Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death
I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters of the Harry Potter Universe. JK Rowling owns it and receives all profits from anything derived from that universe. I receive no monetary gain from this work of fiction.
AN1: Several beta-readers have offered their services and I am going to see if I can connect with them before publishing chapters. I have several chapters plotted out and partially written already and I'll let people know if for some strange reason it doesn't work out to connect with one of the beta readers who have contacted me. My first priority is getting out a quality story, my second is to get it out while it is fresh in my head... I hate abandoned storys and pledge to finish this one at all costs.
AN: Thank you to all of you who reviewed. Honestly, Reviews help me write faster and encourage me to put more effort into my writing. Thanks, and keep it up!
Chapter 2, The Lessons Of Death's Apprentice
Master- 1. To overcome or subdue; bring under control; defeat. 2. To become expert in. 3. To control or govern as a master. 4. The knowledge or skill of a master. 5. Superiority in a contest; victory… Webster's Dictionary
To master a skill, to acquire true knowledge and ultimately conquer something, a person must first experience it. This was all the more true in the world of wizards and magic as theory did not equate immediately to the actual practical application. There was a reason why the tradition of the master and apprentice relationship continued in modern times as it had since the times of Merlin and the Founders of Hogwarts; reasons beyond the fact that the wizarding world was bass-ackwards. The hands on teaching was an integral part of understanding and practicing all of the aspects of magic, even the olde magicks. Thus in keeping with the traditions of mastering the practical aspects of magic, Harry Potter was dead.
Dead as a doorpost, stiff as a board, 6 feet under, pushing up daisies, livingly challenged, or as the Lovegoods would say, Harry James Potter was currently enjoying the great snorak hunt in the skies. That's right; Harry Potter had transcended this plane of reality and entered the next great adventure. In so few words, Dead…
Harry woke up… or at least he thought he woke up. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he definitely recalled Voldemort killing his mother and trying to kill him. Which in and of itself wouldn't be considered strange except he didn't recall ever hearing the name Voldemort in his one year of living let alone figure out how he had the understanding of what death was. His brain swirled and flitted from tangent to tangent of information and knowledge beyond most adults' experience, frankly, his head felt stuffed full. He knew his family's history, he knew the wizarding world's history, heck, and he knew the muggle world's version of history. "OW!" Harry said, "I never really wanted to know what an amoeba felt like at birth and in its final minutes" "Cell division isn't a whole lot of fun" "Where the bloody hell am I?" He said out loud, his eyes staying cringed shut from the pain of the vast array of knowledge flying through his head. "Better yet, how the bloody hell am I able to form complex sentences and understand the meaning of a complex sentence? Where the hell did all of this knowledge come from!"
Drifting beyond his introspection, Harry struggled to open his eyes and stood up, only to take a walking step forward… again, a troubling instance when one moment you were unable to effectively crawl and the next you are walking… It was then that Harry realized that his feet were a lot farther down from his head than he was used to.
One second he had been in his crib with the occasional nibbling on his own toes, as most babies do, and the next he was standing at 5 foot 11 with the world looking a lot different. Naked to the world, or at least the underworld, Harry was shocked. "Dear lord, when did that grow!" Harry gasped while looking at his midsection. Looking down, his abs were rock solid with a defined six pack, his chest above and his legs below were muscular, but not overly muscled. Apparently dying had agreed with him as his body was strong and lean, cut muscle but not obscene where the veins were overly exposed; Harry was built for speed and strength. Turning his head he looked at his hands and up his arms, over his left shoulder, and then his right. He was again shocked, this time it was to see his pale flawless skin inscribed with a black runic symbol. A triangle was surrounded by a circle and bisected by a straight line that ran right along his spine, the sides of the circle touched on the insides of his shoulder blades. The black of the sign seemed to swallow the light rather than be a dye. Reaching his hand back to touch the edge of the circle he realized that his skin didn't feel a different, and yet there was a strange sense of coolness, or lack of heat that came from the point of contact with the tattoo; all without any noticeable difference in his overall body temperature or a chill down his back.
"Looks good on you…"
"Who's there?" Harry snapped, looking up quickly and spinning around. All around him, from one horizon to the next was a grey swirling mist, smoke, steam… as in the very espers of the world were in constant motion yet trapped in a canopy of black and whites mixed with swirling wafting grey. No ground, no sky, nothing to delineate which direction was up or down let alone east, west, north or south. "Who is out there?" He said again, panning his head back and forth.
