Halloween Night
The wards didn't just scream—they *shrieked* with the fury of violated ancient magic, their death cries echoing through dimensions as layer upon layer of protection crumbled like parchment in flame.
Lily Potter's emerald eyes snapped open, her auburn hair catching the moonlight streaming through the nursery window as she straightened from where she'd been adjusting Harry's blanket. Every instinct she possessed—mortal and otherwise—blazed to life as the magical alarms tore through her consciousness like shards of broken glass. Her elegant features hardened with terrible understanding.
Fifteen months. Fifteen months of hiding, of looking over their shoulders, of praying that Trelawney's prophecy was wrong. Fifteen months of watching James practice defensive spells until his hands bled, of strengthening wards until her magic felt raw and stretched thin. Fifteen months of hoping their secret would hold.
*Peter,* came the Phoenix Force's voice, cutting through her thoughts like a blade of cosmic fire. The entity's presence in her mind carried the otherworldly resonance that Famke Janssen's voice might possess when touched by powers beyond mortal comprehension. *That sniveling rat has betrayed you. His guilt burns like acid across the astral plane.*
"James!" Lily's voice carried clearly through the cottage, cutting through the wailing of dying wards with crystalline authority. "JAMES!"
The thundering of footsteps on the stairs answered her call, and James Potter appeared in the nursery doorway, his dark hair more disheveled than usual, his hazel eyes already blazing with understanding. Even in crisis, he carried himself with the confident bearing that was synonymous with the Potter name—broad shoulders squared, wand hand steady despite the circumstances.
"The wards are completely down," he said grimly, his voice tight with controlled fear and building rage. "Someone's coming up the garden path. Walking, not running. Confident." He was already pulling on his Auror robes with practiced efficiency, muscle memory taking over. "Lily, you need to take Harry and get to the Floo—"
"The Floo's being monitored, you know that." She was already lifting Harry from his crib, the fifteen-month-old stirring but not crying. Even in sleep, her son seemed to possess an otherworldly awareness, his small face serious in a way that reminded her painfully of James. "The Portkeys are blocked. Apparition is impossible with the Anti-Apparition Jinxes they've layered over the entire village."
*Lily,* the Phoenix Force spoke again, her mental voice carrying urgency that made reality itself seem to vibrate. *Listen to me very carefully. I need you to allow me to remove the barriers. All of them. Let me return your true nature to you—you're going to need every ounce of your Asgardian heritage for what's coming.*
"How long?" Lily whispered, clutching Harry closer as they heard the front door splinter below with a sound like breaking bones. James's voice rang out from the ground floor, raised in defiance and deadly intent.
"WHO DARES ENTER THE HOME OF AN AUROR? SHOW YOURSELF, COWARD!"
*The mental shields I placed to hide your divine nature—they've been in place for over twenty years, since you were an infant dying in that burned temple,* the Phoenix Force explained rapidly. *To safely dissolve them without damaging your psyche will take time. Three minutes, perhaps four.*
"We don't have four minutes!" The words tore from her throat as a sob as she heard James's voice again from below—a wordless roar of fury followed by the distinctive crack of a Stunning Spell being cast. Then another. Then silence that stretched like a held breath.
*I know, dear heart. I know. But if I force the process, the psychic feedback could kill you both, and then everything we've fought for dies with you. Your son's destiny, the protection of both realms—everything.*
Lily backed against the nursery window, her analytical mind racing through options that simply didn't exist. The cottage was surrounded. Apparition was blocked. The Floo was monitored. Every escape route had been anticipated and sealed.
Below, she heard a voice that chilled her to the bone—cultured, precise, carrying an aristocratic menace. Cold as winter wind, sharp as a blade.
"James Potter. The blood traitor who dared to steal what was meant for his betters. How fitting that you die defending something you can never truly possess."
"Go to hell, Riddle!" James's voice, defiant even now. "You want my family, you'll have to go through me!"
"As you wish."
