Masters of Magic (A Justice League Unlimited animated series x Harry Potter crossover) (Patreon)

Masters of Magic

Summary: Solomon Grundy has once again risen from the grave, and the League finds itself helpless to stop his onslaught. Zatanna searches for the only being that could stop Grundy’s rampage – the Master of Death.

Metropolis City

Seven figures huddled together in the basement of an abandoned building, their throats parched from chanting for hours. At first it was not clear if the ritual was working, but then they felt it, a chilly gust of wind that had grown stronger as the hours passed.  

The ritual circle on the stone floor, drawn with their own blood, now pulsed in rhythm with their chants, highlighting their faces with an eerie red light. Their leader, he was the most experienced in magic, finally chanted the final verse, words of power that commanded what the book promised was a most powerful summon.

It had all started with the book, old and covered with leather that one of them found buried in an archaeological dig. There were many spells written in Latin, but few worked, since the requirement for the rituals were extremely hard, or impossible to find. Phoenix tears. Eye of a Basilisk. Blood of a unicorn and even a heart of the dragon-- they had no idea where to find these ingredients and studied the book for anything that did not require such rare materials.

 But then their leader found a ritual, near the end of the book, and it seemed like it was written for them! It required seven participants, and only their blood was needed to paint the elaborate rune that now dominated the basement floor. Seven candles were also required, but that was easy to acquire and they had immediately started the preparations for the ritual.

It was worth it, despite the pain, and the parched throats and dry lips, for the book had forbidden them from drinking any water or take any food in their stomachs. It was difficult, but the rewards far outweigh their current hardships. The ultimate servant, impervious to all magic and weapons, and it would follow only their orders. It was perfect, and their leader had already planned which banks and museums they will rob first, eager to see their guardian against the police and the might of the league.

The ritual circle now pulsed with energy faster and faster, and it grew so bright that it even with their eyes closed, it felt like they starting directly into the sun. Their leader finally finished the last verse and suddenly the pulsing runes made of their blood grew dim, plunging the room in darkness. The temperature dropped quickly, causing them to shiver in their places, despite the thick robes they wore.

“Is it finished?” One of the seven asked. He was tired, and he still had an exam to take tomorrow.

“Remain in your positions. Do not move.” Their leader snapped. He quickly relit a candle and began to study the book, wondering what went wrong. Every phrase in the scripts was spoken correctly and clearly and he made sure no one among the group took food or water three hours before the ritual. There was enough blood, and the rune drawn on the floor was perfect. They didn’t make any mistakes, he was sure of it.

And he was right.

All seven fell to the ground as the building suddenly shook. The stone floor cracked, and columns supporting the building gave way, crushing the participants with tons of concrete and steel, instantly killing them. The blood rune glowed briefly, before it too was washed away by the rush of water from one of the broken pipes, the sacrifice of seven souls now complete.

Many miles away in the swamplands of Metropolis, a stone cross marking a large grave sunk to the ground slowly, as the earth shifted beneath it. A large hand punched through the packed earth, and a muffled groan was heard.

ooo

It was the Martian Man hunter, Jonn Jones that first sensed the disturbance. He had felt the fear from hundreds of people from Metropolis with his empathic abilities seconds before the technicians reported a disturbance in the area.

   “Put in on the main screen.” Jonn ordered, while he viewed the list for league members suited for this kind of threat. Superman was needed, and any member with super strength to take down this particular villain. Solomon Grundy was capable of going toe to toe with the man of steel and, with his near invulnerable body, he was almost unstoppable.

The images on the screen were terrifying, and Jonn, used to seeing damages in city streets, was unprepared for the destruction he now saw. Building could be rebuilt, and roads repaired, but the broken bodies that littered the streets from Solomon Grundy’s rampage shocked the usually calm and stoic Martian.

Gunshots were heard in the background, as well as screams from horrified civilians trying to flee the scene. Solomon Grundy seemed to notice the camera watching him attached to a street corner, and quickly hurled a piece of the road toward it. The view went blank for a few seconds before it was quickly replaced by another picture, this one farther from the scene.

“Odd.” Jonn voiced out his thoughts. “He seems different from before when he had risen.”

The Martian looked down from his command post and noticed several league members had stopped in the general area and watching the rampage. While deaths were unavoidable in missions, the images that they had seen were far more brutal. Grundy didn’t hesitate to rip bodies apart, and was aggressive towards the fleeing public.  Even super villains let the public run in their crime sprees, but Solomon Grundy actively chased after them.

“Monster!” Huntress said in a whisper. Already tears were forming in the hardened super heroine’s eyes as she watched the destruction. Several female league members reacted in a similar fashion, while many of the men clenched their fists.

“We have little time.” Jonn said to the group. “Aquaman, Long Shadow, Captain Atom and Supergirl, head immediately into the area and slow down Grundy. Do not engage him directly.”

Jonn was efficient, and had most of the league members into their assigned tasks. Several were given missions to evacuate any civilian on Grundy’s path, and the others to lure him away from the city to lessen casualties.

“Batman.” Jonn contacted the fellow league member who was currently in Gotham.

“I’m monitoring the situation as well.” Batman’s face appeared in the screen console. “This Grundy’s different than before. He’s more deadly, and merciless. He has to be stopped quickly before more lives are lost.”

“Superman’s already on his way.” Jonn replied.

 “Contact Dr. Fate, we’ll need Shayera for this.” Batman added. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Understood.” Jonn always appreciated Batman’s efficiency and control of his emotions.

He watched as the league came into the scene, many lifting civilians to safety and out of Grundy’s reach, while the others tried to distract him. Long Shadow grew larger until he was as tall as the buildings and tried to pin Grundy to the ground. It worked briefly, until Grundy was able to move Long Shadow’s hand away and gave a mighty kick to the man’s chin, knocking him to the ground almost out cold.

Grundy would have headed to Long Shadow’s prone form, if not for Captain Atom throwing blasts of energy on the undead man, causing him to throw cars at the hero. Supergirl caught a few of the cars with civilians in them and flew them to safety, while a few of the League members continued to engage Grundy from a distance, further angering him.

ooo

Metropolis City

“Oh thank you! ThankyouThankyou!”

Supergirl gave the mother seated behind the wheel a nod and favored her two scared children a small smile and wiped the blood from her split lip. She had heard that the undead villain was quite the powerhouse from her cousin, but she didn’t know he was this strong!

She always held back her strength when fighting villains, since she knew a well placed, unrestrained Kryptonian punch was lethal even to fellow superheroes. Seeing the dead bodies and ripped limbs that littered the streets of metropolis made her throw her strongest punch she had ever tried, and it knocked Grundy through a building.

