Chapter 1
"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."
None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing eyes, and the feel of her lips on his, he thought of Hermione and her kind smile, Ron and his boisterous laugh-- Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and willed it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear--
He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.
He awoke to a soft white sky. Lying on a soft white floor with soft white walls around him. He listened to the silence, perfectly alone, no-one watching, nobody else there. Harry wasn’t exactly sure he was there himself.
As he lay in the bright mist he realised that he was in fact, naked. Nor was he wearing his glasses anymore either. Sitting up Harry looked about him, it seemed he was sitting in a large building of some sorts, large pillars stretched from floor to what was apparently a large domed glass roof, not the sky. Harry kind of recognised the building. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
Standing up Harry went to explore. Roaming through the place a strange noise reached him. A thumping, flapping noise from somewhere in the surrounding mist. And Harry kinda wished he was wearing clothes at that point. He’d barely finished the thought when a pile of robes appeared before him, soft, clean and warm. Harry pulled them on and went about looking for what was making the noise.
As he searched his surroundings began to morph around him. A wide-open space, bright and clean, and far larger than the Great Hall. And entirely empty, not including Harry in that equation. A little ways away was what appeared to be a stone bench. Walking over to the bench the noise got louder, looking beneath the bench Harry scrambled back in horror. Laying there was a naked, deformed baby, its skin raw and flayed-looking with its arms held tightly around itself, trying to save some warmth and struggling for breath.
Though Harry didn’t want to go near the thing, he drew closer but couldn’t bring himself to touch the thing though he really ought to help.
“You cannot help,” Harry spun around, seeing Albus Dumbledore walking towards him in sweeping robes of midnight blue. “Harry,” He spread his arms, both hands whole and healthy again.
“You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man. Let us walk,” Harry followed stunned to another bench he hadn’t noticed. He sat beside his old headmaster and really looked at him, taking in the long silver beard, piercing blue eyes, half-moon spectacles, crooked nose. Everything as it should have been.
"But you're dead," said Harry.
"Oh yes," said Dumbledore matter-of-factly.
"Then... I'm dead too?"
"Ah," said Dumbledore, smiling still more broadly. "That is the question, isn't it? On the whole, dear boy, I think not." They looked at each other, the old man still beaming.
"Not?" repeated Harry.
"Not," said Dumbledore. Just then Dumbledore stumbled forward with a grunt.
“Okay, I’ve been patient. I let you talk to him now leave this place old man,” a females voice came from behind Harry. Turning he saw a beautiful woman with long strawberry blonde hair and soft green eyes standing there with her hands crossed and eyebrow raised.
“Come now Aion, just a few minutes more,” the headmaster seemed to pout, looking years younger. However, the woman just raised an eyebrow at the man and he shrank back. Dumbledore smiled at Harry and patted him on the shoulder before walking off into the mist.
“Wait!” Harry called after him.
“Don’t mind him Master Potter. I’ll be taking care of you from now on,” The woman crooked her finger to beckon Harry forwards and began walking in the opposite direction that Dumbledore went. Harry stumbled after the unknown woman, pausing in front of the strange creature trembling beneath the bench.
“Is there really nothing we can do?” he asked quietly. The woman, Aion, watched the boy with a considering eye.
“I can see why my sister is so enamoured by you Master Potter. As for this creature, this is the piece of Thomas Riddles’ soul that sought refuge in your scar. There is very little we can do for it now, except keep it warm until Death collects it from this place. Don’t think too much on it young man,” she conjured a warm blanket and draped it over the shard, before rising and walking again, Harry scrambled to keep up.
“What’s going on now?” he asked.
“All shall be explained in time Master Potter, it would be best to remain focused right now,” she returned. They kept walking through the white mist for what felt like an eternity. Harry was about to ask where they were going when a large Parthenon appeared in the mist. With large clean white columns of stone, a stone roof and floor. Harry gaped at the building.
Inside was several chaise lounges draped in fabrics of blue and green surrounding a dropped firepit that had a soft fire crackling in it. The walls were covered in clocks, from modern digital ones to large grandfather clocks and small alarm clocks, there were even sundials and lunar calendars.
“Welcome to my home Master Potter, please take a seat and we shall discuss all that has happened,” she waved a hand and a table appeared covered in platters of fruits, cheeses, cold meats, cakes, and pitchers of drink. “Help yourself, you haven’t exactly been keeping up with a proper diet now have you,”
Harry was slightly weary, but the rumble of his stomach had him reaching for a few grapes.
“Let us start with introductions. My name is Aion, I am a Hellenistic deity associated with time, the orb or circle encompassing the universe, and the zodiac. Now, the ‘time’ in which I am associated with isn’t the same as other deity’s that focus of the past, or the future, but rather a perpetual, unbounded cycle. The future is a returning version of the past. You know the phrase, ‘History always repeats itself’ well that is my preview,”
Harry swallowed his mouthful of grape. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“I have been commissioned by the witches patron Hecate, to facilitate your reward, for services to the Magical world,” Aion explained, lounging back on her perch. “Using my powers I can send you back to the beginning of your cycle to relive it all,”
“How is that a reward!” Harry exploded. “Ten years in an abusive household, and then seven years fighting for my life from a homicidal maniac, watching people die around me, loosing all connection I had to my parents! How is reliving any of that a reward?!”
Aion leaned forward and with a delicate hand wiped a tear away from sad green eyes. “Because I intend to rig the game in your favour,” Harry looked at her in bewilderment.
“What?”
“Follow me,” Aion rose and practically glided across the floor towards an archway covered by a dark blue curtain, she disappeared through it and Harry rushed to keep up.