Draco's POV:
The battlefield was chaos. Draco stood in the midst of it all, his heart pounding. He looked at Harriet Potter, the girl who live, the last hope against Voldemort. She was meant to be dead... he knew that she was dead. And yet, she lives, again...the girl who lives...
Harriet, covered in dirt and blood, faced Voldemort with fierce resolve, and Draco takes a step forward in her direction, but stops, as he's right behind Voldemort.
What am I doing? he thought, glancing at her determined face.
Can she really win this?
Draco stood amidst the remnants of the battlefield, his gaze drifting towards his parents who stood nearby. They looked exhausted, their faces etched with deep lines of trauma and fear. For years, they had been under the cruel dictatorship of Voldemort, forced to comply with his demands, their lives hanging by a thread each day.
Looking at them, Draco felt a surge of anger and hatred towards Voldemort. The Dark Lord had not only tormented and manipulated his family but had plunged the entire wizarding world into darkness. Fear and oppression had become the norm, and Draco had witnessed firsthand the atrocities committed in Voldemort’s name.
The once-vibrant community of witches and wizards was now a shadow of its former self. Fear pervaded every corner, and dissent was swiftly crushed. Draco recalled the days when Hogwarts was a place of learning and camaraderie, now tainted by fear and suspicion.
Voldemort’s regime had brought suffering to countless families like his own. His parents, once proud and dignified, now bore the scars of constant fear and humiliation. Draco clenched his fists, feeling the weight of responsibility to end this tyranny once and for all.
No more, he vowed silently.
This ends now.
Harriet, covered in dirt and blood, faced Voldemort with fierce resolve, but she's wandless.
You stupid, reckless, foolish gryffindork!
Draco held his wand tightly, feeling helpless, but in a split second decision, Draco ran to Harriet. “Potter!” he shouted, throwing his wand to her. She caught it.
He knew that a wand’s power depended on its connection to its master, and his wand wasn’t meant for Harriet.
Then the duel began with a flash of green light as Voldemort shouted, “Avada Kedavra!” Harriet quickly countered with “Expelliarmus!” The spells clashed, creating a burst of energy so intense that the ground beneath them shook. Draco’s wand, in Harriet’s hand, began to tremble. But he could see it wasn’t enough. The connection wasn’t right, The wand chooses the wizard, Draco could see his wand was divided between fighting Harriet and powering the spell, its divided attention meant it wasn't strong enough to handle the power of the spell,
No, it’s not working! Draco thought frantically.
He watched as the wand vibrated violently, its core straining against the force of the spells.
It's going to break.
I have to do something!
Draco rushed forward, grabbing Harriet’s hand, wrapping his own around his wand.
She turned in shock, her eyes betrayed her confused and terror.
“We’ll do this together,” he said, his voice shaking but determined.
He felt a surge of magic, his and hers combining, and his wand warms up under their combined hands, allowing their magic to flow together.
Please let this work, he thought, focusing all his will into the wand.
The power between the three of them – Voldemort, Harriet, and Draco – became a storm of energy. The air crackled and sparked, the light blinding.
Suddenly, there was a massive explosion. The force of it sent a shockwave through the battlefield. Draco felt before he saw, body grow cold and start to disintegrate, turning to ash. He quickly turns to see Harriet and Voldemort meeting the same fate, their forms crumbling into dust.
This is the end, he thought.
A strange sense of peace washing over him. As their ashes mixed and swirled in the air, carried away by the wind, the battle was over.
He misses the traumatised look on his father's face, and the deeply wounded howls of his mother's cries, for the world grew silent and Draco’s last thought was
It's over, maybe now, there can be peace.
And then, he was gone
Harriets POV:
Harriet blinked, her surroundings unfamiliar yet hauntingly reminiscent. She was seated on a bench in a train station, bathed in a soft, ethereal light that seemed to emanate from every surface. Limbo—the place she had glimpsed in that brief moment after Voldemort’s curse had struck her down.
She looked around, her heart skipping a beat when she saw them: Tom Riddle -because without the snakelike visage he looked less like the Voldemort she knew and more like the young Tom she once mistakenly befriended.
