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He moved silently through the door that had been blasted inwards, shattered beyond repair, only the bits of wood where the hinges were connected to the door frame remained. The home was quaint, but cozy, the telly was still playing quietly in the living room just off to the left. The stairs on the right of the small entryway was carpeted and sprawled halfway up them was the man of the house eyes wide with shock, face set in horror, frozen in his last moments of life. Walking up to him, he bent down and touched his chest, hand sinking through flesh and bone to grab the soul and gently pull it out.
The will'o'wisp struggled valiantly, demanding to go back, he had to save Lily and Harry. But he did not let him. Containing the soul in a crystal orb, he set it in his robe pocket before he slowly made his way up the stairs. The pictures that once sat on the walls were all askew or had fallen from their hooks. The walls of the small entryway were scorched, what little furniture was there was destroyed beyond reason. The banister was mangled, half melted, have transfigured into a shield that was now splintered and strewn about. The hallway wasn't much better.
He moved passed the few rooms, heading toward the open door which had suffered the same fate as the front, though this time the hinges were not spared destruction. Inside the nursery was chaos in its finest form. Broken furniture, strewn about toys and books, the lamp was flickering upon the floor, smashed but somehow still working and a hole in the ceiling was left gaping open. Laying half in and half out some rather impressive rune work was the lady of the house. She was a beauty even in death, her dead eyes looking toward the crib where her child lay silent. Carefully kneeling down, he reached into her chest and eased her soul, which left willingly unlike her husband's. The will'o'wisp asked him to spare her child, but he only sighed, he could not if it was time, it was time.
She went silently into her own orb, joining her mate in his pocket as he moved to the last member of this tiny family. The child was laid in bed, almost as if he had cried himself to sleep. Death rarely came personally to collect a soul, his many reapers, his children did that for him, some in creative manners, some quite and somber. Reaching into the crib, he carefully picked up the babe, cradling him close. But he startled when eyes as green as the Killing Curse blinked open and the child cooed, reaching up to touch his hooded face.
Still~alive~then,~little~one?
The baby blinked and giggled, grabbing the pendant he wore, one that was gift to him by an old friend who returned home. He blinked seeing the fresh mark upon his brow and smiled softly, Chaos was here. Only she would intentionally prevent him from reaping a soul.
My~beloved~sister~does~not~want~you~to~die,~little~one.
You~should~be~thankful...
The baby only yawned, cooing as he nuzzled close and drifted off to sleep once more. The child was content in his arms, safe and happy. How strange...
He thought of what to do and then blinked as the world melted away around him. He saw the child's life that had yet to come. Being taken and left on a doorstep, the family hardly caring for him as an infant, abusive to him once he is able to walk and talk. They would enslave him, do their level best to break him, but he would not bend so willingly. He saw him attending Hogwarts, a fine school once upon a time, but no more with current Headmaster controlling what the students learn, influencing the government to his whims and fancy. He saw the child being manipulated, played with like a puppet on a string and when he realizes this, it is too late and his death is assured as well as the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands. He saw the end of his sister, Magic's children. Chaos also looked quite displeased, she did not like the chaos wrought about by these events, even her children were displeased as they now had to correct the mess.
He watched the Headmaster claim all three of his artifacts, becoming his Master. It drew a dark growl that curdled milk from his chest as the visions fell away. Fate, seemed to be the only one enjoying the outcome, the know it all rubbing it in their faces that she saw this happening and would enjoy every minute of it. However, Death rarely got to play a prank on her, Chaos already gave him an opening. He smiled at the child in his arms.
Come,~Little~~Master,~let~us~leave~this~derelict~place...
I~know~somewhere~you~will~be~safe...
Though~I~hope~you~do~not~mind~my~rather~clumsy~parenting,~it~has~been~several~eons~since~I~last~cared~for~a~baby...
The child slept on, having heard nothing he said as he touched his mind and looked through his blood memories. As he did so, he become mortal flesh, adopting features of close familial ties to the child.
“Ah... So you are my dear friend's descendant? Well then I cannot allow what my sister plans for you to come to pass... now I know a place where you will be perfectly safe. But first I will need to do a few things, Little Master...” with that shadows enveloped them just as someone came into the room and they were gone...
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He chuckled darkly as he visited the wand maker, Ollivander. The man nearly had a heart attack upon seeing him there. The man stammered and sweated, trying to find a reason as to why he was there since obviously it was not his time to die.
“Be at peace, dear child... I am only here for a wand... Holly, 10ins, phoenix feather, nice and supple. The brother wand to the yew, 13ins, phoenix feather wand you sold to a young man who had the potential to save you but fell from grace.” He told him.
“Yes, my Lord Death, right away!” He quickly ran to the front of his home and shop, clattering filled the silence, a few muffled curses before he came back in, walking briskly and dropping to his knees as he ducked his head low, the wand box open and showing him the wand he asked for.
