"Blood is thicker than water..."
Chapter 1-The Writing on the Wall
Harry Potter was the odd sort of boy that everyone talks about, but nobody knows. It was the talk of the neighborhood of Privet Drive Surrey, about how the saints who reside at Number 4 were such good people for controlling such a criminal freak like their nephew.
However, said criminal freak was currently crying and bleeding in the cupboard, after mouthing off to his Uncle Vernon. Whilst that in of itself was not an unusual occurrence, it was what came after that was.
Because, Harry Potter, freak of nature, menace to society, and the criminal presence at Privet Drive, was a wizard. Now given that he didn't know that he was a wizard, the seven year old was not a very good wizard, but all the same, belief in possibility and willpower were the two main tenets of magic. The first one usually being ignored.
He had been at the library, and had fooled the assistant into letting him check out a couple fantasy books. Unfortunately, when Harry got home, he was accosted by Vernon, who upon seeing the books, turned purple with rage. Harry tried to protest his innocence, but of course, Vernon wouldn't have THAT in his house, in anyway shape or form. Harry kept trying to protest that he just wanted to read.
Vernon however, was convinced that the motive behind this was some sort of freakish rebellion that needed to be squashed out of existence so that his precious Dudders didn't have to grow up in a house with a defiant freak, that might hurt his poor child. Vernon was of course being delusional but he didn't see it and more importantly, didn't care.
"BOY, IF YOU EVER, BRING SOMETHING LIKE THAT INTO THIS HOUSE AGAIN, I WILL TAKE YOU BY THE EAR AND TOSS YOU OUT ON THE STREET. AFTER ALL THAT WE HAVE DONE FOR YOU, TAKING YOU IN, FEEDING YOU, RAISING YOU, THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US? WITH SOME BARMY FREAKISH NONSENSE? GET IN YOUR ROOM!"
Vernon's voice rumbled through the house like an earthquake, the sound traveling through the doors and walls.
Vernon began to smack the young child a couple of times, and when Harry's face was all bloodied, he was roughly thrown into the cupboard under the stairs, a tiny little dark room, with only spiders and mold for company. Vernon locked him in and left in a huff.
But in his haste, Vernon forgot to check for any other books, and thus missed the one concealed under Harry's shirt.
He opened it up, and began to read. To his annoyance, it wasn't a fantasy book at all, but rather a book of Nordic history. Not to be deterred, Harry flipped through to see if there was anything interesting, and eventually came to a rest on the section of runes.
The chapter was long, and the general gist of it was that runes were used as vehicles of meaning long ago, and even for 'magic'. Of course, at the sight of that particular word, several impressions competed for attention, ingrained in him by years with the Dursleys. The foremost, were, Everything freakish is bad, Hey that looks kinda cool, and If Uncle Vernon says it is not true so often, is he trying to convince himself?
Harry then went on to read later in the chapter about how blood was incredibly important to the Vikings, and was believed to have various mystical powers involving the soul. Somewhat curious, Harry then theorized that maybe a rune written in blood might have magic. Afterall, there are stories of signing names in blood to sell one's soul, so Harry reasoned that there may be a grain of truth to the whole thing.
Having come to this conclusion, Harry dipped his finger in his now sluggishly bleeding would, and wrote his name on the wall. Nothing happened. Frowning, Harry consulted the book, and wrote the runes for healing. Bōtrūn.
This time, something different happened. The word began to repeat in Harry's mind, echoing stronger and stronger. However nothing seemed to happen, and with a headache beginning to form, Harry tried to will the words out of his head and into the blood.
With this last mental push, something changed. Harry couldn't tell what, but it changed. He waited some more, and grew frustrated, finally just willing it to change.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, something did change. The bloody red letters spelling out healing, lit up. They began glowing a soft, pulsating red, and giving off a warmth Harry had not expected. It looked like a macabre Aurora Borealis on his wall. The blood glowed and flickered like live coals of red, and the power lit up the darkness by casting a dull red sheen on everything. Harry's wounds healed over, not even leaving a scar, but there was an unexpected feeling. When writing the word, Harry's greatest subconscious desire had not been healing, but rather to be protected, and the very rudimentary blood rune, fueled by Harry's need, had inadvertently tapped into the blood wards and protection left by his mother, and repositioned around the cupboard. The Dursley's were excluded, as Harry subconsciously thought that they needed no protection. It felt like the darkness of the previously hated cupboard was now safe and protective, almost as if it were giving Harry a spiritual hug.
But then Harry began to panick. What if Aunt Petunia found the words? She would blame him, punish him, and maybe even erase them. Harry was right on verge of trying to write a word of hiding, when he realized something important. He was doing magic. And everyone agreed, that magic was doing the impossible. He didn't have to panic, because he could now magic the living daylights out of the Dursley Family.
So Harry, instead of panicking, instead drew out a series of runes. They were simple, and more like a rough lines and letterings, as the Elder Futhark was primarily elongated characters which looked like sticks, and served as the precursor for some of our letters. However, the runes for hiding and secrecy were not lighting up. They still had some component to them which was missing. Harry looked back at the books, and tried to figure out how to pronounce it.
"Leyna" Harry breathed softly, voice ending in a hiss under his breath as he tried not to gain the attention of Uncle Vernon. As he said this, he strived for the same balance that allowed him to make the first rune glow. It felt like his frustration came rushing out and broke through a dam. The rune began glowing and retaining power, and suddenly all the blood on the wall shimmered and became vaguely transparent. While Harry could feel and see it, he had a sneaking suspicion that his relatives wouldn't be able to.
Harry then picked up a spider, and for the sake of thoroughness, he breathed "Leyna" on the spider while concentrating on his frustration. The spider briefly turned transparent, but then turned normal again. Harry tried it again, putting more power and frustration into the word, but the spider only lasted a few seconds longer.
Harry concluded that the more power he put into the word, the longer it would last. But the runes, while harder to power, didn't seem to die down.
Harry smiled slowly, a feral grin cutting open his face. He had work to do.
OLD AN-I kinda felt that no one was reading my Chlorine that much, and of course it is an obscure category that needs much explanation. So I felt I might try another concept a little closer to home. I may include some stuff from Chlorine like the Burning Words and maybe some necromancy, but my focus here will be runes, blood magic, and especially blood runes.
NEW AN-Gotten several pms and reviews about continuing this godforsaken trashy story. Since I won't do that, I must now edit it so it is less horrible. The things I do for my fanbase. This will be in editing, and I will upload each chapter as I finish edits. Just accept the plotholes, they are better than the original chapters.