Harry slowly woke up to the sound of birds chirping. He never thought he would wake up so peacefully, especially with Ron, Hermione and him being on the hunt for the Horcruxes.
He could feel the fluffiness of the bed and, for once in a long time, his back aches had finally left. This was pure bliss and —
Wait.
He looked around, bewildered. Where was he ? Ŝ̵͚a̸̩͛f̷̡́é̶̗
He winced. A headache. He slowly sat up from the gigantic bed.
He was in a bedroom. The room was pretty well decorated and cozy. He was currently surrounded by plushies on a large four-poster bed on one of the walls of the room, and a white bedside table decorated with intricate carvings was next to it.
The walls were painted beige with a darker beige patterns. In front of his bed was a big wooden trunk. A large wardrobe was placed at the right of the bed, a little farther away was a door.
Left to the bed was a window and next to it, a little victorian vanity set. A light brown ottoman was also placed in the room.
On the side opposite that of the bed, stairs led to a second floor on which Harry could see a book case. On the main floor, next to the second one, was a second door.
Harry frowned. This place looked familiar, now that he thought of it.
He tried to open the first door, but as he had expected, it was locked. The second, however led to a bathroom. Harry looked at himself in the mirror. His messy hairs were longer than he remembered. They now reached his shoulders, but they still looked as untamable as ever. Yet, there were more important things to care about right now. There seemed to be nothing in there so he decided to look in the bedroom again.
He peered out of the window. It was a calm cloudy day. Some sun rays could be seen passing through the clouds. From the window, he was able to theorize he was on the third level. He didn't think he could jump from here unscathed. There must be another way out. With his wand, he might be able to cushion his fall.
W̶͇̎h̴̢͒ỵ̷̈́ ̶̜̅w̵̮͋ô̸̞ȗ̸͈l̷̠̎d̸̙̔ ̴͉̀ý̷̲o̶͈̐u̷̠̕ ̸̻͌w̶͖͊ȃ̵͈n̷̠͑t̶̙͆ ̷̢͒ṫ̴̜ő̴͙ ̵̃ͅḻ̶̽ę̶̑à̷̡v̴̭̾e̸͉͌ ̵̰̈́?̶̨͘
Trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his head, he managed to find a wand on the nightstand, but it looked different. He picked it up, examining it carefully. It was a grayish brown color. His usual handle resembling bark was replaced by a handle formed from two conjoined spheres. It vaguely looked like Harry's but like a bad copycat of it. The wand was definitely not his but it was a beginning. Part of the wand felt familiar to Harry.
Ẉ̵̉ḧ̴͈a̶̛̯t̶͍́ ̸̮͘d̶̼͘o̷̙͝ ̸͇̍y̴̘̑ő̷̹ǘ̵͖ ̵͇͝m̸̺̊ë̵̩a̸̙̾n̸̢͆ ̵̤̄?̶̺͂ ̸̩̀Ţ̶͆h̶̀ͅì̴͕s̶͚̀ ̴̝͘ḧ̴̳́ä̵͙́s̵̡͂ ̸̻͠a̸̲̒l̵̜̈w̷͇͘a̶͇̋y̵͔̌s̶͖͒ ̶̜̚b̷̤̓ḛ̷̒e̵̜͛n̵̲͝ ̸̦͘ȳ̵̳o̸̾ͅu̷̳͑r̴̯̂ ̸̗̽w̸͍̓a̴̖̐n̵̰̆d̸̞̓.̸͔̍
His captors th̸̨̾e̷̬̅ŗ̶̚e̵̙̐ ̸̯̐i̵̡̾s̵̙̿ ̶̣̆n̵̥͌ö̶́ͅ ̵̖̃c̵̟͠ā̶͕p̸̞̀t̵̪̆o̴͈̐r̵͔͗.̷̢̚ must've been very stupid to leave him with a̶
ẙ̴͍o̷̫̊u̸̯̓r̵̪̓s̵̗͆ his wand. This whole situation was pretty peculiar.
When he heard the sound of a door creaking open, he instinctively pointed his wand at it. It was the first door and probably the door leading to outside. Someone came in. A lady with short black hairs wearing a black plague mask came in.
