Harry Potter: Obscured Fate

Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction. A vast, empty void, absent of stars, absent of light. It was a place beyond time, beyond existence itself. And yet, amidst this nothingness, there was a dock—a simple wooden structure extending into the abyss, old and weathered as if it had stood there for eternity. Footsteps, light and deliberate, echoed softly against the wooden planks.

A little girl walked along the dock, barefoot, her white dress a stark contrast against the infinite black. Her long, inky hair flowed behind her like smoke dissolving into the air, and in her small hands, she held a fishing pole—an absurdly long thing, the line trailing off into the unseen depths below. Despite the eerie stillness surrounding her, she hummed a tune, soft and lilting, its melody unsettling in its cheerfulness given the scene around her.

She reached the end of the dock and sat down, dangling her feet over the edge.

"I wonder what I'll find today!" she chirped, rocking forward slightly as she cast her line into the void. The hook disappeared instantly into the abyss, swallowed by the shadows. The little girl kicked her feet back and forth, waiting, her humming filling the vast emptiness once more.

Time was a meaningless concept here. Minutes, hours, years—it all blurred together. But at some point, she felt it. A tug.

"Oooh, I got one!" she exclaimed, gripping the pole tightly. Whatever had bitten the hook was heavy, so much heavier than usual. The girl's face split into a delighted grin as she braced herself and began to reel it in. The dock creaked beneath her as something fought back, resisting her pull, as if the abyss itself did not want to let go of its catch.

"Oh, you're a stubborn one, huh?" she mused, her bare feet pressing firmly against the dock's surface for leverage. "Don't worry, I won't let you go."

She tugged again, with strength unnatural for someone of her small frame. Slowly, something began to emerge from the void. First, a glimmer—faint, barely perceptible, like the dying breath of a candle. Then, the shape of something... someone.

A body.

It drifted upward, as if being pulled from the depths of a dark ocean. The little girl giggled as she reeled it in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What kind of fishy are you?" she wondered aloud. "You don't look like a fish at all!"

The figure was limp, their body weightless in the nothingness, as if they had been floating in this abyss for a long, long time. Their form solidified as the girl brought them closer—features becoming clearer. A person, an adult, dressed in drab office clothes, their tie loosened and their hair a mess. Their face was slack, devoid of awareness, as though they were lost in deep unconsciousness.

The girl tilted her head, regarding the 'catch' with interest. "I wonder if you're broken?" she said, poking the person's cheek. No response. She poked them again. Still nothing. Her expression twisted in thought before she suddenly leaned forward and blew softly into their face.

Their body twitched.

The girl clapped her hands together. "Oh! You're waking up!"

The person gasped, suddenly inhaling like a drowning man breaking the surface of the water. Their body spasmed, hands flailing as if trying to grab onto something solid. Their eyes shot open, wide and uncomprehending.

"Ah, ah, calm down," the girl cooed, placing a small hand on their forehead. "You're safe now, silly fishy."

The person sucked in deep, ragged breaths, their mind struggling to piece together what was happening. Darkness. Falling. Cold. Then... this place. And a child calling them a fish? Their mouth opened, but their throat felt raw, their voice failing them.

"You were lost," the girl explained as if reading their thoughts. "Drifting and sinking and sinking and sinking." She leaned in closer, her dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "But I caught you before you could disappear completely."

A shiver ran through the person's spine. "Where...?" They barely managed to croak out the word, their voice hoarse and unfamiliar to their own ears.

The girl hummed, resting her chin on her palm. "Hmm. Hard to say. It's different for everyone. Some call it the Void, the Between, the End of All Things." She grinned suddenly. "I just call it my fishing spot!"

A chill settled in their gut. This place... this wasn't normal. This wasn't right. Memories flickered at the edge of their mind—an office, paperwork, fluorescent lights, the dull monotony of everyday life. Then pain, sudden and sharp, and then... nothing.

Had they died?

The girl tilted her head. "You're thinking real hard, huh?"

Their lips trembled. "Am... Am I dead?"

The girl giggled, swinging her legs back and forth. "Maybe! Maybe not! It's all wibbly-wobbly, really."

The person shuddered, gripping their own arms as if trying to ground themselves. Their skin felt cold, too light, as though they weren't fully there. They looked down at their hands, flexing their fingers. Something was wrong. They felt... empty. Hollow.

The girl's humming returned, but this time it was slower, almost thoughtful. "You feel weird, don't you?" she mused, watching them curiously. "Like you're missing something?"

Their breath hitched. Yes. That was exactly it. They felt incomplete, as if something vital had been stripped away from them. Their heart pounded in their chest, but even that felt strange, distant. Panic began creeping in, a clawing sensation in their gut. "What... what's happening to me?"

The little girl simply smiled, but there was something almost knowing behind her expression. She reached out, pressing a finger to their forehead.

"You'll find out soon enough."

And with that, the dock, the void, and the little girl disappeared.

The darkness swallowed them whole.

--------

{----- POV}

Pain.

That was the first thing I registered. A deep, searing ache that throbbed behind my eyes, sending sharp pulses through my skull. I groaned, pressing a hand against my forehead, as if that would do anything to ease the agony clawing through my head.

