882Harry Potter And The Aspects Of Death
I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters of the Harry Potter Universe. JK Rowling owns it and receives all profits from anything derived from that universe. I receive no monetary gain from this work of fiction.
AN: This is my first take at writing something other than a one-shot fanfiction. I have written little stories based on computer games for a gaming industry website, but haven't gotten back into writing until recently. Any constructive criticism is welcome as well as individuals who are interested in beta-reading or review/editing. Reviews are more than welcome. Flamers who do not add any benefit to their criticism will be summarily scheduled to have their kidneys and liver removed and wake up in a tub of ice; at least then they will be of some value to society.
What would happen if Harry Potter was the Master of Death from the time of his infancy? What if being "marked as his equal" meant that Harry was also on the path to immortality? Dark but not evil Harry. Powerful. Manipulative Dumbles, bashing. NOT SLASH
Chapter 1, Death is only the beginning
It is said that you are never more alive than at the time of your birth; every following step on the road of life is one step closer to your inevitable death.
As Dumbledore sat in his darkened office, dwarfed behind his large desk covered in knick-knacks bobbles and piles of parchment, he postulated on what the news of the day would mean to his life, his position, his power. Yes, Albus Dumbledore, the individual with more names and titles than anybody else in the wizarding world currently possessed, was delving into the meaning of a certain prophesy that had been told to him earlier that day; a prophesy that wasn't about him directly yet had the potential to push him out of his comfy life as "Light Lord" of the wizarding world. How he enjoyed manipulating the sheep of the wizarding world. Yes he was a Light Lord, but the similarities and difference between a Light Lord and a Dark Lord were merely their goals and their means. When comparing the Light to the Dark, both desired power, both desired fame. Where the two differed was in the fact that one would strive to keep the order and stability through the use of manipulation and knowledge to raise themselves to the pinnacle of society, and the other used fear and hatred to breed the chaos that would bring them to greater power. However, when looking at the actions of the two, you would be surprised to find that both were willing to sacrifice or use the deaths of others to their gain; humorously enough it was the dark that was at least honest that they were willing to kill to gain their goal, whereas the light always shook their head in the artifice of sadness and stated that it was for the "greater good." History would be shocked to find out that the true differences between Grindelwald and his lover Albus was not that the sheep needed to be controlled or that they should rule the world, rather their disagreement was which of them should be first in ruling the world and whether fear, or manipulation, would be the primary tool of success. Ultimately it was the subterfuge and manipulation of the "light" that lead Albus to shoot his lover in the back when he least expected it, thus securing Albus's mantle as "the leader of the light," his Order of Merlin, First Class, and the Ellhorn Wand; better known as the "Death Stick" or Elder Wand.
So it was that Albus contemplated what to do about this latest snag in his game of life. The prophesy stated by his new Divinations professor "clearly" showed that somebody other than Albus would be knocking off the latest "Dark Lord." It wasn't that Albus minded all that much that he wouldn't have to test himself against the strength of Voldemort. It wasn't even that he minded somebody else knocking off the "Dark Lord" who was currently grasping at Dumbledore's power. No, what Albus was stewing over was the advent and birth of new competition. If there was one thing that a "Light Lord" couldn't stand to exist was another "Light Lord," heaven forbid that that one "Light Lord's" 'greater good' conflicted with the other "Light Lord's" 'greater good.' No, Albus decided, there could only be one "greater good" and it would be Albus's decision what that was.
Albus thought to himself, "I didn't go about shooting my lover in the back and ruining my sex life for nothing!" Truth be told, Albus had had a long run of unwanted celibacy, for who would think that the great "Light Lord" Dumbledore had such base needs. "Yes," Albus thought, "I think I kind of screwed myself over when I presented myself as being above and beyond the masses." "Kind of makes finding a 'partner' difficult when everybody sees you as their grandfather."