"Good morning, little master." It was barely above a whisper, yet it echoed in the room with such a resonance. "How are you today ?"
"Who are you ?" He asked instantly, his wand pointed straight at her.
The woman froze. "Do you not remember ?" She replied by a question of her own.
"Remember what ?" He snapped.
She bowed and said : "I apologize. I must inform the master of your predicament." The maid (?) left before Harry could demand answers.
He tried to follow her but she had lock the door behind her. Moments later, a tall slim man came in. He had black hairs tied in a low ponytail. He later noticed that the hairs underneath where white. His skin was deathly pale while his eyes were as dark as an endless void. The unknown man smiled.
There was something wrong with the man. His teeth were too white and too pointed. His eyes were too dark. His skin was too pale.
𝐿𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶—
The man gave him a warm smile. It was able to put Harry more at ease.
Ÿ̶̼́o̷̗͝u̵͔̕ ̶̯͠ȃ̵̢r̷͇͂é̸̘ ̵̢̀s̴̤͝a̴͉̓f̸͔͗ẻ̶̝.̶̻̐
Harry calmed himself down and took a moment to observe the other. The man's eyes held a certain hint worry. "Good morning, Starlight. How are you today ?"
"Who are you and what do you want from me ?"
The stranger gave him a defeated look. He sighed. "I cannot believe this is happening again," he whispered under his breath, though Harry was able to slightly hear him.
Harry asked the man what he meant by that statement. He stayed quiet, looking at him with an unreadable expression. His expression turned to one of resignation. "You should sit down."
The teen hesitated for a few seconds and finally decided to follow the man's suggestion. He sat down on the bed and next to him, the stranger did the same. He still felt on edge but, the fact that the man hadn't tried to kill him yet was a good sign, he supposed.
"I am Azraël Peverell. Does this name sound familiar to you ?" He started slowly.
Harry nodded. It did sound familiar. He had heard this name before. The adult smiled at this.
"It is because this has already happened before," the man explained, still using that soft tone. "This is in fact a common occurrence."
Harry frowned and tilted his head dubiously.
"These same episodes keep repeating themselves. Since the — an event that, I can only assume, left you traumatized, your memory has been affected."
"What ?" Muttered with a strangled voice.
"You sometimes can last months before another relapse starts and then... you just forget everything... You were improving, you know ? Last time had been your longest time without a 'reset', as you call them."
Harry stayed quiet. Mr. Peverell looked devastated. Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He did seem to care about the teen, yet Harry couldn't remember who he was.
"I.. am sorry."
"No, sweetheart, you shouldn't apologize. Taking care of you brightens my days even with these little hardships," he assured, placing a cold hand over Harry's.
Perplexed, Harry asked : "But.. who are you ? How do I know you ?" He felt somewhat inconfortable asking this question.
His soft smile slipped and Harry winced. Then, the adult smiled again. This smiled, however, held more sadness. "I have been here for you since the incident. It brought us closer. You are... like a son to me."
Harry's eyes widened. "Oh." How could he say anything else ?
The adult stood up, chuckling quietly. "I must apologize. It was not my intention to make you I uncomfortable," he apologized before pointing at the (his?) nightstand. T̵̩͎̃͝h̶̬͕͚̀ͅi̸̡̭̺̲͛͘s̵͓̈ ̴̜̣̃̌͑i̷̦̳̿̕s̴͛͂̇͝ͅ ̷̥̱̊͆̅͘a̵̩̗͇̒͂ḻ̴̎l̵̩̮̺͈̇̿ ̵̛͇͔̭͗̎̎y̸̖͉͔̰̽͆̽o̸̪͚̼͉̓̒u̷̘̒̔͐̀ŕ̶̜̲̭͆̓s̴̛̱̥̞͜.̷̗͚̺̮̈́ ̶͖͋T̷̨͙̰͋͆̾h̷̖̊i̵̫̭̓ṧ̶̹̬͉̄ ̸̧̤̳͈͛i̴̮̖̬͛s̴̗͚̈̓̂ ̴̱̦͕̐͑̈́ỳ̶̛͖̓ơ̴̤̜̝̓͌͝ù̷̪r̷̫̔ ̴̿̍̉͜͝r̵͍̄͋̍o̶͕̎̌̎͐ọ̴̻̺̑́̓̈m̷̭͆͆.̷̼̫̑̀̈
"You must feel overwhelmed. On your nightstand next to your invisibility cloak is your journal. You should read it. It might help you remember things."
