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.
AN1: I really haven't felt like writing for a while now and am a little stuck in my muse on the next chapter for all three of my stories. So though I'm starting this chapter on April 26th, 2011, I doubt it will be finished any time soon.
AN2: Well look at that, I laid this down in April and here it is in February of 2012. Wow, I am so overdue for an update on this story that it isn't even funny. Oh well, on with the story.
/Egyptian/
[parsel]
Death's Voice
[Gobbledeegook]
'Thought'
"Speech"
Chapter 11: A Death In The Family
Large Man with Dead Body: Here's one.
The Dead Collector: That'll be ninepence.
The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm not dead.
The Dead Collector: What?
Large Man with Dead Body: Nothing. There's your ninepence.
The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm not dead.
The Dead Collector: 'Ere, he says he's not dead.
Large Man with Dead Body: Yes he is.
The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm not.
The Dead Collector: He isn't.
Large Man with Dead Body: Well, he will be soon, he's very ill.
The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm getting better.
Large Man with Dead Body: No you're not, you'll be stone dead in a moment.
The Dead Collector: Well, I can't take him like that. It's against regulations.
The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I don't want to go on the cart.
Large Man with Dead Body: Oh, don't be such a baby.
~"Monty Python, And the Holy Grail," partial quote
Harry and Dumbledore appeared in front of a small suburban house that only stood out from its neighboring abodes by the fact that it was beyond normal. The house where Harry's family supposedly lived looked like it had been taken right out of the page of one of those magazines on housekeeping. No, not one of the designer magazines like Martha Stewart with the latest and greatest decorating tips in them. No, this would have been a magazine that Betty Crocker or June Cleaver would have had sitting on their living room table back in the 1950's. The type of house that would look more fitting in a black and white television show where the married couple doesn't sleep in the same bed but rather a pair of twin beds and the wife meets the husband at the front door in a dress and with a martini when he comes home from work; only in the case of Vernon Dursley he couldn't drink the martinis because they played havoc with his gout.
Yes, Harry's extended family was living in normal bland suburban paradise, where nothing out of the ordinary ever happened and that was just how they liked it. When people think of the suburban dream they talk about the house with the white picket fence, maybe a shrubbery in front of the fence and separating off the neighbor's plot, a car in the driveway and a nondescript white painted house with a brick boarder. There was a neatly pruned pair of rosebushes in a bed that was in front of the house next to the path to the front door, and not a single blade of grass was any taller than the one next to it. Yes, the Dursleys truly did represent the suburban dream, and they even had the equivalent of 2.5 children in the form of one Dudley Dursley; even if he only had a third of the brain power and twice the girth of a single child his age.
"Muggles?" Harry quizzically asked as he looked at Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow.
Albus's eyes continued to twinkle with that infernal sparkle that, at least in Harry's mind, likened the elderly man more to a pedophile than a professor. "Yes my boy, you're mother's sister and her family are muggles. Surely you don't discriminate against muggles?" The last part of the Headmaster's statement was delivered in a tone that inferred that the man would be deeply disappointed in Harry if he believed in Wizard superiority.
Harry cared not one lick whether Dumbledore would be disappointed or not, still, Harry slowly turned his head to fully face Albus when he answered. "No Headmaster, I can assure you that I judge each individual based on their own merit and the life they lived. Each soul will be weighed on their own regards, and not based on some race, genus or species."
Albus's eyes briefly stopped sparkling for the briefest of moments as he looked down into Harry's eyes and could have sworn that darkness hid in their depths. The moment passed quickly though, and the fairy lights again twinkled in Dumbledore's eyes as he smiled and chose to interpret the Potter boy's statement to mean that Harry's beliefs were already in line with the light; something that would make it easier for Dumbledore to manipulate… um, he meant assist the boy in his growth in the proper direction.
Smiling at Harry, Dumbledore nodded briefly and whisked his way up the driveway and towards the front door, the star and constellation covered purple robes swishing with every step of the elderly bearded wizard.
Harry just shrugged and followed along, the floating trunk tagging along obediently and the crow launching from Harry's shoulder to land on the apex of the garage; looking not unlike a carrion eater waiting for his lunch of road kill, which in fact was exactly what the crow was doing.
Harry briefly heard popping sounds behind him, and noticed several wizards appear on the street in green robes before running towards the neighbors' houses. Soon the calls of "Obliviate!" rang up and down the street.
