Title: Death Wish
Author: Elfelmira
Category: friendship, humor, family, OS
Summary: In the sixth year, Dumbledore obtains the Deathly Hallows. With the approval of Minister Fudge, he calls upon Death in the Great Hall to become the Master of Death and defeat Voldemort. Yes...we can assure that this director is in the midst of a melodramatic crisis...a rare yet recurring disease among the wicked... But Death doesn't seem to be what it seems. And it doesn't seem to be alone... its sister, Life comes to join it. What could be better than answering a stupid and boring ritual done by a happy fool to drive those poor little ignorant Wizards crazy?
Harry and Luna are going to form a happy motley crew that promises to...well, to send a good generation of people to the mental hospital. OS
Bashing: I love those ones! Dumby, the minister, Ron, Ginny, Hermione (even if I love her!).
Warning: My story began with the 6th year and they are risk of spoils. Just, Snape is always the potion's professor, the DADA's professor is Lupin (because this is my story and I do what I want), Umbridge is here too but she's just a 'spy' from the minister.
A last warning: I'M FRENCH, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! This is the first time I write in English; I want to try. I apologize for the many faults…
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter' characters don't belong to me…
OoO
Death Wish
OoO
The weather was rather mild for a January in England. Although the snow was falling slowly and quietly, the temperature was above normal. That's why some of the young students at Hogwarts were playing snowball. Others walked around happily discussing things and other things. Over there sat a group doing homework, here and there they were playing wizard games. It was a serene and happy atmosphere on this beautiful Tuesday afternoon.
Wait a moment! Tuesday afternoon? Afternoon? What's that? But what were the students doing anything instead of going to class? What was going through the mind of the happy fool Dumbledore? What crazy idea had come to him again? In fact, frankly I don't want to know.
To put it plainly, the students were outside, not having class, to their great joy (except for Hermione for an obvious reason). Even the Ravenclaws were happy to get a break. After all, since the beginning of the war the atmosphere was very tense, especially for the Slytherins who were accused of being Death Eaters all the time. The teachers were inundating them with homework so that they could learn to defend themselves. And so now they were taking a well-deserved break.
To tell the truth, the "break" had been imposed by Dumbledore because it was today that the hope of winning the war was looming on the horizon, hence the soothing atmosphere. The announcement had been said and published in the Daily Prophet a week before. Dumbledore was in possession of the three Deathly Hallows and intended to use them to ask Death to become his Master and win this war. Of course, when Dumbledore announced that he would perform the ritual, Fudge and others protested. Why was its Dumbledore who was to become the Master? To which the venerable director simply replied:
"It takes a mastery of magic of more than 80% to be able to do this ritual. At the risk of losing one's magic and going mad. I am the only person with enough control to do this besides Voldemort. I suppose you'd rather I do it than him, wouldn't you?"
Frankly, who expected this statement and reasoning? Well nobody apparently, except the Slytherins, who hates him, and the few people with a sane enough mind to get past the broad outlines. In fact, his speech could be translated as: "I want power." That's original.
And today, or rather tonight, Dumbledore, the Minister and senior officials will attend the Call of Death during dinner. So, he had canceled classes while he prepared for the ceremony.
So, the Golden Trio waited patiently in the evening, sitting at a table with a pile of old books in the library. Hermione had the brilliant idea to learn about everything about the Relics, Death and the Master. And by a happy coincidence, she had managed to get her hands on all those rare books that were only to be found in the Pure Bloods. Strange.
So, the small group was looking for information, more or less avidly. Ron, on the other hand, was clearly fed up with it, as his red face and eyes flashing at the books showed. He dropped his head against the table grumbling, Hermione sent him a black eye. She wrote down everything she could find quickly, and every once in a while, a slight exclamation came out of his mouth, pinched by concentration. At last Harry seemed to be having fun. Which was not really in his habit of having fun reading, knowing that he almost never read, leaving that leisure to his girlfriend. In fact, it seemed as if the boy had just found a joke or something and was laughing at it openly.
"I'm sick of it! We're not going to find anything cool," Ron grumbled as he slammed the book under the disapproving gaze of the only girl in the band.
"Make no mistake, Ron, a lot of writing is written here. Listen to this: "Sorcerers only worship two gods, through festivals such as Yul or Saiman. They worship the eternal cycle of life and death. These two gods are brothers or sisters, their sex never having been precise before. They are the absolute and the whole. Powerful, ordering the life and death of every living being.
"For them all are equal: an ant and a goblin will have the same jurisdiction at the end of their lives. They obey no laws: they make and are the law. If, today, Muggles do not recognize these gods as such, they respect their religions, Islam, Christianity, etc., but they do not obey any law: they make and are the law. It is necessary to know that the one God they have is in reality Death and Life, except that for them they are one and only one person.
