𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖊

Act I - Trials of Summer

Chapter 25 - Life and Chaos, Part 3

He was back amidst the ice.

Despite having been here before, the transition felt just as shocking as the first time. Bitter, arctic wind slapped against his face with an alien prejudice, as if him being there was an affront to the being that rested within. Hateful stalagmites rose like empty coffins, each as thick as he was tall, while several feet of ice paved the floor. The air was dry, and every breath was a hefty exertion.

This was no mere cold. It was a Winter that despised life. A perversion of the world's rules.

"Back again, I see," a familiar, rumbling voice greeted him. The husk of a man slowly trudged through the snow, his movements callous and mechanical. "But you would. You would. After all, you are only beginning to taste what it means to wield true power. I was once in your shoes, too. I understand how it feels."

The eeriness finally getting to him, Harry snapped. "You don't! You don't know who I am or what I feel. I'm not you."

The near-skeletal man arched his eyebrows— or, rather, what would have been his eyebrows. Instead, pale, parched skin moved up, making his large eyes comically bulge out.

"You are telling me that you did not seek this power?"

"No, I—" Harry began, but then wisely shut his mouth. As much as he wanted to deny it, the man was speaking the truth. He had wanted— no, craved for that power when dueling Daphne. Sure, he had wanted to save himself from being incinerated, but part of his desire stemmed from his wish to dominate the duel. To dominate over her power. Power that wanted to steal his choices from him.

It had stemmed from his defiance.

The man toothily smiled. It felt empty, like starvation. Like the damp blackness of his old cupboard and the loneliness he had felt growing up.

"Yes, I was watching. That precious spawn of Life wanted to end you once and for all, for they fear you. They fear the inevitable. The sound of the bells tolling at the top of the hill!"

His face twisting into an expression of uncontrollable fury, making Harry step back, terrified.

"FOOLS!" the man snarled. Several blocks of ice shattered with the fury in his voice. "The bell has been rung. It will not be unrung. The gates will open and then they— they—"

"They… what?"

"Nothing." Slowly, the man's expression returned to its usual visage. "There is no point in speaking of them. Let us instead talk about you. You have now tasted Chaos, and by proxy, Death. How did it feel?"

"Empty," Harry admitted. "I mean, it was strong, and powerful, and… I've never felt anything like it before. But it was empty. Just using it made me feel like everything else was pointless."

"Death is always pointless. For that is the point."

"Sirius described it as 'unmaking'," Harry blurted out, suddenly feeling incredibly juvenile. "It made me wonder… What is death, exactly?"

"Bah!" the man spat. "What would he know? Spineless insects that scuttled around Hedetet. Like that Scorpion's sting held any venom. The Blacks are nothing but pretenders who hold a bowl of water, claiming they've seen all while remaining ignorant of the ocean before them."

Harry blinked. Normally, he'd have torn the man a good one for insulting Sirius like that, but he understood the message. Not to mention, there was a part of him that recognized that bad things could happen to him if he insulted this man. As if to prove his point, the area around them darkened just a shade.

He tried his best to ignore it.

"Err… so what is it?"

"Death is a Truth of the universe, child," the mysterious man replied, his voice reverent. "The blackness. The void. When the first living thing took birth, Death was there, silent, patient, waiting. When the last living thing dies, it will stow the chairs, turn off the lights, and lock the universe behind it as it leaves."

"To go where?"

The man looked at him in confusion.

"You said Death leaves," Harry repeated. "Where does it go?"

His lips twisted into a sickening smile. Cryptic. Then again, what else is new?

"Fine, I'll play ball," Harry murmured, before raising his voice. "You called me its custodian the last time I was here. So, what does it all do? Why is everyone so freaked out about this? Why is…" He recalled the large, fiery bison appearing behind Daphne. "What is so ugly about Chaos magic that Life magic was trying to eradicate me?"

"Chaos… magic?" the man sneered. "What a joke! What's next? Dark light? Holy sin? Chaos is not magic, child. Chaos is chaos, everything that magic is not. You, in whose veins flows power that was once mine, are standing on the crossroads. The turmoil you face will never die until you choose the road you wish to travel. To be like them, or be yourself."

Harry narrowed his eyes. For some reason, his answer wasn't all that surprising. Maybe it was because he'd subconsciously arrived at the same conclusion on his own. It had always been there, after all. The anger, the rage, the burning desire he'd felt upon seeing the dark side of the magical world. The wish to just take it all and TEAR IT APART INTO NON-EXISTENCE—

Harry clenched his eyes shut.