Harry again gave Dumbledore a silent question with the rise of a single eyebrow. To which Dumbledore smiled benevolently down at Harry and answered, "Being the head of the Wizengamot and the ICW has its privileges. I am allowed to apparate anywhere I wish and an obliviation team follows me around when in muggle areas."
Harry just shook his head in disgust at the abuse of power, but Dumbledore didn't see it, being that the headmaster was busy opening the front door of the Dursley's house and letting Harry and himself in as if he owned the place.
Harry followed Dumbledore into the foyer, arriving just in time to hear the yell of outrage come from the living room where the sound of the afternoon soap opera was playing on the telly.
"Why I never! Who do you think you are? Get out of my house this instant or I'll call the police!" The shrill sound of a harpy shouted at Dumbledore.
Harry's attention pivoted to the left to look into the living room only to see a significantly horse faced skinny woman stand to her feet and vigorously wag her finger at Dumbledore in punctuation with her words.
Dumbledore just ignored the woman and moved into the room as if he owned it. "Now now my dear Petunia, it's been too long since I've seen you. How is your family doing? Vernon and Dumbly was it?" The Headmaster said with a smile.
Petunia's rant stopped mid word, and her eyes grew large as her mouth opened and flapped closed several times before she found her voice. Her words coming out in spat anger. "You! You and your freaky kind aren't welcome in my house! Go! Leave! I won't have your nonsense cluttering up and corrupting my precious Duddiekins."
Dumbledore moved into the room and waved his wand, conjuring not only a chair similar to the one he sat upon in the Great Hall of Hogwarts but also a cup of tea that floated in the air until he took it and the conjured saucer and sat down and enjoyed his tea with a sip before commenting. "Now now Petunia, is that any way to greet your nephew from your late sister?"
Petunia's glare tracked from Dumbledore to Harry so fast that Harry thought that the women may have given her giraffe like neck whiplash. "You're the spawn of my freakish sister? Yes, I can see it now, you have my perfect sister's eyes and the looks of that demon spawn Potter…"
Petunia's words were cut off mid-rant as Dumbledore flicked his wand and cast a silencing spell and a locomotive charm that floated Petunia slightly into the air. Dumbledore spared Harry a brief look and a smile that didn't meet his eyes as he directed Petunia to float into the dining room that was through a secondary door on the other side of the living room from Harry.
"Excuse us for a moment my boy," Dumbledore said with a smile as he got up from his seat, simultaneously banishing the cup and saucer of tea along with the chair while still directing Petunia's floating body into the dining room.
A silencing ward went up over the doorway and Harry's left eyebrow rose as well, as learning to read lips really wasn't that difficult when one was intrinsically linked as the embodiment of death. Death might not be willing to listen to excuses from the condemned on why it wasn't their time, but Death understood their every word and could tell every creature that it was their time in their own language; it was all part of the Death thing that Harry inherently understood and didn't really question.
"Imperio." Dumbledore stated with a flick of his wand, Harry staring at the Headmaster and his aunt and clearly reading every word stated. "You will house your nephew until September 1st and you will treat Harry as you would your sister."
Petunia blinked but nodded while replying in a monotone voice, "I will house the freak and treat him like my sister who I hated."
Dumbledore smiled and turned to smile at Harry as if he was hearing good news, little knowing that Harry had read his Aunt's statement clearly. Harry's second eyebrow rose to join his first raised eyebrow, wondering if Dumbledore really believed he was pulling one over on Harry.
"Excellent, just don't make it too clear that you don't like the lad." Dumbledore said with his patented twinkle in his eyes. "I want the boy tractable and excited about going back to the Wizarding world and thankful for being able to be under my control." Dumbledore commanded and the glossy eyed Petunia nodded her head blankly.
"Wonderful, now turn and smile at Harry and we will rejoin him in the living room." Dumbledore ordered through his teeth while smiling.
Petunia turned and smiled at Harry, only the smile came across more as if it pained her and that perhaps she was constipated and had to go to the bathroom rather than a display of true happiness.
Now it was time for Harry's eyebrows to furrow and pinch together in consternation as he mentally questioned how long he should play along with this farce.
A moment passed as Dumbledore's wand twitched and the silencing ward dropped, as Harry thought to himself, 'I'm patient enough to give this a chance. They are apparently my only living family, so I might as well give it a chance as it is still not the time for me to return to my parent's and the family that has passed through my halls.' With that decided, Harry hesitantly nodded to his Aunt and Dumbledore who returned to the room with smiles on their faces; or at least an approximation of a smile on his Aunt's face.
