It was dark in the forest, the intertwining branches and leaves created an eerie atmosphere. Though, if they were in an open field, Harry supposes it would be eerie too. He was walking to his death, after all. He gripped his wand tightly, the one he had grabbed from Draco Malfoy's lifeless form. Carved from the wood of an elder tree, his new wand was stunning, with its rich, deep colouration. The wood itself had a distinctive, almost ebony-like hue, with subtle variations that seemed to shift in the light. He didn't know the name of the gem in the handle or the core, but he knew that, if he still had his holly wand, it would be a useless stick compared to this. Compared to Dumbledore's wand.
Throwing his invisibility cloak over his shoulders, Harry walked deeper into the forest. The pink stone in his pocket burned, reminding him of the philosopher's stone from his first year at Hogwarts. It seemed to whisper at him, telling him to both walk to his death and flee the country. Harry wanted to do both.
That's when he saw them, Voldemort and his most trusted death eaters, waiting for him. Voldemort looked as cocky as ever, arms pressed by his side, ready to cast at a moment's notice. He clutched his cloak, begrudgingly taking it off and hiding it behind a tree. Maybe some unlucky first-year could find it, and use it to get back to Hogwarts unscathed by any danger. He threw his stone down too, the whispers growing frantic as he walked away.
He duly noted the handle of his wand. It was widened at the end, both fitting his grip and feeling unnatural. It felt cool in his hand, heating only when would he cast spells.
"Ah, Harry Potter, come to die?" Voldemort asked as Harry stopped in front of them, heart and soul resigned and ready for death. It was much too soon, and he was much too young, and yet here he stood, not even eighteen years old, facing down a madman. The life of a child of prophecy. He had read about others once in sixth year, a boy named Lucas Leavitt who seemed to lose himself to magic before disappearing from everyone. It was a crueller fate than this, Harry supposed.
"Avada Kedavra!" Harry heard the Dark Lord cast out, the spell hitting him through the chest. All would finally be peaceful, and his friends would not have to suffer a life of cruelty. They could at least escape. If Voldemort kept his word and didn't slaughter everyone in sight.
"Open your eyes, master." Harry heard, sitting up straight. He was in a crowded room, body no longer as long and lanky as it used to be. He looked around. His cupboard. Was he at the Dursleys? This shouldn't be possible, they sold their house! He felt around, feeling the old sheets he used as a bed, tracing crusted blood on the walls. Little stars were drawn in all sorts of corners, reminding him of simpler times. It was small here, but comforting in a way he hadn't known.
"Master." The voice called out again. It was feminine and silky smooth but obviously hardened by years of pain. Would this be the woman who was meant to drag him to hell? He braved the cupboard door, pushing it open slightly. Was it ever locked? Harry couldn't remember.
As he crawled out, he saw a long staff, reaching the top of the ceiling. On it, a gem seemed to glow from beneath a tight veil- a cover of some sort.
"Master, have you finally awoken?" He heard the voice ask. He looked at the figure, his eyes wide. The female Death stood in the doorway, her cloak draped from her shoulders like flowing ink. Her pale skin glowed brighter than candles, illuminating the room with an ethereal light. It was as if the very life force of the environment was consumed by her presence, as the air seemed to take on a heavy, dense feeling in her presence. She lifted her hand in greeting, and the light faded as quickly as it came, like an ocean breeze on a warm day. As she spoke, her voice sounded like the whisper of the first breath of life.
Harry wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to explode. Anything but dying.
"Idiot Master, you aren't going to die." She grasped one of Harry's hands, her fingers cold to the touch.
"Wh-Who are you?" Harry asked, teeth chattering as her kind skin (bones?) enveloped his own.
"I am Death, my Master, and I have long awaited you." She said, her black eyes staring into his own vivid green.
"What does that even mean?" He said, standing up and pulling his hand away from the cold. "Look, I don't want to die, you said I won't die, can't I go back?"