Perhaps it was this lack of proper balancing of his body chemistry that had built up to the point where he would make a fateful mistake. Perhaps it was the calming draught infused lemon drops that he was addicted to. Or perhaps it was the fact that Albus had started to believe all of his self touted publicity. Whatever the reason, his next actions would lead to his inevitable downfall and the destruction of the wizarding world as he had crafted it.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…
But he will have power the Dark Lord Knows not…
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"
"Yes," Albus thought, "I must see to the control and eventual destruction of my yet to be born competition." "Mental note, make sure to slip a portion of prophecy to my pet Death Eater." Then stating out loud to his near empty office, "For who is better able to guide and lead the wizarding world than Albus Dumbledore, the greatest Light Lord to walk the planet!" The pitiful scoffing warble of his "familiar" Fawkes was his only reply.
"Shut up slave, I didn't ask you!" Albus snidely spit while flinging a wordless silencing spell at his annoying pet bird. All of the former headmasters' paintings and even the sorting hat stayed silent in the face of Ablus's anger; the face of anger that the rest of the world never saw. All remained silent as the headmaster returned to his planning.
(Half a year later*)
The Potters were a happy family, rich, attractive, young, and in love. They had everything they wanted. With the birth of their first born child they were ecstatically happy, even if a war was going on in the world around them. "Yes," James thought, "The Potter family line is secure." Even with the specter of death hovering over the wizarding community, it was good to know that the most Ancient and Noble House of Potter would continue. James contemplated the family before him, and though he was saddened by the loss of his parents to the war, his hope was buoyed by the thought that the family who was rumored to be of Griffindor's line, possibly Merlin's, would still continue. Yes, the house who had introduced civilization to the ability to store objects in clay vessels and was even touted as the creators of the wheel would still continue in and through his son Harry. With that thought James turned back from gazing out the window of the nursery and looked over his son who was playing peacefully with a stuffed grim in his crib.
Harry looked up at his father with a happy and baby-teeth filled smile. "Padfoo!" little Harry stated, holding up the grim to his father.
James grinned at Harry, "Yes Harry, just like your uncle padfoot."
Harry looked up at James, and then scrunched up his cute little nose, and suddenly the stuffed grim turned into a miniature stuffed wolf. "Mooo- nee!" Harry said with a big smile.
James was flabbergasted, absolutely stunned and open mouthed. "Lily! Lily come quickly! LILY!"
"What! What happened! Is Harry Alright, is he ok, is he sick? Does he have a fever! Do we have to take him to the hospital? Fast, let me cast a diagnostic charm?" Lily spit out as she rushed headlong into the room and to Harry's crib.
James grabbed her arm as she started the diagnostic twist and flick with her wand. "No Lils, look at his stuffed toy! Do you recognize that?"
"Yes, it looks like Remus when he is having his furry little problem, what the big deal?" Lily suggested in confusion.
"Um, Lily, we never bought Harry a stuffed werewolf… Up until a couple of seconds ago, that was his stuffed Grim!" James beamed. "Yep, that's right, little Harry takes after his father! His first accidental magic and it is transfiguration! That's my boy!" He bellowed in glee while picking Harry up and spinning him around.
James twirled Harry around, and then pulled him close to him so that he could blow a raspberry on his stomach, eliciting a giggle from Harry. "That's my boy, the next marauder and youngest wandless magic user!" James said as he brought Harry close and rubbed noses with him. Unfortunately for James, Harry's young nose was a bit sensitive, and the nose rub, or Eskimo kiss as it is called in some parts of the world, initiated a huge sneeze from little Harry.
"ACHOO!" Harry exclaimed, sneezing all over James's face.
Lily, who had been silently smiling at the interaction between her husband and adorable child, looked at her husband in the aftermath of the sneeze and covered her mouth. She coughed, and then burst out laughing at James. She absolutely couldn't retain her mirth and the tears were rolling down her face as she moved towards James and relieved Harry from his hands.
"James, *chuckle*, you have to go look in the mirror." Lily said with a smile. Fully taking Harry into her arms and giving him a big hug.
James moved across the well upholstered room, around the crib, past the toy bin and diaper table and to the floor to ceiling mirror.
He was blue… Absolutely smurf blue… blueberry blue… Blue as the Caribbean Sea, bluer than the sky after the rain clears. Heck, he was as blue as the time that they did the switching spell with the blue muggle upholstery die and Snivelous's shampoo for greasy hair! God! He was blue from his head to his toes, his clothes, his skin, everything... Yep, James pulled the front of his now blue pants away from his waste and checked his bits… yep, they were blue. James was ecstatic!
