Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death

Disclaimer, don't own it, wish I did because then I wouldn't have to work so many hours at my day job.

AN: So, I don't like to drink caffeine. Yeah I know I'm weird compared to most Americans, but it gives me the jitters. So when I drank half a liter of cherry coke last night (mixed with liberal doses of rum mind you) I wasn't going to go to sleep any time soon. So sitting in the dark in the silence of the night while my wife slept in the bedroom down the hall, this chapter came to me. Apparently I have to be in that right mode of hyper mixed with a liberal dose of mellow in order to write this piece. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think as I have three different stories going at the moment and reviews and reader thoughts help determine which story gets my attention.

Warning: My beta is taking her midterms, so any mistakes are mine. I figured that you would want to see this now rather than waiting another week to get the next couple of updates.

/Egyptian/

[parsel]

Death's Voice

[Gobbledeegook]

'Thought'

Chapter 8: Death Never Sleeps

"I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death." ~ Nasir Jones aka Nas

Ragnok had continued laughing for a few minutes longer after Harry had realized the legal situation that he was in if he wanted to continue moving about the Magical world unhindered by stupid regulations. After a few seconds though Harry got fed up with the Goblin's cackling and turned to growl at the goblin.

The timber of Harry's voice changed with his frustration, and it was the voice of death that rebutted Ragnok's laughter. "Laugh it up shorty, and I'll make sure your final appointment with death comes quicker than it was scheduled." Harry growled in that wispy all encompassing voice that was the voice of Death.

Ragnok's laugh cut off in a gasp as the hairs on the back of his little goblin neck stood on end while the temperature in the room quickly dropped to right around freezing. 'Perhaps it isn't smart to laugh in the face of death.' Ragnok thought quickly as his laugh cut off in a choking gasp, his breath frosting before him even though there was a roaring fire in the fireplace five feet away.

"Ahem, ah, sorry, is there anything else Gringotts can do for you today?" Ragnok politely questioned while politely looking away from Harry's predatory stare.

Harry continued to glare at Ragnok for another two seconds while the goblin before him shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Finally Harry broke the silence and the room noticeably regained warmth. "Yes, you're a bank, so I want some money from my vaults." Harry stated, his frustration with this latest situation coming through his voice.

Ragnok quickly pressed a few buttons on his desk, and a coin purse materialized in a coin dish on his desk. The purse had the Gryffindor crest, the Potter crest, and the crest of House Peverell on it merged as if they were some sort of interlocked rings that formed an endless knot together. The coin purse noticeably bulged, but when Harry lifted it from the surface of the desk he noticed how light it was. Hefting the purse once into the air, Harry pushed it towards where a pocket on his trousers would be, and the black cloak that he wore seemed to swallow up and absorbed the coin purse so that it disappeared from view.

Turning back to Ragnok, Harry questioned, "How much is in there, and what's the easiest way to acquire more if I need it?" He stated with a frown; still grumpy about the whole situation he found himself in at the moment.

Ragnok gulped and answered politely, "I've taken the initiative to tie that coin purse into your vaults, you shouldn't have to return to Gringotts if you need more money." The goblin answered before looking away from Harry.

Harry smirked at the goblin, a bit of an dark look coming to his eyes as he realized exactly what Ragnok was getting at, "How nice of you, and at no charge I'm sure." Harry stated with a bit of challenge. "After all, we wouldn't want me to have to return for an appointment with the goblins before it was the proper time, wouldn't we now?" Harry questioned.

Ragnok nodded quickly, large eyes looking at Harry with an expression that Harry's stolen memories reminded him of what a house elf might look like; it wasn't an attractive look on a goblin.

"Very well then Director, until we meet again…" Harry stated, and faded out of view.

Harry materialized without missing a step as he exited the still closed doors of Gringotts bank.

"Bloody wizards and goblins, can't live with them, can't kill them all… ok I could, but fate and destiny and would be seriously pissed off. I don't even want to think about the amount of paperwork that would necessitate." Harry spoke to himself as he walked down the steps and looked around at the empty Diagon alley.

