Chapter Text
Harry blinks, but quickly shuts his eyes as bright white light harasses him.
A pained groan echoes throughout the strange realm before the wizard covers his face and tucks his face in between his legs.
The last thing he remembers was dueling a dark wizard he needed to take down, being the head of auror’s made him more of a desk worker, so he’ll let himself off the hook for not dodging the diffindo, though he hopes Hermione doesn’t bring him back to kill him again.
“Your thoughts always amuse me master” a soft voice filled his ears.
The instincts honed from a life of survival have him snapping his eyes open forcing himself to adjust to the brightness, and blanches towards the one who spoke and is standing before his person. The height of their being towering over his sitting person.
At least this time he’s not greeted by Dumbledore.
However, thinking about the last time he appeared at this…place that can only be called limbo. He shutters as the cold tile presses against his back and sits up. If he remembers correctly, scrunching up his nose and concentrating Harry wills himself to be clothed, dutifully ignoring the pulse of amusement from the being before him.
He feels relief as the robes curl around his form. He has died, now three times.
Sure he’ll miss everyone, but after Hogwarts was rebuilt everyone tried to stay in touch, but with everyone being so busy and his relationship with Ginny deteriorating until they split it’s not much of a sadness.
The Weasley’s drifted away from him after the breakup and he understands that Ginny is the little girl of the family, so he can’t fault them for siding with her. He had broken the girl's heart and ended the relationship. He had not been feeling the emotions or connection he had since he came back from Voldemort's Avada Kedavra. Especially when it became clear to him that he was only pushing himself to love her so he could gain a family.
Harry knew it wasn’t fair to Ginny.
“Death?…” Harry asks wary, trying to push his thoughts away, instinctively knowing who’s in front of him.
“Death that is I and you little one are my Master.” The entity says so simply but the intense energy coming from the deity tells him that the personification of death is very much happy.
‘Master?’ He mentally despairs.
‘Not another Doby!’
He jolts upon feeling foreign amusement startles.
He looks towards the deity and calms his mind with unneeded breaths, with clearer thoughts he notices and feels a connection humming between the being and him.
Hermione’s rambles come to mind as he vaguely remembers her going on about the beetle and the bard, but with all the actions involving his life, he can give himself some leniency for forgetting about that nor thinking it’s anything credible, besides a fable.
Right?
But he’s here, and the other is that no one can fake the essence of death, at least his instincts tell him that.
“Dobby the elf who sacrificed himself for you, quite the character”
“Master, it’s so good to see you, unfortunate that it came so soon.” The deity continues on their form ever-shifting and their voice ever-changing.
‘Stop calling me master’ he mentally screams
The deity seems to sigh before giving him a look of patience:
“Little one” and now he wants Master back. The endearment coming from such an entity makes him feel mortified. What is that, a smirk?
“You have a peculiar situation being my master” the being continues ignoring the narrowing of HarryMs eyes
He is tired, can’t he just rest?
The being hums contemplatory, probably listening to his thoughts.
“Little one,” the being says, tapping him on his forehead as he is guided to sit down. “You are my master,”
They turn to him, “You, little one, don’t have to do anything, or you can do anything.”
“You’re not bound by the mort plane anymore. You are me. My person, my extension in the physical realm, should you choose to enact it.”
“We are nothing and everything, anyone and no one.”
‘Everything and nothing?’
“The Beginning and the end spiraling in a never-ending cycle of balance.” It comes out of him from nowhere.
“Exactly,” the deity seems pleased, “ And they say Hermione was the smart one” death teases, and that alone jars Harry.
The fact that the being knows Hermione-
“Death knows all” and yeah he feels stupid.
“ Little one” Death says, seeming to sense or read his mind.
Inhaling, and hesitantly he asks, “Can I see my parents? Remus?…Sirius” finished meekly.
He knows that he barely had any time with Sirius, but the man who was one of the first adults gave him hope that there were people who cared about him more than what he could offer as the Boy who lived.
They give him a long look, “If you choose to stay in my realm you’ll be able to meet them again” before he can rejoice that the being continues “Unfortunately, Sirius won’t be there.
Death continues at his panicked look, “Sirius' situation is more difficult, seeing as the fool fell through the Veil.”
