[To Sirius,
If you were to ever read this book again, if you were to ever see this- I want to let you know that I know. I know how you tricked my ex-best friend into almost killing himself. I know that you tricked your best friend into almost killing him. I know the details and I know the dirty secrets.
But I want to let you know that I think that you would be half the man you are today if you hadn't learned that lesson. It doesn't excuse the terrible crime you tried to commit. You nearly let people ruin themselves by playing them like chess pieces. And it is only a miracle that it was averted.
You saw that you made a mistake. And you did the one thing that redeemed yourself in the eyes of your friends. You learned. And you swore to never make that mistake again. Because you watch yourself so much, I think you also learned valuable lessons that changed how you act and think. And you are greater because of it.
You saw anger in yourself. And you strived to overcome it. To control it instead of letting it control you. You saw that kindness in small actions was special and more touching than big gestures that felt overwhelming (yes, I am referencing your sixth-year valentines date. How did you get a stuffed animal that large up Gryffindor tower I will never know). You saw love and you saw beauty because you looked outside yourself after you realized you hated the darkness within you. And you drew it inside of you.
You say you do not deserve forgiveness. And I don't know if I am even worthy of saying it. But Sirius, I forgive you. You made a change. You worked so hard to try to redeem yourself and you succeeded. The past is the past. And you need to look forward to see the future. Stop looking back. Stop living in the one moment that almost ruined lives. Because it didn't. Don't forget it entirely, but stop dwelling on the one horrible mistake you made years ago. It will do nothing but harm if you continue to beat yourself up over something you cannot change.
I only want to see you be happy. To be free of your self-imposed chains. I want you to show my daughter how to be like you.
With love,
Lily Potter [written on the last page]
-Excerpt from the Marauders Compendium]
A girl gets off of the train.
The sound of her footstep landing on the train platform rang out for miles. An innocuous sound. Truth be told, it didn't make much noise. But the act itself was part of a defiance that only spoke of twisting the rules of the universe itself. And it caused things to happen. Not that the girl cared much for the dead, who carried onwards past the veil. Faces that once carried value were motionless and still. Their bodies pushed forwards in a surging stream as they lined up to get onto the forbidden train. To move onwards. No, she mostly ignored them.
The whitewashed platform of a famous train station was packed to the brim of the dead. It was a small portion of where the dead could possibly arrive. There were thousands upon millions of different versions of the veil. A train station. An airport. A large doorway. They were all the same. Colorless, tasteless, soundless, emotionless, empty holes that took the once-living creatures of the world and brought them back to the abyss where they came from. The veil of death was always the same. Once the souls have passed through its tendrils they could not come back to the living. The only difference about this particular version was because it was a favourite of a particularly powerful being of the cosmos.
It is to be said-
Death is the same in all of the universes.
There have been dozens of reports given saying that this universe was different by this thing. Or because somebody did that thing. Or how a girl read a book. Or how a boy got a scar. Choices make a difference.
But not to Death.
Oh no. All of the universes have death. There is sometimes a limited amount of immortality that is occasionally thrown around. It is easier to gain immortality than you'd think. But it never prolongs a life longer than it would be allowed by the Powers That Be. The rules for death, when it comes to the multitude of universes, come down to a few sentences.
You die when you are meant to. No sooner. No later.
There is no coming back.
Heaven does not accept coupons. Not anymore.
Simples. Blunt. To the point. There is simplicity in death. Because it is always the same. There is never a difference between two universes for death because to that realm and to the Being of death, they are the same.
And so, when a girl stepped off the train, some things were changing. The universe changed hands. No longer bound by the rules of Fate's Office. Entities were no longer in charge here. Death was managing this universe now.
And it all started with a book.
Harriet felt like a zombie. Which was funny because Harriet thought zombies actually existed in the magical world. Turns out, not really. But that didn't mean that she couldn't use it against Dudley when she saw him again. He was afraid of them after watching a movie on the telly. It wasn't a movie that Aunt Petunia would have approved of. But Harriet knew he watched it because she saw him sneak out of bed to watch it in the middle of the night. But still, she felt like she was an empty shell. Stumbling around and looking out for things to consume later on. Midnight adventures to the kitchen were becoming common to Harriet, as her body begged her for more energy.
Harriet didn't sleep much anymore. And she fell back onto her old habits. Her hair hung loosely around her face and slightly tangled. Unwashed and crinkled clothing. She felt like she was in a daze. Harriet went through the motions of daily life. Writing down useless notes. Waving her wand around in a meaningless manner. Following the Herd as they drew her through the days. It was a little ironic that Harriet depended so much on the Herd now. They never failed to corral her into each class on time and pushed her out when the period ended. Pushing food in front of her and making sure she went to her room every night. They kept her from just sinking into a corner somewhere and muttering nonsense to herself.
It was odd to depend on them. A little uncomfortable. But Harriet couldn't lie to say that it was awful, per se. But she definitely didn't like it. But it kept her going. With her sleepless nights, pouring over books. Early morning runs to the library. Plotting when the full moon rose.
Harriet had one chance. And she didn't dare let herself relax. Too many things had been taken away from her when she let her guard down. And she will not make that mistake again. Ever. She had to make her runic circle and activate it as the full moon rose into the sky. There was only one more cycle of the moon left in the school year. And Harriet will not let it pass by. She won't allow herself to fail. Not again. Not anymore.
