AN: Firstly, thank you for all of the reviews, favourites and follows! I really appreciate it and I'm glad you like this story. I've read them all, and although I couldn't write back due to lack of time, know that I hopefully will soon.

Also, this part - like the first chapter - has been somewhat corrected from the "just-getting-over-my-medicine-induced-randomness and fevered-illness" stage. I hope you all enjoy it!

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Always Fated

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Part One

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2-

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When Harry next opens his eyes, it is to a deep gnawing hunger that scratches at his empty stomach and he cries out in sudden surprise. It is like, in all honesty, that he has managed to forget this feeling over the months that he has been gone from a body, this feeling of immense hunger and the pangs that come with it. The pain is almost stunning, he thinks, almost as stunning, in fact, as when he realises his own sobs sound so very lyrical and lovely to his new ears. He whimpers a little at the fact, and tries to look around for help, but only sees blurry gold cocooning him fully.

He should have asked about new born godling children,he realises, suddenly feeling terrible for babies and their lack of ability, as he fails to do move than flail about.

Are divine children like their mortal kin? He wonders, with a small amount of panic. Do they have long before their eyesight clears up? Do they have to wait months before they can control their movements?

He hears a woman suddenly coo at him from his right, and he feels, rather than sees, who it is – that this is technically his new mother. Love rolls around her, encircles her, and kisses at her skin. Even if he cannot see her immense beauty with these new eyes, his every understanding states that it is Aphrodite.

"It's alright." She croons to him, and messes with his golden cocoon, causing it to fade, and the light of Olympus to blare at him in full – only it is not so painfully bright anymore, he registers, but comforting in a slightly peculiar way. The first of many changes, he thinks ruefully, as he next sees the blur of her figure, while she leans in closer to take a hold of him. He feels her hands, soft and tender, scoop under his neck and under his body, and he is lifted.

"I imagine this is very strange for you." She muses, holding him up in front of her face, so he sees her appearing navy greying eyes, dark skin and full lipped smile. "I imagine you're really hungry, too. Thanatos said you will feel it terribly, even though it's only been so little time since you'd died."

Harry whimpers again in agreement, more accidentally than intentionally, and those brilliant eyes soften, "I'll get you something to drink then, my little dove, don't you fret." She pulls him closer, and he feels a flitter of panic, mingled with hope, as she pulls out a blurry bottle filled with that golden liquid that her and Thanatos had been such fans off - the liquid he'd been told to aviod before. He moans slightly, as the growling gnawing in his belly only seems to increase, until the teat is in his mouth and he is drinking - or more like suckling.

He decides not to feel embarrassed by it, after the third gulg; there is nothing embarrassing about a baby needed help, after all, he reckons. Though, he decides, flushing still, that he'll try and communicate if it's possible for him to grow at a quicker rate for a while – something almost instinctively tells him that he can, so long as he Wills himself to, and he finds his mind helpfully pointing out that he did only cave to agreeing to the childhood, and not to the baby years.

Because, really? How is he to protect anything like this?

He drinks the liquid as fast as he is able, which isn't really very fast at all with his tiny mouth, and he marvels, now he is paying attention, over it tasting like Mrs Weasley's treacle tarts and butterbeers on cold Hogsmeade Weekends. It reminds him firmly of home, and he abruptly understands the obsession with it. He even feels a little disappointed that it takes only a little more of it to fill him completely up and soon, not a minute later, he is spitting the teat back out again, and turning his head.

"Feel better now?" Aphrodite asks, lifting him up and placing him up against her body, his chin falling neatly on the top of her shoulder, turned towards her neck, and his little feet only hitting her thighs as she sits. He gurgles an awkward affirmative, and then flushes again, when she begins to pat his back gently, just in-between his wings, and he burbs as a result.

Is that normal for babies? He silently asks, heated with embarrassment – though he knows he won't get any answer about it, either way. Not that it matters, he reckons, as he hears other people – nymphs and satyrs, he guesses – loudly enter the space that they are in, and hears Aphrodite greet them all eagerly, distracting him fully with a building impending panic, at thier joyful awed comments and twitching fingers.

He tries to shift as best he can and wriggles in a terrible attempt to escape, as he listens to them rush to crowd him, cooing and fussing over him, while his mother – which is a term that is strangely easy to think – replies to their continuous gushes, agreeing over how perfect he is, what with his little feet, little wings, and beautiful soul.

