Chapter Text
31.07.1980, St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
When Lily Potter first laid her eyes on her child, she was greeted by deep, green eyes that stared calmly at her, teal highlights sparkling brightly under the well lit room.
“Such beautiful eyes,” a rich timbre voice exclaimed next to her.
Lily couldn't help but agree with her husband, after all, they truly did shine like stars in the night sky. The baby's skin was fair and soft to the touch and his cheeks were slightly tinged a soft, velvety pink. Strange however, were the glowing teal tattoos that lined his body; a large mark on his chest and smaller geometric patterns that curved neatly around his upper arms and thighs.
A tear rolled down her cheek, marvelling at the precious life which she held in her arms. So delicate looking, yet so… divine.
“Ahem”.
The abrupt clearing of throat brought the two’s attention to the midwife who stood politely in the corner. ‘Well about his birth, no complications have arisen so far, though I will say I have no knowledge on how those tattoos came to be or what they symbolise. I must say he is a rather quiet baby, most come out with a bang and loud screams.
Lily interrupted, “My baby, is he -”
“Okay?” the midwife continued, “Indeed he is a very healthy baby, I would not worry if I was you.” With that, a warm smile spread on her ageing face, the corners of her eyes crinkly slightly as she clapped her hands together, “I believe your friends are waiting for you outside the door. I’ll be taking my leave and if any complications arise, simply ring the bell and I’ll come.” With a small wave and a wink, she was gone and in her place, a Mr Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail came barging in, bright smiles lit up on their faces as they huddled around the bed, cooing over the new-born child.
“So whatcha gonna name him?”
“Oh…? Haha, well I must say he does look like a Harry hmm…”
“Harry huh… I like that. Harry James Potter it is.”
That was the story of how one Harry James Potter came into the world, in a happy family, smiling faces around him and a bountiful future ahead of him.
It was moments like these that made those huddled in the room forget that there was a war raging on outside. And so, they savoured this memory, making the most of it, cracking jokes and laughing together, pretending that everything was okay. Cause as long as they had each other, they’d be fine right?
For the most part, life at Godric’s Hollow was mainly uneventful. However, the Marauders did visit regularly, showering young Harry with piles of gifts and lots of love.
Sirius Black would often come prancing into the room, transformed as a large black dog, jumping up and down and wagging his tail excitedly, letting Harry ride his back. And from Harry, a large gummy smile would be plastered on his face, laughter the sound of soft bells ringing through the air as Lily would watch, shouting every now and then, “OI, MR SIRIUS ORION BLACK THE THIRD, DON’T YOU DARE PERFORM SUCH DANGEROUS STUNTS. WHAT IF HARRY FALLS OFF YOUR BACK AND GETS HURT!” In return, laughter would ripple throughout the room as they would amusedly watch Sirius leap from furniture to furniture in excitement.
Remus Lupin on the other hand, was a much quieter character compared to Sirius, preferring to read bedtime stories to Harry. He told stories of a boy who pulled a sword out of a rock, large flying dragons, and other extraordinary feats of magic to which Harry would look up eagerly, eyes pleadingly asking ‘what’s next?’ In response, Remus would chuckle heartedly and ruffle Harry’s hair. “Well Harry, you’ll learn what happened next tomorrow, why don’t you go to sleep right now, after all you can’t go around on epic adventures when you're tired and sleep deprived”.
Peter Pettigrew on the other hand had kept some distance, mainly because whenever Harry was held in his arms, Harry would burst into loud wails, his shrieks piercing on the ears. Despite that, he still stuck around, gifting Harry stuffed animal versions of the Marauders along with other toys. If one were to look around Harry's room, they’d see many framed pictures of Harry cuddling a stag plushie while snugly sleeping in his crib.
That’s not to say that it was only the Marauders that frequented Godric's Hollow. Lily’s friend Alice would often bring her son Neville over and they'd watch their two boys happily play together. Other times James and Lily had also invited their former transfiguration teacher and head of house Minerva McGonagall in order to have some tea and reminisce over their school years. Though if ever asked, Minerva would never admit to having let young Harry pet her in her feline form.
Another frequent visitor to the Potter household happened to be Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the light faction of the war, esteemed headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and to James and Lily, a mentor and guiding hand throughout dark times. It was a chilly night, the moon half full, in which Dumbledore decided to grace his presence within the Potter household. A sharp knock came at the door and James rushed to the door and hastily opened it, greeting the wizened and oddly dressed figure that stood in front of him.
"Albus, to what do I owe you the pleasure?" James echoed heartedly, leading Dumbledore to a cushioned seat in the living room.
On this day, Dumbledore had decided to wear a bright orange shirt, dotted with blue pineapples. A thick woolly coat was slung neatly around his thin frame, a ghastly fuchsia colour that matched the colours of his polished leather shoes. Bright yellow shorts lined with black polka dots were tightened by a purple coloured belt on which a flower adorned the metal clasp. “Well,” Dumbledore started, “unfortunately today is not a day I come bearing good news. It concerns your son, Harry and it would be good to have Lily in this conversation as well.”
