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Chapter 2

He’d been left alone with them and Harry really didn’t know what to do with this peers from Britain. They had a very specific perception of him that he’d worked his ass off to create and it would probably make genuine collaboration difficult. Unfortunately, he needed them as they were entrenched in the corruptive magic of Britain in a way that he wasn’t. The older generations were too far gone and were perhaps beyond saving. He didn’t know for certain.

Lucas had left the room last, with a tight nod in his direction that probably didn’t look out of place in their circumstances. Harry poured himself some more coffee and exhaled slowly as he stared at it. The rich, dark liquid was probably one of his favorite things on Earth but what he really wanted was an herbal. He pulled a case from his interior jacket pocket then paused.

“Do you ladies mind?” he asked, gaze flicking between them.

Hermione Granger shook her head. “No, not at all, Master Potter.”

Pansy raised eyebrow. “Are those from the Horde? They’re the best ones.”

He proffered the case and she immediately took one. He retrieved one for himself, put the case away and lit his own as he stood. “Being in Britain is stressful as hell, if I’m honest.”

“Clearly,” Draco said quietly. “I don’t know how to help with that. Frankly, I never have.”

“It is what it is,” Harry said and flicked a bit of magic at the fireplace to light the fire. “These rooms are always a bit cold.” He glanced toward Pansy and Hermione. “You’ll want to layer. I’ve always found it so odd that practically everything made specifically for witches to wear is thin to the point of ridiculous.”

“We’re expected to wear multiple layers,” Hermione said. “Often three or four depending on the outfit. My last gown for a formal event had four layers, not including the petticoats the seamstress assured me I needed.”

“Oh,” Harry made a face. “Witches abroad have a more modern approach.” He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the chair Ito had been sitting in.

“Why me?” Draco questioned. “Master Ito told me that you chose me.”

Harry stared for a moment, more fascinated than ever, by the one wizard in all of Britain he’d gone out of his way to avoid since they were eleven years old. “Because you are the lightest wizard of our generation. There are no exceptions to that—I’ve studied every single wizard between the ages of twenty-five and forty in the country. In the end, it won’t be me who heals the damage done in Britain. If it can be done, it will be done by you.”

Draco stared at him, eyes wide with shock. “My father was a serial killer.”

“He did…some good work for the world actually.” He laughed when they all stared at him what could only be horror. “Did you ever research his victims?”

“I…no.” Draco flushed. “The shame is kind of overwhelming.”

“Lucius Malfoy hunted and killed some of the darkest sons of bitches to ever live on this planet,” Harry said quietly and sat back down as he took a long drag from his herbal. He blew out a little smoke dragon and Pansy responded by providing it a few loops to fly through. “Though it’d probably be no comfort at all, to you, when he was finally caught he claimed he did it to protect you and your mother. Perhaps, he suspected even then what or more importantly who you are.”

“Who is he?” Pansy questioned.

“It’s not my place to reveal such a thing in this conversation,” Harry said roughly but focused on Draco entirely. “But I’ll tell you in private if you genuinely want to know.” He paused. “And be certain because it’s going to change everything you think know about yourself.”

Draco blinked and exhaled slowly. “Still, my father was a serial killer.” He waved a hand. “No one is going to buy I’m the lightest wizard our age in this country.”

“Who gives a fuck what the sheeple in this country actually think?” Harry questioned. “That’s the real problem, you know, with our generation. You’re all genuinely invested in the fucked up opinions of the arseholes who allowed and even nurtured the corruption that is eating the fabric of magic on this cursed island.”

“You clearly never cared,” Neville said dryly.

“Yes, well,” he said with a shrug. “It’s never been to my benefit and I learned from an early age that protecting myself required a specific set of behavioral issues.”

“Fuck that old bastard,” Pansy muttered and inhaled smoke. “This herbal is perfection. Is it a custom blend? I’ve never commissioned one. I should.”

