It's Friday and that means it's time for me to resolve the cliffhanger with another chapter. This time, the dead will rise, heads will roll, and we will see that a sacrifice is only a sacrifice if it is allowed to be made.

My thanks, as always, to those of you who have read, and even more thanks to those of you who have reviewed:

To the ever faithful Snood – Actually, despite his annoyance, I think Katie and Esdras give Harry quite a bit of credit. Otherwise, they would have left him in New Demnin while returning Dumbledore to the castle. I think when they refuse to tell Harry the plan it is less about not trusting him with information and more about needing to move quickly and without question. Remember, Dumbledore was gravely ill, so time was of the essence and they couldn't go about explaining every step to him. The fact that Harry didn't know Azkabaaner was a liability to him because he couldn't understand what was going on.

To the ever faithful KRP – You are a very perceptive individual to ask that question and I'm very impressed. As you know, if Esdras makes the change to his divine form, Katie will make the change with him. So now, all that remains to be seen is if the god of death is as merciful as the King of Azkaban.

To the ever faithful Estel A Duath – I don't think the question is "are you ready to die" so much as it is "are you ready to kill". Remember, Esdras is a merciful king.

To the ever faithful perrinette – I'm sorry again for the cliffhanger. I'm glad you like Aaron, though. Honestly, I think he's just as important to these stories as Esdras because he keeps Esdras grounded and stable. Aaron is at once a best friend and a brother to Esdras, always there when he is needed most.

Those of y'all who haven't reviewed should consider it. There are only two chapters left after this! Let me know what you think of my work, I'm interested to hear your opinions. Your reviews help make me a better writer and increase good karma.

And as always, all text in italics is in Azkabaaner and I don't own HP.

Chapter 21 – Death Ascendant

It had taken Demnin a few centuries to figure out exactly what he was after he had given up his divinity. He could move freely throughout the world and still carried the power of life and death for his kind, but, for the most part, he went unseen and unheard by them. He existed outside of the bounds of time, able to slow or even stop its passage with the hourglass he carried. And when, at long last, a Dementress died, Demnin was there to welcome her with open arms and show her the way to the fields of silver mint. As the centuries passed, one Dementor after another met him, and Demnin realized what he was. No longer was he a physical god of death, he was now merely a metaphysical representation, a spirit.

Through the years, he watched the physical form he had once occupied. In terms of personality and retained knowledge, both the new Dementor and the divine spirit were exactly the same. And it made the spirit sad, for he had given up his divinity to live a normal life with a beautiful Dementress and now his physical body was doing just that while he would never have such a luxury. The physical Demnin joined all of Azkaban together into a strong nation and raised a wonderful family, destined to rule for generations. This pleased the spirit greatly, but the sadness was still there. So the spirit floated the earth, seeing the world, returning only to Azkaban when needed. It was during his travels that he met the one to change his life…or metaphysical existence, whatever one wanted to call it.

Death, as she had called herself, had been harried and overworked. The bringer of death for the mortals, she was constantly moving across the face of the earth, always working, always on the run, and, oddly enough, always wondering why her charges always thought her to be male. Demnin had met her almost four thousand years ago at one of the many battles between the magical mortals and Dementors during that time. They got on well together, and, after Demnin had finished his duties, he had offered to help her with hers. He wasn't as good at her job though, and had to return a few prematurely taken individuals. He would occasionally wonder what those poor souls thought when they saw the brilliant glow of the Wellspring of Ages and his towering white form telling them to walk away from the light, that it wasn't their time yet and they should go back on their merry way.

They met regularly during the following millennia. They became friends and would occasionally slip into the mortal realm for a quiet evening together, anything from a beer in Babylon to a cup of cocoa in Teotihuacán, depending on the rise and fall of civilizations at the time. Finally, one incredible night, after a wonderful dinner and a beautiful theatre performance in Venice, they became lovers. The next morning, he had woken up alone. The note on the pillow from an apologetic Death spoke of a plague and, naturally, her presence was needed. Demnin spent the next few decades following her trail, trying to find her, but the disease was sweeping the European continent and she was always on the move.