Going though Harry's head were thoughts about whether he really wanted to spend time going to school to comply with the mandates of the wizarding world. In the end he decided that it was only three or four years before he could be finished with it, and it wasn't like even four years was all that long when the reality was he had merged with the immortal form of death. Harry continued to walk a bit deep in thought without really looking around at what was going on around him.

Though Harry's internal clock told him it was getting close to midnight, he didn't feel the least bit sleeping. 'Some times I wish I could sleep, but then again Death doesn't sleep; and it's not like I'd dream about anything cheerful even if I did.' Harry thought to himself, scoffing at the idea of having pleasant dreams; what with all the forms of brutal deaths that he had seen along with the memories absorbed from the book of death and the soul's he had imbibed.

A 'pop' sounded to his right, and a wizard in a dark grey robe and hat appeared before said wizard moved down into a dark and dreary alley that separated off of Diagon.

Harry smiled to himself as Tom Riddle's memories of Knockturn Alley came to mind. It wasn't that the memories were pleasant, it was just that Harry smiled because the idea of walking Knockturn Alley solved his conundrum about what to do to keep himself busy until the stores opened up on the main alley in the morning.

Shrugging to himself Harry started walking towards the mouth of the Knockturn Alley.

Just as Harry was about to breach the threshold into the dark alley, a dark haired hook nosed man of a pale complexion that almost matched Harry's exited the potions shop that was just inside Knockturn Alley and walked towards Harry and the exit to Knockturn Alley; black robes billowing behind him. A memory gained from Voldemort tickled the back of Harry's brain when seeing the man, but it enough time had passed that the man could be somebody other than one of Voldemort's Death Eaters.

Harry smiled as he admired the billowing charm that his eyes saw was worked into the fabric of the man's robes and called out to the man with a smirk as he started to pass by.

"Nice billowing charm there." Harry said with a polite smile on his face, the man's eyes locking with Harry's for a brief second before Harry continued on his way down the alley.

The man, who was none other than Severus Snape the Potions Master of Hogwarts, sneered down at the boy's address to him, only to stop as green eyes the color of the killing curse looked up at him. Snape seemed to stumble, and stop to glance back at the boy who had looked at him with eyes the color of his Lily's but with a pale visage of his hated rival James Potter.

Harry continued walking, oblivious to the effect that he had made on the passing man, before disappearing around one of the many twists and turns that was part of Knockturn Alley.

Severus blinked. Then blinked again, as he tried to convince himself that he had been mistaken in what he had seen. 'The Potter whelp hasn't been seen since the night that Voldemort was destroyed.' Severus convinced himself. 'It's late, and you are starting to imagine things. There is no way that the defeater of Voldemort and a soon to be first year student is wandering Knockturn Alley at night unattended.' The potions master thought to himself before shaking his head.

Silently, Professor Snape changed away from his original goal of heading to Diagon Alley's apparition area and instead headed towards the Leaky Caldron to get sloshed; the memories of loss and days past overwhelmed the man and called his thoughts back to a green eyed girl who had been his one true friend, until he had cast that friendship away in the worst mistake of his life.

Deep in thought, and concentrating on hurrying to the pub in order to get pissed as a fart as quickly as possible, the potions professor didn't even think to warn the young boy wandering into the certain danger that was Knockturn Alley at night.

Harry wandered deeper into Knockturn Alley as memories from Voldemort told him the details of the alley where a young Tom Riddle used to work after graduating from Hogwarts.

Still a bit frustrated with his situation of having to go to school at Hogwarts when he had the whole curriculum already in his head from Voldemort's memories, Harry just looked for something to do. Being that Harry had kept the form of what his age should have been had he stayed in the United Kingdom and not disappeared into death's realm, Harry looked for all the world like an innocent little boy wandering in a place where he had no business to be.

"I wouldn't wander any further deary. A nice innocent little boy like you shouldn't be down here, especially when it's dark out. Aren't you supposed to be afraid of the dark or something sonny?" The voice of a hag interrupted him from the shadows of a doorway to some warehouse that no doubt contained illicit or dark goods of some sort; at least if the bloody handprints on the lintel were anything to go by.

