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The Search for Life and Death
By UmbraeCalamitas

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Category: Pre-OotP, Alternate Universe
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Romance
Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Mental Abuse, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Rape, Sexual Situations, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence, Violence/Physical Abuse
Rating: R
Reviews: 63
Summary: Harry and his friends have been dreaming of seven artifacts that, when brought together, can summon Life and Death. Voldemort seeks them so he can become immortal, and Dumbledore seeks them to stop Voldemort. When Harry and his friends are sent into another realm through their dreams to find these artifacts before both Voldemort and Dumbledore, they begin to unwittingly unleash old magics that have been thought lost to time, and awaken ancient creatures that would have been better off left sleeping. 5th year AU. Book One of Three.
Hitcount: Story Total: 87375; Chapter Total: 1796







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THE SEARCH FOR LIFE AND DEATH

Chapter XXV

The Team


"You're not focusing enough attention!" Zinnia let out an angry hiss as he leapt from the bed to Harry's end table. "How can you hope to bond if you cannot even focus your mind enough to find me?"

I'm trying! Harry thought loudly. Zinnia had explained that the reason he and Harry could speak mentally even though they weren't yet bonded was because baka neko, like all cats but especially magical cats, had some psychic ability. It was why they were so revered as familiars to witches, and so known to muggles as creatures of less than benevolent intentions. Harry only had to think loudly for Zinnia to catch his thoughts, and the cat, as he explained it, barely had to put forth any effort. His telepathic abilities were simply that strong.

"You've been trying for days now," Zinnia snapped at him. "Your mother managed in an hour what you have yet to even glimpse."

I'm not my mother!

"Clearly!"

Harry stood up abruptly from where he had been sitting on the bed and left the room, nearly running into Ginny, who was coming up the stairs.

"Hey, Harry, I wanted to see if you'd like to go flying for a bit?"

Harry, who had been getting more and more practice reading lips but still struggled quite a bit, managed to catch the gist of what she was asking. He nodded and went back to his trunk to fetch his Firebolt, then headed down toward the Common Room. As he wasn't looking behind him, he didn't see the glare Ginny sent Zinnia, or the way the cat turned around and lifted his tail into the air in a clearly rude gesture. With a huff, the redhead followed Harry down the stairs. They left for the Quidditch pitch together.

It had been a discussion for the night before whether or not Harry would be able to play on the team this year, due to the loss of his hearing. Professor McGonagall had summoned the entire team together in her office and admitted her own sense of uncertainty. Harry wanted to play, that had been made known within the first few minutes by the boy in question, but Madam Pomfrey had expressed her concerns to McGonagall and the Deputy Headmistress had some of her own.

"There's the team itself to consider," she said, her voice less stern than usual. "This is not a decision I feel right making on my own, as I generally allow you all to work things out on your own unless someone expressly comes to me. As you are no doubt aware, a team captain has not yet been chosen for this year."

This hadn't been noticed, as each player had been waiting for the new team captain, taking over the position from the newly-graduated Oliver Wood, to announce a practice or at least a meeting. None of them had considered that no one had yet been named captain.

"As my original choices for captain are no longer available, I would like to leave this decision up to you."

The team members looked around at each other, not certain what they wanted to do.

"Who was your choice, Professor?" Katie Bell asked.

McGonagall looked at Harry. "I was hoping Mister Potter would take up the position, but I'm afraid the role he would need to play would not be well fulfilled considering the circumstances."

Harry nodded, quickly writing in his journal "I don't know that much about Quidditch or making plays, anyway." Even if he had been able to speak and hear as well as he had the year prior, he didn't think he would have been comfortable in the position.

The Chasers revealed that all three of them would be busy this year with classes and testing and not all that comfortable with the idea of adding the Quidditch captaincy on top of it. McGonagall reluctantly looked at the twins, who both grinned eerily, before laughing.

"We're a bit like Harrikins in this," George said.

"Don't know about making plays too much."

