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Setting to Rights

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Title: Setting to Rights

Author: mac_jem

Fandom/Genre: Harry Potter

Written for: Rough Trade, July, 2014, Boot Camp II

Content Rating: M

Warnings: Child Abuse, violence, foul language, non-main character death, Main Character Death

Summary: After defeating Voldemort and his death eaters, Harry Potter, the Master of Death, decides there is no possibility of fixing the Magical World without making some major changes to his own past. Dimensional-travel (though only vaguely referenced,) Time-travel.

Author’s Notes:

  • Italics§=Parseltongue.
  • Spells in §Parseltongue§ will be in Latin (or at least the Google Translate version of it.) I will put a note at the end of the chapter with the meaning.
  • Harry skips back and forth along the time-line. Check the section headers for the correct date/time.
  • Apparently, I have been a devotee of the Keira Marcos school of thought for over fifty years. I was born with a disabled Give a Fuck and I had the little shit excised with my tonsils at age five. I have no use for Molly or the two youngest weasels, and it shows in my rendition of Harry. On that same note, I am absolutely positive Albus Dumbledore is a Dark Lord and the only reason he hasn’t openly declared it is his inability to make a cool anagram out of his stupid name!

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, places etc are the property of JK Rowling.



Prologue

Friday, 1st May, 1998 - Chamber of Secrets.

Who knew Salazar Slytherin had a sense of humor? You know he had to be laughing his ass off when he hid his personal journals up his statue’s nose and Riddle never found them!

Harry had found them during his sixth year while he was avoiding all his so-called friends.

Hermione was going on and on about that stupid potions book, and basically being a complete bitch about it.

Ginny, the Potions Princess was alternating between trying to drug him with love and lust potions and trying to fuck everything that moved (he had the map to prove it.)

Ron was either stuffing enormous amounts of food into his face or trying to swallow Lavender’s tonsils.

Albus Dumbledore, AKA the old fart, AKA the world’s oldest dark lord, was spending evenings showing Harry the magical equivalent of home movies of Tom Riddle’s childhood. Just what the hell was that about?

After he had rendered the carcass of that huge-ass basilisk, and commissioned the goblins to sell it (for a hefty fee, of course, but, hey! That damn thing netted him millions!), Harry just studied in the one place no one else could get to - the Chamber of Secrets.

There was a wealth of information contained in the three ancient journals, such as what a Horcrux was, how to make one, how to detect one and identify the maker (he did find one belonging to Dumbledore in the pensieve in the old fart’s office,) and how to extract the soul piece from one without destroying the object or any of its original magic (which he did to the old fart’s Horcrux.)

There were, however, three topics that would, Harry felt certain, save his life:

1. Fading makes getting around a piece of cake. Salazar wrote about developing a form of magical transportation he called ‘apparition.’ He wrote that most magical humans were just too lazy to use the traditional form of transport called ‘fading,’ but he went on in explicit detail, what fading was, how to do it, and why most witches and wizards were low-class, low-power, lazy, inbred flobberworms because they couldn’t be arsed to learn the correct forms.

Turns out, fading is pretty easy with the correct focus (especially if you were doing it at age eight), you can’t ‘splinch’ yourself, and Hogwarts’ wards don’t even notice.

2. Wandless magic is easy. One just has to remember that, with one single exception, wands are nothing more than an aiming device. They don’t amplify the spell’s power. They don’t concentrate the spell’s effect. They just aim, sort of like shooting a spitball through a straw. You can certainly shoot a spitball without a straw, but unless you have a fantastic aim, you stand just as much chance of hitting the person next to you as the target across from you. The exception is the Elder Wand. That wand, in the hand of the conquering witch or wizard, does amplify a spell’s power.

3. Parselmagic is even easier. There are no spells in parselmagic, you can do almost anything you can imagine. All you have to do is:

a.) determine what the spell effect is to be,

b.) concentrate your intent on the spell effect, and

c.) state your intention – in High Parsel. This isn’t a big deal. If you’re a parselmouth, you know how to speak in High Parsel. To cast parselmagic, you have to know to speak in High Parsel. This is not instinctive, you have to be told. Funnily enough, to a parselmouth, High Parsel sounds like Latin.

While Harry did read and practice the entirety of all the journals, he concentrated on these three topics.

Saturday, 2nd May, 1998 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It was over. Finally over.

Hogwarts' grounds were strewn with hundreds of bodies. Pure-Blood, Half-Blood and Muggle-born finally equal in death. A few had survived, though not a single death-eater was among them, Riddle had taken care of that. Hermione was just over to the right. Wonder of wonders, Bella had only managed to hit her with a Stupefy before Harry cut Bella’s head off with a well placed Diffindo.

Harry was standing over the pitiful few remains of Tom Riddle, Elder Wand in hand, when a sudden rush of powerful magic flowed into his core. Holding out his hand, he saw a ring appear on his finger. Set in the ring was the Resurrection Stone, looking unblemished and new.

Avada Kedavra!”

Hearing the attack from behind, Harry whirled to defend himself. He turned just in time to catch the livid, green light of the Killing Curse in the center of his chest. When there was no effect, he looked at the caster and huffed in irritation.

“Really, Ron? I always knew you were a jealous prick, but murder? And your such a snivelling coward that you had to try to curse me in the back? Looks like more of Wormtail rubbed off on you than I thought. I mean, even Riddle had the stones to look me in the eye every time he tried to kill me.”

“Dumbledore said You-Know-Who had to kill you. You had to die so he would stay dead!”

“Ron, you fucking moron, Riddle did kill me! Not two hours ago, in the forest, he cast the Killing Curse on me. Just so you know, asshole, his curse actually worked!”

Confringo!”

Harry simply batted the blasting curse aside.

Diffindo!”

Harry frowned as he stepped aside and let the cutting curse fly by.

“Damn it, Harry! You’ve got to die so we can finally be free of him! Incendio!”

Harry willed the flame spell to stop, and it did. Then it just sputtered out.

He raised his wand and cast, “Incarcerous.” Thick ropes flew from the Deathstick and tied Ron up in a neat package, knocking him over at the same time.

Standing over his once best friend, Harry grimaced in annoyance. “You were an imbecile when I met you, and you’ve only gotten more idiotic as you grew up. I don’t know what Hermione sees in you, but I can’t let you inflict your moron genes on the rest of the world.” Pointing his wand at Ron’s body, Harry cast in Parseltongue, “§amovit testiculos, in perpetuum et horreat, inguini dimidio.§ [1]

Ron screamed in pain as Harry put away his wand. “What did you do to me, you bastard!”

