𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖊

Act I - The Trials of Summer

Chapter 30 - The Birthday Party Part 1

He was back amidst the ice.

Despite having been here before, the transition felt just as shocking as the first time. Bitter, arctic wind slapped against his face with an alien prejudice, as if him being there was an affront to the being that rested within. Hateful stalagmites rose like empty coffins, each as thick as he was tall, while several feet of ice paved the floor. The air was dry, and every breath was a hefty exertion.

This was no mere cold. It was a Winter that despised life. A perversion of the world's rules.

"Back again, I see," a familiar, rumbling voice greeted him. The husk of a man slowly trudged through the snow, his movements callous and mechanical. "But you would. You would. After all, you are only beginning to taste what it means to wield true power. I was once in your shoes, too. I understand how it feels."

"How?" Harry demanded, "You don't know who I am or what I feel."

The near-skeletal man arched his eyebrows— or, rather, what would have been his eyebrows. Instead, pale, parched skin moved up, making his large eyes comically bulge out.

"You are telling me that you do not seek this power?"

"No, I—" Harry began, but then wisely shut his mouth. As much as he wanted to deny it, the man was speaking the truth. He wanted— no, he craved that power. It had saved his life from that dark curse. It was what made him a Vessel. It was what had been instrumental in turning the tables during the trial. A power that allowed him to fight back.

A power that had stemmed from his defiance.

The man toothily smiled. It felt empty, like starvation. Like the damp blackness of his old cupboard and the loneliness he had felt growing up.

"Yes, I was watching. And now, so will they."

"They?"

"All of them. Those that fear you. They fear the inevitable. The sound of the bells tolling at the top of the hill!"

His face twisting into an expression of uncontrollable fury, making Harry step back, terrified.

"FOOLS!" the man snarled. Several blocks of ice shattered with the fury in his voice. "The bell has been rung. It will not be unrung. The gates will open and then they— they—"

"They… what?"

"Nothing." Slowly, the man's expression returned to its usual visage. "There is no point in speaking of them. Let us instead talk about you. You have now tasted Death. How did it feel?"

Harry thought back to the feeling when he had cast the Glacius spell for the first time.

"Empty," Harry admitted. "I mean, it was strong, and powerful, and… I've never felt anything like it before. But it was empty. Just using it made me feel like everything else was pointless."

"Death is always pointless. For that is the point."

"Sirius described it as 'unmaking'," Harry blurted out, suddenly feeling incredibly juvenile. "It made me wonder… What is death, exactly?"

"Bah!" the man spat. "What would he know? Spineless insects that hold no venom. The Blacks are nothing but pretenders who hold a bowl of water, claiming they've seen all while remaining ignorant of the ocean before them."

Harry blinked. Normally, he'd have torn the man a good one for insulting Sirius like that, but he understood the message. Not to mention, there was a part of him that recognized that bad things could happen to him if he insulted this man. As if to prove his point, the area around them darkened just a shade.

He tried his best to ignore it.

"Err… so what is it?"

"Death is the Truth of the universe, child," the mysterious man replied, his voice reverent. "The blackness. The void. When the first living thing took birth, Death was there, silent, patient, waiting. When the last living thing dies, it will stow the chairs, turn off the lights, and lock the universe behind it as it leaves."

"To go where?"

The man looked at him in confusion.

"You said Death leaves," Harry repeated. "Where does it go?"

His lips twisted into a sickening smile. Cryptic. Then again, what else is new?

"Fine, I'll play ball," Harry murmured, before raising his voice. "You called me its custodian the last time I was here. So, what does it all do? Why does it…" He paused, recalling the fear he had seen in Sirius's face. "What is so ugly about Death magic that even a demented elf calls me a demon?"

"Death… magic?" the man sneered. "What a joke! What's next? Dark light? Holy sin? Death is not magic, child. Death is death, everything that magic is not. You, in whose veins flows power that was once mine, are standing on the crossroads. The turmoil you face will never die until you choose the road you wish to travel. To be like them, or be yourself."

Harry narrowed his eyes. For some reason, his answer wasn't all that surprising. Maybe it was because he'd subconsciously arrived at the same conclusion on his own. It had always been there, after all. The anger, the rage, the burning desire he'd felt upon seeing the dark side of the magical world. The wish to just take it all and TEAR IT APART INTO NON-EXISTENCE—

Harry clenched his eyes shut.

He didn't want to lose control. Not now. Not again.

What he needed was answers, and for those, he needed to think things through.

"I don't believe that to be completely true," he began again, slowly gathering his words. "I mean, my freezing spells have been powerful as of late. That would count as magic, wouldn't it?"

The man scoffed. "The elements have always existed. Fire has always burned. Water, in its many forms, has always cycled. Wind has always blown. Light and darkness have always been there. Tell me, child, if water did not exist, If it was not there, would the world still exist?"

Harry shook his head. Without water, the Earth wouldn't be able to sustain life.

