A/N: Hey, yeah, reposted this story. While it may look like the same at the start, it isn't. Trust me and keep reading. I'm sorry for starting over, but have you ever started something and gotten to a point where you just had to start over? That was the case here as it helped me define a character that I wanted you to understand, a character that you will meet in this chapter and continue on for several more. Thank you and good night and good luck.
Chapter One: The Pale Rider
Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb. - Sir Winston Churchill (1874 - 1965)
He stood looking down at the town before him. The years of war had not been kind to the once glorious countryside, filled with rolling green hills and stony fences. He started his horse on a trot toward the town, knowing full well what lay beyond that town. His black coat hung behind him, hanging as a duster against his legs. His hat pulled low over his brow, hiding the pained look he had painted upon his eyes. A year could be a long time, longer alone, longer without comfort, longer without hope. It troubled him how many had passed.
IOI
He sat reading deeply into the books left to him from the passing of his late mentor. The books were about all he had left, and they were leading him to the same sad conclusion. He stood and turned to get another book when he saw his best friend standing at the doorway.
"Hello Hermione," he said in a calm voice, betraying the fear he felt. He knew that she knew. He knew she'd try to stop him. He knew she'd probably succeed.
"Harry, why are you doing this?" She asked, tears upon the edge of the brown eyes of hers. He looked at her for a moment, going through with what his speech he had written and rewritten over a hundred, at least in his mind he had.
"You remember how I used to blame myself for the death of my parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore," Harry stated, turning his back on her for a moment, collecting his thoughts almost. "How I felt like it was all my fault, that if I wasn't born none of this would have ever happened?" he turned to look at her for a moment, as she nodded. "You're right, you've always been right Hermione." He said, sitting back down with a defeatist's sigh. "I didn't kill them."
"I'm glad you finally see that Harry," Hermione said, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
"The thing that kill them has been right in front of my eyes the whole time, the reason for all of this Hermione, its been here," he said, standing up for a moment before withdrawing his wand. "Right here!" He slammed it against the table, causing her to jump. She looked shocked at his response, confused to say the least, worried about him as well. "Magic Hermione.'
"Magic?"
"Yes, magic," he said. "Albus had it all here, all in black and white, for us to read." He paused for a moment. "You know better than anyone I know how regular humans are perhaps the greatest achievement in mankind. How their survival is not based upon their skill with a wand, but by their own courage. By their own advances and minds where they able to create things that we wizards and witches take for granted with magic.
"The magical world is being destroyed because they are too ignorant to look at the facts in front of them. There are not enough people, good people to stand up to any would be tyrant," he said with venom in his voice.
"Harry, what about the Order?" She said, trying to reason with him.
"What about them? What have they done since Albus's death?" he asked, looking at a portrait of his mentor. "Nothing Hermione, nothing." He leaned onto the desk; his shoulders slumped over in defeat. "Nothing good for me has ever come from magic. I should've just stayed with the Dursleys'." He felt himself being turned around violently and slapped. Stunned, he looked at Hermione, anger reddening in her eyes.
"Now you listen to me, if it weren't for you, a little first year would've have died when she was overwhelmed by the magical world around her," she said with tears in her eyes.
"But does it matter now Hermione, what good have I done?" He asked her, knowing full well her implications. "I nearly got you killed two years ago, and we are barely friends because of it."
"What?" Hermione said, taking a step back in shock.
"Don't pretend with me Hermione, you were distant with me all last year, why will next year be any different?" he said. He let the words sink in before he spoke again. There were emotions there he did not want to dredge up. "I'm going away for a while, I need to take care of some things."
"You'll be back, right Harry?" Hermione said. He looked in her eyes for the unspoken questions.
"I'll be fine Hermione," he said to her, walking over to her. He wanted to say more than that, but the words did not come to him nor did he think they ever would.
"You'll be back, right Harry?" she repeated.
"Hermione, I don't know how long I'll be," he started, with a sigh, "but for you, I'll come back."
"When are you leaving?" she asked him. He had started to walk out of the room, but turned back to look at her for a moment.
