Dauntless Dimensions

Chapter I

The Dauntless Void

It was a white so thick that Harry Potter couldn't see beyond himself, and yet, he wasn't sure he could call the colour white – was it even a colour? His small hands disappeared in the void as if it was darkness, but at the same time he had never been able to see so much, so clearly. It was a white that could compete with the blackness of the darkest of darkness. It was an indescribable experience he had never felt before, and it disturbed him greatly, while comforting him just as much.

He didn't understand his conflicting feelings about the void of not-quite there, but had to be somewhere. It was as if he was real but wasn't at the same time. He felt fear and comfort, warm and cool. He knew it must have been a dream, but this dream was certainly new to him.

If his aunt and uncle knew that he was having such a weird dream he would be in for a world of pain. They didn't like to think of him dreaming, let alone having a freaky dream of freakiness. If they knew all of his dreams were weird and 'freaky' he would likely only know he had been punished after he woke up dumped in his cupboard under the stairs or from suddenly being in a strange dream and knowing he hadn't purposefully gone to sleep.

Harry enjoyed the abnormal – the strange – the weird – the interesting. The normal as his aunt and uncle called things was usually boring. The Dursley's for lack of better words were evil, boring, hateful racists. He didn't even know why or how they could be racist to him when he was white, and they were white, and they weren't racist towards their black neighbours, not even behind their backs. Harry was in fact sure that his Uncle Vernon liked them better than some of their other neighbours.

He wondered whether it was because he was Welsh or something, and they were English. He didn't know much about his parents that weren't lies, but he knew he was born in Wales, and he had heard his uncle call Welsh people some very rude things, but then he had heard his uncle talk like that about Americans, the French, and pretty much anyone else he could think of who he didn't know personally, and even then, he made exceptions.

Harry didn't feel that way about anyone. It seemed kind of silly to him. He didn't feel the need to speak bad about people because of the colour of their skin, or where they came from, or this that and the other. If he had to hate people, it would be people like the Dursley's, who mistreated others based off stupid reasons that wouldn't hold any merit anywhere they went, probably, because he didn't know why they hated him so much, even if his Aunt Petunia didn't like his mum – her younger sister. They were now just fools-who found happiness in demeaning other people, maybe.

His sigh echoed around the white nothing, and didn't make a sound at all. He let his emerald green eyes wander around the nothing. It was nice in his dream. He didn't need glasses in the dream world. He normally needed them, but his aunt and uncle never wanted to buy for him, but when his school said he needed them after a check-up they had no choice and spent one pound on some cheap reading glasses from the pound shop that didn't add anything to Harry's vision, but they shut the school up for some reason.

The dream world around him was not even a white mist as one might expect. It was just a void of white space, empty nothingness, colourless, bland, colourful, interesting, and a contradiction, yet it was heavy and filled the world of his dream. He normally dreamt odd things, but this was the first time he was aware that he was dreaming, which made it odder than ever.

It was the purest white he had ever seen, bright, dull, and dark, like clouds in a sunny sky, clouds about to drizzle, and the clouds of a storm. Harry could look at it clearly, and could see its beauty deep in its depths. He looked as far as he could see though the odd peaceful and fearful beauty. The void seemed to go on forever and nowhere and he loved that about this place.

It was an endless and never beginning contradiction of his mind. It was his place. He would have seriously preferred to live in the void of contradictions rather than living with the Dursley's who he could live without ever seeing again, and live the happy life he had always wished for.

He could see the shadow of dreams. He could see the dark-haired girl in the fog – or maybe her hair was light coloured? It was hard to tell, she was too far from his perception, but when thinking of her the first thing he thought was dark hair. It was difficult to get his eyes to focus on her, and all he could tell was that she was certainly a girl. She was the only thing that didn't contradict itself at every turn. She was always within the fog. He had been in the fog before. He had seen it for the past few weeks, but he could never see her clearly. He could only imagine her long dark hair, and a magical aura about her that drew him in.

Harry could only wish to have a beautiful friend like her, to hug and play games, to be his family. He had wanted a family for many years, but all he got was the Dursley's, and they could never be family. He had no family, but that was always his greatest desire in the world.

He looked around at the swirling clouds and wisps of nothing but white. The Void: a place where nothing seemed to exist, yet everything seemed to exist all at the same time. He wondered whether this was the beginning and the end all rolled into one. He liked the thought of The Void being real because then it proved he was more than an illegal slave the Dursley's owned.

Harry had been taken from the Dursley's once, by child services, but then everything went away and the Dursley's got him back. He had felt it. His memory had gone wrong. He could sense it deep inside his heart. He could almost see the deep-seated truth, but not quite. Nobody ever tried to save him after that, so he promised that once he got himself free, he would save others.

He would be The Saviour that nobody else wanted to be.

The Void never seemed to hold time. He could be there for what seemed like hours, months, or even years. He tried to see the girl clearly through The Void but he could run towards the faint, pathetic images and never get any closer.

Harry hated being around people because they hated him, believing the Dursley's lies that he was trouble, but at the same time being alone made him sad, and depressed; he needed her so much it hurt deep inside his chest and he didn't know why.

He could almost see peoples hate. He looked at them. He could feel the loathing, the hate, the spite, yet he had never hurt anyone. It only seemed able to affect the adults, but they wouldn't even listen to their children as they had at first stuck up for Harry, trying to get their parents to see reason, but they never would listen and the children gave up, their parents blaming Harry for what his cousin Dudley did, even when they had seen Dudley do it with their own eyes.

