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eyelessfaces · 6 months

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blood will have blood

this fic is part of the better safe than sorry universe, but can be read on its own. it's still better if you have the whole context but it can be read in whatever order :]

summary: three years after your best friend’s death, you find out who killed her. revenge is clouding your mind, and poe is very much against the idea.

warnings: mentions of death, violence, war, murder. (barely descriptive) non sexual nudity, injuries

tags: uhh angst, as always. lots of. hurt/comfort, fluff, best bf poe<3

word count: 3k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

It wasn’t often that you talked about your trauma, about Her.

Poe knew you before she died, but you were barely acquaintances at the time, just a familiar face he sometimes ran into through the hallways, said hello to, giving you a smile for good measure.

There was this part of you, a part of void that he didn’t know, the person you were when she was still here.

And he didn’t want to know who you were before; he didn’t want to know because it didn’t matter to him, what you used to be, who you used to be.

It belonged to you and you only.

It was a more regular occurrence for you to wake up in the middle of the night, out of breath and panicked, clutching onto the bedsheets for grounding, Poe immediately reaching for you, still half asleep.

And Poe doesn’t have to ask, he doesn’t need to; he knows, he always does, and he holds you close, helps you steady your labored breaths, leaves light kisses at the top of your head until you fall back asleep.

No matter how long it takes, he always makes sure you're asleep first before he allows himself to drift back to sleep.

The only thing he knows about Her is the way she died.

You never talk about her, about who she used to be, not even when you’re drunk enough to not walk straight.

It’s like there were two different and distinct periods of your life; before and after her.

So when you burst in his quarters, her name being the first and only thing that comes out of your mouth as you point at him, immediately stopping what he is doing is a logical reflex.

Now that you have his attention, your agitation makes it so he can’t even decipher what you are trying to say.

He takes a hold of your wrists, stopping your hands movements and your incoherent blabbering, his eyebrows rising slightly, a quiet way of telling you to slow down.

For once, your roles are reversed.

You take a deep breath, looking down at your feet before looking back at Poe.

“She was someone’s mission. She didn’t die on the battlefield like I thought she did. They used that to cover it up.”

“What?” he frowns, carefully letting go of your wrists. “Tell me more.” he declares, putting his hands on his hips.

“After she died, they gave me her belongings, what was on her when it happened. Her accessories, what was in her pockets. I never opened the box they gave me because I knew I wouldn’t be able to look at it but…” you close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s been three years now and I thought I finally felt ready. And I found a letter. A letter that she said she always kept on her, just in case.” you explain, taking the crumpled piece of paper out from your pocket.

Poe doesn’t say anything as he looks down at the folded letter you’re handing him. He unfolds it, quickly skim reading it as you continue.

“Long story short, the letter says that she’s sorry, that she was doing shady stuff, had problems because of that and that she was being chased. There isn’t more, just some information on the one who might have done this” you continue, and he nods as he finishes where it is signed Lyz. He wasn’t used to hearing her name, even less seeing it.

“What do you have on whoever did this” he asks, handing you back the letter.

“I have her name” you mutter under your breath, carefully folding the messy letter before putting it back in your pocket. "Probably a fake one, I'd have to track her down. Good thing I have contacts in that field" you declare, cocking your head to the side.

“You’re planning on going after her?” he blurts out, his hand settling at your arm.

“Yeah,” you exhale as if it were obvious, looking up at him.

The look he’s giving you is saying everything, everything you already know. It’s a bad idea, it’s dangerous, it’s the most stupid idea you’ve ever had, and it’s coming from the recklessness champion.

“You–”

“Poe, Lyz saw me leave, it was the last thing she saw before she died. Her last moment was me abandoning her, walking away from her, so I owe her this.” you explain, your feelings feeding into your delusion, into your poor reasoning.

Poe closes his eyes for a second, mouth gaping slightly, speechless. He obviously can't let you do this, can’t let you go get yourself killed; can’t let you kill a woman like that because you suddenly discovered what only seems to be the truth three years later.

“Sweetheart this is– This is crazy. She’s probably experienced, probably received training for killing. You’re not even sure she’s truly the one who did this” he shakes his head, trying to dissuade you, guiding you to sit down on his couch.

“I’ll make her talk” you nod, and Poe’s expression softens instead of hardening when he realizes you’re serious, you actually want to do this. His hand slides to yours, his thumb softly rubbing back and forth over your knuckles. Maybe his touch would bring you back to reality, back to common sense, back to a place where you wouldn’t want to take revenge on something that was so vague and unsure.

“Baby… Maybe Lyz actually got killed by accident on the battlefield, maybe things didn’t happen the way they were supposed to for the people that were after her.”

“No.” you shake your head. “You don’t get it.” you exhale, your other hand covering his. “She knew she was in danger, she knew she was gonna be murdered, the battlefield was just a cover" you nod frantically, squeezing his hand. "I need to do this, Poe.”

He bites down on his lip as he looks at you, at how desperate and simultaneously determined you look. He knows that he can’t convince you, he knows you won’t listen, but he’s equally stubborn if not more – definitely more –, so he has to try.

“The Resistance needs you. I need you. You know I'd do anything for you and I’d support you through everything but this…” he frowns, shakes his head. “This is setting yourself up”

“So you don’t believe in me? You think I'm not capable of doing this?” you scoff in disbelief, getting up from the couch, walking around it.

“That's not what I said!” he huffs out as he stands up, following you. “But this is gonna be a long process, a draining process, and even if you succeed… It won't bring Lyz back. Killing whoever killed her won't make you feel better."

