Death is for the Defiant

by Alara Phoenix

– Flectere Si Nequeo Superos, Acheronta Movebo –

What had started out as a slow, sleepy Sunday for London had turned into something out of a horror film in a matter of minutes.

No one quite knew what had happened, what had caused such a thing to occur.

Muggles, those who were still alive, were still trying to accept the fact that zombies were currently digesting the brains of their loved ones.

Wizards, also those who were still alive, were trying desperately to understand just how such an army of Inferi could have just popped up over night with none hearing of them before.

Floo after floo to the Ministry saw no response – the governing body of the British society of wizards was gone, decimated. Consumed by wrath driven Inferi before the halls were promptly flooded with stagnant blackwater. Only Inferi would ever pass through those archways now.

Rain poured down in steady sheets, washing rivers of blood through old streets. Stray body parts could be found caught on the odd fence or signage. A single, lone child cried her anguish over the gutted body of her mother before several pairs of hungry teeth descended upon her.

From within the Palace of Westminster the Man-Who-Lived lazed before a large window; listening to the carnage behind him and watching panicked muggles with a faint smile.

To any witch or wizard who had seen their saviour before, the Harry of today would have seemed quite different to normal.

His hair, usually a thick, fluffy mess now hung around his face, lank and slightly greasy – as though it was due a wash. His face and visible skin was pale, as though he were ill, and occasionally a dark vein could be seen through it.

It was his eyes however that brought home something was very, very wrong.

Gone was the beautiful green iris' he'd inherited from his mother. Gone even was the pupil that suggested he was still human at all.

Instead, the entire eyeball was cobwebbed over in an eerie milky blue and both seemed to glow with their own light. Veins of black etched from his eyes.

Harry Potter had been human. Harry had been kind, thoughtful and empathetic with clear morals of right and wrong.

He was also very much dead.

The soul existing in this body currently was the same soul that had been in it when alive. But it had been twisted. Warped. Violated. Mutated into something else.

Most people probably didn't give much thought to how black magic felt when it was forced upon you. It was simply something that meant death and was to be avoided at all costs. Probably wise.

Likewise, he had never considered how hot living flesh must taste to the cold dead either-

"-oh God, stop, p-please! NO-AH! GAAA-!"

Or how good it felt to crush a skull between your fingers and feel the contents ooze between them.

Another horrified gasp drew his attention. They had missed an Auror. That would not do.

"I-I know you…!" Any blood left in the man's face was draining quickly, "Y-you're Harry Potter! A-and Hermione Granger! A-and you're that Herbology professor from Hogwarts, my d-daughter took lessons with you!"

As his eyes flickered from figure to figure as they stalked towards him, it was almost funny to watch his horror grow as he realised he could recognise each and every one of them.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?" He shrieked, stumbling backwards in terror before turning to flee.

Pain pierced through his chest and left lung before he could take a single step however, and blood welled up his throat choking him. A slow, bewildered look down presented him with the cause of his pain and for the longest second he could not make out what it was – a small, pale hand and arm protruding from his torso. He'd been impaled from behind.

Feeling the shadow of death creep over as he slowly collapsed, his breaths came in short wet gasps. Fear was consuming him.

Behind him, a light giggle caught and held his attention before he was turned to meet glowing and pupil-less milky blue eyes. Such that never belonged in any human face. His own eyes widened in absolute horror as he realised he recognised this one too, and blood and bile rose in his throat before he threw up violently.

The sickly pale body of one eight year old Teddy Lupin grinned widely, presenting blood and flesh covered teeth.

"You shouldn't turn your back on an enemy mister!" the dead child cheerfully informed him, yanking his arm out with a lurch and greedily guzzling the blood off.

Merlin save us.

The corpse once known as Neville Longbottom absently cleaned his nails of flesh as the man before them was devoured by a rather ravenous eight year old. "That's the end of the Wizengamot," he rasped, his voice rougher but still recognisable, "But I'm still not… satisfied."

CRASH

"I won't be satisfied until I have the bastard between my teeth!"The feral roar echoed as an enraged Daphne Greengrass shattered another wall with her fist.

