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: I was on a roll with the last chapter, so wrote this one also. Actually, I got to the point where the last chapter hit the 12k mark and decided to split it in half to decrease the editing and update time. I hope you enjoy it. Cheers!
/Egyptian/
[parsel]
Death's Voice
[Gobbledeegook]
'Thought'
Chapter 9: Who's Afraid of Death
"Afraid of death? Not at all. Be a great relief. Then I wouldn't have to talk to you. ~Katharine Hepburn
The rest of the night in Knockturn Alley proceeded as the beginning of it had, thus Harry was in a foul mood by the time the stores had opened up in the morning.
Stomping out of the shadows of Knockturn Alley and into the dawn lit morning of Diagon Alley, Harry stopped to brush the dust off of his robe from where it had landed after he had to kill another couple of vampires. Apparently word had gotten around the alley of what Harry had done to the first Vampire pack, and the other members of their clan were out for Harry's blood; or at least they had started out that way.
After the seventh conjured stake through the heart of a vampire and the ninth immolation via fire, the vampires that spotted Harry decided that running away was the better part of valor. By that point however the frustration of dealing with the vampires had been added to the general affront that Death views all undead, and Harry was pretty much ready to fry any vampire that came his way. Not being content to let them merely flee from him, Harry had bar-b-qued the last four vampires that had fled upon seeing him.
Looking around, Harry scowled at the plump witch in the peacock blue robes that was unlocking the door to 'Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.'
'Bah, who needs to waste money on that type of crap.' Harry thought to himself in derision. With that thought, Harry's formerly all black cloak shimmered and changed into a set of black dress robes with a silver and green pattern that appeared to be woven through the edges and on a pattern down his sleeves. Frankly Harry didn't care if it was in fashion at the moment or not, but it certainly made him look wealthy; which by his thinking should mean that he had to deal with less crap.
"Let's see, what was the list of required purchases back in Tommy boy's days." Harry said to himself as he let his eyes pan over the stores that lined the alley; it was still early enough that the street wasn't filled and Harry could easily distinguish where all the stores were rather than having to catch glimpses through a crowd.
The first thing that stuck out to Harry was Ollivander's Wand store. Unfortunately for Mr. Ollivander, it wasn't the wonderful crafting of wands that grabbed Harry's attention; it was a specific wand sitting on a cushion in the front window.
Harry moved forward towards the window of the store where he leaned forward and squinted to look through the dirty window pane to examine the wand on display. "Why that son of a… Thinks he can cheat death does he? Well we'll see about that." Harry spat before turning and tromping into the wand store.
The jingle of the doors bell was followed quickly by the shop's owner sliding into view from where he was standing on a rolling ladder amongst his shelves and on the other side of the store from where Harry had entered.
"Ah Mr. Potter, I wonder when I would see you URKKkkkk…" Ollivander's eerie smirk and odd introductory speech was cut off mid sentence when Harry's hand whipped up and did a 'Darth Vader' imitation; suddenly the wand crafter found himself dangling in mid air with the force of invisible hands picking him up by the throat.
"Think you're too good for death do you Ollivander? Think that nobody would care about your little soul container hidden as a wand core in your display? Well think again mate, you'll live out your allotted years and no more, and you'll enjoy it, do you understand me?" Harry groused as he ignored the dangling choking shop owner and instead made his way to the front window where he picked up the old 'wand' on the cushion. Snapping the wand in front of Ollivander; a wispy bit of a soul fluttered out of where the core should have been and was sucked back into Ollivander's body.
By this point the wandmaker was bug-eyed and turning not a little red in the face, but Harry wasn't done with him.
"Now none of this stupid 'the wand chooses the wizard' song and dance Ollivander. Where's the wand that would have matched Harry Potter if he was raised here in the real world you old crackpot seer? Know that if you point to the wrong one, I'll be sure to put it where the sun doesn't shine and give it a swish and flick before I leave, are we clear?" Harry stated. Harry's already dark mood was getting grumpier after finding out that the wand maker had attempted to gain a longer life through the use of druidic wooden soul containers; which were imitations of how dryads remained immortal as long as their tree survived. Sure it wasn't dark like a horcrux, but it was the nature of the thing; you didn't cheat death and get away with it on Harry's watch. Everybody died some day, and if you were lucky you only had to die once.
