"NOOOOOOOO!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
*FLASH!*
***
"!!!"
A man bolted upright as he was awoken by a flash of green light, though as he looked around he saw nothing that could be the source of said light, as the only light in the room was a low-burning candle.
"Ngh...."
Realizing he'd had that dream again, the man slowly crawled out of the warm bed while trying to take care not to wake the woman snuggled beside him.
Even as he walked slowly across his room, the chilled northern air biting his naked skin, the man ignored it as he struggled to recall the details of the dream he'd just had.
There was a woman screaming.
A man saying something.
And a flash of green light.
That was all he could recall of the dream, but even those few scant details were quickly fading as he reached the washbasin.
The sound of water splashing filled the room as Harold Wyrm Tongue splashed some onto his face, before looking up at the reflection in the mirror above it.
Staring back at him was a man with a pitch black hair, unruly in his youth but tamed once it was long enough for him to tie back in a nordic braid, and a matching beard that dominated his chin. Both of which were peppered with a few scant strands of gray.
It was his eyes that held his focus though, eyes a brilliant green that reminded him of the light in his dream.
He continued struggling to recall the details of his dream for a short while, but it was like trying to hold water in your hands. No matter how hard you tried, the details slowly trickled away until all that remained were a few remaining drops.
"What troubles you, my love?" Asked a sultry voice belonging only to one woman, who had been sleeping moments prior.
"Nothing. I'll be back to bed in a moment." He called back to her, though she apparently ignored him as she crossed their room to embrace him from behind.
"Liar. You were having that dream again, weren't you?"
"..."
Harold sighed as he hung his head, though a wry smile had formed on his lips.
"Nothing escapes you, does it?"
"Eyes and ears of a wolf, love. Now tell me about it." She ordered, though her voice was tender.
"Same as always. I've already forgotten almost everything." He told her with annoyance, though none at her. "I do recall a green light though."
"Oh?" She asked, her interest spiking.
"Sleepless nights for over a month, and we have some green light? At least there's progress." She joked with mirth. But then her expression turned somewhat serious. "You should talk to Serana and Valerica about that. They know more about magic and the mysteries of the world than I do. And this sounds like it definitely applies."
"Perhaps..." He replied, though he was reluctant to do so. Harold didn't want to bother them with possibly meaningless bad dreams.
"Go, or I'll drag you to them myself!" The woman said sternly, giving his butt a playful smack as she did so.
"I'm going, I'm going. Can I at least dress first?" He asked with a smile.
"Very well. I suppose I should slip something on as well. Aleson still insists that I traumatized him the last time I walked around without wearing anything."
"Not everyone is as casual about nudity as a werewolf." Harold told her, though he himself wasn't very concerned with being seen naked by others.
The duo quickly dressed in light casual clothes before they slipped out of their room, careful not to wake any of the other residents in the house as they krept downstairs towards a trapdoor. But instead of the usual cool air that one would usually be met with in their cellar, the duo were instead greeted with air that felt as if it was fresh from a forge. Maybe because it was.
The duo ignored the workshop that dominated the cellar, and made their way to a stretch of wall where Harold twisted a candle mount to open a secret passage.
Marginally cooler air drifted out to meet them, but neither cared as they entered the passage and made their way through it.
The passage connected to what was once a bandit hideout situated right on the plot of land that the Jarl of Falkreath granted Harold to build his homestead.
A short ways away from the house, right inside the property that he now owned, was a nondistinct house that sat directly above an old nordic ruin. Bandits then turned the ruins into their hideout, while using the house on the surface to lure in unsuspecting travelers.
Harold readily dealt with the bandits before he even began building their home, and then he connected the catacombs to the cellar through a secret passage for personal use whenever the need arose. And naturally the place was perfect for a couple of the more....nocturnal members of their family to put to use.
The area at the end of the secret passage was a place that seemed equal parts eerie and welcoming.
Though it was obviously made up to look like a living space, it also had several REAL humans skulls scattered about as decoration, to say nothing of the two large coffins, and the numerous demonic-looking hounds that prowled the area.
