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Harry Potter and Death's Incarnate
"I am truly sorry to say that Madness and Insanity are two seperate and quite different things. Madness is a frame of mind, yes? The inability to distinguish between fact and fiction, reality and not, however temporary, however permanent. It descends like an illness, a voice when no one is speaking here, the flash of a strange colour out the corner of your eye when searching for something else, black usually, white sometimes too. A fierce denial of what should be obvious, fanaticism is common. The body declines as the mind does; hot flashes, sudden urges of strong emotions such as anger or hatred, an invading tiredness, single minded focus, double vision, aches and pains of a soul dying. Impossible to cure, yes? Unlike psychological trauma, Madness is a rot that pervades the very essence of being. Now Insanity, that my dear friend, is simply knowing truths that no one else will ever understand. More often than not, you can't tell, they just seem a little...odd. Strange, unusual but nothing particularly alarming. Madness is dangerous, Insanity is having too much knowledge, to be simple. Easy enough to see the difference, yes? But you...no, you will always be something that I will never quite be able to identify...like a soul split in two." -Incarnate of Insanity, Ewah
A boy of twelve, with an odd haircut that made him look as if he was growing a mohawk and emerald eyes, was staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, counting the number of times he had died so far and having a devil of a time trying to fall asleep. Between the whispering snores that were echoing from the back of his head and his rebellious mind that kept drifting back to a certain conversation, dream land was staying far away from Harry Potter.
What's a Chosen? Harry grimaced, turning over in bed as he tried to ignore his own mental voice.
Hmm? Oh, our heirs in a way. Next in line when we decide to croak, Thana's casual tone answered. He could almost see her stretching like a cat before flopping onto the plush sofa. Whenever an Incarnate gets tired of being immortal.
So, you're like gods, huh? With a groan Harry rolled the other way, squeezing his eyes shut and praying for sleep.
You know, I never really thought about it. Mortals have all sorts of names for us, but we really just...are.
Am I a Chosen? Harry's fists balled around the edges of his sheets. Shut up! he screamed in his mind, at the frozen mental picture of a boy and an impossible woman casually discussing one of the secrets of the universe. Just shut up! The pause button came undone and the image continued to play.
If you are, you're not mine. I highly doubt it, my claim on you is rather obvious. Both the Harry in the memory and the one in bed began to finger their braclet. Besides, you're too...free for that.
Free? Ripping his hand away from his forewarm, Harry slammed his pillow over his head and yelled into it.
Chosens are still mortal, they just have a limited access to the universal force or aspect they are going to inherit. They are also Bound. An Incarnate is responsible for teaching them what they need to know about immortality business and in turn, the Chosen must follow all orders given by their mentor. Harry could see his own uncomprehending expression and Thana's unconcerned shrug. With a word, we can make them our slaves.
Who would do that! Cue horror.
Weaver, if the she ever got around to retiring, Justice would ironically enough, Thana in his memory began to tap her chin as she listed. Plague, most definitely, Desire might, Truth doesn't need to since they're all copies anyway...oh, a cruel smirk. Me.
Why? Harry turned onto his face, pillow still held against his head as he sighed into the mattress.
Would make things easier, no panicing since I said so, no dealing with mortal anxieties, no babysitting...once they've learned and their Incarnate moved on, they're themselves again. At the mutinious look on his face, she had given him a cold look. They have to agree before hand, its not like we strip free will just because.
Why didn't you make me one? Harry groaned again at how pathetic he had sounded. How vulnerable.
I was going to but things came up, was the flippant response.
What things?
You brought a girl back to life. Even though it had happened hours ago, Harry still flinched at the memory of her words. And besides, she had reached out and brushed her hand over his scar. When he thought about it, his face still tingled. There are certain things I can't order someone to give... Harry's muscles relaxed as he lay there, acknowledging that the uncomfortable part of his recollections was over. Alright, enough about this, what did you think of Lockhart?
Blond ponce...git, retarded and probably gay.
Ouch, an exaggerated wince. You're just mad he wanted to take a picture with you!
And held up the bloody line, shouting loud enough to wake the dead...I thought he was going to propose to you or something when he found out about my "cousin!"
What...jealous? Thana teasing voice rang through his head and he snorted along with the memory.
You wouldn't have said yes anyway.
Ah! she had cried out dramatically but now that he was watching it over, even though her mischevious expression didn't change, he could see that all traces of any real emotion had been carefully wiped from her face. Boy...you know me too well.
Harry turned onto his back, pillow under his head where it belonged, staring up at the ceiling again. She wants something from me, was the thought that had started this whole insomnia mess. But what? Why won't she tell me?
There was the sound of a door opening somewhere on the floor below him. He tensed, but when he heard the footsteps he let out a small sigh of relief. They weren't too quiet and they weren't loud either, the footsteps of someone that had nothing to hide even though they were walking around at something like two in the morning.
