Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Written for Colours of the Rainbow; Black 2.
His Place
He sits on the forest floor, the majestic creatures trotting around him, completely uninterested in his presence. He enjoys the way they ignore him, craves the solitude that isn't quite loneliness that he cannot get anywhere else. Nobody in his class can see the Thestrals as he can, he knows. He's heard them pondering the invisible force that pulls the carriages along at the beginning and end of the school year.
He want's to shout at them for their ignorance, but he doesn't. They are all imbeciles, but he knew that anyway. He wonders why he can see them. Obviously, he knows that he can see them because he has seen death, but he wonders which caused it. Could he, even as a tiny infant, see them because he'd watched his mother perish while in the arms of a muggle.
Was it the death of the child who fell down the stairs at the orphanage?
Was it a death he caused? There have been one or two of those already, though only indirectly. He wonders how long it will remain so. He has plans, intentions, for when he comes of age, but he cannot stop a little part of him wondering if he will be able to follow through with them.
Surely that is why he fits so well with these creatures though? They, made by death himself, can sense the darkness within him and feel a connection with him because of it.
He, who will do all things necessary to conquer death. He, who sits among the Thestrals like most sit among crups. He wonders if, had his life been different, better, would he feel so comfortable around the omens that many see as bad? Would he fear them like so many do, had he been pampered and spoilt like many of his classmates? It is pointless to ponder because he cannot, and wouldn't change the past.
The past has made him strong and given him his place. This is where he belongs.