"What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave!"
- Fleur Delacour, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Chapter 29
"If you want to know what a man's like, take a go...
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Imogen Lillian Potter was 17 when she decided she didn't want to fight anymore. She was tired as she stared ahead of herself, the cheers of Voldemort's defeat were silent, her eyes glazed over as she thought of poor Tom Riddle, sure he killed her parents, he killed hundreds of people. But he was lead astray by Dumbledore, the man who should have helped an abused child, found someone to show him love and care, like she deserved. She and Voldemort weren't that different, she was abused, mentally and physically, treated like a slave by her own blood, Dudley though was kind to her even as they grew up together, he faked the bullying, and always came to check up on her.
She missed her cousin.
Shaking her head, Imogen shuffled to the bridge, eyes tired, a limp in her step as she walked to the edge. In her right hand she gripped tightly to the elder wand, her body shook as she felt the pain going up her body, she was so tired, tired of it all. She clenched her teeth as she thought about the people who had died, some of her best friends were gone, Fred, someone who held her when she cried for the loss of her parents, while others celebrated the defeat of Voldemort, she mourned her parents with Fred and George by her side. And now her best friend, a brother, was gone. She didn't know how to cope with it anymore, as she stopped walking, no one seeing their chosen one walk away.
"Death, I have your Hallows. I wish to return them to you," Imogen whispered as she looked ahead once more, her escape not far from her. She wanted to run so fast, run away, change her identity, everything, just for a new life.
She felt the chill down her spine, as a bony finger caressed her bleeding cheek, the dark figure walking around her a gleam in his black eyes. "Miss Imogen Potter, what an interesting development to the end of this story." Death said to the seventeen year old girl. "What can I do for you, young witch?" He asked her.
"I don't want you to do anything Lord Death, I just wish to return these to you." Imogen said lifting the cloak, wand, and stone up to the deity. "I wish to be rid of these items," she whispered as Death took the three items from her.
"Yet if you claim these I would be at your service for eternity." Death stated, curious of what she was going to say.
Imogen smiled gently. "You are Death, I would not ask you to do anything for me, I would not treat you like a slave."
Death hummed softly looking down at the witch, he could see the scars that littered the poor child's body, how she was skin and bones, hair matted, filth covering her body. Imogen was a child loved by the magical circle, and Death could now understand why she was loved, her life was a horror story, but she grew into a kind girl, who believed in others, and wanted nothing but the best even in spite of her own health. Lifting his bony hand to the young witch he placed it gently on her cheek, "I Death hold myself to you and only you Mistress, when you need me I will appear, when you want something done I will do it for you. I Death am at your service. So mote it be." Death swore as a dark band appeared on the two, Imogen's sitting snuggly on her wrist, dark red rubies coating the obsidian band. The same appearing on his own.
"No, why would you do that?" She asked eyes teary as she saw what she believed to be a slave contract, she never ever wanted that, not for Death.
"Because Imogen, I choose who I want to follow, and I choose you, for your kindness, your selflessness, and for the reason that you need to escape this, this is not your time, and it has never been." Death whispered to her wrapping the cloak around the young witch and whisking her away. Leaving nothing but a cold patch of ice behind.
The two landed in a woods not far from London town, the year is 1910, Imogen landed on her knees with a thud, shock clearly on her face. "Death?" She questioned, trying to find the deity and figure out what was happening. Or where she was for that matter.
"Sorry for the delay Mistress." Death said as he walked out dressed in a fine suit, the deity fixing his cuffs. "I had to find a suit to wear." He said with a smirk.
Imogen raised an eyebrow at the deity, "you mean you needed to find a meat suit, that's what you mean."
Death rolled his eyes at the young witch, "no, I really did need a nice suit, also I needed to find you a dress, women of this time don't wear pants, especially denim jeans." He said holding up a beautiful emerald dress, Imogen blinked in surprise before taking the dress. Only for Death to snap his fingers and the dress now adorned her body.
She gasped in surprise, but appreciated the fact she didn't have to change in the woods, "wait women of this time?" She questioned, now staring at Death.
"Welcome Mistress to the year 1910." Death said to the witch, before taking her arm and disappearing from the woods.
Stumbling on her feet Imogen found herself on familiar territory, Diagon Alley. Sighing with relief she allowed Death to tug her along the streets. Well, she thought, it used to be familiar territory. It may have been a path she once took but nothing was the same, darker stores sat on Diagon Alley, some she knew had been in Knockturn Alley in her time. She even knew their locations as she wanted to learn as much as she could, understand the ways of purebloods. Learning things neither of her two best friends would ever dream of.
"Where?" She asked but the question was answered as they approached Gringotts Bank. "Why?" She asked.
"A friend of mine will be helping us today." Death answered, as he pulled her inside, the pair nodding their thanks to the Goblins. Imogen was a bit hesitant when she remembered what she and her friends had done, but they hadn't done it in this time. Imogen and Death walked straight to the front where the head Goblin sat and so they waited, and waited, and waited.
"How may I help you?" The Goblin asked the pair, finishing his work.
"I wish to see Merlin please, tell him Thanatos wishes to discuss some private matters." Death said to the head Goblin, nodding his giant head the head Goblin sent a letter to Merlin, Imogen was still wide eyed at hearing the name coming from Death's mouth, that she didn't realise they were walking again.
"Merlin?" She asked.
Death looked down at her as he knocked on a oak door. "Yes, he is still alive, and will be for another million odd years." Death muttered.
"Come in." A young voice called out. Pushing the door open Death and Imogen stepped inside the office, well suite if she were being honest with herself.
"Death to what do I owe the pleasure?" The Great Merlin asked a grin on his face.
"Merlin, I'd like to introduce, Imogen Lillian Potter, the Mistress of Death." Death said with a smirk.
And as this had went on, Imogen thought to herself, what she had gotten herself into, and what was she going to do now.
