The Hero Hidden Beneath A Traitor's Clothing
Summary: Voldemort is at the height of his power once more, terrorizing both the Muggle and Wizarding World's he is considered unstoppable and ruthless. There is only one person left who can truly defeat him, a boy that the world has set on a pedestal. In his seventh year the boy is now a man and single handedly taking on the dark forces but are the people truly grateful to this mysterious warrior, or will he have to depend on another girl several years younger than him and a complete stranger to believe in him.
Rated: R (for adult content and some violence)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the talented Ms. Rowling does, and the WB has some rights to the series. I just write for the hell of it all, so don't sue. I don't have anything worth taking me to court over.
Chapter 8: Keeper of Death
"Marry Me." He said and if he wasn't holding her around the waste she would have fallen by now as her knees weakened and she balanced herself by holding onto his shoulders once he again asked.
"Gabrielle Delacour will you marry me, will you bind your soul to mine for all eternity?"
If Harry had asked her this a week ago or even yesterday that question than Gabrielle knew that she would have said yes within an instant, but now.. she wanted answers and while he was desperate she would get them.
"Hold on a minute.why now.why do you all of a sudden tell me that this is the fault of dark magic? I mean you keep telling me that it's harmless as long as you use it for good, and that's what you've been doing right? Well what's the problem, why are your veins turning black, why are you in risk of dying or becoming some sort of zombie thing?"
She poured forth a round of questions not even ashamed at her lack of strong vocabulary and for a moment there the Head boy looked lost between which to answer first and what to tell her and what to leave out. It took a few minutes to gather himself before he stood again and faced her.
"Because dark magic is a lot more powerful than light, granted that you have enough power to sustain it. But if that power is too much then you draw on the dark, and eventually if you use enough it corrupts you. If I were human, if I were like everyone else the dark magic can't cling to me like it does now. Truth is I'm not even sure if the light magic is doing me any good either, it's a theory that I haven't tested yet. Perhaps my body is just to weak for it."
"But you are human!" Gabrielle bristled grabbing a shampoo bottle while they were still in the shower and just squirting a glob onto Harry's head.
"Uh-h what are you doing?" he asked bewildered letting her massage the cool substance into his hair.
"Washing your hair, now keep talking mister! You're not out of the forest yet!"
"All right, I'll talk just don't be so rough I think you'll pull my hair out instead of washing it!" he complained wincing when she viciously scrubbed his hair.
"Big baby." She muttered slowing down her vicious scrubbing to a gentler caress and waiting for him to continue. "Well you are human from what I can tell!"
"I'm a necromancer Gabby, I'm half dead. That's why I can't die, because I already am dead. And it's because I'm dead that my body is weak. I'm guessing magic deteriorates it."
"Don't be absurd Potter, you look fine to me. You don't seem to be rotting." She gave him the once over and blushed slightly and concentrated back on rinsing the shampoo from his hair.
"I look fine now but wait till a couple of years go by, I'll be a bloody zombie." He shuddered removing her hands from his tangled up hair and rinsing it off himself.
"Well I won't let you get to that state. Now how come I can't do dark magic? I'm human, at least I think I am." Gabrielle handed him the conditioner and he started on his hair again.
"You're Veela, not human. That's why your magic level is above the average witch's. If you weren't part Veela I'd gladly teach you, but unless I want you to turn into a fried biscuit then I think we'd better stick to lighter magic and put more power behind it. But then again since you're part Veela then maybe your magic can fight off the dark and strengthen your defenses?" He pondered the concept out loud while rinsing his hair.
For some reason, Gabrielle didn't know which, but for some reason Harry wasn't the least embarrassed with their situation. Gabrielle wasn't particularly shy, Veela's were for the most part not ashamed of their bodies, and it was in their nature not to blush every time someone looked at them.
Looking at other people was a completely different thing though. Harry didn't seem to mind being in full view of anyone though, after all his muggle job almost depended on it.
All of a sudden out of no where something cool fell on her head and surprised Gabrielle jumped out of her reverie to find Harry pouring a ton of shampoo on her hair and grinning mischievously.
"Harry you dolt I'll never be able to wash this out!" she yelled but was clearly silenced by a quick kiss from him. A slight brush of their lips. They hadn't had any intimate moments since she left the hospital wing. They'd either both be tired after classes and training or to fixed on their cause to stop and think about anything else.
"So will you marry me then?" he asked.
"Why the sudden change of heart?" She inquired already setting to work getting most of the shampoo off her hair and massaging enough in to clean it.
"I-I don't know." A heavy sigh greeted her ears after he said that and she wondered if he was perhaps that scared of death that he changed his mind, and risked hers. But if he was so scared then why didn't he just agree to it sooner?
"I suppose because I want to keep you safe, and it's the only way I know how. Besides if I want to live long enough to go back to the past and change things then don't you think that this would be a good idea?"
She didn't answer feeling that it was more of a rhetorical question than anything else. For some reason Harry seemed nervous about something. Perhaps it was the little episode that he had with his scar outside? She wondered but decided to ask him a little later when he started saying something.
Another thought entered her mind, the same one that had plagued her for a while now. Harry had said that the only reason he was doing this was a chance to survive and to change things. Meaning that they would be stuck with each other until one of them dies, and then after death. He didn't actually love her. He couldn't, she thought to herself. She wasn't even sure if she loved him all that much, after all he only took care of her because of a sense of obligation he felt towards nearly everyone. They'd only been together a couple of weeks, what other reason than to save their families would they stay together then besides physical attraction and respect they felt towards one another?
"Actually to tell you the truth my mum finally relented and convinced me." He said chagrinned and brought her out of her reveries. "I didn't want to at first because I was and still am scared the same thing happening to me would start happening to you. And that's a possible risk you know."
She nodded acknowledging it. "What's it like talking to the dead"
Harry furrowed his eyebrows thinking of the best way to explain it and turned off the showerhead as he was starting to get prune skin around the fingertips.