He wonders idly, if very uncomfortably, as they maul him slightly, if he were to do something disgusting, would they think the same of him then? But he realises quickly enough, remembering Aphrodite's effect on people, that they probably would, and still look to him just as wonderstruck and interested. He guesses, uneasily, that being the Boy-Who-Lived for six known years is finally going to help him somehow – he knows how to ignore people's intense stares and get on with his existence, if nothing else, from it.

"We're going to go and see Thanatos soon." Aphrodite eventually interrupts, smiling, once the majority of the masses have calmed to a degree, leaving Harry's new-born self thoroughly tired, if slightly content with the outcome and plenty self-conscious, too; content, because of the feelings of love he is tightly wrapped up in, and self-conscious because he finds himself grasping more seriously that he is in the arms of a goddess and is clearly a full fifty percent of her DNA, now. In all honesty, he reckons that he'll never get used to that idea - that fact - even with decades or millenia, and another part of him even questions, as she turns that blinding smile down at him, if he has simply been dreaming all of this up, and will awake in the Hogwarts infirmary, any second now, under Madam Pomfrey's strict glare and his friend's relieved smiles.

He only has to remember the flash of a specific green light that flew at his chest, for him to easily toss the theory out, however. It leaves him abruptly heartbroken when he does so, and he feels it in a more fuller, truer way, now. He knows that it is both due to him not being dead anymore, felling the oddly vast separation from life that Death brings, and because he is now technically a part of Love itself - has a stronger tie. He feels it so strongly, but also feels - knows - on a baser level, that the powerful feeling of loss is a good thing, if only because the emotion proves that his love for them is still there, and that they meant - mean, and likely always will - something to him.

The goddess that is holding him makes a sound in the back of her throat, hearing or feeling his sudden building despairing and understanding, and rocks him gently, murmuring words of comfort - words that he feels echo within.

"And you haven't really lost any of them." She reminds him gently, as she climbs to her feet. "You will see those who still live on the earth, as soon as you are taught how to get there. Correct?" She smiles at him assuringly and his heart melts, as is his apparent usual reaction; the effect he is pleased to note, while not necessarily lesser in anyway, is far easier to deal with. "Not to mention, that The Silent One will allow you entrance into his domain indefinitely, and grant you a home within the underworld for as long as you desire it - and," she adds, a little more sombrely, "if it comes to it, you will know that if they choose re-birth as you have done, that it is their own choice and right to do so."

Harry gurgles lowly – he knows that she is right, he feels it after all. Still, he snuggles into the crook of her neck at the knowledge, unconsciously seeking more comfort.

She laughs, lightly yet joyfully, though he freezes at his unexpected movement.

"Come on then." She says, hugging him in return and begins to walk. "We're going to find your father - though, quickly, before we leave, another fact about domains; a god or goddess cannot take another's domain, and they cannot enter it without permission. Which is why, for last night, you spent the night with me, here, as Thanatos needed to get Hades' acceptance for you to return there. I should point out that I can't go into Hades domain, ever, because he doesn't let me in – not that I'd want to go there most of the time, anyway. He'd never allow my floating clouds or my art. But still…" She sighs and pouts a little, but with an easy shrug, moves on with what he is gathering is her usual happy flair, as he blinks comprehendingly. He feels, if only silently, that he finds that a bit mean - that she isn't allowed within. "It's another of the Divine rules we started discussing yesterday," She continues, moving him into a more comfortable posistion. "- and one that's fairly important, but I'll explain more about that later. For right now, just know that we're meeting him in the mortal plane, because of it – and then we'll find a place we're we can teach you the things you want to know. And then, after that - or tomorrow if you'd prefer to go to the underworld instead - we'll show you a place where you can go if you ever just want to get away, but still want to be surrounded by people who can understand your new life, or just want to learn how to fight. It also happens to be," she states conspiringly, "where you can takeany future Demi-God's you have, too – so, you know, you should definitely take a look around, if only for their sakes. You can meet your siblings while you're there, as well! It's a brilliant plan, don't you think?"

In response, Harry finds himself gurgling a little in a polite reply, but is too busy blinking, slightly startled, at the latter part of the paragraph to put much meaning behind it - especially considering his contemplating of his previous thoughts, and now future children and siblings is added to the whirlwind his emotions are becoming. His mind repeats the sentenses slowly, and it serves to distract him utterly, at any rate. He has siblings, now–? Wait. Of course, he does! Eros is a godly one, right?

