times and couldn’t recall where it mentioned the creature Luna was talking about.
“They are really fascinating and apparently this columnist saw one on his latest trip to Sweden,” Luna continued. “Unfortunately, the pictures he submitted with his piece were very blurry. So, Daddy is going to start saving so we can go and see for ourselves one day!”
“That sounds — great,” Ginny uttered, following her friend up the tiny spiral staircase that led to Luna’s top floor bedroom. It was a circular room with several windows that opened out to the grassy hillsides that surrounded her turret-shaped house. Ginny felt as at home in Luna’s house as she did her own, as they both shared similar cluttered, misshapen floor plans. The only difference being that two people took up much less living space than nine people did.
However, no matter how much her six older brothers tormented her, she wouldn’t trade places with Luna. Ginny thought it must be lonely living with only her father, especially after her mother passed away the previous year. Luna’s father had thrown himself into his newspaper after the accident and Luna had spent many hours at The Burrow to avoid the solitude that she had experienced here.
Thankfully, Mr. Lovegood had overcome his grief and doted on his daughter endlessly to make up for the months of neglect. If Luna asked for the moon, he’d do whatever it took to retrieve it for her. For the moment, she seemed content to have the moon and stars painted on the dark blue ceiling above her bed.
Entering her round room, Luna set the cauldron on her battered desktop that already contained a large jar of water and her mortar and pestle. Opening the top drawer of her desk several vials clinked together and a few yellowed parchment envelopes popped up over the top. She pulled out a small jar containing several greenish-yellow buds that reminded Ginny of artichokes, a small box, and an envelope, setting them all on the desk next to the cauldron.
“Is this safe?” Ginny asked, tipping the cauldron towards her. Flakes of rust fell off and dusted the desk top. “Maybe we should have scrubbed it first?”
Luna pulled a couple more envelopes and three vials out of the drawer before shutting it and spared the old cauldron a glance. “I think it will be fine. This was one of my mother’s favourite cauldrons. She firmly believed that to scour a cauldron detracted from its magical elements.”
Ginny eyed her friend sceptically, not wanting to bring up the fact that Luna’s mother had managed to blow herself up by brewing an unstable potion. Not to mention, that poor Luna had been there to witness the entire scene. Ginny shuddered, her imagination running wild at the thought of how gruesome and traumatic it must have been.
“Don’t worry, Ginny,” Luna soothed, using her uncanny ability to read her friend’s unspoken thoughts. “The potion we are brewing is quite simple. We won’t be in any danger of it exploding. The worst that will happen is it pops and we get splattered with hot liquid.”
“So, what do we do now?” Ginny asked, picking the potions book back up and re-reading the instructions. “It says here I have to drink this when the moon covers the sun. What does that mean?”
“Oh, I am sure it is referring to a solar eclipse,” Luna said matter-of-factly.
Ginny widened her eyes. “A solar eclipse? You can’t just make that happen!”
Luna giggled. “Of course not, silly! That’s why it is very fortunate that there is going to be a complete solar eclipse on July 22. That’s only a couple days away, Ginny, so the sooner we start brewing the better. The potion is supposed to simmer for at least a day in order for you to receive the best results.”
Ginny’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “In two days I could know who I’m destined for.”
“In two days your life may be changed forever,” Luna commented.
Reading each ingredient aloud as she added it to the cauldron, Luna tapped at an envelope and dropped dried crumbled red and white rose petals into the bottom. Then she drizzled young dandelion honey from one of the vials on top of the petals, before adding the jar of water, cherry juice from another vial, and crushed apple blossoms from a second envelope. Pouring the buds, which turned out to be sunflower buds, from the smaller jar into her mortar, she quickly mashed them down with her pestle and scraped the contents into the cauldron before opening the last vial and adding a splash of violet water. Opening another drawer in her desk, she pulled out a small flowering lilac branch and stirred the concoction counter-clockwise — all the while sprinkling in a mixture of red, pink, and yellow tulip petals from the last envelope.
