Master of Death

Death is a Troll

~ *~* ~ *~* ~ *~* ~ *~* ~ *~* Prologue *~* ~ *~* ~ *~* ~ *~* ~ *~* ~

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.