~DGMxHP AU~

Summary: He really shouldn't have been so surprised. He was a Noah after all; reincarnation was inevitable…Just not a hundred years later into the future, with a letter addressed to his exact location…In a public bathroom. Set in Marauders' Era.

Author's Note: DON'T MURDER ME. I KNOW I HAVEN'T COMPLETED A SIGNLE STORY. BUT I SWEAR, I WILL COMMIT TO THIS ONE. ESPECIALLY WHEN 'MCHOE69' (my editor that I pay with food) IS GOING TO BE 'ENCOURAGING' ME.

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~Chapter One~

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December, 18XX Age 16, Whereabouts: Black Order

He stared at the man (could he even be considered human?) under him, sword plunged directly at its core, leaving a bloody mess of black pooling underneath. Oddly enough, the corners of the man's mouth lifted ever so slightly with blood dripping at each corner. The act enraged the entire nerve of his being, to see the man who'd ruthlessly murdered his friends simply smile at death and unintentionally, he futilely pressed harder against something that was already dead.

Those lifeless eyes glinted for a brief second with something unreadable. Then nothing. What seemed to be over had only left a shiver down his spine.

"It's over," he whispered to himself, collapsing on his knees he'd barely had time to register his own damage.

Wearily, he looked up at the dark sky. Then, with barely any warning or so much of a last thought, he exhaled his last breath.

On December, 18XX the Holy War had ended, Allen Walker's life had ended;

And so did the Fourteenth's.

December, 19XX, Whereabouts: Unknown

December 19XX marked the birth of Louis and Emilia Walker's first born child. After nine months of carrying a watermelon in her stomach, a scream that could rival a banshee's, and a rather blood-deprived hand, an infant was released to this world.

They named him Allen Walker.

December, 19XX Age 6 Months, Whereabouts: London, Walker Residence

He was six months when he said his first word, "Red."

After a month of insistent coaxing and the absolute horror he had been exposed to (baby talk), he'd managed to scrounge up the motor skills to move his infant mouth. While it had appeased them, he couldn't help but giggle at their dumbfounded expressions after their persistent, 'say mummy' and 'No! Say daddy!' squabble, only to be ignored as their son gurgled a colour (which he so eagerly pointed to for emphasis).

He was six months when he finally accepted his rebirth.

He wasn't as stupid as to believe that these six months were just petty dreams created by his childhood-deprived self, it had only taken him this long to fully accept it because it meant that everyone he had previously loved had died...And that was something that was difficult to accept.

He had cried every night leading until now, cradling his left arm as if it was going to disappear like his Innocence did (in more ways than one). Sometimes, which he felt guilty for, he cried as loud as he could, practically screaming. There wasn't a trigger for it, no horrible nightmares, just frustration at something he couldn't stop, and sadness at something that had passed.

He was six months when he finally noticed the bags under his parents' eyes.

From then on, he took note of how warm they felt, how familiar they felt, how gentle they were and how much they'd coo softly in his ear when everything felt so unbearable. For once in his life he felt the love of a parent, and he'd clutched on as tightly as he could.

He barely cried, and while his parents had initially been worried at his sudden quietness, they'd settled when he began to laugh more instead.

He was six months when he began to crawl.

After long, drawn out months of determined attempts to climb out of the crib, his parents took it upon themselves to baby-proof everything in that room. Which, however, didn't last very long as Allen soon grew bored of his confinement, and would often stack whatever he could to reach the door handle and positively sneak out when his parents weren't looking.

February, 19XX Age 14 Months, Whereabouts: London, Park

While their child had not been overly fussy, he had been very active and would often hobble as fast as he could to just about anywhere.

This was Allen's first time in a park (both before and now) he had darted from swing to slide, would hurriedly climb up the rock-climbing wall, and hobble underneath it all. His father would often have a hard time keeping up through all the nooks and crannies, and his mother would watch from afar, giggling at the sight of a man struggling to keep in check his fourteen-month child.

It had been exhilarating to him, moving fast without the worry of someone else's life on the line. He had felt free and he wanted it to last for as long as it could, if not forever.

April, 19XX Age 5, Whereabouts: London

It was when he was five years old that Allen experienced his first case of accidental magic.

It was his first day at school, a place he'd never been before, where he was tormented for his hair. Though it wouldn't have affected him to be bullied by children, (which he was mentally older than) they targeted something that hurt more than it should've.

"None of your parents have white hair!"

"Are they even your real parents?"

He couldn't restrain himself at the moment, couldn't see clearly. All he knew, was that it hurt because his hair was something that carried much more meaning that only he'd understand. That sheer white hair of his...a reminder of a parent that had cursed him to see the souls of those who suffered. He didn't have his scar anymore, but he couldn't forget every time he looked in the mirror.

In anger he sent the kids skidding across the concrete. Not too far and not for too long, but it had done the damage. Blood stained the palms of their hands, their knees, and while the memory was hazy, he could remember the fear-stricken expressions and the blood dripping down their cheeks as they ran away screaming and crying that he was a freak; a monster.

And those words struck home more than it should.

A reminder of his past upbringing on the streets.

When his parents were informed of the incident, they took it upon themselves to move. Not in fear of their son repeating his actions, but more so of him being targeted. In a few weeks they would be moving into a smaller city by the name of Cokeworth.

