Chapter 2
'The truth I have been seeking - this truth is Death. Yet Death is also a seeker. Forever seeking me. So - we have met at last. And I am prepared. I am at peace.'
- Bruce Lee
Chapter 2:
Uncle Vernon was enraged. Harry had observed how despite Uncle Vernon's anger and spittle that flew from his mouth when it opened to spew out insults, he never seemed to move from his spot behind the couch. As if it were a barrier between himself and the oddly calm yet fiercely intimidating individual that was Death. Aunt Petunia was white, face open in shock, and Death seemed to take a subtle amount of pleasure from seeing it, by what Harry could sense. And when Harry had mentioned that he didn't look incredibly intimidating to him in his 'grandfather skin', Death had let out a bone rattling laugh and immediately shed his skin per Harry's request. His fluttering cloak of unfathomable black covered his chest and pelvic area, though the blue fire that burned behind the sockets of his skull gave away enough away to say that he was far from human. Aunt Petunia gave out a squeak before fainting, smacking her head against the cabinet on her way down, Uncle Vernon had gone a shade of purple that made him resemble a giant plum.
Long boneless fingers grasped Harry's shoulder and guided him up the stairs, curiously he looked down and watched as Death climbed, his skeletal feet held together by some unknown force was interesting to Harry, and Death chuckled, mentioning that he was currently portraying himself as a Lich, since his true form would probably force Harry into a state of shock and he would have to pry out repressed memories all over again. Which Harry most definitely did not want to do. And so they stood in Dudley's second bedroom, now named as Harry's, and Death made quick haste to remove every toy and item of clothing that littered the floor and walls with a swish of his hand. Leaving behind a completely empty room. Harry stared in awe. Shocked at what he just saw. As if anything else could have surprised him enough, the next few words shocked him further.
"I'm afraid that I shall have find you some decent furniture for your bedroom... as well as some clothing for yourself... I did not...anticipate your relatives reactions to your arrival on their doorstep 6 years ago..."
Harry continued to stare, oddly comforted by Death's words, there were a couple pauses where he had the distinct feeling that Death was controlling his emotions rather intently, and Harry found himself reaching out and tentatively gripping Death's left hand. Long crooked bones flexed and gripped his hand back, looking up Harry saw Death staring rather intently down at him, blue pits of fire flickered slightly before his right hand was raised and rested upon Harry's head in some macabre sort of head pat. But Harry found himself giving his own macabre grin, too may teeth, skin stretched too far, yet seemed to oddly please Death in some way.
"Little soul, I seem to be making an impression upon you the longer I stay, your grin is completely unnatural, too much like mine" Raspy cackles followed his words that held an amused lilt to them.
"Is that a bad thing?" Harry relaxed his face, and felt his skin slowly recede back to a resting position.
"Not at all my dear soul, for it shall be a rather intimidating tool for the future I suspect, don't lose that grin..." At Death's words Harry squeezed his hand and turned to gasp at the room once more when a crooked single bed appeared beside a wardrobe of the same crooked appearance.
"It seems my own 'crooked' and 'spindly' nature tends to affect my conjurations, but at least you have something to rest upon. After our conversation you wont be spending much time in this room after all." Harry glanced up, curious at his words.
Death lead him to the bed and sat him down, feeling the plump, crispness of the duvet Harry flopped backwards chuckling at the comfort, something he'd never had the luxury of feeling. He let out another chuckle that seemed more cackle than anything else, and he grinned at finding another similarity with his saviour Death. Sitting back up he turned to the entity stood motionless watching him, blue flames flickering again, something Harry now knew as an expression of emotion.
"Now my little soul, I shall tell you all about the Wizarding World."
Trying not to gasp or immediately reject the thought he nodded, folding his legs underneath him and giving Death his full attention.
"Little soul, the Wizarding World has existed since the dawn of time, since the time magic manifested itself in humans and creatures, over time societies grew and laws were made and the Wizarding World was hidden from the Muggle population, muggle meaning humans without magic. Since they did not take kindly to those who had something they didn't, immediately branding them as freaks, unfortunately many innocent blood was shed and at the time I found myself collecting so many souls it was mortifying. And then the Statue of Secrecy was constructed, it kept the wizards and witches safe from the muggles and prevented them from ever knowing about magic. Now skipping to your time, you were born into an unfortunate period, where a war between the 'light' side and the 'dark' side had broken out. The Dark Lord Voldermort has built up an army of magicals, some human, some creature, and built a cause to eradicate muggles and muggleborns, letting pureblood society prevail above all others, it was a large scale event, that caused many bloodshed, and will continue to do so in the future."
Harry gaped at the unload of information, understanding the meaning of Wizarding World, that was a society of wizards and witches and creatures he guessed.