Beware, it is important to emphasize the fact that Death does not necessarily represent evil and that Life represents good. They are the cycle: there is neither good nor evil. It is said, although it is only a rumor, that Death and Life have both created three Relics each. Unfortunately, the Relics of Life have been lost and therefore have never been known as opposed to the Relics of Death.
You probably know the tale of the three Peverell brothers: thanks to their memoirs (a diary found at their home) we could then know that they were the Relics: The Stone of Resurrection, the Staff of Death (also called Elder Wand) and the Cloak of Death (more commonly known as the Cloak of Invisibility). We also know that if these three Relics are combined and a particular ritual is recited, Death answers the call and one becomes Master of Death. The ritual and the reunion of the Relics of Life are the same to become the Master of Life". It's clear and precise!"
"And! Harry! Look, look, look, look!" Ron cried as he grabbed the book and pointed to a word on his finger. "Your invisibility cloak is a Relic! Did you know that? It's so cool!"
"Yes, Ron, I knew it. Dumbledore said to me last week, he wanted my Coat for the ritual. After, he will give it back to me." Answered Harry with an exasperate smile.
"Yes, Ron, I knew it. Dumbledore told me last week to borrow it from me to do the ritual. Then he'll give it back to me." Harry replies with an exasperated smile.
"You didn't even think to tell us!" Protested Hermione indignant, crossing her arms on her chest.
"Uh... I had forgotten?" Harry didn't seem very very sure of her answer. But he shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he didn't give a damn about their opinion.
Before one of the two left in their rather useless speculation, Neville and Luna approached them, one jumping up and down with a dreamy look and being as eccentric as ever, and the other with a seriousness that was unlike him. Neville pushed the pile of books a little and sat down quietly. Luna didn't even bother and settled down on the floor announcing that the chair was infected with Nargols or other unknown creatures.
"What happened?" Asked Hermione, squinting, discreetly shooting the blonde with her eyes.
She couldn't stand someone younger than her being superior to her, being so incoherent. Harry pretended not to notice this sign of annoyance and gave the two newcomers an engaging smile.
"Malfoy." Neville simply replied as if that explained everything.
"What has that filthy Death Eater done now!" Ron growled angrily, his eyes shining with anger.
"He's parading around with his group, that Death will refuse to become a slave to a stupid, manipulative sugar man, but will go and help the worthy one. I'll let you imagine who he's talking about..."
"How dare he? He thinks he is so much above us and Dumbledore! As if Death will join You-Know-Who...unthinkable!" Frowned Hermione, slapping the palm of her hand against the table.
"Though the deceased Nargol may go to the Dark Things to discuss over tea." Interrupted Luna, who looked carefully at her multicolored nails.
While the group remained silent and stared at Luna in dismay, Harry couldn't let a laugh escape.
"I agree with you, Luna. We should really think about doing it if we have time!"
"Oh, well the living Balbusse will join the dark world rather than the white landscape of the Nargols! See you later!"
And the young Lovegood jumped up, waved her hand, which only Harry answered, the others were blocked, then she jumped up and disappeared from the sight of the four friends.
"Uh...Harry, did you really understand what she said? Because now..." asked Neville, who always had her eyes where she had gone out.
"Of course, I didn't! But not to hurt her feelings, it's better to make her believe that we understand. That's all we have to do." He explained to her with a big smile.
"You know, Harry, this girl is nice but she's crazy. Maybe we shouldn't be seen with her." Fit Hermione totally disapproving of the fifth-grade attitude.
"She's my friend, Hermione, it doesn't matter if she's like that." Harry sighed, looking up to the sky.
"We love her that way after all." Neville, squinting, almost suspiciously, supports him. "So, I join her, and I meet Seamus and Dean again. See you later for the ceremony."
"Stupid ceremony, I tell you!" Harry sneered and clapped his hands.
"Roh, Harry, look on the bright side! We're going to defeat You-Know-Who!" Ron cried, suddenly excited, having completely forgotten about Luna.
"Still, this ceremony reeks of hypocrisy and idiocy! It's rubbish! Whoever invented it is a fool."
"Wow, you're a pessimist." Says Neville with surprise. "Not that I disagree with you, but you don't seem to like it much."
"You'll understand during the ritual..."
"How could you know if it's hypocritical or not." Let go of Hermione, annoyed at being ignored.
"I told you earlier: Dumbledore explained it to me!" he mocked.
Before another argument began, the young Longbottom got up quickly, their arguments were legendary at Hogwarts, especially those involving Harry, who rarely got angry but his outbursts were violent. Even Malfoy and his henchmen mistrusted him when he was in that mood. Neville waved to them and left to meet his friends.
