Conduit
It was really bad this time.
He had ‘fallen’ (been pushed by his whale of a cousin) down the stairs. Laying at the bottom, he had had already knew it was bad. But when Dudley then started to jump up and down on him, to ‘wake him up’, and he had felt and heard the cracking of ribs, then he knew it was really bad. When Aunt Petunia had come round the corner and yelled at him for being lazy and dragged him by his arm into the cupboard and Harry thought maybe she had been yelling at him then too, and everything had been kinda of grey and fuzzy and the pain had crept up on him slowly, but implacably, like a glacier advancing down on him, he had found he couldn’t even really breathe enough to cry, then he had known this time, this time, it was really really bad.
So he curled up, whimpering, on his thin camping cot in the bottom of the cupboard and wondered if this was death.
End of the line, game over, fallen off the perch, shuffled off… Shuffled off the spring? Shuffled off something.
Dead.
The pain seemed to ease, and each painful, broken inhale slowed, and then, stopped.
Harry wasn’t sure how long he lay, not breathing before he realised he was not breathing, but as he did he carefully lifted his head.
Death was surprising exactly the same as life, the dark cupboard wall arched above him into fuzziness, the scratchy almost see though thin blanket, the smell of stale air and pain.
He rolled over away from the wall, and became suddenly, shockingly aware of someone standing over his bed, looking down on him.
Despite the fact he was not breathing, he still let out a high pitched, completely not girly, eep.
“Hello Little One.”
Harry tried to make out the man, because he had to be a man with a voice that deep (deeper then any Harry had ever heard before, deeper then any he had even imagined) but the mans form was between Harry and the only source of light, the small vent in the door. Harry couldn’t even really tell if the man was tall, because although he seemed tall, that might have just been the way he loomed over Harry in the tiny space of the cupboard. The man certainly seemed to take up all the space and air, like a giant vacuum.
Harry knew he should be afraid. Something in the back of his mind was screaming in terror. But the rest thought, well, he’s dead now, it’s not like it could get worse. So Harry huffed, “Not little. I’m just growing still,” then Harry paused, “or, well, I was still growing. I guess I’m not anymore.”
The man seemed to consider this, “That is true. But you are smaller then I, Little One.”
“I have a name. My name is Harry.”
“Names have power. Your housemates know this. They do not call you Harry. They call you Freak. Boy. Lazy.” The pause that followed was heavy with something, like a indrawn breath before forbidden swear or a truth told, “Unmentionable.”
“Yes, well, but.” Harry really didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t remember a single time any of the Dursley's had called him Harry. He hadn’t even known his name was Harry until he had gone to school that morning and the teacher had called it when taking the roll. He hadn’t answered then of course. The other kids had laughed at him when he had argued with the teacher. He still wasn’t quiet sure what his second name was, or even if he had one. All the other kids had two names, and sometime had more then that. In fact, before Dudley had pushed him down the stairs he had been considering whether Freak might in fact be his second name, but the teachers reaction had said it probably wasn’t. He had been so far behind on his chores because school had taken up so much time he hadn’t really been as watchful as he should have been, hence why Dudley had been able to get behind him and push.
The man had waited quietly, as if he was following Harry's thoughts, and in the pause he intoned “This was not your time to die.”
“Oh.” Harry didn’t really think he could say much to that. He had been pretty hopefully this morning when told he would get to go to school with Dudley this year because ‘that bitch at number 12 who couldn’t mind her own business had asked why he was still at home even though he was 7 now.’ Those vague dreams of finding friends had quickly and brutally been put to rest when Dudley had threatened to punch anyone who talked to his freak cousin, and the teacher took him aside and told him that she would not stand for any of his criminal activities. It seemed Petunia had already warned the teachers of his ‘freakish nature, and lying ways’. He had still hoped he wouldn’t have to clean the whole house like he normally did during the day, only to find once he walked the long walk back while Dudley had been picked up by Aunt Petunia that he would still have to do all the chores anyway.
“Little One, you have faced death before, and now you straddle the edge again, before your time. I am Unmentionable and you are almost so. You are a Conduit for me, and now I come to you.”
Harry’s head spun with all the information packed into those few sentences. “Your name is Unmentionable?”
