MASTER OF DEATH

Harry walked into the Ivory Ibis at quarter-past eight, decked up in his Lordship robes. It had been four years since he had finished Hogwarts, eleven years since Voldemort had returned in his fourth year and the second wizarding war had resumed, and three years after he had taken up the position of Head of House for the Houses of Potter and Peverell. So, he was dressed in dark, navy blue robes with a silver trim; dark black trousers, black shiny oxford shoes and on his left hand, the third finger, was a navy blue onyx stone stamped with a silver knight set in a golden band. The ring had been called to his finger when he had taken the Lordship. Apparently the Peverell ring took precedence though, as it only ever showed that ring. In his seventh year, Dumbledore had died peacefully in his bed, with Harry, Sirius, Remus, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Hagrid at his side. It had been the worst day of Harry's life, only to be overtaken by the day that Sirius and Remus had been murdered by Voldemort. But life had gone on; yes, Voldemort was still alive (or as alive as he was) and kicking, yes, the Death Eaters were popping up in random places and killing muggles and wizards alike, but with the support of the Houses of Potter, Longbottom and secretly the one of Peverell (Harry didn't want Voldemort to find out about that yet), the Ministry hadn't fallen like many had expected. And, to add to the good fortune, Neville had come out of his shell at the end of seventh year, becoming one of Harry's closest friends, along with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George and Luna. Which was who he was meeting in the esteemed restaurant, the Ivory Ibis, a very posh restaurant that had catered to the uppermost crust of British wizarding society since the reign of Queen Anne. Harry himself had never eaten there before he took his seat on the Wizengamot, but as soon as he had done, Neville had taken him, Hermione and Dean (who he was still quite close to) and whilst the ambience was too much for his taste, Harry had to admit that the cuisine was excellent.

The restaurant was located at the end of Diagon Alley, a place where only the wealthiest in the wizarding world dined, and accessible only by a pedestrian bridge. Both restaurant and bridge were enchanted so as to be invisible to both muggles and the muggleborns that were not of high standard and class. Access to the restaurant had formerly been restricted to high-society purebloods, but the proprietors bowed to popular pressure in November of 1981, and began to admit half-bloods to dinner and some muggleborns to luncheon. Even so, muggleborns were not admitted to dinner at the exclusive establishment until 1987, when new legislation imposed a hefty fine on any business that still discriminated between persons of documented wizarding birth based on blood status.

They had last seen each other, as a whole group, about two months ago; Neville was busy with his Lordship, as was Harry; Hermione was working in the Ministry as an assistant to Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ron was also in the Ministry but as an Auror Captain. Fred and George were still in the joke shop which was making more money than ever, and Harry, as their investor, was gaining more and more money to put into the fight against Voldemort; Ginny was working as Neville's assistant, but only because he gave her short hours and then she could go out with the Aurors under Ron's control and fight Death Eaters and Luna had taken over from Ollivander when he had been murdered by Voldemort himself, as someone needed to prevent the nargles from destroying the wands, as Luna herself had put it.

So, here they were, meeting for the first time in ages to re-group and talk about 'their disastrous lives' as Neville so often put it, but then one of the twins would say something along the lines of 'what can be disastrous about making more money than we can count?' and then Ron would punch one of them in arm while Ginny would cast a stinging hex at the other.

An extraordinarily-thin wizard greeted him at the door. He was wearing immaculately-pressed dress robes and spoke in a fair approximation of a French accent. He was so scrawny, however, that Harry felt somewhat stout just from standing next to him, which, although he wasn't as bad as he used to be, was saying something because he was no muscular god, unlike Ron.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Peverell-Potter,' the wizard said. 'Follow me, if you please."

There was no need for any introductions. The Ivory Ibis prided themselves on knowing everything about their clientele, and Harry privately thought that in this regard they managed to put even the late Ollivander to shame. The wildest rumours were heard about the Ibis's extensive spy network, most of which Harry discounted, but there was no denying that they knew more than they had any business to do.

The wizard led him to a secluded table with a marvellous view of the nearby river. Before him sat Fred and George, who seemed to be in a deep discussion, and didn't notice his arrival, but none of his other party were there yet so he sat across from the still ignorant twins and after he was seated, he put up a Silencing Charm to preserve their privacy, as well as a soft Instrumental Charm tuned to make small classical music play out of his wand. Then the twins noticed him.

