Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Rise of the Guardians except for any and all OCs.

Previously on ODF:

"...Alas, now is the time to send you off into the past where your predecessor faded and into your new life as…"

That was the last Harry heard as his surroundings started morphing and he sunk into a comforting darkness.

Verdant green eyes glowed out the dark woods in concentration at the docile lake before him. It was a peaceful day, nearing evening as the sky turned a lovely shade of periwinkle blue. A quaint little village was merely a few minutes away, a well-worn dirt path marking generations' worth of footsteps where women and their daughters came to wash the laundry for the day, planning preparations for their midday meal; where boys and their fathers would fish for their families or have a quick wash after a hard day's work.

From out this village, a young boy of ten years sneaked out into the direction of this lake, unknowing of the green eyes upon his figure as he ran closer to the lake. As the child bent down in order to bathe away from the nagging presence of his parents, he suddenly halted as a shiver went up his spine. The hidden figure in the shadowed woods silently drew out their weapon as he scanned the area through narrowed green eyes. A rustle went through the tall weeds, slowly heading towards the now frightened boy.

"Salazar!"

Jumping nearly a foot in the air with a startled yelp, the boy by the lake's edge turned at the sound of his name being called from the voice of his best friend in the entire village, Godric Gryffindor.

"Sal, your parents are getting worried. It's late and we're supposed to be at home for supper now, and you know all sorts of creatures are lurking about in the dark. Where's the self-preservation that you always talk so highly of?" said Godric, a lad of ten with bright red hair and slight muscle already building on his rather short figure.

"Well- where's your sense of adventure and bravery that you boast of? Scared of the night?" snarked Salazar.

Smug in his answer, Godric replied while hopping out of range, "There's a difference between bravery and stupidity."

"Are you calling me stupid? What about the time you and 'Wena-" The boys quickly walked back to the village bickering, unaware of how close to the drowning of Salazar they had been.

The green-eyed figure tried to quickly slink off into the night to its next location, but was halted by a magnificent black sword at his vulnerable neck. Green eyes followed up the length of the sword to a figure that would incite terror into most who saw him, spirit or human; a name none dared to whisper in the dark of the night for fear of bringing his attentions towards them. Pitchiner Black, the Boogeyman.

Tall and almost unhealthily thin with ash pale skin stretched over his frame, he was draped in long black robes that pooled along his feet and seemed to meld with the surrounding shadows and absorb the surrounding light.

"Ahh, if it isn't the one and only baby killer Merith out to catch another unknowing child alone for the kill." spoke the Boogeyman.

"I am merely doing my job, something that seems to give you great pleasure in interrupting Boogeyman," the figure known as Merith replied flatly, though his anger hardened eyes and tense body belayed the irritation rising within. "As you should know by now, I don't hurt children like you do. I guide them safely through the Nether Realms in order to reach their final destination."

Snarling in fury, Boogeyman pressed the sword further into Merith's neck, breaking skin. "I don't hurt children! I warn them from danger and cause them to fear the unknown that could probably kill them. All anyone ever sees from you is dead children or unknown creatures hanging around children right before they die, that doesn't realistically show the signs of a protector and guide of children, now does it?" sneered the Boogeyman.

"Those are my helpers for when I can't be there personally. I don't know why I bother explaining myself to you, but the soul of a child is extremely vulnerable as prey to many things in the Nether Realms, especially a new soul, so it's my job to protect the child from the moment they die, no matter how many times I want to prevent their death. Besides, fear is worse than what I do, at least I comfort and protect them, all you do is cause irrational fear and pain on their day-to-day lives, fear of nonsensical things that won't hurt them at all." Merith said smoothly as he pushed the blade from his neck, ignoring the self-inflicted wound on his left hand.

"Then please explain how those irrational fears just saved the life of that child from death?" smirked Boogeyman as he smugly waited for a reply. However, the smaller male merely continued to gaze at his left hand, more specifically the ring adorning it. It was a rather well made ring with what used to be a beautiful crystal, but was now morphing into a pitch black cut into a smooth oval shape in the ring, melding with the silver vines that seemed to tighten around the gem as they darkened and grew a few miniature leaves in the design. But what fascinated both males was the silvery grey flecks that seemed to glow within the gem as the spread along its' surface.

Boogeyman shook his head, this wasn't the time to be distracted by a ring, no matter how much he felt connected to it and the person wearing it.

"Well, are you going to ans-"

"Shut up!"

Startled by the abrupt change in Merith's tone, the Boogeyman watched in stunned silence as Merith seemed to quickly fade away into nonexistence. Slamming his fist against a nearby tree in frustration, Boogeyman slid into the shadows to his lair, thinking intently on the past century and of Merith.

For a long period of time, Pitch had been observing (read: stalking) the newest Guardian spirit from a distance. The spirit didn't try to socialize with fellow spirits, nor did he and his predecessor ever truly explain his job, so whenever strange beasts or he appeared, all the spirits knew that child would most likely be dead, and thus everyone came to the reasoning that he was a child reaper that took children's' souls and ran off with them. It was rather stupid reasoning to Pitch, but many spirits fell for such rumors, especially when they were encouraged and spread by the Big Four, the first four Guardians MiM had created. Young, foolish, and naive, those four were always quick to accuse those that didn't agree with them as dark and evil, haters of children, and plotters of world domination, which made it surprising that they made the Spirit of Death a Guardian, though MiM probably forced their hand. Their obvious dislike and aggression towards the youngest and newest of the Guardians caused the mysterious spirit he knew now as Merith to become further isolated, a fact that didn't seem to bother him and only further intrigued Pitch, more than he'd like to admit.

So he started to irritate and intervene with Merith's job by sending his minions and sometimes giant pulses of fear towards children nearby wherever he found Merith, sometimes saving their lives and sometimes not. Pitch didn't usually scare and invoke fear like this, preferring to subtly induce or reinforce the fears within mortals, both useful and pointless. However, scaring like this gave him a close up look at Merith, who though his irritation often rose, never fully confronted Pitch for his actions, though there was often a flash of relief seen on Merith's face when the childrens' lives were saved. Taking it a step further in order to gain a better reaction, Pitch was nearly knocked off his feet at the sight before him. From a distant viewpoint, most of what Pitch saw of Merith was long black hair and a lithe body wrapped in gray. Now as he was closer though, Pitch saw what a beauty Merith was and couldn't imagine anyone willingly wanting to avoid being in his presence.

Soulful green eyes, almost glowing in the shadows, were set in a sharply defined face with angled cheekbones, a cute pert nose that rested above cherry red cupid bow lips. Framing the aristocratic features was silky black hair adorned with occasional strips of velvety red locks streaking through, even in the short, messy bangs that had slipped out from an intricately designed braid that fell to slightly feminine hips. A delicate neck seemed to widen into broad shoulders, still slimmer than Pitch's own, and lead off into thin, slightly muscular arms. Pitch was so distracted he nearly didn't block Merith in time to converse. Surprised, yet secretly pleased at Merith's glare of defiance and rebuttals, never once showing fear at Pitch's presence unlike everyone else.

Finally slipping into his lair, Pitch sat upon his throne and smirked to himself. Merith would belong to the Nightmare King very soon.

AN: Self-edited 9 July 2016