"After the wedding; I'll save a dance for you," he said with a smile, causing her to blush slightly as he left.
IOI
The wedding was nothing like Harry had seen before; Fleur's father had made sure of that. Their daughter must have been important to them because the Burrow was amazing. The magical attributes alone were stupendous. Which seemed in his mind only to cement his leaving. He had done his research, the wedding was over. Now came the inevitable.
The music had begun it was time to dance. He couldn't dance, and have never honestly learned how to dance. He could not see the point it, and now it seemed kind of foolish not to know.
"Come on Harry, dance with me," Ginny said, pulling him along. He sighed as he saw Hermione dancing with Charlie. Ron was off somewhere, and for some reason it irked him slightly that she was happy with someone other than either of them. But his heart fought back, with his line that had started all of this in the first place.
"Sure Ginny," he said, letting her pull him onto the floor. Ginny had been decked out in a light gold dress, which had been bought specifically for this day. She looked attractive in it, and he was damn sure that at least part of him recognized that, however, the feeling was gone. Through his searching for his hope, he had lost whatever feelings were there for her, if any.
"Harry, I'm going with you," Ginny said. Her tone sounded final, and Harry nearly stopped dancing with her. But appearances were kept as he just nodded as if he was actually listening to her. "Great, we'll leave after this dance and-"
"No," he said in such a tone that stopped her suddenly.
"W-w-what?" she stammered.
"You're not coming with me," he said to her.
"Why not?"
"Because," he said with a sigh, picking up her hand as a waltz began, dancing with her once more. "Because there are things that I must do, that you can't."
"Like what?" she said, indigently.
"Give up magic," he said to her. This time she did stop and when he tired to start up again, she pulled away from him. She stared at him, in a combination of anger and shock. "Follow me." He walked off the dance floor and around back of the Burrow, away from everyone else. He did not wait for her reply, she would follow, and rumors would spread, but by the end of the night, they would be just that rumors. Dead rumors if things went as planned.
Her face was bright with anger as she glared at him. When he spun around to face her, his finger there, between her eyes, his look deadly. "I am not telling you a damn thing." Each word articulated, though the tone carried the meaning well enough. "You think a few snogs, a few nights by the fireplace is going to bring you closer to my heart, when you have no bloody clue as to what I'm going through?"
"I love you Harry," she said, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. Anger was gone from her eyes, embarrassment replacing it.
"No," he said, taking a step back from her, his anger gone as well. "You were in love with that thought of me. You don't know me, and what makes you think that will cause me to tell you my plans, my thoughts?"
"I thought you loved me too," she said in a softer voice, frightened almost of him. She would not be the last, nor was she the first to feel such emotions toward him.
"I don't make promises that I can't keep, and that is about the largest one that I can think of," he said. He sat down upon a log with a defeatist sigh. "You're a great girl, Ginny, and will make some guy happy someday." Ginny sat down next to him, but distant enough for him to notice her fear. "I'm not that guy, Ginny, and I'll never be. You were a great……distraction last year," he said, searching for the right word.
"A distraction?" she replied. Her eyes bugged out incredulously. "That's all I was to you?"
"Yes," he said, "the best damn distraction I've ever had." He said, causing her to look at him oddly. "I've lived most of my life in the future, planning for one thing or another. With you, it all was about the now. And last year, I think I needed that more than anything else. But I can't do that anymore."
He looked up at the pale moon above him for a moment, wondering if things were really as good with Ginny as he just described. Distracted was the right term for how he felt last year, how he was prepared. Like he could barely handle the spells and Snape, a man he thought he could possible best two years previous. In that moment, he came to his second conclusion of the evening, to tell her that he knew.
"I want you to stop," he said to her in a small voice, causing her to look up from the determined yet teary eyes she had.
"Stop what, Harry?" she asked, afraid once more.
"You've been giving me something," he said, running his hand through his hair. He stood and stared at the moon once more, but kept talking. He could not bear to watch her at this moment, and he did not think he should have to either. "I want you to stop giving me whatever it is."