"We just fly about-"

"-and smack a couple of balls around."

McGonagall, ignoring the gailing laughter of the twins, tried not to show her relief at avoiding handing either of them the captaincy. Unfortunately, that didn't leave them with any choices.

"We still need a new Keeper," Angelina pointed out. "Fred, didn't you say your brother's a fair Keeper?"

"Bit more than fair," George admitted. "Ronniekins has the makings of being a better Keeper than Oliver."

"Plus he knows more about Quidditch than anyone I've ever known," Fred added.

"And far too much about the Chudley Cannons."

McGonagall grimaced. "His horrible taste in professional teams aside, I'm wary of giving your brother the captaincy while he also holds his position as Prefect. Especially considering that his appointment to Prefect was an attempt to see if he can't be drawn into a higher standard of learning."

Fred and George shared a long look between them, appearing to Harry as though they were having a conversation that required no words. It took a moment before the two of them turned back to McGonagall with startlingly serious looks on their faces.

"Ron's seemed to have a bit of a change of heart-"

"And mind, dear brother."

"Yes, of course. He seems to have had a change of heart and mind this year, Professor. He's always been a bit lazy, we'll admit, but this summer he took far less prompting to finish his homework than he ever has before and to be honest…"

"Something's changed," George continued. "We're not entirely sure what prompted it, but he seems to have matured over the summer."

"Bit disappointing, really."

"I do agree."

"Boys," McGonagall interrupted.

"Right."

"What we're trying to say, Professor, is that if you give Ron a chance-"

"-he just might surprise you."

McGonagall nodded slowly. "I'll take that into consideration." She turned to Harry. "Our concerns for your safety are genuine, Mister Potter, so if the team agrees that they still want you to play, and if you're confident that you can without anymore harm to yourself than there was previously, and less so if you can manage it, Madam Pomfrey and I have agreed to give you a test. This Saturday, the entire team will be brought out to the Quidditch field to face a test to see if it is safe for you to continue to play. During that time, you may also test any Keepers who wish to sign up for the position. I will personally be placing a sign in the Common Room. Do you have any questions?"

Harry had been out flying a few times with Ginny, Ron, and even the twins. When Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all occupied, Hermione would often sit in the stands with a book while they were flying. Harry felt at peace astride his Firebolt, zipping through the air at insane speeds, making sharp turns and tearing across the Quidditch field. As much fun as he had, and as much ease with which he flew, Harry failed to take into consideration the additional dangers Quidditch offered. For that reason, he was completely unprepared when Saturday dawned bright and clear, the weather perfect for flying, and the test proceeded as planned, where he was deemed unfit to play.

"I'm sorry, Mister Potter," McGonagall had said, shaking her head, "but without the ability to detect the bludgers, it's just not safe."

Harry was walking briskly back toward the castle, trying to contain his disappointment. He was gripping his Firebolt tightly, as though not being able to play Quidditch might result in the broom being taken away from him. He was unaware of his friends chasing after him, Ron calling his name uselessly, until the redhead grabbed his shoulder and Harry jerked around, startled.

Ron was talking, but he was talking too fast for Harry's mediocre ability to read lips to be of any use. He felt a rush of self-pity, wondering what else would be taken away from him, and then anger at Uncle Vernon for doing this to him. But that faded too and Harry was left with stinging eyes and blurry vision as he tried to wipe the tears away before anyone else noticed. Ron had stopped talking and Harry looked at him as he replaced his glasses.

"I'm not playing."

Harry's eyes went wide. That, he had read clearly on Ron's lips. He mouthed "Why?," certain that it would pass clearly.

Ron shook his head and reached for Harry's journal, which he passed over. In his sloppy script, Ron wrote "Why would I want to play without my best friend?"

Harry grabbed the journal back. "Ron, you have to play. I know you want to."

"No, I bloody well don't!" Ron shouted, before Harry had even handed the journal over.

