"You wish… to be sent to the year 1925… of your own world…" Death repeated slowly, spindly hand stilling against his tea cup as he gently set it down on the saucer.
Harry nodded along amiably. "Precisely," he agreed, taking a small sip from his own cup and tasting jasmine, rather refreshing. He added another cube of sugar to it and laced his fingers together, waiting for Death's reply.
"You…" Death began, then sighed, shaking his head and, with a single snap of his fingers, the tea set, table, and the chairs they'd been sitting on disappeared into the void, Death standing regally while Harry flailed and landed straight on his behind.
He glared up at the being, who simply gave the impression of a raised eyebrow in return.
"Do try not to start another apocalypse," Death tiredly advised, and then he was snapping his skeletal fingers one more, Harry disappearing in a puff of smoke, the perpetual teen's mouth having opened to no doubt form an indignant reply.
.
The next thing the Master of Death knew, he was blinking large, emerald eyes - the only feature of his which remained constant - up towards the faces of his parents, who peered down at him, their expressions ones of clear joy.
The man - his father - had soft green-blue eyes and long, dirty blonde locks of hair that cascaded in waves down his shoulders, while the woman - his mother - had sky blue eyes and hair so pale blonde it was practically white.
Definitely upper class, Harry mused, wriggling slightly in the tightly wrapped blanket he was bundled up in and letting out a quiet whine. Here's to a long childhood, he dryly cheered, resigning himself to the fussing of his parents.
.
Or, perhaps, he wouldn't have quite the long childhood he'd expected, though he hoped for it to be otherwise. He'd only had a couple of… 'false starts,' as he might so delicately put it, and it'd be rather rude of Death to cut the first one Harry had chosen for himself so short.
However, there was no denying the sounds of forced entry from the foyer, nor that of something - a couple of somethings - thumping heavily on the floor. His parents, then. Wonderful.
It wasn't as though Harry had anything against his most recent guardians, no! And of course he didn't want them dead . Although they'd been muggles, that didn't particularly change the fact that they were of a decent sort. The only issue was that he'd had to suppress his magical aura even more than he tended to, which of course led to him becoming an Obscurial much sooner than was normal for himself as well, but that wasn't a fault of their own. He simply hadn't wanted to risk exposing his accidental magic until he could be sure they wouldn't run off to the nearest church to have him exorcised, or, even better, smother him. That had been a terribly short life, Harry shuddered.
Even so, although he didn't feel any ill will towards his parents, it took a bit of effort to muster up more than a heavy dose of exasperation at how events were currently playing out.
But what could he say? You've lived a hundred lives, you've lived them all. Of course death seemed rather happenstance to him at this point.
Harry snapped out of his musings as the door to his playroom creaked open, his head tilting up to look into the dual colored eyes of none other than -
Oh you've got to be kidding me, Harry choked inwardly.
It wasn't in horror, though, nor in resignation or terror or anything like that. No, not at all.
Harry forced his expression to remain open and blank, restraining from forming the smile that was practically itching to creep up his lips, and he let out a quiet babble, tilting his head guilelessly towards the man before him.
The Dark Lord mirrored the action, cocking his head and bending his knees slightly while his gaze seemed to pierce Harry straight through, pitch black and cobalt blue eyes seeing more than was present.
It was then that Harry finally let a cherub smile spread across his pudgy cheeks, a tinkling giggle alighting in the quiet room as his eyes squinted in obvious delight.
The man moved to stand, expression having shuttered and turned dismissive, but Harry wasn't having it, and he slapped his palm against the hardwood floor he'd been crawling across before the disruption.
Time ticked down to a slow crawl.
Gellert Grindelwald tilted his head back towards Harry, eyes narrowed and utterly impassive, and Harry reached within himself to brush against the tight, impenetrable locks he'd strangled his own magical core with.
It responded eagerly, bursting forth from the tight confines it'd been held in since his birth, and Grindelwald was blown back from the force of the release, slamming into the door he'd entered from; there were shouts coming from the hallway behind the man, but neither Harry nor the Dark Lord paid them any mind.
Instead, for the first time but certainly not the last - at least, if Harry had any say in it - Grindelwald's expression was one of absolute, utter shock.
For before him, there was no longer any child in sight.
Floating sedately with the fine edges of its black mist curling like smoke from a fire, was an Obscurus.