"Ah! Lord Peverell-Potter, what a delight-" started one of the redheads, Harry assumed he was George.

Fred continued off of his brothers sentence, "-an absolute pleasure, old chum-"

"-old friend-"

"-old boy-"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah, brilliant to see you 'old chums' too." He leaned back into his seat, "How's the shop?"

Fred and George then, for ten minutes, ran him through the basics of how well their business was doing; it had been a correct analysis of Harry's that people would need laughs soon at the end of his fourth year, as Weasley Wizarding Wheezes' business was booming; they'd even taken their name aboard and now had ten shops all over the world. During this time, Hermione turned up on Ron's arm (they'd been dating since the end of sixth year at the insistence of Harry as they'd been worried he would be angry or would feel left out), Ginny had shown up right behind her was Luna and Neville was the last one in.

"Sorry! Sorry I'm late, Amber wouldn't shut up and go home." Neville breathed as he sat down in the spare seat next to Harry. The boys winced in sympathy whereas the girls glared at Neville; Amber was Neville's muggle neighbour-he hadn't wanted to live in Longbottom Manor with his grandmother- who had a massive crush on him. Which, while it was good for his friend's confidence, it was very cringey and annoying. Hermione, however, didn't agree.

"Really, Neville! Just tell her you're not interested if you're not, Merlin, it's like you think it will kill her." she admonished.

Ron snorted, "It might just. Last time we went 'round-"

"And just what were you doing around Neville's house, Ronald?" she snapped. Ron flinched, not realising had given that away. Harry, Neville and the twins glared at his rapidly turning red face.

"Uh...it was...err…" he looked up at Harry for help but his friend just raised an amused eyebrow. He turned back to his girlfriend, "We...uh...Dungeons and Dragons!"

For a second there was silence, before everyone at the table, bar Ron, burst out laughing. In the end, Ginny was the first to get her breath back, "Dungeons and Dragons?"

Ron, having had the time when everyone had been laughing to make a decision, nodded resolutely, "Yes. Right, guys?"

Neville nodded his head and deadpanned, "Yeah, the guys came 'round mine, we had some Firewhiskey, some Butterbeers and then played Dungeons and Dragons until the morning."

Harry snorted, but hid it with a cough when Ron glared at him. He could tell Hermione hadn't believed a word of it but cut in before she could speak, "You were saying, Ron? Before...about Amber?"

His friend nodded eagerly and took up the subject change quickly, "Yeah, anyway...this muggle is seriously high on Nev', you have no idea. We were at his house and she comes around with...get this, cookies! On a plate!"

Luna gasped while Ginny's hands flew to her mouth, "Oh, the horror!"

Ron rolled his eyes at the chuckles around the table and continued, "Then, she invited herself in, sat on the sofa next to Fred-"

Fred sighed loudly while his brother groaned. Ron rolled his eyes again before muttering, "George then, whatever. She sat next to one of you."

George nodded once, "That she did, little Weasley."

"The worst night of my life, let me tell you." continued Fred.

Ron scowled at them, "Well...then she just started talking to Nev', as though we weren't even there! And then when Neville tried to introduce us, she barely batted an eyelid, before taking her plate into his kitchen and then she started doing his washing up! Seriously! Just started doing the dishes! Walked into his home uninvited, then blanked us, and started cleaning the bowls!"

Hermione frowned, "That's odd."

Ron nodded, "You think? Neville had to lie and say that he had work really early in the morning and that he would talk to her in then."

Ginny's eyes boggled, "And that worked?!"

Neville ruefully shook his head, "No. I had to almost physically push her out when she went to go upstairs. Something about tucking me in..." Neville shuddered, with Harry doing it right next to him also.

Before Hermione could jump in again with some other argument on the muggle girl's behalf, as Harry probably thought she would, he asked Luna about how the shop was. She'd kept the name as Ollivander's as a gesture to the man that spent his life gifting children wands.

