Death watched as the spectre shot away from his Charge and slipped away to the forest he had called home for the majority of a decade. He watched as it merged with the cursed snake once more, speaking together in spat hisses and lashing tail. If a mortal - Magical or otherwise - came across it, they would be immediately killed in a flash of fangs and venom, their bodies left mangled before being swallowed wholly.
For days on end the abomination writhed in anger, Magic rolling around it in waves, emptying the nearby habitats as they scampered away. Which, of course, made it even more furious as meals had to be hunted down. Death was not ashamed to find it endlessly amusing - especially as he'd walk along the leaves, ushering the animals even further away.
It was perhaps a full moon or two later when the Riddle creature calmed. And when he was calm, he would plot. He made his way to villages, possessing any being who had even a drop of Magical blood - enough so that he could weave spells again. He spun and enchanted entire villages into ruin, leaving enough marks of his prescent to ensure knowledge that a Dark Wizard was making the rounds of Eastern Europe. Magic was seething.
He's being noticed, Death intoned to his sister as they glided through another wasted hamlet, plucking souls and tucking them into his robes.
Of course he's being noticed. He's a child throwing an epic sized tantrum. She spat, trailing her fingers over obliterated hearths, drinking in the remaining enchantments which were too homely for the brat to take himself.
Death hummed in response as he gazed down at the sightless eyes of a child, clutching his empty brother. I wouldn't say this is a...tantrum. At his sister's surprised expression he turned his gaze across the ruins. This...is planning. He wants to be seen. He wants to be found. Say what you will about him, but he has always been intelligent.
Magic curled her lip as she crouched by the children, caressing their faces. Selective intelligence, I'd say. He abhors those that would be his salvation. He wants to 'save' the Magical world, but in his ignorance he rejects the idea that
those of Muggle parents are descended from his ancestors.
I said he was intelligent, not arrogant. Death sniffed, grimacing as a soul struggled against his grasp, unaware that they had perished.
He always was. And, dare I think it, he had a reason to be so. He was smarter than his peers, handsome even as a babe, and his charisma unparalleled. Magic sighed in sorrow, her entire being squeezing in pain. So much potential, so much Magic, and he has squandered it. She murmured, tears spilling across her cheeks. Her eyes flashed to her dark brother, Which is why you must oversee her. Always. We cannot afford another Tom Riddle.
Death straightened under her gaze,
inclining his head in agreement. You assume I do not do so already? There is a reason why I have stationed two Guardians, sister. Do not think me negligent of my duties. You are not the only one who is grieving. He warned in a low tone, the grass decaying under his feet and shadow.
Magic looked at him steadily for a long moment, narrowing her eyes. You've formed an attachment, brother. How surprising. It's been...too long since you've allowed to do so. Why, I think it was the Original Peverell who you were last fond of. And even then - only once he had passed.
You say this as if you too are not fond of her. Death bit back, uncharacteristically wanting to shuffle on the spot.
Magic laughed, flowers turning to look at her as the sounds of bells filled the air. Yes, but I am wont to be fond of those of her calibre. You however, my impassive brother, are more prone to be irritated. Even her father you turned your nose up.
He rolled his eyes. Of course I did, he was an annoyance. That does not mean I did not hold him in high esteem. Which is evidenced by my interference with his portrait.
Hmm. As you say, brother. But my point still stands - we need to ensure that Aster Potter remains steadfast.
The two of them walked to the edge of the hill, overlooking the destruction leading to the ravaged houses. The moon shone down on them, basking them in a silver light. The echoes of screams long silenced still rang through the forest, calling out for salvation that would never come. The little they could do; ensuring that the departed's souls and Magic were welcomed into their embrace, was complete. Until the next time.
We all cannot afford for her not to. She must remain on her path. Magic said simply, before shimmering away in a sprinkle of stars, leaving Death on his own.
A lone figure standing on a hill, staring up at the moonlight. And as he remained there, one single thought sang through him: she will.
Unlike Riddle she had a family who mourned her. A family who surrounds her even in death, friends who support her. And a grandfather who would burn the entire world if it would ensure she would live. Indeed, he had already ripped apart clans in his search for her. She is his everything. And thus - she will stand firm. She will not become another Tom Riddle, nor even a Gellert Grindlewald. She was his Charge and she would become his Mistress.
