The Master of Death

Odd Meetings

XxXXxX

Harry gently prodded the 'wall' created by the first circle, frowning. Touching it didn't hurt or anything, but it was quite solid; he probably wouldn't be able to break it down with pure, physical strength, even if he could do so without hurting the boy.

He needed to hurry, both to save the boy and to have any hope of saving the girl, but at the same time, he had to be careful. He wasn't familiar with how these 'circles' worked and if he simply broke them, he might actually kill the boy.

He lowered his eyes to the circles that had apparently been burnt into the ground.

"Are you focusing your magic through the circles, then?" He wondered, speaking mostly to himself. "Then it's just like a wand…or one of your staves, I suppose. In that case, will the shields go down if I break the circle?"

He nudged the outermost circle with a toe. He couldn't do that physically, but…

With a twitch of his wand, a section of the outer circle vanished. Reaching out towards what had moments before felt like a wall of bricks, he felt nothing but empty air.

"There we go," He said, stepping forward. "Now…this one blocks magic, but what if I do this?"

Sliding a foot forward to scuff it over the circle, he frowned slightly as the transfiguration unraveled where it crossed the circle, revealing his new form. But with a strange feeling like a sudden release of air, the second circle fell. He re-transfigured his foot with a gesture and looked at the third circle.

"Now that I know what to do, this isn't so hard. Now…one more." Harry frown at it. "The first blocked physical things and the second blocked magic. Then this one blocks…what?"

Hesitating for a moment, he reached out to touch the boundary of the circle. For a moment, he thought his hand would pass cleanly through as his fingers felt nothing—but then he was stopped by the wall. He did not feel the resistance with his skin, but in a deep seated place down in his bones. Regardless, it kept him out.

Pondering his hand for a moment, he let his control lapse slightly and the human guise peeled away from his hand, revealing what lay beneath. Touching it to the edge of the circle again, he felt his skin press against it.

"Hm…I'm not sure what this circle was meant to block, but it certainly seems to block me." He frowned. He nodded to one of his transfigured creatures and the bloodhound rose from where it had been seated and strode forward, only to walk into the circle. It batted at it with one paw and made a series of doglike noises, before sitting down again and looking at him.

"Not just me," He sighed. "Then…"

Pointing his wand at the floor, the wood buckled suddenly, sending cracks throughout the wood. Stepping over the edge, he loomed over the boy, who looked at him with empty eyes and a blank face. Apparently, Justin hadn't given any order on what to do if he managed to get through the circles which, worryingly, the boy didn't seem able to figure out what to do without him.

That…was not a good sign.

"…I never checked what had been done to you, did I?" Harry said, tapping him quietly on the head and seamlessly sliding into his mind.

It wasn't hard. If the mind was a house, then Harry Dresden's door had been kicked in. The windows had been broken and someone had taken a sledgehammer to the walls; the entire house looked like someone had gotten really pissed off inside of it. Elaine's mind had been injured horribly as a result of whatever Justin had done, but not this badly. When Justin had sought control of Dresden's mind, he'd had to fight for it, though that may have just made things worse in the end.

Harry felt pained just looking at it. He did what he could while on a time limit, but there wasn't much he could do without having a lot of time to work. He shifted quietly through the boy's mind, tending to minor injuries and putting scattered thought and memories in their place. Though he would normally respect the privacy of anyone he was giving a 'mental checkup' to, he looked to see if the boy had a family or home that he could take him too, or at least a safe place to put him.

He didn't. His parents were both dead; mother first and then his father years later. The only home he'd had since his father had died was currently burning down around him. He'd been sent to an orphanage, which he didn't have fond memories of and had gone to a public school; Harry noted the locations of both as places to Apparate the boy to if needed, even if they were a bit to out in the open for him to consider them safe. The school was probably empty this time of night; he could put the boy in one of the classrooms for the night if he had too.

He checked to see if he knew where Justin had gone to; the Nevernever, some sort of spiritual dimension filled with monsters and strange places of every kind. He didn't know what area of it Justin had entered, however, nor did he know where he was going.

Though, even if he had, neither of them had any idea how to get there.

