Samhain
Saturday, 31 October 1998
After making sure Teddy was set up at Grimmauld Place for the night, Harry collected the Stone from where Mary had left it before going back to Hogwarts and set off to find Theo to get the Cloak. He had taken to running through a list of everything he needed for the ritual that night to distract himself from the breakdown he could feel coming.
As he moved through the halls of the house of his father, a house that was now his, he repeatedly muttered the checklist under his breath; Cloak, Stone, Wand, Peverell Dagger, Peverell Grimoire, 12 red candles, 8 black candles, 4 white candles, consecrated blood ink for runes, Cloak, Stone, Wand, Peverell Dagger …
It was his fourth time through the list when he ran headlong into something cold and only almost there.
He looked up into silver eyes.
Well, so much for holding off that breakdown.
“Mon étoile,” Regulus said, the look on his face told Harry that his fake smile hadn’t, in fact, tricked everyone, “are you heading back to school?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for Theo, he still has the Cloak, and I need it for the Peverell ritual.”
“That’s interesting,” Regulus said, Harry let a moment of relief wash over him when he realized that Regulus was going to let him ignore the fact that he was on the verge of a breakdown, “has that always been the case or is that something specific to you?”
“It’s been part of the ritual at least since the Peverells married into the Potters,” Harry said, “but the ritual has never been done with all three Hallows so we’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen.”
“Well, I look forward to finding out,” Regulus replied with a light laugh, “Theodore was headed toward the Master Suite the last I saw him.”
“Thanks,” Harry said with a slight smile, “I’ll see you later?”
“See you later, mon étoile.”
Harry grasped Regulus’ shoulder as he passed, Regulus reached up to place his hand on Harry’s for a moment. Neither needed words. Somehow, despite everything, they understood each other.
Harry continued his trek through Grimmauld Place, trying his best to not let his thoughts get away from him; Cloak, Stone, Wand, Peverell Dagger, Peverell Grimoire, 12 red candles, 8 black candles, 4 white candles, consecrated blood ink for runes, Cloak, Stone … he reached the door to his bedroom and turned the knob.
He found Theo sitting on his bed with the Cloak at his feet, staring into the mid distance.
“Theo?” he said, keeping his voice quiet.
Theo blinked and turned to look at him, a soft smile taking over his face, “hello, love, everything alright?”
“It is now,” Harry said, climbing onto the bed and putting his head in Theo’s lap with a sigh, “it is now,” he repeated.
Theo ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, brushing the curls off his forehead before running soft fingers down his face. Running his thumb over Harry’s cheek, jawline, and lips before returning to running his fingers through Harry’s curls. With every featherlight touch, Harry relaxed further.
“What can I do?” Theo asked.
“This,” Harry responded, “this, forever.”
“Forever,” Theo said, “always.”
Tears welled in Harry’s eyes at Theo’s easy declaration.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Harry squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sigh, “I should get going, I need to get everything set up.”
“Alright, love,” Theo said, “anything I can help with?”
“No, everything is ready, technically, it’s just still in my quarters and I need to get it down to the ritual circle. I’m sure Godric and Salazar, and probably Helga and Rowena are down there checking for the 14th time that the circle is secure, and I should probably go talk to them. I mean, I talk to them every day but somehow it feels like talking to their portraits and talking to their shades is different.”
“Do you need to take Neville, Susan, and Luna with you?”
“I probably should, it’s our best opportunity to speak with them at the circle.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot that all four of you are ritual leaders, I was thinking more along the lines of just giving all of you the opportunity to talk to your Founder.”
“Yeah, we switch off. The four of them switched off as well, Slytherin had Samhain and Yule, Ravenclaw Imbolc and Ostara, Gryffindor Beltane and Litha, and Hufflepuff Lammas and Mabon. The only reason I’m not using the Slytherin ritual tonight is that the Peverell ritual is far more powerful for Samhain. We’ll use the Slytherin one for Yule.”