Harry picked the brown leather journal and placed his hand on it.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ △⃒⃘ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Life, while still confusing, was quiet after that. His spent his day in the manor and around it, trying to keep himself occupied.
He had to admit he was lonely. There wasn't anyone to talk to other than the man and the masked servants. The adult was still there for him whenever he had the time so it was fine.
'Life around here is lonely,' Past Harry had written in his journal, 'I wish I could leave this place to go back to more normal times, but I know I can't. At least, Mr. Peverell is here.'
Harry didn't know why he was here. He had tried to ask around but no one answered it. Why couldn't he go back ? What was this incident ? And the war ? Who's side was winning ?
Harry bit his lips. He knew that without him, the Light had no chance to win. Yet, he was here. T̸̗͍̱̖͒̽̈h̶̡̜͈̹͆̀̈e̶͙̪̔͘͘ý̷͚͔͙̖̘͉͊͊͆ ̴̛̠̊̉̄͝d̷̪̎̉̀̈́̔̒o̸̡̨͕͕̣͍̊̽̍̍̿̽̐ ̷̱͕̹̯̦͂̎̍̃̈́̉͘ͅņ̸̠̰̺͇͈́̅̆́ǫ̴̛̠̟̣̅̇̌t̸̖͓̑͊ ̶̗̬͉͎̓̿̀̈ͅm̴̟̈̂̉̎͊ͅa̸̧͕̙̻̹͇͛̀̊͠t̶̯̯̀̂̄ẗ̸̼̩̈́̚e̶̲̦̘͚͊̆̋̃͆̈́̕͜ȑ̸̮̠̹̥̯̟̎͗̃̆͠.̸̡̣̦̱̣̤̂
Harry sighed and went back to reading a book.
A few days later, he noticed something weird on pages 39 to 44 of the diary. There were some letters written in capitals when they shouldn't have been. Now, he would have chucked this as mistakes but he was sure he wasn't stupid enough to write 'day' as 'dAy'.
Sure enough, when he noted all those 'mistakes' down, they formed a message.
'I'VE REGAINED SOME SMALL MEMORIES. SOMETHING TELLS ME MR. PEVERELL IS LYING.'
A shiver ran down his back.
The journals were the entries of 'different Harry's'. 15 to be exact. 15 resets. Of course, they were all the same person in the end, but Harry just couldn't associate himself with any of them. In his mind, the 'incident' that traumatized him separated them and until he could understand and remember everything, (what this incident was and each reset) they would stay separated.
From what he understood, the first past him who wrote in this diary was not the actual first. The real first Harry who remembered how he got here just didn't think of writing in a journal since he hadn't expected to lose his memories.
Fake Harry 1 wrote from page 1 to 47. The teen simply couldn't shake off the fact that #1 turned into #2 (reset) only 2 pages after writing this message. This was probably only a coincidence. But.. even then... what did Harry #1, his past self, mean ?
This mystery kept Harry awake. #2 didn't mention anything related to that. He probably didn't even notice the message.
'Sometimes, I wish I could leave this place. But I know how ungrateful I sound. Mr. Peverell is really a great person. He got so emotional when I asked to leave, so I try to forget those thoughts'
On page 79, #3 wrote 'I think he knows.'
And then, a memory came to him. The memory of a hug and a whisper.
· • —– ٠ ⏳ ٠ —– • ·
"You do not need to feign ignorance. We both know what is going to happen, do we not?"
· • —– ٠ ⌛️ ٠ —– • ·
Harry gasped at the memory, clutching his head. He groaned painfully. The memory felt like a strong blow to the head.
He stayed still for a while, waiting for the pain to dissipate. When it finally did, Harry closed the journal. He just needed to sort his thoughts out before going back to reading it.
The voice was definitely Mr. Peverell's. It was calm and composed but the feeling of dread he felt was almost overwhelming. He didn't know why yet but he was going to figure it out.
