Master of Death
Kingsley sat before his desk massaging his temple rhythmically, as greying hair cascaded through his fingers uncontrollably. A yawn escaped his mouth as he surveyed the verifiable mountain of parchment lying in front of him still waiting to be reviewed. They were all the same; reports on the hunt.
There would be no good news.
If there had been good news he would have been informed in person. There would be reports of more bodies, reports of more missing persons and, most of all, more sightings of the fugitive. He was seemingly everywhere and nowhere. He was never where they looked, always where they least expected to find him leaving trails of blood and gore in his wake. It was impossible.
‘One more report for tonight,’ he told himself as his body and mind begged for the escape of sleep.
His eyes were drawn to a slightly dirty parchment near the top of the pile and his hands reached forward to read the green spidery script dancing across the front.
Kingsley,
I'm writing to apologise for your death, in anticipation.
I’m afraid I can no longer tolerate you and your ministry’s attempts to interfere with my work. This parchment contains a mild compulsion charm to keep you reading until the end of my letter; too mundane to trip your security wards yet when spelled by my hand, unbreakable.
I toyed with the idea of having you read yourself to death, unable to put the paper down, but this would have been unworthy of a master dueller such as yourself. You shall die fighting the good fight as you would wish to.
Before your inevitable departure from this world I believe it would be fitting for me to attempt to explain what has transpired to lead us to where we are now. We were friends after all- we still are from my perspective- and one should always be honest with his friends, as I hope you will agree.
I am the Master of Death, Kingsley; I have united the Elder Wand, the Cloak of Invisibility and the Resurrection Stone.
You remember the death of my firstborn, not six months previously? It could not have been prevented, I understand that now. However James’ death affected me greatly, I’m ashamed to say. The solace I should have found at home, with my dear, now departed, wife did not materialise. She surrendered to her own misery and took comfort in sex. I did not at first care if the truth be told. I knew all about it for the first month, doing nothing. It was not the cheating that led to my own weakness, but the lack of support. I, who defeated Voldemort, could not deal with the death of James. I gave in to temptation and retrieved the Resurrection Stone from where it had lain undiscovered since the Battle of Hogwarts.
I spoke to James again, Kingsley! It was glorious, wonderful. There was a meaning to it; there was a form of life after death, after all! My happiness was short lived, however. I did not have to speak with James long to learn that something was wrong- he knew what I knew, he knew of his mother’s betrayal. Imagine if you will, consoling a child who’s own mother is whoring herself out to whoever would take her? I didn’t know what to say. He could see into my soul, he knew the pain I felt which, with age, I chose to ignore yet with the clarity of death, he knew deserved justice.
I argued initially, of course. I told him it could all be undone, I had the Invisibility Cloak and the Elder Wand; I could master death and there would be no need for justice and retribution. I could bring him back. He smiled at me, it was a smirk almost. He knew what the Hallows were really for. I returned home accompanied by the spirit of my departed son and reclaimed my cloak and the wand. I possessed all three hallows and do you know what happened? Nothing.
I couldn’t understand it; there should have been something! My son should have been returned to me, but it was for nought. I raged at the spirit and he laughed. He explained it to me, the meaning of the hallows. They do not undo death, they guarantee it! He who is Master of Death deals it. He decides who lives and who dies. I cannot change the past, but I can change the present. With the limitless knowledge of the departed, the undetectability of the cloak and the awesome power of the wand, I can block any spell, breach any shield and heal any injury!
I raged. I had intended to save my son from death and heal our family and instead all I had done was forge myself into a weapon. The ache this caused me was unimaginable. I could have done this decades ago, I could have been Master of Death the moment I vanquished Voldemort. No one should have died after that day. But I was a fool, a weak fool who believed in the sanctimony of death, of all things.
James explained things further to me; justice and its nature. Justice feeds the rewards of those who are righteous. At this very moment James stands before me instructing me in the ways of life and death and enjoying the rewards offered to his intact soul. You see, Kingsley, at the moment of death, those with intact souls are nourished with the energy of those whose souls are broken. Would you believe it? The death of Lord Voldemort was a feast for the very people he had murdered!
