Note: In the book, Dumbledore picked Harry up from the Dursleys in mid-June, well before Harry's birthday. In this fic, I have moved this occurrence to August 1. This is so Harry can have his manifestation at Privet Drive. Therefore, 2.5 months of time in canon will be condensed into 1 month. As not much of note happened in that time, it shouldn't be too noticeable.
July 31, 1996
The first thing Harry noticed upon waking up on his sixteenth birthday was the crack on his bedroom ceiling. It looked a bit different than it had the night before, more silvery. Harry wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him.
The second thing Harry noticed was a glowing silver orb hovering right above his right hand.
"The fuck?" Harry shouted, scrambling up in his bed to lean against the headboard. The orb moved along with his hand, always floating several inches above his palm. He knew what this was, every magical child learned about it upon attendance at Hogwarts. This was his elemental manifestation. The only issue: no one had ever mentioned a silver manifestation to Harry before.
Harry reached out to poke at the orb with his left hand and his fingers just phased through, as if the sphere wasn't there at all. But it still gives off light Harry mused, watching the silvery light play off the walls and ceilings of his room as his hand moved the orb around.
Prefects gave a speech about elemental manifestation to every first year their first night in the castle. Purebloods and most halfbloods already knew the basics, but muggleborns were clueless about the world they would be joining for the next seven years. Harry fondly recalled Hermione's incessant questions the night they had received their speech.
September 1, 1991
"Upper years, head straight to your dormitories!" Percy Weasley called out. "First years, find a seat somewhere in the common room." Harry shared a confused glance with Ron and they squeezed onto a sofa with a tall, olive-skinned boy who introduced himself as Dean.
"My name is Percy Weasley and this is Willow Fawcett," The girl standing next to Percy gave a shy wave. "And we're your fifth year Gryffindor Prefects. We're meant to give you lot an introduction to what elementals are."
Ron's face cleared up and settled into the sofa; evidently he knew what Percy and Willow would be talking about.
"Every wizard and witch has the ability to manifest an elemental talent on their sixteenth birthday." Willow's clear voice rang out through the common room. "This does not mean that everyone does. Some people are simply carriers of an element - those who do not manifest but pass on an inclination toward a certain element to their children. Others will manifest fully on their sixteenth birthday. The way you will know if you've manifested will be an orb floating above your palm on the morning of your birthday. It will remain for a minute after you wake up, then disappear. A brand will then magically burn itself into your skin right above your heart - don't worry, it's painless." She added when worried gasps broke out.
Percy then stepped forward to deliver his part of the speech. "The orb will be one of five different colors depending on your element: green is earth, blue is water-ice, red marks fire, white is for air, and yellow is for light-dark. For each element, there is at least one member of staff who can control it. If you happen to be one of those who manifest, you are required to inform the corresponding member of staff and you will then begin training under them to learn control over your gift. Any questions?"
Hermione Granger's hand was immediately in the air. Harry slouched back into the sofa, resigning himself to a spate of questions if the way she acted on the train was to be any indication.
July 31, 1996
Pulling himself out of his reverie, Harry redirected his attention to the silver sphere just in time to see it wink out of existence. The moment it did, the patch of skin just below his left collarbone started to heat up and he pulled the neck of Dudley's old t-shirt away from his skin to see the cause.
Harry nearly fell off the bed when he saw swirls of silver dancing across his skin, slowly coalescing into a defined shape. Petals started forming one-by-one until Harry recognized the shape of a lotus.
"A lotus?" Harry muttered in bemusement as he let the collar of the t-shirt settle back down against his skin.
"A lotus traditionally symbolizes rebirth." Harry's hand dove under his pillow at the sound of the unfamiliar voice and grasped his wand. He was taking no chances after what had happened the previous summer with the Dementors. He pointed his wand straight at the stranger's face. While Harry had been inspecting his new lotus tattoo, the person had snuck into his bedroom with Harry being none the wiser.
But how? I would've heard them open the door or Apparate in… Harry's mental monologue trailed off when the stranger lowered the hood of the heavy cloak they were wearing and continued speaking.
"Hello, Harry. My, it's certainly been awhile, hasn't it?" The removal of the hood had revealed a young looking man, around 28 or 29 if Harry had to guess. His hair was pitch black and just as tousled as Harry's was. The stranger's hand came up to run through his hair and the stark contrast of the deathly pale hand against the black hair was startling. The man had an aristocratic look about him, sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw lending themselves to an overall air of competence.
Harry slid out of his bed, not once letting his wand drop from it's spot aimed between the man's dark brown eyes. "Who the hell are you?" He asked.
