Open to a large, black void.

…

…

…

*creeeeaaaak*

A shaft of light widens into a door, with a figure silhouetting the white behind it.

"Woah, what happened to the lights?" Echoes a voice, followed by brief shuffling sounds at the wall next to the opening.

…

…

The lights suddenly flare to life, bathing the black void in white… making it a white void instead. A figure walks away from the door (now with blackness behind it for contrast) as it swings shut, sealing the empty, white void.

The figure looks around the place, humming thoughtfully.

"Definitely needs some furniture, maybe a fireplace… a nice rug… though, first thing's first, it definitely some walls and floors…" The figure mutters, before turning to towards… you.

"Hello, everyone, it's Crow. And I'm here to tell you I'm setting up shop in a new computer! Yay!" The figure smiles as a simple, wooden chair fades into existence. Crow walks over and sits down on it.

"Now, you're probably wondering why I'm starting this up in a new computer… well, to put it simply… my old computer crashed… badly…" The figure glances to the side and waves its hand.

A window opens in the void, showing a mass of stars, planets, and galaxies being pulled into the event horizon of a massive ball of black and purple energy. The scene shifts to an old-looking manor house being torn apart board by board and sucked into a black hole floating directly above it. The ground, trees, and other objects are crumbling in as they lose their will to exist.

In the distance, you hear thousands of voices crying out as the waves of fire approach the-!

The window shuts closed, "Ooookay, that's enough of that." The figure says, grimacing. "The main point is that… everything's gone. Well, not everything." They gesture to the side where a lone box labeled "Harry by Proxy" sits with a few scraps of paper next to it.

"By sheer luck, I found the old email with this specific chapter that I had sent my Beta, so I managed to recover this document from the Void. Additionally, I managed to salvage several other emails I'd sent myself back in August. They aren't completely up-to-date, but until we figure out how to salvage the old files off of my original computer, they're close enough. Worse comes to worse; I rewrite a little bit.

"So, this one survived, and (semi-fortunately) I had been stuck with complete writer's block on Chapter 29 until very recently (like, two days prior to the crash), so not much was lost then, and I had incidentally transferred the notepad document I based the chapter off of to this computer a week ago. So, we'll see about that, but please be patient.

"Lastly, given my… crippling hour load this semester," Here, Crow visibly withers, "coupled with the crashed computer… and with the next few days being filled with exams to classes I need to do well in…" Crow is now looking more like a drooping skeleton with a few clothes and some skin, "…*sigh*… I won't be able to do a Halloween Special…"

…

…

The skeletal remains blow away as dust in an impossible-to-exist-yet wind.

…

…

*Prior to the crash*

AN: A little while ago, I felt that I wasn't putting in enough death for the story… weird phrase, but it is creepypasta. So, I decided to incorporate a little randomized-person death. Hope you don't mind. If you want, let it be a cautionary tale.

I own nothing

-Crow

Slender sat in his favorite armchair in the parlor room on Saturday morning. Finally, a week was through and it seemed as though things were finally settling into a rhythm. He had the Saturday-Edition Daily Prophet (which was highly unusual for a newspaper) in front of him with an interesting ad for 'Maurice's Dragon-Roasted Hazelnuts'.

It was interesting to get reacquainted with the antiquated style of newsletter he hadn't seen in almost 100 years. Comparatively, it made him realize how grateful he was that years of newspaper evolution allowed easy-to-read articles instead of the mind-numbing confusing mess that used to pass for a newspaper.

He had ordered a subscription for the Wizarding paper and arranged it to be sent to an abandoned mansion in the middle of the English countryside. An owl would deliver the paper into a mailbox and leave. From there, a small Operator Symbol etched into the metal just beneath the newspaper would activate and send it directly to the end table right next to his chair.

He took a sip of tea and flipped the next page. A long article was featured that continued from the first page. He scowled, remembering that particular article. It was on Fudge and the supposed 'meeting' at the Ministry yesterday. It claimed that both he "Mr. Lindermann" and Harry Potter were unavailable for interview. At the very least, he had corrected his alias name.

A brief statement from Madame Bones confirmed that he was, in fact, the legal guardian to the boy. It at least put a large amount of pressure off his back given earlier tension and hostilities towards him. It listed Snagrock as 'a goblin representative' with a quick blurb that he confirmed with the bank that the paperwork was set in stone.

It went on to explain that a burst of powerful accidental magic caused the film in the cameras present to be destroyed as well as the parchment held, preventing direct quotation of Mr. Potter himself along with any photographic evidence. It emphasized how Harry performed it and how 'extraordinary' it all was.

Then, it concluded with 'despite his muggle origins, we wish Mr. Lindermann well in raising their savior'. Despite having slandered his (incorrect) name and rallied the entire nation against him just the day before.

'How idiotically mercurial these people are' He thought to himself. He would have snorted, too, if he had nostrils.

He set the paper aside and reflected on the rather obvious change around the manor as of late. Around him were a few of his wards, lounging in the chairs and sofas.

Sally was on the floor drawing with her crayons, like usual. However, recently her drawings tended to focus on witches, wizards, and fantasy creatures. Toby was draped over one of the chairs on the armrests almost obsessively reading a book on dangerous magical beasts; particularly dragons. After his brief encounter with Hagrid, he had a feeling the two would get along well if they ever met.