Harry scratched his bare chest, and then tightened his oversized pyjama bottoms that had started slipping off his small form. He was always slightly disappointed that even in his dream he had to wear his cousins' giant hand-me-downs, and his cousin was the same age as him, but the same size as a baby elephant. While Harry was near starved, Dudley was fed whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it.

He was just a huge unwanted burden to his 'relatives', even though they wouldn't just give him up. He would have preferred to be given up, but he felt that if they did, they would be lumbered with him again, and he would get a beating for it, as if he had any control over it, whatever it was.

Harry was sometimes frustrated when he was in The Void because nothing new ever happened. He liked new, different, and everything in-between. That was a factor his 'relations' did NOT share with him. They liked the same old thing, standard, ordinary. He didn't want to be ordinary. He wanted to be special, and someday bring the Dursley's to justice.

Looking to the ground was relaxing as he could finally see himself. It was always odd. It was the good. He wore a white suit in the reflection in the endless floor. It was amazing that even in the white his suit stood out. His eyes were a bright golden yellow and he was healthier than he could imagine with healthy tan skin, and he seemed to glow an unreal white, and radiated calm, happiness, and peace.

However, looking up at the endless sky he was reflected wearing a suit of all black. He was different to the ground version. He had rage and hatred, anger and loathing bubbling in pitch black eyes. His skin was milk white and some of his blue veins showed up on his face. Looking up Harry always felt fearful and caution as he saw a side of him that could be petty and vengeful.

He looked away, pushing his thoughts off of his darkness. He wanted revenge against those who had hurt him, but he didn't want to become consumed by it. He also didn't want to be the bottom image. He agreed that being nice was good, but being too nice wouldn't accomplish much in his life, and glancing up, his darker image seemed to smirked slightly and his eyes softened just enough to show humour.

Harry shivered. Could these things? These images read his mind or something? He looked down as that version sighed while nodding his head, and Harry finally understood. They were just reflections of him. At least they were both wearing nice clean clothes that fit them right.

Though, it all showed that even his mirror images contradicted each other, and maybe that was good. It meant that he could use both sides of himself. He didn't have to choose to be good or bad. He could choose to be good for one situation, and bad for another when common sense called for it.

Harry often wondered whether being clever was a curse, because it made him think about certain things more than he needed too. He looked back over the mirror images. The only things that stayed the same were the markings, like drawn black tattoos that glowed with an unknown power. They weren't coloured in, just thick black outlines that glowed a soft white on both, giving him a feel of power and purpose greater than anything he had felt or thought of before he started having the dreams, like the markings were burned through body, magic, and soul.

Magic? Was it magic? Was magic a thing here? Everywhere? Nowhere? Harry needed to know; he needed the world to be more than it was.

"Magic for your birthday…?!"

Harry had been started, and almost fell over as he turned. He could see them yet he couldn't. They were contradictions. He didn't understand how they could both love and hate him. They were beautiful. He knew that, but he couldn't even tell whether they had eyes, let alone the colour. The only thing he could tell for sure was one was a man, and the other was a woman, or how old or young they were. He couldn't even tell what they sounded like, just that he liked their voices.

This was the first time since the dreams started that Harry had seen anyone, or anything else inhabiting the dreams. He tried to look at them better, but he couldn't. He just couldn't see through their shear magnificence. They were beyond his imagining, his comprehension, and he just trusted that they were going to show him a marvellous future waiting for him.

"We are the Future!" the man suddenly spoke with an aged power-rumbling deep within his being. It almost made Harry feel the need to drop to his knees and bow.

"We are the Past!" the woman added with her own power reverberating through The Void like nothing Harry could imagine. He could picture her grin of amusement while the man smirked smugly, as if they both shared a private joke, they weren't going to share with him.

"We are Reality!" they said. Their voices combined made him feel weak and humbled by the majesty of their presence.

"Do not be afraid Harry!" the woman; he would mentally call her Past while he would think of the man as Future to make everything simpler as he knew neither of them were going to give him their names, but yet, he was sure he knew them somehow. "We are here because it is destiny!" she continued, and he could feel her kindness. "It is time you learn who you are… what you are!" she said like what he imagined a proud parent would.

"W-what am I?" Harry asked timidly, cheeks stained red as they watched him. He wasn't even sure that either of them were standing, and not floating or sitting. "Please tell me… who am I?" he asked in a small voice.

"You are Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter!" Future, the man said. "You were born of magic, of ancient bloodlines long since passed!" he said, amused. "Your mother and father were wizard and witch, but you are far more than that!"

"I-I am?" he asked, uncertain, but they both nodded. "But… that's why the Dursley's hate me?" he asked, and got a nod. "And… but why…? That means somebody magical kept… somebody magic would… was forcing them to keep me, to punish me, because I'm different?"

"In a way," he agreed, his tone sad, but Harry could sense the anger. "The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry forces you to stay with those mortals. He wants to hold you back through fear because a prophecy foretells of The Saviour who will cut his ties and destroy him to change the world. He hopes that if you have few to turn to, you will be his, and the prophecy would not come to tuition, but what he did was make it real. He is a scared and foolish man who lives to regret all he does, and yet… still does it like a fool.

