Master of Death

Chapter I

A/N: This is beginning as Harry defeats Voldemort.

It was finally time. There were no more Horcruxes, only Tom Riddle, or the part that was left of him, anyway. Harry felt a new surge of confidence as he faced his lifelong nemesis.

"You'll never defeat me with that wand," he said confidently.

"And why is that?" Voldemort did his best to sneer, but it was obvious that he was curious.

"You didn't win it, not from Severus and not from anyone else. You didn't buy, steal, find or win it, so it will never work for you," Harry grinned triumphantly.

"And you would happen to have any explanation for such far-fetched fantasies, obviously."

"Of course. That wand last belonged to Albus Dumbledore. The night he died, someone else won the wand. Draco Malfoy disarmed him long before Snape ever got there. That means, that of that moment, the wand recognized Malfoy as its master," Harry paused for breath. "Had you ever thought of that, ever once suspected anyone but Snape, you could have been its true master. But you didn't. You've lost your chance now. I disarmed Malfoy weeks ago. I am the master of that wand, and it just comes down to whether the wand knows that Malfoy was disarmed."

At once, red and gold sparks erupted into the air, forming a shield around Harry and Voldemort. As his eyes finally began to adjust to the bright light, Harry heard the high pitched voice shriek, and thus, he too, shouted his best hope to have the heavens:

"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"

The Elder Wand flew in a graceful arc through the air, just as Voldemort's pitiful body shattered into innumerable fragments. Harry caught the wand triumphantly.

Just as the wand touched his fingers, he felt an odd sensation, like his inner muscles were vibrating, and the surroundings changed. He was no longer in front of the whole school, but somewhere unknown.

Everything he could see was murky, black or grey, a dull and eerie sight. He could tell that this was probably a marsh or swamp, despite never being to one before. The leafless trees swayed their dead branches in what would seem to be wind, though there wasn't so much as a breeze. Just when Harry was about to decide that he was hallucinating, something moved in the marsh.

He took a small step forward uncertainly. After what he had been through in the past seven years, it was almost guaranteed that curiosity led to dangerous places, being alone was just about committing suicide, and a combination of both was more than just lethal.

Still, he moved softly, quietly to the edge of the marsh, even though every voice of reason in his head urged him not to. It was, after all, to be expected. The ringleader of the Marauders was his father, and his two most loyal friends were his godfathers. He himself had been named godfather to the more quiet Marauder's son. His mother had been the epitome of curiosity, hence her excellence in Potions and Charms. His best mate could find a question in every little happening, and his sister-figure was one who tried to sate her curiosity with knowledge. The only others he had been truly close to were the twin pranksters, and their sister. If they weren't curious, then it would be accurate enough to say that curiosity itself did not exist.

The marsh began to froth as he approached it, and a tall, hooded figure rose from it. The first thought that came to Harry, who had frozen to the spot as the figure practically grew out of the pungent, murky depths, was that it was a Dementor. What else could it be... but he himself dispelled that thought, as the thing began to move slowly, almost cautiously, towards him.

Towering at roughly fifty feet in height, this thing was much larger, almost double the size of the full grown giants that Voldemort had recruited into his army. It's hands weren't exactly skeletal, like those of a Dementor, though they seemed to be made of the same bone. It turned to face him, though he only knew that because now its dark, eerie hood was directed straight at him.