Thana's footsteps.
Thana's arrogant, he noted to himself. Has liked ice cream ever since she stole my cone this summer, eyes change color and mood changes with it, swears alot when she's annoyed, lazy, here he frowned, not liking the direction the list was going to take. Deceptive, a good impersonator, doesn't like to verbally admit affection, secretive, mysterious, has a mean streak, slightly cruel sense of humour...
Ah! Thana's last line rebounded in Harry's head. Boy...you know me too well.
"No," he whispered as his eyelids became heavy. "I don't know you at all."
What do you want from me?
"Ah, I didn't expect to see you here," Ollivander, wand crafter, said cautiously, eyeing the black spectre that was floating in the doorway to his shop. "At least, not so soon after the last time."
"I need a wand scan," a smooth, alto voice spoke from the dark cloud as it produced an eleven inch holly wand. He recognized it, it had been only a year after he sold it after all and he never forgot a sale. Harry Potter's wand, the brother to Tom Riddle's. He took it, careful not to touch his most unusal customer.
"May I ask what for?"
"You can ask." It said impishly. He was tempted to think it female, but as always, he had to fight the inclination. Attaching genders to such a being would only spell trouble in the future, much the same way as naming an animal would affect the emotions. It kept him distant.
Wand scanning was not a difficult ritual, but an uncommon one. No normal wizard ever needed to check the status of their wand, the only thing they worried about was cracks and dents. Physical damage was easier to spot. Ollivander wrapped his magical aura around the stick he held in his hand and slowly worked the core out. After several seconds, the shining orange light of a phoenix feather illuminated his shop.
"What am I looking for?"
The spectre shuddered and for a moment, he worried if the light could hurt it. "Corrosion, holes, rips or tears...anything that would happen if Death was channeled through something that belonged to Life."
He couldn't help the frown. "Harry channeled Death?"
"Four times, I believe."
"Chosen?" he was rather satisfied with the way his voice didn't break or falter on the word. It was a vile thing, and Harry Potter, Chosen, would not bode well.
"Nope."
He breathed a sigh of relief and too late realized he might have been offensive. He diverted his worries to the feather, taking in the glow of it and perfectly curved shape. It looked exactly the same as when it was first dropped off by that phoenix. It was quite a feat. Being creatures of perpetual life, just touching Death would have crumbled the feather into ash. Unless...
"The bird is a Born."
He was rewarded with a serpentine hiss. "Weaver! I should have known...never could stop playing games of Fate, could she?"
Ollivander tried to pretend that he wasn't there but somewhere else and it didn't work. Harry Potter, victim of a prophecy was he? He didn't need this in the middle of the night when he should be in bed, dreaming about a life long past accomplishing the impossible. "Were you wise to get involved in this?"
"No, apparently." It muttered, twittering about nervously. "Geez, this is going to make things difficult, its like the universe is out to stop me."
He let go of his magical aura and watched blankly as the feather disappeared back into the wood, biting back all the comments and snarky replies he could have made. Running his shop gave him experience at keeping his thoughts in. He handed the wand back and nodded politely. "I'm sorry?" he offered.
The spectre grumbled. "Yeah, yeah, no pity. I'll see if I can tell Eternity 'hi' for ya, Burwright."
Before he could open his mouth to correct it, his name was Ollivander now, it was gone. Vanished as if it had never been there.
But of course, he knew better.
It was a very odd feeling, standing on Platform 9 and 3/4 again, ready to take off for another year at Hogwarts. A place that had killed him at least twice.
Very odd feeling.
"Something bad is going to happen..." Harry sing-songed, tilting his head to the side as he watched children his age, younger and older, board the red Hogwarts Express train. He was dressed in, what he considered to be, his trademark robes of black with silver swirling decorations on his shoulder, complete with silver sickle clasp, and clutching his black trunk.
"Pal is out for blood," Thana ranted, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "Of course something bad is going to happen, idiot!"
"Aww, you sound like you actually care about me!" Harry meant it as a tease, but Thana froze with a look of panic and fear on her face. "Thana? Thana, I'm so-"
She was gone.
It was only the curious glances from surrounding wizards and witches, wondering how the "witch" apparated without a sound no doubt, that kept him from swearing out loud to himself.
--I must say...that was brilliant--
I know, damn it! I know. Bloody hell...this year is going to suck. Absently he patted the sword that hung from his side. It was invisible to everyone who didn't have Incarnate connections, Thana said so and no one had noticed it yet, and weighed next to nothing. The way it bounced on his thigh was a bit distracting though, the petal like crossguard a bit too large to be comfortable.
--Are we rating school years on our relationship with Thana already?--
Wha-no! Not like that, I just mean, i-i-it just doesn't seem like a good omen, alright!
--Aha!-- the whisper exclaimed far too smugly for something that claimed to be himself. --You did not deny that we do have a relationship!--
Shut up.