"You are too smart to let him hold you, even without us!" he said, smirk in his voice. "When you were fifteen months old you survived the death of the killing curse. The green light in your dreams was the death of your mother, and Dumbledore locking you within the prison of the Dursley's. He is afraid. Your survival should have been impossible. He is old. He is set in his ways. He does not like change. He is foolish to believe everything should stay the same forever, afraid of the broader world."

"Without change!" the woman added with a sigh. "There can be nothing to look forward to, but endless boredom, repeating the same over and over again… trust us on that," she said as she shared what must have been a joke Harry didn't know yet.

"Okay," Harry mumbled, trying to work out what was going on. He had already come to terms that the whole thing was really happening. "So… are you like… God or something? Because neither God nor Santa, not even the Easter Bunny has ever cared to help me!"

The woman laughed. It was a nice laugh. It was so full of warmth. "Yes… in a way we are gods!" she agreed, her smile wide and loving. "But you have awoken now. You Harry. You are to become the God of Heroes… the God of Dimensions… the God of Worlds. You shall control time, and space, and together they can breach reality where worlds and universes have grown apart, some minor, some vastly, and together with your goddess, you shall be the guardians of great men and woman, guiding them to become great heroes, even other versions of you if you felt like it."

"You might even end up fighting a few gods here and there, from other universes!" the man said as if that sounded like fun. "You're special in that you can learn and then use abilities and powers from other worlds… well as long as they're not genetically incompatible, like an aliens' powers or a mutation or state of evolution outside of your… well, you'll figure it out, just try out things that most mage can pick up first."

"W-well, sounds like fun, I guess," Harry replied, sounding unsure. "But who was… who killed my parents?"

"His name was Voldemort!" the man replied, sighing. "He was a bad one of your reality and timelines. The magical people of your world are still too coward to say his name, calling him You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You became the Boy-Who-Lived when you survived Death's curse, and he became little more than a ghost. Just a douche bag spectre, and now you're famous and Albus Dumbledore is making your life hard. Voldemort went after you because of another prophecy foretold before your birth-."

"W-what do these prophecies say?" Harry asked with a bubbly look in his eyes full of curiosity.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ..." he decided to get it done with. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..."

"It… wasn't very informative," Harry said as he mulled that over in his head.

"I suppose it wasn't!" Future said, amused. "But Voldemort had only heard the first half and panicked. He was superstitious like Dumbledore is. In the end both men pushed their own prophesised defeats into being. However, this… fortune was foretold before Fate saw your true coming."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "So… this Dumbledore one…?" Harry asked, as his curiosity was thumping in his chest, hard.

"The Gods of Worlds wake to guide heroes…" the woman took over as she had been left out of the first. "Together they shall break through dauntless universes, and save hope and bring change. Their hearts shall be their call, and together they shall be home. They shall break eternal, and bring the false paladins to their knees. Beware to those seeking power, because power you will find, faced at you they shall bring grace to the fated, and deaths towards the daunted. They shall forge existence, and will it to hope anew – the untamed heroes across time and space."

"Okay…" Harry said sounding and looking confused. "This Dumbledore man looks too deep into things if you ask me, but who is this goddess I'm supposed to be with anyway?" he asked, looking around but even the unreached shadow of the girl was gone. "Is she here? Aren't I supposed to be with her, like the best of friends or something? Are we going to get married?" he asked hopefully. "Then I can have a proper family, and never have to see the Dursley's again."

"Calm down, Harry!" the woman said, laughing. "All in due time. You shall meet her. When you do you will know who she is straight away!" she said, amused. "She will recognise you too, even though she will have not met with us, her powers will wake the moment she sees you. It will be down to you to help her."

"I see," he said nodding in agreement. "Okay, I guess… wait so… can we change our age because how can I do all of that and then go to Hogwarts to punish this old man if I look like an adult. I really would like to punish him, and maybe find this Voldemort guy too and punish him some as well."

"Yes, you can, and once you reach a certain age you can become it, or younger, but no younger than six, and please don't ask me why because we don't know everything," the man answered his questions, even before Harry asked them. "Other than that, you are for all intents and purposes, immortal, but as with all beings, you could potentially die if you're not careful."

Harry nodded while he was thinking. "So…" he pointed at his top and bottom reflections.

"The centre is the balance!" the woman replied.

"The centre…?" Harry asked, blinking owlishly.

"You!" the man answered. "All life has the darkness and the light, but they also have a balance. Cowards who bow to the light or dark are usually lopsided on their balance where as you are both, yet neither, you and she will always be the balance no matter how angry you get, or how happy."

"You can no longer get sick!"

"You cannot be poisoned!"

"You can manipulate time and space!"

"And with that you can enter new realities, or one's parallel with your own!"

"Of course, you will have plenty limits in the beginning, and they will annoy you both!"

"A recharge time for time travel!"

"And don't forget time manipulation!"

"But those limits will decrease as you grow stronger!"

"Fix universes that don't have heroes, or whatever, you know."

"You'll understand more of your home world once you have Black-!"

"What's a black?" Harry interrupted the tirade of information.

"You'll understand soon enough!" the man said, amused. "When you return to this world to begin Hogwarts, when in the magical district in London, Diagon Alley, head straight for Gringotts Bank, maybe keep the distractions to a low, and see about your family's finances."

