12 A Great Game

Somewhere dark, vast, and endless, a man was strolling casually. Mist was all around him, and it seemed there was no direction to follow or seek, nonetheless he walked with purpose.

Tall and thin, he wore a stylish fedora and matching black pinstripe suit. His face in shadow, he adjusted the silver tie around his neck and smoothed his black undershirt. His hands were long, thin, and elegant as they moved confidently to straighten his appearance.

After a time immeasurable, he came upon a large wooden door, purple in color. Opening without knocking, he stepped inside, the soles of his shoes tapping gently on marble tile within the interior beyond the door.

[["Moirai,"]] he called out, his voice so deep and gravelly it shook the silence. [["Moirai, show yourself before Me!"]]

Slowly, purple and pink mist began to fill the air, the scent of a sweet, cloying, and floral perfume accompanying it. From the mist stood a woman, youthful and beautiful; impossibly so, it became apparent quickly that she was inhuman, for she was truly ethereal in appearance.

<{"Yes, my dearest great Uncle?"}> Her voice was simpering and coy, far too unnaturally respectful that it came off fake. She was average height, slender and exceptionally pretty, but still gave off an artificial sugary sweetness when she spoke or smiled. Like her perfume, she was a rotten, spoiled fruit.

[["Do not claim innocence, Moirai,"]] the man sneered a skeletal grin, and suddenly his face seemed dark and fearsome. [["I know. I know what is you have done. For this, I demand answers."]]

The woman, eyes closed and lined with gold, dipped into a low curtsey. Her hair was blond and piled up in curls and waves atop her head like a crown. She was dressed in purple silk, a large old-fashioned gown with a large skirt, slim bodice, and gold embroidery on the edges. A picture of beauty and grace.

Fate drew out a feathered fan from her skirt folds, flipping it open and fanning herself as she lowered herself in a bow.

<{"Forgive my impertinence, Uncle, I meant no disrespect,"}>

Moirai said coquettishly, eyes downcast. <{"I would never presume to lie to you."}>

Death stared hard at her, eyes burning like hot embers.

[["Then,"]] he smiled sweetly, his voice low like the howling of the wind in a storm. [["Would you care to explain yourself to me?"]]

Moirai lifted herself slowly, hiding the lower half of her face behind the feathered fan. Slowly, her eyes opened, lashes lifting to reveal malevolent pink irises.

<{"Do you mean my interference with your human 'master'?"}>

The question was said in a vague, casual way and hung in the air for several moments.

[["Tell me."]]

Moirai sighed, looking like a spoiled wealthy woman in all her finery. <{"I told you that I didn't think it was a good idea to give him rule over my Domain. He'll ruin everything, naturally. So, I made a play. He can still use my abilities should he be mindful of the connection between souls, strands of Fate."}>

She didn't sound apologetic in the least, and instead adopted the role of the victim, casting blame on Harry Potter himself.

[["Not strands of thread, you gave him chains. You... Agreed,"]] Thantos growled, only to be swiftly interrupted.

<{"No, I held myself in reservation; I had doubts. He was always just a pawn to me, but I was forced by my elders to offer myself to your master, not mine--"}>

[["You would do well to remember your place, child--"]]

<{"I do! I am constantly reminded of my own weakness, my youth, my lack of ability in comparison to the elders,"}> Fate continued, adopting a defensive pose. <{"And I am not the only one who feels this way."}>

Death didn't move for a moment, as still as stone.

[["What nonsense is this?"]]

Moirai smiled a sickly, twisted smile behind her fan. <{"I am not the only one in Creation who feels the weight of the Ancient One's Power."}>

Slowly, Fate stood, turning with a twirl, and began to pace.

<{"For too long you have used your age and status against the children of Creation. We grow tired of your tyranny, it is time for a change and new blood,"}> She continued. <{"So we offer you a choice."}>

She turned quickly on her heels, pale pink eyes blazing as she stared openly at Death. Her hair began to sway and swirl around her as she drew herself up to her full height.

<{"Face us, all of the Progeny of Creation, in glorious battle,"}> She smiled mockingly. <{"Though we outnumber you four hundred to one--"}

<{"--Or,"}> She purred. <{"Enter a contest with your Master. Our Champions against your Master. You may employ your avatars, but face us in this contest with dignity. If you win, I and the others will bow before you."}> She paused dramatically. <{"If you lose, you lose your ability to control Creation; the Progeny will decide who will next rule over the Divine and you and Time will relinquish your power."}>

Death began to laugh, but it was the sound of bones breaking, bones being ground to dust.

[["Alright, young Fate,"]] Thantos growled, his face suddenly more hollow and shadowed than before. He held out his right hand, long and thin fingers palm up. [["But any further interference with My Master will be deemed foul play, thus forfeiting the game. Agreed?"]]

Perhaps Fate didn't know any better, but she held out her own hand, reaching for Death. Their hands touched, clasped in agreement.

Red and black light shone from between their fingers, and Moirai cried out in pain and surprise. Her hand was quickly becoming skeletal, wasting away before her eyes; she tugged desperately on the limb, frightened, but still, Thantos didn't let go. Finally, when the entirety of her hand was reduced to bone, creeping up her wrist, he let go.

Moirai stumbled back, her face an ashen white, but Death seemed quite calm. Slowly, Fate's hand became healthy and whole-- all save the end of her last digit. The tip of her smallest finger on her right hand was now bone, skeletal and white. Moirai bit her lip to hold in her screams. Immortals were not known for their ability to endure pain, for so few things can harm them.

[["A promise,"]] Death reminded her as he turned to walk away. [["And a deal. Deals are my area and Domain, so mind your future business in the Mortal Realm."]]

Moirai opened her mouth, screaming wordlessly in frustration, face twisted into a howl of outrage; but Death was already out, through the purple door and away.

[["Harry Potter,"]] Thantos mused, whistling low as the dark mists swallowed up his form.

* * * * *

Harry Potter jerked upright, shifting about and rolling onto his back in a hurry. Blurry and confused, it came back to him so quickly and forcibly his head throbbed with the memory.

"Gryffindor's great balls," he groaned, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. "I gotta get ready to meet Aunt Petunia. Fred, George! Both of you go look for a tall, thin, and chic blond in cream silk. Buy me a few minutes, but bring her back here and--"

"No need," Came a priss and prim sounding voice, one that sounded suspiciously familiar. "For I am already here."

Harry froze, lifting his head slowly to look at his Aunt. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her make-up smudged. Arms crossed over her slim chest, her elegant dress and cloak were rumbled in disarray. Lips pressed into a thin line, she sat in the chair beside the bed. She was already in the room at the Leaky, waiting impatiently for him to wake.

Harry swore inwardly, but smiled sheepishly at his Aunt.

"H-heyyyyy, Aunt Petunia," Harry smiled charmingly. "You're here early; I bought a bag for you!"

Petunia Dursley sucked in a breath of air, puffing up and getting ready for a large verbal thrashing.

'Shite,' Harry sighed, covering his ears just in time.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER--!"