Petunia hesitantly looked to Dumbledore, who gave a brief nod before she turned back to Harry and resumed her constipated look. "I'd like you to stay with us until September first Fre-Harry." Petunia part choked out, part offered, and partially swallowed back her bile that the offer brought up into her mouth.
Harry stared blank faced back at his Aunt for a second, questioning whether he was really going to do this, but then finally nodded and replied, "Thank you Aunt Petunia, that is most gracious of you."
"Excellent!" Dumbledore jumped into the conversation suddenly with a clap of his hands. "Well then, I'll just be off and let you enjoy each other's company. Take care my boy and I look forward to seeing you again September first." Dumbledore finished, and then disappeared with a snap of apparition… leaving Harry and his Aunt to stare blankly at each other in silence.
Petunia grimaced.
Harry stared silently.
Petunia's grimace turned into a frown as she folded her hands in front of her and wrung her hands together.
Harry continued to stare silently.
Petunia looked around as for something to do as the little freak's eyes were really starting to unnerve her, and she started questioning whatever could have inspired her to invite the little menace into her house in the first place; not realizing that it hadn't been her idea at all.
Fortunately for Petunia, she was saved by the opportune arrival of Vernon who happened to get off from work early.
There was a muffled scream and then a pounding sound before the front door to the house was thrown open, only for Vernon to forcefully slam the door shut and throw his weight back against it.
A solid "THUD!" sounded against the door and it shook before a second and a third thud sounded against the door, as if something was trying to get into the house but was being held back by the solid English oak that made up front door; well that and Vernon's weight.
Vernon's eyes were large and frightened as he turned and saw Petunia through the doorway into the living room, the angle of his view not allowing him to realize that he had company.
"It, It… It tried to eat me! That Freakish trunk!" Vernon's eyes had a crazed gleam to them and his face was bright red with a seriously throbbing vein sticking out on his forehead that was probably caused by him getting more exercise than he had had all year by running into the house in that last minute.
"Vernon-" Petunia tried to interrupt her husband's tirade while wringing her hands worriedly about what the neighbors were probably thinking, it wasn't normal for her husband to come running into the house, especially not spouting off about some trunk.
Vernon ignored his wife and threw the deadbolt on the door before turning and standing up on his tip toes to look through the glass vestibule that took up the space to the side of the doorframe. "Some freaky unnatural trunk like thing… I saw it sitting in the driveway and thought Dudley had borrowed something from the neighbors and forgot to return it again, but then it nearly took my arm off when I reached for it." Vernon frantically bent his head all the way against the wall so he could see if the monstrous piece of luggage was out there.
The fat man then quite rapidly, for his size, trudged into the living room and put his hands on the window to look outside while totally missing that there was a third presence in the room, namely missing that Harry was standing in the living room.
Vernon looked to the right, and to the left, pressing his pudgy fat fingers against the glass and no doubt smearing Petunia's immaculately clean windows and creasing the white lace shear that was used as a partial curtain for the window.
"SMACK!" A dark sticky tongue like tentacle shot out of the rose bushes beneath the window and stuck to the window right between Vernon's eyes.
"AHHHHHHH!" Vernon Screamed.
"AHHHHHHHH!" Petunia screamed, and both adult Dursleys ran away from the window and hugged each other in fear.
Harry just shook his head in consternation and walked over to the window and shook his finger down at the trunk that was floating just beneath the window, dark eyes blinking up at Harry.
"No! No eating my relatives." Harry stated loud enough for it to carry through the window, and the trunk seemed to cringe back; the tentacle unstuck itself from the window and slowly trailed back into the mouth of the trunk.
Harry made a shoeing motion with his hands, "Now shoe, go play with Crow or the other neighbor's pets or something." The trunk must have heard Harry's command, for it noticeably perked up and then seemed to pant for a second with its tentacle hanging out of its mouth before it floated away out of sight of the window.
Harry turned to address his still shaken relatives. "Sorry about that. You must be my Uncle, Vernon I think Dumbledore said? It's nice to meet you." Harry took a step towards his Uncle and raised his hand to shake in greeting.
Vernon, red if not purpled faced, stared speechless down at Harry and his hand as if it was some diseased thing that had come to taint his perfectly normal world.
Vernon's vein throbbed in his head, and Harry continued to stand there, hand outreached expecting at least a modicum of politeness. Unfortunately for Harry, Vernon lacked even that level of basic human decency when there was nothing in it for himself. Add to that Harry's trunk had almost eaten him, and he wanted nothing to do with this little freak, and he especially didn't want the freak in his home.
