Chapter 4: chapter 4
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Chapter Four: A New Beginning
The first thing Harry noticed was the silence. It wasn't the eerie quiet of Grimmauld Place or the oppressive stillness of Privet Drive. It was gentle, peaceful, the kind of silence that held no judgment, no expectations. He floated within it, untethered and weightless.
For what felt like years, he existed in this liminal space, trapped within the depths of his own mind. The memories of his previous life swirled around him like a storm, fragments of battles fought, loved ones lost, and sacrifices made. It was overwhelming, unbearable at first. The mind of an infant could not contain the weight of an adult soul, let alone one so scarred.
Death, true to its word, intervened. Harry wasn't sure how, but he could feel its presence, guiding him gently, anchoring his fractured self. Time moved strangely—moments stretched and contracted, years passed in the blink of an eye, yet every second felt like an eternity.
Harry spent those early years adrift, his body going through the motions of infancy while his mind remained locked in its labyrinth. He felt himself grow, felt his senses sharpen, but it was distant, almost like watching someone else live.
In the void of his mind, he clung to his memories, his experiences, and his pain. They became his anchor. Slowly, he began to reshape the chaos within him, to sort through the storm of thoughts and feelings.
It was then that he stumbled upon the concept of Occlumency again, the art of shielding the mind. He had used it before, albeit clumsily, during his war against Voldemort. Now, in this strange in-between state, it became his salvation.
He dedicated himself to mastering it, building walls within his mind, organizing his memories into neat, unassailable compartments. As his body grew stronger, so did his control. By the time he reached his fourth year in this new life, Harry had achieved a level of mental discipline that few could ever hope to match.
The morning light streamed through the window, golden and soft. Harry blinked, his vision adjusting as he stared up at the ceiling. For the first time in years, he felt present—fully and completely aware of his surroundings.
He sat up slowly, the sheets pooling around his small frame. His body felt strange, unfamiliar. The muscles were uncoordinated, the movements awkward, but his mind was sharp, too sharp for a child.
The room around him was beautiful, far from the dark and cramped spaces he had once called home. The walls were painted a soft cream, adorned with moving portraits of landscapes and magical creatures. A bookshelf lined with colorful volumes stood against one wall, and a large toy chest sat in the corner.
This was the Potter estate. He didn't need anyone to tell him. He could feel it—the magic of the place, the warmth in the air.
He slid out of bed, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. His body moved hesitantly, like he was learning to walk all over again. He approached the full-length mirror on the far side of the room, his heart pounding in his chest.
When he reached the mirror, he froze.
Staring back at him was a child, no older than four, with messy black hair that stuck out in every direction and piercing green eyes. He looked almost exactly as he had in old photographs of his parents, James and Lily, but younger.
The first thing he noticed was the absence of his scar. His forehead was smooth, unmarked by the jagged lightning bolt that had defined him for so long. He raised a hand to touch the spot, his fingers trembling slightly.
But as he stared deeper into the mirror, something shifted. Beneath the skin, he could still feel it—the faintest trace of a mark, invisible to anyone but him. It wasn't just a remnant of Voldemort's curse. It was something deeper, something tied to the prophecy, to his very being.
Harry stepped back from the mirror, his heart racing. He had been given a new beginning, but the past wasn't so easily erased. The scar was gone, but the weight of his memories and the truths he carried remained.
The boy in the mirror stared back at him, wide-eyed and innocent. But Harry knew better. He was more than that. He was a man trapped in a child's body, a warrior reborn into a new world.
For better or worse, this was his life now.