:Parseltongue:
:Language of the Dead:
:Thoughts/letters/the usual really:
:Gobblygook:
~~~~~~~~~~
It was the middle of the night, meaning, the time the creatures crawled out of their hideouts to do their business.
Ever since the Dark Lord had fallen, the restrictions on all kinds of magical creatures grew tighter, limiting their freedom further than they had already been. But as it was the middle of the night, creatures such as vampires, veelas, werewolves and the many had little time and small breeches of freedom to do their shopping and the such.
And the goblins, like as during the day, were filled with work with the many costumers at the famous bank of the Magical Britain (or as wizards liked to call it, Wizarding Britain, completely ignoring the ancient creatures which have been in this world long before them), Gringotts.
Now, everyone knows Gringotts is the safest place in the British Isles, if not the entire Europe. The goblins pride themselves on their security and their gold. And for this, Gringotts has several magics working constantly to protect them against attacks and thefts, such as apparition within the bank's walls.
So it is to their utter surprised when a loud CRACK was heard throughout the main hall as a small child, no older then four years old, apparated within it's walls. The goblin guards quickly got out of their surprised state and ruched to the child in the middle of the hall. Quickly discovering it filled with blood, both dried and still running freely from the boys countless wounds. The magic around the child was too familiar to those of the warrior race. It was an ancient and forgotten magic. True, many still sought to master it's wielder, but not one soul has been able to do so, not for long at least. The Maker does not like to be a servant. Not to those unworthy at least.
Yet here it lies. A mere child surrounded by such cold and deadly magic.
A breath drew from the child, and those who heard it flinched. It sounded just like the ragged breaths of a dementor.
A brave goblin came to his senses and decided to touch the child with the handle of his axe, turning over slowly. The other goblins surrounded the child, making it so no one could see the child. The goblins observed the boy lying in the middle of them, an eyebrow rose in the Head Goblin. He knew the child well, everyone did actually. The child was none other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Vanquisher of the Dark Lord.
Harrison's eyes fluttered open slowly and looked at his surroundings, not really seeing what was around him, only white marble. His eyes locked with one of the goblins, the Head Goblin, whose eyes were wide in amazement, before a ragged whimper left his mouth as a cry for help.
"Take the boy to our healers. Careful, we do not know his injuries." The Head Goblin spoke as the boy passed out once more, before going to his station and wrote a letter to his superior about the recent occurrences.
The boy's eyes... Now that was a sight. Never in his 574 years of life had he seen such vibrant green eyes. Of course, that was not what had brought his musing. No. It was not. His surprise had been brought by the the boy's right eye, just below the famous scar, instead of the usual pupil, he saw His mark.
The mark of Death.
Things will never be the same, the goblin thought as he sent the note before going back to his work.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Relax little Necro. You are safe within this walls. They mean only to help you. The chilling voice that warmed his heart said. Without realizing it, Harrison relaxed completely in the soft mattress he laid in.
You still haven't told me who you are. Harry thought accusingly, yet still sounding sheepish.
Laughter resounded through the room, this time no longer just in his head.
Sharp little thing aren't you? The voice asked, again, no longer in his head. Harry blushed slightly, feeling slightly light headed from the sudden rush of blood to his cheeks.
Why do I remember you? I don't think we've met yet. He thought, figuring the voice would still be able to read his mind.
Outstanding you remember so much. You were a mere babe back then, I would never expect you to remember me when so many forget, even when grown. The boy's cheeks grew heated once more. I have many names. Some call me Father, others call me Life, and some call me Thanatos. Though most people know me as Death.
So... I'm dead? No. I'm still in pain so I'm not dead. Not yet... Harry pondered. Even as a six year old, the boy was sharp, intelligent.
No little Necro, you have yet to come through the Veil. The voice mused.
"You've visited me before, haven't you? When I was at that house, in the cupboard...." he asked, this time aloud, yet still a small whisper.
Silence.
Harry shifted slightly, clenching his eyes as he felt dull pain throughout his entire body.
I have. Now rest young Necro, your hosts have worked very hard to heal you, it would not be wise to ruin their work.
"Why do you call me that? Young Necro I mean." Harry asked, it's not he disliked the name, it was far better than Freak or Boy, but it was strange.
Do you dislike it? It asked, curiosity clear in It's tone.
Harry shook his head slightly, careful not to harm himself like he was told.
Necro is short for Necromancer, however you are not one yet have many gifts, my own being one of them, and you are young. As such Young Necro seems rather fitting for you. Death explained.
Harry closed his eyes and snuggled a bit further into the warm sheets covering him, sleep quickly reaching him.
"Thank you Mr Death." he whispered as he felt the Voice going away, falling into a deep sleep afterwards, not to wake for another five hours.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sup guys?
Hope you're still following this. So, I made this into two parts cause I didn't want you wondering for too long what had happened to little Harry.
Anyway, I'll probably publish the second part soon.
But for now I gotta sleep. Got things to study for before being able to touch this again and I gotta sleep if I want to study anything..... I really hate studying and apparently love to procrastinate so..... yah
Anyway, please comment and it the star thingy if you like it. I wouldn't complain if you did and if you don't... oh well, that's life!
Tootles!
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Death Child [ON HIATUS]
Fanfic[::::ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO JK ROWLING::::] What if Harry really did die that faithful Samhain night? What if Death took an interest to Harry's soul? Read to find out. Short I know, but I suck at this things so..... anyway, if you didn't read the ta...