For the following days, he read the next pages more carefully, searching meticulously for the signs of any secret messages hidden. While doing so, Harry also had to make sure the man didn't notice anything. After all, it had been his downfall multiple times.
Page 215 was missing and he also noticed that page 216 was blank. Obviously, he immediately had the feeling something was hiding there. He touched the paper, feeling bumps. Someone had written so hard on the previous missing page and it had left marks on the next one. He thought for a bit, and then an idea came to him.
He took a blue pencil and started to draw all over the page. The words revealed themselves.
'Behind a book
Exactly under the orange one
Directly next to the alchemy book'
'If it's not there, start over from top to bottom.'
In the book shelf, Harry understood. But that would prove to be difficult. The books certainly weren't in the same places. He had moved them around and had replaced them haphazardly.
Nevertheless he tried to look where the note wrote. When he found nothing, like the letter said, he tried looking from the top shelf to the bottom one. After a while, he frowned. There was nothing there.
He read the note again. Perhaps he had missed something. ℑ𝔣 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢, 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔬𝔭 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔪. He gasped. The three first lines were meant to confuse him.
'Behind a book
Exactly under the orange one
Directly next to the alchemy book'
So he looked under his bed. There was still nothing there. Finally, Harry found a paper under his mattress.
'Hi, if you are reading this, this means I have failed to leave and he has erased our memories again. You will probably know me as Harry #12. I am you, as you might already have guessed. This might surprise you but I swear on my magic that what is written here is true.
You cannot trust Mr. Peverell. From the informations I've gathered from the writings of the others, his real name is Death. He is a god and he decided to take me us as his pet.
He took us during the Horcrux hunt and since then, we have been unable to leave. According to recent flashbacks I have been having, he first tried to trick us making us believe professor Dumbledore has called upon him to train us to fight Voldemort. When this didn't work, he erased our memories and started this whole amnesia thing. From the beginning, he has been trying to gaslight us into a false sense of security. Don't listen to him. Every time something goes against his wishes, he erases our memories and starts over. According to Harry #9's hidden notes, he's trying to mold us into his perfect little son.
Don't trust the masked people walking around the manor. These things are called reapers. They are Death's subordinate and are on his side.
I am trying to find a way to escape, but if you are reading this note, I failed. I hope that you can find a way to get the us out of this place and back to the Wizarding world. I fear for the fate of Great Britain since we aren't there to stop Voldemort.
Good luck.'
Harry knew something was wrong, but he hadn't expected this. It was hard to believe, yet it made so much sense. He clutched the note tightly.
So Mr. Pever— Death was the one who had been erasing his memories. He had been toying with Harry from the beginning and the teen had been none the wiser.
These things were only happening to him. Merlin, he felt lightheaded. Harry wanted to throw up and, he had to admit... he was terrified. Why was this only happening to him ?
A god. A god had been trapping him who knows where all this time. How was he going to pull himself out of this problem ? Could he pull himself out of this problem ?
No. He shook his head. Harry had been able to save himself many times before. He could do it again. The world was spinning and he wanted to vomit but he was okay. He would be ok.
His head pounded, sharp and heavy. He closed his eyes, fighting off nausea. Trying, even through the pain, to figure out a way to escape this once welcoming place. Now he felt like the walls were closing in on him.
· • —– ٠ ⏳ ٠ —– • ·
Harry slowly woke up to the sound of birds chirping. He never thought he would wake up so peacefully, especially with Ron, Hermione and him being on the hunt for the Horcruxes.
He could feel the fluffiness of the bed and, for once in a long time his back aches had finally left. This was pure bliss and —
Wait.
He looked around, bewildered. Where was he ? He sat up from the gigantic bed.
He was in a bedroom. The room was pretty well decorated and cozy. He was currently surrounded by plushies on a large four-poster bed on one of the walls of the room, and a white bedside table decorated with intricate carvings was next to it.
The walls were painted beige with a darker beige patterns. In front of his bed was a large wooden trunk. A large wardrobe was placed at the right of the bed, a little farther away was a door.
Left to the bed was a window and next to it, a little victorian vanity set. A light brown ottoman was also placed in the room.