"No! I won't do it, and I don't want you in this house!" Vernon blustered and shouted, letting go of Petunia from his hug and swinging towards Harry with his meaty hands as if to grab Harry by the back of his robed hood in order to throw him out the door.
Harry's eyebrow crooked up, right as Vernon's meaty hand came at him… only to pass right through Harry as if he was a ghost.
Vernon's fist passed not only through his target of the deep hood that was laying on the back of Harry's robe, but the speed with which Vernon had darted at Harry left the whale of a man off balance when his grab totally failed to come in contact with anything substantial. That is, Vernon's hand passed right through Harry and due to the speed of the miss, smacked his knuckles straight into the window frame that bisected the house's front window.
Harry slowly lowered his hand as Vernon pulled his hand back and began screaming, the man's already meaty hand was starting to swell where the skin had split and the knuckles had been broken against the sturdy construction of the house.
The Dursley's living room devolved into more of a circus than a family engagement as Vernon screamed and hopped around the room holding his fist, every hop causing a "thunk" that shook all of those in the vicinity due to Vernon Dursley's four hundred plus pounds of pretty much anything but muscle.
Now the Dursleys were back to the screaming.
Vernon screaming about his broken fist, Petunia screaming to try and get Vernon to stop so she could help him while at the same time screaming that his hopping about was going to break her mother's china that was shaking in its display case along one of the walls. All the while Harry stood there silently watching and wondering if this was some strange custom that he hadn't experienced yet in his apprenticeship with Death.
Finally Harry had enough, so with a wave of his hand the hopping Vernon froze, one foot in the air and one on the ground, and Petunia who had been chasing after her husband around the room halted as if a statute, the only thing on the two Dursley's moving were frantic eyes that quickly swung to look at Harry out of the corner of their vision.
Harry slowly walked towards his relatives while noting in the back of his head that he could see the fear in their eyes, but since most people were afraid of death it wasn't anything Harry hadn't experienced before.
Harry reached forward towards Vernon's injured hand and tapped it with a single finger, and with a brief flash of blue light that encompassed Vernon's meaty fist, the previous injury was healed just like that.
"There, much better." Harry answered with a brief bob of the head before he stepped back and raised his hand to shake Vernon's once again while negating the petrifying charm Harry had cast on his relatives.
"I believe we started off on the wrong foot. My name is Harry Potter, and it's a pleasure to meet you Uncle Vernon." Harry politely added as he waited for his Uncle to shake his hand.
Vernon stumbled out of his awkward position as the charm ended and then looked down at Harry's hand like it had leprosy or something. Frantic fear filled eyes shifting back and forth from Harry's hand to Harry's face and back again as the bulky man scooted away slowly.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes in resignation and let his hand drop to his side as he realized that his Uncle was unable to complete a common greeting.
Vernon kept his front towards Harry, but looked at Petunia through the corner of his eye while pretending not to see Harry in front of him.
"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, Grunnings has given me that raise that was overdue, so I called Marge and she said that she was going to kip over and eat dinner with us." Vernon stated, and by the end of his message Vernon had effectively removed the presence of Harry by simply ignoring the boy like Harry didn't exist.
Petunia smiled at Vernon, a look that truly didn't suit the woman, as she exclaimed happily, "Wonderful, I can't wait to tell the women's bridge group about your movement up the management tree, why Georgia from number two was simply bragging about her husband making supervisor, and now I will be able to tell her about your middle management change." Petunia looked gleeful and she seemed to sway from side to side in joy. It is important to note that an outside observer would probably have likened the look of the woman's supposed happiness to that of severe constipation, or bloating, or perhaps even that Petunia had a hemorrhoid. All of which made Harry a bit discouraged at the thought of eating dinner with his Aunt and Uncle.
"Absolutely Pet." Vernon said happily for a moment, only to frown and turn a slow glare towards the unwanted Nephew in their midst. "However what will we do about the boy? You told me that you only bought a twenty five pound bird, and that's hardly enough food for Dudley, you and I, let alone Marge." Vernon grumbled and glared through his pig like squinty eyes down at Harry.
Harry in turn just stared back unblinking at his Uncle, totally unfazed by the glare that his Uncle was attempting to deliver.
Petunia looked form Vernon to Harry and rung her hands together worriedly before answer with a shrug, "Well we will just have to figure out something for the boy. Don't worry about it." Petunia then turned to Harry and frowned.