He sighs listlessly into her neck, and listens more intently as she continues talking in the same regard, while she walks them away to wherever they are going to meet Thanatos. It is only afterwards, when she quickly moves on to mention his short and accurately detailed list of "mortal relationships" and his romantic life, and asks him many unanswerable questions that makes his cheeks flare, and offers him up advise depending on his hue shade, that he realises that she is likely doing it all intentionally - purposefully distracting him from his saddest thoughts.

He can't help but relax into her at the realisation, and he momentarily willingly accepts it all within his brain - if only for a brief minute. That this, this right here, really isn't - and couldn't ever be - a dream. That he willingly died and was willingly reborn, and now, Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, is really his new parent, along with Thanatos, the God of Peaceful Death.

He also realises at the same time, as his small hands grasps on to her shirt, that these types of conversations will probably happen often, used distraction or not, and will likely be just as intrusive.

But then he is being tightly rocked, as she speaks on cheerfully, and he falls slowly, naturally, back into a fatigued half-sleep – and he elects, while he does, in a defining sort of moment, that he supposes the topic of their conversations doesn't really matter.

It is just rather nice having a parental figure aiming to help, distract me and offer me advice - as strange as it is.

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"You didn't tell him how to alter his age, I see..." An amused male voice accuses from within his sleep encased darkness, and Harry feels a sudden plethora of oozing contentment, as a hand strokes his hair, neck and wings. He is still wanting to sleep, he accepts with a lot of easy admittance, but as the statement penetrates his mind, he arches into the fond touch and forces his eyes open at least a quarter of the way. He sees hardly anything, of course – though he still would with his eyes wide open, he silently adds – but notes the blur of bright molten gold eyes and a brilliant smile not so far from his face. Fingers wiggle a hello in front of his eyes.

"I told him we'd teach him everything he'd want when we met." Aphrodite corrects, sounding a little affronted at the allegation, but manages to look apologetic when she observes his awakening status, and hugs him again in compensation.

...How to alter his age? Harry repeats slowly, wondering if he heard them correctly, while attempting to push his mind into a lesser form of groggy consciousness with no small amount of force.He is sure no one mentioned that before - but then, he recalls, as if the memory was at the tip of his mindseye all along, that there were writings about that, weren't there? In his old primary school books, about gods and goddesses changing their physical ages or even gender? He blinks sleepily, and ponders on the thought, while he listens as best as he can.

"He has magic's Mark." Thanatos reminds the goddess, his amusement still apparent. "He doesn't have to be taught – he just has to be told how to do it. It is all Will and Intent, like with your previous wand waving." The god adds to him, and Harry's eyes open a little wider as a result.

It's really that simple? He wonders, a little sceptical, before he pauses and muses on it. If wizards and witches can alter their age by magic, then gods, he realises, can most likely alter theirs by simple will alone…

He sighs quietly, half dreaming on the possibility of being anything but a newborn, and mentally debates on whether to try and age himself a little now, or to wait until he has more energy. It takes seconds, really, to conclude that it wouldn't hurt to try right now – even if he fails, the worst-case scenario is to remain as he is – the horror – and managing to sleep some more.

He yawns a little, and then nods - flails jerkily, as is his attempt - and Aphrodite looks down at him woeful, her features falling into sorrow. Harry's heart twinges at it, and wants to reassure her that he won't age completely even if he can - as much as he wants to.

"I haven't been able to keep a new born for so long." She confesses a little disappointedly, and Harry – through no will of hers – instantly decides that it's absolutely terrible. Mournfully criminal, in fact. "They all have to go and live with their other parents to be raised." She explains, kissing his forehead – much to his joint pleasure and embarrassment. "So, when you do age – no matter the age you do go to – can you maybe return to a young age when you come and stay with me or visit, like you agreed? At least for a century or so, perhaps?"

I already said that I would, didn't I? Harry thinks back fairly, holding back another yawn - though probably not for a century, though... And who knows? It might even be interesting, even with all of his teenage memories and knowledge of his true age and life. To see how normal children get treated and raised – and not just the mock-up attempts the Dursley's made with him or Dudley. In truth, he feels like he wouldn't really mind it at all, really, so long as he can move about of his own free will, and is big enough to defend himself if necessary.