"It's like talking to anyone else except if they piss you off you can't punch them in the face I suppose." He joked but reverted back into a serious mode. "It really depends on which spirits you're talking to. When talking to the Others it's cold, like a chill that goes down to your bones." He visibly shuddered stepping out of the shower and wrapping Gabrielle's wet and shaking form in a large fluffy towel he grabbed off the rack nearby before doing the same for himself.
"Regular spirits are much warmer, like a cup of tea you could say. However only Necromancers can feel the warmth, to anyone else if they possessed an extra sense for this sort of thing they'd still feel the chill either way."
"Well." to her it sounded sort of creepy, seeing transparent forms bothering you all day and trying to make conversation. Some as cold as ice and influence you like a Dementor would but others as hot as a flame or just warm enough to make you feel uncomfortable.
"Well then who are the Others? I've heard Sirius mention them a few times before, and you keep talking about them like they're the plague."
"They might as well be the plague. I hope that no one particularly close to me ever becomes one because my job as a necromancer is to help them, the problem is they don't want to be helped. The Others." he started leading her into his room and welcoming her to any wardrobe that she needed to borrow.
"The Others are like restless souls, rather like shadows. They are people whom have died but don't wish to relinquish their claim to the living world and hold onto it with everything they have, they disturb the balance in our world because of their influence. Like one extra death than expected, like a child born without a limb, like a Dark Lord manifesting. Like deciding who dies and who doesn't. It's all their doing simply for their sadistic amusement."
Harry winced knowing everything he was telling her would probably be recounted by the Others and paid in full. Oh he was going to have a big headache tomorrow.
"Unfortunately the Others make up the majority of the spirit lands. They constitute of a major group of vague shapes and shadows, sometimes smoky figures and at other times they are clear enough to make out depending on how long they have been a shadow."
"But wouldn't any soul want to latch onto life after dieing? What makes them let go of it and just accept it?" Gabrielle felt rather privileged to be alive, why would anyone just respect death like that? Why wouldn't you be bitter if someone just ripped you from your happiness?
"Well they aren't expected to accept death the moment they die. All souls have a maximum of ten earth years to accept what happened to them, they watch the world, they watch their loved ones and over those years they just decide if death is really worth gloating over. Some souls accept before others, while some never do."
"Then what makes a soul a ghost?"
The Gryffindor boy sighed and leaned back on the queen sized bed feeling exhausted but compelled to answer the blonde's many questions.
"You're a ghost when you see no difference between life and death, when you suddenly find yourself dead you either don't notice or you don't care enough to become a spirit. Take Professor Binns for example he's dull as a ghost and he was equally dull when he was alive. One day he just woke up after passing away in his sleep and just went to teaching not noticing in the slightest if anything unusual happened to him. I still think he misses the fact that he could pass through people and walls."
"Is it me or is this to confusing?" she asked climbing onto the bed and under the covers to keep warm despite the clothes that she had borrowed from Harry which were more than a little baggy on her slight form.
"I think it's you." He muttered sarcastically and started borrowing through his drawers in order to find something to wear. In the end he just put on a pair of warm sweat pants and dove under the covers with the blonde.
"We have two hours, might as well sleep." He spoke wearily with his expression downcast. He was more or less feeling the disappointment in not receiving Gabrielle's answer yet. Harry actually feared that because he waited so long she wouldn't accept his proposition.
None-the-less he enveloped her in his arms and let her lay her head on his chest like old lovers would, with his arm crossed and placed on her stomach. He felt the blonde lazily run her arms up down his skin and at one point turn his arm and trace the black veins that crept to his inner elbows. Every time she did that they would burn slightly pushing away the light she unknowingly offered and drawing on the dark.
Upon further inspection Gabrielle noticed that not only did the veins turn dark but also they didn't pulse at all, as if they were completely dead. It didn't make sense though if they were dead then Harry wouldn't be able to use his arms. Or perhaps he still can't but eventually he'll lose them.
"Yes." She croaked holding back tears and kissing his arms right above the darkened veins. "Yes." She repeated snuggling into his chest. "I won't let you go, and I won't watch you rot either Harry."
Harry lay there with a small smile on his face and sighed peacefully tightening his hold on the blonde.
//You won't die Gabby, I won't let Voldemort get to you...and I won't let the Others decide your fate either.\\ He thought back to his earlier vision, unlike the majority of others he'd had during his waking hours, this one was no doubt a premonition of the future.
"I'm not going anywhere soon so no fears Cherie."
He closed his eyes to rest them a little but viciously held onto reality as to not slip away into his dreams where the nightmares were, where the visions were, and mostly where the Others were.
=======================
Cold, he was so cold that the chill burned his skin and froze his breath into a thick fog. Fierce shivers ran through his body and an icy grip captured his still mechanically beating heart.
The Others never could stand that "frantic thumping" as they called it.
All around him was a thick mist that prevented him from even seeing anything in front of his eyes, and a lacking sense of direction that had him confused to which was up, down, right or left. Everything was the same and everything was cold just as the restless souls of the dead liked it.
By now he was numb and looking around waiting for someone or something to greet him. It was times like these that Harry wished there actually was a true heaven and a true hell, that way he'd most likely be burning in the fires of hell instead of freezing his arse off in the in between.
A breeze swept past him followed by a painful shiver in his spine and he knew that one of Them was trying to test his strength again. They wanted to take over his body, possess it and consume his soul.
"I suggest you stay out of this body." he spoke up fighting them off with ease and as usually sending some of his own power out in the form of shadows and smoke chasing them off and forming a shield around himself. "I'm in no mood to fight you, and I'm in no mood to argue about the battle of Beauxbatons!"
His voice seemed to disappear as if absorbed into the abyss all around him and within seconds forms started to shift and appear. They were not clear at first, mostly coming from the dense fog around him. Some were so far gone that they had no form any longer, others were new and clear as the day was.