The flash of green light that followed painted the nursery windows in sickly emerald, and James Potter's voice cut off mid-curse.
*Begin the process,* Lily thought desperately, her free hand pressed against her mouth to stifle the scream building in her chest. *Do it now. I don't care about the risks.*
*Already begun,* the Phoenix Force replied, and Lily felt something strange awakening in her blood—like fire in her veins, like starlight replacing her very DNA. *Hold on, my dear one. Hold on to Harry, hold on to love, and hold on to hope. Remember who you truly are.*
The footsteps on the stairs were deliberate now, unhurried. Each step echoed with the confidence of a predator who knew his prey was cornered. Harry stirred in her arms, his impossibly green eyes opening to focus on her face with that unsettling awareness he'd possessed since birth—as if he could see straight through to her soul.
"Mama," he whispered, his tiny hand reaching up to touch her cheek. For a moment, Lily felt a strange double vision—herself as Lily Potter, terrified mother and widow, and herself as something else entirely. Something vast and powerful and burning with protective fury that could level mountains.
The nursery door exploded inward in a shower of splinters.
He filled the doorway like a living shadow, tall and pale and wrong in ways that made reality itself seem to recoil. Tom Marvolo Riddle—the thing that now called itself Lord Voldemort—stepped into the nursery with serpentine grace. His face, which might once have been handsome in the way his sharp features could be compelling, had been twisted by dark magic into something inhuman. High cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, eyes that burned like red coals in deep sockets, skin pale as bone and twice as cold.
"Lily Evans," he said, and his voice was silk wrapped around razors, cultured diction masking infinite cruelty. "How long I have waited for this moment. The mudblood who dared to steal the heart of a pureblood heir."
*Forty-five seconds,* the Phoenix Force whispered urgently. *The first layer of shields is cracking. I can feel your true nature stirring beneath the surface. Hold him off for forty-five more seconds.*
"My name," Lily said, surprised by the steadiness of her own voice, "is Lily Potter. And you are not welcome in my home."
Voldemort's lipless mouth curved in what might charitably be called a smile. "Your home? This pathetic cottage, warded with magic barely worthy of a first-year Hogwarts student? You think this hovel could protect you from Lord Voldemort?"
He raised his wand—thirteen and a half inches of yew wood that seemed to drink in the lamplight, its surface crawling with dark runes that hurt to look at directly.
"Step aside," he commanded, his red eyes fixed on Harry with hungry intensity. "I have not come for you, mudblood. Your death serves no purpose. Step aside, and you may yet live to see another dawn."
"No." The word rang with finality, with the absolute certainty of a mother's love. "I will not let you touch my son."
*Twenty seconds. I can feel the barriers beginning to dissolve. Twenty seconds more, Aldrif.*
Voldemort tilted his head, almost curious. "You would die for this child? This half-blood whelp born of tainted magic and inferior breeding?"
"Without hesitation," Lily replied, shifting Harry higher in her arms, feeling something beginning to burn in her chest—not fear, not desperation, but something far older and infinitely more dangerous. "Without regret. Without doubt."
"How... touching," Voldemort sneered, his wand now pointing directly at her heart. "Such misplaced sentiment. Such foolish sacrifice. Did you truly think your pathetic love could protect him from the might of Lord Voldemort?"
*Ten seconds. The shields are dissolving. I can see your true nature blazing like a star beneath the surface.*
"Love," Lily said quietly, and her voice was already beginning to change, to carry harmonics that spoke of cosmic forces barely contained, "is the most powerful magic of all. Something you could never understand, Tom."
Voldemort's eyes flashed with fury at the use of his birth name. "Enough. You have made your choice, mudblood. *Avada Kedavra!*"
*NOW!*
The Phoenix Force's mental roar coincided with the dissolution of the final barrier, and reality exploded around them in a cascade of cosmic fire.
