AN: Hi, I'm still alive, obviously. Anyways, last time I posted was around more or less June. I've been busy with school, as usual. In fact it might take me months again to update since school's a priority and I want to graduate next school year. So sorry for all the readers who'll have to wait. I can try to see if I've got anything done by summer but... yea, probably not. Sorry again. Also I tried the get this done before on New Year's Eve but no luck .
AN: Also I wish the site still had/has(?) the right align, it made editing a bit hard, so I just underlined the lines that were supposed to be right align.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, no one but, perhaps, the circumstances that happens in this chapter.
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". . .It hurts!"
"You're doing fine, dear."
"But—AhhHHH!"
"Shh-shh. A couple o' more pushes ma'am, I can see da head! Jus' a few more pushin' and ta baby's out."
"Just a few more push and you'll be fine. We'll all be. C'mon, darling push."
"I—okaay! Hah-ah!"
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Something exploded.
There were far off booms, bangs and clangs.
It echoed through hollowed streets. An upturned rubbish bin. The cracked window of a broken in, ransacked store, the other establishments in line with it in the same state as well.
In the distance, almost muffled by the smoky, dirty fog, there were echoes of dying wails and sirens. Haunting, damning and grey.
The street, once busy and brimming with business, with colours, was empty. Or rather, it was devoid of life.
Well, almost devoid of all life.
There was someone flitting—staggering, because there was debris everywhere— through the shadows. Wrapped in a tattered grey cloak, a figure of no discernible gender cradling a small bundle as they passed through the littered streets and ruined buildings.
The figure stopped near the end of the lengthy street and leant against the wall of an intact building and slid down to rest. The small bundle still cradled protectively in it's arms.
They ran far enough, they ran far enough as the figure could. They were far enough that they reached a part of city that wasn't as decimated as the rest. Yet. Buildings were relatively intact. People sought shelter there. They clustered there. It was where they found reprieve as the world falls apart around them.
It was apparent that this was their own piece of solace. There were tentative sounds of merriment drifting down the buildings and streets, creating a very eerie echo. Someone was already heading towards the figures way. The man, scruffy looking, came out if the building across the street, a wary but welcoming expression on his face still as he approached the figure.
The figure, seeing all of this, released a deep sigh before taking an even deeper breath before curling around the bundle protectively and laid down on their side.
The man was only a few feet away. A stride, maybe three and he'd be by the figure laying by their side in a near foetal position.
Then everything was a blaze.
The heart of London burned.
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"—It's a boy! I'll be cleanin' 'im then. An' I'll be outa yer way, dearies."
"Haha, a boy! We have a son! You hear that darling? We have a boy! Hahahahha! This is great!"
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"...dear? Are you okay? Is there something wrong? You've gone quiet for a while now."
"Ah-a y-yes! Everything's fine, a boy! We have a boy! Hahahah..."
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Madness.
It was something Harry was quite used to. With the long life he's lead it is not surprising at all that Harry's very familiar with madness. (There might've been times where he was close to slipping off sanity but then he 'wakes' from that crazy dream and it's the best thing ever because he's freer. In that brief period of wakefulness, he feels more and there's something far more genuine about the brief period. And when it's time to 'sleep' again, the dreams aren't as crazy anymore as he dreamt them before or at least he wasn't near crazy anymore. But sometimes he just doesn't care.)
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"Merry...?"
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"Tru-hmm, truthfully, I'm scared right now. I'm scared for him... Look at him, he's so tiny. What if! What if, what if—!"
"Hush-shhh! Merry, it's okay, it's okay. What do you see? Tell me. Talk, please?"
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So when he was dumped (quite rudely mind) in the heart of the madness of the current world he's in, he just went with it and moved onwards to somewhere (he can't be arsed to care too much about details every now and then).
Though the loss of his luggage was rather annoying.
Harry wasn't too worried though. His things have a habit of finding him. He's not sure how his things do it but nonetheless it is convenient.
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"I-I see him. He's so happy. Ah, w-well he doesn't look li-like he's happy since he always wears a polite mask of indifference—a l-lot like you already—but he's happy!"
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"Tell me more."