“You should—if you visit the dverger Master Tabaquero here in Britain he can tailor one to suit you specifically. They cost a bit more but honestly it’s worth it. I buy from the one in Rome, he was trained in Cuba and is genuinely a master of his craft. Plus, he builds in smoke eating charms, an courtesy charm so it doesn’t impact others, and an automatic ash banishment.”

She stared at him for a moment then turned to Draco. “If we’d known letting him smoke would make him chatty, we could’ve circulated a petition.”

Draco took the herbal from her, sat back in his chair and inhaled the smoke slowly then blew out a dragon of his own. “He’s both.”

“What?” Potter questioned.

“You told Dumbledore you didn’t have time for liars or fools when you were eleven years old,” Draco said. “I asked you which one he was and you just looked at me like I was silly before walking away.” He waved the herbal, and took another draw off of it before Pansy stole it back. “He’s both.”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“Why did you really isolate yourself at Hogwarts?” Draco asked.

“Does it matter?” Harry questioned. “After all this time?”

“Yes,” Neville interjected. “It matters.”

Harry exhaled slowly. “Would you agree that Albus Dumbledore wants to control me in practically every single way possible?”

“Yes,” Draco said when the others shifted around them in discomfort. “To the point obsession.”

“If you wanted to control a child who you believed had absolutely no one to care for him, what would you do?”

Draco’s eyes darkened and a cold fury settled over his face like a blanket. “Such a child would crave the companionship of close friends. He’d drown himself in such relationships given a chance. I’d figure out who and what meant the most to him and I’d exploit the fuck out of it to get him to do exactly what I wanted at all times.” His jaw tightened and he averted his gaze. “For fuck’s sake, Potter.”

“You were afraid he’d leverage us against you,” Neville said quietly.

“I know he would’ve,” Harry said. “I tried to refuse to come to Hogwarts and he sent me a letter—obliquely threatening my Muggle relatives. He controlled the wards on their home and said he’d have no need to do such a thing if I was going to ignore my magical heritage. Then he provided me with a list of at-large dark wizards who wanted to kill me specifically.”

“I suppose he didn’t expect you to react the way you did,” Draco said.

“No, because I came straight to this bank and had my hateful Muggle family moved to Australia overnight. Then I enrolled at Hogwarts, not because he wanted it, but because he made himself my enemy and I wanted to know everything I possibly could about him. Albus Dumbledore is never going to get anything he wants from me.” He paused. “Ever.” He stood and stretched. “The dverger have set up a work space for us. Once we get started on the research and ritual circle construction, all four of you will need to stay in the bank for several reasons—chief among them security. Currently, it’s the cleanest place in Britain, magically, and that’s going to matter a lot.”

“Is that why Hedwig had that war ward? Because you were afraid Dumbledore would hurt her to punish you?” Hermione Granger questioned. “Seriously?”

Harry smiled then and sighed. “She has a war ward because the day after I returned from Diagon Alley with her, she picked a fight with an eagle owl. I freaked out when she was injured, rushed her to the bank, and had a complete fit in King Ragnok’s office about my poor, sweet owl having what turned out to be three broken feathers.”

“So…they responded to your…freak out by putting a war ward on her,” Draco said slowly. “Who are you are you, Potter? Really?”

“That’s information you’ll have to work for,” Harry said and picked up his jacket which he slid on.

“You’re wearing armor in the bank,” Hermione said. “Should we…I mean are there security issues?” Neville took her hand as they stood.

“I’m a war mage with the Magical Protectorate,” Harry said. “The only time I’m not wearing armor is when I’m actually naked, and even then I’ve a runic ward that covers my entire body that shelters my magic. Unfortunately, even that isn’t enough to keep the corruption in Britain at bay completely. Though I am wearing more than normal as I don’t usually add the lining to my jacket unless I’m on a specific sort of mission.”

“Runic wards are blood magic,” Draco said. “Who could’ve had the power to create a full body one in this age?”