“It is what I am. It is not a name.”
“And I’ve died before?”
“Yes… and no.”
“Thats not very clear.”
“Most things aren’t. Clarity is a lie of ignorance. True Clarity comes from absolutes beyond reason.”
“Oh. Ok then.” Whatever that means, Harry thought. “What does being a Conduit mean?”
“It is possible for me to act in this world through you.”
“But I’m dead.”
“Partially. And not irreversibly.”
“So you can save me?”
“Do you wish to be saved?”
That was actually a good question. Did he want to live? With the Dursleys with nothing to look forward to but pain and chores and loneliness?
“I can save you but you would become mine. We would become ours.”
“What?”
“I can not walk in this world. It would buckle under me. Saving you would change you. You would be mine. But you and I would become us. We would walk together.”
“Do you mean we would become one person? Merge together like those yelling yellow haired people in Dudleys cartoons?”
“You would fall into me. I would act through you.”
“Would I still be me?”
“You are not you now.”
“Because I’m dead.”
“Because you are Unmentionable. Unmentionable has no name, no place, no singular existence.”
This conversation was getting weirder by the second. “I don’t feel like an Unmentionable.”
“Perhaps not yet. But you are. You are able to move Between. You have done so Before and After.”
There was a quiet pause as Harry tried to make sense of the almost incomprehensible sentences and tenses that made up that statement. He failed. “I don’t want to die. But I’m not sure I want to live either.”
“Our… life would be different. We would not be helpless. We are eternal.”
“If you’re so great why would you pick me? I’m nothing.”
“Exactly. You are Conduit. You are Death.”
“I think you mean dead. Not Death.”
The man didn’t answer. He just continued to look down on Harry, utterly still.
“Will it hurt?”
“I do not know. I have currently lack understanding of pain. Sensation does not exist Beyond. The damage done to our body would be repaired. The signals from our nerves could be dampened if necessary.”
“Why do you want this?”
The man was so very still. Harry had not seen him move before, but now, this stillness was even more still. It was horrible and fascinating all at once. “Sensation does not exist Beyond. I have been Beyond for eons.”
That sounded pretty horrible now Harry thought about it. Sometimes being in the cupboard felt so cut off from everything, Harry felt like it hollowed him out, like he was sideways to reality and even the air was apart from himself. A really long time of nothing? Yeah, Harry could defiantly understand why the man wanted to be here in this world instead. “If you change your mind would I die again?”
“The joining would be irreversible. We would be indivisible for eternity.”
That actually sounded kinda nice. He would never be alone again. “Does that mean I, or well we, couldn’t die at all?”
“If the body is destroyed we would return to the Beyond.”
“What happens if I say no?”
“Then you pass on. Fade. Cease”
“Ok.”
“You wish to Cease?”
“No, I mean Ok, I’ll be yours, or we can be us, or whatever you meant.”
“There is no turning back. You must be sure.”
Harry paused. He thought about dieing and being at peace, never having to do chores or suffer. But it also sounded so final. And if he ended up in this beyond place sound terribly lonely. And Harry had been lonely for as long as he could remember. He wasn’t sure if he could be lonely forever. This man was promising him forever not alone. And that sounded pretty darn neat.
“I’m sure. I want to be your Conduit.”
And the darkness swallowed the little boy and the man that was not a man at all, and Harry become something truly Unmentionable.
Jasmine Perks, 4th Grade teacher at Little Whinning Public Primary, had been warned of course. Sofie, the 3rd Grade teacher who had had the ‘pleasure’ of taking Harry Potter last year had cornered her the morning of the 1st day of classes. “There is something wrong about that boy. Something horrible.”
Jasmine liked to believe she was rational understanding person, not swayed by gossip. “Really? He’s just a little boy. How horrible could he be?”
“He lies.”
“Yes, well, the Aunt did warn me. I find the best thing to do is to confront children with the evidence of their lies.”
“No, I mean. He lies but he only every tells the truth. He lies with the truth.”
“Sofie, dear, that doesn’t make any sense.”
