Chapter Text
Dumbledore looked at the people surrounding him in the large dining room at headquarters. So few of them left. The four Potters, James, Lily, Rose and Violet, were sitting together. Ted and Andromeda Tonks and their daughter Nymphadora. Narcissa Malfoy and her daughter Vega, who surprisingly had turned up at 12 Grimmauld place seeking protection from The Dark Lord after Voldemort killed Draco and Lucius for failing him. Diana Granger and her sister Hermione. All the Weasleys were there. Minerva McGonagall looking like she had lost everything in the world.
“We can’t win against them.” James was saying. “They can amass more people and use the darkest of magics against us. There are things that are so evil I can’t even bring myself to think about using it against another human.”
“I understand James.” Dumbledore replied. “I might have one last idea. I need to read a book in the library, Andromeda. Please bring me in there.”
“But what are you looking for Albus?”
“I am hoping to make a deal with a friend that I have staved off for too long a time I think.”
“Albus what are you talking about?” asked Lily. “What friend?”
“Perhaps nothing my dear. Perhaps everything.”
Andromeda Tonks led Dumbledore to the library and took him through the wards meant to keep anybody not of House Black out of certain books.
I’ll need the shelf along the back wall.”
“Those are the books even my uncle wouldn’t touch, Albus. You think what you’re looking for is there?”
“As sure as I am that I asked your Grandfather to put it there so I was not tempted by the power it could give me. And as sure as I am that it may be the only thing to save us. I only hope that it is not a case of using a dragon to protect us from the nundu.”
The older witch watched as the champion of the light began looking through books that just looking at gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach. The further through the shelf he went the worse a feeling she got.
“Ah-ha! There you are.” Albus pulled a heavy book from the shelf. “I had hoped to never look at you again. Far too many temptations. But when you find yourself surrounded with no good options you may as well use the option that will be a hell of a ride.” The old man gave a tired chuckle. He set the book on the reading desk and started to flip through the pages. As he read the descriptions he quickly discarded the first few rituals.
“Albus? What are you thinking of?”
“Desperate measures for desperate times. Ah. I thought it was in this one.” Looking over his shoulder Andromeda’s eyes got big as she read the name of the ritual, Advocans Famulum Mortis
As he read the instructions Albus mumbled under his breath. “Straight forward summoning circle… Red chalk… four red candles… five white candles… one black candle. A room with natural light. That’s a bit odd for one of these. ‘Begin that it is complete ere sol crosses it’s zenith’. That’s clear enough. Petals from five different flowers. Activated with the blood of 5 maidens freely given… I think it’s just a sprinkling not all of it. Once the arrangements are made… complete the summoning by extinguishing the red candles followed by the black candle with the blood of the negotiator. Hopefully that just means a few drops as well. I suppose making the deal is what is truly the hard part.”
“Albus.” Andromeda hissed as she spun him around. “What in the name of Morgana do you think you’re doing?”
“With any luck bargaining with a servant of death for a boon. I only hope that I can get a decent deal.”
“For what?”
“Nothing I am not willing to give so that others may live long and safe lives.” Albus shuffled toward the door of the library as if the weight of the world was riding on his shoulders.
Deciding that the best room for the ritual would be the front parlor, Kreature was employed to remove everything from the floor. Several inhabitants of the house were set to work cleaning decades of dust and dirt from the room so that no contaminants would get into the summoning circle.
“What are you filthy half bloods and blood traitors doing to my sitting room? Bring back my furniture you filth.”
“Madam we are trying to lay out a summoning circle so that we may hopefully get some help to win this war. A war that has killed most of your family! I need to make sure this circle is properly done or the last thing you will see is this house being burnt down around you! Now shut UP!”
Everyone working on the room had stopped to stare at Albus, as he lost his temper for the first time in anyone’s memory.
“You needn’t be so rude, young man.” the painting said in clipped tones. Looking around the room her eyes squinted into a corner where Tonks was cleaning. “Nymphadora dear you missed a spot.”
Dora spun around to glare at the portrait, her hair turning a flaming red. “I wonder if I can still get some muggle paint stripper and turn her into a flammable residue? I’m sure dad has some in the basement.”
“I believe I will be quiet for the time being.” came the response from a scared looking picture.
Everyone chuckled and got back to work.
Working from the inside to the outside Albus drew the summoning circle. It looked like a five pointed star in a circle. Inside another star in another circle. The smaller star points were touching the corners of the pentagon of the bigger star. On the smaller star were four red candles and a black candle furthest from where Dumbledore would be performing the ritual. At the points of the large star were five white candles. Between the points were small piles of flower petals.
“Alright ladies if you would take your places at the flower petals we will start the summoning.”
Tonks, Hermione, Diana, Vega, and Ginny stepped to position in line with their chosen petals and each held ritual daggers in their hands. All looked nervous about what they were trying to do.
“Please remember to only make the cut and drip the blood when I nod my head at the end of each line.”
“Yes, Headmaster, we understand.” said Hermione. “We drip the blood following the unicursal path of a star. Once the incantation is done the wounds should heal on their own instantly. And we must stay standing in place as the bargaining takes place. If an outcome is agreed upon we extinguish the candles to our right and that ends the ritual.”
Dumbledore began the chant beginning the ritual. As each line ended, he gave a nod. As the blood dropped onto the petals a candle on each of the stars lit on its own. The black candle was the last to light. The outer circle and star glowed a soft white. As Albus read the final line of the ritual the inner circle glowed an angry red.
“Finally someone calls for aid in a good way.” said the figure that appeared. “It has been centuries since I have been called like this. What have you need of?” The dark hooded figure faced Dumbledore from the center of the inside circle while leaning on a staff. The glowing yellow eyes cast enough light to illuminate the skull in the shadows.