“Permanent, magical castration. No healer will be able to tell you ever even had balls, much less re-grow them. I also reduced the size of your so-called dick to match the size of your brain, you half-wit. So, having seen you in the locker room, you should have about two centimeters now. The way I see it, I just saved the Wizarding World a lot of grief. Nothing as stupid as you should be allowed to breed.

“The Ministry Morons and their pet scandal mongers from the Daily Prophet ought to show up any time now. Knowing them, they’ve already set me up as the next Dark Lord and will either try to put me in Azkaban or execute me. So, I’ll save them the trouble and take myself somewhere they can’t follow.

“Goodbye, Ron. You won’t be seeing me again.

“Oh, let Kingsley know not to bother trying to confiscate any of my fortune. I had the Goblins sell all my properties, except Grimmauld Place. I had them tear that place completely down to the ground, and salt the earth under it. Then I closed all my vaults at Gringott’s and put everything in a wizarding chest that I carry with me at all times.

“I’d wish you a ‘happy ever after,’ but I hope you’re as miserable as you make everyone around you for the rest of your fucking life!” And with that, Harry faded away, never to be seen in that Wizarding World again.

Somewhere, Somewhen.

Being the Master of Death had several perks. Time-travel, or really, any kind of travel was a breeze. If he wanted to be in a particular place or time, he was there.

Harry investigated his own past. Testing scenarios and checking changes in events. It wasn’t pretty, and the main cause of strife, every time, was Albus Dumbledore.

“So, that’s the way it is then. If I go back into my own past and change things, then I don’t destroy all the Horcurxes, I don’t find all the Hallows, I don’t kill off Tommy, I don’t become the Master of Death, and I don’t go back to change my past. Tommy wins, planet goes ‘Boom!’ Paradoxes suck!

“Time to investigate alternate dimensions. My life may bite the big one, but some little Harry, somewhere, is gonna have a ‘happy ever after,’ damn it!”


[1] “Remove the testicles forever and reduce penis to half former size.”


Chapter 1: The Death of Harry Potter.

2330; Wednesday, 31st July, 1985; Cupboard Under the Stairs.

It hurts to breathe.

He can’t move his right arm and he can’t see out his right eye and by the way it’s bent, he’s pretty sure his right leg is broken.

It really hurts to breathe.

Uncle had beaten him harder than ever before. He’d never get the blood stains out of his “mattress.”

It really, really hurts to breathe.

Maybe it would be best just not to do that breathing thing anymore…

At 2347 on 31st July, 1985, little Harry Potter let go of his final breath and, gratefully, died.

Unknown time, unknown location

When the boy woke, his surroundings had him thoroughly confused and not a little frightened. Sitting up and looking around didn’t provide any new information. It looked like he was in a cloud, everything was white and kind of misty.

AND HE WAS NAKED!

“Umm, hello! Is anyone here? Can someone tell me where I am?”

A shadow started to form in front of the boy, finally resolving into a man. He seemed to be wearing a full length dressing gown, very full, and was carrying a stick about a foot long in his left hand.

“Hello, Harry.”

“I’m sorry? Who are you? Can you tell me where we are? Do you maybe have something I can wear? And why did you call me Harry?”

“Well, at least it’s a relief to know those vile monsters you were imprisoned with haven’t managed to beat your inquisitive nature out of you yet.”

The man casually waved his hand and a sofa appeared to his right. On the arm of the sofa nearest the boy, there was some folded fabric. “Go ahead and get dressed, have a seat, and I’ll answer your questions.”

The boy grabbed the fabric and unfolded it to find what looked like a miniature version of the robe the man was wearing. He quickly pulled it on, buttoned it, and sat.

“Let me try to answer your questions in order. One: You have nothing to be sorry about, you’ve done nothing wrong. Two: I have been known by many names. Currently, I go by Herald Crochenydd[1], but you may call me Herald. Question three is a bit more difficult, so let me defer that answer until I’ve taken care of the others. Question four is moot as I have already provided clothing for you. Your last question is easy to answer. I called you Harry because that is your name. You are Harry James Potter, the only child of James Charlus Potter and Lily Evans Potter.

“As to where you are, this place is generally known as ‘the Crossroads.’ It is the place where Life and Death meet. We are here because that fat, loathsome, excuse for a human that you are forced to call ‘Uncle Vernon’ just beat you to death.”

“So, I’m dead?”

“Pretty much, at least for a little while. We’ll be correcting that little problem in a bit.”

“Oh. I was kind of hoping I’d finally get to be with my parents.”

“Well, I have to go correct a few things so you can actually have a life. It’ll take me a few days to accomplish my list, so you’ll be staying with your parents while I’m doing that.”

“That’s not very long to get to know my mum and dad.”

“How long do you think we’ve been here?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe 30 or 45 minutes?”

“In Little Whinging, your soul left your body roughly one second ago. Time doesn’t work quite the same way here. While I can’t give you a full lifetime with your parents, the time I am able to give you should amount to about eleven years. So you’ll have plenty of time to get to know them.”

Herald waved his hand again, and another sofa appeared, facing them. On the sofa sat a man and woman. The man had messy, black hair and wore round, wire-framed glasses. The woman had long, dark red hair and eyes that were the same shade of green as Harry’s own.

“Mum? Dad?”

“Yes, baby, it’s us.” The woman smiled and held out her arms for him.

Harry jumped up and ran to his mother’s waiting arms. Clutching her tightly, he let fall the first tears he’d shed in over two years. “I’ve prayed for this for so long!” he said.

Herald stood and reaching behind the sofa, said “I think I’ll start with this miscreant.” He picked up a horrifically misshapen creature. It looked like a badly burned baby. He then vanished his sofa and pointed his stick at the creature. “Hello, Tommy.”

“Do not call me by that vile name! I am Lord Voldemort! I will make you wish for death!”

“I’ve got news for you, Tommy Boy. I Am Death! Or, rather, Death’s Master. And from now on, you’re just a demon snack! §Meo iussu et auferatur anima§[2]” the creature screamed loudly and exploded into dust.

Harry turned and stared at Herald for a second before saying, “You destroyed his soul?”

“At least this piece of his soul. James and Lily, you seem to have this well in hand. I’ll go take care of things and you three get to know each other.”

“We’ve got it from here.” said James. “Come on Prongslet, we’re gonna have so much fun! I didn’t know you were a Parselmouth.”

“What’s a Parselmouth, Dad?”

“It’s a person who can talk to snakes. My dad could do it, but I was never able to.”

