Death Visits The Founders
It was a quiet evening in the founders’ era, the air in the Great Hall filled with the soft murmurs of conversation. The four founders of Hogwarts sat at the long table with Harry, their curiosity about the strange wizard from the future outweighing their suspicion—for now.
Harry leaned back in his chair, enjoying a goblet of mead as Godric and Salazar debated fiercely about the efficacy of charms versus brute magical strength. Helga listened with a patient smile, while Rowena occasionally interjected with a sharp remark that silenced both men.
For Harry, it was a refreshing scene. Despite the weight of his immortality and the burden of knowing their fates, there was a warmth in their camaraderie he hadn’t felt in centuries.
Until the shadows in the room deepened.
Harry’s relaxed demeanor shifted immediately, his hand tightening around the goblet. The founders paused their conversation, their instincts sharp enough to sense the sudden shift in the air.
“What is this?” Salazar demanded, his hand moving to the wand at his side.
Godric stood, his eyes narrowing as his own wand appeared in his hand. Helga and Rowena exchanged uneasy glances but remained seated, their gazes darting around the room.
Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Stand down. It’s not an attack.”
“Then what—” Rowena began, but her words trailed off as a shape materialized in the middle of the hall.
A sleek black cat padded into view, its movements impossibly smooth, as though it were gliding across the stone floor. Its fur seemed to drink in the light, and its eyes—swirling pools of silver and black—captured the room in an unyielding gaze.
“What in Merlin’s name…” Godric muttered, lowering his wand slightly but not relaxing his stance.
Salazar, on the other hand, didn’t move. His eyes were locked on the cat, his expression unreadable.
Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Hello, Death. I was wondering when you’d show up.”
The founders froze, their eyes darting between Harry and the cat.
“That... is Death?” Helga asked cautiously, her voice steady despite the chill in the air.
The cat leapt gracefully onto the table, ignoring the founders entirely as it padded over to Harry. It sat down in front of him, curling its tail around its paws. The mental connection flared to life in Harry’s mind, the voice he knew all too well ringing cold and sharp.
*“You’ve been busy, Master.”*
“Someone has to keep things interesting,” Harry replied, reaching for a piece of bread and taking a casual bite.
The founders watched in stunned silence as the cat tilted its head, a slow, deliberate movement that sent a shiver down Rowena’s spine.
“You... talk to it?” Salazar finally asked, his voice low.
Harry smirked. “Only in my head. Death isn’t much for small talk.”
*“Small talk is beneath me,”* the cat agreed, its unblinking eyes fixed on Harry. *“I’m here to remind you not to overstep.”*
“I’m not overstepping,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m helping.”
*“Helping? By meddling with the founders of Hogwarts?”*
The cat’s tail flicked, knocking over Harry’s goblet. The liquid spilled across the table, drawing a sharp gasp from Helga.
“Was that necessary?” Harry asked, arching a brow.
*“Yes,”* Death replied simply. *“Consider it a warning. Your interference here could unravel more than you realize.”*
Godric finally found his voice, stepping forward. “What interference? And who—what—is this creature to speak to you so freely?”
Harry glanced at Godric, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, this? This is just Death. Don’t worry; it’s harmless. Unless you’re on its list.”
The founders exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unsettled by Harry’s casual tone.
“Harmless?” Rowena repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. “That... thing is radiating more magic than I’ve ever felt in my life.”
“Flattering,” Death said, its voice laced with amusement. *“But inaccurate. I am not magic. I am inevitability.”*
Salazar’s grip on his wand tightened, his eyes narrowing. “And what is it doing here, speaking to you as though you are its equal?”
Harry chuckled, leaning forward to meet Death’s unblinking gaze. “Oh, I’m not its equal. I’m just its... unfortunate companion. Isn’t that right?”
*“You are mine, as you always have been.”*
The founders stiffened at the words, the weight of them settling over the room like a heavy shroud.
Harry sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t listen to it. Death has a flair for the dramatic.”
The cat stood, its gaze sweeping over the founders with an intensity that made even Godric flinch.
*“They are fragile, these mortals you’ve chosen to amuse yourself with. Be careful, Master. Fragility often leads to chaos.”*
With that, the cat leapt off the table, its form dissolving into shadows before vanishing entirely.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Finally, Salazar spoke, his voice colder than ice. “You have much to explain, Evans.”
Harry shrugged, picking up a fresh goblet and filling it with mead. “I warned you I was unconventional.”
Rowena’s eyes narrowed. “You speak to Death itself. What kind of man are you?”
Harry smiled faintly, his eyes distant. “The kind who’s been around far too long.”