The first time Harry Potter died, he was just over a year old.

Before that night, Harry had been a bright child, always talking, always moving. He yelled gleefully when his father swung him around, pretending he was flying on a broom, he booed with his godfather while they listened to Quidditch games on the Wireless, and cried when his "uncle" gently removed the latest toy he was trying to eat from his mouth.

His eyes were a more mousy brown at this time, and had he grown up more, people would have commented on how much he looked like his grandfather.

When Harry opened his eyes again after that Halloween night, they were the color of his mother's, and even though she didn't move when he crawled over to her and tried to wake her up, he didn't make a sound. The little boy just curled up next to the body that birthed him, and fell asleep.

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When Harry was three, the Dursleys went on vacation to France for the summer, and Aunt Marge was supposed to come by and pick up the boy when she went to her dog show in Liverpool. She forgot.

It took four weeks for Harry to finally starve.

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The third time Harry Potter died, there had been an accident while Aunt Petunia was cutting his hair. Dudley had scared her, crying out suddenly when his program on the telly went to commercial – and suddenly the scissors had cut far, far too much.

Harry was shut away in the cupboard for months after that, as his relatives feared that the neighbors would notice the change in his hair – now red, like the blood that night.

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The fourth time, Dudley's gang had found him the day after Harry had gotten top marks on a test, and Dudley had failed. A misjudged punch had pushed his nose far, far too far back – but after Dudley and his friends had gotten over their shock, Harry had managed to jump onto the roof, staring at the blood still on his hands.

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Every time Harry died, he came back, a bit different, and every time, his relatives feared him a little more.

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They told everyone that he was a delinquent, prone to violent moods, and hid his form in Dudley's old clothes. Petunia hoped that the neighbors wouldn't notice when Harry grew a few inches; Vernon hoped that Harry would never die in public.

Dudley saw Harry as a "safe" punching bag and treated him accordingly.

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While making their way to the house on the rock, Harry fell in. He didn't know how to swim, had never been taught. He showed up at the door an hour later.

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When Harry entered Hogwarts, he thought for a few fleeting moments that he'd be among people like him, at last.

When he discovered just why he was so famous, he was crushed.

Most children were terrified when they finally learned that one day, they too would die. Harry had always lived with the horrible knowledge that he wouldn't.

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On Halloween his first year, Harry ran into the bathroom expecting that he would die again, and hating that his friend would find out that secret.

Instead, Ron managed a perfect levitation, and Harry stuck his wand up the troll's nose, and they both became best friends with the girl that they had saved. Maybe, Harry thought, his friends would protect him from dying again…

At the end of the year that hope proved wrong.

Harry died when Quirrell did, and Harry woke up days later, in the hospital wing as Madam Pomfrey fussed over the damage that the spirit had done to his face, and said again and again how sorry she was that she hadn't been able to make everything "look right".

There was scar tissue from her "help", but Harry didn't mind. His secret was safe.

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The next year, Harry died when a basilisk bit him. Fawkes had shown up, but had only stared at Harry, looking as confused as only a bird can.

It was a convenient excuse, though, when everyone saw his new face. The power of a Phoenix's tears!

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Third year, Harry didn't die. The Dementors tried to take his soul, but couldn't. Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

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Fourth year, he did. They called it a by-product of one of Voldemort's curses when he changed again, and tried to assure him that they believed he was the same person, even if he didn't look it. Harry didn't mention that Voldemort had never managed to hit him, and had only obtained the blood needed by chance.

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Bellatrix hit him with a spell at the Ministry that had glowed green, right before hitting Sirius with the red bolt that sent him through the veil. Harry woke up again – Sirius didn't.

Harry yelled a lot after that. He couldn't help it.

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The summer before sixth year, he had died because of something really, really stupid. There had been a curse on one of the items still entombed at the Black home, and it had made Harry's skin boil before his hearts finally gave out in protest.

He told everyone that it had been another curse like Voldemort's, and everyone believed him.

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When Voldemort's curse hit Harry Potter in the middle of the glade, after he had given himself up, he expected to wake up soon after, and therefore didn't fear.

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It was his twelfth death.

Time Lords only get thirteen lives.