Death is but the Next Great Adventure

Balance is a B****

Harry's always had rather bad luck. It's not that nothing good ever happened to him-he'd consider Dudley waking up covered in burning boils after a bit too violent bout of 'rough-housing' pretty lucky-he was just . . . accident prone.

At first it was things like slipping in the shower or tripping over shoelaces and almost impaling himself on garden shears or gas leaks when he was the only one home. But every time something like that happened, Harry just brushed it off and counted his lucky stars that he remained intact. Eventually, they became more violent and much closer calls as he grew older: almost being hit by a van he didn't even see, catching himself before he fell on something sharp and pointy after tripping or slipping on air, or unexpected and violent sicknesses that only affected him that disappeared just when his relatives were-begrudgingly-on the verge of bringing him to the hospital so that they don't have a very dead nephew on their hands.

When Harry mentioned the suspicious incidents to his frequent dream companion, he shared how he was worried that some of the events were actually his relatives trying to hurt him or get rid of him. His companion had chuckled heartily at the suggestion and dismissed it with the wave of his charred bony hand. 'Nonsense!' He'd said, 'We both know that your relatives fear you far too much to try anything so . . . extreme.' He dismissed in the strangely echoing baritone that had an oddly hushed quality to it, like everything in the world would listen without him ever having to raise his voice, ancient and inhuman. And so he continued. 'What's happening is just balance, Harry.'

"I don't understand, 'balance?'" His companion had always been cryptic beyond coherency, so Harry wasn't surprised to get another vague and confusing answer.

'Last stitch effort of the universe to balance what is being willfully played with. However, it won't be enough to cut things short. There isn't much that I can say about this, explanations will come in a few years' time when you turn eleven. Just be sure to keep safe and be careful.' He ended in a serious tone that Harry used often enough when talking to adults so that he would be taken more seriously. Before Harry could attempt to break down those words and try to bleed some sort of understanding out of them, his companion was already moving on.

'I was going to wait a while longer to start preparing you . . . but it cannot wait if you are already experiencing so much accidental magic. You will need to have control over it before you start school. It will be difficult communicating with you while you are awake so far from the original date I had set, but with a bit more effort, I can guide you enough to get you where you need to be without actually crossing the veil myself. I'll need to prepare you for that world as much as possible, otherwise you will be chewed up and spit out the moment you get there.' The cloaked figure mused, more to himself than to Harry. Harry felt like he was only hearing the dialog from only one person while so many other key parts were missing.

"I don't understand-" a phrase Harry was starting to loath at that moment, "What are you on about?!" What world? Accidental what!? His dreams sure were strange!

Harry could feel the other's amusement as it seemed to echo around them and quake the black nothingness surrounding them as if they were settled in someone's lungs while they laughed heartily, rather than Harry's nightmare dream.

'Magic, Harry! You have been a wizard since your birth and there are quite a few things that have been kept from you up until this point. There is a whole secret world out there, and I will teach you the best that I can so that you do not have to rely on those who do not have your best interest in mind once you get there. I will teach you about wizarding etiquette, spells and magic before you get your wand, what to expect in the years to come, who you are and where you came from.' And he did just that.