"I suppose so, yes, but if you go back now you'll only be killed again and end up here again." She grinned, and it was a horrid thing. Harry shuddered. "Oh, do you not like this form?" She teased. With a tap of her staff, she transformed.
The woman now wore a flowing red dress, the fabric billowing with the slightest breeze. Her hair was a mix of blonde and brown, as if two people's heads of hair were magically fused together. Her eyes were a deep and sparkling blue, like the vastness of the ocean on a sunny day. Her nose was soft, button-like, and across her face was a deep, skin-marred scar. Even with the scar, she was still a thing of beauty.
"There, are you ready to sit down and listen now?" She asked, heading over to the Dursley's couch. "Come sit, Harry Potter."
Harry eyed her suspiciously. Why was this random, powerful woman being so nice to him of all people? And why was a woman, so recently dressed as death, now in a stunning red dress? She felt so familiar, however, that Harry followed her call.
"Now, how would you like to go about this?" She asked, twirling a strand of her hair.
"Go about what? You haven't even explained who you are!" Harry countered. She sighed.
"Kids these days, they don't listen to a thing you say." She grumbled. She reached her hand into a bag, where it came from Harry couldn't tell you, and pulled out a large tome. "This is the dairy of us master's before you. Read it."
"I'm not a master!" He groaned, frustrated. His hand found his hair and he ran his fingers through it, an action he hadn't done since Ron had disappeared a few months ago while they were on the run.
"I don't understand you!" Death (Harry needed to ask her name) groaned in turn. "I use my magic to gift you that little book, then you read it, and you still don't know what I mean? How do you not know your own onions?"
"What does that- you aren't making any sense! Who even are you?"
"I told you, I am Death. What is so hard to-"
"I'm not calling you that!" She stared at him blankly for a moment.
"Why not?" She asked. Harry just shrugged, looking away from her.
"It's odd, I don't wanna invite Death over and act as if we're some chummy old pals."
"Oh, then I suppose you can call me Emi." She said, handing him the tome. "I recommended you read this, though." Harry eyed it before promptly picking it up and setting it on his lap.
"Why Emi?" He asked, still looking at the book. The book's cover was a deep obsidian black, covered in runic writing that seemed to constantly move and shift as if the very language was alive. The pages were made of a soft vellum, its surface a warm shade of red. The book exuded a sense of comfort, like walking into a warm room after being outside in a snowstorm. It smelled like something you'd find in the crevice of a library, musky and tainted with age.
"My name when I was alive was Emiline Zaire. I went to Hogwarts just like you. Emi was the nickname my husband gave me." Harry nodded, still staring at the deep red of the inside cover.
"So what exactly is this, Emi?" He asked, tracing his fingers over the moving words.
"The dairy of those who were once Death, and the master of it."
"Suppose I believe you, does that make me your master?"
"Yes, you collected all three 'Deathly' Hallows after all. Plus, you filled in all of the other requirements."
Harry said nothing for a moment, eyes darting quickly between the volume and the woman next to him.
"And I'm just supposed to read it?" He asked.
"Yep, and if you're ready for it, a section to write in it will appear as well."
"Write in it? Isn't it your diary?"
"Well, yes, but it was all of the other masters before it was mine."
"Others? Other people were your master?" She shook her head, loose curls bobbing with her.
"Not quite. I don't have a lot of time to explain it to you, you took so long just to come and sit here that your death is already being announced."
"I- what?" Harry questioned, eyes wide. "What does that even mean?"
"You'll know soon. And don't fret, I'll come to visit you soon and explain some more." She placed a cold hand on Haryr's scar. He instinctively closed his eyes, ready for the pain Voldemort's touch always brought. It didn't come.
And when he opened his eyes, he was in someone's arms.
"I said I'd get you in. And I always keep my word. Trust me."
"Can't we just use a spell for that?" Emi asked. The boy beside her, Sebastian, shrugged.
