Very few knew this, but Death was not an omnipotent entity with no form or thought.
Death was a man. True, with power few mortals, could believe and embody all thought death could be, but a man.
Death did not meddle in ordinary deaths, not in the simple heart attacks or murders, nor animals sacrificed for food or the assassination of world leaders. Death’s job was souls and their movement onward. When a soul got clogged, be it the mess of a life it left behind or magicks holding it captive, this was where Death came.
Death was a man for this job needed a soul to judge it justly. Nothing that had not lived could judge if a soul deserved to stay or go.
The original Death realized this a millennia ago with three brothers. His sight after so long was skewed and a different view was needed to continue.
He searched the lines interconnected to those brothers. He looked for some sign and found it with a pair of sisters.
Necromancers, unique as they searched to bring souls peace to move onward and blessed my magic for their self-sacrifice. Death gave them an offer.
A son to continue their line and a promise from Life herself to lengthen their family till Magick themself drew last breath. The cost?
A child of each generation or so to carry the sister’s duties and pass judgement with the scythe for lost souls. To subject them a lifetime of hard work till passing on by their successor’s hands. Bloody work to be wiped onto the next for eternity.
These sisters thought long until the younger stepped willingly to Death. He gave his scythe and named them Princes of Death, successors of judgement and peace for soul.
And so our story begins many a generation later. Where many forget Death walks beside them, Life has gifted them personally, and that Magick has a face all once met.
~ * ~
Death walked into Godric’s Hollow. The suffering of multiple souls was substantial here. It was not often souls screamed in such agony, but they bled past dimensions to where Death lived, awoke him with their cries of pain and anguish.
His dragonskin boots stepped silently into the little cabin. His midnight eyes slid over the interior. Furniture was scorched with magic and walls were ripped relentlessly by spellwork. The source of the first call sat at the foot of the stairs. The silvery soul drifted there, its mouth twisted in its shouts and where feet should end, wisps that tangled with the limbs of its body remained instead.
Death studied the body, searching for spellwork or runes to demolish and release the soul. He found none. Instead, he looked at a schoolyard adversary. The past few years had not changed him much. His body may be wider, his soul may bear scars where open wounds of ill-intent may have been, but the man had not changed so much that Death could not see the boy he once was.
~ * ~
“What are you doing here? Where is my son! My wife! What did you do to them!” the soul shouts as its glasses-cade eyes turn to stare at Death.
“Quiet. I am here to see if you can move on to the next step, not answer your blubbering,” Death snaps, kneeling next to the body. His hands ghost over, the shape of a lightning bolt on his chest glowing an emerald-like green, “your Death was clean, and you did not tie yourself to the plane. Why are you even here?”
“A Dark Lord is chasing after my son! Why would I leave! He has no one if she is dead as well! The only way I am passing is with my family with me!” He snarls, ghostly hands passing through Death harmlessly.
“Ever the noble Gryffindor, aren’t you? I can tell you now your wife is dead, your son has yet to pass, and it feels like that Dark Lord of yours is dead or tied here upstairs. Will you move on?” Death snaps, his irritation with his schoolyard enemy rising. He wanted to leave, finish this job and go home to drown sorrows in Firewhiskey once he confirmed his thoughts.
“Not until I am sure he will be safe! There are still Death Eaters, and god knows who else that believes that prophecy who want to see him dead!” The soul screams in frustration, “No one can be trusted obviously! The secret keeper led him right here! What is to say Padfoot didn’t go to his family and tell their lord all about Wormtail!”
Death sighs loudly, “Do you not hear yourself? Your sanity will wane by the minute if you are not moved on or properly tied to this plane, something I refuse to do! This is a battle that only ends with you never meeting peace! Give up your wailing Potter and let me move you on!” Death growls, his wand shifting to a set of shears he begins to cut away at the strands blending soul to the body, “Bitch to Life once you pass on but cease your crying before I get angry!”
The soul looks taken aback and sighs, “That is anything but ideal, and you leave me no options, don’t you? Can’t you give me any time, any way to ensure he is safe? My son is the key to everything if that prophecy is right.”
