Chapter Text
July 31st, 1985
It wasn’t fair.
Harry may not be the smartest- Dudley tells him how stupid he is quite often- but even Harry knows that it is not fair!
5 year old Harry didn’t understand why he wasn’t treated like other kids.
He laid in his cupboard under the stairs, curled up on his side facing away from the door. One of his small arms wrapped around his middle, glasses slightly skewed from how he laid his head on his other arm, watching a spider crawl on the wall. His stomach is slightly sunken and growling, but he learned that if he didn’t focus on it, he didn’t feel it as much, even if it often woke him up really early, like now.
The house was still dark, still quiet, and only the tiniest bit of light came through the small vented grate on his door, thanks to the window on the front door. It was one of the only reasons he liked his small cupboard, because it was the closest thing he had to a window, and it let him see sometimes when he woke up too early.
Thanks to that, Harry knows it’s morning time, but too early for his aunt and uncle to wake up, and definitely too early for Dudley. So it’s probably about 4 or 5 am. He reaches his arm out from around his stomach, stretching out his small pointer finger towards the spider.
It was big, and black, but Harry doesn’t know a lot about spiders- or really anything, other than aunt Petunia being terrified of them. But this spider was nice, touching his finger with two of its arms before crawling on his hand. Harry smiles at the feeling, watching the spider walk around his small hand and wrist.
He made a friend.
Somewhere upstairs, there's footsteps, and a door opening and shutting.
Harry frowns and puts the spider back on the wall before he sits up.
He’ll have to make breakfast soon.
Up to this point, the Dursleys hadn’t raised their hands to him, aside from Dudley. They just liked to ignore him and yell at him and make him do chores. He hates doing chores.
He didn’t understand the danger he was in when he became curious.
Harry had seen the other kids at school celebrate their birthdays in class or talk about how their families are planning to celebrate. He had seen first hand how the Dursleys celebrate Dudley’s birthdays!
So why can’t he celebrate his birthday? Why does Dudley get presents on Harry’s birthday? Why doesn’t Harry get any presents?
It was his birthday, yet he was now in the kitchen standing on a step stool in front of the oven. Aunt Petunia had come down and pounded on his door not long after he heard her moving around upstairs. She had demanded he make breakfast before Dudley or uncle Vernon woke up.
And despite not understanding why his birthday was never the one celebrated, Harry was mostly a good kid. In his too big grey shirt that reached his knees with holes around the collar and hem, and matching, too big sleep pants, he made eggs and bacon like he was told. While the shirt is large on him, it wasn’t large enough to hide the dots of burns from bacon grease or other kitchen mishaps that weren’t properly taken care of.
They were his mistakes after all.
Aunt Petunia said he deserved them as punishment for making mistakes.
He cleaned up after cooking. He cleaned up after the Dursleys ate. He went to get the post when he was ordered.
Each time he went through the living room, he couldn’t help the way his eyes went to the pile of presents. He couldn’t help the jealousy that burned deep in his chest. He couldn’t help the way his eyes shone and burned with unshed tears.
He didn’t understand the danger when he became upset.
But he definitely understood when he stopped in the living room after giving Vernon the post, and asked about the presents.
He had tried asking calmly, nicely, despite the confusion, the sadness, and the hope warring in his chest. He tried using big boy words that he learned at kindergarten.
Those are Dudley’s presents, you stupid, stupid boy. You know this- now stop asking questions and go back to your cupboard!
Harry’s tears fell down his too slim cheeks and his tiny fists gripped his clothes. “It’s not fair! It’s my birthday!” He cried in front of the Dursleys.
He didn’t mean to cry. He didn’t mean to yell- it just felt like too much and it hurt, the way they talked to him, the way Dudley smirked at him, like he knew he was better than Harry.
The tears didn’t last long, though. Only a few of them managed to hit the carpet before he saw it. The looks on their faces, filled with such disgust and anger, had stopped his tears with a hiccup the instant he saw them.
Something in him just knew.
He was in danger.
—
Harry had blacked out after a particularly hard kick to the ribs, and the last thing he remembered was the sound of screams and hissing as everything went dark.
When he woke up, he was laying in the middle of the living room, covered in blood and bruises from Vernon.
Stupid, Stupid boy! So lucky we took you in, fed you, clothed you at all! How dare you complain about fairness? We never wanted you to begin with!
His small, aching body shuddered at the voice in his head, clear as day, before he opened his eyes. His sight was blurry, his glasses having been lost after the first smack by his aunt, but even without them he could tell something was wrong.
It was dark, despite the light coming in from the windows. The living room was a mess- half of Dudley’s gifts opened, paper and boxes everywhere and the couch turned over.. Though that one didn't make sense to him. But before he could explore much further, he noticed something was surrounding him.
Reaching out, he felt cool scales under his hand and gasped. He remembers the documentary Vernon had fallen asleep watching a few weeks ago, one about snakes and their lives.
