UPDATED A/N: Clarifications: This is a betrayal fic, so of course it will have some character bashing, though nothing more than necessary. But if you have some kind of misguided and lost love for the despicable thing that dared to call itself human and had the audacity to call itself by a human name, then as you have probably guessed that I have no love...or sympathy or... anything of the sort for the overgrown, immature and slimy dungeon bat, Severus 'Snivellous' Snape.
There will be also be some amounts of Albus Dumbledore and Ron Weasley bashing, otherwise we couldn't call it betrayal, can we?
Besides these three, bashing of anyone else (HP characters) will depend on the story and not on my personal preferences.
IMPORTANT A/N: This chapter is written in Third Person POV under the assumption that the third person is a being more than human and hence even when the characters are revealed; the perception of this higher being leaks through.
Total Words: 6922
Written By: Way Of Life
Unbetaed
In a realm that did not exist, populated by those who could not populate and ruled by the One that should be no-one, a recently dead man was beginning to wake up. Its prone form was lying on the land that resembled no feature known to the living. The soil beneath the body was granular and dusty but yet firm and hard. It seemed as if the life had been drained out of the very earth, leaving it as a colorless and endless mass. It's stretched as far as eyes could see and gave no hint that the landscape ever changed.
The form that laid on the dead and colorless surface, motionless since it had first manifested in the realm, started to show signs that it was not as dead as the surface it lay upon. The indications started small; with a slight twitch of the index finger at first, but it became more prominent with twitching and turning of the fingers, thumbs and toes.
As if to prove that the form that lay defenseless and oblivious to its condition was indeed alive, the form shifted its weight as if a person asleep. The shift in weight must have caused the unconscious form to subconsciously notice the uncomfortable position it was in, as the figure started to squirm slightly in its place. The squirming increased as the figure gained consciousness until it finally stopped and opened its eyes to gaze in the realm that it was now in.
With its mind still hazy, the first thing that the figure noticed was the hard texture of the surface it lay upon and how uncomfortable it was in that position. But as its consciousness returned, its senses expanded and became more vigilant. The figure opened its eyes slowly, almost warily, as if due to instincts.
A colorless view met his sight, as he gazed in the unknown. It was as if the entire realm had been bleached of all its color. The sky -if it could be called that- was the same color as the ground; if only a few tones lighter.
The figure turned its head around, searching for something of semblance but found none. All around the figure, the same landscape stretched. The granular, hard and dusty ground was all that belonged to the land, while a bleached and dull sheet was all that formed the sky. As it took in the surrounding, a small frown marred his face, the only outward sign of the confusion that it felt. The figure did not know where it was? Who it was? Or why it was 'here'? Wherever 'here' was.
The figure began to sit upright, but rustling of clothes drew its attention and the figure looked down to notice the clothes that it was wearing. Whatever it had worn before was unrecognizable now; the figure could recognize that it was some sort of t-shirt and jeans but beyond that nothing was recognizable, except the fabrics. The clothes the figure had worn were tattered, scraped and torn. Whatever was left of the clothes was covered in dust and grime; beyond that the rest was covered in blood, making it impossible to even guess the original color.
Though the condition of clothes suggested that something worse than worst had happened, but the condition of the man's body spoke otherwise. The figure did not feel the pain that its clothes implied, it did not feel the wounds that the blood stains spoke of, it did not feel the fear and terror that had obviously came with the conditions that his clothes told about; all it felt was confusion, no fear, no pain, no nothing. This confused the figure even more as it stood up to take in its surrounding once again.
But before the figure could do more than observe its surroundings, it heard footsteps coming towards him. The eerie silence that encompassed the lands caused the light footsteps to be heard loud and clear. The figure turned to face the source of the noise that had breached the unnatural silence, looking for some companionship and some answers.
The figure squinted its eyes for a better and clear picture, but it was hard for him to figure out in all the mist that seemed to envelop the approaching person. Figure moved, so as to stand straight from the position it was sitting in. It made no move to approach the distinct figure, its instinct seeping in through the blockage on its memory.