"O-kay," he mumbled before shrugging as he wasn't sure he understood yet.

"The universes are yours to explore!" Future continued, brightly. "Find your other half, enjoy life, and make every enemy to cross your path wish they had been good boys and girls."

"Then beat them up anyway!" the woman added laughing.

Harry smiled as he thought of everything. His life was starting to really come together, and he had just become a god and wizard all in one night.

Who would have ever thought that, huh?

He slowly started to wake.

Startling up straight, Harry took some calming breaths as he realised, he was in his bed, which was really just a mattress on the floor of his small cupboard located under the stairs.

Harry was breathing heavily with sweat drenching his face and thin PJ bottoms stuck to his slim legs. He would have said it was all a freaky dream and nothing more if he wasn't smarter than that. He knew that sometimes odd things happened around him when he was overly emotional; like that time, he had suddenly appeared on the roof of the school to get away from his cousin Dudley and his bully-buddies.

His thin and hole riddled blanket fell off his sweaty body as he fidgeted on his thin mattress in his tiny, claustrophobic 'bedroom'. He tried desperately to calm his shaking body. He didn't want to wake anyone, or he would get a hiding, if they're not already awake his punishment will be worse than anything. They were lazy and hated being woken if they didn't have to be, especially his cousin and uncle. If he woke them, he shuddered at the thought before he remembered something.

If everything in his dream was true then he was a god, or close enough that none of the Dursley's should scare him. He couldn't let them get away with that could he? But then he was still very young and didn't know how to use his powers yet. That put a downer on his thoughts of smiting the lowly-weak, puny humans and making them pay.

Though he did notice something, his glasses weren't on his face and he could see normally. Well, he thought that was normal sight as everything was so clear. He had never been able to see anything like it before that he could remember. It was a refreshing contrasted to the blurred images he was used to seeing when he opened his small emerald eyes, even with his crappy glasses on.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Harry grimaced as he felt something yucky, and looked at his hand to find some horrid green and red gunk. He pulled his blanket up and wiped his hand and then forehead clean. He didn't know what that was and couldn't bring himself to care much as it was all gone, and he was feeling slightly better than he had in, since forever, as far as he knew.

The dream had lifted a lot off his shoulders. He was more than his aunt and uncle would ever admit, and as soon as he was old enough to smite, he would. That was if he remembered. He had a weird feeling that immortality would mean forgetting to do things unless reminded. He hoped he remembered because they weren't the only people needing a good smiting.

Albus Dumbledore needed to be taught a valuable lesson, but Harry was only ten so that would have to wait. First mess with him, and then when he least expected it, a good smiting. He frowned at that as it sounded like an awful lot of smiting on his smite-list and he was barely ten. However, that was all he knew about gods. They smite evil heavens and the likes on a regular basis according to his Aunt Petunia, even though he would like to be nicer than that.

Harry's aunt had always talked about how God will smite him for being a freak. And that he would burn for all of eternity in the burning pits of hell for being a freak. He wondered whether that meant there was another god who thought he was all that and more, or whether there were many different gods who did different things and his aunts god liked smiting people before he realised, he really didn't care.

He didn't want to be that kind of person who smites people just because he could, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to seek vengeance. He hoped there was another term he could use other than god so he didn't become a big-headed loser.

Harry knew he had to go after the Headmaster of Hogwarts. It was him who was forcing him to stay with these Dursley's, and he had to wonder what he could do. He would most likely settle for something fun to begin with, because meddling jerks like him wouldn't like being used, but Harry was certain that Dumbledore had something he would need, and then he could get rid of him somehow, maybe find a world where a powerful old man like him wasn't all that powerful and dump him in an old people's home there.

He had to stifle his grin with his hands as he thought about how funny that would be. He didn't want to do some of the nasty things the Dursley's would because he was cooler than them, and it sounded more fun to trap Dumbledore away where he couldn't cause anymore mischief.

Then he had to deal with that Voldemort fellow who murdered his mummy and daddy. He was a jerk of a wizard from all accounts who needed to be sorted out. Harry wondered whether he could strip him of his powers or something like that and then get him placed in a normal people prison where he would have to spend the rest of his life, not just with the people he hated most, but as one of them.

Shrugging he would have to think more on punishments when he was older and wiser. He was smart and 'worldly' for his age, but that was because he had to take care of himself because no one else was around to look after him.

Harry stretched his little muscles while yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes with his little fists. It would soon be time to get up. The cupboard was dark with the odd spider in it (but they kept the other bugs at bay), but he could see the slithers of light through the cracks in the door coming from the hallway, and he would guess it was around seven in the morning, soon time for certain 'things' to wake up and ruin his day.

He would have to play along until he figured out how to escape. Even escaping to an unknown reality would have been an ideal place to go. Well, anything would be better than hanging out with the Dursley's; even hanging out with a monster would have been more appreciated. He couldn't think of many monsters that he would find worse than the Dursley's.

Smiling, Harry, nearly laughed as this was really freaky stuff. His aunt and uncle would hate him on a whole new level of petty jealousy if they knew. Maybe they would even fear him if they realised what kind of power he would now hold. Magic - time travel, other realities. The things he knew should have been science fiction were fact. It muddled his mind. What else could be real?

Harry marvelled at the possibility – werewolves – vampires – aliens – and even the Boogie Man! He would meet new people, and finally make friends. He could make the impossible possible, and help people like him wherever he could.