And where did this lead me? To my dear wife. The death of an innocent would not be a trauma for them. They would join the hordes of righteous in the afterlife feasting on the rewards of their own good behaviour. Do you see now, Kingsley? There is no meaning to life other than death. And life is but a test to trick those who are evil. And I can save people from evil, Kingsley. Evil is defined by action, and action can only be achieved by the living. Those who are dead cannot become evil and no one is born onto this world evil. It is not the ‘Avada Kedavra’ curse exclusively which damages ones soul, but any action at the expense of another knowing the pain your action will cause! Wizards, witches, even muggles! They are all judged irrespective of their magical abilities; justice is dealt.
And so I found my wife. I confronted her about her betrayal and she had the gull to lie! Denial does not cheat eternal justice. James told me proof was but two words away and he was right; her harvest fed the very son she had betrayed- she was indeed a liar and an adulterer.
Of course the aurors came. I tried to tell them why I had done it but they wouldn’t listen, they couldn’t see James’ spirit. Of course I had to defend myself when they tried to apprehend me. They were my own aurors attacking me, Kingsley. I was, I admit, upset. Angus was felled by a cutting curse to the throat, and do you know what? He was harbouring a guilty, mutilated soul.
James told me then, as I reeled from the shock. Nearly everyone is guilty of something. And for those who aren’t, they almost certainly will be. What better way to help people than to end the suffering of those with mutilated souls and to stop those with pure souls from having the opportunity to damage themselves? I am saving people from themselves.
And now we arrive in our current situation. I’ve been prioritising my work, Kingsley. I at first limited myself to those I knew to harbour mutilated souls, ex-Death Eaters and the criminals at Azkaban. I know you originally thought that I had merely gone vigilante. But as time went on it became harder to identify those who were guilty.
As the targets grew wider in their backgrounds you suddenly became more interested in catching me. Hypocrisy Kingsley, I fear? You know those I hunted at first were guilty and so you did nothing. Now I hunt those who you feel are innocent and you care? The only difference between you and I is that I know who is guilty!
I hope you now understand how things must be, Kingsley. I would hate for this to come between our friendship. I hope you have a pure soul; if you do I will someday join you in the afterlife and together we can reap the rewards of our goodness.
Best Regards,
Harry James Potter, Master of Death.
P.S. The means with which you shall shed your mortal coil? I’m afraid I’m standing behind you.
Kingsley immediately spun round, shaking in fear and with his wand pointed forward.
“Kingsley, its good to see you again,” Harry said calmly holding his wand limply at his side. Bloody robes hung from his gaunt frame, dripping onto the floor.
“Harry. You have to understand! What I just read- It’s not true. You were under suspicion of mental trauma after the death of your son! It’s all in your head, Harry!” Kingsley yelled desperately, walking forward with his wand pointed at Harry’s heart.
Harry laughed. “Kingsley, I am certain of my own mental faculties. It is difficult to believe, I know.”
Only then did Kingsley notice the open door behind Harry, the body of his secretary face up on the floor with glassy unseeing eyes focused in horror at the ceiling. There was a trail of bloody footprints leading through the door to Harry. Kingsley’s shaking increased.
“Harry, give yourself up...we can help you”
“’We’, Kingsley? They’re all dead. James tells me there were many guilty souls under your employ,” Harry said, gazing adoringly at the corner of the room.
Kingsley’s face hardened. “Harry, I don’t want to fight you, but I will. You’re not well.”
“You can’t fight me, Kingsley! I am the Master of D-”
“Avada Kedavra!”
The room flashed with the eerie green light as Kingsley sprung forward, his speed borne of desperation, wand pointed at Harry’s chest.
The Elder Wand in Harry’s hand flicked in a deflecting motion and a body crumpled to the floor as one more mutilated soul sped out of the room.
A/N: I sincerely apologise for the crap title, I really have no excuse. This is part of an idea that came into my head which could have morphed into a full length work, however I am a sufferer of extreme laziness so I’ve sculpted this one-shot of questionably quality and length in its place. The ending is intentionally ambiguous: take it as you like. Hope you enjoyed.