"There? There is no there… There is only here…" "You are here with I/We/Us… In us, with us, around us… Both beneath us and above us… You are now We"
"Um, I don't understand. How come I can't see you, um, us, um, me? Whatever you are?" Harry replied while continuing to turn around looking for the voice, or voices.
"You return to us our cloak and now wonder why you can't see I… perceive WE?" "Ahhhh, yes, that feels good… to be complete again, whole again, US AGAIN!"
"I'm sorry, but do I know you? Who are you? Better yet, what are you? "Harry said with confusion.
"Your Grandfather's grandfather's many times grandfather knew us, and so did his brothers… He was our equal when he became Us… And now that you have returned not only his gift but his brothers, We have our power, our direction, and our stealth."
"Uh, so you're Death? Is that right?" Cringed Harry.
"Yes" stated the voices, seeming to come from all around him yet without a particular direction.
"So I'm dead?" Harry said with a flinch.
"Yes… No…Both…"
"Ah, would you care to explain that in something other than one word answers?" Harry asked, confusion clearly painted on his face.
"You are with I, Part of I, so You are Dead… Yet you did not die, the curse did not bring only your soul here, so you are not dead… But both your body and soul are here, so you are both…
Raising one eye brow and continuing to turn around in a circle to address the voices, Harry stated, "Um, so what does that make me?"
"The Grim Reaper" The voices stated.
Open mouth, stuttering, and finally realization…"WAIT! I'm the Grim Reaper! I don't want to be the Grim Reaper; I don't want to be a big walking skeleton with a scythe!" Harry said with wide eyes.
"He, He, He… that gets them every time… Yes, Us is very funny… We are just playing with you Harry…"
"Great," Harry thought, "Death has a sense of humor." Taking a breath and a chance to calm himself he asked, "Then what am I?"
"Your Grandfather's Grandfather was our equal. You returned all three of our gifts to our realm, thus You are the Apprentice, and one day the Master of Death." Said all of the voices together.
Stunned, Harry didn't really know what to say. Stopping to think for a second, he realized that in the confusion he had misplaced some very important information. "Um, Ok I guess, but what about my parents? If they died, are they here?" He said whipping around, now looking for his Mum and Dad. "Do I get to see them and spend time with them? I mean, If I'm your apprentice and they are dead, do I get to be with them?"
"…sigh…I am Sad to say, but… No…"
"It is true that they have passed through us, that they have died…"
"But We do not have them anymore. They have passed beyond The Veil…Past us and onto their reward…"
Choking up, Harry asked, "Will I ever be able to be with them again?"
"Yes And No…"wheezed out the voice in the air around him.
"Damn it! Stop that! Give me an answer!" he yelled with angst and fury, his eyes glistening with unspent tears. "Is it a bloody yes or a no?"
"Patience… It is both…You are here, you are We, so you can never fully go there, yet if you become Master, then you can visit them, see them, be with them… for a …time…"
"Time? How much time?" He yelled, again spinning around as if to find the source of the voices.
Again the voices came from everywhere and nowhere, "Patience, for time means nothing to Us… It means nothing to Harry Potter now, nothing to I… As you are part of We…"
Breathing deeply, Harry attempted to bring his emotions under control. Oddly enough, the swirling memories, thoughts and knowledge thundering through his head helped to quell his temper and thoughts of his parents. It's hard to focus on anything, let alone the loss of your parents, when it seems the knowledge of time, humanity, and creation is plowing through your head like a freight train. Putting his palms to his eyes and rubbing down his face, he ran his hands up through his hair and gave it a tug, trying to relieve some of the pressure he felt.
Sighing and looking down he said, "Fine, so I can't be with them until I become the Master of Death. Great, just great! So is there anything you can do about all of these thoughts in my head? Where did they bloody come from and why have I changed so much, and why does it bloody hurt so much?" Harry scathingly said.
"You gave I our gifts back, so we gave you our knowledge…"
" There are no secrets in Death, there are no secrets kept from Us when death comes for the mortal…"
"You are now Death, so We keep no secrets from you…"
"Great, Just great…" Harry said shaking his head and scuffing his feet at the imaginary dirt that would be under his feet if he was in the mortal world. Looking back up he said, "So is there any way for me to get rid of some of this information, or at least use it?"
"Death does not forget…We cannot forget…"
I use the information and experiences of those who have passed through I… We can use the information in the mortal realm if we deign to walk amongst it…
"Ok, so why do I need to be an apprentice then if I have all of the knowledge and experience of those who have died?"
