Cloak, Wand, Stone.

Bring the three together, in just the right dimension, at just the right time, to just the right person, and you get the Master of Death.

This is the story, of a life, of the Master of Death.

- MoD IS B-W-L : CHFH -

Harriet Weasley nee Potter, the Master of Death, biological age; 130, real age; around 40,000, was dying. Again.

Her once raven hair was grey; the skin around her eyes was wrinkled. Her eyes though… they still shone. Two emerald beckons in the fading light of the Burrow's master bedroom.

"Why do you have to die Mum?" a similarly ancient witch, sitting by the bed, chocked out. "You're the Master of Death! You don't have to die if you don't want to."

Harriet gave a small smile. "I've generally found that staying too long in any one life causes me to go insane. It's not a fun time to be around me."

Harriet's daughter, Lily Weasley, sniffed. "I'm not even going to see you again am I? On the other side I mean."

Harriet sighed. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Where are you going to go then?"

"Not sure. I'm a bit tired of being the-girl-who-lived at the moment… maybe I'll live a few lives with the founders, or my parents."

Lily sniffed again.

"It's not like you were ever like the-girl-who-lived anyway. Not really."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… Those old fictional adventure books I used to read to the boys when they were kids. The-girl-who-lived in those books was always so much more larger-than-life than you. Even with everything you've done… at least in this life, I guess," she finished, hesitancy creeping into her voice.

Harriet stared off into the distance.

"I-I-I'm sorry Mum," she gabbled, "I know you never really liked them. I shouldn't have-"

"-No," Harriet cut her off, "It's OK." She turned and smiled at her daughter. "You're right. I have never been like that… Maybe that's something I should address. At least once."

The Master of Death locked eyes with the witch and grinned.

Lily smiled back, very uncertain, wondering what fate she had just sealed for some poor unsuspecting world.

- MoD IS B-W-L : CHFH -

One lone soul drifting through the void. Looking for the perfect world. Just the right rules. Just the right magic.

Ah. There. The Master of Death found what it was looking for. And was born.

- MoD IS B-W-L : CHFH -

"Vernon! The little freak is doing it again!" Petunia Dursley shouted across the room.


The boy that had been dumped on them, not 24 hours ago, was waving his little hands and mouthing some unrecognizable words.

"Now you listen here!" Vernon Dursley thundered over to the table where they'd dumped the child. "We're not going to have any of your kind's freakish behavior in this house!" he shouted at the less-than-two-year-old. "We'll beat it out of you if we have to!"


Vernon growled and made to grab the kid.


- MoD IS B-W-L : CHFH -

Albus Dumbledore sat down at his desk, happy with the protections he'd set up for little Harry. The miniature silver teapot that monitored his location was puffing away, and the golden wheel, which spun according to the strength of the blood wards, spun. For the moment, all was well.

Now he needed to get the paperwork for the wizengamot sorted out, so no-one could try to claim the child. He knew there would be many vultures who'd try to get their claws into the savior of the wizarding world.

Suddenly, the golden wheel stopped spinning and the silver teapot stopped puffing.

Albus's eyes widened in shock and he leapt to his feet.


The phoenix leapt from his perch to his master's shoulder before bobbing his head in confusion. He wasn't flaming to Harry.

"You can't find him? But-but." He frowned and tried to remember where Harry lived. He couldn't.

Someone had put a fidelius charm on Harry's home. Who? Why? No one was supposed to know where Harry was.

He needed to speak to Arabella. Now.

- MoD IS B-W-L : CHFH -

The knightbus screeched to a halt in a nondescript residential muggle area.

"Oi! Ernie! There's no-one here," the old conductor called to the driver. "Bloody revelers at it again I'll wager. I wish they'd stop that silliness."

Ernie shrugged. "Come one. It's not like we've had much to celebrate recently. If a few of em get over excited, let em I says."

Over the last 48 hours, the knightbus had seemingly become the party bus, its route, a nonstop circuit of pubs and clubs. Ungathered trash festooned the normally immaculate interior. At least it seemed to be quieting down a bit now.

"Well, come on, let's be off. We haven't got all day." Ernie called to the conductor, who'd stepped off the bus to scout for the no doubt drunk wizard that had called them.


"Next stop Diagon Alley, right?"

"Yep! err…" the conductor stumbled, as though hit by something unseen.


"I thought we needed to go to Longbottom manor"

"What? Who wanted to go there?"

"I don't remember. I just…"

"You're getting too old for…" Ernie momentarily looked confused before his eyes refocused. "Oh wait. Yeah I remember! Longbottom manor it is!"

A disillusioned bundle of focused energy tottered to the back of the bus and tried to shimmy itself onto a chair as tall as it was. Eventually, frustrated, it gave up, dragged a pillow off the seat, and curled up with it on the floor.

- MoD IS B-W-L : CHFH -

Bellatrix Lestrange was very angry.

