Eloise and Jean Rosier stared at their almost 2-year-old in shock, blinking to make sure they weren't hallucinating.

They had put their Harry to sleep in his crib the night before and had woken up with the intent to cook breakfast before they woke him up, but here he was, in the kitchen, eating cut up apple slices and grinning at them without a care in the world.

Maybe it was the fact that Harry was using magic to cut up the other half of his apple, or it was the fact that Harry's blond hair changed to a pure black color and his silvery blue eyes changed to an emerald green over night, but Eloise and Jean creeped toward their baby, wondering in awe if he had Metamorphmagy. None of their families had the gene, but a few Blacks had married into the Rosier family once upon a time

Meanwhile, Harry watched his parents in amusement as they evaluated him with wide eyes. He learnt that if he had a "magical breakthrough" right around the time that his features changed, he would be deemed a genius that changed his hair and eye color permanently through accidental magic instead of an anomaly.

"We have to tell the family," Eloise and Jean chimed in unison, not taking their eyes off of Harry.

"My family first or yours?" Jean asked, glancing at his wife.

"Mine won't take as long. My family is much less excitable than yours," Eloise thought out loud, her hand brushing through Harry's hair, which had stayed the same wavy texture.

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or insult, my love," Jean teased, picking Harry up and taking him back to his room to change him out of his pajamas.

Eloise shrugged, smiling at her husband. "However you take it, dear."

With a booming laugh, Jean swung Harry around in a circle once before plopping him down to change him into a stiff shirt, suspenders, and trousers. Harry much preferred the comfortable clothes of the 2000's, but he couldn't exactly ask his parents to dress him in such clothes. After all, it was 1923.

"We going to see Granma Arielle?" Harry asked Jean, giving his father a smile. It had taken him a while to be able to switch between different levels of language (baby speak, toddler speak, teenager speak, etc.), but he mastered the art after his fifth life, as he was luckily born into a family of impressionists in 2010.

"Yes Harry," Jean replied, tying Harry's shoe laces. "Me and Mommy are going to show the family your abilities."

Harry tilted his head in mock confusion. "Abilities?"

"Your magic," Jean cheered, his eyes lighting up. "Accidental magic before age two and possible Metamorphmagy abilities. . . what a handful you'll be when you're older!"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Ma-mete-metamork- ?"

"Metamorphmagy," Jean stated, slowing his pronunciation. "It means that you can change your features at will. Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, his eyes widened into a look of innocence.

Jean laughed again and took Harry to the nearest mirror, snorting when Harry gasped dramatically and slapped his hands over his cheeks.

"I'm different!" Harry exclaimed, running his hands through his hair.

"Special," Jean corrected, his grin almost splitting his face in two, even when knowing fully well what Harry meant. "You'll do great things someday, Harry."

Harry gave a typical toddler response, trying to cover up how touched he was. "When?"

Jean kissed Harry's forehead, "When you're forty."

Harry gasped (again) at his father's teasing. "That's too-!"

"You're right," Jean said, rubbing his chin as he pretending to think. "Let's make that fifty."

"Jean, give the poor baby a break," Eloise interrupted, grabbing Harry out of Jean's arms and walking out of the nursery, her heels clicking on the tile floor. "I believe that your father means that you'll do great things as soon as you move out, which will be when you're sixty."

"Mom," Harry whined, trying to pout as a smile tugged at his lips.

"Ah, we can't have that sad expression here!" Eloise said, smiling and wiggling her eyebrows before tickling Harry ruthlessly, the toddler shrieking and wiggling around in her arms to try to escape from her vice like hold.

"Eloise, give the poor baby a break!" Jean said in a falsetto voice, crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out at Eloise when she gave him an unimpressed, flat stare.

"Your father is an example of the people that don't leave their parent's house until they're one hundred. At least you accomplished something great at age 2, which is more than your father can say," Eloise said pompously, winking at Harry and pretending to not hear Jean's cry of protest. Harry leaned his head on his mother's shoulder, a bittersweet smile on his face. It was during times like this when Harry was reminded strongly of Lily and James Potter, his first ever set of parents. This was how he imagined them after all the stories everyone told about them, and he couldn't help but wonder why he was never reincarnated as himself in the hundreds of years that he has been the Master of Death. Of course, he would never wish to have the challenging, unlucky life as Harry Potter, but there is such a thing as alternate, mirror, and parallel universes. Harry's been in so many universes, but in none was he ever born to Lily and James Potter once more.