We are Death, we have the experience and knowledge of those who have passed through us… You are now death, you are now US, but you were not part of US when they passed through US…I can only give you the experiences of those who have passed through you while you are part of I…Yet we do not forget, so we can give you the knowledge of those who have passed through We, for you are now part of We…
"Oooook… A bit confusing, but I think I understand. Damn this headache is giving me hell!" Harry blinked back the pain to continue, "So I have all this knowledge that is whipping through my head that I'm supposed to be able to use, and I can gain the experiences of those who pass through me. I got that part. So what am I supposed to do, sit here and wait for somebody to die and then pick up their soul or something?" "How am I to be your apprentice in this place? Are we going to start training?"
"Nooo… you gain experience by living…"
"Um, excuse me, bit confused here… If I'm dead, then I'm supposed to gain experience by living? What the hell?"
"Patience… The use of the knowledge will come through living, through experiencing, through taking the experiences of those who pass through you…We will send you back… Time means nothing to Death…You will live as Death as We are Death… we also learn by those who pass through us…"
"Ok, so I'll go to the realm of the living again to figure out how to use this info. But Bloody hell does it hurt! How am I to use this freaking knowledge if I can't get it to sit still! And what do you mean by those who have passed through me?" Harry yelled, the pain growing to the point where he started to sink to his knees… The freight train that had previously been rolling through his head was now a sea of voices. Pounding, Pounding! Pounding to get out of his skull. It was absolutely debilitating…
Dropping to his knees in pain, he screamed out as the voices and knowledge reached his breaking point, the chaos of his thoughts was out of control… "ARRAAAGGHHH!" He screamed out…
We will show you what we mean by those who have passed through you…Mmmm, two tasty souls you bring Us. What a good apprentice you are to bring US a treat on your first Time of class…I will now pass them through you, the bit from the ring, and the bit from your head… Such tasty darkness… This will hurt a bit...
…PAIN, pure unadulterated pain… It was as if the anguish of the information in his head that had caused Harry to scream out was the equivalent of stubbing his toe on a dandelion. It was difficult to describe just what to compare the feeling to when the new pain hit him. In fact, the English vernacular just didn't do justice to the feeling, nor was the word "Pain" encompassing enough for the shear agony that now struck Harry Potter.
As he knelt down in pain from the information ringing in his head, specks of black substance started to congeal in the air around him and start their inexorable pull towards his body. It looked as if Harry was a giant magnet, and these specks of darkness were like iron filings that appeared in the air around him and started to fly at him, first slowly and then picking up speed in a very short time until it was like he was being riddled with bullets; bullets that hit him and stuck to him… First covering him in little dust sized particles, and then growing into larger blobs on his body as the almost tar like substance stuck to him, clung to him, as he fell to the ground and writhed in pain.
The blobs became masses, and the masses became an all covering black ooze that covered every part of his once pale naked body. He flailed on the ground, kicking and twitching, screaming non-stop, as he didn't really need to breath and there was no such thing as air in the realm of death. Eyes wide, the blackness crept into his eyes until they were one large pupil, sucking in the light. His scream was finally cut off as the material stopped congealing in the air and the final piece had hit him. His scream was abruptly shut off as his open mouth was covered in the black sludge, now pouring down his throat and in through his nostrils, into his insides. But that was only the visual seen and external ramifications of the painful procedure.
The soul of Tom Riddle, aka Voldemort, had been changed to a dark thing. Rituals to strengthen his soul's connection to magic and his magical core were inherent in the shreds of soul that had been combined from the horcruxes of the ring and Harry's scar. These rituals and the darkness that was Voldemort were now being absorbed into Harry's being. Fate was striking out again, as nobody ever said fate was fair. Harry would be truly marked as Voldemort's equal.
Burning, bubbling, churning, the very molecules and cells of Harry's body were rapidly being torn apart and remade. From his bones to their marrow, from his veins to his nerves, even his magical pathways were changing and being forcefully enlarged from that of a young child, or young man, to that of a fully developed Dark Lord at the age of 50. All the while his brain was being rearranged and sorted, for after all Voldemort was a master Occlumens and Legilimens. All of the information and knowledge past down to Harry from Death that had already been whipping through his brain now accelerated to the speed of light and forcefully shoved itself into an organized pattern and method. Shields and protections that would have taken painstaking effort and fatigue over years of life where thrown up, using Harry's body and magic as fuel for the transformation. The magic was flowing through his body like a fiendfire torrent the size of Hogwarts; struggling to force the body mind and magic of Harry into the form that Fate wished. The pain was simply indescribable as the rituals that Voldemort did blended their benefits into Harry's body and mind in an instant rather than over a prolonged period of rituals and rest.