You sigh, looking at him, and you can see he's pleading with you, begging you not to do this, begging you to stay.

You love him, but you can't.

“I’ll know once it’s done.”

—

Poe has to implore you to go to bed almost every night, whether you're at your quarters or his.

If he wasn't here to help you take care of yourself, you would plan your way to revenge all night long, every night, straight up following with long work shifts.

Unbeknownst to you, Poe has also negotiated with Leia so your schedule can be lighter, your days less charged.

He knows your nights aren’t easy, he knows that even if you don't spend all night making plans for your revenge your mind can only think about it, keeping you awake.

It was extremely foolish of you to think that despite helping you take care of you, Poe would stick to and support your decision after your first conversation about it; he is more than persistent about trying to change your mind about all of this, but you are twice as determined to complete this task, whether he agrees or not.

You don’t tell him anything about how your research is going, about your progress; he must not know, he must not be aware of when you're planning on leaving, because you know damn well he will do anything in his power for it to not happen if he knows.

And the day he wakes up with your side of the bed empty and cold, he knows he has failed in trying to hold you back.

There’s a part of him that doesn’t believe it, that refuses to accept that he couldn't protect you, couldn’t hold you back.

It takes Poe longer than it should to come to terms with the fact that you’re really gone, even though deep down, he knows it.

And it's foolish, he knows it too.

He shouldn’t be looking for you all around the base, even in the most unlikely corners, hoping you would be there. He shouldn't ask everyone he runs into if they have seen you.

Even BB knows, the little droid heeling his master closely, beeping frantically, trying to reason him.

He knows as he types in the code to your quarters that he won’t find you there, that all there will be left of you is what you left behind.

Each day without you is another day of constantly wondering where you are, what you’re doing, if you’re still alive.

If you will ever come back.

Each morning where he wakes up with your side of the bed cold and empty reminds him of how he failed to hold you back and potentially allowed you to go get yourself killed.

His commander status might grant him the distraction of long days of work with barely any possibility to get five minutes to breathe, but even then, his concern for you is still manifesting itself through an incessant buzzing in the back of his head, all the time.

The worry dwells in his mind, attached to any other thought, and now he knows how you feel when he’s the one to leave, when he’s the one determined to run straight to danger.

At night, he's only able to sleep peacefully when it's in your bed, where he feels closest to you. He dreads the moment when your things will no longer smell of you, and that will undeniably happen at some point.

Poe doesn’t know what to say when he’s asked where you are, why you suddenly left; only your closest friends vaguely know, and he’s not sure what to say to the others.

“Family matter”, he responds. It’s vague, it’s interpreted as a sensitive topic, it doesn’t bring any more questions. And it’s partially true, somehow.

Poe’s heart truly breaks when he realizes your absence even affects BB-8.

The droid nudges his foot, beeping sadly, and Poe sighs softly as he kneels down to level his companion, chewing on his bottom lip as he gently rubs the droid’s upper part.

"I know buddy, I miss her too." he whispers, a weak, bittersweet smile growing over his lips.

He knows you’re doing okay, wherever you are.

If he has no hope in this, he has nothing else left.

—

Poe tosses and turns in his own bed, opening his eyes after a few hours of only being half asleep, between both realms. Which might arguably be more exhausting than just being awake, battling trying to find sleep.

He can also faintly hear BB-8 beeping from afar, and he’s now sure that it’s not a semi-dream – he has to find out what’s going on, before chugging a glass of water and heading back to bed, hoping it would go better for the rest of his night.

Poe tiredly rubs a hand over his eyes and follows the lead of beeping sounds of his droid, and just as he’s about to call out for him and ask what’s the matter, his heart drops when he arrives in the living area of his quarters.

You, knelt down to BB’s level, smiling joyfully at the droid rolling on himself and beeping cheerfully.

Poe calls your name in a disbelieving whisper, convinced it’s just a dream, convinced that this is this half-asleep state playing with his mind, pulling at the strings of his deepest worries to make him falsely hope everything’s back to being alright.

You look up at him at the faint sound of his voice, an exhausted smile drawing over your face, despite everything you have seemed to endure; Poe notices all the cuts and bruises over your face, even in the darkness of the room.

You get up, with difficulty. Poe hurries to you and helps you up, still not fully convinced that you’re here in front of him, still convinced that it’s his brain playing a sick joke on him.

“Hey,” you breathe out, and Poe shakes his head softly before taking you in his arms, clutching you as tight as possible, still careful not to hurt you. His hand cradles the back of your head, his face burying between your shoulder and neck as he breathes you in, relishing in the fact that it’s all real.

“Tell me you’re really home” he demands as you chuckle and fist your hands tighter into his sleeping shirt.

“I am.”

Poe breaks and cries softly, can’t help the tears of relief from escaping, doesn’t even bother trying to hide it from you. It doesn’t even cross his mind, that's not what matters.

When Poe looks back at you he sniffles softly, settles a hand at your cheek, and wipes away your tears as he softly smiles at you as his own last tears run down his cheeks.

You can feel his eyes roaming along your face, observing each and every new detail – injury –, his gaze softening as he pushes away a strand of your hair to reveal a deep cut on your temple.

"We need to get you a medic." he demands, his request making even more sense as he looks down to take a hold of one of your hands and sees your scraped knuckles.

You bite down onto your lip and softly squeeze his hand, "Please Poe. I just wanna be with you"

He looks back up at you and sighs before smiling, remembering the times this exact same situation happened before, the other way around. Him refusing to go to medbay, instead settling for having you take care of him, having you close after a long, tough ride.