"How…..how did you know?" she asked. He looked back at her for a moment before turning away. Her face was filled with tears, her makeup ruined. He shrugged his shoulders.
"Does it matter?" he said. He reached out toward flower that had been charmed to open when the moon hit it, an invention from the twins. It floated softly into his hands. "Whatever it was, my magic has been fighting it Ginny, and it's winning." He turned back to her and took her hands in his own. "I want at least one war to end with me winning Ginny. Let me go." He left her there, his hands in his pockets as he walked away. He left her there, alone crying. They both knew the truth, no one else. The way he wanted it to be.
Stepping back into the party, he pasted a smile upon his face. However, that smile was short lived. He saw an argument he wanted to avoid brewing between his friends. Quickly pushing his way through the crowd, he caught the tail end of the fight.
"How dare you Ronald Weasley?" She cried out, Harry looked toward Ron, who had a lipstick lip upon his shirt collar. "I thought we were going out," Hermione said. Harry took a step toward her, making his choice in the argument. This was one of the few he would side with her, and not let his other friend get away with it.
"I'd hardly call a few stolen snogs a relationship," Ron said, "Besides, she was practically begging me to-"
"Ron, cut the crap, or I'll make you," Harry said in a voice that caused everyone around them to freeze. Hermione looked at him in shock, and Ron just glared at him.
"Butt out Potter, this has nothing to do with you," Ron said.
"I'm afraid that if you're going to insult her, I'm going to have to butt in," Harry said in a calm voice. "You both may be my friends, but this is the last time I let you insult her like you have so many times before."
"Harry you don't have to," Hermione said, a thankful on her face despite her words.
"Maybe not, but it's the least that I can do," Harry said. "Friends don't cheat on their girlfriends. Friends don't accuse friends of betrayal and mistrust. Friends stand by you in the neck of fire, despite all odds. Ron, learn to be my friend again." He spoke no more words, but turned to walk away.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He yelled at Harry.
"It means I leave your ass-whooping in the more than capable hands of Hermione," he said with a smirk. "Excuse me," he said to Bill, who gave him a small thumb up behind his back as Harry went to get something to drink.
Hermione looked between the two men for a moment before walking over to Ron. "Its over, and there is no third chance," she said in a stable, yet soft voice. Before Ron had a chance to respond to her, she had picked up the ends of her dress and carried it toward Harry.
"Hey," he said as she approached. For the most part, the party continued, with some yelling occurring in Ron's direction.
"Thank you," Hermione said. He turned around and gave her a sad smile. "For stepping in like that."
"You can more than handle yourself," Harry said, leaning against the table. The hours were growing short.
"I know, but, still," she said, her voice trailing off. "You didn't have to." He shrugged his shoulders.
"Care to dance," he said, holding out his hand. She looked at it for a moment, both of them knowing the meaning. After this, he would leave. She nodded, taking his hand. With skill she probably had never seen him possess, he lead her out onto the dance for, leading her in a waltz.
"Harry," she asked, still surprised. He could see Ron glaring at them and moved so Hermione could not see him.
"Yes?" he said in response. They stared into each other's eyes, Harry showing truly the damage of starvation upon his body with his lacking height. While Hermione was not the tallest person in the world, she was about five feet five inches, with Harry barely over her.
"Where are you going?"
"I really don't know," he said truthfully. "There is so little I must learn and so much time." He paused as if in thought. "Strike that, reverse it." She laughed little at the small joke from a childhood movie. "There is much that I've got to find out for myself. About my past, about my future, about my dreams and delusions."
"Silly Harry," she said as Harry spun her around slightly. "Delusions are just dreams you've not given any hope to." He smiled at that.
"I'll try and remember that," he said as the song end.
"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked.
"Train, the only thing I can do Hermione," Harry said. "I mean, I'm not running away, but I'll need to learn a thing or two before we take off for the Horocruxes."
"You'll come back?" Hermione said, the first smile that graced her face since dancing with him. He nodded.
