A/N : Warnings for language
Thoughts in Italics
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Harry James Potter was born to one ecstatically married Lily Ann Potter and her dashing husband, James Potter on magical British soil. For a little over a year life was nearly perfect from little Harry's point of view. His parents loved and cared for him like he was rightfully the light of their lives. Until that fateful Halloween in which he lost everything that was known and familiar to him in a flash of brightly colored emerald light. Shortly after that, poor orphaned little Harry was shuffled off to his mother's only living family, the Dursleys, where life as Harry knew it became a nightmare for the child. Over the years he slowly grew up under their neglectful, hurtful ways until at eleven years of age he was whisked away to the magical world of his parents. Hoping against everything, that life would be better, that it would be a grand adventure! It just had to be, because this was where his perfect, loving, parents had come from, this was their world; a world that they fought and died for. That they left him behind for.
Harry's life was not a grand adventure as many were led to believe. At times confusing with wondrous moments; but it was also disorienting, stressful, and demanding. Demanding because an entire world that no one knew about depended on him. Depended on him to save them from a madman. They pushed him into accepting a destiny he never asked for. Why were they pushing at him? After he gave everything he had to give they asked for more. Why was it not enough? When is it ever GOING to be good enough? Even at a young age Harry was pushed, pulled, molded and manipulated like so much salt water taffy until he and his closest friends were exactly what Dumbledore and the wizarding world wanted them to be, for the most part. It was no question why Harry walked willing to his death. For the same world his parents, his Godfather, and so many others he loved sacrificed themselves for.
In the end Harry retained the famed Hollows as his own, the Resurrection Stone, the Elder Wand and his invisibility cloak. Despite dropping the Resurrection Stone into the leaf litter at his feet in the Forbidden Forest, it found its way back to him as if he'd called for it. Harry was the last to touch it; technically he was still its unknowing master. Harry did the duty expected of him by the wizarding world he chose to call home; gave up his life, his freedom, his peace and his happiness for years to better serve them. For them to love him, and hopefully when it was done, they would leave him the hell alone for a while. They didn't of course.
They stalked him, took pictures of him wherever he went, gossiped about and criticized nearly every breath he took. Fawned over him, used his name and words in promotions the world over with or without his permission. It didn't seem to matter. They simultaneously loved and loathed him. The media regularly praised and ripped him to shreds on their whims and fancies. Whichever way the wind blew that day.
He was never able to realize his dream of being an Auror like his father and Godfather. The Ministry found excuse after excuse to deny his application.
It took his wife, Ginny, to point out that they were afraid of him. Which kind of boggled his mind, because really? Did they think he was going to blow up the building or something; he wasn't a Dark Lord reincarnate, what the hell? As he thought about it, he realized it was all about covering their own asses and protecting their political positions. Like I want their damned job anyway, with as much political clout the Black and Potter name carried, not to mention I saved their lives, I could demand they give me the fucking job. But what do I do? I put my application in like a regular applicant only to have them piss all over it. This was when he was forced to agree that in this at least, Voldemort had been correct. It was about power, or at least the perception of it. It wasn't a pleasant revelation even a little bit. The principle of agreeing with anything that monster said grated on his nerves.
No one but Andromeda seemed to understand what he was going through. Before Remus and Tonks died they made him Teddy's godparent. After the war and graduating from Hogwarts he was too young to care for Teddy. Thank Merlin that Andromeda was able to care and have Teddy live with her. Harry was able to visit with Teddy and have him spend time with he and Ginny on holidays and his birthday. Harry enjoyed watching Teddy grow, he was an energetic five year old. The relationship between Harry and Teddy was and always would be special.
Even with not getting his first job choice life went on for Harry. He settled into a barely comfortable pattern. He took up Quidditch as a second option, though truly his heart wasn't in it as when he was a child playing for the Gryffindor team. I got to travel at least. The first time Ginny got pregnant he was blindsided, but happy for the event, even if the timing confused him. He and Ginny had never discussed the issue of children previously, though considering the size of the Weasley clan perhaps Harry should have assumed it to be a forgone conclusion from the beginning.
