Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

Written for the Quidditch League – Season 5 Fanfiction Competition – Round 3

Round 3 – Truth or Dare

We've all played this game at some point in our lives (if you haven't, you should). The rules are simple: one person asks the other to pick a Truth or a Dare. Depending on which one the other picks, the first person will ask them a question that needs to be answered with the Truth, or they will Dare them to do something that they probably wouldn't normally do.

This round works on the same basic principle. Each position will be given a Truth and a Dare to choose from, based on which a story has to be written.

Note: you don't necessarily have to incorporate the game into your story or take the prompts literally. As long as you meet the demands of the prompt, you may interpret the prompts in whatever way you want.

Captain: Write about a character confessing a Truth OR write about a character Daring him/herself to face his/her fears.

Word Count: 1327

Captain of the Wimbourne Wasps

Erised

The child was there once more.

The impossible child, with his impossible eyes, and impossible gift.

Yet, no matter how impossible he was, the child was there, gazing at the creation of one of his last children.

Was it expected of him not to act? Was he expected to simply let the child gaze upon the mirror? Was he expected to resist the temptation the child presented every time those green eyes became midnight black abysses?

He chuckled, the sound raspy and rough, the last breath of a dying man.

No, there were no expectations.

No one expected anything of Death.

Harry wrapped his new invisibility cloak around himself and sneaked out of his room. He knew he didn't really need to sneak when hidden with his cloak, but certain habits were hard to break. Sneaking around, keeping to the shadows to avoid attention, was something he had been doing since he learned how to walk.

He glanced back at Ron's snoring form, feeling bad for not waking his friend; however, he squashed the feeling. Ron clearly didn't understand how important the mirror was. Ron hadn't even seen his family in it, so how could he understand?

Harry shook his head. It was better this way.

Slowly, he made his way to the abandoned room he had found the mirror in. His heart sped up the closer he got. He could actually feel the magic in him surge all around him, saturating the very air. His magic wouldn't feel like this if the mirror was bad, right?

Harry's breath hitched when he pushed the door open and saw the mirror.

Without his conscious thought, he found himself in front of the mirror, his family appearing before him once more.

Slowly, he reached up, touching the mirror.

"Hi," he whispered.

His parents smiled at him, waving back, and for a moment, Harry felt as if everything was right in the world. Then, his parents stopped waving, stopped smiling.

Harry frowned, dropping his hand and taking a step back. This had never happened before.

His family parted before him, and he could see a figure walking closer and closer towards the front mirror.

Harry stood frozen, watching as the man approached, his family disappearing once the man passed them. Part of him wanted to scream, to tell the man to stop, but his lips were sealed, and the words never left his mouth. He did nothing as the man took one more step and his parents smiled one last time before dissolving into soft wisps of light and smoke.

"Hello, Child."

Harry's eyes widened, and he took a shaky step back. However, for some reason, Harry wasn't afraid of the man in the mirror. Then, the man reached forward, his fingers touching the glass and, somehow, pushing right through.

Harry watched wide-eyed as first a hand, then an arm, followed by a torso, and finally the whole body, stepped through the mirror.

The man—was it normal to be that pale and for eyes to be completely black?—smiled, and Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling back.

He couldn't explain it, but Harry felt as if this man, this complete stranger, had been with him since he took his first breath.

"Hello, little impossible Child."

Harry frowned, shaking off the odd feeling of belonging. Impossible child? What did the man mean?

The man chuckled, the sound echoing in the room.

"You should not exist, little one."

Something in Harry broke. The man didn't want him?

Those dark, so dark, eyes softened, and the man knelt in front of Harry, still towering over him even then.

"That is not what I meant, Child." The man raised his hand, slowly caressing Harry's cheek with the back of his fingers. "I believed that all my children had gone from the world. I was there when the last three came to be and then passed. They were the most gifted children I had, the last ones. I do not know how you came to be, but you are here now, and very much wanted."

What? Gifted? Magical? Harry didn't understand, he didn't know what the man meant.

"You do not even know what you are," the man whispered as if he was saddened by that very thought.

"I'm a wizard," Harry replied, finally gaining control of his mouth.

The man shook his head, cupping Harry's cheek.

"You're not. You are magical, Child; however, you are so much more than a mere wizard. You are my child. One of my chosen."

"I… I don't understand."

Harry was beyond confused, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to step away from the man. He leaned in, seeking the comfort of that large hand that was still caressing his cheek with a tenderness Harry had never experienced before.

"Wizards were created by Life. She has always been eccentric and enjoyed creating all matter of things. Wizards are, by far, her favorite creation. That is what she does, she creates. I, on the other hand, do not. I never created, nor did I ever wish to. I simply am, I have always been. I existed long before Life came to be, and I will exist long after she is gone. However, there was one time, just one, when I was collecting a soul of a newborn infant, where I did something. I did not take the soul. I put the soul back in the infant, though the soul had been in my presence long enough for it to take a little, tiny, bit of myself with it. That was my very first child, the very first Necromancer."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Slowly, almost afraid but not quite, Harry reached towards the man, his fingers softly grazing the man's cheek.

"Death," Harry breathed, with a certainty he had never felt before.

Death smiled. "You, my Child, are a Necromancer, the last one."

"Last?" He was alone? There were no others like him?

"You will never be alone." Death leaned down, placing a kiss on Harry's forehead. Harry felt his magic surge around him, reaching towards Death like a child would reach for its father. "Your gifts are so much more than a mere wizard's magic. Look." Death stepped to the side, and Harry's eyes landed on the mirror.

He gasped when his green eyes bleed to black, just as dark as Death's eyes. Then, one by one, his family reappeared in the mirror; at the front between his parents, stood three man, brothers if Harry wasn't mistaken.

They grinned at Harry, the younger looking one waving.

"You're rather powerful, little Necromancer," the middle brother said.

"Well, of course," the younger one said, looking smug. "He's my descendant."

Harry could do nothing but gape at them, and the three chuckled. Harry looked up when Death placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Antioch, Cadmus, Ignotus." Death nodded at the three men, who smiled at Death.

"Lord Death," the whispered, bowing.

Death looked back down at Harry. "This mirror was created by Antioch." The older looking brother smiled at Harry. "This is the Mirror of Erised. Wizards found it after Antioch died. They believed that this was a mirror that showed them their heart's desire, and it is, for wizards. However, a Necromancer will be able to do so much more. A Necromancer will be able to see beyond the veil, get a glimpse of the afterlife, Antioch's heart's desire."

Death smiled at Harry's awed expression.

"You will never be alone, little one. You are a Necromancer."

Death caressed Harry's cheek once more, then he was gone, leaving Harry alone in the room.

Harry looked back at the mirror where Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus were still looking at him with eyes just as black as his, the sign of a Necromancer.

Harry smiled brightly up at them. He might not be a wizard, he might be the last one, but he would never be alone, for Death knew no bounds.