“We come to ask assistance of your master. We fear that if we fail in our endeavors to win this war evil will spread through the world and destroy mankind itself.”
“So you wish the aid of the Master of Death to help you win this war? Death will come to all of you at some time. Why do you wish to fight against what is natural?”
“Many have died before they have had a chance to live. Parents have laid their children in graves and that in and of itself is not natural. Yes death will come for us all in our own time, but to die of old age, surrounded by loved ones is normal. Far better than innocents being senselessly killed in battle.”
“So,...You’re looking for a warrior of death… to fight with you till the war is over?”
Dumbledore was feeling a bit confused about what was happening. Mostly because the servant of death that had been summoned seemed confused as well.
“Yes that was the general idea.”
“And what was to happen to the warrior after the war?”
“Well I assume they would go back to where they came from. Wouldn’t he?”
The cloaked figure raised his hand to his face. If there had been skin on the bones he would have been rubbing the bridge of his nose trying to stave off a headache.
“Can I see the ritual that you used to get me here?”
With a confused look on his face Dumbledore turned to Minerva McGonagall and held out his hands for the book. He turned the pages till he got to the right spot and turned it so the being could read it.
“OK there’s part of the problem. The name is mistranslated. It’s not supposed to be Advocans Famulum Mortis. That means Summoning the Servant of Death. It should read Voca Servum, Mortem. Summon the Servant, Death. Punctuation is so important. Also for what you wanted it should have been the dried petals of flowers like the black dahlia, aconite, snapdragon, rhododendrons, and tansies. Those are for declaring war on someone. That would have summoned a spirit of death to bargan for a death warrior. As it is you used fresh petals of gardenia, alstromeria, orchid, sunflower, and tulip. So what you did was a ritual to summon Death, to ask for his masters assistance. And at the end he would be bound to this world and not sent back to his old one. Do you see the differance?”
“So you are Death?”
“Yes.”
“And the warrior would be a living being brought to this world.”
“He would be a warrior that sees his life as having no meaning anymore and wants to leave his world behind. There are a few like that. All they wanted was peace but the cost of that peace was too much so they go off and cease to exist. The Deaths of the various dimensions work to find places for them to go. Where they can get a do over or even just live the life they deserve.”
“I seem to be missing something. You said you came to bargain for your masters assistance what living being is the master of death?”
“You should know Albus. You’ve been trying to become one for the last eighty-seven years.”
“Merlin’s Beard.”
“Indeed. So long as his bonded remain, he will remain.”
“What bonded?”
“The ones that volunteered for the ritual. I am sure they will live a long time quite happily once the fighting is over.”
As the words sank in the “maidens” and their families broke out in shouts of anger and disbelief.
“WHAT ARE YOU...”
“I’M NOT GOING...”
“MY DAUGHTER ISN’T...”
“WE’VE LOST TOO MUCH...”
“NO I’M FUCKING...”
As Diana began to turn out of the circle Death slammed the butt of his staff into the floor causing a loud report to echo through the room. The sound drew all eyes to him. His cloak was waving in an unfelt breeze. The staff had become the trademark scythe of death.
“DO NOT MOVE! If any of you leave the circle before it is time I must take all your souls. Such is the path demanded of the ritual. Poorly and incompletely translated as it might be it is demanded by the demons who wrote it.”
“Demons?” squeaked out Dumbledore.
“Yes. Beings that travel from other dimensions. Some are horrific, others look like your neighbors. Not all are evil, nor are all good.”
“So what language was it originally written in?” Hermione asked half to herself.
“The demonic language for their dimension. Which was translated into Etruscan, I believe. From what I can make of this one it appears to have been translated then into Greek, and then Latin with some things left off or just not needed for what the translator needed it for so it was discarded. Or possibly the translator assumed the reader would know the variations. It is quite the fascinating study if you look closely...”
“Could we get back on point?” Dumbledore said impatiently.
Both Death and Hermione had embarrassed looks on their faces as they turned to Dumbledore.
“Sorry professor.”
“It’s so rare for me to have a decent intellectual discussion, but I do beg your pardon. Where were we... Oh yes bringing my master to aid you in your fight. What do you offer for my Masters assistance in planning and fighting in this war.”
“I offer up my life and my soul.” replied Dumbledore quietly.
“DONE!” shouted Death.
Before anyone could react Death swung his scythe at Dumbledore. A white light formed at the front of the robes that had been split down the middle. Shouts erupted from around them. The light shrank into a ball and impacted the elderly man’s flesh directly over his heart. Blue eyes went wide as the light seared into him. The smell of burnt flesh spread through the room. Dumbledore fell to his knees.
“I believe we have an accord. Once I have departed, seal the inner circle. Counting down from five as you do it.”
Dumbledore looked down at his chest and saw the brand that was put there. The symbol was familiar. A circle in a triangle with a line down the middle. A cold sweat had broken out on Dumbledore’s face. He looked back at the robed figure standing in front of him.
“This is one of my favorite robes. I suppose they will be nearly impossible to repair?”
“Please, it was hideous, besides, branding through clothing usually ends up infected. You have been marked as belonging to Death. No others may collect you. I return to you the life you have given to me. Use it wisely. When your time is used up I will collect your soul. The accounting of my life you live will decide what I do with it.” Turning towards each of the young ladies around the circle he spoke to them. “Each of you will bring something to my master. Please be understanding of him. He will need something you all can give without diminishing yourself. Farewell.”
With that the figure seemed to fold in on itself and disappear. Dumbledore brought a shaking hand holding a knife to his palm. And making a shallow cut began dripping onto the candles one at a time to extinguish them.
“Five... Four... Three... Two... One”