Harry Potter and the Master of Death [Complete]

Chapter Three - The Reaper

Harry and Ron arrived to find Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley and Camila Crumblehorn standing in the hallway looking grim. The crowd of Wizards who had been trying to blast their way through the door had been sent away, the only evidence of their efforts was the black sooty marks their spells had left on the dark mahogany, a pungent cinnamon smell in the air and a slightly melted doorknob. Arthur placed a fatherly hand on Harry's shoulder and gave it a squeeze as Kingsley quickly launched into a short recap of events.

This was the second time Arthur had heard the story and he still couldn't believe it. "You're sure it came out of the veil and not around it, Mrs. Crumblehorn?" He asked.

The tiny woman in the oversized gray cardigan looked somewhat offended. "I know what I saw. The Grim Reaper himself came through that arch, 'tis for certain." She said, her slight Scottish accent sounded high and brittle like dry leaves blowing across the pavement. She crossed her arms over her bosom defiantly and glared at Arthur from beneath her thining bluish-silver hair.

Harry gave her a questioning look. "Did you say the Grim Reaper?" He asked incredulously.

"Aye," She snapped, clearly insulted. "That's what I said! 'Twas death himself that came through that veil. My heart gave such a flutter... I thought it was my time. Wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake? Only two weeks from retirement and all! But then he passed me by. I'll tell you this..."

Kingsley stepped in, cutting her off. "Thank you, Mrs. Crumblehorn. We appreciate your time. You can go back to your duties."

"Oh, I see." She said haughtily and marched away without another word.

"The Grim Reaper... what a load of dragon poo!" Ron said in disgust, once she was out of earshot.

Harry ignored him and turned to look at Arthur. "Do you think that's possible, Mr. Weasley?"

Arthur glanced at Kingsley and gave Harry's shoulder another squeeze. "I don't know, Harry. It seems unlikely, but..."

"Then it could still be in there..." Harry said. "Stand back." He turned to face the door and before the others could stop him, Harry made a sweeping circular motion with his wand. The door swung open and all four men jumped back, wands at the ready.

The office looked exactly as he had left it, perhaps tidier if anything. Kingsley and Mr. Weasley stepped in first, looking all around nervously. Harry and Ron followed, but it was obvious that if there had been an intruder... he, she or it was long gone.

Harry quickly rummaged through his desk, but nothing was amiss. The same was true with his filing cabinet and the few personal items scattered around the room. The pictures of his parents, Dumbledore and Sirius Black still smiled happily from their frames.

To his amazement, Fawkes sat comfortably on his perch with his head tucked under one wing fast asleep. After Voldemort's defeat, Harry had moved into 12 Grimmauld Place, only to find the bird perched at the foot of his bed. The Phoenix seemed to have chosen him as its new owner and with the death of Hedwig, Harry was glad to have a new companion. Fawkes was even willing to deliver Harry's correspondence as an added bonus.

Harry began going through his belongings to see if anything was missing. He racked his brain trying to remember everything he had in his desk drawers and cabinets. Harry wasn't a packrat by any means. When you spend your formative years living in a tiny cupboard under the stairs you learn to keep clutter to a minimum. Still, he wondered if he could even be sure if anything had been taken.

Sadly, his fears were unfounded. It was Ron who finally opened Harry's old school trunk and began calling out its contents in a bored tone.

"Couple o' pairs of socks, one of my mums Christmas sweaters, a picture of you, me and Hermione, some letters and an old issue of the Daily Prophet. That sound right, Harry?" He asked.

"Feel around in the bottom, Ron. The cloaks in there too." Harry whispered back from under his desk.

Ron reached in and felt all around the bottom of the trunk. "Are you sure, Harry? I don't feel anything..." said Ron.

Harry jumped up and joined him at the trunk, patting the bottom, sides, and lid frantically.

"It's gone! I know it was in here!" Harry muttered, upending the trunk and looking all around.

Ron Grimaced. "Bloody Hell..." he said, a little too loudly.

Kingsley and Arthur had been searching through Harry's filing cabinet and came over to see what was going on.

"What is it, son?" Arthur asked Ron worriedly. Harry could hear the strain in his voice, though he tried to cover it with an artificially light air. Arthur had just suffered the loss of one son, and he had been keeping Ron close ever since they had been reunited after the death of Voldemort.

Before Ron could answer, Harry jumped in, "I had a hundred Galleons in this trunk, Mr. Weasley. Now it's gone..." It was a pathetic lie and from the look Arthur and Kingsley shared, they didn't believe a word of it. Harry wasn't sure why he didn't want to tell them the cloak was missing. They both knew he had received it from Dumbledore in his first year at Hogwarts, but something told him he should keep its disappearance to himself, at least for now.

Kingsley stared first at Ron and then at Harry, waiting to see if one of them would crack. Finally, he spoke, his deep voice slow and serious. "Only the one hundred Gallions is missing and nothing more?"

Harry stared back into Kingsley's eyes. "That's right, sir." He could feel his insides twisting as he lied to his friend. But why was he lying? Was this how he would spend the rest of his life, trusting no one but himself?

Their eyes were still locked and it was plain on Kingsley's face that he knew that Harry was lying. Harry looked away, breaking the spell and glanced over at Arthur Weasley. The man, who was like a father to him, looked sad and disappointed and Harry felt horrible.

During this exchange, Ron had stared at his shoes uncomfortably and said nothing. Now he coughed and rocked back on his heels. Harry imagined this was Ron's attempt to look innocent but the bright pink hue around his ears gave him away as usual.

"You two are Aurors now, you work for the Ministry... and for me," Kingsley said sternly. "Are you sure there isn't something else you want to tell us?"

"No, nothing." Said Harry in a voice that sounded far more confident than he felt.

Kingsley and Arthur shared a look. "Alright," Kingsley said. "But remember, we are a team here at the Ministry. We need to be able to rely on one another... trust one another. If we can't do that, then we're no good to anyone."

Harry and Ron nodded silently, and Kingsley turned quickly with a flash of purple robes and walked out of the office without another word. Arthur approached them, he put a hand on each of their shoulders and smiled weakly. "Remember, if you ever need me... I will always be here to help. All you have to do is ask." He said quietly and gave their shoulders a quick squeeze before he too left.

Ron let out a huge breath once the door closed behind his father and slumped into an overstuffed armchair in the corner of the office.

"Blimey," he said. "If guilt was magic those two could have beat 'you know who' with their wands tied behind their backs!"

Harry shook his head at Ron. "Voldemort's dead Ron, you don't have to call him 'You know who' anymore."

Ron looked indignant. "Well, you know how it is Harry, old habits die hard. Besides, why tempt fate?"