Her Master had disappeared and she didn't know why. The last she'd heard he'd gone to take care of the Potter brat. That had been almost two days ago and everyone was saying he'd died.

"No," she muttered to herself, constantly, "he's not dead. Not my Master. He wouldn't die."

"Will you stop that Bellatrix!" Rodolphus shot at her. "We're approaching the wards now. Save that anger for the dirty blood traitors."

The magic of the Longbottom wards started to weigh on them as they inched closer.

"This is about as close as we're going to get. Now it's just a waiting game. Rabastan, take the North entrance, Bellatrix, take the south entrance—don't kill them—, I'll cover the woods out back, Crouch, you take the west side."

Bellatrix shot a dirty look at Rodolphus but was too preoccupied with her Master's fate to care about being ordered around by anyone but her beloved Master.

As the others sneaked away, she hid herself, disillusioned, under a bush, not caring for the damage done to her clothes and hair from the tangle of branches and thorns.

Minutes stretched to hours, and nothing.

Then, something.

She stiffened.

A magic aura was approaching.

It had been faint, at first, but it was growing.

Her breath hitched and a manic grin spread over her face as the aura strengthened past anything she'd felt before. Only her Master could produce an aura that strong.

"Master! Your servant is here!" Her joy filled voice called, throwing off her disillusionment, abandoning her hiding place, and skipping to the path.

Bellatrix's voice quieted. "Master?" she almost whispered.

There was no one there.

She looked around, frantic. The aura was right on her now. It weighted down on her, demanding submission to a power she couldn't see.

"Bel-la," a child-like voice carefully pronounced.

She whirled around.

There, standing, while holding onto a nearby sapling for support, dressed in dirty red and gold clothes, was a toddler with AK green eyes.

"Kum Bel-la."

The magic all but forced her to stumble forward. Eyes wide, she dropped to her knees in front of the child.

"M-m-master?" the deatheater whispered.

The child nodded, "of deaf."

Bellatrix's hitherto unknown mothering instincts were going into overdrive. Master was just so cute! She desperately wanted to grab and cuddle him as much as she had wanted him to force himself on her before. Despite herself, she resisted.

"You took the Potter boy's body."

The boy nodded. "I am-now, Harr-y… Pot-ter."

Soooo cute.

"What would you have of me my lord?"

"Le-sen care-full-ee to, what-I am a-bout to tell you."

- MoD IS B-W-L : CHFH -

Alice Longbottom was walking down the path to the village for the first time in what felt like years. Simple tasks like grocery shopping had been denied her since she and her husband had gone into hiding and she planned to never take these little pleasures for granted ever again, house elves be damned.

As she rounded the bend at the end of the road, the hairs on her neck stood on end. Strong magic had just been used.

She tried to apparate out. No good. Anti-apparition wards had been thrown up.

Adrenaline now pumping through her body, she activated the panic button on her house ring and whipped out her wand a split second before the first stunner whizzed by, a hairs-width from her head. The young auror threw a shield behind her and started running the way she came. She had to get closer to manor. If she could just get over the wards…

A blasting curse hit the floor in front of her and, despite her years of training, found herself face first in the dirt.

"Alice!" Frank's voice pierced through the biting pain from her raw skin, before a flash of red, and blackness took her.

- MoD IS B-W-L : CHFH -


Pain. Alice felt like she'd been run over by a troll.

Darkness. Her eye's scrunched together to try to make out what was going on in the cold and clammy room she found herself in.

Pressure. Her legs, arms, and chest were all bound by ropes. The chair she was bound to was hard and uncomfortable. Her husband was similarly bound next to her. Still unconscious.

She growled.

In front of her was Rabastan Lestrange, known death eater and total bastard.

To his sides were Rodolphus, and to her shock Crouch Jr.

"Crouch!" "You!…. How could you!?"

"Quiet blood traitor! Where is the Dark Lord? Tell us!"

"He's dead! Potter killed him. Even you murdering bastards should have heard that by now!"

"Liar! Maybe your dear husband will be more motivated to answer us."



"Don't hurt hi-" Alice began.

"-Quiet whore!" Rodolphus backhanded the pretty Auror. Blood trickled down her face.


"Tell us traitor," he rounded on Frank Longbottom, "where is the Dark Lord?"

Frank looked at him like he was mad. "He's dead. Everyone knows it."

"You know something you're not telling us. Why else would Dumbledore keep you so well protected all this time. Now, tell us what it is."

"You're insane."

"Mmm… looks like you need some motivation."

Rodolphus pointed his wand at Frank and screamed.


Frank screamed in pain, head thrown back, writhing against the ropes that bound him.

"Stop it!" Alice shouted.

"Where is the Dark Lord?"

"He's not anywhere! He's dead!"

Rabastan stepped forward.


Frank screamed again.

Several minutes of alternating questions and torture went by with the death eaters becoming more and more frustrated.