Sofie looked away briefly, and Jasmine wondered if she could edge past the clearly slightly unhinged teacher (maybe Jasmine should recommend a holiday?) Jasmines voice was whisper like, an edge of horror tingeing the words, “He tells you things. Things no little boy should know.”
Jasmine sucked in a breath. It was a little known fact that she came from a broken home. She had risen above her up bringing of an ugly drunken father and a screaming abusive mother. She didn’t hide it exactly, but she sure as heck didn’t tell anyone. Such things were ‘not acceptable’ in the highly regulated Little Whinning. She had seen the boy, ragged clothes and too thin body. She had wondered about his home life. Somewhat more sharply then she intended she asked, “What kind of things?”
Sofie looked back at Jasmine, her eye were too large, her face perfectly blank. The paused was too long, the staff room empty, even the excited chatter from parents dropping children off seemed to dim outside. Sofie bit her lip, “Just… Just be careful.”
And with that Sofie fled, leaving a very confused, and now quiet determined Jasmine behind. She promised herself, if the boy was being abused she would find out.
Jasmine would truly regret that promise.
“Good morning class, my name is Mrs Perks. Welcome to the 4th grade.”
Harry had sequested himself at the side of the room, right next to the windows. It was his 2nd year of attending primary school, but his age (and a number of lies told by Petunia to cover her neglect) had seen him placed in 3rd grade last year with Dudley. This year he was in a different class to his cousin, but all these children already knew the threat that hung over his head. No body would dare to be seen with the Freak for fear of punches and kicks form Dudley and his little gang. So even if the children which had had class with him last year avoided him for totally different reasons, none would dare sit next to him. Which Harry didn’t mind at all, as it allowed him to spread his books out. There was nothing remotely interesting about these children, they were like lumps of unformed clay, dirty, dull, and unintelligent. They didn’t even have to grace to be entertaining. They spoke the same way about the same things with little or no variation day to day. Sport, Television Programs, and Gossip were the only things the children talked about. And not in any depth either. There was no discussion about why the current football star was so good (it was the cocktail of steroids he injected into his thigh every night) just that ‘he is so awesome,’ and ‘did you see that awesome goal he made? It was really cool,’ and ‘I’m going to be just like him.’ Talks about TV where just repetitions of lines said or poorly acted out movements. Gossip was a reflection of how small the lives around Harry were. He really didn’t care is Mary in Mr Phillips class had been seen holding hands with Lee from Mr Smiths class. Or Rachel's parents were so poor that couldn’t afford her piano lessons anymore. Or that two 6th years had actually punched each other in the middle of the upper courtyard over a lolly pop. All three pieces of gossip were considered ‘huge news’ at the Primary School. The smaller pieces of gossip were even worse. John stole Tim’s favourite pencil. Jenny isn’t talking to Sarah. Penelope had a crush on Jamie.
Children were very dull creatures.
Despite how limited the inhabitants of Little Whinning were however, humanity as a whole was fascinating. When Harry had found the library, found fiction and non fiction, found worlds pressed between delicate pages, then he knew that he had made the right choice saying yes to Manny 2 years ago. When they had become, Harry had awoken healed and different. The first change Harry had noticed was the darkness of the cupboard was warm and welcoming. Shadows liked Harry now, and tended to cling and whisper. Harry hadn’t minded at all. After all, the man had been the biggest shadow of all. Harry couldn’t go on calling the other ‘the man’. The other didn’t have a name, or well it did, but not one a human brain could comprehend, let alone say, so Harry had just started calling him Manny for ease. Manny was huge, vast, and almost completely incompatible with life. While it was true that they were one, Manny's ‘thoughts’ were not really thoughts at all, and so ‘Harry’ was used to refer to the organic process which resulted in ‘thoughts’ while Manny was the other. The shadow on reality which anchored itself to the physical plain. Manny was impulses and knowledge. Harry was goals and feelings. Sort of.
It would take time for Harry and Manny to settle into each other, for Harry (or his body at least) to adapt to an extent that Manny could exist inside rather than adjacent, and for Manny to form ‘thoughts’ compatible with Harry's understanding. Because what Harry had heard as the rumbling deep voice that Manny had spoken in was a poor translation of knowledge impressed into Harry's mind. Which is why it hadn’t made a lot of sense half the time. Now that translation wasn’t good enough. Harry’s brain had to learn. Harry's of existence had to sort of twist to fit against and with Manny’s. And that would take time.
