Harry Potter and The Whispers
“Harry!” Sirius shouted, “How’s my favorite little God of Death?
“I’m the Master of Death, Death would be considered the technical God in our relationship.”
“Wouldn’t both of us be Gods? I know I am, but you also have the power of one.”
Harry huffed, “Send a letter to the Records Keeper.”
Death nodded as he, ignoring Sirius and Remus, left to follow his master's commands.
“Records Keeper?” Remus questioned.
“Mm,” Harry hummed, “They’re someone in a position higher than Life, but not Death. Poor soul is overworked though, trying to keep track of everyone and everything. His master spoils him, though.”
“Does every God have a master?” Remus sat both himself and Sirius down, “That seems a little... strange to think about.”
“Well, think of it this way. Every God, except Death, eventually dies. There are exceptions, such as the Master of Death, me, favoring some people and allowing them to stay as they are. It could be continuous reincarnations, with your memory intact, or you could be a ‘fake’ immortal.” Harry glanced at the fire, “You two would be considered ‘fake’ immortals, once I recover this body and can perform the ritual. A ‘fake’ immortal will die from any situation that they would normally die in, before they were changed, but they’ll revive after a bit.”
Harry sipped his chocolate milk, “Ah, I got a bit off track there. Gods will eventually die, and most do so willingly. Most of the time they simply live for too long and want to pass on to the afterlife, or they grew attached to humanity and wished to be reborn as a human; either way, they die. As to not have Gods dying constantly, they are allowed one person to become their master. That person stays with them until they choose a new successor, then they both die together. A rather poetic ending, if Fate didn’t exist, little bastard always tries to exclaim another God’s ‘fate’.”
“You don’t like Fate? I would’ve thought you would be buddies with all the babes, is she hot?” Sirius yelped as Remus hit the back of his head.
“Fate doesn’t have a gender, this round, Siri. Besides, they’re my ex. An obsessive one at that.”
We did warn you not to get involved with that being, they’re always so intent on being right.
“Holy shite! Prongslet has an ex?”
“Who has an ex?” Draco questioned as he walked into the lounge.
“Harry does!” Sirius threw him under the bus.
“Potter is an eleven-year-old child, what do you mean he has an ex?”
“I’m a billions upon billions of years old immortal, of course I have a few exes.” Harry snipped.
Draco huffed as he plopped himself down next to the immortal soul. The blonde-haired took the mug away from the pouting boy and sipped the sweetened milk.
“Father is trying to convince mother to throw a Christmas ball here.” He snitched to Sirius.
“He’s WHAT!? Come on, Moony! I am not letting that old man bring all of those slimy Slytherins into my house.”
“Padfoot, they’re not that bad-”
A door slammed, silencing the protests of the infected male.
“When do you bet, that Siri is going to propose?” Harry questioned as he leaned across the eleven-year-old's lap.
“I doubt that old man even realizes that Lupin has feelings for him as well.”
“He does seem to be the oblivious type.”
“Third year at the earliest.”
“No way, they’re definitely going to have a parental moment of me ending up in the hospital wing either at the end of this year or the beginning of next, and then realize that they love each other.” Harry closed his eyes, feeling his sleepiness envelop him.
“Are you a seer now?” Draco quipped.
“If I’m a seer, I would only see the deaths of one’s life.”
“Whatever, you and your obsession with the dead. How did you manage to convince Professor Snape to let us come to Uncle Siri’s for the weekend?”
Silence greeted the young boy’s questions as Harry had already fallen asleep. Now Draco was stuck sitting in that position until the mystical boy woke again.
“You little-…" Draco sighed.
“Master, I'm back with good news!” Death burst through the first year's dorm, shouting to wake his master.
“Who let the trash in?” Draco grumbled as Death took his master from the bed; effectively waking the rest of the dorm.
“Ask your mother, she gave birth to you Malfoy.” Nott snorted from his bed, “Also, who the bloody hell is that and how did he not trigger the wards?”
“Mph...” Zabini grunted his discontent from under his pillow.
“Hello, little magic users. Don’t mind me, I’m just here to steal away my master. Possibly take away a few souls to the depths of Hell.” Death snickered as he picked Harry up, ignoring Draco’s shout, and vanished from sight.
“...”