To her surprise, the villain had quickly recovered, and managed to throw a punch of his own. She caught a glancing blow, but it was enough to split her lip and draw blood. It was a frightening experience too, fighting Solomon Grundy up close. His eyes were fully black, and mud and blood dripped down his lips. His clothes were in tatters from receiving constant punishment from the league, revealing pale gray skin underneath.

Her keen eyesight caught a red blur and a moment later her cousin flew past her and straight towards Grundy, causing the both of them to fly through several building before coming to a stop in the middle of the street.

The earth now shook and the windows on the building shattered as Grundy and Superman engaged in a full on fistfight. The displaced air from their mighty swings caused a few of the nearby league members to stumble. Deciding to help, she flew around the block and threw another punch at Grundy’s right leg, causing the mountain of a man to drop to one knee.

Superman had taken advantage of her attack and followed with a powerful two fisted punch, sending Grundy to the ground, creating a deep crater. The ground shook hard from the impact, causing streetlamps to topple over sending bits of asphalt into the air. The windows that remained intact from before now blew open, sending deadly shards everywhere.

“Help me pin him down.” Superman said through his teeth and threw another punch at Grundy, preventing him from rising from the crater he was buried in. Grundy was eerily shrugging of Superman’s heat vision, and was able to recover from blows that she knew would knock her out. Supergirl quickly complied, while several of the stronger league members rushed in to help, hoping to contain the undead villain.

Solomon Grundy continued despite the League’s best efforts, letting out chilling roars of rage that made the hairs on Supergirl’s skin to stand up. She hadn’t noticed before from the earlier fight, but now she felt Grundy’s body was awfully cold, as if he decided to sleep in a freezer and only came out.

“Where... is... Shayera?” Superman asked, putting more force into pinning Grundy’s shoulders. Long Shadow, fifty feet tall and sporting a nasty bruise on his chin, struggled to contain Grundy’s legs by putting all of his weight on them.

“We’re here.”

They heard Batman’s voice through their earpieces and looked up to see the batwing descending from the sky. Behind the sleek jet was Shayera Hol, her brown wings spread wide and her Nth metal mace sparkling with energy.

Her face showed many emotions, but there was determination in her eyes, and sorrow. Solomon Grundy was after all, her friend, who had sacrificed his life to save theirs in a battle against a powerful foe. Solomon Grundy had risen from his grave again, mindless and destructive and she was forced to end his life, her mace and its unique energy the only thing capable of disrupting the necromantic energies that was within Grundy’s body.

“Make it quick Shayera.” Superman grunted through clenched teeth. “We can barely hold him down.”

Shayera didn’t waste like before. She knew this was not her friend. It was mindless thing, and from the looks of it killed many civilians in his rampage. His eyes were all black, and it sent a shiver down her spine when it gazed at her. Her friend was gone, there was something else controlling this body.

“I hope nobody disturbs your rest again, Grundy.” Shayera raised her mace and slammed it down on Grundy’s chest, causing the crater around them to deepen. The disruptive energies of the mace travelled down the villain’s body, but unlike before, he continued to struggle, seemingly unaffected by the attack. Aquaman rushed to help Supergirl hold down Grundy’s right arm, while Wonderwoman finally arrived, helping Superman hold down the shoulders.

“Impossible.” Shayera whispered, looking down at her mace. Bits of Grundy’s dead flesh and his clothes were stuck to the spikes of her weapon, and her strike should have been more than enough to dissipate the magic. She lifted her mace for a stronger strike when a flash of blue light appeared beside her.

“Wait.” A deep authoritative voice called out.

Dr. Fate, considered the League’s foremost magical authority stepped in.

“What is it?” Batman asked, warily observing Solomon Grundy.

“There’s a reason why Shayera’s attack didn’t work. Solomon Grundy’s body isn’t powered by chaos magic like before, making Shayera’s attempts useless.” Dr. Fate held out his hand above Grundy’s body, trying to sense the source of his power.

“Well?” Superman asked impatiently. “What can we do?”

“This is something I have never encountered before in such quantities.” Dr. Fate admitted. “I can send Grundy into a pocket dimension, but eventually he will be able to find his way back. It seems like the magic inside him binds him to this city.”

“Do what you have to, sorcerer.” Wonder Woman said. “This monster must not be allowed to harm another innocent.”

“I understand.” Dr. Fate stepped back and spread his arms wide, and mystic power gathered along his hands. Ribbons of power made of various hues started to wrap themselves against Grundy’s body, causing the villain to struggle harder. The ribbons kept tearing as they wrapped around his massive bulk, and Dr. Fate’s eyes glowed and new ribbons materialized, thicker and wider.

Solomon Grundy’s screams were muffled as one last ribbon wrapped around his head, and once every part of his body was covered in the mystic energies, he slowly faded from their view. Immediately Dr. Fate collapsed once the spell was vanished, and his head would have hit the asphalt if it were not for Supergirl who quickly caught him.

“What happened?” Shayera asked, concern etched in her face as she placed his left arm on her shoulder while Kara took his right. She had never seen Dr. Fate so weak after casting a spell before, and she knew him to be one of the world most powerful practitioners of magic.

“He... fought me.” Dr. Fate said weakly. He passed out soon after, and Shayera and Kara gently lowered him into the ground.

“By Hera!” Wonder Woman exclaimed when she felt for his pulse. It was very faint, and it seemed like the heat from his body was sucked dry, leaving the exhausted sorcerer shivering on the street despite the warm weather.

oooo

Club Bewitched, San Francisco, California

 ‘“So how is Dr. Fate?” She had finished her show moments before, and had just learned of the strategy in Metropolis from her friend.

“He’s going to make it.” The figure replied from the shadows. “His wife is watching him right now. If it were not for her intervention, we would have suffered another casualty.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to help.” Zatanna replied from the privacy screen as she changed her clothes. “And Solomon Grundy?”

“Still in the pocket dimension that Doctor Fate banished him to.”

“Bruce.” Zatanna stepped out from the screen, now wearing a gray blouse and jeans. “If Dr. Fate barely survived in this encounter, what more could I do? He’s far more powerful than I am, you know that.”

“We need all the help that we can in this.” Batman replied. “And don’t sell yourself short, you’re a very resourceful person, and your experience will be invaluable in this investigation.”

“Was that a compliment?” Zatanna teased. Seeing no reaction from her long time friend, she quickly moved closer to him and placed a comforting hand on his broad shoulder.

“Sorry Bruce, I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

“It’s not needed.” Batman replied quickly. In truth the dark knight was troubled, and despite analyzing every video and image during Grundy’s rampage, he couldn’t find any weakness, or reason for this attack. It took Superman, his cousin, Diana and the strongest League members just to hold the brute in place, and almost cost Dr. Fate his life to banish him. This is why he hated magic, it made no sense at all.

