Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please exercise understanding of personal sensitivities before and during reading.

Author's Note(s): I have a fondness for the concept of Harry Potter being the Master of Death in general and usually without it being tied in any way whatsoever to the Deathly Hallows. So here's Harry, being able to communicate with the dead.

Challenge/Competition Block:
Stacked with: QL (Season 8); MC4A
Team (Position): Wigtown Wanderers (Keeper)
Round Info: Season 08 – Round 11
QL Prompt(s)s: So You Think You Have Super Powers
Individual Challenges: Shadow HP Bribery; Gryffindor MC; Durmstrang MC; Magical MC (x4); Neurodivergent; Rian-Russo Inversion (x2); Ethnic & Present (x2); Tiny Terror; Claimed; Setting Sail; Lunar Era; Old Shoes (Y); Short Jog; Bucket Listing (Y); Two Cakes (Y); Eating Cake (Y)
Other MC4A Challenges (Prompt): SpB [5B](Copper); TrB [1E](Mooks); SuB [5C](Trip); AU [1C](Powers are Norm); Ship (Heroic Shadow)[n/a](n/a); Chim [Otis](Smoke; Jewelry); Fire [Med](The Good Ship); Hunt [Sp WD](Severe/Chronic Allergy); Garden [Plant Types](Parent & Child)
Representation: Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini; Claudia Zabini; AU Specific Allergic Reaction
Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenge(s): Most Human Bean; Muck & Slime; Rock of Ages; Abandoned Ship; Head of Perseus; Surprise!; Second Verse (Ladylike; Not a Lamp; Found Family; Nontraditional; Sneeze Weasel; Spinning Plates; Unwanted Advice; Lovely Coconuts); Chorus (Odd Feathers; Pear-Shaped; Wabi Sabi; Machismo; Peddling Pots; Mouth of Babes; Tomorrow's Shade; A Long Dog; Creature Feature; Larger than Life; Unicorn)
Tertiary & Generic Bonus Challenges: T3 (Thimble); SN (Rail; Spare); FR (Satisfaction; Evolution); O3 (Ox); HoSE (Schooner; Sanctuary); TY (Avasa; Enfant)
Word Count: 1480

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With Great Power
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Harry jerked awake. His heart was pounding in his chest as he processed the dream that he had just had. He knew it couldn't possibly be real. No one really lived in castle lit by torches anymore. And everyone knew that paintings couldn't move or talk. Nor could entire staircases move and shift their positions.

But teachers who were cruel? That was definitely something that could happen. Harry had had plenty of teachers now who were cruel or neglectful or who simply didn't care about him even if they cared about their other students.

Teachers who smelled weird were real as well. Ms. Kilnk had smelled like peppermint Schnapps all of Year Five. Not that Harry could really blame her, because that was the year that Dudley had decided to start chasing the girls in their form to give them kisses whether they wanted them or not.

Harry would probably want to drink that away, if he were allowed to. He would probably lie about it being nothing more than peppermint tea just like Ms. Klink, too. People got upset very easily about things, and Harry had learned quick that deflecting things with little lies like that was usually better for everyone involved.

And the ghosts that had been in Harry's dream, haunting the imagined school with its moving staircases and talking pictures?

Yeah, those could be real as well.

Harry knew that a lot of people couldn't see them, despite how they were literally everywhere, but he had interacted enough with them to know that ghosts were real. Most of them were just lost and confused. They just needed to be informed that they had died to figure out the last bits of the journey. Others needed a little more work, but even then it was either passing along messages or doing small things like making sure a letter got posted.

One time, a woman had needed Harry to lead a bobby to a lorry that had been parked in the woods in the stretch between Little Whinging and Big Whinging. Afterwards, the police had asked questions that Harry had made the mistake of answering honestly. Aunt Petunia had decided that Harry only needed water and dry toast for the week after the police had brought Harry back, and it had taken an entire month after the belting from Uncle Vernon for Harry's back to stop sticking to the inside of his shirt.

Harry learned to not mention the ghosts whenever someone asked how he knew something.

Now he was sitting in the dark of his cupboard, with his heart pounding from a dream that didn't make sense. He could only hope that it had just been a dream, or at least that the parts that didn't make sense were symbolic of something else. Not that he really knew what the different symbols meant in dreams, though he had had dreams that had only made sense after he had figured out the meanings before.