On the side opposite that of the bed, stairs led to a second floor on which Harry could see a book case. On the main floor, next to the second one, was a second door.
This place was unfamiliar to him. He could declare with certainty that he had never been here before today. This certainly was the room of a well-off person. He had no idea of how he got here.
He tried to open the first door, but as he had expected, it was locked. The second, however led to a bathroom. There seemed to be nothing in there so he decided to look in the bedroom again.
He peered out of the window. It was a calm cloudy day. Some sun rays could be seen passing through the clouds. From the window, he was able to theorize he was on the third level. He didn't think he could jump from here unscathed. There must be another way out. With his wand, he might be able to cushion his fall.
At the thought, he immediately started looking for his wand. He patted his clothes and that when he realized he was wearing a long white chemise that reached his knees. A nightgown he knew he had never worn before. Did someone change him while he was unconscious? The thought was embarrassing. Nonetheless, the teen tried to ignore the thought and resumed searching.
He found the wand on the nightstand, but it looked different. He picked it up, examining it carefully. It was a grayish brown color. His usual handle resembling bark was replaced by a handle formed from two conjoined spheres. It vaguely looked like Harry's but like a bad copycat of it. The wand was definitely not his but it was a beginning. Part of the wand felt familiar to Harry.
His captors (because it was probably what they were with Harry's luck) must've been very stupid to leave him with a wand. Speaking of captors, why did they leave him in such a place ? He would've expected donjons and the likes. This whole situation was pretty peculiar.
When he heard the sound of a door creaking open, he instinctively pointed the wand at it. It was the first door and probably the door leading to outside. Someone came in. A lady with short black hairs wearing a black plague mask came in.
"Good morning, little master." It was barely above a whisper, yet it echoed in the room with such a resonance.
"Who are you ?" He demanded instantly.
"You can call me ᓭ╎ꖎᔑ⍑𝙹. I am a soul reaper but I am currently working as your personal maid," she explained calmly with that same strange echo. Her name was foreign and he had never heard something like it before. "I brought you breakfast."
He looked at the tray. There was bread, sausages, beans and scrambled eggs. Nostalgia set in at the look of the familiar Hogwarts breakfast. He hadn't been able to eat much while on the hunt for horcruxes. His mouth watered at the dish, yet he didn't dare to touch it. There was no way he was going to accept food from his kidnapper.
"What do you want from me ? Why not simply send me to You-Know-Who ?"
Harry couldn't forget the Taboo around the dark wizard's name. These people probably weren't Voldemort supporters. Summoning a second threat, the death eaters, by using Voldemort's name wasn't a good idea.
"I would never," she answered. "This would put your safety in danger and this is the last thing he want."
"He ?" Harry repeated cautiously.
"The master. He shall come visit you today when he will have time. He does not wish you harm."
She added the last part when Harry tensed. He narrowed his eyes, looking at her with a mistrustful gaze.
He was now 100% sure this wasn't Voldemort or any of his associates. They would've already killed him. He glanced at the food. If someone wanted to kill him, wouldn't they have done it earlier while he was asleep ? They wouldn't poison him, right ?
He walked up to the tray. He casted all the detection spells in knew (which wasn't a lot) and when everything came out safe, he looked at the woman again. She hadn't moved from her place next to the little cart.
A chair and a table appeared next to him. The woman placed everything on the table. Harry watched her doing so, making sure she wasn't adding anything in the plate.
After placing everything, she turned to him expectantly. The teen sat down, took the fork and then gave it to the woman. "Try it first."
"I am unable to do so," she informed with a neutral tone.
Harry glared at her. How did she expect him to believe the food was safe if she wasn't even willing to try it ? "Why not ?" He questioned coldly.
The woman slowly lifted her mask to show her mouth. Or rather, where her mouth was supposed to be. There was nothing there.
Harry gaped.
She replaced the black mask. "I am unable to do so," she repeated. How was she able to talk ?
He looked at her for a while. Then, he lowered the fork before looking at the plate again. He slowly took a bite and, seconds after, an other.
It was delicious. It had such a familiar taste that brought him so much comfort. It may be nothing for most people but it was the best meal he had eaten in a while.