No one came to take their order. At The Ivory Ibis, the kitchen staff selected what they thought one would like best, based on their extensive research into one's culinary preferences. They only bothered to pass out menus to those who were not considered important enough to have their eating habits on file at the restaurant (like Hermione, but she had come in with Harry the second time, and this time they apparently thought her worthy enough. The women in question had scoffed and rolled her eyes). In any event, satisfaction was guaranteed, and no one had sent a meal back to the kitchen in over two centuries. Though in recent decades a few resolute souls had tried their hardest to dislike what the Ibis set before them, none had succeeded.

When people began to be thirsty, goblets of ice-cold water appeared on the white-lace tablecloth, along with a freshly-baked French loaf and a dish of the house butter.


Things were almost coming to a close, with Hermione and Ron, having calmed down, were sharing a chocolate pudding, Neville and Harry were chatting away over the recent laws whilst digging into their desserts (treacle tart for Harry and a slice of pumpkin pie for Neville) and Ginny and Luna were too busy eating to talk.

The screech of panicked screams echoed loudly outside the restaurant and stopped all movement in the building.

Harry immediately brought out his wand, which vibrated with eagerness to be used - the elder wand. He had his old holly wand strapped to his leg if he needed to use it. Dumbledore had had Harry, for some unknown reason to him then, disarm him just before he died. And with his title of Lord Peverell, the wand belonged to him, in blood and magic, meaning it could no longer be passed on to anyone else. It had it's master.

Harry charged out of the building, with his friends on his heels, to a scene of chaos. Flames were bursting from a myriad of broken shops, while Death Eaters robes in black marched down the alley, cutting down civilians left and right.

"Goddamn cowards," growled Harry, Neville nodding his approval of the words, as he banished a splintered wooden beam into the stomach of a distracted Death Eater, the cruciatus curse he was casting suddenly and violently stopping.

Jabbing his wand forward, Harry quickly shouted to Hermione, who he was right behind him, "Hermione! Catch!"

The Lord twisted his wand backwards, summoning a wave of panicked civilians towards him and away from the Death Eaters. Without pausing to see if Hermione caught them, Harry exploded into action.

A pair of shaggy grizzly bears twisted into creation as Harry's magic transformed them from the broken wreckage into lumbering beasts of destruction. Another quick wave of his wand saw the sudden addition of spiked metal armour forming on the creatures, adding an additional layer of protection on the already terrifying beasts.

Sprinting to the closest Death Eater in sight, Harry ducked under a particularly nasty blood boiling curse and slammed a savage fist into the man's unprotected stomach. Before the unfortunate Death Eater could finish dry heaving, Harry was already behind the man, using him as a shield, as the tell-tale flash of the killing curse connected with the terrorist.

Slamming his palm into the dead Death Eater's back, Harry wandlessly banished the man at his opponents.

Diving out of the way of another killing curse, Harry grasped the hidden knife he kept in the heel of his oxfords and sent it flying. Moving in a practiced motion, he waved his wand, activating the replication charm on the blade, transforming the lone knife into over a dozen.

An unfortunate pair of Death Eaters found their lives tragically cut short as the silver blades flew through their shields and pinned them violently to the wall.

"Crucio!"

Harry snarled in pain as the torture curse slammed into his side, causing the somewhat familiar sensation of a thousand knives driving themselves into his body The strength of the spell brining him to his knees.

He gasped for breath the second the curse ended and silently cast a pair of bone breakers in the general direction from where the cruciatus came from.

"Impressive." Harry's stomach curled at the voice and he rolled to his feet quick as a flash, blocking the pink spell that flew at him from behind. Glancing up at his opponent, Harry flinched causing Voldemort to laugh, "I admit, Potter, that I wasn't expecting this."

Harry shrugged, acting as though the thought of another battle with his arch nemesis was not something that he was shitting himself for, "I have a tendency to defy your expectations, don't I, Riddle?"

Voldemort's eyes darkened, but that was the only notion that he had heard what Harry had said, "Been practicing have you?" His frightfully intelligent eyes ran over his dark blue robes and the Peverell crest that sat upon them, then they flickered straight to the ring on his third finger, on his left hand. The man scowled, "Or apparently your forefathers completed your training for you."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the barb, "Really, Tom, I would have thought the muggles would have taught you something about respecting your betters. After all, I am Lord Peverell-Potter and I take precedence over some measly half-blood." He, of course, didn't mean that, but it was a good way to anger the self-proclaimed Lord.

Voldemort seethed and waved his non-wand hand at the Death Eaters behind him to advance on Harry.