The Killing Curse—that sickly green bolt of death that had ended so many lives—struck the erupting wall of Phoenix flame and simply *ceased to exist*. Not deflected, not absorbed, but utterly annihilated as if it had never been cast.
But the curse was irrelevant now, because Lily Potter no longer existed.
In her place stood Aldrif Odinsdottir, Princess of Asgard, daughter of the All-Father, and vessel of the Phoenix Force.
The transformation was total and spectacular. Twenty-one years of suppressed divine heritage blazed to life in an instant, rewriting her very molecular structure. Her human features refined themselves into something sharper, more perfect, touched with the otherworldly beauty of the Asgardian royal line. Her auburn hair shifted to a rich copper-gold that seemed to hold its own inner light, each strand moving as if touched by solar winds. Her green eyes now burned with cosmic fire that spoke of forces beyond mortal comprehension.
The simple nightgown she'd been wearing dissolved, replaced by armor that materialized from pure divine will—silver-bright mail that fit her like a second skin, inlaid with golden runes that pulsed with protective magic older than human civilization. A sword appeared at her hip, its blade forged from metals that existed only in the heart of dying stars.
But more than the physical transformation was the *power*. Twenty-one years of Asgardian nobility suppressed by necessity came roaring back to life, flowing through her like a river of molten sunlight. She was strong enough to shatter mountains with her bare hands, fast enough to race Hermes himself, durable enough to survive the heart of a supernova. She was divine royalty, and every atom of her being sang with that truth.
*And I,* the Phoenix Force spoke through her, her voice now carrying the terrible beauty that someone might possess when touched by cosmic infinity, *am no longer constrained.*
The Phoenix Force's presence blazed around Aldrif like a second skin of living flame, transforming the nursery into something resembling the heart of a newborn star. Golden-red fire danced across every surface without burning, reality itself bending around power that predated the universe.
Voldemort staggered backward, his red eyes wide with something that might actually have been fear for the first time in decades. The temperature in the room had shifted dramatically—not hot, but *energetic*, as if the very air had been charged with the potential for infinite creation or destruction.
"What—" he began, but his words died as he truly saw what stood before him.
This was no longer the terrified mortal woman he had expected to kill. This was something else entirely, something that made his dark-magic-enhanced senses scream warnings about fundamental danger. Every instinct he possessed—refined by decades of murder and conquest—told him to flee, to Apparate away immediately, to put as much distance as possible between himself and whatever cosmic force had just awakened in this humble cottage.
But Tom Riddle had not become Lord Voldemort by retreating from threats.
"Impossible," he hissed, raising his wand with hands that trembled slightly for the first time in memory. "You're just a mudblood. A worthless halfbreed—"
"I am Aldrif Odinsdottir," she said, and her voice carried the authority of divine bloodlines, the power of cosmic entities, and the absolute fury of a mother whose child had been threatened. Each word hit Voldemort like a physical blow, forcing him to take another step backward. "I am daughter to Odin All-Father, Princess of Asgard, and mother to the child you dare threaten. And you—" Her eyes blazed brighter, cosmic fire beginning to leak from them in streams of golden light, "—you are the creature who murdered my husband."
Harry, still held securely in her arms, was completely calm despite the cosmic forces swirling around them. If anything, he seemed pleased by the transformation, his tiny hand reaching up to touch the gleaming armor at his mother's throat with obvious delight.
*You feel it too, don't you, little prince?* the Phoenix Force observed with wonder. *Even this young, you recognize what flows in your own veins. Divine blood calling to divine blood.*
Voldemort tried to cast again, desperation overriding caution. "*Avada Kedavra!*"
The second Killing Curse met the same fate as the first—complete annihilation upon contact with Phoenix fire. But the Phoenix Force was done with defensive measures.
*You dare,* the cosmic entity spoke through Aldrif, her voice now layered with harmonics that made the very foundations of the cottage vibrate, *threaten a child under my protection? You murder the father of my vessel's son? You think your pathetic mortal magic—your crude manipulation of death energy—can stand against the fire that burns at the heart of creation itself?*
She raised one hand, and reality bent around her will. Tom Riddle's carefully constructed form—held together by dark magic, horcruxes, and sheer malevolent will—simply froze in place as if time itself had stopped around him.