"Pureblood? Muggleborn?"
"Ah yes, those questions shall be left for when I take you to get you your books, you can delve into research then if you wish, I only intend to set a foundation of basic information for you, so that you can build research upon that later. But yes The Dark Lord Voldermort was defied many times by your parents little soul, your father, James Fleamont Potter, was an auror, a sort of 'magical police' if you would, and your mother, Lily Jade Potter, had shown interest in becoming an Unspeakable in the Ministry of Magic. Ministry of Magic being the magical version of the government. I know this sounds all difficult for a seven year old to understand, but it is better for you to know this information sooner than later, after all most magical children raised in the wizarding world have known about magic no later than being born."
"I understand, I cannot even thank you enough for telling me all this at the moment, I will need a bit of time to get my head around it in the end"
Chuckling at the boy Death cast his eyes out of the window, the already darkening sky proved how much time he had already lingered. He sighed, looks like he would need to spend another two days with the boy, he was already breaking quite a few ground rules enough, but its not like any other god would have a go at him for it, expect maybe Fate. But she was pretty much on board with his idea anyway. Taking a deep breath he turned back to Harry, who he found, had continued to gaze up at him whilst he thought to himself. Letting out a gravelly chortle, he continued his tale.
"At this time in the war it was a stalemate, Lord Voldermort was still nervous over the continued presence of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, a very powerful wizard, on the same level as Voldermort, despite Dumbledore being over eighty years older. At this time a prophecy was spoken, telling the tale of one being born on the last day of July, that would defeat Lord Voldermort, and taking action Dumbledore hid you and your parents behind a charm on the house you were raised in. But a traitor emerged, one of your father's closest friends, practically a brother, sold out the hiding place of your parents and from there on Lord Voldermort proceeded to kill your father, who went down with a fight mind you, before treading up the stairs towards you and your mother."
Harry jumped when the bed sunk deeply beside him and a skeleton arm wrapped around his shoulder, he hadn't even realised he was crying until he heard the patter of his tears on his lap, he felt sad that he had never met his parents, but it was a distant kind of sadness, a quiet grief that carried a strong sense of gratitude, that they had been taken quick and mercifully.
"Did you take their souls when they died Death?" Holding his breath he waited for an answer
"Little soul I did indeed." Death expected the child to then scream and kick, and so blue flames flickered when he received something different.
"Thank you Death, please continue to look after them for me will you?"
A cold hand of bone moved to rest on top of his head.
"Always little soul."
---
Stepping out of Number 4, Harry, accompanied by Death, was taken via some unknown of teleportation? Harry suspected, it looked similar to the fantasy movies he used to catch Dudley watching on TV, before Aunt Petunia caught him and threw him outside to work. When the dark fog faded and receded into Death's cloak, Harry found himself standing in a dark and dingy alley, looking up questioningly at Death he was merely lead out of the alley through a wall of collapsing bricks, that fell upon immediate contact with Death's fingers. The area opened up into a bright and lively shopping district that was huge. Like impossibly off the scale to the tiny alley it had just been. He gaped. Death chuckled.
"Little soul it is called magic, you are now in Diagon Alley the main hotspot for buying wizarding essentials and has everything you need for your entry of Hogwarts in four years time."
Hogwarts Harry thought. Death had told him all about the houses and the teachers, refusing to tell him about how you were sorted, mumbling about how it was the big surprise on the day.
"I brought you to get your wand and a collection of books, not to mention a trunk and maybe even a pet..." Harry cackled when Death drifted off into nonsensical mumblings.
"I thought you weren't allowed to get a wand until you were eleven?" Harry was rewarded with a flicker of flames.
"Very good memory my little soul, but you forget who you are with. Death transcends all human laws made, and so the knowledge of you ever having a wand wont be registered until you become eleven. You must not however tell anyone about getting your wand early, you do not want any questions, just try explaining me to them and you'll get mass hysteria." At the dry tone of Death's voice, Harry giggled before taking the bony hand held out towards him.
"Who do we go to for a wand then Death?"
A crooked finger pointed to a dark shop building that looked quiet and empty.
"We go to Ollivander's little soul."
Upon stepping into the store Harry was bodily covered by Death who now stood imposingly in front of him.
"Garrick Ollivander the III, you will cease your attempts to scare my ward." Upon hearing Death's cold and crisp voice, a tall and thin man stepped out from behind a shelf of boxes.
"I'm afraid I do not know you Mr?" His old and frail voice was reinforced by white all seeing eyes
"Of course you don't, since I do not expect to see you for another twenty years or so at most." At Death's words Ollivander's eyes were blown wide and he skittered back from the entity in front of him.