After they were married Ginny often played coy and hard to get until he would back off in frustration. Then change her mind and suddenly couldn't seem to get enough of Harry if he turned his attention to something else for a time. At times it drove Harry absolutely nuts, other times he looked at it as a little passionate game of cat and mouse between them. Ginny was his childhood love, his own personal firecracker, the one who stood by him through everything the wizarding world had thrown at him. Most believe it was because she reminded him of his mother. How creepy are they to think I would marry a woman who looked like my mother? As far as Harry was concerned the only traits that Ginny and his mother shared was a strong personality uniquely their own. Their hair wasn't even the same shade of red, so Harry had no idea where this rumor had come from.
In retrospect Harry tried to give her the space she wanted sometimes, even if it hurt him to do it. The only thing that made sense was that the child had been a surprise for her too, so he pushed suspicions to the back of his mind and embraced the birth of his first son relationship between he and Ginny appeared settled on the outside for a few years. Things were calm and he continued with his career and loved his son with all of his heart. Teddy was included as a part of his family, growing with James almost as closely as a brother. When his second son came Harry's suspicion grew, because he was certain he had an away Quidditch match and had not been home long enough for them to even have a quickie. Although if I remember correctly there was that one party at the Weasley home where I got pissed and woke up naked on the couch with Ginny draped over me equally naked. Harry protested with Ginny that he did not remember them ever making love that night yet she insisted it had happened and their second son Albus was proof.
Harry's final proof of Ginny's infidelity was the birth of his daughter Lily, it broke his heart. A discreet trip to the goblins shortly after Lily was born was the nail in the coffin for Ginny. Shortly after that he brought the boys just for confirmation. As much as Harry wanted to turn his back on Ginny and the children he now knew were not his, he could not. He loved little Lily and her brothers despite it all. They were innocent victims in their mother's duplicity, and so Harry could not find it in his heart to punish them for it.
He discreetly made sure, with the Goblin's help that the children of his heart would inherit equal shares of the Potter fortune upon his passing, and Teddy would receive the Black Lordship. Ginny, he made certain was left only the amount of wealth she had brought into their marriage originally. Along with her own earnings from her career in Spell-warding, and the side earning from George with the joke shop since Fred's death so many years ago. She would be able to live on a modest, carefully watched budget for years. What happened after that, Harry no longer could find it in himself to care what happened. He'd be dead anyhow. In his will Harry made sure to place clauses to ensure she got nothing of the Potter money, his children could not share anything with her without losing their own portion. He also made a point to reveal to everyone exactly why he was being excluded, and why he had stayed with her anyhow, for the sake of his children's sense of safety and happiness. Now that they were adults they deserved to know the truth.
Finding out Ginny's betrayal had shattered Harry's heart into pieces. He'd given her everything he had. She used his weakness for wanting and having a family against him. The first time he held Lily in his arms, he remarked at how much smaller she was than her brothers. Lily was delicate, beautiful and perfect, even if she wasn't of his blood. My heart was already hers the moment she held his finger in tiny little hands.
Harry's relationship with Ginny suffered horribly once he became aware of her infidelity. He never confronted her on her actions, she'd been discreet enough he supposed, and she took proper care of the children and the home. Yet his love for her waned, Harry stopped making advances or trying to become intimate with her. There was a huge chasm between them, of politeness and excuses. Sex was nonexistent since Lily was born, and neither attempted seeking the other out for it any longer. He no longer got inebriated around her. If Ginny noticed she never said anything. Harry was sure she took other lovers over the years. He did not. He no longer trusted his heart to anyone outside of his children.
Time passed, and his children grew, changed and discovered their own lives and trials. He was happy for them, content with drifting through the rest of his life watching them from the sidelines proudly. Ginny became a stranger to him in those years, and in all honesty he couldn't say he missed her. He had tried at first, but hadn't be capable of mustering up even a sliver of remorse about it. Ginny was always the appropriate wife around others; her affections extending to the occasional pat on the hand, or a kiss on the cheek in public as needed. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about her touching me now.