Six Death Eaters plus the Dark Lord. Harry gave an inward sigh of relief when Lord Voldemort moved to the rear, seemingly quietly bubbling in his own anger.

"Protego!" he hissed, forming an advanced version of the basic shield charm entirely around his left hand as he twisted underneath a killing curse.

Harry let loose a savage grin as one of the Death Eaters fired a bone crushing hex at him. Sliding towards the curse, he swung his protego covered hand at the hex and smacked it, sending the spell directly back at it's caster, crushing the man's chest with his own spell.

"You'll pay for that, Pott-!"

The Lord dove sideways out of the way of an unknown dark curse, and waved his wand across the battlefield.

Chunks of mortar and debris shook violently before twirling into hundreds of snarling, oversized rats.

Continuing his spell chain, Harry's wide arching wand movement transitioned into the sharp jab of a banishing spell, sending the newly created creatures flying at the Death Eaters.

Harry roared in pain as a bludgeoning curse clipped his side, sending him through the glass display window of a nearby shop.

His vision blurred as crimson blood ran down a cut on his skull and into his eyes. Harry groaned as he lifted himself off of the floor, small pieces of debris falling off of his robes as he did so.

"Avada Kedavra!" screamed a burly Death Eater, the larger man able to physically beat off the transfigured rats far quicker than his companions.

Harry was still in surprise as the green light sped towards him...and then did nothing. The Death Eater stopped advancing on him and stood, shocked, as the killing curse seemingly absorbed into Harry's skin and did him no harm, whatsoever.

Harry blinked. Well...that was different. Then he looked down at his wand.

Ah, right.

The Master of Death. The Elder Wand in his hand. The Resurrection Stone embedded in his locket that hung around his neck. The Cloak that he kept upon him at all times in his pocket.

Dumbledore, the great, great old goat of a wizard.

Harry grinned and conjured a vicious looking blade attached to a length of chain and buried it deep into the man's chest, confusion and shock laid all over his face as his face turned pale. He tugged onto the chain that connected him to the Death Eater.

The unfortunate man found himself hurtling through the air at Harry, before collapsing bonelessly as an elbow struck the Death Eater directly in the face. With a barely backwards glance, Harry threw a cutting curse at the Death Eaters throat, finishing the man permanently.

Stepping out of the destroyed storefront, Harry was pleased to see that his wave of killer rats was able to bring down at least two of opponents. The spell was the brainchild of Ron, who, at that very moment appeared to be using the bat-bogey hex on a Death Eater down the road.

Apparently Peter Pettigrew left a foul taste in the redhead's mouth, as the Auror Captain took great pleasure every time a 'Scabbers' died. Harry did think he saw a vicious grin on his friend's face as another rat fell to a green light.

That just left two Death Eater to kill.

Harry spat out a mouthful of blood, "Who's first?"

Both Death Eaters glanced at each other before turning simultaneously, casting curses as fast as the two could fire.

Harry couldn't help but laugh as the curses flew by his head, Voldemort really did hire from the bottom of the barrel.

Harry dove backwards, his wand flying through complicated movements as he did so.

The smaller of the two Death Eaters staggered back in shock as a fissure in the earth erupted beneath his companion, sending his partner screaming into the abyss.

"Aguamenti!" Harry yelled, sending a stream of water at his opponent. With practiced ease, Harry flicked his wand, transmuting the water into a spear of ice.

The final Death Eater roared in agony as the ice spear drove through the man's chest and pinned him against the wall.

"Sectumsepra." growled Harry, the curse severing the screaming Death Eater's head.

A sharp clap echoed loudly in the burning alley, as Voldemort slowly made his way forward. Harry scowled at him and raised his wand.

"Consider me impressed." purred Voldemort, motioning to his fallen servants, "Consider me very impressed."

Harry inclined his head as his breathing slowed down. He focused quickly on pouring his magic into the wounds on his body, and slowly, his cuts and bruises glowed a light silver, before healing themselves. Voldemort raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. He too raised his wand and the two men began to circle each other.

"You could join me, you know." Voldemort said, as he did most times they met face-to-face, "You could be great, you would be great. Revered. Like a god."

Harry snorted, "Yeah, but I reckon it comes with the whole snake-face and red-eyes and I am afraid I rather like my nose."

