[*]
Harry
spent the rest of the day, and part of the night, deliberately not thinking
about dying. Instead, he took the
opportunity to explore the other lives that had somehow made their way into his
head.
The
three lives, other than his own, that were most clear were those of Rand
al’thor, Lews Therin Telamon, and Turin Turambar. The first two were the most obviously
connected, one being the reincarnation of the other. Rand’s world was completely different from
Turin’s world. Rand’s Great Enemy was
the Dark One, an amorphous and chaotic being trapped inside the world by the
Creator—God, presumably. The Dark One
was released in Lews Therin’s time by an experiment in the One Power, their
version of magic. Lews Therin, now
called the Dragon, led the Armies of the Light against the Dark one’s forces,
among them evil men and women called the Forsaken and manufactured monsters
called Shadowspawn. The forces of Light
won, but at a cost. In trapping the Dark
One and the Forsaken in the hole in reality that was his trap, the Dark One had
tainted the male half of the One Power.
It drove every male channeller—their wizards—insane, and in their
insanity they had killed families, friends and ultimately shattered and remade
the world.
After
thousands of years, Rand was born. It
was at a time when the Dark One’s power was growing, spreading his influence
across the world and brining death and chaos everywhere. Rand fought against the Dark One with the
help of his friends, and by learning life lessons he was able to overcome him
and heal the world. There was a bit more
to the story than that, but that was it in its essentials. Life lessons and friendship.
There
was a Dark One in Turin’s world as well.
Called The Great Enemy, apparently at the dawn of creation when the
All-Father—God again, presumably—was creating the world, the Great Enemy had
somehow corrupted part of creation, bringing in evil. The Great Enemy then manifested himself in
the world and did what evil things do: dominate and destroy. Turin’s father, Hurin, fought against the
Great Enemy but lost and was captured.
Hurin’s whole family was cursed, and Turin’s death was the result.
Harry
recognized himself in all three of these men.
Though it sounded insane, he thought that might actually be those
men. Was he not only Harry Potter
reborn—ha!—but also the Dragon Reborn, Reborn?
Turin reborn?
But
their worlds were so different from his own.
For one thing, the magic of Rand’s world was very much more destructive
than any magic he had ever heard of. The
One Power was capable of terrible lightning storms and hail of fiery arrows
that were capable of destroying armies.
There was a weave—or spell—that could erase people from time and
existence, burn them out of reality back before the moment they were hit by the
spell. Given enough power, it could be
and had been used to destroy entire cities.
In
Turin’s world, magic was the province of the Gods and the craft of the
Firstborn, the immortal first thinking peoples of the world. Turin’s black sword was such a creation of
the Firstborn. It carried its creator’s
dark nature, and gloried in blood, but even it could not like the accidental
murder of its owner and the killing of the innocent. The Gods could make the trees to light the
world, the sun and the moon, and people too.
But the Firstborn could make fabulous jewels to carry the last light of
those trees, and stones to see far, and glowing stuff.
Their
worlds were not Earth as he knew it, but could it be Earth as they knew
it? Could entire universes have risen
and fallen, with a thread of life that would one day be called Harry Potter
running through them all?
He had
vague memories of the boy magicians, Tim, Christopher and Will. They had all lived in England, and in some
ways their lives were much like his.
Ordinary kids thrust into extraordinary lives by the magic that bubbled
in their blood. Yet their magic was
unlike his, as far as he could remember.
Similar but not the same. Or
maybe he was remembering it poorly.
With
yet another mounting headache, Harry drifted to sleep, dreaming of skies so
clean, and waters so pure that you could just reach out and touch paradise.
The
homework that Hermione had brought after dinner was left untouched, but Harry
had finished the dessert Ron had snuck into the hospital wing before going to
bed.
Harry
spent the rest of the day, and part of the night, deliberately not thinking
about dying. Instead, he took the
opportunity to explore the other lives that had somehow made their way into his
head.
The
three lives, other than his own, that were most clear were those of Rand
al’thor, Lews Therin Telamon, and Turin Turambar. The first two were the most obviously
connected, one being the reincarnation of the other. Rand’s world was completely different from
Turin’s world. Rand’s Great Enemy was
the Dark One, an amorphous and chaotic being trapped inside the world by the
Creator—God, presumably. The Dark One
was released in Lews Therin’s time by an experiment in the One Power, their
version of magic. Lews Therin, now
called the Dragon, led the Armies of the Light against the Dark one’s forces,
among them evil men and women called the Forsaken and manufactured monsters
called Shadowspawn. The forces of Light
won, but at a cost. In trapping the Dark
One and the Forsaken in the hole in reality that was his trap, the Dark One had
tainted the male half of the One Power.
It drove every male channeller—their wizards—insane, and in their
insanity they had killed families, friends and ultimately shattered and remade
the world.
After
thousands of years, Rand was born. It
was at a time when the Dark One’s power was growing, spreading his influence
across the world and brining death and chaos everywhere. Rand fought against the Dark One with the
help of his friends, and by learning life lessons he was able to overcome him
and heal the world. There was a bit more
to the story than that, but that was it in its essentials. Life lessons and friendship.
There
was a Dark One in Turin’s world as well.
Called The Great Enemy, apparently at the dawn of creation when the
All-Father—God again, presumably—was creating the world, the Great Enemy had
somehow corrupted part of creation, bringing in evil. The Great Enemy then manifested himself in
the world and did what evil things do: dominate and destroy. Turin’s father, Hurin, fought against the
Great Enemy but lost and was captured.
Hurin’s whole family was cursed, and Turin’s death was the result.
Harry
recognized himself in all three of these men.
Though it sounded insane, he thought that might actually be those
men. Was he not only Harry Potter
reborn—ha!—but also the Dragon Reborn, Reborn?
Turin reborn?
But
their worlds were so different from his own.
For one thing, the magic of Rand’s world was very much more destructive
than any magic he had ever heard of. The
One Power was capable of terrible lightning storms and hail of fiery arrows
that were capable of destroying armies.
There was a weave—or spell—that could erase people from time and
existence, burn them out of reality back before the moment they were hit by the
spell. Given enough power, it could be
and had been used to destroy entire cities.
In
Turin’s world, magic was the province of the Gods and the craft of the
Firstborn, the immortal first thinking peoples of the world. Turin’s black sword was such a creation of
the Firstborn. It carried its creator’s
dark nature, and gloried in blood, but even it could not like the accidental
murder of its owner and the killing of the innocent. The Gods could make the trees to light the
world, the sun and the moon, and people too.
But the Firstborn could make fabulous jewels to carry the last light of
those trees, and stones to see far, and glowing stuff.
Their
worlds were not Earth as he knew it, but could it be Earth as they knew
it? Could entire universes have risen
and fallen, with a thread of life that would one day be called Harry Potter
running through them all?
He had
vague memories of the boy magicians, Tim, Christopher and Will. They had all lived in England, and in some
ways their lives were much like his.
Ordinary kids thrust into extraordinary lives by the magic that bubbled
in their blood. Yet their magic was
unlike his, as far as he could remember.
Similar but not the same. Or
maybe he was remembering it poorly.
With
yet another mounting headache, Harry drifted to sleep, dreaming of skies so
clean, and waters so pure that you could just reach out and touch paradise.
The
homework that Hermione had brought after dinner was left untouched, but Harry
had finished the dessert Ron had snuck into the hospital wing before going to
bed.