Master of Death
The differences from one hospital to another are miniscule at best. Long corridors, easy-to-clean tile floors and bright fluorescent lights overhead that reflect off of the blindingly white paint that seems to be on every wall. There are variations on the design. More equipment, different uniforms for the staff and the overall shape of the building. But the smell is always the same. Even in the magical hospitals of the world, it reeks of latex, sterility and death. I knew this because by now, I've visited them all.
And before you ask, no, it wasn't my injuries that brought me there. Ever since the war ended, since my duty started, I hadn't visited a hospital for injuries of my own. I have a dangerous job and by all rights the things I've faced should have put me in the hospital from time to time, but it's part of who I am- No, what I am that keeps me safe.
I'm an Auror, and I spend my days at the Academy these days, training new recruits to do the job I used to do: hunt dark wizards. I'm not old by anyone's standards, I've simply moved out of active field duty in favor of a position that demands less of my time. I told them I was doing it for my family, and of course they agreed. I'm the Vanquisher, the Man-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord, The Chosen One. I could ask for the Minister's daughter dipped in chocolate, and they'd ask "Dark chocolate or milk?"
The truth is, I didn't consign myself to teaching recruits all day for love of my family. I did it for my real job. This job. The one that brought me to nearly every hospital, both magical and Muggle on the planet.
I moved silently across the tile floors of Saint Mungo's.
'Silent as death.' I thought and chuckled despite myself. Don't get it? Don't worry, you will. A hospital orderly looked towards the sound of the chuckling, but of course she noticed nothing. She even cast a rather hefty detection spell in my direction just to make herself sure. It came back negative. It always did. My duty was too important for it to allow me to be found.
I walked right past the orderly, close enough for my cloak to brush her wrist. She shivered and cast a warming charm on herself.. She shook her head to reassure herself there was nothing there and went to make another mug of coffee.
I ascended the several flights of steps on auto pilot. I already knew where I was going. I closed my eyes and let my feet guide me. I reminisced about the last time I'd been here on duty.
----------------------------------Flashback-----------------------------
It was a great many years ago, right after the end of the war. It was back when I was still unaware of my place in the world, back when I was reluctant to perform my duties. I had only performed my duties eleven times before then, and only one of those instances had been in a hospital. The rest had been in the field. Muggles crippled by falling debris, Aurors who had taken one curse too many and the like.
At the time, my wife was pregnant with our firstborn and her "accidental" magic bursts during the contractions had been bad enough that I'd been asked to leave.I sat in the waiting room for awhile before I decided to take a walk. Wander around as it were. I was the one who decided to walk, but it was duty that brought me to the Magical Catastrophes ward. The place where Gilderoy Lockhart and Neville's parents spent their mindless days.
The door was locked for the night and the evening orderly was dozing peacefully at her desk. I hadn't drawn my wand, or even attempted wandless magic, but the door simply popped open.I walked in and closed it soundlessly behind me, and made my way to their beds. I'm not sure how long I stood, watching them sleep. Silent tears poured down my face as I just watched, postponing my duty as long as I could. Even now, tens of thousands of trips later, I cry. I always cry. It's part of the job description.
I barely noticed my cloak slide off of my shoulders, dropping to the floor. My voice caught as I spoke. "Alice and Frank Longbottom." Magic flared from my ring as I spoke those words. Duty had taken hold, and as eyes opened.
"Is it time?" Alice asked me. I couldn't speak. She knew the answer anyway. I nodded, slowly.
She smiled. "Then let's get this over with."
-----------------------End Flashback------------------------------
I was ripped away from my thoughts as I dodged to the side, not entirely of my own volition. I had nearly been creamed by a pair of Mediwitches jogging down the corridor, a body on a levitatng gurney between them. One glance and I knew the woman on the levitating cart wouldn't make it. Lydia Graves, born the fifth of August, fifty-eight years ago will be dead as of 3:13 AM. Cause of death: Mauled by a Hippogriff. She would be leaving behind a husband (David) and two sons (John and Harold). I checked my watch. It was 3:08. She had five minutes left.
Ishook my head and continued my march down the seemingly endless corridors of Saint Mungo's. It was only a few minutes until I reached my destination. As I was accustomed, the door to her room popped open just as I reached for the handle. I walked inside.
