There was a funeral that afternoon.
Samuel wasn't quite sure who Igor Karkaroff was but it didn't matter now. Dead man tell no tales and no one really seemed to care that the man had died, not even his own students.
It was rather depressing- and not because Karkaroff was dead- actually.
Of course the man's death was all but forgotten once the party started and then overshadowed by the third task. Honestly, what was wrong with these people?
Dragons, holding children at the bottom of lakes with creatures that can strip skin off bone, and now a maze full of creatures that wished to kill them all.
Why where these people allowed near children to began with? If anything the whole lot of them deserved to be locked up in the securest Insane Asylum as far, far away from the school as possible.
"Kill the Spare!"
It was insticnt alone that had Samuel tackling the younger boy; Cedric; to the ground causing the emerald light the same shade as his eyes to connect with his shoulder, knocking both the elder man and the Hufflepuff onto the golden cup. An enraged scream filled the air.
White.
All around him, consuming him. The boatman wasn't quite sure where he was only that it wasn't the graveyard he had been within only moments before. There was no one, nothing, as far as the eye could see.
Where had the damn cup taken him this time?
It didn't matter, he had a cup and child to find. Maybe a third time would be the charm? Standing, the Boatman brushed himself off before picking a random direction and started walking. Yet no matter how far or how long he walked all Samuel could see was white.
No ground, no sky, no wall or floor. Just plain, bright white. What he wouldn't give for his Amaranth right now. All this white was drving him insane.
He blinked.
Water.
"What the hell?"
He was no longer in the white void but sitting within his beloved Amaranth with nothing but the wide ocean around him as far as the eye could see while the night sky shined down from above. Leaning over the Amaranth's edge, emerald eyes glanced into the abyss.
He could see the faces within the water as lights rose from beneath the waves and into the sky. He could hear the soft singing of a well known tune.
Home, his mind whisphered, but it wasn't. Something wasn't quite right. Something was missing.
"Samuel Beechworth."
Emerald eyes darted towards the voice, only to find another man sitting in his Amaranth. He was dressed in a fine suit, one usually only a Noble wore, with a black cloak thrown over it.
Not human, his mind whisphered only moments before the man's very image seemed to flicker before solidifying once more. A part of Samuel felt he should be startled at least but the boatman couldn't find it within hismelf to do so. He had a feeling this... Man, if he could be called that, knew what exactly was going on. Answers would be nice, far more logical then blind panic at the least.
"I belive this is the third time you've come to visit me but never quite made it. I don't suspose you'll be willing to stay this time?"
"I don't suspose you know where we are?"
He wasn't dumb enough to agree to stay somewhere when he had no idea where he was to began with. The man glanced out at the sea around them before speaking,
"Inbetween. Standing with a foot frimly within the living and the dead but not enough to belong to either. "
Living? Dead? What the hell did that cup do to him?
"If wasn't the cup, but the Killing Curse- the emerald light. The cup has only brought both your body and Cedric Diggory back to the start of the maze."
Killing Curse, he had heard of it before when Dumbledore went on another of his rants about the Potter legacy. No one had been willing to say the words for the spell though. It would have been nice to know so that he knew to fully avoid the pretty light show. Though why the being- Diety if his theory was correct- was offering him a choice was beyod the boatman. Wasn't Death suspsoed to be a one way street? If he just offered anyone to go back everyone would be raising from the grave ever ten seconds.
"Can I go back?"
"If you wish to, though I will require something in return."
Ah, that made more sense. Though if the Diety asked for his Soul...
The boatman's thoughts were cut short by a rather amused chuckled.
"No, Samuel Beechworth. I do not want your soul; I want what's hiding within it. Though I'm afraid to take that, I may have to take a bit from you as well."
When the pain finally stopped and his vision cleared the first thing Samuel Beechworth noticed was White.
For a brief moment, the boatman was certain he was back at that place until a breath had the white lifting every so slightly from his face. A sheet. Oh.. That's right, he had been nicked by that 'Killing Curse'. They likely thought him dead. He couldn't fault them there but really, they should stop arguing, the sudden noise felt as though it was going to deafen him.
An annoyed scowl, marred the boatman's face as the voices grew louder as though taunting him.
Really, where they that childish?
Sitting up in a single movement had the sheet falling into his lap as the Boatman spoke,
"Would you all quiet down? You'll wake the dead at this rate."
Silence. Blissful utter silence.
"S-Samuel? I-Is that you?"
Corvo choked on his voice causing emerald eyes to flicker other to the Royal Protector before glancing at the group standing across from the man. Who the hell where half these people?
Is that you? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who else could it be? Cecelia?
"Corvo, who else would I be?"
Why was everyone staring at him like that? Was there something on his face? A pale hand instantly went up as though to check only to freeze halfway there. What the hell?
Over the Samuel had adapted a number of scars upon his fingers from his life, some of which had become permit, marring his skin in a way which ensured they would never fade away like other. Yet these hands where lacking and his gloves where a bit oversized despite having fitted perfectly only hours before.
This wasn't right.