“Alright, love,” Theo said, bending over to press a kiss to Harry’s temple, “let’s get going, can you apparate me back to your quarters?”
“Course,” Harry said, standing up and stretching. He grabbed the Cloak and quickly shoved it into the shadows along with the Dagger, Ignotus’ wand, and his scythe, then reached out and wrapped his arms around Theo’s waist before turning on his heel and apparating them into his living room at Hogwarts. Theo kissed Harry goodbye before heading to his dorm where his nicer robes were still stored.
* * *
Harry stepped into the bedroom to find clothes for the night, he didn’t think the jeans and t-shirt he’d found on his floor that morning were proper clothing for leading a massive ritual. He decided to channel Death at his most dramatic and pulled out black slacks and a black silk shirt, he put on a black long sleeve shirt under the button down, not sure how warm the Cloak would actually keep him once the sun set. He re-attached his thigh holster and pulled on shiny black dragonhide boots before stepping into the bathroom to tame his curls.
He stared into the mirror and hardly recognized the person looking back.
The scrawny Harry of years past was well and truly gone. His reflection showed an impressive figure; tall and broad shouldered, muscular and clean cut, tanned skin, bright green eyes, black curls that were only Potter messy rather than unkempt. With the dark black clothes and visible holsters, he was certainly imposing.
On a whim, he stretched out his hand and grabbed the Cloak, throwing it over his shoulders and barely concealing his shock when he remained visible. It seems that mastering this particular item meant he could will it to be invisible or not. When visible, the Cloak was black as night and shimmered slightly as he moved.
He’d rarely worn it as a cloak, usually just spreading the fabric out to cover him and whoever else he was sneaking around with. It had always been just large enough to cover whoever needed to be hidden. But now, draped over Harry’s shoulders, it was just a cloak. Pitch black fabric that fell to mid-thigh, a hood, and a clasp. Upon closer examination, the clasp was a thin silver chain that connected two depictions of the Hallows.
It looked like any other winter cloak, but it certainly didn’t feel that way. Harry had always noticed the magic of the Cloak, it had always felt familiar. Something he’d chalked up to the Cloak once belonging to his father before he’d learned about the Peverells. But right now, really focusing on it, the magic of the Cloak felt like his own magic. Beyond everything else, the meetings with Death, the scythe, banishing inferni, and sending Regulus to his final rest, this was the thing that made Harry realize that he was truly the Master of Death.
He couldn’t brush it off as Peverell Magic anymore.
Harry took another deep breath before reaching his hand out once again and allowing the scythe to materialize.
Alone in his bathroom with no one to hear or see, Harry closed his eyes and claimed his title.
Not the Boy-Who-Lived, not the Chosen One, not Lord Potter or Lord Black or Lord Slytherin or Lord Peverell, not Harry or Hadrian or Haz or Hades; he was the Master of Death.
When Harry opened his eyes and looked into the mirror again, he wasn’t the only one looking back.
Over his shoulder stood Death, skin a shade lighter, curls dark brown not black, and eyes golden-brown rather than green.
Harry had joked that they looked alike, but this was something else.
Harry closed his eyes once more and focused on his metamorph powers, taking care to only shift the color of his eyes, skin, and hair rather than changing the shape or size any of his features. When he opened his eyes once, the two stood as twin pillars. Separated by generations upon generations and centuries upon centuries, but so very much the same.
“I need to speak to you,” Death said, voice soft.
“Alright,” Harry said, releasing his power and allowing his features to return to normal. He opened his hand and allowed the scythe to fade back into the shadows before turning around to face Death.
It was odd, how his definition of “facing Death” had shifted. Once it had meant squaring off with a basilisk or walking into the forest, accepting his end, but now it meant a conversation with a friend.