Time passed slowly, as the recently undead man waited for the approaching figure to reach it. The mist that had enveloped the unknown man seemed to move with him, as he approached the person who now undead.
As the unknown man approached the figure, the recently undead man again tried to gaze through the mist but all his efforts proved to be in vain; as all he could see was the shadow of a man that was imprinted on the mist. Finally, the mist stopped when the man stopped at a distance of few paces from him.
"Welcome to my realm." A deep voice resonated in the empty and hollow environment. It was as if those words were a command for the mist, as it started shifting. It grew lighter in the centre and heavier at the edges as it swirled and moved to reveal the man that it had enveloped.
The undead man stared owlishly at the figure that was now revealed from beneath the covers of mist. Whatever it had expected the person in mist to be like, the person that stood in front of it, was not it. This man looked younger than him but his face told a different story; it was as if it was etched in stone, in white marble, it was so smooth. There were no lines that showed his age or his life. His eyes were hard but quirked at the edges at something of amusement.
"You are doing better than most." The same voice said again but this time it was not the environment it resonated in, but it was within him that he felt the effect of the voice. The now undead man shook his head as if to clear it and observed the man in front of him shrewdly, calculating him.
The man was young, that was for sure, barely in his mid twenties. He had a lanky frame with broad shoulders, a body of an athlete, a swimmer perhaps. He stood tall, towering over the undead man's small frame by a couple of inches. His hard grey eyes appraising and calculating. His facial features elegant and aristocratic with high cheekbones, straight sleek nose and hard jaw line.
It was weird that the undead felt only confusion and not fear or wariness that had seeped in him before. "Who are you?" He asked before he could think and then to maintain an image of control the undead continued, "Where am I and… and why am I here?"
The unknown man almost smiled, amusement was clearly lurking behind the stony smooth features.
"Because you died." The man deadpanned, not bothering to deliver such news with even a little compassion. It was as if, showing compassion was a bother that he did not want. It seemed as if saying those words was almost a chore to him.
"I …died?" the undead said, but it came out as a question. The undead looked down, as if searching within him for something that would confirm that he was really dead, perhaps a gaping hole in his body or a severed neck perhaps, like… he tried to remember, who it was that the severed neck resembled too, try as he might but he could not remember. His confusion escalated. Why was he not panicking? It seemed that confusion was the only emotion that he was feeling. "I… don't feel… dead." The undead said.
The unknown man raised an eyebrow; almost asking what should being dead feel like, but decided against it and waited for the undead to continue. "I mean, I don't feel battered and bruised."
"Death is not meant to be painful." The man said, as if he was telling a universal truth. "Sorrow," he continued, "is the aspect of Life." The unknown man finished, a small frown on his face notifying that he was unimpressed with the question.
Under normal circumstances, the undead would have referred this unknown man to St. Mungo's without delay, but these were not normal circumstances. Here he was, lying on a creepy looking surface (if soil could look creepy?) with equally creepy environment and almost no knowledge about himself but yet he had a compulsion to trust everything this man said. "So what happens now?"
"Whatever you decide." Replied the unknown man, it seemed as if he was already bored with this conversation.
"Umm….?" The undead did not know what that meant and it must have reflected upon his face as the unknown man mumbled in exasperation, "This is why I use reapers."
"You are dead and now, according to the life that you have lived, you'll get choices." The unknown man said and sighed. "You can stay in the mortal world as a ghost..." But the undead shook his head wildly in negative. The unknown man sighed again and continued, "You can take birth again." This time the unknown man stopped on his own accord, not wanting to be interrupted again.
The undead frowned, "What do you mean, I can be born again?"
The unknown man pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, "I mean exactly what I say. Have you never heard about reincarnation? Rebirth?"
"Oh!" the undead man said, embarrassed now by his question. "No, I don't want that."