BEN was snoring on the couch. As Madame Pomfrey had promised, he'd been practically narcoleptic the last few days, crashing at the drop of a hat. So far, he'd fallen asleep face-first in three meals and had to have his head lifted out of it lest he suffocate in mashed potatoes and soup.

An open potions book was lying on his chest. The video game sprite was hopeful there was a recipe for a real-life 'Red Potion of Healing' and, if not, then he declared that he would make one and a blue one, too after his host game.

LJ and EJ were in their respective laboratories these days, experimenting with some things they'd bought on another trip to the Alley.

Speaking of, he remembered he had an appointment with the Goblins of Gringotts later today. He sighed and got up from his armchair to head upstairs and prepare.

Eyeless Jack was practically a kid in a candy store these past few days.

The fact that his lab literally had shelves of brightly-colored packaging for the many Wizarding sweets and treats offered didn't help the image either. He'd used some of Zalgo's money and bought practically several tons of the merchandise, making a candy store owner in Diagon Alley very happy.

He had chemistry sets with jelly beans dissolving in acids, the resulting, colorful fluids travelling through the glasswork. Cauldron Cakes had the filling removed with sterile syringes and centrifuged in methanol. Licorice wands were melting into sludge on hotplates for analysis.

Out of humor, he'd even set up a frog terrarium for five chocolate frogs using large candy canes for 'logs', chocolate liqueur as 'water' to swim in, and feeding them pellets of cacao butter. To his surprise, their behavior actually mimicked real tree frogs down to laying 'eggs'. He tried cultivating them, but they were all sterile and proved to be delicious; like milk chocolate caviar.

Of course, his experiments hardly ended just there. Separate chemistry sets were breaking down potions ingredients chemically and collecting the extract to be analyzed further. A small cauldron was brewing on a stand in the traditional sense while an enormous glass array of chemical-ware was 'brewing' the colorful potion reagents from subsection to subsection and collecting in a small beaker at the end.

Using Ollivander's notes, he'd set up a wand calibration system and had some nonmagical and magical oak wood of the same species undergoing analysis and calibration with some cheap dragon heartstring as the core; a "control" to the experiment.

Also with Ollivander's help, he'd already worked on recreating and analyzing the 'Quartz Battery' concept with several crystals growing in a small home-made chamber in the corner.

A microscope held a few bristles to a flying broomstick (that they'd managed to pick up off the ground at the Quidditch store rather than buy a whole broomstick) in some tweezers. He would need to design some kind of array for channeling magical energy to see if propulsion could be attained by the bristles alone.

A small, magic-protected computer held data for glamours relative to magical wavelengths for a side-project he'd been working off and on for a few years now. The computer was a real pride in his lab at this point. It wasn't strong enough to survive a heavy-magic environment, but it was enough for the home and the ambient magic in the lab at the moment. A crystal like the ones BEN and Smile had was embedded above the hard drive protecting it.

Finally, the most important, a small centrifuge had been set up in the corner beginning to separate blood samples he had discreetly collected over the last week at Hogwarts for analysis. The blood and genetics were at the core of so many questions. What made a magical person different from a normal person? What was the correlation between magical people? How did genetics factor in?

Did 'pureblood' flesh taste different from 'muggleborn' flesh?

He chuckled morbidly at his own silent joke. Still, it would be a beneficial test that out, he supposed. Somebody of-age, of course; the meat's more savory with age. A little vegetable oil… some leeks or maybe sweet onion slices… a little garlic and minced thyme butter…

He shook his head and discretely wiped the tiny bit of black saliva that escaped the corner of his mouth. Was it really his fault if he got hungry when he was surrounded by the sweet-smelling aroma of candy?

For now, he had other delicious work to attend to.

He walked over to the shelf containing a large number of chocolate frog cartons. He picked one out at random and weighed it; package and all. Then he set the carton inside a sterile, glass enclosure with two openings for his gloved hands to reach in. The second he opened the cardboard box, the little confection almost hopped out, but he managed to catch it in time.

He popped the edible frog in a sterilized pitri dish and held down the top cap. He put a small bit of tape to secure it before removing it from the sterile box and walking over to a microwave he'd brought down specifically for today. He put the pitri dish with the frog inside the appliance and put on some goggles.

He set the timer for 3 minutes and watched as the cabin lit up and the pitri dish spun on the plate.

The frog didn't react at all to being irradiated at first. Then, about 1 minute 20 seconds into the timer, the frog began croaking at higher and higher pitches. Finally, at 0:47 on the timer, the frog exploded in a brown mess within the pitri dish. EJ turned of the microwave timer and scribbled down his recordings.

He took out the pitri dish and looked at it carefully before setting it down and pulling out a black tape recorder from his lab coat pocket. "Experiment 057: Chocolate Frog vs Microwave; as expected. The confection blew up after approximately 2 minutes and 15 seconds, much as you'd expect from a normal chocolate bar or, as I'd imagine, a real frog.