“Excellent...” He took it and it sparkled in his hand, but he had no need for it, no use for it. His magic was as old as he was, long since mastered and infinite. “Here....” A sack full of Thestral hair appeared, almost as big as he was tall. “I'm sure you will make very good use of this, sell whatever you do not need or cannot use.”
“Thank you, my Lord!” He grovelled. “Is there anything else I may do for you?”
“Yes... I bind this meeting to your soul, Garrick Ollivander, keep it secret, keep it hidden. Should you fail this task, I will come to drag your soul to the deepest pits of the Underworld.” He growled.
“Yes my Lord. I will never willingly tell... but it does not mean others will not try and pry it from my lips through other means.” Ollivander agreed, pale from the threat, but steady in his acceptance.
“...Yes... However, that will not happen since as soon as I leave, you will not even remember this meeting until the time, that which I deem my charge ready to return... good night Ollivander...” He disappeared, the man's eyes going vacant before he startled.
“Oh my, I must have spaced... best make sure I did not forget to lock the front!” He scurried off, to the front and mumbling as he cleaned up the mess and checked his door to see it was indeed locked.
From the shadows Death nodded as the man clearly did not recall what happened nor did he second guess why there was a mess. He had another couple of stops to make before they were ready to go...
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He easily tore through the spells and traps that littered the little shack on the cliff. He knelt down and waved his hand over the floor boards and out of them floated a golden ring upon which sat his Stone. He purged the curse from it and chuckled as he slipped it onto his left index finger, the ring recognizing him as the rightful master. His Cloak was already donned over his mortal form and his Wand was in a holster on his thigh. Now all three of his treasures were back with him, though he could no longer use them for himself. He glanced down at the child, still sleeping safely tucked into his human arms. He frowned, not use to flesh, it was so constrictive and his pallor was deathly pale, but oddly it held a pinkness to suggest good health. The baby was nearly as pale, though it looked exquisite on him since he was really alive.
Now then, to go to the Goblins. He turned to leave, but froze seeing his new human face. His features were sharp and angular, aristocrats would kill for his features, almost carved from marble and with such perfection it was obviously unnatural. His left eye was a deep green while the right was a startling black with a white slit for a pupil. He would need an eye patch if only to avoid being discovered or frighting humans more than needed. His hair was long and black, cut short near the head, but fell into a long braid down his back.
“Hmm, I look like one of Chaos' favorite cartoon characters, better not let her seem like this or she will try to jump me.” He snorted amused. “Well, Little Master, let us be on our way once more...” He took a step and suddenly they were before a white building, grand and majestic, Gringotts; Wizarding Bank. He floated passed the guards, who trembled in his wake. The Goblins who lingered at their desks all ducked their heads, shying away from him as he moved toward the Head Teller. The Goblin put up a valiant effort to look him in the face, will give him that much. “I wish to arrange a few things with my account and those of Hadrian James Potter. I am now his sole caretaker since I have reaped the souls of his mother and father.”
“I shall get the Potter Account Manager straight away, Lord Death!” He got up and all but ran to get the Goblin. Death ignored the frightened Goblins as Harry began to fuss, the child slowly waking.
“Ah... hunger, maybe?” He wondered as he carefully brought the child to his shoulder and felt his bottom. “No, a soiled nappy... well then, nothing to it.” He waved his hand over the Head Teller's desk and the things floated away as a baby pad and a fresh nappy appeared. He laid Harry down, long practiced hands easily getting him free of his jammies and the dirty diaper off, his bottom cleaned, powdered and the fresh one secured into place before he was redressed and back in his new guardian's arms before he had a chance to fully cry and demand his solid nappy to be changed. The baby items vanished into thin air as the Teller's items floated back onto the cleaned desk, just as the Goblins came back, the Potter Goblin looking quite pale.
“My Lord... How may I help you?” The Potter Goblin bowed low, nervous and shifting uneasily.
Suddenly an hourglass appeared with the Goblin's name on it and it was nearly empty; this drew a great frown to his semi full lips. And then the room fell away, he saw what had happened just a few hours before he went to get the Potters. He saw Gravelnook, the Goblin, speaking with the Headmaster, signing papers and handing out keys to the corrupt man. He watched him seal the wills, taking a sizable amount of gold as payment and then lose the papers. Watched as the pair drew up a number of contracts, especially a wedding one that would enslave his young Master to a girl who would only love his money and fame. He watched the Headmaster speak to a few others, saw him give away money that was not his, venture down to the vaults belonging to the Potter family and helping himself to their numerous artifacts and tomes. And then the world came back to him and he glared fiercely.
“You dare betray the trust of your clients?! You dare to steal!? From an orphan!?” His voice rose to a thunderous clap, the Goblins all frozen in fear, especially the guilty Gravelnook. “Your time is near... you will hand over your accounts, you will give back the stolen monies and you will find those papers and have those keys destroyed before I remove your head!!”
