Previously on Defiance…
"Yeah about that," Ignotus exclaimed. "I certainly cannot go on using a made-up family name. Antioch could slap me right and left if I ever abandoned the Peverell name. At the same time, my mother in this time, named me Harry Potter, and I will be damned if I do not choose the name she chose for me as my identity."
"So what did you decide?" Perseus asked, a thin smile lining his lips.
"Well, I cannot be a Potter, and I cannot lose my first name, so I suppose… Harry Peverell."
"Sounds old fashioned."
"I am old-fashioned."
"Very well, Myrrdin's blessings be upon you, Harry Peverell."
Peverell Manor was dilapidated, that much was sure. But then again, this was the only thing that belonged to 'Harry Potter' by rights of inheritance. Yes, there was the Black Manor out there in London too, but it was Sirius's by rights of blood until he decided to pass it on. Potter Manor had already been destroyed in the first war, as had the cottage at Godric's Hollow. That just left this place…. An ancient temple on whose floors he had grown up alongside his two brothers in a different lifetime, in a world unknown to the modern witches and wizards.
He briefly contemplated on his near future and tried to put everything together. Being Death's hunter had a lot more in it than having all sorts of devastating powers and exterminating dark wizards and witches… there was a set of rules he had to abide by, rules that had existed for him and every other hunter before him, and would continue to exist for the ones who would succeed him to take up the mantle.
"The powers that be, do not allow me to interfere in the mortal realms, allowing necromancers and wizards to use forbidden magics to steal away their lives from me. Your job will be to clean the slate in my absence…"
Of course, the rules of the Realm of death were irrevocable and unbreakable, and yet, the problem was that he had already broken the rules once before… for an old friend, and as a result, the world had fallen more vulnerable to the forces of darkness, and here he was, newly merged into his true form, devoid of his true powers, and facing powerful threats…
He briefly contemplated on the recent events that had happened. A part of him couldn't help but wince at how the two soul shards had made a mess out of everything. Being Death's hunter was being a lone wolf for an entire existence. Harry Potter had gone ahead and betrothed himself to someone. On the other hand, being Death's hunter meant to keep one's powers hidden and under a tight leash, never using it for one's own benefit… His soul shard from the wand had gone ahead and done exactly that.
Two soul shards. One signifying his compassion, and holding all of his raw power. The other, his ruthless self, holding all of his knowledge. Compassion would not allow the reborn soul to use his power for evil, and the lack of power would keep his ruthless soul shard from committing acts of unspeakable evil. He had never anticipated that his two soul shards would reunite, only to end up hating each other and creating an over-emotional form lacking in self-worth, and the other being a blood-thirsty warlord. One had bound himself in bonds whose true significance he would never understand; and the other had done a number and exterminated people as if they were a meaningless speck in an indifferent universe. And now, he would have to clean up the entire mess and start afresh.
But Daphne? What about her? He might not be the Harry Potter he was, but Harry Potter was still in him. Besides, he was Harry Potter for the girl. He had loved her as Harry Potter, and he knew that the girl loved him back, if a little melodramatic at times. The bonds of love were sacred, and he couldn't break them to return himself to the lone wolf that he was.
I have to get the Resurrection stone, and unite the Hallows. That will at least, get me my powers back. And then, I will have to exterminate the necromancer Grindelwald and this dark lord Voldemort for good. Horcruxes, really? Out of all the ways of manipulating soul magic, the bastard had to just go for horcruxes? That was like painting a BIG sign for the Hunter, yelling out from the cliff, -'I am here, come and get me!'
He shook his head. He would have to get rid of the abominations, and he would have to do so neatly, making sure that those vile things did not leave behind any kind of material effects behind. The Locket was destroyed, as was the diary. The soul shard residing in his scar was gone as well. So that left behind four.
Four more soul shards, and one of them, held the Resurrection stone trapped inside the shell. It drove him nutters.
Then there was the necromancer. Fleeing from Seth, and using counter measures and vile magic to conceal himself from the hound of Hell.
I wonder if he knows that Seth wouldn't step in a timeline where there is a Hunter present.
He sighed.
So much contamination… and now I have to clear it all. So much because I dared break the rules of Death… And above all, I made a pact with a Guild and the Nagas. I wonder if Albus Dumbledore truly knows about the ancient laws surrounding the pacts made by an initiate when he surrendered himself as an apprentice to a Guild… If he knew he would never have had perhaps…
"Enjoying the scenery, hunter?"
Harry spun around to find himself facing the bright hazel eyes of James Potter. His first instinct was to mutter out 'Dad' but the 'hunter' address was a complete giveaway. His eyes narrowed as he composed himself.
"Death…"
James Potter smiled. "I never understood the human need to display emotions at every turn." He scoffed. "However, that is moot and not important. Are you having fun trying to reassemble the mess that had gathered in your absence?"