When he finished eating she left with the tray and the table and chair disappeared. The woman locked the door behind her.
Harry then turned to the window. With the wand, he might be able to escape. He first tried opening the window but, of course it wasn't possible even with unlocking spells. After that, he tried a diffindo, a Bombarda and other spells of the sort.
He sighed, realizing the window was spell-proofed. He sat on the floor for a while, thinking about other ways things to try.
He probably spent another hour trying things out before the door opened again.
A tall slim man came in. He had black hairs tied in a low ponytail. He later noticed that the hairs underneath where white. His skin was deathly pale while his eyes were as dark as an endless void. The unknown man smiled.
There was something wrong with the man. His teeth were too white and too pointed. His eyes were too dark. His skin was too pale.
"Good morning," the man said. Like his appearance, Harry couldn't help but feel like there was something wrong with the man's voice.
"Who are you ? What do you want from me ?" Harry questioned.
"Do not worry, starlight. I do not wish to harm you," the man reassured. "You can call me.. Azraël Peverell. You are here for your own protection."
Harry's brows bumped together in a scowl, ignoring the familiarity of the name. "You kidnapped me," he deadpanned with a sneer. He wasn't going to be so easily played.
Mr. Peverell sat on the bed next to Harry who scooted away.
"I am sorry you feel this way. You, however, must understand there are dangers lurking. I had to do this for your safety."
The man placed a cold hand on Harry's. Harry backed away. "Who are you to make those decisions for me ?"
"Oh but your nothing but a child, starlight," the other started with a honeyed tone. "This war... you weren't meant to fight in it. Not you."
Harry scowled and stood up. "Get me out of here. I have a—"
"I am aware of the prophecy."
Harry quieted down at that sentence. How could he have known ? It certainly wasn't from Harry's friends or even the Order. From what he knew about Voldemort, he was too mistrusting to divulge it to someone. Maybe Dumbledore...
"Did you know Dumbledore ?"
The man smiled. "I am not on Tom Riddle's side."
Not a lot of people knew his real name but Dumbledore could certainly have told this man before his death. "Am I here to prepare before my duel against You-Know-Who ?"
The man looked at him without saying anything for sometime. Then, out of the blue, he answered: "It might take some time but you will only be able to leave when I deem you are ready to face Tom Riddle."
Harry looked at the man with admiration. If Dumbledore had chosen him, it must be that he was incredibly skilled. Harry couldn't wait to learn from him.
"And what about my friends ?"
"Sadly this opportunity is only for you," responded the man, shaking his head.
"Well, can I at least owl them ? I don't think Ron and Hermione know I left." Hell, Harry didn't know either how he managed to get here. "Or a floo call?"
Mr. Peverell gave him an apologetic look and shook his head again. "This place.. is very isolated. Think of it as a fortress of sort. Nothing can get in or out without endangering the safety of those inside."
Harry's looked down, disappointed. What must his friends think right now ? They were probably worried sick.
He fidgeted before sighing. Dumbledore probably knew what he was doing by choosing this man to train him. Beside, this was his war to fight. Not his friend's. Ig might be better to keep them out if it for their own protection.
He nodded dejectedly in acceptance.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ △⃒⃘ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Harry didn't know how long he had already spent here. Probably more than six months.
His days were pretty similar. Not in a boring way but it was still something he wasn't used to. Being the Boy Who Lived this was unusual. Still, the teen didn't hate it there.
His daily routine consisted of being woken up by that maid lady. He would then take a shower and eat a delicious breakfast while reading a book that had been recommended by a trainer (a masked man with a name as unusual as the maid's) or Mr. Peverell. After that, he would do whatever work was given to him for the day (dueling, learning new spells...) with the new wand. He had never been able to find his Holly wand which greatly saddened but the one he used now worked as efficiently.
He would eat lunch with Mr. Peverell with which he had been able to bond with a little bit.
Afternoons were spent how ever he liked. He could go outside as long as he stayed inside a certain area and while he was being accompanied by a masked person.
He would end his day by eating dinner again with Mr Peverell, spending sometime doing whatever he wanted to do that night and then sleep.