Tom stood nearby, looking human, handsome, but older (as if in his mid 50's, which for a wizard could be anywhere between there 70's-90's) much like an aged version of his locket self, but with an unsettling blankness in his eyes.
Around his neck, a ghostly Nagini coiled and a locket hung, and atop his head rested the diadem, the diary tucked under his left arm, and hand holding onto Hufflepuff's cup. His right arm clutches a deformed baby close to his chest, and middle finger bore the Gaunt ring, devoid of its stone.
Next to him stood Draco Malfoy, similarly frozen and vacant, as if time had stopped for them both. Harriet’s mind raced with confusion and unease.
I'm back? Why am I back?
And why are they here, in this strange in-between place?
What did it mean?
She stood slowly, her eyes fixed on the two figures.
They didn’t acknowledge her presence; it was as if they existed in their own isolated worlds, waiting for a train that might never come. Harriet’s thoughts swirled with memories of being in the Train Station of Limbo, her last discussion with Dumbledore, the baby Horcrux she left behind, the battles fought and lives lost, duelling Voldemort one last time, and Draco... her childhood enemy unexpectedly standing beside her against at the end.
As she approached, her footsteps echoing softly in the silence, she approaches Draco, grabbing onto him and softly calling out his name, but he doesn't react. Then turns to look at Tom...
Tom Riddle, once the epitome of darkness and ambition, now stood before her in a ghostly form, burdened by the remnants of his horcruxes...
and Draco Malfoy, a figure from her tumultuous school years, stood alongside him, equally lost in this surreal limbo.
“Why are we all here?” Harriet murmured, though she knew they couldn’t answer.
She reached out tentatively, her hand hovering near Tom Riddle’s shoulder, but she hesitated.
What if touching him wakes him up?
.....or worse... what if he doesn't?
Where's Dumbledore? Will I be stuck here alone?
The air around them shimmered faintly, the station seeming to pulse with a quiet energy. Harriet’s gaze flickered between them, her mind racing with questions that had no easy answers.
What was the purpose of this encounter?
Was there a chance for redemption, even in this liminal space between life and whatever lay beyond?
Suddenly, a distant sound broke through the silence—a faint rumble, growing steadily louder. Harriet jumps, as she turns towards the sound, her heart quickening and stomach flutters in anxiety and hope. A train was approaching, its form gradually materialising out of the mist.
She glanced back at Tom and Draco, who remained oblivious to the approaching train.
This didn't happen before, there wasn't a train.
Is there meant to be a train? And are we meant to board it?
Does this means we're truly dead?
The train drew nearer, its light casting a warm glow over the platform. But Harriet took a step back, and turns to look at the two people with her.
If they're frozen and not mentally present, how would they board the train?
How are they going to leave this limbo behind and move on?
Or are they condemned to linger here for eternity?
The uncertainty of the fate that awaits them makes her stomach queasy, so she takes action.
"Malfoy, MALFOY! you need to wake up! You need to wake up, and move!" Harriet shouts at the tall blonde, reaching for his shirt collar to shake the un-moveable boy.
She rushes over to Tom "Voldemort! Riddle! Tom! wake up, wake up wake up wake up!" she pushes at the mans imovable chest, but he remains frozen in place.
Harriet abandons Voldemort and swiftly turns her attention back to Draco. She slaps him in a panic, but his head remains steady, his expression unchanged, and his hair unruffled. He shows no reaction or acknowledgment of her actions, leaving Harriet's throbbing hand as the only evidence of her futile attempt.
Harriet's attempts again to grab the attention of Tom and Draco, but was met with eerie silence. They remained fixed in their blank states, oblivious to her presence, standing frozen and still.
But when the train comes closer, their bodies suddenly shift forward, shocking her. They walked mechanically towards the approaching train, but it's clear from the look in their eyes neither one of them are mentally awake or present.
Panic surged within her as she hurried after them, trying desperately to formulate a plan of escape or at least to understand what was happening in this strange realm.