He didn't want to lose control. Not now. Not again.

What he needed was answers, and for those, he needed to think things through.

"I don't believe that to be completely true," he began again, slowly gathering his words. "I mean, my freezing spells have been powerful as of late. That would count as magic, wouldn't it?"

The man scoffed. "Do not play coy, child. The elements have always existed. Fire has always burned. Water, in its many forms, has always cycled. Wind has always blown. Light and darkness have always been there. Tell me, child, if water did not exist, If it was not there, would the world still exist?"

Harry shook his head. Without water, the Earth wouldn't be able to sustain life.

"How about fire? Wind? Light? Darkness?"

He wondered what the man was trying to get at.

"What about gravity? The laws that rule motion, rule the balance of attraction and repulsion, what if they did not exist? Could the world exist without them?"

"I—"

"And magic?"

That made him pause. Magic… Would it really affect the world if there was no magic anymore? He thought about Hogwarts, about his friends and teachers and Sirius. About the amazing feeling when casting a spell. What if it all didn't exist? The Dursleys didn't have magic, but they lived their lives. Without him around, they might've even been happier. For a single magical person, there were at least a thousand of those that weren't, and still the world moved.

Not because there was magic, but despite it.

Harry exhaled. A world without magic would be dull. Empty. Magic was what made him what he was. Without it, he'd have been a normal teenager. Not a—

Not a freak.

There would have been no Voldemort. Lily and James Potter would have remained alive. Maybe they would be just normal people. Maybe they wouldn't even have met or given birth to a Harry Potter, but they'd still be alive.

"You see it now, don't you?" the man whispered. It was oddly seductive, and what was worse, it was working. "Magic is the addendum. The extra. Not the fundamental force you believe it to be. It is a corruption! A disease! A force that twists everything— elements, space, time, reality itself."

"And chaos is the opposite?"

"It is everything that magic is not. Chaos takes magic apart and makes things the way they are. Death is a part of the world. All things live, and all things must die. My clan and my forebears had always worshipped the lesser powers of Death. Necromancy. Soul transference. Alchemy. Only when She manifested before me in all her glory did I truly understand what it meant to die."

"She?" Harry caught on. "You mean Apophis?"

"Yes. And no." And then the strange old man clammed up again.

Harry helplessly spluttered. What— what the hell did that mean?

"Do not be disappointed," the man chuckled. "Even my brothers did not understand. Death is not something to be feared. Life should be feared. Life is biased. Magic can take sides. But death? It's the ultimate fairness. Death comes for all— rich or poor, magical or muggle, wizard or creature. Death is a lover. An old friend."

It was as if a kaleidoscope had finally come into focus. A few simple words, and Harry had finally achieved some clarity. He finally knew who this man was, and what the Gringotts Overlord had meant.

"You're Ignotus Peverell, aren't you?"

"I adorned such a name for an ephemeral moment. But what I am is a vessel, as many have been before me. Arwyn, the Dark God. Medea, Bloodsoaked Witch of Colchis. Mephistopheles, the Blasphemer. Scathatch, the Gatekeeper of Shadows. And many, many more. And now…"

"Me," Harry blurted.

"You," Ignotus replied simply.

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. This… all of this was just surreal.

"You—you have it all wrong!" he blurted out. "I mean, I'm just Harry. I'm not all that special."

The lines at the corner of his eyes deepened. "I am not the one choosing, son of Peverell. You are. You stand on the edge of a crossroads, and no matter what path you take, the future will be a result of your own choice. Yours to build. Yours to destroy. You may choose to return to your illusion of normalcy, trying to fit into a world that will never truly accept you. Or, you can—"

"Wield Death itself?"

Ignotus snorted. "Vessel, boy, not its master. Death is not a power to wield. Through you, it will pour down into the river of this World and annihilate the corruption that Magic brings with it."

"And… you think I can do that?"

The man smiled. For the first time, he looked almost human. "You will. When you decide."

"Decide what?"

"Everything."

Harry jolted awake.

Lifting his hand, he rubbed his coarse, gummy eyes. Something told him he was supposed to feel pain when moving his arms and legs, but the sensation felt oddly absent. It still hurt to breathe, but at least his chest didn't feel like it was being sat on by a small elephant.

He slowly glanced around at the room. It was mostly spartan, except the vivid pink covering the opposing wall. The bed was circular, reminding him of the ones back in Grimmauld Place. It was shrouded by drapes of pure white, drifting on gentle currents of cool air. Something told him this was a girl's room— or, more precisely, a bedroom. Turning a little more, he noticed a mirror on one side and a small dressing table.