Zacharias Smith held out a severed arm, watching as she snatched it with a snarl and tore it apart.

"What now Potter," he growled, "I agree with this one – I want him to feel what he did to us."

The body of Harry Potter yawned, his jaw cracking and stretching impossibly like a snake. "For one thing do stop calling me that," he sighed, "That person's dead."

"We had names?" Hermione hoarsely asked, vaguely surprised, "I can't recall..."

The screams from outside had mostly stopped now, but their children continued to search regardless.

It had come as a pleasant surprise to the newly undead beings that they could create more of the lesser kind with a bite of muggle flesh. Magicals on the other hand seemed able to fight off the contamination much like a disease.

One week and a dozen rural muggle villages later they had an army capable of destroying the world. If that had been what the Plague wanted anyway.

The only thought running through their minds was that of revenge. They had already destroyed the ministry that had tortured them. The only one they wanted now was the one who had tricked them in the first place.

"I can't bring someone back to life when they're already dead." Harry growled and paused as answering snarls echoed for a moment, "What I can do is take us to a time when he's alive."

There was silence for a moment as this was processed.

Hilary Bones tilted her head, "The Veil of Death." Her parents had told her of the Death Chamber – though that felt like a millennia ago.

"You want us to walk through the Veil." Gabrielle Delacour didn't sound incredulous as one might have thought, but rather intrigued.

Percy Weasley jerked a shoulder, "If it doesn't work we can seek the bastard out in Hell."

Answering hisses of agreement scorched the bloodied tiles of the palace as this pleasant thought was processed.

"What do we have to lose?" Cedric Diggory whispered, "We're already dead."

"It'd be nice to see my parents again," Corona Lestrange smiled dreamily, "I do miss their brand of crazy."

"This time around we could only be their allies," Katie Bell agreed hoarsely with the teen, petting her lank hair mechanically, "The Light won't accept us now."

Megan Jones looked up at her, "But the Dark will?"

The comment drew rasps of laughter from the others and Harry came over to place a comfortingly icy hand on the young dead girls' head.

"Good old Tom," he began with a crazed, shit eating grin, "Will be ecstatic."

o000o

It had been a great many centuries since the last time the Veil of Death had withdrawn its gauze.

Young Unspeakable Andromeda Tonks stood before it in trembling awe, both knowing what was happening and also that she was powerless to stop it.

She knew whatever would be coming through the veil could potentially destroy their world; that it could destroy her. That was why she'd set off the alarm and locked the doors – she may not be able to prevent her own death but she could perhaps spare a few others.

She could not deny her excitement however, for it writhed and trembled beneath her skin as though alive.

Then, abruptly as it had started the strange wind that had sucked in the veil stopped – the ghostly gauze once again billowing gently in the winds of time – and before her stood thirteen beings.

Beings, for they were certainly not human. Undead perhaps but they were too different, too… sentient for Zombies. They took in their surroundings with calm, calculating, comprehending eyes. Nothing like the mindless corpses that existed simply to do as ordered by their creator. No these were something different, something more. Was it actually possible that an Inferius could… evolve?

Only vaguely aware of sinking to her knees as one of the creatures began to move, she stared up into the terrible yet strangely handsome face as he regarded her with those wide dead eyes. A pale hand came up to brush her cowl from her face.

"Andromeda." The hoarse voice held an inhuman quality that echoed infinitely deeper than what had been spoken. It sent a flood of fear and adrenaline down her spine but she did not move. How did this being know her name?

The undead man's mouth slowly curled up on one side as their eye contact continued and his fingers trailed ice down her cheek.

She shuddered.

"Tell me, which year is this?"

Hurriedly trying to work moisture back into her throat, she nonetheless rasped when she answered, "…1977."

The hand dropped abruptly and she barely contained a flinch as he turned away from her. A low, guttural growl rumbled in his throat and as the rest of them began to move, Andromeda realised with a flash of excitement that they were communicating with one another.

"Human." The voice snapped her out of her revere to find the being before her had turned back; regarding her with one, dare she say amused eye.

"I will let you live, on one condition."

He had her full attention for this was more than she'd expected. The widening smirk on his face told her that he fully understood that.