But where did this snake come from? How big was it? Is he in danger? He didn’t feel unsafe, not like how the Dursleys made him feel. Without his glasses, all he can really tell is that the snake is really big, and dark. He really likes the feel of the scales.
“Harry..”
Lifting his head from where he was looking at the scales, he looked around. He had never heard that voice before, and he doesn’t know where it came from. He turns around, only to see the snake’s head level with his own.
He let out a tiny gasp, and responded without thinking.
He ignores the bodies laying still behind the snake’s head that look like lumps and blobs with his bad vision.
“Who are you? Did you call me?”
The snake nods its head.
“My name is Sashaar, and I am yours. Just as you are mine. We are Soulbound.”
This big snake.. Is his? His eyes widened in wonder, saddened that he can’t see it properly without his glasses.
“Soulbound? What does that mean?”
Sashaar shakes his head.
“We do not have enough time. I will explain it all soon. But to protect you, I burned our power to near empty. It was the only way. However, I didn’t expect it to take so much. I am sorry.”
Before Harry could ask what the snake- Sashaar- meant, Harry felt a sudden, heavy wave of exhaustion. Blood dripped from his nose as he began to feel a pounding headache in the back of his head.
His world went black for the second time.
—
All the pain was gone.
That was the first thing that Harry noticed when he woke up, opening his eyes. Even the blood from his nose was gone and-
It was all white.
He looked around with a confused frown on his small face, gripping his soft sleep pants as he started to feel fear gripping his chest.
It was all white, but, but it looked familiar. Like a.. Train station?
Oh! This is King’s Cross! He saw it on tv once, in passing. Uncle Vernon never let him watch tv like he let Dudley. But.. King’s Cross Station had color. It was filled with reds and browns- at least it was on the tv. So, where did all the color go? He looked down at himself, seeing that he still had color, but his surroundings didn’t.
“Harry.”
Immediately, the child perked up and turned around, smiling at the sight of the snake- Sashaar. And this time, he could really see him.
He was huge, much, much bigger than grown ups! And his scales were a beautiful black, so black they looked blue, but also like they were sprinkled with white dust- like stars. Yet- yet when light hit him- he doesn’t know where the light came from- those onyx scales turned a beautiful molten gold, rippling along his body like waves.
Like his black scales were hiding fire beneath them, only making the snake even more beautiful.
His eyes were a pretty gold color, though not as golden as his scales can be, and he had long horns on his head that grew back and did a partial under loop to point forward.
“Sashaar? Woah.. you're really cool, and really really pretty!”
The snake seemed to preen under the compliments, lowering his large head and letting the child gently pet his cool, yet oddly warm, scales.
“Harry Potter. You are far too small to be here so soon, child.”
Harry jumps at the voice, turning to look behind him. There’s a- a shadow there, tall, too tall to be human but much smaller than Sashaar. Wearing a hood with long, loose sleeves that look ripped and old around the ends, and the bottom of his.. Dress? Matched his sleeves. Shadows spilled out around him, and he had no feet, like he was floating, and Harry couldn’t see a face under the hood- like it was pure darkness.
He took a step back, closer to Sashaar out of fear.
“You should not be here. Your thread is not yet spun to its end. But the cruelty of men is sometimes quicker than fate intends… Though your Soulbound may have had an accidental part in it, he was not the main cause.”
Harry looked up at Sashaar, who looked away, before looking back at the.. Figure.
“Who.. are you?”
“I am Death, young one. And you, little Peverell, were meant to be my master. So, I offer you a choice.”
Oh. He died? Maybe because he doesn’t really know what that means, but he doesn’t feel.. Sad. Just.. empty.
“What is it?”
“Go back, not to the moment you left, but further. Back before the story began. A second chance to walk the path anew, armed with what you are — the Master of Death. Do you accept it, child?”
He frowns, looking back at Sashaar before looking at the being that calls himself Death.
“What is the other choice?”
“To die, for good. To enter the cycle of rebirth, without your memories, without your soulbound, and as someone completely new.”
Harry doesn’t want to die. But, isn’t he already dead? He looks up at Sashaar who is behind him, watching him. Sashaar had saved him, from uncle Vernon. He was nice. He felt.. Safe. Like another part of Harry.
He doesn’t want to be without him.
“Can.. Can Sashaar come with me?”
“This one is bound to you. And so am I. You will never be alone, so as long as you are the Master of Death.”
That brought a smile to little Harry’s face, and he nodded, his black, unruly curls bouncing with the movement.
“Then yes please. I accept.”
“Wise choice, child. May you enjoy your new life, Child of Black.”
And then Harry was falling, but he didn’t hit the ground. He kept falling and falling down a dark hole that definitely wasn’t there before. He could see Sashaar following him down the hole, and the world slowly went dark once again.