"See you tonight!"
OoO
The Great Hall was in full effervescence. The students were the first to be installed, everybody at their table and talked with excitation. Especially the Gryffindors, known to be loud. The Slytherins, them, it was the opposite. They glared the other people in the Hall, refusing to recognize Dumbledore as the next Master of Death. The Ravenclaws waited with their eyes full of greed the ritual to complete their knowledge. Finally, The Hufflepuffs were amused by all this happy atmosphere.
The professors' table, dominating them, had been enlarged so that all the employees of the minister could sit without being disturbed. Soon the teachers arrived. They sat in their assigned seats and waited for Dumbledore to arrive with the ministry staff. He had to wait right now, at the entrance in the company of Minerva and Filch. From the place where he was, in the middle of the Gryffindors, Harry did not listen to his friends' conversation at all. In fact, he seemed rather totally annoyed and angry to be here, and his glare could compete with Snape. Of course, no one knew why he was in such a terrible mood. The teen clearly preferred to look at the faces of his professors rather than listen to the infatuation of his peers. If the students showed their cheerful faces, the teachers were able to hide their condition. Still, the twinkle in the corner of their eyes was easily noticeable to anyone who knew where to look. Only Snape had the same poker face as usual, unsurprisingly. Of course, Harry laughed at the thought.
They waited only a few minutes before the doors opened. Dumbledore walked by Fudge's side and seemed to be the most delighted man in the world. I'll bet he was! You don't become Master of Death every day, on a street corner. Fudge, with a worried look on his face, moved quickly, in a hurry to sit down. The came the dear Umbridge, who missed by so many, possessing the posture of a conqueror, always dressed like a pitiful pink candy. Minerva was quite annoyed by this woman, if she was a woman at all, even though she kept her stern appearance. Finally, about twenty employees followed (Malfoy, Nott, Bones, Arthur and Percy Weasley etc.) accompanied by six Aurors, including Tonks and Kingsley. They crossed the Great Hall to settle down at the table. And all this while discussing quietly, voluntarily forgetting the band of hungry students around them.
"They can't hurry: I'm hungry and I want to go to bed." Breathed Harry almost wanting to commit murder.
"Oh, that's enough, Harry! Enjoy it, we're going to see Death!" Sermonized Hermione.
Seamus, seated beside him, was amused when he heard a faint whisper like: "...gnagnagna...you're not my mother...gnagnagna...".
"But that sucks! We're wasting time for nothing, and frankly there are more interesting things!" He simply protested emphatically, proving with good reason that he has no desire to be there.
"Well, you're really the only one who wants to go." Dean laughed, located some place away from him.
Many laughed at Harry's outraged expression. Ron even went so far as to slap him on the back and shake his head.
"Fortunately, the ritual is done after eating!" Lavender intervened. "I would never have survived otherwise."
Many nodded seriously to his remark. The food had just appeared in front of them, and everyone helped themselves to their favorite dish while continuing to give their opinion on the evening to come.
"You're really going to have to explain to us why you don't want to be there, Harry." Dean threw in between bites.
"It's been since the director told us you've been sulking. Very mature, I must say." Seamus laughed gently.
"I've already told Neville. If you want answers wait until after the ceremony..." Fitted Harry completely resigned.
"It really feels like the end of your life." Ron remarked, his mouth full.
"Ron, shut your mouth." Hermione cried out before turning to Harry. "Is there a problem with the ritual?"
"Nah, none...it's just the shame..."
When he finished his sentence, he smashed his head against the table with a groan. Some students and teachers turned to him with an inquisitive raised eyebrow.
"Shame?" What do you mean?" Hermione asked.
"Dumbledore told me, remember?"
"Oh..."
The meal went on talking about slightly lighter subjects. Desserts took the place of the meal and Harry threw himself on the molasses pie, his cute little peach tree, under Hermione's disapproving gaze. Even though young Potter didn't care at all, too focused on his pie and his conversation about the Quidditch he had just started with Ron and Neville.
Finally plates and desserts disappeared to leave the tables free of all dirt. Seeing that it was almost time, Harry couldn't help but complain. He fell silent when he received a glare from Snape AND McGonagall. Frightening. There was silence. It was the first time the Great Hall had been so quiet, but at the same time what was to follow was simply unbelievable and no one wanted to lose a crumb of it.
Dumbledore stood up and took a position behind his large golden desk. His sparkling eyes scanned the room. He seemed overwhelmed. No kidding.
Fudge joined him a minute later, stepping to the left side of the venerable curved director. Dumbledore cleared his throat and began his tirade. His speeches are always too long, Harry thought desperately. He was going to get very bored. Poor Harry.