Harry sighed; it was times like this that he remembered a quote he had learned from one American Wizard, Benjamin Franklin, "Fish and visitors begin to stink in three days." Only in Harry's case, his family was beginning to smell rotten after three minutes. It was going to be a trying visit for all parties involved.
"Why I was telling you, the breeding bares through I tell you." Marge Dursley repeated for the sixteenth time since she had arrived and started into the Sherry. Every statement she made was prefaced or followed by a "I tell you" as if she was pontificating from on high or held the moral high ground on all of her statements. It probably didn't help that she was already well on her way to being pissed as a fart, or in American vernacular, she was getting pretty drunk. The fact that she had only been in the house for five minutes didn't seem to matter either, for though she weighed in at over two hundred and eight pounds she was a light weight when it came to her alcohol.
"And I'm telling you, that's why Ripper is mommy's special boy, aren't you precious?" Marge finished, holding her glass down to the floor so that her dog Ripper could lap at the Sherry in her glass for a few seconds before she raised it back to her mouth and drank from the same glass.
"Right you are Sister, breeding rules out. That's why I got the manager position and why Dudley is such a strapping young lad like his father." Vernon said proudly with a smirk on his face as he cut into his pre-dinner snack of a whole steak, food splattering out of his mouth as he spoke.
This was the conversation that Harry walked into after having previously excused himself to the facilities and to wash up before coming down for dinner.
Harry stepped into the room, and Ripper took one look at him and charged across the linoleum floor at what the dog initially thought was a normal boy whom he could chase; as Marge had taught the dog to do in order to keep the riff raff away from her kennels and property.
"Bark bark Bark Bark bark!" Ripper let out in a bray as he charged out from under the table and towards Harry. That is until Ripper got within five feet of Harry and realized that here was something that the dog did not want to tangle with. "Yip yip yip YIP!" Ripper's ferocious barks became yips of terror as the bulldog struggled to stop and divert its charge into a retreat only to find inertia and a linoleum floor to not be the dog's friend.
Harry merely looked back at the charging dog unperturbed as the forward charge of the dog became a rapid scrambling of clawed feet on slippery linoleum as the dog twisted to stop its forward momentum. Ripper's leg's clawed at the floor like crazy, trying to find any purchase as every instinct in the animal was telling it to flee from certain death; or in this case just the personification of death. And all this Harry just watched on without a shred of emotion on his face.
"YIP!" Ripper sounded as he finally got traction and darted back the other direction towards Marge, then past Marge and out the opening of the back door that had been opened to take the heat out of the kitchen.
"Precious! Precious come to mommy!" Marge cried out as she tottered out of her chair and pushed the back door fully open so she could call after Ripper to come back.
However the dog wouldn't listen to her and Ripper continued his mad dash out the back, around the side of the house and to disappear from view, yipping the whole time only for the yipping sound to stop suddenly after a few minutes.
"You!" Marge wheeled on Harry, making the pronoun singular "you" sound like a defamatory curse word.
Harry merely watched the path of the dog, only to look up and quirk his head to the side at the woman's statement.
"Yes?" Harry merely questioned, a single eyebrow rising with his statement as he looked on impassively.
Marge looked Harry over with disgust, "Who are you boy, and how dare you kick my Ripper?" She spat at him.
Harry's brows nit in consternation, "I'm sorry Madam, but as you clearly saw I never touched your dog. As to who I am, my name is Harry Potter and I am your nephew, on Petunia's side." He answered succinctly and without any anger.
Marge's face took on the appearance as if she was sucking on lemons before darting a look towards Petunia who was watching angrily, "You're sister's pup then Petunia, the one you said married that drunken reprobate and died in a car accident." Marge stated, to which Petunia nodded in agreement.
A smirk crept across Marge's face, "Then no wonder Ripper ran away, wouldn't want to soil himself by catching some sort of disease due to your bad breeding." Marge said snidely, grabbing her glass off the table and chugging down the contents. "Look at you, scrawny and pale compared to fine upstanding men like Vernon. I tell you, breeding will tell, that's what I say." Marge finished with an evil malicious look on her face.
Harry looked across the room and saw that Vernon was smirking back at Harry in total agreement with Marge's statement. Harry's aunt Petunia was looking back at him as if he was soiling the air she was breathing, as if somebody had brought a turd into the house and plopped it down in her kitchen.
Enough was enough.