"The product 'Chocolate Frog' has the same fat, carbohydrate, and cacao content as any other milk chocolate its size and weight. It's my guess that the 'magic' used in the procedure relies mainly on the frog being intact. Past experiments have shown that once any part of the frog is damaged, it ceases movement. Further analysis shows that the 'magic' wavelength dissipates the moment any part of the exterior chocolate shell, or 'skin' is ruptured. Be it a tiny hole from a syringe or just ripping the sucker in half, the result was the same.

"Now beginning tests on the product 'Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans'. How did they get 'every flavor'? What ester compounds are involved in the flavoring process? Is there any toxicity? I've managed to isolate beans I'm fairly certain are the following flavors: vomit, bile, earwax, nasal mucous or 'boogers' as it's commonly called, and liver. Unwitting subject name: Jeffery Woods. End log."

EJ ran out of the room towards the stairs leading upstairs and hollered up them, "Hey Jeff! I want you to try something!... For science!"

Laughing Jack was currently in a rare state of straight-faced concentration. He had put on a protective white coat and goggles as he mixed and watched various chemicals in multiple beakers and test tubes at his small chemistry station in his room. He put his newest Stink-Bomb-O'Matic on hold for now in light of a new project that had taken his attention.

In front of him were samples of common 'potions ingredients' that he'd bought at Diagon Alley when EJ reported he'd wanted a few more things to study. He went without his 'juggalo' make-up to attract less attention and managed to get a few reagents for his own experiments.

He was currently examining the multiple components necessary for a standard 'Calming Draught'. It was listed as a low-level potion, but given how it seemed a lot like just 'add-this-to-the-stew-pot-about-now' it was a lot less demanding compared to more advanced chemistry where everything was precise and how finicky the chemicals could be.

He was curious about how his candy's acid was amplified that much!

Gold was notorious for being insoluble (meaning practically nothing dissolved it). Alchemists back in the day saw it as the 'perfect compound' partly because of this. Short of an incredibly potent and highly unstable acid nicknamed 'Aqua Regia', nothing would cause a golden goblet to dissolve.

So, by logic, that could mean one of two things; One) The goblet was, in fact, not gold at all and some sort of bronze or brass which actually could dissolve pretty readily. Or Two) Something in the goblet (possibly magical) caused his candy's effects to amplify ridiculously.

He took a scraping of one of the goblets at the tables and confirmed it was pure, solid gold. No traces of silver or any other 'fluff' alloys. So option 1 is out.

He managed to 'juice' a pumpkin (through a lot of trial and error) and took a sample from the carafe at the table when he visited. They both showed up as just fruit juice. That's when he floated the idea past the resident potions master.

*flashback*

"So, you're in charge of all of the potions around the school?" LJ asked cheerfully. The oily-haired potions master folded his arms in frustration.

"For the last time; Yes!" He snarled. He was in his office, grading the practically illegible summer homework of the second years, when the only person who could possibly match (or even exceed) the Weasley Twins in annoyance waltzed in his room. He lazily took a seat on one of the desks and started casually asking inane questions on potions and their reagents.

After the incident with Ms. Williams, like Hell he would give any more of Mr. Lindermann's wards advice on potion making. Still, he wouldn't go away and not even the threat of owling Mr. Lindermann, himself, would dissuade him from where he was.

So, here he was, snarling at a 17 year old boy in clown make-up lounging on a desk in front of him asking if dragon scales could possibly mix with Hippypunk toes.

If that statement was ever heard by a muggle psychiatrist, he was willing to bet he'd soon find himself on a very strict prescription regimen.

"So, you know if someone, say, potions a drink?" The boy continued.

"Well, I wouldn't know! You'd have to ask the student that drugged the drink in the first place." Snape ground out.

"But I mean a potion that was put in… everyone's drinks."

Snape frowned… could he mean…?

"You mean the First Feast drinks?" He replied. The teen nodded interestedly.

"Yep! Exactly! So, any somethin'-somethin' that goes in them?" He asked, nudging the air with his elbow and an eyebrow waggle.

The Potionsmaster rolled his eyes, "It's not drugged in that sense. Yes, we lace the drinks on the first week with a mild, legal, safe calming draught. It helps new students ease into Hogwarts and feel more relaxed and it helps older students not to panic in sheer anxiety over the next year."

"So, you do drug them?" LJ summarized cautiously.

He stood up from his chair. "Fine, out of technicality, yes. But it is both safe and legal with approval from St. Mungo's Hospital Research and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The Head of which, I might add, has a niece in Hogwarts this year, so if there were any doubts about that, then I'm sure she would object in an instant."

LJ's face contracted in a look of thought for just a second, before flipping around back to his usual, broad grin. "Well, that answers that. Thanks, Snapey!"

He bounded out of the room before the potions master could even comprehend the name. He closed his eyes to calm himself. It was leagues better than "Snivellous", but "Snapey" was still unpleasant.

He sat back down-

Prrrrphphtphtphphtphpht!

His face glowed red as he stood up abruptly and lifted a deflated, red balloon-like-object from his seat. He heard riotous laughter outside the door and saw a brief flash of black and white rush from behind the door down the hallway.

He angrily set the whoopee cushion on fire before vanishing it and the black smoke that came off of it.