"Good evening to all! I hope you all ate well, whether it was you, my dear students, or those sent from the ministry. Today, or rather tonight, something will happen that can lead us to victory! As you all know, thanks to the Death Relics of the Peverell brothers, I will be able to invoke Death itself in order to become its Master. I know that it may sound pretentious on my part, our dear minister has also remarked to me, unfortunately, only sorcerers who have mastered 80% of their magical ability can call Death. At the moment there are only two of us who can do it: Voldemort and me! So, to prevent the Dark Lord from seizing this title, which he covets, I must cut him off! Now I give the floor to our Minister Fudge, who will speak to you in detail about the ritual while I prepare it."
Harry grunted and made disparaging comments about the speech. He didn't like it and it wasn't to his liking. Sad thought. Hermione interrupted him with a slap on the top of his head.
Albus withdrew to let this incompetent...oops, sorry...this competent minister took his place. The principal backed away and positioned himself behind Fudge, but in front of the teachers' table. He gently asked them to step aside and began, using a feather of blood (allowed only for magical contracts but also for rituals requiring the person's blood), runes and drawings on the table. Minerva and Poppy stood beside her, one carrying the box containing the Relics, the other holding blood regeneration potions. However, Fudge began his speech well prepared.
"Well, Good evening, we are here tonight to call Death. I know that many of you would have preferred Life, myself I agree, unfortunately we do not know the Relics. We make do with what we have. I won't tell you the story of the Peverell: you know it, I presume, I'm going to thank the owners of each Relic. Of course, we will give them back to you afterwards. For the Elder wand, this one already belongs to Albus Dumbledore, I don't think I'll thank him for something that belongs to him. The resurrection stone was one of the last legacies of the famous Gaunt family and finally thanks to Mr. Potter for his invisibility cloak".
There, all turned in one gesture to Harry, who obviously complained for one reason or another. He was slumped sadly (pitifully) on the table. Fudge took advantage of the fact that no one was looking at him to murder the Survivor with his eyes. Umbridge did the same, but more violent and with more hatred. Ah, what love in this world!
Finally, Dumbledore turned around to grab one of the potions Poppy was handing him and drank it greedily. His pale face returned to its normal colors. He nodded to Fudge, indicating that the ceremony was about to begin.
"It's going to be a shame! Shame, I tell you!" Harry whispered.
"Harry, now stop! You've been a pain in the ass since earlier. Shut up and listen!" Hermione got angry, squinting dangerously.
He nodded his head as a sign that he had understood, but couldn't help burying his face in his hands, mumbling some incomprehensible words.
For his part, Dumbledore turned towards them, installed in the center of his red pentagram. First, he took out the cape, which he placed flat on the floor. He then placed his wand over the center of the cloak before taking the stone and placing it gently on the center of the Death Staff. Everything was close. Specially to call for trouble.
The ministry staff and teachers stepped aside, leaving Dumbledore alone in his circle. They had distanced themselves quite a bit for fear that something unexpected might happen.
The principal then pulled out of his colorful robe a small silver goblin knife. It had been made especially for these occasions: runes were written on it; the metal was thin and sharp.
He took the blade and pressed it along his left arm, grazing his skin, wrinkled by the years. Blood slowly beaded on his arm and then on his hand before finishing his journey on the Three Relics.
Only then did he begin to recite the important and obligatory phrases of the ritual.
"I offer you my blood, I offer you these Relics, grant my Death Wish and answer my call, Lady Death!"
Only silence followed these words. Then Harry, still with his head in his hands, he seemed to cry for some reason that everyone ignored, burst into tears.
"Nah, seriously, it's too much shame! Oh Merlin, no way, this is a mistake, a horrible mistake. I'm going to wake up and everything's going to be all right..."
"Mr. Potter, shut up and stop making a spectacle of yourself! Detentions for the next few months!" Snape shouted and threatened in the stunned silence.
Everyone was looking at the Potter. He had managed to play the fool in front of the officials, in addition to interrupting the director at such an important moment.
Moreover, speaking of ritual, Death was still not presented. Either it was a fake ritual, or it decided it was not even worth coming. Malfoy noticed this and let a satisfied smile appear on her face. Dumbledore had failed, his Lord will be happy.
"Albus, it didn't work." Fudge sighed. "It was useless to do all this, a false hope..."
Suddenly, Harry stood up, ignoring his friends who were asking or ordering him, depending on one's point of view, to sit down again. The students had their eyes fixed on the Survivor. Snape and McGonagall and Dumbledore were about to tell him to put himself in his place. But they didn't have time to do so.
