A poor man had twelve children and had to work day and night in order just to feed them. Thus when the thirteenth came into the world, not knowing what to do in his need, he ran out into the highway, intending to ask the first person whom he met to be the godfather.
The first person who came his way was our dear God, who already knew what was in his heart, and God said to him, "Poor man, I pity you. I will hold your child at his baptism, and care for him, and make him happy on earth."
The man said, "Who are you?"
"I am God."
On the Eve of October 31st in the year 1981, Death watched two souls depart from the mortal plain and enter his realm. On this day, he watched with morbid curiosity as a third soul departed from the plain, briefly and smaller than the others- a babe- and go back as if nothing had happened. Then, a fourth, tiny and more foul, attached itself to the babe; it writhed against the bright thing and then it tainted it with the darkest of magics, before it nestled in a little deeper and remained silent.
The babe didn't make a sound.
He watched as mundanes cried and rain fell and he could feel the smug deviousness of Sister Fate as her web was woven.
As entertaining as his sister was, Death shook his head and descended into the mortal realm, under the cloak of darkness, since he had gifted his own to an.... interesting man; Death's first friend. Death looked over the destroyed house before him and clicked his tongue, 'Such a waste of magic.'
Death walked through the rubble, moving past the magic users that were there, moving towards the little babe that was there, hidden and sleeping near his mother. He clicked his tongue as he listened to the mages, specifically the oldest mage, as they discussed what to do with the newly dubbed 'Boy-Who-Lived'- the eldest wizard glanced at the babe and Death could see greed, regret, and something that gave the white haired man a hardness.
'Like steel.' Death mused, smirking as the mortal turned away and spoke in hushed tones, obviously suggesting that they should leave the boy with the next of kin. Non-magic users. Death shook his head. That wouldn't do.
Death looked down at the sleeping babe once again and was mildly surprised to see a pair of deep green eyes staring back at him.
'Curious little thing, aren't you?' He smiled and bent down, reaching out to touch his forehead. Instantly, the babe was asleep again. Death scooped up the small child and walked away from the carnage, before he apparated away.
Thus spoke the man, for he did not know how wisely God divides out wealth and poverty. Then he turned away from the Lord, and went on his way.
Then the devil came to him and said, "What are you looking for? If you will take me as your child's godfather, I will give him an abundance of gold and all the joys of the world as well."
The man asked, "Who are you?"
"I am the devil."
Heels clicked against marbled floors, sounding off like muggle shotguns, echoing throughout the atrium. Ebony box braids were pulled back away from their face- the hair itself decorated with small silver bells, golden cuffs and rune beads- and storm grey eyes sharpened with Ravenclaw intelligence. Cecily Graemark, youngest Head of the D.O.M in Wizarding History, walked down the empty hall towards her office. Most witches and wizards had gone home for the night, save for the Aurors and higher up officials, and of course some of the Masters in her Department.
Tonight was one of mourning though… Cecily had received the firecall- the Potters were gone, their son was nowhere to be found, and Black was taken in by the rest of the Auror force for treason. The only good thing that came out of it was shocking fact that the Dark Lord was dead. Sort of.
"If he was truly dead, his magic wouldn't still be reacting this much to the sweeping spells or the cleansing magic." Cecily muttered, swiping a hand over her hair.
"Headmaster* Graemark! Senior Master Grim is looking for you, he said it was important and an emergency!" An unspeakable, one from the prophecy room by the globes floating around with ambient magic, called.
Cecily frowned. Lucian rarely had emergencies he couldn't deal with. "Where's he stationed at tonight?"
"Time room, ma'am." Cecily's frown deepened. She did not like the time room, only because of how dangerous the principles of time are, but out of all the rooms, it was the most beautiful. Oak doors with engravings of runes- protection, time, and travel for example- decorating the edges and in the middle a carved moving picture of a crystal bell jar with a depiction of the life stages of a hummingbird- a mimicry of the giant bell jar in the room itself.