“That prophecy is pure rubbish. A madwoman was desperate for some income with the luck of seeing a few prophecies so she may imitate. Your son shall be fine, sent to godparents or god knows who else you listed in your will. There’s no need for reassurance,” He continues to snip away, nearly halfway done separating.
“I did not die for rubbish! Albus witnessed it! It is a true prophecy, and even if otherwise, we all think so! It does not matter for threats to his life!” The soul desperately shifts to try and stop those shears, hissing in pain to touching their blades, “We only listed Padfoot! He will go to Petunia, that horse-faced bitch! He will die with that magic-hating muggle throwing her hatred at him!”
Death had to pause to that. He remembered all those hateful comments from her as a child, how they turned to wrecking her sister’s things as a teenager. There was little doubt she got better after a few years of stewing away from magic.
“And what do you expect me to do? The ministry will not leave the first generation Pureblood heir with muggles. He will be placed with a pureblood family sworn to allegiance with your house or affiliated by some distant blood relation,” Death finishes snipping all but the last thread, “There is nothing to be done.”
The soul growled and tried to make Death look at him, “No. There is none of that. With that prophecy, fake or no, only a nation not associated with England will he be safe. Take my son to Gringotts, they can handle the rest to get him out of the country. Please!’
Death is not sure that is making him decide to do this. Be it the desperation in his eyes, or the reminder of his precious Lily, he will never know. But in that split second he nods, “Fine. Goodbye, you idiotic Gryffindor,” and with his last snip, the soul fades.
After that, he continues upward on those stairs. His heart thumps as he ascends, the door of where he should go obvious. It is blasted away, the walls marked in black as he steps through. For a place where he can feel the echoes of a soul in absolute agony, it is oddly quiet. There is a pile of dust on the ground, with the remnants of a shattered, black, soul hanging onto it. It threads outward to a gurgling child in a crib. He peeks over and cannot help but smile to its eyes. Green,, with depths like nothing else but a grand reminder of Lily.
Thinking of her, he looks to the ground. There is no body, no whisper of her Death or soul. Where is she? She could not have survived, not when he heard three souls screaming for release. The black one is obviously long gone but the third? Where?
He sighs and instead focuses on his temporary charge. A shift has his cloak removed, and those eyes focussed on him. Death picks the baby up and just as he feels someone apparate in, he leaves through a shadow.
Death does not arrive in a wizarding entrance for Gringotts. No, he appears in the throne room. It is empty, not that it matters. What matters is the throne and the parchment beside. He looks down at the baby and sighs, setting him on the throne then jotting a few words. He places it on the babe and with a crack, he leaves a typical wizarding way to bring a guard.
All this guard discovers is a baby, a blanket, and a note that the nation takes seriously.
This is the Potter heir, laid on this throne by Death. Have him raised safely and away from the troubles of England.
The Half-Blood Prince
Chapter 2: I
Glimpses of the life of Harry. This picks up shortly after the prologue
The King went to court that morning and found a surprise. A human baby, crooning and cooing up at the fiery-haired goblin, little green eyes sparkling and fingers making grasping motions toward him.
“Guards!” The goblin yells, casting fingers in strange motions and letting a veil of magic fall on the baby, checking for any hostile magic. Two of his guards ran in, one picking the babe up so the King may sit.
“There is a note sir,” the dark-haired female guard, Rosetic, says, offering the black parchment, “it claims he comes from Death. Do we return it to the wizards?”
The King sighs, offering a hand, reading carefully, “no. This child is the Potter heir, and our ally has requested he is raised away from those wishing him harm in that war. We are a neutral party, a sovereign international nation who can keep him separate with ease. He will be a fine asset for goblins, getting a boon from death and a friend to the nation that will have power in wizard politics as an adult.”
“But my King! Who would raise a human? They are so fragile, and one has not been allowed in the depths of the nation! Your father made the law himself!” The guard without the babe argues, eyeing it suspiciously, “what if he is a spy?”
