The Diary (pottermort)

chapter ten

Death is old.

Death was here when humanity was created, and Death will be there when it is destroyed. They are nothing and everything; a vague form that's sometimes corporal but most of the time isn't.

Death is old. There's the saying that "with age comes knowledge" which they think might be true but not completely-- because, really, with age comes boredom. People are repetitive. They steal and kill for one reason or another and excuse it just the same. An eternal cycle that Death cannot partake in--

Death, for a very long time, was tired of it. Tired of the bad, the worse, and the dead he greeted. There has been someone like XX before and there will be someone like XX again. Nothing is new-- not the massacres, Muggle or otherwise, and not the rare, scattered good people.

So Death is old and Death was tired of it. They took people's souls, carried them away into the afterlife, into a void, a train station, into eternal nothing and everything. They did their job with all the pride they could muster and for a long while (long, so long,) everything else faded into the background; static noise in their mind that is and isn't.

And then Tom Riddle was born.

He, at first glance, was as yawn inducing as the rest of them. A boy, orphaned, who faced death and flinched. But, unlike every other, Tom Riddle faced death... he faced death, flinched, and then fled. He made a Horcrux, which forever made it impossible for Death to complete their job with this particular specimen.

And for a moment, Death was almost impressed. He'd not be the first to try not to greet him when they rightly should (Nick was a wonderful example) but this method was almost unheard of.

But then Tom split his soul again, and again, and again... Because overkill is cool, I guess? Because fuck logic and fuck Death, I guess. Tom stole his soul from Death's grasps with these procedures, but with it he also sold his sanity.

Death was bored again. Power is nothing side by side with lunaticy. His motives will become blurred and Death knew then that, no matter how powerful he makes himself seem, it will all be revealed to be smoke and mirrors. He'll fall. Death's sure of it.

When Harry Potter was born, Death didn't bat an eye. He was a small child, destined to be loved by a caring family and pampered beyond belief. He was common, run of the mill, nothing to even be remotely interested in.

Fast forward a year and a handful of months and Death's previous assumption of the boy falls to pieces, alongside Lord Voldemort's former glory. And from then on Death was tantalized-- fascinated with Harry Potter, the first ever and only ever human Horcrux.

It started out with an obsession with Harry's magic.

Death's always had a thing for powerful or interesting magical cores-- he'd had a few flings with Gellert before, a fellow nicknamed "Lord Nothing," and would've done so with Voldemort, too, if splitting his soul didn't effect his magic so much-- and Harry Potter's was the most interesting of all. Two magical presences, so different, like night and day, mixing and dancing together with an intricatecy that is thick like smog but beautiful like the nighttime sky.

Death could not tear their eyes
away from the spectacle.

Death falls in love with Harry's magic because, really, how could they not? They watch Harry grow up and when Harry's seventeen, risking his life for people who would never do the same, Death thinks they're infatuated with Harry himself. And then when Harry gives his life for those horrid aforementioned people, the idea is solidified.

They arrive at Harry's train station, his forever afterlife, one train station of many, but confusion overwhelms most other emotions. They'd seen Albus Dumbledore (that Greater Good fool who's life and death were as grey as could be) and his little plan. His ploy was to "send Harry back," to make Harry's afterlife aline with his own.

But he is not there. Albus Dumbledore failed his final mission and Death thinks that's terribly uninspired of him. An idea hits them, though, because all hope doesn't have to be lost.

So Death sends Harry back. Death was old and bored but with all the new developments they've implemented? Why, only one of those ring true.

Death had somewhat considered hanging around with Harry in the ghostly plane they've made for him, though they did think better of it. Instead, they'd let Harry get in a nice adventure (he always did have a saving people thing), let him get all that out of his system before making romantic and or sexual advances of any serious degree.

In the meantime, they'd be fucking Gellert Grindelwald.

If Harry ever was to ask where Death was when not visiting him (which he never would), then Death would tell him the truth: he hung around Gellert Grindelwald as an odd sort of companion. Though they weren't visible to people Death did not grant the ability to, Gellert saw them 24/7. He saw them and did not turn away. He embraced, even. Death did not mention that they turned back time, but that did not mean Gellert was ignorant to the fact that Death was Death. Death was very open about most things.

Death, all the while, keeps an eye on Harry's progress because his ability to disrupt the "would've been, could've been" future is simply astounding. They watch Tom Riddle be guided down a different path and are impressed yet again. (Death is not impressed easy but Harry Potter has always loved to defy the rules, so should it not be expected with him?)

Harry Potter is an enigma. He's not real to anyone but Death and Tom Riddle. He fights for people he shouldn't, changes people he should, and impresses Death all the while.

Although Gellert was a great fuck, Harry was greater at most anything else. (Fascinating. Simply fascinating.)