"I guess that gives a new meaning to the term "Blue balls" doesn't it?" James stated. Turning away from the mirror to smile at Lily, he smiled a huge blue toothed smile, "Sirius is going to be thrilled! His godson's first prank!"
Lily smiled back at James and then pulled Harry into a tighter hug, tickling Harry a little bit and producing a giggle from her darling boy, "Who's mummy's little charms master? Who's mommy's little charms master? You are!" This was stated with a little tickling of Harry's stomach and sides, causing the child to twitch and giggle with glee.
With a flick of her wand James resumed his normal James type color scheme and then proceeded to ask James how Harry turned his stuffed animal into a wolf. James went on to describe exactly how Harry had scrunched up his cute little nose (for every parent thinks their child is the cutest in the world), looked at the stuffed toy, and seamlessly transfigured it into the stuffed wolf. "James, this is incredible." Lily stated, "Yes the sneeze was probably accidental, but from your description Harry changed his toy on purpose. Wandless magic at his age! It's absolutely wonderful!" She exclaimed while setting Harry back in his crib and patting his head gently.
James reached down to the floor and picked up the stuffed wolf that had been dropped in the excitement. He smiled at Harry and put the wolf down next to young son.
Harry smiled in glee and looked up at his parent. "Wuf!" Harry said. The little boy then looked at the wolf and started clapping his hands, to which the wolf suddenly came to life and started pouncing about the crib, occasionally jumping up on Harry and licking Harry's face with his stuffed tongue, which surprisingly left a wet slobbery streak across Harry's little cheek, much to his joy and giggles and his parents' open mouthed stares.
'What an amazing son they had,' they both silently thought, watching their smiling and giggling son play with his now enchanted toy.
Halloween, 1981.
Though the love had grown, the peace and thrill of life had taken a turn for the Potter family. Informed by their trusted mentor Dumbledore that there was a prophecy that could relate to them or the Longbottoms, they had gone into hiding. Voldemort was hunting them specifically, and though they had fought him and escaped to fight another day, neither of the Potters was confused on the realities of what would happen if it came to a face to face battle with the Dark Lord. Still, they refused to give up on living. They both continued their work from their safe house in Godric's Hallow. James reviewed auror intelligence reports on Death Eater movements, and Lily worked to better understand the secrets found in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, specifically she continued her job as an Unspeakable and her project on understanding the Veil of Death; that ghastly monolithic structure where she could hear the whispery voices of her deceased parents echoing out of the black and grey swirling veil. Yet still they enjoyed their time with their child, their happy and very powerful child.
Dumbledore had suggested that they bind Harry's powers so that he could "better grow into his powers under the guidance of his family and elders." But the Potters absolutely refused, as their son was happy and healthy and had shown no signs of malicious acts of magic… Well not malicious when you consider he was a son, godson, and nephew to the Marauders. Heck, Sirius had been thrilled when Harry gave him a pair of antlers that refused to disappear for a week, and it wasn't as if Peter wasn't used to having a Rat's head and perspective to look at the world with… though he probably wasn't used to having a rat's head on top of his human body. And it wasn't like Dumbledore didn't get his wand back from Harry eventually after he tried to cast a diagnostic charm on Harry and was blasted into the wall across the living room from where Harry was seated; Albus's wand had landed neatly in Harry's hand after that. The Potters reasoned that no harm had been done. Harry had quickly changed the colors of the house to green, then red, then as black as his hair, and shot wispy sparks and smoke out of the black and grey wand as he waved it about. But he was a good boy and had nicely given it to his father when asked for it. After all, Dumbledore didn't seem to be too worst for wears afterwards, and had abruptly stated that he needed to leave to set up a meeting of the Order very soon thereafter.
But no, all in all they were a happy family, and at that moment they were having a fun game of peek-a-boo with Harry.
"Peek-a-boo! I see you!" James said, his head appearing to float in the air in front of Harry's crib. "Now you see your daddy prongs… And now you don't!" Harry giggled and clapped his hands, "Prowns!" Harry said with glee.
