February the fourteenth posed two great surprises for Stella. That morning she had dressed in her usual mourning black, something she had insisted on to ease her own guilt about her mother's death, and had proceeded to the Great Hall for a quick breakfast. She was stunned when a small, grey owl landed in front of her with a letter attached to its leg. Dumbledore had requested her prompt presence in his office with the reminder that he rather enjoyed chocolate frogs. Thinking that he was simply checking on her extra credit progress, she had obeyed his request. She sat in the chair indicated.
"What would you like to do today?" Dumbledore asked throwing her thinking for a moment.
"What?" this fell out of her mouth, as she gaped at him not comprehendingly.
"I thought I would treat you today seeing as it isn't every day someone comes of age," he explained with a genial smile.
"I thought no one knew what today was," she grumbled and then frowned. "I don't do anything, really, for my birthday. At least, I stopped doing things when I came to Hogwarts."
"Today dawns a new era then, what shall it be?" he said cheerfully.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked with a suspicious expression.
"Because I have found myself lacking in the adoptive father department and I wish to make amends," he said and she noticed, with a small twinge of something close to regret, a brief moment of sadness become apparent on his features.
"Okay," she said slowly and made up her mind. "Lunch at some place not terribly fancy, then a visit to End's Cemetery and a wreath of lilies, they were mother's favourite, terribly ironic if you ask me."
"Excellent," he said and stood to get something from a cabinet. "Of course, we will need to go and get you a watch first; it's a bit of a Wizarding tradition when someone comes of age."
"Oh, I know a coming of age tradition!" she piped up excitedly. "My cousin, Jamie, was unfortunate enough to have to slaughter his most favourite cow for his birthday dinner. He still has nightmares about accidentally killing his eagle with a badly aimed killing curse."
"What?!" he had returned with an old toaster and was frowning disconcertedly.
"It's an old Andor tradition, not a very good one, but I think that, with Riddle's return, they aren't going to be happy with that one," her expression had turned contemplative.
"I see, portus," he tapped the toaster with his wand and looked up at her. "Are you ready?"
"Ready as I will ever be," she said and they both placed a finger on the toaster.
Dumbledore had sworn to Stella that he would teach her how to read the strangest watch she had ever owned; the many stars circling around the golden edge on which runes were inscribed baffled her. The drawstring pouch the watch case had come in had solved a problem she had been experiencing with the old Founder's relics. (She would place an undetectable extension charm on it, shrink it, and charm it to look like a casual charm attached to a link on her watch while being able to use it in that form. She would also put everything else of value in it such as her second wand.)
She had been happy with the simple, Muggle restaurant that they had chosen and Dumbledore had followed through on his intents to make amends. They had a lengthy conversation in which they had learned a great deal about each other. He was happy that she was making good progress in all of her extra credit assignments, her Apparition classes were boring her by then, and she was relieved to see that the break out at Azkaban had made his life easier at convincing people of Riddle's return. Their visit the End's Cemetery sobered Stella up somewhat and, as she placed the wreath of lilies at her mother's headstone, guilt grabbed sharply at her heart.
It had been ages since she had visited her mother's grave and, still, it hurt every time to remember happy and devoted Anna Morgan who loved so much that she was willing to die for her cursed child. Stella could understand why Stephen had loved Anna so much; Anna was very unlike the rest of her family in that she was devoted to the light and embracing the concept of love so thoroughly that she chose death over the destruction of her love. Perhaps that was Death's overall message. Perhaps he meant that Stella needed to learn to love as her mother did in order to master not only the Stone, but also what? Her eyes were still prickling as they touched the Portkey, a broken vase, and were transported back to Hogwarts.
The very same evening, she was visited on the Astronomy Tower. At first she wasn't very sure that someone was there; the outline seemed to waver and if she wasn't concentrating hard enough, he vanished. Death had come to her and sat next to her letting his legs dangle over the edge of the Tower as she had done. They had sat in ruminative silence before Stella, who couldn't stand the anticipation any longer, broke it.
"You're not here to wish me happy returns so tell me, what plagues the mind of Death?" she lay back and turned her head to watch him.
"I have been thinking," he started looking towards her.
"Don't do too much of that, I hear those who don't have the capacity burn their brain cells out," she said lazily.
"Yes, and those who don't have their brain cells burnt out get them killed by their daughters," Death smirked as she scowled at him.
"Not fair, any messages from them, by the way," she kept her tone light.
"No, your mother won't look at me let alone talk to me and your father can't move on until you've given back his personality," he twisted his body to face her.