When she was finished, Luna picked up the cauldron and the small box, and carried them over to the fireplace that was usually lit in the winter and on exceptionally cold spring or fall days to heat the room. Setting the cauldron gently on the grate, Luna plucked a box of matches from a shelf nearby, lit one, and set it to the kindling nestled underneath the cauldron. The flames guttered around the bottom before flaring up and then settling into a steady blaze. Opening the box, she plucked out the most gorgeous blooming red rose Ginny had ever seen and set it to float on top of the still swirling potion.
Mesmerized by its beauty, the two girls silently watched the rose swirl around in the liquid until it finally came to a stop. Now they only had to wait two days.
Nearly eleven-year-old Harry Potter sat on a thin mattress in the tiny, dark cupboard with his legs pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and resting his chin on his knees. Faint light leaked in around the edges of the door and he squinted in the dimness up at the still swinging empty light socket above his head. His Aunt Petunia had unscrewed the light-bulb and stuffed it in her apron pocket before slamming the door and sliding the lock in place, screeching that he’d be lucky to ever see the light of day and just wait until his Uncle Vernon came home.
Harry would be more than happy if his Uncle Vernon never came home, as he was quite sure he would not like the confrontation that awaited him that evening. As usual, he was being blamed for something he hadn’t even done. He and his cousin, Dudley had been sitting at the table eating lunch. Harry’s had consisted of a piece of stale toast and a glass of water, while Dudley had been given a ham sandwich, crisps, an apple, biscuits, and a glass of milk. Harry knew for a fact that Dudley hated milk, but Aunt Petunia insisted that her ‘Duddykins’ drink a glass everyday. Harry on the other hand, loved milk the few times he had actually been given it — usually when Mrs. Figg was minding him.
Unfortunately, Dudley had caught Harry eyeing his glass longingly before Harry had realized he was doing it, and his cousin’s eyes had begun to gleam with a look Harry had long ago learned meant nothing but trouble for him. Harry had averted his gaze, but it was too late and before he had been able to take even a bite of his toast, Dudley’s fat hand had reached over and knocked the glass of milk over violently, shattering it and causing the contents to splatter all over the wall and table, and pool on the pristine kitchen floor.
Dudley had howled in outrage as his mother turned around from where she had been washing up at the sink. She’d taken in the spilt milk, Dudley screaming bloody murder and Harry sitting in his seat with his hand outstretched in his feeble attempt to prevent the glass from toppling. He’d known full well it looked as if he had been the one to cause the mess, and there was little he would be able to do to dispel that thought.
His aunt had swooped down on him as he imagined the Pterodactyls he’d learned about in school would have and dragged him off to his cupboard. Dudley had trailed after them balling like the baby he no longer was and demanding that his mother give him an orange fizz to make up for the spilt milk, but Harry hadn’t been fooled. Dudley’s eyes were hard and dry, and Harry had no doubt his cousin would get his way and more than likely receive extra chocolate biscuits as well.
His stomach rumbled in protest at the thought of chocolate biscuits and Harry wished he had thought to shove his toast in his mouth before his aunt had carted him off. She would have probably added that infraction to her growing list, but at least he’d have eaten something. He highly doubted if he’d be let out for dinner, and depending on the mood his uncle was in when he arrived home, Harry could probably count on no breakfast as well.
Going on an empty stomach was never fun. It was harder to outrun Dudley and his gang then. Harry wished, not for the first time, that he had a friend. It would be much easier to deal with the torment if he had someone he could commiserate with. However, everyone in his and Dudley’s class had learned fairly early that attempting to be friendly with Harry led to becoming an additional target for Dudley and his friends. Hence, no friends and no hope of any in the near future. Harry couldn’t blame them really, as Dudley already had twice the height and girth on anyone else in their class, which was intimidating enough. Back that up with his thuggish cronies and their intended victim usually didn’t stand a chance.
Unfortunately for Harry, he was their victim of choice since all his classmates had wised up and steered clear of him. Some days Harry wished a real Pterodactyl would swoop down and scoop him up. He’d much rather take his chances with a flying dinosaur than his cousin any day. Besides, didn’t Pterodactyls eat fish? Harry doubted if he would be very appetizing, and he definitely did not resemble a fish.
