A Forgotten Beginning
Halloween night 1981
The sky was cloudy and the night was dark. The laughter of children filled the streets with a sense of peace as children young and old were dressed up in costumes. They traverse streets and knock on doors to get little treats placed in their hands or bags.
These children, dressed as princesses, ghouls or vampires, have no idea what is happening just down the street from them. They have no knowledge of what great evils are going to occur nor of the consequences. The children don’t know, but something else does. It knows, and that is why it is here.
It stands amongst the children, hanging black clothes that hide it in a pool of inky darkness. The figure looks like just another child, dressed up in a grim reaper costume, but this figure is something more. For the eyes that watched that little house in Godric's Hollow were far older than those any mortal beings could ever have dreamed of seeing, they were the eyes of Death.
Death followed Riddle to the porch of the house. It follows him as he kills James Potter and it follows him up the stairs and down the hall. It followed him to the nursery of Harry Potter.
It watches on as the baby dies and it cradles the pure soul in it’s hands, not yet defined enough to have a physical appearance. Death knows that he can’t take the soul away, can’t collect it into his cloak and bring it to the land of the dead, for the child's destiny was already intertwined with his soul. It didn’t doubt that it was it’s sister’s doings as they promised an end to the one that had tried so feverently to cheat him.
So it placed the child back into the body that held him.
——
Harry meets death again one month later. He is nothing but skin and bones, having died from starvation. His very soul comes in the form of a crying toddler. He scrambles to hide underneath death’s cloak, unafraid of the Death, and clumsily clutches the bony legs of the deity. Death brings his soul back as it must but he couldn’t help but feel a reluctant fondness for the boy that had greeted it with kindness.
A week later the child is once again dead, neglected to the point of infection. He dies alone in his cupboard and is greeted once again by Death. The child’s soul is as pure as ever but the bruises and marks have made it far enough that his very soul is marked with neglect and abuse. The child reaches out his arms for death and the entity picks the little boy up. The child clings to death’s neck. Death smiles at the one who always greeted him.
By the age of nine Harry had died hundreds of times. He had always welcomed death with a warm smile and a kind heart, even as the cruelty got worse and worse. The child could not remember any of these meetings even when they met again, and yet his smile never wavered nor diminished.
It was at this day in the middle of winter, with snow littering the ground, that Harry Potter died once more. Death found the child’s body in the snow covered garden, huddled into a ball and arms white with severe hypothermia. It looked around the body for the child’s soul, for he had never gone far from his body before. When it couldn’t find him it grew worried. What if something had happened to the little soul? It didn’t take long to find its wayward soul.
The semi transparent child stood in front of a window. The warm light from the window reflected on the frozen face of the child. Death stood beside the child waiting patiently to bring the child back to his frozen body.
“Why am I not good enough for a family,” The child asked his silent companion. Mournful green eyes look at the family happily eating their dinner in a warmly lit room. The child is mournful but not of dying, he is mourning the parents he never knew and the life he had long forgotten.
“They are not deserving of having you as their family for you are far better than they could ever be,” the deity says to the little soul that he has taken a liking to. The entity looks at the boy with eyes far older than existence itself and says in a reassuring manner, “You will find a family even if it is one not of your blood.”
The little soul doesn’t say anything back, he doesn’t look away from the window. But in the back of the little soul's thoughts he hears a small voice say, ‘but I don’t want another family, I want you.’
For despite it all. Despite not remembering any other time that they had met nor of the others previous kindness, the child had only ever felt safe when he was hiding under his companion’s cloak.
——
The little soul stood in front of the mirror, eyes curiously taking in the reflection that it showed him. That of him hidden under his companions cloak feeling safe and comfortable. The reflection of the soul turned toward the visage of death in the mirror and mouthed one word, “parent.”
There was silence as the little soul processed the word before he accepted it without question. Death soon stood behind him, patiently waiting for him to come back to his body. He turned to his forgotten friend and asked one question, “ will you be my family?”
The deity blue screened for a second before asking, “you would want me to be your family?”
The child smiled as he answered, “I want no one other than you to be my family.”
The deity cocked its head to one side, as if it were a crow investigating a shiny object, before saying, “but you don’t even remember me.”
The child smile, pure and innocent, as he answers, “but you have left an impression on my soul, you are the only one I feel safe with, and the only one who has not left me.”
