Chapter 3: The Beauty & The Damned

Freedom is hard, specially when you've never done the whole freedom schtick before. But hope is always within reach. Christians be warned, god gets questioned a lot by a heretic.

I hope you guys enjoy the chapter- if you want to access more chapters or see my full library, my is always open at

pa - tre - /on/ under the username Pel853

I do not own Harry Potter nor The Fate franchise. I am just borrowing a depiction of a character of theirs.

Within days of being free, Harry found himself discharged from the magical hospital. He was given his childhood home, the house his parents had been murdered in. That was… weird. Very weird.

It felt odd to live in the house where his parents were killed, leaving him alone and setting him down the path he ended up going. Now he was back here again.

Objectively speaking, he had nothing to complain about. The fridge and pantry were fully stocked with food. He had been taught how to summon the knight bus whenever he needed to get to Diagon Alley and draw money from his apparently old money bank vault.

He had clean clothes, he could shower every day as much as he wanted. He was free, which should have been a good thing…

But he didn't feel free. When he'd go to try and get a drink and some snacks, he ended up being stuck there trying to decide what he wanted to get. And he found out quickly enough that since nothing was black and white anymore. He could get overwhelmed so quickly.

He sometimes hated being free, and it wasn't three days into his life as a free man that the nightmares started. Sometimes they would be as tame as waking up back in prison, other times he was in the middle of a riot and the tower guards would start shooting and spraying. Other times he saw himself getting stabbed.

And sometimes, he dreamed about being killed in prison.

As Harry reflected in his prison days. His Twelves to thirteen years were the worst. Having to fight to prove himself and sometimes do things he regrets now.

He had grown up in such violent environments that it didn't even phase him up. With the constant threat of the guards deciding to beat down on him or the other convicts in there. So he had to grow up quickly, and to get good at fighting.

At the time he hadn't even considered it, full of anger and hatred.

But frankly, he was sick of being angry all the time, and now he just felt exhausted. He didn't want to live the thug life. He just wanted to redeem himself. To be able to forgive himself and be comfortable.

Because he didn't even know who Harry Potter was. He knew what the wizarding world wanted to be Harry Potter. A Savior who kept the darkness at bay.

He knew what the government thought of him. A convicted felon, something that would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Harry Potter had been no better than a slave for nine years, and no better than an animal to be caged for five, and that compromised practically all his life. The first fifteen months of his life didn't even count.

He couldn't remember his mother's love. The woman who had apparently died so he could live, nor could he remember feeling safe in his father's arms.

He couldn't even begin to imagine what his parents would think if they saw him now. How much would they hate him? How disappointed would they be? He hadn't even visited their graves which were just down the street.

Since when was he such a coward that he couldn't work up the nerve to pay respects to his creators?

But no matter how bad his chips were. He knew he had to keep going, he couldn't go back to prison. He had been given a second chance and he wasn't going to let it go to waste, no matter if he didn't feel like he deserved it.

Two weeks later

Harry opened his mailbox and found a letter inside. He immediately recognized the first class mail stamp, it was the same ones he used to sell. He had just spoken with his best friend and brother Jason a few days back and was expecting mail. He had also put money in his books so his brother from another mother could get himself some nice stuff.

But as he looked at the handwriting he realized it wasn't Jason's. It was Sullivan's.

He immediately opened it, and pulled out a single piece of paper.

Listen OG

I heard from Jason that you want to leave the thug life behind. Good on ya mate, you put in the work, did your time, earned the stripes. It's time to go home and retire.

I've been trying to find a way to write this for hours. But I think it's better if I just rip the bandaid off.

There was an incident in the prison. Since you left, some pumped up bitch decided to act out by killing Jason.

The problem was handled internally, you ain't gotta worry about it. They killed themselves by stabbing themselves multiple times. Crazy, right?

Keep your head up and keep yourself out of trouble, OG. I'm sorry you had to find out through a letter, I know how close you two were.

Matt Sullivan.

PS. We are trying to get one of the jailers to mail you the few stuff Jason owned but they are being cunts about it.

Once he finished reading the letter, Harry felt as if his entire world had shattered. And it was basically this entire world, because now he was truly alone in the world. No friends, no family.

That night, close to midnight. Harry Potter stumbled into the village's church. It was the first time he had ever stepped foot in a church, but that was the furthest thing from his mind as he stumbled in. A cheap bottle of vodka was in his hand.

He looked around, and outside from a couple spots too dark to see the place was empty. He made his way towards the front, where the altar sat with a crucifix depicting Jesus Christ fixed onto the wall.

He looked at the scene before him. He wasn't that drunk yet. He felt like he needed to try to have a conversation with the god upstairs, and if that didn't work? He still had a mostly full bottle of vodka.

"Lord, I have questions, and I need answers that only you have," Harry spoke demandingly. But was met with silence. A deafening uncomfortable silence.

The green eyed boy licked his lips and spoke again, "I'm not trying to be disrespectful, I'm just trying to understand. I thought you were supposed to be our father, we were supposed to be family, made in your image and all. But why do you keep taking all the good ones? I don't understand,"

He felt the tears in his eyes as he spoke, "I know I ain't got room to talk. I'm a murderer, a convict, a sinner in your eyes. But I ain't ever done a crime I didn't have to do. So why? Why do you keep taking away the people I love? I know I killed two and technically you can get even by taking from mine as many as you want. Just why? why haven't you just sent me straight to hell where I belong huh?"

Harry wiped the tears from his eye and took a seat in one of the benches, contemplating while his eyes concentrated on the bottle in his hands.