Then his mind drifted to her. White mist still shrouded her in its mystery. The girl he was supposed to meet. She was the other half of him. With one there was another or something like that. If he had to live forever, he supposed that it made eternal life easier to have a companion who would be your equal. That way they would never be alone because they would always have that one constant in each other.

He had to find her. It was like a missing part of him. He knew what he wanted, but he didn't know where to look, or how long it would take to finally find her. He had a lot of planning to do for the future. First, he would have to find a way out of his dreaded purgatory. Then he would have to plan things out as he went while keeping ahead of Dumbledore, to keep in mind his vengeance.

Harry knew he could deal with the feeling of loss in his chest for now, and hope that he would find his missing girl sooner rather than later. Preferably when he was a bit older, but not too old – old enough that he could protect her and him from any evil they might be faced with at least. He didn't want to put her in danger by meeting too soon, but he didn't want to wait at all. It was a conflicting feeling – one of protection – and one of need.

His thoughts and feelings were starting to drive him mad so when he was startled by the boom-boom-boom on his cupboard door he was glad that he sprung up ramrod in surprise as it took his thoughts elsewhere. He would normally notice when people walked down the stairs as he was under them, but delving so far into thoughts and hopes could catch a boy off-guard.

"Get up. You lazy freak!" his aunt screeched at him from the other side as he heard her undoing the locks, they placed on the door to stop him stealing food that he had earned and then some.

She had the gull to call him lazy. He did the household chores. He did the gardening. He even cooked most of their meals, and it was like that this morning. He knew he would have to make his cousin and uncle a huge fatty breakfast. He could only hope all of the fat clogged up their arteries and they keeled over into early graves.

Then to add insult, Harry got table scraps, if that. He had to sneak a bite here and there just to get something at all. He had gotten pretty good at sleight of hand when it came to feeding himself. It might not be real magic, but he would have to be careful with that as the Dursley's were idiots and would accuse him of 'freakishness', which now he understood meant magic to them.

The Dursley's had a four-bedroom house, and out of the rooms their greedy son, Dudley had his bedroom and a spare where he dumped all of his broken toys, and he was spoilt and heavy handed so there was plenty of broken toys. Then they had their own room, and a guest room, but Harry who was the cleanest, hardest working member of the household got the cupboard under the stairs where 'freaks' 'belonged'.

He could almost growl with hate as he thought about what kind of magic this Dumbledore used to make all of the adults blame him for everything, like he was in the wrong for just breathing. The old man certainly wouldn't get away with it, and neither would the Dursley's as he wouldn't let people like either of them get away with such crimes against anyone, let alone him.

Harry couldn't even have friends because of Dudley when it came to school. He would scare anyone away with his gang. Then at home he couldn't either because the kids' parents wouldn't allow them too, even in secret from the Dursley's. The parents wouldn't ever hear a bad thing about Dudley, so the neighbour kids would avoid the Dursley's like they would avoid dog turds.

"Boy! Did you hear me!?" Petunia screeched again. Harry winced. It was a wonder she didn't deafen anyone, or annoy someone, other than him with that voice so much that they strangled her.

It was bad enough that she locked him away in the cupboard. If there had ever been a fire, they would have left him in the cupboard to die, and the magic would have let them get away with it. Though, maybe magic would have saved his life. He could only hope. He didn't know, but he would get them back for just being semi-evil piles of dung.

"I'm up, Aunt Petunia," he replied. It took a great effort to sound his usual neutral, rather than let in any anger, not that an ignorant mess like her would ever notice the difference she cared that little about him.

Harry heard her retreating footfalls after that and sighed in relief. He hated her so much he didn't know how he had lasted so long. She was a menace to all of the good in the world, if there was any good in the world, and sometimes worse to be around than his uncle, and he beat him whenever he felt like it, but his magic did explain away the majority of the damage the next day.

He shook his head clear as he stripped out of his PJ bottoms and dumped them to the side of the bed and pulled on some baggy blue jeans that needed to be tied with a piece of string or they would fall down, and a faded blue tee shirt. He didn't bother with the holey trainers that were, like the rest, hand-me-downs from his massive cousin.

The clothes he wore were used as an exercise in the neighbours asserting their 'right' opinion of Harry's temperament as a criminal. It didn't seem to cross their minds that it was the Dursley's who chose what he wore as he was just a child and that all of the clothes were old and much more his cousins' size. That would have led to questions magic erased to nothing.

Harry's small body was still scared from all of his punishments, which made him frown. Magic had saved his life, healed him over night, yet he couldn't even lose a few scars, even with his time controlling power. That was seriously not very nice, but he supposed that when he was older, they might turn into manly battle scars if he couldn't get rid of them.

It took Harry a few minutes to get ready for the day since he was only allowed to bathe once a week, mainly so that the Dursley's didn't have to smell him or he wouldn't get any; as it was his baths were always freezing cold, but luckily or not, or maybe that bath time was the night before.

Harry creaked the door open and slid out of his cupboard and through the pristine (thanks to him) hallway and into the kitchen where his aunt busied herself with scrubbing the floors.

His aunt had some kind of compulsive disorder when it came to cleaning the kitchen. It was the only area she wouldn't let him clean, which was a shame as he would have been able to get some extra food if he was. He was ordered to start making breakfast before he had fully entered the kitchen, and got to it straight away, making sure to make it that bit greasier than necessary.