"Alohomora? That's how I always used to get in, but the librarian twigged that I knew the spell and cast an Anti-Alohomora charm on the lock."
"Unlucky."
"Very. Well, come on now, no time to waste." Emi smiled, crouching down and casting a quick dissolution charm on herself, watching him do the same. Sebastian was very cute when he had the drive to get something done.
"Harry Potter is dead!" Harry heard Voldemort announce. Many people gasped, and a few sobs were heard. It broke his heart, to hear his friends sound like that. It wasn't right.
Neville took a deep breath and looked up at the Dark Lord. He'd known Harry would be killed eventually, had always known it would come to this. He was just too young to do anything about it before. He looked Voldemort in the eye, knowing this could be his last, but determined not to go out without a fight.
"I will die today, but I die for what I believe in! Harry was our friend! He will be avenged!" With a yell, Neville pointed his wand at Voldemort and cast spells frantically. It was a hopeless fight, but he'd go down swinging.
And Harry promptly rolled out of someone's arms, and onto the stone ground beneath them. It hurt a bit, and he looked up to see Hagrid staring at him with so much pride.
"Harry Potter!" Voldemort hissed, sending his snake after Neville. Harry watched his friend, fearful. He had seen what Nagini had done to Snape. Instead of using his wand, Neville reached into the hat and pulled out the Sword of Gryffindor! He'd be fine with that, Harry assured himself, and turned his attention back to the tyrant in front of him.
"We destroyed them all, you know," Harry said to the man when he didn't immediately attack. "Your horcruxes, I mean. Every last one of them, I destroyed."
"Avada Kedevra!" The spell was slow, and Harry was able to dodge. "Stupefy!" he yelled back.
And the duel commenced.
Everyone around him was fighting hard, spells coming from every direction. The courtyard was illuminated by the eerie glow of wands, the night sky a backdrop to the dazzling display of magical combat. Voldemort's cold, high-pitched laughter echoed through the air as he sent bolts of deadly green light hurtling towards Harry. But Harry's reflexes were honed to perfection. He deftly dodged, countered, and parried, his wand moving with the fluidity of a conductor's baton.
As Harry squared off against Voldemort, his mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. He knew this was the moment he had been preparing for his entire life, the final showdown with the embodiment of all his fears and nightmares.
Is this the end, or is this my destiny? Harry thought as he looked into Voldemort's crimson eyes. He couldn't help but recall all the pain and suffering Voldemort had caused - the deaths of his parents, the torment of his friends, and the countless lives lost. But he also remembered the lessons he had learned, the friendships he had forged, and the courage that had carried him to this moment.
The duel raged on, the two wizards locked in a deadly dance of power and skill. Spells collided, sending sparks and explosions in all directions. The very ground beneath them shook with the intensity of their magical clash. The courtyard's statues seemed to come alive, joining the fray as they fired stone projectiles at Voldemort.
As spells flew between them, Harry's mind was a whirlwind of incantations, hexes, and counter-curses. He knew he had to stay focused, for one slip could cost him everything. He thought back to the lessons he had learned from his mentors - Dumbledore's wisdom, Snape's sacrifices, and Sirius's unwavering loyalty. Their spirits seemed to be with him, guiding his every move. He could have sworn he saw Emi in the corner of his eye too.
Finally, their spells met, a symphony of blue and green. Harry pushed with all of his might, his Expelliarmus growing stronger and brighter by the second. His foe was also pushing strong, but Harry knew the man was weakened. After all, his Horcruxes were destroyed, he had been fighting many others who demanded revenge, while this was one of the few fights Harry had been in all night.
As the battle reached its zenith, Harry channelled his emotions into his magic, summoning the power of the Elder Wand that he had won. With a brilliant burst of light, their wands connected, and a shockwave rippled through the courtyard. Harry could see the fear in Voldemort's eyes, a flicker of doubt that had never been there before.
Voldemort began to decay in front of everyones eyes.