He brushes back the hair off of your forehead and leaves a tender kiss here, before leading you to the refresher, wrapping a hand around your shoulders when he notices your slight limp.

—

It is an internal fight for you to keep your eyes open, for your prickling, heavy eyelids not to fall shut.

The feeling of warm water over your tense shoulders is the most comfortable you’ve felt in weeks, and Poe’s hands gently washing the dirt and grime off of your body is slowly lulling you to sleep.

The sharp jolts of pain of the water hitting your wounds are the only thing that helps you stay awake, your head resting against the edge of the bathtub as you watch your blood seeping down the drain in orange trails.

Poe is careful and gentle as he cleans and bandages your wounds, calculates every little move to make sure it’s as painless as possible for you.

He takes a look at your face after being done taking care of it, pinching his lips skeptically. “Your nose is broken” he mumbles as he caresses the top of your hand he’s holding, carefully avoiding your knuckles. He looks down at them, wondering what you had gone through to come back home in this state.

Whatever you did or didn’t do didn’t really matter to him, as long as you were home and well.

Poe gets up from the bed and kneels down to take care of a faint cut over your leg, looking back up at you when you take a hold of his wrist to stop him.

“It’s okay.” you nod, and he doesn’t say anything but sits back on the edge of the bed beside you. A deafening silence floats in the air, and he could talk, that’s what he does best after all – only he feels like it’s not appropriate at the moment.

You’re still holding his wrist tightly, loosening your grip on it when you realize you could be hurting him.

“I walked away” you monotonically declare, still looking down ahead of you as if he was still kneeling in front of you. “You were right. There’s no use” you finally turn to him, and you see a bittersweet smile starting to grow over his face as he takes your hand in his. “Lyz was hiding this part of her and I'm not the one who should pay for her mistakes” your voice doesn’t falter, despite the tight knot in your throat, the tears starting to fill your eyes. “It shouldn’t be my job.”

He weakly smiles at you, before cupping your cheek and kissing the corner of your mouth, avoiding the area where your lip is busted.

“I missed you so much.” he mutters slightly shaking his head, a soft frown drawing over his face. His eyes are glistening too, and he bites down onto his bottom lip to avoid spending the rest of the night crying over the fact that he was terrified at the mere idea of losing you. It was over, you were here in front of him, you had given up the idea of getting revenge.

You weakly smile back at him, closing your eyes before you fully lay down onto the bed with a deep sigh, and Poe mirrors your action and lays beside you, turning to face you.

“I’m sorry” you mutter, your fingers gently brushing against his temple as you push away a stray curl. You can feel his gaze roam all along your face, his warm brown eyes full of love. There's no blame, no grudge, no bitterness.

“It’s okay. You’re here, that’s all that matters to me.”

Just relief.

—

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hollowed-theory-hall · 6 days

Note

Any thoughts on the mystery behind the Veil of Death and the three brothers?

ana-lyz: So... What does it mean to be the Master of Death in HP universe? And like what does being MOD mean specifically for Harry?

Okay, funny thing is I got the first of your asks like an hour after I added to my drafts a post titled "Master of Death", so I was just thinking about it. And then I started answering it and you sent the second ask, so, great minds think alike, I guess.

Long post ahead:

The Veil, Death, and its Master

I'm going to cover what we know from the books, my opinions on it, and some of my evidence-based headcanons, since there is a lot of speculation on my part.

The Afterlife and the Veil

So, I wanna talk a bit about death, as it appears in the Harry Potter books. We know an afterlife exists in the HP world both when Harry dies and when he speaks to Nearly Headless Nick after Sirius dies.

I want to start with the scene in Deathly Hallows in the King's Cross limbo. Specifically these few sections:

Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and put them on. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that, the moment he had wanted them. . . . He stood up, looking around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement?

(DH, 596)

“Where are we, exactly?” “Well, I was going to ask you that,” said Dumbledore, looking around. “Where would you say that we are?” Until Dumbledore had asked, Harry had not known. Now, however, he found that he had an answer ready to give. “It looks,” he said slowly, “like King’s Cross station. Except a lot cleaner and empty, and there are no trains as far as I can see.” “King’s Cross station!” Dumbledore was chuckling immoderately. “Good gracious, really?” “Well, where do you think we are?” asked Harry, a little defensively. “My dear boy, I have no idea. This is, as they say, your party.”

(DH, 601)

“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?” Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even though the bright white mist was descending again, obscuring his figure. “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?

(DH, 610)

I don't think this place Harry was in is the Afterlife, or even connected to the Afterlife. I think it is in Harry's head. Harry having complete control over it, actually calling it out as behaving like the Room of Requirement, Dumbledore not knowing where they are until Harry knows where they are, etc. All this doesn't fit with it being a limbo on the way to death and the figure there being the real Dumbledore. Dumbledore, throughout this scene, acts kind of strange, way more helpful and finally says all the right things Harry wants to hear.

Not-Dumbledore himself tells Harry he already knows everything he explains to him:

“Explain,” said Harry. “But you already know,” said Dumbledore. He twiddled his thumbs together

(DH, 597)

So, I truly believe it isn't really happening. That this isn't death and it isn't Dumbledore. throughout the scene, Dumbledore doesn't actually give Harry new information Harry couldn't guess on his own. He's just going over things Harry already knew and creating a nice narrative out of them. At some points, he asks Harry what he thinks, and only starts explaining once Harry knows the answer (or what he wants the answer to be). I think this is Harry's subconscious coping and not actual death.