Harry walked up to where Ollivander was dangling in the air, waiting for an answer. Unfortunately for Ollivander it took Harry a good twenty seconds to realize that the lack of air and the now purple complexion of Ollivander meant that he couldn't answer at the moment.
'Hrumphing' to himself, Harry waved his hand and the force holding Ollivander up by his throat relaxed, dropping the old man to the floor where he landed on his knees gasping.
"Gasp, pant pant, Third shelf from the left, pant pant, fourth row, fifteenth column, and up two." Ollivander gasped out.
Harry didn't take his eyes off the old con artist; instead Harry waved his hand and floated the selected box off the shelf and into his waiting hands.
Harry opened the box to find an eleven inch holly wand. Picking it up and giving it a swish, Harry and Ollivander were witness to the sound of phoenix song, but it was probably the only time that phoenix song had come out sounding like a funeral dirge or a requiem for the dearly departed.
"Hmmm, brother to Riddle's wand, yes?" Harry asked the wand crafter, only turning his attention from the wand for a moment to see Ollivander nod silently in agreement.
Turning the wand over in his hand a few times, Harry shoved it up the sleeve of his robe before looking at Ollivander again.
"Still seven galleons, or has inflation made the price go up?" Harry questioned bluntly, wanting to get out of the store and on with his day.
"Yes, seven galleons." Ollivander stated, his voice a bit rough from having his throat crushed.
Harry didn't reply verbally, rather he dug his hand into the inside of his robe where he pulled out his coin purse, removed seven galleons, and paid the man.
Before he left, Harry pointed at Ollivander and told him, "Now if I come back here and see, or even hear about you creating another soul container, then your next payment will be two silver denaries for the boatman, is that understood?"
Turning to leave without waiting for an answer, a 'by your leave,' or even a 'have a good day,' Harry opened the door and proceeded out into the street.
Before the door closed however, Harry heard Ollivander mumble under his breath, "We shall expect great things from you Mr. Potter, oh yes, great things, and perhaps terrible too."
The door clicking shut cut off any continued monologuing by the old wand maker, and Harry merely shrugged to himself as he proceeded across the street to the parchment store.
The purchase of paper and quills went quickly, followed by a fast perusal of the book store. Harry picked up a few books for classes as well as two that were supposed biographies of the "Boys of Prophesy" as well as one that was labeled "Longbottom and Potter, the end of the Dark Lord's reign, with annotations by A. Dumbledore." Those would bare further review later, but for now Harry had to pick up a trunk, his potions supplies, and perhaps a familiar. That's when Harry's morning took a swing to the weird side of things.
Pushing his way in the door of a store that had stacks of trunks and carrying cases in the window, Harry was surprised to hear the sounds of combat rather than the quiet of a suitcase store.
"Ahhh! Get it Get it! Don't let it flank us." Came a frantic voice from the back of the store, which was followed by flashes of light as spells lit the air.
"But I'm bleeding!" Came a second voice in plaintive reply.
"Well cast a bloody cauterizing spell on it and just concentrate on casting patronis spells at it, it's the only thing that seems to work!" The first voice yelled frantically.
"But it bit my bloody hand off." The second voice whined.
Harry casually walked further into the store to see what all the ruckus was about, the sound of the first voice cursing and then commanding the second to assist in the battle. "Just bloody do it and perhaps we can get your hand back when we finally stun the little bugger." The first voice spat.
Harry walked into the back of the store and was surprised to see two men standing on top of stacks of trunks; both were furiously casting spells at a dodging and weaving black trunk that was attempting to get at the two men.
