Edward Norbert ♌ Harry Potter (lionbychoice) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2015-10-23 23:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | edward norbert, sabrina shipton |
Who: Eddy Norbert and Sabrina Shipton
What: The Boy Who Lived, the Loony, and a grand oceanside adventure.
Where: Along Brighton beach, Brighton, UK
When: Saturday, October 24th 2015, around dusk
Warnings: idk fluff?
Eddy didn’t rightly remember what he’d done when he needed to think, before he ended up in Brighton with his last foster family. Not thought, probably, which was likely why he’d ended up changing homes as much as he had. Brighton, though, that had been worth staying for one reason, and that was the beach. Something about standing on the shore and watching the waves helped remind him that the world really was bigger than him, and that whatever he was angry about (and he’d been angry a lot, when he’d first come to Brighton) wasn’t so big that the ocean couldn’t wash it right away, if it cared to. Not that it ever had, but while Eddy was by the water, it always felt like it. That had been before Harry, obviously. Before loads of things, but even with all that, Eddy felt better about things when he went to the beach to think them through. It was bollocks in the summer, with all the tourists about, too busy to hear yourself think at all unless you made it by late enough, or early enough, that not many people were stirring, but so late in the year, and with the sun starting to sink and leaving the air even more nippy, Eddy had the beach almost entirely to himself.
It was a relief, really, because his worries were a bit heavier than usual. Even as cut off from the world of being a reincarnate as he’d chosen to stay, Eddy had eventually heard news of the killings in Florida, the ones that had been set up with the Dark Mark. He and Harry, they knew what that meant. Even if Voldemort himself wasn’t about, there were Death Eaters out there, killing innocent people. There’d been a baby, they’d said. He wondered if that had been meant to mean him, or rather Harry, somehow, if a baby had died because Eddy hadn’t decided to come forward and say that yes, hullo, he was Harry Potter, pleased to meet you all. Eddy wasn’t really the Boy Who Lived, though, was he? He didn’t have the scar, and he didn’t have the connection with Voldemort, or the protection of a mother’s love. His mum was still alive and well, even though every time he tried to talk to her it was so awkward that he eventually started pretending he hadn’t seen her text messages at all. Eddy was nothing special, really. He was just Eddy. What sort of good would he do against Voldemort, even with Harry along? Harry had been incredibly lucky, with all the right people around him to make things happen as they had. If Eddy stepped forward, what was it he’d have? Enough luck that their wands would still be connected, maybe, Fawkes’s feathers, but Voldemort would have thought of that, wouldn’t he?
No matter which way Eddy turned things, there was no good answer, and the ocean didn’t have one for him, either. Not this time. He hadn’t even worked out how to tell his own bloody twin he was a reincarnate, he wasn’t equipped to announce it to the whole world and deal with what was coming, not unless there was some way to guarantee that he wouldn’t just make it worse by pissing all the Death Eaters off enough that they’d go on a rampage. He didn’t know which way to move, and so he just sat, a figure all in black against the sand, shoulders slumping as he let out a heavy sigh. There’d been a prophecy, to tell Harry he was meant to be the one to fight. Voldemort had been the one to choose which boy to mark, but at least there’d been some reason to believe he could do something. If only there were some sort of sign for Eddy, too, he might stop worrying long enough to be a Gryffindor about it and charge on ahead, anyhow.