Disclaimer: I'm too young to be Rowling so there is sadly no way Harry Potter is mine…
Parts of JK Rowling's HP7, end scene between Harry and Voldemort; and HP4, graveyard scene.
Inspired by Mono Inc.'s "Potter's Field" ; excerpts from Sabaton's song "Nightchild"
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HOGWARTS
… … …
In a dream I saw the future, In a dream I saw the world
There were madmen's lies, Devil's point of view
… … …
Harry had always hated portkey travel.
He had expected the same thing he had always felt – nausea and the feeling of being whirled around without rhyme or reason.
Instead, the moment the portkey activated, the world stood still.
"What?" Confused, Harry looked around.
Cedric followed his gaze with a frown on his face.
They were surrounded by white nothingness.
"I… guess portkeys are a bit too close to the other side," Cedric finally said. Harry's eyes narrowed.
"The other side?" he asked.
Cedric shrugged.
"I never thought how Apparating or a portkey can be possible," he said. "But seeing this… I guess at least the portkey is based on taking a step towards the veil and then back again. Since we're not stopped by the veil – unlike the living – we simply take another step and end up beyond instead."
Harry raised an eyebrow and then looked around. While he couldn't see the King's Cross he had seen until now, he still could see the similarities of the oddly white and clean King's Cross in the white nothingness all around them.
"So… you're telling me that this is a version of King's Cross?" he asked surprised and tried to make out the schemes of the oddly white and clean King's Cross he had visited two times now.
Cedric frowned at him.
"Don't call our Realm King's Cross," he said and sighed. "If you're unlucky, you'd get stuck with that name."
Harry frowned.
"Why do you think we could get stuck with that name?" he asked.
"I've seen your luck," Cedric said dryly. "So, yes, I think it might be a possibility."
Harry had to concede that point.
"Alright," he agreed. "Then… let's reformulate my question like… we're back in death?"
Cedric nodded slowly.
"I guess this is part of what your ancestor Hardwin meant with the hazard of being dead," he determined.
Harry snorted.
"The hazard of being dead?" he asked.
"We're not like the living," Cedric answered and shrugged, his hand never moving from its position on the Goblet of Fire. "For us… well, I guess one could say some things are relative."
Harry frowned.
"Some things?" he asked and looked around to the white nothingness surrounding them.
Cedric followed his gaze.
"Yes," he said. "And I guess, in this case, it's time that's relative." His free hand gestured around them. "For us, it feels as if everything stands still, but – time is still passing, just slower for us than it actually does for everyone else, hence the stillness all around us."
Harry blinked and looked around as well.
"Time is relative?" he asked. "How can time be relative for anybody?"
Cedric just raised an eyebrow at Harry.
"How could you go back in time?" he countered.
Harry opened his mouth, just to close it again with a snap.
"Like I said," Cedric commented casually. "Time is relative for the dead – and even more so for the Potterer."
At that, Harry frowned.
"So… theoretically, I could go back further?" he asked. "Like… time travel again?"
Cedric shrugged.
"I have no idea," he said. "I'm not like you, after all. But I guess since we're here and you don't seem to have any inclination to go back in time again – I'd at least go with the fact that you don't really want to, so it's most likely not going to happen."
Harry thought that over.
If he wet further back, he'd end up at the Dursley's as a child again. Not to mention that there wasn't a lot that he would want to change in his first three years at Hogwarts…
"I guess," he finally agreed and then looked around at the frozen whiteness around him. "How long do you think we'll have to stand here?"
Cedric shrugged and then tentatively tried to let go of the portkey.
Harry watched with interest how Cedric's fingers twitched but didn't move.
"At least until we can let go of that thing, I think," Cedric said dryly.
At his words, Harry tried to remove his fingers from the Goblet as well – without success.
"This is weird," he finally said after he waved his other arm around without trouble.
"Our Realm's time is a bit slower than the living realm's," Cedric said with a shrug. "I guess that since a portkey breaches the borders between our Realm and the living world enough that we, since we're of Potter's Field, slip across, while wizards and witches normally skim just along the border, we end up standing around staring into nothingness for a while."
Harry snorted.
"Fantastic," he said with a sigh. "And I guess you don't know how long."
Cedric just rolled his eyes.
"Since this is the first time for me as well, no, I don't, Milord," he countered and Harry winced.
"Can we agree on Potter if you have to be formal with me?" he asked.
The answer was a snort.
"Sure," Cedric agreed. "But I doubt that you'll be as lucky with the others."
That ensured that Harry looked at Cedric with narrowed eyes.
"Others?"
Cedric shrugged.
"The rest of your Court," he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Harry frowned.
"I guess that I'm missing quite a bit information for my new position," he said dryly. "What Court?"
Cedric scratched his head.
"I don't know a lot," he admitted. "I guess I might end up with more knowledge over time or whatever, but from what I heard, it's not just a saying that calls Potter's Field your kingdom. It really is your kingdom – which also means that you will have to rule it… and you'll need a Court to do so."
"Ok, a Court," Harry said slowly. "But… for what? I mean, I rule the dead. I can't see a reason why I should need a Court at all. It's not as if the dead do a lot."
"I… think you have a too narrow definition of dead," Cedric said with a wince. "Not to mention that traditionally all wizards that mess with the dead – like those who make Inferi – fall under your prosecution as well. Everyone who messes with death or the dead are yours to rule, to command and to punish."
Harry frowned.
"So… Voldemort?"