Quirking his head to the side, Harry noted that one of the two men had his left hand bitten off just above the wrist, and the blood on his sleeve matched the blood that was spattered on the lid and faceplate of the midnight black trunk that was dodging and weaving as it floated a half foot in the air. The trunk looked to have black iron scrollwork on it, and the leather material seemed to absorb the light around it as if the light refused to touch the matte black finish.
Harry's contemplation of the trunk was interrupted by said trunk trying to repeatedly ram itself into the stack of trunks that the first store worker was standing on top of. Right before the tilting tower of trunks was due to fall, Harry raised his voice to request service.
"Um hello, I'm looking to purchase a trunk." Harry interrupted the proceedings.
All three of the previous residents of the trunk shop swung to look at Harry; meaning both men and the trunk.
The trunk took one look at Harry, the boy standing on the ground, and its little iron eyes got larger before it charged at Harry.
"Look out!" One man yelled.
"Run away boy!" The second shouted in fear.
Harry on the other hand didn't move as the Trunk flew across the distance towards him.
At the last minute, rather than crashing into Harry, the trunk darted around behind Harry's legs where it took furtive glances at the two men standing on the towers of luggage; growling at the two men who had been casting spells at it.
Harry turned and looked down at the trunk, and patted it on the lid, "There there, no bother now, I won't let them hurt you." Harry told the trunk, which purred under Harry's touch before going back to growl ominously at the two men.
Said store owners hopped off of their refuges and slowly moved towards Harry with their wands leading the way. "Move out of the way boy, that trunk is deadly." The man with two hands stated.
Harry purposefully stepped between the man's wand point and the trunk, "Would you kindly stop casting spells at my new trunk, I don't think it likes it." Harry requested politely as he reached behind himself and scratched the trunk on one of its hinges. The trunk started purring even louder, and then one of the corners floated towards the floor where it tapped the floor in time with Harry's scratching, as if it were a dog whose back leg was kicking.
Both men drew back in surprise, flabbergasted at what they were seeing. Finally the second man, the one without his left hand stated, "You can't have that trunk, it's dangerous! Look what it did to my arm." The man said, shaking his stub at Harry.
Harry stopped scratching the trunk's hinges and looked down at its scroll work metal banding, banding that looked like tiny little eyes had been engraved all over it. "Would you please give the man back his hand?" Harry requested.
The trunk whined in reply, and the little scrollwork eyes seemed to look away from Harry as if the trunk was pouting.
"Now please, if you're good I'll see about getting you a treat and getting you out of this store." Harry cajoled.
The black sea-trunk sighed, before opening its lid and ejecting the missing hand, straight into the face of the man who had lost it. Said trunk then moved up to Harry's leg and nuzzled it while purring again; a long black tongue slid out of the opening of the trunk and licked at Harry's hand to try and get him to pet it again.
Harry patiently patted the trunk on the lid before turning to the two startled men. "I'll take it, so how much for the trunk?" He questioned.
Both men stood goggle eyed at Harry before one stuttered, "But uh, but, but it's made from live lethifolds, and it could kill you? We can't sell that to you, it was only supposed to be an experiment that we would take apart later after seeing if it could be done."
"Nonsense," Harry said, squishing his eyebrows together in consternation and shaking his head in disagreement, "It's a perfectly good trunk, and it seems to like me well enough." Harry finished; the fact that the trunk was again purring while snuggled up to Harry's leg proved his statement true.
Both men looked at each other, they were just going to have to try and take apart the little terror anyway if they didn't sell it; the thing had been a horrible experiment and mistake in judgment come to life. Finally the two men silently nodded to each other.
"Well, since it's made from a dark creature we'll need to know the name of the purchaser for the next of kin, um, I mean incase it ever gets lost and we need to report who it belongs to with the Aurors. Whose name should I put on the release of liability?" The first owner asked while trying to be polite and gloss over his slip of the tongue; the second man ushered for Harry to lead the way with the trunk to the front of the store, pointing the way with the severed hand.
