Beater 2, Wigtown Wanderers QLFC Season 10
Main Prompt: The Dance of Dragons
Additional Prompts: 4. [dialogue] "You stab them with the pointy end." and 13. [character/theme] Death
Word Count: 1084
Warnings: character death (all cannon), violence, souls
Summary: My take on what Death saw/experienced during the Battle of Hogwarts
~wWw~
Some days Death hated his job. He only saw the bad in life, the pain, the suffering. Not only did he see it, but he was responsible for it. Sometimes he was ok with it, but those times were few and far between.
These days things were only getting worse. The war was building to its climax, and the lives he was forced to take increased daily. Some of the deaths were harder than others. Children pained him the most, but that's all this war had ever been, children versus adults. Death knew that Harry and his friends had been too young when the violence started, and he could only hope they would make it through ok.
Most people thought he would hate Harry for escaping his grasp, but if he was honest, he was glad external circumstances prevented him from taking the young baby's life. It had been far before his time.
~wWw~
Death felt the familiar tug of death as he turned on his heel, soon reappearing on the grounds of Hogwarts. His head turned on a swivel as he surveyed the scene around him. The souls of three men drifted lightly in the wind, trapped by the shimmering shield surrounding the school.
With a gentle wave of his hand, the souls drifted towards him, where they quickly became caught in the web of souls making up his cloak. He didn't feel too bad about these men; he had seen some of their victims, freeing them from the suffering they had caused, and now they were his. Everyone was his in the end.
Death watched from afar as the Battle of Hogwarts continued. Bright flashes of colour gleamed around him as each side fired their spells, searching for the upper hand. He collected dozens of souls as the fighting grew to a climax.
~wWw~
The dark-cloaked man watched as one Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, disappeared into the forest. He felt the tug of the boy's imminent death pulling him towards the site, but he refused to budge. Instead, he watched the crowds gather the bodies, laying them out to honour their dead.
He didn't want Harry Potter's soul. The boy still had much life to live, but the pull grew stronger. Still, the boy was young, and maybe if he delayed getting there, just perhaps, he would live.
So he watched as the Weasleys congregated around Fred, the dead twin. He felt a twinge of guilt as he felt Fred's soul pulling on the fibres of his cloak, desperately trying to reach his family. With a gentle hand, he soothed the soul. There was nothing he could do. Fred was dead.
He watched as Remus and Nymphadora Lupin's bodies lay lifelessly beside each other. Their souls remaining entwined even in death. Briefly, he wondered what would happen to their son. He quietly hoped the young boy would live a long, happy life.
He felt as the souls of young students taken too soon reached for their friends and family, hoping to comfort them even after death. Unfortunately for them, the bindings of Death's cloak kept them close to his body.
Death felt as the presence of Harry Potter grew stronger as he was in the presence of all three of the Deathly Hallows. Those three items, with extraordinary power, were one of the few mistakes Death had ever made. But in this moment, he felt hopeful that perhaps with all this additional power, Harry Potter would come out of this alive.
He held onto that hope until he felt the pull of Harry Potter's soul grow strong again, tugging at his very being. But Death stayed where he was for a few moments, praying that Harry would escape again. He waited until the pull was too much, and he was forced to Harry's side. But as soon as he appeared, the pull disappeared, and Harry's soul slotted back into his body with a weird pop. In its place rose out a rotted fragment of soul.
Death quickly grabbed the fragment, tightly binding it to his cloak as it attempted to return to its original body.
~wWw~
Death watched from behind the crowd of students as Voldemort declared his victory, showing Harry's body off like a trophy. The whole situation was a little too cliche, in Death's opinion. Still, his interest returned to the situation before him when a dark-haired boy about Harry's age rushed forward, attempting to attack Voldemort. He watched as the boy was disarmed and thrown to the side.
The death eaters jeered at the boy, but he refused to back down, even as Voldemort summoned the Sorting Hat, placing it on the boy's head. The worn old hat was abruptly set aflame, still on the boy's head.
~wWw~
Death watched as the boy from before pulled a bejewelled sword from the hat, aimlessly swinging it at the snake that slithered towards him.
"You stab them with the pointy end." Death whispered under his breath, silently hoping that the boy's soul would not be the next added to his collection.
Just as he spoke, the boy slashed the sword through the air, passing through the neck of the snake. The soul that came out was just like the one from Harry; a rotted fragment struggling to return to its true master. But Death wouldn't allow that, and just as quickly as before, the soul was apart of his cloak.
~wWw~
Death watched as Harry and Voldemort fought, each struggling to get the upper hand. Neither had a clear advantage over the other. And even though he was Death and supposedly impartial, he hoped that Harry would be victorious, that the excess of death would end, and things would return to normal.
Both Harry and Voldemort drew back before releasing what would be their last spells of the fight.
"Expeliarmus!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Sweat dripped from both as they struggled to overpower the other, but slowly Harry made ground until his spell hit, tossing Voldemort's wand high into the air. With that final spell, Death swiftly pulled Voldemort's spirit to him, ending this battle. And hopefully, the war.
Finally, the man who tried to evade him was his. As his pale, lifeless body hit the ground, he was no longer Lord Voldemort. He was only Tom Marvolo Riddle. He had failed in his mission to become immortal and was now dead at 71, much before the time prophecised for him, but that's what happens when you meddle with death. And he was now firmly in Death's grasp.