“Sirius Black created it the day he adopted in magic and blood,” Harry said. “And it’s grown with me this whole time. It’s like I’m wrapped up in his magic.”

“And love,” Neville said and cleared his throat. “Do you know what he did in the ritual circle?”

“Yes.”

“Does it have any play in the corruption?” Hermione questioned, eyes dark and serious. “I’m not blaming him, but…did it happen as a side effect?”

“No, the corruption in Britain began the first time Tom Riddle created a horcrux in 1943. The ritual he used was incomplete and misaligned from his genuine purpose. He couldn’t have known, as those kinds of rituals have an inherent magical sort of drift that creates pockets of ill-considered intent.” He motioned toward the door. “I’ve been creating a timeline of the corruption and I can show you now if you’d like.”

He led them down the hall and through a ward in the area of the bank that Ragnok had set aside for them. “Your rooms are here—they’re all the same so just pick what you like and claim the lock system with a push of your magic. I’m there,” he pointed toward a door. “Master Ito there and Master Pierce has chosen the room next to mine. That leaves four rooms as I didn’t want to make assumptions regarding your living arrangements.”

“Oh, they’re all the way up to shower sharing,” Pansy said wryly and Hermione laughed.

“That leaves us a space we can use for an additional office, if needed,” Harry said and opened the double doors leading into the workroom. “The ritual space is through here as well, behind that stone door. It’s currently being constructed by a dverger rune master that I’ve not met. He was cleansed ritually and sealed in the space forty-eight hours ago to work.” He paused. “He’s not imprisoned or anything, they’ve just closed the space so he can work without concern from outside influence.”

Draco walked across the room to stand in front of one of the white boards. He stared, shoulders tight.

“Sixty-four years,” he murmured. “Sometimes, it’s hard to imagine that magic is fragile.”

“Everything is fragile in the right circumstances,” Harry said and took off his coat once more. He hung it on a hanger on a open wardrobe near the back of the room.

Reluctantly, he joined Malfoy at the board. He knew he had to get used to having the man close.

“Exact dates are uncertain but based on the damage done and the periods of time when it seemed to surge. There were two surges in 1943—the second one was very personal to him and coincided with the murders of the Gaunt family in Little Hangleton.” He motioned toward the map he had on the wall opposite them. “After we seal the team with oaths, I’ll tell you more about what I know and what I suspect but can’t prove about that situation.”

“Let’s do the seal now,” Hermione Granger interjected and everyone turned to face her. “You obviously need it to be able to trust us on any level. I don’t blame you, Master Potter, but we can’t begin to be of genuine help to you and this situation until you have whatever level of comfort you’ll allow yourself.”

Harry stared for a moment. “Call me Harry.” He paused. “I always thought you were going to be a beautiful and compelling woman. I’m glad to see it, despite your circumstances, that has proven true.”

Her eyes widened and she twisted he engagement ring.

“I’m gay,” Harry assured her and Hermione laughed a little then huffed. “The most fun I had at Hogwarts was watching Pansy turn down every single wizard that came near her. She acted like she as allergic to dick.”

“I am,” Pansy said quickly and they all laughed. “And yes, let’s take the oaths now.”

“I’m just telling you all this because I approved of all of your placements on this team—and specifically asked that any witch chosen wouldn’t be in a place where Dumbledore might try to leverage a marriage on me.” He glanced between them. “Of course, you’re both brilliant and gorgeous so it would be a hard choice.”

“Right?” Neville questioned. “I’d like to review the oath and take it now—provided it’s reasonable.”

“I’m rarely reasonable,” Harry confessed. “I just wasn’t raised to be.”

All four of them stared at him, so he shrugged.

“But I didn’t create this oath—it is a standard magical promise around a mutual purpose. They’re used, amongst the dverger, to protect intellectual property rights and various other craft secrets. All of their craft guilds are built on the same oath system. It’s very intelligent magic, and I expressed gratitude to the king already that he would allow us the use of it.” He paused. “It would be well-received if you all did the same in writing. Politely. Without the use any bigoted language.”