"Please list Harry Potter as the owner." Harry said while turning away and leading towards the front of the store, the trunk following loyally right behind. Both men paused in mid step, their eyes growing large as they looked at each other.
'Bugger, we just sold a killer trunk to the famous Harry Potter.' Both men thought before cringing when they met each other's eyes. However it wasn't like they could tell the boy no now, they both doubted the trunk would let them live out the day if it wasn't allowed to leave with Harry.
Harry led the way to the front counter where he pulled out the requisite fifty galleons for the 'designer' trunk; both men had laughed nervously when stating that Harry wouldn't need to pay for any additional security charms given the nature of his new trunk.
Harry had just shrugged before pulling his previously shrunken purchases out of his pocket, along with his coin purse, and depositing them in his new trunk. Said trunk gave a burp of appreciation and licked its opening before dutifully following Harry out of the store.
After Harry left, both men looked at each other and one stated, "Time for a liquid lunch at the pub?"
The second one nodded in absolute agreement, "Yep, it might only be ten in the morning, but I'm going to get totally off my face pissed. After that, I'll get my hand reattached."
With that, both men closed up shop and headed towards the nearest pub, and thus Harry Potter had again done his job in adding to the growing number of heavy drinkers in the Wizarding world.
The walk to the potions shop was prefaced by Harry whistling a happy tune, as there was just something about the darkness and the new found trunk's loyalty and fierce devotion that just made Harry smile. For some reason Harry just felt closer to death and what had been basically his home for the last few years whenever he looked at the trunk.
The trunk in return alternated between gazing loyally up at its new owner and nipping or snarling at any witch or wizard that got too close to Harry. All of this of course drew more attention to Harry, and soon word was issuing up and down Diagon Alley that Harry Potter had returned to the Wizarding world. The attention brought about by Harry's happy whistling through the Alley, and his trunks actions, was soon added to by the whispered rumors coming from the Leaky Caldron; where it was found that several of the owners of stores that Harry had visited could be counted on for loose lips when they were drunk. Nobody in the Wizarding alleys could remember the last time they had seen so many obviously sloshed patrons before noon on a work day, especially when said patrons were the main owners of stores and it was currently two weeks before the children were due to leave for Hogwarts, and it was a prime sales time.
As the morning turned to early afternoon, the population of the Alley sky rocketed, as people who weren't originally planning on doing their back to school shopping heard that Harry was there and decided to make it a bit of a celebrity watching expedition as well as shopping.
All this meant that Harry had a rather larger than expected audience when he entered 'Slug and Jiggers Apothecary;' so much so that Harry's trunk took a moment to snip at and force back the crowd of wizards and witches that was moving into what it felt was too close to Harry.
Looking around the store at the barrels of slimy toads tongues, black beetle eyes, snake fangs and assorted furs, hairs, feathers, plants and body parts, Harry turned to his trunk and politely asked, "Would you mind taking notes while I gather the supplies?"
His trunk made a little yip sound before the top of the trunk opened enough for long tongue like protrusions to slide out carrying a piece of parchment and a dictation quill that Harry had picked up at the scriveners store. The audience was amazed to see the actions of the trunk, but even more so when Harry started walking around the room talking out loud and waving his hand at the barrels around him.
"Eye of newt, two for one sale." Harry said to himself, as not only did two eyes float out of the barrel and hover in the air, then they took on a life like quality and began to look around as if they were alive.
A most curious thing happened, for as the eyes looked around the room, first optic nerves grew out of the backs of the eyes, then the optical muscles and blood capillaries started to grow from them. Soon the head of a newt could be seen to be fleshing out, followed by the body and tail, and then all of it being glossed over with skin before a living newt fell to the floor and attempted to scurry away.
The audience was stunned senseless, so much so that not even a tentacle whipping out of the mouth of the trunk and swallowing the escaping newt drew a sound from their throats; though one lady did faint.