“why you mortals think it’s a good idea to leave it open so blatantly I’ll never understand.” The casual mention of one of his greatest regrets causes a jolt to pierce his heart.
“It seems that a group of deities from across the pond have taken your dear godfather wishing to have a wizard in their grasp, foolishly not realizing the man would need a way to channel his magic.”
Sirius was kidnapped by the gods.
He never should have rushed into things.
He’s so mad at himself. He wishes, no he wants to see Sirius again. While he loves his parents, it’s Sirius who gave him the slip of hope that he would have an adult who took his well-being seriously.
Remus was only really a teacher and never crossed the boundaries until it was too late and he had just shut everyone out. Too afraid to lose anyone else, and then he went and got killed too.
He thinks of Teddy for a split second, before remembering how he will have Luna and Neville and will be fine.
He’d do anything to hear that barking laugh again, the laugh that gave him hope for the first time.
“Anything?” Death purrs, interrupting his thoughts.
“Even go to another world?”
“A new universe, You could see Sirius again.”
“He’s still alive” That makes his heart beat fast.
“How!” He shouts.
“Please he- it’s Sirius” he feels tears gather as desperation fills him.
What if he is being tortured at this moment, or-
“Now,” the being interrupted, “Sirius has been taken to a very particular realm.”
Harry feels intrigued despite his high emotions, “This place has an unusual fixation with death and seems to love fucking my role up, the line between life and death in this world is on the brink of breaking.”
Harry isn’t even gonna try and grasp the fact that there is more than his universe, almost nothing can surprise him much anymore.
Death continues, “This place, world of you will, that Sirius has landed himself in is so saturated with death that even I can't track the man down any further than the planet he is placed on.”
“The deities who took Sirius have been trying to cloak him from me, but the inferior gods of trees had no match to the eyes of death.”
“This…place.” He pauses, unsure of how to address a whole nother universe.
“What does this have to do with Sirius?” He decides to ask what’s more important in his mind.
The being stares at him like they can read his very soul, which is most likely. If he’s to be honest.
“Your precious dog-man is currently in one of the most deadly times this strange world has ever seen in over 8 thousand of their years.” The deity intones with a seriousness that makes him unconsciously straighten.
“Planetos, the name of the world in which Sirius resides is stuck in what you would call the medieval era, Kings and Queens, slavers, and all the diseases a man could ask for.” They end with mock cheer, even going so far as to do jazz hands.
“Slaves?” He can’t help but repeat with disgust, watching as the being seems to give him a dark grin.
“Oh, yes.” Death is cynical.
“The continent called Essos practically industrialized slave trade.” The deity says simply, though Harry can snese a distaste for the ‘practice’.
“Fortunately there's hope, for the continent beside them who are against the practice, so maybe they’ll figure it out like your world eventually will.”
‘Will!?’
“Back to your little mutt.” Death says waving his hand as if to throw away his rambles.
“If you want to see your dogfather, you're gonna have to step into the middle of a war.” The being levels him with a stern glance, “as my physical representation. I have one task for you, should you decide to go,”
“Balance, create some sense of balance.”
“You're in a position where you can change the fate of their world should you do it.”
“I know it’s a lot to ask especially since you’ve already saved one world, but I think this will be good for you master, both for your wish of finding your silly dog man and because I think you’ll find a place in this world that will make you truly happy.”
Truly happy?
“What is the place you said that didn’t support slavery?” He asks warily, shuddering as the deity grins like a cat who caught the canary.
“Sounds to me that you’ve already made your decision”
“For Sirius,” Harry says determinedly. After those words were spoken he felt a familiar, but more intense tugging sensation than Aparation on his person.
The last thing he sees is Death wiggling their bone-like fingers as he’s sent off to the place who knows where, the only thing he cares for is the fact that Sirius is there.
He realized he never asked for more information on the world he’s being sent off to, all he knows is the name of a country and the fact that there were castles.
Sounds like Hogwarts all over again.
Blinking his eyes open he squints as everything seems blurry and larger than he’s used to.
With great difficulty, Harry tilts his head and tries to around only to pause as strands of silver locks invade his vision.
The face that meets his is of a delicate-looking lady, with beautiful pale silver hair the smile on her face makes his heart flutter despite the confusion.