Harry was nearly finished making the breakfast when his behemoth of an uncle entered, moustache twitching in anger as he glared at Harry, demanding his breakfast. Harry found it hard not to show his hostility, which was added to as his cousin Dudley with his mop of blonde hair flat to his scalp entered the room, adding in his demands for breakfast.

Harry didn't care too much as he stopped frying everything. If it wasn't cooked all the way through, he didn't care. They wouldn't notice anyway as they started inhaling it as soon as he started dishing it out. His aunt watched him like a hawk, which meant he wasn't to save himself a slither of food, and dished it out on their plates. He wouldn't want any anyway. He made it, so he knew how much grease was in it, and sure, bacon was the ultimate food, but that didn't mean he wanted it slathered in oil.

He was half hoping to see them grabbing at their chests begging for help with his aunt screaming in panic, but no such luck. It was a shame as he was feeling vindictive enough to watch them die slow and painful deaths for what they had done to him.

Harry had always earned more than the Dursley's, and especially Dudley. The only thing his cousin had ever earned was his contempt and the hatred of all of the kids in the neighbourhood, and school. Dudley didn't deserve less than a broken face and a severe beating as far as Harry was concerned. Harry was quite certain that other kids in the street would agree with him.

Now that Harry knew the truth about whom he was it didn't bother him, and he remained silent, ignoring them as much as he could. He just passed his aunt, uncle and cousin their eggs as he finished serving them and watched the two fat jerks wolf them down as if it was their last day. It might have been if Harry knew how to use his powers, they would go boom.

Harry had given them all of the eggs, the last thing on the breakfast list, and Petunia had even checked all the pans he used to make sure he wasn't trying to 'steal' anything for himself before he started washing up, even though they had a perfectly good dishwasher, they would use that after he cleaned them anyway. Then after he finished washing the dishes his aunt shoved him out the back door to do the gardening, with the threat of no lunch if he hadn't finished by then.

He didn't mind gardening, but on an empty stomach it was not the most pleasant thing to do. They normally kicked him out into the garden if they wanted to go out for a few hours. They didn't want to leave him in the house to steal food that he knew was rightfully his for all the work he does anyway. Then they seemed to think that he would ruin the house that he would spend hours keeping nice.

Sighing seemed to become a habit of his. It was like he used it for stress relief, breathe in, and breathe out. He internally shrugged as he started pulling the tools out of the shed and started with preening the rose bush next to a low fence that led to the next garden over where a young girl lived with her mother.

The girl couldn't be much younger than him. Her mother didn't approve of her playing in the backyard while Harry was working, and the girl didn't approve of playing in the backyard when Dudley was out even when her mother tried to encourage it, not seeing through the magic, to her daughter's fear of him.

"Whoa, you really are a lazy good for nothing little brother, aren't you?"

Harry had almost fallen over as a boy had interrupted him. He was only about 13, and was thin and sickly. He was pale and sweating through his clothes, but at least they fit him. It was a nice sunny day and the boy was coated in sunscreen. He had brown hair lose to his shoulders, and because of his slight frame and features he had a feminine look to him.

His lips were blood red and his eyes were blood shot with purple rings around them, which accentuated his pale blue eyes. He looked tired, but he had a cheeky smile on his lips as he leaned on the fence, to get a better look at Harry. His skin was clammy, his breathing was laboured, and he looked like he was pained just smiling, but the smile still suited him over any grimace.

"You're dying!" Harry said, startling himself as he stood up to get a better look at him. He felt bad for saying it, but it came straight to him. He knew it was true, as much as he knew the Dursley's were useless piles of hate.

The boy smiled a little wider. "I don't know why but it's comforting to see you," he replied. "I'm Charles, and I suppose you're Harry Potter, the evil boy who lives next door to my aunt and causes everyone nothing but trouble," he said in a far-off joking manner before coughing up some vile and blood into his hand, but wiped it off on a tissue.

"Well, that's what my aunt thinks!" he continued whimsically. "My cousin told me that no one will ever listen that… she had heard things!" he said, and Harry grimaced slightly but otherwise did nothing as his eyes flashed over the girl watching worriedly by her backdoor while she listened. She was small with blonde hair tied at her waist and pale blue eyes that matched her cousins.

"She said your… relatives are vile!" he continued thoughtfully. "That you get blamed for what your cousin does even when your cousin is caught. That sounds really weird to me," he said, still smiling.

"They'll meet their end!" Harry suddenly spat-out as a small spade floated up behind him, and the boys' eyes widened. "Then Dumbledore…-." Harry quickly stopped as the boy looked at him oddly before turning as he saw the spade floating, but it dropped seconds later and he turned back.

"D-Dumbledore dumped you here… with magic!" Charles said in horror. "That would explain why it seems like all of the adults are under the Dursley's spell. It wasn't the Dursley's but Dumbledore's, and you're Harry Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour of Wizarding Britain! You're here so he can keep you under control, but instead he is turning a force of nature against him!" he mumbled on thoughtfully.

"He doesn't know you know, does he?" he asked, amusement sliding to his lips. "I don't much like the old man. He plays favourites. Especially with that grease ball incompetent potions teacher he has. Nobody can say bad about him without getting into trouble with the grease ball because he finds out who complained from Dumbledore even when it's supposed to be kept confidential.

