Death of a Hero
Prologue: The Death of a Hero
Harry felt the blade hit, he doesn’t remember when it was swung or when it struck, he just remembers the feeling of it piercing his skin. He remembers his godfather once explaining to him, over firewhiskey and butterbeer, that a knife to the stomach feels like fire, like a burning you’ll never be rid of.
He thinks Sirius was wrong, now that he has a knife sticking out of his stomach, bleeding out on the London sidewalk. It felt like ice, there was a chill in his veins, though maybe that was just blood loss. Harry wouldn’t know. He was already fading, he could feel it.
Or, no. That wasn’t the feeling of fading, that was the feeling of flying.
The ground disappeared beneath him with such swiftness it left him reeling. Actually no, that was the feeling of blood loss. He felt vomit burn in his throat, but just as swiftly as it came it was gone, like magic.
Harry’s vision blurred before focusing on a dark figure standing over him. It was a lady, dark hair fell down her shoulders, framing a deathly pale face. She was beautiful in a haunting way, the kind of beautiful you find an untuned piano. She was smiling, it wasn’t a kind smile, but it was a gentle one.
“Oh, my child, how Fate has harmed you,” Her voice echoed in his ears, like the screeches of the damned and the song of a dove all at once, “but this is not your end, not yet. Your purpose isn’t yet fulfilled.”
Harry tried to speak, but all that came out was a gurgled and bloody groan. His tongue felt dry, like sandpaper in his mouth. The lady gave a soft sigh, brushing her hand over his hair, in an almost motherly way.
“My child, don’t speak, just listen,” She commanded, silencing the words he’d been unable to say, “My name is Libitina, or as you know me, Death. You shall call me Mother, for you, my deadly one, are my child, my chosen champion.”
“Your journey is not yet over, you’ve not yet fulfilled your true purpose, so I shall send you back, to a new body, a similar timeline. One you can navigate with ease, but you will not remember everything, Fate will not let me give you that gift. So instead, I shall give you a new one.”
Libitina, or Mother as she commanded to be called, leaned her head down further, laying a kiss on Harry’s forehead and with it the pain of his wound was gone, the dizziness had disappeared. A burning in his veins gave life and he felt like a star ready to burst. Like stardust in human form. What a strange feeling it was.
“You shall see visions, visions of your past, your new future. These things Magic has declared I may give, Life agreed, therefore Fate has been overwritten. Your new life may be filled with family, though it will not lack in strife. For this, I apologize.”
“I pray it will be a longtime yet before you meet me in this plane,” Mother muttered, resting her cold forehead against his own.
Harry felt the heat fall away, he felt everything fall away. Darkness consumed his vision, before it was red. Then Harry knew of nothing else, only the lingering feeling of a kiss and the cold touch of a mother.