Getting frustrated, Harry continued to shift through the layers of his mind, trying to mind the source of all this damage. Justin had dominated his mind, he knew, but there wasn't a prolonged spell like the Imperius restraining his mind, or he would have sensed it by now. But there it was obvious that something had been done to him and if he could find it he could at least cure the disease, even if he could only tend to the symptoms.

It took him a while to notice it amidst the damage; the words like scar tissue in the depths of his mind. The message was simple: To Obey. But though it was simple, it had been planted deep in the mind and spread virulently throughout, until that was all that he thought about or dreamt of. It was a hissing roiling mass of obedience that grew like a tumor in a mind that wanted nothing but to be free.

Harry hissed out a breath at the sight of it.

Something like this was…going to be tricky. To remove something like this painlessly and without causing any damage was almost impossible; it really was like a tumor. Removing it would take care and a gentle hand and a surgical knife.

The easiest way to get rid of it would be a simple Memory Charm—but it would have to be applied to pretty much everything the invasive thought had touched, less it take root again. It would certainly work, but he wasn't sure how much would be left when he was done. It would all depend on what Justin had focused on, but it was possible he'd have to cut out entire years or more, considering the damage.

That was the last resort, for obvious reasons. It was better than letting the damage continue to grow until it drove him insane, but it was hardly a desirable option.

But if he did want that to happen, he was going to have to do it the hard way. The idea Justin had put it his head was like a weed; if he wanted to get rid of it—and wanted it to stay gone—he was going to have to take it out by the root. It would take time, but more than that, it was going to hurt.

Harry hesitated for a moment. He didn't know how to pursue Justin, so, for the moment, he couldn't rescue Elaine. His best bet at the moment was to find this 'White Council,' who apparently hunted people like Justin and ask them for help…but he had no idea who they were or where he could find them. He didn't doubt his ability to find out, given time, but time was running out. Elaine wasn't as damaged as Dresden was, but he had no way of knowing how long that would last.

But for the moment, this was the only thing he could do.

Extracting himself from the boy's mind for a moment, Harry sighed and reached into his pocket.

"I'm afraid I must apologize, because this is going to hurt a great deal," He said gravely. "I promise, however, that I will do all I can to minimize the pain and you will not be alone through this."

Taking out the Resurrection Stone, he turned it over three times.

"Malcolm and Margaret Dresden, was it?"

He knew it worked instantly, just by the sound, as their frail bodies shifted on the debris scattered floor of the ruined house. He lifted his eyes to find them standing protectively on either side of the boy, neither ghost nor truly flesh. Less substantial then actual people but much more so then ghosts, they stood; souls nearly made solid.

The man, Malcolm, was a tall, thin man with dark hair and steady blue eyes. He was young, younger then he probably had been when he'd died, wearing worn jeans and boots. He wore a jacket over his red and white flannel shirt. He looked…very ordinary.

The woman was not. She was a tall woman, around six feet, in a royal blue dress. Her hair was dark, as were her eyes, and her face was sharp. While he wouldn't say she was exactly pretty, she was definitely striking.

The man's eyes held a wealth of emotion for the boy at his feet and they swirled within his eyes—love, pain, sorrow, and more. There was as much love and pain as any father could have in this situation, but he kept it controlled, in a way. Held back, for the boy's sake.

Or, perhaps, for the woman's.

The same emotions were in her eyes—the same thoughts and the same feelings and all the love of a parent. He would not say it was any more or any less then the father's, even.

But it was not controlled in the slightest.

It blazed freely, a fire in her eyes, unconstrained and unhindered, to the point that Harry worried that it might burn her. If she was alive, she would have torn apart the ones who'd done this, or else die trying. She would have fallen into madness, if she'd had too, and to murder and torture and more. Her anger wouldn't be constrained by morals, laws, or danger and she would go to any lengths necessary to accomplish what she felt needed to be done.

Harry admired that, to a point. He respected that type of resolve and power; love at its most beautiful and most frightening. But he also thought that she might have been more than a bit crazy, to have eyes like that. Perhaps not the ranting, raving madness of the insane, but the dangerous madness that that could see what was wrong, understand what was wrong, and do it anyway, if it felt it had need too.