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Before he was dumped in the heart of the city, in the hear of the madness, he was told (the Hallows love whispering things to him {it was the reason he had to leave home in the first place}, though usually they were purposely confusing because the Hallows were petty like that) what was happening with the world.
Some idiot kick started the apocalypse.
It was an accident really.
But a stupid one that immediately affected the world.
Both sides of the worlds and everything in between and beyond it, since apparently there were magical communities everywhere.
Which was fine and dandy, really.
Doesn't change the fact that he has absolutely no idea why he was just dumped in the middle of the madness.
(Though there was the feeling of the Hallows laughing and gleeful in whatever's to happen to him.)
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"R-righ-ight, he looks soooo much like you. He, he's careful and thoughtful. He should smi-smile more often."
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"Is he talker?"
"No, h-he says things wi-wi'ou-ohh—sniff—without speaking."
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Harry was in London, more or less in the heart of the city. And repeated a couple of times, in the heart of the madness.
Well, it was certainly noisy as he strolled—no wait, strolled sounds insensitive, but he wasn't actually hurrying nor was he just standing stupid in the middle of the burning streets. Well, buildings technically. It would be hard to run anywhere if the streets were burning as well.
The echoes of rushed steps, frantic whispering and clumsy movements sounded loud; even through the cackling of the fire that ate the temporary shelters the people found should have been masked.
And well, he could apparate away but the Hallows.
They're leading him somewhere again.
Harry's not sure what for, but he never is with the Hallows ( or any other sentient power/celestial body that loved trying to toy with him or enjoys his company so).
"...please, help..."
There was something to be said about how some horror films, shows, novels or stories, and when there's a breathy, creepy sounding whisper one should know better than head to where the sound originated in contrast of just turning away and never looking back.
But he never really was normal and what is and isn't scary to what is down right horrifying doesn't get to him anymore.
Plus the Hallows were egging him on (they really were terrible influences, most of the time).
So he went looking for the voice.
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"Huh?-hahaaha-hmmm, ha! Sorry, so our is boy like me?"
"Hi-hi-hmm. Yes. H-he has mu-ma—sniff— He has my gift though.—sniff— "
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She was... plain.
She knew that.
People often thought that she had enchanted her husband because she looked homely, while he was handsome. Unbearably so. But it wasn't anything like that. They both genuinely adored each other.
Her family, well they knew it was coming. She did too.
Sorta.
She never knew she was going to marry him of all people. She still flushes when remembers when the dreams and reality matched when she was out with him.
They were happy together, just the two of them. Then two became three. She squealed when she first found out they were going to be parents
And now, her dark eyes peering toward the bundle that was their son. A smile, soft and tender, graced her features as she looked down on him, it could almost be a perfect life. He wasn't that fussy but he did have a temper if he was disturbed enough; and although his eyes were closed, his face wasn't completely peaceful his lips were pulled to a little frown. A dream was bothering him.
(She has a feeling what it was but it was faint. Very faint.)
She was lucky though. He hasn't cried yet.
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"Shhhh don't cry. We've talked about this, Merry. I don't care if he has your gift! You know I don't."
"But! But that's not it!"
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Especially with the explosion (though a friend of hers helped make sure he was safe. She'd woven numerous protections around her son. Her husband implored her to stay but her father knew it was safer for her baby if she went through with the plan) rocking the buildings. People screamed but no one glanced at her, at them. Deeming their personal safety more important than hers.
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"Then tell me, Merry. Tell me. I don't like seeing you like this."
"I don't want to upset you!"
"But it's upsetting you! Merry, please?"
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She didn't rise from the awkward curl she was in. She knew this was where the only chance her son has at happy if an extremely odd long life.
"...please, help..."
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"I— okay. I-you—no, we can't be there for him."
". . .Ah-what?"
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She didn't know how long she waited (she toyed with her baby's fluffy hair and stroked his smooth cheek to pass time) but soon the sound a set of footsteps drawing near her caused her to look up.
And there in front of her was the Traveller.
". . . Hey... are you okay. . .?"
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"I'm not! We're not—! We ca-can't be there while he grows up. We won't be there."
