Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Naruto

A.N. I was never completely happy with Shinigami no Shishou. I rushed the opening and didn't build the structure of the following chapters with reliability.

Ch. 1 -rewrite-

The man once known as Harry Potter looked upon his prepared ritual with a keen, disinterested gaze. The mournful look Fawkes gave him from where he was bound by a ward, so dark that it was anti-thesis to the phoenix's very soul, was dismissed as unnecessary.

He was known by the name Lord Harmorte Black in this era, and left a path of destruction behind him with an apathy of all the death in his footsteps. It seemed that this was the true meaning of Master of Death. For his greatest skill was ruin.

It didn't always used to be this way. But as each connection with humanity was lost, he dug himself into the secrets of magic. Magic came easily to him now, as his opened his body without wincing to carve runes into his very bones. The only thing that kept those runes from healing like the rest of him was the mithril cording in each rune.

There was no magic ritual to make him what he was, now. For each skill he learned, he grew. Eventually, there was no light magic untouched by him. The boredom of being immortal set in, as civilizations rose and fell around him. His next step was to dig into the Dark magic, and when finished, bored again, the Blackest, most evil magic he could discover.

That was the thing, about being immortal, and without connections to any human or mortal that possibly save him from himself dying. It slowly chipped out anything kind in him. Fawkes became his best friend, being similarly immortal, and his worst enemy, often battling his dearest companion and loathed opposite to try to bring him back to light.

But it wasn't happening. Eventually, there was no magic left untouched by him- even with discovering new spells, there was eventually an end. There were no more boundaries. So, with a renewed interest in the world around him, he turned to science.

The world had destroyed itself and rebuilt itself many times by then. The earth repaired itself after each fallen civilization. But Harmorte had preserved the science of generations past, and with study, and greater understanding, he build the world, and humanity in his own image. And yet, tens of thousands of years later, and humanity stretching across the galaxy like a plague of locusts, he was yet again bored.

He was tired, and began to prod into the idea of a multiverse. Somewhere, out there, on another realm of reality, there had to be something new. His new obsession grew, and, knowing there was no death for him, he plotted a change of scenery. But only with the darkest of evil, and the lightest of good, would there be a passage.

To counter his sickening darkness, with a balance necessary to cross, he seduced the last unicorn into his power, and sedated, it lay on the rune sequence, oblivious to the magic blades carving the runes into it, draining the blood into the paths of magic.

But Fawkes, Fawkes was the catalyst. Only by the evilest of betrayals to the lightest of creatures would rip reality to pieces and reform it into a pathway to something new. As the runes carved into the black obsidein carved by blessed silver began to glow a sickening purple, Harmorte began the pitch of chanting in a deep growl, unusual to his normal feminine voice.

And Fawkes began to cry, as he lost his only friend to the end of time, a lance of magic striking his heart as the chant reached its cresendo. One golden tear, unexpected by the seemingly all knowing Harmorte hit the water, and a blast of silver struck itself through the ruins.

To change death to life was the power of a phoenix. Fawkes was truly his equal, in every way. And as the Boy-Who-Lived, Man-Who-Destroyed, faded away with a rare shocked look, Fawkes died for the last time, hope in his pierced breast as reality rend itself from existance.

But truly, what could a single tear change?