Rebirth
Harry stared at the bowl with a glazed expression, the water inside was rippling ever so slightly, his shaking hands resting on either side of the bowl. The images of war-torn fields and dead bodies strewn everywhere were slowly vanishing from the water’s surface as the ripples displaced the images.
A pale hand curled around his shoulder, causing Harry to flinch violently, nearly knocking over the scrying bowl. Turning around, he glared half-heartedly at the skeleton behind him. A bleached skull grinned, as much as a skull could grin, from behind a black shroud.
“You know you shouldn’t stare at the Bobhla Sgriù for long, you start to see things you shouldn’t.” Death’s bone-clattering voice echoed throughout the cavernous room, still chilling to Harry, even after so many years with the eldritch being.
“I’ll be fine Death, I was only just got here.” Harry’s voice was a little high-strung, Death was the only thing that managed to scare or startle Harry in the past millennia. Death’s teeth clattered together, most likely in agitation, but it was hard to tell as Death was a skeleton with no muscle and skin to perform facial movements.
“You still shouldn’t stare into a bowl that is controlled by Fate, who hates you enough as it is, and can most likely give you visions that can drive you insane.” Harry knew that Death was right, but it still irritated him slightly when Death tried to coddle him.
“What did you want me for?” Harry said, completely ignoring Death’s statement, preferring not to touch on the topic mentioning Fate always brought up. Brushing past Death, Harry started towards the exit, smirking when he heard Death annoyed clattering behind him.
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“You want me to do what?” Harry’s voice was incredulous as he set his tumbler down, staring at death, who sat across from him, lounging on the couch.
“I want you to go through rebirth again.” Death’s voice was soft, a sign that Harry should watch his words carefully. Taking a deep breath, Harry got up and rounded the couch that Death sat on. Leaning on the back of the couch, Harry’s breath shook as he tucked his hands into his armpits.
“Why?” Harry’s voice cracked slightly as he tapped his foot lightly. His nerves were on end, and he felt panic starting to bubble up in his stomach.
“You know damn well why.” Death’s voice was a taut as a bow string, his irritation evident, and Harry noted dully that he was starting to rub off on Death, as Death usually spoke rather properly.
Harry wanted to blow up, get angry, or express his upset at the situation quite clearly, but that wouldn’t do him any good. Harry’s heart thumped painfully in his chest, his fear curling around his chest, squeezing tightly and infecting him.
“Why do I need a ‘Vacation’, or need to live a human life again.” Harry’s throat tightened with each word, not wanting to go through that sort of pain again.
“You know that you have been dissociating, again. You’re starting to lose touch with your human side. I chose you to be my companion because of your human side, because of your morals that only evolve from the human side of you. I would rather not lose you because you got too caught up in immortality.”
Death’s words felt like a knife to the heart, and Harry flinched. Not wanting to devolve into an argument that had happened before, Harry grasped Death’s shoulder. Taking a look at the now human face that stared up at him, he nodded, even as tears filled his eyes.
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Harry woke up, remembering that he was a 11-year old wizard named Camdyn Stewart. Of course Death had sent him back in time to when ‘Harry Potter’ had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort.
Camdyn pulled back the covers, and stared at the floor for a minute. It had been eleven years since he had been reborn, and Camdyn still hated it. His mother had never been concerned with his apathetic behaviors (the wizarding world had terrible mind healers), and his twin sister was only concerned about mooning over The-Boy-Who-Lived, and their father was who-knows-where.
Hurrying down the stairs, Camdyn started when someone ruffled his hair. Jerking around, Camdyn saw his mother, her red hair flowing down her back. She smiled at him, her white teeth shining.
“Come on Camdyn, breakfast is waiting.” Following her into the kitchen, rolling his eyes as he saw his sister eating her eggs and toast very primly.
Sitting down at the place set for him, he looked at his mother, having a feeling she would be asking him a question.
“When do you two think we should head to Diagon Alley to get your school stuff?” Looking at his sister who was too busy trying not to get food on herself to answer, Camdyn answered for them.
“How about tomorrow?”