"Still your problem, I'm afraid," Cedric said. "Not only did he make Inferi, but Horcruxes mess with death as well and therefore are your purview."
"Nice," Harry said sarcastically.
Cedric shrugged.
"At least, nobody can say anything against however you want to solve this conflict," Cedric said. "And a smear campaign like last time will be ill advised for them this time around – at least if they want to keep a cordial relationship with Potter's Field."
"And you think that Fudge would care?" Harry asked dryly.
Cedric looked into the white nothingness thoughtfully.
"Maybe not Fudge," he agreed. "But not a lot of purebloods will dare to cross Potter's Field – because most of them know that there will be consequences."
"I thought the last Potterer is nearly forgotten," Harry pointed out with a frown.
"And yet the Potterers were all frightening enough that even now there's a proverb about them and their position," Cedric pointed out. "Not to mention that there are still some legends that are passed along in the older families. Believe me, those that are just slightly gifted with a brain will think twice about crossing you when they find out you're real."
Harry hummed thoughtfully.
"And that Court stuff you talked about?" he asked. "How… how do I end up with a Court?"
Cedric scratched his head in embarrassment.
"I have no idea," he said. "I guess that Tom and I will be part of it. Most likely your right hand-men and advisors, from what I gathered from our interactions so far. Tom might be your ambassador, since you sent him to the Ministry on your behalf. But… well… maybe you have to reach out and find the rest?"
"Reach out, how?"
Harry looked around for a moment before he closed his eyes and tried to spread his senses. Then he sighed and shook his head.
"I have no idea what I should actually look for or how to find it," he said.
Cedric frowned. "I think there are some requirements that will make a soul available in the first place," he finally said. "I mean, I had a personal connection to you and I hadn't died that long ago. Tom was allowed to return because his son defiled his grave. So… you'll most likely end up with people who were either connected to you, but aren't close blood family since there are restrictions there as far as I know, or with people who are somehow connected to the crimes of your enemies. There are stipulations that can ensure that other souls can petition to come back, too, but those are more complicated."
Harry grimaced.
"So, Death Eaters could–"
"Only those whose morals and goals more or less align with you can even petition to come back from death," Cedric said. "Not to mention that they have to fit into the positions you need for your Court."
"Positions?"
Cedric shrugged. "I don't know," he confessed. "But I know that the next ones being called to you will most likely be a bit more blood-thirsty than me and Tom."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"Because one of your immediate concerns is Voldemort – which means you will call people to you who can help you hunt him and maybe his people down."
"Oh, nice," Harry said with sarcasm in his voice. "I guess I just go and place my order then. I wish to have a dark wizard hunter on my side, next – pretty please with a cherry on top!"
The next moment, there was a lurch that nearly made Harry face-plant and then the white around them cleared away to the familiar sight of Hogwarts.
Harry snorted.
"Guess my order didn't go through," he said and rolled his eyes.
Cedric snorted. "I guess you're right."
Landing in Hogwarts, side by side with Cedric was a weird sensation.
Even the landing wasn't the portkey travel Harry was used to.
No, if at all the portkey was at fault, then it was because unlike normally, Harry hadn't lost his footing while landing.
Instead, for the first time ever, Harry didn't feel dizzy at all when they landed – not a surprise since they didn't whirl or twirl like normally – and he stayed on his feet. It was so surprising that it was worth repeating in Harry's mind.
The only thing that happened was that his vision swam for a moment or two. For a moment Harry was sure to see a clean and empty Hogwarts bathed in white – just like the King's Cross he had seen like that before in the beyond – before his vision cleared to reveal the Hogwarts like Harry knew it.
Harry blinked and let go of the portkey. Without a thought, he stepped away from Cedric and the maze behind him.
"Oh, shit!" he could hear Cedric curse next to him – his voice sounding as if he had a sudden realization, but Harry couldn't actually focus on him. He started to walk towards the Forbidden Forest before he could even think about his actions.
He took two steps without noticing what he was doing before Cedric's hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks.
"Not now, Potter," he said urgently and there was understanding in his voice that Harry couldn't comprehend. "Later."
Something reared up inside Harry, baring no existent teeth at Cedric, ready to rip him apart for stopping him.
'Come,' something seemed to urge Harry from deep inside him. 'Come and get me!'
The only thing that stopped Harry from listening further to that urge was the unspoken promise in Cedric's voice that Harry knew he could take as face value.
'Come and get me!' The urge inside Harry screamed that he needed to go to the forest – and Harry wanted to go now. Something must have been showing on his face, because Cedric's grip tightened while at the same time, his look of sympathy deepened.
"I understand, Potter," he whispered into Harry's ear. "And I'm sorry that I didn't warn you. I didn't think of it, but… the dead are calling you. You have to resist for now. We can't just go to claim the Potter's Field right now – not as long as people are still all around us and we have other things to be concerned about."
Harry frowned and looked up towards Cedric.
"Claim?" he repeated.
Cedric shrugged and grimaced.
"I'm no expert, but from what I've been told by others of your family in death, the Potterer has a need to claim the Potter's Field he died on before turning to others to claim those as well," he said calmly. "You died on the Potter's Field in the Forbidden Forest in the future… so I guess there's a good reason why you feel the need to go there and claim it now."
Harry frowned.
"I didn't feel the urge the last time I was there," he pointed out.
Cedric winced.
"That's because it was different for you, back then," he said – an answer that just deepened Harry's frown.
"Different? Different how?"
