I own nothing. Least of all this.
13) NINE HUNDRED YEARS OF TIME AND SPACE
"Rise, my friend. Let us hope you bring better news than the last messenger."
Sometimes its worth the mess just to pointedly stare at a body to create the most dramatic effect.
"My lord…I believe I have discovered the origins of the wizard Zarathos."
"…Proceed."
Rookwood swallowed. "…Less than twenty-four hours before your Lord's forces' first encounter with him, an alignment of some note occurred for the first time in over three thousand years. There were many factors at play, but suffice it to say that there is solid evidence pointing to the alignment as the single most likely cause for Zarathos' appearance."
"Present this evidence, Rookwood."
"Yes, my Lord. As I have said, it was an alignment not seen for over three thousand years. In fact, the last known time in recorded history that it occurred was…less than twenty-four hours before the sinking of Atlantis."
…Bollocks.
"Furthermore, there is another reason this alignment was of particular note. It is the only known time that a particular ritual is able to be performed, and even then, a single miscalculation in either the preparation or the activation could potentially with your body reduced to dust and your existence erased from Time itself."
Voldemort stared. Who on Earth would ever be crazy enough to attempt such a thing knowing the possible consequences?
"The only source outside of the Department of Mysteries with knowledge of the ritual is the Lovegood family."
…Well that answered that question.
"And did they perform this ritual on the date in question, Rookwood?"
"No, my Lord. I have inquired into the whereabouts of every member of the family, my Lord, and they were all accounted for. All except the youngest; and the odds are extremely low that a mere schoolboy would be able to accomplish such a thing without failing miserably."
"If you will remember, Rookwood, I was a mere schoolboy once. And I was perfectly capable of producing terrible and ancient magics even then. Look into it."
"As you wish, my Lord."
"But first, you will explain this ritual to me. And just exactly why it offers such a horrible Fate to those who attempt it."
Rookwood bent his head. "My Lord, the ritual is one designed to summon a being from the Beyond. One of the Endless, most powerful in all creation, or outside of it. That being will then be bound to your will until the task for which you summoned it is complete."
"And what is the name of this being, Rookwood?"
"My Lord, it is said that the being is none other than…Death Itself."
…Double bollocks.
"…Well, that would explain the steep price paid by those who fail."
"As you say, my Lord. The Arithmancy used in the ritual is continuously changing, based on both how far away the caster is from the date of their birth…and the time of their death. It is known that the latter is calculated as a matter of course during the ritual, but it is unfortunately impossible to separate once calculated. This is due to the two items required to keep the caster suspended in Time long enough to complete the summoning: a pair of Time Turners, one tuned to exactly halfway between birth and the alignment, and the other tuned for between the alignment and death."
"Time Turners cannot be set forward, Rookwood."
"I am aware of that, my Lord. But the fact remains, that is what the output of the Arithmancy calls for." Rookwood nervously shuffled from side to side. "My Lord…the meanings of less than a tenth of the runes used in the ritual are known, but among those that remain unknown…I was able to discern some of the ones Zarathos summoned in the air during the course of his first known appearance."
"…Are you suggesting, Rookwood, that this…Zarathos…is none other than Death Itself?"
"My Lord, I honestly wish that were what I was suggesting. I fear that the truth is far, far worse."
Worse? How could it be worse?
"At the time of the last known alignment, there was…a House. One known for its ability in Death magic. True Death magic; not the bare bones of Necromancy we have today. It was rumored that they were powerful enough to bind Death permanently, bestowing upon themselves the title of the Masters of Death. And for a time, they were the most powerful wizards in existence in the kingdom of Atlantis."
"The Peverells."
"Correct, my Lord. But it was said that one of the members of the family, the middle of three brothers, realized the terrible mistake they had made; the disruption they had made in the natural order. This brother was reported to have committed suicide, thereby killing the connection between himself and his part of the ritual; one of the rumored 'Deathly Hallows'. A Stone, utterly unremarkable in appearance, beyond a symbol inscribed on it. This symbol."
…It seemed Destiny had taken a personal interest in his life. Or, in this case, his Death. There was no mistaking the symbol; nor the Stone it had been etched upon. He had thought Zarathos merely hunting for his past, as the best, or his Horcruxes at the worst. But if he had been searching instead for the Stone…
Rookwood continued. "And if one were to replay the Pensieve viewing acquired from the Black family enough times, one would realize that this self-same outline can quite clearly be seen in the eyes of our infinitely dangerous wizard."
It was Voldemort's turn to swallow. "…And what happened to the rest of the family once the second brother rectified his so-called error?"