Pushing open the doors, Cecily smiled lightly at the Lumos lights dancing on the ceiling, like little faeries weaving spells, and at the endless ticking and tocking of the multitudes of clocks that sat on almost every surface in the room; some were resting on desks in pieces having been taken apart, some were floating in the air in a continuous loop of being taken apart and being put back together. Office doors lined the right side of the room, leading down to another large door that conjoined the Time Room to the Prophecy Room*- which was of course spelled with a Fidelius charm that only she and few others knew the word and wards that were keyed to Cecily only, as it was to the Headmaster before her.
"Lucian, are you in your office?" Cecily called out, scanning the room once more before moving towards his office.
"Yes, yes, come in dear, please." A gravelly voice answered, warm with a hint of excitement. Seconds later, the sound of a child chortling could be heard. She pushed open his door, curiously looking for the source of the noise. Lucian sat in an old tweed chair near a fireplace, a babe in his arms, looking down at him/she with a wide grin on his wrinkled, liver spotted face. The baby looked no older than one years old, maybe a little younger based on his/her size.
"Who is that?" Cecily asked as she stepped closer, cautiously looking into the green green eyes of the baby- she now concluded that it was a boy.
Lucian looked up at her and smiled kindly as he brushed a lock of black hair away from the babe's head; a fresh zig-zag wound located in the corner of forehead. So very familiar shamrock eyes and unruly pitch hair that was ever famous because of one family. Harry Potter. Cecliy reached for the baby, her hand grazing over the open scar and to his hair.
"But this is..."
"Cecily, I know. I know who he is, there was even a note with him from a very curious writer." Lucian interrupted again, he looked at her, noticing her hyper-focus on the boy, as if she couldn't believe that the Potter boy was alive and here. After all, he was missing from the scene when they searched for him. He smiled gently and held the boy out to her. She glanced at him, very briefly, before snatching up the child and wrapping him up in her arms. Harry just chortled and smacked her on the shoulder, before reaching for her hair. She stopped that mess right away, grabbing his hand and marveling at the contrast of colors. Her magic was dancing inside her, and then it was dancing outside of her- curling itself around the boy and claiming him as theirs.
"I know. I've got the papers already. When your done signing, there's an international portkey- it'll take you out of Britain and to the North." Lucian said, holding out the parchment to her. It was a legal adoption document that was annotated by a witness- Lucian- and a lawyer- in this case it would be a lady named S.L. Chaulin.
"Why do I need to get out of Britain?" She asked, handing Harry back to him for a moment, as she signed the adoption papers. As soon as she was done, the parchments flashed, duplicated, and disappeared to be filed with Gringotts and with Chaulin.
Lucian looked his age in the moment she asked. Deep lines carving through his face from years of worry and happiness and stress and frustration. He gazed at her and softly answered.
"There are darker things at work here. I'm afraid for his future, that he will become manipulated just for the Greater Good." And if that didn't tell her enough, the dark look he cast at the ruined picture of Dumbledore on his wall did.
He turned to her. "He needs to grow up having his own thoughts and his own mind, not have a fool for a wizard twist his mind and use him for his own advantage; which is exactly what will happen if he were to live here. That is why you must take him out of the country. The portkey will take you near Oslo, where the magic is old and strong enough to hide him."
Harry looked up at her, green eyes glowing lightly and she understood. Nodding, she took the babe and the portkey. "You'll keep in touch, yes? Run this place in my steed?"
Lucian looked at her amused. "But, of course. Someone has to keep the underlings from blowing up this place. You just focus on raising that little boy int a strong and capable wizard. Don't hide too much from him, when he is old enough to understand, you must tell him about what happened tonite."
Cecily nodded again, smiling at her old mentor. "I'll miss you, Lucian. Take care and don't let the old goat get to you." With that, the portkey activated.
He went on his way, and then Death, on his withered legs, came walking toward him, and said, "Take me as your child's godfather."
The man asked, "Who are you?"
"I am Death, who makes everyone equal."
Then the man said, "You are the right one. You take away the rich as well as the poor, without distinction. You shall be my child's godfather.
Death answered, "I will make your child rich and famous, for he who has me for a friend cannot fail."
The man said, "Next Sunday is the baptism. Be there on time."