The Master of Death smiled, somewhat sadly, as the trio faded away. Once they were gone, he raised the Elder Wand over his head and stated in a loud voice, “§Regulus Arcturus Black! Præcipio tibi coram me!§[3]

A young man, no more than eighteen years of age, appeared before Herald. He had black, shoulder length hair and grey eyes. When he saw who had called him, he bowed and said, “How may I serve you, Master?”

“Can the dragon shit, Black. We’re going to have a conversation with your elf, and possibly your mother’s portrait. If I can refrain from destroying it, that is.” Herald grabbed Regulus and faded away.


[1] Welsh for “Potter”
[2] “By my command, I destroy this soul.”
[3] “I command you to appear before me.”


Chapter 2: The Gathering Part I.

Slytherin’s Locket

0800; Monday, 29th July, 1985; 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Who dares intrude upon the noble House of Black!” the portrait on the wall of the entry hall started screeching as soon as they had appeared.

Harry pointed his wand at the portrait. “Walburga Black! Be civil or the next words out of my mouth will be §Furiarum igne!§[1]

Walburga’s mouth snapped shut and she stared, wide-eyed at the man before her, until she saw who was standing slightly behind him. “Regulus, my son, is that really you?”

“Yes, Mother, it’s me.”

“But how? You’ve been dead for over six years.”

“Allow me to introduce my companion. Walburga Black, this is Herald Crochenydd, The Master of Death. He brought me here.”

“If I may interject,” Harry said, “Regulus, if you’ll call your elf and have him obey me, I’ll let you talk to your mother for a bit.”

“As you will, Master…”

“What did I tell you about the dragon shit…”

“Of course. Kreature!”

With a small ‘pop,’ an old house-elf appeared in the hall, muttering to itself.

“Kreature swears he heard beloved Master calling Kreature? But beloved Master be dead, so he must be hearing things! Must be insane. Must inform Mistress Black so Kreature’s head may finally decorate wall…”

“Kreature, I’m here.”

“Beloved Master!” the little elf slammed into Regulus’ knees, almost knocking him over, and started bawling hysterically. “Beloved Master cames back for Kreature!”

“Hush, Kreature. I’m only here for a short time and I have to speak with my mother’s portrait for a bit. In the meanwhile, I want you to follow this man’s orders for the time being…”

Kreature looked at the other man and his eyes got even bigger than usual. Scrambling to his feet, he ran over to stand three feet in front of Harry and bowed so low tis nose scraped the floor. “The Master of Death graces the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black with his presence. What cans Kreature be doing for great Master of Death?”

“Come with me, Kreature, let’s step into the library and give Regulus some time with his mum.” With that said, he walked up the stairs and down the hall to the library doors, the elf dutifully following.

On entering, Harry wrinkled his nose at the dismal state of the room but gracefully sat in one of the overstuffed chairs and spoke to the little elf, “Kreature, your Master Regulus gave you a task to perform before he died, did he not?”

“Yes, Sir. Master be giving Kreature vile black magic from ugly, snake-faced, half-blood, bastard master that trys to kill Kreature, and says that Kreature must destroy it. Kreature trys everything, but Kreature cannot even open it!” By this point, the little elf had tears streaming down its face.

“Do you want to tell me what you really think about Tom Riddle?”

“It not be Kreature’s place to think about visitors to House of Black. Kreature only telling the true telling. Ugly, snake-faced, half-blood, bastard master be ugly, and be looking like snake, and be half-blood, and be a bastard! Master of Death be a half-blood, too, but he bring Master back to Kreature, be liking Master of Death.”

“Oh, I know all about Mr. Riddle, I’ll be taking care of that little problem a bit later. But for right now, let’s take care of your problem. Kreature, bring me the locket Master Regulus ordered you to destroy.”

The elf snapped its fingers and a gold locket, with emeralds embedded in a serpentine ‘S’ on its face, appeared on the table beside Harry’s chair. He picked it up and studied it for a moment. “Yes, this is it. You can watch, Kreature, but you don’t want to be too close. You’d best stand over by the fireplace.”

“Yes, Sir.” The elf said, popping over to stand in front of the fireplace. “Kreature be watching carefully so can tell Master that task be completed.”

“That’ll be fine, Kreature.” Placing the locket, face up in his right hand, the Master of Death hissed, “§Open.§”

The locket popped open and a cloud of black billowed out of it. Forming into the vague shape of a man, glowing red eyes opened and it hissed, “§Who disturbs me? I will devour your soul and create for myself a new body!§”

“§Oh, do shut up, Tommy. You’ll do nothing of the sort.§”

“§You dare address me by that vile name!§”

“§Well, it is the name your squib bitch of a mother gave you before she died. She named you after your muggle father. Now, shut up so I can get this taken care of.§”

The Master of Death raised his left hand in a fist, pointed at the cloud.

“My ring! Where did you get it? Give it back!”

“Well, no. This is my ring. The Resurrection Stone belongs to me. All the Deathly Hallows belong to me.”

“Deathly Hallows?”

“Yes, Deathly Hallows, as in Death’s Gifts. You really should have read a bit more when you were younger. After all, it’s all written down in the ‘Tales of Beedle the Bard.’ In any event, I am the Master of Death, or in this instance, the Master of your death! §Constringo vos invoco donec tacitis animo imperabo!§[2]

The Resurrection Stone began sucking the cloud into itself. “§No! You can’t do this to me! I am Lord Voldemort! I am immortal!§”

“Of course I can do this, it’s what I do. And Tommy, you should know. Nothing is immortal, not even Death.”

With a final scream, the soul piece was pulled into the Resurrection Stone, and all was quiet for a moment.

“I take it we’re about done here?”

Turning, Harry saw Regulus leaning against the door frame. “Just about. Come on over here and I’ll finish up.”

When Regulus stopped beside Harry, Harry reached over and pinched Regulus’ arm. When he pulled his fingers away, he held a tiny wisp of white between his fingers. He then put the wisp in the locket in his right hand and hissed “§Close.§” The locket snapped shut and glowed briefly.

Holding his left hand over the locket, he hissed, “§Lorem ipsum vivere, Regulus Arcturus Black.[3]Mutat ad transire§[4] ‘beloved Master.’”

A bright, golden glow showed between his fingers for a moment, then faded away.

“What the hell was that?” Regulus exclaimed.

“You’ll see in a moment. Kreature, come here, please.”

The elf popped in and wrapped one arm around Regulus’ knee. “Master of Death be getting rid of vile black magic?”

“Yes, it’s gone. Kreature, do you understand that Master Regulus can’t stay here with you? Do you understand that, since he has already passed over, staying here is torture for him?”