And then the day arrived.
At one point, Harriet realized she was taking a test. She looked up to see she was in Binns class, with the head of everybody bent over their desks. Bewildered that the end of year tests was happening, which had completely slipped her mind. She had been so focused on counting dates and watching the moon get full again. She had spent time getting the right symbols drawn perfectly, so there would be no room for error. Harriet had stumbled around in the forest trying to find an out of the way area to do the ritual in. Between her new goal and being utterly exhausted all the time, she had completely forgotten the end of year exams. Harriet's sleepy brain gave a mental shrug, it was the most she could do. And she bent down and filled out the test to the best of her capabilities. She did the same in the rest of her classes. Harriet was even a little surprised she managed to get her feather to float to the ceiling, much to Flitwick's delight. Figures, she had managed to do after spending weeks not touching her wand. McGonagall was unimpressed with Harriet's failed teacup, the mousetail still wiggling around. But it was better than anything she made before in class.
Whatever. She'll pass the class.
There were still more classes to take. More tests to suffer through. And Harriet's head was pounding by the end of only three tests. But it was lunchtime. And the full moon rose that night. So Harriet would just get through the rest of the day. She only had herbology left. And then she'd take a short nap. An elf would help her wake up. And wham, bam, thank you, ma'am, she'd be free. One little ritual, a cut on her hand, and it'll be over.
Harriet would finally be able to be unblocked.
Lunch came with the unusual news of Dumbledore's departure from the school. He would be gone for the rest of the day, and wouldn't be back until the next. It was like a ray of sunshine hit Harriet. What good fortune. Finally. Good luck. Dumbledore would be gone, and he wouldn't be able to stop her.
(If she had looked at the Gryffindor table, she would have seen a trio of friends exchanging horrified looks.
"Snape will do it tonight!" Hermione whispered to her friends. "He got Dumbledore out so he can steal the stone!"
"We will stop him!" Ron promised, "we will have to wait later tonight. I bet that's when the snake will try to go after it."
Neville gave a worried look to them. "Should we tell a teacher? We should go get McGonagall."
"No way." Ron made a disgusted face. "We should do it ourselves. Like any teacher would believe us. We're the heroes."
"It's a good idea." Hermione nodded her head thoughtfully. "But if Professor McGonagall won't do anything, then we are the only thing stopping Snape from getting his hands on the stone!"
"Agreed," Neville said. "We'll stop him tonight.")
Harriet saw three sets of footsteps on her Marauders map. Her bag was full of things for the ritual. Candles. Wax. A knife. Charcoal. And for a little bit, her mind was clear. She could think without the fog of exhaustion hovering over her head. Her rest after herbology had helped immensely with her fatigue. But to her bewilderment, she didn't see anybody in the hallway. But it was clear in the book that there were, indeed, three people bunched up together slowly walking down the hall. She must be going mad because she didn't see anybody there.
Maybe the map was wrong?
She held up a candle, it's little flame alight. Trying to see into the gloom of the hallway. The light didn't reach very far. "Hello?" She hesitantly called out. If she was caught… her heart thumped. She couldn't afford to make a mistake. But her map was telling her that somebody was coming towards her. The moon was set to rise in a few hours. It was past midnight, and the early hours of the morning were creeping by. Nobody should be here. The portraits were out like a light. And yet-
"Hello?" She whispered again. She hoped against all hope that somehow the map was faulty. A bit wrong.
She heard a soft thump. A whisper. A hissed voice. Somebody trying to be quiet.
Wait a second.
She knew that sound. Harriet narrowed her eyes.
"Hermione?" Harriet called out. She glanced down and saw the footsteps were directly in front of her. And without any hesitation, she kicked. Her foot collided with something. A pained grunt hit her, and the air wavered like a cloth in the wind. And just like that, the trio was revealed to her. Well, more like Ron's leg.
Once the gig was up, the three pulled off the invisibility cloak. An invisibility cloak. Her mind was thrown for a loop. What… what was it made of? Harriet suddenly gulped at the salvia that accumulated in her mouth. Was it demiguise fur? Was it a spell? Or… a potion? Harriet wanted to get her paws on it. If she could reverse engineer it then her potion-
"Why did you have to kick me?" Ron whined like he wasn't an awful person.
"Shh!" Hermione whispered. "You'll wake the paintings." She was right, of course. As always.
"Harriet," Neville said, catching the red-haired girl's attention. "We are on an important mission. We figured out why the third floor was banned for anybody to be on it. Turns out, Hogwarts is housing the philosopher's stone. And we figured out that Snape has been trying to steal it for ages. Now that Dumbledore is gone, he's going to take it tonight!"
Any potioneer with any kind of intelligence knew about the stone. "Why?" Harriet blurted out, "why would the stone be here?" This castle wasn't guarded enough for it. There wasn't enough security. It was a sitting duck!
(If she could get her hands on the stone…)
"Cuz it's Hogwarts?" Ron shrugged. "And Dumbledore is the greatest wizard ever. He's too powerful. Nobody, except Snape, would try to steal it."