"I find myself without an appetite. It was a pleasure to meet you Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, but I believe I will be seeking my dinner elsewhere tonight." Harry stated politely with a slight bow of his head before wheeling on his foot and heading for the front door.
"Fine, leave and good riddance." Vernon yelled behind him, "You're no family of mine!" The man yelled with a smirk on his face, not even getting up to show his nephew out the door as Harry moved out of the kitchen and into the entry way.
The front door slammed open and Dudley Dursley rushed in while quickly hiding his stolen pack of cigarettes in his back pocket.
"Hey, who are you?" Dudley demanded as Harry moved forward and gently but firmly pushed Dudley out of the way so that Harry could leave the house.
"Apparently no family of yours." Harry said, not letting the bit of hurt he truly felt come into his voice.
Dudley blinked, as the response didn't really filter though his thick skull. Nor did the fact that a boy who looked ten times skinnier than Dudley had so easily moved Dudley out of his way.
Harry exited the house and politely closed the door to number 4 Privet Drive behind him while stepping out onto the front stoop.
Harry stood still and breathed in deeply while closing his eyes before breathing out slowly and opening them again. With his thoughts cleared, Harry stepped off the stoop while looking directly at the apex of the roof where he knew that Crow was situated.
"Come Crow, we are going to go out for dinner." Harry stated, and his bird squawked as it flew off the roof to alight on Harry's shoulder just as Harry's trunk floated out of the hedge on the side of the house.
Harry looked down at his trunk, which was looking happily back up at Harry.
A small smile quirked the corner of Harry's lips as he looked down at his loyal trunk. "Well at least it looks like you had a good time." Harry stated.
"Burp!" The Trunk replied, its lid flipping open for a moment and launching a saliva covered collar with dog tags on it onto the walk in front of Harry's feet. The blue colored dog bone shaped tag on the collar clearly read "Ripper".
"Good trunk." Harry said as his smile grew a bit larger, and he patted his trunk on its lid.
As Harry's hand rested on the top of his trunk, there came a "Pop" sound, and Harry Potter and his pets left the Dursleys, for now.
Six hours later, after a nice dinner in Paris with a view of the Bastille, now devoid of its population of ghosts thanks to Harry, Harry reappeared silently in the shadows across the street from Number 4 Privet Drive in Surrey.
The street was absolutely still and quiet and only somebody with exceptionally good hearing would have noted the sound of multiple people snoring inside the Dursley's home.
Harry wasn't about to disturb their sleep, so he stood still and quiet, his trunk and his bird patiently waiting as they watched the house in front of them.
Harry could feel the souls of Vernon, Petunia, Dudley and Marge in the house. The three main bodies upstairs in their beds, and Marge's spirit was currently resting where Harry knew the couch in the front room to be.
Still he waited silently in the dark of the night.
A cloud went in front of the crescent moon and the street was briefly darker for a moment before the wind blew the cloud away.
Now where there was one Harry there were two figures looking exactly the same.
"So tonight's the night then." Harry asked quietly and in a still voice that seemed to drift no further than to the figure of his twin.
"Yes. Petunia drank a bit too much and forgot to turn the gas off on the stove. Only somebody sleeping on the floor in the Kitchen or nearby cupboard would be able to smell it before it was too late." The voice of Death stated from Harry's twin standing in the shadows next to Harry.
Harry stood, silently looking out at Number 4 Privet Drive, making no reply.
"You know, you can warn them before the short in the refrigeration unit lights the gas." Death stated, looking over at his double.
Harry Potter looked out at the house in front of him; the Dursley's home was bathed in moonlight yet shadowed from the street lamps.
Harry stood silently for more than a minute, only to turn away.
"No. It is their time." Harry responded as he started to fade away, "They are no family of mine." He finished just as he disappeared along with his trunk and Crow.
With that, the figure of Death, morphing until he looked like an older Harry Potter, floated forward towards Number 4 Privet Drive…
Just as the house disappeared in a giant ball of flames.
The Dursleys had tried to cast Harry Potter from their house. But in the end, Death gives no second chance when it is your time to go.
AN: I know it's taken a very very very long time to get this out, but I needed to sit on this and my muse was focused on Spark of Genius and my other stories. For the record, I have not abandoned this story and never will. It will be finished; it will just take a while. Hope you like it, and please let me know your thoughts as I am always looking for ideas. If you know of any good death myths or folk lore stories about death, then please send them my way. Best wishes to all of you. Cheers!