Additionally, there's the disturbing baby Voldemort thing. Now, the real Voldemort is still alive, so contrary to what Not-Dumbledore says, it isn't actually Tom Riddle:

“Oh yes!” said Dumbledore. “Yes, he destroyed it. Your soul is whole, and completely your own, Harry.” “But then . . . ” Harry glanced over his shoulder to where the small, maimed creature trembled under the chair. “What is that, Professor?” “Something that is beyond either of our help,” said Dumbledore

(DH, 598)

What I believe it is, is the soul in the Horcrux in Harry. Separated from Harry's own soul within his mind. That's the only thing it can be, in my opinion. I don't believe the soul shards in the Horcruxes could pass into an afterlife, or even to limbo. They were created to be bound to life and passing away is against their very nature (unless, maybe, if you through them through the veil).

Besides all these oddities in the scene, it just doesn't make sense for Dumbledore to be there. Nearly Headless Nick gives some insight about death and the Afterlife:

“He will not come back,” repeated Nick quietly. “He will have . . . gone on.” “What d’you mean, ‘gone on’?” said Harry quickly. “Gone on where? Listen — what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn’t everyone come back? Why isn’t this place full of ghosts? Why — ?” “I cannot answer,” said Nick. “You’re dead, aren’t you?” said Harry exasperatedly. “Who can answer better than you?” “I was afraid of death,” said Nick. “I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn’t to have . . . Well, that is neither here nor there. . . . In fact, I am neither here nor there. . . .” He gave a small sad chuckle. “I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries —”

(OotP, 861)

From the way Nick speaks, ghosts are caught between life and death, part of them remains among the living while the rest moves on. Hhosts live in limbo, unable to be alive or dead. From his words, it also implies the properly dead, those who chose to move on, stay dead. They stay gone.

If that is the case, how could Dumbledore have come to greet Harry in limbo? He's dead, truly gone, and death has no exceptions. There is no reason Dumbledore could speak to Harry in limbo and his parents won't. Once you're dead, you reach the afterlife and there you stay.

So I don't think the white King's Cross in Harry's death vision was connected to the afterlife, nor was it the real Dumbledore there. So, what is the actual afterlife?

Well, we don't really know. But, I can cover what we do know about the nature of death in the HP universe.

From Nick's words, the afterlife is the better option, than becoming a ghost. Nick describes ghosts as imprints left behind, but imprints of what specifically?

I talked about this already when I discussed how to make Horcruxes, but in alchemy, everything is comprised of three things:

Sulfur - soul

Mercury - spirit (that binds the body and the soul)

Salt - body

A ghost doesn't have a body, and we know all that moves on to the afterlife is one's soul. Therefore, it stands to reason ghosts are an imprint of a soul, while the spirit leaves at the moment of death. That's what an Avada Kedavra does, it removes the spirit, the connection between the body and the soul. That's how it kills instantly and without a trace.

So, when someone passes into the afterlife, it's their soul that passes away.

What about the echoes of Harry's parents and Cedric in Voldemort's wand during the duel in the graveyard?

Well, they're dead, they moved on, so it can't be their soul. The figures aren't even described the same way as ghosts or diary Tom, figures we know are made of souls:

and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort’s wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke. . . . It was a head . . . now a chest and arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory. the dense shadow of a second head, If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even though the thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory (was it a ghost? it looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort’s wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel . . . and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.

(GoF, 665-666)

Their bodies are buried, and Cedric's is just lying there, neither are they physical enough to be bodies. I believe this is their spirit. Remember what I said about the Killing Curse just now, it severs the tie, and as such, it keeps the spirit. So, Harry is speaking to his parents' spirit, the echoes of their lives, not souls.

Now, let's talk about the veil. The veil is one of the most fascinating things introduced in the books, and the way it is introduced is fascinating on its own, but that's for later. The veil is a physical archway into the world of the dead.

The concept of such an entrance exists in multiple mythologies. In Greek mythology, many heroes (Odysseus, Orpheus, Heracles, Theseus, etc.) all travel through the underworld in one way or another, this is why the hero's journey goes through the underworld, it's very common. In Mesopotamian mythology, Gilgamesh and Ishtar both travel to the underworld. The point is, a gateway into the afterlife you can travel through, is a concept humanity has been toying with for millennia.

What's interesting is that, like Thestrals, those who've seen death (Harry, Luna, and Neville) can hear whispers from it. They experience it differently from others who haven't witnessed death (Ron, Hermione, and Ginny) who feel unnerved by it (although, Neville and Luna react differently from Harry, but more on that later). Not much more can be said about it, except that unlike all these gates into the underworld from myths, the veil is meant to be a one-way ticket.

In general, the afterlife in the Wizarding World is a one-way passage. Once you're gone, you're gone. Hence the closest thing to proper necromancy they have is creating inferi, which are soulless since the soul can't be pulled back from the afterlife.

The veil was also there before the Ministry of Magic, which was built around it. My guess is that some ancient wizards made it, and how or why were forgotten over time.

As the Peverell brothers were born around the 1210s and the Ministry of Magic was founded in 1707, it's possible, that the same Peverells from the story have built the veil. I actually think it's quite likely.

Death Himself

The idea of death personified is just as old and prevalent in many myths and cultures as a gateway leading into the afterlife. Whether Death, as a being, exists in the Wizarding World, I'm uncertain, but I don't think it's likely.