"Oh, that," she said loudly and then under her breath muttered. "I don't know how."
"She doesn't know how," he sneered slightly. "How does she expect to have mastered herself when she doesn't know how to control her powers?"
"About that," she started, unfazed by his insult. "I have been thinking, as well, and I can't quite understand what sort of hold Potter will have over me. What is it that a Master of Death requires of Death?"
"It's actually quite simple really," he said, his tone completely different. "A very strong bond exists so that you may protect the Master from his, or her, enemies. You may also feel inclined to give services to the Master when absolutely necessary and you shall also become their greatest ally."
"Well, that makes enough sense," she said lightly. "What about the filler time? What happens when the Master dies, or if I die before the Master? In fact, just tell me everything you have been musing about."
"It's quite brilliant really," Death looked excited for the opportunity to share while Stella's eyebrow lifted for him to continue. "As it turns out, I will have my revenge on Morgana after all. As of today, you have stopped ageing ... no don't be startled, now," – for she had turned white – "… until a Master can no longer exist. Essentially you are immortal unless Potter really is the last Master. If you Master the stone, a paradox will be created thus rendering you permanently immortal, which I am starting to come around to. Your filler time shall be spent doing various activities like recovering trapped souls so that they may pass on, I haven't really thought much about it. I should also mention that killing curses won't affect you very much; it will just lead to some awkward questions as to why you are not dead."
"Okay," she nodded slowly wanting to get as much information as possible. "You mentioned powers, a plural, what of them?"
"That, my dear," he grinned as if he was holding something great over her head. "Is for me to know and you to find out."
"Will I have a life of my own?" she fired at him.
"I can't say," he looked thoughtful. "I have noticed an increased amount of deaths happening over the past few years, daily numbers that remind me of the World Wars. I take people and let them pass on. You will be my agent on the other side, basically me. For the first time I am unsure how heavy the roll we will have will be."
"Right," she sighed heavily and looked to the stars above. "Have you ever wondered what it would be like to fly amongst the stars?"
"That's awfully romantic for someone like you," he sneered down at her. "Is immortality already addling your mind?"
"They are everywhere and everything, much like you, is it a power?" she asked and experimentally focussed on pushing her consciousness outwards, but a hand stopped her.
"I wouldn't do that, not when you have a practical tomorrow," she saw worry etched on Death's features.
"What will you do when I die, when I stop being seventeen and turn eighteen?" she asked.
"I might not take you, you know," he said somewhat frostily. "Our powers don't only send people on, they can also bring back forever."
"If Potter wanted it, would you let me give it to him?" she arched an eyebrow.
"If it kept you here, I am selfish, see, I don't want to lose a precious link to the living world," he glared slightly at her.
"I am glad, then, that Potter isn't like Riddle, it's what makes him the Master, isn't it?" she turned back to the stars.
"About that, Riddle's obsession with you only grows as you add more pieces of his soul to that Mind Palace of yours," he warned as a cold breeze drifted over them.
"Don't worry," she said waving her hand dismissively.
"I do, I fear he will use the Holmes brothers against you, to force you to do his bidding," he urged.
"Dumbledore's got a ward up, magical people can't see them, besides I would kill Riddle before he even got the chance," she placated him.
"I see," he was short and perturbed. "Haven't you got hours of extra credit to keep you distracted from your activities?"
"Boring and finished, I get more on Monday. Haven't you got a quickly filling platform to keep your mind off your troubles?" she looked at him again.
"Your father's taking care of much of it for now," he replied.
"You've got two Morgans under your thumb! Goodness, Morgana must be turning in her grave!" she exclaimed thinking that she needed to figure out how to let Stephen pass on.
"Actually, her soul disintegrated before she even reached the platform, she is neither here, nor there," he shrugged.
"How fascinating," her mind and eyes wandered to the stars once more as she considered the possibilities of this information.
"Yes, very," he said and then there was silence between them.
Stella must have fallen asleep gazing at the stars while turning over the information she had cleverly gained from Death because, when she had woken to the sky turning a deep shade of purple, she was alone. Alone, she mused as she walked back to the Ravenclaw Tower. Death means to make her immortal and alone. He certainly wasn't fond of her, but he seemed to desire life from and through her. She knew Morgana had escaped from Death entirely, fading from existence, and she was determined to find out how it could be done. There was no way that she would become immortal and lose out on the experiences of age and she was adamant about dying when there was no one else she knew alive. It was also an embarrassment to never age in an ageing society. Stella decided that day, that she was going to do everything in her power to not outlive everyone she knew while, in a different dimension, Death plotted her immortality.