Death does not answer before Harry Potter returns to the land of the living.
——
His human mind cannot comprehend the world beyond the one of the living, his soul cannot understand the in between so he forgets. He forgets the question he asked. Death remembers, it remembers the question with stark clarity.
—
The basilisk’s venom is in his veins and he is dying on this wet stone floor. The soft song of Fawkes is ringing in his ears and the phoenix is just two seconds too late to save him. He takes a final breath of air before he is once more greeting his forgotten friend.
He doesn’t remember this entity but his soul does. He weeps into his friend’s arms. Here is where he feels safe, and protected. The soul weeps for the person who he thinks he can’t save. The entity smiles at him; it is nothing more than a softening of its inhumanly perfect face but to his little soul it is everything.
The deity strokes his cheek with a cold hand before it wipes a few tears away from his eyes with its thumb. A soft voice says one word before he is once again in the land of the living.
“Yes.”
——
Death is conflicted. It wishes to step in and take its little soul away from anything that could harm him, but it can’t step into any of his siblings’ domains. It can’t go against its sister’s design, not without jeopardizing the entirety of the wizarding world that its little soul loved so much. Death would sacrifice the world for its little soul, even if the migraine of all those deaths at once would be horrendous, but its little one would be devastated at the loss.
Then there was the problem of its little one's existence, for a mortal soul could not exist long in its domain without fading. For this reason many souls passed through its domain while they went on to whatever afterlife awaited them. Death needed a way to make its little one immortal without breaking him or destroying the whole world in the process. For Death would never wish harm upon the child that had wormed his way into its cold unbeating heart.
Death welcomes its little one with kindness every time he stops breathing. Every time It would kiss the top of his head and whisper soft promises of love and affection, for this is all that Death can offer without breaking his little soul. It longs for the day when it doesn’t have to send its child back to the cruelty of the world. It longs for its child to be safe for all eternity and so it searches. It seeks to find a way to allow for its child to stand by its side without fading away from existence. It searches and searches until it finally finds Arda, it finds the elves who’s longer lives allow for their souls to grow enough that they will not fade in his presence and can maintain their longevity through the eternities that it wishes to live with its child.
So on that day when the night sky was painted orange with the flame that lit Hogwarts ablaze and the students lay dead along the courtyard. Death stands beside its son as he steps into the forest at the edge of the valley. It watches its little son calls upon the souls of his parents and godfathers. It watches as he drops the ring and it watches as he walks into the forest. Then Death hears a single request made to what its tiny little soul probably thought was empty air, “stay with me, please?”
Death could feel as a smile came to its face and affection shimmered in its dark eyes. The deity lays a kiss upon the head of its son before whispering a reassurance that cannot be heard across the veil: “alway, little soul.”
And it is here in this hollow forest that Harry Potter will dies, and it’s in Death's domain that he meets his forgotten parent.
The deity smiled at its precious child, eyes filled with warm affection that no one other than his child could ever see, as it beconed its little soul closer.
“I have waited for this moment for a long time,” the being speaks these words with such intense longing. The entire turns to look out upon their domain with eyes that are wide and clear. “You, my dear child, have come to me many times before.”
There is a moment of silence where both the soul and death stood side by side together before death again speaks, “it is long past time that you remember your visits, and with my creations seeing you as their master, I have enough power over your soul to allow you that luxury.”
The powerful cosmic deity reached down and layed a gentle kiss upon the child’s brow. The child’s eyes fluttered closed as memories of meetings between the land of the living and that of the dead reaches his mind. His eyes flutter open to look upon the entity who he had once asked to be his family and had accepted. He smiles silently at the other before he is giving into the deepest desire he has ever carried and he is ducking underneath the weight of Death's cloak. The entity smiles down at him with an affectionate expression as the action is one that the soul had done many times before.
“So what happens now,” the child questioned in an unsure voice. Death hums as if mulling over the options but he has long since memorized the answer.
“There are a few options that you could take: the first is that you could choose to return to life and continue on with living in the wizarding world. You will not remember this meeting nor the others. The second is that you go on to your final resting place. I don’t like this outcome but if it is something that you truly want to do then I will allow it. The third and final option is to move on to another world, one where I will be able to communicate with you in dreams and where you will be able to find peace. This option will allow us to stay in touch and when you are done with that life you will be able to stay with me indefinitely.”
