If You Want It Done Right, Send Mad-Eye
By Nemarra
Chapter 1
Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody had lived long enough to know life could take some fairly unexpected turn of events. If you were not vigilant, you would find yourself in a sorry state. He was also not mad enough to believe that he could keep himself from death's door forever. When a familiar flash of green hit him out of the sky during the mission to remove Potter from his relatives' house, he readied himself for what was to come next. Be it pearly gates, a bright light, or even the same cold blackness one experienced in dreamless sleep.
The after-life proved to not disappoint.
The old Auror found himself on the porch of some quaint little suburban cottage. White wash siding and picture windows with shamrock green shutters. The perfectly manicured lawn, trimmed brush, and impeccable front gardens all surrounded by a white picket fence was reminiscent of a child's storybook fantasy. It even had butterflies fluttering about for the added air of tranquilly. Glancing about, the quiet neighbourhood appeared to match this dwelling.
And here Moody had thought Privet Drive had been sickening.
He glanced to the porch steps leading to a flagstone path that opened to a concert driveway. Though there was not a car. In fact, there was not a single vehicle in any of the drive ways nor driving down the asphalt. His glance did spot a letter box next to the start of the path. He squinted to see the name printed on the side and discovered he still had his magical eye. It easily zoomed in to purple cursive writing: Cindy.
He took the time to consider the single story cottage again. When his attention returned to the green door, there was a small change. A small sign now hung under the door window as if it had always been there.
"Please press the door bell" it read. The one side of the sign had a carved hand pointing to the button beside the door. His magical eyes swivelled about in it's socket to see if there was any clear indication to not ring the bell. When he could not find anything, he reached out one scared hand and pressed. The musical chime echoed from inside the abode. By the time he withdrew his hand and looked back up, the sign on the door had vanished.
"Just a minute!" a sing-song voice called.
Moody grunted to himself, but waited. Shuffling could be heard on the other side of the door. A second later, it swung open to... what in the name of Merlin's Hairy Bullocks?!
The woman, at least her blouse, skirt, and heels lead him to guess she was a woman, was a skeleton. Not to be mistaken for someone who was excessively thin. She was a genuine, all clean white bones skeleton. The only flesh to her was the cartilage holding the joints together. Somehow, white-blonde hair was growing from the scalp and tied into a neat bun. She had no eyes, but he was fairly certain she was staring at him.
"Alastor! How nice of you to join us," she greeted. How the Hell could a skeleton look so animated? She seemed to disregard his staring, and continued with the same enthusiasm. "Come in! My name is Cindy. I'm one of the reapers of the magical deaths department. I don't suppose David left you with any memories of meeting him before showing up on my door step, did he? Not to worry, I'll explain everything. Just this way. I was just about to serve some tea." She motioned for him to enter. Realizing he was far outside of his element, Moody conceded and limped inside.
He waited in the doorway while... "Cindy" closed the door. He was in a small hallway. To the left was an open archway and to the right was two closed doors. At the end of the hall, a kitchenette could be seen with a small round table and chairs. Everything about the place still carried the fantastical idea of a kindly grandmother's house.
"This way," the skeleton woman lead through the archway into a normal looking sitting room. A lovely fireplace made up most of the opposite wall. A cream coloured couch had it's back to the large picture window. Two matching plush chairs were situated opposite the couch with a coffee table at the room's centre. Three tea cups and a kettle were settled on the table. It was as normal as everything else, but both of the man's eyes came to focus on one thing. Seated in one of the chairs was none other than Harry Potter.
Honestly, for as long as he had known him, Moody could not recall a time that Harry ever looked so scruffy. He was dangerously thin and clearly had not had a decent shave or hair cut in some time. His clothing and the grim on his skin indicated he had not seen a shower in the same amount of time. The messy haired boy looked uncomfortable in his surrounds, but his eyes widened upon see the old Auror.
"Mad-eye..." Harry started, but could not find what more to say.
Irritation boiled in Moody, "Don't go all blubbery on me, Potter. Here I thought I was given my life to make sure your sorry arse survived long enough to complete whatever mission Dumbledore left for ya."
"Oh, leave the boy alone, Alastor!" Cindy scolded. "He's been valiant in his quest for months now. He would have succeeded before the summer set in if it wasn't for months of starvation and subzero temperatures. He was bound to catch something sooner or later." Then the skeleton woman's voice softened to a coo, "Pity it had to be such a deadly case of Wizard's flu."
