Disclaimer: I own nothing
A/N: Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas! Happy Yule! Whatever you celebrate. I know this has been a rough year and time for most everyone. I hope that through this time of crazy and isolation you are all able to find some joy and happiness this season.
Also, I guess I should note that we are heading into more AU territory with the story now, and also into some very mild slash. Lastly, thank you for the wonderful reviews and the suggestions for Death's DADA classes!
"How is he?" Harry asked anxiously when Death was able to visit him again at Privet Drive. "Did he find my parents? Are they all getting along?"
Death pulled Harry's desk chair over to the bed, now suddenly no longer comfortable sitting on the bed beside Harry after his sudden realization and the subsequent stern warnings from Harry's parents, friend, and godfather (as well as their blessing for once Harry was older). "Yes, Harry," Death smiled. "He's doing well, and they are having a grand time. I left him at tea where he and your father were regaling Cedric with stories from their marauder days. Your mother was trying to get him to eat more and take better care of himself," Death snorted. "I swear she doesn't realize they're all dead. It's not like he can die again."
Harry let out a long breath and smiled for the first time in a long time. Being best friends with Death understandably led him to having a very different perspective on the afterlife than others, but he was still mourning his godfather and not being able to see him in this life. "Did you hear about the prophesy?" Harry asked.
"No, that was what that thing wanted from the ministry, right?" Death asked. He wouldn't call Voldemort by his name, not because he had any fear of it but because he believed the abomination didn't deserve a name. He lost that privilege when he gave up his humanity, and this was a judgement coming from someone who wasn't a human himself.
Harry explained the prophesy and how one of them would have to kill the other. Death just scoffed. "So?" he asked.
"What do you mean, so?" Harry felt his anger rising. "I will not become a murder. I refuse! And, then Dumbledore goes and tells me that I have to, or Voldemort can't be stopped! And, all you can say is 'so?'"
"What I meant," Death said, moving to sit beside Harry and wrap his distraught friend in a hug. "Is that the prophesy has already been fulfilled. It's unfortunate he caused you so much pain in attempting to get it, but it means nothing now if you don't want it to."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, leaning into the hug and taking calming breaths.
"Well, the abomination has unfortunately killed you three times already, but more importantly, he killed the part of his soul that lived within you, meaning you have already killed two parts of his soul by default, the piece in you and the diary your second year."
"I call that good enough," Death shrugged.
"What about the power he knows not?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore waxed poetic on some crap about love."
Death smiled. "I'm guessing it's whatever connection the two of us have," he laughed. "I have brought you back those three times when he caused your death."
"So…your advice is to not worry about it?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Well, he's probably going to keep trying to kill you, so we do have to kind-of worry about it. And, if you would like to help send a few more soul-pieces to me, I'd really appreciate it. He's leaving quite a black mark on my register. However, if you don't want to kill him, then don't. I would prefer you didn't become a murderer actually. It's a bit problematic for me."
Harry finally released all the pent-up worry he carried around since Dumbledore put that weight on his shoulders. "So, I can send the rest of his soul to you, and I don't have to kill the main piece and become a murderer, and I'm still fulfilling the prophesy?"
"I'm not a seer and, frankly, I don't care for them one bit, but it seems fine to me," Death said lightly. "Fate I understand, but prophesy is all how you interpret it. I know I may seem dismissive to the prophesy, but what I've learned over the years is that these things tend to be self-fulfilling. It's best if you don't worry about it and just live your life. Be as safe and as smart as you can in your interactions, but I wouldn't put much anxiety or faith in something that can be interpreted in many different ways."
"How many pieces are there? Do you know?" Harry asked, ready to start plotting and be done with this. He believed and trusted Death, but he also thought it wouldn't hurt to get rid of all the soul-pieces to be extra certain.
"I know how many pieces there are, but where they are and what they are in, well, that I don't know, and that's the problem," Death warned. "The nature of the magic keeps them off my radar (to use a muggle metaphor) to some extent."
"Well, let's start with what we have anyway. Obviously, there were at least three."
"All totaled, there were 8," Death said sensing the earth for the soul pieces. He could sense the soul, but it was so fragmented, he just couldn't place where they all were. "You and the diary are taken care of though, so you are down to 5 and the main piece."