"I would send a message," he said before sighing. "But I doubt it would do much good. I bet Dumbledore would intercept any post owl to leave around here."

"But what about you…?" Harry asked, tilting his head to one side in thought. "I will get him back for what he does to me, but who can you get back. Isn't there any magic to fix you?"

He shook his head with a gentle smile. "I've been ill for so long that in a strange kind of way I've accepted it, even welcomed it. I don't think I should have come out here, but… when I saw you, I was compelled to. I couldn't believe my aunt over my cousin."

Harry reached out, shocking him as he touched his cheek looking near the verge of tears as he felt it – his life. "I think you will be okay in the end, just like me. I don't think death can really be the end, but maybe another beginning. You… you have Destinies blessing, I'm sure. There has to be more to the world – to existence."

Charles smiled and took Harry's hand and surprisingly kissed his fingers making him blush fiercely. "Thank you, Harry. I'm not sure why, but I feel more at ease now," he said holding Harry's fingers loosely. "I always did want a little brother, but now it feels sad to think of how he would have felt… how you feel."

"I can be death or life I think," he replied before nearly jumping as he saw the figure behind Charles. It was a shapely female figure wearing tight dark flowing purple that was like wisps of clouds. She wore a hood up over her face, but he could see the tribal style markings glowing slightly with a pale blue. Her eyes were a soft red, not foreboding, but not comforting, as if she had seen death so much that the cycle couldn't bother her any longer.

Charles looked back, and his cousin looked to see what Harry was looking at but he knew neither of them could see her. She was leaning up against the far fence with her slender arms folded below her sizable chest. He half expected a companion to be with her, but she was alone. He wondered whether that was how Death existed, always alone, and wondered about Life; wouldn't they go hand in hand?

She looked straight into Harry's eyes with hers glowing slightly within the dark of her hood. He felt an odd sensation of pity and sadness rolled into one before she held up 2 fingers in a gentle motion with a small nod of her head, and Harry blinked, and she was gone, but he understood.

"Charles, quick, our mums are coming!" the girl quickly called out with tears bubbling in her eyes. "You know they'll be angry if they see you talking with Harry!"

"B-Big Brother…!" Harry said as he patted Charles's hands on the fence. "You have two weeks, so enjoy them with your family and cousin, then Death will come for you personally, but I think she is nicer than you might think. Now hurry before someone see's you or I'll come back to this moment in time and kick your butt."

They paused and looked round before laughing as no older Harry turned up. Then Charles surprised him with a quick hug over the fence before smiling with a nod he rushed off to join his cousin.

Charles's cousin gave Harry a watery smile of appreciation before hurriedly helping him in through the back door, fussing all over him. Harry turned when he sensed her again. Death. She was standing behind him, hidden away within her robes watching him. Harry was surprised by how young she looked, like she wouldn't have quite finished senior school yet. He looked into her eyes as they glowed faintly but otherwise couldn't make out her face.

"Voldemort cheated you?" he asked as he just knew what she wanted. "Don't worry Death!" he said with a smile that brightened the gloomy feeling she eluded. "I'll put him down, and make sure every other Voldemort that turned out like him is sent on too."

She nodded and breezed away, blowing away in a soft swirl of purples and blacks.

It had happened. Charles passed away peacefully in his sleep two weeks later. Harry had only known so soon because Death had stopped by. He wasn't sure why she felt the need, but she gave him the bad news before leaving.

Harry hated to know that the Dursley's were getting dressed up the next week for Charles's funeral. They didn't know him, and he wouldn't have wanted them there. They were dishonouring a wizard who had more honour than any other from his point of view. They hated anything magical, and if they found out they would have been spitting on his grave and raging at his parents.

Harry had been ordered to stay in the garden, and not do anything freakish. That was when Death had turned up again. She looked at him with something akin to sadness before giving him a nod and clicking her small purple tinted fingers.

He looked down at himself to see the straight black suit on himself. It was neat and tidy, fitting perfectly over his small frame. It was marvellous. Then Death was next to him. She took his hand in hers, and held it softly between her cold fingers in a show of support, and then they were gone.

Harry reappeared in a cemetery, alone. Death had left him, but he hadn't expected her to stay. She was obviously kinder and more understanding than Harry would have thought, but she couldn't interfere with the living world, but Harry guessed that didn't mean she couldn't help him out, and he now knew, and realised, he wouldn't need her help anymore.

Looking around Harry watched the small coffin as it was lowered into the hole in the ground. The small blonde girl, Charles's cousin was watching disconnected. Harry ignored all of the shocked whispers as he had appeared out of nowhere. She had just looked up at him and smiled with tears in her eyes.

Harry stood next to her, and she slid her small hand into his before hugging onto his arm. He didn't know what he could do to support her but let her be. No one moved or tried to intervene as they watched the first lashing of dirt hit the coffin while a woman watched over the lowering into the grave and was speaking in a language Harry was sure wasn't English, but was sure he understood.

Harry tuned out from the woman and offered a gentle smile as he kissed the blonde girls' forehead and she let go as he turned to the 'mourners', and waited a moment for the woman to speak. She had short brown hair, and was wearing a black and white suit with a white robe made of amazing silks that seemed to magically swirl and move. The woman was quite pretty, Harry thought and she lowered herself to her knees and bowed her head towards the grave while more dirt fell onto of the coffin. Harry caught her brown eyes for only a moment as they flickered to him. Harry didn't know how he knew but he suspected her bowing to Charles's grave was her idea of bowing to Harry as well, and she looked so sad.

