Master of Death
Summary: Instead of a duel between wands, Harry does something unexpected… and helps Voldemort understand what a master of death is.
Warnings: Characters!Deaths and a little gore. Severus survives just fine in this one.
Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter.
This little one-shot has been lying around for quite some time now, so I decided to post it. Maybe just to justify why I'm so late with my chapters to my other stories -hangs head- so I hope you will enjoy it. And no, it won't have a sequal. Not one I have thought about anyway...
They circled around each other, the others still fighting yet watching them. Laughter from Bellatrix bounced off the walls. Harry had spotted Severus amongst those who fought against the Death Eaters, and was glad the man's wounds hadn't been bad. If anyone the potions master deserved a second chance.
His eyes returned to Voldemort. The man had his wand trained on the teen, the Elder Wand, the one who the Dark Lord thought would work. He didn't know Harry was the true master. Harry hadn't figured that one out himself either for a while. But now he knew. That wand could never kill him. He wasn't scared of the wand.
He was slightly more nervous about the sword Voldemort had conjured. Harry hadn't been cut many times but he knew the pain, and no doubt that pain would be tenfold should the sword harm him.
Was this really the time to hesitate? He swallowed.
"I am a true master of death," Voldemort suddenly said and smiled. "You can never win against me, Harry!"
This was it. Harry withdrew the small item, it went unnoticed, and then he began to run towards the man.
He knew it was pointless to run towards the Dark Lord. He would only get killed. But he wasn't strong enough to kill Voldemort with his wand. He had to do this.
Harry saw the sword, Voldemort's eyes flashing. He didn't care. There were screams, shouts, spells flying. None of them mattered. He raised his left hand, dropped his wand and wrapped his right around his left, holding the item securely.
There was a slick feeling going through his chest even as his hands hit its target. They both stumbled, boy and Dark Lord together, and both gasped. Their magic exploded, shielding them from everyone's eyes, and Harry stared up into red orbs.
"It's over," Voldemort whispered.
"Yeah," Harry said. He felt blood in his mouth. "But you know something? We can both be masters of death."
"A true master of death is someone who accepts death for what it is." Harry coughed, blood dribbling out of his mouth.
"And what is that?" Voldemort asked.
"The end," the teen said. "I accepted death earlier this night. I still do. Death will happen to us all, some sooner, some later. Tonight death will come for me. And you're going with me."
Voldemort laughed but it was forced, and he was a bit breathless.
"And what will happen then?" he asked.
"Perhaps we'll fall asleep," Harry said. "Perhaps we'll go to heaven. We might even be born again. But this time… when you wake up, wherever you are… you won't be alone. I'll be there."
The Dark Lord stared at him. "What?" he managed.
"Because that's what you want." Their magic was retreating, vanishing, and Harry didn't have much time. "To never be alone. To have a family. I'll be your family. You'll never be alone again, Tom. I will be there."
The others had stopped. They could see. Harry smiled up at the man.
"I'll be waiting for you," he said and stepped back.
Hermione screamed first. The Boy-Who-Lived stumbled back, the sword going straight through his chest and out his back, blood dripping down. His legs failed him and Harry fell down. A few more coughs, filled with blood, and the boy's ribcage stopped moving. His body stilled, and his breath came no more. He was dead.
"You did it, my lord!" Bellatrix shouted in excitement, in glee and her eyes were wild and dancing.
Voldemort laughed. He stared right up at the roof and laughed. Then he stumbled, and the Light trained their wands at him. They didn't have to.
The dark screamed.
Voldemort gripped the knife, the one Harry had pushed right into his chest, and he continued laughing even as he fell to his knees. Blood began to dribble down his mouth and he gasped, losing life and with his final strength he looked at Harry's prone body. He smiled, softly, and his voice carried out in the entire hall:
"You win… Harry."
Then he fell.
Years passed. Hogwarts reopened, and students returned. The Light built up Wizard England again, and there was peace and happiness.
Hermione Granger-Weasley sighed wistfully as she looked over the Great Hall. It was the beginning of another year. She was the Muggle Studies professor, and Neville had become the Herbology professor. Ron worked with his brother George at the joke shop instead of Fred, who had fallen in the last battle. Severus Snape, free from Voldemort and Death Eaters, had continued to work as a potions master at Hogwarts and he seemed a little less grumpy. At least he didn't growl outright at students anymore, and he did call Hermione by first name.
Minerva McGonagall was still the headmistress even though she would soon step down from the post and retire in peace.
So many things had changed the woman thought and looked over as the first years entered. Their wide eyes, full of curiosity and wonder, always made her heart swell in happiness. She had been like that once. So full of wonder of this new world. She remembered Harry. It was probably the only time he had been really innocent. He hadn't known back then what life would do to him.
It had been over eleven years since he died along with Voldemort. It still hurt a bit to think about him. She wondered what would have happened should he have survived. He deserved to live, out of all of them, he had deserved a life the most. But he had died willingly, for them.
Her eyes blinked rapidly to get rid of the tears and Hermione focused on the first years. Then she noticed two of them. At the same time, Severus and McGonagall seemed to as well.
It was two boys, quite alike each other in face, one with ruffled black hair and clear green eyes and the other with dark brown hair and blue eyes. They didn't look around with wonder. They looked around with fondness. They had seen it all before.
Blue eyes looked over at the other boy. Their hands were clasped. Not related by blood but by fate. Hermione's eyes widened as green eyes caught hers, and instead of a blush and a quick look away, the boy smiled at her. She knew those eyes, that smile, that hair…
"Should I hex Minerva?" the boy with blue eyes whispered.
"That does sound like a good idea, Tom. I'm sure she would love it," the other boy drawled.
"Don't sound like Malfoy," Tom hissed. "It's incredible annoying."
"Where will we end up?"
"Slytherin, naturally," Tom said.
"But I'm a Gryffindor."
"Don't kid yourself, Potter."
Harry Potter grinned at Tom Riddle. They might be orphans in a new time with different surnames, but they were still the same. Born on the same day and left at the orphanage the same day. They met each other before they even knew how to hold their head up. Tom hadn't believed Harry at first, that he would never be alone.
But for the last eleven years, he hadn't been alone. And he had never been happier.
They looked over at the Head Table and Harry giggled.
"Hermione has us totally figured out," he said and Tom rolled his eyes.
"Just as long as she doesn't start shrieking 'The Dark Lord lives' I'll like her," he replied.
"It's more like she's gonna shriek 'Harry Potter lives'," Harry muttered.
The Sorting began. Harry clasped Tom's hand tighter.
"What do you say?" he asked. "Same house?"
"If you end up differently than me, then you would leave me," Tom said.
"Well, then I guess I better convince the Hat we belong together," Harry said. "Masters of death belong together, don't they?"
Tom squeezed his hand in answer. Soon it would be their turn. Their new life had just begun.
A short one, and I've had this idea for a long time inspired from a song, Pruit Igoe & Prophecies. I wrote it, as stated before story, a long time ago but just haven't gotten around posting it.
Until another time,