He had not seen her in over six centuries when they had both appeared, slightly confused, in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. It was a relief to see her and to see that their mutual affection had, if anything, grown in the time they had been apart. When they separated from their mortal hosts, they had embraced and Death had spoken of how their miraculous reunion was proof that they were meant to be together. Demnin figured it was because they were both immortal, metaphysical beings. But Death had always been the romantic sort.

The last few months had been incredible and the pair had been inseparable as they spent their free time rekindling their relationship. Sadly, though, tonight they were all business. The two spirits found themselves over the lake in the shadow of Hogwarts. Death sighed softly as they floated through the temporally frozen battlefield over the lake. She had already taken one soul tonight, a very nice, very kind, very important old man, and she knew there would still be many more to reap. She shook her head sadly as she sat astride her scythe, her preferred method of transportation when dealing with matters in the air. "Magical battles are always the worst, so many emotions involved and almost always hand to hand combat. Muggles have such advanced weaponry that they hardly have to think about it any more."

Demnin sighed and nodded, his mercuric eyes scanning the carnage. "You are correct, my darling." He pointed to the form of Esdras Demnin, frozen in midair and mid-roar. "But look, he is ready. The transformation will be of his own volition."

Death nodded slightly at this and turned her liquid black eyes to the mortal who would be her successor. Katie was frozen in mid-scream, still pointing at where Aaron had died. "If he is to transform, then she is to transform as well." She smiled softly. "They are very much like us, my love. It would be very selfish of us to rob them of what they have."

The Dementor god of death considered this for a moment. "You are right. They are very much like us. They have incredible strength. Together they are even stronger."

The mortal bringer of death smiled. "Then they are exactly like us. Perhaps they have enough strength to play two roles at once?"

Demnin pondered this, and then laughed softly before placing his hands upon Esdras' head. "There is only one way to find out. It will take them time to come into their powers, but I have faith in them." Death copied Demnin's action, placing her hands upon Katie's head. Before the pair of divinities imposed their will, the Dementor god called out. "I'll see you on the other side."

Rage. Sadness. Hatred. Pain. Fear. Anger. Love. Terror. Grief. Fury. Friendship. Loss. The torrent of emotions filled Esdras as he watched Aaron's cloak flutter to the lake below. The feelings crashed into each other, amplifying themselves within his body and soul until it felt like he would explode. And then, through the fury of emotion, the voice spoke to him. "It is time, my child. You will be the one to guide your people from this tribulation. Take now the power of Demnin, god of death. Use it well."

Esdras' unholy roar grew deeper and richer, resonating with itself. It was echoed a fraction of a second later by Katie in a harmonic tone. The battle around them fell silent as the pair was inexplicably pulled to one another. Together, locked in an embrace, they began their transformations. Esdras' body stretched painfully, growing the extra three feet accorded to him by divinity. The black metal of Esdras' armor cloak glowed white hot, resolving itself into armor plates of platinum alloy. Beneath his hood, his mercury eyes shone with mirror smooth brilliance. In one hand he gripped the now luminous Glaive of Silence; in the other he held the ichor filled hourglass. Katie, held tightly at Esdras' side, took on a black glow that seemed to absorb the white heat coming from Esdras. When it had subsided, her blond, cloaked form had been replaced by a black haired form in pitch black corset, skirt, and cloak. Her eyes were no longer warm chocolate or even Castcloth white. Instead, her irises and sclera had changed to become inky black pools. In her hands, she carried the scythe and sand filled hourglass of her rank.

With a mighty roar that deafened all on the battlefield, a new feature emerged for Esdras. In the center of the Dementor god's chest, a blinding light appeared, piercing his body from back to front. Demnin spoke with a voice that was both as soft as a whisper and as loud as thunder. "No Dementor shall die this day."

To prove his point, the blinding light from his chest expanded, radiating around him and spreading across the battlefield in all directions. At the exact location where each and every Dementor had died, a pillar of light formed. When the light resolved, there again floated the recently deceased, fully restored to life. Everyone from the startled renegades felled by the Glaive of Silence to the crews of the decimated renegade Ordnance batteries, the fallen of the loyal Infantry Fleets to Prime Minister Lord Admiral Aaron Martius Reaping gasped in surprise as they found themselves alive, intact, and breathing once again.

With his will now complete, Demnin again spoke, his voice echoing across the lake. "Behold the power of the Wellspring of Ages and heed my command that no Dementor shall die this day. This is the word of Demnin, who must be obeyed."