Maybe Harry should check just to be certain? He would have to find time to sneak away to the public library to look it all up again. Maybe Mrs. Figg wouldn't mind if he went today while the Dursleys took Dudley on his birthday trip. Harry thought this year might be to the zoo in London, but beyond knowing that he would be staying with Mrs. Figg as he always did when the Dursleys went somewhere they didn't want to take him, Harry hadn't really paid attention.

His heart was starting to return to normal. Harry settled back down on the camp bed that had been shoved into the cupboard for him. He had a plan on how to deal with the strange dream. He just needed the time to enact it.

Harry drifted off to sleep and dreams tinged green.

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Harry didn't mention anything about the ghosts to Hagrid. This was partially because there just hadn't been time. The man had knocked down the door to the shack around midnight and then there was the argument with the Dursleys. In the morning, the giant man had been eager to leave.

Maybe Harry could have brought it up in the hours it took to get from the shack to London, but Hagrid had needed help figuring out the train maps. Then getting from the train station to the rundown street that Hagrid had said had the things on the list for school had taken a lot of walking. Harry had to take three steps for everyone of Hagrid's, which left him trying not to be obvious about panting for breath.

Then Hagrid had talked to the barkeep at the tavern they had entered, and everyone inside of the tavern had proceeded to swarm them.

As a general rule of thumb, people didn't touch Harry. Even when Dudley and his gang beat Harry up after chasing him, they usually aimed their punches towards areas covered by his clothes or just kicked him. Aunt Petunia would grab whatever was close at hand to hit him with whenever she felt the need to punish him. That typically ended up being either a cooking implement of some sort or the frying pan. Uncle Vernon was really the only person willing to just reach out and cuff Harry, and even he preferred to use his belt.

Yet there Harry was, shaking more hands than he knew what to do with.

And every single brush of their skin against his felt like being shoved into a ghost and held there. Flashes of what had to be their lives filled his mind. He saw the monsters that had haunted their days. He felt their relief at the news that at least one of them had been defeated. It all became a swirling haze of color and sound and emotions. His stomach rolled threateningly.

Then everyone seemed to disappear as two arms wrapped around him and he was pulled against someone's chest. The sudden absence of the cold felt like a fire against his chilled flesh as much as the heat of another body did. Harry shivered and curled in on himself as well as he was able while still standing. If he had the mind to pay attention to such things, he would have been proud of how he had managed to stay standing through it. He was swaying, yes, but still standing.

"I didn' know," Hagrid was telling someone. He sounded muffled to Harry, as if he was in another room or on the other side a thick glass. "How was I supposed to know? None o' the Potters have ever had the gift."

"Bloody British fools," a woman countered. Harry tried to focus on her but his eyes couldn't make out more than a smoke-colored blur with dark points and what might have been the glint of copper jewelry. "The boy had another parent than his father, you know. Or has Lady Lily been erased from your collective minds?"

"Mrs. Zabini—" Hagrid started only to be cut off by the woman in question.

"It's Lady Zabini," she snapped. Harry's eyes were now clear enough to make out the stern expression on her dark face. Her dark purple lips were pressed into a disapproving frown. "I will hear no more of your excuses, Mr. Hagrid. As regrettable as the circumstances were, the revelation they caused is sufficient to soothe any ire I might feel towards your mishandling." She turned to look at Harry and her sternness seemed to melt away. "Do you think you're ready to walk a bit, child? Just over to the table in the corner. Blaise can help you."

"Blaise?" Harry asked in a daze. The arms wrapped around him gave an answering squeeze. Harry looked down to see arms the same dark brown as the woman's skin pressed against the gray of his shirt. He tilted his head enough to see that he was being held by a boy around his own age. "Oh. Hi."

"Hello," the boy greeted back, not seeming upset that Harry had been less than articulate in his own greeting. "Would you like to sit? Perhaps we could share a meal and get to know each other."

"You want to know me?" Harry asked. "Why would you want to do that?"

He must have died or something. No one had never asked him what he would like or even hinted that they wanted to know him. The boy stepped slightly away before gently turning Harry to face him properly. Then he cupped Harry's face in his hands like he was a delicate treasure.

The touch only felt warm, no trace of coldness at all.

"You're the soul which calls out to mine," Blaise said simply. He smiled and Harry felt himself reflecting the expression. "What else can I do but echo that call?"

Harry's smile grew.

What else indeed?

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The End
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