James appeared again, and then draped the invisibility cloak, a family heirloom, around his son, covering him from his shoulders to his toes. "Shhh, harry, let's play a prank on your mum!" James whispered to Harry. To which Harry nodded and giggled.
"AHHHH! Lily! Come quick! Harry has splinched himself and I can't find his body! "James screamed, struggling to keep a smile from issuing out.
Lily rushed out of her office where she had been studying a charcoal rubbing of the runes inscribed on The Veil from the Department of Mysteries. Quickly shrinking the rubbing and sticking it in her blouse pocket, she rushed down the hall, and into Harry's nursery, wand drawn and ready for anything.
Taking one look in the room, seeing Harry giggling in his crib with his head seeming to float, and then James as he had that "innocent" smile he used when attempting to get out of trouble, she stopped in the threshold and her eyes went cold.
"James Potter! That was not funny, how would you like to have something splinched and not be able to find it?" Lily said with cold anger as she marched into the room and started poking James in the chest with the point of her wand. "Not that you are going to need that certain something while you are sleeping on the couch." She stated while glaring at him with a wand now pointed at his bits.
"Um, sorry Lily..." James said demurely while slightly crossing his legs and moving his body slowly so that he presented a side view. It was always good to shield the boys with the body when dealing with an irate witch; sometimes flesh wounds were the lesser of two evils. He knew that his wife was a bit attached to his bits, what with the proof sitting there in his crib giggling, but it was never worth taking that on 100% faith, what with her being a red-head and prone to the inherent temper that comes with the hair color. "We were just having some fun with you, we didn't mean…"
Suddenly a loud gong sounded, reverberating through the house. James eyes got huge, as did Lily's as they looked at each other in dread. The wards had just been tripped. There was only one thing that could trip the wards and issue that individual sound, Voldemort was just outside the house.
"Quick, Lily, take Harry, I'll try and hold him off!" He yelled, pulling his wand and sprinting down the stairs. Sliding around the corner of the stair well and into the living room, he just had time enough to dive behind a couch as the front door was blasted off its hinges, flew across the room, and imbedded itself in the wall above the couch.
James immediately stuck his wand over the side of the couch and started to do a spray and pray, casting as many deadly and debilitating spells as he could at the door and praying that something got through or at least slowed the red eyed menace walking through the smoking threshold. He prayed that he could give Lily enough time to get the emergency portkey to work or at least apparate out with Harry. He knew he wouldn't make it, but he knew his death would give Lily the time she needed. Little did he know, but Lily was suffering a setback of her own.
Upstairs, little Harry knew something bad was going on. His Mum and Da only used those tones of voice when they were arguing over his uncle moony or when they had that bearded man come over, the one who smelled wrong but let him play with his wand. He looked at his mum and said, "Mummy, is ok? Where da?"
Lily, worriedly patting her pockets down looking for her emergency portkey quickly took everything out of her pockets and laid them next to Harry in his crib. There was her pocket book of arithmancy, and the sprig of holly that Harry had picked for her, and in her breast pocket was the rubbing of the Veil, but no portkey. "Da is going to be ok Harry, but we have to go on a little trip first." She said with a great deal of trepidation and not a lot of hope, the type of statement a parent makes to a child when they want to assuage the fears of their child and don't mind lying at the time.
Just as she moved to pick him up to apparate out of the house, she felt an anti-apparation ward go up, that tickling feeling on the back hairs of her neck that told her that she was trapped. Stopping in mid motion, she turned towards the door and immediately started to cast every locking and security spell she could at the door. Hopefully securing it until help could come.
Suddenly it was silent… the sounds of the battle down stairs quieting to a stillness that can only come in the absence of breathing, the absence of heartbeats and blood pumping. She knew James was dead… And then she heard it, the slow methodic steps coming up the wooden stairs towards the nursery at the top.