"No," Voldemort whispered, and for the first time in decades, his voice carried genuine terror. "This is impossible. I am immortal. I am beyond death. I am—"
*You are nothing,* the Phoenix Force replied with cosmic finality. *You are a small, frightened man who thought he could conquer death by fracturing his soul. Did you truly believe such crude magic could stand against the force that governs life and death across all realities?*
The disintegration began at his fingertips and spread upward with deliberate slowness. Not burning, not melting—simply ceasing to exist on the material plane as Phoenix fire consumed the very atoms of his stolen form. His scream started human but quickly became something else entirely as his consciousness was forcibly separated from the anchor points he had created.
*No,* the Phoenix Force said simply, and reached out across dimensions with power that spanned galaxies. *I will not permit you to return.*
One by one, she found the horcruxes—the diary hidden in Lucius Malfoy's vault, the ring concealed in the ruins of the Gaunt shack, the locket lost in Grimmauld Place, the cup buried in Gringotts, the diadem hidden in Hogwarts. With surgical precision that spoke of eons of experience, she burned away the portions of Voldemort's soul they contained, unraveling the magic that bound them with the casual ease of someone untying shoelaces.
Tom Marvolo Riddle's scream cut off mid-syllable as he ceased to exist—not just his body, but his soul, his very essence scattered across dimensions and consumed by cosmic fire. In less than thirty seconds, the Dark Lord who had terrorized the wizarding world for decades was utterly and completely erased from existence.
The cottage fell silent except for Harry's soft breathing and the gentle crackle of Phoenix fire slowly settling back to manageable levels.
*It's done,* the Phoenix Force said softly, her presence beginning to settle back into its usual quiet partnership. *He can never return. His horcruxes are destroyed, his soul is scattered beyond any possibility of recovery. The threat to your family, to this world, is ended.*
Aldrif looked down at Harry, still held protectively in her arms. He was wide awake now, staring up at her with those impossibly knowing green eyes that seemed to hold wisdom far beyond his fifteen months. He didn't seem frightened by her transformation—if anything, he looked delighted, his tiny fist opening and closing as if trying to grab hold of the golden light that still danced around them.
"Mama," he said clearly, his very first real word, and reached up to touch the gleaming runes on her breastplate.
*He knows,* the Phoenix Force observed with wonder. *Even this young, he recognizes what you truly are. What flows in his own veins.*
Before Aldrif could respond, the air in the destroyed nursery began to shimmer with a different kind of light—not the warm gold of Phoenix fire, but something older, more regal. The temperature dropped several degrees, and suddenly the space felt much larger than the small cottage room it had been moments before.
Two figures materialized in the center of the nursery, their presence so commanding that even the lingering Phoenix flames seemed to bow in respect.
Odin All-Father stood before her, his single eye was wide with shock, recognition, and joy so profound it threatened to overwhelm even his legendary composure. The Gungnir spear lay forgotten in his suddenly slack grip as he stared at the daughter he had mourned for over two millennia.
He looked older than when she had last seen him—though that had been mere decades to her, it had been over two thousand years to him. His beard was whiter, his face more lined with the weight of centuries and loss, but the power that radiated from him was unchanged. He wore the golden armor of Asgard's throne, but it seemed somehow diminished compared to the blazing joy in his expression.
"Aldrif," he breathed, his voice cracking with emotion that the All-Father rarely allowed himself to display. "My daughter. My firstborn child. We... we thought you were dead. We searched every realm, every dimension. For two thousand years, we never stopped looking."
Beside him, Queen Frigga pressed one elegant hand to her mouth, tears already streaming down her face. She was exactly as Aldrif remembered her, possessed of timeless beauty and wisdom that could see through any deception or illusion. Her blue eyes, so like her daughter's had once been, drank in every detail of Aldrif's transformed appearance.