"Serana, Valerica." Herold called to the two women in greeting as they approached them, pausing only long enough to give the demonic hounds a quick scratch before giving the younger of the two women, Serana, a kiss.
"Harold. Aela. What brings the two of you down here so late?" Valerica asked as she greeted the two of them, though she didn't offer them any of the blood-red drink that she and her daughter were sharing. For obvious reasons when she smiled in a manner that showed off her lengthy fangs.
"I had another dream." Harold told them tiredly, knowing Aela would have said it if he didn't.
"Another one?" Serana asked worriedly.
"Except he actually remembered something this time." Aela quickly said, and the two vampiresses became notably more interested.
"Don't get your hopes up. It was just a flash of green light." Harold told them dismissively.
"Even the smallest clues can lead to the most important revelations." Valerica stated while staring at Harold like he was a particularly fascinating subject for study. Which he technically was to her at the moment.
"Let's start with the basics, such as possible sources for this mysterious green light. Is there anything you can think of? Anything from your childhood perhaps?"
"The village Harold was born in was destroyed by the Thalmor." Aela readily offered, earning him an incredulous look from Valerica even before she added, "He was the only survivor."
"I never knew that..." The Daughter of Coldharbour uttered quietly while looking at him.
"Its the reason why I hate the Thalmor so much, and readily traveled to Skyrim to support Ulfric's cause when I heard about his rebellion." Harold told her, his long buried anger and grief returning to the surface when he recalled that terrible day, and everything that transpired afterwards.
He had awoken in the middle of the night to screams, shouting and the roar of flames as the Altmer torched the nordic village, and executed all of the inhabitants on the charge of Talos worship. A charge that was almost entirely false since he knew only a few of the elderly still worshipped Talos, while they specifically refused to allow the younger generations to in order to protect them from the Thalmor if they were ever discovered.
But who was or wasn't guilty of Talos worship hadn't mattered, as the Thalmor readily executed the entire village, also trying to execute Harold as well. To this day he STILL wasn't sure how he survived, only that the way he escaped the slaughter could be considered 'magic'. However no one at the College of Winterhold ever heard of magic the way Harold described his experience that night.
What truly incised him about the experience though was the reaction of the empire afterwards, or lack thereof.
Since the village was located in Cyrodiil, Harold had immediately traveled to the imperial city to report the unjust slaughter to the empire in a bid for justice, except the empire did nothing. Instead, they reported that the village was destroyed by Daedra worshippers while refusing to admit any involvement of the Thalmor.
Disgusted by the empire's lack of action, and even more so upon learning that this was becoming an increasingly common occurance, especially with Nord settlements, Harold set out by himself as he became something of a mercenary in the years that followed. Until he learned of Ulfric's rebellion that was taking place, which prompted him to journey north to Skyrim.
The fact that he was captured at the border in an ambush meant for Ulfric, despite not actually doing anything wrong himself, and sentanced to execution via beheading out of convenience only deepened Harold's ever growing disgust of the empire.
But as he recalled the events of his youth, Harold recalled something important. Something he had nearly forgotten over the decades as he immersed himself in his life in Skyrim.
"I wasn't born in that village." He told the three women quietly, earning him numerous incredulous stares.
"I thought you said that was the village you came from?" Aela said softly.
"It was, in a sense." Harold answered as he tried to dig up long-buried memories of his past.
"The truth was that I was born somehwere else entirely. Somewhere not on Nirn."
"""..."""
The silence stretched as the three women just stared at him, their mouths open in disbelief. Even Valerica, though her eyes also gleamed as she seemingly found him MUCH more interesting.
"I believe some details are in order." She said to draw everyone out of their stupor, her eyes borderline predatory as they looked to Harold for said details.
"Well I don't really have any." Harold admitted tiredly, even as he tried to wrack his brain for them.