Cedric sighed. "You died on that Potter's Field, but… you were in the middle of a war. You had different priorities. If you hadn't gone back in time, you would have ended up with the urge there as well."
"I somehow get the feeling there's a bit more to being the Potterer than just dying," Harry commented dryly.
"A bit," Cedric agreed immediately. "But this is not the time and place to talk about that. Just… remember that you can't go and claim any Potter's Fields right now?"
Harry glared at the other boy.
"You make it sound as if I had no control over me," he said with a huff.
Cedric grimaced.
"Considering that your ancestor claimed that his son ran away from home just to hunt down Potter's Fields after he turned into the Potterer… well, let's just say I'm a bit cautious right now," he countered. "At the moment we really can't afford you running all over Britain to claim your kingdom."
When Harry opened his mouth to object, Cedric simply raised his voice a bit.
"Especially," he continued, "because it's totally unnecessary. You're going to be the Lord over every Potter's Field of the world within the next month or two – and you will be the Lord without running around and claiming each of them yourself."
Harry glared at Cedric but before he could say anything else, people reached them.
"Harry!" Harry turned and saw the headmaster approaching him with hurried steps.
There was concern etched on Albus Dumbledore's face.
Harry swallowed. Looking at the old man and the others running towards him reminded him of the first time he had in this situation. Back then, Cedric had been dead in his arms. Without a thought, Harry reached out towards the other boy and closed his hand around Cedric's wrist. A tingle that spread from the connection between them and a feeling of "mine" told Harry that Cedric was still there and alive.
"It's fine," Cedric said barely audible. "I won't die again."
Harry threw him a look, but Cedric's words had rung true in Harry's ears, and so Harry forced himself to relax. "Am I bound to repeat what happened?" he asked with barely moving his lips, not willing to be heard or seen talking.
"They can't hear or understand you," Cedric answered him calmly. "We're dead. If we don't think about it, we don't speak in a language the living can comprehend in any way or form."
Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"I'm talking a different language?" he asked. "Like parseltongue?"
"Even a parselmouth wouldn't hear a word of our discussion," Cedric countered. "We're dead. The language of the dead is incomprehensible for the living."
Harry threw him a contemplative look, before deciding to simply accept it for now.
"You're also not bound to repeat anything," Cedric added. "The moment you jumped through time the future ceased to exist. The dead and therefore us might remember what happened – but you're not forced to let anything happen that you might be able to prevent just because it happened in the future you came from."
Harry's hand tightened around Cedric's wrist.
"We're talking about everything later," he decided and then threw a look at Cedric. "Don't say a word about what happened with Voldemort."
"I was unconscious," Cedric replied dryly and full of sarcasm. "I really can't say what happened."
Harry's lips twitched. "That's one way to put it." But before he could say anything further, the teachers and other people reached them.
"What happened?" Dumbledore – one of the first people to reach them – asked, his eyes wandering from Harry to Cedric. Harry looked at his shoes. Cedric turned his eyes towards the other people approaching.
"Harry?" Dumbledore repeated while clearly trying to catch Harry's eyes. Harry refused to meet his gaze but decided to answer.
"Voldemort returned," he said, while hoping that he was actually speaking English. From the reaction of the people near enough to understand him, he was successful with that, at least. "The Cup was a port-key. It brought us to m- a Potter's Field and he used my blood to resurrect."
At that, Harry turned and looked at Cedric.
"Voldemort used my blood," he said, slipping back into speaking silently for the living. "Will that affect him somehow? I mean, I'm the Potterer now, aren't I? Does that mean he has the right to being the Potterer as well?"
Cedric snorted.
"While I have no idea if him having your blood affects him somehow, fact is that when he took your blood, you weren't the Potterer yet and even if you had been… he wouldn't have gained your legacy through a bit of blood."
"Oh," Harry said relived. "Good."
"It might have even killed him, if you had been the Potterer already," Cedric added thoughtfully. "Or at least hindered him significantly."
Harry wondered if he could find a way to exchange his current blood with the one Voldemort had gotten from him. Harry would have even given it voluntarily if it meant to hinder Voldemort.
In that moment, other people finally reached them.
Harry winced when there was suddenly pressure on his ears; they felt clogged. He reached for the ear with his free hand – the other one still clutching Cedric's wrist – and tried to remove the pressure without success.
"What happened?" some of them asked, their voices intermingling.
"Look at his leg!" some others said. "And at their clothes!"
"They were gone far too long," some people whispered. "Wherever they went, the portkey didn't bring them here immediately."
"They have to go to the Hospital wing!" Fudge declared, his voice rising over the crowd, but Harry wasn't listening.
Something was at the edge of his senses… a kind of deep-seated fury spreading through the air. The pressure on his ears strengthened.
"Diggory's parents, they're here, they're on the stand…"
Harry's ears suddenly popped, just to clog up again a moment later, now worse than before.
"He should be punished," the wind cawed.
Then, someone reached for Harry's shoulder.
"I'm going to take Harry, Dumbledore–" A well-known voice mumbled well remembered words next to Harry's ear. A hand clomped down on Harry's wrist.
"Harry, stay–"
But the false Moody already tried to lead Harry away, no matter what Dumbledore was saying.
"He should suffer–"
Amos Diggory reached them and hugged his son close. While Harry had been able to hold onto Cedric until that moment, Amos Diggory's lunge at his son had dislodged Harry's hand from Cedric's wrist.