“My blunder with explaining the powers of the Hallows made me realize that I’ve done a rather poor job of explaining all of this to you,” Harry started to interrupt, to say that he’d done a great job and that Harry had learned more from Death in the past few months than he’d learned from anyone ever, but Death cut him off, “I’ve explained many things to you, of course, I’ve done my best to teach you, but there are some things so intrinsic to who I am and who you’ve now fully realized you are that I’ve just forgotten I need to actually explain them.”
“Okay,” Harry said, glancing at his watch, “I have 20 minutes and then I need to find Nev, Luna, and Susan to go down to the circle, what’s the most important thing for me to know right now.”
“Peverells aren’t the only necromancers,” Death started to explain, “in ages past, any wizard with an affinity to necromancy or even soul magic could study to gain a mastery in the Art of Necromancy. Like any Mastery in any branch of magic, think Charms or Transfiguration, there are steps in this learning. With you, we sort of jumped over several of those steps and went straight to banishing inferi. Many of the things we did to prepare for that ritual are covered in the initial steps of the Mastery. Things like creating candles and putting together the consecrated blood ink and even drawing runes were things that were covered early on in the education, but we covered it in a speed run. What you’ll do tonight, leading the Samhain ritual, is another step. There are several acts that are known as Necromancy that are the dark, black side of the art. Things like creating inferi and horcruxes and raising the dead. We absolutely will not be doing that; those acts go against the very nature of who we are as Death and his Master so don’t even think about it.”
“I absolutely wasn’t thinking about it,” Harry said, “and if you asked me to make a Horcrux I would’ve put up a listing to see if any other deities were looking for a chaos magnet for a sidekick.”
That got a laugh out of Death who reached out to squeeze Harry’s shoulder before continuing, “but there are several aspects of traditional Necromancy that I want you to learn, that I think you’ll want to learn. A true Necromancer, like yourself, automatically has command over blood, bone, spirit, soul, and mind. You, as you know, have a rather impressive affinity for soul magic which will help with some of the things I want to teach you, but know that you have a command over each of the things I listed even if they didn’t appear as affinities. I believe I’ve mentioned before that Necromancy is incredibly useful in healing, that is why.
“But let me refocus on what I want to tell you before tonight,” he said, shaking his head slightly, “you, by nature of being the Master of Death, are automatically something of a Master Necromancer, that’s what the title Master of Death initially meant. When the story of the Brothers spread, the idea was that a person who mastered each of the Hallows would gain power over Necromancy. But, over the years, that idea obviously corrupted into a notion that the person who united the Hallows would be the master of me, which is a hilarious concept. Nonetheless, the initial idea holds some truth. Of course, by being the last of the Peverells and uniting the Hallows, you’ve become so much more than a Master Necromancer,” he stopped to take a breath, “I’m getting off track again, you, for all intents and purposes, have a Mastery in Necromancy, but I can’t just throw you into the most intense aspects of the art with zero real training.”
“What are you getting at,” Harry said, not sure whether to laugh at Death’s rambling or be concerned by whatever he was about to say.
“I believe that after tonight, especially because I just felt you accept your position by my side on a soul-deep level, you will have performed enough magic under the umbrella of Necromancy that I’ll be able to teach you the more complicated stuff. And, like I just told you, one of the aspects you have command over is the healing of spirit, soul, and mind.”
“You mean,” Harry said, hardly believing what he was hearing.
“Yes,” Death said, eyes lighting up and a smile splitting his face, “they’ll never be entirely healed, there’s far too much damage and the injuries have sat unhealed for far too many years, but I believe you’ll be able to make a significant improvement.”
“Do you think they’ll be able to consistently recognize him?”
“Yes,” Death said, “that is absolutely achievable.”
“That’s enough,” Harry said, grinning now, “that’s more than enough. Thank you,” he said, launching himself at Death and pulling him into a tight hug, “thank you.”
Death hugged him back, tucking his head against Harry’s shoulder and breathing deep, letting the security of human contact and the warm thrum of family magic wash over him, “you’re welcome, Harry.”
Harry pulled back and put his hands on Death’s shoulders, staring him straight in the eye and letting the grin drop from his face, “thank you for everything,” he said, his voice thick, “truly.”