"All I can remember was that my parents died when I was a baby, and that the people I grew up with hated me. I recall curling up on the hard wooden floor with the thinnest, hole-filled blanket they could find, freezing and desperately wishing I was elsewhere, and then waking up on the ground of a forest in Cyradiil. I wandered the forest for a few days, before finding a hunter right as I was on the verge of collapsing from hunger and exhaustion. He brought me back to the village, and I ended up staying there after that until the Thalmor came."
"Interesting..." Valerica muttered, as she wrote down everything he said.
"Why did you never say anything?" Aela asked him quietly, taking his hand into hers as she did so.
"I wasn't exactly fond of that part of my life. Plus its kinda hard to explain being from a different world." Harold answered while squeezing her hand back.
"Its not too strange when you think about it though..." Serana said quietly as she thought about everything Harold told them.
"Nirn, the Soul Cairn, Aetherius, Sovrngard, all the different planes of Oblivion... There's plenty reason to believe that there are different realms out there that we don't know about. Though someone coming from one of those other realms is a different mater entirely." Valerica added as she finished writing down what Harold told them.
"So is it possible that Harold's dreams have something to do with his original world?" Serana asked, prompting both Harold and Aela to listen in as well.
"It is absolutely possible. And given his importance to Tamriel, and Nirn as a whole, I would wager that fate is trying to bring him back to where he originally came from. Maybe he is needed there, just like we once needed him here."
Harold stiffened when he heard Valerica's theory, the mere suggestion of leaving Skyrim, Aela, Serana, all of their children, made it feel as if there was a hole where his stomach used to be.
"And what if I decide to stay here?" He asked defiantly, his green eyes flashing challengingly at the idea.
"I would say its not up to you." Valerica stated as if he were stupid.
"You don't even know how you ended up here, and you could be sent back to where you came from at the drop of a hat. And considering what we all know about fate and messing with these things, I would suggest returning as soon as possible instead of waiting until whatever is that prompting these dreams of yours gets impatient."
Though he wanted to argue, Harold knew Valerica was right from his own personal experience with prophecy and fate regarding Alduin and Harkon. Despite being the literal son of a god, prophesied to end the world, the World Eater was still defeated by Harold and the warriors of Sovrngard in the end thanks to another prophecy.
"I think you should go."
"!!!"
Harlod looked at Aela beside him in alarm as she put in her own opinion, which apparently also surprised Serana and Valerica.
"Aela..."
"Harold, you are the Dragonborn. Vanquisher of the World Eater, Miirak and Harkon. But even before all of that, how many battles have I seen you throw yourself into just to help those who needed it? The farmer who was being harrassed by a troll? The villagers that were being threatened by bandits? The vampires that were grabbing travelers off of the road to drain them? Even if you stay here with us, can you truly live with yourself for not helping those who need it?"
"..."
Harold was silent as he contemplated what Aela told him, and how it contrasted almost every other discussion they had on the subject in the past. They'd had more than a few disagreements regarding how willing he was to help those who needed it before now.
"Fine." Harold said eventually.
"In three days, I'll go to Ancestor Glade to read the Elder Scroll. If anything can help shed light on any of this, it will. And if I am meant to make my own way back to wherever it was I came from, then it'll help."
Aela smiled sadly as she held his hand, before Harold felt his other hand be taken as well by Serana.
"We'll go with you." She said while leaning against his side affectionately.
...
The next three days passed by slowly, yet all too quickly for Harold's liking as he prepared for...whatever it was he would end up doing.
The reason he set the departure date when he did was so that he could make the proper arrangements if he did truly end up leaving Tamriel for good.
On top of being the Dragonborn, Harold was also an important figure in nearly every single major faction in Skyrim.
Based in Whiterun were the Companions, noble warriors that traced their legacy all the way back to the original five hundred Nords that sailed to Skyrim under Ysgramor. Today however, they were also one of, if not THE largest werewolf clans on the entire continent.
Harold joined them at Aela's urging after the two of them had been traveling together for a while, as the warriors amongst them could help him polish his combat abilities. With his particular skills though, Harold quickly rose through their ranks until he was given the option of joining the inner circle that managed the entire group. The offer came with the option of wolf blood though, which Harold respectfully declined due to his being the Dragonborn.
