The moment Harry left Dumbledore's office and donned his cloak, the magic was instantaneous! He could feel it coursing through him, this power, this greatness! It came like the relief of a scratch to an itch that he never knew he had; or healing from a pain long habituated. Perhaps it would seem strange to others, but for once in his life Harry felt… complete.

Strange. An hour ago he had been furious. Furious at Dumbledore for his arrogance, at Bagman for his cheerfulness, even at Karkaroff for thinking he cheated and Fleur for calling him a 'little boy'. Yet now, he felt incredible! Invincible! Like nothing could ever hurt him again!

He walked through the hallways smiling. His invisible presence passed by others as they talked about him, about the dangers of the tournament, and the other champions. He didn't care about the dangers, though. He'll try to help Cedric, of course, since he's the real champion; but Harry doesn't have to worry about himself. He's the Master of Death! Nothing can bring him down!


Tuesday, November 1st, 1994

Melissa awoke to warmth. A calm to combat the shivers. She glanced to her left to find herself laying in a hospital bed, with the first rays of dawn breaking through the windows. Then she looked forward, to see a dear friend nestled on her belly.

"Good morning, Fawkes. You look," she frowned, "surprisingly awful."

"I'm afraid he's been quite unwell since last night."

Melissa jerked her head, surprised to find Albus Dumbledore standing to the right of her bed. She moved to push herself upward.

"Now, now, please don't push yourself. Rest easy, my dear. You gave everyone quite a scare yesterday."

Her arms relaxed and slid back against the bed. She moved one of them again, but just to pet Fawkes' de-plumed skin. She tried to think about why Dumbledore was here, of all places; but then her thoughts recalled the night before and dread filled her with answers.

Fawkes gave her a weakened croon in an effort of solidarity. The sounds made her want to cry. You feel it too, huh, buddy?

In her silence, Dumbledore watched her carefully. "Miss Bennett, do you know how Harry's name was chosen by the Goblet of Fire?"

Melissa shook her head, keeping her eyes on Fawkes.

"But you did know he would be selected, yes?"

"I - I worried he would. I saw-" She looked at him earnestly, "they're not making him fight a dragon, are they?"

The man winced, confirming her 'fears of the vision'. "I cannot give away what's to be expected for the tasks. However the tournament does not bar assistance from fellow students."

She gave a curt nod, then returned her attention to Fawkes. The poor thing. "It's barely been two years. Do phoenixes always finish their lives this quickly?"

"No," he answered. "In fact, he was perfectly healthy until a fortnight ago, and yesterday he experienced a drastic bout of molting. …I suspect you know why."

Of course I do, and of course he knows about it already!

"...Why did you give him the Elder Wand? You didn't have to, you know."

"Alas, that was an error in judgement on my part. Mister Potter demanded I ensure he does not enter the tournament, wagering ownership of the wand as compensation should I fail in my duty. After last night, I had no choice. The wand worked against me once he stated his case, and it did not stop until the deal was done."

So he only got it because I warned him?! Fuck my life!

"What's done is done, I guess."

"If I may ask, how did young Mister Potter come to possess the Resurrection Stone? That item has been lost to time."

"Heh," she gave a huff. "You're asking me? You're the one that found it!"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Um, that thing with the ring," she explained sleepily. "You find a ring- with a curse- and a stone- in the snitch. That's a thing, right?"

For a long moment both looked at each other in confusion. At last, Dumbledore's eyebrows raised, and he leaned forward. "Are you referring, perhaps, to the ring owned by Marvolo Gaunt? The one hidden in his home in Little Hangleton?"

Melissa was genuinely confused now. "You found it in Little Hangleton? That's where he hid it?!"

"It's where Tom hid his horcrux, yes. However, the ring was destroyed. Marcello had-" realization dawned on him, "he had taken its stone!"

"And given it to Harry when he visited him in Italy, I suppose?"

Dumbledore's shock was palpable. The man genuinely had no idea until now about the ring's gem at the time of retrieval. An opportunity lost, for certain. "Do you have reason to believe Mister Potter will pose a danger with this newfound power?"

"I'm… not really sure. Honestly this is very unknown territory we're dealing with here. That said, Harry isn't the type of person to harm the innocent. I think what's happening to me and Fawkes is accidental …residual. You know?"

"I hope you are right, and that these effects are temporary." He looked at both the girl and phoenix with soft concern. "If you need anything, please let me know. Good day, Miss Bennett." He got up and left the room, leaving the other two to contemplate this situation.

"So," she clicked her tongue, "how bad is the pain?"

