The Intelligent Potter

*** Present

"Hello Harry," the words came out of the old and wrinkled lips of a man who could only be Albus Dumbledore.

Dressed not in his majestic robes of war, but a far more normal quirky purple with a pattern of stars, with an unbroken pair of half-moon spectacles, and his beard as long and white as usual, Albus looked better than Harry had seen him since the war started. No cuts, bruises, or scr.a.p.es marred his skin, like they had in the last few months of constant fighting, and there were no bags under the eyes of the wizened Headmaster.

"B-But How!" Harry stammered out.

Dumbledore merely sat down in the deck chair opposite Harry, gesturing for the young Potter to retake the seat which he had vacated upon hearing the voice of his old mentor.

"Sit down, my Champion, we have a lot to discuss."

And suddenly Harry knew who he was facing, and it was not his Headmaster.

Harry sat down opposite Death.

Harry could now see the little differences in mannerisms between the man he had known and the man who stood in front of him. The way he held himself was different. There was a certain carelessness that came with being an all-powerful being, and it showed in the ever so slightly callous expression on his face, and his relaxed posture, even more so than the Headmaster had. As well as this, the Headmaster had a twinkle of power in his piercing blue eyes. In place of that twinkle, there was a roaring all-encompassing fire somehow in the very same blue eyes. They were harder, colder, and more powerful than the Headmaster had ever been.

"Master?" Harry tried, quite unsure of the exact nature of his relationship with Death.

Death shook his head smiling wryly, "No, I am not your master, Harry Potter, you can think of me as your…" he thought for a moment, "as your patron," he said finally.

"My patron?" Harry said curiously.

"Yes, and in turn, you are my champion, to do my bidding on Earth, where I cannot meddle directly."

Realisation suddenly dawned on Harry, "You need me to defeat Voldemort."

"That is the most pertinent issue that I need you to deal with," Death nodded, "But your job is deeper than that. You are my hand. You are my will on Earth. I may only guide the dead once they have entered my realm, but with my powers, and your...ability to exist on Earth, the balance of death will be kept."

Harry wanted to question the whole balance of death concept, but he had a different question in mind first, "So you can't be on Earth?" he asked.

"No," Death smiled again, with the face of Albus Dumbledore.

"So this house…" Harry gestured around at the chalet and the mountains.

It appeared as if black mist rolled off the chalet and the scenery right in front of him, revealing just black.

In an instant, Harry and Death were sitting in a black void, and Harry realised he wasn't sitting on anything.

Thump!

Harry got off the floor, rubbing his b.u.t.t.

He looked to see Death standing. He still wore the face of Albus Dumbledore, but much younger. His beard was gleaming black and trimmed down to just around his face. Instead of robes, he was wearing a tailored Italian suit. Pure black.

"I have no face," Death explained to the unasked question, "But I can take the face of anyone in my dominion, and I thought it might put you at ease to wear the face of your dead friend."

Harry stared, "Do you realise how creepy that sounds?"

Death tilted his head.

His head?

Her head?

Its head?

Harry decided not to bother with Death's gender, and refer to it as male just to simplify his own life.

"I have no gender," Death said, matter-of-factly, "And I have no s.e.x -as I have no s.e.x.u.a.l organs, for I have no need for reproduction- But you can refer to me as a male if it makes you feel more comfortable, Champion."

Harry blinked. He was beginning to think that Death was not the most knowledgeable about humans.

"I'm not," the being said, "you weird little things are oddly resourceful but you make no sense."

'Wait a minute,' Harry thought, 'Can he hear what I'm thinking?'

"In this place," said Death, "Thinking is the same as saying."

"Oh," Harry thought, "Privacy breach much?"

Death tilted his head again. Somehow, Harry found himself likening Death to a puppy. Or Simba from the Lion King. Then he remembered that Death was an all-powerful being which could kill him just by wishing it.

"What is privacy?" Death asked. Legitimately Curious.

Harry looked at him incredulously but obliged, "Being apart from company or observation, it is a human right," he defined shortly.

"But I know everything about everyone in this realm?" Death said, before shrugging and muttering something along the lines of 'weird humans'.

Harry tried to clear his head and get back on track.

"So," he said, "I assume you have called me here for a reason. It is highly likely that you have some information to impart to me about what exactly I have to do as the 'Champion of Death' beyond the vague idea of being your enforcer."

"Smart Champion," Death said, as if he were talking to a dog, which Harry found a little condescending but also a teensy bit hilarious, considering he had been making the same comparison only a few minutes prior.

"So?" Harry prompted. Again.

"The Deathly Hallows," Death started on what seemed to be yet another completely random tangent, "Were all challenges. To have the Elder Wand but not succ.u.mb to the urge to boast. To know when to lay low and use my cloak of invisibility. To have the power to bring back the dead...but not to use it. Humility, Intelligence and Subtlety, and above all the belief that the dead belong to me, and me alone. Those are the qualities for which I have selected you."

Harry nodded. He had worked out that much himself.

"Give me the Hallows," Death said suddenly.

Harry obliged.

Death took The Stone, and The Wand, but returned The Cloak.

"Okay then," Harry commented.

*** End of Chapter