As they reached the platform, the train screeched to a halt with a rush of steam and a hiss of brakes. Tom Riddle and Draco Malfoy boarded without hesitation, disappearing into the dimly lit interior. Harriet followed closely behind, her mind racing with questions and her heart heavy with guilt for what had transpired in the final battle.
But before she could step onto the train, a figure emerged from the shadows—a tall, imposing presence in a cloak that seemed to shimmer with starlight. It was Death itself, its gaze piercing and solemn as it held out a hand to stop Harriet.
"You cannot board this train, Harriet Potter," Death spoke, its voice resonating with a timeless authority.
"This journey is not for you."
Harriet froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. "But why? Where are they going? I have to help Draco, I have to..."
Death interrupted gently but firmly, "Their path is not yours to tread. They are to cross into the afterlife, their fate sealed by the choices they made in life."
Realisation dawned on Harriet like a heavy cloak settling upon her shoulders. "You mean... Draco... he's...?"
"His time has come to pass, and now he must go beyond the veil," Death confirmed, its voice carrying a note of compassion.
"His time in the mortal realm has ended."
Tears welled up in Harriet's eyes as she struggled to comprehend the finality of it all.
"It's not fair," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.
"Draco died because of me. He didn't deserve..."
"He fulfilled his destiny," Death interjected, its tone gentle yet unwavering. "As will you, Harriet Potter."
Harriet shook her head in disbelief, her hands trembling at her sides. "Destiny? What destiny? Why am I allowed to live again and he's not?"
"Because you are the Mistress of Death," Death explained calmly. "You have united the Hallows—"
"The Cloak, Wand, and Stone. That silly Peverell fairytale" Harriet mumbles to herself in shock.
"Yes." Death calmly continues, unperturbed by Harriet's rude interruption.
"You are the living counterpart of Death itself, bound to walk between the realms of life and afterlife."
A bitter laugh escaped Harriet's lips, mingled with tears. "Why me? Why is it always me? Take it back, TAKE IT BACK, I DON'T WANT IT!"
Death remains undeterred, "I cannot take back what was never given."
"You we're always destined to be Death's vessel, for there never was a Harriet Potter, as Harriet Potter never truly existed. Death cannot be present in life's domain for the gravity of its presence is too strong for souls to resist, so Death must stay away. However, Death must be anchored in life to shepard the tired souls that expire and bring it back to the fold, so Death must be present."
"Therefore, a part of Death must be reborn into flesh to step into life's domain to anchor Death and be a beacon to all souls. You were given life to fulfill this purpose," Death affirmed, its presence comforting yet immutable. "Your journey is not over, but Draco Malfoy's has reached its conclusion."
Harriet felt a wave of nostalgia and sadness wash over her. "Does this mean I can never move on to the afterlife? See my parents, Sirius, Remus..."
Death's answer was gentle but resolute. "No, Harriet Potter. As the Mistress of Death, you cannot pass on. Your existence is to maintain the balance between life and death."
The realisation settled heavily upon her heart. "So I'm forever condemned to wander between worlds, watching others move on while I remain..."
"It is your burden and your gift," Death replied solemnly. "To guide souls and maintain order. Draco will find peace in the afterlife, just as you make peace and find purpose in your role."
"Now," Death said softly, "you must return. Life awaits you, Harriet Potter."
Harriet feels sick to her stomach, as the reality of Deaths words hits her in full force.
No no no.. I can't- I can't....
She feels dizzy as she can hear her heart beat loudly in her head, she gazes around her manickly with tears in her eyes, and catches sight of Draco who sits blankly in the train awaiting his death, the sight of him brings back to life hope to at least fix something she could do.
No no no, he only died because of me
It's before his time,
Narccissa... I owe her this at least
If I cant escape life, then i could at least help Malfoy escape Death!
Harriet stands her ground in the ethereal train station, her resolve firm despite Death's solemn words. "I refuse to leave unless Draco can come with me," she insisted, her voice trembling with emotion. "If I am Death's Mistress, then I command you to let him live!"
Death regarded her with a calm but inscrutable gaze. "You cannot command Death, Harriet Potter," it replied, its voice resonating with a timeless authority.
