The morning after the dinner at the Bones residence, Chris woke with a sense of clarity that had been building for days. The acromantula hunt loomed just over a week away, and his training with Gryffindor's combat magic had reached a plateau of competence. It was time for the next step, perhaps the most significant magical undertaking of his life so far. Today, he would unite the Deathly Hallows.
He sat at his desk, reviewing everything he knew about the legendary artifacts. The information was frustratingly sparse, myths and legends offered dramatically different accounts of what happened when the Hallows were united. Some tales claimed the unification granted instant mastery over death itself, while others suggested a more subtle enhancement of magical abilities. The only consistent element was that no reliable account existed of anyone successfully uniting all three since the Peverell brothers themselves.
His fingers traced the edge of a particularly ancient text as he considered his options. The ritual, if it could even be called that, carried unknown risks. Which meant location was crucial.
"Not the training room," he murmured to himself. "Too far from help if something goes wrong."
The most logical choice was his bedroom. The space was heavily warded, comfortable enough if he needed to recover, and most importantly, located on his Island, perhaps the most secure magical location in the world. If uniting the Hallows rendered him unconscious or worse, no one would disturb him here until he recovered.
Decision made, Chris closed the book and stood. One Hallow was already in his possession. The other two waited in the manor's secure vault, protected by blood wards and goblin enchantments.
"Jilly," he called softly.
The house-elf appeared with her customary soft pop, amber eyes immediately alert. "Master called for Jilly?"
"Yes," Chris said, his voice measured despite the anticipation buzzing through him. "I need your assistance with something important. Something potentially dangerous."
Jilly's ears twitched forward, her posture straightening. "Dangerous, Master?"
"I'm going to attempt something that hasn't been done in centuries," Chris explained, moving toward the door. "I need you to retrieve two items from the main vault and bring them to my bedroom."
The house-elf followed him up the grand staircase, her small feet making no sound on the polished wood. "What items does Master require?"
"The Elder Wand and the Gaunt ring," Chris replied as they reached the upper landing. "I'm going to unite the Deathly Hallows."
Jilly stopped abruptly, her large eyes widening further. "The Deathly Hallows," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Master, the old stories say…"
"I know what they say," Chris interrupted gently. "That's why I need your help. If something goes wrong, if I lose consciousness or seem to be in distress, I need you to monitor me, but not interfere unless absolutely necessary."
They entered his bedroom, a spacious chamber with a four-poster bed, tall windows overlooking the sea, and walls lined with bookshelves. Unlike the rest of the manor with its ancient grandeur, Chris had made this space his own, with comfortable furnishings and a more modern aesthetic.
"How will Jilly know if interference is necessary?" the house-elf asked, worry clear in her voice.
Chris sat on the edge of his bed, considering the question seriously. "If I'm unconscious for more than three days, or if I appear to be physically injured in a way that's getting worse rather than better, you may attempt to help. Otherwise, this is a magical transformation that needs to run its course naturally."
Jilly wrung her hands, clearly conflicted between her instinct to protect her master and her duty to follow his orders. "Jilly understands," she finally said, though her ears drooped slightly. "Jilly will bring the items now."
She disappeared with another soft pop, leaving Chris alone with his thoughts. He moved to his trunk, taking out the cloak. The fabric shimmered in the morning light as he spread it across the bed, somehow both substantial and weightless at once. His fingers lingered on the material, feeling the magic woven into every thread.
Jilly returned first with the Elder Wand, carrying it on a small velvet cushion as if it were a priceless artifact, which, in many ways, it was. The wand seemed to hum with contained power, its gnarled surface bearing the marks of centuries of use and conflict. Unlike ordinary wands that eventually bonded with their masters, the Elder Wand had changed hands countless times through violence and defeat, never truly belonging to anyone.
"Place it beside the Cloak," Chris instructed, and Jilly carefully set the cushion on the bed.
She disappeared again, returning moments later with a small wooden box. With reverent care, she opened it to reveal the Gaunt ring, its black stone gleaming dully in the morning light. The Resurrection Stone, once a Horcrux, now cleansed of Voldemort's soul fragment but still bearing the symbol of the Deathly Hallows etched into its surface.
"Here, Master," Jilly said, placing the box beside the other Hallows. "Is there anything else Jilly can do to prepare?"
