A/N: I've been re-writing some parts of the story. I hope it makes sense, now.
A/N 1: Another short chapter! But I think it was the right moment to stop it there. This starts a new arc in the story.
"Fourth Doctor: You know, the very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common: they don't alter their views to fit the facts; they alter the facts to fit their views."
He opened his eyes again to see bright morning sunshine. Everything was so bright, so real and so very good. He tried to get up and then. . . he realized where he was. Moreover, who he was.
Small feet wiggled in attempt to lift his weight. The cot looked like a prison that moment. His memories now had huge holes in it, knowing only feeling associated with each of them. Each of the faces.
He didn't know where he was. He didn't know why he was here. He did the only thing possible for him to do, at that moment.
He wailed. Small body had its own cooping mechanism, after all.
Something appeared in front of him. The cooing sounds felt so good; he didn't know why. Perhaps it was her voice. There was warmth in it, with just a causal mixture of humor and love. Her words were music to his ears and he listened to with wonder. Her bright green eyes stared lovingly back at him.
In that moment, powerful emotion surged in him. He cried out.
"MAMA!"
The next moment, he was picked up by her, and carried downstairs. He could understand the language but at the same time he couldn't. He felt like he knew this and at the same time the words seemed . . . new.
"James! He called my name! He called me mama!" The excitement echoed through the house.
Death had finally tracked down the body, or, what was left of Harry Potter. Her eyes fell on the Deathly Hallows and picked them up quickly. Her elation turned to a huge frown when she couldn't detect her essence in them.
What magic did her lord wield?
She wanted her gifts back. But her lord had it, wherever he was.
Many had gathered Hallows before. It wasn't that easy as it looked. It was a clever plan devised by Death when she found out that she couldn't put her pieces back together just the way it had been before…
So, she moved on to the next best thing. Hallows were a trap for the people who thought they were foolish to master Death.
Master her.
She could reap anyone; she had dragged many tyrants into the land of dead. She was reason Gods feared her. Feared Death. She had the pleasure of ruling them. No one was greater than Death herself.
But here was something she had never expected.
She now regretted playing a risky gambit with Peverell's. And now He had succeeded and thus he was her Master.
No matter. I will find him eventually.
"Stand aside, girl. Stand ASIDE!" The peace of the house was no more. Just five minutes before, they were having a wonderful time. And now, James Potter was dead. Others were soon to follow.
"Avada Kedavra!" Lily fell on the ground. She did not move. Childish frown marred Harry's face. He had grown close to them. He had just begun to understand where he was.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort intoned, with careful precision. Harry's soul yearned to catch the jet of light. He was drawn to the Death magic but something prevented the light from hitting him.
For a moment, it looked like Harry Potter had deflected the curse back to him. His hand was raised at the time the curse got deflected and the curse scar got seared in his hand. Voldemort didn't have time to respond as the curse struck him. He just withered away. There wasn't even a body left.
The backlash of the magic blew the beams and columns in the room and the house. Sound of explosion was heard as far as the end of the town. The ceiling crumbled on the cot and Harry's neck got crushed due to the weight of it.
He died the next moment.
My Lord.
Death murmured as she held the baby in her arms. Her lord opened his eyes and looked at her. Death had never seen such beautiful pair of eyes. His oval, chubby face seems to compliment such wondrous eyes! She brought her lips forward and kissed his forehead.
Her lord's tiny hand caressed her cheeks. It made her feel so deathly again. He had the hollows inside of him, in his real, ethereal body! Sighing, she turned her eyes, the exact shade of emerald as her lord.
How in the world did he gain possession of Hallows? It had been out of her reach for so long and now a mere child had gain the power over her.
Take care of him.
Something ghostly whispered behind her. Death nodded and the ghost vanished, satisfied. She would watch him closely more than she did for that wretched spirit of Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Her lord was back in the baby's body, the next moment. The crushed neck was fixed. Harry James Potter was alive under the rubble.
Days after, he would be heralded as the Boy-Who-Lived. Days after, Dumbledore would mistake the scar on forehead as something dark and sinister. Days after, he would link this with the word Horcrux. Days after, he would form a plan to sacrifice the boy for the Greater Good.
Days after, this world's Hallows would return to Master of Death, leaving empty shells behind.
"Get away from me!" Nicholas barked out in a harsh tone.
"Such resilience, Nicholas." Death sounded amused. "How much will you run? How far will you go? I will catch you in the end. I have endless patience."
"Never!" Nicholas rasped out. The fight had taken much from him. "You shall never have me, you… you abomination!" He proclaimed.
Death's feature darkened and in an instant, she was near him. Nicholas didn't get a chance to scramble.
"How?" Nicholas choked out. He had mastered life. It just wasn't possible for death to touch her!
