Laughter and excitement filled his hall. The fire-pit's smoke curling gently in the sweltering twilight, steam rising as water was splashed across the coals. Reveller's feasted on the hunter's bounty, drunk on the wine of dreams, dancing and singing as free as the storm.
He lounged upon a throne of oak and amber. Reclined to bask in the sound and sensation, heart beating in time with the pounding drums. To the right were his huscarls and hirdmen, his wordsmiths and wise. To the left were his guests from other courts, new seekers of favour and allies of old. Gifts and oaths sat before him from those seeking passage to the lands that were now open to him and his. Spears of hawthorn and fine flint worked with silver, sunlight bottled in graven quartz, pouches of sewn shadow holding gems of hope. His smile was a flash of pale light as the source of this fortune came full circle to stand before him.
By the turning of the sun and stars we would have been a boy of twelve, but they had less grasp where he had been than in other places. Who could say how long or short his memories ran? In form he was youth on the cusp of becoming a man, which may be as good a measure as any.
He danced with arms outstretched, leaping and spinning as he moved with grace and abandon. Wild hair lay plastered with the sweat that ran freely down his lean form. The light of glowing coals glinted from silver armbands and rings set with white stones that shone with starlight. None of them were a match for his eyes. A fever bright green that shamed emeralds, embarrassed the springtime leaves. Coming to a stop before the Thunder Bearer he swayed over like the moving shadows, sitting bonelessly at his feet with panting laughter.
Voices were low, music trailed off and even the embers were dull in the pit. All attention was focused on the two standing figures, potential heavy in the thick air.
''All is even now, all debts repaid and bargains honoured. I told you there would be a choice to be made. So which path will you tread?''
''I would seek a bargain, Born of the Storm.'' A smile forming across the youths face. ''I would have a name of my own.'' Whispers spread like waves around the hall, though neither of the two paid heed.
''And what do you think you can offer for such a thing?'' The elder replied with a breathless edge, the two seeming to come closer as all attention came to focus on this moment.
A wand was plucked from nowhere, held firm in one hand as a finger was brought to the tip. ''I offer this,'' he gently spoke, before pulling with all his might. Light and fire erupted as a shard of immortality was drawn, roaring, out of base matter. As it resolving into an echo of the feather that had contained it he held it out before him.
''Agreed.''
Things were not right at Hogwarts, though little could be done to find the source. Those with the skill could feel the magic of the place wreath like an irritated animal, the Forbidden Forest both groaned with life and wallowed in shadows. The house elves skittered from place to place with a haunted look and the centaurs had withdrawn to their deepest territory. Most recently however, just that night in fact, a small device in Dumbledore's office suddenly stopped spinning.
Flying from his office, running with unknown vigour through the corridors, he pulled aside the curtains on Harry Potter's bed. The shell of glamour was half dissolved, crumbling to light and dreams. He was lost for a moment, looking between the illusion and the talisman in his hand. Harry Potter was dead.