"I promised you I would, but right now, I need to find the me I lost over the years."
"Do you really have to go Harry, I mean can't I…that is we go with you?" She asked. Her eyes were pleading with him, but he turned away from he could give in.
"I'm sorry Hermione, but I need to go," he said softly. He walked off the dance floor as another song started, his hands in his pocket. He knew she was following him, but instead of looking at the moon this time, he found Canis Major.
"Why can't I come with you?" Hermione asked him, tears in her eyes.
"Because I can't ask you to give up what you love," he said with stone eyes and a broken heart. He was giving up enough for both of them. Hermione paused, whether in shock and pain or thought he did not know. He chose this moment though, to leave. Pulling her close into a hug, he spoke. "Goodbye Hermione, I promise I'll return, we'll take care of the Horocruxes together. I'll be back to keep you safe, and to see you again live to the end of the war, I'll return." He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Take care, and never give up, never surrender." He whispered to her softly and felt her tighten her grip around his waist.
He slipped away, slipped into the night, and in the end, the only thing Hermione held was a locket he found, his birthday present to her as he knew he would miss it. Inside the locket, was a simple portrait of both him and her, taken when they were young, and Harry believed, still full of hope.
IOI
The pale moon shone down upon this desperado, as his lone horse carried him cross the burnt countryside. Hogwarts still stood in the distance, larger than he remembered, sturdier it appeared. Death and war could do that to anything.
"Kind of makes you wish it all would end," the desperado's mentor said, floating along side him. He only nodded, continued onward to the town. "Best say you prepare your guns, since you still refuse to use magic."
"I'll use it only when I absolutely need to," he spoke finally, looking through his mentor and to the track of railroad that would lead the train into the town. Or it once had, Hogwarts was closed, used as a headquarters for the remaining member's of the shattered Order. The desperado shifted his shoulders slightly, the night showing the glimmering of something beneath his torn shirt. "For now, I'm ready."
"But are they ready for you?" His mentor spoke with a twinkle in his eyes. Returning the twinkle with one of his own, he continued forward, not quite sure that he might survive the night, a feeling he had known for the few years or so. Not including time with the time turner.
The desperado trotted toward the town of Hogsmeade. Cobbled stone still lined the street, but boarded windows covered any happiness left in the town. He shifted the bag upon his back as he slid off his pale horse, gathering the reins as he did. He would lead her down the rest of the way, knowing not what was to come for him, or what dangers await him.
"I am surprised so much has survived," his mentor said.
"I came back here once," the desperado said, "before I found you. I needed to finish something, and I still haven't."
"Well, it is best to start at the beginning," the mentor said, looking toward the burnt remains of the Three Broomsticks.
"And where else did this all begin but here at Hogwarts," he replied.
"I suggest you stop there," a dark voice said. The desperado halted, stopping the horse. His mentor remained floating, looking at them in amusement.
"Looks like you're going to have to get yourself out of this one," he said.
"Sometimes I wish that you where here," the desperado mumbled back.
"You say something boy?" another man said, Greencoat he'd be called, as wand was leveled at his hand.
"No sir, just admiring the smell," the desperado said with a grin.
"Smell?" the first man said, Fatass.
"Yes sir, the smell," the desperado said as he spotted another three men approaching him. They were defending their town, but that did not mean they had to go against him.
"Do you really have to agitate them?" his mentor spoke. He shook his head at the younger man, though he did not appear it. He peered over his rimmed glasses at the desperado. "They don't know who they're against." The desperado just grinned.
"I've never smelt something as repugnant as this, and I fear that the damage your smell has dealt my nostrils is for life," the desperado finished. The mentor shook his head for a moment as the defenders looked between each other. "Look I'm just passing through and heading to the castle." He pointed toward the castle in the distance.
"All the more reason for us to kill you now." A leader appeared, one that was all to familiar to the desperado, from a past life to say the least. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Neville Longbottom." With a flourish of his wand, more defenders appeared. "And this is as far as you shall get to Hogwarts, I'm afraid."