Indeed, smoke or black dust surrounded Harry, swirling around him, becoming denser and denser until he disappeared. Then the smoke slowly dispersed, but did not go away, leaving the young man in plain sight. General amazement.
Before them, it was no longer Harry Potter. No. He was a 17-year-old, a little smaller than average, a slim waistline, with a hint of fine muscles. His hair was black and long, passing below his hips. He had small silver strands, which were braided in different small braids held together by green or silver beads. His skin was deadly pale. His face was delicate, androgynous at the edges, a nose well-placed in trumpet, large hypnotizing minnow eyes, the left silvery, the right emerald. His expression was mocking: his mouth was raised at the corners with a grin, his eyes shone with mischief and power. His robe was plain black. Only a silver and green thread around his waist added a little color. But the most impressive thing was on his forehead: instead of the famous lightning scar, there was now the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.
Everyone in the room was staring at it in amazement. And again, the term was thin to describe their condition. Some had turned pale when they realized that they had annoyed Death itself, like the Malfoy or Fudge. Others, again, were red with anger, especially Umbridge, who stood out from the group because she whispered that he should be condemned for black magic: what a stupid woman who had understood nothing! But most of them stared at Harry, their eyes wide open in surprise. Or drooling at the appearance of the god. But that was another story... They had no expectation that the Saint Harry Potter, the Survivor, the Boy Who Survived, the Woman's Savior and the Orphan, and other titles that the person concerned didn't give a damn about, could actually be Death. As if the world was full of surprises...
Finally, the young man raised a hand, smoke following his gesture to make a black spear appear at night. Finally, he spoke, in a melodious yet intimidating voice.
"Speak Mortal, what is your Wish?"
His voice seemed to awaken the inhabitants of the room, jumping and standing upright. The murmurings rose from the ranks without raising their voices, too intimidated by the divine apparition. It was our good (bad) director who was the first to regain composure. Thus, he regained the use of the word that had seemed to have left him for a brief moment. For a change! He pronounced intelligibly:
"Harry? My boy? What do you mean?"
"Your startling eloquence does not bring me the Wish you want!" Mocked the immortal, raising his eyes to the sky.
Surprised to have been taken back like a child by Death, he fell silent, vexed in his immense pride. Fudge decided to fly to his rescue. Admittedly, he did not like the old man, but that was hardly a reason to be seen badly by Death. Strange idea knowing that it was already the case.
"Excuse us, but we were stunned by your appearance. We really didn't expect it. Please forgive our unfortunate mistake."
Harry's silence, if one could still call him Harry, was grandiose. He had simply given the biggest wind of the Earth to one of the most important personalities in the Magic World. Those present who did not like him sneered at this flagrant lack of respect. Fudge's face had turned from pale to red showing his growing anger.
Harry, or Death, suddenly began to move. With his graceful, feline gait, he crossed the room in a few steps, black mist following his every step. It was a surreal and magical scene, even among the Wizards. He stopped in front of Dumbledore, in front of the table. From where he was positioned, everyone had a perfect view of the passage that was about to take place. Harry's smile changed to cold, proving that he had finished playing.
"Little Mortal, I don't talk to anyone who hasn't summoned me..." Harry said softly to Fudge, scornfully. "Especially with someone who had fun discrediting me." Hating the minister, he turned his attention to Dumbledore. "So, speak Mortal, you're wasting my time! Your Wish?"
"Harry..." He stopped when the grunt came out of his mouth. "Death, can I ask you a question before that?"
"Always say, it might be interesting. Just this once."
"Isn't Death supposed to be a goddess? Like the 'Lady Death' ritual says?" the director asked with interest.
And he wasn't the only one wondering. Everyone was wondering in between, looking for a valid hypothesis. Umbridge, not being able to stand it any longer, cried out in her high-pitched and unpleasant voice:
"It's a frame-up! This insolent little fellow only wants to be noticed! You see, he pretends to be Lady Death! He is a Dark Lord! He must be stopped!"
Many were shocked and outraged by these horrifying and degrading remarks. But Harry didn't seem to care too much. He just slowly turned to her, the black smoke following his movement, and smiled fatalistically.
"It's not my fault, if everyone thinks I'm a woman!" he complained childishly. "It was my big sister, Life, who wrote the ritual and published it before I could correct the mistake! What the hell, I'm a guy! A dude! M.A.N.! Not so complicated, shit! It's so fucking embarrassing!" He hid his head in his hands. "So ashamed...I'm gonna send that damn sister on a free trip to hell! And don't worry, Life, you'll pay for it!"