Life was a bit lonely but Harry was used to it. He hadn't had many friends before coming to Hogwarts. He had quickly learned as a kid how to live with it and suck it up.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ △⃒⃘ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
It must have already been a year and Harry was becoming restless. He hadn't been able to keep track of the news of the war. Not that he hadn't tried to, he asked around to all of those masked people but they always recommended him to ask Mr. Peverell. The man would then find a way to change the subject. It was frustrating and a feeling of dread overwhelmed him every time he thought of it. Was the situation so bad ?
Harry looked up from his plate of Beef Wellington one dinner. "When can I leave ?" He asked suddenly.
Mr. Peverell tilted his head. "What do you mean, starlight ?"
"I mean, when will I be ready to fight Riddle ?"
The man gave him a worried look. "You are still but a mere child. Do you not think you should leave those things for the adults ?"
He narrowed his eyes. Look, Harry really appreciated the man. Throughout his stay here, Mr. Peverell seemed to have decided to take somewhat of parental role in Harry's life. He congratulated him on his achievements in his studies, he was often there to listen, he had a embarrassing nickname for Harry... but.. he sometimes treated Harry as if he was a young child.
Harry had had to convince him that he was old enough to use a real knife and not those plastics ones. This took him a while.
His room, as he later noticed, had every 'dangerous corners' protected so as to make sure he didn't trip and hurt himself.
And he had nothing against plushies but he knew that those were all in his room because the man thought of him as a kid.
Once, when he got hurt while dueling, the man acted like Harry was going to die while he had nothing more than a scratch. Harry hadn't been able to duel for weeks after that incident. Following this, the duels he had with his trainer became tamer, which was extremely frustrating.
"I'm 18, actually," he reminded the other.
"Indeed," he agreed.
Harry waited for him to continue but he didn't. So he said: "I am therefore old enough to go fight him."
"And I must disagree with this. You are simply not ready," he stated.
Harry groaned with exasperation. He should have suspected such a rebuttal. If the man was so worried when the teen received a simple scratch, how would he be willing to let him go to war ? The teen was beginning to doubt professor Dumbledore's choice.
"Without me this war will continue to drag on," he tried to reason. "I was only meant to be here to learn how to fight. My trainer told me I improved greatly. And now I want to go and help all those people suffering from this war."
The adult froze. Him who had previously been eating normally while talking to Harry between bites stopped completely. He looked straight at Harry, his jaw clenched.
"Are you willing to risk your life for them ?" His voice was toneless, flat.
Harry gaped for a while. "Of course !" He snapped.
He had to. He had been prophesied to do so. Without him to help, his friends and everyone else would be doomed.
"You have a whole life in front of you. Isn't simply forgetting this whole war a better choice ?"
Harry stood up, outraged by the man's suggestion. "Of course not ! I'm going to help them and you won't have a say in this."
The other mirrored his actions and got up as well. "Go to your room." He thundered.
Such a reaction from the man was unexpected. In fact, it was the first time Harry had seen him like this. His calm composure had disappeared.
"What ?" A shocked Harry asked.
"In your room," he repeated coldly.
"You're not my dad," the teen warned before leaving. Harry turned on his eels and left, making sure to slam the door behind him.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ △⃒⃘ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
30 minutes later, Mr. Peverell entered his room. Harry who had been reading on his bed just ignored him.
He stood there for a while before sitting next to him. "You do not have any self preservation skill," he stated softly. Harry looked up. "I merely wish to protect you and... if I must force you to remain here, I will."
Harry glared and countered : "Professor Dumbledore gave you the task to train me to fight Riddle."
"Oh but he never did," corrected the man while smiling.
Harry froze. "What ? But you told me—"
"I never said that."
"Yes you did," the teen repeated, an awful sentiment of dread overtaking him. "I asked you and... and—"
"You indeed asked me this question. This was not my idea. You came up with it yourself. You wanted to believe it. I simply had to expand on it a little by assigning you a trainer to make it believable."
Harry paled and backed up. "What.. what do you want from me ?" He whispered.
The man shot him a worried look. He place a hand on Harry's cheek. "Oh no, no, no, starlight. I would never think of hurting you. You are too precious. I am here to protect you."