A chuckle was heard from the fog and an amused voice spoke out to him. "You still refer to this form as your body young one." A laugh followed that statement. "Your body does not travel with you to the shadow realm nor the spirit lands."
He clenched his teeth ignoring the voice and waiting for the shadows to show themselves.
The Others were a complicated group, stubborn on their intent to hold on to the world of the living for as long as possible they used what amount of energy they had to link themselves to it and thus losing shape, color, and voice. They communicated in an array of magical waves that they sent forth and received. A hard language to communicate but it served a purpose learning, these magical waves were much like spells compounded into lights and streams of different varieties but harmless just as a warm breeze. This so called 'language' helped Harry fight off and read the curses that were thrown at him, and often reshape and throw them back. It was a useful talent when fighting Death Eaters or even idiot Aurors.
"Oh but we must argue young Necromancer," a different voice spoke as he received the message from a dark cloud that had the vague shape of a woman in a Victorian dress. "You disobeyed the order of Death. Why do you protect the ones you've saved so? You know they are mortal; they will die sooner or later. What is your hold on them? You would visit them here, no doubt."
Angered by her foolish words Harry scowled deeply clenching his fist. "There is no order of Death! People die when they die! I interfered and they didn't die! I care for them! I can't lose anyone else, why can't you understand? Don't you remember what it is to love? To hold someone? To feel their rhythmic heart beat apposed to the fake one I have to create with a magical illusion? They will not die because I won't let them. End of story!"
"You know just as well as everyone in the Shadow realm that there were to be no survivors of that battle! Fate planned it!" Another form said this one a little clearer, it was a younger shadow.
"NO YOU PLANNED IT!" He answered back. "And you had no right to! You have no hold over the living! Don't you understand that your time has passed and you have to move on? What purpose do you have in staying a shadow? What do you receive from existing like this?!" he yelled at them waving his arms around like a lunatic.
They seemed amused by his outbursts at the very most and a few even chuckled weakly. "You have tried endlessly to convince us young Necromancer, it is of no use, our choice is just that, our choice." The same female voice spoke in a surprisingly mothering tone. "But alas the time for a new ruling body has come once again." It replied morosely this time.
Harry noticed the change in their attitude towards him. From all the past experiences when he had been dragged into the Shadow realm the Others have always been rude and callous towards him. Going as far as possessing his body when he let his guard down and causing pain beyond pain in him. They had the power and they weren't afraid to use it.
And now they were speaking of a new ruling body. He hadn't even realized there was an old ruler, or even empire. Of course surely there had to have been someone to decide on the rules that he was told of, and there had to be someone who decided who was marked to die and who wasn't.
"Why are you being nice to me? What do you know that I don't?" he questioned them staying on his guard and eyeing each of them wearily.
The haunted faces and shapes were silent for a long while giving him the feeling they were searching his very soul and exploring all his intimate secrets.
"The Necromancers of the world have gathered, even those long gone have assembled meetings in the shadow realm." Came a deep voice followed by a feminine one.
"We of the Shadow realm have deemed you ready young one."
"Ready for what?" At that moment he remembered feeling only confusion and a sense of despair. It was not often that he was left out of the loop anymore, at least that was the impression he received. "And what other Necromancers? There are no others! I'm the only one.aren't I?" He asked skeptically now sure that he couldn't be the only one.
He had been so blind! No one really knew much about Necromancers that's why he couldn't find out much but it wasn't possible that he was one in 6 billion whom had been chosen for the spot. How could he have been so stupid! Here he was wallowing in his own self-pity about his miserable life and the fact that he was alone when there were possibly others out there.
As if reading his mind, which Harry was sure they could do one of the shadows the same woman in the Victorian dress who seemed to have been chosen as their representative spoke to him.
"Yes indeed we have kept things from you, for your own good we assure you. Just as everyone else has been watching out for you. We couldn't lose out next candidate for a new Reaper."
"A NEW WHAT!!!????!" He had shouted wide-eyed. Surely they didn't mean that. Surely they wouldn't saddle him with anymore work.
"As you humans call it the Grim Reaper of Death or perhaps the Angel of Death, the spirit lands need someone to collect passing and speed up the process of choosing either side. You must convince them to choose to be shadow like us or to be a spirit. There are to many deaths occurring and the in between is getting rather full."
"Why me?" he whispered brokenly. Why did he have to deal with all the dirty work AGAIN?
"Because you have been prepared for it." He was answered but he quickly shook his head.
"I have enough on my shoulders, I don't have enough time to counsel the dead. I'm not a bloody shrink for your rotting carcasses!" he lashed out immediately regretting it when he felt an icy grip on his heart, although it wasn't beating naturally it still had feeling.
It squeezed until he was choking and breathing heavily. He wavered on his feet but didn't crash down to their mercy. Eventually they released him and he stood desperately trying to regain his breath and composure.
"We are not asking for much. There are privileges to this as well. You may kill without being questioned, you may punish a spirit without being questioned, you may." but he cut the shadow off angrily.
"I may have to be a shadow myself and forget about everyone I love, I may have to leave them behind. I promised I wouldn't and I won't. If your way of preparing me was getting rid of everyone I cared for just so I wouldn't feel attached then you've failed. I'm not going to be your Reaper as I don't feel the urge to take anyone's life nor punish anyone except Tom Riddle and his minions."
All were quiet around him and the Victorian lady as he started to call her in his mind floated forward. Her features becoming a bit clearer as he got closer. She had a line across her neck suggesting he had either had her throat slit or been beheaded to bring around her death. She must have still been bitter towards the world for her death to cling to it so strongly.
"Young Necromancer, you don't understand the privileges you're being given." She simply stated. "You have the power to keep your beloved alive for as long as you like now. And for what you gathered you are wrong when you say you may have to become a shadow. There have been living Reapers before, and since you are so eager to bind yourself to your female companion then you truly will be a living Reaper instead of a rotting Necromancer with Death's title. We would not fool you young one."