God-like spirits like Death feel out of place in the world in a way. Like, having a pantheon of gods feels wrong for the world of Harry Potter. It feels out of place with the established lore and magic. We don't see any evidence of wizarding society having any kind of unique religion in which such beings exist. Death, in the tale, is also described as similar to a dementor, making the idea that the author based Death's appearance on that of a dementor plausible.

That being said, Death's similarity to dementors could be the other way around. As in, the dementors look like death because of their connection to him. And, Death from the Tale doesn't really act like a god. How he behaves and is spoken of in the Tale of the Three Brothers reminds me a lot of a fae-like creature. Like, a powerful being who's a trickster that twists your wishes into something that he can use against you.

However I look at it, I still don't feel a being like this would fit in the world of Harry Potter, it feels wrong to add gods (or fae) in there. We don't see any hint that such beings might exist, which makes me feel they don't. So, I don't really think a personification of Death as appearing in the tale actually exists, but they do have an afterlife, as established above.

The Peverells and the Hallows

So we all know the legend about the three Peverell brothers who cheated death and received his gifts. Dumbledore (the one Harry imagines in his death fever dram) is certain it went down a little differently. That the tale is to explain incredibly powerful magical artifacts made by extraordinary wizards:

“Oh yes, I think so. Whether they met Death on a lonely road . . . I think it more likely that the Peverell brothers were simply gifted, dangerous wizards who succeeded in creating those powerful objects. The story of them being Death’s own Hallows seems to me the sort of legend that might have sprung up around such creations.

(DH, 602)

While it's not really Dumbledore and more Harry's own mind, I agree with him the Peverell brothers were probably no run-of-the-mill wizards, and I agree it's unlikely they've met Death, as I don't believe he exists.

Now, all the Hallows have a sentience to them beyond just any magical artifact. Even the wand is more sentient than any other wand, which are already quite sentient ("the wand chooses the wizard").

The wand of the first brother is a Hallow I already wrote about how it chooses its master. It is a wand intrinsically connected with death, having a core of Thestral hair. (I wonder if a core from a Thestral would agree to work for a wizard who hasn't seen death, but I digress)

This wand is actually the least impressive Hallow, in my opinion. Even though it says to be unbeatable:

Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor

(DH, 352)

Its user is beaten quite often, that's how the wand changes owners, after all. This wand's tendency for even more sentience than other wands is what is particularly unique about it. How it chooses its master repeatedly, and sometimes even decides it prefers another over its current master, something unheard of for any other wand.

The Resurrection Stone has the supposed ability to pull a soul imprint from the afterlife:

“Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered.

(DH, 352)

Something that I just discussed above should be impossible. Once dead and in the afterlife, nothing comes back out. Harry uses it as well for the same purpose and describes them as being similar to Tom from the diary:

They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They resembled most closely the Riddle that had escaped from the diary so long ago, and he had been memory made nearly solid. less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved toward him, and on each face, there was the same loving smile.

(DH, 589)

Because that's what the stone brings back, echoes of souls, but they aren't what Tom Riddle was in CoS.

“We are part of you,” said Sirius. “Invisible to anyone else.”

(DH, 590)

This line, made me believe the resurrection stone does something different than its name suggests and more similar to the lie Tom in the diary told Harry. They aren't souls, they're memories, echoes from within Harry himself. "Memory made solid"

Magic, in the world of Harry Potter, can't bring back someone who has moved on to the afterlife. It's a one-way ticket, as I've established before, once your soul moves on, that's it (if you try to resurrect someone immediately after they died and their soul hasn't yet moved on it's a different story). So I think, these shades are based on Harry's memories, and not actual souls brought back. It'll make more sense magically since his thoughts and memories are there, but the souls have gone on.

It also makes the tale of the second brother make more sense. He suffered because it wasn't really his wife that came back, but a shade based on his own memory. The tale said that she suffered, but I think it was Cadmus who suffered, not truly having her back. However, depending on how she died, her suffering might've been his memories of her that the stone resurrected, or the tale made it all up just like it made up Death.

The stone is just as picky about its master as the wand. It does not seem to have worked for anyone other than Cadmus Peverell and Harry himself. We don't hear of any Gaunts who used the stone, nor do we hear from Dumbledore he succeded in using it (I don't think it's actually Dumbledore in the conversation in King's Cross as I mentioned above). Regardless, I think the real Dumbledore probably did try to use it, and I will hazard a guess he failed. Since the stone didn't choose him.

The Cloak is unique in many ways. Lasting centuries, way longer than any invisibility cloak can, passing from parent to child for generations. It also does a better job of concealing you than another invisibility cloak, if, it still has its limits:

“...We are talking about a cloak that really and truly renders the wearer completely invisible, and endures eternally, giving constant and impenetrable concealment, no matter what spells are cast at it. How many cloaks have you ever seen like that, Miss Granger?”

(DH, 354)

The cloak is similar to the other Hallows in how picky it is regarding its master. The cloak wouldn't belong to anyone who just possesses it, it's not enough. It has to be passed willingly on the owner's deathbed, as they great death as an old friend. It means that in the books, no one but Harry could be its owner.

All artifacts are powerful, but they aren't capable of anything that breaks the laws of nature (as the stone doesn't really resurrect), they are also sentient and picky, but it isn't something beyond the capacity of wizards. Why, we know of four wizards who made three sentient magical artifacts already — The Hogwarts founders.

The four founders enchanted the sorting hat together, but more relevant to the discussion of the Hallows are the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance.