Frustrated that he couldn't respond verbally, that he had to write everything down and so delay it, Harry scribbled in his journal as words appeared in a script he wasn't completely familiar with.

"Hey, I have an idea."

Harry turned, confused, to find Ginny coming from the direction of the castle. In her arms was a very unhappy Zinnia, the baka neko's ears pinned flat to its head and its long tail slashing back and forth through the air.

"Now," Ginny's script appeared across the journal, "if you can't be nice, you can at least be useful."

"Despicable human girl!" Zinnia hissed.

"Whoa!" came Ron's voice, echoing in Harry's mind and his eyes widened. "How can I hear him?"

"Baka neko are telepathic," Ginny's voice informed. "Which means he can act as a link between our minds and let us all talk like this."

"Don't get used to it," Zinnia snarled. "Cats never do this for humans. You want something like this, then learn how to do it yourself!"

"Be nice," Ginny said, squeezing the cat a little tighter, "or I'll give you a bath."

Zinnia let out a huff but they continued to be able to hear each others' voices. "What did you mean learn it yourself?" Hermione asked.

Harry, however, didn't think that was important right now. He turned to his best friend. "Ron, you have to play on the team. You're the best Keeper that tried."

"I'm not playing without you. It's bollocks you can't play!"

"Ronald! Language!"

"Ron, I… I can't hear the bludgers," Harry said. "The only reason I wasn't knocked off my broom was because Fred was watching me like a hawk. If he hadn't intercepted that bludger, I'd be in the Hospital Wing, and this was just a practice! In the middle of the game, they can't watch me like that. And- And I can still fly." He hefted his Firebolt. "We'll just have to take time to fly around sometimes, and I can watch the games. Maybe…" He shook his head. "I don't want to lose Gryffindor the House Cup because I needed Fred or George to guard me. I'm okay with it."

He wasn't, not really. Oh, he wanted Ron to play, he wasn't lying about that, but he really wanted to play too. He'd been on the team since first year, the only year he couldn't play being the previous, but he had expected that he'd be back to Quidditch this year and now…

Just once he'd like to gain something that didn't come at a huge cost, but having Ron so outraged on his behalf that he didn't want to play on the team… it was selfish but it made Harry feel better. And he knew he'd feel even better if Ron played and helped Gryffindor take the House Cup this year. He wouldn't be alone just watching, anyway.

"Besides, McGonagall's thinking about making you Team Captain."

Ron's eyes went wide. "What?!"

"Yeah." Harry grinned. "''Course, you'll have to keep your grades up and take your Prefect duties seriously, but Fred and George said you'd matured this year and she should give you a chance to prove it."

Ron stared at Harry, as though waiting for the catch, because surely Fred and George were using Harry to prank him, but Harry's smile was sincere.

"The captaincy…" Ron swallowed. "Are you sure, Harry? Because if you're not… if you don't want me to play, I won't."

"I want you to play, Ron. I want you to be the best Keeper that Gryffindor House has ever seen."

"I think I can do that. Thanks, Harry."

Harry smiled. "You bet, Ron. Let's go talk to McGonagall, all right?"

McGonagall was mildly disappointed in Ron for rushing off in the middle of her talking to him, but his reasoning became clear and she didn't take points. She spoke to him about the captaincy, the others standing some distance away to offer privacy, but surreptitiously reading the conversation in Harry's journal. They'd decided to keep the neat trick of mind linking through Zinnia a secret, although Hermione's mind was only very vaguely on the journal as she considered what branch of magic could help them communicate despite Harry's disability.

When Ron came back to join them, he was very nearly skipping.

"I'm Captain," he hissed fiercely through the link. "Bloody hell!"

Hermione, too deep into her considerations, or leaving off him in a sort of quiet congratulations, didn't reprimand Ron for his language. Harry and Ginny offered their own congratulations.

"Ginny," Ron said, turning to his little sister, his face a mask of seriousness that would later be known as his Captain Face, "are you going to try out for Seeker?"