Harry felt a strong body collide with him, holding him tight. It was Neville! The man was taller than he used to be, no longer the little boy Harry had protected and fought for during their younger years. He towered over Harry, holding him tight as he sobbed into his shoulder. Most of the death eaters began to retreat, yelling and cursing as they ran. Harry paid them no mind, wrapping his arms around Neville.
"Harry, I thought I lost you." He choked, forehead leaning against Harry's own. "You don't know how long I waited for you to come back, no one else believed but I did, Harry! I did!"
"I'm back Neville, I promise." He said softly, hand rubbing on Neville's arm.
And suddenly, Neville's lips were on his own. The kiss was clumsy but full of so much longing, love, and despair- it was wonderful. Nothing like his kiss with Ginny had been. This was just so much more.
"I'm glad you're back Harry." He said a moment after they parted. Harry smiled at him, pulling him in for another hug. He hated how he had taken this for granted so long ago. Never again, he vowed, hugging Neville tighter. Never again.
"Master, that was quite a show you put on out there," Emi said. They were back in the Dursley's house, but Harry was sure he had just gone to bed. "Come sit, and don't argue this time. We have much to discuss."
"Why do we keep ending up here?" Harry asked her. She shrugged.
"I don't even know where 'here' is. I do know that this place must have been a major source of your pain, or we wouldn't be meeting here." This didn't make sense to Harry, but he supposed none of it would. Emi once more pulled out the large book, handing it to Harry. He sighed but sat down next to her and opened to the first page.
October 17th, 1927
Tufan has just explained this whole ordeal to me. I must say, I am very confused. To lose my husband, then great the person who took his soul? I'm not happy with it, not in the slightest. But, hello, my new master, whoever you may be. I assume that, by now, I have relinquished my title as Death Master and have become Death, just like Tufan said I would.
"You used to be a master too?" Harry asked, shocked. Emi nodded.
"Yes, though I can assure you I never wanted to be Death. I have grown into it, over the years.
"How did you become the master?" Harry asked her. Her features turned cold for a moment. She reached over, grabbed Harry's hand in her own, and placed it over the scar on her face. It reminded Harry of entering a pensive, the way the world seemed to sway. And suddenly, Harry was no longer in his wretched childhood home.
In a dimly lit chamber hidden deep beneath an abandoned, decaying castle, the air was thick with an aura of malevolence. Sebastian Sallow and Emi Zaire stood back to back, their wands at the ready, their faces etched with determination. Around them, sinister figures clad in dark robes and masked with cruel intent converged, their wands gleaming ominously.
As the evil wizards closed in on Sebastian and Emi, their sinister laughter filled the chamber. Spells of darkness and chaos erupted, casting eerie shadows on the damp stone walls. Sebastian and Emi, a formidable duo forged in the crucible of countless battles, had faced such horrors before, but this battle felt different, more perilous.
Sebastian's wand flicked expertly, sending jets of fiery light toward the assailants. Emi was equally skilled, weaving intricate protective charms to deflect curses and hexes. Their synchronized movements were a testament to their unwavering bond, honed over years of camaraderie.
"Emi, cover the left flank!" Sebastian shouted as he deftly deflected a curse that threatened to ensnare him in chains of darkness. Emi nodded, her face etched with concentration, as she pivoted to shield their vulnerable side.
As the battle raged on, the odds began to tilt against them. The evil wizards, driven by a sinister resolve, seemed to multiply in number. Sebastian and Emi were gradually pushed back, their defences strained to the limit. Desperation gnawed at the edges of their resolve.
In a moment of dire peril, Sebastian saw an opportunity to turn the tide. He knew what had to be done, even if it meant the ultimate sacrifice. With a fierce determination in his eyes, he shouted, "Emi, protect yourself!"
With a swift and deliberate motion, Sebastian unleashed a spell of unparalleled power, a beacon of blinding light that consumed him. The chamber trembled, and his wand flew back to where Emi was hiding. The the evil wizards were thrown back, shrieking in agony as the radiant magic purged their dark intentions.