He settled back down to his desk checking for any more unpleasant 'surprises', but it seemed the cushion was the only one. Mid-way through his grading, he was struck by a thought.

He kept his eyes trained on the boy in front of him since he stood up from his seat.

When, then, did he get the opportunity to set a prank up behind him?

EJ didn't know the Potionsmaster's innermost dialogue, but would guess he'd never figure out how he did it. Heck, Slenderman himself was still wondering how he managed to get that cow on the Mansion's roof and the chickens in everyone's bedrooms that one April Fool's Day.

Like EJ, he had an elaborate maze of glass tubes trying to recreate potionmaking in a modern fashion. So far, it seemed like it was going pretty okay and the specific stirring requirements could be met with a stir-bar magnet while heating a Pyrex two-valve flask with a Bunsen burner worked just as well as a pewter cauldron over a wood fire.

He followed along the vast array as reagent after reagent mixed, melted, reacted, and flowed through the system until a small tapper at the end dripped out a blue-gray potion into a beaker. He collected the sample and compared the beaker visually with a store-bought Calming Draught at the Alley.

He smirked as they were practically indistinguishable. Of course, he planned to have Professor "Snapey" give the official 'OK' to it. He may be practically immortal, but he wasn't stupid enough to try something which imitates magic that he'd slapped together with science.

He collected the end result in a flask and put a stopper at the top, planning to visit the old dungeon bat again for a review.

'Hey! There's a thought! Bats in his desk!' He thought gleefully. Of course, he also weighed the pros and cons of the idea considering he also wanted something out of this guy and pranking him might not go over too well… hmm…

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a few candies. He popped a blue Cyanide-Sensation (TM) in his mouth before picking out two of the green Acidic-Agony (TM) candies as well.

He poured a small sample of both Calming Draughts in separate beakers and added the candies.

He cackled delightedly as the candies dissolved in a cloud of fizzing bubbles and the resulting solution started to etch the glass.

A lone jogger sprinted through the wooded park late that night… or was it morning? The cold September air chilled his lungs while every breath out created a tiny cloud of fog. His legs were protesting every second of strenuous activity while beads of sweat dripped down his face. The park wasn't lit with electric lights this far out from the main area, so all he had to go by was the moonlight bathing everything in a soft blue-gray.

Any other night, and he would've considered this an excellent workout in a pretty picturesque place.

But tonight?

"Go to Sleep."

He wove his body to the side just in time to avoid the gleaming knife that had almost buried itself into his torso. The mutilated teenager wielding it was clearly irritated, though the disturbing smile carved into his face didn't give it away.

The runner started getting back into the rhythm of his sprint, recovering from the awkward dodge, as he heard the footsteps of the killer crunching on the gravel path as he rushed after him. He was a marathon runner, for Pete's sake, how the frick was this kid so fast?!

Through the faint moonlight, he caught the white gravel suddenly dipping to the left. He just had to time it right-

-just right-

-juuuust-

He could hear the psychopath's breathing in his ears-

-he took a sudden, sharp turn on the left-branched path, his feet prepped and primed to take the skidding as he shot off on an almost perfect 90 degree angle. He heard the kid curse as he kept skidding down the pathway, not ready for his prey to escape like that.

Up ahead, he saw a single lamppost in a line of them. That light filled him with hope. There in those lamps was salvation and help. It was the waking to the nightmare.

That light symbolized people, civilization, and (more importantly) police.

He just had to-

*shlk*

Jeff casually cleaned the bloody knife off on his shirt as he stood panting over the dead body of the late-night jogger. He chuckled morbidly, the adrenaline and endorphin rush subsiding, "GG, man. Good game."

He glanced around, confirming there was no one else in the area what-so-ever, before shaking his head at the corpse. 'Seriously,' he thought to himself, 'these people are practically begging to get mugged or something. It's 3 AM in a public park, that's like… "prime crime time" or something.'

He walked over to a park bench and sat down, pulling out his camera and flipping to the camera option. He snapped a photo of his most recent kill, the flash illuminating the crime scene briefly before returning to the pitch black.

He stared at the screen for a second before nodding; it was a pretty good shot. Definitely one to keep.

This wasn't a 'sanctioned kill' as in a job or anything. It was just some random guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong guy, but he was allowed one or two 'recreational kills' a month. If for nothing else, then they staved off a Rage from building over time. The Council understood (after all, he wasn't the first to be like that) and warranted a couple a month provided he keep it to a minimum and not unnecessarily attract attention for it. Well, as little attention as blatant murder can garner, at least.

He absentmindedly started up a game when he heard a small whimper from the bushes next to him. He glanced over and shrugged, "Sure, knock yourself out."

Smile leapt out of the bush and deftly dragged the corpse in the underbrush to quietly enjoy a meal. Jeff didn't really care. It wasn't like they did anything with the bodies, plus it meant he didn't have to feed Smile as much that day; a win-win.

Except for the runner, but… meh.

After a few minutes of listening to Smile chew, he stood up from the park bench and stretched out his back, "C'mon, Smile, let's head home. 'Kay?"