At the precise moment that a child first exhibits signs of magic, the Quill, which is believed to have been taken from an Augurey, floats up out of its inkpot and attempts to inscribe the name of that child upon the pages of the Book (Augurey feathers are known to repel ink and the inkpot is empty; nobody has ever managed to analyse precisely what the silvery fluid flowing from the enchanted Quill is). Those few who have observed the process (several headmasters and headmistresses have enjoyed spending quiet hours in the Book and Quill’s tower, hoping to catch them in action) agree that the Quill might be judged more lenient than the Book. A mere whiff of magic suffices for the Quill. The Book, however, will often snap shut, refusing to be written upon until it receives sufficiently dramatic evidence of magical ability.

(from pottermore)

The idea of multiple sentient, powerful magical artifacts that need to agree is something wizards are capable of. And that, I think, is the secret to becoming the Master of Death — having all 3 Hallows pick you. Just like the book and quill need to agree a student should be admitted to Hogwarts.

Master of Death

Or more specifically what does that actually mean and why I think even if someone retrieved all 3 Hallows they wouldn't have become the Master of Death if their name isn't Harry James Potter.

This is definitely more in the headcanon territory, but the first scene that really made me think about it is the one in the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. Because I think Harry and death always had a weird connection, it might've been around before the failed killing curse, and it was definitely around before Harry mastered all 3 Hallows.

So, why do I think Harry was always bound to be the Master of Death, and even if Dumbledore or Voldemort had all the Hallows it wouldn't have helped them?

There, are a few things that led me to this conclusion.

First, as I mentioned above, the cloak can not belong to anyone other than Harry in the books. It means that no one but Harry could master all of the Deathly Hallows, regardless of what they did.

Second, This first scene in the Death Chamber with the veil. I'll copy parts of it below and ask you to note, as you read, that Harry, Neville, and Luna are the only three who can see Thestrals and therefore should react more to the veil:

“Who’s there?” said Harry, jumping down onto the bench below. There was no answering voice, but the veil continued to flutter and sway. “Careful!” whispered Hermione. ... He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. ... “Let’s go,” called Hermione from halfway up the stone steps. “This isn’t right, Harry, come on, let’s go. . . .” She sounded scared, much more scared than she had in the room where the brains swam, yet Harry thought the archway had a kind of beauty about it, old though it was. The gently rippling veil intrigued him; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up on the dais and walk through it. “Harry, let’s go, okay?” said Hermione more forcefully. “Okay,” he said, but he did not move. He had just heard something. There were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil. “What are you saying?” he said very loudly, so that the words echoed all around the surrounding stone benches. “Nobody’s talking, Harry!” said Hermione, now moving over to him. “Someone’s whispering behind there,” he said, moving out of her reach and continuing to frown at the veil. “Is that you, Ron?” “I’m here, mate,” said Ron, appearing around the side of the archway. “Can’t anyone else hear it?” Harry demanded, for the whispering and murmuring was becoming louder; without really meaning to put it there, he found his foot was on the dais. “I can hear them too,” breathed Luna, joining them around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. “There are people in there!” .... “Sirius,” Harry repeated, still gazing, mesmerized, at the continuously swaying veil. “Yeah . . .” ... On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too.

(OotP, 773-775)

The interesting to note:

Luna, who can see Thestrals, also hears the whispering. I assume Neville does too.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny are mesmerized but unnerved by the veil. Ron and Hermione seem to fight this memorization in their fear for Harry as he nears the veil.

Harry is the only one who is drawn to the veil He is the only one that moved, the only one whose feet take him against his will to the dias with the veil.

Harry thinks of it as oddly beautiful.

He has an urge to pass through that no one else does. All of them are frozen in place.

Harry is so affected he needs to be reminded twice that he's there to save Sirius before he can draw himself away from the veil.

Third, later in the book, after Sirius fell through the veil, there's this part:

He had reached the floor, his breath coming in searing gasps. Sirius must be just behind the curtain, he, Harry, would pull him back out again. . . . But as he reached the ground and sprinted toward the dais, Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back. “There’s nothing you can do, Harry —” “Get him, save him, he’s only just gone through!” “It’s too late, Harry —” “We can still reach him —” Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go. . . . “There’s nothing you can do, Harry . . . nothing. . . . He’s gone.”

(OotP, 806)

Harry's instinct to go through the veil to get Sirius out is so odd. The way he thinks that he himself can pull him out, not anyone else, but he... I don't know, but, this scene is interesting. It almost makes me feel Harry could pull Sirius back out. He defied death already once and will defy it again in the 7th book, so why not? Why wouldn't he be able to pull someone back from beyond the veil if they fell through just now (the timing is relevant, I don't think Hary could pull, say, his parents out).

My headcanon is that in that very moment if Lupin let Harry pull Sirius out, it would've worked. Caused a pandemonium about the fact Harry can apparently resurrect the dead (even if it's not really what he did), but that it would've worked. (I actually really want to write a fic like this)

Fourth, throughout the 7th book, once Harry finds out about the Hallows, he can't let the thought go. He knows his cloak is one, he is convinced the stone is in the snitch Dumbledore left him, way before he opened it. He just has a sense about it, and a fixation on it that's almost instinct:

Dumbledore had left the sign of the Hallows for Hermione to decipher, and he had also, Harry remained convinced of it, left the Resurrection Stone hidden in the golden Snitch. Neither can live while the other survives. . . master of Death. . . Why didn’t Ron and Hermione understand? “‘The last enemy shall be destroyed is death,”’ Harry quoted calmly

(DH, 374-375)

So, these are my reasons why I believe Harry is the only character in the books that could or would be the MOD. It's just that he always was, in a way. The Hallows already chose him before he ever held any of them.