"I. Why? Are we horr—"
"NO! You're not! We're not! I—see, tomorrow. Um. Oh hush sweetie don't cry mummy's here. Shhh-shh, there-there. Mummy and daddy are right here, sweetie. Shhh."
"Merry. . ."
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He had unnerving eyes. Verdant, bright, old and something bitter. The connection was but a moment as she lowered her head. What she saw was enough. What she knows is enough.
He gazed down at her, only a few steps away. He looked young and untouched by the madness of the worlds.
(That was a matter of opinion, really.
Because hello? The explosion? The fire and burning buildings surrounding them? They're just staring at each other when they could be fleeing to a safer place to talk but no they stayed right there. Where the fire could burn the m to crisps.)
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"I—t-there are whispers in the Ministry. About that muggle, uh,excavation thing somewhere in... Um, Tell R-ras? —huff—I'm horrible at this! I can't even remember the name of the place!"
"Ha-ha, hmm. Shh. Yes I have. Maxim, says the issues being debated right now at the ICW. But there is no concrete plan of action."
"Yes-yes. Well if they won't d-do anything, we might as well be dead! I. Well I,—sigh— W-well you know. I've a vision a week ago and well I went to tell Ministry. I told them that they should send someone. Immediately."
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". . . Hey, lady... are you okay. . .you need help or something?"
Harry didn't know what she was asking him (well not entirely true, since he did sorta, kinda have an inkling what this was all about and really he could be more delicate in asking what's the matter but well it's an uphill battle, proper manners, protocol and etiquette).
Though there was something familiar about her face. Something out of place?
Probably.
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"But?"
"They didn't listen."
"What? But your family's known to give the different Ministries warnings about approaching danger to avoi—! I. Does this have anything to do with what you saw for our boy? Is there some sort of danger? Are we in danger?! Is that why?! Merry! The world is ending, isn't it?"
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No, on second thought, no. Not really out of place but something righted.
It'll turn up eventually.
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"What! N-no! It's more of a false alarm really. But by then the damage would be done. And in the aftermath. In the aftermath—! I. Th-they'll—"
"—they'll blame you. I. . ."
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"Is this because of that prickly upstart at the Ministry! It is, isn't it!? I've told Maxim that that man was suspicious. Came out of nowhere and talks in flowers—"
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"Please...," she pleads, beginning to rise to a crouch, head still bowed, memorizing every detail of her baby, her soft voice scratchy and wavering, drawing her baby closer and holding on tighter, enough for it to let out a quiet whine, as she continues to croak until her voice cracks from her pleas, ". . . Save him. Take him. Please."
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"Oh he'll get what's coming for him! For generations my family's warned the Ministries and Courts of dangers. But that upstart has far too many ensnared in his web. If, if they didn't heed our warnings—because you know it's something very serious when there's more than one family member having the same visions and outcomes— at all—and I'm sure they won't heed anything we sway at all with HIM being there whispering to the different lords and ladies—everything will fall apart and by the time things will—! I. . . It's too late for me. I and you—!"
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It must be odd to another person that she was willing to part with her son and to entrust him to a stranger no less.
But she knows it's for the best. She does not have to like it, she does not like it at all! Abandoning—no entrusting her baby, her son, to someone else. It was all for him! So he'll be fine.
He'll be fine.
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"—will be right beside you. I refuse to abandon you, Merry."
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"Thank you. You're the best husband I could ever have. But still, I'm worried about. . ."
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". . .our son. Right. Are you sure we won't be there for him? There's got to be something we can do to stop it. We could always move, Merry."
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Joy.
How does one, oh responds to a plea like that?
'Oh yes, sure. I would be more than happy to spirit your child away no questions asked.' sounds lack it's lacking something.
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"Run away? No, we can't I'm sure. I'm scared, really. I—we can't lose him but we..! We just—huffs—It's futile. . ."
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"—sighs—All this drama and our boy isn't even a day old. We haven't even named him..."
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Well, taking the time to actually consider her words and properly looking at them and not the thousand yard one. There was definitely something familiar with the woman.
