A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. :)
Ancient Runes Task 3: Write about an inheritance.
Tried a new writing style… so sorry in advance if it didn't work.
Word Count: 1113
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.
Enjoy!
Death had seen many nights, but there was something about this one that he'd only felt once before.
He knew that heartbeat; it was much fainter than it was last time, but he could never forget that sound. It belonged to a special mortal, one Death would rather never have met. Three gifts, he'd bestowed that night. The elder two recipients had acted so predictably, so typical of men. The youngest was cleverer.
It took less than conscious thought to bring him to the little garden. Unlike man, he did not need cumbersome methods to travel. The moon hung in the sky, shining brightly, but it couldn't reveal the shadow that was Death. He was ever present. He was as old as the earth herself, and the moon respected him.
He was here. Death knew it, but he could not see the youngest brother. There was a boy in the garden, though—Death surveyed him closely. But no, it was not this boy's Time. It could soon come, however. The boy's muddy boots and sheathed sword suggested that their owner was an adventurer, and Death met more of those than he usually liked. They didn't seem to realize that he was not the end of their fun.
Men were foolish. Time was precious to them, and they did their best not to waste it. Their lives were like a blink of an eye to him, but in trying to prolong what was given to them, they were unable to live it to the fullest. One man was successful in cheating him—and that man was here.
But Death still could not find him.
The boy was looking around wildly, his eyes distressed.
"Father," he cried. "Where are you?"
A voice spoke, but to Death it seemed to come from every direction, impossible to pinpoint.
"I am here."
The boy ran over to the corner of the garden, and Death followed.
"Please don't do this, Father! I can't bear to lose you."
Death did not approve of those words. You do not lose someone to Death. Death brings you to them when it is your time. He supposed he should forgive this insolence, however; men were incapable of understanding the things that truly mattered unless it was explained plainly to them. Sometimes he envied that ignorance, as he did in this moment. He could forget then what a terrible mistake dealing with those three brothers had been.
The voice spoke again. "It is time for me. Long ago, I went to great lengths to avoid Death. My brothers thought they could escape him forever, but he does not forgive stupidity."
Death agreed with this. Horrible deaths, they had been. He had smiled when he greeted them once more.
Those men had been foolish. A wand could not defeat him; a stone could not steal from him. But with a cloak, you could hide from him.
"Now I understand. No matter what magic you possess, he will always find you. I have bought much time, but I do not wish to be confined to this place. I need him to move on."
In the dark corner beside the boy, a man appeared. He held out his hand, his fist closed seemingly around air.
Death recognized it. His cloak, the one thing that could hide from him. It appeared as though nothing was there, but Death knew better. Nothing could mean everything just as easily as everything could mean nothing.
"This is yours now," the third brother told his sobbing son. "Pass it down along our line, but never boast about it. This is Death's gift; it is not for the world."
"Father, please," the boy begged. "Just a few more years."
The man shook his head sadly. "Were you not listening? My body will die, but if it is hidden from Death, I will never move on. This is the only way."
He placed a hand on his son's shoulder, and Death watched them embrace.
"You and I know the true nature of this gift," the third brother whispered. "Your eldest must not. We know too much, and knowledge can be incredibly dangerous. Promise me you will never reveal that this cloak is different from every other. You must not be like your uncles."
The boy nodded, clutching his father's robes tightly. "I promise, Father."
The third brother kissed his son's temple and pulled away. "I would never give up this time I had," he murmured. "I am glad for every moment I was alive. Be glad for yours."
The boy was silent for a few beats. "You will die."
The third brother tilted his head to the side. "I'm free, and I do what I want to do. So are you. But only Death can take us to the ultimate freedom."
Death knew that he did not understand yet, but he would—they all learned, eventually.
Death allowed Life. Life gave in to Death. She was fleeting, quick, and quickly tired of her children. Death held on to them for eternity. She wasn't evil in her abandonment—she passed them on, leaving with them the memories of those they loved most. They once had Life, and that was something Death could not take away, nor was it something he wanted to.
The third brother looked around his home one last time. Through the window of the cottage beside them, Death could see people pottering about. A woman with long, silvery hair was pulling a comb through it, her back facing the two men in the garden. He could see children younger than the boy bouncing around her. It was not their Time yet; that was the first thing he noticed. But it was long past the man's.
The man turned to face him, a smile on his lined face. Death silently reached out a hand, wondering if the man had grown wiser in his old age—if he would take it this time.
The man laughed hoarsely. "This is hauntingly familiar. How good it is to see you, old friend."
Death was almost never referred to as a friend, and he found himself smiling. He regretted giving up his cloak, but this was not the same man who had so cleverly avoided this walk. This was a man who was prepared to meet him and embark on their journey. He could forgive that former insolence; he always did, with men.
Eyes as grey as his hair were crinkled at the corners as the third brother grinned.
"It is time," Death told him.
The third brother nodded. "It is," he agreed.
His body fell to the ground the second he took Death's hand, and his son ran to it. He looked back at the boy, something Death was used to his companions doing.
Finally, Ignotus Peverell walked alongside Death into the beyond.
A/N:
Writing Club:
Assorted Appreciation: 14. Write about someone making a deal they regret.
Disney Challenge: Characters 7. Aunt Sarah — Write about a horrible relation
Book Club: Ambiades — (object) comb, (emotion) envy, (object) sword
Showtime: 3. Hopelessly Devoted to You — Write about a broken heart.
Amber's Attic: Quotes 4. "Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time in the world." (5 point bonus)
Sophie's Shelf: 20. "This is hauntingly familiar."
Em's Emporium: 7. Alt. (quote) "Henceforth, if you breathe it's because I give you air."
Liza's Lodes: 4. Write a fic that's set completely outside.
Angel's Arcade: 9. Vaan — (object) boots, (dialogue) "I'm free, and I do what I want to do.", (action) running
Lo's Lowdown: Characters 8. Hitchcock — Write about someone who knows too much
Film Festival: 7. (trope) Rivals to Friends