“Bigoted?” Hermione questioned, her eyes wide with shock. “I would never.”

Harry stared for a moment. “Well, plenty of people in Britain call the dverger goblins, which is a disgusting slur. It’s like calling them vermin.”

Her cheeks flushed and looked toward Neville for support even as her eyes went wet with tears. “I’ve…no one’s ever said that to me. I thought they were…interchangeable. Neville?”

“My gran taught me to use the dverger,” he admitted. “But she never explicitly said it that goblin was a slur. I just followed her lead. As far as I know you’re in good standing with the Horde, Hermione. You wouldn’t be in this room if you weren’t.”

“I don’t think…I’m trying to remember if I’ve used it in the bank. I’ve seen it written in various documents at the ministry. Those disgusting bastards. Nev, I’m gonna…have a complete conniption the first chance I get! I should be able to trust the professors at Hogwarts not to teach me ignorance.”

Pansy winced. “I don’t know if I’ve made mistakes with it because I was taught that they were interchangeable, too.” She turned to Harry. “What does the word dverger mean?”

“Dwarf,” Harry said. “Because that’s what they are—dwarves or dwarrow depending on the generation. Older generations within the Horde prefer dwarves while those under 500 lean toward dwarrow for males and dwarrowdam for females when they’re discussing gender. Regardless, it would be well received if you included a blanket apology for what you were taught in your thank you note to the king.”

“Of course,” Draco murmured. “I’ve never made that mistake. The one time I used the word it was at home and my mother was furious that I even knew it. She ended her associations with the Nott family over it because she didn’t want Theo teaching me any more disgusting ideas or opinions.” He paused. “She worked very hard to separate herself from every single part of my father’s political and social agenda so she could protect me from what he did.”

“Oh, one more thing, due to the ritual nature of the space we have a communal bath.” He paused when they all four took on the most British expression he’d ever seen his life. “There are shower stalls and private toilets but there’s only one large room. If that’s a problem for anyone….”

“Nah,” Neville said. “I look great naked. I don’t care who looks and there will be rituals, right? Cleansing ones are done naked. We might as well get very comfortable with whatever everyone’s got going on.”

Draco laughed.

“There will be rituals,” Harry admitted. “Some of us might be naked.” He paused. “I look great, too.”

“I just bet you do,” Draco muttered and Harry couldn’t help but grin at him.

“We’re not evenly matched,” Hermione pointed. “We’d need a third witch to create two circles of three, right?”

Harry inclined his head in agreement. “Your third will be High Priestess Lenore Feyborn, the queen of the dverger. I’ll be introducing her tomorrow. You’ll need to take all due care with that meeting as she’s…peerless on this planet. Neither of you have experience in ritual magic so it was decided that she would lead you and teach you.”

“I’m so exited I might die,” Hermione blurted out and Pansy huffed a little in what looked like shock.

“Unless you’re prefer human teacher.”

“No,” Pansy said. “It’s an immense fucking honor. I’m so chuffed I could puff up like a snidget and be used for a quidditch game.”

“Let’s get the oaths settled then,” Harry said. “And if the restrictions are off-putting we can try to adjust them but I can’t allow the integrity of the actual project to be compromised.”

Twenty-five minutes later he watched each of them take the oaths and sign binding contracts with a dverger named Tyr Warhide overseeing the process. He’d met Warhide here and there over the years as the dwarf was normally in Paris and that’s where Harry did most of his business with the bank.

Pansy, Hermione and Neville all left to retrieve whatever they might need to stay in the bank. Draco lingered and followed Harry back to the work room.

“You don’t need anything from your flat?”

“I packed a bag last night on the off chance seclusion would be required,” Draco admitted. “It’s in my dimensional store.” He shed his robe and put it on the rack with Harry’s jacket. “What did you mean by who I am? You mean a past soul cycle? Was I someone infamous in a former life? And if so, how do you know?”

