The warehouse was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single overhead bulb casting long, eerie shadows. Harry moved silently, his footsteps muffled by the Invisibility Cloak that swayed with each careful step. His years of sneaking through Hogwarts, dodging Peeves, Filch, and enchanted staircases, had trained him well for moments like this.
Two guards stood at the entrance, chatting idly, their voices low but gruff. Harry slipped closer, barely breathing as he pulled his wand from beneath the cloak. In a practiced, fluid motion, he whispered a spell to make them confused.
Both men stiffened before their eyes glazed over. Harry reached out, pressing the tip of his wand lightly against the temple of the taller guard. A quick probe of his mind revealed a layout of the building—dim corridors, makeshift barracks, and, most importantly, the office where the leader stayed.
Moving swiftly, he made the guards fall asleep and slipped inside.
Inside the warehouse, the smelled of oil and damp metal were strong. Stacks of crates lined the walls, creating narrow pathways that Harry navigated with ease. Every sense was on high alert, every breath measured as he scanned the surroundings for more threats.
He reached the sleeping quarters without incident, evading the other rooms where the people were awake. Men were sprawled on makeshift cots and benches, their snores echoing softly. It was almost too easy. Harry's grip on his wand tightened as he passed, his instincts screaming that something was amiss.
But he couldn't afford to stop.
At last, he reached the leader's office. The door was slightly ajar, and Harry slipped inside, his wand raised. The room was sparse—a desk cluttered with papers, a half-drunk cup of coffee, and a flickering lamp. Behind the desk sat the leader, a rugged man with sharp features and an air of practiced authority.
"Legilimens," Harry whispered, aiming his wand at the man's temple after confounding him.
The connection was immediate. Memories rushed past in a blur—planning sessions, blueprints of attacks, and then… him. The mastermind.
Lestrange.
The man's face came into focus, his sharp features and cold, calculating eyes a stark contrast to the faded photograph Harry had once seen in the Daily Prophet of the man after years in Azkaban, but it was enough. Harry pulled back from the man's mind, careful not to disturb the deeper layers of consciousness. He had enough. Now, he just needed to get out.
He retraced his steps, the Invisibility Cloak tucked tightly around him. The mission seemed almost too successful. But as he reached the main floor, a commotion near the entrance froze him in his tracks.
Someone from outside had entered carrying boxes of pizza, his heavy boots clanging against the metal floor. The man—a wiry figure with a jittery demeanor—stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as he surveyed the unconscious guards slumped against the wall.
"Oi!" the man shouted, his voice echoing through the warehouse. "What the hell happened here?"
Harry cursed silently. He slipped behind a stack of crates as the man alerted the others who had been awake. Soon, everyone was suspicious, with guns in their hands as they keep finding others that were asleep.
Harry needed to go, so he picked a piece of metal from the ground and threw it to the opposite side of him. The men turned to shoot to that place, though there were some who just shot to wherever they could. One of the bullets grazed Harry's shoulder, the searing pain sharp and immediate. He staggered back, his free hand clutching the wound as he gritted his teeth.
He had to leave—now.
So he bit out the pain and continued until he was outside. He then put a spell on the warehouse to seal the door until the police arrived. Then Harry exhaled shakily, pressing his hand harder against the bleeding wound. He pointed his wand toward a stack of crates near the entrance. With a muttered "Incendio," flames erupted, licking up the wooden crates and sending dark smoke billowing into the air. The fire spread quickly, its crackling and popping loud enough to draw attention from outside.
Harry didn't stop there. With a quick "Bombarda," he blew a hole in a nearby wall, the thunderous explosion echoing through the area. The noise would be enough to rouse the neighbors—or at the very least, bring the authorities running.
The sirens in the distance confirmed his plan was working. Satisfied, Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak tighter around himself and slipped into the shadows, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand.
When he turned around, Death was waiting, perched on a nearby post. It tilted its head, its beady eyes glinting with silent curiosity as it watched Harry stagger into the shadows.
"We'll talk later," Harry muttered, more to himself than the bird, before disapparating into the night.
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Harry reappeared in a quiet alleyway near the mansion, stumbling slightly as the adrenaline began to wear off. He leaned against the cold brick wall, his breath coming in short bursts.
"Episkey," he murmured, aiming his wand at the wound on his shoulder. A warm, tingling sensation spread across the graze as the skin knitted itself back together, leaving only a faint scar. He rolled his shoulder experimentally, satisfied that the worst of the pain was gone.
A soft flutter of wings drew his attention, and he looked up just as the raven from before landed on his shoulder. It tilted its head, its dark eyes gleaming as it regarded him.
"Death—"
"Thanatos," the bird said in a voice that was both soft and hauntingly familiar, preening his hair with gentle precision.
Harry blinked, startled. "Thanatos?"
The raven nuzzled against his head, its feathers brushing against his temple. "Death is a scary name. Thanatos suits me better, don't you think?"
Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bird perched comfortably on his shoulder. "You're... clingy, aren't you? This isn't what I expected from the so-called Master of Death situation."
Thanatos ruffled his feathers, almost indignantly. "Is it so wrong to enjoy your company? Do you know how long I've waited to interact like this? To feel things? It's quite exciting."
Harry sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he started walking down the deserted street. "I don't have time for whatever existential crisis you're having. I've got enough on my plate."
"Don't be like that," Thanatos said, his voice light and teasing. "I've missed you, you know."
Harry stopped in his tracks, squinting at the raven perched on his shoulder. "You've been following me this whole time, haven't you? You already know what's going on in this world."
Thanatos let out a soft, amused croak, avoiding the question entirely as he nuzzled Harry's cheek. "You've grown since the last time we spoke. Wiser, stronger. But... you're also carrying so much more."
Harry's lips thinned into a line as he resumed walking. "I can't deal with this right now. Whatever you're hinting at, it can wait."
Thanatos fell silent for a moment, his presence oddly comforting despite his cryptic nature. "You've always been stubborn," he finally said, his tone almost fond. "But fine. Handle your mortal affairs first."
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the night. The world felt heavier than it had moments ago, but Thanatos's quiet companionship made the weight a little easier to bear.
For now, that would have to be enough.
Harry approached the grand gates of Tom's mansion, Thanatos perched on his shoulder, tilting his head curiously at the intricate wrought-iron design. The raven's sharp eyes gleamed as he observed their surroundings, letting out an approving croak as they passed through.
"You live quite well, don't you?" Thanatos remarked, his voice soft and amused.
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not my house. And try to keep quiet, will you? The last thing I need is explaining why I've got a talking bird with me."
When they reached the front door, it swung open before Harry could knock. Snape stood there, his piercing gaze flicking from Harry to the raven on his shoulder. His expression didn't change, but there was a faint twitch of his eyebrow that might have been surprise—or mild irritation.
"I see you've acquired a... companion," Snape said, his tone as dry as ever.
"Temporary," Harry muttered, stepping inside. "Where's Tom?"
"In his study," Snape replied, leading the way down the hallway.
Thanatos let out a quiet hum as his dark eyes roamed over the lavish interior. "Very impressive. I could get used to this."
"Not happening," Harry muttered under his breath.
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