Even though I had been visiting her for days, my heart still ached to see her like this. It hurt worse to know what was to come. But with the pain, there came a strange comfort. A bit of peace for the one who deserved it the most. I watched her sleep, her breaths were ragged, pained. Her sleep was fitful. Half of me wanted to say the words that would end her suffering. The other half couldn't move. I was blinded by tears. As usual, my mind drifted.
It wasn't often that I visited those that I knew, in the course of my work, but it had happened. In a way, I suppose I had been there when Albus Dumbledore was suffering, though I hadn't finished the job. Snape had done that..
Albus came to my thoughts often during my duties. His name comes to me with coultless "what ifs" and "I wonders." Tonight it was an "I wonder."
'I wonder if he would still have quested after the Hallows, if he knew the price of becoming the Master of Death?' I thought. Some part of me always wondered if Albus had known what he was sentencing me to when he tasked me with assembling the Hallows to defeat Voldemort. It was always 'Would Albus do this in my position?' or 'Why was I given this task, out of all the others on this planet? Why do I always have to do the dirty work?'
Maybe I could ask Albus, once I finally die. But being the Master of Death comes with information. I know that the day I get to see Albus and the others again is a very long time from now,
Even though I already know the prognosis by heart already, I still look down at the clipboard at the end of the bed, hoping the information has changed since the last time I read hadn't.
Malignant tumor of the brain, magical in origin. Removal will cause immeadiate loss of all cerebral activity. Critical size has been reached and the tumor is touching the side of the skull. Extremely violent nightmares expected, followed by a loss of cerebral activity, a coma and eventually, death. No hope of a cure.
The words still burn like a million hot knives twisting inside my heart. I shift my mind away to protect it. I think of happier times with her.
After my kids graduated from Hogwarts, I divorced Ginny, It was a rather brief process and held almost no emotional value for me. At that point, I hated the bitch and wanted nothing more to do with her. Always questioning where I went, accusing me of being with another woman... I had always remained faithful to Ginny. No matter how much I hated her, I remained loyal.
After the divorce, I started dating her. I could talk to her. I told her of my duty, and she understood. She accompanied me a handful of times, and she was proud of what I was doing. I married her. It was the only other ring I wore, on the same hand as the ring that held the Resurrection Stone.
She made me happy, and I returned the favor. We were married for twenty years. But now... Now she was here.
My cloak slid off of my shoulders to the floor, and my ring flared with energy as I struggled to find my voice.
"Luna Lovegood." I said. Her eyes opened.
"Is it time?" she asked.
---------------------------Flashback----------------------------
Gently, I combed back Alice Longbottom's hair with my looked down at her smiling face. "Close your eyes." I said. She complied.
I placed my right hand, the one with the ring on it, on her forehead so that the band rested on her brow.
"Are you ready?" I ask. She nods, ever so slightly. "Sleep well, Alice." My ring glows, and hums with power.
"Thank you." She manages to whisper. Then, she is gone. Dead, with a smile on her face. I stroke her cheek softly. I hesitate before turning to Frank.
"Close your eyes." I say.
----------------------------End Flashback----------------------------
It takes me so very long to say the next words. I'm confronted with images of her life. She is on the Hogwarts Express, reading the Quibbler upside-down. We are under the mistletoe at Hogwarts, discussing Nargles. She is a bridesmaid at my first wedding. She is playing with my children in the living room. She is holding me while I cry. We are before the altar, and I lift her veil, leaning in for a kiss. We are on our tenth anniversary vacation, looking for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in the Amazon Rainforest. And then she is collapsed on the floor of our home, writhing in pain. And now she is here.
"Yes, it's time."
She smiles. "I love you."
Tears cloud my vision. "I love you too."
I don't have to ask her to close her eyes. I place my ring on her forehead, magic thrums, and she is gone.
I stroke her face softly. My last attachment to the living world is gone. At last, I am free to be the Master of Death, full time.I pull on my cloak and walk away.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A/n: Well guys, it's been awhile. I'm aware that everyone is waiting on an update to Too Much Time on my Hands. I'll get to it when I can. This was just a one-shot that came to me while I was looking for a job. Hopefully it'll get me back into the swing of writing regularly.