"You can also pass into the void." The unknown man said. His voice deadpanned, as if he knew that this undead would not choose this option; very few chose to pass into the void now, unlike the earlier time when everyone chose to be one with the nature and creator.
"What do you mean?" The undead repeated a little embarrassed.
"You will cease to exist; your soul will once again be a part of nature and will be one with the Creator." The unknown man repeated, already knowing the answer.
The undead looked at the man in front of him dubiously; he did not want to stop existing. "I think I'll pass."
"You can stay here then and live with all your loved ones in 'afterlife'. This will be your workspace; it will be what you want it to be." The unknown man said.
At those words, a light entered the undead man's eyes, "I'll take that." He said quickly, too quickly for unknown man's liking.
The unknown man narrowed his eyes and observed the undead shrewdly, "Do you remember anything, from your life?" He asked, his suspicion growing.
"No." The undead answered quickly and it earned him even more suspicion from the unknown man. Under the hard stare of the man standing in front of him, the undead relented, "I only remember a few things; minor things."
The stone hard eyes lost all their light and grew cold; the twitch of eyes that signified amusement was gone, only to be replaced by something akin to anger. "The decision of the soul has to remain unbiased, Fate." He announced loudly, his eyes boring in horizon, his voice cold with fury and hatred. "He should not have had his memories while he made this decision." The man said again while he gazed beyond the undead, in the depths of horizon.
The unknown man then snapped his fingers and the mist that was swirling along his body shifted and raced to the place the unknown man was looking.
No sooner had the mist left the bodice of the man, an unnatural presence seeped into the atmosphere. It was dark, deep and heavy. It seemed that the air was suddenly too thick to breath, and gravity too much to stand. The undead sagged in his place, as the presence made itself known, it was too heavy, too deep and too large to even fathom what it was. The undead drew deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He forced his eyes open and searched for the unknown man, to see how he was fairing.
The undead was surprised to see that the unknown man was not affected at all. He was still staring off in the space where the mist had run off to. "Y…yo….u…?"
The chocking noises made by the undead caught the unknown man's attention and at once the heavy presence subsided, it was not gone but was present at a manageable level in the background. "My apologies."
"Who…Who are you?" Asked the undead, a little afraid, having connected the dots.
"I thought you were supposed to be smart." The unknown man answered. He waited for the realization to hit the undead but when it did not he decided to tell him. "You are dead. Who should you meet when you die?"
"You are…"The undead's eyes widened as he came to the conclusion. "…Death."
"Yes, though I prefer Thanatos or Mrityu these days." Death replied in a nonchalant manner. "They are much more sophisticated."
"Now that the decision has been made, I believe it's time for you to get your memories back." Thantos replied with an edge in his voice. "Shall we Mr. Potter?" He asked and everything went black for the recently undead Mr. Potter.
Death watched as the undead blacked out and fell; as the mortal started remembering all of his life and sighed. 'Can't mortals for once just skip the theatrics?' Thanatos thought. He allowed the mortal few moments to stabilize before he prodded the undead in the shoulder to wake him up.
Harry Potter woke up for the second time in the land ruled by Death. His head ached from the rush of the memories that had come when he had heard his name. He was still disoriented by his fall.
"Get up Mr. Potter; I have other matters to attend too." Harry remembered then who the speaker was and quickly stood up.
"It would seem that you collected all three hallows before you died." Thantos said, his voice carrying a little gleeful happiness.
"…It would seem so, to me too." The undead answered warily.
"That would make you Master of Death, would it not?" Death asked, more likely prodded.
"… I don't think so." The undead answered, with a little more confidence than before.
"You don't?" Death asked with confusion clear in his voice but the gleeful happiness that was eminent before was gone. "Do explain."
"I don't think that things that you gave away to trick the Peverell brothers into dying, would be the things that would allow someone to be your Master." The undead answered, confident in his reasoning.
Mrityu stared at the undead shrewdly, analyzing him and observing him. "You would be correct in your conclusion undead." Death answered finally, coolly, seemingly done with his calculation.