"How about fire? Wind? Light? Darkness?"

He wondered what the man was trying to get at.

"What about gravity? The laws that rule motion, rule the balance of attraction and repulsion, what if they did not exist? Could the world exist without them?"

"I—"

"And magic?"

That made him pause. Magic… Would it really affect the world if there was no magic anymore? He thought about Hogwarts, about his friends and teachers and Sirius. About the amazing feeling when casting a spell. What if it all didn't exist? The Dursleys didn't have magic, but they lived their lives. Without him around, they might've even been happier. For a single magical person, there were at least a thousand of those that weren't, and still the world moved.

Not because there was magic, but despite it.

Harry exhaled. A world without magic would be dull. Empty. Magic was what made him what he was. Without it, he'd have been a normal teenager. Not a—

Not a freak.

There would have been no Voldemort. Lily and James Potter would have remained alive. Maybe they would be just normal people. Maybe they wouldn't even have met or given birth to a Harry Potter, but they'd still be alive.

"You see it now, don't you?" the man whispered. It was oddly seductive, and what was worse, it was working. "Magic is the addendum. The extra. Not the fundamental force you believe it to be. It is a corruption! A disease! A force that twists everything— elements, space, time, reality itself."

"And death is the opposite?"

"It is everything that magic is not. Death is an end. It unmakes everything, leading it to its final destination, magic included. Death is a part of the world. All things live, and all things must die. My clan and my forebears had always worshipped the lesser powers of Death. Necromancy. Soul transference. Alchemy. But only when She manifested before me in all her glory did I truly understand what it meant to die."

"She?" Harry questioned.

The man chuckled. "Even my brothers did not understand. Death is not something to be feared. Life should be feared. Life is biassed. Magic can take sides. But death? It's the ultimate fairness. Death comes for all— rich or poor, magical or muggle, wizard or creature. Death is a lover. An old friend."

It was as if a kaleidoscope had finally come into focus. A few simple words, and Harry had finally achieved some clarity. He finally knew who this man was, and what the Gringotts Overlord had meant.

"You're Ignotus Peverell, aren't you?"

"I adorned such a name for an ephemeral moment. And now it is your destiny to bear that mantle."

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. This… all of this was just surreal.

"You—you have it all wrong!" he blurted out. "I mean, I'm just Harry. I'm not all that special."

The lines at the corner of his eyes deepened. "I am not the one choosing, son of Peverell. You are. You stand on the edge of a crossroads, and no matter what path you take, the future will be a result of your own choice. Yours to build. Yours to destroy. You may choose to return to your illusion of normalcy, trying to fit into a world that will never truly accept you. Or, you can—"

"Wield Death itself?"

Ignotus snorted. "Vessel, boy, not its master. Death is not a power to wield. Through you, it will pour down into the river of this World and annihilate the corruption that Magic brings with it."

"And… you think I can do that?"

The man smiled. For the first time, he looked almost human. "You will. When you decide."

"Decide what?"

"Everything."

…

…

Harry jolted awake.

Lifting his hand, he rubbed his coarse, gummy eyes. His throat felt tight and burning, as if someone had made him swallow an entire mug of boiling coffee, and his legs felt like someone had switched them for lead bricks. After several attempts, he pushed himself up using his elbows and—

Stared.

At the room.

Or what was left of the room.

The first thing he noticed was the white. Jagged lines were all over the place, giving the appearance that the world was made of glass that had suddenly shattered. The lines did not stop at their usual limit, and instead, raced away from his bed, spreading out in all directions. The floor, the bed, everything was covered with genuine sheets of ice, extending and stretching all the way, coating everything in near inch thick sheets of frozen shelling. There were stalagmites on the floor, its teeth-like daggers bringing a scene from an ice age.

And he had been sleeping on it.

"The Demon is awake!"

The gravelly tone of the Lar sent a shiver down his spine. Yes, the irony of that statement was not lost on him. Harry looked ahead, and found the air shimmering, before Kreacher appeared, his feet floating just inches from the floor, as if refrained from touching it.

"Lar."

"I sensed your demonic powers escaping your control. It would have devoured this house, so I bound it to this room. Quite a world…. You've crafted for yourself, this terrain of endless cold and hunger."

"I… I was having a dream, and I guess I performed some accidental magic."

"Accidental magic is a subconscious application of one's will, demon. This… this is your power seeking an escape. It wants to break its shackles and unleash itself into this world. Demon you might be, but you seem to restrain it. For that, you have my gratitude."

Harry blinked. The Lar, being grateful? Would surprises ever cease?

"It's my Family—"

"Magic, I know," said the Lar. "This transcends the laws of the world, and yet, it is so real. Much like the power once wielded by Tezcatlipoca himself. And yet, so, so different."

"Does, erm, Sirius know about this?"

"This?"

"This… ice?"