Harry continued dictating his purchases and reanimating the once necrotic flesh and plants, his trunk loyally swallowing his purchase order while the dictation quill continued to write down his list of ingredients on the parchment that was sitting on the lid of the trunk.
"Wait! Wait, what are you doing with my ingredients? Even more, Why are you doing that to my ingredients, your ruining them!" The irate Mr. Jigger demanded; pushing his way through the crowd of people who were no longer even pretending to shop and now were just watching gape jawed at the magic Harry was performing wandlessly.
Harry stopped to briefly look over his shoulder at the apothecary's owner, "I prefer fresh ingredients, and I'm afraid that your selection was becoming a bit ripe. That would explain the why, as for the what, well you know the saying 'the good lord giveth and the good lord taketh away'…" Harry replied, looking up at the store's owner between bringing a serpent back to life before moving on to examine the stewed flesh eating slugs.
From the bewildered look on the shopkeepers face, Harry figured out that no, the shop owner wasn't familiar with that particular phrase.
Sighing in exasperation, Harry waved negligently to preface his statement, "It's a death and life thing…" Harry started, but the continued blank stare told him that the current example wasn't going to go anywhere, thus he tried again. "Ok, the simplified version, got hit with a killing curse, survived it, now I can do neat magic; though I wouldn't suggest other's trying to gain the same ability, could be hazardous to your health." Harry stated.
The horrified look on the store manager's face when Harry mentioned he had been hit by the killing curse was coupled with the man fainting when Harry explained that he had survived said killings curse.
Harry sighed to himself as his shoulders slumped. Taking a breather for a second, Harry turned around and once again went about picking out and reanimating the former potions ingredients. Only the freshest of ingredients would do for Harry's potions; he was particular like that.
By the time Harry was finished, one of the witches in the audience had been nice enough to ennervate Mr. Jigger, and the owner of the store had hidden himself behind his counter.
The throng of people parted for Harry and his trunk as if they were doing a reenactment of Moses parting the Red Sea; and Harry and his trunk easily made it up to the front counter where Harry laid his list down.
Mr. Jigger took the list with shaking hands, before looking silently at the list, then back at Harry, then at the list, then down at the trunk, then back a the list, and finally at Harry.
The silence was starting to perturb Harry, so he offered, "Would you like to count the ingredients to make sure the list is right?" Harry asked politely, but with a bit of a scowl on his face.
The trunk opened its lid wide open, and the mass of teeming life could be seen to try to escape, but black leather like tentacles continued to whip out and snag the ingredients before they could hop, slither, slide, or climb out of the trunk.
Mr. Jigger looked decidedly peaked and a little green around the gills, and decided that just shaking his head in the negative was the best way to do it; there were no telling what would have come out of his mouth if he deigned to open it.
Harry sighed, and his trunk handed Harry his coin purse, from which Harry pulled the proper amount of galleons, sickles, and knuts that he had listed on his parchment, and then proceeded out of the store; the crowd once again parting for him, then trickling out into the street to watch.
Upon exiting the store, Mr. Jigger flipped his store's sign from 'open' to 'closed' and decided that a drink down at the pub was in order to fix his problems; maybe more than one drink.
The trip to the caldron store went quickly, and Harry decided to skip the quidditch supply store in favor of trying to hurry up and finish his errands. The whole time that Harry was shopping, the crowd following him got larger and larger. As the size of the crowd increased, so did Harry's frustration and scowl increase in an a proportional equation. As Harry's frustration and scowl increased, the lower the temperature in the space around Harry became, the temperature dropping and the dark aura growing with Harry's displeasure at being the focal point of the Wizarding world.
Finally, just before entering the Owl Emporium, Harry swung on the crowd, "Don't you people have anything better to do than to spend your day stalking an orphan?" He growled.
The people who had been following along stopped, eyes growing large as they looked at Harry, and then at each other, before either getting embarrassed at getting caught and scurried off or they began to do a better job of pretending to shop.
Harry just harrumphed, and proceeded into the Owl Emporium; his trunk took an extra moment in the doorway to growl menacingly at the crowd before following its master into the store.
