Chapter Text
Chapter One
People tended to underestimate Harry Potter.
Maybe that was why, instead of being at Hogwarts, completing his seventh year with the rest of his friends, he was on a ridiculous hunt for Death Eaters.
Alright, one specific Death Eater. One that had managed to escape with her life after the Battle of Hogwarts. One Harry desperately needed to find and exact vengeance upon.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
The bloody psycho bitch responsible for Sirius’ death.
Harry let her get away once, unable to perform the Unforgivable Curses on her. But now? Now he knew he could do it.
He would do it.
For Sirius.
It seemed that after the war ended, Voldemort defeated and horcruxes destroyed, everyone had moved on rather quickly.
Sure, he could tell the war had left a mark on everyone.
Dumbledore was dead. Snape was dead. Fred and Remus almost died.
And so many countless others. But still, it seemed they were all moving on with their lives. His friends were all growing out of him and he was so proud of their growth, but staying behind was so so painful. And Harry just… well, Harry wasn’t growing. Harry was stagnant, wanting to move on but unsure of how to.
Everyone told him that healing took time. He knew he should try and move on and fix all the broken things war had left in its wake.
But there was something unsettled in Harry’s soul. Something yearning and aching.
He’d thought it might be death. Before defeating Voldemort, Harry was truly ready to die. He’d made peace with it. Accepted the fate that he wouldn’t live to see his 17th birthday.
And he did die.
Maybe that was why he felt so out of place, so… wrong in this new and healing world.
He wasn’t supposed to be a part of it.
And yet, he was.
Harry sighed, subconsciously rubbing his scar. It no longer ached, no longer caused him any pain. It was just a uniquely shaped mark that held memories he wished he could forget.
But he couldn’t break the habit of rubbing it from time to time.
Harry had found himself in France. His search for Bellatrix had taken him all over, and eventually, it had led him to the middle of Paris on a Thursday afternoon.
He’d done dark magic in order to locate her. Though, theoretically, knowing dark magic was unlawful, Harry couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when it came to avenging Sirius. Not when it felt like Harry had finally reconnected with his magic for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts.
Harry feared what else he would willingly do on his quest for vengeance.
And wasn’t that just bloody ironic?
Harry sat in a small cafe on a quiet street in Paris, sipping his tea and fiddling with his napkin. He didn’t know exactly where Bellatrix was, as he wasn’t proficient enough in the dark arts for such a precise spell. He had been able to locate the city, and that was it.
Which really didn’t help all that much.
What good was the bloody spell if it led him to a city with millions of people?
Harry felt a bit hopeless, but he couldn’t bring himself to give up just yet. Something was calling him here, other than the spell, and Harry needed to find out what.
—
It was Sunday morning when Harry felt eyes on him. Though he knew he should be worried, he wasn’t. He could feel there was no malicious intent in whoever was watching him. But he still wanted them to stop.
He’d never liked much attention on himself, probably having to do with being in the spotlight for almost half his life. He would really rather be anonymous. He’d have wished to never have been The Chosen One, if he thought it’d make any difference.
Harry sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. He began to walk back to the flat he was leasing short-term. He didn’t have much motivation for his search today. He could feel the fight draining out of him slowly, and he felt like he was letting Sirius down all over again.
Sometimes… sometimes it was just hard to be alive amidst all this grief. He missed Sirius. He missed his mom and dad, who he never got a chance to know. He missed a feeling he’d been desperately chasing his whole life but was always just out of reach.
He could feel the heat begin to prickle at the back of his eyes, and wished desperately for it to stop. He’d cried all the tears he could. He had nothing left to give.
When Harry stepped off the busy main street, he could feel the heavy gaze on him once again. He turned, hoping to spot someone, but nobody was there. He shook his head, trying to brush the feeling off to no avail.
It wasn’t until he turned back around that the black smoke began pooling around him. He let out a surprised noise, grabbing his wand from his pocket. But his wand would do no good. A figure was emerging from the smoke and Harry knew it well. Had met him on more occasions than he could count.
Death.
The figure approached him, his black robes looking like a liquid night sky. His face was sallow, hollow cheekbones and pure black eyes. Harry felt Death’s power brush across his skin, shivering from the simultaneously pleasant and unpleasant feeling.
“ Master of ,” his voice was raspy, but Harry could still hear him clearly.
“Death,” Harry greeted. Death laughed, a wispy thing that sounded more like a strained wheeze than anything. “How can I help you?” he asked. Harry knew others would probably be scared being approached by Death. But he had been the Master of since the battle. There was no need for him to fear. Not that he would really care, even if he wasn’t Master of.
He found it hard to care about most things these days.
“ Master of, it is I who is here to help you .”
“Oh? Is it my time?” Harry asked seriously. He knew it wasn’t. Death could no longer call upon Harry until he wished it so.
Death narrowed his inky black eyes, clasping his bony fingers together in front of him. “ It is not. ”
Harry couldn’t help the defeated sigh that puffed out of him. “How can you help me then, Death?”
“ I see your sadness, Master of. I see the pain that is slowly suffocating you. I cannot watch you be an empty vessel any longer. ”
Harry wasn’t entirely sure what to say, so he stayed silent.
“ I’d like to offer you something, Harry . I’ve grown rather fond of you. We’ve met more times than we should have, and I truly apologize for that. I am here to offer you a way out of this grief you’ve been drowning in.”
“How?” Harry choked out. The damn burning was back behind his eyes.
“ I cannot tell you much. You must trust me. But if you accept, you’ll find the happiness you’ve so desperately prayed for.” Death held out his hand, waiting for Harry to make his decision.
Harry was wary, rightfully so. But his inner Gryffindor was trying to break through. He wanted to just jump in head first. He wanted to trust what Death was offering. Because honestly?
What did he have to lose?
Harry reached out his hand, clasping Death’s in his own. Death smiled, and everything went black.