Interactions with the Weasley clan became uncertain and strained as they slowly realized things between Ginny and Harry had somehow, somewhere, gone horribly wrong. Neither of them saw fit to enlighten anyone as to the cause. Harry did it to spare his children, he had no idea how Ginny justified it to herself each morning.
As time passed Harry fell into the habit of expecting very little from anyone other than his children, whom he knew for certain loved him to the moon and back. He hated his job more and more; his relationship and life, or lack there of, was empty and lonely. His life was a disaster, and he had no way of fixing it, wasn't even certain when it had all turned on its head in the first place. Harry resolved himself to enjoying his kids and grand-kids, and left the rest in broken pieces by the wayside.
At the age of 140 Harry died, after drinking a glass of Fire Whiskey, ironically reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard while sitting comfortably by the fireplace in the library. He was alone in the house; Ginny found him hours later after returning from a social gathering Harry refused to attend. Harry's death was peaceful, he died with a smile on his face with thoughts of his children and reading their favorite tales of the Deathly Hollows to them. His death was quiet and slow; it crept up on him slowly as he drifted into slumber. Harry looked as if he was sleeping in his chair comfortably.
When Ginny came home hours later in the evening, hung up her coat as usual then wandered around their shared home picking up things here and there before looking for her husband. When she found him, Ginny stood in the doorway long minutes gazing at Harry with no expression of love or hate. Ginny memorized every laugh line, every wrinkle earned in joy, grief and strife. Despite the trials he was forced to endure his entire life, she was aware that she was responsible for many of them. She took in the permanent bruised look his closed eyes held, and felt something faintly like regret stir in her chest. For all the silent betrayal and insult over the years, this man had stood by her, honored her and shielded her when he'd had no obligation to do so.
My Harry, you poor delusional, forgiving, loyal and stupid fool. Still believing that there is good in everyone even until your dying breath.
A faint twitch twisted her pale wrinkled lips as she considered her options now. So many options and doors were open to her now as the main beneficiary of the combined Potter-Black fortune. The price had been her youth and her body, but she really hadn't minded. There were worse men she could have sold herself too for the comfort of their money. It had been no hardship to lie under Harry's powerful body when he'd wanted her. It was a shame he could not give me the children my mother hounded me for.
She'd found an easy way around that of course, ridiculously easy actually, but she had paid a steep price for it. Harry had silently banned her from her from their bedroom, refused to be intimate as was the rights as his wife. In all honesty she missed the way Harry would make her body sing with pleasure. Harry as inexperienced as he had been at first; ended up being an exceptional lover.
Pulling herself from reminiscing about the past she glanced around the room, nodded sharply to herself, straightened up and moved into the room over to Harry. She raised fingers trembling with hope and anticipation to the man's pulse, finding it still and silent. The breath she had unconsciously been holding burst from her in a rush of warm air and elation. Swiftly she gathered her robes and swept from the library to the main receiving room to summon a St. Mungo's Healer. It's time to set things into motion for a future that is finally my own.
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The first thing Harry became aware was the darkness, then the lack of his senses altogether. He could see nothing, hear, feel, smell or even taste- anything. He was confused and vaguely disturbed by the emotion of nothingness. But even his emotions were distant, intangible things at best. Harry floated, at least, he thought he floated, it was very hard to tell anything. Time meant nothing, nor distance or location, there was simply no information to be had. Dimly he got the impression that he was waiting for something. Harry was not sure what he was waiting for, his thoughts drifting to and fro with no purpose or correlation.