Harry felt oddly empty with the connection severed – as if he was needing something that was currently missing.
"He should be forced to experience the same–"
Moody started to pull on Harry's hand, forcing him to take a few more steps away from Cedric.
Harry looked at Cedric who was caught in his father's embrace, but when the other boy tried to free himself from his father's grip, he shook his head.
"Stay," Harry said, not willing to add Cedric to the chaos with the false Moody. Harry had escaped the false Moody before – and he doubted it would differ this time around. "I'll be fine."
"He should be punished," the wind cawed.
Harry shook his head, and faked a yawn while he tried unclog his ears. It felt as if he was currently under water. Everything around him seemed to be muted.
"Stay," Harry repeated when Cedric didn't seem to listen. "It's alright."
Cedric's gaze narrowed, but in the end, he subsided. Harry just had to glare at the other boy while he let himself being drawn away by the false Moody to keep him in place.
"Let me punish him," the wind begged Harry and Harry wondered if this was another thing about being a Potterer that he hadn't yet learned about.
Moody meanwhile dragged him up the stone steps and further into Hogwarts.
Harry didn't object, didn't show any inclination that he knew that the man ushering him along the corridors was anyone but Moody. When he was asked about what had happened, he kept his answers short and a certain amount of truthful.
He spoke about Voldemort's return, about the Death Eaters, without ever mentioning that he had been killed and then his people had gone and killed many of Voldemort's in return.
And all the while, the wind was whispering around him, begging him to give him leave and punish someone.
It was when Moody handed him the drink, like he had the last time, that Harry's control floundered.
He had drunk it, and he had survived… but this time, he knew the man was a Death Eater and Harry's trust definitely wasn't great enough to drink the brew again.
"Drink it," the other man said, "then you'll feel better."
And while Harry knew that had been the truth that didn't change the fact that the man in front of him was a Death Eater and didn't mean him well.
Harry hesitated.
The drink was pressed to his lips.
"Let me, please," the wind begged Harry again.
The pressure on Harry's ears strengthened.
"Sure," he finally whispered when the Death Eater's grip on Harry hardened.
In the next moment, the drink in the hand of the man was yanked away from Harry's mouth by an invisible force.
The drink spilled.
"What–?" The startled Death Eater asked, but Harry immediately launched into a more thorough explanation of Voldemort's return than just the question's he had been answering the other man before.
"Voldemort is back," Harry said and the Death Eater's attention was immediately drawn in by his words, the spillage forgotten for the moment. "There was a ritual. He took something from the grave of his father, something from Wormtail and something from me…"
The world around Harry seemed to turn a bit fuzzy and Harry wondered if whatever had been in that cup might have really helped him before. He couldn't remember seeing the world going in and out of focus the last time around.
But then, he had been in a lot of shock the last time, too, so maybe he simply didn't remember it anymore…
"He's going to suffer," there was smugness in the caw of the wind. The voice seemed to come from the entrance of the room, so Harry turned his glare in that direction.
For a moment, everything blurred in front of Harry's eyes. The surrounding whitened and Harry was sure that he could see a ghost leaning on the doorframe; then the apparition dissolved into an afterimage shaped like bird in flight before it vanished without a trace as if it had never been there.
Harry blinked and the world sharpened again.
Mood had pulled his wand and was now aiming it at Harry.
Harry looked at it in surprise while he internally thought that it couldn't be long now until Dumbledore and the others would break down the door. Harry was already waiting for it.
"The Dark Lord and I," said Moody, and he looked completely insane now, towering over Harry, leering down at him, "have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers… very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure… the very great pleasure… of killing our fathers, to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!"
"You're mad," Harry said – he couldn't stop himself – "you're mad!"
"Mad, am I?" said Moody, nis voice rising uncontrollably. "We'll see! We'll see who's mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him – and now – I conquer you!"
Moody raised his wand, he opened his mouth, Harry plunged his own hand into his robes –
He expected Dumbledore and the others to burst into the door just like they had done the first time around, he didn't expect the world around him to whiten again. This time around, it stayed like that, giving Harry the feeling as if he was back in the odd King's Cross.
"What?"
The room was still the same, but the walls were white instead of grey and everything seemed to be oddly clean.
The false Moody's gaze snapped up and he looked around wildly. "Potter? What in Merlin's name–?"
"Ah, I doubt the Potterer knows how to answer that question, just yet," a calm voice intercepted. It was the voice of the wind.
Harry's eyes turned towards the door where the voice was coming from.
The door was open and, in the doorway, stood a man Harry had never seen before.
The man was finely clad with robes and some old-fashioned vest and tie in black. His hair was shorn short at the sides, but long and slicked backwards on top. It was still black without any grey in it and the man's eyes looked as black as his hair. He had slight wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, but still looked quite young.
He was leaning casually against the doorframe and scrutinized the false Moody.
"Who are you?" said man asked and turned his wand onto the stranger.
"Your wand will do you no good here," the stranger said before he stood up straight and bowed to Harry.
"Lord Potter," he greeted Harry. "I plead with you to take me on as one of your own."
Harry frowned at the man.
"One of my own?" he asked before his eyes widened when the evidence connected.
"We're in the beyond," he said. "Or the in-between or however you'd call it."
"We're behind the veil in your realm, yes, sir," the stranger agreed.
Harry frowned and looked at the false Moody next to him who was looking from Harry to the stranger and back, his wand changing directions as often as his gaze.