"Dumbledore is Nicholas Flamel's friend," Hermione interjected. "And we should go! We might be too late already."
"Come with us," Neville said. Giving Harriet an inviting look. "We need all the help we can get to protect it." He looked so earnest.
Harriet took a step back. This was a trap. Another one. She had one chance. And she wasn't going to lose it. Even if she was on a fool's quest to get the philosophers stone of all things. And somehow Harriet knew it was a trap for these three too. Nobody in their right mind would put the stone in a public school of all places.
"No," Harriet said, withdrawing her wand. It was useless. But still threatening. "You shouldn't go either. This is bad. And obviously a trap. I don't think you should go. You might get hurt."
Before Harriet could do anything else, a red light hit her. Her breath froze up. And she toppled backward. Stupefied.
"I'm so sorry." Hermione said, "but we need to go save the stone. We'll be back. I'm sorry." And the three took off into the night. The invisible cloak around them once again. Leaving Harriet alone in the darkness. The candle had gone out when she fell over. Stiff as a board. Alone to her thoughts.
'Stupid,' she thought. 'I am so stupid. I have lost my only chance. What have I done?'
The Entity stared at the book they wrote once, long ago. "I did." The Entity said in a trembling voice. "But it was removed from the systems. Deleted from every universe. Too dangerous." They said in a small voice. "I had once considered my books to be my life's work. But that was long ago."
Harry Potter, of the Original Universe, studied the Entity. "I find it hard to see that this was a coincidence. We took this out for a reason. And conveniently it resurfaced underneath your nose?"
"I really don't know where it came from." The Entity protested. "I swear I had nothing to do with this. Ever since the Head Office removed them from the system I haven't seen one anywhere." They fell quiet. "I don't think you'll believe me."
Harry Potter, Master of Death, Destroyer of Stars, Friend of Fate, the most powerful being in the known universes, stared down at the Entity. They were only a small little being, only a few thousand years old. Practically nothing compared to the other workers in the office. After their mortal death, they had been headhunted and offered a job here, which they had accepted. The Entity, although had the power to change the universes at will, was so weak and puny compared to the Big Boss.
"You are correct." Harry Potter tapped the cover of the book again. "Normally, I would have never believed you. I would have smitten you and then probably get my assistant Gale to bring me in some tea. But," he then smiled. The dark shadow vanished, and the intimidating aura that surrounded him was gone. "My good old buddy Death vouched for you. Said something about some other Mod coming in and changing things around. Highly unusual and I'll have to file some reports down in HR. Hopefully, they won't send a clown again."
The sigh of relief was the best thing the Entity had ever experienced. They fell back into the chair, so immensely relieved that they weren't killed. Again. "Mod?" Was the first thing out of their mouth. It was the only thing that caught their attention.
Big Boss waved his hand around dismissively. "Another term I use for Master of Death. There are more than just me, you know. Which is great, because Death is such a handful. He always tries to sneak more cookies from the kitchen. We've been having to get angels to constantly bless the cookie jars so he won't get them."
A knife suddenly shot out from the dark shadows of the room, impaling Harry Potter in the arm. The blade was roiling with death magic. Harry rolled his eyes and gave the Entity a 'look, see?' expression as he pulled the dagger out and tossed it away casually as if Death itself hadn't just tried to kill him. "He's a bastard. No doubt about it. It's great there are others out there who try to wrangle him in. However, sometimes they are able to interfere with the Office sometimes. And those are a pain because I get so much paperwork."
He flipped the book around and pulled the pages back. Some of them were singed with fire, their edges crusted with ash. The remains of the papers were torn up and with a single wave of his hands, Harry Potter restored the book anew. He flicked through the pages and then held the book out to the Entity. "Now, I didn't just call you up here just to intimidate you. Heaven knows that everybody up here is so used to me that they don't even jump when I pop out of the shadows anymore. Which really limits the amount of fun I have anymore. No, I would like to know exactly what this ritual does." He tapped onto the page.
The Entity looked down and gulped. "Somehow I knew it was going to be this one." They sighed. "This one was the most troublesome of them all."
Something began to burn against Harriet's side. It didn't start out that way, but she didn't notice it until it began to hurt a little. She was still stuck on the ground. Unmoving. Trapped by a spell. The item had been warm. Always warm against her skin. But now it was becoming blisteringly hot. Drawing Harriet out of her dark thoughts. Despair was her only emotion. Harriet couldn't do magic and she will be at the whims of her relatives for a summer. All she could think about was how Uncle Vernon would hurt her. His red face yelling at her. Trapped once more.
Until she felt her skin start to scorch, that is. If she could open her eyes. If she could move, she would yelp in pain. But she couldn't, and she could feel it getting hotter. Tears stung her eyes at the pain. Funny, she could still cry. It hurt. A lot. What was burning her? She tried to think about what she would carry on her person, but nothing came to mind. Harriet hadn't changed her clothes in a week. She didn't know what she was wearing.
She could smell smoke. Whatever was hurting her was actually burning through her clothes. For the life of her, Harriet couldn't figure it out. And she was starting to fear that something was going to burn a hole through her helpless body when she heard a pop and glass tinker as it fell onto the ground. Immediately the heat cooled, leaving a warm, but still cooling, liquid that seeped onto Harriet. And at that same moment that the glass broke, the spell on Harriet vanished.