"My little girl," Frigga whispered, taking a trembling step forward. "My precious daughter. Two thousand years we've blamed ourselves, wondered what we could have done differently. And you've been here. You've been alive all this time."
*This is it,* the Phoenix Force said gently. *This is the moment everything changes again. The reunion you've dreamed of for twenty-three years. Are you ready?*
Aldrif looked at her parents—her birth parents, who had loved her and lost her and never stopped grieving—and felt her heart break and mend simultaneously. Then she looked down at Harry, who was studying the newcomers with that preternaturally calm expression that suggested he understood far more than any toddler should.
"I am no longer the child you lost," she said quietly, her voice carrying both profound sorrow and unshakeable strength. "I am Aldrif Odinsdottir, yes, but I am also Lily Potter. I am a mother, a wife—" her voice caught slightly as grief threatened to overwhelm her again, "—a widow. My life is here now, on Midgard. My heart is here. My son is here."
Odin's gaze shifted to Harry, and his expression softened with wonder. "Divine blood," he murmured, his experienced eye immediately recognizing the signs. "He carries our lineage. Your son is..." He paused, studying Harry more intently with senses that could perceive the fundamental nature of all things. "There is something else in him. Something powerful beyond even his Asgardian heritage."
Frigga stepped closer, her movements slow and careful as if approaching a wild creature that might flee at any sudden motion. "May I... may I see him more closely? My grandson?"
*Tell them,* the Phoenix Force urged. *They need to understand what they're truly seeing.*
"His name is Haraldr," Aldrif said, using her son's full name for the first time since his birth and feeling the weight of destiny in the syllables. "Haraldr Jameson Potter. He carries Asgardian blood through me, and through his father—" her voice strengthened with pride, "—he is a wizard of this realm, heir to one of their oldest and most noble magical lines. But more than that." She looked directly at Odin, meeting the All-Father's single eye without flinching. "The Phoenix Force resides within me, and has since I was an infant left to die on Heven. Her power has touched his essence as well."
Odin's eye widened with understanding and no small amount of alarm. "The Phoenix Force? Here, on Midgard? In my daughter?" His voice carried the weight of cosmic knowledge, of understanding just how significant such a convergence truly was.
*I saved her life when she was condemned to die for your pride, All-Father,* the Phoenix Force spoke, her voice emanating from Aldrif but clearly separate, carrying harmonics that made reality itself vibrate. *A helpless infant, innocent of any crime save being born from your loins. And through her, I have learned what it means to love, to sacrifice, to protect without condition. This child—your grandson—represents something unprecedented: the convergence of divine blood, mortal magic, and cosmic power. He will be... significant.*
"Significant how?" Odin demanded, his mind already working through possibilities and implications, calculating the potential impact on the Nine Realms and beyond.
*That story remains to be written,* the Phoenix Force replied with something like amusement. *But I can tell you this—he will be a protector, a champion, a bridge between worlds that have remained separate for too long. The blood of Asgard, the magic of Midgard, and the fire of creation itself flows in his veins. What he becomes will depend entirely on how he is raised, what he is taught, and who he chooses to serve.*
Frigga stepped closer still, her movements filled with the desperate hope of a mother who has just discovered her lost child is alive. "May I... may I hold him? My grandson?"
Aldrif hesitated for only a moment—old caution warring with new hope—before carefully extending Harry toward his grandmother. The boy went willingly, studying Frigga's face with the same intense attention he gave everything else, as if memorizing every detail.
"Hello, little prince," Frigga said softly, her voice thick with joy and wonder as she cradled Harry against her chest. "You have your mother's eyes and your grandfather's stubborn jaw. And something else entirely..." She looked up at Aldrif with amazement. "I can feel the Phoenix Force's touch on him. Not controlling, not consuming—nurturing. Protecting. This is extraordinary."