“There are certain individuals in this world who have a special relationship with…Death,” Harry said. “I’m one of them.”

Draco stared for a moment. “Are you a necromancer?”

“In the strictest use of the word, yes,” Harry admitted. “But I’ve never engaged in the darker parts of necromancy. My relationship with Death is quite intimate, Draco. So be sure you really want to know something before you ask.”

“Is that why Dumbledore had to accept your statements regarding the horcruxes truth? It felt like an immense weight was pressing down on him.”

“My apologies but when my magic does that I have little control of how it impacts others. The weight of truth can be…quite daunting and I don’t lie.”

“Ever?” Draco questioned.

“Not ever,” Harry said. “I haven’t ever told a lie—I’d go so far as to say I’m actually incapable of it due to my magical circumstances. I can refuse to answer a question, obviously, but the truth will come out of my mouth no matter my own intent if I’m inclined to answer a question. It’s why I can’t work undercover in my position with the Magical Protectorate. We tested it exclusively during my orientation.”

Draco nodded and took a deep breath. “Do you hate us?”

“Us being our peers or us being everyone in Britain?”

“Both,” Draco said. “I feel like I should know that before we begin all of this.”

“I absolutely loathe Albus Dumbledore and I could raze this whole fucking country given the right motivation,” Harry said. “But, no, I don’t hate everyone. I don’t have any negative feelings for anyone we went to school with. There are some I’m outright pity and I have to think, if they knew, they’d prefer hatred.”

“And you really did ignore us all the vast majority of the time to prevent Dumbledore from gaining any sort of leverage over you,” Draco said quietly.

“Yes.” Harry watched Draco absorb that information and take it on as an absolute truth.

“I fucking hate him, too,” Draco said. “I feel like…he took something from me and I don’t even know what it was.” He cleared his throat. “I’m kind of tired. I’ve never signed a magical contract before. Is it normal to be tired?”

“Very normal,” Harry assured. “You should rest. Your room is secure and so is the suite—you’ve never been safer, honestly, than you are right now from the taint destroying this country.”

“It’s an unexpected gift,” Draco admitted. “I’ve tried to leave the country, you know. I never go far before I feel like I need to return.”

“Magic is a responsibility,” Harry said. “We are empowered by the Goddess of Magic and the will of Hekate can’t be ignored. It’s really the only reason I’m here. She wants me meet a prophecy concerning me and Riddle. I have to try, and she’d accept failure. She won’t accept an outright refusal with no demonstrated effort with any sort of grace. And no matter what anyone thinks, I’m not arrogant enough to do such a thing.”

“I don’t think you’re arrogant,” Draco said quietly. “I think…you carry the burden of truth heavier than anyone else ever has and it’s made your soul weary. I really hope, Harry, that you’ve got a sweet and soft place in your life to find some measure of solace.”

Harry stared, shocked and strangely hurt, as Draco took a deep breath then left the work room with a quick nod. He retreated to his own private space because he didn’t want to see any of them at the moment. His father appeared the moment the security activated and just pulled him into a tight hug.

“It’s okay,” Thanatos murmured against his hair. “He didn’t mean…to cause harm.”

“I know,” Harry said hoarsely and curled his fingers into the material of his dad’s robes. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I should be stronger than this—none of this should get to me.”

“Ah, lad,” Thanatos murmured against his hair. “The magical matters of Fate are moving around you—they always will. It’s time for you to accept that Draco Malfoy’s destiny is woven into the very fabric of your magic. You’ve known it since you met him.”

Harry shook his head. “He wouldn’t be safe.”

“You can’t hide from loss or grief,” Thanatos chided. “You know that better than most.”

“He’ll…age, grow old and die,” Harry said quietly. “And I won’t.”

