Chapter 164: The Savior Reserve Who Accompanies Him
In the quiet Ravenclaw dormitory, Alexander Smith's mind could not find peace.
The conversation between Professor Dumbledore and Harry by the Mirror of Erised continued to echo in his thoughts—not just Dumbledore's words, but the strange will that had influenced him.
Alexander had sensed it clearly. That ancient, immense presence—benevolent yet terrifying—was not just any magical force. It was the God of Death.
But this wasn't the same Death that had once inspired the creation of the Killing Curse. No, that Death had been cold, arrogant, and utterly detached from humanity. It had considered itself above life and nature, seeing all things merely as material to return to death—a divine harvest.
What Dumbledore had spoken under this influence, however, was not inhuman. It was deeply philosophical, humble even. Death, he said, was a natural part of life. And Alexander understood: this Death had changed. Or perhaps it had always been this way, and the myths were wrong.
Now, Alexander felt more certain of the being's true identity: Ignotus Peverell, the youngest of the legendary three brothers.
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The Three Brothers and the Throne of Death
In the ancient story, the eldest brother, Antioch Peverell, forged the Elder Wand. His pursuit of power was unyielding—he believed strength conquered all, and that death should submit to it. If he had become Death, he would have passed that mantle only to the strongest, sustaining himself eternally through might and conflict.
The second brother, Cadmus Peverell, created the Resurrection Stone. His arrogance ran deeper—he wanted to defy death altogether, to reverse the cycle and call back the dead. He viewed nature as something to be corrected, broken even. If he had inherited Death, necromancy and twisted resurrection would have filled the world.
But the third brother, Ignotus, had chosen humility. He forged the Invisibility Cloak, not to challenge death, but to walk alongside it unseen. He lived a full life and passed peacefully, embracing death like an old friend. In that quiet, dignified ending, he proved himself worthy.
Perhaps this entire legend was not just a tale, but a contest—a divine succession. And Ignotus won. He became Death not by force, but by understanding.
The cloak, then, was more than a relic—it was a metaphor. Wearing it symbolized a temporary step outside the cycle. Removing it meant returning, willingly, to the great journey.
Now, centuries later, Ignotus still influenced the world. Even Nicolas Flamel, who had mastered the Philosopher's Stone and lived for over six centuries, had finally accepted death under that same influence.
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A Legacy in Shadows
The bloodlines of the three brothers still endured:
The Potters, descended from Ignotus, held the Invisibility Cloak.
The Gaunts, and through them Tom Riddle, inherited Cadmus's arrogance.
And Alexander's own family, the Smiths, along with the Longbottoms, were descended from Antioch—though over time, their lineage had faded into obscurity.
That was no accident.
Alexander saw now that Ignotus had restricted his brothers' lines. Not out of malice, but because he believed true balance required humility. Wizards too close to godhood had been retired, gently nudged toward the afterlife. Not punished—simply removed before their ambition could destroy the world.
Even now, Ignotus protected the boundary between mortality and divinity.
Neville Longbottom's family had once pursued strength, but over generations became unremarkable.
Alexander's own family gave up on wizarding fame entirely. They had no grimoires, no heirlooms of power. He had grown up with only scraps of magical theory, tinkering alone with alchemy.
As for the descendants of Cadmus, namely the Gaunts and eventually Voldemort, their fate had been worse. Born without love, twisted by ancestry and prophecy, Tom Marvolo Riddle had become the ultimate warning—what happens when the second brother's legacy spirals out of control.
That's why Harry Potter had been chosen as the savior. Not because he was powerful, but because he didn't want power.
He was born of love. Marked by death. Possessor of the Hallows. Willing to die.
A perfect successor.
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The Trials of a God
To become the next God of Death, a candidate must:
Possess the three Hallows.
Understand their meaning, and reject their temptation.
Die willingly for others—without arrogance, without reward.
And Harry had done just that, at least in the original timeline. Ignotus, growing weary, sought a worthy successor. In that sense, the title of Savior wasn't about defeating Voldemort. It was about inheriting Death itself.
Harry had the traits of all three brothers:
The power of the Elder Wand.
The love that resurrected.
The humility to hide beneath the cloak.
This, Alexander now realized, was the test.
As for himself and Neville, the other children named in the prophecy—they were reserves, backups. Brave, gifted, and important in their own right, but ultimately unmarked.
They didn't carry Voldemort's scar, nor did they hold all three Hallows. If they died, their sacrifice would be noble—but not transformative.
Alexander's thoughts spiraled. All this time… am I just a spare?
But then he smiled.
No, he wasn't angry.
I'm running alongside the protagonist of the world, he thought. Just like every supporting character, every forgotten soul who deserved more than a background role.
Even in a different world… there are always people who run with the Savior.
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