“Of course,” Death said, “and thank you.”
Harry wasn’t sure what an immortal deity had to thank him for, but he accepted it with a nod before saying, “I should go.”
Death watched him leave before looking back in the mirror and taking a deep breath. It had been so many years since he’d felt human, since he’d seen himself as human. It had been centuries since he’d stopped even thinking of himself as his true name, he’d all but forgotten his own name until a little boy with bright green eyes and magic so familiar it was almost painful stepped into the world. Then the little boy grew up and fought and bled and died and never let his heart turn black.
He'd not only greeted Death as a friend but had accepted him with open arms. For the first time in a thousand years, Death thought of himself as Hadrian Peverell.
He took another moment, staring into the mirror at features he hadn’t seen in centuries until he saw them on the face of that boy. His own face that he’d shrouded beneath dark cloaks and in shadows as he pushed away everything that made him feel human.
Soft brown curls and brown eyes, tan skin, broad shoulders, a straight nose, gold-rimmed glasses nearly identical to Harry’s, and James’ and Fleamont’s before him.
He took a deep breath before pulling up the hood of his cloak and fading into the shadows to wait for the rush of magic he’d feel as the sun set.
It had been washing over him all day as people around the world offered up gifts and blood and magic in the name of Death, and while every gift, every sacrifice was important and treated with the same respect, he knew the power of each of these rituals would pale in comparison to what he’d feel when Harry pulled up the hood on his own Cloak, lit the candles, and let Peverell blood flow through the Circle.
* * *
“Nev,” Harry yelled, bursting through his front door, massive grin on his face, “you here?”
“In here,” Neville called from his bedroom, “what’s up?”
“I have something to tell you and then we need to meet up with Susan and Luna and go down to the circle.”
Neville stepped out into the living room wearing dark brown slacks and a white button down, holding a tan cloak in one hand the sweater he’d stolen from Harry that morning in the other, “here,” he said, tossing the sweater at Harry, “what did you need to tell me?”
Harry gave as quick of a summary of what Death had just told him as he could before saying, “he can teach me how to heal your parents, at least to some extent. He said that he was certain we’d be able to heal them enough that they’d consistently recognize you and the way he said it made me think that we’d be able to do even more than that.”
Neville just stared at Harry, mouth open in shock, before he blinked once and then launched himself across the room, tackling Harry to the ground with the force of his hug, “really?” he said, his voice muffled in Harry’s shoulder and sounding like he couldn’t dare to actually hope.
“Really,” Harry said, wrapping his arms tighter around his brother, “I’ll learn everything he’ll teach me and do everything I can to heal them.”
“Thank you,” Nevile whispered, his voice breaking.
They remained on the ground for a full five minutes. Neville sniffed and tightened his hold on Harry briefly before rolling off of him to stand up. He held out a hand to pull Harry off the floor and pulled him into one more hug once they were both standing.
“Got everything?” he asked. Harry nodded and said, “turns out I can store my ritual bag in the shadows too so that’s sick.”
“Has he ever explained how this whole shadow storage situation works?”
“Not even a little but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t make sense even if he did so I’m just gonna let it be.”
“Smart,” Neville said with a laugh, brushing the wrinkles out of his shirt before reaching out to straighten Harry’s cloak, “this is a nice cloak, where’d you get it?”
“It’s the Cloak, Nev,” Harry said, “apparently it’s an actual cloak when I want it to be.”
“What happens when you put the hood up?”
Harry pulled up the hood and remained visible, though his face was shrouded in shadow, “let me try something,” he said, undoing the clasp and throwing it around Neville’s shoulders. Immediately the fabric stretched out and Neville was invisible from the neck down, exactly like the Cloak had been at any point before today, “odd,” Harry observed before throwing the Cloak back over his own shoulders and re-doing the clasp.
“We don’t have time for whatever is happening right now,” Neville said, “let’s get the girls and head down.”