The sum total of both navies, 1,582,296 Dementors, floated in awe of the tremendous show of power and in abject fear of the twelve foot tall god. However, unheeded by fear and unimpressed by power, the ten Death Eaters still alive began an attack run on the pair, still under orders to take out Katie. As the Avada Kedavra spells began to fly around the pair, Death turned to face her attackers. She simply extended her scythe at them and spoke, her whisper echoing across the lake. "Die."

At once, all ten Death Eaters fell like stones into the water below. Death slipped from Demnin's embrace and settled herself onto her scythe, floating beside Demnin. She looked afraid. "Esdras, is that you?"

The divine Dementor nodded, himself in shock of the feats they had just performed entirely on instinct. "Katie?" At her relieved nod he let out a sigh of thanks. "Yes, it's me…but how?"

Death looked up with pure black eyes. "I don't know. I'm afraid." She shivered. "Those last Death Eaters…I don't know what happened. I didn't even touch them, I just willed them dead and they fell."

Demnin nodded. "I know, I did the same with the troops who had died. I willed them all to life." The Dementor sighed in concern. "We'll figure all this out later. Right now, we need to deal with this battle."

The mortal bringer of death nodded and stared at the many Dementors around them who had fallen to their knees where they floated, awestruck and chanting prayers and supplications to their deity. One Dementress, however, did no such thing. Lara Sidara cast a Sonorus charm and screamed out to her troops. "Attack, you fools! Can't you see it is a trick? He is playing into your fears! Get off your knees and fight!"

The god floated past the angered Dementress without a care in the world. He spoke, his voice coming from everywhere at once. "I find your lack of faith disturbing. I will prove my powers to you again." He turned to a soldier, one of the ones not kneeling. "Renegade Vice Admiral Bardiel Thermis, why do you not kneel and offer prayers?"

The renegade admiral narrowed his hood and spoke bitterly. "If you are truly who you claim to be, then you already know."

Demnin nodded sadly. "I do, Bardiel. It is because of your son, who was taken from you these many years ago." He placed a hand upon the admiral's shoulder. "Tell me, my child, how did he die?"

Bardiel shivered, unafraid of the height, but seemingly entranced by the mirror calm eyes in the shadow of Demnin's hood. He spoke slowly, calmly. "We were on vacation, my wife and Sandalphon and I. I…I turned my back for a second. I don't know where the mortals came from, but…but they…" Tears of ice fell from beneath the admiral's hood as he brought up the painful memory. "We tried to take him to St. Mungo's, it was closest, but they wouldn't let us in. A single Patronus of but a few soul equivalents could have saved him, but they chased us away. My son…he died before we could get him to Cerah Hospital on Azkaban." His hood narrowed. "I prayed to the gods to keep him alive long enough to reach Azkaban, but they didn't. They abandoned my son when he needed them, so I abandon them. I will take my revenge on the mortals, too. They would not even aid a helpless cloakling. But I will teach them a lesson, I will make them pay!"

The god-king nodded, and gently took the admiral's hands in his own, bringing them to the glowing Wellspring in his chest. He calmly pressed Bardiel's arms into the glowing space, where they disappeared into a seemingly endless void. When Demnin finally pulled away, a tiny cloaked bundle in the admiral's hands squirmed to life. A small face peeked from beneath the hood of its cloak. "Papa?"

Vice Admiral Bardiel Thermis, hardened by hatred, war, and loss, melted. He hugged the small cloaking tight and cried icy tears of joy. "Sandalphon? My son! Oh, my son…" He looked up to the towering form of the Dementor god and bowed his head, his voice heavy and thick with tears. "I praise thee, Demnin, god of Death."

Demnin nodded and placed a hand upon the Dementor's hood. His voice echoed for all to hear. "I have fulfilled the prophecy of the Oracle: in the darkest hour, king and god have become one. The dead have risen; I have saved the lost child, and the lost people. Bear witness, and tell of what you have seen to those not here. I will restore our people; those who wish to join me will be welcomed in New Demnin with open arms. This battle is over, go now from this place." He called down into the fray. "Come forth, Aaron Reaping."

Aaron, resurrected and sore afraid, shot forward from the mass of kneeling Dementors and humbly came to kneel at Demnin's feet. "I am here, Mighty Demnin."