*He likes her,* the Phoenix Force observed with satisfaction. *That's... significant. Harry is particular about who he trusts, even at this age. He can sense intentions, recognize genuine love.*
Harry confirmed this assessment by reaching up to touch Frigga's face with obvious fascination, babbling at her in the earnest nonsense language of toddlers everywhere.
"The question," Odin said, his voice heavy with the weight of cosmic responsibility and the politics of multiple realms, "is what happens now. Aldrif, you are the heir to the throne of Asgard. You have duties, obligations to our people—"
"I have a son," Aldrif interrupted firmly, her voice carrying the authority of both divine princess and protective mother. "I have a life here that I've built, people who depend on me. James may be gone, but Harry needs stability, needs to grow up understanding both sides of his heritage." She gestured to the destroyed nursery around them, where the walls still bore scorch marks from cosmic forces. "This attack tonight—it was because of a prophecy about Harry. There will be others who seek to use him or destroy him because of what he represents. He needs protection, but he also needs to understand the world he's destined to protect."
"Then come home," Odin said simply, his voice carrying both command and plea. "Bring the boy to Asgard. He will be safe there, protected by our greatest warriors, educated by our finest scholars. He can learn to use his gifts properly, understand his divine heritage without the complications of mortal politics—"
"And never know his father's world," Aldrif countered, her voice strengthening with conviction. "Never understand the magic that flows in his veins alongside divine blood. Never know the mortals he's destined to protect, never understand their struggles and hopes and dreams." She shook her head firmly. "No, father. We will not hide in Asgard while the people of Midgard face threats we could help them overcome."
*She's right,* the Phoenix Force interjected, her mental voice carrying the weight of cosmic wisdom. *The boy needs to understand all aspects of his nature if he's to fulfill his destiny. Isolation will not serve his development—or the greater good.*
Frigga, still holding Harry who seemed perfectly content in his grandmother's arms, looked between her husband and daughter with the wisdom earned through millennia of observing family dynamics. "There is another way," she said quietly, her voice carrying the diplomatic skill that had helped keep peace among the Nine Realms for centuries. "A compromise that serves all needs. Aldrif, you could maintain residences in both realms. Spend time in Asgard for Harry to learn his divine heritage and understand his royal responsibilities, time on Midgard for his magical education and to maintain connections with his father's legacy. The Rainbow Bridge can transport you between worlds in moments."
*That... could work,* the Phoenix Force mused, her presence shifting thoughtfully around Aldrif's consciousness. *Balance between all aspects of his nature. Integration rather than isolation.*
Odin stroked his white beard thoughtfully, his single eye distant as he calculated possibilities and challenges. "It would require... significant adjustments. Preparations. The boy would need protection on Midgard when you're not with him, guards who understand both the magical and mundane threats he might face."
"He'll have it," Aldrif said firmly, thinking of the friends she'd made during her years as Lily Potter—Aurors like Frank and Alice Longbottom, professors like Minerva McGonagall, even unlikely allies like Severus Snape. "I have friends here, good people who will help protect him. And I'm not the helpless princess you once knew, father. I've learned to fight in both realms, learned to blend magic and divine power in ways that would surprise you."
Harry chose that moment to reach toward Odin with both arms, his tiny fist opening and closing in the universal gesture of a child who wants to be held. The All-Father looked startled, then deeply pleased, as he carefully took his grandson from Frigga's arms.
"Strong grip," Odin observed with a grandfatherly smile as Harry immediately grabbed hold of his white beard with both hands and began babbling at him with obvious delight. "And utterly fearless. Yes, he has Asgardian blood, this one. The blood of warriors and kings."
*He also has excellent timing,* the Phoenix Force added with deep amusement. *Look how he's already wrapping the terror of the Nine Realms around his little finger.*
Indeed, Odin's stern, regal expression was rapidly dissolving into something approaching besotted as Harry continued his earnest baby conversation, occasionally tugging on the All-Father's beard for emphasis. The ruler who had faced down Frost Giants and Dark Elves without flinching was being thoroughly charmed by a fifteen-month-old boy.