"The first brother was lost a mere, as you might have guessed, twenty-four hours later, when the island of Atlantis sunk to the depths. His Hallow is known to have outlived him, however, going on to inspire the legends of the Elder Wand and Deathstick, a weapon of nigh unbeatable power. It was last known to have been in possession of the wand-maker Gregorivitch. The third and last of the brothers was believed to have escaped his home's destruction, and then to go on and marry into another prominent wizarding family of the time: the Gaunts. Their union was, however, cursed, for they were only able to produce a single daughter, with all other attempts resulting in a still-birth. That daughter then went on to marry the Heir of House of Potter, and upon the birth of their first son, the second part of the curse was revealed: an affliction of the hair, forever untamable, as a tribute to the foolishness of the idea that one could tame Death."
"And their Hallow?"
"An Invisibility Cloak, my Lord. Rumored to grant the ability to hide from Death, or any other of the Endless for that matter."
"And if one were to unite all three of these Hallows, would they then become the new Master of Death?"
"Unknown, my Lord. But the idea seems to have some merit, based upon what we know of Zarathos. My Lord, it all adds up. The Hallows, the ritual, the alignment, the name of Peverell versus the name of Potter, the Endless…there still exists a Master of Death in the world. The name he wears now may be different, but I can promise you my Lord, that the second brother did not die that day. He used the ritual of AshkHente to summon Death…and then to scatter himself along the path of Time itself, to wherever the natural order of Life and Death was being attacked."
"An interesting theory, Rookwood. But what proof do you have that Zarathos and the second brother were one and the same?"
"My Lord, the name of the first brother was Antioch. The name of the third, Cadmus. But the name of the second…my Lord, it was…Hadrian."
Hadrian.
Hadrian Peverell.
Harry Potter.
The Master of Death.
If such a man, nay, if such a god had been summoned, perhaps by the natural order itself, to work against him…things may begin to go very, very badly indeed.
For the first time in a long while, the man once known as Tom Riddle found himself wishing he were well and truly drunk.
"So, Charlus. Tell me; just how is it that the first mention I hear of a new addition to the family is the arrival of an official notice from Gringotts bearing nothing more than his name? And would you be so kind as to explain just how it was that practically the entirety of House Black knew of his existence before I?"
"Ah." Charlus swallowed. "Well, you see…"
Lucius Potter, his brother, and Head of the House of Potter, arched one eyebrow. "Yes?"
"You see he…" He cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. "He may or may not have killed well over seventy wizards and dark creatures within the past three days and neither I nor the Blacks wanted to do anything to piss him off."
He was not ashamed to admit he spouted that last bit off as fast as possible under his breath.
"…Repeat that again, Charlus. Slowly."
Charlus took another deep breath. "The reason a notice from Gringotts was your first indication of his relation to our family was because up until Cygnus and I essentially blackmailed him into an inheritance test, we could not say for certain he was a Potter. And due to the…circumstances…surrounding his existence's revelation…we thought it best not to pry too much into his affairs, letting him tell us what he was comfortable with."
"And I suppose these 'circumstances' just so happened to be the seventy counts of murder you just ascribed to him?"
"Self-defense in most cases, actually. And the only time he sought out the confrontation deliberately was against a particularly dangerous Dark creature."
Lucius' eyebrows furrowed. "Odd; the only Dark creature I know to have been successfully hunted within the last few days is…" He paled. "No."
Charlus nodded. "Fenrir Greyback."
"…Bloody hell. You mean to say that the new addition to the family is none other than Zarathos?"
"Lord Zarathos, actually. The goblin test was quite clear on that fact."
"Bloody hell. And he's managed to kill seventy people one by one in that short of a time frame?"
"One by one? Perish the thought. The first twenty all together, and then the next fifty as well. I shudder to think what his body count has risen to since I last saw him."
Dumbledore shivered at the sudden chill that ran down his spine. Odd; for a brief moment, it had felt as if someone was walking over his grave. Ah, well. Best to put it out of his mind. He had more important things to attend to.
"So he took on fifty drunk lowlifes in Knockturn; so what? I have no doubts the average competent Auror could handle thirty."
"I wish that was what they were, Lucius. The first twenty were a group of schoolchildren, just barely out of Hogwarts. But they had decided that the best possible sort of fun they could have was to set ablaze a Muggle pub just down the road from the Cauldron, and then to execute any and all survivors."
"I take it that…that Zarathos took violent exception to that decision?"
"Considering he was actually in the pub at the time? I'd say he was actually fairly restrained in his actions. At least he was intelligent enough to remove any evidence of his handiwork."
