Soundtrack suggestion - Aeon - (bit of advice: right click on the link to open in a new tab, that way you can read and listen simultaneously)
To die would be an awfully big adventure
- J.M.Barrie, Peter Pan
Well, in the case of Harry Potter that was certainly true. Harry just didn’t think the next adventure would be so…muggle.
One minute he had been lazily duelling one of the last rogue vampire clans, managing quite well with his holly and phoenix feather wand thank-you-very-much, mind half on the angry hoard surrounding him and thinking you know maybe I’m too old for this, I mean no one asked me to ruddy save the world.
Not that that was anything new.
The world had had no trouble casting him as their boy saviour the first time round, why should the rest of his life be any different? Harry had spent his very-long-life battling Death Eaters, vampires, werewolves, goblins, even the occasional dragon. If Harry had wanted a quiet life, throwing himself into Auror training had perhaps not been the best idea.
Then again, the War had never really ended for Harry. It was all that he knew.
So when the vampires closed in and Harry got bored with blasting them with fire and transfigured his wand into a sword that looked remarkably like one once owned by Gryffindor and threw himself once more into the fray, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was it. Doomed to walk the earth for eternity, never ageing, cursed to watch as everyone he loved lived and died in their time and he endured, a lone figure battling the forces of darkness because that was all that he knew how to.
Put into perspective, it was an awfully lonely existence.
And Harry was tired. So damn tired of being alone.
(Is this it?)
He wondered if he could even die. Sure he wasn’t ageing, but in Harry’s experience, getting your neck snapped generally meant you were a goner. So maybe that was why he stopped fighting, let the sword go slack in his hand, stared placidly into the hungry red eyes of the vampire leaping towards his throat, greeting death as an old friend…
It was the sort of thing everyone he once knew would have been horrified by, Harry Potter giving up?
Never cruel or cowardly. Never give up. Never give in.
But then, they weren’t exactly around anymore were they?
So with nothing to lose, Harry opened his arms and let the vampire sink its teeth into his neck, welcoming the darkness that enveloped him like a cloak.
"I've got to go back, haven't I?"
"That is up to you."
"I've got a choice?"
"Oh yes. We are in King's Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to…let's say…board a train."
"And where would it take me?"
"On," said Dumbledore simply.
Far away, in a world hidden amongst the stars, a solitary golden watcher dropped his staff with a ringing CLANG and stared in rare astonishment at this new impossibility gracing the earth of Midgard. A figure, born out of nothing-ness, his aura billowing with an ancient power of life and death itself, a pinprick on the map of space and time, utterly unaware of the peace and chaos he would bring.
After all, it was not Harry’s destiny to die by a vampire’s hand, nor by any lesser mans, nor even by his own hand: Death was not his to claim.
And as dawn broke on the new world, Harry Potter opened his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. The ground was hard and cold beneath him, and anyone looking from above would have seen the imprint of the hallows symbol carved into the tarmac around him. His hands brushed a silky material, a slender wand that sparked with power, a small stone heavy with loss.
And in that moment; the Master of Death was born again.