The Master of Death

Chapter37: Infamous Creatures

After he had wiped off his tears, Harry had taken a step back. "We're going to have a talk," he announced, his voice leaving no room for objection. "This is long overdue."

Leaves crunching beneath his feet, he made his way over to a nearby tree stump and sat down. He ignored how the dampness of its surface made its way known through his clothes and put his arms on his thighs. He looked at Death who remained standing.

"I have questions," Harry said after a few moments of silence. "And you're going to answer them."

Death remained silent, but both knew that Harry wouldn't accept anything but an agreement to his demands.

"I've gone into this blind..." Harry began. "Being- becoming your master. I want to know what will happen to me."

Death shifted. His voice echoed with the wind. "I don't-"

"Oh, cut the crap," Harry interrupted, feeling some of his prior feelings stir deep in his guts. "You know something. More than I do at least." Death seemed a bit lost. With a small sigh, Harry elaborated. "So, now tell me, Death. What does being your master really entail?"

The silence between them lasted for a long second before Death's inhuman voice began to cut through the icy air. "You united the Hallows, you didn't fear death, nor did you seek out the end of your life or what came after it. You mastered death. But that doesn't equal being the Master of Death. Yet there is no doubt that this title belongs to you." The being paused. He seemed to think about how he could best express himself. "There are ...not quite rules, but there is a balance to things. When you burn a log, it doesn't vanish. There is smoke and heat and ashes. When someone dies, their body decays and their soul goes on."

"That's basic theory McGonagall taught us during first year," Harry interjected impatiently, "The whole spiel about how magic isn't a finite source and so on. What is it that you really want to say?"

"There was always the potential for a Master of Death, but there didn't have to be one," Death explained. Harry unconsciously shifted on the log, listening. "The end - the concept of death itself would've fulfilled its role on its own. But my becoming sentient and subsequent interference with the hallows opened up the possibility of it. Or perhaps the possibility formed, which led to me creating the hallows. Perhaps me coming into existence was a precursor to there being a master in the first place."

"The phoenix and the ashes," Harry muttered.

Death tilted his head in agreement. "Me adapting to allow for the possibility of there being a master shifted the balance to the point where the possibility turned into fact. The same thing could be said the other way round. The fact that there would be a Master of Death led to me adapting for it previous to it happening. It was in my nature to change as it was in yours to fill the role for the Master of Death."

"So you're saying this was ...fate?" Harry asked sceptically and partly intrigued.

"Or coincidence." Death shrugged, which made him look surprisingly human. "I changed so there needed to be something to balance it out. And you are this factor. You adapt to balance what I have become."

"That sounds a bit one-sided to me," Harry voiced dryly.

"I in turn am adapting to what you will be."

Harry snorted at the dramatics when he summarized a conclusion similar to one he'd already come to times before. "So basically what you're saying is that you'll become more human and I turn into an eldritch creature?"

Death frowned. The comparison to an eldritch creature seemed to miff him. "As to what will come... I didn't lie to you when I said that I couldn't tell the future. But once in a while, I get ...notions. The closest human concept to it would probably be an epiphany or an intuition. I cannot tell for sure in what ways you will change. But I think that you will grow to fill this space. And I don't know how much of this lies within your own choosing - or my influence, on that matter." "