"How on Earth did he manage to move twenty bodies before the Aurors arrived?"
"He Vanished them."
"This is no time for jokes, Charlus."
"Do you see me laughing, Lucius? I'm telling you, the man bloody Vanished them. Poof! Gone! Not even a pile of ash! And I'll tell you something else…"
Charlus leaned in. "He did it wandlessly."
"…Now I know you're joking."
"We have an eyewitness, Lucius. And a Pensieve recording."
"Zarathos left a survivor?"
"No; he left a message. Among those twenty children were some of the most powerful Heirs of the upcoming generation; both the Lestranges, Dolohov, Jugson…all dead. Except one. The only member of the Black family present…Cygnus' second-eldest daughter."
"…Well, that certainly explains their interest in him. I assume her survival was the message?"
"Partially. He also gave quite a terrifying speech to the girl, meant for a man he somehow knew was not only responsible for the attack, but who would have access to a Pensieve in order to view the outcome in its entirety."
"Not Cygnus."
"No. Not a member of House Black at all; a man called Tom Riddle, a half-blood…and an up-and-coming Dark Lord."
"…You're serious. Oh Merlin, you're serious. Bloody…didn't we just do this! I thought that after Grindelwald it would be over for us!"
"So did I, Lucius. So did I. But this time, we have an advantage. We don't have to rely on Dumbledore to end the fight. I believe that Zarathos is perfectly capable of finishing it on his own. The second attack I mentioned? A true Dark Lord wouldn't be able to tolerate such an affront to his existence; he would've sent his very best troops to deal with him. And of those fifty…that time, the lack of coffins was the only message he sent back."
Lucius stood, strode to the liquor stand, uncorked a bottle, and poured it straight down the hatch. Charlus could only watch in shock as his brother proceeded to drain a third of the bottle in one, long gulp.
When at last he finished, Lucius walked back to the table, slammed the bottle down, and pointed. "And just how the hell did you manage to get close without him taking you out too?"
Charlus swallowed. "…Cygnus. He sent for me after his own viewing of his daughter's memory. He noticed something in the Pensieve recording, something anyone else would've been likely to miss. When Zarathos removed his helmet to deliver the message, his hair could be seen for the first time since the fight started. No doubt about it; it was Potter hair."
"Peverell hair." Lucius corrected."
"Yes; not that Cygnus knows that. Well, he might now. Seeing as how Peverell was one of the Houses listed on Harry's blood test."
"Ah, so he's Harry now, is he?"
"It's the name he will in all probability be teaching DADA at Hogwarts under, so yes, by all means Harry. Harry Potter. Although if Cygnus and his daughter have their way it won't be long before its Harry Black."
"That bad, huh?"
"You have no idea."
"Apparently not. So, to sum up: we have a rising Dark Lord in hiding somewhere. A previously unknown member of my family has magically arisen to fight him. This family member has done such a smashing job so far that the Blacks, the most blood-thirsty House in all Britain, are prepared to offer him whatever they can just to get him on their side. Somehow, said family member had also gotten it into his head that teaching at Hogwarts will be a splendid idea, and not at all an invitation for every possible concerned party to investigate him."
"Actually it was Dumbledore that put the idea in his head. And I believe that the Department of Mysteries is burying any and all investigation that may arise."
"Not helping, Charlus!'
"Sorry."
"No you're not."
Lucius took another swig. "To continue: not only will your son, my Heir, be going to Hogwarts for the first time this year, so will the Black's, the Longbottom's, and Merlin knows who else! There's going to be three factions recruiting, Charlus! Dumbledore, the Dark, and Za…and Harry."
"Not three; two. Dumbledore's thrown his lot behind Harry; for what reason, I can't say, but last I heard he was putting together a coalition in the Wizengamot on Harry's orders. Cygnus was going to try and drag Orion into it, and I…well, I guess I was probably planning on the same."
"And you've done such smashing job of it, so far. All you've managed to do is give me a reason to fear him; not to trust him."
"…Very well then. He did end up revealing to us certain aspects of his origin; however, he absolutely refused to name his parentage. All he would say was that the union of a Black and a Potter was directly responsible for him being alive today, and as long as Cygnus and I kept our current alliance, he would stand with us. As equals. Not as a Lord for us to bow the knee to, or as an armchair politician for us to win the favor of with useless platitudes, but as a brother."
"All well and good, Charlus, but has he yet to actually do anything that would benefit the Potter family directly?"
"I convinced him to act as your favorite niece's confidante during the remainder of her time at Hogwarts."