Thoughts of his life filtered through his mind, his family and the people in it. However, those thoughts melted through his metaphorical hands no matter how tightly he tried to grasp them. He was desperate for something to occupy him; though he quickly forgot why in the first place. Existence continued as such until there was little left of the mortal being that was Harry James Potter. What was left was nameless, purposeless. Memories became so faint they materialized themselves as nothing more substantial that dull brief flashes of color, smells, sensation, sometimes emotion. He couldn't identify them as such anymore, and so the war he had fought to keep these small scraps of his psyche was ultimately a wasted effort. They became meaningless, and slipped away too. Finally his soul rested and began to heal.
He broke apart and scattered across the Void that was his domain for the moment. It was a long while before he got the impression of gentle hands slowly gathering him up. Carefully hunting down and selecting each rendered piece of him like some sort of cosmic puzzle. Slowly he became aware of tiny pinpricks of light suddenly around him, though they gave him no point of reference on anything at all. Something had moved him. After a time, he was spoken to, if it could be called speech. Images formed gently in his head as he struggled to bring together his battered, scrambled, mind to understand them. At first he couldn't, and the images were gently repeated, again and again until he began to comprehend.
It was an apology. He wasn't meant to be here alone, with nobody to care for him, with no one to meet him. He sensed that he was gathered close to this…being... for lack of anything else to call it. More images bubbled up in his mind. This being was neither male nor female, young or old, it was all of them simultaneously. It took him a long moment to realize that he was speaking to Death. At his realization the images faded away to silence, but he was still held closely. Harry tried to communicate to his watcher, but received no response other than the being's attention was turned elsewhere for now. So he waited. For however long.
Eventually Death's attention returned to Harry, though he couldn't say how he knew this. Trying again to communicate, he pushed images towards the entity and received pleased amusement in return. Apparently he had accomplished connection. Slowly he was fed information, small bits and pieces at a time. Harry was somehow between layers of existence, not alive and not truly dead either, though he had left his body behind long ago. This is why it had taken Death so long to come to him, though time had little meaning to the being to begin with. Harry learned that there were billions of worlds, of people, galaxies and stars too numerous to count. Levels and layers of life, being and existence that he wasn't yet capable of sorting out beyond that there were many and varied. His previous life had been but one of such vast numbers.
Death coaxed and comforted him as he watched worlds being born, worlds die again and again until the horror and awe left him. Until he observed with fascination the many ways the threads of life twisted and turned. For a long time Death left him to his study, though it was always close whenever Harry needed it. The day came where Harry decided he wanted a closer look. He wanted to be close to these fragile life forms, be among them, he wanted to belong somewhere once more. To feel and experience their trials and triumphs as he had once done. Death was hesitant.
Harry didn't push or argue, he waited patiently sharing snippets and bits of his study that delighted or moved him with the entity. Very much like a child trying to please and sweeten a parent into something he wanted. Death kept one eye on his offered little treasures of information, slowly warming to the idea of its Master's request.
Finally Death relented, and offered him so many options that he became lost in the many and varied possibilities. Finally he decided that he simply didn't care when, where or how it came about, he simply wanted to experience again. Death pulled back slightly in reservation as it considered. Perhaps something similar, with familiarity to his previous life? That seemed to be the best starting option, things could be slowly narrowed down from there.
Death picked a universe that wasn't too far off from what its Master had known previously, and Death itself was rather fond of. It would be able to keep a close eye on its Master; it was there often enough anyway. From there Death offered its Master images of various races in the realms, discarding them one after the other if Harry showed little interest in them. Finally they settled on a handful of options. Going back and forth seemingly forever about the pros and cons of each. Jotun, or Frost Giants, were eventually eliminated as Harry looked more closely at their lives and homeworld. He didn't think he would enjoy that sort of life, even if their natural abilities were intensely interesting.
Next Harry discarded the Aesir. Though they were very intriguing at first glance, the longer he watched them the more he realized that they were at a stagnant point in their world's development. Not what he was looking for then. He wanted excitement, change, Asgard offered little of that below the surface shine. Looking at the mutant humans on Earth revealed endless possibilities that spun off into the nether, but he had no guarantee what he would end up with, and Death was uncertain as well. The entity could send him back into a life of his choosing, within reason, but it could little control what happened to his mortal body or life from there. He could very well end up with a long life, like the Aesir depending on his mutation. Or he could end up being completely useless, or immensely dangerous, on top of a short human length lifespan. Reluctantly this option was tossed aside as well.