"At midnight of Samhain, 1981, you must be at number 1 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. You will watch what takes place without revealing yourself or intervening. Once those responsible have gone, you will take what is left behind and claim it as your own. Use a blood ritual if needed but no one aside from your husband must know of this until at least ten years have passed. Should nothing occur, you are free to forget this. Do you accept this condition?"

Her mind whirling with curiosity, Andromeda swallowed nervously, "I- Yes. I accept." She could not afford to allow herself to die now. Not if she had another choice. Not when she had a beautiful daughter and loving husband to look after.

The light shock that zapped through her body at her acquiesce was unexpected but perhaps should not have been. The undead man was obviously not fool enough to simply take her word for it.

"Very well." Seeming pleased, he straightened slightly were he stood, "Andromeda Tonks nee Black, you and your family are eternally free from the wrath of the plague."

The other creatures, all twelve others, had found the exit and stood there waiting for their leader patiently. With his parting words he strode to join them, his movements easy and fluid in a way that looked impossibly flawless.

Trying to get her head around the fact that he'd not only allowed her to live but also promised not to harm her loved ones either, she regained control of herself just as he was about to leave.

"Wait! You- What are you…?"

The question seemed to amuse the lot of them for hoarse rasps echoed quietly for a moment and the leader locked dead eyes with her once more.

"We are a plague, set to destroy and consume. The dead without a master; beings without limits. We seek our creator, who no longer exists in our world. He shall know our pain and we shall have our revenge. And that is more than you needed to know human. Be silent in sleep until we are done here."

A flash in his eyes saw darkness rise around her. Her last conscious thoughts were that of intrigue, relief and also worry.

These deadly creatures had come to turn the world on its head.

What would become of them now?

o000o

The valley was long, lush and full of life. Birds sang from tall leafy trees amongst bright green grass and the buzzing of insects came from every direction. Light rain fell gently, blown into a fine mist by brisk winds.

Everything about it screamed love and peace and it was disgusting.

Lord Voldemort could barely stop his eye from twitching.

"Warrington," He bit out, uncaring when the man hurriedly sank to his knees, "Are you… quite certain this is the place."

"Yes my Lord. The residue from the Veil is very distinct, even now several months later. This is the most recent-"

"Enough." The torture curse left his lips without warning and Warrington collapsed at his feet screaming. The Dark Lord broke it off sooner than he normally would have however for it had been a rather inane question on his part. Not that he'd ever have admitted it.

"Well?" Voldemort snapped to his loyalists, eyes glowing scarlet in his handsome face, "Find them!"

The twenty or so Death Eaters scrambled to do as ordered and not for the first time the Dark Lord sneered at their lack of decorum.

At his sides Dominus Carrow sniffed as Evan Rosier laughed quietly. The scorn was clearly visible in their eyes.

Voldemort merely snarled under his breath and stalked after them – his two inner circle members keeping up easily.

"My Lord." Rosier drew his attention to the far right of the valley, where nestled into the base of a large mountain stretched a vast lake.

Unwilling to waste more time than he already had done so, the Dark Lord gave a curt nod before apparating to the shore.

Once glance was more than enough to tell him this was the right spot. It was the only remotely abnormal thing in this entire valley.

Water that should for all intents and purposes have been clear, pure spring water, was stagnant and black. Not a ripple could be seen on its surface, ignoring the breeze that brushed against it. It was as still and unmoving as the grave.

The blackwaters of the dead.

As his minions began to gather around him, all staring and muttering amongst themselves, Voldemort allowed himself a brief flare of satisfaction. It had taken him months to get to this stage.

Then an abrupt shout and startled screech of horror ruined the moment – one of the fools had got it in his head to touch the water.

Voldemort raised his eyes skyward as the man was dragged kicking and screaming to his death by three rotting hands. The moment his head disappeared under, the churning waters immediately stilled once more.

"And that children, is why we never directly touch the blackwater!" Rosier sang sarcastically behind him, drawing looks of horror and understanding as the men finally realised what they were standing in front of.