"That's a lot," Harry shook his head. "How did he do it, by the way?"
"Murder," Death said sadly. "Beyond that, I will not speak of it. It is best the knowledge passes out of this world."
"Well, at least I have something to spend my time figuring out sixth year," Harry said lightly. "You know, around trying to not get killed or tortured by Old Voldy or the new DADA professor."
"About that…" Death started with a smile. "Sirius and I came up with a plan."
"Really?" Harry said, excited at whatever a marauder and Death himself might come up with.
"That's what took me so long to get back to you after Sirius died," Death explained. "I've basically been haunting Dumbledore's office and trying to figure out his plans for next year."
"Who's he hiring?"
"Originally, he planned to get back some guy named Slughorn to teach potions and move Snape to DADA."
Harry groaned. "Well, he may have saved my life a few times, but if he gets moved to DADA, then Snape will definitely kill me this year. Start getting ready to visit Kings Cross again."
Death just laughed. "I gave him an alternate plan though; one he couldn't refuse."
"And…please get to the point," Harry rolled his eyes.
"I submitted an application for the most qualified Defense teacher the world over," Death smiled. "Professor Dis Osiris."
"You?" Harry coughed out. "You are going to teach DADA next year? I thought you didn't want to be around humans because you creep them out?"
"Luckily, Professor Osiris is out of the country and so qualified that Dumbledore was willing to hire him without an interview. I can't be worse than Umbridge, right? So, they'll just have to all deal with the creepy new DADA instructor."
"We're all going to live to regret this, aren't we," Harry smiled happily.
"If you all live," Death laughed.
A week before school was scheduled to start, Death met Harry at the Burrow after everyone went to sleep and shifted him (what Death called his version of apparition) to the DADA classroom at Hogwarts to get an opinion on how it was set up. "Wow, that was so much better than portkey or floo," Harry laughed since he didn't even stumble (not to mention it was nice to be held in his friend's arms).
"What do you think?" Death asked, self-consciously motioning to the classroom.
"Well, erm, it's graphic," Harry said with a grimace.
"Too much?" Death asked.
"Yeah, a bit," Harry agreed.
With a wave of his hand, Death vanished all the posters of tortures and gruesome deaths caused by dark curses. "How about now?"
"Brilliant!" Harry smiled at Death's obvious relief. The room was set up with a dueling platform across the back for practicals and desks at the front for theory lectures. The only pictures were very tasteful and of some of the more interesting "dark" creatures.
"Great! Follow me," Death said as he went to the back of the classroom and through a fairly bare office to a portrait of a large raven. "Fluffy," he said.
"Aww, your password is your dog," Harry laughed teasingly. "I think that ranks with 1, 2, 3 and 'password.'"
Death playfully smacked the back of Harry's head as he followed the young man into his personal chambers. "I've never had a home in the mortal world before," Death said looking around. "So, I didn't really know how to decorate."
Harry's impression was that the room as very comfortable. There was a light gray, overstuffed couch with black throw pillows and a low coffee table in front of the fireplace. Beside the fireplace was a tall bookshelf, filled with ancient looking books. A few of which were probably older than Hogwarts. A kitchenette was in a corner with a small table for two. And, a couple doors led off the main room that Harry assumed went to the bedroom and bathroom. "I like it," Harry smiled as he crashed down onto the couch. "It's calming."
"Something has to off-set my aura, not that I think anyone will be visiting my quarters except you," Death said, happy that Harry liked the rooms.
"Met with anyone in-person yet?"
"Yes, but only the headmaster," Death smiled, remembering his shock at the ring on the headmaster's hand and the elder wand he carried. "There's a faculty meeting tomorrow night where I'll meet the rest. I plan to send as much of my creepiness Snape's way as possible because of how he's treated you."
"Just don't go overboard. He's had a rough life," Harry said, bravely taking Death's hand in his own. "How did Dumbledore take meeting you?"
"He very obviously doesn't like me. That's plain," Death shrugged. "Part of that is probably because he's clearly dying and can sense the end with me."
"Dumbledore's dying?!" Harry exclaimed, squeezing Death's hand tighter.