The second thing I noticed was the darkness. My eyes flickered open to meet the dim, murky blackness of a room that reeked of dust and decay. It took a moment for my vision to adjust, but as it did, the state of my surroundings became painfully clear.

The room was in complete disrepair. Cobwebs clung to the corners of the ceiling, thick layers of dust coated every surface, and dark, unidentifiable stains marred the walls. A shattered window let in only the faintest sliver of moonlight, casting twisted shadows across the decrepit floorboards. I wrinkled my nose. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and something rotten, something that made my stomach twist uncomfortably.

Where the hell was I?

I tried to push myself up, but the moment I moved, my limbs protested violently. My muscles felt stiff, as if I had been lying here for days, unmoving. I forced myself to sit up anyway, inhaling sharply as the pain in my head flared again. A whirlwind of fragmented memories rushed through my mind—an office, paperwork, my daily commute, a sudden jolt of pain... and then darkness.

And the girl. The girl on the dock.

The memory of her humming filled my ears, sending an unnatural shiver down my spine. What had she done to me? What was that place? None of it made sense, and I had neither the time nor the energy to figure it out right now. First, I needed to understand where I was.

Just as I was about to stand, a loud, violent SLAM shattered the silence.

The door burst open with such force that I instinctively recoiled, my pulse spiking as adrenaline shot through me. My breath hitched as I snapped my gaze to the threshold, heart hammering against my ribs.

A figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light spilling in from the hallway. I could barely make out their features, but there was an unmistakable air of authority in the way they carried themselves. My body tensed as I tried to prepare for whatever was about to happen.

"You're awake," the figure said, voice sharp and laced with something unreadable.

The figure stepped forward, and as the dim light from the hallway cast over her face, I could make out her sharp, sunken features. A woman, middle-aged, with lines etched deep into her forehead and a permanent scowl set upon her thin lips. Her greying hair was pulled back into a tight bun, making her face seem even more severe. Her eyes held nothing but disdain as they locked onto me, narrowing in clear disappointment.

Before I could react, she closed the distance between us, her steps deliberate and heavy. Then, without warning, her hand lashed out. A sharp crack rang through the room as the impact of her palm sent my head snapping to the side. The burning sting bloomed across my cheek instantly, my skin prickling with heat and pain.

"You worthless little freak," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me today?"

I barely had time to process what she had said before another blow struck me, this time across the other side of my face. I gasped, my body instinctively flinching away from her. My vision blurred for a second, the pain rattling my already throbbing head.

"You ruined everything!" she snapped, grabbing me by the collar of my ragged shirt and yanking me up slightly before shoving me back down. My back hit the floorboards with a dull thud, dust scattering around me. "Do you think families are lining up to take in a freak like you? Huh? Do you think people want a little monster in their homes?"

She continued her barrage of words and strikes, each slap, each shove reinforcing her anger.

"They were willing to take you off my hands! I could have finally been rid of you! But no, you had to go and be your disgusting little self! You had to show them exactly why no one wants you!"

The blows weren't particularly hard—she wasn't trying to kill me, just make a point—but in my current condition, they hurt more than they should have. My body was already aching, my limbs sluggish and weak. Every hit only added to the growing number of bruises that littered my frame.

She finally stopped, breathing heavily, as if venting her frustration had drained her. She straightened her dress, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles with sharp, jerky motions. Her lips curled in disgust as she glared down at me.

"You're not getting dinner for the next few days," she stated coldly. "Maybe that'll teach you to behave. Maybe it'll finally fix whatever's wrong with you."

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her with enough force to make the cracked window rattle.

I lay there, unmoving, as the dull ache in my head mixed with the fresh pain of my new bruises. My body screamed in protest, every nerve alight with discomfort, but I forced myself to remain still. Moving felt like too much effort.

I stared up at the ceiling, my breath coming out in shallow, controlled inhales. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, emotions, and confusion, but one thing stood out above all else.

I wasn't in my own body.

I needed to understand what was happening. I needed answers. And the only place I could get them was within my own mind.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, willing myself to focus. The memories were there, fragmented and disorganized, scattered like puzzle pieces waiting to be put together. I reached for them, pulling at the tangled threads of consciousness, trying to make sense of who I was now.

Flashes of moments flickered before me—

A dark-haired boy, small and frail, sitting alone in a corner while other children laughed and played.

A cold bed, stiff sheets, and the distant sound of crying in the night.

Harsh words.

Pain.

The orphanage.

I sifted through the disjointed images, piecing together what little I could. This boy—this body—had lived a life of neglect, of solitude. The other children avoided him, whispered about him when they thought he couldn't hear. They called him strange, unnatural. And the caretakers, like the woman who had just left, treated him with thinly veiled contempt.

I could feel it, the deep-seated loneliness, the desperate yearning for something—anything—to make it all stop. The isolation, the quiet suffering, the knowledge that no one would ever come for him.

For me.

The weight of those memories settled heavily on my chest. It was suffocating. Even now, I could still feel the sting of her words, the disgust in her voice. She hated me. They all did. And now, I was trapped here, in this body, in this life.