Chapter Text
“Death!” Harry called out into the empty room, bar himself and some furniture.
A flurry of shadows wriggled and writhed, before scurrying into the centre of the room. Slowly, they blended together into the silken robes of Death. Death’s hood rose, slowly, to face the impatient face of their Master.
“Why is James Potter alive?” He had too tight of a grip on his Magic, no matter misbehaved it was, to ‘accidentally’ save someone’s life. It couldn’t have been him.
“He is alive because it is not yet his time, Master.” Death’s voice rasped. “I saved him under the guise of your Magic, as not only would it save your father’s life, but it would get you more firmly on the side of the Order.
A deep sigh sprang forwards from Harry’s mouth, his face slack with exhaustion. In return to his servant, he replied, “Okay. Thanks for explaining, Death.”
“You are welcome, Master.” And then Death was gone in the blink of an eye, and all the shadows were back in their usual places.
A nock echoed throughout the room- with the door being the prime suspect.
“Come in,” Harry called, weariness etched into his very form as all traces of exhaustion left his over-used body.
The door nob was gently moved, and as it softly turned, the voice of Sirius Black apologetically rang true. “Sorry, pup. I just wanted to talk to you.”
A small, shy grin came from the man leaning newly against his doorway.
Sighing with visible relief, the Master of Death agreed with the ex-Azkaban convict. “Come in. I agree- this seems long overdue.”
Huffing out a laugh, Sirius closed the door behind him.
Perching himself on the edge of the bed, his hands tightened around the edges of the frame as he leaned forwards. Not taking into consideration the fact that if he let go of the bed even an inch he would fall onto the floor, he asked, “How did you get here?”
“Oh,” Harry began stating casually, “You know. Just became the Master of Death and all.”
Sirius choked on what seemed to be air.
“What?” By the time he had managed to get the word out, he was gasping for sweet, merciful, unassuming oxygen.
“It’s rather simple, really,” Harry drawled, “The muggles destroyed us all, and so I asked Death to take me here. I wasn’t expecting you to be in this World. Death didn’t say anything about the possibility of a chance encounter that we would meet. Nor that the Veil was a Portal to other dimensions.”
“Wait- Death is an actual person?” Sirius gaped.
Shrugging, Harry said, “Yeah.”
Shaking his head, Sirius huffed out a laugh.
“Do you want me to come out, Master?” Death’s voice airily rattled in all directions throughout the room. Jumping at least one foot into the air, Sirius fell, sprawling onto the floor. Limbs splayed all over the place, his comically shocked face looked out-of-place in the dreary room.
A small quirk of the lips was on Harry’s own.
“What was that?” Sirius almost-shouted, panic leaking into his voice.
“I didn’t know you were even in the closet, Death,” Harry humoured.
A strange, raspy chuckle echoed from the shadows of the room.
Then the form of Death exited one of them, the shadows darkening in his reappearance.
“What the-” Sirius’ voice was cut off.
“I wonder if you are doing this on purpose now.” Harry said dryly.
“I had taken you to this World for several reasons,” Death began to explain once again, “Sirius Orion Black is the main reason I had brought you to this Alternate Universe in particular. For the most part, you will be lonely in this World. But you will always have someone who understands how it was like in your Original World- until the day Sirius dies, at the very least.”
With Sirius blinking owlishly on the floor, Death’s Master summarised it all in one go, “So, you knew I would be alone if there was no-one from my original World that truly knew me, and thus decided to give me at least one person I could cling on to in this new, fascinating World. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Master.” Death confirmed. “You are right.”
Smiling, Harry genuinely thanked Death. “That explanation helped clear up a few things. I am forever grateful, Death.”
“I will always be there for you, Master.” The form of Death glided into one of the four corners of the room, before fading into the shadows once more.
“I-I’ve got to go.” Sirius clumsily untangled himself, before swaying towards the door in an unsavoury fashion left to be desired.
“You won’t tell anyone about this, will you, Sirius?” The manipulating, soft voice aimed for the fragility of his Dogfather’s heart came from the quivering lips of a vulnerable-looking Harry Potter.
“Of course not, Pup.” Sirius’ voice was just as soft, but without all the loathsome, manipulative promises that Harry’s tone wore.
The door closed with a click, and Harry was, for the lack of better words, alone once more.
“I feel like I’m going to be sick.” Sirius looked green as they tried to find ways to help Harry’s father- that included going into the more *cough* grotesque sides of the Light and Grey arts.
Humming to affirm that he’d heard him, Harry discarded yet another useless book, and began anew with another. The title of this one was ‘Magical Comas and their Cures’. Fifth edition.
“How can you stand this?” Sirius waved a book with a picture sketched onto the page, with one such being of a brain being picked apart. He was probably hoping that would make Harry see what he saw in his mind’s eye.
The Boy-Who-Died only raised a mere eyebrow. “That looks whimsical compared to all the others.” Gesturing to the many, many other books scattered across the table in a hazardous manner, he continued. “Besides, you’ve lived through two wars, and Azkaban. How could you possibly be so queasy from just a few sketches of things that aren’t even supposed to look like horror-filled nightmares given to you by the deepest pits of a Dementor’s brain?”
Eyes darted to a far off corner, as Sirius ducked his head in sorrowful shame. “It’s not my fault,” he mumbled.
Sighing, Harry continued reading.
A book was slammed onto the table, with freckled arms on full display as sleeves threatened to slip from their folds. “This is it!” Lily Potter exclaimed, reminding Harry rather fondly of Hermione.
