A/N: This one-shot is a modification of the first chapter of my Harry Potter/Sandman story: Path of Decision. I tinkered with this because I thought the Sandman section needed some love.
For those who have not encountered it, but are intrigued by a long crossover of the two, it is on my profile.
On Hallows' Eve
Little, tiny monsters walked down cozy streets, gleefully knocking on neighbor's doors for candy, laughing as they did so. But there was a tall figure walking down the street, which took no joy in the holiday, he approached the home in Godric's Hollow with murder on his mind. Voldemort did not pause as crossed the doorway of the Potter home, there was only certainty in his actions. The boy was a threat to his power; a small one perhaps, but chances could not be taken.
A flash of green light and James Potter fell to the floor. Voldemort climbed up the stairs to search for the child, unaware of a young woman dressed in jeans and a black tank top standing by the banister. There was a large sliver ankh around her neck, and her hair was dark. She approached the fallen form of James, bending down to tap him, her fingernail scraping slightly against his forehead. James Potter rose before her, blinking rapidly, twisting his body to look at the stairs.
"Hello, James Potter. I'm Death. Ready to move on?" She gave him a smile, eyes curving up slightly.
James turned to look at the woman next to him.
"You're Death? Er… you seem a bit… cheery. More than I thought anyway."
"To be fair, I used to be like that. But it seems a bit silly now. Everyone meets me eventually. Don't worry about your family, there's nothing you can do for them now. You just have to trust in them. Things will work out." She neglected to mention that she would soon need to be upstairs herself. James Potter took one last look at the stairs then turned to Death.
"Well, I do like an adventure," James replied, giving her an excited smile.
"Take my hand," Death commanded, and James reached for her hand…
They flickered away for a moment and Death once again appeared, now heading up the stairs. Entering the nursery she saw the villain, Lily Potter, and her son.
"Stand aside foolish girl" Voldemort commanded.
Death looked around the room, it was small, crowded, and filled with boxes, as if the inhabitants were prepared to move at any time. Lily was pleading now, her arms blocking the view of her young son.
"Not my son!"
One of the boxes had been tossed to the side of the room, its contents spilled on the floor. Death could see a tiny pair of socks, and an worn pair of gloves. She scowled at the tall man as he raised his wand. It would be any moment now…
"Avada Kedavra."
Lily fell to the ground, exposing her son to the one who sought his end. Death bent down and tapped Lily's forehead. She appeared and grasped Death's hand.
"Please stop him, you must help Harry!"
Death peered into Lily's eyes and saw the plea and fear in her eyes, and sighed. She could feel a headache growing.
"Lily, I don't intervene on people's behalf like you want. I help people move on with their lives afterwards, so you want isn't an option. You're a witch, so would you like and become a ghost?" Death's forehead furrowed slightly, she wasn't particularly happy when people chose to become ghosts. It was an option frequently chosen by people afraid of her or ashamed of themselves. "James is waiting for you," Death reminded Lily. The sentence had a little effect, the desperation from her face faded, replaced with determination
"I must see what happens to Harry," Lily replied. "I have no problem moving on, but…can't it just wait a moment?"
Death hesitated then nodded. It wasn't as if she was asking for much.
Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at the child. The green light hit Harry's forehead the same time that Death's finger made contact, and just as she was about to lift her hand she felt Lily's two hands wrap around hers.
"Not my son!" she cried once more.
As the most powerful of the Endless, Death had no limits to her power, but Lily's at was caught off guard. She pressed her finger down as she struggled to gain control of her hand, but Lily was having none of it. Their push and pull struggle caused a small jagged line to appear under Death's fingernail. Frustrated by Lily's stubbornness, Death withdrew her hand; connecting with the killing curse and sending it back to its caster.
Lily's eyes shone with triumph, and with her task complete, she grasped Death's hand and moved on. There were two people left in the room, one young and whole, the other shattered and worn. The baby was crying, it's wails soft but heart-breaking.
The building was falling apart around Death as she returned from helping Lily, the one called… Death shook her head. Even in her mind she could not call Tom Riddle by his ridiculous nickname. Lord Voldemort… French for 'flees from death," the idea rankled her deeply. As if anyone could escape her. Yes, there were some that lasted longer than others, a lifespan lasting for thousands of years, but that wasn't immortality, that was simply a lifetime.
Death had been around since the dawn of the universe, and in every world, there were people that were gifted with extra power. Some called it science, some called it magic, and some called it spirituality, but it was all the same. And eventually, some would push the boundaries as far as they could stretch. She looked at the spirit of Tom Riddle as it flailed about the room, searching for a physical body that no longer existed. Her nose wrinkled in distaste of the actions that turned him into this, Horcruxes, honestly. What good was it to be alive if you weren't really a person anymore? Still, Death couldn't do anything about it. Tom Riddle's life was his own, and so would his death, no matter when it would occur.
She watched his broken spirit depart from the ruined home with smug satisfaction. It would be years before he would get his body back, perhaps he would take the warning in consideration and turn back to normal. Then again, wizards could be extremely stubborn.
Speaking of stubborn, Death turned to the small boy lying in his crib. She frowned as she noticed the mark of her fingernail on his forehead, she did not mean to do that. Death reached for him one more time, her hand pausing just above the skin on his face. There was something there, a presence around the child that had not existed a few minutes ago. As she brushed her fingers gently across his face, Harry stilled, she could sense powerful magics about him. One was a phantom sensation of hands, pressed against her wrist, the power of Lily's death sealing her love and protection on Harry. Death smiled faintly, this was the sort of magic she approved of. What's more, after several billion or so years, she had never encountered such a thing.
There were legends of course, but excessive drinking and arrogant mouths often shaped the stories. No one had ever taken the initiative to actually doing it. There was something else as well, a dark contrast to Lily Potter's sacrifice.
"Oh, Harry," Death said softly, recognizing the twisted remnant of Riddle's soul. He had made his soul so unstable that the force of the spell made Harry into an unintentional Horcrux.
Death felt cold. She wished she had her Cloak.
It would appear that Harry would have to stay, Death was dedicated to her work, and she made certain that it was done properly. True, she could have severed the ties that held Harry to the mortal world if she wanted. But she didn't have a vendetta against the child, so she let him be. Bending over, she placed a small kiss on his forehead, sealing the cut on his forehead. Harry Potter looked around in wonder, sensing her presence, and letting out a noise of confusion.
"Not yet, Harry," Death responded. "It appears that some people have bought you a little extra time. I hope you use it well. Be seeing you…"
As she passed the prone form of James Potter, she pondered the future of the two lives that did not end. It was clear that their paths were intertwined, but she didn't need to see the future to know the end. Death left the house in Godric's Hollow in silence.
There was work to be done.