“...”
“Did he just say ‘Depths of Hell’?” One of the boys whispered.
“Shut up, Nott.” Draco threw his pillow at him.
-
“Death, what is this that I’m looking at?” Harry deadpanned.
“The Book of Records.”
“...”
“...”
“WHY DO YOU HAVE THE BOOK OF RECORDS!?” He groaned at the headache that was threatening to loom over the little sanity he had left, if there was any.
“You said you wanted to know if you were a god.”
“I said to SEND A LETTER. You know exactly what you’re doing, you fate-follower.”
Oh, he went there.
“Silence you parasite.”
How could you call me that, after everything we’ve been through?
“I never wanted you from the start.”
“Both of you,” Harry snapped, “Shut. Up.”
“...”
…
“What was so important that you kidnapped me away for?”
“Look here, Master.” Death flipped through the pages, “When I went to search for your name, it didn’t show up. I assumed that meant you weren’t a God and was just going to leave it at that, but then I noticed something strange. Souls should always show up, no matter what category they belong to, so I did a little snooping.”
Snooping?
Death stopped at a page, “Your name DOES show up, but not where it’s supposed to.”
Harry looked at the page.
Harrison James Potter:
Godly Creation: 1324 (Earth years)
Soul Creation: ███ █████ ████████
Earth Birth Date: July 31st, 1980
Details: ████████████████ ██████████████ ██████████████ ████████████████████████████ ██████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████ ██████████████
The page went on for a while more, with most of the information redacted or with so little detail it was hard to figure out its exact meaning.
“I do know your soul wasn’t created during that time, yet, since I would’ve felt Master and waited for him instead of giving those foolish brothers.”
Are you sure about that? You seem like you would do it either way, just for the hell of it.
“...Not the point.”
“It is strange... we have to give this back, however, if we don’t want to deal with the annoyances.”
“Buuuuuuuut....”
Harry sighed, “BUT... we can investigate...”
Oh Merlin, no...
“Yessssssss!”
“I’m going back to bed where no one will bother me.”
We have to deal with THEM now.
“I have been waiting millennia for this, do not ruin it for me.”
“Hey, has anyone seen Harry today?” Hermione questioned once she reached the Great Hall, “I can’t get ahold of him at all.”
“Nophe...” Ron slurred around his food.
“Afraid not, Hermione,” Neville whispered softly.
Hailey simply shook her tired head.
“Death had him last, saying something about the... depths... Of hell... oh—” Draco paused, “That’s probably concerning.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“PROFESSOR!”
-
“Make sure to search every nook and cranny.” Dumbledore said to one of the professors, “Are you sure he’s not just pulling a prank, Mr. Malfoy?”
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Headmaster. He’s my godson’s best friend, he wouldn’t be this worried if it was a silly prank.”
-
In the Headmaster’s office, Death hummed as his master slept peacefully while he read ‘Nancy Drew: The Secret of The Old Clock’.
Fawkes chirped when he started to turn the page.
“Sorry young one, there we go.”
It is an interesting piece of literature.
“Quite.”
-
The headmaster sighed as he walked into his office in order to floo the Auror’s office, Harry Potter was officially missing, and no one had any idea where he could be; except for the words ‘Depths of Hell’. His weary blue eyes paused as he opened the door, the sight that greeted him warmed the chill that was crawling in his heart.
Harry was nestled, sleeping deeply, against Fawkes and Death as the two read a book.
“Hello. Is something the matter? Perhaps, a frantic search party for a misplaced student?”
“...”
Death smiled.
“Does young Harry scold you on request?”
“I do.”
Death frowned.
Harry yawned while leaning against the wall, looking at a mirror standing in the middle of an empty classroom.
It called for him, begged him to come to it.
It sensed his power and yearned for it.
It was far too dangerous to leave in a castle full of magical children.
Now, what to do with it?
“Harry?”
Harry turned back, seeing his freckled companion standing in the doorway.
“Ronald, what are you doing here?”
“Well...” Ron blushed, “The mirror can tell the future! Come look.”
Ron grabbed his hand and dragged him in front of it.
“That’s not such a good idea Ron, this doesn’t show you the future.”
“It’s fine, I was shown as quidditch captain and head boy!” Ron beamed.
