Death is done
To Death, it was a normal day so far, well as normal a day as an amortal ageless being could have. They sat behind their desk, quill scratching away at a stack of forms that had landed on their desk earlier that day. It was all business as normal until they got to the papers for the souls that had been gathered up from Earth 107943-89.
Death paused seeing Lily and James Potter's files, murdered by the killing curse cast from Tom Riddle's wand. Death scowled; the Potters had belonged to death since time untold. Before they were the Potters before they were the Peverells. When Merlin Emerys breathed his first breath, Death favored the line.
Death had felt the shockwave as Fate's loom shattered and rebuilt reworking the fabric of Magic itself fate. Death had gone to earth 107943-89, to see what all the fuss was about. Instantly Death was intrigued upon seeing the immortal known as Merlin Emerys. Death watched as Merlin's power grew, as he feared it, as he loved it, as he loved and then he lost. Merlin loved the golden-haired prince of Camelot and their joining, their love, brought forth a child unlike death had ever seen.
Death had blessed the child as one of their own, a necromancer, one who communes with the dead and as such them. The Emyrs line soon became the Peverell's leading to the three brothers Cadmus, Antioch, and Ingotus. Cadmus and Antioch were selfish and uncaring, so unlike Merlin and Arthur. But the youngest, Ingotus, was once again placed among their children.
Feeling a large tug upon their magic, Death's spine went ramrod straight. A child, a new child of Death had been birthed. Death immediately stood from behind their desk, fetching their cloak and their scythe. Death had learned from the past, Necromancer's, their children were almost never treated well by those that were supposed to love them. Most people feared and some despised death, and so they feared those beings connected to death.
Death quickly mounted their steed and rode quickly for Earth 107943-89.
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Arriving in a dreadfully boring neighborhood, Death's impossibly beautiful face which was almost always a blank mask melted into a vicious snarl. This small neighborhood was no place for their new child. No, not because it was small or because of the no-personality cookie-cutter homes. That was part of it though. Children of theirs deserved only the best, they belonged in grand and extravagant palaces.
With servants to wait on them hand and foot, with everything their hearts desired provided to them. Not in places that stank of sin like this. Death melted into the shadows, they skulked to the place where they felt their newest child's signature blaring from. A disturbingly normal home in the cookie-cutter neighborhood, entering the home Death's rage reached a new peak as they found their newest child, a babe, barely a toddler, stuffed in a cupboard.
The poor child was shivering, dressed in only a soiled diaper, his big emerald brimming with tears. Death reached forward and brought their newest child close to them, the tiny babe sighing as Death's magic wrapped him tightly as any parent should. A click of their skeletal fingers saw the babe's diaper clean and fresh, Death plucked up the soft blue baby blanket that had laid in the basket and wrapped him in it to chase off the chill the November evening brought.
He was so hungry, another click of their skeletal fingers had a bottle of warm milk appearing that he began to guzzle as soon as Death brought it to his lips. Death bounced and rocked their new child as the baby drank his milk. As the babe drank Death examined the boy and their rage peaked yet again. Blocks. so many many blocks. on his intelligence, his mental talents, the natural abilities he would display as he aged, on practically every single aspect of this poor boy.
Well, that just wouldn't do.
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Death bounced the little one in their arms, smiling brightly as the bonds placed by the wicked old man slipped away. The boy relaxed more and more into Death's arms as his core unbound and the uncomfortable pinching sensation he'd undoubtedly been subjected to since over two-thirds of his magical core had been bound by Albus fucking Dumbleass. Death had been surprised, surprised not shocked when a little black tail appeared just above his bottom and a pair of black baby soft velvet ears sprouted from atop his head.
A groan erupted from Death as they could hear Fate's and Magic's crazed cackles, a magical inheritance...really? Harry Potter wasn't even supposed to be able to gain one! Damn! This complicated things even further. Harry gaining the title of Necromancer was bad enough but to be a Kitsune as well? Death rocked Harry as they thought, Death could not trust anyone in this world with their little one, and those among the living couldn't enter their realm. Not to mention they unfortunately did not have the time to devote to rearing a child.
But who could be trusted with their little one?
Death smiled as they got an idea. As they remembered a world they gathered many gods from years ago, and a certain gun-slinging Harbinger... Pantalone was perfect, the wealthiest man on Teyvat. Who better? Who better to give Harry the life a Child of Death deserved? Who better to teach him the manners of nobility and the ways of politics that he would need to manage the Potter Peverell and Black Legacies? Yes, Pantalone would be perfect.
And if he said no Morax would be getting his gnosis rammed back inside him and raising another child whether he liked it or not.