"Ah, that's the question, isn't it. Who am I? You can call me Death, I suppose. That's really more my job than my name though."
Harry had to force his wand to remain steady instead of dropping to the floor in his shock.
"You expect me to believe that you're, what, the embodiment of Death?"
"Well, when I'm the only one who can answer your questions about that lotus tattoo, then yes, I do."
Harry's gaze dropped to the front of his shirt, double checking that it wasn't somehow see-through. The tattoo had only appeared a few moments before after all. "How do you know about that?"
"How about you stop pointing that wand at my face and we have a civil conversation?" Death waved his hand and a cushy chair dropped out of thin air to rest against the wall across from Harry's bed. Death shrugged off the robe he wore to reveal a plain black t-shirt and jeans, with black trainers on his feet. "What? A guy can't be comfortable while he works?" He said in response to Harry's disbelieving look at his ensemble. He settled into the chair, legs crossing at the ankle.
Harry sank down onto his bed, hardly believing the situation. This had to be one of the weirdest situations he had found himself in, and after five years of magical education with a megalomaniacal dictator after your head, that was saying a lot. He still had a tight grip on his wand, but lowered it to rest at his side.
"Right...right then. Why are you here?" Harry asked Death, who in his opinion looked far too comfortable in his newly conjured chair.
"Like I said, I'm here to tell you about that lotus tattoo. I take it you've never heard of the lotus branding?"
Harry nodded, he was familiar with the five symbols of elementals but not once, in any of the conversations he'd had or books he went through, was a lotus even mentioned.
"A lotus is the mark of a spirit elemental." Death leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked for all the world like a professor about to give a lecture. "Before the Ministry of Magic was established, there were six types of elementals running around instead of the five you have today. Shall I give you the long version or the short version?"
"The long version, please." Harry was sick and tired of adults hiding things from him and he jumped at the chance to finally get an in-depth explanation.
"Well, historically, spirit elementals as a group were secretive about the extent of their powers. They would usually work as exorcists, or help benevolent ghosts move on to the afterlife. They were a very empathetic people as they held a unique connection to the spirits of others and sometimes could know a person better than they knew themselves. Spirit elementals were revered and held in great esteem."
"What changed?" Harry asked. All of that sounded wonderful.
"1709 happened." Was the cryptic answer. "What do you know of abnormal manifestations?"
"There are abnormal manifestations?"
"That answers that I suppose." Death heaved out a very put-upon sigh. "What they're teaching these kids today, I'm sure I have no clue. Bloody self-serving hypocrites, the lot of them…" Death went off on a muttered rant, not sounding happy in the slightest.
"Er, Death?" Harry interrupted the rant to get the man back on track, although he had been enjoying the cursing out of many a Ministry employee and Hogwarts Professor.
"Ahem, excuse me. I've got a bone to pick with humanity if you couldn't tell. Anyway, a normal manifestation is what you just experienced. Orb over the hand, branding over the heart on your sixteenth birthday. An abnormal manifestation occurs before an elemental turns sixteen. It's triggered by moments of high stress and emotion, when an elemental's power would help save their life. The elemental will begin to glow and there will be a burst of power extending in a ten foot radius around the child. The burst of power will carry with it a pure version of the substance the elemental can manipulate."
"Hang on, then why haven't I manifested before?" Harry interrupted again. He'd been in plenty of situations where having an elemental's powers would've definitely helped him!
"Control of your elemental power is instinctual, to a certain degree. It's different for spirit elementals. Instinct plays a large part, yes, but you would've needed training of your powers in order to get any use out of them on the battlefield."
"So what, all spirit elementals manifest at sixteen?"
"Not exactly. In every life-threatening situation you've faced, you were up against Voldemort. Sure, manifestation of your powers would probably have killed the host he was in at the time, but it wouldn't have killed him entirely. If you had manifested, it would have just tipped him off to your power and I'm sure I don't need to tell you how catastrophic that would be."
Harry frowned. Something wasn't adding up here. "I still don't see how that would've stopped me manifesting. It's not like the powers would have known that and decided to stay put. Are you saying Voldemort's immortal?" And wasn't that a terrifying thought, an immortal Voldemort?
"Death cleared his throat, almost looking embarrassed. " As for the immortality, not exactly. I'll explain that later. And your powers? That would be because I bound your powers until you could manifest properly."
"What? What gave you the permission to do that? I've had enough of people manipulating my life! You're no better than Dumbledore!" Harry exploded, standing up and pacing the small area of the floor that was free from clutter.