He almost seemed to cry, overacting a little to show his unhappiness. But thanks to that, he proved that Umbridge's claims were totally stupid, since the sex of the two gods had never been proven before. But hey, not all of us have brains. We have to make do with it. After which, with a gesture of the hand, he tied her up and sausaged her to everyone's delight.
He raised his beautiful pale face, this time with a beautiful smile. Harry looked at his interlocutor (Dumby), interlocuter who was in disbelief at the god's blatant immaturity and moody air. The god jumped up and down, clapping his hands and putting his spear against his shoulder.
"Come on! What do you want from me? I'm busy later! I mean, I think... I have to ask Life for my schedule." He nodded his head sideways, seemingly thinking.
Harry had simply changed his personality. It was amazing. He had gone from a calm, composed boy with terrifying anger... to a god who was downright eccentric.
In this new, more or less imposed silence, Ron finally broke him by clearing his throat.
"Harry! Dude, what...why? Is there something you haven't told us? And you didn't tell us anything! But Hermione and I are your friends!"
He rose from where he was to rejoin the god. He was about to touch him when Harry whistled violently. The black smoke swirled around him, threatening, and the weapon had reached his hand and was now pointed at the red-headed man's throat. This scene froze the room even more.
"Silence, Mortal!" Ordered Death, he was cold again. "You have no orders to give me. You're just a fool who can't see beyond the rumors! And you are absolutely not my friend!"
"But...but, Harry, I am Ron! How can you say that?" He was outraged. "No, Harry wouldn't say that. You're a fraud... a monster."
The word froze, froze the room. While a few agreed with Ron's words, such as Hermione, Ginny, Umbridge, Fudge and Dumbledore, most were horrified. Death and Life were the most respected in the Magical World among all species. They were the common point between them. And to say a term as laudatory as that was sacrilege. Even the Muggleborn knew it: it was the first thing they learned when they arrived here.
"Harry Potter never existed, Ronald Weasley." Fit Death with machiavellianism. "Only Death hidden under a good old-fashioned appearance. I am the god of death and I will gladly judge you when your time comes..." The last sentence with it was whispered in Ron's ear, who couldn't help but shiver.
But what shocked him more than anything else in his speech was this point: Harry Potter had never lived? Or existed? Impossible! He had beaten Voldemort.
"Harry? Never existed?" Pronounced Dumbledore softly. "I saw him being born, as Poppy can testify, and he defeated Voldemort by seeing him again with the spell of death and..."
He was interrupted by the humming voice of Death.
"And how did Harry survive? Did you ever wonder about that? Stupid blind Wizards..."
There were murmurs and outbursts. The Wizards debated among themselves, debating these revelations.
"But Lily's sacrifice?" Tried the principal, who saw the people becoming more and more convinced of the god.
"Seriously? Was it only Lily Potter who sacrificed herself to save her child? By my status, I know I didn't...otherwise how many children would have survived afterwards? Thousands! But think about it! What the hell! You've got a brain! And then you criticize other species! Hypocrites!"
"But what about Harry Potter?" Fudge exclaimed. "Why did he hide this essential information from us? And then how did you, in that case, end up in this body?"
"Harry was just my avatar on Earth. My sister made a body, except that I needed a way to fit in. We chose a carrier. Satisfied? No, but because now that you know who I am, I can go back to do my job, I don't have that much to do! So, what's your fucking Wish?"
Dumbledore was too stunned by what he'd just learned. His mouth was open and he was swallowing flies. How elegant! The whispering in the room kept going: "...Harry didn't exist...Harry avatar...Harry Death..." and the like.
Death could see that many people were uncomfortable to have been in contact with a god. Notably Draco Malfoy and his group, who had only insulted him, or Snape who approached a pretty porcelain color. Already he was pale...
Only then did Dumbledore pull himself together. He had his grandfather look that Death hated, his chin on his hands, his elbows on the table. Death would have wanted so badly to thrust his spear into his chest just to relieve himself of this manipulator. With a conspiratorial tone, which Death did not like at all, and which was a total lack of respect, he spoke:
"Death, may I ask one last question before I make my Wish?" Positive nod from Death. He wanted to sleep, but well, considering how it went. "Why did you come among us?"
"Ah! Good question! Thirty points for Gryffindor." He laughed and sneered. "Well, I had a score to settle with a fool and a bet..."
"A score to settle? A bet? How could I...?"
The dear director could say no more because someone had just burst out laughing. A clear and limpid laugh that contrasted with the tense atmosphere. Turning to the young Luna Lovegood folded in two trying vainly to catch her breath without success. Dumbledore and some teachers and members of the ministry were not very happy that this crazy girl was enjoying the scene, which is currently quite tense.
