Chapter One: The pains of a 'Father' and boy before his time
This time it will work, he told himself. This time, it has to work; things are getting worse... So many times had this been repeated in his head- with each try, the words would run through his mind, his sense of urgency steadily increasing. Each time, he would try, and each time it would fail. Each and every time.
Except for the first time.
If only it hadn't worked the first time, he thought. If only every time it had been a failure, maybe he wouldn't be trying to fix it all now. The man shook his head. These 'if only's' were what got him in this hellhole in the first place. He brought his attention back to the here-and-now, looking down at the bowl of failure. He muttered words under his breath, the magic whispers softly stirring the sands as he poured in more.
The whispers momentarily caught in his throat as a soft light enveloped the sands in the bowl. Was it going to work this time? He hoped against hope that the light would stay, grow, envelope him as well, like it had the first time. Was he finally going to be able to fix everything? Then, just as the man was about to close his eyes and continue with the incantation, the light started fading. He let out a fierce growl, the burn of frustration spreading from his chest to the rest of his body. He picked up the bowl and threw it against the wall, already knowing that all he'd accomplished was to throw the sands everywhere- the bowl was indestructible.
"Father?"
The man wheeled around, surprised by the boy in the doorway. How long had he been there? "Yes, Harry?"
"Are you alright? I heard a crash, and you yelling... Oh, it didn't work again," the boy said. His green eyes looked upon the mess of sand and the bowl lying next to them, before looking up at his father's hazel eyes. Harry didn't really know what his father was doing, as he'd never explained it to the boy, but Harry knew he'd been trying to successfully do the experiment for years and years.
"No, Harry. It didn't work." His father sighed as his shoulders lost the tension of frustration. This boy was a constant reminder of his failure. That's not to say he didn't care for the boy, but everything had to be made right... Even if that meant losing the boy. Harry should never have been his to care for. The sense of failure was mounting again, giving the man energy to try again. He turned away from Harry and bent to sweep the sands in a pile, turning the bowl right side up again.
"Harry? Ah, there you are. Julien? No success?" Julien looked over to see Maude, one of the people who took care of Harry, behind the boy. "You should eat something, Julien. It's already evening- have you eaten anything today?"
Julien sighed. "Alright. Is food ready?" Maude nodded, and Julien joined her and the boy out in the hallway. Together they walked to the dining room for their meal.
"So has Harry told you about his lesson today, Julien?" Maude asked, a smirk on her thin lips. Julien cocked an eyebrow at Harry.
"Well, do you remember that boy that used to live close by? They moved after Aaron...um...I'm sorry," Harry said, faltering at the mention of his uncle. He knew his father had never really gotten over it.
"It's alright, Harry," Julien said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder warmly. Harry continued, but Julien didn't really hear. In all truth, it wasn't really alright yet. Aaron's death had been the worst of it all so far. Slowly, bad things started happening to Julien and those he held close to his heart. Then the seer had prophesized for him, and he still had the prophecy written down, though he'd already memorized it; 'The consequences of your interference with the future shall rain upon you, numerous and full of sorrow, until destinies have been fulfilled...'
Julien looked down at Harry. For seven years the boy had lived with him, and now he feared Harry was going to be hurt because of his own curiosity. Never should he have meddled with time... Harry was giving Julien a look. Julien smiled and shook his head, and Harry smiled back. Harry still had the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, though Julien had attempted to get rid of it many times.
Julien, Harry, and the others that lived with them in the large mansion they called home, sat to eat their meal. Many chatted quietly with those surrounding them, but Harry and Julien ate in silence. Harry watched as his father ate, his long, thin fingers holding the fork.
Harry knew Julien wasn't his real father, for since he was old enough to understand Julien had made sure not to keep that from him. He didn't want to completely lie to the boy he'd considered a son; he couldn't tell him that he was taken from the future, though. The same way Julien considered Harry a son, Harry saw Julien as his father. He smiled at Julien when he looked up, and Julien's face broke into a smile as well.
Soon, Julien was putting Harry in bed. This was one of the very few moments Julien spent with the boy now, but they enjoyed it fully. In bed, snuggled in the covers, Harry smiled at Julien. "Good night, Harry," Julien whispered, bending down to kiss the boy on the forehead, next to the scar. Harry closed his eyes and curled up in the covers.
Julien went to his own room, and looked at himself in a mirror. He still didn't really feel thirty-eight. Aaron had always told Julien his soul was younger than his body. Aaron... Julien shook his head, still looking at the reflection of his thin face. If he hadn't told Harry that he wasn't really his father, the boy would have started noting the difference in looks by now. Part of Julien still wanted Harry to stay with him, but he knew things would only get worse if he did...
Or would they? What if this was all part of that Master Plan that made Aaron petrified of the thought of Julien traveling through time? What if... Once again Julien shook his head. These were probably just illogical reasons he was trying to grasp in an attempt to keep Harry his.
That night, Harry had a dream of green flashes and screaming, and woke up crying out for his mother. He was confused and scared, and soon Maude came in. Still Harry cried, for he knew Maude wasn't his mother, and that was who he wanted. He continued to cry for his mother, but quieted when Julien came in. Silent tears still fell as he sat in Julien's lap, his head leaning on his chest. Harry explained his dream in a shaky voice as Julien nodded.
He wasn't going to tell the boy that it was of the night his parents died. "It's over now," Julien consoled. "There's no need for tears now." He tucked the boy in once more, and this time he stayed asleep.
The next day, Harry went out to the village with Maude and Daniel, his teacher. They were going to the candy shop while Daniel bought books, and then to the park. At the park, Harry sat in a swing eating his candy. He saw a boy older than him looking down at the pond close by, a scowl on his face. Harry walked over to the boy, wanting to see what he was scowling at.
When he looked down at the pond though, all he saw was the other boy's reflection. He looked up at the older boy, confused. Maybe he didn't like how he looked? "You don't look bad," Harry said timidly. The boy turned his scowl to Harry, who took a few steps back. The boy was older, and could probably do something unpleasant to Harry if he wanted.
"You're not from the orphanage," the boy said, his scowl slightly softened. "You don't know who I look like," the boy replied broodingly.
"I don't know who I look like," Harry said back. It was the first time he'd ever mentioned his not having parents to somebody that didn't already know.
The boy looked at Harry. "You're an orphan?" Harry nodded. The scowl still hadn't left the boy's face, but Harry timidly asked him what his name was. "Tom," he said, his voice sounding angry and harsh and like he'd spit out the name.
"My name's Harry," he said, though the boy hadn't asked. "How old are you?"
"Older than you," the boy replied angrily. He looked down at Harry, though, and said in a softer voice, still cold, "Fifteen."
"I'm seven," Harry said quietly. He looked down at the pond as Tom looked over it.
He heard Tom mutter something, and looked up to see that an old woman was motioning for him to come. He thought he heard Tom say 'muddle' or 'smuggle'. Tom's face was full of anger, but once again it kind of softened when he looked at Harry. "Well, goodbye, Harry," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. Without even looking at the young boy, Tom walked off to join the old woman.
Harry walked back to the swings and returned his attention to his candy. "Oh Harry," Maude said crossly when she walked up to Harry. "Your hands are all sticky now."