"Collecting all three hallows allows you a fifth option here, in your 'afterlife', Mr. Potter." Thanatos said. It seemed he had an apparent dislike for the word 'afterlife' as he made a face every time he uttered it. "But due to Fate's meddling you remembered snippets from your life which colored your judgment."
Potter's temper flared as he heard about Fates meddling, it did not matter whether he would have wanted that fifth option or not, what was important was that he had been manipulated and had not been allowed his own free will, that he was being controlled even after he had died.
All his life, Harry had been manipulated and controlled, at first by Dumbledore and then by his 'friends' and ministry. To break away from their bindings he had had to leave the magical world and live like a muggle. He had to hide the most important thing that made him, him, his magic. He had never liked it, he had never forgotten it and it was what that had finally caused his death.
Shaking his head to clear it, Harry Potter fumed inside. "I don't want to be controlled."
Death stared at him once again, "The fifth option that I would have given you would have been to become a reaper, that what hallows allow."
Thantos then pondered for a moment about the wizard that was standing in front of him. He did not want to be controlled but yet he had lived a life that was barely his own.
Death was miffed at this undead when he had been human, he had cheated him twice, once when he was a baby and next time when he was seventeen. Death had not liked it one bit, it was Tom Riddle all over again. But there was a difference in this case, this human had never once wanted to cheat him, instead this undead had walked into his certain peril the second time.
This human was forced by actions of others to cheat him. This was the only reason that Thantos had not taken actions against him when he was human, for it would have been unfair and Death was always fair. Death might be cruel, Death might be merciless, Death might be unforgiving but Death was not unfair, that was Life's deal, Death was always fair.
Besides this, this undead had returned Tom Riddle's soul back to him. That was one person who had suffered one of the worst fates possible due to his own actions. Mrityu pitied the naïve men like Tom Riddle, he really did; but he hated them even more and Tom Riddle knew this directly.
Mrityu observed the undead carefully once again. He could give this undead a chance but did he deserved it; this would have to be seen. "You mastered all the hallows Mr. Potter, this allows me a little more leverage in your condition. May be I can help you."
"You can?" asked the undead hopefully.
After a while, Thantos replied. "I give you a sixth choice Mr. Potter." He stared at the undead again, his eyes calculating. "I offer you to be Death."
"What?" the undead asked baffled. He did not understand what Thantos was playing at, but he knew something was amiss.
"There are many realms Mr. Potter and in all of them I am the only manifestation of Death." Thantos began, "In all these worlds different kinds of magics exist and some of those magic can actually summon me and at times bind me at times." Thantos paused to observe the undead; he wanted to be sure that the undead understood what he was talking about.
"As you can understand, binding me would cause all sorts of chaos." Thantos began still eyeing the undead, "So to avoid that, I have one of my children personify me and masquerade as Death." Death said as he stared again in space as if searching for someone. "So when someone summons me, they actually summon them." Thantos then tore his gaze away from wherever he was looking and stared back at the undead.
"As of now Ignotus masquerades as me, but for quite some time now, he has wanted to pass into the void. It was only for lack of a suitable heir that he has remained here to help me." Harry heard a set of footsteps approaching him from afar. "So if you'll agree, Ignotus will be able to pass on and you'll take his place."
"But I am not your child!" the undead said. His confused and frozen brain did its best but could not come up with a better reply.
Thantos blinked at that, "My children are those that have been marked by me, if you choose to accept this offer you'll become my child and receive my mark."
The undead heard as the footsteps came closer while Mrityu spoke. He noticed as the tiny form of the person came into view and grew larger steadily. The undead then turned his attention back to Thantos as his overly shocked brain unfroze and started working again. "So to escape control of someone, I'll have to subject myself to someone else's control?" the undead growled out.
"Hardly." A new voice said and the undead turned to face this new arrival. "You won't be under anyone's control. It would be like working for someone, you just have to follow some rules."