"What's going on?" he whispered to himself and Harry was sure that the other man had tried to cast spells and failed. "What's happening?"
The stranger just threw him an amused look before turning towards Harry.
"My Lord Potter?" he asked.
Harry instead looked at the false Moody.
"How is he here?" he asked with a frown.
"I guess your control isn't yet the best, sir," the stranger in the doorway replied calmly. "The room we're in has seen death before and while it's no Potter's Field, the fact that quite a lot of people must have died in this narrow space means that you have enough of a connection to your realm here to go there."
Harry frowned.
"So… I dragged him here?"
"Most likely, sir," the stranger agreed before he scrutinized the false Moody. "But I'm not sure if you'll be able to take him back with you again…"
Harry raised an eyebrow and then looked at Moody who looked more and more afraid from second to second.
"He's… acting weird," he finally commented.
"He's in the process of losing his mind," the stranger replied disinterestedly. "The living can't cope with this realm."
Harry blinked and then looked the false Moody over a bit more closely.
The man had started to sweat and his form of Moody had started to blur.
"His form," Harry asked.
"He took that other Auror's form," the stranger answered. "He was convinced that he was currently looking like that man, so he appeared like that, here. Now, he's losing concentration so he's losing form."
Harry hummed thoughtfully.
"So… does that mean he will return to his true appearance, soon?" he asked thoughtfully.
"If he can hold it," the stranger agreed. "Otherwise, he will turn into a scheme instead. If that happens, his body will die."
Harry blinked at the callousness the other man displayed.
"Is that normal for the dead?" he asked and turned his eyes on the other man. "Being disinterested in things that sound horrifying for the living?"
The answer was a raised eyebrow.
"He's a Death Eater," the stranger said unperturbed. "I met a few people he killed."
Harry raised his eyebrows.
"Do I want to know how the grapevine is functioning in the beyond?" he asked the stranger a bit amused.
The answer was a smirk.
"I'm sure you don't, Potter," he replied. "Otherwise, you might never sleep without nightmares ever again."
Harry hummed in thoughtful agreement and then looked at Barty Crouch Jr, who was more and more looking like himself instead of Moody.
"Is… is there a way to remove him from here?" he finally asked. "I mean… without damaging his mind?"
The stranger looked at Crouch with narrowed eyes.
"Not really," he finally said. "At least, not anymore."
Harry raised his eyebrow at the stranger. "So, if I acted earlier–?"
"No," the other man shook his head, his face calm. "This has nothing to do with acting earlier or with him staying here. He was lost the moment you agreed to let me take actions."
Harry frowned and it took him a moment to remember the spilled drink.
"So… my agreement back then is killing him?" he asked a bit confused. "Why?"
The other man raised one of his shoulders.
"He's a sacrifice," he said placidly. "I need a sacrifice to exist here – and he is the perfect one for me."
Harry narrowed his eyes at the stranger at that admission. He didn't like the implication at all.
"You need a sacrifice?" he asked. "You're… a dark wizard?"
"No," the stranger immediately countered. "But I'm not from around here."
When Harry looked at him in confusion, he elaborated further.
"I died in the United States of America," the stranger said calmly. "I was also never buried; my body was eviscerated and disassembled. It was never found."
For a moment, the stranger's face changed, revealing stripes of muscles where his skin seemed to have been removed by someone. His immaculate hair grew out in some spots and seemed to be ripped out in a lot of others. There seemed to be whole chunks of his body missing and the robes seemed to have been replaced by a simple, ragged and dirty linen shirt which was barely letting him keep his dignity. Whatever part of unclothed skin Harry could see – which was a lot – that wasn't covered in fresh looking wounds was suddenly covered in scars. Then the stranger shook his head and his appearance returned to the impeccable one from before.
"It's been decades, and there was nothing left of me when my murderer was done," he said with a sigh, his eyes finding Harry's. "I'm here for a second chance. I am willing to be whatever you need me to be for a chance to return to the living; for a chance of justice."
Harry looked pointedly at Crouch.
"How is it justice if he's going to lose his mind?" he asked.
The other man shrugged.
"It was him or nobody else for me," he said. "The only reason that I could come and ask you to be allowed into your service was thanks to him and his deeds, after all."
Harry frowned. "I'm not following."
The other man straightened and then took a few steps into the room, closer to Crouch.
His face was thoughtful, but his eyes were merciless.
"There are two ways for us dead to ask for servitude," he replied, his eyes looking Crouch over who was turning and turning, looking around wildly and clearly not focusing anymore.
"The first way," the stranger said. "Is the easier. You step into a Potter's Field and one of us has reasons enough to return to the living." He shrugged. "Or one of us is bound closely enough to you – without being related to you – to be allowed to return when they asked."
His eyes flickered to Harry.
"Your two right-hand men took those routes," he elaborated. "The boy… he was someone you grieved for – hence he was close enough to return as long as he asked for it. Tom Riddle, on the other hand, had reasons thanks to his grave being disturbed for a dark ritual by his son."
Then he sighed.
"I, on the other hand," he continued. "Don't have that choice. Even when your power is grown enough that every Potter's Field in the world will be yours…" He shook his head, his mien dark. "I wouldn't be allowed or able to return like that."
"Because you weren't buried," Harry whispered. It was oddly horrifying and weird that Harry felt horrified by something like that at all since it was known to happen.
