For those that were wondering, I'm halfway finished Master of Death, the second draft. It's taken so long because my brain space has been taken over by at least 10 full-fledged story ideas. I'll be doing a few of those in the way most people do on this site, update after update, just to clear my head. Some may fall flat, some may be good.
Anyway, I should be finished the first part of Master of Death soon, and the next part should be produced quicker. I find my interest in the first part to not be as strong as the next parts, only because Harry doesn't make any big decisions until the end of the first part. I honestly had the idea to just write single stories for his first three years as prequels to the next two parts. I may still do that.
This note was way too long.
Prologue
Harry stared at his corpse in numb shock. He watched as his blood poured out from the hole in his head. He had thought it would be a choice to go on or stay as a ghost, but he stayed in the mortal plane without any say in it for himself, all the while getting a prime view of watching his body lose all of its blood.
"Follow him."
Harry jerked in surprise and looked around for the voice that seemed to come from all directions. Lo and behold, the voice was also disembodied.
"Follow him," the voice insisted.
Harry looked down the street where his murderer was still rushing away from a crime scene. It was just a muggle. A muggle with a gun. Harry took off after him, but instead of using his legs as he intended, he just glided forwards. Quickly shaking off the oddness of gliding, Harry continued after the man, slowly catching up to him.
The man ran a few blocks before dipping into an alleyway. Harry stopped just before the entrance and peeked around the corner.
"Go in," the voice said. "They cannot see nor hear you."
They? Harry thought as he hesitantly glided into the alley just as a man in a black cloak stepped from the shadows.
"It's, oh man, done," the muggle said breathlessly, hands on his knees to support himself. "Where's my payment?"
Against his will, a chuckle escaped him. He was assassinated. For some reason, it surprised him. He knew he could have died during the war. He knew, objectively, that someone could try to kill him anytime, but he never really thought about assassination. It just never occurred to him when all of his past enemies were willing to kill him themselves.
Instead of replying, the cloaked man pulled a wand from his sleeve, and with a sharp slash, the muggle's neck was cut open. The muggles dropped to the floor and gurgled on his blood for a few seconds before finally dying. Harry looked back at the wizard just in time to see the disapparate.
"Now that you've seen what you needed to see, we can discuss something important that pertains to you."
Harry watched in fear and fascination as the shadows from the alley converged in front of him, slowly forming a humanoid shape draped in long flowing black robes.
"Are- are you Death?" asked Harry, for who else could it be?
"Yes, but I am not here to collect your soul."
"W-what?" Harry asked in utter confusion.
"I will not be collecting your soul, Harry Potter," Death said. "No, you have a job to do."
"A job? What kind of job? Why do I even have a job in the first place?"
"As a descendant of the Peverells, one who has collected all three of my artifacts, you now have an obligation."
Harry spluttered. "So I'm obligated to do this job for reasons outside of my control? How is that fair?"
"It matters not if it is fair or if you didn't know beforehand. This is one of a few divine laws. You are a Guardian now, meant to protect the witches and wizards of whatever reality you inhabit."
"Whatever reality?"
"I hope you do a better job this time." Death shook his head slightly and said, "Not that this is surprising. They always fail the first time around."
"Fail?" Harry said indignantly. "I killed Voldemort! And with help, made the Death Eaters disband!"
"Such is the ignorance of the greatest of heroes," Death said. "They think that once they defeat their one enemy all will be good from then on. Such foolishness has hindered so many realities but when learned from, saves many more."
"So I'm supposed to protect other realities now?"
"Yes."
Realization struck Harry.
"If I'm always living in a different reality doing this job, that means I can't go on!" Harry said angrily. "I won't be able to see my parents. I won't be able to see-"
"Yes," Death cut him off. "For now, you will not be able to go on."
"For now?" Harry asked warily.
"For the next millennium you are required to fulfill your duties and once your time is up you can retire or we can negotiate a new contract for you to continue your job," Death explained. "Every time you die you will be transported to another reality. Ten realities would be the average if one lives a healthy life in all of them. You will never revisit a reality you have died in. Your soul may not be able to move on because of your occupation but the reality knows you have died in it and will not be able to support your soul anymore."
Harry simply stared at Death, still struggling to comprehend the situation and what was expected of him.
"I have three pieces of advice for you," Death said. "The first, to remember all that you have seen and heard tonight, the second being that each reality is a new one, and the third being that this occupation comes with some perks… use them. Now, prepare yourself."
Suddenly, after a wave of Death's hand, Harry was filled with that feeling in his stomach as if he was falling from a very high place and then all he could see was darkness.
Thomas was the eleventh most popular male name in the 1920s. Tom is a short version of it or a nickname.
I'm stuck between Helen and Evelyn for our Ms. Riddle. Helen means 'sun ray' or 'shining light' and Evelyn means 'wished for child'. Helen has Greek origins and Evelyn has English origins. Helen was the third most popular female name of the 1920s, and Evelyn was the twelfth.
Decide with the poll. It'll be open until I've added the chapter that first introduces Riddle.