He considered the Lycans and Valkyrie for a long, long time, going back and forth until he was nearly dizzy with it, unable to make up his mind. Death observed Harry with endless patience, turning its attention away from time to time only briefly to attend to other matters or duties that Harry had only a vague concept of. More time stretched passed … and he still could not make up his mind. Both were long lived, both powerful in their own ways, their societies delightfully complex and ever changing over time. When it came down to it, the deciding factor really was completely trivial and pointless, but he simply couldn't let it go. Valkyrie had wings. They were masters of their aerial domain, little outclassed them. HE could FLY!
Choice made, Harry tugged at Death's consciousness like an overly excited child, happily showing off his hard won final choice. He had the deep sneaking suspicion that Death was laughing its ass off at him, though he couldn't prove it. After a minute, as he gazed possessively upon the lovely race he had chosen for his new mortal form, Harry decided he didn't care.
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At first Harry didn't notice a change in the type of darkness around him. Then slowly he became aware of his senses again. He was in a small warm space that was comfortable, but there seemed to be something hard encasing his curled up body, restricting much of his movement. He could feel and hear his heart beating, a soft whoosh whoosh that was deeply reassuring in an instinctively primal way. After a while he picked up a strange muffled noise beyond his little shelter, he concentrated on it for a long time before he recognized it as a type of singing. It was strange and foreign but he liked it. It consisted of humming, cooing and a noise similar to the chirping of a bird. Only it was more, a noise made deep in the throat instead of pitched high and sharp. It was comforting, coaxing in a way he just couldn't explain, but his entire physical being responded to it. Harry couldn't stop the chirping or whirring type noises his throat made in response to what he assumed was a parent's contact call.
Time passed and the same voice was a near constant visitor. As he waited for whatever was supposed to happen next, Harry took stock of his new form. He had two arms and two legs that he could move somewhat in the space he was confined to. All fingers and toes were accounted for and also worked just fine as far as he could tell. However Harry was disappointed to note that while he did have a pair of ugly naked wings attached to his back, they barely twitched under his concentrated efforts to move them. Finally the time came where Harry was sick of his smothering little space. A rather violent uncontrollable urge rushed through his being and he began to wriggle in agitation, unable to settle himself. For races all over existence being born was a complicated, nerve wrecking, bloody, screaming, messy affair for both parent and child. Harry was happily hatched from an egg.
It was a singularly unique and beautiful experience in his opinion. The sudden exposure was a shock to his system. Everything was cold, blurry, loud and he couldn't tell up from down. Then someone picked him up, and Harry became aware of warmth, and soft cooing singing he immediately recognized as his parent. It immediately settled something deep within as it always had from the first moment he heard it. He was clutched close and soft feathers descended around his tiny frame, shielding and comforting. Dimly he tried to gather his thoughts, to take stock of the overwhelming world of light, color, sensations and noise. For the time being it was overwhelming, there was so much sensory information, all at once and Harry's body didn't know how to process it. Blinking unfocused eyes he tipped his head back, making mental note that he moved around shockingly well for a newborn, and looked at his parent for the first time.
The Valkyrie holding Harry to its chest was stunningly beautiful in its androgynous way. Rich, lush brunette hair shined in the light, a shade that wasn't far from chocolate, but it was the eyes that caught and held his attention almost instantly. They were sharp, intelligent and intensely silver, very much like Christmas tinsel. There were crinkles around those eyes, a tell tale sign of age, and laughter, but they held such sadness. He reached up to awkwardly pat his parent on the chin, wondering into what, and when, he had been born to cause such a look at what was normally a happy event. A soft smile was Harry's reward, a gentle flash of fangs as his parent laughed in delight. Bringing one wrist to lips, a second flash of teeth pierced skin, startling Harry into stillness as his parent offered him the small bloody wound. At first he did nothing, Harry wasn't sure how to respond to the gesture or what to do with it. He noted the lack of mammalian breasts then, the lack of atypically female form he was familiar with from his old race and life. There was obviously a point to these actions, he just needed to figure it out. Harry turned back to the offered wrist as it was firmly pressed to his tiny lips, smearing the dripping red liquid. Instinctively he began to suckle, and every cell in his body purred in pleasure with the nourishment, eyes half masting sleepily.
