Chrysanthemums are frequently included in arrangements for funeral services. In some European countries, such as France, Italy, Spain, Poland, Hungary and Croatia, chrysanthemums are symbolic of death and are only used for funerals or on graves. In China, Japan and Korea, white chrysanthemums are symbolic of lamentation and grief, whereas in the US, it symbolizes truth and the flower is usually regarded as positive and cheerful, with New Orleans as a notable exception.

Something people fail to realize (be they magical, murderful, beautiful, wonderful, terrible or mundane) is that reality is subjective.

There are rules to reality! ...But all rules are meant to be broken. Everything can be interpreted in its own way and the world is just a little different to each passing person who views it. And beyond the physical realm there are beings, great and terrible and beings, that are not real and yet exist despite this. They exist in a state of what a person might call immortal, ever shifting and changing, yet forever staying the same. They are not beings meant to be viewed by eyes of the physical realm, by people who believe in the set rules when it has none.

Harry James Potter understands this very well.

He knows because when he was little (Or was it old? Time is such a pesky thing, you can never quite count on it, always changing as it does) he came along with the Dursleys to London.

(In another world, he would have been left with Arabella Figg. But she was down sick with a terrible flu and couldn't be bothered with taking care of a small raggedy child wearing too big clothing over too small bones. So in this world he came along with them-)

(And that changed everything)

He was told to stay close behind them and Harry tried very hard not to fall behind. He didn't really want to suffer through the lack of food and possibly even a beating should he fail to stay close. However, the crowds were especially thick that day and he was such a tiny child, so small and fragile and easily lost in the mass of adult bodies all around him. Quickly, he lost sight of the Dursleys, and they certainly never noticed it when their nephew disappeared from where he trailed behind them.

Harry was well and truly lost. Knowing this, no matter how young he was at the time (6? 200? 7? 5,000? Does it even matter?) he went to the side of the crowd near the stores and intended to wait there until someone noticed he was gone and called for him or a nice officer wandered by and he could ask to be taken back.

Everything would have just worked out fine had he stuck to that plan. But little Harry was an ever so curious little thing, something that the Dursleys hadn't quite managed to beat out of him just yet, and he could have sworn he had seen something gimmer down the alleyway. He followed it and turned a corner.

Then the world decided it was a good time to disappear.

He didn't scream. Harry wasn't really the screaming sort. Instead he stared wide eyed at his surroundings, or lack thereof, and gaped. The world had turned into a swath of writhing shadows, small smoky strands working their ways across the floor-or what would have been the floor had there been one. Harry turned to look behind him and found more of the same. London had disappeared entirely, along with the ground under his feet (despite the fact he was still standing) and the blue grey sky that had once hung above him.

Harry didn't have an explanation for this. He was still very young at the time (Only 20 million- 4 hundred- negative 53- years seconds days hours) so he didn't know any of the rules or laws or regulations or whatever you'd like to name them, (Be that long winding unnecessary names or short sweet cries of howling rage and happiness and or confusing precise forever definitive words to describe what shouldn't be named and must be named and-oh dear I've gotten off track again) and he didn't know what to do upon arriving, either, so he took a step forward and started walking.

A long, long, long time later (Or perhaps it was short? I've never liked time, you know, far too fickle for my liking. You can never tell when it's going fast or slow or backwards or sideways into the next dimension. Is there a next dimension? Yes, yes, there is. I'm sure of it! For if enough people believe it, then surely it must be true?) he came to a stone step path. He wasn't sure where it lead, or how it was even possible for such a thing to exist in such a place as the one he was now (before? In the future?) but he saw it and decided to follow it and see where it lead.

It lead to a river, or what seemed to be a river. The water glowered and shifted and swirled and appeared to be a living breathing thing. And above the river stood a bridge and on the bridge stood four people.

(Or was it three?)

"A guest has arrived!" One figure announced, the one who stood before the other three at the end of the bridge. They wore a cloak and beneath it they seemed to be changing. They were old, withered and frail one moment, and youthful and beautiful the next. Both male and female and neither and both and-now Harry was giving himself a headache.

The other three (They look so similar, or perhaps they didn't. Everything is subjective, remember? Perhaps they only looked similar because you perceived them to be similar and perhaps they were similar because they chose to be similar and perhaps they are not similar at all) turned to look at Harry and Harry thought they were perhaps something like brothers.

(There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across... However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water)

The brothers all turned to look at Harry and Harry thought to himself that maybe he should have stayed out of the alleyway. But they payed him no real mind and turned back to the hooded figure with little fuss and no greeting at all.

Harry watched as the figure handed an item to each of the brothers and then as the brothers walked off, tragedy nipping at their heels and heads held high.

"The Peverells," a voice told Harry, speaking in many layers so that it sounded as if a great number of people all spoke at once,"were both foolish and wise. Remember this scene, little one, for one day you will see it again."

"Will I?" Harry looked up at the looming shifting figure called Death. He was calm in their presence, no matter how much many would think the contrary should be true.

"You will indeed, Green Eyes," Death told him, "Now run along and remember to never give anyone your name. Try to avoid the Courts, especially those attended by the mad, and have as much fun as you'd like. We'll meet again one day, but I'd prefer for that to be a while away just yet."

Death disappeared and Harry was left alone at the river filled with tiny glowing bugs and fish, the likes of which scattered the further away from the bridge they went. Harry stared at the spot that they had been, and then wandered across the bridge and kept going.

It wasn't until the sun had risen and set in the physical realm (for this was not the realm of the physical, of that anyone can be certain) that Harry Potter's body disappeared and he became a resident of the strange twisted realm that showed people for what they were and twisted reality and knotted Fate's crisscrossing strings. And upon losing (gaining?) his life he came to know the realm he was in (just as all others who had wandered onto the path before him had) and wondered off to join the rest of the faeries (ghosts spirits monsters demons angels gods beings ancients giants entities. They had no real name, there was no need to name such a thing that was real and not. To do so was foolishness and best left to the mortals who dwelled on solid land) in their constant festivals and games.

The thing that was once Harry was unsurprised when they found the spirit of what had once been an owl carrying the remnants of an invitation addressed to who they had once been however long it had been later.

("Dear Mr. Potter," it read, sweet words and wandering summons, "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.")

AN: So. I wrote this forever and an age ago, posted it on Tumblr, and promptly forgot about it. Then, Araceil's story "Against my Nature" dragged me kicking and screaming back into the Harry Potter fandom, and the rain in my area put me in a melancholy mood, and the universe aligned in just the right way so I would find this among my old documents and get inspired. I am now turning this into a series of Oneshots/drabbles. Feel free to send in prompts!