Once upon a time, in a kingdom divided by fear and ambition, a child was born under the cover of prophecy. The boy, named Harry, was destined to bring balance to the world, though few could agree on what that truly meant. His birth was celebrated, his name whispered with reverence and expectation—except by one who had been denied a place among the gathering.
From the shadows of the great hall, Lord Voldemort watched, his presence unacknowledged, his invitation never sent. He had once been among them, a scholar, a leader, a man of power. But the world had turned from him, calling him dark, dangerous—unwanted. And so, when the fairies— Sirius, Remus, and Peter—bestowed their gifts upon the child, Voldemort stepped forward, his voice silencing the room.
"I, too, have a gift for the child."
Fear gripped the assembly. The four Marauders, the fairies and the King, moved to shield the infant prince, wands raised, magic pulsing at their fingertips. Yet, Voldemort only smiled, his expression a mask of something older than malice—something bitter, something betrayed.
"On his sixteenth birthday, the boy shall come to know the truth. The love that was meant to protect him will break him. The life built on secrets will crumble beneath his feet. And when the hour comes, he will stand before me, and he will choose his fate."
With a swirl of dark robes, Voldemort vanished, leaving behind silence, broken only by the child’s quiet breath.
The years passed. Hidden away in the forests beyond the castle walls, Harry grew under the watchful eyes of his guardians. James and Sirius filled his days with laughter and daring escapades, while Remus taught him wisdom and patience. Peter—though quieter—was always there, watching, listening, offering a smile when doubt shadowed the boy’s face.
But secrets could not stay buried forever. As his sixteenth year approached, Harry felt the weight of something just out of reach, a call from beyond the safety of his home. He dreamt of a man with piercing red eyes, a voice like silk and steel, whispering truths that made his heart tremble.
"They lied to you. They always do. Come, child, and see the world as it truly is."
His dreams echoes of voices, conversations he could not make out but fears and hope swirling in his heart.
The tale of the cursed prince unfolded in two paths: one where he fled the tower of his childhood, drawn by the echoes of Voldemort’s call, and another where he clung to the love of those who raised him, fighting against the fate woven into his very being.
In one story, he embraced the darkness, seeing in it a kind of twisted freedom. In another, he fought to rewrite his ending, defying prophecy and expectation alike.
And in the end, as the two paths converge, he stood upon the precipice of destiny, with only a heartbeat separating salvation from ruin.
Would he awaken to the world as it was, or to the world he could create?
—
The morning of Harry’s sixteenth birthday arrived with a hush, as if the world itself held its breath. The sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled light across the small cottage where he had spent his childhood. Somewhere beyond the trees, a bird trilled a morning song, but inside, there was only the quiet hum of magic, ancient and waiting.
He opened his eyes.
Laughter drifted through the air as Sirius nudged the door open with his foot, balancing a tray stacked with toast and pumpkin juice.
“Wakey, wakey, birthday boy!” Sirius grinned, setting the tray down with a flourish. James followed behind him, ruffling Harry’s hair as he passed.
Remus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed but smiling. “Sixteen,” he mused. “One step closer to adulthood. I got you a book, naturally.” He tossed it onto the bed, and Harry rolled his eyes with a grin.
Peter, the green fairy, quiet as always, hovered by the doorway. “We have something to tell you,” he said hesitantly, eyes darting to King James. The warmth in the room cooled just slightly.
He opened his eyes.
Cold stone pressed against his back as he blinked up at the high, vaulted ceiling above him. There was no cheerful morning light, only the dim flicker of torches lining the darkened chamber. The air smelled of parchment and old magic. He had awakened in his bedroom alone for once, the castle outside was silent, he was protected as always but there was a harsh touch to the air. What was going on?
A soft rustle broke the silence, and he turned his head to find a letter resting on the table beside him.
His name was written in elegant, sweeping script.
Harry.
The moment his fingers brushed the parchment, whispers filled his mind.
"They lied to you. They always do. Come, child, and see the world as it truly is."
His heart pounded as he unfolded the letter, the ink shimmering as if freshly written.
Two voices echoed in his head, one from PEter, the fairy that helped raise him, the other from someone he didn't know but he felt like he had heard before. "Your sixteenth birthday marks a choice, Harry. A choice about the future. A choice about the past.”
He sat up in bed, grinning at the sight of his family, yet sensing the unspoken words beneath their smiles.
He continued to read the letter, goosebumps rising on his skin. “You have been sheltered, hidden away by those who feared you would know the truth. But I will not lie to you. Seek me, and I will show you what they never wanted you to see."
He traced his fingers over his name on the letter, the whisper of a promise curling in his mind.
Two paths. Two truths. A choice yet to be made.
And in the space between them, the world waited to see which story he would follow.