Harry gurgles – hopefully for the last time – a somewhat reassuringly sound at Aphrodite's heartbreaking look, and she brightens, hugging him closer. Which, now he observes how he is lay upon her, seems impossible. "You really are brilliant." She whispers fondly. "I'm so happy that I got to nab you, instead of anyone else!"

Nab me? He echoes, as he abruptly sees a pile of floating white rose petals appear from nowhere and suddenly begin to circle him, captivatingly.

Thanatos hums, obviously entertained at the sight, while Harry grimaces a little, yet still seems unable to help himself from watching the flittering paleness, as they loop around him and begin to morph together with silver twine, creating what he believes is a crown – and he knows he is right when it delicately lands atop of his head.

"Beautifully brilliant." Aphrodite pronounces, smiling magnificently. "Now, how about you become a two or three-year-old, for now, then? I think that will be a perfect compromise for us all; I can still carry you, you can move about and talk, and Thanatos can still witness the early years of his first child."

That… that wouldn't be too awful, he agrees, yawning again, before he realises: what does a two or three-year-old ook like anyway?

Bigger than what I currently am, is what he thinks cynically as an answer, but that's all he has. There weren't many young children on Privet Drive, at least since he was one, and Hogwarts only admits eleven-year-olds. He blows out a breath, since he can't voice it, and decides that he'll just have to aim for a certain height, and then simply hope for the best.

He knows, when no other words come that he is being waited on, albeit patiently, to see if he's planning on doing it right then or otherwise. With their joint eyes on him, he can't help but nervously close his eyes and try. He almost rehears Professor McGonagall, as he does, strictly commending him on his Intent to Transfigure, in fifth year. "It's probably your stubbornness." She'd told him, one day, with no small amount of frustration, as she still smarted over one of his detentions with Umbridge. "Your father and mother had it in spades, too, so I suppose I'm not surprised..."

So... stubbornness, he reckons, telling himself firmly that he wants to be bigger. I don't want to be a new-born, he thinks resolutely, or a baby. So, I will be bigger.

...

Or not.

He sighs gustily, and surprisingly takes immediate comfort in the encouraging whisper of his new parents. He pauses for a moment, and takes the time to focus, to think on his thoughts of current uselessness, and uses the emotion. There is minutes of nothing, minutes of silence, as he frowns frustrated with himself.

Until, eventually - finally - it is like he drinks a small tea spoon of aging draught, and abruptly he grows.

His new parents immediate proud statements, as they see what he feels – Thanatos' amused smooth comments of, "Well done." and Aphrodite's gleeful squeals – startles him, a little. He stops growing and flushes – he isn't really used to people's outwardly excessive positive gestures, after all, never mind by those he calls kin - yet he still grins widely, happily amazed and dazed – and more tired, he adds, after the fact.

He is only taller by a foot, it's true, but he is bigger all the same, and his body is all in proportion for whatever age he is. Maybe two? And he sees clearly now, he eagerly notes; in truth, he sees everything about him and concludes he is a rain forest, of all places. And he has teeth, too. And appendages that listen to him. And he adds oddly - very oddly - he can also feel his wings, like he can his arms. He chooses to flutter them and they do as he wills, the second he wills it.

"I can fly." He remembers, and Thanatos grins wryly.

"You can fly." The god agrees, as Harry marvels over that and his voice; it is so very young and so bizarrely lovely. "And the mortals, unless they have the Sight or Godly Blood – or if they have your permission to do so – won't even notice them, even should you walk among them in the streets."

"The Mist hides them." Includes Aphrodite, collecting a close by flower to smell.

"The Sight?" Harry questions intrigued, while getting encouraged to smell it as well; his nose is really better, too. "The Mist?"

Thanatos takes a small breath, appearing contemplating, before he states, holding his arms out to Harry, that, "We may as well get comfortable – we do have a lot more to explain to you."

How much more? Harry silently remarks, but accepts the arms that take him. The content feeling, no longer surprising to him, returns full force. His new father smiles down at him, and Harry smiles back, before smiling at Aphrodite too, when he realises that he hasn't done that yet.

Aphrodite returns it and blows him a kiss, while producing a large and comfortable looking cloud, which reminds him of extremely large white marsh-mellows, cushions and cotton balls. She climbs on gracefully and easily, with almost expert precision, turning to face them.

"Are you getting on here?" She enquires, fluttering her blue-to-green eyes at Thanatos, who looks more like he'd rather disappear through the floor than do so. Harry, though – well, Harry can't help but admit that he wants to. It looks brilliantly perfect, like a Hogwarts bed mixed with fairy tales and comfort.