Years passed, and Harry grew into his new body gracefully. Soft feather-down grew in to cover his previously bare naked little wings, a pretty sooty color he was rather fond of. Harry knew his wings were unlikely to remain that color, he was just a fledgling and wouldn't get his first flight feathers for a few years yet. He was very pleased with his new body at the moment, it was all awkward knees and elbows but he was slender instead of scrawny and his skin had an attractive healthy glow. Harry's hair on the other hand, was a constant tangled black mop that his parent hopelessly tried to tame. Until one day giving up and simply tying it into a braid down his back, calling it a battle won. Harry over all was a very handsome little fledgling that would grow into a stunning adult given time, but the feature he was most complimented on were his captivating, luminous emerald eyes. Harry lost count of the times Valkyrie were startled nearly stupid when they caught sight of them. Apparently green was a much coveted and extremely rare color among his people. It amused him endlessly how his parent would puff up in vain pride when Harry was so admired. He was told neither of his parents had eyes the same color, so it was uncertain where his had popped up from, but Harry really just didn't care much.
There came a time when his parent sat Harry down and sadly explained to them why their people had made a home on earth, isolated and secluded from the humans. His Sire and older siblings had been slain in a war with a race called the Skrull. His remaining parent was not young, and Harry was the only surviving offspring and there would be no more. While their warriors fought and died his parent had led a large group of survivors and fled for their lives. Their home planet was a toxic wasteland, the Skrull had ruined it beyond repair for multitudes of generations. It was unlikely that their homeworld would ever be reclaimed. Skrull had taken over the neighboring planets, decimated his race, and chased them to the far reaches of sister galaxies. They were scattered far and wide over many systems, settling in groups here and there on various planets. Sometimes they were welcomed with open arms, sometimes they were killed or chased away. Sometimes they hid themselves among the populace of the planet, this was the option Harry's parent had chosen when Earth was found. It wasn't until then that he was told his mother was the Queen, of a sorts, to a broken throne that was no more. Deep loyalty is still tied to the valkyrie Queen who they view as their ruler and the little heir, traditional throne or not. His mother still looked after the people who had stayed on Earth with her. Protected and guided them them best that could be done in the situation at hand.
While Harry was still young, his mother showed him a little of the limited illusion magics natural to his kind. With the quick weaving of a spell, Harry's wings were safely shielded from human view, and he was taken out into the world to learn under sharp watchful eyes of the world that was now his own. It was around this time also that magical tutoring was arranged as well, arming Harry as quickly as possible with the tools he would need to survive in secret within the population. As well as teaching him the richness of what remained of their own culture. Harry's mother was aging more quickly than was natural to their people, beaten down, broken by the loss of home, mate and her other children. It was heart breaking watching as someone he loved slowly faded away, but not unexpected. One day it became too much for his beloved mother to bear any longer and Harry was suddenly left alone. Nobody was surprised, Valkyries often chose to join their mate in the afterlife. Harry's people slowly faded into the human population, only a handful staying with him after his mother passed on. For now, until he was grown, they would have to look after themselves.
For a little while Harry floundered still mourning his loss, but came to learn that even in this his mother had prepared and provided. A human family had been found that he could be adopted into, and continue on with his life. Ironically enough it was a young upper class English family, and so Harry became human for all intents and purposes for many years. They asked him his name and Harry smiled at the irony that was his life, for his parent had chosen a human name for him in deference to his being the first Valkyrie child to be born on Earth.
"My name is Harry."