The dog happily barked and bounded over with a wagging tail and a bloody muzzle. Jeff wiped as much of the gore off as he could before he reattached a leash around its collar and led it towards the Slender-port symbol.

The lights to a lamppost flickered and he felt the sudden hum of a familiar presence.

"Ugh. Look, I'm allowed an off-the-record kill once a month-" He started to argue.

"That's not why I'm here, Jeffery." Slender replied, walking into the cone of light from the park lamp. "I've arranged to meet with the goblins at Gringotts today and I'd appreciate your coming with."

"Why? Can't you take care of it yourself?" Jeff asked, curious.

"Yes. However, I received a job for you out in London, so I figured I could bring you to the location and I understand you missed the second excursion to Diagon Alley, so you may have wanted to go again."

Jeff looked to the side as he considered the offer before sighing, "Fine. Okay, you win. So, are we going now or…?"

A black tentacle snaked out of Slender's back and hovered next to the teen. "Of course…" Jeff muttered. He grabbed on, still holding Smile's leash as they vanished from the crime scene.

The two figures made their way through the Alley towards the towering, marble bank at the end of the road. A goblin waited by the entrance just behind the guards flanking the entrance. "Ah, you're here," He said in a squeaky voice, "Follow me, just this way."

They were led past the long lines of wizards who glared at them passing by. Rather noticeable whispers circulated around about 'muggle clothing' and how 'muggles' were being serviced before them. A few commented on the dog padding behind them.

They walked behind the counters towards the caverns where they boarded the first cart ride. However, instead of going to the carts, they went deeper into the structure. The ornate, elegant walls became chiseled-out stone fresh from the bedrock of England. Slender noted how deep the bedrock should be relative to how long they'd been walking, but sighed and chalked it up to magic… again. They stopped in front of a set of imposing doors firmly stuck into the craggy rock wall, lit by the flickering torches, and surrounded by spears of rock formations from the cavern.

"Please wait here." The goblin requested before scampering into the room. A set of goblin guards were stationed outside the doors and watched the two humanoids and their canine warily. After a few moments, Slender noted an odd crunching noise and looked down to see Smile gnawing at a severed human arm he pulled from behind a rock formation.

The goblin guards were unnerved to see the guardian's reaction (or lack thereof) at the grisly sight. Instead, the glamoured entity turned to them and calmly asked, "Where did the arm come from?"

"Er, one of our human slaves in the bowels of Gringotts; tax-evaders, petty thieves, forgers, among others typically end up there. Usually bodies are disposed of cleanly, however I suppose the arm… well, missed the bin, so to speak." The guard said, shifting from one foot to another. Usually, he'd get a pretty good laugh later at the discomfort and horror from any witch or wizard who had the rare opportunity to come down here. The silence was unnerving.

They waited for his response.

"Ah."

…

They watched as he turned away and just stared off absentmindedly at the craggy rock surface, occasionally glancing over at the dog's chewing. The boy with him seemed completely at ease with the whole situation and continued fiddling with an odd, black device; frustrated it didn't work. They heard him mumble about 'E-Jay', 'fones', and 'crystals'. None of which made a lick of sense to them.

At length, the small teller goblin reappeared through the door, "You may come in now, sirs." They followed him in and found a mirror of the room they met in just a few weeks ago. Except, in this instance, the large ornate throne at the front was occupied by an imposing goblin wearing an expensive black suit with a gold pin on his lapel.

A small goblin to his side stood and spoke directly to them, "You are in the presence of Director Ragnock; Head of Gringotts Banks and Leader of the Goblin Nation." The goblins around them stood as one and thumped their right hand in a fist over their chest.

Slender observed the respect for this goblin and bowed at the waist, discretely nudging Jeff to do the same, albeit the teenager's was awkward and off-angle from what was proper. He was pleasantly surprised that Smile, despite having gore on his muzzle, also managed a rudimentary bow with his forelegs.

The goblins, in turn, were either shocked or confused (or both) at seeing two humans bow to them. Past experience with Wizards usually resulted in blatantly uninterested or pompous attitudes even when in the presence of the Great Ragnock. Muggleborn parents (on rare occasions where they were permitted in) were usually too terrified to show signs of respect or were appalled at the warrior nature of the goblins (under the belief that goblin culture held on to 'barbaric' customs).

Along the table were about 10 or so goblins, all with pins signifying rank and smartly dressed suits with small militaristic embellishments. Slender and Jeff sat at the farthest end from Ragnock and a small goblin in a less opulent uniform asked if they wanted refreshments. Slender chose tea, naturally. Jeff and Smile were content (plus, Jeff doubted they'd know what Diet Coke was, let alone have some on-hand). The three goblins closest to them passed around some folders and papers and began talking.

For the next few minutes, Jeff fiddled with a rubber band he found in his pocket or keeping Smile entertained. Slender spoke with the same three goblins about the Potter Accounts and the necessary paperwork for it, including statements, past transactions, and his tuition.

All the while, none of the other goblins did anything but stare at them, scrutinizing every movement. Every flick of the pen, every nuance in their speech, every odd pat on Smile's head felt like it was being examined with a fine-toothed comb. The Head Goblin sat at the end with his fingers steeped in front of him.