The Goblins came back to life then, all shouting and cursing the cur, who quickly summoned up all he needed, giving them to a young Goblin, Griphook, to take over. The keys were recalled and destroyed, the monies, artifacts and tomes magically reappearing where they belong as any contracts were destroyed. He watched with glee as the burning papers glowed with the rainbow color of Magic, who was right furious and about to exact her revenge. Those who willingly aided the pair would have a rude awakening, while those who are innocent will only be given a warning. When it was all in order, Griphook was handed a beautiful mythril sword, the others holding Gravelnook steady, even as he begged Death to spare him.
“Why should I spare you when you did not spare a thought for the child who's life were helping to ruin?” He cocked his head, curious.
Gravelnook opened his mouth to speak, but Griphook brought the sword down upon his neck, cleaving his head off in one swift motion, it rolled to stop before Death's feet as the hourglass finally emptied. One of his children appearing in wraith form and grabbing the soul before it could flee. They did it without sound and left as quickly, heading off to their next target.
“Now then, Griphook is it?” He turned his attention to the young Goblin who beheaded his predecessor
“Yes, my Lord.” He bowed, he was fearless as only the young could be.
“Will you be following in your predecessor's footsteps or will you honor the task you have been given?” He demanded, peering into his soul, looking at his future.
“I will do my best to honor it, should I fail, I would gladly slit my throat upon alter within your Vault, my Lord.” He vowed, sealing it with magic and blood, making it binding and near unbreakable. He approved. “What is it that my Lord be needing?”
He smirked, right to the point, good, he did not like wasting time. His time was very valuable and quite precious only family and his few friends could waste his time for frivolities
“I have seen the future laid out for Heir Potter and I do not approve of Fate's design... I wish to pull the carpet out from under her feet, so to speak. I will be needing several things and I will be taking Heir Potter somewhere where he will truly grow up safe and free of harm... As well as somewhere to hone skills and be the Hero the Wizarding World wants and needs. No one from the Ministry, nor Albus Dumbledore should have access of any kind to the Potter Accounts or Seats. Lord Prince will be Heir Potter's Proxy, I trust you will make successful investments for Heir Potter and I expect that when the time for war arrives, you will side with my Little Master or die at his feet. You may remain neutral, however you will not hinder his task. Even if it means stealing from your Bank.”
The Goblins shook in fright under the power of each word spoken, but agreed. This child must truly be something if Death as decided he would bind himself to him. They would be fools to stand in his way, dead fools that is. And as much as it galls them to allow a thief to escape, they would not dare make an enemy of Death, for they would lose since Death is Final.
“Of course, my Lord.” Griphook stated, taking notes of what was being asked of him. “I will do all I can and make sure to not overstep my bounds. The letters will be sent to the respective peoples.”
“Also Lord Black has been arrested and will be sent to Azkaban without trial, investigate the situation and get him free, cleanse him, his werewolf lover, Lord Prince and any he trusts. There will be more in the future, but I will pen you a letter of who is to be cleansed and protected by the Goblins later. Work on them. Tell them everything. Now then, shall we go to your new office?”
“Yes, my Lord...” Griphook smiled...
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Once all his preparations were in place, his Little Master the Heir to several Houses, he stood up and followed Griphook down to his Vault. It was at the deepest level, the only one marked with the Infinity symbol and emblazoned with various depictions of Death's forms from all over the world. The doors shuddered and swung open eerily silent, the Vault was grand but empty of all but shelves of Hourglass cases. Each had a plaque under them with the names of those he personally escorted into the Afterlife, the two newest ones were empty which he quickly walked up to them and pulled the two crystal orbs containing the Potters out. Once they were set on their respective stand, their orbs turned into their Death Hourglass. Once that was done the spirits were set free and they lingered as they came to look at their child.
“I will raise him, protect him... you will be able to speak with him should he need you... go now, rest assured he will be safe and happy... And do not worry about love, there is much of it to come in his future... Besides I love all of my children dearly.” He smirked at them as they nod, but reluctantly fade away. He turned toward the center of the room where the Veil between the Worlds stood. He broke off a large chunk and handed it to Griphook, who accepted it with reverence clear on his face. “Carve that into into rings and make them into Portkeys. You will not need a destination since they will automatically bring the wearer to where my Little Master is and back to their original world. There is more than enough to make about 100, whatever is left, keep it for whatever you desire.”
“This a most gracious gift, my Lord. I shall do as you ask... to whom shall I send these rings too?”
“I will send you word when it is time. For now, go about your everyday business... Until our next crossing, Young Griphook.”
“Until our paths join again, Lord Mors...” Griphook bowed before quickly fleeing the room since it was not permissible to watch Death open the Veil.
“Mors.... Very well, I will be Honesta Mors...” He smirked, to the air as he checked his Little Master, who had settled down for sleep once more, one last time before they were stepping into the Veil. He hummed eerily as he looked at the worlds around them, looking for one that would be perfect for his needs as well as to train little Harry Potter for his future. Ah, there it was! And off they went down the path to Arda. “You may call me Papa Mors, Little Master...”