"I am not yours to control. You have mastered the balance between life and death, that means you and I are one in essence, we are powerful, yes, and death it our domain, however, our powers do not extend to altering the natural order."
Tears welled up in Harriet's eyes as she pleaded, "But Draco sacrificed himself for me. He doesn't deserve to be lost forever."
"Please, please, you say you and I are the same... that we are one...."
"But if you we are the same, then you would know I cannot handle, we cannot step aside and not save someone when we know we could. And I know you could. So you must feel that too right, and you know there must be something we can do!"
"Please" she begs again.
Death fell silent for a moment, its presence radiating contemplation.
Finally, it spoke again, its voice softer yet decisive. "Very well, Harriet Potter. For our sake, we will intervene."
With a nod from Death, Harriet turned her gaze to Draco, who stood nearby in his blank state, frozen and unaware. She approached him cautiously, her heart racing with a mixture of relief and anxiety.
As Death's influence took hold, Draco stirred. Confusion and fear clouded his expression as he beheld Death itself standing before him. Harriet reached out, taking Draco's trembling hand in hers, offering what comfort she could amidst the surreal circumstances.
"He's scared," Harriet murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, more to herself than to Death.
Death inclined its head, understanding in its eyes. "You are Death in human form, your presence is shielded by your living flesh, but mine is not. He cannot comprehend my presence," it explained gently.
"To mortals, Death is an awe-inspiring force. His mind cannot comprehend, but rest assured, he is unharmed." the deity finishes.
Relieved but still wary, Harriet guided Draco towards the train's exit, leading him away from Death's unsettling aura. Draco clung to her, his confusion palpable but his trust in Harriet evident, as underneath all that fear and trepidation, he recognises the familiarity of Harriet's human presence.
"Thank you," Harriet whispered to Death, gratitude and relief flooding her heart.
She guided Draco forward, speaking soothingly to him as they moved towards the path of life once more, away from the spectral train and the liminal space of the afterlife.
But as they walked, Death's voice halted them gently. "You're going the wrong way, Harriet Potter," it said, its tone quiet but firm.
Confusion furrowed Harriet's brow as she turned to face Death once more. "What do you mean?"
"Turn left," Death instructed calmly, gesturing towards a soft glow in the distance.
Harriet hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She remembered walking forwards the last time she was here, but now she's directed towards a different direction. But something in Death's demeanour reassured her, and with Draco's life in literally in her hands, she wont gamble with arguing with the leniency of the deity. With a nod of gratitude and a final glance back at Death, Tom, and the train station of Limbo, she took Draco's hand firmly and turned left, stepping towards the beckoning light.
As they moved forward, the light enveloped them, its child washing away the warmth of the liminal space. Harriet felt the wealth of peace quickly run off her body as she feels the cold hard dirt of the earth in between her fingers, and a wash of pain and discomfort from wounds on her aching body shocks her system back to life. But Harriet embraces all of this, because she knew she succeeded, Voldemort is dead, and Draco lives, and although she'll suffer immortality, at least for now she didn't abandon her friends and family in life and can enjoy whatever time she has left with them until the problem of her immortality becomes an issue of the present. But for now, she can enjoy the small wins.
Harriet hears presumably Draco groan in discomfort next to her as she slowly moves to rub her eyes open, but quickly sits up in shock with her eyes wide open, after she hears Draco's wide exclamation.
"Morgana's saggy tits! Where the fuck are we?"
And he's not wrong Harriet thinks to herself
Because when her eyes finally see clearly, she looks around to see the dark gloomy ruins of some lost ancient civilisation she can't recognise, the sky is dark as the sun almost sets casting a terrifying red orange glow to the ruins around her, aside from her and Draco, not a single living being can be seen in her immediate area; plant, animal, or person. And the atmosphere is so unlike what she's used to, as its thick, too thick with deep rich magic that envelops her heavily, making her and her empty core almost drunk with the sudden influx and weight of it all.
Feeling heady from it all, Harriet passes out, but not before making out Malfoy's pale worried face come close to her, as he moves to reach her, his hands on her weakened body unclear voice expressing his panic worry over her as she ultimately blacks out.