"If you are here to give me a pity-talk then-"
"On the contrary, Hunter," James smiled, and Harry sensed a feral look behind his eyes. It was devouring, powerful, and strangely intoxicating. "—or should I address you as Harry Peverell, I am… not, as you stated, to give you a pity-talk. I am here to remind you of your oaths and duties to the realm of Death." His form straightened as he pulled himself to his fullest height. "Because of your… affection for your friend, you broke the very law you were supposed to enforce, and you saw how it all ended. I am here to remind you not to commit another mistake all over again."
"What do you-? -"
"See you later, Harry Peverell." James Potter cut him midway, before dissipating away.
Damn…
There were too many chains. Too many promises and bindings all around him. He would have to work through each of them individually. And it would all begin by taking back his life.
He had to return to the very place where a very important item lay in patient wait for him for a very, very long time.
An excerpt from the Daily Prophet the next day…
DARK LORD YOU-KNOW-WHO ALIVE!
DEADLY DANCE OF DEATH STRIKES BRITAIN!
HARRY POTTER DEFEATS YOU-KNOW-WHO AND FORCES HIM TO KNEEL!
Tracy held the paper in her hands as her eyes glued over the headlines. Beside her, Astoria snuggled up to see it too. Neither of them had any care about the nasty face that Pansy Parkinson made towards them. After Harry Potter had left, she had been the one, with slight aid from Goyle and Crabbe, to carry Draco all the way to the Hospital wing. The nurse had mentioned that he might never be able to walk without a prosthesis, but at least he was alive. Potter had severely injured her boyfriend and fiancé, and she was dying to curse the boy to next year and back. Poor Draco was probably still lying on the hospital bed in pain.
"A hundred and fifty-two dead, including death eaters, vampires and werewolves… damn, this is going to shake things up a lot." Astoria commented. Pansy felt bile in her throat. Her father was a supporter of the dark lord, and for a moment, she couldn't help but exchange worried glances with some others within the House.
"Rudolphus Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Alecto-" Tracy paused, casting a quick glance at the Carrow twins who sat silently, too silent in her opinion- "-Carrow, were the ones found dead within the Department of Mysteries. Lucius Malfoy, famed philanthropist and Wizengamot member, was found unconscious and missing a leg. Notorious Mass-murderer Bellatrix Lestrange was also found stunned by the Ministry Aurors in one of the secret rooms inside the Department of Mysteries. Damn, Potter made a bloody massacre down there."
"Daphne was down there too, don't forget." Astoria chided her.
Tracy ignored it. Her eyes were glued to the striking image that held the entire breath of the second half of the first-page, with You-know-who kneeling down on the floor with Harry freaking Potter of all people standing and raising his wand in front of him.
"Harry Potter forces the dark lord to kneel! Damn! I wonder if Harry will allow me to take a picture of him now!" One of the Creeveys commented from the Gryffindor table. Tracy returned to the rest of the page, reading the official statement from the Ministry that was written below the massive cover picture.
HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS
In a brief statement Friday night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named has returned to this country and is active once more. "It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord — well, you know who I mean — is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe that the dementors are currently taking direction from Lord — Thingy. We urge the magical population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defense that will be delivered free to all Wizarding homes within the coming month."
"DUH!" commented Astoria. Tracy looked smug as she continued…
"The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the Wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumors that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more."
Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, member of the International Confederation of Wizards, and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was unavailable for comment last night. He has insisted for a year that You-Know-Who was not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but recruiting followers once more for a fresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile the Boy Who Lived —
"So he is the Boy-who-lived once more?" Astoria demanded.
"You should see what they have written, Tori," Tracy showed her the sidebars. Written in bold, were the words… 'A lone voice of truth…perceived as unbalanced, yet never wavered in his story… forced to bear ridicule and slander.'
Astoria almost giggled. "They are going to fall backwards to appease him. Daphne is going to get a laugh."
"Did you see her this morning?" Tracy asked.
"Nope."
"Then, let's go now… I don't suppose Potter made it back to the school?"
"Dint see him yet. Daphne hasn't talked to anyone since, well, since she came back to consciousness. Merlin knows what might have happened with her after her-you know-" she replied.
Astoria gave her an understanding nod.
"For the final time, Albus," Sirius exclaimed with frustration, "Tell me what the hell happened there at the Ministry, and why is Harry absent? Where is he, and why are you bent on keeping me away from finding him?"
Dumbledore sighed. He looked at Sirius in the eye and replied, "Voldemort bound him using dark magic, and tortured him. Harry somehow broke free of the bonds, and blasted Tom's wand and wand-hand, but in doing so, used up his entire magical power." He paused, before he continued, "Tom—he, kicked Harry into the Veil."
"The- Veil?" Sirius stuttered.
Albus sighed. "Harry fell through the veil, and despite that, the prophecy marking him as the one with the power to defeat Voldemort did not turn cold, and just as expected, no matter how impossible, Harry returned back from the Veil."
