Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Prologue - Bittersweet Return
It was weird, being back in your own timeline. In your own original world after so long.
The Undertaker mused as he watched Voldemort enter the Potter house in 1981, October 31st. He could stop the Dark Lord. Save the Potters, give Harry Potter a normal life, even a normal childhood. Maybe it will stop this accursed “gift” he had as Master of death.
But he won’t.
He wasn’t so naive to believe such an alteration would even do anything. Green iridescent eyes watched calmly as everything played out. Shouts of spells, screams, and flashes of green lights.
It was quiet now. Save for the crying screams of an infant. There was a crack of a desperate apparition, it seems Severus Snape was indeed to arrive first to the Potter cottage. The young potions master ran inside, almost tripping over the obliterated front door. The anguish cries of a broken-hearted man soon filled the air. How bittersweet, that a man like Severus Snape harboured feelings for a Muggleborn like Lily Evans even after death. The Undertaker hummed tilting his head to the side when he saw the wizard run out and apparated away. Leaving Lily’s beloved child behind.
What to do.
What to do.
Next came Sirius Black, an ashen look to his face, a lost look in his black eyes. He was the next one to run inside of the shambled house. The wizard scrambled off of the flying motorcycle he arrived upon. Dropping to his knees at the entrance as he could only stare at James Potter’s corpse, crippled at the stairway. Sirius mourned his brother’s death for only a moment though, a whisper of a name on his lips as he scrambled up the stairs to the still crying baby Harry. Things got pretty boring after that when the rest of the Order of The Pheonix showed up along with a few Aurors.
Undertaker almost cackled as he watched with sick amusement when Sirius Black left the house with such a fiery rage. He could stop the man from going after Pettigrew. But he remained the silent observer.
What to do.
What to do.
As soon as Black left, Dumbledore was the one to have Harry in his care. Who only said a few words to the head Auror, who no doubt was deep in the Headmasters pocket, before handing the babe to a sobbing giant. Hagrid took baby Harry to the flying motorcycle Sirius had left behind. Letting out a gleeful giggle, the Undertaker saw baby Harry. Cleaned of tears and blood. Grim reaper eyes glowed as he magically observed the child for any possible magic placed upon him. There was a blood tracking spell, the ritual’s shield that Lily performed on her child, and a sleeping charm. Interesting. Careful to remain unseen, Undertaker quite literally strolled up to the magical crime scene. Watching as two wizards hovered the bodies of Lily and James Potter out.
What to do.
What to do.
Undertaker followed those Aurors to where they left the bodies of the Boy Who Lived parents in a magical morgue. The Death god used his own magic to influence the Diener to stand to the side. The morgue attendant eyes were misty under the magic that put him in a stasis. Now, The Undertaker wasn’t just going to let some strange wizard work on Lily and James Potter.
A pale hand with long black fingernails combed gently through red hair.
Lily reminded the Undertaker of a fairy. She was such a kind soul, with a body that matched the same gentleness. He knew exactly how to prepare her and her coffin. His moves seemed melodic as he worked on her body. He made sure to accentuate the many freckles on her face, painting her lips a lovely shade of pink to resemble her generosity. Next was her eyeshadow, green, to resemble her wise and knowledgeable mind. As well as the witch's deep emerald eyes that were now pale with death.
The Undertaker was all too happy to place Lily into a white shoulder-less dress. Which had a deep emerald green ribbon that outlined its hems.
Lily’s record flowed around the undertaker in a dance. He made sure to handle her soul gently, collecting such a generous and light-hearted soul was rare to come across.
Undertaker knew exactly where to put Lily nee Evans.
The next addition to his mourning jewellery. The crest that resembled Lily’s entire being was decorated with lily flowers and the silhouette of a doe.
Next was James Potter.
The Undertaker carefully plucked the man’s spectacles off his face. James was a handsome free-spirited kind of man. The man’s wild brown hair gave him such a carefree look, even in death. Both of the Potter’s were so young, just starting adulthood and yet with a simple spell, their lives were snipped away from them.
James own records spun and jumped excitedly around the Undertaker as he finished fixing the man’s clothes. He matched his wife with a white loose button-up shirt and black trousers. Though to add to his playful character, he left a few buttons undone.
Careful to collect such a jittery soul, the Undertaker added another crest to his collection. One decorated of a stag with two crossed broomsticks and an Aries symbol.
Satisfied with his work, the Undertaker carefully, and magically, put the two bodies into a set of matching coffins. The Death God then released the morgue worker out of his stasis. Adding a memory altering charm into thinking he was the one to prepare the Boy Who Lived parents ready for burial.
What to do.
What to do.
It didn’t take long to find out where Harry was. Thoroughly entertained, the Reaper let out an amused chuckle.
Sirius was just arrested by the Ministry, not even carted off to Azkaban yet, but Dumbledore is already dumping the “Boy-Who-Lived” onto number four’s doorstep. McGonagall was adamant about trying to change the old geezer’s mind about leaving Harry Potter with the worst sort of muggles she has ever met. Really it should have been a red flag for the Headmistress that the man was ignoring her worries. The Undertaker wondered how many times the Headmaster used Legimency on the witch to influence her mind.
He waited for the three magical’s to leave before he approached the peacefully sleeping infant. The Death God now stood over Harry Potter, long black nails tapping on the metal shaft of his Death Scythe. Contemplating on what to do.
The Grim reaper hadn’t thought of himself as Harry Potter in thousands of years. Had forgotten his name through his insanity. A long black fingernail poked at a baby fat cheek. The Grim Reaper let out a small giggle when his baby self tried to swat away the prodding finger.
What to do.
What to do.
The death god chuckled when the infant grabbed his finger with a tiny hand. That’s when an idea came.
Why not take baby Harry Potter? And raise the child as his own?
A surprised laugh escaped his lips. What a fanatical chaotic idea! Something like that would keep his boredom at bay.
Though, just raising Harry while watching Dumbledore scramble in search of him would get boring quick.
Green Iridescent eyes then focused onto a freshly cut lighting bolt carved scar. A Cheshire Cat-like grin on pale lips. Next came the roar of insane laughter, causing the reaper to hunch over and use his scythe as support as insane glee took over.
“Oh!” The Undertaker gasped, finally taking a breath in after peels of laughter.
“Such a marvellous plan would keep me amused till the end of time! Wouldn’t you say ‘Arry?” He had asked the slumbering babe. Which thanks to the charm placed onto him, his rest remained undisturbed by the loud hysterical laughter from the Grim Reaper. Standing up again from his hunch, the death scythe in his hand began to glow an eerie green. With a wave of his hand, the weapon disappeared. It was stored away into a pocket dimension that only he could use to grab it later when actually needed. Both hands now free, Death picked up Harry Potter.
“Time to Shake things up!”
(End of Prologue)