“Kreature be understanding. Kreature be very sad when Master leave, but Kreature be trying to do best Kreature can to make Master proud of Kreature.”

“I’m sure you will, Kreature. So, since I’m proud of what you’ve already done, I’m giving you a present.” Harry then handed the locket to the elf.

Kreature studied the locket for a few moments, taking in the differences in it. The locket now had a rectangular shape, instead of the oval it once had. It was still encrusted with emeralds, but instead of an ‘S,’ they were in the shape of a ‘B.’ On the back was engraved, “To Kreature, with best regards. MoD.”

Kreature looked up to Harry, questioningly.

“Put the chain around your neck and hold the locket in your hand.”

The elf did as he was instructed, then looked, pointedly, back to Harry.

“Whisper for your master.”

Kreature shrugged and looking back to the locket, whispered, “Beloved Master?”

The face of the locket popped open and the elf was staring, slack-jawed at a moving portrait of Regulus Black.

“Hello, Kreature. How’s my favorite elf doing today?”

The elf’s head snapped up to stare at Harry so fast, there was an audible ‘crack.’

“Master of Death, Sir be giving this to lowly Kreature?”

“Yep.”

“This be greatest gift any elf ever getting! Kreature thanks Master of Death from bottom of heart… Top and sides too!” The elf looked back down to the locket, “Beloved Master be in picture like Master’s mother. Kreature be worried that Master be going nutso crazy like Mistress Black. Master please be not going nutso crazy on Kreature.”

The portrait Regulus laughed and told the elf, “Don’t worry too much about it. I’m pretty sure Mum was nutso crazy before that picture was ever painted. Go ahead and close the locket for now. We can talk later.”

Regulus was staring at Harry. “Just what did you do? You didn’t create a Horcrux for me, did you?”

“No, I created a soul imprint portrait of you for Kreature. It isn’t a piece of your soul. It is a very detailed, precise, and complete copy of your personality and memories. It knows everything you know and will interact with Kreature just as you would. But, it isn’t alive, never was and never will be.

“I have a few more things to tell Kreature, then I’ll be on my way. You can stay and visit as long as you can do so in comfort, or until midnight, whichever comes first.”

“Right. Thank you for this opportunity. I’ll just go back downstairs and visit with Mum until Kreature comes to get me.” And with that, Regulus left the library.

“Kreature, in the next few days, I’m going to be bringing the new Lord Black home to you, so I would like you to get this place in shape for him. The whole place needs to be cleaned, and the décor needs to be brightened up considerably.

“To that end, I will be bringing another elf here, later today. This elf won’t be bonded to the House of Black, but his master, a five-year-old boy who has been terribly abused will be moving in on 1st August, and the elf is here to care for the child. You may enlist the elf’s aid in the meantime to get the house ready. Any questions?”

“Master Sirius be coming home? He be done playing with nasty dementors?”

Harry chuckled, “Yeah, I think he’s done with playtime.”

“Why be little master of new elf be coming to live in House of Black if he not be Black?”

“He’s the godson of Sirius and his grandmother was Mistress Dorea.”

“Young Master Harry be coming to live in House of Black? Young Master Harry be done then playing punch-bag for nasty, fat muggles?”

“Unfortunately, they don’t play nice. They’ve nearly killed him.”

“Kreature and new elf be fixing Young Master Harry up quick. No worries. Who be new elf? Does Kreature know it?”

“Probably, his name is Dobby…”

“Dobby Elf be crazy like loon, be needing mind healing or beater bat to head! But that be mostly fault of Mistress Narcissa. Dobby be former Black elf bonded to Mistress Narcissa, be okay elf when younger but Mistress Narcissa give Dobby elf bond to evil, nasty, good-for-nothing, cowardly death-eater Lucius.”

“Not that I disagree at all, but why do you say cowardly?”

“He not be brave enough for real duel with real wizard, so be beating and cursing elves that cannot be fighting back and helpless muggles. When fighting real wizard, he be sneaking up from behind or attacking with many more cowardly death-eaters. All death-eaters be cowards that way. Kreature be so disappointed when Master be joining cowardly death-eaters, but Master smarten up real quick. Be very bad luck that Master be getting killed for leaving cowardly death-eaters but he be very, very brave doing it!”

“Yes, he was. I’m finished here, so you may go visit with Regulus until he has to leave. After he’s gone, you can speak with his portrait anytime you wish.” Harry leaned down to touch the locket with his finger. There was a bright flash of light, then Harry stood. “And there isn’t a soul on this planet that can take that portrait away from you.”


[1] “Fury’s Fire,” Similar to Fiendfyre, but feeds only on the magic, leaving the physical object unharmed.
[2] “I bind your soul”
[3] “Create a living portrait of”
[4] “change the pass word to ”


Chapter 3: The Gathering Part II.

The Diary.

1045; Monday, 29th July, 1985; Malfoy Manor.

The kitchen at Malfoy Manor was a hive of activity. At least a dozen elves were running back and forth, stirring pots, washing dishes or chopping vegetables. All activity came to a complete halt when a figure dressed completely in black and with a cowl covering its head appeared in the center of the room.

All the elves, save one, knelt facing the figure and bowed their heads. The standing elf bowed deeply, then stood upright and spoke, “I is Maizy, head elf for house Malfoy. How may the elves of house Malfoy be of service to the Master of Death?”

Harry lowered his cowl and looked at the elf. “Hello, Maizy. Would you be a dear and fetch Dobby for me, please?”

“Maizy will, Sir.” The elf snapped her fingers and a badly injured elf appeared at Harry’s feet. The little elf was unconscious and his body was covered with several cuts and bruises.

Harry raised his glowing green eyes to the head elf and asked, “When did this happen? Elves heal very quickly.”

“It be three days ago. Maizy feared Dobby not live, but Dobby hold on somehow. Elves hide Dobby so Master Lucius not know where Dobby is or if Dobby live.”

“Does this happen often, Maizy? And is it done to the other elves as well?”

“It be happening often to Dobby. Whenever Master Lucius be angry at something he curse Dobby. Master Lucius be angry every day. Other elves not cursed as often, but usually at least every week. Mistress Narcissa not helping elves and little master like to throw elves out window.” By now, Maizy was wringing her hands and looking fondly toward a large ladle.

“You will not punish yourself for speaking the truth to me. You know you cannot lie to the Master of Death.”

Harry knelt by the injured elf and passed his hand over the body. Immediately, the cuts healed and the bruises faded. Dobby’s eyes popped open and he gazed at Harry.

“Is Dobby dead?”