"Why is that?" the desperado said.
"We've you out numbered, and you wear no magical cloaks or magical items," Neville said, leaning upon a quarter staff.
"Are you the leader?" the desperado simply asked, looking at the floating form of his mentor for a moment before staring at Neville.
"Does it really matter?" there was a confidence in the man before the desperado that he had never seen before. War changed people. They were about to find out how much it changed him.
"Why yes, I believe it does," the desperado said. There was a moment of silence as the men surrounded the desperado. As two lunged from opposing sides, the desperado used his cloak to catch one and throw him into another, effectively knocking them both down at the same time. Without his cloak, the hoslter with the gun that hung on his right hip, and the blade slung across his back was easily visible.
In two swift movements, three things happened. Two mistakes, two lives changed. One of the defenders raised his wand toward the desperado; another did as well. With one hand handling the blade, the other on his revolver, the desperado fired off two rounds. One hand was lost, another's wand destroyed.
The magical backfire from the wand explosion was expansive, starting aflame the buildings, as well as the man who held the wand. The blade was pointed straight toward the burning man, and a gun handle could be seen in place of the hilt. With two move smooth movements the gunblade and the revolver were back in their respective holsters.
"I asked you are you the leader?" the desperado spoke once more, no one moving. The screams of the burning man carried through the air. His mentor floated toward the burning man and looked toward the desperado, who only nodded.
His mentor withdrew a wand, and waved it once, the bluish energy that surrounded him spread toward the man afire. While the desperado's eyes were locked with Neville's, everyone else's was upon the healing man. Gone were the flames and fire, replaced with healing skin.
"Really, do you have to cause so much damage?" his mentor asked without much reprimand. They both knew the answer to such a question.
"Your men will live, while you tried to kill me," the desperado said, flicking his wrist toward his jacket. His jacket flew off of the men, and back around his shoulders. As he turned his back to them, the flickering of a tattoo could be seen, though what it was did not shine through. While he abhorred magic in almost its entirety, he found that its theatrical effects were more than worth bearing that particular demon.
"That's it, you're just going to continue on?" Neville asked, still in shock.
"You've lost the fight, there was no chance of winning," he said, swinging his way back up onto his horse. "I may be Death, but it is not your time." The desperado's stare was fixated upon Neville, who nodded.
"Let me come with you for now, Mister?" Neville said as a man brought a horse to him.
"Death, just Death will do for now," he said with a smirk. He waved his hand, removing the cloaking spell around his mentor. "And that is my Mentor." The look of surprise and shock on Neville's face was only comparable to the shock upon everyone else's.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Neville managed to stammer out.
"Hello Mister Longbottom, it has been quite some time," Dumbledore said. "My student tends to be a bit more effective at times than I ever planned." He looked at Hogwarts for a moment before resuming his spot next to Death. "I do believe it is best that we get going. The tale we must weave is rather long, and I'd rather rest before the night is through."
"What? Rest? But aren't you…." Neville's voice trailed off as Death glared at him, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Dead is a relative term, Neville, and I suggest that you watch you tongue," he said with slight venom before relaxing under his mentor's hand.
"All in due time, all in due time," Dumbledore said. The bluish glow around him never faltered, adding an ever-eerier sense of mystery to the man called Death. It made him paler than he truly was and his eyes dark holes in his head. The desperado knew who he reminded them off, however, it did not matter. He was not that little boy they had all forgotten about.
"Much has happened since you umm…." Neville said looking toward death in slight fear.
"And the best place to begin is at the beginning I believe," Dumbledore said. "However, what you know, I already do. That and more." He looked toward the castle once more. "The night falls quicker these days."
"With less light in this world, it is a wonder that there is still day," Death replied. Emerald eyes met blue for a moment, before a twinkle returned to each of them. "I do believe that it is our turn to tell a story or two. News of the outside world perhaps."
"What news, the world is in chaos," Neville said with bitterness in his voice. "Ever since Potter
left."