"Exactly," the stranger agreed and his gaze returned to the Death Eater who didn't seem to notice them anymore. "But he… he is my way to offer my servitude and I have to say that I don't regret the fact that it will harm him in some way. He lost his soul the last time around without anybody benefiting from it. This time around, it would have most likely been the same. I think me benefiting from it is the better idea."
Harry hummed.
"You think that Fudge would –" he stopped himself and shook his head. "Of course, Fudge would do the same again. Even with Tom at the Ministry he will do everything he can to stick his head in the sand – which also means that Crouch Jr would most likely lose is soul to a Dementor no matter what we do."
The stranger inclined his head.
"Like I said," he said and met Harry's gaze calmly. "Like that there's at least some benefit from his insanity."
Harry sighed and wondered if he shouldn't feel horrified nevertheless. Surprisingly, he was a lot less disgusted by the argument than he expected to be.
"Why do you need him?" Harry asked instead and looked at the Death Eater as well. "I mean… it sounded as if it had to be him, and nobody else?"
"My death was similar to what he made the old Auror go through," the stranger replied. "But while you found out in time, I died in captivity with the man who had me wearing my face."
Harry grimaced.
"So… it's him because of your circumstances?" he asked.
"It's a twisted way of justice," the stranger agreed. "I died in captivity while my tormentor wore my face – and the one who has to be sacrificed so that I can make my offer will lose his mind while wearing the face of the one he stole the identity of and tormented."
Harry hummed thoughtfully. It really sounded twisted, but at the same time, it made an odd kind of sense.
"So… you're not a dark wizard then?" he asked thoughtfully and the stranger shrugged.
"I was once the Director of Magical Security and Head of MACUSA's DMLE," he replied calmly before bowing to Harry. "Percival Ira Donnacha Graves."
Harry frowned.
"MACUSA?" he asked, a bit confused.
"The Magical Congress of the United States of America," Graves answered calmly.
"Oh," Harry had always known that his magical education hadn't been the best but not knowing the name of the magical Americas… well, it just showed how bad it actually was.
For a moment, Harry scrutinized the other man.
"If… if I agree to your request and grant you servitude –" and wasn't that odd to consider "– what do you plan to do?"
Grave hummed thoughtfully.
"Everyone of those chosen as a servant to you will have their specific roles they will grow into," he finally said. "From what I saw within the last hour, Riddle might turn into your ambassador. As for Diggory, well, we'll see."
Then his eyes turned towards Crouch.
"I'm not a good right-hand man like those two," he said. "I can play politics, but… I've always been an Auror first."
Harry frowned.
"So… what do you expect to be for me?" he asked.
"The same I was in MACUSA," Graves said calmly. "I offer to be your left-hand – the one to hunt those who break the rules."
Harry blinked in surprise.
"The dead can break the rules?" he asked. "I mean… how? They're dead!"
Graves' lips twitched in amusement.
"The living can break the rules of Potter's Field," he corrected Harry. "Inferi, Horcruxes, necromancy… all that is part of your purview. The DMLEs might have the allowance by you to take them in, too, but in the end, it's at your discretion. Not to mention grave-robbery."
Harry immediately grimaced in distaste.
It was odd, just a few hours ago, hearing about wizards or goblins opening graves willy-nilly hadn't been part of his concerns… now, on the other hand, he felt distaste at just the thought of the dead whose body was buried in the grave not being asked beforehand.
"This… is going to be something I will have get use to first," he said to himself and shook his head.
Graves inclined his head.
"The dead have different priorities," he agreed. "You will learn – and your Court will help you learn while they learn their areas of responsibility at your feet."
"You want to be a part of them," Harry noted and Graves inclined his head.
"I think I can help you there," he agreed. "I was good at what I did, and I want to return there if I can."
"And your murderer?" Harry asked.
"If you asked if I plan to get revenge, then no," Graves immediately replied. "At least not in the sense that I will try and kill him. Death is the easy way out, after all."
Which told Harry two things. First, Graves' murderer was still alive and second, maybe he should look into who it was before they ended up crossing path again.
Which… actually brought Harry to a third realization – he would agree to Graves' request in the end, because he was obviously already planning to keep Graves and his murderer as far apart as he could.
Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Graves' eyes started to gleam.
"My Lord Potter," he said, suddenly very formal. "Do you, Lord Henry James Potter, the Potterer of the Potter's Fields, agree to take me, Percival Ira Donnacha Graves, the Magical Congress of the United States of America's former Director of Magical Security and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, on as a loyal servant until a time you won't find use for me anymore or I request to be released from my vow?"
Harry inwardly sighed at the formal way Graves was stating the request and wondered how often he would have to go through the process until his senior staff was full.
"I, Henry James Potter, agree to take you, Percival Ira Donnacha Graves," he nearly stumbled over the pronunciation of 'Donnacha', "on as a loyal servant until a time I won't find use for you anymore or you request to be released from your vow."
The moment he said the words, a golden light connected them, getting brighter and brighter until everything suddenly blacked out.
Harry blinked and opened his eyes back at Hogwarts.
The door burst and Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape came through, disarming Crouch Jr who was still waving his wand around madly. Harry couldn't help but wonder if one of the other wizards even noticed that the false Moody clearly wasn't right in his mind, anymore.
When Dumbledore and the others simply disarmed Crouch Jr and then proceeded to question him, Harry guessed that the answer to his question was a resolute 'no'.
Well… Fudge would hopefully take care of the Death Eater before anybody else could notice that Crouch might have lost all his marbles while being alone with Harry…
With that thought, Harry willingly went to the hospital wing after Dumbledore had decided to send him there. He didn't object when he was put into bed and then tooted about by Madam Pomphrey.