"But that's- that's impossible. You know how dangerous wizards are flung through the veil if they are deemed too dangerous to be kept in Azkaban."
"I know, but what I said is also true. Harry Potter returned back from the Veil."
Sirius did not know what to say.
"However, that is not the important part."
"The fuck is it not- what the hell could be more important than that?" Sirius exclaimed.
Albus walked towards the window, overlooking Hagrid's hut. "After he returned through the Veil, he was changed. He completely demolished Tom's power and blasted him through the walls, right onto the atrium. You know what he did after that."
"He made him kneel."
"Right. Harry Potter, made Lord Voldemort kneel. His power… it was something else. When I asked him if he was all right, he claimed that he wasn't Harry Potter."
"What—what are you talking about?"
Dumbledore looked at Sirius with sadness etched over his face. "He said his name was Ignotus Peverell."
Sirius just stared at him.
Harry Peverell slowly walked across the dusty grounds of Godric's Hollow, the cloak hiding him and his magic effectively just like it always had. He dredged alongside the little church that stood like a lone beacon, past the muddy street into the graveyard. While a part of him wanted to go and visit the very cottage in which he had grown up, and had lost his parents, his feet were destined for somewhere else. He unlocked the gate and entered the little magical graveyard behind the church. Walking across the rows, he saw tombs of people known and unknown, and then finally there was the one he was looking for.
Ignotus Peverell
He knelt down, as he touched the surface of the tombstone. The little engraving on the surface, the strange symbol of a triangle with a straight line and a circle inscribed within it, began to glow at his touch with an eldritch sheen, and in less than a few seconds, the entire tomb disintegrated into dust, leaving behind just one single chasm in its place. He picked the chasm out of the tombstone, unlocking it with his magic, sighing as he gazed at one of the very weapons that made him Death's Hunter. The very thing that was also, somewhat responsible for the events that had led to his demise all those ages ago.
The Shackles of Doom.
He contemplated silently. The Deathstick, to send souls to their afterlife. The stone, to summon the dead to obey his will. The cloak, to carry out his mission without being noticed by Seth and the powers that be. And finally. The shackles of doom to capture those who slip through the clutches of the realm of death and drag them back to the pits of Hell- a mantle he had taken up when he had accepted the contract with Death, a contract he was going to have to keep fulfilling until his time had come.
I need to find the stone.
He closed his eyes, and radiated his senses. His magic emerged out of him, and radiated outward, merging with the atmosphere all around him as it radiated in all directions, trying to scan anything and everything in hope that it could give him an inkling about the stone. For some reason, he could not sense Voldemort's aura, a fact that troubled him greatly, since no amount of powerful wards could keep him from tracing a Dark Wizard should he set his eyes to him.
This was indeed troubling... very, very troubling. He could swear that he had been able to sense the necromancer some hours ago, but now... it was almost as if there was some kind of veil that was protecting the two, hiding them from his senses. This wasnt natural, there was only one thing that could hide Death's gaze and that was through his own invisibility cloak.
Something is wrong. Very, very wrong.
He considered the situation. Perhaps Albus Dumbledore would be able to help him in this regard- a fact that drew a frown on his face. Harry Potter already had been shackled inside several bonds, and now once again, he was finding himself asking for help to the Headmaster. While it didnt matter to Harry Potter, the same couldnt be said for Death's Hunter. A favor was a favor- and he couldnt help but wonder what Albus Dmumbledore would ask of him in return for his help.
Then again, he didnt quite have access to his powers. Perhaps the absence of the Resurrection Stone was hindering his powers more than he had thought possible. He would need to figure out where it was, and find it, purify it, and take up the mantle of the Master of the Hallows once again. Untill then, the Dark bastard was temporarily safe.
"Is the dark lord…" Severus left the question incomplete, as the irritated countenance of Augustus Rookwood was a more than enough descriptive than what he might consider adequate.
"That bad, huh?"
"Stop with your wit, Snape. Ever since the battle, the dark lord has been… different. His…" Rookwood looked around as he whipped a powerful privacy ward, "-he has been different. The way the newspapers have shown his defeat at the hands of… you know," he paused, swallowing, before he continued, "he is not taking it well. He has been inside the ritual chamber ever since then, doing stuff I have no idea about. But I do know one thing- that cloak of his, it is releasing some very, powerful, eldritch energies, the likes of which I have never felt during my career in the Department of Mysteries… there is something… primal and horrifying about the cloak, something that defies any humane logic, something I cannot explain. I do not know why, but I have this weird feeling that the damned cloak is more harm than good."
"And the dark lord?"
"Did not step out of the ritual chamber ever since the battle. I wonder how things will turn up, but trust me on this Snape. If the cloak is involved, as I fear it will, I fear the results might just go way beyond mere fucked up, both for us and the wizarding world."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Updated and modified on November 5, 2017.