"We best hope Weasley and Granger can take care of things themselves, then," Moody grumbled as he stared down Potter. He noticed a sad look cross the boy's emerald eyes.
"I'm sorry to say Wizard's flu is highly contagious and fast acting without the proper potions. Miss Granger had succumb to the same disease a mere thirty hours before Harry, here," Cindy explained.
Moody nodded solemnly, "And Weasley?"
"He abandoned us a few months ago," Harry muttered.
A new anger was quickly rising in Moody. His scarred face became a mask of dark intent. He hoped the Ginger Weasel was dead so that he could get his hands on him. Seeing the rising temper, Cindy was quick to explain again, "I have to say that one thing I admire about Mr Weasley is he is a man of the heart. Which is exactly the problem when facing down a Horcrux."
Moody paled. "A Horcrux?" he growled.
"Oh yes," Cindy nodded. "One of seven when excluding Mr Riddle, himself."
"Seven?!"
"You know what a Horcrux is?" Harry piped in.
"Do I?" Moody barked. "I was part of the Auror team dispatched to eliminated all records on the craft! Not a soul alive is supposed to know about those vial things."
"Sadly, Alastor, Mr Riddle had already produced his first three before your time," the skeleton woman sighed. "That aside, we do need to get down to business. Would you please take a seat?"
The electric blue of one magical eye glanced between the couch and the second chair. Old habits would not let him sit with his back to a window, even if there was more room for his large frame. With a tired groan, he settled in the second chair. Cindy settled on the couch centre, and then picked up the kettle.
"Is Earl Grey alright with you both?" she offered.
"Er.. sure," Harry nodded. Moody simply waved her off. After pouring a drink for Harry and herself, Cindy leaned back to take a sip of the hot liquid. Instead of dripping through her mandible, the drink followed an invisible throat and disappeared under her white blouse.
"Now then," she started as she returned the cup and saucer to the table. "We seem to be in a bit of a predicament with you, Harry."
"Sorry?" he answered uncertainly.
"You see, everyone has a predetermined destiny- a purpose, if you will- to complete before their passing. Granted, not everyone fulfils their purpose, and there is a bit of leeway when taking free will into consideration. There are, however, individuals that really need to complete their life's destiny or else the world will be sent into chaos. You, of course, are one of those souls. I must say, Harry, it took the Department of Soul Creation fifty years to create a match equal to Riddle's power. Your premature death could result in another fifty years wasted to create another and then the matter of arranging the correct series of events to ensure they grow into a chosen hero. All while Riddle grows stronger and may well unhinge the balance of light and dark."
"Is there a point to all this?" Moody snipped.
"Of course. Patience," Cindy waved him off. Her small wave also removed Moody's mouth from his scarred face. Then once again her attention was on Harry. "I needed to make some things very clear to you because where you go from here is a matter of your choice. As it stands, you just say the word, and I'll take you to be with your parents, godfather, and Miss Granger. Mr Weasley will follow along in time, of course, though it won't feel very long for you. You see, you've already earned the right to pass onward, even if it is highly premature. Or, the other option is that you can go back."
"I can have a second chance?" Harry said carefully, as if speaking would take away his choice.
Cindy chuckled, "Oh, dear boy, this is hardly your 'second' chance. Sadly, this is not the first time we've met." The skeleton woman began to tic off her fingers. "Mauled by a three headed dog when you were eleven. Looking a Basilisk dead in the eye. Which reminds me, as much as I detest the little death-cheater, I do owe that ruddy bird for sparing you a second death by that same beast in the same year. Unlike your thirteenth year. Three deaths, Harry. Three. Sure, even I didn't see a killing curse coming from that sneaky rat, but using yourself as a meat shield against a werewolf? Here I went through all the paperwork to make sure you and Miss Granger would be changed, not killed, should such an encounter come to pass, and you bloody well cock things up by pissing him off when he goes for her. The fact you did this not once, but twice, I swear all my hair fell out from the stress. Norman was having a field day!"
Even without his mouth, Mad-eye was able to gain attention with a grunt and a tap of his staff.
"Right, Alastor. My apologies," Cindy took a moment to take another sip of tea. "The point is, Harry, you've died six times now. This, being your seventh."
"I don't remember any of that happening."