Harriet took in a deep gasp. And clawed her way to her feet, trying to get away from whatever had burned her. It was on her. She tried her cloak off as fast as she could, doing her best to get the foreign substance off of her. The hot liquid was cooling, and Harriet struggled to get her cloak off. Her arms were caught up in it. And she fell onto her butt in her panic. Until she finally threw the garment onto the ground, breathing hard through a panic attack.
When she finally was able to get her thoughts together, she investigated. Her fingers trembled as she touched the damp spots on her shirt. The liquid was still warm. There was a neat square burned through her shirt, and she hissed as she felt the bubbly skin underneath that. She was burned very badly. It throbbed painfully, the heat never leaving from her skin in that perfect square shape. What was that?
When Harriet stumbled to her discarded bag and fumbled with a match, she finally understood what happened. Broken glass glinted in the candlelight. A potion vial. Her hand-warmer potion. The second it had touched the air it's special effects was gone, thus it stopped being so scorching hot. But why had it gotten so blisteringly warm in the first place? Why had it reacted that way when Harriet was bespelled?
The only idea that came to her was that it somehow caught the spell itself. Or the energy of it? Or even somehow Hermione had hit it when she hexed Harriet. And since the stupefy spell had nowhere to go it gradually got hotter until the glass broke. The square shape of the vial was burned into Harriet's skin. How else did the stupefy release Harriet when it broke? It was a stroke of luck. An incredible one. The questions were put aside. This wasn't the time to think about it. She didn't need to know exactly how it worked. It was pure luck, and now Harriet had a second chance. The relief caught in her breath.
Harriet gathered her things. Quickly. She had been given a second chance. By her guess she still had at least one hour before the moon rose. And she had so little time now. She didn't bother with the candle, blowing it out. It would slow her down. Harriet took only her bag and the Marauders Compendium. And she ran.
She could do the ritual now. Out of pure happenstance. She hadn't even known her potion could do something like that.
Harriet had a second chance.
In the future, of about roughly three hours, the twins are asleep. Snoring. Well, George is snoring and Fred is slowly rasping out a breath that sort of sounded like snoring, but he protested the idea of him making that sound.
The main point of this is that they are asleep. They don't have a clue that their brother is currently in the infirmary due to a head wound. They don't know that Neville faced and killed their professor, only an hour prior. And they don't know the person who they have been trying to get their attention for months, the Other Guy, was out in the middle of the woods. The moon at this point had crested above Hogwarts, and the plan that Dumbledore had set up long ago was fulfilled. Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived had faced off with Voldemort once more.
And people, when unconscious, don't notice things. Like, for instance, what was going on on a map. They don't notice that people have been walking around Hogwarts in the early morning hours. The third floor was where they all ran around like ants. They don't see how Neville and Ron were in the infirmary with Madam Pomfrey hovering over the both of them. They don't see Snape prowling the hallways and Dumbledore sitting in his office.
They don't see Harriet Potter's name, which was out in the Forbidden Forest, disappear from the map. Forever. The ink disappearing like an invisible hand had wiped her name from the paper.
Death didn't like what was his to be found on trivial things such as maps.
Harriet ran into the night. The sweet smell of summer dew that appeared on the grass made the muggy air thick. It also made Harriet feel less like she was breaking the rules, but rather enjoying a simple walk outside. It gave her a feeling of nostalgia. An echo of times past where Harriet had enjoyed going outside after dinner, hoping to spend enough time outside and enjoy the fresh air before being locked up in her cupboard. The few peaceful times Harriet had during the summer. The chirping of the crickets followed Harriet wherever she went, as she made her way down the sloping hillside of Hogwarts lawns. She passed the trail that pointed to Hagrid's cottage, and further past the whomping willow. The lake was in the distance, the smell of murky water still hung slightly in the air, but was masked with the smells of the forest as Harriet entered.
Fear always dwelt in Harriet's cracks and it easily surged upwards as she reached the treeline. She was scared on so many levels. There were the constant worry and anxiety of school. That was the normal kind of fear. But this type of fear lit up her nerves. Harriet could hear her heart beating with an electric kind of energy. It thundered in her ears and her mouth suddenly went bone dry. The flavor of treacle tart she had eaten as a snack soured in her mouth, the taste suddenly bitter and warped.
What if she was doing the wrong thing? What if she was going to make a huge and horrible mistake? She was outside in the dark, and already the trees that loomed above her looked uninviting and dismal. The sight of the blackness that covered the forest gave her goosebumps.
(Hadn't Draco said there was something killing unicorns in the woods? Hadn't he said that? No. No, don't think about that Harriet. Don't think about dangerous things. Don't-)
Three steps into the forbidden forest, Harriet looked back. The white castle of Hogwarts was lit up behind her. The stars above lit up the sky, dotting the horizon with billions of specs of light. The view reminded Harriet of her first time of seeing Hogwarts. Looking up in awe at the beautiful building, sitting in a boat, and hoping for a better future. It had given her strength then. And the sight of it gave her the courage now. Harriet had changed since then. She was older. Wiser. And less naive. This was it. Staring at the building, Harriet finally turned and walked deeper into the darkness. Strengthening her resolve.
