May 2, 1998.

The Forbidden Forest, just as Harry opens the snitch…

Death was in Japan when he felt it: an irritatingly insistent tugging on his life-force that just wouldn't go away. At first he tried to ignore it, but it only got more urgent the more he left it. Finally, he took his attention away from little Asian people working on their newest electronic creation. It was quite fascinating, really, and so was annoying that he was forced to take away his attention from their progress.

Sighing as he turned his magic towards the pulling, he disappeared from the middle of the room, unbeknownst to the oblivious Japanese game developers. In the same instant, he appeared in the center of a clearing of what he was fairly certain was called "The Forbidden Forest."

Why he was in Scotland, Death wasn't sure, but once he turned around and saw the boy, suddenly all the pieces fell together and Death utter a little, "oh."

Harry, on the other hand, was standing frozen, with the open snitch in the palm of his hand. Death watched with slight trepidation as he saw the numbers of a date roughly eighty years in the future floating above Harry's head. Every living creature had a date of death that had yet to be realized, and Death was the only one to see them (obviously), what was wrong with Harry's, however, was the fact that his death date was slowly fading from view as Death looked on with an emotion he vaguely recognized as horror.

"Who—what are you?"

Death glanced over at the shivering teen and realized that he had, in his shock, loosened his hold over his aura. Tightening it as soon as he noticed, Death wondered how he should answer; if he told Harry that he was Death, the poor kid would probably have a conniption. On the other hand if he gave Harry a false name and no information, he'd probably have Mother Nature on his ass for leaving a brand new baby immortal all alone without any mentoring. Not to mention the child's new power would be a part of Death's dominion, and so, his responsibility.

Decisions, decisions…

"Er…Death." He said a bit awkwardly. From the goggle-eyed look he got from the raven haired teen, blurting it out like that probably wasn't the best way to come out and say it but…well, Death wasn't known for being good with feelings.

"D-Death?" Harry stuttered, fists clenching and he took a shaky step back.

Nodding thoughtfully, Death took a step forward to inspect the now nearly invisible death date. Ignoring the teen's confused stuttering, Death reached out to snatch the resurrection stone from Harry's grasp. Turning it over in his hand, he pulled at the lines of magic connecting the three Hallows, and saw the death magic webbed into Harry's own magical core. Sighing, Death allowed the strands of magic to fall back into place and handed the stone back to its new owner. "Well I guess that's it then." Death cocked his head, gazing at his new "Master." He honestly didn't look like much, but Death supposed he could fix that with a little bit of time. He'd definitely have to have Harry ready before he showed him to Mother Nature and Father Time; the humiliation would not be lived down if he tried to tell them his new minion was a 5'2 midget with insecurity issues and noodle arms.

Mentally adding food and a shit ton of training to his To Do list, Death circled the boy, looking for any other improvements to be had.

"Hmmm, those glasses need to go…and what the hell are you wearing? Do teenagers think a hobo is the look to recreate now?"

Harry stumbled back a bit was he that intimidating? "Wha-what are you talking about? You're Death why do you care about the way I look? And aren't you a little early? I haven't even let Voldemort kill me yet."

Death had been planning on letting the kid stew a bit in his terror, but that last sentence caught his attention pretty quickly. "Hold on, "let Voldemort kill me?" Death stood up straight, brow furrowed. "Why on earth would you do something so monumentally stupid? I thought you were at least mildly intelligent, given that you managed to gather my Hallows, but I suppose I was wrong."

The green-eyed teen look taken aback, "but I…I have to die, that's why you're here isn't it? Because I have a piece of Voldemort inside of me?"

Death blinked slowly. "Oh," he said, "Is that all you wanted? I can take that out if you like, I just sort of thought it was intentional or something."

Harry stared at him for a minute. "You can take it out?"

"If you want me to."

"Just like that?"

"Sure."

Harry stared a bit more. "Why the hell would I want to have someone else's soul inside me? Much less my parent's murderer?"

"Sentimental value, maybe?" Death tried, shrugging as he spoke, "I can't claim to understand human emotions all that well, I'm afraid; you don't get much social interaction being Death."

"That does make sense, I guess…" Harry muttered, before squaring his shoulders, "Either way, I want it out."

"Of course, master," Death sniggered, "Whatever you desire." Ignoring Harry's glare, he stretched out a hand to poke a finger to his scar. Tearing through the physical plane and into the ether, Death probed the parasitic soul shard lightly. Judging from Harry's grimace and the shard's writhing, they were pretty well connected. It was a pity, Death mused as he painstakingly plucked each stand of the shard's tethers off, that such a beauty had to be destroyed. It was quite a work of art, to have a relatively healthy symbiotic relationship between the shard and the host; between the subliminal sharing of memory's and a natural, low level mental shield, it was a shame to destroy the piece. The squealing noises the shard was making apparently disturbed the young boy, so Death made a point to draw it out as long as possible, just to be ornery—it's not like Harry would know he could do it faster. When Death finally pulled the last of the strings of influence off of the teen, he held it cupped in his hand so he could decide what to do with it.

When Harry, blood dripping out of his nose, opened his eyes to see the shredded soul shard sitting in a wispy heap on Death's palm, he narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you going to kill it?" He asked, pointing obviously at it.

Airily, Death replied, "No, why should I?"

"Because Voldemort has to die!" Harry shouted, "He's a maniac and he's killed thousands of people, that's why I'm fighting this bloody war!"

Death pouted, "But it's so interesting! I've yet to see such an excellent case of a Horcrux combining with its host."

"That's beside the point, he's evil and he needs to be killed!" The teen's eyes were pleading as he spoke, "Please! I know you're Death and basically a neutral entity and everything, but if we don't fight and win this war, there will be no light left!"

Scratching his head with his free hand, Death sighed, "I suppose…it's not like the shard will do me much good without it's connection to the first host anyway…" Harry watched on as Death sulkily crushed the shard in his hand, Fiendfyre wreathing his fist.

"…Thank you."

"…Whatever."

"There's just one left," Harry breathed, realization crowning his face, "We just need to kill Nagini and him and we're done!"

"Not to mention all those minions of his," Death added helpfully, "You'll have to do those too. I would assist you, of course, but I'm afraid I'm a bit busy at the moment—terrible amount of paperwork to be done—"

"The Death Eaters?" Harry laughed, "at least they'll die with one shot."

Death froze. ""Death Eaters" They call themselves Death Eaters?"

Turning around to see Harry's dawning smirk, "Oh yeah, I didn't tell you? They're an awfully arrogant lot, you know. Always on about how they're master is the only one to cheat death himself."

Fury bubbled up in Death, the likes of which he'd not felt for quite some time, his aura snapped and snarled around him. "They will burn." He hissed, stalking past his newest minion, he failed to notice the sudden look of fear cross Harry's face.

Oh yes, Death thought, they claim to conquer me? I'll just have to prove those insects their proper place.