Voldemort merely watched dispassionately as the lake began to bleed red in massive clouds. "Do remind me to send a missive to Goodwin's children later Dominus," he said absently, "I'm sure they'll enjoy the details."

Carrow's lips twitched as he bowed his head, "Of course my Lord."

o000o

It had only been their home for two months yet the blackwater offered them more comfort than any had received as humans. Curling around their cold dead bodies like a mother protecting her children, it soothed and comforted their souls.

The Inferius now known as Valraven, once Harry Potter, lay back in his watery grave and listened.

Though the water calmed them they were by no means inattentive – they could all feel everything within the lake. That was how he knew that Neville – who now went by Rothstein – was experimenting with his new power outside their Grave and how he knew that Grimley and Kore – his former godson and the once twelve year old Miss Jones – were playing with the Mindless Ones.

And how they all knew the moment a living hand breeched their waters.

Valraven did not move, knowing the Mindless would take care of it. The echo of one of his plague however saw his milky eyes opening slowly.

"The Dark Lord is here."

The guttural growl resonated through the waters, reaching his ears distantly yet clearly and he pulled back his lips and sent one right back that amused the lot of them.

"Finally."

o000o

When the Plague Master didn't respond to the summoning immediately like it would have with a normal plague of Inferi, Voldemort was unsurprised, excited and slightly impatient at the same time, filled with anticipation.

It had been around six and a half months ago when he'd been informed of the impromptu destruction of the ministry. At first it had filled him with rage, presuming his Death Eaters had acted on their own but then Lucius had brought him information.

That the attack had come from inside the ministry. That the attackers had been both powerful and unstoppable, destroying and killing all in their path.

That they hadn't been human at all.

Inferi. Sentient Inferi.

The thought was enough to quicken his breath, to dry out his mouth.

Such a thing shouldn'thave been possible yet apparently was. None who had seen the creatures with their own eyes had lived to pass on the memory but the surveillance charms had procured several clear images.

If they could tell one thing at all, it was that these things were definitely dead.

Before him, the blackwater rippled.

Voldemort jerked backwards both out of his musings and out of reach as a white grasping hand shot for him and he cursed his own inattention before training all thought and focus on the lake.

The rippling turned into churning; waves of black rising from the depths, and he knew he was not imagining the many wide dead eyes he saw there before the water collapsed.

Then everything stilled.

Behind them, the Valley had grown silent and dark. No insects chirped, no birds sang. Not even the wind moved as something began to rise out of the middle of the lake. Feeling his pulse quicken, leaning forward without realising, Voldemort forgot to breathe as the creature raised its head-

Blue fire burned in white cobwebbed eyes. Not human, could never have been human. Dead, dead, dead. Such a strong Will! Never to bow, never to kneel. Soul of the Unconquered, this was a King-

"My Lord!"

Releasing a sharp breath, Voldemort abruptly realised the creature had gotten close – within mere metres – by trapping him within its burning gaze. Even now it did not blink – walking over the surface of the lake with the easy, unhurried and fluid gait of one who had all the time in the world.

It did not walk like the dead.

Narrowing crimson eyes and flexing his grip on his wand, Voldemort whispered a blood boiling curse at the figure and was unsurprised when it had no effect. The creature did not walk like the dead no, but it was dead all the same.

Two metres away, just before reaching the shore, it stopped. With perfect posture and its head raised high, an ultimately intelligent gaze swept left, then right – checking them all over one by one. Voldemort took the opportunity to stare right back and found himself increasingly perturbed.

While it was dead, the body was undeniably male and would have been described as attractive to boot. The skin was bloodlessly pale, but smooth and unmarred as though sculpted from marble rather than flesh. The hair was long and matted, hanging wet and lank before the dead man swept it back slickly with one smooth motion. His muscular torso and feet bare, the only thing he wore was a pair of black trousers that clung to him, moulded to his body.

There was no ripped flesh, no protruding bones; nothing to even suggest that the man had been dead for six months. His corpse looked fresh almost, but how was that possible? Even Inferi rotted away over time. This body held no rot at all.

Then its eyes locked with his once more and Voldemort's mind spun again, this time from shock, as the thing opened its mouth and spoke.

"Why have you summoned me?"