She needed to be free.
The moment was almost spoiled by tripping over a tree root in the darkness. But Harriet only stumbled. After that, Harriet moved more cautiously. Being careful not to make much noise and to strain her ears for anything around her making noise. She was aware that there were monsters about. Hagrid, from the rare visits Harriet had with him, had never held back on his stories about the spiders in the woods, nor the centaurs. Nor the bloated carcasses he found in the forest with no explanation as to why they appeared.
Forcing those thoughts out of Harriet's mind, she'd only freak herself out if she continued to dwell on it, she moved deeper into the tree line. Harriet had always made sure that she never ventured in too far. She had found plentiful plants everywhere she looked, and had no need to go deeper into the forest. But she moved forward, to the clearing that she found a week ago. The shadows of the trees swallowed her up and obscured the sight of Hogwarts. With no moon to guide her, Harriet was essentially blind. But she knew where she was going and she kept in a straight line. If she went in one direction she'd find the clearing. Although her anxiety tried to tell her otherwise. And for a minute Harriet was convinced she was lost and that she was going to die. But her fears faded away as she saw the stars once more, and the clearing was ahead of her. It was mostly dirt on the ground, with a few patches of grass.
Harriet didn't waste time. With practiced ease, she set down her bag and began to work, sitting on a tuft of grass. The first thing she pulled out was the book. E Weasley. It was like her bible. Her holy book. She had read and reread it, from cover to cover. The outside of the book was battered, and a few corners had their cover chipped off. It had been the one thing that made this whole experience worth it. Going to Hogwarts. Learning magic was utter crap. Harriet couldn't do it. But the contents of this book were the only thing that kept her going. It was her last chance. Her hope. It was Harriet's treasure. And with a few swipes of her hand, she found the page that she had long since memorized. The stars did not offer much light, but Harriet didn't need it. She knew what they said by heart. Her fingers trailed down the page until they paused on the words still indented in the parchment. This was it. It was her moment. Harriet took in a deep breath. And exhaled.
And then she got to work.
She drew into the dirt before her. Signs and symbols that she had painstakingly learned throughout the school year. Words began to form. The shape of the ritual began to take place. A circle there. A square there. A resolved rune here. A bondage rune overlapping the break rune. To Harriet, it felt like she took her time. Carving each line out with ease and ensuring it to be perfect. And it needed to be perfect. Absolutely. But there was only so much time Harriet had before the moon poked its head above the rolling hills of Hogwarts. And she felt frantic that she wasn't going to make it. Adrenaline rushed in her. But with the patience only a potioneer would have, Harriet steadied herself and made sure she made no mistakes.
And then.
She was done.
The runic circle was complete. And just in time.
The light of the moon was starting to peer over the crest in the nearby hill. Harriet could barely see it from behind all the trees that still towered above her. The adrenaline increased. And Harriet stared at the light, her hands trembling. And finally, Harriet picked up the silver shiv that she crafted from one of Aunt Petunia's butter knives and sat down in the middle of the circle.
A peaceful calm came over Harriet. This was it. The final moment. The light was getting stronger, and Harriet glanced down at her hands. With little effort, Harriet cut open her palm. Blood splattered onto the ground. It stung, and Harriet wanted to wrap her hand up almost immediately but refrained from doing so. She needed her hand to bleed.
With a grimace, Harriet reached up with her bleeding palm and grasped the thick lopsided braid. The first braid Harriet had put in her hair since she broke up with Daphne. And she hacked it off. Letting her hair fall onto the grass below her as the moon rose into view.
A trinket in Dumbledore's office stopped moving. It eternally spun in a circle, the gizmo had been connected with a few other spells that Dumbledore wanted to keep an eye on. As long as it moved smoothly, and without any obstruction, it would tell him that those enchantments were working. If not it would normally give a wailing sound, or perhaps a screech as it was slowing down from its momentum.
If Dumbledore was not in his office at the time, the portraits would tell him if something were to go amiss. And if all else failed, Fawks would alert him by appearing by his side. Dumbledore had it all figured out. With the dozens of moving and enchanted trinkets in the office, each and every single one of them was connected to somebody. The people who were important to his plans later on.
But Dumbledore had not accounted for one thing. His own meddling schemes.
This late at night, the portraits were asleep. Fawks had a death day not too long ago, for the Longbottom boy to see it. And Dumbledore was in his own personal quarters, leaning over a scrying glass to watch three young Gryffindors pass through his own challenges. Each of them doing their job perfectly. The old man was almost proud enough to award them points then and there. Ron had managed to sacrifice himself to the chess game like Dumbledore had imagined he would. And Hermione was quickly solving the riddle he had placed in the room, dumbing down Severus' original complex puzzle. And soon, Neville would come face to face with Quirrel.
With Voldemort.
It was a perfect plan. And it was working out wonderfully. Dumbledore popped a lemon drop in his mouth and leaned back, watching the show with a chuckle. Distracted from the real emergency downstairs.
Nobody saw the trinket stop suddenly. It shook twice. And then turned itself into ash instantly. The enchantments were destroyed so fast and brutally that the warning system never triggered. One second, it was there. And the next, gone.