Despite not becoming a werewolf himself, Harold was still dragged into the conflict the Companions had with a rival clan, the Silver Hand.
Though lauding themselves as noble werewolf hunters, the Silver Hand were in actuality just thugs that mercilessly slaughtered any and all they even suspected of being werewolves. And while he ended up wiping the group out completely in the end, it wasn't until after the Silver Hand attacked the Companions within Whiterun itself, and killed the Harbinger, Kodlak.
Knowing that Kodlak desired to be freed of the blood of the wolf, Harold and the other members of the circle endeavored to cure Kodlak, even in death. And once the old man's spirit was able to rest in peace, he departed after declaring his will that Harold become the new Harbinger of the Companions.
Then there was the Thieves Guild in Riften, a group in charge of nearly all of the organized crime in Skyrim, as well as several growing branches in Cyradiil, Morrowind and High Rock.
Harold joined them after a chance encounter with one of the higher ups within the guild, Brynjolf, while he was wandering the Riften marketplace one day. And while he didn't quite accept the idea of stealing from hardworking people at first, Harold quickly learned that the Thieves Guild was far too useful not to be a part of.
Not only did they help Harold find buyers for several of the items that he had collected during his travels, but even at their lowest they had an information network that put even the Jarls of every hold to shame. Plus Harold quickly became aware that organized crime was going to be a given in any city, so might as well be the devil you know when compared to the numerous other gangs that were almost always vying for a place at the table.
Just like the Companions, Harold quickly rose through the ranks of the Thieves Guild, even uncovering an ongoing conspiracy against them in the process.
The conspiracy in question though was actually against Mercer Frey, the guild master for the last twenty or so years. Something Harold only learned when Mercer tried to kill him in the same tomb he killed the previous guild master in.
With the help of their mysterious adversary, Harold quickly revealed Mercer's treachery to the rest of the guild, and in the process became one of the three elite agents within the guild, a Nightingale.
Once Mercer was dealt with, and the guild was recovering the renown they once had, Harold was made the new Guild Master by the others thanks to his personal efforts in uncovering his betrayal and helping the guild grow.
Then there was the Mages College in Winterhold.
Harold always had a talent for magic, going as far back as his time at the village when he was learning Novice level spells from the village priest. It was actually this same priest who gave Harold his name, saying he needed a true 'Nord' name, along with the title of Wyrm Tongue when he displayed the ability to talk to snakes. How true that name was though when Harold was named Dragonborn...
So when Harold arrived at the College to further his spellwork, they readily accepted him despite the fact that he wasn't able to be a full time student. The fact that he was the Dragonborn didn't hurt either.
Harold then discovered two things about himself from his time with the College. Firstly was that his talent for magic went far beyond what he originally thought as he absorbed any and all new spells that the college offered. Secondly, Harold HATED studying theory with a passion.
Thankfully for him theoretical studies didn't last very long when they went on a field trip to the ruins of Sarthal, where Harold and master Tolfdir discovered a magnificent floating orb. An orb they later learned was called the Eye of Magnus.
Then something happened that caught EVERYONE at the college by surprise(aside from Harold that is), when the Thalmor agent in charge of monitoring the college tried taking control of the Eye for the sake of the Thalmor.
In his quest for power, the Thalmor Agent, Ancano, killed the Archmage and his deputy until Harold put an end to his rampage by using the Staff of Magnus that he had to go and retrieve.
The rapid sequence of events forced Harold to learn and master several spells in rapid succession, and in the end he was the only one capable of defeating Ancano before he destoryed the entire college and Winterhold beyond. As a result, Harold was also named Archmage of the college on top of the other positions he had acquired during his time in Skyrim.
When Harold wasn't busy with the Companions, the Thieves Guild, or the College of Winterhold, he was busy exploring Skyrim with Aela and Serana. And it was a good thing too.