Now if this had been another reality, another story, things may have gone as expected. An explosive force, a confrontation, and a begging from one party only to be met with the derision and scorn of the other; a scorn for anything that the individual felt was weak or "impure." However there was one small change in this reality, for in this reality, Tom Marvolo Riddle decided that he would take the signet ring of the Gaunt's and Slytherin's with him that night, a part of his soul and a key to his power. He had decided that he would wear his signature of power and Slytherin supremacy as he snuffed out the line of Gryffindor. But little did he know Fate was a bitch, willing to play with the lives of mortals and immortals alike; even if those immortals only had a rude bastardized version of true everlasting life. Marked as his equal the boy would be…
As Lily's body fell lifeless to the floor, the Dark Lord pointed his wand at the crib with Harry in it. Hoping to blot out the "stain" on his "inevitable" rise to power, Voldemort stepped into the room, pointed the wand at Harry's head at point blank range, and cast an overpowering killing curse, trying to destroy not only the boy but the room around him. A mistake of catastrophic proportions…
Harry had seen his mother fall, and he knew she was dead. The first flash of green death in the room had triggered a change that would eventually shake the world. The scent of death permeated the room to his strangely in-tuned magical senses. Knowledge and reasoning from outside his body started to filter into his mind, percolating and bubbling to the forefront of his perceptions. Wrapped in the cloak of invisibility, and the true owner of the elder wand, never had the owners of all three deathly hallows been in the same room since the brothers Peverell had forged their gifts and parted company. Yes, possession is said to be nine tenths of the law in the muggle world, but the Olde Magicks saw things in more black and white, life and death. So when Harry had disarmed Albus in the midst of Albus's casting on Harry, the infant had become the master of the Death Stick, the wand with bodie of Ellhorn. Surrounded by the cloak and sitting on the rubbings of the very gate between this world and the realm of death, Harry watched the killing curse hurdle towards him. Avada Kedavra green eyes staring straight into the oncoming green curse of the same name and color. Just as the curse hit him straight on, seeming to enter into his body and absorb into it and the rubbing beneath him.
The world stopped.
Caught out of time; the only things moving where Harry, and the strangely vibrating cloak, ring, and wand that had suddenly appeared in Harry's little hand.
Harry slowly looked around. He was strangely cognizant of the world around him, more so than he had ever been in his short life; more so than he should be at his physical age. He looked up, and noted that the mean man who had hurt his mother was not breathing. In fact, Harry realized that he wasn't breathing; he couldn't even feel his little heart beating. No breeze brushed his face from the open doorway, and the smoke from the blast to the door hung strangely unmoving in the "air" around him.
Caught out of time Harry continued to look around and noticed the ring that was vibrating on the wand hand pointed at him. The ring held a somewhat common stone on it, as if it were a random stone or pebble picked from the edge of a stream or river, slightly polished by time and the flow of elements passing it by. Though it seemed to be inscribed with an S, Harry was strangely able to distinguish that it looked newly inscribed, as if the age of the common stone was far vaster than that of the ring itself. Yet the ring perplexingly called to him, as if it held its own old power, separate from the dark wizard who currently wore it. It was an old power that seemed to resonate with the sense of death in the room, with the curse just cast, and the two items now in his possession. Following the line of the time halted green curse, from his face to the wand of the wizard, Harry gazed at the hand and figure that the ring was upon. The finger was splayed out, looking like the hand holding the wand between thumb and forefinger didn't have a care in the world and would almost hold a wine stem the same way. The ring was tantalizing. It seemed to call to Harry, something deep within him, something primordial, something inscribed into his very DNA was demanding that he grab the ring.
So ,as if like all small children when faced with a new object that they desire, young Harry grabbed the ring off of the statuesque finger in front of him… and the world exploded…
Time returned. The point blank spell rebounded at a hundred times the speed it had hit Harry, blasting back at the Dark Lord, propelling Voldemort into and the ceiling and immediately rendering his body into ashes; further propelling the dark spirit of Voldemort tumbling through the wall and out of the County/Shire let alone the house.
The room crumbled and darkened as if an invisible or dark fire had eaten away at it, leaving little more than a carbon scored and crumbling ceiling, wall and floor. Only the body of poor Lily Potter was untouched by the blast, resting in pure and perfect silence.
Silence… pure unadulterated silence echoed through the house and its surrounds. It was as if the whole world went silent for a moment. For as the as the combustive force cleared the room and the proverbial dust settled, there was no hint of Harry Potter.