And when we say that nobody saw it… nobody living did anyways. The trinket wasn't a noticeable one. In fact, it wasn't a very important piece to Dumbledore's plan right now that it had been shoved back onto one of the shelves. The more valuable pieces to Dumbledore's collection were on his desk, connected to three very brave students. And it was out of sheer luck that the trinket was next to the sorting hat.
"Well, I never." The Sorting Hat huffed. It peered at the pile of ash next to it. "Oh my." It glanced around the empty room. Looking at the portraits of past assholes who ruled the school. "It seems like somebody managed to escape the web." It mused to itself, "I wonder who." And it took in a deep breath and blew the ashes away. Scattering the evidence. "I hope they stay that way." It mumbled, before closing it's eyes once more, descending into hibernation. It had a new song to write about. And hopefully the new students next year would take heed to it's warnings.
It was certain that things were going to change now.
The Entity paused for a moment, trying to think of the right words. "I found this ritual from observing a man in the year 782. His name was… Vlad I believe? I am not sure. But it doesn't matter. I had felt compelled to write down lost rituals, spells, and knowledge that I could See. I wasn't an oracle, nor a seer. But I had a type of divination magic that only allowed me to look into the past. And I felt that I should record the things that were lost to time." They paused, "and this ritual was troublesome. It unlocks a magical core. But in an unusual sense. You see, much like how we figured out that humans were only using a small amount of their brains, Vlad figured out that witches and wizards were only using a bit of their magical core. There was so much power that the cores held that was untouchable. And he wanted to use it."
Harry Potter nodded. "Yes, I remember when that was discovered. I was a couple of hundred years old. Hermione's great-great-super-great grandkid figured it out. That brainiac bunch was so smart. But I had never heard of a ritual that would do that. Much less before magic-science was invented."
"Yes," the Entity agreed. "That's why I felt so compelled to write it down. Even though the side effects were just horrendous."
"What side effects?" The Big Boss leaned in.
Harriet felt something tug inside of her for a second. It was hard to describe where the hook had entered her, and where it was yanking. The only right thing to properly describe it was that it was the center of Harriet. Between her ribs, but not her spine. Something pushed and boiled, similar to the hot feeling of stomach acid lingering in her throat. A thick weight settled in the center of Harriet, and she knew that the ritual was starting. But there was magic, something strange that Harriet had never felt before, and it was reacting to it. It was her magic. Harriet's magic, something that was blocked and unusable.
For the first time, Harriet felt her magic. It suddenly made her decision to start the ritual unthinkably easy. Harriet almost relaxed. Almost. Figuring that she was in a dangerous forest filled with deadly animals in the middle of the night, it wouldn't be wise to fully lower her guard. Plus she was doing a ritual that she was certain that nobody would approve of. But touching what she couldn't have- what was rightfully hers. It made the choice easy to make. And it calmed her down.
It was hers. And it burned inside of her. A warmth. A lovely warmth that didn't hurt her but warmed her up. She could feel cracks now in the enchantments that had once held her. Wasn't that strange? The runes around her glowed with the ambient magic around her, and she could see it how it was working inside of her now. There was a thick wall that blocked her magical core. And it was breaking, piece by piece. Crumbling away. Leaving behind her magic that sang to her. There was so much. And it circled her ribs, pulsed against her heart. It was so happy. It sang inside of her and Harriet wanted to weep in joy.
It was like finally feeling the sun on her skin after being in the dark and cold for so long. And Harriet basked in the magic, watching as the walls inside of her crumbled into dust. Allowing Harriet to be herself, for once.
The thing is.
Books can lie.
And Harriet should have never believed in the words that E. Weasley gave to her. 'Pain and a mild rash.' That was the only warning that this ritual gave to their readers. And to give them a fair review, they were correct. There was pain. And there would be a lot of it. The mild rash was perhaps a side effect of another, rather lethal, reaction.
It was dangerous to mess around in dark magic.
"Well, you see." The Entity shifted a bit. "Magic is a tricky thing. Where it can stay within certain boundaries. And the ritual is designed to take down all of the boundaries in a magical core. Vlad didn't know which one actually segmented magical core usage, and decided to take them all out. There was one boundary that a magical core needs. And it's to actually keep the magic inside of it. And the side effects are… painful." The Entity bit their lip. It was uncomfortable to have the full attention of the Big Boss on them. "Think of it as a balloon." They said, "the balloon is now being slowly filled up with air. What happens when there is more air than the balloon allows?"
"It pops." Harry Potter seemed intrigued by this. "But magical cores cannot break or grow bigger than they already are. They also can't shrink. It's one of the laws of magic."
"Well. Normally yes. However…" the Entity trailed off. "Another boundary that the ritual breaks is the flow of, erm. Fated magic? I'm not sure how it works. But all of the magic of the person, every little bit, is stored up inside of them. This crosses into the line of fate and destiny. It's far above my pay grade. So I am not sure how it happens. But yeah, big boom. Big. Messy boom. Of all of the potential magic, they could have in their life."
The Big Boss hummed, "I can see that happening. How unfortunate. But there is something I am still not understanding here." He shuffled through the papers, there were only about six of them. "The reports I get are very limited. They only outline the few basics of the universe and the actions of Harriet. But what I don't understand is why Death decided to take that universe? It's under his control now. I don't see anything unusual here. Could you allow me to see the universe code?" He looked up at the Entity expectantly. "If you still have it. Maybe Death already requisitioned it already."