In one step he moved from the burnt out Albanian hill to the Forest reaching around the boundary as a lit up castle nestled in the centre, a lake interrupted the sprawling grass.
He listened as the Creatures of the Forest quietened at his approach, the Unicorns rearing back before bowing lowly and galloping away. The Acromantulas screeched in fear as they clicked their pincers in fear and scuttled every which way. The Centaurs walked slowly, bows clutched in hands, their tails flicking giving away their unease as Death walked their trails.
Only the Pixies and Nymphs seemed excited by his presence, dancing about in glee at a Primordial's visit. As members of the Fae they had always been aware on another level of the entities that humans dismissed - Magic and Death were not entities but a fact. For so long the Beings hadn't come and walked among them in clear sight. There would be whispers that people had seen them, with wistful sighs. It must be due to the Dark One's return. Or the Child; after all, it's not everyday someone returns from the dead.
Death ignored the dancing Fae, dismissing their exaltation at his arrival, instead steadily making his progress through until he reached the edge of the Forest, staring out into the darkness to the castle. It wasn't long before Sephtis phased beside him, bowing his head so low his nose brushed the grass.
Where is Stefanus? He asked, barely acknowledging his greeting with a twitch of a nod.
"He's with Aster, sire. Standing guard." The Cat responded lowly, turning so that he watched the castle with his Master.
Hm. Shame he didn't think to do so earlier. I see you have no compunction in leaving this duty either.
Sephtis' nose twitched. "I would not ignore you or my duties, sire. The incident with the Mirror...we did not know how to proceed. She dismissed our attempts at warnings." He explained calmly, forcing himself not to bristle in indignation at his accusation. "We are after all, only animals to her." He drawled, turning his head to glare at the Forest as a strange rat scuttled past.
Hm. And yet she took heed of your pestering in being...what's the word? Adopted, by her. Perhaps I should arrange a snake to join you. I hear Lilith is available. Death taunted, watching in amusement as he lashed his tail in aggravation.
"A snake called Lilith. How original." He drawled, "though that's her all over. Clichés of any variety are her bread and butter. I wouldn't surprised if she would shift into a red haired woman next time." He sniffed, sticking his nose in the air.
And you're the epitome of originality, I suppose. A cat with nine lives as a companion of Death. And Stefanus a carrion crow. Though I suppose at least you're not a black cat.
"They have an unfortunate reputation and stereotype already. I didn't wish to beat an old drum."
How magnanimous of you. Death quipped, bending down to pluck a daisy off the ground covered in ice crystals.
"She's learning she's not alone." Sephtis spoke in the silence. She has been - reprimanded - by her friends. And I believe the Old One may speak to her more on the subject. They have also informed her more of the situation regarding Riddle. Not the whole truth - not that she is the one who was key in defeating him. But if much more happens I think the matter will be pushed."
If they don't, I will speak with her myself.
"Not to be pertinent, but would she take notice, sire? She believes you a figment of her imagination, a fairytale."
Death shrugged noncommittally, You know more than most on my capabilities on getting things done. Do not forget, you too were of a similar mind.
Sephtis smiled - as much as a cat could - at the memory. "Yes, I was rather a nuisance, wasn't I?"
What do you mean was? Death chortled, Nearly all my other sentries are not so familiar with me...Binky.
Sephtis cringed at the name, "It's from a children's book, is my understanding. Ironically enough, the character is Death's horse."
Death snorted. Hm. Perhaps she knows more than she realises. He said thoughtfully, before turning to his companion. Keep an eagle eye, Sephtis.
At the entity's disappearance, Sephtis phased to the dorm room of his Mistress, gazing down at her as she frowned in her sleep, nightmares bleeding out. Sighing
inwardly, he moved up to scent her head, purring loudly enough she could hear it in her subconscious, and curled up beside her, his head in the crook of her neck.
He and Stefanus didn't need a warning; they'd allow themselves to be dispersed into a million atoms before leaving her side again. No more would they be complicit in her schemes to endanger herself.
She may have belonged to Death, but she was theirs.