“What is your name?” The King narrows his eyes, looking for signs of a family on the man and finding a bonding bracelet, “married into the Hook clan. If I remember your clan had a name day for twins occurred last year. Perfect playmates for the Potter heir. If you are so sure he’s to be raised a spy, who better to ensure otherwise than a former guard?”
His eyes widen, “fo-former guard? But my King! I have been loyal for four decades!”
The king nods, “and you are questioning my decision. I enjoy having advisors questioning me, and your family is ever loyal. A guard has little time to be with his children, and you will need it to raise a human. You will be working in the Britain branch to find threats to the Potter and report regularly. Is there an issue Griphook?”
The guard gapes, his silvery hair flyaway as he eyes the human baby, “No, my king.”
“Wonderful, take the young babe and leave to inform your mate,” The King grins as Griphook takes the baby sniffling and hurrying away, just as it starts to scream and sob.
~ * ~ 3 Years Later ~ * ~
“There’s a problem with the test results, you cannot adopt him,” the healer, a small goblin by the name of Frotic, explains.
“An issue? This is a goblin adoption; so long as he is free of foreign magic, we can adopt him. We cleansed him this morning!” The pink-haired goblin hisses angrily, eyeing her mate Griphook sharply while the young, dark-haired boy between them sucks a blood lolly.
“Mum, don’t yell. Mr Frotic din’t do anythin’” Hadrian mumbles into his lolly, “let him finish.”
“Don’t mumble Hadrian, it is unbecoming of the clan,” Griphook grumbles with a faint smile, “but what problem? The cleanse was overseen by the King’s wife, and she would have seen something.”
“There is foreign magic in the curse scar on his forehead. The testing stones light up for forbidden magics, and it is leeching,” Frotic explains, motioning to the little silver pebble circling the scar, “on his soul. It cannot identify what type of magic is there, it has melded too much to see that.”
The goblin parents frown, “and we never had this identified in ANY of his previous scans how?”
“It is hiding. The only reason we detected it was the fact Hadrian went through the cleansing, so it cocooned itself in Harry’s magic. Since the magic is outside the core of a wizard, we could sense the disturbance in his magic and placed a binder on his magic to do a more thorough check. We could remove it, but it is..dangerous. Messing with souls always is.”
Hadrian tilts his head, “why?”
The goblins look between each other before Griphook speaks, “because souls are the realm of the Patrons. We would need to commune with Life for her blessing to work with your soul to repair it. We will need to put your body in stasis and have the King pull your soul out of your body. Assuming Life gives permissions..your soul gets returned. It is dangerous. I have only seen the King work with a single soul, and he did not commune with Death..so it was taken.”
“So...I’m gonna die?” Hadrian’s bottom lip starts to tremble, and he shows signs of beginning to cry, “I don’t wanna meet Death! I wanna be with you and Mummy!”
His mother goblin quickly gathers him up, hugging him tightly, “hush sweet Lil Raven. You won’t be dying, the King has Death owing him a boon though, you will survive. You will be fine for you are strong, and you will be the shining star of our clan, leading the nation to greatness.”
Hadrian sniffles his nose and nods, “o-okay. You promise to make sure I am okay?”
“Always my son,” Griphook smiles.
~ * ~
“A HORCRUX? WHY WAS ANOTHER MAN’S SOUL IN MY SON’S HEAD?!” Griphook yells, eyeing the silver and onyx glass container containing the black wisp, “HOW DID YOU NOT SEE THIS? HOW DID DEATH LET THIS SLIP?!”
The King sips his tea, watching the goblin yell and scream at him with faint bemusement, “Horcruxes are tricky magic. Their entire magic created to hide from Death. It is no surprise he did not see it when another soul formed around it, but it is gone now. The only issue is that that Horcrux was not the only one.”
Griphook stops yelling and looks at him, “You are thinking the Dark Lord split his soul REPEATEDLY? A wizard would be mad!”