“Why can I not stay with you now,” the child asked with curiosity and indignation, making his voice sound like a whine.
Death let out an airy chuckle as it shook its head, before it answered its little one’s question, “A human soul can’t stay in the in between, my domain, without eventually fading away.”
Death turned toward its adopted son and looked into his emerald green eyes. In a serious tone the entity addressed the child, “I will not watch you fade away, I won’t be able to stand by and watch as your soul grows dimmer and dimmer. Your mood changes and you grow sadder and more distant until finally you diminish into nothing.”
The child looked horrified by the prospect of fading, and he seemed to be reflecting on his decision. He looked down at his hand and was met with the words carved into his skin, ‘I must not tell lies.’ Could he give up the wizarding world? The world he had fought so hard for and even died for? He wanted to see the fruits of his labor, to help his friends and family rebuild and watch as the wizarding world recovers from the war.
He looks up at death, at its understanding eyes and its softened face before he speaks, “I wish to go back to the wizarding world, to see it recover and help it rebuild. To finish off what I have started. But I also wish to be reborn into another world, so that I can one day stand alongside you without fading.”
The deity hummed its understatement, before it reached out its hand in front of its little one’s chest. “Then I will wait,” Death declared, “for you shall go back if that is your wish, and when you next come to me you shall be reborn.”
The child found himself smiling at Death as he accepted the offered hand and was taken back to the land of the living.
——-
The war was over and everything was done with. Most of the Death Eaters were in the Ministries holding cells and many were dead. The few that managed to escape were being tracked down. The war was over but Harry Potter’s work was not done.
He advocated for proper trials and stood firm against those who wanted to just send all the Death Eaters to Azkaban. He spoke out for those death eaters who were blackmailed or forced by the dark lord. He tried to help the victims of the war by setting up relief funds and proper trials. And when he wasn’t trying to help everyone who asked him for help, he was at Hogwarts rebuilding.
This newfound willingness to help the ‘Dark side’ caused the Weasley family to distance themselves from him, as most of them, mainly Molly, Ron and Ginny, didn’t understand why he was willing to help them. They were grieving the loss of friends and the near loss of Fred, and in their grief they pushed away some who they thought was advocating for the killers. And it didn’t help that Harry hadn’t wanted to go back to his relationship with Ginny because he knew that one day he would travel to another world. He didn’t want to start a relationship that he would simply have to abandon later, and he didn’t want to cause Ginny harm by abandoning her while they were in a relationship.
He was trying to do right by the people who needed him. And when the people no longer needed him, when the trials were over and the wizarding world was in a time of peace, he left. He traveled the world and learnt all there was to learn. He adopted a mutt from a shelter that he affectionately named Sirius because of his resemblance to his godfather’s animagus form. He became an illegal animagus in remembrance of his parents. He then paid his debts to the goblins, and he became quick friendly with his account manager.
Then he packed up everything there was, every bit of money in all of his accounts and every book that belonged to him, he practically emptied every manor in his possession. He bought a black dragonhide satchel, made it bottomless and featherlight, then he put everything he had ever inherited or owned into the satchel.
On a cool winter morning Harry Potter set out on his next great adventure. Behind him, trailing at his heels was a big black dog that looked like a Grim. He held nothing but the cloak on his back and the black satchel hanging over his shoulder. A stick of elder wood lay strapped to his upper thigh and a familiar stone lay in a golden pendant resting above his heart. A passerby saw him step into a graveyard and he, nor his dog, were never seen again.
Death holds the hand of his little one and he welcomes him to his new world. Somewhere in middle earth a elven woman is blessed with an unexpected blessing, an elfling.
——-
Medlimes was fading; she could feel it in the wind and emptiness of her heart. It had been only seven months since her mate had been killed in an orc attack and she could no longer stay. She had taken to avoiding people and she could constantly find the cloak of her lover wrapped around her body, it was the only thing she had left of him. So when lord Elrond had announced that he would be sending a group to the Grey Haven before they went on to the Undying Lands. She had expressed her desire to go with the group and had received permission. It would take twelve days to make it to Mithlond, and another seven for a boat to be prepared and ready for them to set off onto the Undying Lands.