Unaware of how, Demnin extinguished the light of the Wellspring of Ages and looked down at his Prime Minister. "Aaron, you idiot, it's me. I need your help."

Aaron looked up in shock. "Esdras?"

The Dementor god smacked the admiral on the hood. "Of course it's me, you great oaf." Despite the severity of the situation, Aaron let out a relieved laugh. Demnin indicated the great mass of Dementors before them. "I have a feeling that not even Lara will be able to stir up trouble after this. See too all these Dementors and tend to the wounded. Any who wish to stay are welcome to, any who wish to leave shall be allowed to. If they return, especially with their families, they are to be welcomed with open arms."

The Prime Minister of Azkaban nodded quickly. "Yes, Divine Majesty."

Any further instructions from Demnin were halted when Death startled and gasped. She turned her midnight black eyes to Demnin and spoke with urgency. "We have to get to the castle. I…I am needed." She then turned to Aaron. "No Dementor must interfere or enter the Hogwarts grounds until I say otherwise. There will come a time when our wars will intertwine, but for now, the mortal battle must be fought by mortals just as the Dementor battle must be fought by Dementors."

Aaron turned to Demnin for confirmation and the king nodded. "The word of Death shall be obeyed as the word of Demnin. You have your orders."

Hermione was in a world of trouble. After Harry had passed by, intent on catching both Malfoy and Snape, the firefight had grown. Order members had either fallen wounded or were pinned down by heavy crossfire. The column she had taken refuge behind was quickly being worn down by Death Eater Reductor spells. Neville and Luna were in similar situations, but more terrifying was the fact that Ron and Ginny were both face down on the floor. She had watched in horror as Ginny was felled by a Reductor, the red blast ripping a savage hole through her chest and leaving her in a wide puddle of blood. She had missed the spell that had struck Ron. All she knew was that, from her pinned down position, she had been forced to watch as his ragged breathing slowed and eventually stopped.

The Death Eaters continued to advance and Hermione wondered exactly how long they could hold their position. Her thoughts failed her when the wall behind her exploded. She spun about, fully prepared to fight a battle on two fronts, but stayed the spell from her wand when she saw who flew through the jagged hole in the stone wall. Death shouted an order to her companion. "Esdras, shield!"

Demnin landed gracefully in front of their position and faced the opposition, his armor cloak billowing wildly to produce a platinum barrier in front of them. The dull thuds of the Death Eater spells meant that the barrier was holding fast. Luna and Neville hurried from their positions into the safety of Demnin's barrier while Hermione rushed to Ron. She turned him over and struggled to find a pulse on his wrist. Failing to do so, she checked his neck. Failing again and lacking any magical recourse, she joined her hands together and began compressing his chest, tears streaming from her eyes as she attempted to resuscitate him. She looked up at her now raven haired housemate. "I don't understand it; we all drank the Felix Felicis. Their luck should have protected them!"

Death knelt in the blood between Ron and Ginny, her face calm. She placed her hands over Hermione's and, with effort, pulled them away. Her whisper echoed softly. "Their luck has not failed them, for it is not their time to die."

Demnin called out to them from the other side of the platinum armor cloak. His voice echoed dispassionately. "Katie, there are two Death Eaters closing in."

Death looked up, and Hermione watched as her eyes seemed to focus through the impenetrable barrier that Demnin had created for them. Her eyes darted from one side to the other, presumably where the approaching enemies were. She spoke in a quiet echo. "Kill the one on the left; wound the one on the right and make sure he retreats."

As Demnin cast the appropriate spells, Hermione seemed to take in Katie's new appearance. Gasping, she backed away. "You're not Katie…"

The mortal Death shook her head. "I am, and I am also that which you fear." She waved her scythe over the bodies and an hourglass appeared on each one. The top reservoir of each was conspicuously empty of sand. Death took her master hourglass and slowly added more sand to each one. She filled both almost to the top, yet the amount of sand in her hourglass never changed. She smiled, her black eyes shining. "That which I take away, I can give back when the time is not right."

True to her word, the hourglasses of the Weasley children disappeared, leaving the pair whole and uninjured. First Ginny, then Ron took a ragged breath. Within seconds, their eyes were open. Ron was the first to speak. "What happened…?"