“Will you help?” He asked.

“Of course.” Zatanna replied immediately. “You don’t have to ask, you know that. I’m just worried that my skills and knowledge will not be of much use, with the others already trying to solve the problem.” The female magician stared at the Dark Knight in the eyes and held the gaze. “But I’ll do my best.”

“And that’s why I approached you first.” Batman nodded. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the scene of the crime, perhaps you can find clues that the others have missed.” Batman replied.

Ooo

Metropolis City

Zatanna had seen footage of the fight during their flight to Metropolis, but nothing could have prepared her for the devastation she now saw at the city. The bodies were quickly removed, but the blood stains remained, along with the chalk outlines of their bodies drawn by the homicide investigators. She had been nearly dragged to hell, and seen a glimpse of it, and the streets of Metropolis looked eerily similar to the haunting image in her mind.

“The powers help us.” She whispered. The red lights from the fire trucks, ambulances and emergency vehicles were dizzying to the eye, but she moved forward, past the police line marked by a yellow ribbon unhindered, seeing that she was with Batman.

News reporters and their crews tried to intercept them, but policemen with grim faces and large guns had quickly cut them off, allowing the two league members to continue their investigation.

“This was where we finally pinned him down.” Batman jumped down the large crater that was almost as deep as his height.

She could clearly see the silhouette of Solomon Grundy’s in the middle of the crater, and smoothly jumped down for a better look.

“It took eight of the League’s strongest members to hold him in place, and that included Superman, Supergirl and Wonder Woman.” Batman said. “I know how strong Solomon Grundy is, but not this strong. Usually even Diana could handle him.”

“This is strange.” Zatanna observed. She knelt next to the depression on the asphalt and extended her senses, while she whispered a revealing spell. Bits of the crater glowed different colors, and her expert eyes scanned for anything useful.

A strip of black cloth with bits of skin and flesh, glowing in a menacing green light caught her attention, and she quickly conjured a glass vial and placed it inside.

“What’s strange?” Batman asked, kneeling beside her.

“I sense traces of death magic, but in an entirely different level than I have ever encountered.” Zatanna looked astonished. “I’ve destroyed a few undead and zombies in my time, but they didn’t even have a fraction of what I’m sensing here.”

“So he’s a super strong Zombie?”

“More than that.” Zatanna replied. “I know little about the subject, but the necromancers that may have some idea aren’t the type to help us.”

“Are there other options?”

“I could ask my contacts. I’m sure Sid knows something.” Zatanna stood up, pocketing the vial that contained bits from Grundy.

Batman nodded, feeling that they were making some progress. The other League members were doing their part, but none had the tenacity and determination that the Dark Knight had.

ooo

San Francisco was considered by most magicians as the magical center of the world. The city was the gateway to most magical realms due to the ley lines that converged on it, and plenty of practitioners of magic established their businesses in one of the cities’ many hidden markets. Zatanna often shopped in one of the magical districts for rare magical supplies for spells, and also for information provided she had the currency to pay.

The balding, gray haired antiques dealer called Sid looked up when of his regular customers walked in, and a raised eyebrow was his only reaction when he saw who accompanied the female magician. He had seen far stranger things after all, used to dealing with all manner of creatures.

“The tome I sold you isn’t refundable, I warned you about that.” He said gruffly once she reached the counter.

“This isn’t about that tome Sid.” Zatanna replied. “I need information.”

“You know the price then.” The short man held his left hand expectantly, greedy eyes twinkling in anticipation.

“Fine.” Zatanna focused her magic and held out her right hand. “Esrup Reappa!”

A coin purse appeared, and she took out one silver coin from it and handed it to the shop owner. Sid briefly inspected the silver piece before nodding in satisfaction and stowed it in his pockets. He took a seat and beckoned to Zatanna to do the same.  “So who is it you want to find information on?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the mess in Metropolis City.” Zatanna began.

“Nasty business.” Sid confirmed with a nod. “Whoever revived Grundy’s a damn idiot.”

“And we’re looking for them too.” Batman added.

“Anyway, it’s different this time.” Zatanna adjusted her jacket, feeling the sudden cold air around the room. “Last time Grundy was resurrected, it was with chaos magic. Now it looks like a necromancer’s work. A powerful one, from what I felt.”

“So?” Sid looked unconcerned. “Even you won’t have a problem dealing with a zombie.”

“Doctor Fate almost died banishing him into a pocket dimension.” Zatanna replied. “It’s death magic.”

The candles around the shop suddenly went out as a chill breeze blew into the room from a nearby window, plunging the shop into darkness. Sid made signs of warding and Zatanna shivered in her seat. She made a gesture with her right hand and the candles relit themselves.

“Thank you.” Sid replied, now looking serious as he understood the gravity of the situation. “Doctor Fate you say? If he couldn’t stop it, then I doubt nothing could.”

“I brought a sample from Grundy.” Zatanna took out a vial from the pocket of her jacket and laid it out on the table. “I thought perhaps with your scrying abilities that we might learn more on how to stop the magic.”

“I’d normally charge twelve silver pieces for this.” Sid began. “But it looks like this might affect my business.”

“Thank you Sid.” Zatanna said gratefully. “I appreciate this.”

“Just don’t haggle the price on your next purchase.” Sid began to make gestures over the round table in the center of the shop and placed the contents of the vial in the middle. Previously unseen symbols glowed with magic and the antiques collector closed his eyes in concentration.

Wisps of green energy began to rise from the black strip of cloth and mixed with the symbols, and an image sprang up above them.

“Solomon Grundy.” Sid breathed out as he opened his eyes. Now that he wasn’t busy wreaking havoc by being banished into another dimension, Batman and Zatanna took their time to observe their fearsome opponent. The undead man’s muscles flexed as he moved, swinging his massive arms still caked with the dried blood of his victims. His black coat was torn from the battle with the League, but he looked like he was uninjured. His black eyes looked menacing, and once again, it seemed like he was aware that someone was watching him.

Grundy quickly turned his head at their direction, and Zatanna leaned back as those creepy black eyes stared at her. Solomon Grundy’s size was deceiving, he moved quickly and a mighty fist reached out to them, causing Sid to cancel the scrying spell.

A chilly wind breezed through the room again, and the flames on the candles died out instantly.

“Good heavens!” Sid exclaimed, looking genuinely scared now.

“So? Do you have an idea how to stop this thing?” Zatanna asked. “Doctor Fate told me that sooner or later, he will come back to this plane. He seems to be tied to Metropolis City.”