"Well, of course, you don't. I'll spare you the legal after-life garble, but let's just say there is a clause when two souls destined to counter one another in a battle of light and dark are created, we Reapers can't show favouritism by creating an unfair advantage. If one is given or created by one individual, the same advantage is given to the other. That's why we have been able to send you back before. Riddle created seven horcruxes" Moody's eye bulged, "plus the piece remaining of himself. In essence, he has given himself 8 lives. Which means we can grant you the same advantage. But that also means, Harry, the eighth death is the ticket. No more chances or redos. And if you were allowed to remember anything about each time line you died, Riddle would be granted the same favour. He would already know what he has done and what failed his plans the same as you. Are you following me, so far, Harry?"
"Er... yeah. I think so."
"Good. Now, our intention is to send you back to your eleventh Birthday to give it all a try again. Any later would almost guarantee you follow down the same path resulting in needless cost of life; possibly including your own. We also can't have you going any earlier, as the loophole we intend to use to assist you has to happen when you are officially a Hogwarts student."
"What loophole? How do I stop Voldemort if I'm not allowed to remember how?"
"That, dear boy, is where Alastor comes in," Cindy motioned to the older wizard. In that second, his mouth had returned as if it had never been taken. Mad-eye moved his jowl a bit to be certain what he felt was correct. In the next moment, he eyed Cindy with a calculated stare.
"What's the plan?" his tone held gruff determination. Cindy smiled. Her gaze turned to the space between the two wizards, and she waved as if motioning someone to enter the room. When they looked back, however, they found a large, brown leather bound book floating their way.
Once in Cindy's boney digits, she explained, "This book, is the answer. Technically, the root to Riddle's greatest power comes from him learning to and creating Horcruxes. The creation of the Horcruxes allowed us to give Harry several chances at life, but, technically, Riddle learning how to create them could also be considered an advantage for the side of dark. Which allows us to implement an equal counter measure. You see, Harry, Mr Dumbledore was not that far off in believing love was the power Riddle does not know. There is a ritual capable of disassembling horcruxes and rejoining them into one soul by using an act of purest love. For seven Horcruxes, you're going to need a strong bought of innocent love. As innocent as, say, your first love? Consider this, if such a ritual were enacted, and all the pieces would be drawn to the largest chuck of soul, and that chuck happened to be in a certain diary that you destroyed, where would the rest of Riddle's soul be headed?"
"One way trip to Hell, I recon," Mad-eye grinned.
"He'd be gone and no one would be killed!" Harry cheered.
"That's our theory," Cindy nodded.
Though Harry was overjoyed by the news, Moody caught what the Reaper had said. "Theory? You don't actually know if this'll work?"
"Well, I'm not all-knowing, Mister. There are a few hiccups in the plan. First off, Harry would need to fall in love naturally with an individual that would return his feelings. No potions or mind control spells. It has to be 100% from his heart by his choice. Correct me if I'm wrong, Harry, but you didn't develop your first crush until you were fourteen."
Harry nodded.
"And Miss Chang did not return the interest until the following year, but as a rebound from Mr Diggory."
With a slightly disgruntled look, Harry nodded again.
"And can we agree that by your sixteenth year, too many lives would already be lost at Riddle's hand?"
This time, both wizard's motioned an agreement.
"Therefore, you would need to meet your future love interest as soon as possible, befriend them, and then fall in love with them when your big boy hairs start to grow in again."
"Granger?" Moody offered.
"That girl has my vote a thousand times over," Cindy smiled.
Harry, however, was fidgeting a little, "But Hermione is just a friend."
"In your current time line; sort of. But after a redo..." her smile grew even more. "we'll see. Any which way, the lass in question will also have to fall for Harry without magical intervention. Then, we're looking at fourteenth year, the earliest, before the ritual can be enacted. Which also means surviving the previous three years of school that had resulted in more than half of your deaths. The second concern is that no one has ever enacted this ritual before. The results on one Horcrux, let alone seven, is uncertain. And the reason it has not been used before is because it's incomplete."
"That's bloody well useful, isn't it?" Moody growled.
"Remember what I said about advantages? Riddle had found a book in the Salazar Slytherin's secret chamber while he was a student. In it was the incomplete details on how Horcruxes are made. He had to spend time researching and building on the ritual to complete the desired task. Thus, Harry will also be given a book with an incomplete counter-ritual."
