Chapter Text
Chapter One: The Seer of New Orleans
New Orleans, Louisiana
1882
The city breathed differently after sunset.
Gas lamps painted the streets in warm amber, while jazz—still young, still finding its soul—drifted from hidden courtyards alongside the older melodies of French violins and Creole singers. The Mississippi rolled past the city like an ancient serpent, carrying whispers from places no living person could remember.
Harry had always heard those whispers.
Not metaphorically.
Actually.
As a child, he'd spoken to people who hadn't yet arrived.
As a teenager, he'd known exactly which ships would sink before they left port.
He could tell a widow the final words her husband wished he'd said.
He could predict the weather weeks before the clouds formed.
His grandmother had once sighed as she brewed chicory coffee.
"You weren't born with second sight, cher."
She had gently tapped his forehead.
"You were born with all of it."
No one knew why.
Unlike the witches hidden throughout Louisiana, Harry possessed no spells.
No rituals.
No charms.
He simply...knew.
Visions came like breathing.
Sometimes they arrived while sleeping.
Sometimes during conversations.
Sometimes from touching an old object.
Other times, someone would walk past him in the market, and he'd suddenly know every crossroads that had led them there—and every road still waiting ahead.
It was exhausting.
But it had also taught him one important lesson.
The future was fluid.
He never tried to stop every tragedy.
He had learned long ago that forcing destiny often created worse outcomes.
Instead...
He nudged.
He warned.
He listened.
And fate rewarded restraint.
At twenty-three years old, Harry had become something of an urban legend.
Some called him the Prophet of the French Quarter.
Others claimed he was a witch.
A few whispered he had sold his soul.
Harry merely smiled whenever he heard the rumors.
His appearance certainly didn't discourage them.
Long black hair cascaded nearly to his hips, braided with gold chains and violet gemstones collected from traveling merchants.
Dark violet robes flowed around his slender frame, exposing glimpses of pale skin decorated with delicate golden markings that seemed to shimmer beneath candlelight. They weren't tattoos.
They appeared whenever a vision was particularly powerful.
His violet eyes were impossible to forget.
Anyone who met them felt as though every lie they'd ever told had suddenly become visible.
Despite that...
Harry laughed easily.
He flirted shamelessly.
He adored music.
He loved wandering the French Market just to hear strangers tell stories.
The future was heavy enough.
He refused to make the present equally burdensome.
One rainy evening...
Everything changed.
Harry had been reading beneath the awning of a small bookstore when a vision struck without warning.
A flash.
White.
Gold.
Red eyes.
Not with bloodlust...
Compassion.
Then—
An endless forest.
Snow.
A marble house.
Golden eyes filled with quiet loneliness.
Finally...
One face.
A man with blond hair.
Refined features.
Gentle crimson eyes that refused to hunt humans.
Harry's breath caught.
"...Finally."
The vision vanished.
He closed his book.
"He made it."
The bookstore owner blinked.
"Who?"
Harry smiled faintly.
"My future."
Across the city...
Carlisle Cullen stepped carefully through unfamiliar streets.
New Orleans fascinated him.
Its cultures intertwined beautifully.
Its hospitals desperately needed physicians.
He had intended to remain only a year or two before moving elsewhere.
Such was the burden of immortality.
Never stay long enough for people to notice one never aged.
Still...
Tonight, he simply wished to walk.
The humid air carried scents unlike anywhere else he'd lived.
Coffee.
Rain.
River water.
Fresh bread.
Magnolias.
And...
Something else.
Something...
Impossible.
His instincts suddenly screamed.
Not danger.
Recognition.
His feet stopped moving.
Across the street...
Standing beneath a gas lamp...
A young man dressed in flowing black and violet robes looked directly at him.
Smiling.
Waiting.
As though he'd been expecting him.
Carlisle frowned slightly.
They'd never met.
He was certain of it.
Yet...
Why did every instinct tell him this stranger was the most important person he'd ever see?
Harry tilted his head.
"There you are."
Carlisle approached cautiously.
"You...know me?"
Harry chuckled.
"Not yet."
"...Excuse me?"
"I know of you."
Carlisle froze.
"...How?"
Harry answered casually.
"You're a vampire."
Silence.
The street suddenly seemed much quieter.
Carlisle's crimson eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
No human should know that.
Harry continued as though discussing the weather.
"You've never taken a human life."
Carlisle's expression shifted.
"You survive on animal blood."
Another step.
"You've been wandering for over two centuries."
Another.
"You've recently decided medicine is your calling."
Carlisle stared.
"...Who are you?"
Harry smiled warmly.
"My name is Harry."
He offered a gloved hand.
"And before you ask..."
Harry's violet eyes shimmered with something ancient.
"No."
"I'm not frightened."
Carlisle remained motionless.
"...You should be."
Harry laughed.
"But you're you."
Carlisle blinked.
"...That isn't an explanation."
"It isn't."
Harry's smile softened.
"But it'll have to do until you're ready."
Ready?
Ready for what?
Carlisle couldn't understand why this human radiated such profound calm.
He wasn't pretending.
His heartbeat remained steady.
His breathing never changed.
There wasn't even the scent of fear.
Only curiosity.
Affection.
And...
Something Carlisle couldn't name.
"You knew I'd come."
It wasn't really a question.
Harry nodded.
"Several years ago."
"You...predicted this?"
"I saw it."
Carlisle studied him.
"A gifted psychic?"
Harry shrugged.
"I've never liked labels."
"I merely see."
"The past."
"The present."
"The futures that may become."
Carlisle had met many extraordinary beings during his long existence.
None like this.
Harry smiled knowingly.
"You're wondering whether I'm immortal."
Carlisle's eyes widened slightly.
"...Yes."
"No."
"Witch?"
"No."
"Werewolf?"
Harry laughed.
"Not even close."
Carlisle frowned.
"Then what are you?"
Harry looked toward the moon.
"...Human."
His answer was immediate.
Certain.
Yet...
Something about him still felt profoundly unusual.
Without warning...
Harry reached forward.
His fingertips brushed Carlisle's sleeve.
The vision hit instantly.
A thousand futures unfolded.
Hospitals.
Centuries.
Laughter.
Found family.
Edward.
Alice.
Rosalie.
Emmett.
Jasper.
A girl named Bella.
She smiled beside...
Not Carlisle.
Someone else.
A different future entirely.
Esme still became immortal.
Still found happiness.
Just...
Not through Carlisle.
The threads shifted effortlessly.
As though this had always been one possible path.
Then...
One final vision.
Carlisle smiling.
Not politely.
Not kindly.
Truly smiling.
At him.
Harry inhaled slowly.
"...There it is."
Carlisle caught the whisper.
"What?"
Harry met his eyes.
"Our future."
Carlisle's unnecessary heartbeat felt strangely phantom-like.
"...You speak as though it's inevitable."
Harry smiled.
"No."
"I speak as someone who's seen hundreds."
He gently released Carlisle's sleeve.
"And this one..."
His voice became almost impossibly soft.
"...is the one I hope we choose."
Carlisle had spent over two hundred years believing himself destined to walk eternity alone.
Yet standing beneath a rain-soaked gas lamp in New Orleans...
Looking into violet eyes that seemed to know every version of tomorrow...
For the first time in centuries...
The future didn't feel lonely anymore.