As the light-sucking fluid flowed around and into Harry's body, he suddenly went totally ridged… Hard as stone the black fluid suddenly solidified in and around Harry, completely mummifying him… It was as if the soul of Voldemort was trying to claim Harry Potter once and for all and remake Harry's soul in Voldemort's image…
And then the soul of the current apprentice of Death retaliated...
Power, the power of one who is part of Death, is the personification of Death, who is the legendary Master of Death awoke inside Harry's soul. He had absorbed the stone that was Death's gift to control the spirits. He had absorbed and become the very Death Stick that gave its wielder unimaginable power. And so it was with this control of souls and the power of Death itself did Harry's body seem to literally explode.
If one were to have heard it they would hear the combined sound of a nuclear explosion at ground zero combined with the whizzing sound of shrapnel whizzing by after a fragmentation artillery round goes off just outside their foxhole. The black crust and crud that had been encapsulating Harry vaporized in an instance of pure white light exploding from Harry, flying from the entire surface of Harry's body. Harry's eyes lit up as if two beams of power, first in deep blood red, and then white, and finally green.
He screamed out in anguish, a scream that first started out as pain and then turned into a growl of anger and rage! "!"
Harry's body now floated off the ground, seeming to pivot at his feet so that his head and body raised as if fulcrumed at his heels. Moving as if a plank, his body first lifted him to a standing position, and then floated him up into the air where He was engulfed in a flailing maelstrom of white power. His soul, manifested in an aura of white blazing living fire around him lashed out, like tentacles of white writhing light, it struck out at any of the black shrapnel that had escaped the vaporizing force of Harry's power. The tentacles snapping like whips, some the size of great redwood trees, some thin as a cat's tail, flaying the particles that had tried entrapped and engulf him; utterly destroying the remnants of Voldemort's soul that had tried to corrupt Harry's very being.
Yes, Harry would be fated to be Voldemort's equal.
Yes, Harry was blessed and cursed to have the same knowledge and experience as Voldemort.
But more so, Harry's soul would not be corrupted by Voldemort. The purest soul of what had only moments ago been that of a young child's, would conquer the darkness that was Voldemort's dark taint.
Whereas Voldemort had only a cheap bastardized form of Immortality; Harry was Death, he would Conquer Death and be its Master. Harry's maturity and power were jumped to a new plateau as he gained the level of growth and power that Voldemort had. But that power and growth would only be a starting point for Harry as he grew. For Harry Potter would be the Master of Death. He would master the souls of those he experienced. Ultimately, he could only grow stronger…
The light issuing from Harry suddenly went out… And Harry's eyes slowly closed as his body slowly settled to the ground; leaving Harry standing on his two feet with his eyes shut and his head slightly bowed.
All was silent… The remnants of Voldemort's soul that had accompanied Harry Potter through Death's Veil were no more, and the vapors and wisps of grey, white and black in the realm of the veil of death settled back into their ever changing patterns.
"Very good… I am pleased with you…", whispered the first voice of Death.
"You are truly part of Us, and you shall continue to learn" breezed the second voice, issuing from almost just out of hearing.
"We are pleased that you passed the first test and conquered the pain…" came from all around Harry, as he stayed with his eyes closed, seemingly resting at attention, "For there is no pain in Death. We care not for pain, and you will care not for pain when you truly Master Death. We are always calm, always patient, and all suffering ends in death… Eventually…"
Harry's eyes slowly opened, and he raised his head. "I understand," Harry stated in a calm clear voice, his face divested of any real emotion. "I will learn, what is to be my next lesson?" He said, his voice issuing into tones that almost sounded like the first voice of Death before merging back into his own voice.
"Good… I am pleased with your development… It will not hurt as much the next time…"
"Now is the time for you, our apprentice, to learn to be one with Us…"
"We will send you forth to the time and place of your next lesson, your next experience…"
With death saying this, a clear thin line bisected the grey in front of Harry, only for the line to twist, swerve, expand and seem to open into a square doorway of orangish-fiery light; as if issued from the light of many torches.
Without looking around, and without looking down at his feet. Harry walked ithrough the doorway to the where, and when, of his next lesson.
In the realm of death, the doorway seemed to melt as if smoke, drifting away, blown on ethereal winds until there was no sign that it was ever there; and then there was only silence.
AN: Did you like it? Is there something I can do better? Bet you can't guess where Harry is going.
Please review and I will take the time to write chapters faster.
Flamers will be relinquished to the living organ donors list so that they can be immediately harvested and made of some value to society.