They started down the stairs and found Susan and Luna dressed and ready, perched in chairs by the window in the sitting room.
“Ready?” Luna asked, standing up and walking over to slip under Harry’s arm, winding her arm around his waist and glancing up at him.
“Ready,” Harry said.
Neville held out his arm for Susan to take and they made their way out of the Tower and onto the grounds.
Once they were outside, Neville threw his arm around Harry’s shoulders, and they silently made their way to the circle as one.
The ritual circle was at the center of a stone circle on the edge of the grounds with the Forest to the North and the Lake to the West.
Susan had wrapped her arm around Neville’s waist and grabbed onto Harry’s cloak as they walked over so as they approached the circle, everyone was touching Harry or a Hallow and they could see their four counterparts standing around the outer edge: Salazar to the North, Rowena to the East, Godric to the South, and Helga to the West.
“Hello,” Harry greeted as they approached.
Salazar looked over his shoulder at the sound of Harry’s voice and grinned at the sight of the four Heirs walking in a tangle of limbs, “hello, Hades,” he said, “ready for tonight?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Harry said, pulling off his cloak and draping it over Susan’s shoulders so she’d be able to see everyone as Harry stepped away. As he’d guessed, Luna remained glued to his side so there was no need to pass over a Hallow.
“The Circle is ready,” Godric said, “did you bring everything you need for the ritual?”
“I did,” Harry said, “we just wanted to come down early to talk to you.”
“Can you explain the circle?” Susan asked, “I’ve seen it before but haven’t ever really looked at it and now we’ll be using it for rituals.”
“I carved it the same year we started building the castle,” Salazar said.
“Is that why the inscription is in Gaelic?” Luna asked.
“Yes, good eye,” Salazar said, smiling at Luna, “as you four know, each of us is from one of the four major territories you now know as the British Isles. I’m from Ireland, Godric is Scottish, Helga is Welsh, and Rowena is English. Anyways,” he said, continuing his explanation, “the inscription reads here we sacrifice to Lady Magic, Lady Fate, Lord Time, and Lord Death to bless these gifts and renew our blood. Do any of you recognize the symbols around the circle?”
It was fun to watch Salazar, or any of the founders really, slip into ‘professor mode,’ so the four heirs humored him and started to walk around the circle, calling out symbols they recognized.
“The full circle has the Zodiacs, right?” Luna said, “Starting at the top with Scorpio which is where Samhain would fall?”
“Correct,” Salazar said, shooting Luna a bright grin.
“So, then these two symbols,” Harry said, pointing to the North and Northeast, “are for Samhain and Yule? The holidays that I’ll be the High Priest for?”
“Exactly,” Salazar praised, “so then what would this rune represent?” he asked, gesturing to the north tip of the Celtic knot.
“It’s Hagalaz,” Neville said, “the rune for air, which is your element, right?”
“Correct,” Salazar said, smiling over at Neville.
“So then to the West would be Laguz which is water and Ravenclaw and the next two symbols would be for Imbolc and Ostara then Kaunan which is fire and Gryffindor with the symbols for Beltane and Litha and finally Jera for earth and Hufflepuff with the symbols for Lammas and Mabon,” Luna said, as she and Harry finished their lap around the circle.
“Perfect,” Rowena said, sending a soft smile toward her heir.
Harry turned toward the center of the circle, where he’d stand that night, at the very center of the circle was a single rune, “Raido,” he said, “representing a journey or the wheel.”
“Then these four symbols,” Susan said, following Harry and Luna into the center, “would be Ansuz for Lady Magic at the Northeast, Perthro for Lady Fate at the Southeast, Dagaz for Lord Time at the Southwest, and Yr for Lord Death at the Northwest.”
“Well done, Susan” Helga said.
“Alright,” Harry said, “I need to get set up, Luna do you want to help, or do you want my ring so you can talk to them?”
“I’ll help,” Luna said, intertwining her fingers with Harry’s.