At last, the last paperwork was filled out with a promise of a masse delivery for him to take back to the mansion of statements, contracts, transcripts, and other documents for him to file through spanning centuries of Potter history.

As soon as the goblins finished their business, they scurried back to their seat and looked back at Ragnock expectantly. The goblin was quiet for a moment before addressing Slender directly.

"You are Mr. Solomon Lindermann, yes? Guardian to one Harry James Potter, unknown age, unknown address, unknown title, unknown occupation?"

Slender repressed a grin and maintained perfect neutrality, "That is correct."

"You are also the keyholder to Vaults 687, Mr. Potter's Trust Vault; Vaults 1047, 1028, 593, all associated with the Potter Family; and lastly Vault 1318. Correct?"

"As I understand it that is also correct." Slender nodded.

Ragnock gave a firm nod before motioning for a courier goblin at his side to bring a file of several papers and began leafing through them in extended silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire in the torches and the occasional tongue-to-nose lick of Smile. After a second, he set them back down and looked straight at Slenderman.

"Mr. Lindermann, we want to discuss Vault 1318." He said with no words wasted. "Vault 1318 was established back when Gringotts Bank was first being built almost 1000 years ago. It was built by my predecessors on the command of the client with the stipulations such as location, material of the doors, and security measures provided by the individual themselves.

"However, since completion, we have been completely unable to bypass security to the vault. While the interest systems are automatically entered to the vault, we have detected physical items deposited as well without our knowledge. As you can understand, this vault is of some relevance to us and we would appreciate cooperation to understand how you accessed it."

"I will try, but I need to warn you that my… 'friend', the one who lent us this vault, would prefer secrecy." Slender replied.

The Goblin Leader frowned and leaned over to converse quietly with some nearby goblins before sitting up straight. "We will decide as the conversation continues whether or not certain personal information is required."

Slender sighed, "Very well. Please, ask away."

"How did you come to access this vault in the first place?" He asked sternly.

"Our friend who owns the vault heard that I had decided to enter this world. He had the vault from previous 'investments' and gave us the key. He asked for nothing in return, but given his nature, I don't consider it necessarily dangerous though I am still cautious." He admitted.

"So, the client to one of the largest, most profitable vaults in the Wizarding bank just gives you the key?" A goblin with a golden axe lapel pin at the side questioned with a sneer.

"Yes."

"Preposterous!" Blustered another goblin at the other side. Many others agreed and began arguing.

The Goblin Leader banged a fist against the side of his throne, evidently magically amplified as the cannon-like blast echoed in the chamber, silencing the others. "I will have order in this room!" He bellowed. He then pointed to Slender, "I'm not sure what to make of your story, but I don't believe you are lying. It would be far easier to just say you have a family claim on the vault, but instead you concoct this story. Either you are a fool or are telling the truth and I highly doubt someone who could bewilder the entire Gringotts Department of Contracts is a fool."

Slender didn't reply other than a small nod. The Goblin leader began speaking again, "Now, your 'friend' has loaned you this vault. I don't suppose we could get a name?"

"No." The entity replied evenly, but then he glanced to the side and seemed to reconsider. "Well…"

The goblins leaned inward at the sudden shift in attitude. Ragnock was especially intrigued, "Are you saying you may be able to provide more information?"

They noticed the boy who accompanied him glance up and seemed to stare at his guardian, waiting for his decision. After a moment of silence, the taller man folded his hands in front of him and addressed the general room, "How good is secrecy here?"

"The secrecy of this room is absolute!" Ragnock thundered definitively, "All goblins present have taken an oath to never divulge what is said outside these walls to anyone who does not have a similar oath. Penalty of the oath being broken is immediate death. Even then, any other form of breach in this conduct is an immediate death penalty by the Goblin Nation."

Slenderman looked each goblin directly in the eye as it swept across the room. Normally, a goblin would feel threatened by this as it would be considered a non-verbal challenge, however as each made contact with the black pools, they felt a chill. It felt like he was challenging their integrity in a way that said he would not hesitate to try to kill them if they lied… and despite being multiple warriors in the presence of only one so-called 'muggle', they felt like they would lose.

"I'm offering this on the basis that perhaps things will go… smoother if only those present knew the situation revolving around it. I have paperwork from my superiors I have to deal with and spending years on this paperwork is not ideal."

Ragnock nodded, "If we find your information helpful or interesting we will do everything in our power to help in the flow of paperwork."

Slender smirked, "Oh, I guarantee you will find it very interesting." He straightened quietly, "And, more importantly, if I divulge this information, I want none of the 'magicals' to know. That includes anyone from Hogwarts, the Ministry, or even any humans or magical employed by your bank. I don't even want this information being passed to the beggar wizard we passed in the alley on the way here. Is that understood?"

"You have my word that everything revealed in this room shall remain solely in this room." Ragnock promised, putting his right fist over his heart. From the other goblins' incredulous expressions, Slender would guess that was quite the significant action.

"Very well," He acquiesced. "Ask your questions, please."

"Who owns Vault 1318?" Ragnock asked clearly.

Slender smirked in response and stared them down before replying lowly, "My associate is named… Zalgo."