Chris shook his head, his eyes never leaving the three artifacts now arranged on his bed. "No. Just remember what I said. Monitor, but don't interfere unless absolutely necessary."
"Yes, Master," Jilly said, stepping back to give him space but remaining in the room as instructed.
Chris stood before the bed, looking down at the three Deathly Hallows. The Cloak of Invisibility, which had hidden countless wearers from Death's sight. The Elder Wand, unbeatable in the right hands, a beacon of unmatched magical power. The Resurrection Stone, with its ability to recall shades of the departed from beyond the veil.
Three objects of legend, created by Death itself according to the tales, now laid out before him. In moments, he would become the first person in centuries to unite them under one master.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself for whatever might come next.
Chris reached first for the Invisibility Cloak, the Hallow he knew best. The familiar fabric settled around his shoulders with the weightless comfort of a second skin, neither too warm nor too cool against his body. Unlike every previous time he'd worn it, however, a subtle tingling sensation spread across his skin, as if the Cloak recognized what was about to happen and was responding to the proximity of its brother Hallows.
He glanced at his reflection in the tall mirror across the room. The Cloak rendered his body invisible as always, but he could see a faint silver-blue shimmer outlining his form, something he'd never noticed before. The ancient magic seemed more awake, more aware, than he'd ever felt it.
Behind him, Jilly stood perfectly still, her large eyes fixed on the remaining Hallows. Her ears were pinned back against her head, an instinctive response to powerful magic that even house-elves with their own unique abilities could sense and fear.
"It's all right, Jilly," Chris said softly, though he wasn't entirely sure that was true. "This is supposed to happen."
Next, he reached for the Elder Wand. His fingers hovered over it momentarily, remembering all the blood spilled throughout history for this single object. Unlike his own wand, which had chosen him with a warm, welcoming sensation, the Elder Wand exuded a cold, assessing power. As his fingers closed around the gnarled wood, a jolt of energy shot up his arm, making him gasp.
The wand thrummed against his palm, vibrating with barely contained power. It felt alive, cognizant, judging whether he was worthy to wield it. Where his own wand felt like an extension of himself, the Elder Wand felt like holding a lightning bolt, wild energy temporarily contained but never truly tamed.
"The legends said nothing about this," he murmured, watching as faint golden sparks trailed from the wand's tip, swirling around his invisible form before dissipating into the air.
Only one Hallow remained. The Resurrection Stone sat innocuously in its simple setting, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows barely visible on its black surface. This was the moment of truth, the final step that would unite all three artifacts under one master for the first time in centuries.
Chris hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind. The strange behaviour of the first two Hallows suggested that uniting them might be more complex than the legends indicated. But he had come too far to turn back now.
With his free hand, he picked up the ring and slipped it onto his finger.
For one heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the world exploded.
A violent vortex of magic erupted around him, whirling with such force that it knocked Jilly backward against the wall. Books flew from shelves, furniture skidded across the floor, and the windows rattled in their frames as raw power surged through the room. Chris remained at the center, his feet somehow still planted firmly on the floor despite winds that should have thrown him across the room.
Colours he had no names for spiralled through the vortex, not just golds and silvers and blues, but hues that existed beyond normal human perception, colours from the very edges of magic itself. The air crackled with energy, tasting of metal and ozone and something ancient that predated wizardkind.
Chris tried to speak, to tell Jilly he was all right, but before he could form words, searing pain shot through his chest. The ring on his finger began to heat, not burning his skin but growing uncomfortably warm. Then, impossibly, the stone broke free from its setting, hovering in the air before him for a suspended moment.
"No," Chris gasped, suddenly understanding what was happening. "This isn't…"
The Stone shot forward like a bullet, striking his chest directly over his heart. Instead of bouncing off, it began to sink into his flesh, passing through skin and muscle as if they were water. The pain was extraordinary, not like being stabbed or burned, but as if every cell in that area was being simultaneously unmade and remade. Chris screamed, unable to help himself, as the Stone disappeared completely into his chest, leaving no wound but creating an agony that radiated outward through his entire torso.
In his right hand, the Elder Wand began to liquefy, not into wood pulp but into something like molten gold that remained impossibly cool. The liquid metal flowed over his hand, around his wrist, up his forearm, before beginning to sink beneath his skin just as the Stone had done. Wherever it touched, his flesh absorbed it, creating lines of fire that traced his veins and nerves from fingertips to shoulder.