Croon

"Oof! It's that bad, huh?" The bird crooned back. "Damn. I'm sorry, Fawkes." She contemplated their situation a bit. "Don't suppose you have any ideas of how to make this easier, eh?"

Crow-croon?

"Yeah, I suppose that could help. It'd have to be pretty powerful though, right? How do you even make one to combat the energy of Death itself?"

Trill, cr-croon, twoo-

"You cannot be serious!" she said flatly. On hearing his affirmative, she clipped, "That sounds insane."

He squawked indignantly, forcing her to back off and actually consider the proposal.

"And you're absolutely sure this won't hurt?" She gave a slow sign as he gave his assurance. "If you say so. …You're a good friend, Fawkes. Never let anyone doubt that."

Trill!

With a sound that almost sounded like a smile, Fawkes hopped closer to nuzzle the girl's cheek. Then, with small preparation, and smaller gifts of feathers and tears, Fawkes leapt onto a nearby metal food tray, and promptly burst into flame.


The Hufflepuffs had been up late partying, celebrating the win of their TWO Champions. Cedric and Harry had both been prompted for speeches, and Harry took no time to stand above the rest, declaring both his innocence and his full support for Cedric. It got many cheers, and even some support for Harry himself. Cedric then proclaimed that he and other older students would be sure to help Harry survive the tournament. Harry felt he wouldn't need that help, but still accepted the offer out of respect to the Champion. All in all, it was a fun night, and led to Hufflepuffs standing together stronger than ever!

In the morning there were interesting reactions from the rest of the school, especially as Cedric asked Harry to join him at the table. People applauded their entrance into the Great Hall, though Harry could tell from the whispers that several still doubted him. Just to be cheeky, he gave those people a smile and wave, enjoying their bewildered or embarrassed looks in the process.

He finished breakfast with a handshake to Cedric, then headed off to his first class of the day: History of Magic. A perfect choice, as that class is as good a chance as any to sleep more after yesterday's celebrations.

That's what he thought, at least, until Professor Binns approached him at the start of class.

"Excuse me, young Sir," he floated closer to Harry, his eyes wide behind his ghostly lenses.

"Yes?"

"I-" The ghost seemed to stutter on having Harry's full attention. "Oh! Oh my, ah, I do apologize, but who are you?"

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter. Fourth-Year Hufflepuff."

"I, yes, of course, Mister Potter; but- dare I ask, what are you?"

Harry's eyes went wide. Others, both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, looked bewildered at the odd question. Though for Harry, it was less of a what or why in his mind, and more of an 'Oh shit!'

"He's the Fourth Triwizard Champion!" Megan shouted happily, slinging an arm over Harry's shoulder in good cheer, "And he's going to kick everyone's arse, aren't you, Harry?"

"You bet!" He said with a strained grin. "Professor, perhaps after class I can ask you some questions about Triwizard Tournaments in the past?"

"I- yes, yes of course!" Professor Binns exclaimed, a shock in itself as that was probably the loudest anyone's ever heard the ghost speak. "Whatever you wish, Sir. Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," Harry walked over to the furthest seat available, next to his fellow VATIC member.

"What was that about?" Stephen Cornfoot whispered.

"Not fully sure," Harry answered. "I'll ask him after class."

True to his word, that's exactly what he did.

"Professor," Harry approached after the last student left, "what is it about me that has you on edge?"

On edge he was, indeed, as the ghost seemed to fidget in his presence. "It's… hard to explain."

"Explain anyways."

The man shivered upright. "You have a commanding presence, young Sir. As if anything you say, I'd be willing to do, or unwilling, perhaps."

"Unwilling?" The thought made Harry nervous. "Like what?"

Professor Binns pulled his lips into a thin line before answering. "I don't wish to move beyond, Sir. I enjoy teaching, and we're only in the middle of the first term. It would be cruel to rob the students of their professor in the middle of the school year!"

Harry raised his hands in front of him, "Wait- wait, hold on a second! Are you saying that, since I'm the Master of Death, I can force ghosts into the afterlife?!"

"It… certainly feels that way," said Professor Binns. "Forgive me, I'm not entirely sure, myself, but I feel as though it is the likely course. The Master of Death, you say?"

"Yes," Harry nodded. "I claimed the wand last night, like in the legend."

"Legend?" The Professor frowned. "I have no interest in legends, Sir."

"Well, this legend is actually a fact. Pretty obviously, considering how you're reacting to me."

If ghosts could pale, Professor Binns certainly would have at this moment. "Yes. Quite right."