But then, he'd been that way more than once himself, when dark wizards had tried to strike at him through the people he loved. He stared back at her calmly, un-intimidated.

"I know you, Outsider," She said, surprising him.

"Do you?" He asked, blinking. "I'm afraid I cannot say the same, nor see how that is possible."

She narrowed her eyes at him angrily.

"We have met before," She said. "Do not tell me you have forgotten what you did!"

Harry narrowed his eyes at her considering that statement for a moment.

"Perhaps not forgotten." He mused under his breath. "Maybe I simply haven't gotten to that point in my future—or your past—yet."

He shook his head, quickly.

"Regardless, say no more. If this is what I think it is, then telling me anything else could cause a time paradox. Instead of worrying about our potential pasts and futures, let's focus on our mutual present."

All expression fell from his face.

"I take it you know what has happened to your son, then, Margaret Dresden?"

"We know," Malcolm said, hand on his son's face. "We saw it all and couldn't do a thing."

There was anger in his tone, but it wasn't directed at him.

Malcolm Dresden blamed himself.

Margaret's expression faltered as she reached out to place a hand on her husband's shoulder, but she hesitated, looking at him uncertainly.

"I can save him." Harry said, making both of their head's snap towards him. Malcolm opened his mouth, but Margaret touched his shoulder drawing his attention for a moment. She caught his eyes for a moment and apparently that was enough.

"At what cost?" Margaret demanded, apparently taking to role of negotiator. The tone of her voice made it obvious that she was the one who would pay any debts.

"Free of charge." Harry stated flatly.

"Nothing is ever free."

Harry looked at her, wondering what type of life she'd lived to say those words with such conviction.

"If that is what you believe," He began. "Then should we meet again, we shall discuss the matter. But do you think now is the time?"

Margaret's eyes widened in realization before she smiled bitterly.

"Very well then," She said. "Shall we consider my debt to you already paid, then?"

Harry wondered what that meant, but couldn't risk questioning it, because it may well be knowledge from his future that he wasn't meant to know.

God, he hated time travel. It was always like this.

"Very well," He said, swallowing a sigh. "Malcolm and Margaret Dresden, stay with your son while I repair his mind."

The pair of them nodded in unison and an effort of will was all it took to make them visible to others.

And then Harry fell into the depths of a broken boy's mind.

Even if Justin's commands were like weeds, it wasn't as simple as pulling them out of the ground, because the ground in this case was a poor boy's mind. Tearing it out would cause even more damage and pain, even if it would remove the compulsion.

He had to be more careful then that. More precise. Causing damage was inevitable, but he had to choose exactly where to cut, what to remove.

Part of it was like cutting with a scalpel and part of it was like untangling knots. At times, it was like taking apart a wall piece by careful pieces, but sometimes it was like a battle between armies as he either tried to attack or defend certain positions. He had to keep it from spreading even as he pushed it back, even as he get the traps and fail-safes put in the boy's mind from harming either of them.

It wasn't easy, especially while he could still hear said boy screaming in the background. If this was a physical operation, he could have dulled the pain—but it wasn't the entire thing was literally all in his head. He wasn't doing anything that would hurt him physically and there weren't any pain receptors in the brain even if he was.

Even he wasn't sure why it caused pain, then. There was a reason why the Mind had its own places in the Department of Mysteries; not even wizards could say for sure exactly how it worked, especially in regards to the soul, which they also didn't truly understand. Legilimency was a way to navigate and interpret it, but that didn't mean he knew everything about it.

All he knew is that it was hurting the boy. Worse, he couldn't let himself move faster, for fear of making a mistake in his haste.

All he could do was blot out the screams while he pried the foreign influences from the boy's mind. He finished one section and immediately moved on to the next, again and again.

Wrapped up in his work, he wasn't sure how long he'd worked before he reached the end—probably not all that long. He silently unraveled the last stain until it was something so basic and formless that it could not be used to create an idea, tended with wounds where he could, and quietly left.

He took a deep breath, for a moment enjoying being wholly within himself.