Ginny looked at Harry, uncertain. Rather than jealous, however, he appeared interested. "You play Seeker?"

"I'm a better Chaser," she admitted.

"All right, enough!" Zinnia shouted, interrupting Ron's claims about Ginny's Quidditch abilities. "I'm not going to be the reason for this useless conversation continuing. Put me down and find someone else to maul!" He kicked his rear paws, scratching Ginny's arm. With a cry, she dropped him and he bolted for the castle.

"Ow," Ginny muttered, bending her arms up so she could see the deep scratches. Blood began to run down her arms and she pulled her rolled-up robe sleeves down and pressed them tightly to catch the blood. "I'm going to the Hospital Wing."

I'm sorry, Ginny, Harry tried to say, but the link was gone. He signed the apology quickly but she flapped her hand in dismissal.

"Not your fault. When are Seeker tryouts, Ron?"

Her brother's eyes widened. "Right. Um… I'll put a sign up, yeah? I have to go talk to the team. Will you…"

"I'll be fine. Go, go." She waved him off.

Harry grinned at his friend and moved over by Ginny, signifying that he would be going with her to the Hospital Wing.

Ron's shoulders eased slightly and he nodded. Hermione, who had been very quiet while she was thinking, grabbed Ron's arm. "Come on, Captain. You have to talk to your troops." She waved at Ginny and Harry, who shared a grin as she led Ron back to the Quidditch team. Harry and Ginny headed off to the castle to get Ginny's arms fixed up.


Harry was trying very hard to be happy for Ron, he really was. He even hoped Ginny would do well in the Seeker tryouts on Tuesday. He wanted Gryffindor to win the House Cup, but Harry also wanted to be the one to catch the Snitch.

He was sitting by the lake, arms wrapped around his knees. He wanted to be happy for his friends. It was great that Ron was Captain. Harry didn't want that job. And he was glad that he had made Keeper - he had been the best of the three applicants. Ginny was small and quick on a broom, two characteristics that made a good Seeker. Harry couldn't think of anyone else that he would rather take the spot, but he didn't think he could go to tryouts and watch people try out for the spot he'd been playing since first year.

Harry ran his hands through his hair and pressed his forehead against his knees. Why? Why couldn't he hear? He knew Uncle Vernon had beat him badly, but why did it have to affect his hearing? If it was just his voice, Harry could deal with it. He didn't need to talk.

He lifted his arms in front of his face, watching as his hands shook with intermittent tremors. He felt the sting behind his eyes as tears slid down his cheeks. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't Madam Pomfrey, who had been able to fix everything before, not be able to fix this?

What was he going to do now? He couldn't play Quidditch. He couldn't speak. He couldn't hear. Any chances he'd had of being an Auror were gone now. If he couldn't play Quidditch because he couldn't hear the Bludgers coming, they'd never let him go up against dark wizards. What was he supposed to do?

Harry wiped the tears from his cheeks and wrapped his arms back around his knees, shivering from more than just the shaking of his hands.


Sirius stared gloomily out of the window from his perch on top of the kitchen table. He had pushed the table through the living room and up against the largest window in Remus' quaint cottage so he could sit comfortably on its surface and gaze outside. It did little to shake his morose thoughts.

It was so damn quiet in this house!

He'd tried to keep himself busy, but there was only so much he could do. Remus didn't spend a great amount of time in this cottage, so while there were books (of course there were books, this was Remus), they weren't up to date and many of them were old school texts that he had kept and which Sirius had already read. He'd conjured himself a record player in an attempt to fill the house with music but his thoughts simply overrode his hearing and he found himself slipping back in time to days gone by and losses long lost.

Remus didn't have a television and Sirius didn't know enough about the internal components of one to perform a conjuring spell. He'd tried talking to himself but that just made him sound crazy, and nervous because he sounded crazy, and he'd stopped.