("What happened?" They asked him.

"I don't know...They just flew back.")

June 19XX Age 9, Whereabouts: Cokeworth

While he had been disappointed with the new area, he had begrudgingly grew accustomed to it. The air always seemed so suffocating to him, however he didn't complain. The scenery was more familiar to him, but the continuous pipes emitting smoke that ran for miles, reminded him of that final battle in which hordes of level ones-

"Are you okay?" A soft voice resounded from above him.

He had been sitting down by tall grass, trying to escape the industrial scene of the town when suddenly someone called out for him. Looking above, slightly blinded by the light, he caught sight of red and black.

"A-Ah, yeah, I'm fine." Shaken out of his stupor, he stood and dusted himself off.

The girl stood at his height along with the boy beside her. Her green eyes were most welcoming and they shone with a brightness like no other.

"I'm Lily Evans," she smiled, "and this is Severus Snape." She gestured to the boy in ill-fitting clothes that were so mismatched it looked deliberate.

Allen didn't miss the small flinch when their eyes met contact with each other.

He smiled gently, well aware that the other in front of him was uncomfortable by his presence, and he wondered if this was 'their spot' (as he heard children say).

"Sorry for disturbing, I'll…" He was stopped when Lily invited him to sit with them.

While they only chatted about small things, the atmosphere felt a little less uncomfortable and he found it easier to breathe.

("You haven't told us your name yet."

That was the first thing the boy said to him.

"O-Oh...sorry, I'm Allen Walker.")

August, 19XX Age 10, Whereabouts: Cokeworth

While Allen rarely visited the two in their usual spot, he was always comfortable when he did. It was on his way to their usual place that he encountered someone that he'd find out to be Petunia Evans, Lily's older sister.

"What kind of clothes are you wearing?"

"Why don't you get ones that actually fit, you-"

"Petunia! Stop-"

"And what? You freak-"

"Could you stop?" His voice was brutally sharp as it pierced through the argument like a knife.

Three heads swiftly turned to him, and the brown-haired girl who'd acted so tough and menacing, withered at his narrowed eyes which elicited an unintentional dangerous spark. She stuttered for a moment, before dashing away with a scowl.

Snape whispered a small thanks, which Allen heard and gave a bright smile in return.

(He wondered how Allen could've heard it, they weren't exactly close, Lily was closer yet she heard nothing.)

July, 19XX Age 11, Whereabouts: Cokeworth

It was a Saturday that Allen woke up to visit Lily and Snape. Preparing himself, he had a quick meal comprised of toast and milk. His parents were out for work, and would be coming back by the time he and the others caught up. Cleaning up his dishes and stashing away the bottle of milk he set off.

Milk - Expiration Date: XX July 19XX.

He didn't even last half an hour until he had to sprint to the closest bathroom, which of course was the most wretched place he'd ever been to, but couldn't care less at the moment when he felt his bowels twist and turn.

In the few minutes of feeling like utter death, something flickered into view from an open window of the public bathroom. It was beige with a red seal plastered onto it, and before he knew it, it smacked itself right into his face.

He clambered in his spot to try to catch whatever it'd been.

Mr. A. Walker.

The Public Bathroom,
X, XXXX,

Cokeworth

It was in that moment that he really shouldn't have been so surprised. He was a Noah after all; reincarnation was inevitable...just not a hundred years later into the future, with a letter addressed to his exact location…In a public bathroom.

He was at a loss for words.

(He looked back down at the toilet paper dispenser…

Only to find it empty.)

July, 19XX Age 11, Whereabouts: Cokeworth, Walker Residence

He came home disturbed and argued to himself whether to explain to his parents about what had happened, he had half a mind to keep it to himself as he was plagued with the thoughts of abandonment at his difference, that his past would just repeat itself again and he'd lose everything he'd gained-however, with one look at his parents he'd quickly laid down all his defenses and told them everything.

He remembered the pause between his parents, the stern expressions, the thin lips-

"A-Are you going to...abandon me?" His voice quickly died with a sob caught at his throat.

He'd only remembered tight arms around him, it was that familiar warmth and everything was drowned out. He couldn't remember if they'd said something to him, they sounded too distant but he felt safe, he wanted to stay, he couldn't bear to leave them, he doubted his heart could take it again.

He can't remember how long he cried that day.

.

.

.

It was then that he found out that his father was a wizard that married a 'muggle'. That he'd traded his magical roots to be with his mother, and they wanted to provide him with a normal life away from magic (not that they had anything against it).

His shoulders had felt significantly lighter.

It was also at this time, that he found out that Lily and Snape were also going to 'Hogwarts', and he couldn't help but feel relieved when he learnt of this.

He wouldn't be going alone.

oOoOoOo

Omake:

He handed the Hogwarts letter to his father, not entirely understanding what it had said.

"Where's...The envelope?"

"..."

"I lost it."

"..."

"NATURE FUCKING CALLED ALRIGHT" "FUCKIn HOe" "MY BOWELS WERE EMPTIED" "FUcken Ell IM LIKE 11 LET ME TAKE A SHIt OLD MAN"

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed and don't flag me for all these curses. (Or I'll Avada your ass)