A smoky appendage reached out to touch him and he felt a chill of icy wind sweep past his cheek upon contact.
The Victorian lady smiled. "Your new look is quite becoming.I cannot wait for another Black to pass through Death's gates. But that is your choice as well whether your godfather is to die soon or not. All you have to do is seek out someone marked by us, and deliver them to the spirit lands sooner rather than later. You'd even have the power to choose for them, whether they should move on or grieve further."
For a moment Harry stared at her with his mouth agape. How did they know all this? How did they find out about him wanting to bind with Gabrielle when he had guarded his mind so? They weren't allowed to intervene with a Necromancers life were they?
But keeping everyone he cared for alive long enough to have a meaningful and long life was tempting. So was having a living body again.
"When would I get to talk to the others like myself?" he asked referring to the other Necromancers spread through the world. He had always wondered why he'd never met even the dead ones. Well seems everyone's been hiding things from him, even his parents whom he couldn't blame for wanting to keep him safe.
The Victorian lady shrugged for the first time showing feeling in her once dull and smoky eyes. "Perhaps when you've become the Reaper they'd feel obliged to see you. You'd have to give them orders; they'd have to carry them out. Our world would advise you, to take the load off your shoulders, and you'd just do what is expected until time of your departure in which case you would be free yet still have your privileges as the Reaper if needed. Your killings won't be questioned that you can be assured of."
"Why are you helping me then?"
She smiled as if she held the secrets of the world and Harry had no doubt she did hold some of them.
"Tom Riddle has no right to dispose of people so, his time has long come yet his attempts at immortality will not cease. Many he had killed were not meant to die at those times and we are thus a bit overloaded with magical energy for our tastes. The spirit lands adjust to natural deaths and there is no need for all the magic released to lets say.bump the proverbial scales. To many more deaths occur when the magic of the spirit lands and the magic of the living lands are unbalanced. We need to balance and as soon as possible Ater Angelus."
Bewilderment was written all over his face and the Victorian lady touched his hair whispering something as he felt another chill overrun his body. An eerie smile that seemed almost sad greeted her face.
"In my opinion you looked better with darker hair, and I must admit you seemed very fond of it as well. No need for you to look exactly as your godfather." Harry looked to his shoulder where her smoky appendage was resting to find his hair was the color of a raven again.
"We're not as bad as you think Ater, we do not wish to torment the living as you believe, and we the shadows simply try to balance the world further. Not everything and everyone can be perfect."
"Why do you call me Ater Angelus?" he asked all of a sudden and he almost felt as if the cold wasn't affecting him as it did before.
"Because that's what you are young one, you are the Dark Angel now. You may protect your Blanche Aucella now, and when the time comes for you two to go back you may use these names to get around." The smile on the woman's face had not retreated yet as she spoke with him fondly. And in that moment he realized that the world wasn't supposed to be perfect as she explained. It was supposed to be balanced, there were unfortunately sacrifices for that also but in the end it would be their choice whether they would be rewarded for making the right choices or if they were to be damned for making the wrong ones.
Even if the shadows did offer him the position as Reaper he still didn't have the choice of who should or shouldn't die. He could choose but it wasn't right. Like his father once told him, "There is the easy way, and then there is the right way." And so he repeated the words that his father had told him and instantly the cold left his body and the once smoky woman seemed solid as he was and as clear as he.
"Congratulations Ater, Keeper of the Dead." She presented him with a grand curtsy stepped away respectfully. "You have passed our test. I'm sure your parents are proud. Why not go talk to them Ater?" The woman suggested not once looking to his face but instead sweeping her hand to the right and pointing behind him.
But he did not turn around instead took her hand and lifted her chin so she would be looking at him again. This time he could clearly make out her features. Her pale, china doll face painted with pink rouge on her cheeks and a bright lipstick on her lips. Her blue eyes no longer cloudy and her smile no longer sad, she almost looked alive, if it weren't for the slit in her neck she would seem to be.
"And what my your name be mi-lady?"
"Victoria." She said with an amused chuckle and disappeared into the air leaving Harry to turn around and face the two figures she had been gesturing to before.
They were indeed Lily and James Potter smiling at him and holding hands. The Others had promptly disappeared and they had been left in a bright white room sparsely furbished with pitch-black furniture and black marble floors.
He shuffled his feet a little feeling unsure of what had occurred. Would his parents truly be proud that he was the Keeper of the Dead?
"Harry."his mother spoke out lovingly and let go of his fathers hand to come up and embrace him tightly.
Harry grinned still not at all used to the feeling of either of being able to finally touch them.
"Missed you." He said.
"Missed you too." She answered stroking his hair and standing on the tip of her toes to brush a warm kiss on his forehead. "Congratulations for helping your first Shade onto the spirit lands and congratulations for becoming our new Keeper."
And from then Harry had definitely known that he made the right decision and become the Keeper of Death. His soul would forever be separated from his body but linked through a connection. He'd be alive but in a detached sort of way. Non-the-less, nothing could be better now.
****************
Hours later Harry would wake up to find Gabrielle's slight frame curled up against his warm one. One hand clutched in his now raven black hair and the other unknown to her tracing patterns on his torso.
"My Blanche Aucella." He whispered to her and quietly untangled himself from her grip waiting silently until her sleepy protests calmed and got dressed in muggle clothing, teleporting right there and then out to Hogsmeade where he threw a black trench coat on and apparated further from there to a location unknown not to return for another hour.
TBC.
************************************AUTHOR'S NOTE**********************************
Hi everyone! Sorry for not updating in so long! I really have been busy and it wasn't just laziness. *Crosses her fingers behind her back*
Anyways I hope you like that chapter and weren't to confused by it. If you were just say so in your review and I'll address all the problems. If you want you can IM me at the screen name MetallicLily411 on AIM.
Well I got more chapters to write so see ya later.
P.S. Blanche Aucella means little white bird. It'll make sense later on! Trust me!