Emi was shielded by a protective barrier she had hastily conjured, her heart pounding in her chest as she witnessed the cataclysmic release of magic. When the brilliance finally subsided, she found herself standing alone amidst the smouldering remains of their adversaries.
The chamber fell silent, the once-ominous atmosphere now tinged with an eerie stillness. Emi's voice quivered as she called out, "Sebastian?"
But there was no reply. Sebastian Sallow, the valiant wizard who had stood by her side through countless battles, the wizard she had married and loved despite his darker nature, had sacrificed himself to vanquish their enemies. His life force had been extinguished in that final, powerful burst of magic.
Emi knelt by Sebastian's still form, tears welling in her eyes. She knew that his sacrifice had saved not only her life but potentially the lives of countless others. At that moment, she vowed to honour his memory by continuing the fight against evil, ensuring that Sebastian's legacy would live on in the hearts of those who sought to protect the wizarding world from darkness.
With a heavy heart and a resolve forged in the crucible of loss, Emi Zaire rose to her feet, her wand held high. She knew what she had to do. She would honour her husband by using his wand and the same spell he had taught her.
"Avada Kedevra." She whispered. And when she next woke, she was in Gringotts, a man with dark skin and light brown hair standing over her.
"Nice to meet you, master. My name is Tufan Mahar, and I'm forever in your service."
Harry whirled back on the couch, breathing hard.
"What was that?" He asked, breathless.
"Magic, I suppose. It has always been the easiest way of showing memories. Or so I'm told. Tufan mentioned it to me. It's how he showed me his finding of the Deathly Hallows."
"That man, Sebastian, he was your husband?" Harry asked. Emi nodded, a soft smile on her face. "He was quite handsome." Harry mentally facepalmed at his ignorance. That probably wasn't the right thing to say.
But Emi laughed, so maybe it was?
"That he was, Harry, that he was. A man after my own heart from the moment I stepped into Hogwarts as a fifth year."
"What houses were you in?"
"Hufflepuff myself. Didn't expect it, honestly, I totally thought I'd go into Gryffindor. Sebastian was a Slytherin. Said the hat sorted him before it had even touched his head."
"I'm sorry you lost him," Harry said after a few beats of silence.
"I know I'll see him again one day, however late that must be." The woman stood up and stretched, slowly transforming into her original look of death. "Come now, you must keep reading, and I have souls that need reaping."
Harry followed, silent, reeling and reading at the same time. Some of these entries needed a lot of explaining.
"Who would have thought, the mighty Slytherin Prince taking the blame for a mere Hufflepuff." Emi teased. She had blown up a potion in Professor Sharp's class to make sure she could serve her detention with Sebastian. It wasn't much, just simple trophy cleaning, but she would get to be alone with him, and that was a good enough reason to go. He hadn't seemed to mind taking the blame either, especially after Emi had explained to him what she found, and what she had to duel. Not what she needed from there though, probably not ever.
"What can I say? I like having my friend indebted to me." He smiled at her, and Emi felt her cheeks go pink. "Say, tomorrow we should head down to Hogsmeade together. Maybe stop by the old Hogshead."
"Are you asking me out, Sallow?" Emi asked, bumping elbows with her friend. His grin just sharpened, his brown eyes gaining a teasing glint.
"Why yes I am, Zaire. Do you dare turn this Slytherin prince down?" Emi laughed, quickly turning her head to place a quick kiss on the brunette's cheek.
"And what if I am?" She taunted.
"Then I guess I would have to cash in that favour you owe me, hmm?" He slipped his hand into hers, pulling her close. "So, are you going to reject me?"
"Never, Sebastian." He was the one to kiss her cheek this time.
"Maybe you'll even tell me what you needed from the restricted section." He inquired.
"You're not too cute to say no to, you know that right?"
His sulking just made him cuter, in Emi's eyes at least.