“I don’t know.” The old man replied, licking his lips nervously. “Necromancers are the vilest lot around, stealing dead bodies and using unspeakable rituals, but even they obey only one rule.”

“And what is it?”

“Never resurrect a body for the third time.” Sid replied, looking at Zatanna in the eye. “It is said that Death herself will give power to the body, and will become an unstoppable force on this Earth.”

“Shit.” Zatanna cursed.

“You could offer a deal with the gods, but I doubt any of them will be of much help for a permanent solution, and the cost will be too high.” Sid suggested.

“We contained him before.” Batman spoke out. “Would it work if we trap him in another planet?”

“He’ll find his way back.” Sid replied. “If he is tied to Metropolis City like Dr. Fate said, then he’ll eventually find a way to return. The magic in him will see to that.”

“Maybe I’ll find something in my father’s journals.” Zatanna replied after a moment, unable to bear the silence. “Surely there has to be a way.”

Batman noticed a spark in the old antiques dealer’s eye and narrowed his eyes. “You have an idea.” He observed.

“Sid, this isn’t the time to be hiding information from us. You know how grave the situation is.” Zatanna pleaded with the old man.

“It’s not that, it’s just that I don’t want to send you off in a wild goose chase. It’s just a rumor I heard...” Sid trailed off.

“Yes?”

“You might think I’m crazy.”

“Try me.” Zatanna crossed her arms on her arms and smiled.

“Well, three year ago, there was a rumor in the street that a wizard had managed to defeat an extremely powerful warlock that was terrorizing Britain. This warlock was rumored to be unstoppable and no one survived an encounter with him.”

“Why haven’t we heard of this?” Batman asked.

“There are all sorts of magic users in the world, and some keep to themselves.” Sid explained. “The largest group mostly uses wands as foci for their magic.”

“I’ve heard talk of those wand wizards.” Zatanna frowned, deep in thought. “They’re supposed to be very secretive, and rarely bother with the other magical communities.”

“They have strict secrecy laws about it too.” Sid confirmed. “Anyway, about this warlock, who was supposed to be very powerful, and used all sorts of dark rituals to make himself stronger, and even immortal. Things were getting dire for them and the war was threatening to spill out to the other realms, when this wizard, a bit young from what I’ve heard, shows up and manages to stop him.”

“What has that got to do with stopping Grundy?” Zatanna asked.

“It was said that he used the power of death to defeat the dark wizard.” Sid snorted in disbelief. “That he became the master of death.”

Seeing the puzzled look on female magician’s face, but missing the contemplative look from Batman, Sid sighed. “See, I told you it would sound stupid. As if mastering death with some special wand had to do with it. Anyway, perhaps...”

“The special wand... what was it called?” Zatanna interrupted.

“Huh?”

“That special wand you said, what was it called?” Zatanna leaned closer across the table, looking intently at the store owner’s eyes.

“Let me se.” Sid scratched his chin with a thoughtful look on his face. His face brightened after a moment and turned to his guests. “I think it was called the death stick or something.”

Zatanna nodded and quickly stood up and turned to Batman. “We’re going.”

“Where to?”

“My house.” She replied. “There’s something I wanted to look up that could help.”

 “Send me a note if things go badly, eh?” Sid called out to them. “Perhaps I can start a new shop in another realm.”

ooo

Shadowcrest Mansion

“It’s been a while since you’ve visited this place.” Zatanna eyed her friend from the corner of her eye as she gestured for the tall iron gates to open.

“The last time was with your father.” Batman replied, eyeing the gothic styled mansion that was somewhat similar in design to his own Wayne Manor. Stone gargoyle statues acting as water spouts were perched on the roof, while tall, narrow windows etched with some strange design dominated the front.

He remembered learning most of his escape tricks, and resisting hypnosis and other mental tricks under the tutelage of Zatanna’s late father, John Zatara, acknowledged to be the most powerful and accomplished magician of the day. His daughter had quite the shoes to fill in, but so far she had done admirably well, and he knew John Zatara would be proud of the strong and courageous woman that carried his name.

“I’ve heard of the death stick before, from reading one of my father’s journals.” Zatanna led Bruce inside one of the mansion’s numerous studies, filled with all manner of magical books and artifacts. It would seem strange that there were no ladders to provide access to the books near the ceiling. The black haired woman though just looked at a particular book far out of her reach, and held out her hand willing her magic to obey her.

“Emoc”

 A leather bound journal flew from the top shelf and to her hand.

“Here.” Zatanna pointed at a part of the text after a few minutes of leafing through the journal.

Batman read over the magician’s shoulder and frowned. “A wand maker called Ollivander’s?”

“My father says here that he had a most interesting conversation with him, and confirmed that the legendary death stick is not a myth.” Zatanna sat down on the chair and absently waved her hand. “Sknird raeppa ”

 A bottle of whiskey on the desk suddenly tilted, spilling its contents on two glasses that appeared.

“I guess I’m heading to London.” Zatanna took a sip and handed the other glass to Batman, who was now reading the journal.

“I don’t drink on the job, Zatanna.”

“Retaw otni nrut”

“There, have your boring water.” Zatanna teased. “Are you coming with me to London?”

“Jonn is calling for a meeting with the league in an hour.” Batman said, tapping the communicator in his ear, acknowledging that the Martian’s message had been received. “It looks like Dr. Fate has recovered enough and wants to brief the League on Solomon Grundy’s status.”

“Do you want me to be there?”

“You need to find leads about this wizard.” Batman replied. “Your father’s journal doesn’t explain much about this death stick’s power, only speculations about its history and origins. I’ll send to you any information”

“It’s a pretty well known legend in some magical circles.” Zatanna answered. “The death stick is a powerful magical artifact, and that grants incredible power to its wielder, making them undefeatable. Most accept it as a myth, but now we know it exists.”

“And it may help us find a permanent solution for Grundy.” Batman nodded. “Do you need someone to accompany you when you meet this wand maker?”

“I’m a big girl Bruce.” Zatanna grinned. “Besides, I heard a few rumors that these wand wielders aren’t too friendly with those unable to wield magic. I think it’s better if I go alone. I’ll blend it and no one would be the wiser.”

ooo

Watchtower, on orbit above Earth

Batman quickly moved through the busy hallways as technicians, medical staff and fellow league members moved to the transporter rooms or the hangar for the missions. Containing Grundy had taken most of the league’s attention, and a few had taken injuries from Grundy or from saving the hundreds of civilians on the scene.