Harry laughed. “No, Dobby, you’re not dead. You’re going to be just fine.”

“Oh! Good. Dobby feared he was going to die and then other elves would get to do all Dobby’s work!”

“You’re kind of a selfish little shit, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Alright then. I need one of you, not you, Dobby! You just lay your ass right there for a minute and get your strength back. I need one of you to bring me the small, black, leather-bound book with the name ‘T. M. Riddle’ embossed on the cover.

Maizy popped out then right back in, and quickly handed the book to Harry. “Very bad magic in book. Best not to touch it much.”

“I’ve got it handled.” Harry held the diary in his right hand and pointed his left fist at it. “§Constringo vos invoco donec tacitis animo imperabo!§[1]” Immediately, a stream of black smoke, accompanied by a loud scream, erupted from the book and flowed into the Resurrection Stone.

Tossing the book to the floor, Harry looked at Maizy. “I’ll be sending Dobby elsewhere. Do any of the elves wish to remain bonded to Malfoy?”

“What else is we to do, Master? We has to be bonded to a wizarding family to survive.”

“If you wish it, I can bond you to the Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble house of Black.”

“Arcturus Black be old and feeble. Not have enough strength to support extra dozen elves.”

“No, he doesn’t. In fact, he had a major stroke last month and has relinquished the lordship to his heir, Sirius Black. I’ll be returning Sirius to his home tomorrow.”

“Sirius be only 25. Old enough to handle many elves, young enough to support elves for many years.” Maizy looked at the other elves, who were nodding their heads so energetically their ears were flapping, and came to her decision. “We bind to house of Black.”

“All of you, except Dobby, stand over by the table.” The elves quickly gathered together. “Ready? Alright. §Adiuro animae ad animam Sirius Orion Black§[2] Alright all of you. Report to Kreature at the house of Black. Help him get that place in shape, then he’ll send you to whichever properties need you the most.” All the elves, except Dobby, popped away.

“I have a very special job for you, Dobby. You ready?”

“Yes, Master of Death, Sir.”

“Here goes. §Adiuro Dobby anima ad animam Harry James Potter§ [3] You are now the personal elf for little Harry Potter. What do you think?”

“Dobby thinks looking after five-year-old boy will keep Dobby very busy. Much work picking up after young master. Will be very exciting job!”

“Come, Dobby, time for you to go home.”


[1] See Chapter 2, Note 2
[2] “I bind these souls to the soul of Sirius Orion Black”
[3] “I bind the soul of Dobby to the soul of Harry James Potter”


Chapter 4: The Gathering Part III.

The Ring.

1215; Monday, 29th July, 1985; Gaunt Shack, Little Hangleton.

Removing the Horcrux from the Gaunt ring was ridiculously easy. Harry simply stood at the edge of the wards, and commanded the soul fragment to come to him. The Resurrection Stone took it in without a hitch.

With the Horcrux gone, the wards collapsed and so did the shack, leaving nothing but a pile of splinters and dust. The Gaunt ring even disappeared, sensing a more complete Resurrection Stone nearby.

The Diadem

1245; Monday, 29th July, 1985; Room of Requirement.

If anything, Ravenclaw’s Diadem was even easier than the ring. Harry simply faded into the Room of Requirement, next to the diadem.

After commanding the soul shard into the Resurrection Stone, Harry grabbed the diadem and faded to the Ravenclaw tower common room. Once there, he vanished the diadem carved on the life-sized statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, and replaced it with the original.

While at Hogwarts, he took care of a few other loose ends as well.

Nagini

1315; Monday, 29th July, 1985; The Forest of Dean.

“§Hello, Nagini.§”

“§You have come to me O Master of Death. Is it my time?§”

“§No, Nagini. You still have many years left. It is time, however for that little piece of Tom you’ve been carrying around. Are you ready to be rid of it?§”

“§Oh, yes. It itches quite like that little piece of skin on the back of my neck that never sheds correctly!§”

“§As you wish. Adiuro anima Tom Marvolo Riddle, et silentium imperare, donec peperit.[1]§”

The soul piece zipped into the Resurrection Stone in less than a heartbeat without making a single sound. “§That acted like it wanted to leave. That’s confusing.§”

“§Perhaps not so confusing, when you consider that I fought it every second it was in me, and I am much stronger than it was.§”

“§Is there anything else I can do for you?§”

“§I am always cold here. My kind does not naturally hibernate, so it is disconcerting to lose several months every year. I wish to go home.§”

“§Ceylon?§”

“§Taiwan, actually. I am a Taiwan cobra§”

Harry picked up a large branch and cast a one-way portkey to Taijiang National Park in Taiwan. Setting it on the ground next to Nagini, he said “§Wrap yourself around this tightly, but not so tight as to break it. Then repeat the phrase ‘there’s no place like home,’ three times and it will take you home.§”

As Harry faded away he heard Nagini, “§There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no…§”

“§Goodbye, Dorothy.§”

The Cup

1415; Monday, 29th July, 1985; Gringott’s Bank.

Harry faded to the seat in front of Ragnok’s desk. “Hail, Chieftain Ragnok of the Horde. May your vaults be always full, and your enemies forever in torment.”

Ragnok’s head snapped up at the salutation. “May your vaults be endless and your enemies nonexistent. How may the Horde assist the Master of Death this day?”

“I require entrance to the LeStrange vault. You will assist me.”

“I must have the reason for your request, as it violates treaty and tradition to allow one not of the family into a family vault.”

“I must remove some magic from an item in that vault. What the Horde does with that item after I complete my task is not my concern, as it was stolen from its rightful owners to begin with.”

“What item and what magic, I must know before I can allow this?”

“The item is the Chalice of Helga Hufflepuff.”

“And the magic? The Chalice was already heavily enchanted.”

“The dark wizard, Tom Marvolo Riddle, who styles himself ‘Lord Voldemort,’ violated the Chalice by placing a piece of his soul within it. He then gave it to Bellatrix to place in her vault.”

“Bellatrix LeStrange has violated treaty. Her vaults are hereby confiscated, and her life is forfeit if she ever sets foot in Gringott’s again. This slight to the Horde must be corrected as soon as possible!”

Harry stood and held out his right hand. “Then take my hand, Chieftain Ragnok, and we will correct this immediately.”

As soon as Ragnok stood and took Harry’s hand, Harry faded both to the door of the LeStrange vault. “No need to wake the dragon, she’s enjoying her nap.”

