Harry Potter and The Twisted Laws

Refused and Replacements

Harry stood in an empty dark room, talking to no one but the still air.

"Death." He called for the third time. Nothing happened. 

Then, suddenly, the air froze and, Harry knew that he had come.

The darkness in the room seemed to shift, taking form, though it remained void of any true shape. A cold whisper brushed against Harry's ear.

"You called, my Master?"

Harry exhaled, watching his breath turn to mist in the frigid air. The presence before him was unlike anything he had ever encountered—vast, infinite, and yet intimately aware of him. "Don't play your games on me."

"I am not playing any games, Master! Just doing my work." Death materialized in front of him. The same cloaked figure whose face was hidden as if nothing inside. "And if you called me without a reason, Master, I shall go.........I was not free, you know?"

"No wait," Harry said, his voice carefully authoritative. "I have decided on the fifteen people to bring back. But I have my doubts."

The temperature dropped just a bit more, as if Death had sighed. "What is it?"

"Well, first thing, will those souls always look for you?" Harry asked, his voice slightly shaky.

"No."

"Will they be immortal?"

Death paused at the question. "No. They will die when they wish to."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean, 'when they wish to'? That's not how life works."

"Life and Death are not bound by the same rules for those who walk between," Death said simply. "Those I return will not be immortal, but they will not go unless they choose to. They will live until they decide they are ready to move on."

Harry swallowed. That was... a lot. He had expected them to come back and live normal lives, not be given the choice of their end.

"And they'll be... real? Whole? Not like ghosts, not like the Resurrection Stone?"

"They will be as they were in life," Death confirmed. Flesh, blood, mind, and soul. No half-existence. They will remember everything up to their deaths, but time will not have passed for them."

Harry nodded slowly, digesting the information. "And what about... I mean, do they even want to come back? What if they don't?"

A deep chuckle echoed in the stillness. "You ask the right questions, Master." Death sounded pleased. "Not all will wish to return. Some souls find their rest, their peace, and they will refuse. If they do, their place may be taken by another, should you choose."

Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. Of course, it wouldn't be that simple.

"Where will they come.....like, at the spot they died or somewhere else?" He asked finally.

"Wherever you want, Master."

Harry took a deep breath. "Fine. But what about their bodies? I mean, what if their body was damaged?"

"Then it will be repaired.....they will be back in their peak years." Death said as if it was no big deal.

"But how?"

"You ask too many questions," Death muttered. "My wife will do that stuff."

Harry blinked. "Your wife?"

A low chuckle echoed in the darkness, though it was unclear whether it was amusement or exasperation. Death tilted his head up at him, and even in the darkness, Harry saw a glimmer of skin beneath. "Yes, Master. Did you think I worked alone?"