Nodding, the Entity slipped out their laptop from their bag. Typing in their password (trying hard not to look up at the portrait of that damned dinosaur in front of them), they opened it up to the universe in question. They still had it. The code itself was normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. They handed it to the Big Boss who started to scroll. In a few days, the code itself would be removed from their system, and given to Death Incorporated. It was his job to oversee his own universe.
He hummed. His fingers tapping on the touchpad as he moved down the page. "Normal bits." He muttered quietly, "magic bits. Dursley bits. They're all there. It doesn't look too out of the ordinary. This is cliche as hell." The Entity didn't know how to respond to that, they just shifted in the chair uncomfortably.
"Okay." Harry Potter said, "I really don't see anything odd about this. What is in the destiny bit then?" He clicked on a few pages, moved the cursor a bit, and narrowed his green glowing eyes. "She's not the chosen one. Unusual. Death loves having an angsty Potter to work with. She's essentially taken the place of Neville. Ah, good old Neville. Haven't thought of him in a while."
His eyes flicked back and forth on the screen. And then they stopped, focused on the words before him. His eyebrows raised in comprehension, as he seemingly figured out the puzzle. "Her parents go to Saint Mungo's. And she is tossed to the Dursleys on the same day." His fingers tapped a rhythm on the table, finally looking up at the Entity. "Do you know what Dumbledore loves to do with infants?"
"Erm, ah. No?" The Entity floundered for words.
"He loves to leave them on the doorstep." Harry Potter took the top of the laptop and slowly closed it with a click. "The Chosen One's family is usually killed on Sam Hain. Neville's family, which is what Harriet's future, was attacked a few days after. And I know the reports don't say this, details are lost after all. But if I were a betting man, I would say that Harriet was left on the doorstep on November second. And I also bet that there was a full moon too." He tilted his head, "Death loves to touch things left for him on the day of the dead."
The moon shifted ahead when the final barrier fell inside of Harriet. There was something so indescribable about the feeling of being whole. Harriet could go on and on about it. It was like how when the rain finally fell on a cloudy day. How the smell of warm cookies and a blanket felt comforting. It was the final piece of the puzzle fit in without having to search for it. That satisfying feeling of putting the key into the lock on the first try. It was the feeling of being Harriet Lily Potter-Black. Without any chunks taken out of her. Without cracks spider webbing the surface. She was whole.
And that was when the pain hit.
The magic that she tenderly held in herself roiled beneath her skin now. It felt anxious. Confined. It grew hotter, burning this time. It felt akin to the burn that was on Harriet's skin. But this time it was beneath her flesh and everywhere in her. Even her eyes hurt. Harriet choked on a whimper and dropped to the ground like a puppet whose strings were cut. Her body twitched as her muscles burned and expanded and then shrank down. Her magic that Harriet had thought to be so wonderful before was hurting her. Not because Harriet's magic wanted to harm her, oh no. It had nowhere to go. Traveling unguided through her body.
The magic was still expanding. And it was spilling over Harriet's core. And into her body. And her body was unused to magic. It only had a brief moment in time where it could feel her core and interact with her source of power. For the entirety of Harriet's existence, her body had lacked a large portion of magic. And now that magic was pouring into her. Making her heart swell up and then freeze like a balloon underwater in winter. Deflate and then burn like now it was buried in hot sand that scratched and clawed into her organs. Her fingers scrabbled on the ground. The smell of blood. Oh, her nose was bleeding. There was so much blood. She could hear something. It sounded so small and weak. Unable to breathe in the much-needed air to make the proper noises of agony. It was her. The small little whimpers that crested her mouth. She could barely breathe, her lungs only working for a few seconds before stopping and starting again.
And then Harriet's brain stalled. Too many sensations. Too much going on. It shut down. The only sensation that she could compute was pain.
It hurt. The only sensation that she could comprehend was the burning agony as her magic pressed her insides together and pulled them apart. It was twisting away, trying to get out. To be free. But there was nowhere it could go. Harriet was sure she threw up at one point, but she couldn't process it. She wanted to get rid of it all. She should fling out spells now. Use it. But if she did she could sense that it would not wait patiently for her to use little bits of it. It would burst out all at once. And Harriet didn't even think she could even cast a spell, let alone do something with her magic. The thoughts of barely remembered charms were burned out of her mind, the pain washing it away from her memory.
Time passed.
Harriet could only exist. Her limbs trembled. Her breath halted soon, but started again out of necessity. She had curled up into a ball at one point. She didn't know when. And she didn't know how she did it. Magic curled inside. And soon enough, Harriet knew that she would also run out of space for the magic inside of her. But those kinds of thoughts were rare to think and were quickly forgotten as the next wave of magic rippled through her bones and in her organs. Her ribs cracked from the pressure. All of them expanding outwards slowly.
A flicker of shadow above her. Harriet opened her eyes. She could only see out of one of them. And her vision flickered. She let out a pained sigh, the only thing her body could give out. Gasping at the lack of breath. A figure above her stood unmoving. Her eye couldn't focus and neither could she. The pain was taking too much of her attention. But there were a few details that she could see.