Harry sighed, at least he would look at it closer before deciding what to do with it, his green eyes slid themselves towards the sentient object. It was still trying to reach out to him, trying to dig into his mind to figure out the best way to trap him and suck his life away.
As soon as his eyes made contact, another presence appeared from inside the mirror, adding to the mental battle being carried out.
The air stilled as the three powerful beings made contact until it all exploded and forced them apart.
Harry flew across the room, his wings coming out to protect his friend from the shards as the mirror, being the weakest of them, shattered.
“Harry!”
“How did this happen?”
“...”
“Mr. Potter, I need to know what happened. Young Ronald seems to have no idea, and we’re hoping you could tell us.” Madam Pomfrey fretted around as the Auror questioned him.
“Where’s Ron?”
“...We can bring him in if you wish.”
“I’m tired.” Harry ignored the adults and went to bed.
The whispers were still ringing in his ear.
-
“You must understand, the child could have been traumatized by whatever he saw. He needs time.” Dumbledore’s whispering drifted past Harry’s haziness.
“...”
A sigh from a man.
“Alright, we’ll try again after Yule. Gives him time to be with his family.”
-
“Master, what’s going on?”
Harry sat in the owlery, surrounded by owls trying to comfort him, and rolls upon rolls of parchment piling around him, “I heard something I was never supposed to hear as Master of Death, a wizard, human or whatever the bloody fuck I am.”
Death’s arms wrapped around his master, “What did you hear, let me silence them for you...”
“You can’t kill those who don’t exist yet, Death. They were souls who weren’t yet created, they were in so much agony. Something, someone, is messing with them. Torturing them before they even have a chance to be born yet.”
Death glanced down at the parchments his master had been writing on.
The words were screaming of pain and eternal agony, a literal hell. Someone is putting innocent souls through hell and his master had to hear it.
Well, he was beginning to itch for a hunt.
“Make sure to ask your parents about this Yule! Especially you, Granger.” Draco snarked.
“Yes, yes. You make sure that Harry’s alright while we’re gone.”
“Of course.” He snorted.
Harry kept his tired eyes open as he stared out the window, every time he closed them, he heard the whispers once again. Each time they told him something else, so he hasn’t even blinked for well over a week.
He glanced down at the ruby stone that forced this power upon him wanting to grind it into powdered dust. The color reminded him of something though, a man he needed to have a talk with.
“Harry?”
He ignored the call of his Slytherin friend as he stood and teleported himself back to Hogwarts, straight into the man's office.
“Mr. P-Potter? W-w-weren't you o-o-on the train w-w-with the other s-s-students?”
“I think I remember you now.”
“P-pardon?”
“Throughout my endless life, I’ve seen a lot of red eyes, but yours were truly the most appealing. Something in the way they glittered with your early murders. Those of your family of course, not of Merle.” Harry sighed.
“...”
“You were a soul that was supposed to be punished, and I suppose I may have stepped in a few hundred times when I was younger and dealt some revenge, but when left on your own... Nothing happened. Your soul vanished,” Harry leaned against the desk, towards the twisting soul, “I did look for a few years, but grew bored and eventually forgot...”
“...” The professor gulped as Harry leaned in closer.
The air stilled in a familiar sense, causing Harry to frown.
“Well, that won’t do.”
He grabbed at the soul and twisted them both into one of Death’s dimensions.
“Here we go, some much-needed privacy!”
“What-” A Tom Riddle, who very much looked to be in his mid-twenties, looked at the warmly decorated room.
“Don’t be tricked, this was a dimension gifted by the God of Time. We’re in an isolated space, while everywhere else is frozen,” Harry grinned as he was able to switch to his Godly appearance, “I wish to have a discussion.”
The red-eyed man narrowed his eyes, “Well, I suppose we shall talk then.”
“You see, whether you believe it or not, though you probably believe it by now you’d be a fool not to, I’m the Master of Death, and that comes with certain perks. Being able to hear the dead, not being able to die, resurrecting people, and so many others. Though I can only resurrect a soul that exists, and I most definitely am not supposed to hear souls that don’t exist either. I most certainly am not supposed to have a Godly birth before my own creation either.” Harry pushed Tom into a chair and sat on his lap, “It makes it very interesting that I am now hearing those voices because of a stupid rock that you, a soul that vanishes, which should also be impossible. Don’t you find that interesting? Thomas Marvolo Riddle?”