 Aquaman and Green Arrow both gave him a quick nod in greeting, while most gave him a wide berth. Even now, after two years in operation, the other heroes were still uncomfortable with him. He was known as a strict leader and had little patience for the mistakes of others, and often scolded most of the league of their mistakes either in their actions or decisions during debriefings. 

The door to the primary conference room slid open and he gazed at the assembled founding members who were waiting for him, all with determined expressions carved on their faces. Doctor Fate was also present with his wife, Inza who was watching her husband closely.

 “What’s the status of Solomon Grundy?”  Batman began the meeting as he sat between Superman and Diana.

“He is still contained in the pocket dimension, but for how long I am unable to say.” Dr. Fate replied, his voice noticeably weak.

“How could he find his way back here?” Superman asked.

“The magic that powers his body also guides him...” Inza spoke for her husband. “And as my husband has determined earlier, he is tied to Metropolis City with this magic. Sooner or later, he will find a way back.”

No one in the table spoke for a moment, each lost in thought about the consequence of Grundy’s inevitable return.

“There is another matter.” Doctor Fate whispered. “The real opponent here is not the corpse of Solomon Grundy, rather, the magic that flows through him. Necromancy is very complex magic, and even if we destroy Grundy’s body, it will regenerate later, reforming in the streets of Metropolis unless the magic is undone.”

“Then I say we imprison this monster.” The princess of Themyscira said aloud. “We could throw Solomon Grundy in the pits of Tartarus.”

“I am not sure that will be enough.” Dr. Fate replied. “Death magic powers him, and only this type can stop his power.”

“What if we throw the big guy in some barren planet?” Wally, also known as the Flash suggested. “GL can do it, let him cause all the destruction he wants there.”

“You might not have noticed earlier, but Grundy was shrugging any construct or blast from my ring like tissue paper.” Jon Stewart looked troubled. “It’s like he’s immune to it, and even to Shayera’s mace.”

“Do you have any ideas, Batman?” Superman asked.

It was obvious that he was frustrated, with the way his hands were curled into fists on the table. The Kryptonian had never encountered such a being before, with no apparent weakness and practically immune to any attack, both magical and physical. It was unbearable to be helpless against a being that murdered dozens of innocents on the city he protected. Too late to save those lives.

“I have Zatanna following up a lead. She believes that there is a magical artifact capable of stopping Solomon Grundy called the Death Stick.”

“Could that work?” Superman asked hopefully.

“It is possible.” Dr. Fate leaned forward, both elbows on the table, his voice revealing a hint of excitement. “Of course... yes. Batman, how did you learn about the death stick?”

“Through a contact of Zatanna in San Francisco. There was recent news about a rogue warlock in Europe terrorizing Britain, and that he was stopped by another using this death stick.”

Doctor Fate shook his head. “I do not believe that it was the artifact that has stopped the rogue warlock. Did Zatanna’s informer mention anything on the wielder of the death stick?”

Batman paused for a moment before replying, replaying the conversation in the antiques shop in his mind. “The wielder was said to be a young man, and that he was called the master of death.”

The eye slits of Doctor Fate’s helm glowed briefly, and the sorcerer nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. He glanced at his wife who smiled briefly and tightened her grip on his hand.

“It is this wizard that we should find, not just the death stick.” Dr. Fate stated. “I believe he will be the only capable of countering the magic in Grundy. He is the key.”

“Hey guys, a little lost here.” Wally said, waving his hand. “What’s this master of death business?”

 The other superheroes nodded in agreement with Wally and looked expectantly at the sorcerer.

“For all of you to better understand, I believe I should begin with the history of the origins of the death stick.” Dr. Fate glanced at his wife who took the hint and continued for him.

“There are many magical societies hidden in various places around the world, and among largest and oldest are called the wand wizards.” Inza stated. “They are a very secretive society, and rarely mingle with the other magical beings. Their preference for using the wand to focus their magic often earned them ridicule from the others, but do not mistake this as a weakness. Their magic is powerful, versatile and extremely effective, especially in combat.”

“Several centuries before, even before the time of Merlin, there existed three brothers, extremely powerful and skilled in their magic. Their fame and power grew across the lands, that even Death herself took notice of them.”

“Say again?” Wally asked, his eyebrows raised. “Did you say Death herself?”

“Yes.” Inza smiled. “She has rarely troubled herself with the affairs of mortals, but these three wizards gained her attention.”

“I have never heard of this Death goddess.” Diana looked confused. “Hades rules the underworld.”

 “She is not a god, but she is far older than the Olympian gods that you worship.” Dr. Fate added.

“Then what is she?”

“A constant force in the Universe. Like there is Order and Chaos at the beginning of time, there is death. She simply is, and exists.”

“So she visited these three brothers?” Jon Stewart asked.

“She did.” Inza nodded. “Death wanted to see for herself the power of these wizards and gave them a test.”

“They succeeded.” Batman said.

“Yes, but in truth Death felt cheated that they passed her trials but she had promised the three brothers a gift each as a reward. This was the birth of the legend of the deathly hallows, three powerful magical artifacts that Death herself created.” Inza said. “The oldest brother wished for a powerful wand that would make him undefeatable in a duel, and so Death gave him the Elder wand, fashioned from a nearby elder tree. It was also known as the death stick but it was named for a different reason, and not because of its creator.”

“Why?”

“The wand truly made the eldest brother undefeatable in combat, but not when he was asleep. One of his defeated rivals stabbed him in his sleep and stole the wand. The wand has passed through many hands, and all of them died due to the wand, hence the name.”

“What of the second brother?” Superman asked.

“The second brother had recently lost his wife, and so asked Death to give him the power to resurrect the dead. He was given the resurrection stone, and with three turns in the hand, anyone he wished that had passed away would appear before him.”

“A powerful artifact, but also dangerous.” Diana frowned.

“And the second brother found it the hard way.” Inza agreed with a small nod of the head. “He used the stone, and his dead wife appeared, but not what he expected. She was more than a ghost and clearly suffering in anguish since she was forced from her rest and wanted to return. In sorrow and grief, the second brother hanged himself, and the resurrection stone was lost in history.”

“What of the youngest brother?” Batman asked.

“He asked death for a true cloak of invisibility.” Dr. Fate answered.

“That’s it? Just a cloak that makes you invisible?” Wally shook his head. “If Death is giving me a wish, I’d ask for some super armor.”

“Imagine a cloak that hides you completely from any detection.” Dr. Fate replied. “True invisibility, it allowed the third brother to evade even Death, and he only took it off when he was ready. And it is that cloak that allowed us to learn of this event, since it was he that documented his encounter with death and passed the story to his descendants. ”

“So let me guess.” Jon Stewart frowned and crossed his arms. “We need to find this Master of Death, with a magic wand that makes him pretty much unbeatable, with a stone that could summon ghosts and the dead, and a cloak that makes him practically undetectable?”

