Chapter Text
Prologue: And Suddenly I Was
“I am not scared of Death. I have dreams again.” from “The View Between Villages” by Noah Cahan
In Harry’s last moments, he was not afraid to die. He was not scared of what he may face in the afterlife, and he certainly was not scared to face the Dark Lord once more. He had long accepted this was his role in the cycle of the universe. In another life, in another world, someone had saved him from this role, someone had taken him from this war and sheltered him like the child he never was.
But this is not that world, and Harry has never known the warmth of a parent or comfort of a protector. Harry has never been that sheltered child and now he never would be.
The green light swathed his vision; it was cold and bright. That scared him, more then death did. The cold of nothingness, the cold of the Killing Curse and all it destroyed. But he would never know, for Harry Potter was dead at seventeen. Cold and lifeless on the floor of the Forbidden Forest, with no allies or friends coming to save him. The only one to collect his body was the half-giant who had watched the young boy grow up and who had once unintentionally doomed him to the abuse of his childhood.
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The moment Harry opened his eyes he knew something was not right, for he could not tell if he truly did open his eyes. The area around him was void-like and endless in its darkness. He looked down to see his body floating, suspended in the endlessness. He furrowed his brows, he was not religious by any means, but when he had always believed there was more to the afterlife. He hoped he would see Sirius or meet his parents.
And yet.
He huffed a breath; one he no longer needed as he crossed his arms. Anger swelled in his chest. Anger at the unfairness. He had died, sacrificed himself even, and all he got was an endless void?
It was then he heard a chuckle, one that rang his ears and rattled his brain. It came from all around him and yet nowhere all at once. There was a sudden flash of light that overtook everything in his vision. When he could see again, there was a woman before him. One who had a hauntingly ethereal beauty. Her eyes were soft pits of pure black, and they levelled him with a look of fond amusement.
Harry warily moved back, as much as he could, being suspended midair. “Oh, my dear child, you need not be so wary of me. I mean you no harm,” the woman said softly, a smile making its way to her face. She moved closer to him, cupping his face in her hands.
She was cold, deathly cold. Colder than anything Harry had felt before, and yet she was gentle. So, so gentle. It made tears well in his eyes, which he quickly blinked away.
“You must be very confused, child. Do you know who I am?” She questioned him, tilting her head to look at him. Harry shook his head; he is sure he would remember this woman if he knew her. The woman’s smile widened in an uncanny way.
“I am Death, dear one, and you are my child. Chosen from the moment of your birth, plucked from the stream of Fate and brought into my void to be cherished,” the woman, Death, explained, “You are here because the story Fate has written for you has been washed away by my light, and as such, you’ve done what was necessary for the prophecy to come to an end. Therefore, you know get a boon, from me, from Fate, and from Life.”
Harry furrowed his brows once more, he was confused. “But…all I did was die? I did not do much else,” he muttered, his voice bitter. Death tsked, before bringing the boy into her embrace.
“Oh, child, you have done so much more. You sacrificed your own life for the lives of others. You died an honorable death. You saved everyone in your timeline by ending the cycle that is the horcrux. However, your death was not needed to do so, unlike what you were led to believe.”
“And so, now, you get a choice.”
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Saint Mungo’s was bright and loud when Dorea entered it, her gaze a bit frantic. She approached the front desk quickly, her steps light. “Excuse me, I’m looking for my daughter, Elisa Potter-Selwyn?” She asked, her voice coming out quickly, in a manner that would edge on being rude in any other situation.
The lady sitting at the desk simply pointed at Dorea in the correct direction and she was off. Her footsteps echoing in the hallways as she walked, her pace a jog. It was then she saw her daughter’s husband, sitting in one of the chairs, his head in his hands. She approached and sat in the chair beside him, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
“Eryk, is she doing all right? How has her labor gone?” She asked, her voice quiet. Eryk looked up at her with a pale face, one that showed hours of worry. He hesitated before answering.
“They won’t let me in,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, “they said, the healers said something had gone wrong.”
Dorea felt her stomach drop at those words. Worry worming its way through her gut at the implications. “What do you mean wrong?”
“They said there were complications,” Eryk whispered, rubbing his hand over his face before rubbing them together, as if seeking warmth, “She was doing fine, she was doing good. When suddenly, they pushed me out of the room and a bunch of healers went in.”
And as if summoned by Eryk’s words, two more healers came from down the hallway and entered the hospital room. Their expressions were grim. Dorea gripped Eryk’s shoulder just a little bit harder, trying to steady both.
Time seemed to stretch after that. The two of them stayed sat in silence and were eventually joined by Charlus, Dorea’s husband. The hallways noises faded into the background until all that remained was the quiet dread shared between the three.
When suddenly, a baby cried.
It was piercing and thin but slowly growing stronger. Eryk shot to his feet. Dorea felt her breath get caught in her throat. A moment later, a healer stepped out of the room with a bundle in his arms.
“Lord Selwyn?” the Healer asked gently. Eryk stepped forward, reaching out slightly for the bundle, “Yes, th- that is me. Is she?”
The healer gently placed the bundle in his arms, “A healthy baby girl,” he said, softly. Eryk looked down at the bundle with a teary smile, before looking up at the healer.
He looked like he wanted to ask, but Dorea got there first, “And Elisa? How is she?” The Healer hesitated, and Dorea knew what the answer was instantly.
“I’m so sorry, we did everything we could.”
Those words brought the hallway to silence and Dorea felt the world tilt on its axle. Her eyes watered instantly as she stumbled towards Eryk and the last piece of her sweet daughter.
Eryk looked back down at the bundle in his arms, the joy he had been waiting for for months. He whispered, “she never got to see her...”
Dorea reached out and brushed a finger against the baby’s cheek; she already looked so much like her mother. She swallowed passed the ache in her throat, “We have her, Elisa knew that. She would not have let go if she did not.”