What is this place? Where am—

Knock knock!

The door to his right opened to reveal a female elf dressed in traditional maid's attire, carrying a tray that held an empty porcelain cup and several containers of liquids that each looked more expensive than the last.

"My Master has been informed that you have awoken," the elf stated. "The container with flowers has a beverage with several unique herbs mixed in for nutrition. The one without is a solution often drunk after a healing procedure."

"…Healing?" Harry asked warily, gripping the bed sheets.

"My apologies," the elf jerked her head. Her demeanor was wildly different from Dobby's hysteria and Kreacher's terrifying presence, yet there was an undercurrent of sternness in her voice that felt eerily out of place. Given the decorations and the overt natural depictions around, it was not difficult to guess where he was now. But from what he remembered, the Greengrass elves had gone out of their way to welcome him. Not this… forced pleasantry.

"Melisse thinks Melisse will inform Master Greengrass that the healing has been a success."

And just like that, the spell was broken.

Harry jumped up. "Wait! What happened to me?"

The elf tilted her head, like a bird watcher examining an interesting specimen. "Does Harry Potter not remember?"

"Remember what?"

The elf looked at him speculatively, as if debating whatever or not to tell him the truth. He had often seen a similar look on Dumbledore's face whenever Harry asked about Voldemort's obsession with him.

"What does Harry Potter remember last?"

The words were posed as a question, but the elf's demeanor reminded him of a stretched bow. Taut. Tense. Ready to propel an arrow at a moment's notice.

But yeah, what was it he remembered?

Harry thought back about the old man— Ignotus Peverell. About what he had learned there. About Death, and what being her vessel meant. About chaos and its interesting yet shockingly inverse relationship with magic. About—

"Harry Potter?"

The sharp tone of the elf's voice broke his stupor. "Is something wrong, Harry Potter?"

"No—not really. I was fighting with Greengrass— I mean Daphne —and she cast that fire spell. I used a freezing spell and then—"

"Then?"

Melisse looked disturbingly angry, like she was ready to pounce on him. "What happened after?"

"I—" Harry replied shakily, "I don't remember."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing." Harry grabbed his head with his hands. "Sorry, I'm still a little woozy."

The elf narrowed her eyes and looked at Harry in a calculating manner. Then, she smiled once more. "Melisse understands. Melisse will inform Master Greengrass that Harry Potter has awoken."

And then she was gone.

Blasted elves! he swore inwardly. First Kreacher and now this. Bloody things will be the death of me.

Still, it was not all bad. At least now that whatever was happening to him, it affected all elves. Kreacher had witnessed him turn into that monster and consume Walburga Black's wraith like a tasty snack. And now, he had performed more of that against Daphne after the Greengrass Magic tried immolating him.

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "Shit has definitely hit the fan."

Not a minute later, Sirius Black dashed into the room like a madman, with Artemis Greengrass and a subdued Daphne Greengrass in tow, the father-daughter duo opting to stay in the periphery of the room.

"What the HELL were you thinking?" his godfather exclaimed, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and checking him all over. "Of all the stupid and absolutely irresponsible—"

"Mister Black?" Daphne stiffly offered, standing by the door. "I believe I have already explained everything. Potter here is completely blameless for—"

"Thank you Miss Greengrass, but I'd rather have his side of the story. I need to know what caused him to duel like that knowing what happened earlier—"

Harry's eyes widened. "Sirius—"

"—with the doxies and—" Sirius caught himself. "I— I mean—"

"Doxies?" Artemis repeated.

"It's nothing," Harry stressed. Sirius, he was beginning to learn, had tunnel vision when it came to him.

"On the contrary, it could be relevant," the Greengrass Regent replied matter-of-factly. "If it had anything to do with your strange spellcasting, it can help us reconstruct the events that caused today's bad business."

Why wouldn't the man just let it be?

"That was that, and this is this," Harry retorted. "My magic's been a bit wonky ever since the night of the Third Task. The whole doxies bit was just something I ran into at the—" He paused. The name of the Black Townhouse was at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't say the words. "At the Black House. I lost control, blew some stuff up, and ended up unconscious."

"Doxies in a magical house?" Daphne muttered.

"You think I'm lying?"

"No," she replied. "I believe you. Things seem to go Harry whenever you're involved."

"I think you mean hairy."

"There's a difference?"

"An hour ago, the two of them were trying to kill each other," Sirius deadpanned. "And now, they're bickering like an old couple."