Death remained seated and calmly responded, "I'll thank you to not compare me to that interfering old codger. The reason I could do that is because I'm the one who gave you your powers in the first place."
"Huh?" Harry said eloquently.
Death rolled his eyes and gestured back at Harry's bed. "Sit down, brat. I haven't got all day and there's a lot to get through."
Harry plopped himself back down onto his bed, not pleased at all with the man (deity?) sitting across from him.
"I visited your house right after Voldemort killed your parents and tried to kill you. Dumbledore got one thing right; it was your mother's sacrifice that prevented the killing curse from affecting you. It wasn't love like he thought, though. It was an ancient ritual in an old necromancy text. How your mother found it and tweaked it so it worked like it did, I've no idea. She was a brilliant woman, Lily was." Death smiled a bit, as if in memory of better times.
Harry almost asked why Death hadn't saved his parents, if he truly was Death in that regard, but he held his tongue. He correctly assumed that Death would be explaining that soon.
"I might be Death, with all the rights and responsibilities that the position entails, but there are also restrictions. I can't interfere with the lives of mortals until their souls die. Even then, it's the job of my Reapers to collect departed souls. However, I could interact with you because death touched you and you survived. You're a special case, Harry, and you're the first human I've spoken to in millennia."
Harry couldn't help but be bitter about Death himself telling him that he was special, he'd never wanted any of it.
"I could also be there because Fate was distracted with the culmination of one of her grand plans."
"Fate's real?" Harry was already a bit shocked at finding out that the embodiment of Death was a living, breathing person… or living as far as Harry could tell. Now Fate was thrown into the mix too? How many more deities were out there spying on the lives of humans?
"Unfortunately, yes. She's my sister. A very annoying one."
Harry let a small chuckle out, entertained at the thought of all powerful deities squabbling like he so often saw Ron and Ginny fight.
"Fate had her own plan for you that would've resulted in you facing off against Voldemort with a Horcrux in your head and a bit of talent with fire. I might be Death, but I've still got morals and a conscience."
"A Horcrux?" Harry hadn't heard the term before, but given the way that Death had spat the word out, it wasn't a good thing.
"A bit of soul. It's created by someone performing murder and splitting their soul. The split-off piece is then trapped in a container through the use of a ritual."
Harry felt slightly nauseous at that admission, but then the greater implications hit him, "You said I've got a Horcrux in my head… Voldemort's Horcrux?"
Harry's wand did hit the floor that time, following Death's solemn nod. He distantly heard the clatter of his wand rolling away across the floorboards. He felt violated, tainted, as if he'd never be clean again. His mind kept rolling the words 'Voldemort's Horcrux' around over and over again. He felt that any amount of talent with fire would have been of little use against a madman with half a soul.
"I was supposed to be a fire elemental?" Harry latched onto the least disturbing piece of information that he had just been given.
"Not a very strong one, but a fire elemental nonetheless. James was an elemental too. I thought that it was rather unfair to you, so I made some… adjustments to your magical core that night. You're now a pretty strong spirit elemental. I figure you've a better chance of taking out Voldemort's Horcruxes that way." Death leaned back in his seat and worried his lip, thinking of the numerous Horcruxes out there. They were a personal affront to him. Nothing should be able to escape him in the end.
"Horcruxes, plural?" Harry's voice embarrassingly rose to a squeak on the last syllable and he cleared his throat, hoping Death hadn't noticed. Nothing beside a small quirk at the corner of his mouth indicated that he had.
"Six in total if we count you. A diary, a locket, a cup, a diadem, a ring, and you."
"How do we destroy them? For that matter, why didn't you take it out of me if you knew it was there?" Harry noted Death's wince at the first question.
"I'm afraid there's not going to be a we when it comes to destroying them. I'm already pushing it by being here to explain it all to you. Magic is covering for me with Fate, she's quite fond of you as well. I can't remove the Horcrux because that would be too noticeable, Fate is bound to notice. She didn't notice my manipulation of your elemental powers because she was looking elsewhere at the moment and afterward, she had no reason to go digging around in your magical core."
"If you're not helping me then how the hell am I supposed to get rid of them by myself?" Harry indignantly asked. It was all very well and good for Death to pop in here and dump a veritable boatload of information on him, but to bail right after? That was low.
"I'll be posting one of my Reapers at Hogwarts this year to help you out. Just because I can't help you myself doesn't mean I can't send someone who can. There's always ways around the rules, you know." Death smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Harry knew that lesson full well, he'd spent years at Hogwarts skirting around the rules. "Right, all-powerful mentor, got it. What about actually using my powers?"
