Harry Potter and The Rise of The New White Lord

The silence was deafening.

I floated in the darkness, unsure if I had eyes to open or ears to hear. Everything felt suspended—weightless and timeless. My thoughts were racing yet stagnant, stuck replaying the moment of my death in an endless loop. The motorbike. The old woman. The grotesque snap of impact that had surely shattered me.

And then, a voice pierced the void.

"Well, well… what a mess we have here," the voice drawled, smooth and laced with wry amusement. Its tone dripped with nonchalance, as though discussing a mildly inconvenient surprise party rather than, y'know, the death of me.

"Who's there?" I called out, more out of panic than curiosity. My voice sounded strange—like it belonged to someone else entirely. But it echoed, so I knew I wasn't alone.

A soft chuckle rippled through the emptiness. "Oh, right. You're new. Dead newbies always start with that question."

Dead. The word hit me like a second impact. I was dead. It was real. Choking back the panic that was beginning to bubble up, I steadied myself. Or… did the mental equivalent of steadying, since I had no clue if I even had a physical form anymore.

"Okay," I began, trying to sound braver than I felt. "Who are you? God?"

There was a beat of silence before the entity barked out a laugh—a loud, delighted laugh that sounded both genuine and unnerving. "God? Me? No, no, no! That guy's off lounging somewhere, probably watching the chaos from afar with popcorn." The voice cleared its throat audibly, as though reining itself in. "But to you, I might as well be. I'm the only one you're talking to for now, kid. You can call me…" It paused, pondering. "How about 'Death'? Simple. To the point."

"Death?" I repeated numbly. My voice cracked slightly. "So, you're…" I fumbled for the words. "You're the Grim Reaper or something?"

"Something like that," Death said, the earlier amusement in its voice now replaced by a cool, clinical detachment. "I'm the one who helps… transition people. Guides them to their next stop. Or—" There was a sudden shift in tone, crackling with giddy enthusiasm. "—I decide to skip all the boring rules and do whatever the hell I want! Like today, for example—look at what a good day I'm having, chatting with you."

I blinked—or felt like I did. "What… was that?"

"What was what?" the voice asked, its earlier detachment back again. It sounded exasperated, almost huffy. "I didn't say anything."

"Yes, you did!" I countered, growing more confused by the second. "You—"

And then it struck me. The voice had changed earlier. Like there were two voices layered into one. One calm and indifferent, the other gleefully chaotic. My thoughts scrambled for explanation, but before I could question further, the voice spoke again—two voices intertwining simultaneously.

"You catch on quick, don't you, kid? That's good. Means we don't have to waste much time explaining." Then there was a pause. "Though explaining would be super boring compared to—"

"Shut up," the calmer half snapped.

"Ugh, fine. You're no fun. No wonder nobody likes us."

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded. My fear was quickly turning into frustration.

"Ah, details," the voice replied breezily. "Listen, you're dead, and that means you're my problem now. Unfortunately for you, I am…" There was a deliberate pause. "Let's say I'm complex. Dual-natured. Split. We go by different names depending who's in charge." The snarkier voice piped up again: "I'm Chaos! And the fun one."

"And I am Order," the calm replied