Without worrying too much about the looks, the blonde jumped on her feet, softly. Her blue-violet eyes were no longer dreaming but laughing. It was strange when we knew the girl. She stopped in front of Mort and stretched her right finger over him. Death folded his arms across his chest.
"You lost!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I won! I won! At last! It's about time! I'm too strong!"
"Shut up!" He went crazy.
"Oh, poor baby...you owe me something, I'll call you back. I won the bet..."
"You cheated!" Protested Death. "All the high-ranking officers knew where to find my Relics, you hid them..." The pout he made was absolutely adorable, puffing up his cheeks like a hamster. But Luna didn't pay any attention to it, with a happy face.
This little game could have gone on for a long time if dear Ginny hadn't opened her lovely mouth to bring out a very charming nonsense.
"Loona? What's the meaning of this? Did you know everything about it? And you didn't tell us?" Death had a vague sense of déjà vu. "You conspired against us when we were your friends!"
This young girl had apparently not tilted who Luna really was, unlike employees. The official members of the ministry had exorbitant eyes and, if they continued to do so, would make them feel uncomfortable. Too much emotion for a simple evening, what do you want?
Sighing at Ginny's all too obvious stupidity, Luna dodged the question. She had no time to waste with her. But the idiot on duty decided otherwise.
"And don't ignore me, Loona! I'm talking to you!"
"Shut up, Weasley!" Draco Malfoy cut her off badly. "You must be the only one who didn't understand what she was implying, unless, of course, you're in a momentary lapse of intelligence."
What the Slytherin said was true. In the Great Hall, everyone except Ginny, who was swallowing flies, had realized the truth.
"Wha... what?" Let Fudge escape.
"How eloquent!" cried Death, still sulking.
"Miss Lovegood... would that be Life? Your sister?" The minister replied.
Death turned slightly towards the girl, with a raised eyebrow. He shot her with his eyes, then asked angrily as Luna laughed in a cape, and tried as best he could not burst.
"If you could take back your true appearance, big sister, don't leave me alone with these slow-brained morons."
This time, Luna couldn't hold her laughter in front of her little brother's face. She tried to regain control of her body. Then, with a fine smile, she approached the Weasley twins. Bending over, then whispering in their ears. The others wondered what she was saying to them. But no one made the slightest movement. Knowing that two of their comrades were really Life and Death was already too stressful.
Finally, Fred ran away, while Luna asked Filch to bring the oldest broom in the school, a Comet 1, the first special speed broom in the world. Then she approached his bag and took out a fine and delicate silver tiara, set with shiny sapphire.
Fred and Filch quickly returned to the still-silent room at the same time, waiting to find out what was going to happen. Mort sat down on the teachers' table, swinging his legs at regular intervals to get over his growing boredom. Fred handed Luna an old parchment and Filch the broom.
The three objects in hand, the girl joined her brother and posed without any softness what she was holding. Without hiding her curiosity, for once, Lucius Malfoy questioned.
"May I know what it is?"
"This, Malfoy, are the three Relics of Life." She explained, without raising her head, avoiding the astonishment of the audience. "No one has found it before. So, with my little brother we made a bet: the first one who is discovered loses. And since you didn't find me, I simply won!"
She walked past Death's grunt with a big smile. Luna, or Life, raised her head looking into Malfoy's eyes and continued:
"My Relics are therefore, for those who wonder, the Tracer of Life, Comet 1, alias the oldest broom in the world, symbol of the joy of life. Then we have, the Parchment of Destiny, also called the Marauders' Map, and finally the Tiara of Knowledge, the Tiara of Rowena Ravenclaw. Yet so close to you but never suspected! Too bad."
And before anyone could say anything else, she activated the magic of Relics. A cloud of white dust swirled around Luna, leaving half of the Great Hall blind, not having closed her eyes soon enough. Then the smoke around her faded away, leaving only vague clouds, like Death. And like Harry's metamorphosis earlier, Luna's was incredible.
Luna was now Life. Taller, about 18 years old, she was slim with muscles and well-defined shapes. Her hair, now snow-white, long, cascading down without anything holding it up to her ankles, shone in candlelight. She had a few silver strands, like Death, which intertwined. Her mature face with angelic features hinted at a certain hardness in her character. Her beautiful violet eyes, piercing and laughing, intimidated her interlocutors. His skin was made of ivory, soft with no apparent impurity.
Her white dress, accompanied by purple and silver flower motifs gave her a certain childlike but pleasant air, making her feel confident. She was as barefoot as Death. In contrast to this surge of confidence, in her left hand she was holding, not a spear, but a bow made of pure oak wood. Her white quiver and white arrows rested on her back. This, however, made her intimidating.
