Disclaimer: I don't own either HP or KHR

A/N: Originally posted on AO3. Decided to x-post/mirror here.

The Master of Death and the Metal Craftsman talked in between working on the jars, about wave energy and magic, of ancestry and inheritance, of flames and magic bound in flesh, bone and blood.

"I hope I choose well when the time comes," Harry said, handling Talbot a crystal phial heavy with his blood as they waited for the glass of the Flame Accelerators to cool.

"I'm certain you will," Talbot replies, writing fluidly on a cord-bound ledger, the ivory dip pen pale against his tanned, weathered hand. "These things work out in the end, like with the Vongola and Shimon lines. Like with your ancestor's."

"Their succession differs from mine now," Harry, the last Peverell, pointed out wryly. "Wasn't that the point of digging up that Rite of Inheritance bit?"

"It's not so different," Talbot gently insisted, checking if the ink was dry before getting started on the first of the vial's three seals. "Just like how you were the one to prove yourself to the three items your ancestors left behind, only Tsuna and Enma were able to make the decisions needed to awaken in full the secrets of their blood. The ability to form a willing pact between the original line and a meritorious successor of sound mind and spirit - that was the main attraction for you, yes?"

The Master did not reply, and the Craftsman did not wait for a response to his reminder. After all, it was not their first time circling this topic.

Talbot hummed softly as he studied his work in the furnace's light, with Sight that extended beyond physical blindness. Satisfied, he moved on to the next strip, and picked up the conversation. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the young Vongola considers something like this in the future. He'll have to rework the Trials to suit the adaptive nature of the Vongola Gear."

Harry sighed. He leaned back, hands clasped in his lap, and looked out the window. The clear, dark night brought out the moon's brilliance, unhampered by the artificial glow of urban lighting. "You're probably right," he said after a while, idly tracing the knuckle of his ring finger, where the Stone had embedded itself, a mass of scarred skin serving as its setting.

The Hallows, as possessive, willful objects of power were wont to do, had fused themselves into his very blood, bone, and sinew. As long as he had them, he could not serve as anyone's Guardian, his natural Lightning aspect rendered void - yet another detail of his life lost before he even knew it was a choice, and he was far too resigned and tired to feel bitter about it.

(At least the next Master of Death would not end up like him - he sought out Talbot specifically for that purpose.)

He knew that the man meant to be his Sky suffered for it, unable to accept that in all possible futures, he would not be able to attain a Lightning Guardian through natural means. Not that they had gotten along in that future, the more his Sky's boredom and idle amusement took on shades of blood lust and domination. Harry, it seemed, was doomed to be stuck with potential or actual megalomaniacs for the rest of his long life, one way or the other.

It was this world's future Byakuran, the one Tsuna had stopped, that ultimately succeeded in killing him a scant few years after they graduated from university before establishing the Millefiore.

Harry would never mention how this third acceptance of death as the Last Peverell played part in the fulfillment of an old promise: the final binding and unification of the Hallows to the Master of Death. The Hallows transcended normal reality, and Harry's role as the Master of Death was absolute across parallel worlds - similar to how the Byakuran chosen by the Mare ring retained knowledge from his many counterparts. Those were secrets he'd take to his grave until his successor had need of them.

Yuni, who returned from non-existence thanks to some existential loophole Harry didn't want to think about, invited him over to Japan a week ago to give them a chance to properly talk. Harry, even with all his reservations, couldn't say no when he had already booked a flight to the country to visit Talbot - he knew the princess would track him down, and enlist Gamma's aid to do so. He could only hope this younger Byakuran, whose sanity was no longer at risk now that the Mare rings were sealed, would be less of a headache to talk to once this problem with the Arcobaleno pacifiers was over.

It was strange and more than a little annoying, how trinkets of legend caused problems for their wielders.

"Can I ask you something about the past, Talbot?"

"Only if it can be mine to share, young Peverell."

"What was the first Peverell actually like?"

Outside, the wind sighed gently, and the leaves rustled with it: a soft, tranquil moment in time.

"He loved his three sons dearly," Talbot began, remembrance wrapped about his being like a cloak as he finished the third seal. "He hailed from the Continent, seeking to escape friend and foe alike lest his own barely controllable magic destroy them. For a while he lived in happiness with his family, but his peace would not last for his enemies hungered after his ageless power - already, they had killed his wife when they found his home, and his youngest had barely escaped.

"Desperate to end the matter before his sons could meet the same fate, he sealed most of his life force and magical gifts in three objects he normally carried with him - his own wand, an uncut gem from his late wife, and his invisibility cloak - and invited his hunters to duel him at the bridge in the forest next to the village. He succeeded in killing them, at the cost of his own life.

"It was by chance that the brothers found him before he breathed his last, and he bequeathed to them his dying wish."

"And that was how you found them," Harry surmised.

"That was where I granted the chance to fulfill their father's desire," agreed Talbot, older than the Earthlings who stoked the Flames of will and life, as he applied the three strips of paper on the crystal's surface. "Not that the two elder brothers fully understood it, nor its price. You know the rest."

The matter was never spoken of again between the two.

When sunrise came, the Craftsman tucked the phial, now named Apeiron, in the depths of his cloak, and he and Harry made their way to the park where Tsuna was set to lure Bermuda. Where the Skies of the Tri-Ni-Sette would congregate to break the cycle of the Arcobaleno and prevent the need for more human sacrifice.

It was the end of an era, and the beginning of a new one.