Summary: Voldemort is at the height of his power once more, terrorizing both the Muggle and Wizarding World's he is considered unstoppable and ruthless. There is only one person left who can truly defeat him, a boy that the world has set on a pedestal. In his seventh year the boy is now a man and single handedly taking on the dark forces but are the people truly grateful to this mysterious warrior, or will he have to depend on another girl several years younger than him and a complete stranger to believe in him.
Rated: R (for adult content and some violence)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the talented Ms. Rowling does, and the WB has some rights to the series. I just write for the hell of it all, so don't sue. I don't have anything worth taking me to court over.
Chapter 8: Keeper of Death
"Marry Me." He said and if he wasn't holding her around the waste she would have fallen by now as her knees weakened and she balanced herself by holding onto his shoulders once he again asked.
"Gabrielle Delacour will you marry me, will you bind your soul to mine for all eternity?"
If Harry had asked her this a week ago or even yesterday that question than Gabrielle knew that she would have said yes within an instant, but now.. she wanted answers and while he was desperate she would get them.
"Hold on a minute.why now.why do you all of a sudden tell me that this is the fault of dark magic? I mean you keep telling me that it's harmless as long as you use it for good, and that's what you've been doing right? Well what's the problem, why are your veins turning black, why are you in risk of dying or becoming some sort of zombie thing?"
She poured forth a round of questions not even ashamed at her lack of strong vocabulary and for a moment there the Head boy looked lost between which to answer first and what to tell her and what to leave out. It took a few minutes to gather himself before he stood again and faced her.
"Because dark magic is a lot more powerful than light, granted that you have enough power to sustain it. But if that power is too much then you draw on the dark, and eventually if you use enough it corrupts you. If I were human, if I were like everyone else the dark magic can't cling to me like it does now. Truth is I'm not even sure if the light magic is doing me any good either, it's a theory that I haven't tested yet. Perhaps my body is just to weak for it."
"But you are human!" Gabrielle bristled grabbing a shampoo bottle while they were still in the shower and just squirting a glob onto Harry's head.
"Uh-h what are you doing?" he asked bewildered letting her massage the cool substance into his hair.
"Washing your hair, now keep talking mister! You're not out of the forest yet!"
"All right, I'll talk just don't be so rough I think you'll pull my hair out instead of washing it!" he complained wincing when she viciously scrubbed his hair.
"Big baby." She muttered slowing down her vicious scrubbing to a gentler caress and waiting for him to continue. "Well you are human from what I can tell!"
"I'm a necromancer Gabby, I'm half dead. That's why I can't die, because I already am dead. And it's because I'm dead that my body is weak. I'm guessing magic deteriorates it."
"Don't be absurd Potter, you look fine to me. You don't seem to be rotting." She gave him the once over and blushed slightly and concentrated back on rinsing the shampoo from his hair.
"I look fine now but wait till a couple of years go by, I'll be a bloody zombie." He shuddered removing her hands from his tangled up hair and rinsing it off himself.
"Well I won't let you get to that state. Now how come I can't do dark magic? I'm human, at least I think I am." Gabrielle handed him the conditioner and he started on his hair again.
"You're Veela, not human. That's why your magic level is above the average witch's. If you weren't part Veela I'd gladly teach you, but unless I want you to turn into a fried biscuit then I think we'd better stick to lighter magic and put more power behind it. But then again since you're part Veela then maybe your magic can fight off the dark and strengthen your defenses?" He pondered the concept out loud while rinsing his hair.
For some reason, Gabrielle didn't know which, but for some reason Harry wasn't the least embarrassed with their situation. Gabrielle wasn't particularly shy, Veela's were for the most part not ashamed of their bodies, and it was in their nature not to blush every time someone looked at them.
Looking at other people was a completely different thing though. Harry didn't seem to mind being in full view of anyone though, after all his muggle job almost depended on it.
All of a sudden out of no where something cool fell on her head and surprised Gabrielle jumped out of her reverie to find Harry pouring a ton of shampoo on her hair and grinning mischievously.
"Harry you dolt I'll never be able to wash this out!" she yelled but was clearly silenced by a quick kiss from him. A slight brush of their lips. They hadn't had any intimate moments since she left the hospital wing. They'd either both be tired after classes and training or to fixed on their cause to stop and think about anything else.
"So will you marry me then?" he asked.
"Why the sudden change of heart?" She inquired already setting to work getting most of the shampoo off her hair and massaging enough in to clean it.
"I-I don't know." A heavy sigh greeted her ears after he said that and she wondered if he was perhaps that scared of death that he changed his mind, and risked hers. But if he was so scared then why didn't he just agree to it sooner?
"I suppose because I want to keep you safe, and it's the only way I know how. Besides if I want to live long enough to go back to the past and change things then don't you think that this would be a good idea?"
She didn't answer feeling that it was more of a rhetorical question than anything else. For some reason Harry seemed nervous about something. Perhaps it was the little episode that he had with his scar outside? She wondered but decided to ask him a little later when he started saying something.
Another thought entered her mind, the same one that had plagued her for a while now. Harry had said that the only reason he was doing this was a chance to survive and to change things. Meaning that they would be stuck with each other until one of them dies, and then after death. He didn't actually love her. He couldn't, she thought to herself. She wasn't even sure if she loved him all that much, after all he only took care of her because of a sense of obligation he felt towards nearly everyone. They'd only been together a couple of weeks, what other reason than to save their families would they stay together then besides physical attraction and respect they felt towards one another?
"Actually to tell you the truth my mum finally relented and convinced me." He said chagrinned and brought her out of her reveries. "I didn't want to at first because I was and still am scared the same thing happening to me would start happening to you. And that's a possible risk you know."
She nodded acknowledging it. "What's it like talking to the dead"
Harry furrowed his eyebrows thinking of the best way to explain it and turned off the showerhead as he was starting to get prune skin around the fingertips.