Death spoke with authority, her voice echoing loudly. "We'll discuss that later. We have to get out of here." She looked up to the towering form acting as her shield. "Esdras, get back here!"

The Dementor god spun around, reforming the barrier with his armor cloak as soon as the maneuver was complete. After a few seconds of concentration, Demnin the Dementor god was gone, replaced with an incredible variation of Esdras' animagus spell. Halved in height, he stood six feet tall, but his dusty blonde hair was now pure Dementor white. His eyes still glowed green, but the glowing irises were implanted on the mercury eyes of his divine form. He nodded to Death. "Talk to me."

The mortal Death rose and held her scythe in a ready position. She spoke with the omniscience that only someone of her power could possess. "By entering this battle when we did, we created the distraction necessary for the forces of the Order to push most of the Death Eaters into retreat. I will reap the last holdouts. You will protect Ginny and the others. Give me a ten second head start."

Demnin nodded and let her pass behind his cloak. Almost immediately, he started hearing screams of pain and terror. He calmly counted to ten and, at the end of the count, spun and led his charges through the halls of the castle. As they turned a corner, the young mortals in the Dementor god's wake were shocked to see blood coating the walls and floor of the hallway. Bodies of Death Eaters lay everywhere, cut limb from limb. Demnin looked to the end of the hall where Death calmly and emotionlessly brought her weapon down, taking the head from an unfortunate straggler's shoulders, shattering her hourglass in the process. The Order members seemed totally shocked by the force that had just passed by, but were quickly recovering and helping their wounded. As he ran, Demnin had just enough time to spot Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, the latter in severe pain, aiding Tonks. The young auror was barely noticeable with her mousy brown hair and was lying crumpled on the floor. Bill Weasley was no better off, face down in a small pool of blood.

As they descended the main stairwell, Demnin saw Death looking towards the Great Hall. She was unable to see the broad shouldered Death Eater hiding behind a nearby pillar. Demnin launched from the steps the second he saw the man make a move for his wand. Death's voice echoed through the hall as the Dementor god descended with Glaive drawn. "You think you are hidden, but you are not. Fear not, I will not kill you this day…"

The Death Eater stepped from behind the pillar, his wand drawn. He spoke with nervous excitement at the thought of making his kill. "Avada…"

He never finished. Demnin landed behind him and brought his weapon down with a swift motion. The Glaive of Silence split the Death Eater cleanly in half from top to bottom. As the two halves separated like a banana peel, Death spoke quietly. "…he will."

Death lowered her scythe and looked to Demnin. Knowing this meant the battle was ended, he lowered his Glaive as well. The two divinities joined up with the loyal five of the DA and stepped through the front door into an otherworldly scene. The ground was littered with smoldering craters and bodies, students in varying stages of shock were wandering around helpless. In the distance could be seen the remains of Hagrid's hut, charred and gutted by a now extinguished fire. The divine Dementor looked to Death, who nodded as she calmly wiped the blood from her scythe. He raised his hood and called out through the communication charm. "This is a Priority One command; by the order of Death, destroyer of worlds, all action has terminated on the Hogwarts front. The 1102nd, 1254th, and 1900th Hospital Divisions, First through Tenth Fleets, and 21st Engineering Fleet are to report to Hogwarts immediately for emergency duty. That is all."

In previous years, over ten thousand Dementors descending onto the Hogwarts grounds would have been met with fear and panic. Those times were long since passed, and the Dementor force was met with scattered cheers and applause. The Dementors began to spread out, and the Hospital Divisions quickly began to triage and treat the wounded while the Engineering Fleet began to work on repairing and stabilizing the castle grounds and wards. Aaron himself had led the emergency crew from New Demnin. With the battle over and the ichodrenaline rush failing, the Prime Minister of Azkaban, recently brought back from the dead, was shaking as he floated to meet Death and Demnin. "The renegade forces are in retreat. Only five thousand have remained and surrendered, though. We are feeding them and placing them under guard for the moment."

Demnin nodded slowly, infinitely calm from the divine power he wielded. "More will arrive in the days to come, for many have their families to consider. We will begin reintegrating them into our society at that time. Have the Engineering fleets expand New Demnin to hold another two million. We will be ready to accept them with open arms when they arrive."

Aaron saluted. "Yes, Divine Majesty."