Death held up his other hand as a visual aid. "Look at his hand next time you see him," he said. "It looks like he was playing around with a very dark object. Probably one of the soul-pieces we're looking for."
"Of course, Dumbledore would figure out the soul-pieces, but why wouldn't he take care around one of them?" Harry said with some sadness at the man's condition.
"I don't know," Death said, not really caring. "I'll ask him…at the end. He's still on my 'List' though, so it'll be a long chat."
Harry shook his head in exasperation. He figured it was time to change the subject. He didn't want to discuss Dumbledore's imminent demise right now. "So, how's school going to go with you here? Do you even have a wand? I'm supposed to call you Professor Osiris, right?"
Death just smiled at the questions and tangled his fingers within Harry's more. "I have a stick I grabbed off a tree out back," Death laughed. "I'll just wave it around when I do magic. I'll need to use it to show you all the correct wand movements even if I don't need it myself. I plan to stick to dark creatures as much as possible; though I do plan to disabuse you all of the notion that dark magic equals evil when light magic can maim and kill just as easily."
Harry outright laughed at the thought of Death just waving a useless stick around. "And, for what to call me and all, do you think I really care anything about what people think of me? I'm Death. Call me Dis like you always have. I plan to call you Harry, the whole Mr. Potter thing is silly when I've known you since you were a baby. And, if you want to see me, stop by here any time. You know the password."
"Won't people ask questions though?" Harry asked with a smile.
"So," Death shrugged. "Like I really care about keeping this job. I'm only here to protect you. I already have a pretty demanding job. We'll say I'm an old friend of your family's and that Sirius asked me to keep an eye on you. All true of course."
"Conveniently not mentioning you all have tea together regularly in the afterlife," Harry snorted in laughter.
"Yes, very conveniently," Death smiled as he played with Harry's fingers. "Have you ever noticed just how many ghosts there are in this castle?" Death changed the subject.
Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you planning on forcing all the ghosts to move on?"
Death thought for a minute. "No, but I'd like to chat with them, make sure they still have unfinished business. Some are quite old and really should be getting on along. It does bother me when they hold on past their time."
"Please talk to Professor Binns first!" Harry laughed.
"Anything for you," Death smiled indulgently. "Oh, by the way. You'll be needing this," Dis handed Harry the potions textbook for sixth years.
"I made an E on my potions OWL, and Snape only takes O students for his NEWT class," Harry corrected, not too unhappily.
"I heard them talking in the hallway, loudly I might add, but Dumbledore made him lower it. There were only three O students and the headmaster said that wasn't enough for a class."
Harry grumbled as he flipped through the new textbook. "And this year was going to be so good."
Harry closed his eyes and sighed, summoning all his Gryffindor courage. "There's something I'd like to do…before you're my professor and I can't anymore," Harry said quickly, taking Death's hand again.
Death looked at him confused, not sure what he couldn't do when he was a professor. "Sure…what?" he asked.
Harry extracted his hand from Death's and instead moved to where he was straddling his lap. Death's eye widened, and he slowly moved his hands to rest on Harry's hips. "This," Harry said as he slowly bent forward and kissed his friend. "Is that ok?" he pulled back.
Death looked at him, his eyes still wide in shock. "It's fine if it isn't," Harry said moving away quickly and turning red.
Death's hands stopped him and held him in place. Death looked deep in Harry's emerald, green eyes. He slid his hands around Harry's back and pulled him forward into a deeper kiss. Harry moaned softly into his lips. "That's ok," he finally answered as they stopped for air.
"Now, as you are still only 16 and about to be my student. I probably should return you to the Burrow before I'm tempted to do anything else," Death laughed, but still placed another kiss on Harry's lips. "Your mother would kill me."
"Umm, don't tell her," Harry mumbled.
"I may be Death, but that lady scares me," Death laughed as he shifted Harry off his lap and pulled the frustrated young man up.
"Fine, but I'm 17 in less than a year and legal. No arguments then," Harry grumbled as Death shifted them both back to the living room at the Burrow.
Death pulled him into one more deep kiss before releasing Harry, both of them panting. "See you in a week," He said, disappearing into a dark cloud.
Up Next: The school meets Death!