In the wake of Ulfric's uprising against the empire, bandit clans had become commonplace all throughout Skyrim either from soldiers deserting on both sides, or from scavengers who smelled opportunity.
Not only that, but the return of Alduin also sparked a new wave of fear amongst the populace of Skyrim. Dragur were awakening within the old Nordic tombs, often terrorizing any unfortunate enough to get too close. Necromancers and rogue mages were on the rise across the entire nation, accompanied by a growing number of Daedric cults that sought to use the chaos in Skyrim to the advantage of their dark masters. Not to mention the dragons that quickly began to terrorize the land as Alduin resurrected them, or the dragon cults that started forming as a result of them. And that was even before you considered the growing number of vampires as Harkon grew emboldened, or cultists of Miirak as they started spreading from Solstheim.
In short, Harold was never without work as he traveled the land to help those who needed it.
For every dragon he slayed, bandit clan he cleared out, necromancer coven he destroyed, and vampire cell he purged, Harold's name grew across the land.
Soon enough he was receiving requests from the Jarls to pay them a visit, where he was rewarded with titles of Thaneship while also being given permission to buy a home or develop land into a homestead. All of which Harold readily accepted.
While the title of Thane was mostly honorary, Harold took it in full stride as he enacted numerous changes within each city and hold that he held power in, starting with using his own funds that he had acquired during his travels to rebuild and fortify each hold, restoring walls and towers that had long ago crumbled into ruins. He also started reforms as he rooted out any criminal enterprises he discovered within each hold, making room for the ever expanding Thieves Guild which in turn provided him with even more money since Harold received a cut from every job as Guild Master. He also provided a small investment to small businesses and those trying to open a business, in exchange for a small stake of the profits that he could regularly claim without using his identity as the Thieves Guild Master.
Now, decades after he originally arrived in Skyrim, Harold was one of, if not the most recognized and influential person in the entire kingdom. So it only stood to reason that if he were to leave and not be able to return, he would need to leave specific instructions for each faction regarding things like his successors and so on.
But more importantly than all of that, he was also writing letters to all of his children.
One of the things that quickly caught Harold's attention as he traveled was the amount of orphaned children there were in Skyrim, as a result of the war and the increasingly dangerous environment. So, Harold made it a point to adopt as many children as he could to give them a proper home.
Now, decades later, dozens of Harold's children have found their way throughout Skyrim to make their own marks. Aleson for example, who Harold found running soup to miners in Dawnstar, was a proud member of the Companions who was just shy of being invited to join the circle. Lucia, who he had met as she was begging on the streets of Whiterun, was a rising star amongst the Bards College in Solitude.
They were only a couple of the dozens of children Harold and Aela adopted over the decades, each of which were now forging their own stories as they made their way in the world. And as of this moment, only a few more children were living with them, a testament to how safe Skyrim was now compared to the past with so few orphans to be found.
So Harold spent three days writing letters, playing with the children, and making his preparations to leave while also being aware that he may not be able to come back.
The hardest part(aside from leaving his family) was deciding what to do with all of the stuff Harold had collected throughout his years of exploring Skyrim.
Harold had literal mountains of resources and crafting materials for Smithing, Alchemy, Enchanting and making staves. He also had enough weapons and armor to outfit a small army from the stuff he had collected or made himself over the years. Not to mention all the miscellaneous nick-knacks he had picked up and grown attached to.
Then there were the REALLY valuable items in his collection.
Among those were the really rare and one-of-a-kind artifacts that any collector would pay a king's ransom for. Items like Chillrend, the helm of Yngol, the dragon priest masks, Ahzidal's armor, and even the cream of the crop, Daedric artifacts.
These were amongst the most valuable and the most dangerous items in Harold's collection. Ancient artifacts that had been created by the Daedric Princes themselves, and then distributed to their mortal servants throughout history to enact chaos and trigger devastating catastrophies.
Harold came to possess these items when he would find the Daedric shrines throughout his travels, along with the cults using said shrines to commune with their evil masters. It was only after dispatching the cultists that Harold would collect the Daedric Artifacts, not just to add to his own collection, but to ensure they couldn't be used by any of their followers again. After all, not even destroying the artifacts was enough to truly be rid of them.