Harry sighed, yes tomorrow was not going to be a fun day, if his aunt and uncle even decided to let him out. There was no hope that a dinosaur or anything else would be rescuing him from the clutches of his cousin, so Harry would be on his own.
Somehow, despite his empty stomach, Harry managed to fall asleep only to be rudely awoken, from a rather pleasant if odd dream of flying on a broomstick and chasing a flying dinosaur, by the outraged voice of his Uncle Vernon. The outburst was soon followed by the cupboard door being flung open and his uncle’s molten face appearing in the opening. Harry blinked in the sudden light and groggily sat up, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose so he could look at his livid uncle properly.
“Boy!” he roared. “Is it true you broke a glass, spilling milk all over the kitchen? Do you know how much that cost me?”
Harry quickly bit back the fifty pence retort he longed to respond with and simply stared at his uncle, shaking his head slightly. Another thing he had learned over the years was that it was best to choose his battles, and he had no hopes of winning this one. He was quite sure nothing he could do or say in this situation would appease his uncle.
He was proven right when his uncle continued to glare at him and ground his teeth. “Answer me, boy!”
“I don’t know,” Harry uttered, looking down at his clenched fists in his lap, focusing on the pain of his fingernails digging into his palms to avoid lashing out at his uncle.
“Well more than you’re worth to me, I can tell you that!” his uncle spat. “You won’t be having dinner tonight and if you want anything tomorrow, that garden better be trimmed and weeded or else.”
“Or else what?” The words fell from Harry’s lips unbidden before he could censor them. He turned his wide green eyes back up to his uncle’s face, which was turning a spectacular shade of maroon.
“Or else, you’ll be lucky to have a crumb or see the light of day ever again!” bellowed Uncle Vernon before slamming the door in Harry’s now ashen face.
Plunged once again into darkness, Harry banged his balled hands on his legs and wished more than anything he could yell, scream, or holler to vent his growing frustration. He felt as if he were on a precipice, in danger of falling, and there wasn’t anyone who would care or even try to save him.
Ginny eyed the bubbling potion nervously. It had frothed up quite a bit over the two days it had sat simmering on the fire, and the rose having dissolved, had turned the liquid a light milky red. She couldn’t tell if it looked appetizing or revolting, and it smelled musty, a strange mixture of flowering foliage and dusty wood.
Luna eyed her expectantly, awaiting her seal of approval. What did Ginny know? She had never brewed a potion in her life. Occasionally, she had watched her mum brew simple cleaning abrasives and a Pepperup Potion or two, but she was nowhere near the expert Luna already was. She shrugged slightly and returned Luna’s gaze.
“I don’t know,” Ginny remarked. “Is it supposed to look like that?”
Luna nodded. “Oh yes. I re-read the description to make sure.”
Ginny swallowed hard, suddenly having second thoughts. This could be more than she bargained for. What if she didn’t like the visage she saw? Was there anyway to change your destiny? Would she see her true love as he was at this very moment or as he would be? Or, what if the potion turned out to be poisonous and she died?
“It isn’t poisonous, Ginny,” Luna interjected, picking up a stone goblet and dipping it in the red concoction.
“I hate how you can do that,” Ginny grumbled.
Luna smirked as she handed Ginny the goblet. “All you have to do is observe expressions, Ginny. We all say exactly what we are thinking with our faces, we just don’t realize it.”
Ginny took the goblet and gazed down at the contents. It resembled red watery milk and she was afraid its taste was going to make her gag. She felt her trepidation rising as the light in the room began to dim. Carrying the goblet over to Luna’s bedroom window, Ginny drew the curtain back and gazed up at the sky. Already, a shadow was creeping across the face of the sun.
Luna was fanning the flames beneath the cauldron to keep the potion bubbling merrily away. Ginny’s stomach felt like it was full of fluttering butterflies and her hand holding the goblet shook. Once she spoke the incantation and swallowed the potion, there was no turning back. She shook her head. This was completely ridiculous. The chances of the potion actually working were astronomical, even if Luna had brewed it correctly. More than likely, the only thing that would happen was Ginny would retch all over the floor.
It was getting steadily darker and Luna lit a few candles before joining Ginny at the window.
“It’s nearly time,” she murmured. “Are you ready?”