Harry had told himself that it shouldn't matter, but there was a voice in the back of his head that wanted to be able to be with Lily and James one more time, to meet them and be raised by them once before he had to leave them. Harry supposed it was because of the way his first life was. His yearning for Lily and James lived on because he was so desperate to meet them in his hectic life as Harry Potter, and his life as Harry Potter shaped so much of what he was now. Now, he was still the Harry he was back then, but he was wiser, more knowledgeable, and he embraced the Slytherin side of him instead of pushing it away.

If Harry had no ambition or thirst for knowledge, being reborn would have gotten boring by then, but Harry was still as in awe with life as he was in his second life. In fact, the awe might have increased now that he knew so much about the world (not to say that he knew everything, though. Harry doubted that he would ever be all-knowing, as there was always something new to learn).

While Harry was lost in thought, Eloise and Jean flooed over to the Delacour cottage (which was empty and had a sole purpose of being the place were family gatherings were) after they covered Harry with a light blanket and said hello to Eloise's sisters, brothers, and cousins, who had all come upon Eloise's request.

"What have you called us for, Eloise? It's still pretty early in the day," Vivienne, one of Eloise's sisters, asked, embracing and kissing her sister.

The Delacours murmured in agreement, huddling closer when Eloise beckoned them to. Exchanging excited stares, Eloise and Jean pulled off the blanket covering Harry with a flourish, enjoying the way everyone's jaw dropped when they saw a head full of raven hair instead of platinum blonde.

"Eloise? . . ." Julien, her brother, asked, drawing out the syllables of her name.

"Say hi, Harry," Jean whispered, tapping Harry's shoulder, snapping the Master of Death out of his thoughts.

Lifting his head off of Eloise's shoulder, Harry turned around and faced the Delacours, barely refraining from laughing at their gobsmacked expressions.

"Hi!"

The Delacours broke out of their shocked silence and started bombarding Jean and Eloise with questions, many hands reaching for Harry to pet his hair and squish his cheeks.

"What is going on here?"

Immediately, everyone's mouths clicked shut and heads turned towards the door.

"Granma Arielle!" Harry cheered, making grabby hands toward his maternal grandmother. Arielle's eyebrow's raised as she looked Harry over, taking the toddler from Eloise's arms.

"Metamorphmagy?" Arielle asked, her wrinkled face getting closer to Harry's.

"We think so. Harry also had his first case of accidental magic today," Eloise said, linking hands with Jean and smiling at her husband.

Arielle hummed, her soft hand lightly running over his hair. After a moment of evaluating him, Arielle said, "I don't think that Harry has Metamorphmagy. The first breakthrough of Metamorphmagy usually doesn't last beyond five minutes since people don't have proper control over their newly awakened ability. . . But, Harry's accidental magic could be the cause of the change. I don't know if Harry's features will return to normal, though. The new features are solidly blended."

"The first day in history when a Delacour has black hair," Darcy, one of Eloise's cousins, teased, relieving some of the heavy silence for Arielle to only make it come back by saying: "I want to give him his middle name, now."

Eloise's eyebrows raised, not expecting for her mother to want to do it so soon. It was a Delacour tradition to let the grandmother give her grandchild their middle name. Most grandmothers waited until their grandchild reached age 10 to give a middle name because their middle name was supposed to reflect about something in their personality. A Delacour's middle name is never legally recorded and only known within the family. Outside, the child's name will be their first name, but in family reunions and at home, their family may use their middle name as a nickname.

"It's so early, Mama-"

"My mind is settled, Eloise. Trust me," Arielle said, giving her daughter a calm look. Eloise sighed but nodded. Mother knows best.

"His middle name will be René," Arielle said without hesitation, her eyes pinning Harry in his place. Harry tried to not give much of a reaction, but his muscles tensed up regardless. The name René happened to mean "born again", something that no one should have been able to know about him. Harry stared up at Arielle, a frown pulling down his lips.

Why would she name him René? What did she know?

"Harrison René Rosier doesn't have much of a ring, Mama," Darcy said, smiling at Harry and winking.

"It doesn't need a ring, Darcy," Arielle replied coolly. "Only meaning."

Darcy hummed, and the room fell silent.