"Really, I've heard much about this Potter on my travels, and Dumbledore spoke so highly of him," Death
said the glint still in his eyes. "Please tell me your impression of him."
"I thought he was hero, a great person," Neville spoke with such sadness in his voice. "Though, he showed his true colors the day of Bill and Fleur's wedding, running like he did. Potter, the coward." The name was spat to the ground. "Things went down hill from there, Hogwarts did not reopen to the public, and the Ministry tried to sack just about everyone who worked there. It was only by happenstance that a man by the name of Evans I think, John Evans or something like that came along and bought the land in your name Professor. It was quite odd, for we haven't heard of him since."
"Indeed," Dumbledore said, looking toward Death for a moment.
"Evans, I name I too am familiar with, however, in my case, I believe I ended up killing the man, as was the final part of our deal," he said with an air of nonchalance.
"You killed him!" Neville said, nearly jumping out of the saddle. "He was one of the last hopes of the Light side."
"I killed him par his wishes," Death said, and chose not to speak again. His eerie glare that came from the glow only offset the darkness of his words even more. "We will speak no more of that man." The glare could have pierced steel. "For now."
"Please excuse my pupil," Dumbledore said, with a knowing smirk. "I'm afraid that subterfuge has too often been his forced pointed." Neville looked confused at the statement as did the other riders, but Death just chuckled.
"It means ask me no questions, I tell you no lies," Death said. "Avoiding the point as usually, no wonder I'm so good at it now."
Death let the two talk as he watched the scenario of the old hills unfold before him. It truly was not as dark as it first appeared, with the green Scotish hills still rolling cross the landscape. However, the lake was shallower, and the trees that surrounded it appeared burnt and scarred at points. The battle that began the war was immense, and the memory was burned into his mind, much like the scars upon this land. Time heals all wounds, yet only if they had closed, no longer bleeding.
He heard about the developments that were being accomplished. An army had settled into the castle, protecting the people as best as they could. The Order was fragmented and left without direction. Part of his understood the need for protection, but the use of a hired army made him sick. They did not care for the innocence, which he sought to return, least anyone find him out first.
The castle held strong, with magic simply bounding off the sides of the walls, as if there was too much for one fortress to contain. He sighed, and immediately spotted several entry paths without the use of magic to use.
"I could get into this castle in less than five minutes," he said aloud, pulling Neville and Dumbledore out of their conversation. "Potentially taking down defenders in a total of ten."
"This is the most secure position in Great Britain," Neville said with anger and surprise. "Who are you to say that you could get in so easily?"
"When have you known these walls to stop Death?" he asked, knowing the answer already. "Voldemort has grown to fear Death."
"Relax, Fawkes," Dumbledore said in a hushed tone. No one else heard it, and he smirked lightly. He nodded, and settled back into his saddle. Not before removing a hat from his saddle bags, a fedora, and placed it on his head, hiding the majority of his face.
The rest of the ride was quiet to say the least. Death appeared to be asleep, but if one noticed, his left hand was upon the revolver, resting there as if waiting someone to approach. Dumbledore floated along side him, watching the young man carefully, knowing the demons that tormented him all to well. The scared look of young Neville returned on his older incarnate. Almost bringing a grin to Harry's face.
"This way," Neville finally said. He guided them through the broken gates, holding on only by ancient magic. Death smirked at this for a moment, wondering if he should fix it. Deciding against it, he'd leave that for later, when they all wanted proof.
"Who is in charge?" Dumbledore asked the question Death had left alone. It did not matter to him, but it was nice to know the chain of command.
"Professor McGonagall," Neville said. "The Order is in ruins sir, its good to have you back."
"Oh, I'm not here for the Order, they're going to be in more than capable hands soon," Dumbledore said with a knowing look. Death almost laughed at the twinkle in his eyes, as Death's eyes began to share the same twinkle.
"Why are you here?" Neville asked, though there never was an answer. Two more people came running up to them as they passed Hagrid's old hut.
"Neville why aren't you guarding the town," a woman with blond hair in a braid said as she came up. Death did a once over of her, noticing her attractive qualities, but the tired look in her eyes told of lost love.