But what does it mean to be the Master of Death?

“Well, of course not,” said Xenophilius, maddeningly smug. “That is a children’s tale, told to amuse rather than to instruct. Those of us who understand these matters, however, recognize that the ancient story refers to three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death.” ... “When you say ‘master of Death’—” said Ron. “Master,” said Xenophilius, waving an airy hand. “Conqueror. Vanquisher. Whichever term you prefer.”

(DH, 353)

We don't really get much besides this. Along with what's written on James and Lily's grave:

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

(DH, 283)

Harry believes all phrases, along with the prophecy are connected and lead him to believe he should become the Master of Death:

Three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death. . . Master. . . Conqueror. . . Vanquisher. . . The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. . . . And he saw himself, possessor of the Hallows, facing Voldemort, whose Horcruxes were no match. . . Neither can live while the other survives. . . Was this the answer?

(DH, 369-370)

So what can the Master of Death do? Death isn't a personified deity, what is defeating or contouring death mean? Does it mean immortality?

I don't know if I'll say full immortality, I think the Master of Death can die the same way Ignotus Peverell did. I think Ignotus Peverell was the first Master of Death, in a way, he at least represented the concept:

And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life

(DH, 352)

He was death's equal, he could escape it and live a fulfilling life, before choosing to meet Death on his own terms. I think that's what it means, that Death won't find Harry until he is ready to move on, and when he finally chooses to move on, Death would greet him with open arms.

The crux of it is the choice. That death can't touch you until you choose to allow it. And those who become Masters of Death, would always eventually choose to greet death, as these are the type of people the 3 Hallows would choose. It's all about choices.

(For the record, yes, I think there could be more than one MOD, I think Ignotus was until his death, and then in the books, Harry is)

And considering how much emphasis is put on choices and intentions in the magic of this world, it seems only right to be so relevant here too.

Like with the Mirror or Erised, which only let someone who wanted to have the Philosopher's Stone but not use it, have it; the Hallows won't choose a master who wouldn't, eventually, be willing to accept death. Because mastering death, isn't only not dying, it's understanding it, and accepting it. Both the deaths of others and eventually your own.

Also, as I mentioned above, I headcanon that Harry could pull Sirius out the moment he fell in through the veil. I don't think anyone but Harry could. I believe, as a Master of Death, Harry is the only wizard (well, being) that can go into the afterlife, walk past the veil, and come back out. A Master of Death is the only one who the afterlife isn't a one-way ticket for.

(Although, I think it's possible that if you wear the invisibility cloak you might be able to pass into the veil and come out even without being the MOD, but, I wouldn't bet on it)

Summary of my thoughts

The afterlife exists in the Wizarding World and nothing that passes beyond the veil can return. It's a one-way ticket.

The scene in Deathly Hallows with Dumbledore in King's Cross station limbo didn't actually happen.

Death, as a deity of sorts most likely doesn't exist.

The Peverell brothers were powerful wizards who made the Deathly Hallows and perhaps the veil too.

The Resurrection stone can't bring a soul back from beyond the veil so it does the next best thing — reviving an illusion of a memory.

All 3 Deathly Hallows are very sentient magical artifacts like the sorting hat. Each of them is very picky when choosing its own master.

When all 3 Hallows choose the same master, this person is the Master of Death.

Being the Master of Death means the MOD won't die until the time of their choice. But the MOD will always choose to die eventually because that's the kind of person the Hallows would pick.

There can, over time, be more than one MOD (not at the same time though). And it's possible Ignotus Peverell was one, in a way.

The MOD might be the only person who can go into the veil and come back out.

The invisibility cloak might also allow you to make a trip into the veil and then back out.

#harry potter #hp #harry potter thoughts #hp thoughts #harry potter theory #hp theory #hollowedtheory #wizarding world #asks #death harry potter #Peverell brothers #hollowedheadcanon #deathly hallows #master of death

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rapeculturerealities · 3 months

Text

(6) Stop blaming male alienation on female liberation - by lyz

Asking “what about the men?” is effective because it reframes stories of female liberation into tales of male alienation. And it positions the two interests as opposed. As if our liberation and our freedoms were not inextricably entwined.

I’ve written in the past about sexual assault and statute of limitations laws. Every time I’ve written about this topic, I’ve talked to male assault survivors, and every time these men, who are usually older, tell me it was the #MeToo movement that helped them understand what happened to them was abuse, and was not their fault. A movement that has been maligned for oppressing men has actually aided in liberation.

I’ve begun to do interviews for my forthcoming book This American Ex-Wife, and already I’ve been asked about how encouraging women to seek their happiness could affect men. Think of all the husbands left behind by these newly empowered women is the concern implicit in the question. But the reality is that if your sense of well-being was predicated on the misery of your partner, you didn’t have well-being in the first place. What you had was a lie.

The zero-sum capitalist thinking presumes that if women are winning (we aren’t, btw) then men must be losing.