"Master!" Jilly cried out, her voice barely audible over the howling vortex.
Chris couldn't answer. The Cloak on his back had begun to change as well, the fabric dissolving into his skin like water into sand. The sensation was different from the other two, not painful exactly, but profoundly disorienting, as if parts of him were becoming insubstantial, caught between existence and non-existence.
His body had become a battlefield where three ancient, powerful magics fought for integration. He could feel them working their way through him, not just physically but magically, seeking his core, reshaping his very essence. The pain transcended anything he had experienced in either of his lives, even beyond his death itself.
He fell to his knees, still at the center of the magical storm. The room around him blurred, reality seeming to bend and warp. He could see Jilly pressing herself against the wall, her mouth open in a silent scream, though whether seconds or hours had passed, he couldn't tell. Time itself seemed malleable within the vortex.
His body felt as if it were being torn apart molecule by molecule, then rebuilt according to a new pattern, only to be torn apart again. The cycle repeated endlessly, each iteration bringing fresh waves of agony. Chris fought to remain conscious, to maintain some control over the process, but the pain was too immense, too all-consuming.
Dark spots danced at the edges of his vision. His lungs burned as if he'd been holding his breath underwater. The magic continued to work through him, merciless and thorough, remaking him from the inside out.
With one final, desperate gasp, Chris looked up at the ceiling, now barely visible through the swirling chaos of magical energy. A single, coherent thought formed in his mind: This was never just about mastering death, it was about becoming something else entirely.
Then darkness claimed him, his body collapsing completely as consciousness fled before the onslaught of transformation.
The pain vanished so suddenly that its absence felt like a physical sensation in itself. Instead of his bedroom floor, Chris found himself floating in an endless white void, a place both unfamiliar and instantly recognisable. This was where he had first awakened after his death in his previous life, where he had been granted his second chance. The perfect, featureless white stretched in all directions, creating an impossible space where distance and direction lost all meaning.
"Is this it?" Chris wondered aloud. "Did the Hallows kill me after all?"
"Oh come now, did you really think a few magical trinkets would undo all my hard work?" The voice resonated from everywhere and nowhere, warm and amused and impossibly vast.
Chris turned, or at least, he perceived himself turning in this directionless space, to find a shimmering presence forming before him. Unlike the physical world where shapes and boundaries defined everything, The One Above All existed as a suggestion of form rather than form itself, a luminous impression that shifted between humanoid and something far more complex with every moment.
"So I'm not dead," Chris said, relief evident in his voice. "Again."
The entity's laughter felt like sunshine warming his skin. "No, not at all. Just taking a little consciousness vacation while your body finishes its remodeling project. Quite the ambitious undertaking you chose there, Christopher Emrys."
Chris studied the shimmering presence, noticing how it seemed more focused than during their first meeting, as if The One Above All was making a special effort to appear more comprehensible to him. "I didn't expect the Hallows to physically merge with me. Nothing in the legends mentioned that."
"Well, legends tend to get the broad strokes right but miss the details," the entity replied, a ripple of amusement passing through its luminous form. "Most who sought the Hallows wanted power, not understanding. You're the first in a very long time to unite them without that corrupting ambition."
"So what's happening to me?" Chris asked. "I thought uniting the Hallows would make me 'Master of Death' or something similarly dramatic."
The One Above All made a sound that might have been a snort. "Master of Death. Humans and their grandiose titles." The entity's form shifted, settling into something more distinctly humanoid, though still composed entirely of light. "The Hallows were indeed created by the entity you call Death, but not as a test or a trick. They were gifts, left for humanity to find, tools to help worthy souls transcend certain mortal limitations."
"And they're... becoming part of me?" Chris asked, remembering the agonizing sensation of the artifacts merging with his flesh.
"They're unlocking what was always within you," The One Above All corrected. "Think of them as keys rather than powers themselves. What you're experiencing is the awakening of dormant potential."
The entity gestured, and four distinct streams of light appeared between them, one black, one silver, one gold, and one white. "Four boons, Christopher. Four transformations."
The black stream floated closer to Chris. "First, longevity. Once your body reaches full physical maturity at twenty-one, aging will essentially cease. Not true immortality, you can still die from injury or magical means, but natural death will no longer claim you."