‘Why does she look so big?’ Is he the child of a giant?
Or is he a baby again?
“My, aren't your eyes just beautiful my sweet,” her soft voice meets his ear as a hand caresses his cheek.
“I’m sure you’d give the Lannisters a run for their money, with how vibrant your eyes are my little rose,” Harry scrunches his nose as he looks up at her confused at the Lannister's comment.
He gurgles, yes gurgles when he attempts to speak, of course being a baby makes him incapable. He is interrupted upon getting a sloppy kiss on the cheek for his cuteness, making him marvel as he’s manhandled with such care.
His disoriented mind is still adjusting to his new predicament.
“You’re so cute!”
“I just know Olenna won’t be able to say anything negative about you, my perfect little one.” She murmured as he tucked into her breast he would deny that he sought the comfort of the woman, not understanding what was happening.
He can hear the voice of a man speak outside the doors of the room they are in, though the room is surprisingly huge.
Making him wonder just which home he’s in.
“My love, Alerie sweetling, I’m so glad you’re well.” Harry watches as what can only be described as an oaf walks in with a flamboyant step.
The plump man reaches them and leans down to press a kiss to his wife’s head before meeting and giving Harry a toothy grin that makes his heart flutter.
The loud man picks him up with a surprising amount of gentle care.
“Oh, mace I’ve been through this two times already, and the Maester said this was the most healthy pregnancy he’s seen, said we are blessed by the maiden if he was a believer.” The woman says with a hearty swoon.
Harry listened to them absently in favor of admiring the fine work on the man’s shirt, especially all the intricate weaving of what looked like real gold thread.
“Yes, yes, but you’re my wife, and I can’t help it if I worry for you, my dear.”
“Now who do we have here?” The man holding him asks, bringing Harry's attention to his new father, Mace, as he speaks to Harry.
“Look at those eyes, hah!” The loudness of the man’s voice makes him wince but it’s nothing in the face of such adoration.
“What’s this commotion about some eyes?” A stern voice that rivals McGonagall’s speaks up making the man holding him spin making him face to face with the speaker.
The old woman is short in stature, but he can tell that she isn’t one to trifle with.
“Ah, mother!” Harry can feel a headache pulse as the exuberant man bounces to the aforementioned mother.
“This is…” Mace pauses looking back towards their wife, while pausing causing him to hold Harry out like a child would present a kitten, by the armpits with his leg dangling listlessly.
“Darling, did you ever decide on a name?” Mace asks, making Harry realize what’s happening.
“I thought you’d like to name him since you let me name our other boys,” he hears his new mother speak, as that’s the only logical conclusion he can come up with.
“Oh, well I don’t know, I thought you’d have come up with a name.” His new father says with a stupefied look holding Harry to his face as he seems to think hard.
Is Harry imagining steam coming off of the man’s face?
“Oh you big oaf, give me the little lad,” he hears his new grandmother speak, and the man doesn’t hesitate to comply, showing Harry just who runs the house.
He is acquainted with a face of wrinkles that somehow stay elegant despite the permanent frown on the old woman’s face that seems to soften as she stares into his eyes.
“I’m half tempted to have you named Tytos, just to see the look on Tywin's face, are you sure you didn’t sleep with a Lannister?” The old woman shrewdly asks his new mother.
“Mother!” His new father interjects
The powerful old lady merely titters, “Relax I’m only jesting,”
“Our dear Haedrian has your Buffoon of a father's hair or I’ll eat my headwraps.” She says gently cascading her fingers through his hair as she walks over to his mother.
“Besides if I thought for a second this baby wasn’t yours I’d have had her drinking moons tea before she even knew she’d been pregnant.”
After a second of silence and being settled into his new mother's arms he lets the old woman’s voice wash over him as exhaustion washes over his person
“…so Haedrian, our little Haedrian Tryell, the new rose of Highgarden” she speaks.
“What will you do?”
“I hope you're not another bumbling oaf like your father.”
“Mother,” the whine of his new father makes him crack a sleepy smile allowing sleep to take hold of him, enjoying the warmth of his new mother as she gently caresses his back with hypnotic strokes.
‘Haedrian Tyrell, huh?’
Could be worse.