Together, the trio descended the castle stairs and wandered into the chaos on the castle grounds. It was a few moments before they ran into a familiar face. Ellen Riley ran up to Demnin, panting and out of breath. Her eyes widened at the sight of his mercuric eyes and she curtsied deeply. She spoke in flawless Azkabaaner. "Mighty Demnin, have you seen my Ian anywhere? I overheard two doctors talking about a battle and I am worried."

Demnin shook his hood and smiled softly. "He is fine, my child. He should be around here somewhere. The Fourth Fleet has been deployed to assist Hogwarts."

Ellen nodded and ran off. Demnin, Death, and Aaron continued walking for a few seconds until a joyous cry came from behind them. "Ellen!"

The trio turned, and was greeted by a heartwarming sight. The black cloaked form of Ian Tabris rushed forward and swept Ellen up, hugging her tightly. They both began to cry happily. Ellen, uncaring of the chill held behind his hood, pulled the garment back and gave him a passionate kiss, freezing her tears to her face. Aaron, watching this, let out a relieved sigh. "At least they get a happy ending tonight."

Demnin smiled and nodded, but Death was distracted. She pointed to a large knot of students that had formed in the shadow of the Astronomy Tower. "What's going on over there?"

They all watched as the crowd milled about. Through the gaps in the students, Demnin caught sight of a flash of purple fabric. He tensed. "No…" Demnin picked up Death and flew forward, Aaron at his side. "Oh gods no!"

Arriving at the crowd and pushing through, they were met with the sight that Demnin had prayed he wouldn't see. Before them, crumpled on the grass in the shadow of the castle, was the broken body of Albus Dumbledore. Death choked back a sob and buried herself into the platinum shelter of Demnin's armor cloak. Aaron began a prayer to the gods for mercy that Demnin was quick to join. They were interrupted when a voice called out. "You! You did this! You have to change it back!"

Harry Potter knelt at Dumbledore's side. Ginny had her arm wrapped around his shoulder, but the Boy Who Lived ignored her, instead choosing to stare at the two incarnations of death with fire in his eyes. Death wiped away her tears and stared at the body with her obsidian eyes, studying the situation. After a moment, she shook her head. "It was not me. This was done before I took the position. Besides, I can't change anything, Harry. It was Dumbledore's time. I cannot bring him back, to do so would upset the balance."

The scarred mortal stood up, abandoning Ginny and circling around the body. He came to stand eye to eye with Death. "I don't care. I don't care if it was his time and I certainly don't give a damn about the balance. We need Dumbledore. You have the power to bring him back, so do it! You have to do it!"

Demnin, seeing where this was headed, narrowed his glowing eyes. "Harry, back off…"

Death was crying openly now. "I can't, Harry. I just can't!"

In the heat of anger and sadness, here Harry made his greatest mistake. He grabbed Death by the cloak and shook her. The mortal never had a chance. Demnin struck Harry with the broad side of the Glaive of Silence and sent him flying thirty feet into the air. When he landed, the Dementor god was already upon him. Having abandoned his mortal form, Demnin towered twelve feet tall over the mortal. Dropping from his float, he brought his foot firmly against Harry's windpipe and the balanced the platinum blade of the Glaive lightly on his chest. Demnin's voice rolled like thunder and echoed with unconcealed rage. "I said back off."

The Boy Who Lived struggled for breath beneath the Dementor's foot as Demnin stared down at him. It was a few very long seconds before Ginny appeared at Demnin's side, placing her hand atop Demnin's. "Spare him, Esdras. It is not worth it."

Death appeared at his other side, wrapping her slender arms about his waist. "You must spare him, my love. It is not yet his time. Release the ignorant youth." She suddenly looked very tired. "The battle is over."

The two soothing voices blended together with a haunting melody. In the darkness of the night, Fawkes began to cry out a haunting song, a dirge for his lost friend and master. These three factors conspired together, and Demnin suddenly felt tired as well. He withdrew the Glaive and retreated from the prone mortal. Staggering slightly, the Dementor god turned to face Aaron. "See to things, my friend. I must rest."

Aaron nodded and saluted, but quickly dropped the salute as his friend toppled forward. With one arm, he caught the falling Dementor god. With the other, he caught the falling mortal death. Both were breathing softly, caught in a deep sleep.