"Bellatrix! You're supposed to be helping! Get over here now."

Alice couldn't help but start to lose herself to despair. From the back of the room, previously bathed in shadows, walked Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort's most feared servant. Her long black hair, so sleek and straight in school, only five years ago, was now mattered and disheveled. Contrasted to the well-maintained clothes of her husband and brother in law, her's had started to show signs of wear. She walked over to Frank, pointed her wand and, without a single trace of emotion, cast.


Frank screamed again.

Alice glared, with utter hatred, at those violet eyes. Those dead, spaced out, glazed, violet eyes. She gasped, despite the pain racking her body, the young auror recognized the subtle signs hidden in those violet orbs. This woman was under the imperius curse.

Throwing caution to the wind Alice shouted, "Bellatrix! Fight it! You don't want to do this! You want to be in control of yourself!"


Alice matched her husband's screams as Bellatrix's curse was redirected at her.

"Master is not dead. Master will come for me. Master is everything."

Alice was sobbing now. "Bellatrix. I remember you in school. So strong. You didn't want to let anyone tell you what to do! Are you really going to let them do this to you?!"

Crouch snorted at the woman's obvious stupidity, but Bellatrix looked like she was fighting with herself.

"Bella?" Rodolphus was looking at her strangely. "What's wrong?"

Alice flung her head up. "FIGHT IT TRIXIE!"

Bellatrix snapped. She spun and, with the speed of the most feared dueler of her generation, Rodolphus and Rabastan were instantly stunned.

Crouch just had time to scream, "YOU TRAIT-," before he too was stunned.

Bellatrix stood motionless for a moment, before collapsing to her hands and knees, sobbing hysterically.

- MoD IS B-W-L : CHFH -

Dumbledore had just flooed to Saint Mungo's from the DMLE, where he'd viewed the Longbottom's memories of their recent abduction and torture. He was nonplused.

"So, Bellatrix Lestrange actually was under the imperious curse."

"So it seems," Frank Longbottom answered from his hospital bed. "Thank Merlin she was able to throw it off when she did too, we weren't going to be able to hold out much longer."

"And Crouch's son is, in fact, a death eater."

"Surprises all around." Frank managed a weak smile.

Dumbledore sighed. "While it is, of course, good to hear that one of Voldemort's supposedly most loyal servants was little more than a slave, it doesn't make it any easier for those of us who are trying to round up those who actually were loyal to Voldemort. It seems many of them are even more likely to get away with the imperius defense now we have a well-documented example.

Frank frowned. "They aren't really going to get away with that bull are they?"

"It seems likely they will. There's just too much political and financial capital behind them to mount a serious challenge."

Frank nodded, resigned.

"My apologies Frank, but I must leave, there are a few other pressing issues that require my full attention right now. Please give my regards to Alice when she wakes up."

"Oh yes, thank you Dumbledore."

- MoD IS B-W-L : CHFH -

Bellatrix Lestrange swept down Diagon Alley in a dream.

Master was alive and needed her. He'd said that. He'd said he needed her.

He'd also said, in that adorable voice that made her want to squee, that she needed to clean herself up, get some new clothes, and start acting like a proper pureblood witch, and not quite so insane.

Bellatrix hummed as she picked out clothes at Twilfitt and Tatting's, while the owner nervously hovered a few feet away, looking like she wanted desperately to be anywhere but where she was. People still cringed, shrieked and ran away when they saw her, but since the Wizengamot had cleared her of all charges, nothing was going to happen.

Master had also forbidden killing, torturing, and generally being mean to muggles and mud-bloods, which was weird, but then, she'd never really cared about purebloodism much to begin with. She cared about power. And Master had power. Oh, wow, did Master have power. She'd never quite realized before just how much he had, but now, when he reached out his adorable little arms to be picked up, she could feel so much power flowing through her it made her spine tingle and her limbs shiver.

Bellatrix looked at herself in the mirror, feeling how the dress she now wore hugged her curves. She turned and critically examined the view from behind. Yep. She still had it, and she was going to make damn well sure she still had it in another 15 years too. Master's personality had defiantly changed now that he was Harry Potter and, maybe this time, when the time did come, he'd be more open to her advances. She giggled.

After her Master-ordered shopping spree was finished, she flooed back to the Lestrange Estate, one of the many properties owned by the wealthy Lestrange line. Master had said he wanted to use it as a base while they were working to get her cousin, Sirius, out of Azkaban. With the head of house Black free, she could be divorced from Rodolphus for breach of marriage contract. She would then return to being a Black, and the Lestrange Estate could be seized as part of the dowry reclaiment. Terms that, Bellatrix, as the only Lestrange not in prison, could fix before being freed from that disgusting man's grasp.

According to Master, that wouldn't happen for a while, but he was already putting plans in place to make cousin Sirus's prison stay more comfortable. He'd said something about a phoenix animagus form. Oh yes. Master was certainly powerful.