However, knowing who she was before her transformation, it did not cause as much of a shock as Death's. And then, there were no more questions to ask them as they had already answered everything: the fact that Death was there, Life had to be there, that Death was Harry and Life Luna, it was explained, Life having made a body for them with surrogates. Afterwards, all they had to do was turn their heads, as simple as that.
After the metamorphosis and seeing that the bet was just a stupid cause, Dumbledore couldn't help but say what had been bothering him in his head since Death had talked about the bet.
"And so, Death, a score to settle?"
"You really need to work on your respect for others, little Mortal..." Death sighed desperately before resuming with a carnivorous smile. "To tell the truth, a certain person has been playing with death, seeking immortality. And I hate being played with: we all die one day. So, I've come to kick his ass!"
"And I," Life said, "have come to help him. Just to see this idiot who has so little respect for life..."
"Voldemort..." Blew Dumbledore, although everyone heard him in that silence.
"Yes!" Ragged Death. "That little Mortal fool has separated his soul! He will draw consequences...like all those who made that mistake before him..."
A dangerous glow shone in his eyes as he squeezed his spear tighter in his hand so that he would not let his anger escape. His sister gave him a tap to calm him down and whispered softly in his ear. He made a sulky pout again.
"16 years ago, when we got into the kids' bodies, we both made a prophecy to lure Voldy to my brother and erased our memories to play the game better." Announced Life.
"But our memory had to come back to the moment we were 15 years old on earth." Death continued. "To properly finish off dear Voldymort! Do you have any questions?"
He spoke as if he were giving a lecture to a bunch of retards, slowly and articulately, making Life laugh.
"So, now your Wish, Albus. We don't have much time left!" shouted the god.
"Voldemort's death...put an end to this war," the principal made clear, sure of himself.
"Stupid Wish for stupid people..." he replied with a fatal sigh. "I was going to do it, that was my goal! Whoo! Was I listened to?"
"You're too boring, it's normal to fall asleep..."
"You're mean to me! Ouinnn..."
"Shut the fuck up! Make your Wish so we can get out of here!"
The god turned away from his sister to stand straight in front of the director. He grabbed his forearms and marked them with the Mark of Death (the triangle) with his own fingernails. Albus groaned softly without raising his voice. Then Death's mouth began to move, at first low and soft, then louder and louder until the sound resounded.
"Come back to me, soul, you who have lost your way, I will show it to you. You who betrayed me for a futile immortality, join the Darkness, join the Underworld. May the seven Horcruxes return to me! So be it!"
At the end of this mini-tirade, seven black-gray columns appeared before him. He grasped his spear firmly and swept the air with it. The grayish light scattered, leaving only seven small round pieces of immaculate white. Death grasped each 'stone' with the hollow of his empty hand, making them disappear one by one.
When the last one disappeared, the Death Eaters, who were old at the time, felt their mark fade away until they were no longer there: they were free!
Once this ritual had been performed, Death stepped aside, dropping Dumbledore's arms on the table without the slightest delicacy. He stepped back to approach his sister.
Everyone had watched in awe what had happened, and it took them a long time to realize that the war was over. The joy would return! No more massacre, death and other joy! But as they looked at the two gods, they noticed that their silhouettes were fading into the air. Their task was finished. The Relics of Life and Death had been gone for a while, leaving in other hiding places for the next summoner to try his luck. At least, that's what most people thought, except, guess who, Dumbydumb! Indeed, he did not look kindly on the fact that Mort was leaving while he was the Master. So, he tried to get up, in vain since he was too weak after the ritual, and cried out:
"Wait, Death, I am your Master! You cannot leave!"
The icy sneer and the scornful grin of the god showed his feelings. He let go with feigned amusement.
"Oh, but the Relics together don't make you the Master, they only call Death so that I may fulfill one Wish."
The laughter of Life, joyful that one, repeated as if it were obvious:
"One Wish~"
Death went on with an explanation that made everyone pale, especially the first person concerned who was not at all aware of this: he had not read the recommendations at the end of the chapter, the poor cabbage...
"In exchange for this Wish, your soul belongs to me! A life for a life! A Death Wish!"
OoO
Far away, on the beach of Mauritius, a crazy woman with curly black hair and ocean gray eyes, Bellatrix Lestrange was quietly sunbathing. Then she stood up on her elbows whispering to herself:
"It's weird, I feel like I missed something very important!"
OoO
Hello my dears! Thank you for having had the patience to read this OS, and I'm glad you liked it. And if you didn't...well...you didn't.
If you have any questions, I'm here, I hope. If this OS gets you more, know that I'm writing different stories and OS, fanfiction or not. I post them on both wattpad and .
Sorry for the mistakes, there are some that escape my proofreading, those idiots!
Bye Bye and see you soon!