"Because," Death said, hopping down from his horse. "I wanted to get something to eat."
"Who are you?" the redhead asked.
"Does it matter who I am?" he said, taking his horse by the reins. "I already know who you two are." He turned and whispered a directive into his horse's ear before it neighed and took off in one direction.
"How?" The redhead asked again.
"Well Ginny, let's say that Potter gave me a lot of answers before his disappeared," the tone of voice
was evil, or almost. No one caught the joke in Dumbledore's eyes though.
"You killed him?" Ginny said, being held by Neville back now.
"Oh no, he's just gone for now," Death said with a smirk. "He knows his worth, and his worth to those that knew him."
"So the coward left and found you?" Ginny said, the tears gone replaced by venom.
"I wouldn't call him a coward," Death said, scratching his chin. "Brave to a foolish point, chivalrous as well, but never a coward. Spoke his love's name on his lips as he disappeared. Still on them too I think." He laughed at his joke, only to be stopped by the blond.
"I know who you are," she said in a small voice. "You don't fool me."
"Good, Luna," he responded, his voice lower, softer. "Then don't try to stop me." Louder he spoke though as he held out his arm for her to take. "Please, I think I might enjoy some more elegant company while I tour this place. Its good to know the places you plan to conquer." He said this in such a way it made her laugh, knowing the lies behind the man. At least one more person knew now.
"You're causing quite a stir," she said, through her small laughter as she took his offered arm.
"Well my dear, this is nothing compared to the storm brewing," he said, looking back at Dumbledore who was chuckling.
"Marvelous boy isn't he?" He asked as he followed Death down the path with Luna.
"He's a bastard," Ginny said. "How does he know us?" She looked at Neville for a moment, still in shock. "Dumbledore, he's…."
"Back?" Neville offered as they watched the floating form disappear along with the man in black with Luna. Ginny nodded.
"I don't know, but he knows more than he should," Neville said.
"Are you going to call him?" Ginny asked, surprise in her voice. He looked at her for a moment before Neville nodded. "Good, the bastard embarrassed me enough already."
"Ginny, grow up," Neville said, shaking his head as he followed the unlikely trio, that for some reason had some similarity to a trio he saw only a year ago disintegrate in front of his eyes. Death knew that eyes were upon him as he turned and stared at them. Neville moved back toward the town and guard, but Ginny remained. He almost grinned at the fear on her face.
I0I
The walk to the school was silent, if not unnerving. Death remained alert, ready for any and all possible assaults upon him. He did not plan on showing himself yet, that fun would come later. Now…..now was time for him to adjust back to this world that he had left. Fear nearly overcame him as he realized that so much had changed, including his friends.
While the lovely Miss Luna Lovegood was holding his right arm, his left hand was rested upon his revolver. Messy, very messy at times, but he had found that the dangers it solved was worth the mess. He did not like using it, nor did he think he ever would, yet dangerous times called for dangerous methods. He barely registered that Luna was talking to him about some of the dangers that Hogwarts now held. He knew about them all, from his primary sweep of the place less than a month before. He nearly smiled at her attachment to him as he put his arm around her.
"Hold on," he said in a gentle voice. She nodded, watching his face as he lifted her up and began to slowly walk on the air. They were passing over the minefield, and while he had no doubt that Luna knew where she was going through it, he did not want to take the chance. "There we go."
"She knew the way," Dumbledore said, floating behind them as Death set them back down on the ground.
"I did, but that was much more fun," she said with a smile as they continued to walk toward the school. She began to talk again as Death rolled his eyes. When he moved his hand from around her, she stopped him. "Please, its nice to know someone cares enough to hold me." Her smile was sad, but he moved his arm to around her shoulder, keeping her close as she leaned into his embrace. "Its good to know."
"Then know, I will be here to protect you," he said in a whisper to her. "It is not your time for years to come."
"I do not believe that the name Death does you justice," Luna whispered back. She gave him a sad smile before continuing their walk toward castle.