"L-Lord Death how may I help you?" A weak and stuttering voice prevailed and Harry found himself grinning at the cowering man, as if sensing his humour, Death turned his head back to Harry and gave a cackle, to which he returned with a giggle.
"You can assist me by making a wand for my ward, with my specific requirements of course, this is the second wand created by me ever to be put into existence of this word, and so you shall treat it with reverence"
Ollivander stood up straight and turned to Harry, not even bothering to comment about the boys age he turned back to Death, since after all, there is simply no defying Death, and what Death wants, Death shall get.
"I assume you will want to create a wand from scratch?" At seeing Death's nod, Ollivander led them to the back of the store, after flicking the store sign to 'closed'.
Upon stepping up to the dark table per the command of Ollivander's beckoning hand, he was given the order to pick up the wooden plank that calls to him the most. Upon hearing such a vague answer Harry, puzzled, turned to the motionless entity close behind him.
"It means little soul, that you must reach out you magic and feel at the planks in front of you... remember the simple exercise I taught you....yes that's it..."
Closing his eyes Harry focused his breathing and slowly unravelled his magic, like a coiling snake it stretched out and nosed at the laid out planks of wood, shaking his head at the first six, on his seventh try, he found himself picking it up. Only for it to be quickly snatched away by Ollivander.
"A plank of Italian cypress, how curious yet oddly unsurprising."
At Ollivander's mysterious words Harry frowned.
"Could you explain that sir?"
"Oh yes! Why of course, forgive me. Italian Cypress is also known as 'The Mournful Tree', as shown by its name is associated with death and mourning" Harry shifted, feeling the smugness radiating off of Death behind him. "The name born from a man named Cyparissus who accidentally killed his stag, and in order to repent begged the Gods to punish him, they then proceeded to punish him by making him eternally grieve, before turning him into a Cyprus tree, to forever stand and mourn the dead."
Harry smiled at the tale, feeling an odd familiarity with it, with the mourning of his parents and those in the future, he felt Death rest a hand on his right shoulder.
"And now to pick a core..." At the new order, Harry started to unravel his magic again but was stopped by Death.
"I wish for you to put in these..." Upon hearing Death speak both Ollivander and Harry turned to watch as Death tore a strip of his cloak before dropping it before the gobsmacked wandmaker.
"This is such an honour to craft a wand using materials from Lord Death himself, thank you" But he was soon interrupted
"I am not finished yet. Harry will need two cores for his wand."
"T-two!" Harry turned to Ollivander at his gasp
"Most wizards only need one, only the most powerful are required to have two cores to channel their magic better, but even then it is still rare."
"I shall return shortly, I need to collect the final material" And Death disappeared. Making Harry feel strangely empty at the loss of the ever feeling presence of Death's power.
Death returned shortly with a single black feather, as black as the phenomenon Harry read about in a space magazine once., and when he picked it up, he noticed it was as long as his forearm, from elbow to the very tips of his fingers.
"This is a feather from my right wing, since I am unable to show you my form just yet." Nodding at Death's reasoning Harry watched as Ollivander laid out the wood and two cores beside each other.
"Ollivander, might I request a sample of Harry's blood to tie the want to him, we wouldn't want another repeat of the Elder Wand, And I shall use a single flame from my eye sockets to assist you in the fusing of the materials, you will also need a base stone of Obsidian for grounding in the handle." Looking up, Ollivander looked well near to fainting from shock and barely managed to keep it together enough to watch as Death passed a single blue flame to the fusing light Ollivander had created. The process procured a brilliant burst of white light that lit up the windows of the shop at the front.
In its wake, a single wand lay.
The handle of Obsidian, smooth cut into a sharp edged cuboid that was thicker at the edges and thinned slightly towards the hilt where a larger square cut chunk of Obsidian lay. The wood onwards was of pure black, that upon contact with Harry lifting it reverently into his hands, shot out white sparks, showing off layers of unknown sigils from base to tip of the wood, a sharp contrast to the blackness of the wand. And couldn't stop himself from gasping, letting out a soft cry, tears falling he turned to the entity, eyes full of gratitude.
"Do not fear for him Ollivander, he is simply experiencing an overload of emotions from the moment, the wand sings to be in the presence of its master, Harry being young still has yet to experience such strong emotions of care and acceptance. "
Taking his little soul's hand, he teleported out of the shop, leaving a large sack of gold and a bag of thestral hair and cerberus fangs in his wake.
And Death tucked his little soul into bed that night, not even thinking about taking the wand out of Harry's hand, simply letting him sleep with it nestled in his palm, a quiet buzzing of content emanating from the thin wand.
And when Harry woke up the next day, greeted with a flare of warmth from his wand, he smiled, tenderly stroking the handle with his thumb, smiling wider when it let out a hum of appreciation.