"And who might you be?" the undead asked. He did not appreciate the views of this new arrival. 'Why can't my life ever be simple' the undead thought.
"Ignotus Peverell, Death incarnate, at your service." The man said with a smile. Ignotus then turned to face Thantos, "Why have you chosen him anyway? I don't see anything special." He then turned towards the undead, "No offence was meant." And then turned back to face Thantos without waiting for a reply.
"Do be kind, Ignotus. He's your descendent after all." Death said with a slight smirk. It was far too humorous situation for him to not tell Ignotus.
"He's my descendent?" Ignotus asked Thantos with incredulity clearly visible in his voice.
"Yes. He inherited the cloak that I gave you." The dubious look that Ignotus was giving the undead reduced a little. "He then went on and collected all the three hallows." Thantos added a little morosely.
Ignotus' eyes widened for a moment and then he sighed. "So you are the one that Fate has been messing with lately." His expression then shifted from shock to guilt. "I am sorry; you got pinned with her shit for no fault of yours."
"Wh-why are you apologizing?" the undead stammered out, once he overcame the shock that someone was apologizing to him for the way his life had been. No one had ever done that, not a single person.
Ignotus glanced at Thantos who nodded in approval. "Fate has always waned total control over Death, Time and several other manifestations. So for total control of Death, she approached me to help her out, which I refused." He let out a defeated sigh. "So to get back at me, she created a prophecy and tied it to you."
"And you let her do it?" the undead asked, seething in anger. He had had a crappy life because someone wanted revenge for something he did not even do.
"What could have I done Mr. Potter?" Ignotus replied in calm subdued voice. "Fates had you wrapped so entirely in her prophecy that no one besides her could have touched you."
"Don't give me this shit." The undead growled. "You are Fucking Death." He screamed. "How could you have done nothing?"
The heavy presence that had left came back at that moment, making Harry fall to his knees. He gasped for breath as the presence intensified making Harry fall completely on the ground.
"Do remember your place undead." Thanatos said in perfectly calm voice. "You are talking to Death personified."
"Let him be, Thantos." Ignotus asked Thantos. "I wish to explain myself."
Thanatos eyed Ignotus for some time but the presence retreated. "Suite yourself." Thanatos said.
"Mr. Potter" Ignotus began, "What would you have had me done?" He asked. "Nobody could have touched you. Those near you were tied securely enough, that nothing we could have done would have made a difference."
"You could have done something." The undead said in a defeated voice.
"No." It was Thanatos who spoke this time but undead was not the only one who was surprised by the answer.
"What do you mean Thanatos?" Ignotus asked baffled. He had carried the guilt since the night Potters were killed.
"We could not have done anything at first." Thantos answered, still gazing deep into the horizon.
"At first?" Ignotus asked. He did not know what Thantos was talking about.
"Yes, at first." Thantos said.
"But since 1995," Thantos began," when Mr. Potter here destroyed the time turners, I have had hope that when he finally arrived here, I could do something to help him." Thanatos answered. "Do you remember Ignotus, when those contraptions were causing Knonos a lot of trouble?"
"Yes, the time stream constantly changed due to their existence and he was unable to control it." Answered Ignotus, not yet understanding where Thantos was going with this.
"Do you remember what happened when Mr. Potter here destroyed those contraptions?" Thantos again asked, urging Ignotus to make the connection.
It would seem that his urging worked as there was a sudden shine in Ignotus' eyes and a hopeful smile on his face. "Oh! I see where you are going. But would it work?" Ignotus didn't want to be too hopeful in case this chance did not materialize. "Kronos hates it; he's never going to agree."
Thantos gave a gleeful smile, "I have been trying to persuade Kronos since that day. He had been very resilient initially but he yielded later." Then his face darkened a little. "After all, Fate has been after him too." He then looked at Ignotus, "Besides, he did not want to be indebted to a mortal."
"What are you two talking about?" a very confused undead asked. He did not know what these two were talking about; all he knew was that they were talking about the night when Sirius died.