“...Very.”
“The worst thing is that every single time my eyes close, even for a millisecond, I hear them whisper something new to me, and it’s so very dreadful that I haven’t blinked since the day after the mirror exploded.”
“Perhaps your little pet could deal with it.”
“Hm? Pet?” Harry tilted his head, “Ohh, you mean Death. Oh, heavens no, he wouldn’t be able to silence them since they don’t exist. Can’t kill what’s not alive.”
“Then, what is it you want of me?”
“...What I want of you?” Harry laughed as he patted the other man’s cheek, “Dear Tom, don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“If I am a soul that has a record of existing before my own creation, you are a soul that disappears before any sort of judgment or you pass through my hands, and one of us is suddenly hearing the voices of beings not yet created from a rock that allows one to extend their life and connect with the souls of the dead; what does that tell you?”
“...”
“We’re connected, you and I, and most definitely not just because of that little Horcrux I have in my head.”
“This is where you went, master.”
“Death!” Harry beamed and fell backward, having Death catch him and spin him around.
“Look at you, in your true form. Absolutely lovely, my dear. Though I wonder if you could do me a small favor.”
“Of course, Death.”
“Sleep.”
Riddle breathed a sigh of relief as the child fell asleep, he could finally gather his thoughts without him invading his space and flooding his mind with more information than he could process.
“He gets a little cranky when he doesn’t sleep.”
“Won’t he hear those... voices?”
“I... ‘borrowed’ a protective amulet from Fate. He won’t hear anything, for today at least. Though he only went to sleep because he allowed my power to affect him, and that was only because he trusts me.”
“...He has one of my Horcruxes.”
“He does.”
“He’s mine then.”
Death snarled at him, “He belongs to himself and no one else.”
“...”
“You do have a claim to a start of a path. Just as much as he does to you. I’ll figure out what’s going on, so off you go, back to your meat prison.”
“Wai-”
…
“Now what’s wrong with you, dear?”
Harry... couldn’t hear me. I couldn’t speak while he was here. Will I disappear once he absorbs me?
“Not necessarily, you’re not technically a Horcrux but a phantom fragment. You exist because Harry recreated you. Why don’t you ask him when he wakes from his nap?”
...I’m not sure I want to...
“Harry! Draco!” Sirius shouted as he picked the two of them up and tussled their hair, “How are my favorite nephews?”
“That makes Hermione’s future husband comment from a while back much weirder if we’re going to call each other cousin, Draco.”
“Please never refer to me as ‘cousin’.”
“So, you’re ok with ‘husband’?”
“I did not say that!”
“It seems like he’s doing better already, pads.” Remus smiled as he watched Draco start to chase Harry around a pillar.
“Gods, I hope so, Moons.”
“Draco is a good boy, he’ll help him through whatever happened,” Narcissa said from behind them.
“Cissy! How lovely to see you, cousin!” Sirius beamed at her, only to scowl at the man beside her, “Malfoy.”
“Black.”
“Awkward.”
Narcissa smiled and patted Harry’s head for his comment, “How are you doing, young man?”
Harry raised his eyebrow, “You do know I am older than everyone in this solar system combined, right?”
“...”
“Right?”
“I may have forgotten to tell them.” Both Sirius and Draco muttered.
Harry and Remus glanced at them and sighed, “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
“You kids invited your friends over for Christmas, right?” Siri asked as he handed them some hot chocolate.
“Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Hailey Butters, and Neville Longbottom.” Draco nodded.
“I’m inviting someone else as well,” Harry said as he wrote a letter.
“Who, do I know them?”
“Most definitely. I made a promise that I would be their friend a long, long time ago.”
“You’re talking about the other timeline, right? Would they even still remember?” Sirius questioned.
“Yeah, they always do. An exception that only happens in every ten billion souls, a child of Destiny.”
“I thought you didn’t like destiny.”
“That’s fate. Destiny’s like a mom who gives you advice and pointers for your path of life, though you’re free to ignore it or choose another. He’s cool like that.”
Sirius barked out laughing, “Destiny’s a dude?”
“I am very confused” Draco muttered.