At this Lily came, setting some warm tea on the table in front of them, sparing a glance at her husband. James gave a silent nod before turning back to Dumbldore.
“Very well, before I pass on the news, I’d like to ask a question,” Dumbledore started, his eyes staring intensely at James and Lily, “Would you say that there is anything strange about young Harry, perhaps abnormal feats of magic, or unusual behaviour?”
The two parents sat in the chairs tensely, blinking slowly at Dumbledore, unsure of what to make of the question. They began to look back, trying to pick at their memories in an attempt to answer.
Harry Potter was quite the strange boy when it came to his magic. From a young age, soft winds would glide throughout the room even when the windows were shut tightly. Toys would float from around Harry’s bedroom into his crib and Harry himself would occasionally be found floating a few inches above the ground, drifting around peacefully. For his first birthday, Sirius had gifted Harry a toy broomstick on which Harry would zoom around, peals of merry laughter filling the room. James had exclaimed that Harry was a ‘natural born flyer’, cheekily adding that it was ‘the wonderful work of the amazing Potter gene’, to which Lily had replied with a soft hmph.
Sometimes, when Lily checked on Harry during the night, a glowing, blue butterfly would be resting on his cheek, gently fluttering its wings. What made these feats of magic stranger was that these weren’t simply any feats of accidental magic as it seemed as if Harry had been actively performing the magic with intent. Another strange thing about him was how his eyes and tattoos would glow slightly when using his magic. It also wasn’t hard to notice how Harry’s hair had started turning blue at the ends or how he never got sick, the way he rarely cried, or the way his eyes seemed to have this look of understanding to them.
As time slowly trickled by, James and Lily took turns to share the knowledge of Harry to Dumbledore who nodded along as each piece of information was relayed. ‘I see…,’ Dumbledore muttered to himself, eyebrows deeply furrowed in thought.
He cleared his throat, “I believe you have already guessed this but what I’m about to tell you is in regards to the prophecy. Voldemort’s forces have been even more ruthless lately, however, he himself hasn’t been as active in the public eyes as much. I do believe that he does plan to act on the prophecy soon and he has already narrowed down the possible child of the prophecy to your son or Neville Longbottom. It is important that you remain alert. As for the question I asked earlier I will admit, I was seeing if Harry had done anything to indicate that he has the power to defeat Voldemort. I must say that what you have said has perked my interest -”
“You will not be using my son as a lamb to slaughter, Albus,” James snarled, “While I do believe you have good intentions, my son’s safety and happiness is my first priority. Prophecies are a fickle thing and I will not be pushing my son into your schemes. Rest assured we will be taking extra care to stay safe, goodbye Albus, I’m sorry this meeting had to end this way.”
Albus sighed in defeat, recognising the dismissal and he dipped his head down in acknowledgement. “It seems that I have crossed a line and for that I greatly apologise. I wish you well, farewell friends.” The next second, he vanished into thin air, forgoing the usual dramatics and his tea was left cold on the table with only a few sips drunk.
Lily slumped into the couch, resting her head on James's shoulder, a tear trickling down her face. “Oh James, what are we gonna do?”
“We have to stay strong Lily, for Harry.”
A soft sniffle escaped Lily as she dug herself further into James's comforting embrace.
“For Harry,” she repeated.
Lord Voldemort was merciful.
He crept down a cobblestone path, the night cloaking his figure in a sheath of darkness. Crimson eyes peeked through the shadows cast by his hood, staring intensely at the large house that stood down the path.
“Trick or treat!”
He found his path blocked by a young boy, eager eyes staring at him as he proudly showed off a basket littered with an assortment of chocolates and sweets. Lord Voldemort did not have time to waste on pesky muggle children for he had greater goals to achieve. He could feel his hand itching for his wand, ready to exterminate the insect that stood in the way of his ambitions. ‘No,’ he thought to himself before straightening his back slightly.
Lord Voldemort was merciful, he’d let the boy live.
Instead, he lowered his hood, letting the child catch a glimpse of his face. His face was a sickly white hue of waxy texture, his nose snake-like and his eyes the shape of slits. The boy’s eyes widened the size of dinner plates and his body trembled as a silent scream escaped his lips. The boy scrambled and Voldemort continued on, kicking the basket of goods which the boy had dropped in his moment of fear out of his way.
A tense silence washed over the small neighbourhood, the wind's presence no more and the birds seemingly silent as they watched, hidden within the branches of the dark oak trees. His hand reached out to the gate pushing it open and his long spindly fingers twirled his wand around in anticipation. Lord Voldemort flicked his hand, the front door of Godric’s Hollow opening with a bang as he let his presence be known.