And now she was handing the baby to him. Well it would be rude to not take the boy. She looked like she was ready to topple over, so she just slumped back to the wall (lucky that the fire seemed to not be moving to their direction even though it started just across the street).
He was staring a bit blankly at the tiny baby's face (that tiny face familiar face. That little face that looked like it came from his early life, early because it was before the Hallows were with him and wouldn't let go), his mother reaching out to stroke the baby's cheek, for a moment before chuckling lowly, evidently breaking the silence between them and making the baby whine in annoyance and open (finally) his eyes to as though looking for the one who dared disturb his sleep. When his eyes met Harry's, however something like wonder flitted in the baby's eyes before he eagerly grabbed the finger Harry wanted to poke him with and beamed in delight at Harry.
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"Name? But he has a name already."
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"Merry darling, unlike someone here, I can't see the future."
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She watched the two of them. It was a touching to watch especially when her son grabbed the fingers the Traveller was going to poke his face with, positively beaming (well beaming as much as baby born only a couple of months ago could).
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"Oh my! S-sorry. . ."
"Haha . . . No harm done, Merry. But, I would love to know our son's name."
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"His name is. . ."
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She saw the understanding that appeared in the Traveller's eyes shortly after. The almost audible snap his thoughts made when he knew.
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"Tom. . ."
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It was odd how things got to this. The way things just clicks when it was obvious from the start who these people were.
He's a traveller, the strangest of strangers. An unknown. Not necessarily homeless (calling him homeless would be rude, among other things. He has a home, thank you. A lot of homes actually, and homes, not just houses. He just does not have the privilege to often see or stay in these homes, alright? Also some those homes no longer exist because the world/universe they were in are gone. So it's bit problematic keeping track of those things) but had the habit of wandering until he can't tell what date and year it was any more.
His journey is not a straight one. Time has no meaning to him in most cases. There were instances that he thought it was his first time in a new world, but it wasn't. He had been there a few years before but that wasn't him at the same time, he'll find himself back centuries later to the same world but it was before his first time appearing there.
A paradox was so common in his long life that it was more exasperating than anything (but then again he and the Hallows were the ones playing tricks on himself).
And Tom. Well, they've met and sometimes his memories love jumping from time to time because well, he met Tom even though he hadn't met him when he was really supposed to yet (because Tom looked older and Harry was a bit younger then but the baby in his arms was definitely Tom but the young lad he met was also him) and they talked and his memories jumped here and there; so even though they just met they bantered because sometimes things (his memories and worldly knowledge) just tended to blend together and even though they don't make sense yet they will and it was annoying, honestly.
It was decided then.
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"I.. Will take good care of him."
She was jolted from observing them by the Traveller's voice, "Don't worry he's in... Uh, capable hands." The unheard hopefully, made her laugh and soon both of them were laughing.
She moved to stand and the Traveller was faster then her and stood to help her stand, she swayed a bit but she caught herself.
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"Thank you, Traveller."
"Harry. Just call me Harry. You don't seem that surprised I knew Tom's name."
"I saw it was what he was called."
"Really now?"
"Yes, it's why I know he's in such capable hands. Especially since well. You know the tale Tra-Harry."
". . . Yes. Bit ah, unfortunate, that. Although are you sure I can't help you or anything I'm all for raising him but you. . ."
"The world will be settling down soon. It's not the end yet. But consequently my family and I might not make it to another generation, my side at least. And I'd rather he not grow up a puppet. S-so take care of him."
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"...you have a thing for tragic fates, you know that. It's always like this, it's like you can never have a happy life with your son, Merope. Mind telling why this always happen?"
"—sniff—Perhaps I do. But. My name is Meredith. Or Merry."
"Hmmmm. Maybe but it's written all over you. Don't know how I missed it, honestly."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure though that I should just leave you here out in the open? I can take you somewhere before we part ways."
"No. It's fine. I need to go back anyway."
"If you're sure. . ."
"Yes. Farewell, Harry. Sweetheart, he'll take great care of you. Mummy and Daddy loves you."
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"Goodbye then."
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AN: The ending was the best I could do, sorry. Feel free to point out any typos or anything of that sort.