This is a oneshot for now, as part of a larger story I have planned. Most of it won't make sense but it will be explained in the story. Welcome to my first HP fanfic. (the name Praeceps is from another HP - HPNT - story. credit to him. it means dangerous in latin)
BTW, sorry for the delay on my other stories, I've been preparing for college.
The very air around him was hard to navigate through due to the amount of magical energy the battle for Hogwarts had put out even as it still raged around him. Dirt, bodies, and stone alike flew through the air with no rhyme or reason as he strode purposefully towards the Great Hall, shielding him even further from wandering eyes.
A novice Death Eater appeared in front of him, a warning to his comrades and master on his tongue. But as soon as he breathed in, Praeceps' wand shot out and was holstered, a sickly green jet of light arcing out from under his form-fitting white cloak. The spell hit the man and two of his fellow members, but fazed through the "good guys".
He tilted his head mere millimetres as a Cruciatus whizzed by and slammed into a giant's groin, grounding the semi-human instantly. Hermione was on the caster instantly with a cry of 'Sectumsempra!', the first slash cutting his wand clean in half lengthwise. A curt nod and a smile was the only exchange between the two as he continued on his way.
He watched with interest as Luna used the giant that was felled only moments before as a makeshift club to bash the other giants - and win.
As he stepped through the blasted castle doors, his cloak shifted from snow white to pitch black as if sensing the man who cheated Death himself so many times so close by.
He fingered his wand, custom made by Ollivander with instructions from Death and forged by the pain, suffering, and death Praeceps had endured, making it the true Deathstick from The Tale of the Three Brothers.
The wand was Elderwood, 13-and-a-half inches, as smooth as glass and pure black; the handle was shaped like a run-of-the-mill bone and the end coming to a sickening point.
The core was Dementor blood and Basalisk venom with triple dragon heartstring: Hungarian Horntail for offensive spells as well as speed and accuracy, Ukraninan Ironbelly for defensive spells, healing, and wards, and Norwegian Ridgeback for charms as well as a coupling with the Basalisk venom to poison anyone who was hit by an offensive spell.
The Dementor blood is actually the ashy remains of the bllod of the person the Dementor was mixed with that person's magic and the soul energy of whoever that Dementor "kissed". Used in a wands core, it served to cool the wand from overexertion, hyper-concentrate the spells so even a Stupefy could become deadly, and being able to absorb weaker spells energy if they came in contact with a shield produced from the wand and siphoning it to the user's magical core.
The runes, added as an afterthought, were centuries old and made sure the wand never fell into another's hand. The runes did everything from negate Expelliarmus to return to Praeceps' hand with a built in Accio spell.
When he entered the Great Hall, there was fighting everywhere: Neville and Sirius versus Bellatrix, Fleur and Bill versus Fenrir, and all other manners of grudge matches.
"Voldemort!" Praecps yelled, causing every other match to stop.
"Potter," Voldemort sneered, "so nice of you to join us, here in the world of the living. But I must ask," he drawled, before his face turned into a sneer, "how? There was no mother to protect you this time, and the protection was broken when I was reborn with your blood."
"Well being Death can have that effect on people," Praeceps said. "And my name is Praeceps when I have the Hallows on me."
"Hallows?"
"Y'know, the Deathly Hallows." Voldemort laughed again.
"Well, then I will continue to call you Potter, seeing as I have the Deathstick," he said, showing the bone-white wand that once belonged to Dumbledore.
"You'd be right normally," Praeceps continued, "but Death decided he liked mine better." He finished by pulling out his own wand, black as the cloak they both wore.
"So you are telling me Death talked to you?"
"And made me his ambassador here. He also tasked me with killing you, seeing as he hates you as much as he hates the elder two Peverell brothers."
Voldemort stalked back and forth, never taking his eyes off Praecps. "For how long? How long have you been conversing with Death?"
"The first time I talked to him was when I got the cloak and he told me about it's signifigance, as well as the fact that Dumbledore had the Elder Wand. Last year when I was watching memories in the pensive, he showed me the Ressurection stone.
"When my wand broke, Death told me to go to Ollivander with a few ingredients, so I did. After I helped him escape from the Malfoy's, he helped me create this, and Death helped make it better than the original. And when it was done, he took all the powers away from that one."
Voldemort laughed evilly, chilling most everyone who heard it. "Well, I'm still more powerful, Potter. You will die tonight."
"And you should have died that Halloween night." He said as he flipped his hood on.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort yelled. The green flash was so bright, it blinded everyone watching, including Voldemort himself. When their vision returned, they were shocked at what they saw.
In Harry's place, there was a 10 foot tall skeleton, hunched over, with long, bony fingers and only wearing a sheer cloak that fell from him like water. His spine jutted out from under his cloak but every bone on his body was pure black. His skull was elongated and the eye-holes were smaller, about the size of a marble, and they, his nostrils, and even from his mouth, pure white light radiated out. In his hand was Voldemort's killing curse, condensed into a spiraling sphere.
He took a gangling step forward and closed the distance between them in three strides. Voldemort was rooted to the spot in an uncharacteristic display of fear.
As it was hunched over, it could look straight into Voldemort's snakelike face and wide eyes and, as he wrapped a bony finger around Voldemort's last life-line, the only thing that kept mortals tied to their current plane of existance, whispered:
"My name is Praeceps, and I am your Death..." The whisper carried through the Great Hall and everyone watched as Voldemort lurched forward as the bony hand pulled back. He clutched weakly at his own robes over his heart to stop the pain, and to Praeceps' in an unspoken plea for mercy. Neither was answered as he fell to the floor with a dull thud, his face contorted in anguish.
When the skeleton squeezed his hand, the Avada Kedavra split and hit every Death Eater on Hogwarts' grounds.
And as the last Death Eater fell to the ground, the skeleton became Harry James "Praeceps" Potter once more.