Harry understood, today had been insane and Luna had sort of just been dragged along for the ride. If he were in her shoes, he’d want to stick to whatever was the most familiar.
“Perfect,” Harry said, smiling down at her, “I’ve got 12 red candles, and we need to put one on each of the Zodiac symbols, 8 black candles -”
“Will those go over the 8 holidays?” Luna asked, cutting him off.
“Exactly, Little Moon, and the 4 white candles will go over the runes for Air, Water, Fire, and Earth.”
“What’s the ink for?” Luna asked as Harry unpacked his bag, “the circle is already drawn.”
“I have to trace the runes for Magic, Fate, Time, and Death as well as the symbol for Samhain in the consecrated ink and then I’m gonna be bleeding all over Raido as the sun sets.”
“Which of your dozen blades do you get to use tonight?”
Harry laughed before holding up the Peverell Dagger, “this guy.”
Between the two of them, they got the circle set up in a matter of minutes. As Luna stationed the candles, Harry carefully traced the necessary runes with the consecrated ink and then added the Peverell Dagger to his thigh holster and placed the Grimoire at the center of the circle so everything would be in reach without him having to try to explain the shadow storage situation to everyone who was coming tonight.
With the circle set, Luna and Harry walked back over to join Neville, Susan, and the Founders.
As they reached the group, they overheard the tail end of Salazar explaining how the circle was actually carved; the stones and instruments and magic they’d used to create a circle that would last for generations.
“What time is it, Haz?” Neville asked.
Harry glanced at his watch and then looked toward the castle, “6:15, people should be showing up soon, the sun starts setting at 6:30.”
As if called, several small groups started exiting the castle and walking across the grounds. Susan passed the Cloak back over to Harry but took the hand Luna wasn’t holding so she could still see the four ghosts.
They stood in silence as people poured out onto the grounds.
Initially, they’d suggested keeping it to just the 8th years, their own sort of family, but then they’d had to add Luna, Ginny, and Astoria and then Harry wanted to invite Dennis and then names kept joining the list until finally they’d opened it up to the whole school. They’d never gotten a final headcount but as Harry watched students and staff alike head toward the circle, he was a bit overwhelmed. All told, there were nearly 200 people. Almost in sync, Susan and Luna squeezed Harry’s hands and started toward the circle with Neville falling into step behind them.
Even though Harry would be the leader for this ritual, all four of them had a role to play to open a ritual on Hogwarts grounds.
They split up and took their spots at the points of the knot, the founders stepping up beside their heirs.
Harry looked around and found Theo, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Astoria standing in a clump. He looked further and found Ginny with her arm around Dennis, whispering something in his ear, likely comforting him or telling some story about Colin. Seamus and Dean were standing to the side with their hands intertwined, Harry looked across the circle to Neville to make sure he was seeing it too and raised his eyebrow, Neville nearly laughed before he was clipped on the back of the head by Godric which nearly sent Harry off before Salazar pinched his ear and whispered, “behave, Hades.”
As everyone gathered and the sky tinged orange, Harry cleared his throat and spoke, “good evening everyone,” the group fell silent and Harry didn’t even need to magically enhance his voice to be heard, “the four of us will be opening the circle and then I’ll be doing the Samhain ritual, the magic will last until midnight, so we’ll have about 5 hours. I want you all to know that I’m using the Peverell family ritual, so you’ll likely be seeing actual shades of the spirits you call upon. Feel free to spread out but remain within the stone circle and outside the actual ritual circle, there’s a lot of space to work with so we shouldn’t be cramped.”
He watched as people moved around the grass, some splitting off to sit alone and others moving closer to friends.
“Alright,” Harry said, nodding and taking a deep breath before looking from Susan to Neville to Luna, “let’s go.”