"And I'm supposed to help him figure out the rest of the ritual, am I?" Moody noted.
"No. You may have extensive knowledge of Runes thanks to your habit of creating wards, but we're going to need a master alchemist. The very same man who died in 1992 after agreeing his Philosopher's Stone needed to be destroyed before it accidentally fell into the wrong hands."
"Nicolas Flammel," Harry supplied.
"The very same. He and his stone, are key parts to the success of this ritual."
"Then exactly how am I involved in all of this?" Mad-eye enquired.
"You are the key to making sure Harry get's this book and ensure Albus Dumbledore becomes the mentor he was supposed to be for Harry."
"Professor Dumbledore was a mentor to me," Harry argued.
Cindy nodded, "Yes, but he also believed that you would need to sacrifice yourself in order to destroy Voldemort's last Horcrux that even he didn't know he made. That being your scar, Harry." The boy's hand instantly shot up to the lightening bolt mark under the fringe of his messy black hair.
"I'm a Horcrux?"
"Were. It's just you in your head right now."
"But you said Dumbledore knew about it."
"As I understand it, he suspected for a while but didn't actually know until just before your sixteenth year."
"Before... he knew! For at least a year, he knew, and never told me? How was I supposed to figure out I was a Horcrux if he never told me?" Harry's voice steadily increased with anger.
"Easy Harry. I know you're upset that he kept yet another secret from you, but that's who he is. You can't ask him to tell all anymore than you can order a dog to meow. He set up contingency plans for you, though. He wanted to make sure you lived and knew love as much as possible. And he wanted you to hold onto hope that one day Riddle would be out of your way, and you could be just Harry. Because he held onto that same hope from the moment he placed you on your relative's doorstep. If he had found a way to save you from getting involved in a war, he would have taken it. And, luckily, we have exactly the answer he was looking for." Cindy held up the book for emphasis. Her eye sockets then turned to Moody with a grin on her skeletal face, "And you, Alastor, are going to make it all happen. It's all rather simple:
Riddle gained knowledge from a lost, undisclosed book falling into his possession. Harry will learn the counter measure also through a lost, undisclosed book. And then, just as Riddle turned to Slughorn, Harry should turn to Dumbledore for last piece of advice to complete the ritual. In the meantime, Alastor, you're going to be working behind the scenes. There are several rules to establish, but that is something I cannot discus here. So, what do you both say? Want to have another go?"
"You're not giving us a lot to go off of," Mad-eye countered.
"I'm sorry, but rules are rules," Cindy shrugged.
Harry sat in a thoughtful stupor for a moment. Then he carefully asked, "Will everyone else that died get to come back too?"
"Everyone that was still alive as of July 31, 1991 will get a second chance at life, with no memory of their previous lives or ever dying."
"How is that not going against your advantage clause?" Moody piped in.
Cindy was just as quick to answer, "Because Riddle will be getting back several followers and three Horcruxes."
The aged wizard sighed to himself as he considered the options. He did not like how much this plan was leaving to chance. But the other option was to pass on and let the world burn under Voldemort's rule. One glance at Potter, and he could see the clear determination in the boy's eyes.
"I'll do it," Harry said without hesitation.
Mad-eye nodded, "I'm with the Lad on this one."
"Excellent! I knew you would make the right choice," Cindy cheered. She stood and added, "let me just grab my cloak, and we'll be off to the Ministry of Souls." She quickly left the two wizard's in silence. A second later, the serene setting was pierce by an ear splitting scream. Both parties jumped to their feet and Moody patted himself in search of his wand.
"Damn it," he growled upon realizing he did not have it. His magical eye turned to Harry and found the boy was also empty handed. "Stay behind me, Potter." He made for the archway to better survey the scene. The scream had stopped, but the walls still rattled with noises akin to a muggle haunted house. Flashing lights was casting deep shadows in the hallway. Just as he turned the corner, the noise stopped with a soft click. What he saw was Cindy casually closing the furthest door in the hall while slipping a large black robe over her clothing. A sickle in hand, she happily turned to the gentlemen. She was every bit the image of death, only with her hood down.
"Shall we?" she smiled.
~HHR~
I know! I shouldn't be starting another story seeing as I haven't update my last few in forever, but this was too precious a plot bunny to pass up. I will do my best to regularly update this and my other works, but I can't make any promises. Anyway, hope you have enjoyed.
-Nemarra