The Lar shook his head. "The Lord of Black is preparing for your… birthday. He does not need to know this. I can… disperse this myself, should you wish."

Harry gulped softly. "Yes. Please."

The Lar snapped its fingers, and the room was back to its pristine state. Had he not seen what it truly was mere seconds ago, Harry would have said that the room had never changed at all.

"Is that all?" asked the Lar. "Your godfather is waiting for you to freshen up and come down. Best not keep him waiting."

And with that, the Lar vanished.

He exhaled. "When in Rome, Harry. When in Rome…"

Harry was never really comfortable with parties. Maybe he was just not the partying type. Even during the ones hosted in the aftermath of a Quidditch victory, all he'd do is accept the drinks and snacks and then sit down, preferably with Hemione in a corner, and see the festivities unleash. Like, the drinks were excellent, but he didn't enjoy being drunk. He was pretty sure he got no more charming that way. More amusing perhaps, but that wasn't always a good thing. Growing up with the Dursleys hadn't given him any appreciation for music either, or for talking to people, or flirting with girls. No, that was more of Seamus and Lee's thing. And honestly, what would he talk about? Too many awkward pauses. No way in hell. He was better in a quidditch pitch. Or facing wizards or monsters or just anything that wanted to injure or kill him? At least he had a pretty good idea of what to do when he was at one of those.

And no, his little ice-cream meetings with Fleur Delacour didn't count. That was work. And occasional ranting.

Now only if someone could make his godfather, understand that bit.

As he came down to the stairs, he saw the food table set up in the large dining area, which had been expanded to mimic the Great Hall of Hogwarts, only with two food tables. They were loaded down with party food of every description, with shining plates and cutlery on either side, packed with neatly arranged chairs for the guests to sit. Harry faintly remembered Sirius gushing about inviting a good number of people to celebrate his birthday, and his ascension to Lord Potter. Honestly, a silent family dinner would have been just as great, but he had given up on trying to explain it to his godfather.

"Here's the birthday boy!" Sirius said in a singsong voice, flinging both arms up. His godfather approached him with a bear hug, ruffling his hair. Harry bore it with a cheerful grin. Really, seeing the man look so happy and carefree after so many days was a gift in itself. "Happy fifteenth, Harry. Come, come, let's get you started with your present!"

"Uh, Sirius, you didn't—"

"Tosh, Harry. Don't be a spoilsport. This is the first time I get to buy my godson a present after your very first birthday!"

Harry let himself be dragged all the way to the couches, where a vast assortment of coloured paper, wrapped presents, and Merlin-knew-what-not was sprawled all over. He saw Andi smile as she approached him and wished him with a light hug.

"Sirius, all of this—"

"I wasn't there for these years," Sirius laughed. "Had to make up for that, didn't I?"

Harry really wanted to tell him that just him being there for him was more of a present than anything else he had ever gotten, but somehow, words got lost in his godfather's infectious enthusiasm.

"But first," said Sirius, "I want you to open your present for today. Both for your fifteenth, and your becoming Lord Potter." He summoned what was easily one of the largest packages with a flick of his wand. It was a long item, wrapped in a nice cardboard box. As his unsteady hands got rid of the package, it overwhelmed him with giddiness as the package took a familiar shape. Something he had seen when Sirius had sent him a birthday present for his third year.

And there it was…

"Sirius…" Harry said, his voice hoarse. "This is…."

He looked at it with disbelieving eyes, not even blinking, fearing that it'd vanish and prove to be a dream. But it wasn't. It was there.

"A Thunderbolt V," Sirius gloated, "it's the current world standard for the Seeker Elite Line. Outsmarts the Firebolt by a notch."

Harry didn't need him to tell anymore. The Thunderbolt V was the international standard for this year, outpacing the Firebolt to become the broom-of-choice for this year's Quidditch World Cup. Sporting a superfine, streamlined handle of the Argentinian quebracho, this was a gem. The broom tail was crafted out of extremely smooth snakewood, honed to aerodynamic perfection, giving it an unsurpassable balance and pinpoint precision, capable of an acceleration of two hundred miles and hour in ten seconds, and bringing the broom from any velocity to zero in two point five seconds. They crafted the entire support skeleton with goblin silver and enchanted to be jinx-proof.

This wasn't a broom. This was a freaking wonder.

"Sirius I…" Harry croaked. "I… I don't know what to say…"

His godfather ruffled his hair and smiled. "Say nothing. Just accept it, and be happy."

Harry grinned at him and nodded. "Thanks."

"No, thank you, kiddo. For getting me the chance to have this moment. Merlin knows, if not for you, I'd have still been a fugitive. You saved my life back then from the dementors, and then again, by proving me innocent. You made me change from a young boy running away from his family to becoming the Lord of the same family. If anything, it is I who should be thankful."

And then Harry did something unexpected. He moved closer, clenched his godfather's shoulders and embraced the man in a comfy hug.

There was no flinching this time around.

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