They each stood behind one of the white candles; Harry to the North, Luna to the East, Neville to the South, and Susan to the West and removed their daggers, cutting a small line into their left palms before holding their hands out and allowing 7 drops of blood to fall onto the candle at their feet and speaking in unison, “Anseo déanamid íobairt don Bhantiarna Draíocht, don Bhantiarna Usal, don Tiarna Am, agus don Tiarna Bás chun na bronntanais seo a bheanń agus ár gcuid fola a athnuachan.” The original Gaelic that was inscribed along the circle, here we sacrifice to Lady Magic, Lady Fate, Lord Time and Lord Death to bless these gifts and renew our blood.
The four white candles lit up and Luna, Susan, and Neville stepped back onto the grass as Harry walked to the center of the circle.
He placed the Slytherin dagger back into the holster at his ankle and knelt at the center of the circle, in front of the Peverell Grimoire, facing North. He pulled up the hood of the Cloak and twisted the ring with the Stone around his finger three times before dropping the Wand into his right and reaching across to grab the Peverell Dagger with his left.
Harry took a deep breath and pulled the dagger across his right palm, allowing his blood to cover the grip of the Wand and drip onto the rune carved at his feet as he looked at the Grimoire and read, “I call upon Death and greet Him as a friend.”
Immediately, the 12 red candles and 8 black candles surged to life, the runes that had been painted with the consecrated ink glowed silver, and Death himself appeared in front of Harry.
“You called?” Death said, entirely too nonchalant for what was happening right now.
Harry dared a glance around the circle and breathed out a sigh of relief when the only person whose face indicated that anything was amiss was Neville’s.
“No one else can see me,” Death confirmed, smiling at Harry, “carry on.”
Harry barely suppressed his laugh as he looked back down at the Grimoire to continue, thanking whoever was listening (Death, probably) that the ritual was almost entirely in English, bar a small bit of Greek at the end, so he didn’t have to keep stumbling over Latin and Gaelic.
“I call upon Death and greet Him as a friend,” he repeated, “I ask that Death allow me to share the gift of the Peverells, that He bless this Samhain night and open his doors, that he allow spirits to be made clear and calls to be answered. This I ask of Death, my friend and companion, my ancestor and guide, απελευθερώστε το πέπλο μέχρι να χαιρετήσουμε αύριο.”
According to Death, the Greek translated to release your hold on the veil until we greet tomorrow, and it was in Greek because it was a magically powerful language, especially when it came to the Magic of Death, but Harry was about 87% sure it was only in Greek to make it sound more dramatic.
Harry turned and held out his right hand, gripping the Wand, and allowed 7 drops of blood to spill on the section of the knot where Yr was carved.
He closed his eyes as magic, stronger than he’d ever felt, washed over the circle and spread in waves across the grass before crashing into the barrier of the stone circle and dissipating through the air. When he opened his eyes, the ground was full of spirits. His eyes fell immediately on Colin Creevey who was grinning at his little brother. He scanned the circle and saw Susan flanked by who he assumed were her parents with Amelia Bones standing in front of them, a soft smile on her face and her hand on Susan’s cheek. Next to them stood Hannah Abbot with tears in her eyes as she drank in the sight of her mother.
There were parents and grandparents, cousins, siblings, and friends. He caught a glimpse of Dumbledore’s long white hair near where he knew McGonagall had been sitting and wished the man luck.
His part was done, and so much easier than he thought it was going to be. The candles would burn, and the spirits would remain until midnight when the flames would go out and the souls would sink behind the veil until next year.
Harry thought he’d already seen everyone today, so he was entirely prepared to just sit back and watch but after he’d healed his palm and re-holstered the dagger and Wand, he looked up into a strangely familiar face. This person looked more like Death than even Harry did, but he was older than Harry had ever seen Death.
Maybe he could change his appearance? Harry found himself thinking, but that wasn’t it. Something was off.
Death always appeared solid, and this person was absolutely a shade, then Harry zeroed in on the eyes. Hazel like his father’s, not brown like Death’s. Odd.
“Harry,” the man greeted, a soft smile on his face, “it’s so good to see you.”