Cedric was in the bed next to him, clearly having endured the good witch's mothering already.
"Concentrate on your heartbeat and fasten it up until you feel like you've been running for hours," he told Harry after Harry had been ushered to bed.
Harry frowned at Cedric for a moment, but nodded and then tried to do as Cedric had said. He was surprised that he could actually control his heartbeat quite easily, even if he was also sure that he had never been able to do so before.
"Hmm," Madam Pomphrey said. "Your heartbeat is a bit slow. Are you exhausted, dear?"
Harry forcefully suppressed his surprise so that the mediwitch didn't notice it.
"I am," he agreed, lying through his teeth.
Madam Pomphrey nodded.
"You should go to sleep," she decided. "I have some potions for you and some antivenom and then you should rest somewhat."
Harry nodded, quite happy when she bustled off a few minutes later. The moment the door closed behind her, leaving Harry and Cedric alone, Graves appeared out of thin air right next to Harry's bed.
Cedric raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Don't tell me you went outside and claimed that Potter's Field even after I told you not to do it right now?" he asked dryly.
"Actually, he didn't," Graves said and sat down on Harry's bed.
Harry narrowed his eyes first at Cedric and then at Graves. "You can feel that he's one of mine?" he asked Cedric.
Cedric hummed. "You can't?" he countered. As if his question was all that Harry needed, suddenly the connection to death was as clear as day to him, too. It felt like a sixth sense simply told him that they both were his people.
"Huh," he said. "Curious."
"You're going to get used to it," Graves said calmly. "Your senses are still waking. It'll take some time until you're ready to fully take over as the Potterer."
Harry crooked his head. "So… I'm not yet fully considered the Potterer?" he asked thoughtfully.
"You're the Potterer-in-training," Graves replied unbothered. "You will have to establish yourself and your Court first before you really are the Potterer. You'll most-likely end up with some help to catch you up on your duties, soon."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I thought that might be Cedric's job?" he asked full of interest.
Graves scrutinized Cedric. "I guess you have a parent who is immersed in the current British Government of Magic?"
Cedric nodded.
"Guess he will be your political advisor, then," Graves told Harry unbothered. "He knows how the current government works and most likely has contacts to other children of government workers. In a few years, his network will be what will keep you up-to-date and will build one of the pillars of your power. But I doubt he knows a lot about Potter's Field."
"I don't," Cedric agreed.
"Which means he can't advise me on it," Harry concluded grimly. "So… I'm missing an advisor?"
"You'll get one in time," Graves said dryly. "Currently, you seem to be more interested in someone to hunt down your enemies. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here."
"I thought it was Crouch Jr's sacrifice that brought you?" Harry countered.
"It allowed me to petition my joining," Graves corrected him and leaned against the bedpost. "But it was your wishes that made me take notice. You wanted someone who will hunt dark wizards for you – which meant that my chances were high that you might agree to my petition."
Harry blinked. "Well," he finally said slowly. "I guess my wish wasn't that senseless, after all."
He shook his head. "I think I need some more explanations," Harry said and turned first to Cedric and then to Graves. "I have questions. And honestly? I have no idea what I have to ask, in some cases…"
Graves nodded and then sat down next to Harry, his form blurring for a moment. Harry frowned.
"Real visibility," Graves said. "You might be soon able to see me no matter what I do, but like I am now, everyone could see me if they entered."
"Oh," Harry said and nodded slowly. "Just like with Tom and Cedric on the grave… Potter's Field, then."
"Exactly," Cedric agreed, quite pleased by Harry's understanding.
Harry hummed, and then thought about which question he would like to have answered first. Finally, he decided to start with the easy one.
"My parents named me Henry?" he asked.
Cedric blinked and he and Graves exchanged a look that seemed more confused than anything else.
"No, Potter," Graves finally answered slowly. "Your given name is Harry," Cedric added a moment later.
Harry frowned. "Then… why the whole Henry thing?"
Cedric scratched his head. "Well, if you don't like it, you could use a different version, too," he said slowly. "Like… Heinrich Jakob… or Hendrik Yacov or Henricus Iacomus… whatever version you fancy, honestly. I just decided to go with the easiest version right now. But… you're not bound to it. You can decide on another one, if you so wish. It'll only be formal when your base Court is assembled and you introduce yourself to the world of the living."
Harry blinked.
"Theoretically," Graves continued thoughtfully. "You could even go and use your given name. Harry is a version of Henry, after all. You could just go by Harry James Potter if you wish."
Harry blinked.
"Er… that's… my name?" he finally said when Cedric just nodded in agreement to Graves' words. When the other two frowned, Harry ducked his head, but continued to speak anyway, "I… my given name is Harry James Potter."
Cedric and Graves exchanged a look.
"In that case I would recommend to at least use Henry," Graves finally decided.
"And better yet, you should think about changing James into something else, too," Cedric said decisively.
Harry frowned.
"You two aren't helping at all when it comes to explaining things," he pointed out and when the other two men frowned, Harry just huffed and added. "Just… think of me being a muggleborn without any knowledge of the magical world, ok?"
"Muggleborn?" Graves looked a bit lost.
"I think you call them No-Maj-Born," Cedric helpfully supplied.
"Ah," Graves nodded and then crooked his head. "So… no knowledge at all?" He stopped and then shook his head. "And now I wonder how you survived seven years in the magical world, Milord."