Voldemort snarled and shot a purple spell at him. Harry ducked and rolled quickly, avoiding the unknown spell. He jumped behind a block of fallen concrete. The debris shuddered from the spell impacts that Voldemort was throwing.

"Bloody hell," Harry swore. He began poking his head over his cover to take a look, but pulled it back just in time to avoid a series of nasty-looking hexes that flew overhead. The constant drumming of spells against his cover and the sounds of crumbling rock told him that he was well and truly pinned down – and that his makeshift cover wouldn't last forever. From the sounds of it and, of course knowing his enemy, Voldemort wouldn't get tired of shooting at him anytime soon. A small break in firing occurred, possibly for his opponent to take a breath after constant fire and Harry took his chance.

"Stupefy!" he roared as he threw himself to the side. A blasting hex tore a fist-sized chunk of concrete out of the block he was hiding behind, but his return stunner caught a Death Eater off to the side shoulder square in the chest, causing him to crumple to the ground. Harry rolled to his feet, adrenaline pumping through him. His eyes darted across the road when he found himself out in the open, with Voldemort watching his every move, breathing heavily. He hesitated for a brief second to note the location of the enemy, then made a mad dash for the nearest available cover, throwing himself behind a set of wooden barrels that contained something he didn't want to identify. He rolled to the side as the barrels begun exploding under a withering barrage of fire. Ah, so Moldevort had gotten his breath back had he? Brilliant.

Hoping that Riddle was still where he remembered him to be at, he silently counted down as his cover was reduced to rubble. Come out for a meal, Harry, they said. It'll be fun, they said.

The last barrel splintered as a Reducto hit it, and Harry threw himself into a forward roll, his wand flicking through the air as he went, firing back with a series of low-powered hexes and jinxes that would hopefully send Voldemort on the defensive and buy him some breathing space. He sprung back to his feet, sweeping his wand wide to raise a wall of flame between him and Voldemort, and then dashed to the side as it obscured his view of him.

Harry made his way around until he was almost behind one of the Death Eaters who had been covering his leader, covered by the smoke and flames of the fire he'd just conjured.

Harry smirked as the smoke cleared with a wave of his wand, and he found himself staring at the exposed backs of not one, but three Death Eaters, while Voldemort was looking at the place where, seconds ago, a raging fire had blistered in the air. He raised his wand, putting much more force behind the spell than it was designed for. "Stupefy!"

The overpowered stunning spell blasted into the combatants closest to him first, tossing them though the air, and stunning them in the process. It would be best if he left some Death Eaters alive for the Ministry to interrogate, last time he hadn't and Ron had laid into him pretty hard.

Voldemort, laughed loudly, a sound that brought shivers down Harry's spine, "You are too confident, Potter," he said with a slightly mocking tone. "Fools always are. Have you learned the real secret yet, or are they still telling you bedtime stories about good and evil." He looked away for moment, speaking to the air around him, "There is only power. Which I have." He turned back as his hand gestured around the small village, eyes alight at the destruction. The Apothecary still smouldered nearby, the scent of smoke heavy in the air.

Harry rolled his eyes, "I think that it is rather obvious I have power also." He considered and then spoke again, "I also have a nose. You don't. Is that a point to me?"

"Watch how you speak, boy!"

Harry smiled and sent a silent killing curse at Voldemort, but the man blocked it with some nearby debris.

Voldemort snarled as he raised his wand, his wrist twisting as golden mist seemed to appear out of nowhere and latch onto the end of the Dark Lord's wand.

Harry carefully raised his wand.

Voldemort suddenly smiled widely as the golden mist glowed even brighter, "Good riddance, Harry Potter. Remember that you have left your time to perish at my feet."

Harry frowned, for the first time in the fight, he was caught off guard, "Wha-"

But he was cut off by the golden mist shooting towards him. He put up a shield charm quickly and made to dive out of the way, but before his feet had even left the ground, all he saw was black.


DISCLAIMER: I do not have spades of money. I do not have blonde hair. I am not J.K Rowling, so therefore I do not own Harry Potter. Please do not presume I do, however if you still believe me to be the infamous human being that brought us this magnificent world, feel free to send me spades of money.

'DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY, STILL RECRUITING'