The Master of Death

Chapter4: Grimmauld Place

Harry couldn't recall how the flight to London had gone the first time around, but if the weather had been the same, he'd have to have almost frozen to death. Still, he mostly enjoyed the feeling of flying, cold wind tugging on his clothes as they made their way through the night. Not a word could be heard because of it. Moody had to shout for everyone to understand his commands to change directions every so often. Faint starlight illuminated the clouds but more eye-catching than that were the small lights on the ground. Unknowing Muggles sitting in their own houses, unaware of the group of Wizards flying overhead. But eventually, they rose to a height where clouds blocked their view and the last traces of civilisation gave way to the night.

This was the perfect opportunity to ask Death some questions. Its snake form was still wound tightly around his torso and neck and so Harry gave it a try. "Death?" he asked in parseltongue. Even if somebody should be listening in, they would only hear a strange hissing almost identical to the wind.

"Masssster ..."

Harry felt the snake beneath his shirt dissolve into nothing and then there was a presence next to him, which couldn't be described by words. Harry felt like he could hear the air shift and the wind itself seemed to grow quiet in face of the entity at large. He swallowed hard and for the first time, he really thought about the fact that it was Death who'd brought him here.

He suddenly felt incredibly small. He'd wanted to ask what had happened to his mind, his memories. But his words got stuck in his throat. He couldn't find it in himself to speak out loud. With wide eyes Harry blinked into the darkness, unseeing but feeling what lurked there. His heart was fluttering like a bird in a cage, beating like wings against his ribs. His cold hands tightened around his broomstick.

As if it had heard his panicked thoughts, the overwhelming presence reduced itself to a faint whisper. Harry flinched when he felt the echo of a touch on his skin, but then it pulled back till there was only a slight breeze playing with his hair. A tingle went down his spine and a wave of comfort engulfed him. Harry exhaled shakily.

"Don't be afraid..." the inhuman voice whispered, words barely distinguishable from the wind tearing on Harry's cloak. It sounded as small as Harry had felt mere moments ago.

"I'm okay," Harry said. "I'm okay. I'm sorry." He didn't know why he felt the need to apologize.

After a moment had passed, Death spoke up again. "Ask," it said, "What you wanted to ask."

"Alright," Harry said. He swallowed. "I just... In one moment I know, feel and think as if I am twenty-four; I remember my whole training as an Auror, my life after the war - the life during the war... but in the next second, I feel like a spooked fifteen-year-old who never lived past this day and fears Voldemort attacking any moment. A part of me is certain that I haven't been in Little Whinging for years and yet I know that I was staying in my room for the last few days and that Aunt Petunia pushed a tomato soup through the cat flap of my door just this noon."

"I pulled your soul into your younger body. Your recent memories are linked strongly to this time, more than your older self. But the lines between your personalities will blur with time. It will sort itself out. For now, you might have to deal with a somewhat split mind."

"But wouldn't my older personality simply cease to exist as soon as I change what will happen in the future? I mean, I can't know things that never happened, right?"

"Two souls have merged, two souls of different times. You were remade by coming here into someone new. A clean slate. Everything that you are now is bound to me. And Death is beyond time."