The Reapers, silent for decades had once again been wakened. Drawn by the desperate pleas of a young woman about to die. A Fate-Weaver sighed; the woman was to die, her son was to live. The ethereal essence of Lily Evans became corporeal before the council. She stood tall and proud before the black clad figures. The leader, the White Mercy, stepped forward.
"Lily Potter née Evans, why is your wish to live so strong the Reapers and the Weavers were summoned to this thrice damned council." Lily flinched.
"I do not want to live. I want my son to live." The council murmured. Someone stepped forward. She was a Death-Weaver.
"I shall watch over your son, as does another." Lily smiled sadly. She bowed and her essence slowly walked on, to Shadow Realm. The others looked at the lone Weaver.
"And why are you so generous? He will have to die first," stated the White Mercy.
"I know," was all she said.
The death of Harry James Potter
My first swimming lesson is today, I have been wanting to swim ever since Drée jumped off a cliff. Drée is crazy. She honestly is. She told me all about wizardry, Magecraft and even Runecraft. I knew I was a mixture off all three. Drée is fickle, as am I. We go through phases of darkness and they scare me. I sat in the school bus, alone, thinking. My Hogwarts letter was due in about a year and honestly I'm not even sure if I want to go. Drée probably wouldn't be allowed to accompany me. I changed into my swimming things silently. The other boys around me laughing and joking with each other. Drée suddenly appeared beside be and I flinched. She was going to watch someone die today, she looked like a muggle Grim Reaper! That's how I know she is in a bad mood. The first time she appeared to me she had these clothes on, she changed the shape of my scar too! It used to be a lightning bolt but now it looks like a Dark Mark with a scythe next to it. I like the new scar better, it scares the pants off of everyone. The scythe covers a good portion of my face but the Dark Mark is smaller, less obvious. We were told to jump in and jump I did, that's when it started going wrong. I saw Drée watching me closely and began to worry. Dudley and Piers pulled me into the deep end and held my head under. My lungs filled with water as I struggled, my self defence training doing nothing for the imminent threat of drowning. Screaming, pleading, begging, threatening, all of it going through my head at once. My thoughts overloaded with the sound, I blacked out sinking to the bottom of the pool.
My essence entered the Shadow Realm with a terrible bang and there standing before me was Drée. I watched her warily. She had told me that to become a Weaver or a Reaper properly I would have to die. She pushed me into a seat in front of a mirror and told me to watch. I did as I was told. My face became paler, my hair became longer and changed colour going from a very dark brown to an inky back, my lips turned blue and my eyes flashed scarlet and then obsidian and finally back to green. When the change was over I looked even closer at myself. My eyes were no longer emerald, they were a much more piercing dark forest green and my face looked skeletal and gaunt.
My soul was forced quite painfully back into the body of my ten year old self when the paramedic began to pump air into my lungs. Someone shouted something. The stench of chlorine filled my nose and I was unsure of whether I was in hospital or still at the pool. Blood and water poured out of my mouth when I sprang upwards and coughed. I looked around me at the sterile room. Hospital. I saw Drée standing beside me, her scythe held loosely in her hand. A doctor placed a hand on my shoulder. I flinched away.
"Could you sit up on the bed please, we just need to check you over." I sat down carefully. The doctor began checking me over. I just sat there. I was finally able to begin my training. I didn't know what to become, but Drée would probably make me a Death-Weaver like she is, although being a Grim-Reaper or a Fate-Weaver would be awesome! Fate-Weavers and Death-Weavers work closely together. A Fate-Weaver is assigned to a person when they are born (when the human is born) and then they stay with them until they are to die, pushing and prodding but never really interfering. That is when the Death-Weavers come out and play. The Death-Weaver then maps out the final year of that persons life, controlling it fully. I don't like the sound of that. Grim-Reapers actually take the life of the person about to die so I guess I was wrong. Grim-Reapers and Death-Weavers are closer partners than Fate-Weavers and Death-Weavers. Or I could be a Blood-Reaper. Blood-Reapers decide what genetics go into a child before a Fate-Weaver can even get there hands on the infant. Nah, Grim-Reaper or Death-Weaver. Drée looked at me. She was itching to know what I wanted to be so she could complete the change.
"What's your name, kid?" I opened my mouth to answer but Drée shook her head.
"Mortimer Weaver." The doctor raised an eyebrow but I wasn't looking at him. Behind him Drée was shaking with laughter. "You look fine, your lips are a little bit blue but that should clear up in about an hour. Your uncle is waiting in the waiting area, just across the hall." I quickly made my way to the aforementioned waiting room. A man dressed in black was stood scowling in the middle. He looked at me with a look of purest loathing, but I found myself unable to return the look. This man, this obviously stone hearted man, had a connection to me. And I wanted to know what it was. I looked at Drée. Her essence solidified next to me. Her scythe aflame; she advanced upon the poor man and swung the deadly blade in a graceful arc towards his neck. The point pierced the skin then halted.
"Harry, do you wish to know your connection to this man?" I nodded. "He is your father." I looked at the man. He shifted uncomfortably and then turned on his heel. He motioned for me to follow him. I did so.
We walked to the park not far away. He sat down on a bench, all the while watching Drée. I look at her. Her smile did not bode well. I sat beside him, staring up at the cloudless sky.
"I am your father, but I can't claim you. As much as I would love to certain people wouldn't allow me to. I can officially change your name, the muggle way and then all record of Harry Potter would be gone. You would continue to live with the Dursleys and continue your training with the Death-Weaver, but when you come to Hogwarts you would be my son. I will visit in a week, have a name by then."
When I looked around he was gone. I walked back home in silence. Not even talking to Drée. She slung her scythe across her back and ran to catch up with me. I rapped on the door to my 'home'. The door was answered by my aunt who let me in. She sent me straight to the cupboard and said I wouldn't be going to school for a few days.
One Week Later
"Boy!" I clambered out of the cupboard quickly and practically flew into the kitchen. Sat on a chair was my father. He gestured for me to sit. I did so and he looked at me closely.
"Have you thought of a name?" I nodded.
"Syran, I don't have a reason though, I just like it." He nodded.
"And a middle name?" I panicked. Then it hit me; the male version of Drée's name.
"Drew. What is my new surname?" He looked up and smiled.
"Snape, and before you ask… Severus." Man this guy was good! I laughed. "I will try and visit once a month however circumstance may forbid…"
"That's fine." He nodded and left.
Ok that's it.
White Mercy- Nobody important just yet.
The sighing Fate-Weaver- was Harry/Syran's Fate-Weaver.
Drée- The Death-Weaver that decided to look after Harry/Syran. Pronounced Dray.
The scar- That's just me being exceptionally evil. Sorry. Imagine the stick of the scythe going down the left side of his face and the blade going around his right eye.
Weeper- A combination of Weaver and Reaper. Syran/Harry is a combination of Death Weaver and Grim Reaper. Basically, he controls them and kills them.
I think that's all that should be explained. I will answer questions in the next chapter.