"It's like this Mr. Potter; when you and your merry band of friends destroyed the time turners; you had Kronos indebted to you; Just as returning Tom's soul caused Thanatos here to be indebted to you." Ignotus Peverell answered, his hope creeping into his voice a little, while Thanatos narrowed his eyes at the Death Incarnate.
"Kronos is the God of time, correct?" Asked the undead, to check weather his facts were straight or not. "And you are indebted to me?" the undead asked Thanatos.
"Wrong Mr. Potter. Kronos is not the God of Time; Kronos is Time as I am Death. He just uses the name because he likes it, just like I use Thantos or Mrityu." Thantos answered. He knew mortals were a bit slow and so he would wait.
"And no, Thantos owes you no debt." Ignotus answered the second of mortal's question. He had caused the confusion after all. "When he did not increase your misery for cheating him twice, you became indebted to him." Thanatos nodded at that. "Thus, when you killed off Riddle, you just paid off your debt."
Undead eyed Thantos warily, "Okay, So Kronos is Time and you don't owe me and vice versa?" Thanatos nodded again; finally the mortal was catching up.
"So how does this help me?" the undead asked. He was able to see the dots but was unable to make the connection between them.
Ignotus wanted to face palm, but he controlled his urge. More than 1000 years as Death had caused him to forget how slow the mortals actually were. "Mr. Potter," Ignotus began, "What we are talking about is time travel."
"Time travel?" The undead asked disbelievingly. He had an experience with time travel and it was very confusing. "If I were to change things, then too, to me everything must remain the same." He continued, remembering what he could about time turners. "How could I do that? And even if I did, my life would remain the same."
"Mr. Potter." Thantos said in cool and calm voice, "Rules of mortals are not meant for us." He eyed the undead carefully, wondering whether he understood or not, he was so thick after all. "How it is done, why it is done, is not of your concern, right now."
"The matter of concern for you is, whether you would take this option or not?" Ignotus asked the undead. He really wanted the undead's life to be better than it had been in his previous life.
"Yes" The undead answered without thinking. "I'll do it."
Ignotus Peverell face palmed this time at the foolishness that this undead was showing while Thanatos narrowed his eyes. This undead's habit of running into things without thinking them through, were really chewing onto Thanatos' nerves.
"It seems he is not capable enough." Thanatos said as if making a casual observation. "We can't waste our chance on a man like this."
Those words struck like thorns. He was being called useless by Death himself. If that was not unflattering, he did not know what was.
"Give him one chance at least." Ignotus pleaded or begged more likely. He knew that the chances were slim, but he had to try.
"Do not bend to your emotions Ignotus." Thanatos' voice rose slightly. "Remember who you are, who you represent, at all times."
Thanatos turned to face the undead, but his words were for Ignotus. "Death is fair, Death is even." He scrutinized the undead as a biologist scrutinizing a dead toad. "Death is beginning, Death is end." He scrutinized him with curiosity and mild revulsion. "Death does not rushes; Death does not waits." He turned to face Ignotus again. "Death does not forgives; Death does not forgets."
Thanatos stared at Ignotus, "This undead fails on every value. He's unfair, he's uneven." Boring Ignotus with his dark, obsidian eyes, "He does not begins, he does not ends." Thanatos ignored the undead in question completely. "He rushes, he waits; he forgives and he forgets." His voice turned cold, as if mist itself dripped from his voice. "On what basis, do you judge him? He's a liability, if nothing more."
Ignotus sighed in defeat. He knew it would be useless to argue with Thanatos. After all, every point that had been raised, were a valid ones. He turned to face the undead, pondering what to do. He took his time, thinking for a solution, he knew rushing into things was not an option.
"His life was not his own." Ignotus said an idea struck him. "His death was not his own." He continued as he scrutinized the undead carefully. "His final choice was not his own." He turned to face Thanatos. "From such a person, how can we expect to have our values, when he did not even live?"