Death just gave a cold smile in return. With a swift motion, her hands were inside his heart.
"The thing you love won't protect you any longer." She hissed. Nicholas whitened in fear. His heart- the philosopher's stone was no more.
"You are a mortal now. And I shall wait for you, when your time runs out." Her eyes were hard but the tone was soft.
Nicholas closed his eyes, forcing the tears back and lay limp on the floor. Death was gone with a clear warning. All his work was undone and he had nothing to look forward to.
Nothing but Death.
Harry Potter waved his hand and wiggled his feet. It felt so trapped! That man, with a flowing white beard and blue eyes had done something to him. Despite his tiny age, he felt like he had worn a shirt too tight over his body. Shorts too felt the same way. He didn't like that man and neither the feeling of being so suffocated. He shouldn't have worn these clothes!
Due to his size, he failed to grasp the concept of garment sizes. It wasn't the garments that were suffocating him. They were comfortable and loose.
He grew irritated quite easily and he began to cry. So began the day where his new home would be a cupboard, hidden under the stairs. Petunia was soon irritated and angry at his constant crying. Vernon's short patience in spite of, the doctors couldn't find anything wrong with him.
And so, Petunia came to believe, that something was inherently wrong with him. His cries were ignored, for, they lost their loudness. Cranking T.V up to a suitable volume was easy enough and with time, the cries faded to what you might call- Background noise.
Just like every house has- that constant humming of the refrigerator, or the wooden board of the stairs in other. For some, it was the radio, switched on all the time. Here, in Number 4 Privet Drive, it was Harry Potter's cries mingled with the sounds of T.V.
Winters was a tough time to go through, if, you didn't have proper clothes or garments with you. Same was the case with a little boy named Harry Potter. Between the first year of his stay and the second, they had simply stopped caring. They didn't know what was wrong with him nor could they help him. For them, he was The-Boy-who-never-stops-crying.
This year's winter brought its fair share of cold. It seeped into his bones. At first he shivered and his teeth chattered. As the night grew darker, the cold started burning within him. He gave out a small whimper. He dreamt of warm fire in the fireplace.
The cold burned only for a while. After, he didn't have the strength to fight it anymore. First he got weak and drowsy, and then everything faded. He didn't feel pain toward the end.
Harry Potter died.
Petunia Dursley woke up, on a bright early morning without sporting her usual irritation. She hadn't felt this relaxed in years! Ever since- . . . . . .
Petunia yanked the door open to find him sleeping instead of bawling and a loud trumpet she had come to associate the boy with.
She sighed deeply. It had been hard work to get him weaned, toilet trained. Somewhere along the lines of 'trying' she had it with him. And then, one day, she found that shrieking raw in front of him managed to shut him up. Ever since then, she had been right sort of nasty with him. The toys wouldn't shut him up but proper amount of shouting worked wonders.
She thought of giving a short nudge stopped just short of touching him and withdrew her hand. No need to disturb the peace of the household. Without giving it a second thought, she rushed in the kitchen to make lovely breakfast for her family.
Only later in the day, Vernon received a call from a frantic Petunia informing him of the incident. They came to a decision soon enough. At night, Vernon had buried the boy in his back yard. He only had the strength to dig a grave of two or three meters deep. His strength had left him after digging for a meter, but, the thought of people finding out gave his plenty of encouragement to go on.
Plants and flowers grew in the garden, when, Petunia had grown them few months later. But no amount of fertilizer or seeds sown would grow in that four by four square feet patch.
Years went by and the death of a boy was forgotten. The small body of Harry James Potter had started to bleed since Vernon had dumped the body carelessly in the pit. A sharp stone had split open his head.
Blood pooled and absorbed in the wards. Albus Dumbledore placed more faith in his wards than the letters sent over by Arellabella Figg over the years. No, he was too busy cracking open Harry Potter's trust vault to give away prodigious amount of Galleons to Weasley's and gaining control of Potter's Wizengamot's seats.
Back so soon?
Harry turned towards the voice. A girl with equally bright green eyes stared back at him. Harry's eyes widened as he looked at her. Her cheekbones stood proud were the most prominent feature, followed by her soft, cute nose. Her hair was midnight black complimenting the paleness of her skin. There was only one word to describe her.
Hauntingly beautiful.
Harry blushed/grimaced. What to reply? How to reply? Was this his mother? It couldn't be. Her height was too small. But that eyes and that small nose. . . It reminded him of . . . her. Before he could answer,
Come.
Harry grabbed hold of her hand and walked towards a house. His heart warmed at her touch. Once in a while, she gave a small tug when he would fall slightly behind. He felt free and alive…?
This is my home. You are welcome, always.
Harry gave a brilliant smile and followed her in.