Death remained silent as they walked, pondering over her words. Had Luna been shunned too by the group of people she helped? He felt an anger growing in him at the thought. She would no longer want of a family. He knew how hard loneliness could hit someone, and the joys of family life that came along side love.
"You're a sweet man," she said as they paused in front of the entrance. "Were this another time, another place, I might find myself falling in love with you."
"I share the same regards, Luna," Death said. "I had a family once, a long time ago. I lost them to this war, and I'd be damn if I lose anyone else. Ah looks like the rest have decided to join us."
A crowd of wizards and witch came rushing out of the castle, wands raised and pointed at Death. Luna laced her arm around his back and looked up at him as she touched his gunblade. He gave her a sad smile as his left hand rested upon his revolver. He waited for them to speak, for he wished to hear how time had changed them all.
"Step away from her," a redhead said. He was the tallest of the bunch, but the one with the most pride. The close friend of the man who had left them.
"Really, I didn't know that I was causing a problem," Death said.
"Who are you?" A voice said stepping past the wall of redheads. Death raised his head slightly, as if to get a better look of them, when he needed not to see them at all.
"Why Mr. Lupin, I am surprised," Death said. "You hired me did you not?"
"I was told you'd identify yourself in the approved method," Lupin said. He lowered his wand as a witch with bright pink hair stepped beside him.
"Remus, are you sure this is safe?" the woman asked.
"Of course not," Death answered.. "Why else would the rest of you be here? Now, you were saying." He removed his right arm around Luna's shoulders, and rolled up the sleeve. The arm was clean besides a single scar that ran the distance from his wrist to his elbow. The scar was faint, as if done years ago.
The moment with his arm away from here, the wall of redhead took to strike. Luna was pulled from his side with a quick summoning spell as four stunners were shot at him. Three came from the wall, one from behind him. He took a single step to his left, allowing the spells to catch each other, instead of him. Standing there for a moment, he broke off into a sprint, removing his gunblade as he did. With revolver in his left and gunblade in his right, he charged, knowing full well the outcome of this small fight.
"Enough!" Dumbledore's voice echoed through the entrance. Death held his gunblade against the neck of the head of the Weasley family, while his revolve was pointed toward Lupin.
"You ask for my assistance, and I came," he said. He voice was barely over a whisper but harsher. "You ask that I prove myself to you, and I did. I have never worked for that scum in the past and I never will."
"Lower your weapon," Dumbledore said.
"Not until they lower theirs, I am the one in unknown territory."
"Lower them," came a voice. The same voice had haunted him over the past decades. "NOW!" A brunette walked forward as the wall of redheads lowered their weapons. "Do you think I was excluding you?"
"Not at all miss, just waiting for an invite, that's all," Death said with a smile. He sheathed his gunblade, and then his revolver in the hoslter. "You'll have to excuse my rudeness, I was never allowed to introduce myself. You all may call me Death. I bend to both Time and Fate, though I shall outlast them." He gave her a grin to which she only back away. She glared at Lupin who shrugged his shoulders.
"He's the best," Lupin said.
"That I am," Death said with a smile. Luna had moved over to him, wrapping her arm around his waist. "I was told that there would be some food here. My horse is out and about at the moment, but should be back sometime before the end of the evening."
"What we give you will be a generous at best, cast off at worse," she said with a glare. "We barely have enough food for ourselves." The others seemed to nod in agree, beyond Lupin and Luna. Death dropped his arm around Luna and turned to the woman. He tossed his hat into the air, it disappearing in a cheap parlor trick. His eyes bore into her, forcing her to take a step back.
"Take it out of my pay," he growled. "You know, my intelligence told me that you were once a very polite young woman Miss Hermione Granger, I must say I am quite surprised by your actions. Mister Potter told me wonderful things about you," her glare faulted at this point, shock etched across her face at the mention of that name. "I hope that you can prove him right." Death's face grew downcast as he looked at her.
"Come, there is much to talk about," Lupin said to him as he began to walk away from the crowd of redheads and one confused brunette.
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