However, Harry turned his attention from the priestess and back to the crowd, and most of them were glaring at him, and he returned it full force.

"You're all pathetic!" he couldn't help but say. "Under the influence of magic most of you hate me!" he said, but he noticed a few people didn't look surprised by his words as they were likely from the magical world as Charles had to have made magical friends, and though Harry was talking now, and not caring who he told of magic, he knew they would likely forget this meeting – or maybe this would be the beginning of the end for Albus Dumbledore.

"It's time for me to leave!" Harry continued as he felt it deep within his being. "But remember this… especially the Dursley filth who have beat and abused me most of my life! I will be back, and my vengeance will be slow and painful. And to the mage in attendance, I am Harry Potter, and this is what Dumbledore would do with me!" he said as the spell wore off his old rags returned like gold dust floating in the breeze.

Harry managed to find some amusement in picking out the mage from the muggles as they watched in horror as their saviour burst away in an implosion of white energy. It was an empty sensation that lasted only a moment, or maybe forever, like smashing the emergency glass to get out of the bus after an accident before he regained himself and staggered on solid ground. Beyond where he was – the colours; the sensations. Harry didn't think he was yet ready to take a look around in the spaces between space, time, and reality.

It took Harry a few wabbles before he finally toppled over from a slight dizzy spell added to that the ground want very even, and got a face full of sandy dirt. The young mage looked through blurry eyes around himself, blinking rapidly his eyes began to focus. It was early evening as the sun had begun to set, and Harry hoped he wasn't on Mars, but then he could breathe, but that might have been one of his godly powers to breath where normal people couldn't, though thinking, Mars would have been better than the Dursley's.

However, looking around Harry was in a mountainous region of… somewhere with dirt, tuffs of grass and reddish sand on the ground. He could smell salt water in the air and looked over towards the horizon. He could see the deep blue ocean several miles away pooling out endlessly. It was the first time he had ever seen the ocean before. It would be nice to get to visit sometime in the future.

Looking around he could see there were a few small trees around him with some weird fruit hanging from them. He could see further once he pulled himself up to see a small village standing in the middle of nowhere, near a lake with river running to the sea, and he was far enough that he could see the whole place.

Standing up straight, Harry shook his head clear when he heard a strange hissing voice.

"Preysss, smellssssss, goooood!" the voice hissed out and Harry gulped as he turned to see some kind of snake. If you could call the monster a snake. It was huge, taller than him with wide mouth with fangs dripping venom. It had green scales over its main body, but a dark shadowy coloured underbelly, and its tail split into two at the end.

Harry gulped as he stared, petrified of the beast as it seemed to be talking about swallowing him hole. He almost, not quite wished he was back at the funeral. He would have thought most snakes were dangerous without needing to be so huge and poisonous. Then it struck. It hissed its hunger as its fangs crunched down into Harry's right arm as he moved it to defend him, and Harry had never felt pain quite like it as the fangs sunk in and he screamed.

Harry cried out, whimpering as the creature managed to throw him as it flailed as Harry tried to pull his arm back. Harry crashed painfully into a large pile of rocks hitting his head, blood trickled slowly, but thankfully the snake had let go, hissing at him, it was about to strike again. He was barely able to stay awake. He struggled to look up into the fierce creature's hungry black eyes. It slowly slivered towards him. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the worst, and hoped some godly intervention happened sometime soon.


Harry suddenly heard that one word. He grimaced as the snake flailed away from him as it was blasted by fire and screeched and screamed in agony. Harry opened his tired eyes as the monster was engulfed in a blazing inferno of flames, reds, yellows, and whites with tints of orange. Its ear-splitting screeching only lasted a few moments before it collapsed to the ground; dead, a burnt husk of flesh.

Harry looked up through his groggy with heavy eyelids. The only thing he truly wanted to do was sleep now. His head was pounding and his crushed arm stung with a previously unknown intensity, protesting his wakefulness.

Harry saw a man who looked to be in his early fifties. He was at least six foot two tall with short straight brown hair with flecks of grey. He had blue eyes and the weirdest clothes Harry had ever seen. His top had no sleeves, and he wore a strange gauntlet on his left forearm with five gems in it.

He could barely make out one of the gems was glowing faintly before it went silent. In the man's right hand, he saw a large Double-Edged sword; one blade was touching the ground while the other pointed up a few inches taller than him.

Harry saw the man looking down at him as he collapsed limply, still looking up. The man looked concerned. He was with a teenage girl. She had long brown hair that hung below her shoulder blades, tied back into a ponytail. Her deep blue eyes were like the mans. She looked to be around fourteen or fifteen years old. She wore weird armoured clothes. She was very pretty. She had weapons - two long daggers were sheaved on either side of her hips.

The girl finally ran to Harry and knelt down beside him, worry etched all over her pretty face. "It's okay, kid," she said trying to reassure herself as much as him. "You're going to be okay now; we'll take care of you, so don't worry."

Harry felt comforted as she gently turned him over onto his back and stroked his cheek comfortingly. It was then that he let the darkness take hold of him as he finally passed out, and knew no more, but one thing, Death being absent was a good thing for him at that moment.

to be continued…