His father stepped back slightly and cupped his face with one hand. “I made you immortal to protect you while you were at Hogwarts, Harry. It was a stop-gap so I could prevent your soul from leaving your body completely if you took another Killing Curse. I could…take it back.”

“I can’t forsake your magical adoption of me,” Harry said roughly. “It would be fucking profane and it’d probably stain my soul for eternity.”

Thanatos took a deep breath. “Your body is suspectable to a physical death—extreme violence would end you just as easily as it would anyone else.”

“But it would take a lot,” Harry said and Thanatos nodded.

“I could make you age with a partner,” his father murmured. “At least physically—it would be ultimately very shallow and you’d certainly know it to be a façade. It would be a very difficult circumstance for you be in.”

“I already live with that,” Harry pointed out. “All of my aging has been done at your prodding. Ageing was required to gain my independence. Faking for a partner would be awful and we agreed to stop here because it was taxing for you, Dad.”

“There are ways,” Thanatos said. “A soul binding would allow you to share your grace with a spouse.”

Harry made a face at and walked away. “Yeah and whenever my next life happens, I’d bring back soulmate magic.”

Thanatos laughed.

“It’s not funny, Dad, and I’m already writing my formal protest for my future self in my head.” Harry straightened his tie after a glance in the mirror. “To have a real relationship with anyone I would need to be…I’d have to tell him everything. The thought of that is kind of nauseating.”

“Why?”

“As it turns out, I’m a lot,” Harry muttered and Thanatos laughed. “Eventually I’m going to have to explain why I’m not aging to the world t large. Most will assume a philosopher’s stone, and they won’t ask because such magic makes people fundamentally uncomfortable. But there are others who will definitely get in my business.”

“I can manifest one,” his father said. “And you could start drinking from it, and when someone asks if you’re using one you can say yes honestly. It would be as real as any other on the planet and a partner could drink from it as well. They could walk your path as long as they wished. Precious few would ask any further questions about it, and I can make them forget your answers if you’re forced to admit something you’d rather not.”

“Ah, we agreed you wouldn’t fuck with people’s heads.”

“I did no such thing. You’re my son and I’ll do whatever I can to protect you,” Thanatos muttered and slouched down the chair by the door. “I had a convo with the mortals. All three of them refuse to enter the soul cycle at this point—your mother insists she won’t until you’ve made a family for yourself.”

Harry huffed. “You go tell her I’m not going to be blackmailed.”

“Do it yourself,” Thanatos muttered. “I’m not arguing with your mother. If I’d known adopting you would give me not one but three spouses I don’t get to fuck—I might have thought twice. That’s another thing, Lily thinks you fuck around too much. Sirius and James believe the exact opposite.” He paused. “So do I. Getting your dick wet should be a hobby at this point in your life.”

Harry laughed. “Shut up. You shouldn’t say shit like that to your own child.”

“Turns out the God of Death is pants at parenting,” Thanatos admitted. “Who knew?”

“Everyone who watched you get picked over them by Sirius Black,” Harry retorted and his father grinned. “I can just imagine the number of what the fucks that got muttered across the entire celestial plane.”

Thanatos huffed a little and stood. “I gotta go. Some dumb bastard is entreating Styx so he can ask her to hide a body. If she kills another person trying to worship her with a murder victim, I’ll have to file a fucking forty-foot parchment about it.”

Harry grimaced even as his father disappeared with a faint pop. The number of people on the planet who tried to give their murder victims to various gods and goddesses associated with Death was lowkey appalling.

“Absolutely no one could put up with this shit,” Harry muttered and checked his watch.

He sat down at the small desk and wrote a note to the bank’s concierge’s office about setting up his account since he fully planned to take advantage of the fully staffed kitchen during his stay. He sent it through the internal messaging system and got a response in just a few minutes with instructions to go to an office at the front of the bank. Fortunately, it wasn’t in a public area as he had no intention of appearing in the lobby or on Diagon Alley if he could help it.