The air shuddered and for a second, it seemed as though the perpetual, stable light from the Ever-Fire lamps flickered and dimmed slightly. The goblins present felt a sudden shadow over their minds as they heard the name spoken aloud. Many would swear they heard the distinct sound of brief whispering, wailing, and laughing from behind the walls themselves. However, they knew this was impossible given there was nothing beyond the wall save for miles and miles of English bedrock and granite.

Ragnock's eye twitched, but showed no other sign of being shaken. Slender had to commend his resolve, "I see. That hardly seems like a human name, yes?"

"Correct."

"So, if I may ask, what is he or she?" Ragnock continued.

"There isn't really a 'set' sex to it, but mostly I gather the impression it's a 'he'. As for 'what' he is, I've never really asked, but it's common thought he's some classification of what mortals call 'demons'."

The goblins sucked in a breath at the term, inciting some whispers and low murmurs between them until Ragnock banged his fist on the throne, "Enough!" He turned a stony eye back to Slender, "Mr. Lindermann, please understand that Demons have been studied by the Ministry of Magic, but no actual demonic entities have ever been found or summoned."

"Well, they are rather difficult to contact. They're like cats in that regard, they come if they want, they won't if they don't, and they have the irritating tendency to jump right in front of your face when you least want them." Slender supplied.

"Regardless, Mr. Lindermann, we want to know how you came to acquire this key?" The Goblin Leader pressed.

Slender nodded, "Zalgo is a being that requires near-constant entertainment. He enjoys watching humanity most of all. He sees my involvement with Mr. Potter as his newest 'show', so to speak. He knew we would need funding for our endeavors to take part in and examine the Wizarding World and saw this as an opportunity for more direct involvement. Whether this is to taunt us, to upset us, or perhaps something like purchasing a ticket to see a show, I don't know. However, I can confidently deal with his antics."

The goblin's eyes tightened, "And just what 'antics' should we expect?"

"Nothing, I'm afraid." He shrugged, "If he does 'act up', we can't distinguish it from any other ordinary accident or natural disaster unless we know what to look for. Regardless, I'll be cautious in my dealings with him."

The goblins muttered nervously, several beginning to question several ailments that befell them recently. From losing an important client to Dragon Pox to the stubbed toe earlier that morning to a cave-in that killed several miner goblins a few weeks ago. Ragnock waited for the murmurs to quiet before he continued.

"Is it possible to contact this…" He waved his hands, trying to gather the name on his tongue.

Slender politely interrupted. "My wards refer to him has 'Z' if it is any easier. I know many find the name unsettling to speak aloud to say the least."

Ragnock nodded in mild gratefulness, "Very well, is it possible to contact this 'Z'?"

"No. That I know of, there is no surefire way to contact or summon any of his kind."

"Then how did you come into contact with 'Z' in the first place," The goblin asked curiously.

Slender allowed a small, wry smile, "That's a tricky question. He's not my friend, more of a colleague in my line of work. Perhaps something more like that one person at work whom you work with, but not voluntarily. The chatterbox, the backstabber, the overly-perky overly-cocky smarmy weasels. I suppose he falls into all of those categories."

"What work do you do?" Ragnock asked, now intrigued.

Slender paused to think the question over, but Jeff murmured under his breath. A goblin next to him managed to catch the snippet.

"Mergers and Acquisitions?" He misspoke. Jeff barked out a laugh and Smile spun in a circle around him, mirroring his energy.

Jeff got a hold of himself and wiped away an imaginary tear before responding, "Sure, why not. It worked for Christian Bale."

The goblins around him were completely confused, but Slender gave an eye roll and bemused head-shake. He addressed the Goblin Leader in all seriousness, "I'd prefer not to talk about my work just yet."

The goblin nodded, "Very well. Moving on, do you know any other 'demons'?"

"One or two," Slender shrugged noncommittally, "but I don't wish to give their names. They are partial to their own business." The goblins around them broke out in more incredulous mutterings and Ragnock slammed his fist like a gavel a few times to regain quiet.

Ragnock held the back of his hand to his mouth in contemplation, eyes not leaving Slender. Finally, he removed his hand and spoke calmly but with an undertone of anxiety, "I must ask, but with these powerful… allies, what are your intentions for the Wizarding World."

The goblins all turned as one to hear Slender's response. Slender had steepled his fingers, but merely chuckled and replied, "At the moment, all I want is for my wards to safely experience Hogwarts and learn to control their gifts."

The goblins let out a collective breath. The power of one demon was said to be monstrous and could wreak havoc the likes of which Wizarding Britain had never seen. For a 'mortal' to know multiple could pose a serious threat to everything they knew.

Ragnock took a sip of water from the golden goblin goblet beside him before studying Slender again, eyes darting as he reviewed the interviews. After a moment he frowned. "Mr. Lindermann, you never really answered the question of how you came to know this 'Z'."

Slender nodded, "I suppose I didn't."

Ragnock pressed on, "Was it through a muggle ritual? A Faustian deal? Dark magic, perhaps?"

"No, no, nothing that drastic," Slender waved his hand, dismissing the idea, "I met him simply from living. I can't say much about our first meeting as I can't really recall much of it and even then he changes form every few centuries to keep himself entertained."