“LILY, HE’S HERE, TAKE HARRY AND RUN!”
Tch, did James Potter really think that they stood a chance against him, the greatest wizard of all time. The man was an esteemed Auror, a great warrior on the battlefield, yet here he was without his wand, defenceless. Pathetic. He threw a few mild hexes around, watching as James threw himself behind different pieces of furniture. Tired of watching Potter scramble around like a pet hamster, he steadied his wand.
Lord Voldemort was merciful, he’d give the man a swift and painless death.
“Avada kedavra.” Lord Voldemort continued on upstairs, not even sparing a glance as Potter’s body fell to the floor like a ragdoll. He could hear panicked movement in the room upstairs and he slowed his steps in no rush to make any moves.
“It’s alright Harry, everythings gonna be alright okay, mummy loves you, daddy loves you, always remember that okay.”
Amused by Lily Potter’s rambles he broke the door down and was greeted by the sight of her frantically pressing kisses against the baby’s forehead. Loath he was to admit it, Lily potter, despite being a muggleborn, was a formidable witch with a sharp mind; either a great asset or a thorn that had to be destroyed, to which she was the latter. He paused, remembering his promise to his loyal servant, Severus.
Lord Voldemort was merciful, he’d give her the chance to live.
“Move aside Ms Potter, lest you wish to be killed”
Instead of moving aside she stood firm, spreading her arms open as if shielding her child.
“Move aside woman.”
“NOT HARRY, TAKE ME INSTEAD!” she screamed, tears rolling down her rosy cheeks as her lips trembled violently.
He was growing tired of this. “This is your last chance, move,” he growled and when she continued to stand defiantly, he snapped. “Avada kedavra.” His voice rang loudly in the air as a bright green light struck the body of Lily Potter who promptly fell to the floor, her body strewn on the ground, cold and lifeless.
He moved forward slightly, taking a closer look at the child which sat in the crib. Bright green eyes stared at him curiously, blinking slowly. “So you’re Harry Potter, huh,” he muttered under his breath, “such a shame that I have to kill you for it would be such a waste of magical blood. Alas, I will allow nothing to stand in the way of my path to greatness, not even you, Harry Potter.”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, his wand aimed at the boy’s vulnerable figure.
“Goodbye Harry Potter.”
He opened his eyes, relishing in his soon to be victory. “Avada kedavra.”
With a flick of his wand, a bright green light escaped his wand and rushed towards the boy whose eyes stared calmly back into his. The next thing he knew was that there was a bright green flash of light speeding towards him, a loud, ear splitting scream somewhere (his scream he soon realised), and unbearable pain that tore through his body, ripping through his nerves.
He was left haunted by avada-green eyes and bright green flashes of light rushing towards him and engulfing his vision.
Lord Voldemort was not a merciful soul, but death was always the cruellest of them all.
It was to this flash of green light that a 4 year old Harry Potter woke up, curled up on his bed in the foetal position, sweat pooling down his forehead when memories from a life once lived suddenly bombarded his mind.
He slowly sat up, stretching his limbs as the faintest streams of light filtered their way through the cupboard’s window. He curled in on himself, his mind in complete disarray. Slowly cohesive thoughts started forming in his mind.
‘I am Harry Potter, the boy who lives in the cupboard under the stairs, a worthless freak.’
‘I am Venti the bard, three times winner of the most popular bard of Mondstadt.’
‘I am Barbatos, the Anemo Archon and God of Freedom.’
Of course while he knew that reincarnation was possible, to be reincarnated himself with all his memories (which was not normal he added as an underthought) he mused, ‘well, well, well...’ Harry Potter was a boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs, a worthless freak in the eyes of himself and the Dursleys.
It was the Durselys who had neglected him for the past three years and had scorned him for his achievements. To treat a child in such a way was despicable in the eyes of Venti. It seemed that he had some wrongs to right for every child deserved to be loved.
Not only would it be for himself for it would be humiliating to be a god locked up in a cupboard by the hands of the Dursleys of all people (he shuddered at the thought of Morax ever finding out), but it was first and foremost for Harry, the 4 year old boy who had a dream to be free from the cupboard and the lonely world that was all he knew. A maniacal smile lit up on his face as he laughed quietly under his breath as to not wake up the Dursleys.
Venti the bard was not stupid despite appearances thank you very much.
So when he woke up in the body of a 4 year old Harry Potter, who was he to deny the chance to put on the greatest performance.
Threads of change slowly weaved their way through the winds. The world did not know what was coming its way.
Venti hummed under his breath, a soft tune in the back of his mind as he lulled himself back to sleep.
‘Fly fly away
Like a bird in the sky
See the world on my behalf
To the heavens may you fly’
When the Dursley’s woke up the next morning and walked down the stairs, all three tripping over some invisible block of air, Venti made no comment.