Then he gestured towards the ground, knowing without even looking what would be there. The boy's vomit faded from existence immediately and he knelt by his side, lifting his trembling face with one hand. A wave of his wand erased the tears from his face and he glanced up at the boy's parents.

"That went better than I expected," He admitted, rising.

"Better then you expected!" Margaret hissed. "It sounded like you were torturing him! What did you do!"

"I removed Justin's compulsion from his mind and nothing more," He assured her. "You have my word on that."

She opened her mouth to say something scathing, but Malcolm put a hand on her shoulder, nodding at his son.

Harry Dresden looked up at the shades of his parents with barely seeing eyes, expression dizzied and almost drunken.

"D-dad…?" He asked, voice raw from screaming. "You're…"

"I'm here, son." Malcolm said, kneeling by his side. "I'm here."

"Am I…dead…?"

Malcolm flashed a sudden grin, touching the side of his son's face.

"No, Harry. You're still alive."

Harry watched quietly, several steps away, not willing to interrupt them.

"Is there anything that belongs to him in this house?" He murmured to Margaret. "If so, I can still fetch it. Otherwise, I intended to just let the house burn down."

"There's nothing," She whispered back. "Or at least, nothing that wouldn't just cause pain."

But then she hesitated, drawing his attention away from the reunited father and son.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Don't you intend to pursue Justin?" She tried to change the subject.

"Of course. But I have my own ways of finding people. He will return to this world eventually and I will hunt him down." Harry shrugged and opened a hand at her. "It's what I do."

"Why not simply open a gate into the Nevernever?"

"This is the first I have ever been in this world, from my perspective. I do not know how, if it is indeed possible for me."

Margaret hesitated again, debating with herself.

"As his mother, I can't very well let the girl he loves be dragged away," She muttered before raising her voice. "Very well; there is one this DuMorne has that would be useful to my son; if I tell you where it is, will you bring it to him?"

"Of course," Harry replied, shrugging easily. "Just tell me where it is. If you know somewhere safe, I'll take the boy there, too."

"In the basement of this house, you'll probably find a human skull. DuMorne had it, last time we'd met, at least."

"A skull?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "I've seen stranger gifts then human skulls, but may I ask why this particular skull is important?"

"Does it matter?" Margaret demanded. Harry shrugged and shook his head, but silently decided to take a look at it when he found it. "If you find it and give it to my son, I'll make a deal with you."

Harry silently let his eyebrow rise a bit higher.

"I know how to get to the Nevernever," She said. "And I can guide you through it as well. Give my son the skull and I'll guide you to Justin DuMorne."

"…" Harry looked at her for a silent second.

And then he was in the basement.

XxXXxX

The circle in the center of the room wasn't activated, but he made a point of scuffing his feet over it anyway, on general principle. The rest of the basement was fairly ordered, including a number of organized, well marked containers and recipes that Harry assumed were related to potions. He pondered taking them, but glanced over a few of the recipes, blinked, and shook his head at how strange they were to him.

Maybe the results were similar, but the process was obviously fairly different in this world.

He did a minor glance around for clues, but naturally, there was no letters detailing all of his evil plans or any of his top secret hiding places with convenient notes detailing how to get there, but things like this were rarely ever that simple.

Then he looked at the skull that sat alone on its own shelf.

As he did before picking up any obviously creepy object, he cast a few spells, just to make sure it wouldn't kill him or something. On one hand, Margaret honestly seemed to have only her son's wellbeing in mind. But at the same time, he wasn't quite sure how the boy's wellbeing and his wellbeing coincided, and it was pretty obvious they hadn't had a very good past/future relationship. Also, even if he'd saved her son, he'd done it in such a way that could misinterpreted as torture.

A suspicious woman and loving mother like Margaret might see the benefit of him picking up a lethally cursed object.

He didn't find anything—which didn't necessarily mean nothing was there—except traces of some type of magic. Slowly, he reached out to touch it.

Nothing happened.