Chris absorbed this information with surprising calm. In his previous life, the prospect of such extended existence might have terrified him. Now, with centuries of work ahead to explore and adventure through the magical world, it seemed almost necessary.
The silver stream approached next. "Second, the Cloak's gift becomes innate. True invisibility, not merely physical but magical, will be yours to command at will. No detection spell ever created can find you when you choose to vanish."
"That's... significantly more powerful than I expected," Chris admitted.
"Most wizards underestimate the Cloak, thinking it merely the least impressive Hallow," the entity said. "They miss its true significance entirely."
The gold stream swirled around Chris. "Third, the Stone grants not just communion with the dead, but the power of regeneration. Wounds that would kill others will heal for you. Poisons will be neutralized. Even severed limbs would eventually regrow, though not without considerable pain and time."
Chris thought of the battles that surely lay ahead in his future. Such healing ability would be invaluable, perhaps even necessary for what he planned to accomplish.
Finally, the white stream approached. "Fourth, the Wand's power becomes part of your magical core. Your connection to magic itself is fundamentally altered. While using a physical wand will still help you focus, you'll no longer truly need one. The magic flows directly through you now."
"So wandless magic?" Chris asked.
"Far beyond what wizards consider wandless magic," The One Above All corrected. "This isn't about struggling to perform simple spells without a focus. This is direct communion with magical energy itself. Similar to your boon from mother magic but more advanced. You have essentially become the focus itself."
Chris considered the implications. Such abilities would make him incredibly powerful, but also immediately suspicious to anyone who witnessed them. "I'll need to keep using a wand publicly," he said, thinking aloud. "At least until after my Third Maturation at fifteen, when I'm strong enough not to have to explain to anyone."
"Wise," the entity agreed. "Extraordinary gifts often inspire extraordinary envy. Better to keep your true capabilities hidden until absolutely necessary."
Chris looked around at the endless white void, then back at the shimmering presence before him. "Why are you helping me understand this? Why pull me here at all?"
The One Above All's form brightened slightly, as if pleased by the question. "I granted your wish for a second chance, Christopher. I have a vested interest in seeing how you use it." The entity's tone became surprisingly gentle. "And perhaps I simply enjoy our conversations."
Before Chris could respond, the white void began to blur around them, edges of reality creeping back into his awareness. Distant sensations, the softness of a bed, the sound of quiet breathing, the scent of familiar surroundings, tugged at his consciousness.
"It seems your body has completed its transformation," The One Above All said. "Time to return."
"Wait," Chris called as the entity began to fade. "Will I see you again?"
The last thing he heard before consciousness reclaimed him was the entity's amused voice: "Oh, I expect so, Christopher Emrys. Our stories are far from finished."
Consciousness returned to Chris gradually, like the slow rise of a tide rather than the sudden jolt of awakening. The first thing he noticed was the absence, no pain, no discomfort, not even the lingering soreness he had expected after such a violent transformation. Instead, he felt rested, refreshed, as if he'd experienced the most perfect sleep of his life. The second thing he noticed was that something fundamental had changed within him, not just physically but magically, a shift so profound yet so natural that it felt like he'd simply become more completely himself.
He lay still, eyes closed, taking inventory of his body. His heartbeat seemed stronger, more regular. His breathing came easier. When he finally moved his fingers experimentally, they responded with perfect precision. There was a new awareness flowing through him, as if he could sense the individual particles of magic in the air around him, taste the protective wards surrounding the manor, feel the living pulse of the island itself.
Slowly, Chris opened his eyes. The familiar ceiling of his bedroom came into focus, illuminated by soft afternoon light filtering through partially drawn curtains. The room had been restored to perfect order, no evidence remained of the magical vortex that had torn through it during the unification. He turned his head slightly and found Jilly sitting in a small chair beside his bed, her large amber eyes fixed on a book in her lap though she wasn't turning the pages.
"Jilly," he said softly, his voice unexpectedly clear for someone who had supposedly been unconscious.
The house-elf's head snapped up, the book tumbling forgotten to the floor. For a moment, she simply stared, her eyes growing impossibly wider. Then, with a cry that contained equal parts relief and joy, she leapt from the chair.