But it would happen because it already had began.
Petunia had then come by and demanded Harry cook dinner. Harry had done so with an absence of thought breed from years of repetition. Harry would continue like that for a long time, while most of his attention was focused on processing. That sliver of interaction was a Harry very similar to the Harry from before. Occasionally the rest of Harry would focus back outwards again, but it was rare and no one really noticed that Harry wasn’t really Harry anymore. Or well, they did notice, but people were so very good at rationalising away things they didn’t really comprehend.
Life continued, which at that moment was Mrs Perks 4th grade class.
“Harry?”
Harry turned away from the window to look at Mrs Perks. The rest of the class was silent. What were they meant to be doing? Oh, right, introductions. Name, something interesting.
“My name is Harry. Only 2% of adult patients who collapse on the street and receive CPR recover fully.”
There was a pause. “That’s quiet sad Harry.”
Harry went back to looking out the window, as all the children subtly edged away from him and Mrs Perks started making plans to talk to Harry alone. The class continued with no further input from Harry.
The spiders had changed too.
Harry hadn’t even realised and he had been co-inhabiting a 3 foot by 6 foot space with them for 2 years now. He probably should have noticed earlier, but such awareness had only just fallen into his conscious control.
The ways of conduits, paladins, knights and priests are considered Old Magiks and Dark (no matter the deity) due to the actions of Dumbledore over that last 100 years.
Conduit: The physical manifestation of a greater god. Known Conduits: Harry Potter (Cichol/Gentle Death), Tom Riddle (blocked: Donn/Destructive Death), Dumbledore (Ériu/No-Name)
Paladin: A person linked to a greater God. Worships their god in exchange for powers and protection. Often have extended lives, and physical manifestations of their greater god. Known Paladins: Ollivander (Sulis), Luna Loovegood (unknown), James Potter (Death),
Priests: A person who exchanges powers for worship exclusive to a single god. High Priests can be even more powerful then Paladins. Known Priests: Lucius Malfoy (High Priest of Donn)
Knights: A person who exchanges protection for worship exclusive to a single god. Greater Knights are even more protected then Paladins.
Blasphemer: A person who exchanges powers and protection for worship multiple gods. Tend to have extremely short and explosive lives. Known Blasphemer: Quirrell
Overall Plot/background: Gentle Death and Destruction are two halves of the same whole, gods who existed from the beginning of time, representing the end of all things. A young god known only as No-Name falls in love with Gentle Death, and in his envy used trickery and lies and broken oaths to try and entrap Destruction, so that he may take this place. Gentle Death seeing his other half in pain, sacrifices himself instead, sending him close to non-existence and insanity. No-name and Destruction then battle though space and time, with neither emerging victorious. Things change however, when humans start to worship them, giving them power. No-name and Destruction take on forms on Earth in an attempt to win power Their battle continues.
Dumbledore is a conduit for No-name. When he meets the young Tom Riddle he realises that this boy will become the Conduit for Destruction. Acting quickly, he engineers Tom to create a horcurux, thus destroying his ability to host. Tom, perhaps realising what he has lost, and partially being driven insane by it, becomes Voldemort. Meanwhile, Dumbledore meets Lily, and believes Lily is Gentle Deaths conduit. Using potions (from Snape, hence why he believes he betrayed Lily) Dumbledore ensnares Lily to his own paladin James Potter. Sirius believes Dumbledore is Destruction and swears loyalty (to Destruction [loophole]) in order to help Lily. Dumbledore continues his campaign to have Tom labeled as No-name, and destroy the old knowledge. Tom travels to kill James, and in his madness also goes after Lily and Harry. As Lily dies the conduit passes to Harry, which is not blocked, so when Tom tries to kill Harry, the curse backfires.
Dumbledore hastily blocks the conduit while everyone is distracted (the missing day in the Harry Potter timeline), and deliberately places Harry somewhere where he hopes he will be weaker but no killed. But Harry does die, and becomes Gentle Death’s conduit. And so begins our story.