The world shattered. Bits and pieces lay scattered about him like so many pieces of shattered glass. The shards glittered around him, each distinct and brought into horrifying clarity.

His aunt lay dead at his feet, her arms now limp from where they had grasped at her own throat. Her eyes stared sightlessly ahead, as uncaring for him as they had ever been in life. This was the first shard.

His cousin cowered in the corner, his heavy bulk having tipped the television over so that it lay on it's side, doing nothing to hide the teenager. In his cowering form lay the second shard of his splintered reality.

A third shard existed in his uncle, even now held against the wall by the man who had caused so much mayhem. Vernon Dursley's face was purple now, not with the rage that was so common to the man, but with the desperate need for air. The man whose preternatural strength held him in place, however, seemed in no mood to give him that reprieve.

Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived, The Boy Hero, The Last, Great Hope of the Light - lay sprawled on the floor, staring up at the man in shock. His small stature belied the strength with which he had so easily subdued the Dursley household, and for once in his still-young life Harry found himself frozen with fear.

Fear was not a new emotion to Harry, but he had always found that the true test of ones character came in how they faced their fear. Now, however, it was all he could do to continue breathing, his limps frozen in place as he watched the man - dark of hair and eye, pale of skin, short of stature - smirk coldly at the fear evident on Vernon Dursley's face, splotched with color and a desperation that only those close to their own death could understand.

A twist of one powerful wrist and all the expression faded from Vernon's face, however, his bulky form sliding to the floor, and Harry finally found the strength to move as he scrambled on hands and knees to place himself between the dark-haired stranger and his cousin.

The man paused, cocking his head to the side and watching Harry with a spark of confusion. "You would protect this one, after all that he has done to you? Years of torment, of humiliation, and yet still you protect him."

Harry blinked in surprise, lips parting slightly.

"But then, you have your mother's kindness in you." The man stepped forward, sliding his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry found himself once again frozen in place, and it was only now entering his confused and cloudy mind that this fear, this inability to move his own limbs, was not natural. That this was not a man at all.

This man - or whatever he was - had seemingly appeared out of nowhere as Harry had been carefully serving breakfast. Not that he was ever careful enough for his relatives, of course.

Both Harry and his uncle had barely spoken to one another this quiet morning, and for that Harry had been grateful - perhaps this would be a good day, after all. There were so few of those in his life, that Harry counted his blessings every time one showed promise of appearing.

But then this man - this thing - had come, and everything had changed. His guardians lay dead mere feet from him, his cowering cousin the last surviving relative of a boy who had never truly felt a part of even his own family. For one who had known little affection in his young life, he would protect his remaining family with his last breath - whether they appreciated that sacrifice or not.

Standing to his full height, the creature gave a small twist of his lips - an almost-smile that had Harry's heart skipping a beat for what it could possibly mean. "Her compassion was her downfall in the end, you know. And it will be yours, as well."

Dark eyes skipped over to the still-cowering form of Dudley, and Harry's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't hope to protect himself from this … whatever he was … let alone his protect his cousin.

"But then …" cold hands pulled Harry to his feet, curling around his jaw to force the terrified child to look at him. "Her compassion was her finest quality. It is that quality in her that I always cherished the most." This time, the smile that curved his mouth was genuine. "That you should inherent this from your mother … take pride in that, little Potter." Straightening, he turned cold eyes once again on Dudley. "But you're compassion will not save your cousin."