Relieved and a little let down, he lifted it in one hand and observed it closely. Touching, he could say for sure that it was magical and hadn't simply been in close proximity to magic, but he still couldn't say for sure what it was—and he certainly wasn't going to give a strange object unknown nature to a child, especially one that had unknown magical properties and had formerly belong to a dark wizard.

Stuff like that had tried to kill him with some frequency, after all.

"What are you?" He murmured, turning it in every direction in his hands, as if he could reveal all its mysteries by looking at it from different angles.

The skull quivered in his hands.

He frowned at it, considering.

"Can you hear me?" He asked, but received no reply.

He pondered it for a moment, before speaking.

"Justin's gone," He said. "Also, the house is on fire."

After a moment, orange lights flickered to life in the skulls eye sockets.

"Yeah?" It asked.

Harry walked over to the stairs, holding the skull so that it faced up the stairs and could see through open door at the top.

"Ouch," It said. "Justin's gonna be pissed. Who are you?"

"The reason he ran."

The skull whistled somehow, without having any lips.

"So you're fishing me out of the rubble? That's cool." It said.

"Does this happen to you a lot?" Harry asked.

"Sorta. It's how Justin got me, too. So…you my new boss, then?" It asked.

"I'm afraid not," He replied. "I'm just fetching you for the boy upstairs."

"Harry?" It asked, and for a moment he thought it was referring to him, before remembering the boy.

He nodded.

"Yes; his mother asked me to get you for him."

The skull's candlelight eyes flickered to the left uncertainly.

"Harry's mom is dead," It told him.

"As is his father," Harry said. "Nevertheless, both of them are upstairs right now."

"Are you a Necromancer?" The skull wondered, sounding kind of worried.

"I suppose I am, in a way," Harry admitted.

It looked at him closely for a long minute.

"Who are you?" It asked. "You can't be with the White Council, but you obviously scared off Justin…but you weren't here to take me. Why are you here, then?"

Harry shrugged.

"I'm here because I was summoned," He said.

"Summoned?" The eyes of the skull looked at him in confusion, looking him over slowly. "What do you—"

It looked at his shadow. Then back up at his face. Then down to the shadow again for a long moment before snapping up and focusing on his face.

"Oh." It said quietly. "Yeah, I can see why Justin would run if he botched your Summon."

Harry sighed.

"As for who I am," He continued. "I'm—"

"The Master of Death, right? Justin told me he was gonna try summoning you, but I told him not too. I heard about what you did the last time you were summoned. Nasty stuff—er, I mean, nice job with that."

"Please, don't elaborate; from my relative position in time, the chronological past is still my future and I have yet to personally experience it," Harry recited. "Therefore, such knowledge may cause a time paradox, which nobody wants."

"Oops. Sorry," It said, seeming honestly scared of having angered him.

"It's not a problem," He assured it. "And yes, I am the Master of Death, though that's hardly my favorite title. You can just call me Harry Potter, if you want."

"You got it, boss. Nice human form, by the way—I've never seen one that human before."

Harry smiled at it, not sure what to say to that.

"You don't seem to be cursed or anything, so I suppose you're safe enough for a child to possess," He mused, preparing to apparate. "Hold on for a moment, please."

XxXXxX

"Whoa!" It said as they reappeared. "Spatial Relocation? Damn, boss."

Harry shrugged, shifting his gaze to Margaret, who looked at the speaking skull nervously.

"As we agreed, I retrieved it." He said, stepping towards her.

The skull's candle flame eyes shifted to the shade and did a double take.

"You're not a ghost!" It exclaimed. "What did you do, rip her out of the afterlife?"

"Actually, yes" Margaret said dryly. "Yes, he did."

The skull gulped nervously.

"Looks like Ol' Justin summoned something he couldn't put down, am I right?" He said, his tone full of fake cheer. "So, uh…what happens next?"

Harry moved to place the skull down beside the boy, who was still on his knees. Dresden looked at it silently for nearly thirty seconds, blinking blurring eyes, before widening them in recognition.

"Bob…?"

Bob the skull spun towards him of his own power, peering up at him.

"Ouch, Harry, what happened to you?" It asked, tone completely serious.

"Justin had bound his will," Harry said simply. "I fixed it."

