Royalty of the Night

Master what do you want?

On an old sofa in a dark, richly furnished room, with a fire crackling its merry tune, sat a man. He looked young, about 25, with pale skin contrasting greatly with his stormy midnight black hair. If you saw the eyes that were hidden by bangs, you would see twin orbs of bright verdant that seemed to gleam with a dark inner light, and their color was that of the curse that kills. And there just visible beneath the fringe of his bangs was a faded scar with the appearance of a lightning strike. He had on black and silver open-fronted robes and a white button-up shirt with black trousers. He had on no shoes or socks as he relaxed by the fire with a leather-bound book in hand.

This young man was a very special man, for one he was a hero, ending a war at the tender age of 15 months old, only for another war to start when he was but a child of 11, and to be ended by him again when he was 17 years of age, but alas at a terrible cost. On the night of October 31, 1981, that fateful day he ended the first war, the Dark Lord at the time who wished to rule the world murdered his beloved mother and father. So the newly orphaned baby boy was sent to live with his mother's sister, her husband, and their only child, a son, his cousin. He was starved and made to do all the work in the house; he was made to make others think he was stupid and told that his life didn't matter to anyone. Living in a closet under the stares he believed his cruel relatives.

This child had the given name of Harlequin James Potter, He was the son of James Charles Potter and Lillin Rose Potter née Evens, and was called Harry for Harlequin was far too long for a baby. He was born on July 31, 1980, at 11:59 PM just moments before the clock rang out 12:00 o'clock AM on August 1, just as the 7th month died. This sealed his fate as a child of soothsaying and caused the Dark Lord to target him and his family.

The reason that the Dark Lord came after the family of three was because of a fake prophecy made by a woman controlled by the Old Man that wanted to control the Fates. For this man was far more nefarious than the Dark Lord Voldemort could ever be.

At the moment he was seated in the Living-room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place reading a book on Bloodline traits he had found it the Black Library. He had read it several times already so in reality he was skimming through it to pass time. While he was reading he was also thinking, a dangerous past time for ordinary people, but he was far from ordinary.

For this Young man was something that most people would not even dare to dream to be. This young man, that even as a babe was not quite so ordinary, is the one and only Master of Death. This is both a blessing and a curse. For he would never age, and death would never bring 'Its' master past the veil that separated the living from the dead. Thought a curse it will be, as he will never see the ones he loved that lived on the other side.

As the young man sat, the shadows in the corner behind him came to life, and something stepped out. Out from the inky blackness came something from a child's nightmare. A long black cloak fluttered in a non-existent breeze, the whisper of heavy cloth rubbing together grabbed at the ears and played tricks on the mind. The deep hood obscured to the face of the wearer leaving only a mouth full of unnaturally sharp teeth to be seen and to frighten you. Long deathly pale fingers were the only other skin seen as they held the darkly gleaming wood that held the cruel harshly shining metal of the scythe. The dark figure walked toward out seemingly unaware young lionheart, as he sat with his book in the chair in front of the fire.