Doctor Fate answered with an uncharacteristic shrug, causing Flash to chuckle.

“This is no laughing matter Wally.” Wonder Woman said firmly. “If this being really does exist, he holds the key to the fate of Metropolis.”

ooo

Charing Cross Road, London, England

“Did you get all that?”

“Yes. Thanks Bruce.”

“What do you think of it?”

“Honestly?” Zatanna paused for a moment to look around her surroundings, and make sure she hadn’t missed the magical entrance described in her father’s journal. “The idea of these powerful magical artifacts wielded by one single magician is worrying, and I’m still not sold on Doctor Fate’s tale. No one mortal magician could be that powerful.”

“Many would also say the same of us, and the League.”

“Point. I guess as a magician, I’m wary of those that have such power. The ones I’ve met... well such powerful magic tends to corrupt the person who wields them.” Zatanna continued walking again after checking her notes, her communicator held securely between her shoulder and head. “Listen, I think I’m close, I could feel some sort of magical ward nearby.”

“Understood. I’ll update you with Grundy’s status in a few hours. Batman out.”

Zatanna stowed the communicator in her pocket and continued walking, feeling the traces of magic grow stronger. Finally she stopped past a curious looking pub that immediately stood out with its red brick lined façade compared to the glass and concrete that lined the street.

There was a large sign hanging above her made of iron of a figure of a witch leaning over a cauldron, yet the people in the sidewalk didn’t even spare a glance towards it. She noticed their eyes looking at the glass display of the bookstore before the Leaky Cauldron and then jumping ahead to the shoe shop after the magical inn.

Confident that this was the place, she pushed the green door open and walked inside. Judging by the outside appearance of the pub, she expected it to be similar inside, cramped, gloomy and filled with tobacco smoking old men. Zatanna was pleasantly surprised to see a large room with a high ceiling and large windows allowing sunshine to gleam off the polished wooden tables and the bar.

Young kids in robes ran past her and into one of the three extremely large fireplaces on the wall, their flames burning with an unusual green color. She grinned seeing a young boy, trying to steal his father’s wand while the man was busy arguing with his wife and headed to the bar.

She had noticed that the bartender, she judged to be in his late fifties, was watching her since she entered the pub. As soon as their eyes met, the man dropped the rag he was using to clean the bar and nodded at her.

“Good day, miss...” The man started.

“Zatanna.” The magician gave a smile and flipped back her long black hair behind her back. “I was told that this was the entrance to Diagon Alley.”

“Ah yes. You can call me Tom, Miss Zatanna. I’m the barkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron.” The man smiled and wiped his hand on his apron and headed out of the bar and to a side door. “This way please.”

“It’s so very rare to guide a newcomer to Diagon Alley. With the muggle born guides and all, people rarely approach me for help these days.” Tom replied as he walked along a narrow alley lined with trash bins. “Alas, you will never know how valuable a thing is until you lost it.”

“Muggle born?” Zatanna asked, not really understanding some of the words the man used. 

“The guides, it was Professor Granger’s idea.” Tom elaborated, as he mistook Zatanna’s expression for something else. “Who knew such a delightful child would grow to be such an unstoppable whirlwind!”

“Right.” Zatanna muttered. “Where is this Diagon Alley supposed to be?”

“The entrance is right here.” Tom said cheerfully. He withdrew his wand from his pocket a sequence of bricks that Zatanna memorized carefully and raised an eyebrow as the brick wall transformed itself into an archway, revealing a street full of people busy shopping from store to store.

“Thank you, Tom.” Zatanna favored the man a smile and was about to walk past the archway when the bartender stopped him.

“What is it?”

“I don’t mean to sound rude or discriminating, but even after the death of the Dark Lord, there are still those who consider your clothing to be highly inappropriate.” Tom said, blushing slightly at the woman’s tight blouse and knee length skirt that displayed her curvy figure.

“What do you mean?” Zatanna asked.

“If may I suggest something more magical? Tom offered, thinking of a spare robe he had in the storage room at the back of the inn.

“Thanks for the advice, Tom.” With a practiced wave of her hand and a few whispered words, her clothes instantly morphed to her usual mission attire, with her waist length black tuxedo jacket over a white top and short tights and fishnet stockings. A tall top hat appeared on her left hand and a white bow tie tied itself around her neck, finishing the spell.

 Mistaking the open mouthed expression on Tom’s face for her casual display of magic, she gave him a wink and walked past the brick archway, her heels striking the cobblestone paved street while they showed her long athletic legs to great effect.

Unaware of the shocked and awed expressions of the wizards and witches behind her back, Zatanna Zatara continued walking through Diagon Alley, searching for a particular wand shop.

ooo

Scotland

The being remained unmoving deep inside the damp cave, as it conserved the last of its energy to survive. It may have been immortal, but it could also grow weak, and after not feeding for so many years, it feared becoming as weak as a wraith or spirit, forever helpless as it roamed the world.

Fear.

It was not a feeling the being was familiar with, but as their numbers dwindled, they came to know fear as one by one they ceased to exist. They were supposed to be immortal, yet the reaper came, hunting them wherever they appeared. At first they fought back, but slowly they realized that they were utterly powerless against the hunter. Now, as far as it knew, only it remained, struggling to survive as its powers slowly dwindled.

Once they feasted on the mortals, inflicting fear on their prey before they consumed their souls.

“Terribly cold, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, unusual weather for this altitude.”

“Maybe we should set up camp...”

The Dementor looked up, hearing the voices tantalizingly close to its cave. It wondered if the hunter would even sense its presence if it left its sanctuary for a few moments, and perhaps drink life force of the two mortals so near it. Eventually, as the voices grew louder, the Dementor’s hunger overcame the fear for the hunter and headed out of the cave.

Even for its weakened state, the two mortals really stood no chance against its power, and it prolonged the agony for its prey, sucking up every bit of emotion – despair, fear, worry. The dementor heard the familiar sounds, weeping, crying as the two mortals collapsed before its feet.

It leaned forward, tilting the head of the female and slowly pressed its lips on hers, and it could already taste the soul within in anticipation. It had been so long...

Then there was silence, and the dementor felt itself being pushed back deep into its cave. Its body collided painfully with the jagged rocks, and black blood bled from its wounds. It screeched in defiance, for it knew the hunter had arrived.

“Lumos.”

Bright light engulfed the cave, and even though it had no eyes, its skin, uncovered by its cloak, stung like it was on fire.