He leans forward without meaning to, and Thanatos sighs, deeply.

Aphrodite smiles and rolls over to make room.

Harry isn't ashamed to say it makes him happy, although it does - sort-of - remind him off Dudley climbing into his parent's bed at night, which then, in turn, makes him flush at the comparison, because it's not inaccurate, is it?

"What is it that you want to explain?" Harry asks, pushing the thought away, and deciding, as he is placed down, that clouds are marvellous to sit on.

"Everything, really." Aphrodite tells him, giving him another cup full of that golden liquid. "But we've marked up a schedule, so not to take all the fun out of things, and so today is a couple of hours of 'More Godly Facts' and some, 'Did You Knows'. Then we'll go on from there."

Thanatos shoots her an odd look, but agrees, as he climbs on with more difficulty. Harry thinks, as he does, that he looks surprised by its brilliance. "Don't add any rose petals." He warns the goddess, though. "I don't want to get into a fight with Ares or get locked in to a cage."

Aphrodite smiles wanly, yet appears a little annoyed to Harry's eyes. "Those cages are time consuming." She agrees, but then shrugs it off, "Don't worry, though – everyone knows how our little one was created."

Harry tries to distract himself from that line of thought, too, supposed thought-baby or not.

Thanatos changes the subject, with the words, "Let's begin.", and then Harry is quickly encased in information.

Firstly, he is told all about the mist – a form of magic, Harry thinks, that even effects the magical kin – and those with the Sight to see through it. Harry wonders, as he gets given a golden plater with "ambrosia" for a snack, if Luna could see through it – or could maybe see through something like it. It makes sense, he decides, and accepts, excitement worming its way in to his chest, that he'll find out soon enough.

Then they go on to tell him more about "the lightening wielder" – names have power; don't say them unless you want them to turn and listen to you – and the other Greek deities; he learns who his siblings are, how to recognise everyone, what all their domains are, who offended who some millennia ago, what the latest gossip of them is, and everything in between. He is told in more detail about how he should always ask to enter someone else's physical domain - "The Lightening Wielder" for Olympus, "The Barnacle Man" for the sea, and "The Silent One" for the Underworld - as well.

Thanatos tells him reassuringly, after that, that The Silent One has already granted him entrance, and Aphrodite adds happily that so has The Lightening Wielder. None of them have spoken to The Barnacle Man though, so "who knows about him…"

Aphrodite even interrupts herself mid-sentence, as she begins another topic, to also add that he should never – not ever – sit on anyone's seat in Olympus, else he gets hurt or blasted from the sky for it. "Or worse." Thanatos agrees, nodding ominously. "Many a foolish person has come my way for that – mainly Demi-Gods."

"I'll only sit on the floor or on your clouds." Harry says firmly in response, while deciding that with his ability to stumble upon chaos, seemingly anywhere, that hiding in the Underworld seems a far better idea, all in all. Thanatos seems to agree with his thoughts, as he says reassuringly, sinking further into the cloud, that he hardly ever goes there, anyway – and neither, in truth, does the The Silent One.

"Not by choice." Aphrodite whispers to him, conspiringly, as she smiles and drinks another "Nectar" – he also finally gets a name for the brilliant golden liquid.

Then they move on to something different altogether.

Time seems to bend, in truth, as they speak - and Harry knows that it's far longer than a couple of hours that pass them by, but they cover a lot of rather interesting and much needed things, so he doesn't truly notice it or voice anything when he does. He only truly observes the passing of time, in all honesty, when Aphrodite makes a comment about how he can "make himself into multiple versions of himself – like most gods and goddess do – so he can do a lot of different things, all at the same time.", that he blinks his new widening eyes and abruptly notices that the dawn light is gone, along with the days passage, and twilight is falling.

He feels much more dazed by her offhand admittance, though, than by the noted amount of time they'd apparently spent floating and talking in a rainforest – and rightly so, he agrees with himself, especially when Thanatos points out, eyes amused at his stunned air, that it technically means that once he learns how to, he can not only put a part of himself into protecting "everything he needs to", but also separate himself so he can have one version of himself with his new mother, one with his new father, and have one in Elysium, one in Asphodel, and one on earth.

"While many other parts do your duties to your domain." Aphrodite nods, and that effectively brings Harry back from his brilliant astonished soaring wonder and slightly hot-headed flare-up that is fiercely demanding him to ask to be taught.