"We should leave," Frigga said gently, glancing around at the destruction with practical concern. "This level of magical discharge will not go unnoticed by the authorities of this realm. They'll be coming soon to investigate."
Aldrif nodded, suddenly remembering that she was still officially Lily Potter as far as the wizarding world was concerned. The transformation back to her mortal guise was easier now—the barriers reformed but no longer concealing, simply... polite. A courtesy to those who weren't ready to see divine truth. Within moments, she appeared to be Lily Potter again, though those who knew what to look for could still see the cosmic fire burning behind her eyes.
"I need to..." She gestured helplessly toward the stairs, where James's body lay still and cold. "I need to say goodbye properly. I need to..."
*I'll preserve him,* the Phoenix Force said gently, her mental voice soft with compassion. *No decay, no corruption. Time itself will not touch him until you're ready. You'll have time for a proper farewell, time to honor his memory as he deserves.*
"Thank you," Aldrif whispered, feeling tears threaten again at the kindness.
As they prepared to leave the cottage—temporarily, until the wizarding authorities had finished their investigations and the immediate chaos had settled—Harry reached toward Aldrif from his grandfather's arms, making soft sounds of distress at being separated from his mother.
"He wants his mama," Frigga observed with a knowing smile.
But when Aldrif took him back, Harry surprised them all by immediately reaching toward both his grandparents with determined concentration, his little face scrunched with the effort of trying to communicate something important.
"What is it, little prince?" Aldrif asked softly, studying her son's expression.
"I think," she said slowly, understanding dawning, "he's trying to tell us something."
*He is,* the Phoenix Force confirmed with wonder. *He's saying that he recognizes all of you as family. That he wants you all in his life, wants the bonds between you to be strong.* She paused, her presence radiating amazement. *This child is going to be remarkable, Aldrif. The love he shows already, the instinctive understanding of connection and unity—these are the qualities that will make him a true protector, not just a powerful one.*
As they stepped out into the cold October night, leaving behind the cottage where Lily Potter's mortal life had ended and Aldrif Odinsdottir's true destiny had been reborn, none of them could have imagined the extraordinary journey that lay ahead.
Harry Potter—Haraldr Jameson—son of two worlds, heir to throne and prophecy alike, carrier of Phoenix fire and Asgardian might—slept peacefully against his mother's shoulder, dreaming dreams that spanned galaxies and would one day reshape the very foundations of magic itself.
The Boy Who Lived had been born twice now—once into legend, and once into something far greater than legend.
He had been born into love, and that would make all the difference.
---
*In the ruins of Godric's Hollow, Albus Dumbledore arrived three hours later to find an empty cottage and a mystery that would haunt him for the rest of his very long life. The magical traces told an impossible story—a confrontation between Voldemort and something far more powerful than anything in recorded magical history, resulting in the Dark Lord's complete annihilation and the inexplicable disappearance of the Potter family.*
*In the Department of Mysteries, ancient instruments that had monitored cosmic forces for centuries screamed with readings that broke their carefully calibrated scales. The Unspeakables would spend the next two decades trying to understand what had happened on Halloween night, 1981, and would ultimately classify it as a Class Omega Event—something beyond their ability to explain or replicate.*
*And in a small house on Spinner's End, Severus Snape collapsed as he felt the moment of Lily Evans' death—and then, impossibly, felt that death reversed and transformed into something unprecedented. He would never understand what he had sensed that night, only that something fundamental had changed in the very fabric of magic itself, and that somehow, impossibly, the woman he had loved was still alive.*
*But traveling the Rainbow Bridge toward Asgard with a baby who carried the hopes of two worlds, Aldrif Odinsdottir finally felt truly at peace. She had found her way home—not to a place, but to herself, and to the family she had chosen and been chosen by.*
*The real adventure was just beginning.*
---
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