A moment of pause fell, and Harry considered this odd turn of events. A commanding presence, he said. "Tell no one alive about this. You can warn the other castle ghosts about the change, but I don't want anyone else to find out about it."

"Yes, Sir, as you wish," Professor Binns nodded vigorously.

The ghost's reaction brought up a second, obvious issue to the forefront. "Also, there's no need to call me Sir, Professor. Just 'Mister Potter' or 'Harry' is fine. Tell the other ghosts that, too."

"Very well, Sir- I mean, very well, Mister Potter. I'll tell the other ghosts straight away!" The Professor flew straight into the blackboard towards the rest of the castle, off to spread the word.

You know, this could be good for me. Though he'll need time to consider what all being the Master of Death entails. Who knows, maybe it will help with the tournament? It was with that thought that he walked out of the classroom-

-Straight into Pucey, Pierce, Flinton, and Ignatov.

"Oh. Hello."

"Hello, Potter."

He looked around briefly in confusion. "If you're looking for Binns, he just left."

"We know," Flinton said.

Nervous, Harry gulped. "Are you all heading to class?"

"No, we have our second period off."

"Well, I don't," Ignatov said, "I have Divination. Melissa does, too. Except she can't go today, on account of being in the hospital wing and all."

"What?! What happened?!"

"According to her," Pierce said evenly, "you happened."

What?! "What are you talking about?"

"'Harry has the Elder Wand'," said Pierce, and Harry was struck with shock! "That's what she said, anyways, when she got halfway out of a seizure last night. I had no idea what that meant, so a few of us got to talking and decided to ask you about it."

"I know the story about the Elder Wand," Pucey said, "but obviously that's just a story, right?"

"Except, wouldn't you know it," Flinton stepped in, "we came here to find you, only to hear you and Binns talking about how you 'claimed the wand last night', and what it's like to be the 'Master of Death'."

Ignatov raised a finger to the others, "Nott said something about that last year. The demons had warned him that the Master of Death is close to her. They must've known this would happen!"

"Wait, wait, hold on!" Harry shouted. "I have no idea what you guys are talking about-!"

"And it makes sense!" Ignatov continued over him. "I always thought it was about Azrael, the Angel of Death, since he's the one that took Mel's soul to her parents; but what if they were talking about you?!"

"What?!" Harry has always been (mostly) certain all that stuff Lockhart wrote about Melly was a bunch of nonsense to sell his books.

"Holy Hecate!" Pucey shouted. "That's how you got into the tournament, isn't it?! You used the Elder Wand on the Goblet in the afternoon! THAT'S why she had that seizure during Runes!"

"No I didn't! I never put my name in- wait, did you say in the afternoon? I thought you said last night?"

"She did have a seizure last night," Pierce said.

"And halfway into third period," Pucey added, "but not as bad as the one from last night."

Third period-?

During his time off-

When he used the Resurrection Stone-

And forced Lucius Malfoy back into the afterlife!

"Oh god," he voice came in a hush. "I have to go and apologize-"

Ignatov and Flinton stood in his way. "You are going to do nothing of the sort!"

"You stay away from her, Potter," Flinton said threateningly. "I don't care what she says about you, there is no way you're getting within ten feet of her."

"Or fifty," Ignatov scoffed. "The witch has suffered enough thanks to you. Kidnapped by Quirrell-"

"Being her boggart-" Pucey added.

"Making deals with demons thanks to your parseltongue grimoire-" Ignatov continued.

"Not to mention all of the bullying she went through in third year just from being friends with you," Pierce said fiercely. "We've done what we can to protect her, and we still do; but we can't protect her forever when one of her supposed best friends puts her in a state every time he does some freaky death magic!"

Every word was like a sword through the heart. He… He knows that the Hallows creep her out, but she's worn the cloak before, right? But the stone, and the wand, and everything else they were saying to him. …Is he really responsible for so much pain in Melly's life?

"But- I have to do something-"

"All you have to do," Flinton said, "is nothing. No hellos, no visits, no doing anything that will hurt her."

"Just focus on being Champion Number Four," Pucey suggested. "That ought to take up all of your time, anyways. Just stick with the Badgers and let us Snakes take care of our own."

The witches nodded in agreement.

Harry, on the other hand, struggled. "Alright," he lied, "I'll keep my distance."

"Good."

"You'd better."


Having left his Hallows safe in his trunk, Harry snuck down to see Melly after Astronomy class. He was confident that no one would be around, as it was after curfew, and crept into the hospital wing with a steady heart.

He found Melly asleep in her bed; and, in that moment, he understood Ignatov's words.

She had been delivered by Azrael, the angel of death; because, once upon a time, Melody had died.