Stifled yelps and other such cries sounded from behind him and this time Voldemort could not blame them because Inferi did not speak. How could they? They were dead bodies. They had no Soul.

He had thought he'd already accepted that these Inferi were different but perhaps he'd been mistaken.

"I will ask once more before I feed you to the Mindless. Why have you summoned me?" The voice was guttural and this time tinged with… irritation perhaps?

For half a second Voldemort considered his response before grudgingly deciding honesty was probably the best approach.

"My initial intention was to bind you to my will," he stated bluntly, ignoring a whimper from behind him, "I was informed your power exceeded that of an ordinary plague and decided I wanted that power."

Tilting its head slowly, the Inferius' unblinking eyes remained fixed on Voldemort.

"This is no longer your intention?"

The Dark Lord crossed his arms defiantly, though he'd have denied it to the death, "You are far too different for me to even consider using the same methods to bind you. You're practically a new magical species."

Jaw opening slightly, the Inferius made a strange, deep rasping sound in the back of its throat that Voldemort identified with a start as laughter.

"Indeed. You are wise for a human."

Wise wasn't really something he'd been called before, Voldemort noted dryly. The side of the creatures' mouth seemed to pull up in a twisted parody of a smile as he did so and it was with an inner shudder that the Dark Lord absently strengthened the shields around his mind.

Clearing his throat as the Inferius' eyes casually began drifting sideways, Voldemort spoke again, "What would it take for you to join me?" He was honestly curious – what would a creature such as this want in the world of the living? Normal Inferi cared for nothing but the orders of their master and the taste of living flesh. What would unbound, sentient undead desire?

It returned its dead eyes to him and Voldemort could have sworn they were amused. Rather than answering his question, it instead asked one of its own.

"Do you have a name human?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes but decided to humour the creature, "I am the Dark Lord Voldemort."

"…Voldemort."

Wind seemed to sweep across the lake in a callous whisper and the Inferius twisted its head as though listening, dead eyes shut. The Dark Lord supressed a shiver at the sheer volume of magic he could feel in the icy breeze, his eyes widening.

Elemental manipulation?!

The Inferius flashed his eyes open abruptly. "Your name is Voldemort. But that is not your only name."

"It is the only name I wish to go by in current times," Voldemort retorted tersely; how did it know? "I left my old name behind many years ago."

The silence that spread between them had the death eaters murmuring uneasily behind them.

Slowly, very slowly, the creature smiled – this time showing horrifyingly sharp teeth, blackened with rot and decay – and his faithful leapt back with yelps of horror at the sight. It hadn't perhaps sunk in until that moment that as humanly casual this creature looked, it inevitably preyed upon them, and even now regarded their flesh hungrily.

"Mmm… very wise indeed. Conversely your companions are mere prey, Lord Voldemort. I'd advise that they tone down their delicious fear lest I lose control…"

A sharp glance over his shoulder had him reluctantly agreeing with the sentiment and a sharp flick of his hand saw the majority disapperating at once, more than eager to escape the presence of this creature.

It was a little astonishing how the Inferius' bloodlust seemed to vanish with them. Voldemort made a note of it in his head; Inferi were more susceptible to human fear than previously thought.

The being hummed, rolling its neck as though adjusting to the absence before reclaiming his gaze with its own.

"I am called Valraven, Lord Voldemort. My plague refer to me as the King of the Dead. The Dread Lord."

Ignoring, or perhaps enjoying, the shock that lit his face for a moment, the Inferius – Valraven – continued; "As you can no doubt guess, my plague and I were not created through conventional means. We were not dead corpses when we were made – we were human and more importantly we were alive."

"How," Voldemort breathed, "How is that possible? How did it happen?"

"The same way one normally creates Inferi, Voldemort. Saturating the body in black magic. Carving runes into the bone and infesting the organs with flesh eaters. Piercing the brain with slithers of granite, shredding the skin with marks of flint-"

"-And burying the Seed in the heart," Voldemort finished breathlessly, "This was done to you alive?"

"Indeed. It wasn't a pleasant experience."