#sexism #Misogyny #Divorce

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gothicprep · 2 months

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even better, re: the cut: the ‘I think my husband is trashing my novel on goodreads’ article is the first of a NEW advice column by the same author of the disastrous ‘lure of divorce’ personal essay from last week.

lol i was debating talking about emily gould when that essay came out, but i figured "nobody cares about your weird interest in gawker media lore" and decided against it. but i'm going to interpret this as permission to just go crazy on main.

context for readers who don't know: emily gould, on valentine's day, published an essay that's ostensively about divorce, but it's actually about a lot of other things. not even *a* divorce, because she decides against getting divorced at the end of the essay. i wouldn't bet on anything that comes after the end of this essay, but that's a separate question.

it's probably important to establish who emily gould is for what i'm about to say to make any sense: she was a media darling in her 20s. she was one of the first people to get Very Famous from blogging, an editor at gawker, and probably the best known writer there during the mid to late 2000s. very american apparel indie hipster sleeze era personality. could probably be described as a "literary sex symbol" insofar as the literary world has those things.

there were two things that she was famous for in this era. one of them was this post she put on gawker about how she had broken up with her boyfriend and it was a massive success. if you comb through old archives, people were talking about this like it was the brangelina split. i want to say this was a dam breaking moment for a particular kind of personal branding/internet personality that involved revealing things about your personal life, which eventually took over more broadly and gave rise to the culture we have now online. the other thing was this very unfortunate appearance she had on larry king live or something after she'd been taken to task for the "gawker stalker" feature on gawker, where people would send in tips about celebrity sightings around the city. someone sent in a tip about jimmy kimmel being drunk and obnoxious in a bar, and because kimmel is the world's biggest baby, he flipped out and went on this whole tirade about how it was a threat to his safety. in reality, he was just mad that someone saw him drunk in public and said something about it. kimmel and a few other guys confronted her about this on larry king. she looked like a deer in headlights and either wasn't prepared/hadn't been prepared for what was coming. like kimmel told her she was going to hell on live television. mess. there was also some really public drama she had with lena dunham but i don't really remember the details.

she never really disappeared between then and now. she's been writing for the cut for a while, which i guess you could say is her aging into a different kind of women's journalism. she's published a few books, but she hasn't really found her footing since her breakout success in her 20s didn't turn her into the established writer she probably hoped she would be. there was a time where it seemed like she was positioned to be this generation's joan didion, but that didn't end up happening.

so that brings us up to this essay, which was preceded by the last little bit of gossip that i need to get out of the way, even though she mentions it in the essay. in her personal newsletter, she made a crowdfunding request for money to "taking an infinite hiatus from hetero marriage and monogamy. they are a trap for women, full stop. sometimes a trap can be cozy. mine was, until it wasn’t." she does mention she's having a manic episode. she's upfront about the fact that something is going on with her.

anybody who's at all familiar with gould and her financial challenges must question the wisdom of giving money to this, but she presents it very much in the spirit of "men are pigs. men are trash. divorce that man now." and as we learn later, gets money from lyz lenz, who has a book out that's basically the feminist case for divorce and being a single mom.

so gould is not just neck deep in this divorce literature, but producing it to some extent. maybe a crowdfunding request isn't truly a literary form, but it's written in a persuasive way that fits with other writing in the liberate yourself through divorce canon. but the valentine's day essay, while i don't think it's great, i do think it's interesting how it breaks from form. it's not an anti-man personal essay, and these always are. so it was nice to read something a bit different. well, maybe not different, but retro.

i've never been a fan of gould's work, but it did get me wondering "what itch are people trying to scratch when they read essays like this?" because it's like the reader wants them to be an explicitly moral fable, but they want it to be racy and spicy. like one of those mid century pulp novels with a painting of a woman on the cover looking kind of slatternly with a lot of makeup on. it'd be called something like "wild trash" and the subtitle would be "she couldn't wait for her divorce". it's smut about a woman who's sinning gratuitously and flouting society's expectations. and usually with these books, there'd be some kind of cosmic comeuppance for her where she'd get syphilis and die in a pauper's prison or whatever.

and i think people come to stories like this because they want to read something like that. you're gonna read about a woman who was debauched and all the naughty behavior in graphic, titillating detail. and at the end, you get served up a nice, neat conclusion. her husband divorces her and finds love with a kindergarten teacher from iowa. so it flouts the "rah rah divorce him" essay and the pulpy personal essay that some people want. if you're going to write a 3,000 word apology, at the very least, it is a novel take on it.

but i think what the problem is with an essay like this is that it's very... dated in its style. the expected thing with personal essays in the 2020s, the thesis of them usually boils down to something about what a great person the essayist is. most of them do this. that's why you get privilege disclaimers in them – the point of the essay is how the essayist is sensitive and kind and wonderful. even when there are flaws, they're overcome, or something systemic lead this to happen. a flawed woman is because patriarchy made her thus.

to give a better example of the kind of thing i'm talking about, you'll see an essay in the atlantic or new york times magazine and it follows the same formula. Woman Has Personal Life Grievance. Step Back. Here's Why This Is A Big Issue In Society, Bolstered With Statistics. Here's Why If This Woman Was Black Or Poor Or Gay Or Trans, It Would Be Even Worse. Back To The Personal Anecdote... you know what i mean? it's a very well established formula, but you can't have that with "also i'm a dirtbag". once you're talking about society and societal issues of which you're just a little representative – because those are the stakes. it has to be universal – you can't just be talking about yourself.

and then there's this question of personal writing more generally. you aren't a fictional character, you're yourself. and whether you want it to be or not, every personal essay is going to function like a cover letter. it's presenting you to the world. and i don't like these, but i don't want gould's style of personal essay to come back either. it straight up ruined a lot of women's lives who wanted to get their foot in the door in media, got $75 from xojane to write something lurid about their personal lives... and their career never took off. so now this is just on the internet forever.

this old piece in slate sheds a light on just how exploitative that whole thing was.

"don't make life decisions based on emily gould's writing" is useful advice for more reasons than one.

#gossipprep #this is my edrama tag now i guess

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