"It's like talking to anyone else except if they piss you off you can't punch them in the face I suppose." He joked but reverted back into a serious mode. "It really depends on which spirits you're talking to. When talking to the Others it's cold, like a chill that goes down to your bones." He visibly shuddered stepping out of the shower and wrapping Gabrielle's wet and shaking form in a large fluffy towel he grabbed off the rack nearby before doing the same for himself.
"Regular spirits are much warmer, like a cup of tea you could say. However only Necromancers can feel the warmth, to anyone else if they possessed an extra sense for this sort of thing they'd still feel the chill either way."
"Well." to her it sounded sort of creepy, seeing transparent forms bothering you all day and trying to make conversation. Some as cold as ice and influence you like a Dementor would but others as hot as a flame or just warm enough to make you feel uncomfortable.
"Well then who are the Others? I've heard Sirius mention them a few times before, and you keep talking about them like they're the plague."
"They might as well be the plague. I hope that no one particularly close to me ever becomes one because my job as a necromancer is to help them, the problem is they don't want to be helped. The Others." he started leading her into his room and welcoming her to any wardrobe that she needed to borrow.
"The Others are like restless souls, rather like shadows. They are people whom have died but don't wish to relinquish their claim to the living world and hold onto it with everything they have, they disturb the balance in our world because of their influence. Like one extra death than expected, like a child born without a limb, like a Dark Lord manifesting. Like deciding who dies and who doesn't. It's all their doing simply for their sadistic amusement."
Harry winced knowing everything he was telling her would probably be recounted by the Others and paid in full. Oh he was going to have a big headache tomorrow.
"Unfortunately the Others make up the majority of the spirit lands. They constitute of a major group of vague shapes and shadows, sometimes smoky figures and at other times they are clear enough to make out depending on how long they have been a shadow."
"But wouldn't any soul want to latch onto life after dieing? What makes them let go of it and just accept it?" Gabrielle felt rather privileged to be alive, why would anyone just respect death like that? Why wouldn't you be bitter if someone just ripped you from your happiness?
"Well they aren't expected to accept death the moment they die. All souls have a maximum of ten earth years to accept what happened to them, they watch the world, they watch their loved ones and over those years they just decide if death is really worth gloating over. Some souls accept before others, while some never do."
"Then what makes a soul a ghost?"
The Gryffindor boy sighed and leaned back on the queen sized bed feeling exhausted but compelled to answer the blonde's many questions.
"You're a ghost when you see no difference between life and death, when you suddenly find yourself dead you either don't notice or you don't care enough to become a spirit. Take Professor Binns for example he's dull as a ghost and he was equally dull when he was alive. One day he just woke up after passing away in his sleep and just went to teaching not noticing in the slightest if anything unusual happened to him. I still think he misses the fact that he could pass through people and walls."
"Is it me or is this to confusing?" she asked climbing onto the bed and under the covers to keep warm despite the clothes that she had borrowed from Harry which were more than a little baggy on her slight form.
"I think it's you." He muttered sarcastically and started borrowing through his drawers in order to find something to wear. In the end he just put on a pair of warm sweat pants and dove under the covers with the blonde.
"We have two hours, might as well sleep." He spoke wearily with his expression downcast. He was more or less feeling the disappointment in not receiving Gabrielle's answer yet. Harry actually feared that because he waited so long she wouldn't accept his proposition.
None-the-less he enveloped her in his arms and let her lay her head on his chest like old lovers would, with his arm crossed and placed on her stomach. He felt the blonde lazily run her arms up down his skin and at one point turn his arm and trace the black veins that crept to his inner elbows. Every time she did that they would burn slightly pushing away the light she unknowingly offered and drawing on the dark.
Upon further inspection Gabrielle noticed that not only did the veins turn dark but also they didn't pulse at all, as if they were completely dead. It didn't make sense though if they were dead then Harry wouldn't be able to use his arms. Or perhaps he still can't but eventually he'll lose them.
"Yes." She croaked holding back tears and kissing his arms right above the darkened veins. "Yes." She repeated snuggling into his chest. "I won't let you go, and I won't watch you rot either Harry."
Harry lay there with a small smile on his face and sighed peacefully tightening his hold on the blonde.
//You won't die Gabby, I won't let Voldemort get to you...and I won't let the Others decide your fate either.\\ He thought back to his earlier vision, unlike the majority of others he'd had during his waking hours, this one was no doubt a premonition of the future.
"I'm not going anywhere soon so no fears Cherie."
He closed his eyes to rest them a little but viciously held onto reality as to not slip away into his dreams where the nightmares were, where the visions were, and mostly where the Others were.
=======================
Cold, he was so cold that the chill burned his skin and froze his breath into a thick fog. Fierce shivers ran through his body and an icy grip captured his still mechanically beating heart.
The Others never could stand that "frantic thumping" as they called it.
All around him was a thick mist that prevented him from even seeing anything in front of his eyes, and a lacking sense of direction that had him confused to which was up, down, right or left. Everything was the same and everything was cold just as the restless souls of the dead liked it.
By now he was numb and looking around waiting for someone or something to greet him. It was times like these that Harry wished there actually was a true heaven and a true hell, that way he'd most likely be burning in the fires of hell instead of freezing his arse off in the in between.
A breeze swept past him followed by a painful shiver in his spine and he knew that one of Them was trying to test his strength again. They wanted to take over his body, possess it and consume his soul.
"I suggest you stay out of this body." he spoke up fighting them off with ease and as usually sending some of his own power out in the form of shadows and smoke chasing them off and forming a shield around himself. "I'm in no mood to fight you, and I'm in no mood to argue about the battle of Beauxbatons!"
His voice seemed to disappear as if absorbed into the abyss all around him and within seconds forms started to shift and appear. They were not clear at first, mostly coming from the dense fog around him. Some were so far gone that they had no form any longer, others were new and clear as the day was.