Deciding it would be safer to at least try to take them with him, and not leave them here with the kids, Harold added them to the ever growing mass in his specially enchanted bag. A bag that he carefully constructed using a grand soul gem, and enchanting techniques he learned during one of his stints through Apocrypha.
The bag had no conceivable limit to the amount that it could hold, and it lowered the total weight that Harold would have to carry whenever he used it. But lowered meant there was still weight, and the amount of items he had in there was nothing for a normal person to scoff at.
"Can you even take any of that with you where you're going?" Serana asked curiously as soon as Harold finished packing.
"I hope so. Better to plan for it though than leave it all here where it'll just gather dust." Harold replied as he slung the bag over his shoulder, where it settled with a weight that would make any milk drinker fall to the floor.
"Daddy! Will you be back soon?!" Asked the youngest of the children Harold was currently raising, a little girl whose parents were lost at sea.
"I don't know." Harold replied, not wanting to say that he wasn't sure if he'd ever be back. But, when he saw her crestfallen face, he couldn't help but to kneel down to her level.
"But I promise you, I WILL come back as soon as possible." He swore with complete seriousness. Just because 'fate' or 'destiny' was forcing him to leave, doesn't mean he planned to abandon the life he had made for himself here in Skyrim.
Who knows, maybe he wouldn't end up having to leave at all?
Rising to his full height, Harold looked at the eldest of the three kids, a boy of ten by the name of Hadrjn.
"Hold down the fort son." He said while clapping him on the shoulder.
"Leave it to me dad." Hadrjn said with complete seriousness as his hand twitched towards the gift Harold had just given him the night before. A real iron sword to take the place of the wooden one that the boy had been practicing with.
Finally Harold turned towards the second boy, the middle between the other two, who looked up at him expectantly.
"I'm trusting you with this Skoll." Harold said sternly, before producing a tome and presenting it to the lad.
"!!!"
"A Beginners Guide to Destruction Magic!" Skoll exclaimed as he held the book like it was a sacred text.
"Yes. This will teach you to use the Novice level Destruction spells. Be EXTREMELY careful when trying them. Do NOT burn the house down, and try not to destroy everything around you."
"THANK YOU!" The boy exclaimed as he immediately wrapped Harold in a hug, to which Harold just silently patted him on the back.
Once the duo separated, Harold turned towards the figure standing by the door like a silent sentinel.
"Watch over them for me while I'm gone Lydia. Keep them safe." He told her with a stern warmth.
"I am both your sword, and your shield." Lydia replied while bowing to him slightly, to which Harold nodded before walking past her to join Serana and Aela outside.
Once he had, the trio set off for Ancestor Glade.
The glade itself wasn't too far away from their home, a two or three day journey south if the weather held.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, it did the entire way there. The only holdup the trio had was when a group of bandits tried to attack them. Their last mistake.
Only a few short minutes later the group continued on as if nothing happened, the only sign of any action taking place amongst them being Serana elegantly dabbing her mouth with a handkerchief.
Even at Harold's age, climbing the mountainside was nothing as the group made their way upwards, until they finally arrived at the cave entrance. And after a quick trip through a dark tunnel, the group emerged into a beautiful cavern that was covered in greenery, while an elegant tree sat in the middle all on its own.
Just like the last time they were here, Harold scraped some of the bark off of the tree, and then waved the bark around to attract the Ancestors Moths that called the cavern home. And as soon as Harold was surrounded by the moths, it was time.
"You called?" Drawled a demonic figure who appeared out of nowhere, dressed in elegant robes and face filled with attitude as he leered down at Harold when he settled down to read the Elder Scroll.
"Yes. I need you to take this." Harold said while tossing his bag to the Dremora, who caught it with a sneer.
"Oh good, tedious labor worthy of a packmule." The Dremora sneered indignantly, but Harold just ignored him since he was incapable of saying anything positive whenever they interacted.