With the closing of the door, the crowd of wizards and witches all looked at each other and silently agreed that maybe it would be best to wait outside before continuing their gawking of the young Potter scion who was quickly being labeled "The-Boy-Who-Lived" by the whisperings in the alley.
Inside the store, the sensation of Harry's cold dark aura was magnified due to the fact that the summer sun wasn't in direct completion with it at the moment. Said aura had an immediate effect on the birds in the store, for no sooner had Harry entered the room then all of the myriad types of birds immediately quieted and tried to back themselves away as quickly as possible so as not to be noticed.
Harry frowned at the reaction, which only caused his aura to flare that much more. Several of the birds began to shake in fear as that animal instinct that warns that death was near was flaring with unimaginable strength.
Harry looked around and saw that most of the owls were cowering away, not looking at him. Finally he looked up and to the left, and saw a large snowy white owl who was looking large eyed at Harry.
"Are you interested in going home with me girl?" Harry asked hopefully, assuming that it was a female as it looked so beautiful; not that the beauty of an owl distinguished gender in any way.
The owl continued to look at Harry wide eyed, but then seemed to shake its head no from side to side before backing up into the shadows of the nook it was standing in.
Harry sighed and looked around, still hoping to find a bird, as no doubt it would make things easier to complete business while stuck going to Hogwarts.
Looking around at the assorted birds, Harry was about to give up when he heard a fluttering of wings and a weight settled on his shoulder. Glancing to his left shoulder, Harry saw a large dark crow with aspects of almost blue colors in its feathers sitting on his shoulder. It had landed there, and was gazing at Harry with one of its black eyes, beak resolutely pointed ahead.
Harry smirked, "A bit clichéd for death to have a crow as a familiar don't you think?" Harry joked.
"Caw!" The crow answered in seeming agreement before bending down and preening at one of its sharp clawed feet before giving off another 'caw' and flapping its wings while remaining latched to Harry's shoulder; as if the bird was telling Harry to go on and get out of there already.
Harry just chuckled to himself before heading up to the counter to pay, once again dealing with a near comatose shop owner who was scared of what was going on in his shop. Harry ignored the normal incompetence of wizards, paid for his new bird, and exited the shop promising to come up with a name for the bird sooner rather than later.
Exiting the shop, Harry's nose was met with a waft of the smell of lunch coming from the Leaky Caldron that was just down the way. The answering rumble of his stomach seemed to Harry as if it had made the earth shake beneath him.
"Bugger, I'm starving." Harry said in realization, stopping to think about the last time he had eaten. "Wow, it must have been back in Egypt, that nice mix of fruits and spiced wine that Amotep gave me before I confronted the book of the dead. No wonder I'm hungry, I haven't eaten in thousands of years." Harry said in consternation, his stomach rumbling again to encourage him to go eat.
"Well, that settles it. Let's see if we can get some food, shall we boys?" Harry questioned, looking at first his crow and then at his trunk; which answered Harry back with a corresponding 'caw' and rumble of metal latches.
So Harry Potter made his way into the Leaky Caldron after a long morning of shopping, looking forward to getting back to the normal things of life such as eating food.
AN: Chapter 9 is out, so yeah this story is going somewhere again. I have chapter 10 and possibly part of 11 outlined, just need to get it written. Probably going to work on a few chapters of my other stories first before updating this one again, though I do accept bribery in the form of reviews.
AN: A note about my Harry. Death has many forms, and is many things to many people. For all intents and purposes, my Harry is Death. With that said, my Harry might not be what you see death as, but you can rest assured that he will fit into the mold of some idea of what death is. Death is seen as vengeful and merciful, unfair and fair, somber and humorous, caring and uncaring. I'm not planning on this being primarily a humorous tale. That said, death can be very humorous; if you doubt me, go read the online 'Darwin Awards.' That's just a little idea of how I think of my Harry when I write him. Take from my explanation what you will. Cheers.