“But we need the account manager to open the vault…”

“Utter nonsense, Tommy left safeguards in place to assure he could retrieve his Horcrux if he needed it.” Turning to the door, Harry hissed, “§Open.§” As the door swung open Harry turned to Ragnok and said, “It seems Bellatrix does not trust the Horde. She has laid many magical traps on the contents of the vault specific to your kind. You should bring in a team of human cursebreakers before any goblin touches anything in there. §Accio Cup, Adiuro anima Tom Marvolo Riddle, et silentium imperare, donec peperit.[1] Close.§ If you’re ready to go back to your office, I’ll drop you off on my way out.”

“Very kind of you. What will you do with the Chalice?”

“I have no use for it. I’ll leave it with you when I drop you off.”

“The Horde thanks you, Master of Death.”


[1] “I bind the soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and command its silence until brought forth.”


Chapter 5: The Wrap-up

0329; Friday, 29th February, 1980; The Burrow.

Harry stood over the sleeping forms of Arthur and a very pregnant Molly Weasley. Arthur was a nice guy, the problem was that he let Molly run roughshod over everyone and Molly was in the old fart’s back pocket. “§Somnus.§ I’m sorry Arthur, but if little Harry is going to have any chance at a life, Molly, Ron and Ginny have to go.” Pointing the Elder Wand at Molly, Harry hissed, “§infans et matrem, mortuus§[1]

The Rat.

2315; Friday, 6th August, 1982; The Burrow.

Harry was waiting.

Earlier in the day, he had cast a broad-spectrum vermin detection and incapacitation ward around the entire property. So far, it had identified and stunned 7 rats (none of which were the one he was looking for,) 112 field mice, 2 gophers, 92 bats, a family of squirrels and an entire community of garden gnomes. He was waiting.

A soft bell tone chimed in his ear. The ward had detected and stunned another creature. Harry waited patiently for the ward to inform him what it had caught. ‘Rat, male, 305g.’ “§Accio Wormtail§”

A limp rat came sailing into his hand and he checked it over. Toe missing on front foot. “§Et adiecit Dominus, in forma§[2] Got you now, you little bastard! §in laqueum et in globum vitreum, et vinctum spirant§[3]” A ball of glass, with a few small air holes, enveloped the rat. Smirking, Harry dropped the ball into a pocket and faded away.

1532; Wednesday 17th October, 1990; The Rookery

Harry quickly faded into the workshop where Selene Lovegood was working on a new spell for the Department of Mysteries with her daughter, Luna looking on. Harry threw up an impermeable shield around all the human inhabitants of the room, just before Mrs. Lovegood’s spell exploded spectacularly, completely demolishing the outbuilding her workshop was housed in.

“Perhaps, Mrs. Lovegood,” Harry stated. “You should pursue a career in journalism with your husband. Who knows, the two of you could take over the world of news.”

Harry then faded out, leaving the woman and her daughter completely befuddled, but unscathed.

Tom Riddle

1645; Monday, 29th July, 1985; Albania.

Harry was done crossing words with Tommy, so he faded in behind the snake currently hosting Tom, summoned the soul piece into the ring and faded out.

2330; Monday, 29th July, 1985; Cupboard Under the Stairs.

Having rethought his plan a bit, Harry faded into the entry hall of the Dursley household. “§Silencio.§”

He then opened the cupboard and looked down at little Harry. He quickly pulled the soul piece out of little Harry and grabbed it to keep it from entering anything else. Closing the cupboard door, he canceled the silencing spell and faded out.

Crossroads

Harry faded in at the Crossroads and dropped the, now corporeal, form of Tom to the floor. “You just stay right there so little Harry can see you.”

0845; Tuesday, 30th July, 1985; 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry faded into the foyer at Grimmauld Place and was struck by the improvements he could see. Before he could call to one of the elves, he heard a voice saying, “Kreature, The Master of Death has come calling. Please attend him.”

Turning, he saw the portrait. “Good morning, Walburga. You look to be in a much brighter mood today.”

“I am, yes. I believe that piece of magic you got rid of for us was the cause of most of the strife here, and the new décor certainly has helped.”

“I do hope I don’t upset you, but you do know I’ll be bringing Sirius home tomorrow?”

“Oh, yes. Kreature informed me. He was quite wild as a child. One can only hope he has calmed a bit in the intervening years.”

“From what I know, I wouldn’t bet on it, and there’ll be a five-year-old boy egging him on.”

“Ah, well. At least my portrait is spelled to prevent damage.”

“Kreature, Dobby!”

“How cans Kreature…”

“…and Dobby…”

“Help the Master of Death today?”

“Tomorrow night, we’re going to stage the rescue of Harry Potter. So, today, I want all the Black elves, and you, Dobby, to go around the city and observe muggle accident scenes. Make sure to remember the details of the emergency worker’s uniforms, vehicles and how they act.

“Then, at precisely 2348 tomorrow night, I want you to glamour yourselves as muggle ambulance drivers, paramedics and police and descend on 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey with a bang! I want the vehicle lights flashing, sirens wailing, the whole nine yards! You will then break through the front door and those of you dressed as paramedics go directly to the cupboard under the stairs, that’s where little Harry will be. He won’t be breathing, so you’ll have to keep air going in and out of his lungs. While this is going on, I want six of you, dressed as police to apprehend the three muggles living in the house. If you have to kick their asses to subdue them, do so. They’re the ones who will hurt Harry.

“Splint Harry’s arm and leg and strap him to a back board, just to make it look good.

“I’ll be there, but act like you don’t see me. I’ll probably be accompanied by that old fart Dumbledore and I want him to think he’s the only one who can see me.

“Once you’ve got that done, bring Harry and the three muggles back here. Toss the muggles in the dungeon and put Harry in Master Regulus’ old room. Regulus would like that. I’ll fix Harry up when I get here.

“Got it?”

In unison, thirteen voices called “Got it!” and thirteen elves popped out.

Turning to Walburga, he said, “I’ll have Sirius here tomorrow afternoon.” And faded out.

Sirius Black.

0600; Wednesday, 31st July, 1985; Azkaban.

Sirius looked up from the thin gruel he had just been given to see a figure appear in his cell. He started screaming, “Oh, shit! Dementor in my cell! I’m gonna die!”

“Sirius Black! I don’t know whether to be impressed that you can scream like a little girl, or offended that you think I look like a dementor. I have a much better fashion sense.”

“Wait a minute! Dementors can’t talk. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the one who’s going to get you out of this shithole, so put that crap down, it can’t be good for you, and transform into Padfoot.”