The hag had stepped forward and reached out for Harry's shoulder as she was speaking, but he quickly smacked it away the aged hand that seemed to have a century's worth of dirt and grime encrusted in their wrinkles and under the hag's old fingernails.

Growling, Harry backed away from the lady, "Back off lady, I haven't been innocent since I was one year old." He stated before turning to proceed down the alley again.

The hag was undaunted, and smirked a smile that only contained three or four sharp jagged chipped teeth at Harry. "Why aren't you a little tiger. Why don't you come inside with me out of the darkness sweetie, I'm sure you would enjoying coming in to join me at dinner." She stated.

"Don't… patronize… me… Hag." Harry growled and swung on the hag; the darkness of the alley seemed to suck out of the crannies around Harry and start to flow into his cloak. The temperature immediately began to turn chill around Harry and the hag took a step back as there was something in the boy's eyes that promised her certain death.

"You don't want to know what I did to the last guy who patronized me. That way leads to more than just a smacked bottom, capisce?" Harry finished, before his cloak seemed to ripple with the gathering darkness, the shadows of the alley rippling as they merged with him and suddenly shaded his face from view; as if he had just raised his cowl.

The hag backed up, fright clearly showing in her eyes as she realized that she had made a mistake leaving the security of the threshold of the warehouse door. She held her breath as the small boy, now fully shrouded in a cloak and cowl made out of seemingly liquid night, disappeared down another turn of the alley and out of view. She didn't know why, but she felt she had just had a brush with death.

Harry snarled to himself for being caught somewhat unawares while immersed deep within memories, and the continued passage down the alley was marked by a wave of cold that followed him as the bottoms of his cloak seeped along the cobbles and walls of the alley to tendril out and taste the flavors of the shadows he passed through; searching for danger to attack.

It was fortunate that he did so as a hiss of pain came from his right as he passed a gap between 'Borgin and Burkes' and a disreputable store that had a pair of blood magic daggers in the front window.

"Bloody el! Yur gunna pay fer dat lad, I'll cut ya I will!" the boil faced cutpurse cursed as he leapt from his hiding spot and swung a long jagged dagger at Harry; there was a red streak of blood on the thief's sleeve where it looked like the tendril had sucked the heat out of the man so much that it had flaked both the shirt and skin away as if frostbitten by horrible cold.

Harry twisted to the side, as the first slash missed splitting him from head to toe. The second follow up slash was just as poorly skilled and was easily dodged by bending backwards quickly under the horizontal sweep of the blade; all the while the thief was cursing up a storm as phlegm and spittle foamed around the would be thief's mouth as he wildly swung and missed connecting with the supple dodging of Harry's dark robbed figure.

"Enough of this, I'm done toying with you." Harry finally said, having his fill of playing dodge with the man and sweeping up a hand that grabbed the dagger wielding wrist with a strength that was equivalent to bound iron.

"What the?" The mugger cursed and his eyes got large as he tried to pull his wrist loose but failed to even budge the small figure's arm. Starting to panic the runty bugger of a throat cutter swung at Harry with his other hand, attempting to punch Harry in the head, but his hand was intercepted by Harry's other hand which also stopped the attempt cold.

The cold of the grave started to gather around the two figures, and the would-be pick pocket felt his strength begin to leave him as he stared into the shadows of the cloak before him where there should have been a face, but was instead only shadow.

"What, what are you…?" The thief gasped, his statement cutting off into chatters of his teeth that shook his body as it felt like all the warmth in the world was getting sucked away from him. Falling to his knees, the dark robed figure just looked at the thief.

Harry looked down and frowned at the man who had dared attack him. Watching the body of the once dirty and diseased yet formerly living figure of the pickpocket start to crumble, Harry twisted his head to the side and watched as the thief started to age right before his eyes. The thief's hair started to fall out in clumps, the flesh became sallow and withdrawn as wrinkles and sagging skin filled the once somewhat healthy face of the cutpurse and the wild crazed eyes glossed over and filled with cataracts; all the while Harry just stared silently at the man as he withered as if time were passing through him at a decade a second.