"Master is awake! Master has returned!" Tears formed instantly, spilling down her face as she approached the bed, her hands clasped tightly before her as if she was physically restraining herself from touching him. "Jilly has been so worried! So very worried!"
Chris pushed himself up to a sitting position, noticing how effortless the movement felt. "I'm all right, Jilly," he assured her, smiling at her obvious concern. "Better than all right, actually."
The house-elf sniffled, wiping at her tears with the edge of her perfectly pressed uniform. "Master has been sleeping for so long. Jilly followed all instructions. Jilly monitored but did not interfere. Jilly kept the room clean and kept watch day and night."
A feeling of warmth spread through Chris's chest at her unwavering loyalty. "Thank you, Jilly. You did exactly right." He looked around the immaculate room, then back at his faithful servant. "How long was I unconscious?"
Jilly's ears drooped slightly. "Seven days, Master. A full week has passed since the Hallows claimed you."
"A week?" Chris repeated, genuinely surprised. He had expected perhaps a day or two, but an entire week suggested a far more profound transformation than even he had anticipated. "What day is it?"
"It is the sixteenth of August, Master," Jilly replied promptly. "One day before the hunt you arranged with the goblins."
Chris sat up straighter. The acromantula hunt, he had almost forgotten in the aftermath of the unification. The timing was cutting it close, but perhaps fortuitous. He would go into battle with his new abilities fresh and untested, but also at their most potent.
"Has there been any word from Gringotts?" he asked.
"A message arrived yesterday confirming the arrangements," Jilly answered. "Jilly placed it in Master's study. There was also another letter from Miss Bones, asking if Master was still planning to meet her and Miss Abbott in Diagon Alley on the twenty-eighth." Her expression grew concerned again. "Jilly did not know how to respond while Master slept."
"You did right not to respond," Chris assured her. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, noting that he was dressed in clean pajamas. Jilly had evidently cared for him thoroughly during his unconscious state. "I'll write to Susan today."
As his bare feet touched the floor, Chris felt a surge of magic respond to his thoughts, eager and attentive in a way his power had never been before. On impulse, he held out his hand and thought of light, not casting a spell, not even forming the words Lumos in his mind, simply conceptualizing illumination.
A perfect sphere of golden light appeared above his palm, brighter and more stable than any Lumos he had ever cast with a wand. It hovered there, responsive to his will, requiring no concentration to maintain.
"Master's magic has changed," Jilly observed softly, her eyes reflecting the golden glow.
"Yes," Chris agreed, closing his hand and extinguishing the light. "Everything has changed."
He stood, testing his balance and finding it flawless. His body felt simultaneously lighter and more substantial, as if he had been remade with greater precision. The Elder Wand was no longer a separate object, yet he could feel its power humming through his veins. The Cloak's gift of concealment waited at his fingertips, ready to envelop him in perfect invisibility at a thought. And somewhere deep in his chest, the Stone's power of regeneration pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"I should prepare for tomorrow," he said, moving toward his wardrobe. "The acromantula hunt will be an excellent opportunity to test these changes."
Jilly nodded, though concern still lingered in her expression. "Will Master be requiring breakfast? Or perhaps lunch would be more appropriate given the hour."
Chris smiled at her return to practical matters. "Lunch would be perfect, Jilly. Thank you."
As the house-elf disappeared to prepare his meal, Chris stood before the mirror in his room, studying his reflection. Physically, he looked unchanged, the same white hair with electric blue streaks, the same sapphire eyes, the same features that had already matured beyond his years. But there was something different in his gaze now, a depth that hadn't been there before, a quiet certainty that transcended his already considerable confidence.
He had united the Hallows hoping for power, for advantages in the challenges ahead. What he had received was something far more profound, a transformation that had reshaped his very being. The implications would take time to fully understand, but one thing was already clear: the path forward would be unlike anything he had planned.
"Well," he said softly to his reflection, "this should make things interesting."
Tomorrow would bring the acromantula hunt, the first true test of his new capabilities. Beyond that lay Hogwarts, the Chamber of Secrets, and the ever-shifting political landscape of the wizarding world. And somewhere in that future, even more grand adventures.
Chris turned from the mirror, ready to face whatever came next. The Master of Death might be a misnomer, but whatever he had become would be more than enough for the tasks ahead.