“And he was. There was no ritual set up in the house for Horcrux creation, so for his soul to split, it had to be unstable enough to splinter as it left his body. This piece is tiny, less than 2 per cent a whole soul. Assuming rather than splinter it..halved, that means this is his sixth Horcrux, so there are five others. Voldemort is still alive,” The goblin king says gravely, looking at the container, “and we need to stop him or Hadrian and the nation will be in danger as soon as he regains a form. I am certain his followers have a plan.”
Griphook frowns, nodding, “how do we find them then?”
“Scrying. We can use the soul to find the others,” he replies, eyeing it distastefully.
“The Dark Lord was a parseltongue sire, what if he warded in the tongue? It is not just wizarding magic, we cannot pass it,” the runemaster in the corner spoke up, “only a parseltongue can pass that magical protection, even in a scry. There has not been another reported since the Gaunt line died either.”
The King sighs, “start having other branches across the world look for a Parselmaster. We will see if the gift is hidden in another country, another line. For now, go with Hadrian and finish the adoption. Let him become a goblin in the eyes of magic, not just paper.”
~ * ~ 1 Year Later ~ * ~
“He does not like being chained up Da, why is he chained up?” Hadrian asks, looking at the dragon who is giving out mournful howls.
“Who Hadrian, the dragon?” Griphook slows the cart as they approach the lower levels and eyes the little boy.
“Mhm. He says he misses his mate. He don’t know why he’s down here,” Hadrian mumbles, wrapping arms around his legs, holding them close to his chest.
“You can understand him?” Griphook raises an eyebrow, turning the cart to go toward the dragon. It was a new specimen, they had to switch the dragons once every five decades for protection duty by the contracts. As soon as they landed by the dragon, Hadrian was clambering out, running before Griphook could stop him.
“Hadrian get back here!” He yells, running after Hadrian. He was feeling dread run down his spine as the dragon opened his jaws, but to his surprise, there was no fire. Instead, the beast allowed Harry to climb onto his head, and he could hear the grumbling hisses come from him.
“But he is lonely!” Hadrian shouts, sitting on the dragon’s head, giggling as he gets raised upward. Griphook looks shocked as hisses begin to erupt from his son’s mouth, answered by the dragon.
“Hadrian Hook, get down!” He yells, watching as the dragon lowers him, “you can speak parseltongue. You’re speaking to the dragon.”
Hadrian nods, beaming, “I speak to the dragon! He wants outside.”
Griphook sighs, rubbing his temples. He would need to tell his King, they had not found a parseltongue elsewhere, and while he hated using his son to scry, his adoption meant the King could use him as he wished. Hadrian had strong magicks and to lead a scry, he was old enough now. Younger children had been used to blood scry, and he knew his King would have no qualms..hopefully, Harry would not lose his innocence.
~ * ~ 2 Years Later ~ * ~
“The Horcrux is in there,” Hadrian points at Hogwarts on the map, feeling the tugging magic push his finger on the map.
It had been a year since they began letting him scry, the young boy insisting he wanted to ‘finish the big bad guy’. They had never hidden the truth of the Potters from him, and for a young boy, Hadrian had a massive heart. He wanted to stop any more little boys losing parents from the Dark Lord, and the scrying only took a small cut. Griphook hated how the King allowed the six-year-old to risk himself with scrying, but supposedly this was the last. A variety of Horcruxes were contained in goblin-made vessels around the map but did not change the dread to see Hogwarts pointed out.
Dumbledore was someone they found dangerous and hardly an ally, even if they were on the same side. The nation was aware Sirius Black was incarcerated illegally and that while Dumbledore claimed Harry Potter was safe with his guardians, he spent every moment trying to use the nation’s scry-masters to find him. Griphook did not understand why a school headmaster would lie and try to claim a pureblood heir that he had no business with; however, he doubted it right. The minute goblins went near the school, alarms would inevitably rise.
“Does the half-goblin still work there?” the King asks, “he has been spying on the Headmaster, correct?”
One of the clan masters steps forward nodding, “yes sir. My great-grandson still works as the charms master. Do you wish him to be brought into the fold?”