Sirius stood and rippled into a big, black, shaggy dog. “Good. Now I’m going to have to do some transfiguration so I can carry you out. It’ll feel a little funny, but it can’t be helped. §Transforma canis statuam, alta manu.§[4]” Harry picked up the five inch statue of a dog that Sirius had become and dropped it into his pocket. Then he faded out.

0900; Wednesday, 31st July, 1985; Courtroom 10.

“Hear, Ye! Hear, Ye! Wizengamot meeting 85-03 is now in session. As the Chief Warlock is currently attending the ICW conference in Geneva, the Honorable Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, presiding. Sir, we have a quorum.”

“That’s good to know, as a quorum is required to accomplish the tasks set before us this day.”

Fudge’s face was already purpling as he stood and stared at the black clad figure in the center of the room. “Who do you think you are? You have no place in these proceedings. Aurors, take this person to a holding cell. If he resists, use the dementors.”

After firing several spells at the figure, only to see them dissipate before reaching their target, the aurors tried to order the dementors to take the prisoner. The dementors refused to approach, staying in their alcoves.

“I’m sorry, Minister.” The visibly pale lead auror told Fudge. “The fugitive seems resistant to our spells and the dementors refuse to have anything to do with him.”

“What the hell are you?”

“If you asked me,” a monocle wearing woman with short, graying, red hair said, “He looks like the Grim Reaper, the muggle’s personification of Death.”

“Very close, Madam Bones…”

“It doesn’t matter who you are, you still have no place here! I’m the Minister of Magic and…”

“You are the current Minister For Magic, and I am the Master of Death! Care to wager who wins in that pissing contest, Fudge?

“Today, the Wizengamot will hear three trials, possibly more. I need one more item.” Harry waved his hand, and the Veil of Death shimmered into existence behind him. “Now we may begin.

“Our first trial will be the People of Magical Britain vs. Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort.”

Over the gasps and screams, Fudge yelled, “You-Know-Who is dead! We can’t try a dead man!”

“Voldemort is most certainly not dead,” pointing his Wand at the prisoner’s chair, Harry hissed, “§In similitudinem carnis caeli transformabit Voldemort. Quisque animam suam, et alligate ea. Somnus.§[5]” A flash of dark green flame hid the chair for a moment. When it cleared, the naked, unconscious form of Voldemort was clearly visible to the entire assembly. Mixed with the gasps and screams, Harry clearly heard several groans. Glancing around, he noted at least fifteen people clutching their left forearms. “§Et habitabunt in ea, et immobiles a praesentibus obscura est Marcus.§[6]

“Although he is unarmed and restrained, if you wish to question him, I would suggest a triple dose of Veratiserum before you revive him as he is capable of wandless magic.”

Madam Bones asked, “Can you tell us how he survived?”

“Of course. After he had been told the location of the Potter’s by their Secret Keeper, Peter Pettigrew…”

“But Pettigrew’s dead.”

“No, he’s not.” Conjuring another prisoner’s chair, Harry tossed glass ball into the chair and vanished the ball, leaving the limp rat. “§Revertere in principio[7]

The rat transformed back into an unconscious Pettigrew and the chains on the chair wrapped around him.

“You’ll want to search him before waking him. He has at least one wand and probably several portkeys.”

“You said at least one wand?”

“Yes. His own and likely Voldemort’s as well.”

Bones signaled one of the aurors, who searched Pettigrew and, indeed, discovered two wands and several items that gave off a portkey signature.

Turning back to Harry, she asked, “And how does this tie in with Sirius Black?”

“Simple. Black was not the Potter’s Secret Keeper, therefore he couldn’t betray them. He obviously did not kill Pettigrew. When you question Pettigrew, you will find that he caused the deaths of all those muggles when he supposedly died, not Black. In short, since you people didn’t even bother to give Black a trial, you will find that you have kept an innocent man incarcerated with dementors for over three years!”

The questioning of Pettigrew lasted less than ten minutes. They didn’t even bother to wake Voldemort. The verdict was returned in under twenty minutes: Pettigrew’s Order of Merlin was rescinded and he was given life in Azkaban. Voldemort was given the death sentence, to be carried out immediately.

Harry casually levitated Voldemort, chair and all, and walked with him through the Veil of Death. Harry walked out the other side of the Veil, but Voldemort did not reappear. As Voldemort passed into the Veil, several screams of “Noooooooo!” were heard, one from the interior of the Veil and nineteen from different members of the Wizengamot and Peter Pettigrew as all of them collapsed. The number didn’t surprise Harry, but the fact that Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge was one of them did. “That’s surprising. I didn’t realize she was already marked.”

“What is going on here?” Madam Bones was clearly upset.

“When you investigate, you will find that all of these dead persons are marked death-eaters. The Dark Mark tied their magic and life force to Tom Riddle, that is the reason it could not be forced in any way and had to be taken voluntarily.

They are the ones who named themselves ‘Death-Eaters,’ I simply allowed them to live up to the appellation.”

Harry then set the dog statue on the floor beside him. “Now for today’s final trial. You will free Sirius Black, publicly exonerate him so that he may return to his former life, and provide restitution for the years of illegal incarceration he was forced to endure. §Revertere in principio[7]

Sirius Black was immediately standing beside Harry. He blinked and exclaimed, “What a rush!” before falling in a dead feint.

Harry looked down at him and shook his head.

“Pussy!”

Dursley’s and Dumbledore get theirs.

2348; Wednesday, 31st July, 1985; 4 Privet Drive.

Harry, dressed in his ‘Grim Reaper’ persona, had turned the overstuffed monstrosity Vernon normally plopped his fat ass in to face the hallway, so he could have a good seat for the show.

Right on time, sirens began blaring throughout the neighborhood and blue lights were flashing through the windows. Harry smirked as he activated his cloak and became invisible.

At precisely 2348, the front door burst open and twelve house-elves rushed in. Six ran to the cupboard door and threw it open while the other six ran up the stairs to apprehend the Dursley’s. Glancing out the window, Harry saw that the thirteenth elf was stretching yellow caution tape around the property.

At 2350, there was a pop as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore portkeyed into the hallway. Harry stood and moved to stand facing him.

Glancing around with a look of panic on his face, Dumbledore exclaimed, “What is going on here! Get out! The muggles cannot be allowed to see you!”

Harry allowed his invisibility to fade as he spoke, “The muggles see only a team of normal emergency personnel responding to a call.”

“Just who the hell are you!”

“Can you not guess, Albus Dumbledore? Have your manipulations so enfeebled your mind that you cannot recognize Death when you see it?”

“What, you think you’ve come for me then?”

“I should, as you deserve it, but I am actually here for Harry Potter, as you murdered him.”