Ginny nodded and followed Luna back over to the steaming cauldron. As the room darkened further, the two girls stood on either side of the fire and looked at each other expectantly. Luna nodded her head encouragingly.
Taking a deep breath, Ginny held the goblet up and recited the incantation that she had memorized:
“Aphrodite, goddess of love,
One who watches from far above.
Show me please that which is to be my fate;
Reveal the face of my soul mate.”
As the last word rolled off her tongue, Ginny drank the contents of the goblet in one gulp before she lost her nerve. It actually didn’t taste as bad as she had feared. It was reminiscent of a milky tea Bill had given her once called chai, only with a slightly floral after-taste. She stared into the steam rising off the remaining potion in the cauldron, but so far there was no change and no countenance was appearing. Luna fanned the flames again hoping to elicit more steam, but as she did so, a sudden gust of wind from her open windows swept through the room and extinguished not only the candles she had lit, but the fire as well.
Ginny blew out a frustrated sigh and admitted that she felt foolish for thinking that the potion would actually work. She was about to laugh at the stricken look on Luna’s face when a wave of dizziness washed over her. Despite the fact that the flames no longer burned beneath the cauldron, the steam seemed to grow thicker and cloud her vision. Blackness seeped in around the edges and drew closer, and Ginny felt as if her body was getting lighter and lighter. The goblet slipped from her fingers and bounced across the wooden floor before rolling underneath Luna’s bed.
“Luna,” she began, but her mouth felt like it was suddenly full of cotton and she could no longer produce intelligible words. Luna’s image blurred in front of her, and the last thing Ginny thought she saw was her friend reaching out for her from a very long distance before Ginny’s knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor.
Harry sat under a rhododendron bush in his aunt’s garden, hoping the thick leaves and dense braches would hide him from view of Dudley and his friend, Piers Polkiss. Dudley and Piers had spent the afternoon harassing the younger children who attempted to visit the park, but had quickly tired of that activity when one too many a mum yelled at them. Retreating to Dudley’s house, they had been invited inside by Aunt Petunia for lunch while Harry continued to toil away weeding in the hot sun.
As the two had passed, they had promised him a sound beating when they returned and to be sure not to get any ideas of going anywhere. Harry had laughed at that, as where was he supposed to go? As much as he hated to admit it, he depended on his aunt and uncle to provide for him the little they offered and somehow they had managed to turn everyone on Privet Drive against him. So, it wasn’t like he could run to a neighbour’s house and hope they would help in any way. He wasn’t quite sure how it was even possible that the neighbours despised him so much, since Harry never did anything except attempt to run away from Dudley and his gang.
He didn’t kick dogs or cats like Dudley did or bully younger children, and yet Dudley was a prince and Harry was a hooligan. Scowling up at the dark green leaves, Harry could hear Dudley and Piers smacking at the bushes with thick sticks they had found in Harry’s debris pile. Harry mentally kicked himself for not discarding the sticks properly by breaking them up into smaller pieces. He clearly had not been thinking straight.
Actually, his brain had become decidedly muddy in the past few moments, and was it his imagination or were the leaves blurring? He dearly hoped he wasn’t in need of a new prescription for his glasses. He could just imagine how that would go over with his uncle. More than likely it would warrant at least a week in the cupboard and bread and water only for meals. Harry wasn’t certain how much longer he could subsist on such rations. He was feeling increasingly weak and light-headed with every passing moment.
Attempting to sit up, his head swam and he didn’t notice the light becoming dimmer outside his hiding place. Nor did he notice that Dudley and Piers had stopped slapping the bushes and had run inside when the shadow crossed over the sun.
Harry sank back against the mossy earth, staring up at the dark leaves of the rhododendron bush, which had become a splotchy green mass. Closing his eyes he tried to will his now churning stomach to settle, but its roiling seemed to be consuming him and his entire body felt like it was adrift on a raft in a turbulent sea. Harry did not want to be sick, and rolling onto his side, he drew his knees up in a foetal position hoping it would subside. The last thought he had before he passed out was of how angry his uncle was going to be when he came home from work and discovered Harry hadn’t been able to finish his chores.
TBC
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