The figure was… darkness. The moonlight didn't show any details of the robed person. They had a hood on, their face was hidden. And there was a scythe in their bone-white hands. The metal blade flashed once.
That was the last thing that Harriet saw.
In the realm of death, the blond girl sat down on a bench after getting off of the train. There were dozens lined around the train station, and yet none of them were occupied. The dead were only interested in the train and boarding it, like a hoard of zombies with only one goal in mind. They shuffled past the girl without even blinking their eyes once. Which was a feat, as the entire station was blistering cold. It would have made those who lived in such climates huddle for warmth. But the dead did not sense things. Nor could they. For being cold was a human thing. A living thing. And the dead were not those anymore. Inanimate objects. Ghostly projections of past lives. Stumbling forward to the train. Waiting and crowding to get onto it and into death's realm.
The little girl did not seem to notice her surroundings either. Her blonde hair was tied up in a pale blue bow, the color that matched her eyes. Her clothes were a light sundress and wore a white pair of sandals, but it was evident that she didn't hold any interest in her surroundings too. She paid as much attention to the dead souls around her as little as they did to her. Instead, she simply brought out the book that she carried in her hands and pulled it open. The pages rustled as she flipped through the chapters. There was only one part of the story that held any of her attention. Even though the chapter titles were strangely named, such as 'In Which Major Louis is Killed In Action' or 'In Which the Twins Go Flying.' Although odd, they did not catch her attention. For there was one thing that interested the girl.
Instead, the girl goes to the end. The last chapter of the book was a small one. An automated report that was given to the end of this novel. Small. Quick. Short. A single page. The very last page that had been bound into this book. It was titled, 'In Which the Story Ends.'
And there, the girl reads out loud. Her voice echoed loudly across the expansive space, her voice filling the air. Indeed, it was the only sound. Making noise was for the living. And dead could not, and should not, live.
"This a simple automated report. Created on (Universe 4,325,243) June 19th, 1991. This universe was flagged as [death of person of interest]. Thus this universe does not fall under the purview of [Harry Potter department] due to the fact that [Harriet Potter-Black] does not exist within this realm anymore. This universe will now be subjected to reviews into which department this falls under." Her voice was light and airy. A hint of an Oxford English accent in her speech.
A thick mist began to form on the platform. But the girl didn't stop reading the next paragraph. "The following is the history of choices the person of interest made. Found her mother's journal. She discovers her magic early. Uncovered manipulations set by others. Went to Hufflepuff. Found a book that was [error error error] [full of rituals meant for unbinding]. And died whilst in her first year of Hogwarts. These choices mark a path of potential parallel universes. The number of other universes is [1] out of [1]. The number of universes that are removed from the [Harry Potter] department in Fate's Office due to [death of person of interest] is [1] out of [1]. This concludes the rest of this report. The end. Thank you for reading."
The blonde girl looks up from the book. The final page of the novel was done.
The story was complete.
But the girl watched as the mist began to pull away. The fog had rolled into the platform with thick and deep smog that choked people's breath. But now it was falling away. Breaking apart and thinning as it folded itself back into the nothingness that it had become. The dead did not go near it. A circle of space was untouched by ghostly souls.
The blonde girl then turned the last page. And the impossible happened.
(Death is the same. Death takes everything. Nothing can stop it. Nothing can hold it back. The end is the end. The rules of the universes are absolute. There is no probable way to break them because that is just how it is. There is no way around it. But how? How can-)
Another page appeared behind the final report. And the blonde girl watched with interest as words seemed to pen themselves onto the page. 'In Which the Story Does Not End' is blotted into reality. And the first sentence began to form.
The mists left the platform. Leaving behind a shivering ragged clad girl. She stumbled and nearly fell over, her body trembling. Her Hogwarts robes were tattered and bloody. A yellow and black tie was crookedly untied around her shoulders. Her red hair was in ribbons, uneven, and haphazardly cut. Dark red blood poured from her nose, dripping onto the white stone floor. The first, and only, color the veil of death had ever seen.
Harriet Potter locked eyes with the blonde girl and screamed.
Big Boss sat back into his leather seat. His green eyes unfocusing as he stared into the distance. "So that's why Death took it. The universe."
"But why? There are millions of universes that follow that same route." The Entity asked. "This universe isn't that particularly special. Why would Death want this one?"
"Those are good questions." He said, "but think of it this way. Harriet got her hands on one of your books. That's extremely unusual. But you also said that she performed a ritual that would reach into her core and pull out the magic that she was destined to have used throughout her lifetime. It was supposed to make her kill herself with a giant explosion."
He leaned in now, staring intently at the Entity. With his attention on them, the Entity sucked in a breath. The air tasted of ozone now. Charged with energy. "Now tell me, what would happen if, per se, Harriet was meant to be the Master of Death? Would she explode with the infinite power of the cosmos, destroying half of my office? Or would she become the Master of Death first, and unable to fall into Death's clutches anymore?"
Harry Potter, Destroyer of Worlds and Stars, Master of Death, Friend of Fate, the most powerful being in all the worlds, leaned back in his chair and held his hands out. "So is my office destroyed?"
The first sentence of the new chapter reads this:
Once upon a time, there were three brothers.