He put his jacket back on and buttoned it quickly. The suit was a new purchase and he loved the tailored jacket. It was the first full-body one he’d bought but it wouldn’t be the last. The trip to the office was quick enough and he sighed when he found Ragnok and Rhys Sharprock together waiting for him.

“Surely setting up a billing arrangement doesn’t require the king of the Horde and the director of this bank,” Harry said dryly and they both shrugged. “Did your spouses forbid you from coming home?”

“I’m just checking in,” Ragnok said. “And I wanted to ask you…. Master Potter it’s not my intention to pry into your business but you’ve had an unexpected and very powerful visitor come and go from this bank twice with no care at all for our wards or security measures. You swore you’d never do the Horde harm unless we started it.”

Harry laughed.

“And I trust that oath,” Ragnok continued with a smile. “So, who the hell is visiting you and how are they ignoring our very powerful wards?”

Harry sat down and picked up the parchment that Rhys offered. It was a standard agreement regarding purchases in the bank being billed to his vault. He signed and passed it back.

“Before I answer this question, I’d like to say, for the record, that I’ve never practiced any sort of dark magic.”

“I know,” Ragnok said simply. “If you had, I’d see it on your magical aura. You’re a shade of grey, of course, because you’ve killed with magic but you don’t bear the mark of a dark wizard. Your ethical code might as well be written straight into your magic, and frankly it’s always confounded us. It’s the kind of ancestral magic that you shouldn’t have even with the Potter and Black families attached to you magically. Neither family is old enough magically for that kind of legacy.”

Harry shrugged. “Please remember that you asked.”

“Fuck,” Rhys muttered.

“Thanatos, the God of Death, became my guardian when I was fifteen months old,” Harry said. “I am now his son through blood and magic. He did the adoption ritual shortly before I went to Hogwarts to protect me from Albus Dumbledore.”

“Sirius Black gave his son to Thanatos to raise,” Ragnok said. “That’s what you’re telling me.”

“Yes, pretty much exactly that,” Harry said and they both stared at him. “He was embodied due to the third sacrifice my mortal parents made for me. I’m connected to him both through the adoption and through the Deathly Hallows as the day I became his ward, I also became the Spectre.”

Ragnok stared for a long moment then turned to Rhys. “Remind me to never ask this wizard another question as long as I live.”

“I will,” Rhys assured.

“As a result of this extraordinary situation, he believes himself welcome wherever I go, and will come and go as he pleases—as gods are wont to do. I can ask him not to but frankly he’d probably just tell me to fuck off.”

Ragnok nodded slowly then turned to Rhys. “We put the fucking Master of Death it a single room with a shared bathing facility.”

“We put the son of Thanatos in an moderately appointed magical research and ritual space with shared amenities. They don’t even have a dining area,” Rhys returned.

They both turned to stare at him.

“I don’t need or want the speculation,” Harry said. “The area is fine and as long as the ritual space is on point, I don’t care about anything else. We’re here to do a job, not have a vacation.” He raised a hand when they both started to protest. “Please.”

Rhys huffed a little. “We noted that Longbottom and Granger are going to share. We’ll turn the fourth room into a break area with a proper dining table and a small kitchen set up.”

“That sounds fine,” Harry said. “Now that you know, my father might show up to talk to you. Just so you know.”

“Lenore’s going to have my hide,” Ragnok muttered. “I’m not supposed to talk to any version of Death.”

“Well, they’re all him, for the record,” Harry said pleasantly and they both stared. “There aren’t dozens of versions of Death running around the celestial plane. That would be bizarrely chaotic in away that would certainly fracture reality. He manifests just as an individual needs him to no matter the religion or culture involved. That’s true for all of them. Right now, he’s in Crete preventing Nyx from…destroying some guy for trying to offer her murder victim as tribute.”

“That guy probably has it coming,” Ragnok muttered.

“Oh, certainly, but you’d not believe the parchment work involved in a god or goddess killing a mortal for what is essentially, to them, rude behavior.”