"Whatever happens, know that we love you." Serana said as Harold placed two of his Elder Scrolls on his lap, and held the third in front of himself as he prepared to read it.
"I know. And I want you to know that no matter what, this is NOT goodbye." Harold told them with complete seriousness.
"We have something for you." Aela said as he pulled an object out of her pouch, while Serana did the same with notable reluctance.
The two offered him a pair of vials, both filled with crimson liquid.
"!!!"
"Aela..."
"We're not saying you have to take one of them." Aela said quickly as she and Serana passed the vials to the Dremora for safe keeping.
"Oh joy. More junk." The Dremora groaned, though he still tucked the vials within the bag Harold entrusted him with earlier.
"They're just in case you need them in the future." Serana explained while ignoring the Dremora's scathing remark.
"That's.... Thank you. Both of you." Harold relented as he accepted the vials, which were undoubtedly filled with their vampiric and lycanthropic blood. If Harold ever drank one, he would turn into the very same creatures they were.
Their final gift given, the two women stepped back as Harold held the scroll out in front of him, and then opened it while staring intently at the 'paper' it revealed.
Swirling magic formations, runes and symbols immediately appeared before Harold's eyes as the power of the scroll flooded his vision, before images began to appear before him.
"I'm warning you now boy. Any funny business, anything at all, and you won't get any meals for a week!" Snarled a man who's bearing and facial hair reminded Harold of a Horker.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...
"Get him!" Declared a chubby boy, leading a group of other boys as they chased him through the schoolyard.
...born to those who have thrice defied him...
"Frrreak!" Sneered a skinny woman with too much neck as she glared down at him hatefully.
...born as the seventh month dies...
"Here you go pup. Don't tell your mum and dad." Said a handsome young man with wavy black hair, and grey eyes as he handed a piece of candy to him.
...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal...
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" Shouted a young man with unruly black hair, while a red blur wrapped him in her arms and fled.
...but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...
"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything...." Pleaded a woman with hair as red as fire, her eyes pleading with the cloaked figure before her even as he pointed something at her.
...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
"!!!"
Harold's eyes shot open as a brilliant green light filled his vision.
No... Not Harold...
Harry James Potter.
That was his name before he ended up in Nirn. The name given to him by his parents. Parents who gave their lives to protect him from a madman.
Harry slowly pushed himself up from the cold wooden floor that he had been laying on, a distinctly different place than Ancestor Glade.
To one side was what looked like a fireplace that housed a pathetic attempt to start a fire within. To the other was the same chubby boy he had seen in one of his visions, a boy that Harry recognized as his cousin Dudley.
From the darkness a cold draft assaulted Harry, his thin blanket doing nothing to shield him from the biting wind as a storm raged in the darkness outside.
"I'm back..." Harry muttered quietly as he took in his surroundings, and himself.
Minutes ago he had been a fully grown man pushing sixty, long braided hair, full beard that was also braided, and thick muscles covered his body from a lifetime of wielding swords, maces, hammers and axes.
Now he was a small boy with thin arms, looking and feeling severely underfed while the ratted clothes he wore were several sizes too big for him. His beard was gone as well, and his hair was incredibly short as it flared in every direction wildly. Just like the man in his vision that Harry recognized as his father. James.
*BOOM!*
The entire building shuddered suddenly as something heavy hit the door.
"Wassit?!" Dudley exclaimed as he bolted upright from his makeshift bed on the couch.
*BOOM!*
The entire building shook once more as the door was hit again.
"Who's there?!" Demanded the rotund man who slowly came down the stairs with his wife cowering behind him, Harry's uncle Vernon, and aunt Petunia on his mother's side of Harry recalled correctly.
But such trivial things didn't matter now, as he braced himself to fight whatever it was trying to get in at them.
*BOOM!*
*CRASH!*
At the third impact the door shattered its hinges and fell to the floor, revealing a massive shadowy figure standing right outside as the lightning flashed to illuminate it. And Harry didn't even waste a second.
"FUS RO DAH!"