It took less than a minute, and as the Harry released the thief's hands and allowed the man to fall down to the ground before him, he saw the soul of the man begin to depart the former human's body; a body that withered away to dust and slowly decomposed right before Harry's eyes.

Snatching the spirit out of the air by its ethereal neck, Harry finally spoke.

"Ah, Corner, Mr. Corner, squib of seventy years of age and due to die in three weeks due to a nasty case of chimera crabs… That would explain the facial boils. Tut Tut Mr. Corner, you really shouldn't do naughty things with chimeras, it leads to all sorts of deadly diseases. Oh well, death shouldn't mind the early delivery. Right, where was I?" Harry finished before opening his mouth and sticking the soul into his maw before beginning to chew.

"Smack smack…" Harry smacked his lips and made almost exaggerated chewing motions before swallowing as if he was trying to choke down something that didn't entirely agree with him.

"Wow, incredibly stringy and a bit on the chewy side, seasoned with some nice knowledge about the back ways of Knockturn and the latest news on people to fence stolen goods with but otherwise pretty unfulfilling of a meal. Blah, and now I got some of Corner stuck in my teeth." Harry finished sucking down the soul while talking to himself, only to finish with trying to use his finger nails to pick the little bit of the former Mr. Corner's soul from where it had gotten stuck between some of his back molars.

"Damn, I hate getting things stuck in my teeth, and Wizarding Britain is even farther behind in dentistry than the Muggle United Kingdom; which isn't saying much." Harry groused to himself as he fruitlessly tried to get the wiggling little bit of soul that evaded his attempts at picking it out of his teeth.

Frustrated, Harry looked around and noticed that Borgin and Burkes was still open, so Harry turned to enter the shop in the hopes that there would be something he could find with which to use as a toothpick.

The jingle of the bell charm on the door ward alerted Mr. Borgin that a customer had walked in, yet looking out from his seat behind the counter didn't show him anybody walking in through the door that opened and closed. Standing out of his seat with a raised eyebrow and allowing his wand to fall into his hand due to the possibility of a disillusioned customer or perhaps thief entering his store, Borgin was surprised to see a short figure enter the store in what was apparently a very expensive cloak if the shimmer of the fabric was anything to go by. He was even more surprised when a young voice issued out from under the cowl.

"Good evening Borgin," Harry stated casually as if he knew Borgin personally; for after all the memories he held of the store was from when Tom Riddle worked for Borgin and Burkes. With that, Harry pulled back the cowl of his cloak to allow himself the ability to better look around the store and see what merchandise was available.

Shocked to see a young boy revealed under the cloak, Borgin frowned before stating, "This isn't a store for children, and you shouldn't be out at this time of night anyway. Where are your parents boy?" Borgin demanded while sheathing his wand up his sleeve, the boy didn't appear to be any threat.

Harry turned to look over his shoulder back at the purveyor of the store, "I've never known you to turn away paying customers before Borgin, and where my parents are is none of your business." Harry started, before moving to continue his browsing through the dark and mostly cursed items of the store.

Borgin was going to follow up with a demand for the boy to leave, but the young man's next statement halted his initial impulse to throw the lad out into the street.

"Do you still keep the best things behind a false bookshelf over here? Ah, here's the latch." Harry stated, before walking up to a nondescript wall that had all sorts of knick knacks that were better sorted for tourists or for 'daring boys' requiring proof that they had entered Knockturn Alley. Harry slid his hand under the edge of the third shelf, deftly dodged the poisoned needle he knew was there, and depressed the button next to the needle that caused the shelf to click and the shelf slid into the floor below.

Borgin's eyes went wide and his face white as his supply of darkest contraband was easily displayed by the supposed boy. What the lad next said though made the shop keepers face not only grow paler, but Borgin's stomach feel like bludgers were fighting to escape out of it.