A chuckle was heard from the fog and an amused voice spoke out to him. "You still refer to this form as your body young one." A laugh followed that statement. "Your body does not travel with you to the shadow realm nor the spirit lands."
He clenched his teeth ignoring the voice and waiting for the shadows to show themselves.
The Others were a complicated group, stubborn on their intent to hold on to the world of the living for as long as possible they used what amount of energy they had to link themselves to it and thus losing shape, color, and voice. They communicated in an array of magical waves that they sent forth and received. A hard language to communicate but it served a purpose learning, these magical waves were much like spells compounded into lights and streams of different varieties but harmless just as a warm breeze. This so called 'language' helped Harry fight off and read the curses that were thrown at him, and often reshape and throw them back. It was a useful talent when fighting Death Eaters or even idiot Aurors.
"Oh but we must argue young Necromancer," a different voice spoke as he received the message from a dark cloud that had the vague shape of a woman in a Victorian dress. "You disobeyed the order of Death. Why do you protect the ones you've saved so? You know they are mortal; they will die sooner or later. What is your hold on them? You would visit them here, no doubt."
Angered by her foolish words Harry scowled deeply clenching his fist. "There is no order of Death! People die when they die! I interfered and they didn't die! I care for them! I can't lose anyone else, why can't you understand? Don't you remember what it is to love? To hold someone? To feel their rhythmic heart beat apposed to the fake one I have to create with a magical illusion? They will not die because I won't let them. End of story!"
"You know just as well as everyone in the Shadow realm that there were to be no survivors of that battle! Fate planned it!" Another form said this one a little clearer, it was a younger shadow.
"NO YOU PLANNED IT!" He answered back. "And you had no right to! You have no hold over the living! Don't you understand that your time has passed and you have to move on? What purpose do you have in staying a shadow? What do you receive from existing like this?!" he yelled at them waving his arms around like a lunatic.
They seemed amused by his outbursts at the very most and a few even chuckled weakly. "You have tried endlessly to convince us young Necromancer, it is of no use, our choice is just that, our choice." The same female voice spoke in a surprisingly mothering tone. "But alas the time for a new ruling body has come once again." It replied morosely this time.
Harry noticed the change in their attitude towards him. From all the past experiences when he had been dragged into the Shadow realm the Others have always been rude and callous towards him. Going as far as possessing his body when he let his guard down and causing pain beyond pain in him. They had the power and they weren't afraid to use it.
And now they were speaking of a new ruling body. He hadn't even realized there was an old ruler, or even empire. Of course surely there had to have been someone to decide on the rules that he was told of, and there had to be someone who decided who was marked to die and who wasn't.
"Why are you being nice to me? What do you know that I don't?" he questioned them staying on his guard and eyeing each of them wearily.
The haunted faces and shapes were silent for a long while giving him the feeling they were searching his very soul and exploring all his intimate secrets.
"The Necromancers of the world have gathered, even those long gone have assembled meetings in the shadow realm." Came a deep voice followed by a feminine one.
"We of the Shadow realm have deemed you ready young one."
"Ready for what?" At that moment he remembered feeling only confusion and a sense of despair. It was not often that he was left out of the loop anymore, at least that was the impression he received. "And what other Necromancers? There are no others! I'm the only one.aren't I?" He asked skeptically now sure that he couldn't be the only one.
He had been so blind! No one really knew much about Necromancers that's why he couldn't find out much but it wasn't possible that he was one in 6 billion whom had been chosen for the spot. How could he have been so stupid! Here he was wallowing in his own self-pity about his miserable life and the fact that he was alone when there were possibly others out there.
As if reading his mind, which Harry was sure they could do one of the shadows the same woman in the Victorian dress who seemed to have been chosen as their representative spoke to him.
"Yes indeed we have kept things from you, for your own good we assure you. Just as everyone else has been watching out for you. We couldn't lose out next candidate for a new Reaper."
"A NEW WHAT!!!????!" He had shouted wide-eyed. Surely they didn't mean that. Surely they wouldn't saddle him with anymore work.
"As you humans call it the Grim Reaper of Death or perhaps the Angel of Death, the spirit lands need someone to collect passing and speed up the process of choosing either side. You must convince them to choose to be shadow like us or to be a spirit. There are to many deaths occurring and the in between is getting rather full."
"Why me?" he whispered brokenly. Why did he have to deal with all the dirty work AGAIN?
"Because you have been prepared for it." He was answered but he quickly shook his head.
"I have enough on my shoulders, I don't have enough time to counsel the dead. I'm not a bloody shrink for your rotting carcasses!" he lashed out immediately regretting it when he felt an icy grip on his heart, although it wasn't beating naturally it still had feeling.
It squeezed until he was choking and breathing heavily. He wavered on his feet but didn't crash down to their mercy. Eventually they released him and he stood desperately trying to regain his breath and composure.
"We are not asking for much. There are privileges to this as well. You may kill without being questioned, you may punish a spirit without being questioned, you may." but he cut the shadow off angrily.
"I may have to be a shadow myself and forget about everyone I love, I may have to leave them behind. I promised I wouldn't and I won't. If your way of preparing me was getting rid of everyone I cared for just so I wouldn't feel attached then you've failed. I'm not going to be your Reaper as I don't feel the urge to take anyone's life nor punish anyone except Tom Riddle and his minions."
All were quiet around him and the Victorian lady as he started to call her in his mind floated forward. Her features becoming a bit clearer as he got closer. She had a line across her neck suggesting he had either had her throat slit or been beheaded to bring around her death. She must have still been bitter towards the world for her death to cling to it so strongly.
"Young Necromancer, you don't understand the privileges you're being given." She simply stated. "You have the power to keep your beloved alive for as long as you like now. And for what you gathered you are wrong when you say you may have to become a shadow. There have been living Reapers before, and since you are so eager to bind yourself to your female companion then you truly will be a living Reaper instead of a rotting Necromancer with Death's title. We would not fool you young one."