Gripping his hair in his hands, Sirius looked at the calendar on the wall. Time was up for the potion and Remus would be coming to meet him. He'd said not to leave until he got back and Sirius was fine to wait, he was fine. The cupboards were stocked and maybe he could reread Remus' sixth year charms text. That would keep him busy while he waited for Remus to finish up talking to Dumbledore about whatever happened in the Realm of Dreams and then he would come to the cottage and they could… do whatever. Sirius didn't care what, so long as there was someone else here to talk to.

It was just too damn quiet in this house!


Kingsley Shacklebolt believed in doing what was needed to keep the world on this side of hell. There was no stopping the world from going to shit. Too much greed, too much hate, a whole slew of people who were sure they knew how the world should be working and who would do anything to make it into the world they believed was right. Kingsley would never admit to knowing what was right, but he knew what was wrong. Murdering people who couldn't defend themselves was wrong. Standing idly by while people murdered innocents who couldn't defend themselves was wrong. Working for a vigilante group to combat people who murdered defenseless innocents was probably wrong, he was willing to admit, but when a massive war killed so many people and there was evidence that it wasn't over yet, just postponed…

Sometimes you had to do the wrong thing to do the right thing.

Albus Dumbledore was a good man trying to do the right thing, but Kingsley was aware that he had faults. Albus didn't trust other people to know as much as he did. He didn't trust them with the information that he had on hand and so he told them only what he thought they needed to know in order to get them to do what he needed them to do. Albus Dumbledore was a man playing a game of chess and everyone around him was a piece he was manipulating. He cared about them, of that Kingsley was sure, but he manipulated them just the same. It was perhaps worse because he cared about them, and because that made people care about him.

Kingsley shared information that he got from his job as an Auror with the Order of the Phoenix. What Albus didn't know was that Kingsley shared the information he gained from the Order with his superior, Amelia Bones.

The Order of the Phoenix wasn't quite as secret as Albus Dumbledore thought it was.

"It's nice to see you back, Shacklebolt," Director Bones said from behind her large oak desk. She folded her hands on the desk in front of her. "Did you enjoy your vacation?"

Kingsley smiled tightly. "I spent it sleeping."

"Indeed. I'm surprised to see you. You weren't due back until Monday."

"Perhaps I missed you," he said as he sat down.

Director Bones laughed, a sound that the majority of her aurors would be surprised to hear, but she and Kingsley went way back.

"What do you have for me?"

"The majority of those who took the potion for Albus Dumbledore have awoken."

"The majority?" Amelia asked. "Not all of them?"

"It appears that there were some complications. Remus Lupin has not yet woken. It is believed that his lycanthropy has somehow interfered with the potion and locked him in a comatose state.

"William and Charlie Weasley and Severus Snape are awake, for the moment. The potion reacted adversely to their Occlumency abilities and left them with a narcoleptic reaction. They're waiting a few days to be certain they aren't still affected before releasing them back to their jobs."

"My niece will be happy to hear that," Amelia said. "I've heard horror stories about Severus Snape's teaching methods."

Kingsley chuckled. "Having met him, I daresay they're not exaggerated. The man's skills as a Potions Master are unparalleled, but he has the worst social skills I have ever seen. Why Dumbledore believes he's a fit man to be put in charge of children, I will never know."

Amelia hummed in agreement, leaning back in her seat. "All that aside, how did the actual mission go?"

"With varying results. Whatever we were meant to find, I saw nothing." He shook his head. "I didn't even encounter anyone. The same wasn't reported by the others, though. We were meant to be facing up against Voldemort's lackeys?"

Amelia nodded that she remembered him telling her this before.

"Some of the others admitted to running afoul of not only a known Death Eater, but also a second individual."

Amelia sat up straight in her seat. "There's a third party we were unaware of?

Kingsley nodded. "No one could place faces to anyone that we might know. Worse still, Dumbledore looked flabbergasted when he was told. Whoever else is working on finding these artifacts, we don't know a thing about them, what their aim is, or…"

Amelia rubbed her face tiredly with a hand. "Or whose side they're on."

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