"Any new parsel magic books come in since Tom Riddle left your services or since Voldemort bit the dust?" Harry casually asked as he pulled out a book written on human skin and which was situated over a tray to catch blood splatters.

"Uh, Uh, uh, um… yes, um, second shelf up on the left. Should be a green binding of python skin. And um, what did you say your name was young master?" Borgin shakily asked, a new found politeness coming to his voice as the boy deftly handled, read, and then put back probably the most dangerous book that Borgin had in his collection.

Harry looked over his shoulder briefly at Borgin, "Oh, sorry about that, Lord Harry Potter. Oh, that's what I needed." Harry stated as he saw a glass lidded jewelry case that held a cursed necklace, a dagger made out of some sort of tooth, and a gold Ankh stick pin that Harry had recognized as belonging to Amotep at one time; though that must have been centuries ago given the dull gleam of the old gold.

Borgin was shocked that this was the Harry Potter, one of the two Champion boys and the only Potter who had been missing after Voldemort's cloak and ashes were found at the remains of Godric's Hollow. Of course the nature of the destruction of Voldemort and the description of Harry Potter where supposed to be a secret, which naturally meant that everybody in the Wizarding world knew about it. Borgin's introspection regarding his visitor was interrupted when he saw the boy open the jewelry case and reach for the gold Ankh.

"Wait! Don't touch that! The Mummy's Curse is instant death for…" Borgin's warning died on his lips as he watched the Potter boy pick the Ankh up, look at it for a second, then proceed to use the sharp point to pick the back of his teeth; all without dying.

"Ahhhh, much better." Harry sighed in pleasure as that niggling little piece of Corner's soul was finally worked out from between his back teeth and then swallowed. Turning to Borgin, Harry raised his eyebrow and politely asked, "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Borgin was wide eyed and doing a fish imitation, mouth opening and closing silently as his brain couldn't conceive of what his eyes were telling him. Finally, the shopkeeper sputtered out, "But the ankh, but the curse, but um, but but, I even had to use levitation charms just to move it about the place! Everybody who touched that clasp died due to the famous mummy's curse! You should be dead?"

Harry scrunched up his face before pulling the toothpick/gold stickpin from his mouth before answering, "You mean this old thing? Bah, I've survived the killing curse, this Egyptian Death Curse doesn't even make my mouth tingle, and it's just the thing to get those stubborn souls where they belong." Harry stated before turning back to peruse the books and putting the stick pin back between his lips where he swiveled it back and forth and played with it with his tongue.

Borgin was speechless and almost forgot to breath. 'Survived the Killing curse! Egyptian Death Curse doesn't even make his mouth tingle! Only surviving person from the destruction of the Dark Lord! Ahhhhh!' Borgin's thoughts were screaming in fear about this figure in his shop.

"Ahem, excuse me." Harry's statement from right in front of the counter startled Borgin out of his fear addled thoughts and brought his brain screeching to a halt to look aghast at the boy standing before the cash register; Borgin hadn't even realized that Harry had moved across the room.

Harry looked up at Borgin as the man was acting weird; certainly none of Riddle's memories recalled Borgin ever acting like this. Harry shrugged to himself before continuing to talk, "So, I'll take the stick pin, the book on Aztec parsel magic, and this cheap knock imitation of the Necronomicon to see if the rest of it is as humorous an interpretation as the first part I read in it." Harry finished while laying what he wanted to purchase out on the counter.

Borgin just stared at Harry wide eyed, "Gah, gah, gah…" Borgin gurgled, the fear freezing the portion of Borgin's brain that allowed him to form rational logical thoughts and speech.

Harry scrunched up his face and quirked his head to the side. "Are you ok Mr. Borgin?" Harry asked, but upon only receiving the same stuttering reply, Harry raised his hand before the eyes of Mr. Borgin and snapped his fingers twice, "Snap! Snap! Wake up Mr. Borgin, Earth to Mr. Borgin, come in Mr. Borgin." Harry repeated, but to no reaction from the catatonic storekeeper.