"Duties to your domain?" He gets out instead – because he doesn't really want a domain, never mind the duties that go with it – and Thanatos lifts up the small white bag. "Wait." Harry says understandingly. "So, while you're here with us, you're also out there, too, collecting all those that fall through the veil?"

"Many multiple versions, yes." Thanatos wryly agrees, "Usually I have to be in each hospital – and around towns, cities, and the like. All of the areas that are still under our jurisdiction, those who follow or believe in us, and, of coure, those who are blessed by us. We don't ever get time off –"

"We just try and make more of ourselves so we can have just as much fun, as well." Aphrodite concludes, nodding wryly, and staring at him, amused. "So, I suggest you relax completely and wholly while you can."

While I can, he echoes ruefully, leaning back into the cloud, feeling absolutely flabbergasted, and deciding then that the passing of the day definitely seems like a minor issue.

He closes his exhausted eyes at their joint stare, as they go into further detail - explaining about needeed to be whole in a fight, how it can sometimes leave you a bit thin in places - and contemplates that being a god is a lot more effort than he ever imagined it to be.

Not that he ever really did, or thought he would ever need to on a personal level.

He sighs lowly at the fact - at all the facts that had come, really, and all the facts that still do, over the next couple of hours.

At least, he thinks, it's more interesting than the Hogwarts 'History of Magic classes... Even if it is more important to him, too.

.

For whatever reason, he finds that flitters of images pass through his mind; he sees people asking for his courage, asking why he didn't protect them, and others offering themselves up as a sacrifice. It enters his mind, takes him over, and then exits just as quickly, leaving nothing but strange thoughts, and bits of Voldemort's soul pieces instead, who attempt to steal his ankle and his blood, and tells him, in his taunting cold lethal voice, that he is too incompetent and fragile to stop him from taking it, or anything else.

Pure wild panic and fear fills his chest, but unwavering walls of contentedness soon drown it out.

Harry realises, belatedly, as he snaps his eyes open and feels drool falling from the corner of his mouth, that he must have fallen asleep again – that he must have a while ago, too, as he is sadly no longer floating on a large cloud, encircled by his godly parents, in a peaceful rainforest, learning all he can, but is in Thanatos arms instead, in the middle of a sunny populated place, with large buildings, bright colours and smiling people.

"You will need less sleep, if any at all, once you age a bit more - and I don't just mean physically." The god tells him with a fond smile, both as a hello and as an explanation, and Harry blinks, before accepting that. New borns and infants do need more sleep from what he remembers, he blurrily admits. As do children. It makes sense.

"Where are we?" He asks, voice thick with sleep, as he looks around. "And where's –?" Does he call his new parent Aphrodite aloud, or mum? Probably mum?

"We are in LA – Los Angeles, to be exact, in the USA." His father explains, "And your mother is back on Olympus. She isn't allowed in the Underworld, and we figured that is where you'd next likely want to go when you awoke."

The Underworld, Harry repeats, his brain sluggishly following along – then, his eyes abruptly widen, and he feels more awake than he has since regaining a body. "You mean I get to see everyone?"

Thanatos smiles down at him and hums in affirmation.

Harry's head stutters with a fuzzy happy surprise, while his heart beats with giddy anticipation.

He is going to see everyone, he thinks with buzzing excitement, his parents, Sirius, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Dobby… everyone who died. He is really going to see them all! And he's in LA –

He finds himself wondering, even as he bounces in near-childish glee, "Why is the Underworld in LA?" Although he does find it fitting - the city of angels.

Golden eyes shine down and his father shrugs elegantly, earning a longing glance by a passing man. "We move wherever the power of civilisation goes."

"The power of civilisation." Harry echoes. "Wait, so... that's America right now?" He can't help but be bemused by that, and imagines Magical England's reaction to it. Thanatos just raises an eyebrow in reply – which Harry assumes is an "obviously" – while he turns them towards a building that appears very high-maintenance to Harry's eyes. It's a rather tall building, with large windows and identical doorways, painted immaculately.

Thanatos gestures to it, as they walk towards the second entry way.

EMPLOYEES ONLY: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS, Harry reads upon it, amusement spreading through him. Well, he thinks, someone either has a sense of humour or just likes to be perfectly honest…

After the detailed descriptions of "The Silent One", Harry goes with the latter.

Still, "DOA..."