His black orbs looked directly in Harry's green eyes. The teen tried to stand up but the man's hand gripped his arm harshly. Elongated fingers dug deeply in his soft flesh.
Mr. Peverell's hair seemed to float lightly and the man's teeth turned sharp.
"What are you ?"
"You know me as Death, god of everything that is not alive. You, my dear little starlight, are my child now and for the rest of our eternity. I did not wish for us to come to this but I believe we should start over."
Before Harry could try to comprehend the man deity's words, his world turned to black.
· • —– ٠ ⌛️ ٠ —– • ·
The pain from the memory was unbearable. Harry heard screams and felt hands on his shoulders. After a while, he realized he had been the one screaming. He unclenched his hands. He hadn't noticed he had been clutching his hairs. He slowly calmed down when the pain subsided.
He looked up. Mr. P— Death was in front of him, looking straight at him with his dark eyes. Harry scrambled away quickly.
"Are you alright, starlight ?" The god asked with an honeyed tone.
Harry didn't say anything. The deity took a step forward and Harry stepped back.
"Oh, I see," Death said neutrally. His face was devoid of any emotion. "You figured it out, did you not ?"
Harry's stomach churned. "I- Why.. why are you doing this ?"
"Do you not understand ? I am doing this for you."
"Doing this for me ?!" Harry repeated incredulously, "I don't wanted this! I never asked you to do anything. Let me go !"
The god shook his head. "I cannot do this, starlight. This world has hurt you enough. Your 'relatives', your years at that dreadful school, not to mention this Tom Riddle after you. I cannot let you go back only for you to get hurt again."
"I can take care of myself," Harry retorted furiously. "This is none if your business."
"You have no one." The being told him harshly. In a second, he held Harry's jaw under a vice grip. "There is no one that truly cares about you out there. Do you not understand that ? I am here. I want to watch over you. I want to care about you."
"I will not be your human pet." Even with the terror overtaking him, Harry was able to muster up the strength to utter those words with defiance.
"Pet ? Why ever would you believe such a thing ? Starlight, I would never think of you as such !" He cupped Harry's face gingerly, gazing at him with affection. "Beside, you could hardly call yourself a human now."
Harry frowned at that. What did he mean ? "Wha.."
The being turned Harry's head to the vanity set's mirror. The teen almost screamed at the sight. His eyes were completely green while his skin had turned as deathly pale as the other. Harry's teeth were now sharp and his face looked like that of a cracked doll.
"What... what did you do to me ?" Harry whispered, horrified. "I'm—"
"Perfect. Immortal and slowly becoming like me." He ran his long fingers through the teen's hairs. "I never would have guessed that you would have your first transformation during an outburst. At the least, this situation has a positive."
"No ! No, I don't want this ! Change me back !" He screeched hysterically.
While he was screaming, the god trapped him in an embrace. He attempted to shush him calmly, assuring him everything was fine.
E̴̫͋v̸̻͂ẻ̸̦r̶̖͘y̴̤̽t̸͎̍h̸̼̀ī̸͖n̵̝̈́g̴̥̾ ̶͍̕h̷̫̎e̸̹̓ ̶̘̍o̶͈͘k̸̭̀a̷̧͛y̷͔̓.̵̤̏ ̴̳̆Ą̷͗c̸̨̛c̸͙͝é̵̫p̵̮͆t̶̠͌ ̷̧̓i̴̝̎ť̶͜.̴̭͛
It all fell on deaf ears. Harry pounded on the being chest frantically with his fists. "Change me back, change me back ! Let me go ! Letmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletme.."
He slowly felt sleepy. He tried to fight it. "Let.. me.."
Harry could distantly here the deity's soft voice. "Sleep now. You are safe. Tomorrow, this will all be a bad dream."
E̵̱͛v̶̺̔é̴̦r̸̀͜y̸̘͋t̵̺̍h̵͇̀i̷̤͊n̶̦̚ǧ̵̝ ̷̮̂i̴̜͋s̸͖͑ ̶̩̉f̴̦̓i̴̯̊n̸͉̈́ě̸͇.̸̜̋
And like that, he fell into Morpheus’ arms.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ △⃒⃘ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Harry slowly woke up to the sound of birds chirping.