The goblin leader processed all of this information presented to him before leaning forward, eyes steeled, "One last question." Slender nodded for him to continue, "This… Z-Zalgo (he shuddered involuntarily) is not human in the slightest and yet you've referenced him as though you've known him for some time."

He leaned forward in the deathly silence, "My question is: if he isn't human… are you?"

Slender remained quiet for a long time before folding his hands in his lap and looking directly into the goblin king's eyes, "Would it make a difference?"

The goblin's reply was even and controlled, "It may help us sympathize with your situation if we knew more of the truth. We could help streamline paperwork and ensure swift action whenever you see fit. We are honor-and-life-bound to uphold secrets."

…

…

A goblin's pen rolled off.

Clack!

Clack.

clack.

…

…

Slender slowly got up and stared directly at Jeff, who was just staring at his guardian wide-eyed. Curiously, the dog seemed to be aware of the situation and showed equal amazement, concern, and interest.

At length, Slender nodded.

The boy grinned-

-and his mouth split.

The mouth seemed to widen straight past his cheeks and gouged its way up to his jawbone. His skin took on an unnaturally ashen pale hue while his hair turned coal black and lengthened to a little beyond his shoulders.

The goblin guards instinctively pointed their spears directly at them, but a barked order from Ragnock in the harsh, guttural tones of Gobbledygook silenced any protests and made the spears go away.

The dog shook its body like it was trying to shake off water and the white and dark gray blurred into an ominous blood red and black. The creature's lips pulled back, revealing a set of sharpened human-like teeth smiling back.

The tall man simply straightened himself… and kept straightening.

The goblins watched the face and hair meld into a white, marble-smooth head with no features whatsoever as the body of the 'man' stretched until it was almost eight feet tall with barely proportional arms and legs.

The creature that called itself 'Mr. Lindermann' stretched its arms at its sides and rolled its neck. A myriad of black tentacles splayed out of his back and twisted and curled like worms behind him.

Ah, much better.

The goblins shook as the disembodied voice echoed in their minds. Several stared at the tentacles being manipulated to pick up several forms, a pen, and the cup of tea.

Their fearless king Ragnock stared at the entity evenly, not betraying his surprise, horror, or unease.

The entity's tentacle raised the cup to his "mouth" and despite no orifice forming, they distinctly heard a small 'sip' sound of liquid being drunk. The creature 'looked' back up at them, smirking invisibly.

Now then, where were we?

AN: The quote 'Mergers and Acquisitions' comes from American Psycho from a misheard phrase "Murders and Executions". It worked for Christian Bale. :)

For some reason I see Slender talking a lot more formally. It may be the suit, but it just feels more appropriate. Same with McGonagall. I can't imagine Maggie Smith (her actress) saying "thanks" off-handedly. It would probably be more "thank you". Even if it's subtle, it doesn't fit the character. Same with "I can't believe you did that!" would probably become "What in Merlin's name were you thinking, Mr. Potter?! I cannot believe you would do such a thing!"

Lastly, my brother and I sometimes talk back and forth about nothing much, but we think interesting things. For instance, there's a spelling of the name Stephen or Stefan that is absolutely ludicrous, but viable by the English language.

"Hello, my name is (Stefan). That's p-s as in 'psychic', p-t as in 'pterodactyl', e as in 'egg', p-h as in 'pharmacy', a as in 'apple', and p-n as in 'pneumonia'.

Psptephapn.

Behold; English in all of its confoundedness.

Open to a rather charming Victorian-style study. The walls are a rich red/black Victorian floral pattern with dark wood detailing above and below. A few gas lamps flicker in between tall bookcases holding volumes and trinkets. A fireplace is at the head of the room, crackling quietly and illuminating where the gas lamps are too dim.

A desk sits in the middle of the room, a few papers neatly strewn on the surface. A typewriter sits in the corner, filled already with a fresh, clean page.

Against the wall is a large pipe organ… you know what? You get the idea. Sort-of Sherlock Holmes meets Haunted Mansion.

A figure stands in front of a window, snapping their fingers as the image changes; a sunny beach, a desolate mountain, a quiet forest, a large city, a desert. Each time, they mumble to themselves.

"No… no… maybe … definitely not… no…"

Finally, they settle on a dark, permanently-autumn forest at night, turning away from the window towards… you.

"Hello again. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As you can see, I pulled myself together since the upper AN. All of the other ANs are actually pre-crash ANs, so this was made after the fact.

"I wanted to give one last announcement that you may be upset to hear.

"I've decided I may be going on a hiatus for all of my fics until late November 2016, when I can get back home and have a local tech guy take a look at my old computer to see if I can get my old files off. I'll check the files I managed to save, but I'm still upset I lost a lot of ideas I saved on that one computer (and even angrier with myself that I hadn't thought to back-up those files recently).

"Until then, I'll try to work with what I have, but realize that with everything that's been happening this semester… things are going to be difficult."

Crow stands quietly and gives small head-bow to the audience. "I appreciate your support. It means much more than you realize. And I appreciate your patience as well.

"Until next time…"

Crow looks up…

"Happy Halloween."

The Crow smiles…