Harry sighed and looked down at his purchases, "Fine, well given what you used to price these for, the stick pin should be about ten galleons, the parcel book twenty eight or so, and the Necronomicon joke book should be around thirty or forty for its humor value, so I'll just call it an even eighty galleons and leave then shall I?" Harry looked up at Mr. Borgin, but the storekeeper was still just staring down at Harry in fear.

Harry sighed again before sticking his hand towards his robe, where it disappeared into the fabric, and then pulled out his coin purse. Emptying eighty galleons onto the counter, Harry waved his hand over his new books and shrunk them before depositing them and his coin purse back into his cloak which seemed to absorb the objects. Sticking his new toothpick in his mouth, Harry shook his head in disgust at another example of the stupidity of wizards before exiting the shop.

A half hour later Mr. Borgin would come back to his senses. At which time he would close up his shop early and head over to the Leaky Caldron to get as drunk as possible.

Harry continued his path down Knockturn Alley, looking at the animals in the window of a pet and potions good store, then politely refused the offers from the prostitutes that hung out of the second story windows or on the front steps of several of the Alley's inn's of ill repute; and by 'hung out' Harry figured it was a literal sense of the word, given that he had seen more than he really wanted to given the figures of some of the 'ladies.'

While somewhat cursing his photographic memory, Harry turned a corner of the windy alley and ran smack dab into the chest of something in the middle of the street.

Stumbling back a step, Harry looked up into the a face that was even more pale complexioned than his own, a face that was smiling down at Harry with some very sharp teeth.

"Hey boys, looks like we won't have to go far for a small snack after all." The lead Vampire said to his companions that were walking along with him.

Not liking to be referred to as 'small,' nor to the insinuation of being a 'snack' Harry frowned, and snapped his finger in front of his mouth.

Like a flint being sparked on a lighter, a thin flame appeared to flicker over the top of Harry's finger, as if from the wick of a candle.

The initial flash of flame had made the lead vampire jump back from Harry, but the initial shock of the flame was soon turned to humor and derision.

"Oh, so the ickl tiny blood-bag can make fire… oh, I'm so scared." The leader said before looking to his friends who chuckled around him.

Harry just shook his head before stating, "Damn undead, just too bloody stupid to stay in their graves…" Before inhaling, a deep breath, and then blowing it out over the flame on his finger.

A giant blast of flame hit the vampire pack as if a dragon had breathed on them, and their mirth filled faces had a moment where their smirks turned to looks of horror before they became immolated towers of fire standing on the street; apparently vampires are very flammable.

Harry continued his rant about stupid undead with a look of disgust on his face, "Always going on and on about being immortal… look at me, I'm so gorgeous and forever young… I'm so wonderful and darkly handsome… look at me, all the girls love me… blah blah blah, good riddance to bad walking corpses." Harry finished.

With a wave of his hand a wind blasted out of the air above the Alley, extinguishing the flames and blowing the left over dust from the vampiric dust off into the night. Spitting on the ground where the Vampire leader had stood, Harry continued his walk down the street completely unconcerned with what had just happened, but muttering to himself about "stuck up corpses that didn't realize they were already dead."

Behind him at the tavern that just happened to look out on where Harry's altercation had taken place, the patrons all did a double check to make sure it wasn't something they had drank, and then thought again that they certainly hoped that what they had just seen was a hallucination brought on by their drinks. Several orders of fire whisky were then offered by the house, as none of the denizens of the Knockturn Alley pub wanted to think about what would happen if there was truly a boy on the loose who could snuff out a pack of vampires in a single breath.

It was a record night for drink sales in Knockturn Alley and at the Leaky Caldron, as where Harry Potter went, chaos was quick to follow.

AN: Well, I was so into writing that I finished this chapter and the next one, but you will have to wait of a day or two as I edit it; my beta is still taking her exams. Perhaps if I get lots of reviews I'll even knock out another chapter or two of this story before moving on to updating one of my other works? I'll just have to wait and see how many responses I get, or whether people prefer I work on my other fiction stories. Cheers!