“No, but I want him to find the Horcrux. The previous were all goblin made relics the Hogwart founding families forgot to return, and, likely, this one is as well. Send a recovery team to him and have papers drawn up. The headmaster will not stop them unless he wants his office searched,” the king nods and hums softly, “go.”
~ * ~ 3 Years Later ~ * ~
Hadrian sat in the classroom for curse-breaking, a notebook of parchment in front. His mum Rohook taught it, and when he had to choose his first magics to learn at seven with the twins, he knew he wanted to work on the puzzle of taking away harming enchantments. His mother beamed, even though it was a hard one to begin. Hadrian proved to be a prodigy with magic, having leaps in bounds as his Parseltongue let him slash most normal enchanting or twisting it harmlessly. It was a pride of the Hook clan he could sit in a classroom with adults of outstanding NEWTS while not yet in traditional schooling and all other goblins his age just had basics of their chosen field. He may only have the education of a first-year in potions and otherwise, but his grasp of charms, runes, and Arithmancy was miraculous.
“Are you lost?”
Hadrian looked up to eye the tall ginger which is looking at him curiously, “no, I am not unless this isn’t the class for specializing rune curses by Rohook.”
“Hadrian, be polite!” Rohook calls, looking to the ginger, “Mister Weasley, I assume?”
“Yes, Bilius Weasley though I go by Bill, miss,” He straightened up, looking nervous in his clothes that while clean and fitting, were obviously well worn.
“Wonderful, my son Hadrian will be your partner for the class, you are behind the rest so try to keep up,” Rohook motions to the seat that Bill sits in dumbly.
“Son?” he asks, shocked the kid who looks his brother’s age is sitting there confidently.
“Yes, I am adopted. Lost my parents in the war and their will clauses gave me to the nation to raise. Is there a problem if a goblin raises a human?” Hadrian narrows his eyes, suddenly defensive. His family often told him how his case was infrequent and had not happened in Britain since the war against Grindelwald. Wizards found it like a betrayal, and they always told him to be proud of his heritage, the honour of the nation raising him to be strong and walk the line of two worlds.
“No! No, I am just surprised. I haven’t ever seen you before with other wizarding children,” Bill takes out his pile of loose parchment and an old, busted quill, “I thought the nation would be more..public about a human charge to bolster relations.”
“No, my parents worry about the state of the ministry and their stance on the nation. We all agreed it is safer for me if I waited till closer to Hogwarts to meet my age group in case they want to try and take me,” Hadrian smiles, “they love to take me out to France and Germany though.”
Bill chuckles, “my father would agree. He is always worried about the new laws they pass limiting creatures, especially that last one restricting new wands. I think my brother Ron is about your age if you ever wanted to meet another human.”
Hadrian perks up at him, “I know! My clan has a few distant half-goblin cousins, and now their kids can’t even get wands! Mum talked about moving them to the American branches where they do not have the ten per cent restriction. I’ve met humans before though, just adults, though. And one kid in Egypt, mum had to go there last summer! It was so hot there!”
The two start to talk, absorbed in conversation while Rohook watches them smiling. She was always worried about how Hadrian would interact with humans where the protocol was different, even if children had to follow less of it on either side. To see Hadrian as carefree as he was while with dragons or the twins was a relief to her. She always had to worry for her son and a human to watch him where she couldn’t be easing.
Chapter 3: Temporary Hiatus
Really sorry I haven’t updated! Here’s why
I am so sorry I have not updated as promised. Life gave a couple punches and I will not have time for chapter 3 until ~November 15 as I’m buying a house!
The long story short is my landlord screwed me and is raising rent by $600(almost double original) so I’ve had to pick up another job and family said ‘fuck it’ and am helping me buy a home which our offer got accepted on because the fact this could happen horrifies them and I had a deposit saved for one when my lease ran out anyways. Soo I’m very VERY busy dealing with lawyer and fun buying a home at 19 and needing to learn on the fly stuff!
Super sorry guys!! However once I get to renting a room out I will have LOTS of spare time(hopefully) to help this all out. It’s plan to like 75% to the end just needs a musing to finish writing down which I can’t do while working 2 full times 😓