--But--
I'm serious.
His head now silent, Harry began to march towards the train. It was an uneventful walk, mostly. He had made a large circle around a family of red heads and none but one seemed to notice him. The youngest it looked like, a girl with firey red hair and freckles and the coldest pair of brown eyes he had ever seen. He didn't think it possible for chocolate to look so frosted over.
And she was staring at him, tattered, black book clutched to her chest and completely silent while her family bustled about.
It was creepy.
"Harry!" He turned away from the odd girl quickly.
"Her-" It was like a bell was going off in his mind, a gong as something clicked. Looking at her, he knew that her changes were done. It wasn't something he could explain, information just popped into his head.
The girl smiled a bit self consciously for no reason that he could see. "I had to tell my parent's that it's magical puberty, they don't know any better so it should hold." She looked him over and smiled a bit wider. "Went someplace warm?"
"Huh?" he blurted out intelligently. Hermione was wearing proper wizarding robes of a pale blue and looking perfectly at home in it. Her eyes which had been hazel last year had lightened even further to an amber color and her hair was now far more silverly-blonde than it was brown with fully developed ringlets framing her face. Her cheekbones had shifted upwards and her fingers looked more in tune to playing an instrument than holding books.
He was glad that her voice had remained the same otherwise he would have had her pegged as another pureblood witch, or maybe a Veela halfbreed with that hair colour.
"Warm," she was repeating. "You seem a bit more tan, or maybe your hair is lighter?"
Harry frowned, running a hand through his top tuft of hair. "Been in Sweden, stayed inside most of the time...maybe it's the lighting?"
"Well, lets look for a compartment then."
Sitting with his kind of, sort of, friend made the whole thing seem a bit more normal. She was still Hermione and even though he had an invisible sword and a chance of permanent death hanging over his head, he was able to put it aside for a little good natured mocking of Lockhart. About a minute before the Express was due to leave, Malfoy came puffing in.
"What took you so long?" Harry asked, truly curious.
The blond just flopped into a seat and stole one of Harry's Chocolate Frogs. "Stupid barrier malfunctioned or something, wouldn't let anyone in for a while."
Hermione got that look on her face, the one that said she was about to go on a rant about how what was just mentioned was unlikely, but seemed to swallow her words. "At least you got through in time..."
Malfoy snorted. "Father just Side-Long Apparated me, don't know about the others if they made it at all. Was kind of preoccupied..." The blond had grown a bit over the summer, his hair a bit longer than it was the last time Harry saw him but was familiar enough. At that point, the boy seemed to realize that Hermione had changed and did a double take.
"I knew it!" he crowed and extended a hand. "No one can mistake you for a mudblood now!"
Smiling easier than Harry thought she should, she took the offered hand. "It's too bad I argued for Gryffindor because I thought I was muggleborn..."
Malfoy dropped her hand suddenly, as if just remembering that she was a 'Golden Girl' but smiled a bit to remove the sting. "A pity..."
"Alright, alright..." Harry pulled out a stack of cards and the first of his new stash of Dweni pies (he still didn't know what was in them, slipped his mind). "Whose up for Exploding Snap?"
Seeing those skeletal horses again had been interesting and once again, he couldn't see them with his glasses on, as if the lenses blocked them from his sight. Hermione saw the air shimmering, something that sent Hagrid muttering while Malfoy couldn't see anything at all. The carriage ride didn't make much sense to Harry, as it took a scenic route, but he grinned and bore the uncomfortable seating.
Once out of the carriage however...
"It's cold..." Hermione wrapped her arms around herself as Harry stared at the castle.
It no longer felt comforting, warm, or friendly. It was now just wood and stone, cold stone and he felt a deep sadness for reasons he couldn't explain. Malfoy didn't seem to feel anything different, looking at the two lagging behind as if they were crazy but Harry knew he wasn't imagining it.
It felt...dead. That was the word, dead.
"Something bad is going to happen..." Harry heard his own voice, singing on the wind.
She was standing there, in front of the broken remains of a giant mirror, staring at something that would no longer appear. She didn't react at all as another woman, with dark red hair, hugged her from behind and laid her chin on a shoulder.
"I don't know why I acted that way," she was whispering. "I just had to get away...is it wrong?"
"Hmm?" A smoky voice hummed, nibbling gently on an ear.
"Is it wrong to care about him, how he feels?"
Desire pulled away and lifted her right arm, pressed their hands together, peering intently at the way the fingers lined up, the startling contrast between her own near black skin color and Thanatos' pale one. A slow smile was spreading across her face as she addressed Thanatos' concern.
"For you? Wrong? Of course it is."
Hmmm, not much to say with this one except for...sorry for the delay!
Oh, almost forgot: Can you guys tell me which way you prefer? This one or HPaDI's more focused and yet disjointed style of story telling?