Thanatos raised an eyebrow at that. While the statement was true in its entirety, the fact remained the same. This undead was worthless for their purpose. It would require quite some time to undo the harm that had been done to his psyche.
The undead had been raised, to develop a psyche that put everyone else above oneself. His psyche was such that it had no worth for oneself. He had been manipulated into developing a personality that was prejudiced, bigoted and foolish with an unhealthy large dose of hero complex.
The undead was made to believe that he had to be rash and act before thinking. It was truly unfortunate that as time passed he slowly believed it too and developed a personality that his manipulators wanted.
Thanatos knew all this very well and if Ignotus was suggesting what he thought he was suggesting then the once mortal man was only thinking only from his heart not from his mind.
"What are you suggesting?" He asked, his eyebrow still raised.
Ignotus Peverell had faced many difficult decisions in his long undead existence. He had denied the Fates themselves, he had wiped out civilizations after civilizations but of all the things that he had done, this decision was the most difficult one. It was probably because at those times his choices had been the right thing to do or they had lived out their given time.
But this was not such a thing, it was what he felt was his duty towards his last descendent. It was what he felt he had to do. "Give me some time." He said. "I'll train him in our ways."
Thanatos stared hard at his incarnate. "Take a look at the undead." He replied calmly. "He stands there still, while we talk about him as if he was not here." Ignotus looked at undead with pity in his eyes. "And yet he stands and listens." Thanatos put a little force in his words, to make his point clear. "Saying nothing."
"He's has been in your presence twice." Ignotus replied a little agitated. "His mind has suffered."
Thanatos sighed and said, "He's broken."
"He can be mended." Ignotus replied quickly. "He can be trained in the ways of Death."
"That won't be mending." Thanatos replied slowly, as if talking to a child. "That will be molding." Resuming his normal speech he said, "That won't be him."
"That would be his decision." Replied Ignotus, he was still agitated. He turned to face the undead and snapped his fingers and darkness overcame the undead as he blacked out and fell.
Thanatos raised an eyebrow at that. "Not much difference from his previous state." He commented nonchalantly though a little callously.
Ignotus turned to Thantos, "It's because of me that he had a life that he had." Ignotus began. He knew there was nothing better than truth to convince Thanatos. Thantos was ever seeing and ever present, after all. "Never have I regretted my decisions as your incarnate. But this time, my choice did not affect me, it affected him."
"He was cursed even before he was born, because of a choice that I made." Ignotus continued. "He did not get to even live." He stared hard at Thanatos, "The life that was supposed to be his, was never his own." His voice was full of guilt. "All because of a decision that I made."
"Do you regret your decision then?" Thanatos asked, his voice calm but distant.
"No." Ignotus replied. "and that's the concern." He stood firm but his voice shook. "I will make the same decision again if I have too, because of who I am and what my duty is." He gestured towards the undead, implying the cruelty that had been bestowed upon him, even when unborn. "And again this will happen."
Thantos sighed, he knew what his incarnate had said was true, down to the last word. "Take him with you then." He almost smiled at the sudden shine in the eyes of his incarnate. Almost. "Train him in our ways. Make him such, that he's worthy of being named Death."
His decision made, Thantos turned and went back to where he had come from. He had things to do, dead to maim, people to kill and lives that were just waiting to be made miserable.
Ignotus watched as Thantos dissolved into the horizon. He turned to face undead, who was lying dead on the ground, and smiled. It was time to wake the undead up. He snapped his fingers and the undead took a sudden breath in, as if a man taking his first breath after being saved by drowning.
"What happened?" The undead asked, his voice shaking and quivering. He knew that whatever had happened to him had been caused by Ignotus. He had heard the sound of fingers being snapped after all and no matter how slow he was supposed to be, he was no fool; he had made the connection easily, once he was back alive.