"Oh," Bob said, hesitating. "Uh, if you did it wrong, you might just have made it worse."

"I know my way around the Human mind," Harry stated. "I assure you, I have lots of experience. All traces of Justin's compulsion are gone, now."

Bob's eyes dimmed to pinpricks in a strange expression that was hard to interpret without a face to go with it. He looked at Dresden for a long moment before nodding, eyes returning to normal.

"Well?" Margaret demanded. Harry glanced at her, but couldn't begrudge her wanting a second opinion when it came to the health of her own son. He'd have wanted a second opinion to.

"He's as well as he possibly could be, given the circumstances." Bob glanced at both the Harry's. "There's, uh…nothing wrong with him, if that's what you're asking."

Margaret sighed, relieved.

"Very well, Outsider," She began, moving to her son's side. "You have kept your word on all accounts. It is only fair that I keep mine."

Kneeling, she lifted ghostly fingers to carefully touch his face. They weren't solid enough to actually make contact, but something about her touch drew the boy's attention.

"Harry…?" She whispered. "Do you know who I am, sweetie?"

The boy slowly lifted a hand, as if to cover his mother's with his own, but it slid neatly through.

"Mom?" He asked. "Is that…really you?"

"It's me," She said sadly. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry."

"…For what?" He son asked, expression pained and confused.

"For…" Margaret cut herself off as she glanced at the older Harry. "For everything. I've caused you a lot of pain…and I think I'll be the cause of even more in the future."

Margaret smiled, but it was bitter to the core.

"Maybe even right now."

"What? I don't understand…"

"Justin's alive," She continued, and the words made the boy flinch. "He's alive and he has Elaine. Worse, if he manages to get away completely, sooner or later someone will figure out that you're alive. They'll come looking for you. They'll probably find you, too. I can't stop them…but I can help you delay them. And I can help you save Elaine, too."

The boy's eyes had become resolved the moment she'd said the girl's name, and Harry knew that he would do whatever his mother told him if it meant he could save her.

"What do I have to do?" Dresden asked, quietly.

"Justin escaped off into the Nevernever. We can still track him down, but we'll have to follow him in—and to do that, we'll need you to open a gate for us."

"That wasn't part of our agreement," Harry interjected. "You didn't say the boy would be involved."

"I said I knew how to get to the Nevernever." Margaret said. "And I said I would guide you through it. I will keep my word. But I never said I would teach you how to open a gate."

"Don't you want your son to be safe, though?" Harry questioned. "Why not just teach me, and keep him from having to get involved at all?"

"I do not see how I would be keeping him safe, if I gave you any more power then you already have." She said sharply. "So long as you remain bound to this world, there is at least one place for him to run, should you betray us. My son will remain in this world. He will open the door and nothing more."

"So you still don't trust me?" He asked quietly.

"No," She replied, blunt and to the point.

"We don't have time for this—" Harry began.

"I disagree." Margaret said. "I think Justin will find travelling here a bit more dangerous then he remembers. Where my son is, his Godmother is never far behind. Justin's a snake, but he won't get past her that easily."

"Could she kill him herself?"

"If she felt it was within the bounds of our pact, yes. But I doubt that will happen; I probably could have gotten a better deal from her, in hindsight," Margaret said, looking down at her son, one hand lifted to her belly. "But I was in a bit of a rush at the time. Fleeing for your life will do that."

Harry didn't bother asking how that had gone. When a dead woman says she had been fleeing for her life, it's fairly safe to assume something had gone wrong.

He took a deep breath.

"Will you get the gate open in time for me to save the girl?" He asked.

She nodded once.

He slowly exhaled, calming himself.

"Very well. Do as you wish—so long as you keep your end of the bargain." He stated, turning and walking away to give her the privacy she'd all be demanded.

He stopped to stand next to Malcolm Dresden.

"Nice wife you have there," He commented.

"She's something, isn't she?" Malcolm agreed with a smile.

Harry glanced over his shoulder.

"She's something," He agreed. "As I am a gentleman, I shall refrain from saying what, though I assure you that I am thinking it."

XxXXxX