Harry pressed his lips together. "No comment."
Cedric blinked, looking from Graves to Harry, but before he could say something, Graves spoke up again.
"The name you used when accepting us is your title," he said. "The moment you took on your responsibilities as a Potterer, you took on the title of a Potterer. I guess Diggory just used the versions of the name he'd be most familiar with – just like I used the versions I was most familiar with. I guess, since Tom was accepted by you the same time as Diggory, he decided to use the same title as Diggory."
Harry blinked. "So… Henry James Potter is a title?" he asked incredulously.
Cedric shrugged. "More or less?" he offered. "Your magic, your actions and the feeling we get from you gives us your… well, an idea for your kingly name. You're going to be a supplanter, a revolutionist, hence, your… well, personal royal name will be Jacob or any variation thereof – which is why I used James."
"Oh," Harry said, his mind swirling with that new information. "So… you called me James because of the meaning of the name?"
"Exactly," Cedric said with a shrug. "It was your own magic, mind and soul that supplied the meaning and offered me versions that would fit you. I chose James because I know that your father was called James and I thought you'd prefer a more familiar version."
Then Cedric grimaced. "But I wouldn't have chosen that name if I had known that your personal name includes James already," he said. "The royal name is meant to distinguish your personal life from your official one. Having the same name is counterproductive."
"Not to mention that any Potterer is called a version of Henry, as far as I heard in the beyond," Graves added.
Cedric nodded as well.
"The name is our version of calling you the ruler of our home," he said. "Most of the living have forgotten that the ruler beyond the veil has a name… but some… like the Dutch, I think, still call Death a version of Henry."
Harry frowned.
"So… why don't you just call me Henry then?" he asked. "I mean, you offered to call me Potter or Milord, but not Henry."
"Because you aren't the ruler behind the veil right now," Graves said calmly. "The current ruler is still Henricus – your predecessor. It was him that we petitioned to be allowed to return to you and offer our service."
Harry blinked.
"Wait," he said slowly. "You mean… that one day I will rule over death?! Like… everyone behind the veil?!"
Graves inclined his head. "The moment you've found your footing you will slowly but surely take over Henricus' duties," he agreed. "But that will only happen after you have established the goals of your Court and your closest advisors. If you wish to, we can think about calling you by your chosen first name when you start to take on your duties. But… not now."
Harry reeled.
"I… am not sure I want to be the rule beyond the veil," he finally managed to say.
"That's fine," Cedric said kindly. "You'll have time to get used to that thought."
"But–"
Before Harry could say anything further, he could hear steps in the hallway. His eyes immediately travelled to Graves. Panic cursed through him.
"They won't be able to see me if I don't want them to," Graves assured him. "You forget, that we are bound to you."
Harry frowned. "You mean because I'm the Master of Death? Your Potterer?"
"The Master of Death has only claimed the Hallows," Cedric corrected calmly.
"But the Potterer has claimed the dead," Graves added. "Those of us that bound ourselves as your Court are a part of you." He pulled out his wand and lifted it to show it to Harry.
Harry's breath stopped.
It was the Elder Wand.
Cedric calmly lifted his hand, showing of a ring that Harry knew but had never seen Cedric wear before. The Resurrection Stone.
"I am your left hand," Graves said and his cloak shimmered like Harry's Invisibility Cloak.
"And I am one of your right hands," Cedric added, his robes taking on the same shimmer.
"You wield my Hallows," Harry said, his eyes flickering from one to the other. "That's why the Death Eaters in the gravey… my Potter's Field couldn't see you! That's why nobody could see Graves until now!"
"You'll soon be able to see me, no matter if I use your Invisibility Cloak to its fullest ability or not," Graves intercepted calmly. "You're just missing the training to see more than me using the Cloak in its first layer right now."
"First layer?" Harry asked confused.
"The way most humans use it," Graves said. "Just throwing it over you to conceal yourself instead of actually activating it."
Harry winced. He guessed he had a lot to learn if he didn't even know that you could activate the Cloak. Nevertheless, there was still something more important bothering him right now, "you… do you both… wield all…?"
"We don't wield all of your Hallows," Cedric corrected him immediately. "I am your right hand, which means I will have the means to get information. That's why I wield the Resurrection Stone for you if I need it. Tom will be able to do the same."
"I wield the Elder Wand for you, if you need me to," Graves added and looked at the wand thoughtfully before it vanished without a trace from his fingers. "I am your left hand. If I act in your name, I will be able to use it like it is my own."
"What about the cloak?" Harry couldn't help but ask, his eyes travelling from one shimmering robe to the next.
"That's different," Cedric said. "You're the Potterer. As a born Potter, the cloak is your birthright, hence, we all can access it."
Harry nodded.
Then the steps stopped in front of the doors. The doors opened and Graves vanished without a trace before the person behind them could see him, leaving Harry and Cedric to endure the fallout of Crouch Jr being kissed and the reactivation of the Order of the Phoenix.
"We're not waiting around for them to start fighting against Voldemort this time around," Harry said to Cedric, audible only to the dead. "I did it once. I know better now."
And Cedric smirked.
… … …
Call me a dreamer, Call me insane.
I'll survive the storm, I'll take the pain.
… … …
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
Guess I finally managed to add another chapter to that. I have to say, those scenes were fighting me a lot and I think I have never rewritten a single chapter as often as this one in my LIFE.
Hope you liked it.
'Till next time.
Ebenbild