The Master of Death

Chapter32: Merging Colours

They materialized in the hallway of Grimmauld Place No. 12 shortly after Sirius' departure. Harry noticed that Mrs Black had returned to her painting. She wasn't shouting despite the curtains being wide open, but she ogled Harry with a disgusted look. Harry smirked at her and saluted as he walked past the frame, which Mrs Black only commented with a degrading snort.

He made his way to the kitchen, where Sirius was probably residing. Curiously, Harry found that he could sense Kreacher roaming through the house, a floor further up as well as someone else sleeping in a room upstairs, but it was probably only a member of the Order recovering from a mission or something.

Opening the door at the end of the stairs to the basement, Harry spotted his godfather who was sitting at the table. He seemed rather lost. When he heard the squeaking of the door, Sirius looked up. He stared at Harry and then at Death who was standing behind him.

Harry shared the being's amusement. He tried to hide it for his godfather's sake, but shortly after he'd pulled back a chair opposite to Sirius and sat down, Harry was already grinning again. Death cared even less, and he openly smirked at Sirius as he stopped next to Harry.

There was a piece of parchment laying in front of Sirius. Harry guessed that it was the letter, which had caused his godfather to call Harry.

"Well," Harry said with a badly concealed smile and he cleared his throat. "So, is that the letter you were talking about?" he asked and nodded towards it.

Sirius stared at him for another moment in silence. Two seconds passed before he opened his mouth,

"What the Hell, Harry?! You are fucking Death?!"

Harry snorted amused.

"Close but no," said being interfered.

"It's kind of the other way 'round," Harry added, "Though I wouldn't be opposed to trying," he continued with a smirk.

Sirius groaned. "Merlin, why did I even ask?" He wiped his face with both of his hands. After a moment he raised his head. Harry reciprocated his stare before Sirius eventually started to speak once more. "You are fifteen and he is like..." Sirius looked at Death, "You can't tell me that the age difference here is healthy. Did you even - before that, I mean-" Sirius groaned again. "Merlin, I never pictured myself to be forced to give this talk."

Harry laughed. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I guess that'll spare us both a lot of awkwardness."

Sirius' eyes flickered from Death to Harry. "Doesn't it bother you, that he kinda looks like you?" he asked. Harry looked at Death. The being did still resemble him in a way, but it was nowhere near the similarity that had existed at the beginning. Death was taller than Harry and his features were sharper. He looked like an adult, whereas Harry still had to deal with his teenage body every day. He didn't have a scar and there were no glasses – not that Harry would need them himself nowadays – and his nose looked different, not to mention the eyes. Death was building his own body now, and he seemed more comfortable in it with every passing day. There was a predatory air around Death, that was so natural, so easily incorporated in each of his fluid movements that no one – not even Harry - would ever be able to ever match it.

"I don't care. He can choose to look however he wants," Harry eventually said.

As if on cue, Death's features blurred and all of a sudden there was another version of Sirius standing where Death had been. Harry could still sense his true form lingering behind what he was now resembling, but for Sirius, there was probably no difference between them, apart from the eyes and the eerie perfection in Death's mirror image of him.

"As he said, I can choose whatever form I want," Death rasped.

"This," Harry began and looked at his godfather, "This on the other hand creeps me out," he said while he pointed at Death, who - with a look at Harry - changed back to his more familiar form.