"Hm." Thanatos hums amusedly, before admitting, "We found it amusing."

"Understandably." Harry finds himself replying, with a wry grin and a snort.

They both enter the large clear glassed door, and walk into an equally large spacious entrance hall, all fire reds and brilliant silvers in décor. Harry sees that there are a couple of people gathered there, loosely standing about, while another woman - dressed in a black pencil skirt and a tight white button down shirt, with a name tag on - stands behind a desk and smiles widely at Thanatos, before crooning up in surprise at him.

"This is my son." The god tells the mortal woman, and Harry feels it's plenty bizarre being introduced as such; he is someone else's son. He wonders if his parents - James and Lily - will mind...? He pushes the thought away, as he flushes widely and instantaneously, as more than one person turns and crowds him, immediately declaring him beautiful and wonderful, and he wonders if all young children usually get mauled by overzealous strangers – or if, like most things, it seemingly only happens to him.

"His name is Hadreus." Thanatos says, and Harry reflects that a new naming shouldn't shock him as much as it does. "Though, he prefers Harry." Is added.

"Hi Harry." The group says, a half coo and half wistful awe, while Harry blinks back. Hadreus... He can deal with that - accept it, possibly even like it.

"Say hi, Harry." Thanatos intones smoothly interrupting his thought process, and Harry debates if it's against any Divine Rules to glare at a god.

"Hi." Says Harry regardless, rubbing at his eyes. He notes that they all but melt into puddles of goo as he does. Their reaction makes him feel Boy-Who-Looked like, all over again – at least, on a good Hogwarts year.

"Well, we'll be going now, I think" Thanatos declares amusedly and nods to the woman and the rest. Harry decides to wave goodbye to them, as well, if only because he's being happily hauled away.

"They're the mortals who run the front – the actual recording company of DOA records." His father informs him, as he leds them down a corridor titled FOR TEAM ONE WORKFORCES ONLY, and towards an elevator, with the words 'PRESS DOWN FOR THE UNDERWORLD' stuck to the front.

"They think it's a joke..." Thanatos claims, and Harry snorts back a light laugh. He imagines that they do - well, why would they believe it? It's no different, he reflects, than no one realising that Kings Cross holds a secret train platform, or Scotlands grandest ruins being a very much still standing school of magic.

Thanatos hits the CALL button and the doors instantly ping open. Harry's insides start to squirm, and amongst the fluttering excitement of seeing everyone again, doubts slip in.

What if they don't believe that I'm really me? His mind hisses. Or what if they already know, and end up being mad because I didn't choose to stay with them all? Not even for a single day?

He bites his small teeth into his lower lip and drags a hand through his not Potter hair. They wouldn't would they?

Thanatos carries him forward with smooth strides, and soon happy music is filling Harry's ears, irrespective of his doubts, fears, and excitement. He wonders, as he tightens his grip, why Thanatos' usual echoing content isn't halting his sudden panic – possibly, more than likely, dimming it. But it is still largely there, pulsating.

He takes in a deep breath and settles for reaching for the courage he's always had, while digging for the echo of Hagrid's wise words; What'll happen, will happen. All we can do is meet it when it does.

Thanatos watches him, head tilted, and Harry somewhat ignores him, if he's honest, while he nervously and eagerly watches the silver doors, as the lift begins to steadily lower.

It is hardly a couple of seconds before the doors pings once more, and the doors steadily open.

"...Welcome to the Underworld, little one." Thanatos announces, and Harry admits, as he catches his first conscious sight of it all, that it feels like the words are echoed throughout the entire space.

Welcome indeed, he reckons it says, and he immediately feels safe and secure; like the walls both recognise him and welcome him, and will protect him should he ever have need of it.

He lets out his held breath, and admits that it heartens him more than he thought possible. More than seeing the Hogwarts Express after months at the Dursley's, more than seeing a Weasley jumper on christmas morning.

He looks about the room they step out in to and notes that it is all dark lighting, with floors made from marble and walls screaming of Death – and although it is clearly not Hogwarts, or anything like it, it too still invokes similar emotions within Harry. He guesses that the sudden bursts of trust and home feel, and his obvious lack of fear or simple unease at the atmosphere, is because of his link with Death - or maybe due to him being the new son of Thanatos? Either way, he imagines anyone else would feel distress or dread here – and unsurprisngly so, his mind wryly points out. There are several skulls pinned to the walls, being used as candle holders.