Glancing downward, Samuel with greeted with the knowledge it was only his gloves that had grown but rather his whole outfit. Pressing a hand to his face, fingers deafly ran over skin, searching for the scars he knew where there, but weren't. Tugging at his hair, the boatman pulled it into his sight only to feel his breath hitch.
Black.
Starless sky black.
Black not the snowy white he had grown used to.
His hair hadn't been that shade of black since he turned thirty when the first strains of silver hair had began to show theirselves. Samuel felt as though he couldn't breathe, as if oxygen itself had been stripped from him lungs.
'I may have to take a bit from you as well.'
The voice echoed through his head causing emerald eyes to narrow. This was not part of the deal.
His name is Samuel Beechworth. He's sixty-eight years old. His hair has long since lost its original color settling instead upon the color of freshly fallen snow. His eyes dulled from over the years but hold an edge of intelligence that only comes with age. His body is marred from the years and he has one foot in the grave...
Well that's what he would have told anyone who asked him only hours before.
His name is Samuel Beechworth. He's Twenty-three years old. His hair is the color of the starless sky, his eyes are a brilliant emerald that despite their bright shine holding an edge of wisdom to them that only comes from age. The scars he's collected over the years have faded; leaving a few stray ones behind like the one through his eye.
He's in an awkward position with unwanted attention and no possible explanation- or at least one he can actually tell anyone. His name is Samuel Beechworth and the only thing he's sure of is:
He's screwed.
"What do you mean you can't send us back?!"
Samuel could feel his finger's itch to strangle the smiling fool before him as he glared death.
"My Boy-"
"I'm not your boy!"
"Now Harry-"
"My name is Samuel, Samuel Beechworth."
"Very well then, Samuel," The boatman gritted his teeth to keep himself from snapping that wizard, "When the Goblet summoned you and your friend; Mr. Attano it didn't come with a way to send you back. We have been researching but it could take months if not years to do so."
He was going to kill him. Slowly and as painfully as possible.
"Of course you and Mr. Attano are welcome to stay at Hogwarts until we find a way to send you two back."
"No."
"I beg your pardon."
Emerald eyes practically glowed with barely suppressed fury.
"We are not staying here."
"Then I'm sure you're Godfather-"
"My Godfather is dead."
"I assure you, Sirius is quite fine; My boy. And more then willing to house you and Mr. Attano."
Why did Samuel feel as though he'd have better luck taking to a brick wall here? The longer he spent in the wizards presence the more favorable Samuel fount the Astronomy Tower becoming. If he played his cards right, he'd have a rock solid alibi by time they locate the body.
Despite knowing how uncomfortable it makes the boatman, he finds it hard to peel his eyes away from the old- well younger- now. To be honest, Corvo had fount the Samuel to be attractive when he was in his sixties. There was just something about him that subconsciously drew you in without even meaning to.
He had it all: The looks, the personality, unwavering loyalty, natural kindness, a good friend in a despite time that grow into a bit more though the elder resisted his subtle attempts. Yet he never once even considered flaunting it; it was almost as if the boatman didn't even realize he had drawn you in and with time Corvo realized that's exactly what had happened.
It was hard to look away then but now that the man was trapped within his Prime; The Royal Protector fount it impossible to even consider doing so. He couldn't afford to. He wasn't the only who had noticed how much of a 'Perfect Person' Samuel was. It was almost as though every time he turned his back someone new was trying to weasel their way into the position he had worked so long for and not all of them wanted to do it the right way.
Damn Magic.
Love Potions, Compulsion Charms, Seduction Charms, ectra...
The Royal Protector felt as though if he turned his back for even a moment, they would have the boatman wrapped within their unnatural webs and faulty emotions.
What was wrong with a good old fashioned Courtship? A relationship was supposed to take time, dedication, and maybe a young Empress'- who couldn't help but get herself involve once she figured out the truth- help. They were so blinded by their fantasies- and so confident in their 'Magic'- none of them where attempting to see who Samuel really was.
"Achoo!"
His eyes zeroed in on said boatman as a flicker of annoyance flashed in the jewels he called eyes.
"You think they'd have better things to do then talk about an old man."
Dark eyes moved over the other's face; taking in the smooth skin, bright, intelligent eyes, and dark hair. Old...
Samuel obviously wasn't used to being this young again as 'old' was the last thing Corvo would use to describe the agitated Boatman. Dark eyes glanced down at the Heart in his hand, he wondered if he asked now what it would say about the other.
To be honest, in the beginning Erland quite enjoyed the entertainment this world granted him but now...
They had gotten His boatman killed- even if only temporally- outside of his world. Any amusement he had once felt died quicker then a Zealot openly broadcasting his magic to The Church. It didn't help the so called 'Leader of the Light' was still attempting to openly manipulate what was His.
The Outsider had officially had enough of this world and its people. If they wanted to steal from him, manipulate and eventually kill what was His, they where going to have to do it from His World not theirs. Lets see how they liked being in a world they didn't belong- without so much as a choice- in where their very existence was enough to have them executed.
Now that would be entertaining to observe.
AN: Poor Samuel just can't catch a break. Nyet, he hasn't been de-aged or at least in the way most people would think but rather its an aftereffect of what was taken from him.