Harry spent another second looking at the mystery man before darting his eyes around the circle to see if anyone had an explanation but as he looked up, his eyes fell on a woman who looked so much like Padma and Parvati that Harry immediately knew who these people were.
“Dadi?” Harry said, looking into the woman’s impossibly kind brown eyes.
“Hello, Harry,” she greeted, a smile lighting up her face, “lovely to see you, dear. I think you’ve figured out who we are.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, still half shocked, “you look like Padma and Parvati, and he looks like Death so there was really only one option.”
“I look like Death?” Fleamont said with a laugh, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You look like Death,” Harry repeated, gesturing to the figure who was still standing by the open Peverell Grimoire, “say hi.”
At Harry’s call, Death lowered his hood once again and allowed himself to be seen by Fleamont and Euphemia, “hello,” he greeted, “name’s Hadrian, you can call me Death, though, if you’d like.”
“Hello,” Fleamont said, obviously thrown off kilter by this turn of events, “we really do look alike.”
“Probably should’ve mentioned that my last name is Peverell.”
“Ah,” Fleamont said, “thus the ‘ancestor and guide’ bit in the ritual, that makes a lot of sense.”
“Precisely,” Death said with a grin, “your grandson is great, by the way, I’ll leave and let you guys get to know him, see you tomorrow Harry,” he said before saluting Harry and disappearing into the shadows.
Harry just shook his head before sitting back and looking up at his grandparents, “so that’s Death.”
“I caught that much,” Euphemia said looking at Harry with mirth in her eyes, “it appears you two are rather closely acquainted.”
“He’s a friend,” Harry said with a grin.
“I take it he’s more of a friend to you than he’s been to every Peverell and Potter before you,” Fleamont said, looking at Harry with a new respect.
“Cloak, Wand, Stone,” Harry answered, “but that matters far less than finally getting to meet my grandparents, you can ask mum and dad about the whole Master of Death deal, they asked a lot of questions earlier today.”
Harry sat and listened to his grandparents tell stories about their lives and James’ childhood and watched as his schoolmates and professors were greeted by spirit after spirit for hours.
It was after 11 when he glanced over at Theo and saw him staring in confusion at the shade in front of him. It took Harry a full minute to realize who he was looking at and only the magic keeping him inside the ritual circle stopped him from darting out to intervene.
“What caught your attention?” Fleamont asked.
“That,” Harry said, pointing toward Theo, “would be my dead boyfriend and my current boyfriend and I haven’t the faintest idea what they’re talking about.”
Fleamont and Euphemia joined their grandson in staring at the pair until Cedric glanced over his shoulder and shot Harry a smile and a wink and then mouthed “my sun, my moon, and all my stars,” before disappearing.
Harry just stared at Theo who smiled and shrugged before turning to talk to Blaise.
Realizing he wasn’t going to get answers now and, if he were being honest, probably wouldn’t get answers later, Harry just shook his head before shrugging and turning back to his grandparents, “so what were you saying about Sirius getting stuck on your roof?”
Fleamont laughed and launched back into his story about the perils of Sirius and James learning to apparate while Euphemia shot Harry a knowing look before settling down to listen to the story.
As the minutes ticked down to midnight, several more spirits surrounded Harry.
Lily, James, Regulus, Sirius, Remus, and Tonks appeared around him, essentially closing Harry into the middle of a circle of ghosts.
“Hey all,” he greeted with a grin, “fancy seeing you here.”
“Same place next year?” Sirius said, matching Harry’s grin.
“Same place next year,” Harry agreed with a nod before letting the grin slip off his face and taking a moment to look at every person who stood around him. People who’d died before he could meet them, who died fighting beside him, who died for him, “I love you all,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “so much.”
“We love you too, Harry,” Lily said, “you are so loved.”
Harry closed his eyes and let her words echo in his head, let them fill up his lungs and beat with his heart.
He felt a gust of wind brush across the grounds and heard as the candles flickered out and when he opened his eyes again, only the living remained.
--