"There are matters that are not meant for your ears, Mr. Potter." Ignotus replied patiently. There was no need for the undead to know how deep his guilt ran, or that he would repeat the choice that made the undead's life miserable. It made him sad, but being Death incarnate was not as easy as it sounds.
"Why are you helping me?" The undead asked with tremors in his voice. He was wary of the being that had taken an apparent interest in his life and destiny.
Ignotus was amused at the undead's question. "We told you already." He replied with amusement clear in his voice. "You have been wronged." His expressions sobered a little. "We are just trying to rectify it as much as we can."
"So you are doing it out of the goodness of your heart?" The undead asked with disbelief clear in his voice. "You want me believe" the undead raised both his eyebrows, "that 'Death', who is just; wants to rectify for something that he did not do?"
Ignotus sighed, sometimes; undeads were too nosey for their own good. "That's not the only reason." He replied tiredly. "And there is no need for you to know the other reasons." He messaged his forehead to calm the oncoming headache.
The undead bristled. "I won't do anything until I know what your reasons are." He threatened with his voice fierce and challenging.
"You cannot force Death to do your bidding." Ignotus replied as a sad smile graced his face. "You cannot manipulate me." He stared at the undead with pity in his eyes. "You have already been manipulated once, after your death." He sighed again. "You can choose to follow that path, or create a new one." He stared at the horizon, craning his head a little as if trying to listen something. "It is your choice."
The undead stared at the Death incarnate with his eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. Ignotus did not comment on the undead's state. Coming out of his shock, the undead's shoulders sagged in defeat. "You are not going to tell me are you?" He asked, more like admitted to himself.
"It is not for you to know child." Ignotus replied calmly. There was no need for the child to know that Fate did herself no favors when she tried to take control over other eternal entities. "Now, anyway." He added too softly for the undead to hear.
"Decide now child." Ignotus spoke aloud. "What would your path be?" He did not say anything more and remained quiet while the undead contemplated. He did not want to influence the undead's decision.
There was not much for undead to ponder upon. His life had been hell; there were only a few things that he could really relate to. So, if there was a chance that he could change everything, then why wouldn't he. "What do I need to do?"
Ignotus smiled again, though this time it was not a sad smile. "You would be trained in our ways. You'll learn to follow the rules of Death's children. You'll be fair. You'll be even. You'll be the beginning. You'll be the ending. You'll not rush. You'll not wait. You'll not forgive and you'll not forget."
The undead nodded glumly, but tried to get an answer for question that had been nagging him. "I have already made my choice. Did I not?" He asked the death incarnate, waiting for confirmation.
Ignotus nodded, knowing what the undead wanted to ask and allowed him to continue. Receiving the approval the undead continued. "Since I had already made my choice, Thanatos could not offer me the fifth choice; the choice of being a reaper." Ignotus nodded again; maybe this undead was not as slow as they had considered him, after all.
A frown marred the forehead of the undead as he voiced his question, "If Thanatos could not offer me the fifth choice then how can he offer me this sixth choice now? Ain't my fate decided?"
"Being Death Incarnate is not a choice." Ignotus replied in a calm voice. "It is an honor bestowed upon a choice few in between many millennia's." He eyed the horizon carefully, as if searching for something or someone. "It is upon Thanatos and Thanatos alone, who becomes Death Incarnate and no force, no matter how powerful –not even the Creator himself- has a say in it."
Ignotus frowned as he searched the horizon. "This honor, when bestowed upon a soul, revokes any ties, any binds that the spirit previously had." He then turned to face the undead again. "And Thanatos, chose you to bestow that honor upon." 'For my sake.' He added mentally. "So respect it. And prove yourself worthy of this honor."
The weight of what had been offered to him; suddenly fell on the undead's shoulders. He understood why Thanatos had wanted to give him the title first, but had later refused vehemently.
Ignotus gave a small smile as he again stared deep in the horizon. "Now, I believe there are people waiting to meet you." He smiled again as the undead looked at him with a blank face. "Your parents Mr. Potter." A sudden smile broke way on the undead's face.
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