"Ah, you get the same feeling?" Artemis hummed. "I thought it was just me."

"Father?" Daphne said sweetly, arching an eyebrow with more grace than Harry possessed in his entire body. "Kindly do shut up."

It didn't work. If anything, Artemis's grin grew even wider.

Harry let a small grin slip into his face. These two… they were a family alright. Maybe not boisterous like the Weasleys, but they were kin in their own way. Not just themselves, but also to him, given his heritage. And if he ended up accepting the—

Careful, Harry. He stopped his train of thought before it proceeded any further. That's a slippery slope.

"Harry?" Sirius asked again. "Can you tell us what happened?"

Harry carefully regarded Daphne's expression. Behind the beguiling smile and open curiosity, there was a little shame in her eyes as well, and more than a bit of hesitancy and guilt. He could see the lines criss-crossing Artemis's forehead, his brows furrowed as he contemplated the fate of the boy who could save his daughter. Finally, he took in Sirius's worried expression, a love he'd slowly been coming to terms with ever since the end of his third year.

"No matter what path you take, the future will be a result of your own choice."

A crossroads, Ignotus had told him. He was standing on the edge of a crossroads. At the precipice of choosing between his own magic and his nature as a chaotician. Fate, magic, and perhaps chaos as well, had intertwined everything into a spiderweb complex enough to make Aragog swoon with jealousy.

Harry lightly shuddered. Whatever was happening, he knew he wasn't enough to handle it on his own. He wouldn't keep it hidden any longer. However it all unfolded as his future, he'd deal with the consequences when the time came.

One thing at a time.

"Sirius, I think I need to come clean about everything."

"Everyth—"

"Everything," Harry repeated, a severe look on his face. "We both know this isn't just about me. If I end up agreeing to all this, then Daphne may have to suffer for it. It's only proper that she and her father know what they're getting into."

"Harry—"

"I'm tired, Sirius. Tired of standing still and not knowing which way to move or what to do. I know we didn't plan on this to happen, and I'm sorry for making this decision on my own. But that fight…" His eyes flickered to Daphne, who squirmed under his gaze. "It gave me some answers. Made a few things clearer."

"I'm going to have to ask for some context," Artemis interrupted, agitated. "What is this all about?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Ever since the Third task, my magic's been out of my control. Sirius and I have been trying to make things right ever since."

"Have you consulted St. Mungo's? Magical outbursts are a threat to—"

"Not like that. It's different," he said. "You were right in your letter. I didn't know about my grandmother's heritage. Hell, I didn't even know her name. Sirius made me take an inheritance test this summer, and that was how I found out about it."

"But it isn't the only inheritance to your name, is it?" Artemis shrewdly asked. "Your reputation as a Parselmouth is well known. My daughter sent me at least a dozen letters in her second year suggesting fantastical theories about your hidden lineage and connection with Salazar Slytherin." He snorted aloud. "There was one in particular that suggested you'd claim the Slytherin Common Room as your own and throw all the Slytherins out because of your little war with Malfoy."

Both he and Sirius burst into laughter, while Daphne blushed like a tomato.

"Now, seeing as how Slytherin is not a family name, I imagine there is a connection with the Gaunts?"

He shook his head.

"Hm…" Artemis crossed his arms. "That's one idea down the drain. How did you gain your Parseltongue?"

Harry cast a final look at Sirius, and found nothing but acceptance in his gaze. His godfather clearly had reservations, but it seemed he was willing to accept Harry's wishes.

Of course. It is House Peverell business, after all. The Black knows his place.

Harry blinked. Where did that come from? He glanced down at his Potter ring, the tortoise engraved on the opal suddenly flickering, replaced for a moment by a raven, and then—

It was back to normal. As if nothing had ever happened.

Was his mind playing tricks on him?

"Potter?" Daphne curiously asked.

She deserves to know, he told himself. If I'm supposed to be some vessel, then she needs to know who she's getting involved with. Voldemort's a big issue, but this? This could destroy everything.

Harry looked up at Artemis. "Tell me, does the name Peverell mean anything to you?"

A resounding Crack! appeared in the middle of the completely empty suburb that was Grimmauld Place. It was late evening, and the new constructions were left unattended. Harry and Sirius walked in tow until they stood right in front of the outer gates of Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Sirius Black moved in first, casually undoing the gate's latch. While it appeared completely normal to the neutral eye, Harry knew better. With the simple action, his godfather was undoing the wards to allow them entry into the mansion. So long as the gate was latched, the Black Townhouse was an impenetrable fortress designed to ward off some of the strongest attacks known to wizardkind.