"I got this pardon for all my crimes, that's great. But why me? Why not Jason? All he ever wanted to do was survive. Instead you fucking take my brother from me not even two weeks after I leave prison. What the fuck man?"

The convict shook his head as he said, "Why did you take my mother and father from me huh? Why do you let them die to some wanna be hitler named voldemort? Why did you let them die and let me live huh? Look at me, I'm a thug. I killed, I belong in prison and hell. But I am walking free, I don't deserve this shit."

"Why did you take my brother from me? He deserved freedom more than I did mine!" Harry asked at the crucifix, by now he was just exhausted.

He just wanted to understand, find answers, "they say you are never wrong, but I only ever see you make mistakes,"

Harry fell silent for a couple minutes, and just shook his head, "Lord forgive me for I know not what I do. I'm just trying to reach out to you hoping you return a message. You took my brother from me and that hurts more than you know. I'm anxious and confused, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm tired of being a thug, I don't want to hurt anyone else anymore. I just want redemption and to be able to forgive myself,"

Then he finally admitted, "I'm afraid, I don't have any family or friends. Just acquaintances and enemies left. I'm alone on this earth with no one else to share this burden with and all I've ever known is fear and hatred and pain and violence. I just wanted to be loved, man. To have someone, a friend, a father, a mother. Someone who I'm able to love and not have to fear my past catching up to them,"

Even after death and being reborn an all the pain she went through in her first life at the hand of men who claimed to represent the Lord, Jeanne was still a devout follower of God. She still attended mass, and now that she was able to read she enjoyed reading the scriptures of the Bible. Even if she was a witch, she would always be a devout Christian first.

But her favorite pastime was sitting at the church after everyone else had left. Simply reading whatever book struck her fancy in the company of her Father in heaven.

But lately she was no longer the only one who frequented the church after everyone had left apparently. As a boy around her age she didn't recognize started spending his evenings there.

He didn't do much, never bothered her. Didn't even try to approach her. He just sat near the front, always wearing a black hoodie, jeans and a gold bracelet and chain.

Unlike her, he didn't read. He just sat there, with his hands resting at his knees and just contemplated, or perhaps prayed?

She didn't mind at all, this was the house of the lord and all his children were welcomed. But she was growing curious ever more as to who he was. She didn't recognize him, but she knew practically everyone in the village, and she had never seen him during mass.

Well, the broken down house near the graveyard was recently repaired. And he could have moved in there, but she doubted it. It was a historic site, as idiotic as it was to conserve the scene of a fairly recent tragedy.

She knew that house was where the friends that her father had betrayed to the Dark Lord had been hiding in. Owned by the Ministry of Magic for the purpose of preserving the sight where a tyrant finally met his downfall.

The only way the Ministry would have relinquished it was if Harry Potter suddenly needed it. But she doubted it, according to rumors in the magical community the boy was likely with his muggle relatives.

Still, she was curious about him. Likely to be a muggle. But she wanted to approach him regardless, she just didn't know how.

He was tall, even sitting down she could tell he was at least heads and shoulders taller than her. To be fair, everyone was taller than her. She was only one hundred and fifty nine centimeters, and unlikely to grow anymore considering she was around the same height she had been in her previous time around the age she died.

And on top of that, even through the hoodie she could tell he was big. Considering how big his arms were when she saw them when he stood to leave a couple of days ago.

She decided to just do it, as she stood up and walked towards the front where the boy was sitting. Then as quietly as she had approached she sat down next to him.

Step one: check!

Next step? To actually talk to him. She looked at the boy, and couldn't see much of his face because he had his hoodie on.

And he looked as if he hadn't even noticed her presence.

Dear father above, why was she so nervous? It was just a boy. She had led armies into battle, but couldn't talk to a boy? What would her brother and sisters and fellow saints say?

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and then she spoke up shakily, "H-Hi! I'm Jeanne Black,"

The boy sat up and took his hoodie off Revealing a head of nearly trimmed and combed jet black hair. His squared black glasses accented his green eyes, and then she noticed the scar on his forehead.

Oh shit! That was Harry Potter!

The same boy who her biological father was the reason why he was an orphan. Did he know who she was? Did he hate her for it?

"I'm Harry," the boy said in a gentle tone, "Can I help you?"

"Oh, um. I just noticed you seemed lonely and wanted to say hi," Jeanne replied, doing her best to swallow her nerves.

"Thanks," Harry replied and looked away towards the altar.

"Are you a Christian, Harry?" Jeanne asked him, suddenly feeling stupid for asking that. Obviously he had to be a Christian, why else would he be here right now?

"Not really, no," The green eyed boy replied, "I know a bit about the bible and stuff. But, eh. It's kind of been hard for me to believe, sometimes I want to. Other times it's impossible. I'm just here cause it's better to be here alone than to be in my house alone,"

"Voldemort, right," The amethyst eyed girl replied, then quickly clamped her hands over her mouth. Did he know he was a wizard yet or had she spoken too soon?

"So you're a witch? I was told some magical people lived here but I don't know anyone here," Harry replied with a shrug, then mentioned, "But yeah, it's hard being in that place. Parents died there, it's weird. I am what I am today because of what happened there,"

Frowning, Jeanne asked "So why are you living there now, if it's not a place you'd call home?"

"Nowhere else to go unfortunately," Harry said, "I'm by myself nowadays and the ministry of magic decided to give me the house back since it technically last belonged to my parents. Can't complain, it's a roof over my head and a warm clean bed. Better than what most have,"

"I'm sorry," the teenage girl said.

"It's fine," the teenage boy replied.