 The dementor felt the hunter’s presence nearby, and it lunged towards him in a last desperate attempt. A white stag immediately rammed its antlers inches before its fingers could close on the hunter’s throat, and it screamed in agony as the white stag’s sharp antlers pierced its body, tearing its black cloak to pieces.

“You seem familiar, unlike the others.” Harry Potter spoke to the Dementor.

The creature struggled against the large stag’s antlers, but it could feel the power that it had conserved over the years drain away.

“Yes, I remember you.” The wizard smiled and stepped closer, the elder wand held in his right hand pointed straight at the dementor. “You were on the train that day.”

A polished black stone held securely by a ring worn on the wizard’s left hand glinted against the light from the wand tip and suddenly the Dementor’s screams, growing weaker from its struggle with the white stag intensified. Its long fingers furiously scratched against the thick antlers that impaled it against the cave wall while from its mouth, strange wisps of light emerged from its mouth.

More of the strange light emerged from its body until it stopped struggling, hanging limply from its place. Its body convulsed for one final moment and its throat constricted, disgorging the last soul it held in its belly until it fell to the ground, lifeless.

Harry Potter waved his wand and fire emerged from the tip, enveloping the body with streams of flame and quickly burning the body to ash. A minute later, the wizard released a breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. He slowly headed back to the mouth of the cave to make sure the two hikers were not suffering any other injuries from the Dementor’s attack.

He knew he had arrived just in the nick of time, though there were instances when a dementor he was hunting had already sucked a soul from its victim. If he only he could, he would have put the soul that he freed from the creature’s belly back into the soulless victim, but it wasn’t possible. He already knew he was too late, and even if the victim’s chest rose and fell with every breath, it was already dead.

The small spheres of light that he knew to be the souls of the victims of the dementor were scattered all around the cave, moving randomly in every direction. Eventually most had disappeared, but a dozen of the soul orbs remained and Harry sighed and stopped in his tracks, knowing what would come next.

Sometimes the souls he had freed from a dementor immediately disappeared -- keen to start their next great adventure in the afterlife. Others lingered on for days, unsure of what to do, being trapped in the belly of a dementor for millennia. A few souls fully manifested themselves in front of him, staring at him with blank expressions on their luminous faces, their eyes unblinking. It had unnerved him the first time he had experienced this, but over the years he had learned to ignore the creepy stares.

Then there were the rare occasions when the victims of the dementors kiss had been people he had known. They only smiled and gave encouraging nods before closing their eyes and slowly fading from sight.

The dozen orbs stopped moving once he faced them, and slowly their human form began to take shape. He recognized Dedalus Diggle, who insisted that the Dementors were not as dangerous compared to the death eaters early in the war. Hestia Jones, the witch that had been able to perform the Patronus charm in Grimmauld place, but unable to cast it in the presence of a dementor. There was Zacharias Smith, who failed to grasp the concept of the spell during their fifth year and the only student of the D.A. unable to produce even wisps.

Harry recognized a few other faces, and as he met their gazes they gave brief nods or smiles before they vanished. Hestia tried to run his hands on his messy hair before she too disappeared and finally he was alone again.

Relieved that all the souls had moved on, Harry put the hood of his silver cloak over his head and vanished from sight.  He didn’t need another soul becoming a ghost and haunting his home.

ooo

Diagon Alley, London

“Merlin! Look at that!”

“Wow! Do you think she’s doing this for a dare?”

“Scarlet woman... the nerve!”

Zatanna Zatara opened the door to the shop, unaware of the true chaos left in her wake. She had noticed the eyes of many men on her legs and bosom as she had passed along the way, but she was already used to this type of attention. It was after all, part of her gimmick to attract an even larger audience for her show, and it worked. Most of her regular audience consisted of men, constantly giving him flowers, chocolates, even jewelry after every show in the hopes of gaining her affections.

She heard a bell ring once she stepped in and looked around the famous wand shop, were rows and rows of shelves lined the walls up to the ceiling. Wondering where the wand maker was, she was about to move closer to the wands in display when a voice behind her made her nearly made her shriek in surprise.

A spell was ready on her lips when she turned to the voice, only for the spell to die down when she saw an old man with balding hair looking at her with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Rosewood, twelve inches, springy, with an ivory tip and a strand of hair from an ancient. Very temperamental.”

“What?”

“Your wand, Miss.” The wand maker replied, waving his hand to Zatanna’s wand, the tip poking from the pocket of her short jacket.

Reading from her father’s journal about his encounter with the strange wand maker, Zatanna was already expecting something like this, but it was still a bit creepy. Those strange eyes seemed to peer through her and she unconsciously pulled her jacket close over her chest.

“May I have a look at the wand Miss?” Ollivander asked.

The wand maker reverently held the wand with both hands, inspecting every detail on it. “Fascinating, absolutely fascinating.”

“Sorry, but what is fascinating?”

“This wand, Miss Zatara.” Ollivander replied. “Though I am its crafter at the request of your father, it is still a privilege to hold one of the rarest wands in the world.”

“It is?” Zatanna asked, surprised.

“Oh yes.” Ollivander rotated the wand between his fingers. “This wand contains a single strand from the hair of your mother, one of the ancients that founded the city of Atlantis before they disappeared.”

“My mother...” Zatanna reached out and took the wand from the wand maker’s hands and gently held the stick with her hands. She suddenly felt guilty about how she used her wand over the years, sometimes even using it to scratch a very persistent itch on her back. She realized that a part of her mother was within this wand, and decided to take better care of it.

“She was a truly formidable woman, from what your father had told me.” Ollivander moved behind the counter and tucked his hands behind his back. “Now, I assume that you have not come here to purchase a wand?”

“Well... yes...”

“A maintenance kit for the wand then?” Ollivander asked and gestured to a small box on the counter. “I noticed there are chips and scratches on the surface. A wand as rare and special as that deserves the best of care.”

“Thank you, but I don’t have any of your currency. Are you willing to accept...”

“A gift in honor of your father, who has taught me many things about magic and the world around us. Take it, please.” Ollivander pushed the box to Zatanna’s hands with a gentle smile on his lips.

“Thank you Mr. Ollivander.” Zatanna accepted the gift and placed it on her pocket. “Actually, I came here for another reason. I read from my father’s journal about the Death stick, and it that you know a bit about its history.”

The wand maker’s smile slowly vanished, replaced with a wary expression and a tinge of fear in his eyes. “It’s a dangerous object, Miss Zatanna, and many seek its power for their own.” He said carefully. “It has a bloody history, and that is the reason for its name.”

“I do not want the wand, but its wielder.” Zatanna pressed on. “I seek the master of death.”