She had gotten slightly sick halfway through the journey but she had simply brushed it off as a result of the nerves that were already running through her body. She would be able to rest and properly once she was in the Undying Lands. And so she continued until she reached Mithlond where she was met with the soft hospitality of her kin.
The first night she spent in the safety of Mithlond she had a dream: she was walking along the shore, sand sinking beneath her feet and the spray of the ocean against her skin. She could see a figure in the distance, dressed in a cloak that matched the lapping waves and the deep unending sea. She wished to meet him and yet her slow pace stayed steady and he stayed the same distance away.
The next night she had a similar dream, except this time there was no figure on the beach. She walked along the shore. The sun was bright and the waves were lovingly lapping around her feet. She could hear as soft childish laughter drifted on the wind, the sound itself was so beautiful that it nearly brought her to tears.
The third night she found herself sitting alone in the sand, the wind blew her black hair away from her face and the sky had turned cloudy. The child’s laughter had grown softer and the sun was no longer shining. The waves were high into the air as if a storm was approaching. A giant wave collided with the ocean floor and blew little droplets of water spray into her face. She closed her eyes to not let any of the salty water get into her eyes.
On the fourth day of being in Mithlond she approached Cirdan with her dreams; she describes them to the oldest of the elves and asks him for advice. The elven lord simply smiles at her and says that Ulmo must have something to say to her.
The boat for the Undying lands comes and leaves; she remains in Mithlond to piece together what Ulmo had wanted to tell her. It is a month and a half later when she finds her answer.
The dream is many that she has had in the last month: she is sitting on the beach, sand between her toes, when a childish giggle reaches her ears. She turns her head to look at where the giggle is coming from and she sees something special. For there looking for seashells, is a child. The child looks up at her, unearthly green emerald eyes wide with innocence, and a bright smile painting his pink tinted lips. His skin is a soft creamy porcelain and his hair is as dark as her own inky strands. Baby fat clings to his cheeks, arms and fingers, making him look as if he were in a constant pout.
The child comes scampering toward her, chubby hands carefully clutching seashells close to his heart. The child offers the shell to her before stating in perfect Sinderian, “I found seashells for mom!”
She could feel her eyes widening, how could she be pregnant. Sure she had gotten slightly fatter even though she barely ate anything after her Melnā's death. And sure she hid every part of her body underneath her Melnā’s old cloak and didn’t let anyone close enough to see her clearly… And she had been feeling slightly sick every night, but there hadn’t been an elfling sense Lord Elrond's daughter, Arwen, and she had long grown into adulthood.
The child’s, her child’s, hands wrapping around her own are what bring her out of her shock. The child smiles at her when their eyes meet, her soft sky blue meeting deep emerald eyes. A wave crashes down into the land and the child flinches back from the spray. She smiles at the child as she softly asks, “what’s wrong little one? Do you not like the water?”
Tears begin welling up in the child’s eyes and dripping down his chubby cheeks, he let out a choked little sob as he whispered out a: “ I can’t swim mama, I can’t breathe,” water began to bubble out of the child’s mouth and fall onto the ground, his fragile frame began to shake. He looked up at her and she could see the way his wet skin and hair stuck to his clothes. He opened his mouth again, as he reached out chubby hands to grasp at her, water spilled out of his mouth. The desperate, “Mom, I can’t breathe,” rings in her head long after she wakes. The images of her child reaching out towards her as he choked on water was burned into the back of her eyelids.
She tells Cirdan of her dream and subsequent discovery. He suggests that she stay in Mithlond until the birth of the elfling. She tried to follow his advice but nightmares of her child dying pledge her. The healers checking the health of the baby expressed their fear of losing the child if she doesn’t become more relaxed.
In the eleventh month of her pregnancy, one and a half months away from labor, Cirdan makes the executive decision to send her back to Rivendell, where she can relax and rest. Only three elves know of her pregnancy, Cirdan himself, her healer and herself. Cirdan advises that they keep it that way until the baby arrives and is somewhere safe. They don’t want to tempt Saron with tales of an elfling that could be used as a hostage.
The group going to Rivendell is small on purpose so as to not draw suspicion. The elves are told of her pregnancy and the need for stealth and secrecy. They look at her like she carries new hope. And before long they are setting off to Rivendell.