A pang of hurt wormed its way quickly into his heart, almost as fast as a lightning bolt, like the one that was upon his brow.
“You’ve got the book?” Sirius looked like an excited puppy when their owner got home.
“Yes!” Lily beamed. “Chapter 53, Page 1654. It says here that ‘a beam of pure, powerful, unrestrained Magic will nock the user and anyone within the vicinity out for a few days. If a person does not wake up within a week, they are in a deep state of Coma, which can only be overcome by the Potion of Relentless.’ See? We just need to figure out how to make the potion, and then bam!” Lily looked positively giddy. “We just need to find the book with the recipe inside of it!”
Even the way she ran her finger over the lines as she read reminded him of Hermione.
“That’s great, Lil’s!” Sirius smiled at her, eyes sparkling and face filled with joy.
Harry was glad that Sirius had gotten the chance to see a Mind Healer as soon as he was found in the Department of Mysteries.
Not that Harry had any idea how he got into the Rebellion, of course. Although, Harry was only assuming- Sirius could have winded up in an entirely different place for all he knew.
Hair frazzled, Lily Potter’s dancing eyes pierced into Harry’s near-identical ones.
“You’re going to be able to meet your father,” Lily whispered.
Without any warning, he was swept up into a hug that, quite literally, took his breath away.
“Group hug!” Sirius’ arms wrapped around the two of them, firm and consuming.
Harry had never been more thankful than in that moment that he didn’t need to breathe.
Even if that would’ve been preferable in any other situation.
Would it have been better if he had stayed on the Dark side?
If he had been, then undoubtedly he would have somehow managed to contact the Order and become their spy. Surely, after the Ball, Voldemort would be suspicious of Harry if he came waltzing back into his life, just like that- so he supposed it was too late to go to the cookies’ side now…..
The MoD jolted into a sudden awareness, just as he and someone else almost collided into each other. Black, silky, wavy hair floated to brush just above their shoulders, accenting dark, stormy grey eyes into something lighter, yet more foreboding and electric at the same time. Light freckles dotted a pale face in a spread out fashion among their cheeks, and their nose. They reminded Harry of Sirius- only, this person was too young, and too soft and sharp in many different places.
“Regulus Black. He/they. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Regulus stuck out their hand- the other, Harry noted, was holding a broom.
All evidence of shock wiped clean from his face, the Boy-Who-Died survived him quietly. Quidditch robes blended into their frame, almost as though they belonged there, accented in a subtle silver a soft, sharp blue. Black covered the majority of the clothes, their silky waves making it seem like he was floating on the floor, rather than standing on it. Dark brown, leather gloves that were Charmed to be flexible covered his dainty, piano-player hands. They were assessing him, just as Harry was assessing them. Harry replied charmingly, “Hadrian Evans. He/him. Nice to meet you, too.”
Raising an eyebrow, Regulus commented, “Funny. I thought you were Lord Gaunt’s Consort for a few seconds.”
The humour tasted dry, even on Harry’s tongue.
A light blush feathered Harry’s pale cheeks, making them look like a rose had ghosted their Deathly colour, to make them seem more….. lively, he supposed. Ducking his head in a shy manner, Harry replied, “Alright. You got me.”
A small, almost indistinguishable smile was on the edge of their lips. “I’m heading off to the indoor Quidditch Pitch. Care to join?”
Scratching the back of his head, Harry could see that Regulus saw rather easily through his façade, but he enjoyed keeping it up, anyway- it was always even more funny whenever someone else played along.
“I don’t have a broom.” Harry winced apologetically.
“Neither do I.” That sly comment almost made Harry smile in amusement. “But I’ll be getting one soon.”
Biting his lip in a coy way, Harry looked up at Regulus through his fringe- the other wasn’t staring down at him, but nor was he necessarily- somehow, considering Regulus was taller, it would be rather a feat to achieve for the Black- looking up to him, either.
“In all seriousness, there are some brooms in the shed near the Pitch.” Then he indicated to his broom. “I only have mine, because it’s a better model.”
“Can we take turns on it?” Harry asked politely, biting his lip slightly. Merriment danced in his eyes.
“Of course.” Regulus was trying hard not to crack a grin- the Master of Death almost wanted him to, just to see what they would look like without the façade.
Regulus continued on walking, as though he expected Harry to follow him from behind.
Keeping his head low, Harry tried to look small and meek as they passed through the corridors- he learned that people tended to ignore him if he did that.
Luckily for him, Regulus seemed to be getting all the attention. Though, it seemed that Regulus wasn’t enjoying it, reminding Harry of how it used to be like for him. For Regulus, the tightness in his shoulders were a clear indication to their discomfort.
Harry would try and take the weight of everyone’s eyes off their back, but the lack thereof for him was as refreshing as biting from a juicy apple that was picked straight from the tree for the Boy-Who-Lived.
Eventually, they made it to a door with mini brooms for handles, with golden engravings all over the front. Harry could see snitches, quaffles, bludgers, bats and hoops as its décor, with where the door handles were, clear of any gold, though they seemed to be made out of a light, welcoming silver.
Reaching for one of the handles, Regulus smirked at him as they opened the door.
“Look out!” The cry was yelled just as a bludger almost hit Harry right in the gut. Before anything could make contact, the Master of Death’s reflexes kicked in, and before anyone knew it, he was walking through the door with a slightly crazed glint in his eye, though the rest of his body showed a beaming, brightly shining bean.
“Anyone want a game of Quidditch?”