"…All right then. That had to rankle in Cygnus' craw, though."
"Why should it have? He himself was pushing his eldest in Harry's direction as well; such a powerful being is undoubtedly going to draw in female attention by the ton. Two wives is not completely out of the realm of possibility."
"This isn't India, Charlus."
"I never said it was, Lucius. I was just merely pointing out that out of the last four mages Magic itself has decreed as a Lord, Harry is the only one we know for a fact is attracted to the fairer sex. And lets face it, its about time our society had an infusion of more powerful blood. The Muggleborns just aren't cutting it anymore."
"Hmm. You make a good point, Charlus. Very well; I will speak with Dumbledore about this alliance. Mayhaps we might even be able to cooperate long enough to actually get something done. And as for you…your lovely wife and sister are currently in the next room. One of which has just come from a meeting with the lovely Miss Druella Black. I would recommend you review your will before entering."
Charlus gulped. "…A very wise idea, brother."
"Let this meeting of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black come to order."
Sirius had to resist the urge to tug in his collar. He'd always hated these things; the collars and the family meetings. Both were uncomfortable, especially for him.
But for once, he actually had every intention of paying attention. There was a new piece on the board; one that had absolutely no intention of being used as a pawn. By the Blacks or anyone else.
Orion Black, Sirius' father, and Head of the House of Black, laid the gavel once more down on the table. "We are gathered here today to discuss a potential threat to our very way of life."
Walburga Black, Sirius' mother, and the Lady of the House of Bitch (in his opinion), snorted. "Please. He's one man. What could he possibly do?"
Uncle Cygnus answered. "Need I remind you that this one man managed to kill the most dangerous werewolf in England single-handledy, and without injury?"
"So he got lucky. Why should we care? Why should the House of Black be afraid of a simple Hit-Wizard who specializes in Dark Creatures?"
To Sirius' utter surprise, it was his father's turn to silence his mother. "Because Lord Zarathos is no mere Hit-Wizard. This Pensieve…" he gestured, "before us contains the House of Black's first interaction with this man; with this…demon. Before you give any further opinion on the subject, I would suggest you watch it."
Walburga rose, and with a sniff, dove in. So too did his Aunt Druella, Cygnus' wife. Andy went as well; no surprise there. As the oldest cousin, it was her right.
But as the Heir of the House, it was his duty.
He gave a silent gulp, steeled himself, and marched to the front of the table. "Father. I ask for your permission to view the memory."
His father merely folded his hands together; if anyone else had seen, they would have missed it for what it was. A tell-tale reaction, one that spoke volumes to how worried the man was. "Are you sure, my son? I must warn you; the contents of that Pensieve are…not for the faint of heart."
"I understand, father. But I am the Heir; it must be done, if I am to understand. Reg is too young; and my cousins are already biased in the matter. A fresh perspective would be wise."
"…That it would. Very well. You may enter."
Sirius turned back towards the steaming silver goblet, took a deep breath…and ducked his head under.
He reemerged to the sight of his mother screeching various indescribable noises at his father. A normal occurrence in their household. What was most decidedly not normal was that fact that his father was apparently, for the first time in his life, shouting back.
"For the last time, woman, I will not risk the lives of everyone in this House by drawing down the wrath of an actual Lord!"
"And what of the Dark Lord, then? The one this family was all but ready to swear allegiance to at our last gathering? Are we to abandon him, to abandon his cause?"
"Damnation woman, can you not see? He abandoned us first! He cast out Bellatrix; that was as good as casting out all of us!"
"And why should he have not cast her out? If she had any self-respect, she would have died alongside the rest of her companions, giving us the perfect excuse to destroy this Zarathos!"
She'd gone too far.
Sirius could see it in their faces; in his father's, in his uncle's, in his aunt's…in everyone's.
"Walburga." Oh, crap. That was his dad's 'this close to losing control' voice. "At the very least, I had thought you a sincere woman. But you have just committed the biggest hypocrisy possible; you have, in practically the same breath, claimed to be looking out for the best interests of this House, and proclaimed it were better that we lose one of our own than to ally with one who could destroy us if he wished. If you were not my wife, I would cast you from the family. But since you are, I do hereby decree, as Head of House Black: no one of this family is to offer assistance or aid, directly or indirectly, to anyone associated or allied with the Dark Lord. As of this moment, our only goal is the pacification of Lord Zarathos, by any means necessary. I myself shall treat with Dumbledore, to see if there is any way we can further deepen our ties to his side. I shall also push for his instatement as DADA Professor at the meeting of the Board of Governors. And as for my nieces, I urge you to continue your association with the man. My sons…"
Sirius and Regulus both perked up at that.