A smoky appendage reached out to touch him and he felt a chill of icy wind sweep past his cheek upon contact.
The Victorian lady smiled. "Your new look is quite becoming.I cannot wait for another Black to pass through Death's gates. But that is your choice as well whether your godfather is to die soon or not. All you have to do is seek out someone marked by us, and deliver them to the spirit lands sooner rather than later. You'd even have the power to choose for them, whether they should move on or grieve further."
For a moment Harry stared at her with his mouth agape. How did they know all this? How did they find out about him wanting to bind with Gabrielle when he had guarded his mind so? They weren't allowed to intervene with a Necromancers life were they?
But keeping everyone he cared for alive long enough to have a meaningful and long life was tempting. So was having a living body again.
"When would I get to talk to the others like myself?" he asked referring to the other Necromancers spread through the world. He had always wondered why he'd never met even the dead ones. Well seems everyone's been hiding things from him, even his parents whom he couldn't blame for wanting to keep him safe.
The Victorian lady shrugged for the first time showing feeling in her once dull and smoky eyes. "Perhaps when you've become the Reaper they'd feel obliged to see you. You'd have to give them orders; they'd have to carry them out. Our world would advise you, to take the load off your shoulders, and you'd just do what is expected until time of your departure in which case you would be free yet still have your privileges as the Reaper if needed. Your killings won't be questioned that you can be assured of."
"Why are you helping me then?"
She smiled as if she held the secrets of the world and Harry had no doubt she did hold some of them.
"Tom Riddle has no right to dispose of people so, his time has long come yet his attempts at immortality will not cease. Many he had killed were not meant to die at those times and we are thus a bit overloaded with magical energy for our tastes. The spirit lands adjust to natural deaths and there is no need for all the magic released to lets say.bump the proverbial scales. To many more deaths occur when the magic of the spirit lands and the magic of the living lands are unbalanced. We need to balance and as soon as possible Ater Angelus."
Bewilderment was written all over his face and the Victorian lady touched his hair whispering something as he felt another chill overrun his body. An eerie smile that seemed almost sad greeted her face.
"In my opinion you looked better with darker hair, and I must admit you seemed very fond of it as well. No need for you to look exactly as your godfather." Harry looked to his shoulder where her smoky appendage was resting to find his hair was the color of a raven again.
"We're not as bad as you think Ater, we do not wish to torment the living as you believe, and we the shadows simply try to balance the world further. Not everything and everyone can be perfect."
"Why do you call me Ater Angelus?" he asked all of a sudden and he almost felt as if the cold wasn't affecting him as it did before.
"Because that's what you are young one, you are the Dark Angel now. You may protect your Blanche Aucella now, and when the time comes for you two to go back you may use these names to get around." The smile on the woman's face had not retreated yet as she spoke with him fondly. And in that moment he realized that the world wasn't supposed to be perfect as she explained. It was supposed to be balanced, there were unfortunately sacrifices for that also but in the end it would be their choice whether they would be rewarded for making the right choices or if they were to be damned for making the wrong ones.
Even if the shadows did offer him the position as Reaper he still didn't have the choice of who should or shouldn't die. He could choose but it wasn't right. Like his father once told him, "There is the easy way, and then there is the right way." And so he repeated the words that his father had told him and instantly the cold left his body and the once smoky woman seemed solid as he was and as clear as he.
"Congratulations Ater, Keeper of the Dead." She presented him with a grand curtsy stepped away respectfully. "You have passed our test. I'm sure your parents are proud. Why not go talk to them Ater?" The woman suggested not once looking to his face but instead sweeping her hand to the right and pointing behind him.
But he did not turn around instead took her hand and lifted her chin so she would be looking at him again. This time he could clearly make out her features. Her pale, china doll face painted with pink rouge on her cheeks and a bright lipstick on her lips. Her blue eyes no longer cloudy and her smile no longer sad, she almost looked alive, if it weren't for the slit in her neck she would seem to be.
"And what my your name be mi-lady?"
"Victoria." She said with an amused chuckle and disappeared into the air leaving Harry to turn around and face the two figures she had been gesturing to before.
They were indeed Lily and James Potter smiling at him and holding hands. The Others had promptly disappeared and they had been left in a bright white room sparsely furbished with pitch-black furniture and black marble floors.
He shuffled his feet a little feeling unsure of what had occurred. Would his parents truly be proud that he was the Keeper of the Dead?
"Harry."his mother spoke out lovingly and let go of his fathers hand to come up and embrace him tightly.
Harry grinned still not at all used to the feeling of either of being able to finally touch them.
"Missed you." He said.
"Missed you too." She answered stroking his hair and standing on the tip of her toes to brush a warm kiss on his forehead. "Congratulations for helping your first Shade onto the spirit lands and congratulations for becoming our new Keeper."
And from then Harry had definitely known that he made the right decision and become the Keeper of Death. His soul would forever be separated from his body but linked through a connection. He'd be alive but in a detached sort of way. Non-the-less, nothing could be better now.
****************
Hours later Harry would wake up to find Gabrielle's slight frame curled up against his warm one. One hand clutched in his now raven black hair and the other unknown to her tracing patterns on his torso.
"My Blanche Aucella." He whispered to her and quietly untangled himself from her grip waiting silently until her sleepy protests calmed and got dressed in muggle clothing, teleporting right there and then out to Hogsmeade where he threw a black trench coat on and apparated further from there to a location unknown not to return for another hour.
TBC.
************************************AUTHOR'S NOTE**********************************
Hi everyone! Sorry for not updating in so long! I really have been busy and it wasn't just laziness. *Crosses her fingers behind her back*
Anyways I hope you like that chapter and weren't to confused by it. If you were just say so in your review and I'll address all the problems. If you want you can IM me at the screen name MetallicLily411 on AIM.
Well I got more chapters to write so see ya later.
P.S. Blanche Aucella means little white bird. It'll make sense later on! Trust me!