The small light laugh he lets out would probably be more hysterical from any else, too.

"I'd let you look about, but I suggest we go and visit with The Silent One first." Thanatos advises him, as the doors firmly re-shut behind them. "He wants to meet you."

"Meet me?" Harry echoes, slightly nonplused. "Why?"

Thanatos leans back a little, to stare into his face, bemusement evident. "Well, there is more than one reason." The god muses, tilting his head. "Firstly, you are my new son. Secondly, you are his new godly resident. And thirdly, you defeated The Escaper and Cheat – he's been annoying the both of us since he was sixteen, and made that foolish decision."

The Escaper and Cheat…? Oh. "Voldemort – but I didn't defeat him. I mean, I –"

"You sent the majority of his soul here, and so you get the majority of the thanks." Thanatos interrupts, with a small smile.

"Er, alright then?" Harry says. Adding, as they begin moving again, "Does that mean Professor Dumbledore got some thanks, too, then? Is that why he was the one who met me?" It was one of his silent listed enquiries in the White Space. Why not Sirius? Or his mum and dad? "…And," While he is already asking questions he wants answered, "will – well, will Ron and Hermione get some thanks, too," He pauses, heart feeling a little heavier, and then hedges, "when they get here?"

Are they alive? He hopes they are, even though he knows there's nothing to fear from Death – or, he presumes, any god of it, or any other personification.

Thanatos opens another door, this one twice his height, and walks them through it, into another darkened hallway. "Your old Professor got more of a free pass for things previously done, if I'm honest. He was granted the right to greet you and offer you the choice because, as well as loving you, he had more to answer to, in regards to you. Although, he decided against being judged, he still wanted to explain for his own conscious and your peace of mind. As for your friends…" Thanatos trails off for seconds on end, and then grins, when Harry leans forward, near scowling. "Your friends have not passed into my territory, no," – Harry grins suddenly and widely, heart fluttering – "but they will get thanks of some kind when they do – perhaps even a boon - if only off me, for helping you – along with the soul named Neville Longbottom."

"He got the snake." Harry comprehends, proud of his friend.

"He got the snake." The god holding him concurs, "and the final piece – although those on the mortal plane are not truly sure on who exactly did it. It was a toss-up between nine spells, that hit him roughly at the same time. Most," He smiles at Harry, "were incanted by your loved ones."

Harry realises two things, then. The first, that he is capable of feeling utmost pride at the knowledge of someones death, and secondly, that gods can cry and that their tears are golden tinted.

He clears his throat, mainly ignoring it. "That's good." He states instead, and it is. He's glad the world is free from that man's reign, and can hopefully heal and learn from the hatred. "Where abouts are we, anyway?" He adds, wiping a tear away. He knows nothing about the Underworld, after all, only that there are three main levels of After Life, and another inwhich is an Isle.

"In the Silent One's Palace." His father educates softly, making an effort to catch his fourth and fifth tear in an effortlessly created vial. "The elevator we went into can take you just about anywhere within this realm, as long as you have his permission to do so. Hardly anyone uses it, usually; I don't normally have need to, as I use my own means to travel – and sooner or later, you will probably have your own, too. That is one of the entrances, though, and I'll show you all of the other entries, later." He pauses and holds up Harry's vialed glistening tears. "Not just anyone is worth your tears." The god whispers, placing it into his small hand, "so be careful just who you gift them to."

Harry stills at the double way it is stated, though knows it is meant in the more literal sense.

So, he is now capable of gifting someone with his tears, in a vial or otherwise, and they can…. do something, maybe?

He stares down at the liquid inside and silently debates on what properties it holds. Something tells him it's different with each being. He blinks up at Thanatos, who just eyes him with that soft fond amusement. "Okay." Harry says. His father nods, and carries him through yet another doorway.

"Be polite." Is all he communicates, and then, suddenly, they walk towards a large telling arch way, with echoes of darkness across its thresholf.

The room The Silent One is in, he thinks, abruptly panicked - and oh, merlin, is he right.

"Welcome Harry Potter." A voice cloaked in unending darkness says. "Or should I say, welcome Hadreus."

.

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Okay, so I'm ending this chapter here, because I have them all planned out into sections, and the conversation with Hades is supposed to be in the beginning of Part One, Chapter Three, so it is going to be... Also, I can't quite tell if the latter half of this seems rushed...? I always seem to fail on comprehending that part... Eh, well. Thanks for reading!