Ollivander looked like he wanted to refuse, but after a moment he let out a deep breath and waved his own wand at the door. Zatanna heard the door close with a click and saw the heavy green curtains on either side of the large display window move, instantly plunging the shop into darkness. She was about to summon a flame when a candle on the counter lit itself, making casting shadows on the wand maker’s face, making him even more creepy.

“The elder wand has a terrible history, full of violence and blood of its victims. I had to take precautions, since the knowledge I will tell you can get you killed.” Ollivander explained. “There are powerful wizards and witches that even to this day, search for it, lured by its promise of power. Be warned.”

“I can handle myself in a fight.” Zatanna replied, her eyes flashing a light blue light for a moment.

“Of that I have no doubt. You are Giovanni Zatara’s daughter after all.” Ollivander replied with a hint of a smile. “You have mentioned that you are looking for the master of death?”

“Yes.”

“And you believe the story about the Deathly Hallows?”

Zatanna merely nodded, intently studying Ollivander’s face.

“Then you are already wiser than I am.” The wand maker stared at the candle between them, his glasses catching the light of the flame. “Due to my arrogance, I refused to see the truth for many years. As a wand maker, I seek perfection... and to me, the death stick was something to aspire to, to emulate. It is said to be the perfect wand, one that is strong in every branch of magic, and makes its wielder unbeatable in battle.”

“I ignored the signs, the bloody history of the death stick. Every witch and wizard that wielded it has died a violent death, stabbed to the back by jealous allies, poisoned, betrayed.” Ollivander continued. “I continued to believe that the death stick was made by a fellow wand maker many centuries ago, and that in time, I will soon create my own perfect wand.”

“For you to believe that the death stick was created by death herself, meant that you would never be able to attain that level.” Zatanna said softly.

“Yes.” Ollivander nodded.  “The death stick only has one true master. No other being will be able to wield it properly.”

“And where is its master?” Zatanna asked. “What is his name?”

“For what purpose do you seek him?” Ollivander asked, his eyes once again staring at hers. “He has hidden himself from our world, since many have tried to use his power for their own agenda.”

She refused to look away and held his gaze. “We need his help against a powerful undead creature that is immune to all magical and physical attacks.”  

“Labb latsyrc raeppa!”

The crystal ball she had in her office in Club Bewitched materialized in front of her in a flash of blue light. She had often used the magical artifact to study her own performances and the reaction of the audience to her tricks. It was also an invaluable tool in spying, especially when helping the league track down villains.

She placed the tips of her fingers on the surface of the sphere and concentrated, willing the memories of Solomon Grundy to appear in the globe.

  “This is the undead creature we are currently trying to stop.” Zatanna explained. Seeing the shocked expression on the wand maker’s face, she leaned forward and pressed on. “So, are you going to tell me his name?”

ooo

12 Grimmauld Place, London

Harry Potter was perhaps, the only being that had seen and understood death on such a level that, it might have been the reason why he became the wielder of the legendary hallows.

It might have started during the night of Voldemort’s attack, when the killing curse struck his head and survived. In the following years, he had understood, on some level the true nature of death.

He might not have realized the significance of what he had seen and experienced when he was younger, but now, at 25 years of age, he knew she had been watching his every death defying adventure. And with every successful foiling of Voldemort’s plans, he learned bit by bit.

He had seen a glimpse of her during his first year with Quirell, as the defense professor’s burning hands attempted to strangle him to death. As he struggled for air while he moved his head from side to side in attempt to loosen the suffocating grip, his gaze fell on the mirror. He had not seen his parents or his own reflection as he stared at the mirror of Erised, but of a woman, wearing a cloak that hid her features except for her pale arms.

Harry thought that he was merely hallucinating as he tried to stay conscious from the lack of air. It was three days later at the hospital wing after discussing the alchemist Flamel and his sorcerer’s stone, that he learned about death from Albus Dumbledore himself.  It was not something to be feared, but the next great adventure. Death was not something to be feared, but accepted.

His second year proved to be even more dangerous than his first, literally seconds from dying. As the venom from the basilisk raced around his veins, he had seen the strange woman again, standing beside the memory of a young Tom Riddle.

When he plunged the fang of the Basilisk into the diary in desperation, he thought he had seen a ghost of a smile on the strange woman’s face. He hadn’t learned then what she was pleased about, but later realized the significance of the event. There was no true way to cheat from death, and even Voldemort’s vaunted horcrux proved capable of being destroyed.

It was his third year that he had seen her openly showing emotion on her face. Going back in time with Hermione, he had seen at the edge of the lake, her mouth in a frown as they both stared at the horde of Dementors about to consume their souls. During that year, Harry had developed a strong dislike of the Dementors.

Later on his friends just considered the creatures to be just creepy and a bit terrifying, but otherwise regarded the former guards of Azkaban like any other dark magical creature, just another page in a book.

He utterly hated them. The concept of sucking a victim’s soul was truly sickening and though he was able to produce a corporeal Patronus, he practiced privately until he mastered the spell.

He started to understand during his fourth year that the strange, silent woman only appeared when he was nearly dying. It was also the first time that she had helped him directly, and he would be forever grateful to her.

He did not want to end up like Frank and Alice Longbottom, their minds shattered from the Cruciatus curse and unable to give comfort to their only son. It was the first time he had experienced the Cruciatus curse, and with Voldemort himself casting the spell, the pain had been truly unimaginable.

He had screamed and trashed on the ground as the minutes went on, each second under the curse feeling like a lifetime. He wanted to retreat from the pain, and the darkness threatened his vision when he saw her again.

There she stood next to the corpse of Cedric Diggory, the front of her robe parting revealing pale white skin and he realized that she was naked beneath her garment. He focused on the two green orbs beneath the hood that hid her features except the lower part of her face and met her gaze, until Voldemort lifted the curse.

It was during his fifth year that he understood who she was, as Sirius fell into the veil and he saw her catch him, embracing his godfather in a tender hug. Sirius, his features previously showing amusement as he taunted his cousin before he died, slowly morphed to one in peace. After a moment studying the image no else had been able to see, he ran after his godfather’s killer, eager for revenge.

And during the battle of Hogwarts, where Voldemort demanded his life that he finally realized that he was the Master of the Deathly Hallows.

She walked beside him, smiling but without saying a word, but her presence gave him a sense of serenity as he headed towards his doom.

His eyes snapped up as his wards alerted him to a powerful witch approaching the door. Death’s presence shifted around the room and she materialized, sitting in front of him in a single couch identical to his.

This was the first time she had showed her presence ever since they talked at length at that ghostly train station. Was death interested in the visitor too? He stood up and headed to the hallway to meet his guest, aware of Death hovering behind him, her steps entirely silent on the marble floor.