"No it would not be…" Voldemort murmured, a little dazed. "While I would not have thought of such a thing, it still does not make sense… It does not explain…"

"How we can possibly be sentient?"

"Yes. Even alive, you should have been bound to your creator. Mindless, like the others."

Valraven hummed in agreement, "Precisely. However our creator made one, tiny mistake. A small miscalculation that, really, he should have thought of."

"And that was…?" Voldemort was riveted and the Inferius before him smirked.

"Me." Came the calm reply. "In my life as a human I had, rather unintentionally I confess, wound up Immortal. I became what I am now not because of something different done during the process, but because I am physically unable to die. Stuck between life and death, unable to go either way, I became something in between."

Several moments went by as the Dark Lord stared at him.

Immortality. This… creature had…

"How," The Dark Lord breathed rather viciously, "Could you possibly become immortal unintentionally."

It wasn't possible. He'd searched for years before finding even a whisper of such information and this... thisss being, came upon it by chance?

Valraven's rasping laughter only frustrated him further but it also served to remind him what he was dealing with. If what he was being told was true, he could not afford to get angry.

"It was a children's tale – a folklore I'd heard of only fleetingly."

Looking back at the Undead Lord, Voldemort found it staring up at the sky with a strange expression on its face.

"Three brothers each possessing three objects of power, gifted to them by Death himself. The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility. Finding all three of them was supposed to grant one the ultimate power over Death – as its Master."

Behind the Dark Lord, Rosier made a small noise of startled recognition. Glancing back down briefly, Valraven smirked, "They were Grindelwald's obsession – so much so that he decided to use the symbol of the three Deathly Hallows as his own."

Leaving Voldemort to process this, the being looked up once more and continued.

"What he and all those who sought the Hallows before him did not know, was that there were conditions that had to be met before any such thing as mastering Death could occur. They had to have blood ties to one of the original three – the Peverell brothers. They had to hold absolutely no desire for power or to rule over others. They had to come into ownership of each of the three Hallows without realising what they were, and lastly…"

Valraven looked down and leered at the remaining Death Eaters predatorily, "Lastly… they had to face and accept the inevitability of Death. Only then would they be allowed to call themselves its Master."

"And you accomplished this." Voldemort finished, ignoring the look the Undead Lord was giving his companions, "You became this… Master of Death. I find it difficult to believe one such as yourself never desired power."

Valraven gave that rasping laugh again and raised his palms slowly, "It was the ultimate irony," he admitted, "My life as a human had been rather miserable – truthfully I had only ever wanted to fit in, to be normal. Yet I was constantly denied that. What you must understand Voldemort, is that I was a very different person when I was alive to what I am now. We all are. Long term torture and black magic, as I'm sure you'll find, tends to do that to you."

Unable to help himself, Voldemort stiffened, "There are… more of you? With sentience?"

Sliding his eyes to meet the Dark Lord's again, Valraven gave him a lazy leer of black fangs.

"I am the Master of Death, Dark Lord – Necromancy and Animancy come as easy as breathing. Tethering the souls of my companions to their bodies was child's play. I'm not called the Dread Lord for nothing." Leaving the man to process that, Valraven continued blithely, "There are thirteen of us in total and each of us have been reborn with power we did not have before. We are a plague, set to destroy and consume. But there is only one our teeth truly yearn for."

Pulling his mind back on topic, resolutely shaking off his inner turmoil and putting it aside for later, Voldemort straightened his back infinitesimally, his eyes sharpening.

The valley, before so silent a hair could be heard hitting the grass, seemed to shift behind them. The wind, so still and dead only moments before, stirred itself into a slow, icy gale and the heart of the lake actually began to ice over.

Valraven seemed to grow larger before them, shadows flexing and pooling around his feet. Bloodless lips pulled themselves back over that black maw in a slow, viciously terrifying snarl and a ghostly blue fire flared down his arms to blaze in clawed hands.

"Bring him to us alive, Dark Lord. Only then will I accept your alliance."

The hoarse voice echoed far deeper than any should have been able to go, unearthly and utterly horrifying.

Voldemort was positively enchanted.

Just an idea I had that wouldn't leave me alone. Tell me what you think~!