"I wish that I had more to offer you in the way of advice, but I'm afraid this is all I can give: it is imperative you do everything possible to stay in his good graces while at school. Sirius, it is likely that Zarathos will be riding the Hogwarts Express with you. Find his cabin, introduce yourself, and do whatever you must to make him like you. Reg, you have a year yet for us to prepare, should your brother make an unfavorable impression. I shall begin personally seeing to some of your education, particularly in the Dark Arts; we do not wish for him to think either of you a mere average student. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Father."
"Yes, Father."
"Good. Let this meeting of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black be adjourned."
BANG!
As the occupants of the room rose to depart, Sirius caught a glimpse of his mother's face. He shivered in fear; as far as he knew, that look had only one possible meaning.
He really hoped his father remembered to check his soup tonight.
He snorted; who was he kidding? They were Blacks. They checked everyone's soup.
And then sold information on the soup's contents to the highest bidder.
Hey, what could he say? It paid the bills.
Harry couldn't help it; the memories just kept coming.
For just the latest time in his messed up life, he wished he'd been able to learn Occlumency. Even from Snape, bastard that he was.
He and Felwinter had barely arrived on Venus before the Vex promptly decided they were behind on their rent and tried to evict them from the premises. Lethally.
Fortunately, help was close at hand.
Unfortunately, it was someone who had every reason to want Harry gone.
The Exo Stranger had most definitely not been happy to see them; either of them. Apparently, not only had Shaxx never been meant to join the Iron Lords, but Felwinter was supposed to have died in the Battle for SIVA. And the Exo Stranger was sorely tempted to fix the timeline in that particular regard.
As you can imagine, Harry took violent exception to that.
By the time all three of them had finally settled into a begrudging peace, the Black Garden had been decimated, the Vault of Glass had been wrecked, Kabr, Pahanin, and Praedyth had all been saved, and the previous timeline had been utterly stomped on and reduced to tiny little pieces.
Which suited Harry just fine.
They'd hung around Venus for a couple of decades, Harry looking for a way home, and Felwinter and Ess (as they'd ended up nicknaming the Exo Stranger once she'd finally revealed her true origins) poking around for what the Vex knew about the Deep Stone Crypt. They didn't get many visitors passing through, beyond Kabr's fireteam and a wandering Titan named Wei (now that was what Harry called a woman. Too bad she was taken), but they kept themselves busy.
At least, they did. Right up until Twilight Gap.
In the end, there had only been eight of them left. Shaxx, Harry, Eli, Felwinter, Ana Bray, Liu Feng, Andal Brask, and Wei's partner Eriana (Wei herself was still off gallivanting Traveler knew where). They had been prepared to fight to the last man (or woman or Exo), when the order had come.
Saladin's order.
The one that had finally convinced Harry that the only person he could actually trust to save humanity was, once again, himself.
Well, and his friends.
One of which Saladin had once been.
All in all, it was a hell of a day.
To make matters worse, it had been Eli who'd found Zavala, the Titan that had stood by Saladin's orders to the very end. Eli had been mortified, and when the dust finally settled, Harry wasn't surprised to see the old drifter's feelings toward those of a morally-uptight attitude begin to mirror his own. Eli had no intention of calling his wandering quits; he was just gonna start looking for a new breed of Light-bearer. One who knew full well that caring was a strength, not a weakness.
No more Jedi, he'd said. And to hell with the Fallen. What the Last City really needed…was Mandalorians.
Harry had dryly replied that it would they'd be a bit difficult to come by, considering they'd died out a few million years ago. That is if they'd ever existed at all.
Eli had merely given one of his knowing smiles and made a crack about how belief could make a lot of things true, even if they hadn't been before.
And Harry couldn't find it in himself to disagree.
They'd parted ways once again, the only difference this time being that Felwinter opted to stay with Eli and search. It was clear to him that Venus held no more answers about the past; it was time to go looking a little closer to home. Even if it took him once more into the path of Rasputin.
Harry was smart enough not to try and talk him out of it.
He'd instead opted for his own change of scenery; with Ess still on Venus, perhaps it was time to expand their search. Mercury was home to the Vex Infinite Forest, an as-of-yet untapped fount of information. And Harry had infinite lives to explore it with.
His mind began to drift at that point, just on the edge of sleep. The last thing he remembered before his eyes closed was that he certainly hoped someone had picked up the sidearm he'd lost at Twilight Gap. He'd been rather fond of that thing…