“No! That can’t be! Harry has to fulfill his destiny, it is prophesied!”

“The prophesy you are so enamored with was drivel from the mouth of an unemployed con-artist until you acted on it to make it self-fulfilling! And you should have thought about this before you killed the boy.”

“I didn’t kill Harry.”

“Yes, you did!” Harry started poking Dumbledore in the chest with his bony finger. “You set his parents up to die, I know you cast the Fidelius Charm on the Potter’s home. You knew Pettigrew was the traitor, but you let Black take the fall because he would get in the way of your plans. You sealed the Potter will that specifically states who their Secret Keeper was and who was and was not to attain guardianship of Harry. You placed him in this house of horrors and denied any outside oversight, Figg doesn’t count as she’s never even been in the house and you ignore all her correspondence anyway. These monsters consistently starved and beat the boy for over three years. Tonight, Vernon Dursley systematically beat Harry with a belt and a fireplace poker until he was unconscious, bleeding and broken, then literally threw him into the cupboard. Harry held on for two hours, fifty-seven minutes and thirty-four seconds before his magic, that you bound, couldn’t do anymore. He died just a few minutes ago. The elves are trying to resuscitate him right now. That’s why I’m waiting, but there is very little to hope for.

“So, yes. You. Killed. Him.”

Dumbledore’s face had gone ashen, he was breathing in short gasps and clutching his chest as if in great pain.

Harry studied him for a moment before speaking again. “Well, looks like I may be here for you after all.”

Dumbledore was shaking his head vehemently. Harry just chuckled, “You think you’re going to stick around after you keel over? You think your Horcrux is going to keep you here?”

Dumbledore was on his knees, both hands clutching at his heart and face screwed up in pain.

“No, I took care of that little trinket Monday. Fawkes was in a little accident and had a burning day at the same time.”

Dumbledore had completely collapsed and was panting shallowly. Harry released his glamour and lowered his hood. He then leaned over Dumbledore, making sure his scar was fully visible. Dumbledore was mouthing Harry’s name, but he couldn’t make a sound.

“I just wanted to make sure mine was the last face you saw on Earth, Albus Fucking Dumbass. Arianna is waiting for you. She knows you cast the curse that killed her and why you did it, so she’s probably a little pissed off.

Dumbledore drew one more shaky breath before his heart completely gave out and he died.

“Okay, guys. Move aside and let me get to him.” The elves stepped back so Harry could stand over the little boy. “§Restituit sanum corpore, mens et spiritus magica. Convertere, anima eius.§[8]

The boy’s broken bones snapped into place and healed. The wounds closed and healed. He grew four inches and gained sixteen pounds. And, finally, all the scars on his body, including the one on his forehead, faded and disappeared. He started breathing normally and looked to be peacefully asleep.

“Take him home to Master Sirius and be sure to tell him what you witnessed here. Take those three monsters to the dungeon and let Sirius decide what he wants to do with them. And take the garbage on the floor and dump it at Hogwarts’ Gates.

“My work here is done. Yours is just starting.” With that, Harry Potter, the Master of Death, faded out.


[1] “Let the mother and fetus die.”
[2] “Reveal the true form.”
[3] “Imprison in a ball of breathable glass.”
[4] “Transform dog to small statue.”
[5] “Create sleeping golem in the likeness of Voldemort. Bind his soul to it.”
[6] “Immobilize those with the Dark Mark.”
[7] “Revert to original form.”
[8] “Make whole and healthy in body, mind, magic and spirit. Return his soul.”


Epilogue

1430; Sunday, 14th June, 1998; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Seventeen-, almost eighteen-year-old Harry Potter, Head-Boy, Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, and youngest seeker in Hogwarts’ history, was in his suite, packing his trunk for the last time as a Hogwarts’ student.

Tomorrow, they would be going home on the Hogwarts’ Express and his fiancé, Luna would be joining Sirius and himself on a Mediterranean cruise that would last until two days before his eighteenth birthday. Remus, Tonks and Harry’s godson, Teddy would not be joining them until the evening of 10th July, as a werewolf running around the deck might prove problematic.

Harry finished packing, then just sat back and smiled. 1st August, he was heading to summer training for the Welsh National Quidditch Team. He had already told them he would only stay for one season as he had other things to do. Headmistress McGonagall had asked him to begin teaching next term, but he had informed her that under no circumstances would he teach at Hogwarts while Luna was a student. They had negotiated and Harry had agreed to begin teaching the new Technomancy class and to teach third and fourth year Ancient Runes and Arithmancy so Professor Vector had some time to devote to her head of house duties.

But that was a year away. Right now, he had to get downstairs to Luna’s field trip. She and her group were trying to locate the nesting site of a colony of nargels. It amazed everyone what could be seen with the Magi Oculos[1] spell. In her second year, Luna had shown the entire school a small herd of crumple-horned snorkacks in the forbidden forest. Everyone decided she might know what she was talking about and nobody made fun of her anymore.

He still had the dreams. Vivid dreams of growing up with his parents. Of living with them for years. He had told Sirius years ago, but Sirius hadn’t been hurt by it except to admit that he wished he had the dreams too, because he still missed James and Lily painfully.

From the top of the wardrobe, the Master of Death watched Harry, as he had for the last nearly thirteen years. He did regret that he had had to soften the memories of Harry living with his parents for eighteen years in the afterlife to dreams, but it was for Harry’s benefit. He would have wanted to go back otherwise. So, instead, Harry just had very vivid dreams. Harry could be happy with that.

1640; Saturday, 31st July, 1999; St. Abbott’s Chapel, Godric’s Hollow.

The wedding had been quite beautiful. Hermione Granger, the maid of honor turned to Luna, the bride to ask “Why did you choose his birthday for the wedding day?”

“That’s easy, Hermione. Harry is a man. As a man, he is genetically incapable of remembering more than two dates. My birthday is 31st October, and I hope he remembers my birthday instead of the anniversary of his parents’ deaths. I also hope any children will be born on one of those two dates.”

Standing, invisibly to the side, the Master of Death thought Harry was on his way to a good life.

2347; Monday, 31st July, 2000; St. Mungo’s Wizarding Hospital.

The shrill cry cut the air as little James Sirius Potter drew his first breath. His father, Harry looked on wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Also looking on invisibly, was Harry’s guardian angel, the Master of Death, who noted that little James had been born exactly fifteen years after his father had died. Luna was in good health and watching on indulgently as Harry cradled his first-born son.

The Master of Death was finally able to say, “This little Harry is going to have a damn good ‘Happy ever after.’”

Finis


[1] “Mage Sight”