Prompt: Desires
Warning: some supporting characters die in this chapter. Nothing is described but lives are lost.
Chapter 12: Death
When life ended and the soul met Death the most common reactions were denial and regret. Death found denial was strongest with the young and regret with the old. Its job wasn't to aid them in processing their profound reactions. That was for the afterlife.
As it hovered over the battlefield, death was near for some, questionable for others. It noted the form in the lowest levels teetering near death but refusing to embrace it. Through time, Death had noted that the fiercest fighters of inevitability were with child. They weren't just fighting for their life but the life of the one who hadn't taken a breath yet. Death moved on. She wasn't theirs today. Unless someone intervened to push her over the cliff she valiantly navigated. It didn't know names until they were theirs to know. It preferred not to know her name that day.
Two others had caught its attention. One with a soul it had tried to claim before and failed. A curiosity that lingered in its consciousness. It nearly got a fragment before it got away. In Death's attempt to claim Tom Riddle, a piece was broken. It knew where the piece went. It had wondered when it would need to confront the complication of a soul within a soul. He was there too, the one with the piece. It was rare for Death to recognize that time passed by encountering the passage of time in one who it met before. The man with the fragment troubled Death. When the time came, would it prioritize the soul that got away or the soul it was meant to collect.
It could wait to worry until it was confronted with the desire to make right what had gone wrong. A soul needed its attention. Denial. It skimmed over the magical battle. Snatching up the young wizard. Vincent Crabbe grasped at the mortal plane but was no match for Death's pull. He was gone before his body hit the ground. Having swooped down, closer to the fighting, Death experienced the desires of others. Not a common experience for it. Really only when great numbers had amassed for war. Muggles and wizards, it didn't matter. They were all fighting for something. Power, control, family, freedom… they were a different color than denial and regret. Though those were based on desire too. Desires to experience more. Desires to make amends. It guessed for humans that's what it all came down to. Desires leading to actions. Which in this case, lead to war.
Regret. Another soul rose up to meet Death. Kingsley Shacklebolt had much left unfinished. Unrealized aspirations. Sacrifices that resulted in a lonely existence. He let out a one last grasp, an unwillingness to abandon his friends. It wasn't a pull that could be resisted. Others around him had taken notice of the loss. It spurred them on to push back against the defensive line.
Death had little concern for military strategy. However, it had been present for many conflicts. Enough to know that side with the wizard who possessed the piece of soul had engaged in an impossible objective. A magically fortified structure. Funneled into a courtyard, surrounded by high ground. It was a surprise to Death that more souls hadn't been claimed yet.
A scream pulled its attention back to its task. It was a heart rending sound it understood. A mother who protected her daughter with her life, Molly Weasley refused to come to it. For a second, it assumed she had prepared to remain on earth as a ghost and would not come. That happened less and less as witches and wizards learned the cost of such an irreversible decision. Those who chose that path often warned of the consequences. An immediate desire to stay in some form with the ones they loved was temporary. Eventually their loved ones passed on and they were separated again. Most understood it was better to endure the heartache in the moment and reunite in the end. With surprise, Death saw the mother was staring at it. Blaming it for taking her away. Death showed her the way without comment. It sensed a life well lived. Not everyone was so lucky.
More from the other side joined her as those fighting were spurred on by grief and revenge. A wall collapsed on a trio. Alecto Carrow, Augustus Rookwood, and Thorfinn Rowle left without a struggle. The weak never found strength in death.
The wall down, the manor was breached. Death felt odd relief. It wasn't one to take sides or care about motives. It was hard not to feel an effect when the collective emotions were so high. Close quarter dueling was more restrained. It expected the causality toll would be lessened as a result. It stayed outside, noting the wounded clinging to life. Some would let go. It could collect them. Those with a talent for healing tended to them. Percy Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks took their last gasps. A werewolf responded to the loss with a fierceness that rippled time around Death. The beasts touched death a little each time they transformed and they often had an odd effect on the in-between space. Death sensed a desire for vengeance. There was little doubt that he would get it.
Oddly, the wizard with the fragment was moving in the opposite direction as the throng. The ripple in time from the werewolf turned to a vibration from the fragment of soul. Curiously, Death followed. The vibration intensified until the fragment of soul stood facing the broken soul. Death hovered. It wanted both.