"The Reaper will help you out with that too."
"Why can't an actual person do that?"
Death rolled his eyes at the ceiling and clasped his hands together as if praying for patience. "Come on, Harry, you're not an idiot. Why haven't you heard of a spirit elemental before?"
Harry scowled at the insinuation that he'd be an idiot if he couldn't figure it out. He was silent for a minute before it finally clicked. "Because there aren't any left?"
"Bingo! Now the kid gets it. Exactly, there aren't any left. You're the only spirit elemental alive today."
"But, why?" Harry asked, wondering what could have led to the annihilation of an entire subset of elementals.
"Because humans fear what they don't know. Ready for a little history lesson?" Death asked.
"I guess." Harry figured that he'd like this lesson a good sight more than he did Binns'. For one, the teacher this time was Death.
"As I was saying before we got onto the topic of Horcruxes, spirit elementals were a secretive lot, but still highly revered. That all changed in 1709, when a fourteen year old spirit elemental named Meredith Wright had a rather violent manifestation. She was from a noble family and a band of nomads looking to make some quick money kidnapped her and held her for ransom. She manifested and all six nomads died in the uncontrollable burst of power that followed. Understandably distraught, she wandered off in search of help and told her story to the first person she came across. Unfortunately, this person was an employee of the ministry and brought her to the Elemental Department. They questioned her and it was discovered that a spirit elemental's powers do not only confer upon them power over already deceased persons, but over life and death itself. The girl was subsequently killed and the case report was buried. When the Department of Mysteries was formed in 1756, the report was dug up and the Unspeakables decided that such a threat could not be allowed to exist."
Harry could easily imagine the Ministry coming to such a conclusion. Fudge would have no problem sanctioning whatever means were necessary to get rid of the perceived threat.
"Since the ability to manifest one element or another usually runs in families, the Unspeakables exterminated any family lines known or suspected of having the ability to produce a spirit elemental. It was fortunate for them that spirit elementals were rare to begin with, so they were able to cover up the deaths as murders or freak accidents and no one looked twice at it. There has not been a known spirit elemental since 1764." Death looked solemn at that pronouncement. Spirit elementals had always been his favorite, as they often understood more than others the true nature of death and its necessity.
Harry's head was reeling at the influx of information. Manifesting as an elemental in modern times was a cause for great celebration and those with the ability were looked up to as leaders. He couldn't imagine murdering an entire group of people simply because they had an ability, or the power to pass on the ability.
"Does the current Ministry know of this genocide?" Harry asked. Genocide was really the only word he could think of to describe such a purposeful large scale massacre.
Death winced and nodded in the affirmative. "The Unspeakables all know, as does the current Minister. The knowledge has been passed down throughout the generations so they can be on the lookout for any spirit elementals manifesting from a line that they might have missed the first time around."
Harry's heart sank at that. He could never tell anyone of his manifestation. He knew that Ron and Hermione in particular were expecting him to receive a manifestation like Ron had. He'd woken up on March 1 to see a bright red orb above his palm, just as Fred and George had seen a white one a few years prior. It wasn't just them, it seemed as if the entire wizarding world was awaiting the news of his manifestation of an element that could help him take down Voldemort. Well, he'd certainly gotten that, but not in a way anyone could have anticipated.
"Harry, this will mean you'll have to tell people that you didn't manifest." Death's statement served to break Harry out of his spiral of depression. He nodded in understanding. No one could know.
"The Reaper I'll be sending to Hogwarts will know, of course. She'll set up some times for you to train with her and she'll have more information on the Horcruxes. I'd also recommend putting a glamour over that lotus as soon as you get to school."
"Yes, that'd probably be smart." Harry murmured in agreement, already making plans to refresh his knowledge of glamours and their applications.
With that, Death stood up and pulled his robe back on, vanishing the chair he'd been using. After pulling his cowled hood back up, he turned to face Harry. Harry was still looking quite shell-shocked.
"I know you're quite reckless, but perhaps this knowledge will help you curb that; you're immune to the killing curse. I've never liked that curse, it essentially cheats death, but you can survive it. You already have once, what's another time to you?" Death shrugged his shoulders in a strangely human move.
"Good luck, Harry. I'll be looking out for you." Death disappeared as silently as he had arrived, leaving Harry sitting on his bed with his mouth agape.
Immune to the killing curse? This was one piece of information too far for Harry. He retrieved his wand from where it lay on the floor and shoved it back under his pillow. He clambered back into bed, pulling the covers back up.
I'll figure everything out when I wake up again, he decided. He dropped off to sleep with a million thoughts swirling around in his brain.