"Sirius?" Harry probed. "Did I do the right thing?"

His godfather paused. "What do you mean?"

"My inheritance, the Peverell bloodline. It was supposed to be a secret, my ace in the hole should things go sideways in the trial. But now I've told the Greengrasses, and more likely than not, other people will know about it."

Sirius sighed. "Listen Harry, what you did back there was probably not the best political decision. But you weren't trying to be political. You were just being the good person that you are. You wanted to let them know what they were getting into."

"But that's—"

"Also," Sirius barrelled forward, "it's better they find out about it now. If they want to renege from the deal, that basically solves our problem. You no longer have to marry someone against your wishes and can just focus on everything else."

"And what about the stuff that Artemis Greengrass has on you?" Harry asked.

That stopped his godfather mid-stride. "…What do you mean?"

Harry took a step forward. "I know I'm nowhere near as clever as Hermione, but I'm not stupid. Artemis Greengrass wants me to marry Daphne to save her life and the future of their family… and I suppose my own. He painted a nice picture and appealed to a part of me that can't help but feel for the girl. But I know you. You would never even allow a discussion about it without a reason."

"Harry—"

"I didn't mean it like that," Harry corrected, "What I meant is you'd always ensure I get to make my own choices. Hell, I half-expected you to insult the man and walk out. But you didn't. So the other thing that Artemis mentioned, the Black family stuff… What's going on, Sirius?"

His godfather spun around, his eyes wide. "Harry, if you think that I'm allowing—"

"Not a chance in hell, Sirius," he replied earnestly. "I never doubted you for a second. All I'm saying is, whatever you were discussing with Artemis, the Black family matters or something, it has something to do with me marrying Daphne, doesn't it?

Sirius remained silent.

"And if I don't marry Daphne, it'll cause issues for the Black family. Nothing else could have made you stay your hand."

More silence.

"But despite all that, you want me free of this marriage. I could see it in your eyes, Sirius. You knew that me telling them about the Peverell bloodline would cause issues over this marriage contract, but you let me continue anyway, without care for the problems it would cause to your other deal."

Sirius sighed. "Harry—"

"Please," Harry said earnestly. "I need to know. I don't want you to lose something over this. You gave me a godfather. A family. A home to call my own. That's more than what I had ever expected in my life. If me doing something can keep the Black family from losing something important, then tell me what you need. I'll do it in a heartbeat—"

"No."

Harry spluttered. "Excuse me?"

"I said no," Sirius replied, all traces of hesitation gone from his face. "You want me to tell you about the deal with Greengrass? Fine. As a son of House Black, it is your right to know. But never once think that I will allow you to sacrifice anything for my own gains. I may be the Lord of Black, but I am also your godfather. And the second is far more important than the first."

"What about me being a son of Black?" Harry shot back. "I've got some obligations of my own to the House, don't I? That's what Kreacher said back then."

"People say stupid things all the time. Doesn't make any of it right."

"Sirius, please!"

"Harry," he said quietly, "knowing all the details will only cause you grief."

"You promised me you wouldn't keep secrets from me, Sirius," Harry retorted.

The Black Lord looked conflicted for a moment, before frowning. "Fine, I'll tell you. But first let's get inside and get you checked by Emma. She would also want to know what happened with the Greengrasses, and I'm not in the mood to repeat myself."

"Oho," Harry teased, feeling euphoric from the small victory. "Miss Vance is now Emma, is she?"

Sirius's lips twitched.

Harry laughed as he stepped through the front door and into the atrium. The lights were all on. Maybe Emma was waiting on them. He took a step further, and heard voices coming from the other side. Emma was talking, and she didn't sound happy. Fearing the worst, he rushed in.

It wasn't the Death Eaters.

Or Voldemort.

Instead, there was a sharply dressed man in a nobleman's suit— plum vest, gold buttons, black overcoat —and a short-brimmed hat sitting on the couch, with Emma on the other side. The fireplace was brightly lit, and the thin stench of Floo powder was in the air.

Whoever this person was, he was allowed inside.

"Ah, good evening, Mr. Potter," the man said as he stood up. "It is fantastic to finally meet you in person."

"Uh, Harry," Emma began. "This is—"

"Allow me to introduce myself," the strangely affable man smoothly interrupted, extending his hand out. "My name is Pius Thicknesse, and unless things have changed drastically, I am your lawyer."

Editor: Solo Starfish, the best goddamn starfish the world has ever seen.

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