Chapter 2: Discussions with the Guardians

November 5th, just as day breaks

Jim sighed, stood, and conjured a playpen to put the boys in so they could be more comfortable than they were sleeping in his robe. After settling the boys down he looked around the room. It was a dark room with thick curtains hiding the early morning light that was peeking above the well cared for landscape. There were shelves everywhere, filled with delicate knick-knacks and old worn books. A few chairs and tables placed in a circle in the middle of the room so that anyone sitting there would face each other. It looked like any other well-bred lady's parlor.

He looked at the woman on the ground and went to wake her up. He knew that the news he was bringing might cause her more distress, but the boys needed to be protected. Well, truly only Harry did, but it would be better if he grew up with a friend that could be as close as a brother. After all Jim's main mission here, in the land of the living, was to make sure Harry grew up well.

He waved his hand and woke Neville's grandmother up. When she awoke, he took her by the hand and helped her off the floor and gently set her down in the chair she had fallen from. "I am sorry to have scared you, that was not my intent. As I said your grandson is in danger, and I would like to make arrangements with you so that I may take him to a place where he will be safe. I promise you that the people I have in mind to raise him will give him a good life. And of course, I will be keeping a watch on him and young Harry," he said softly as he tried to comfort her. Death, however, was an apathetic being and knew little in the ways of consoling people, so his voice while soft was bland, as if he was talking about the weather.

"I just lost my son and daughter-in-law and now you want me to give up my grandson," Augusta snapped, wrenching her hand back from where it laid still in Death's bony one, having not been released when he helped her sit. "They told me that Neville and Harry had been kidnapped. I thought they were in the hands of Death Eaters," she said, laughing mirthlessly at the irony. She stopped suddenly and then glared at the hooded figure in front of her. "You will need to give me a better reason than he is in danger. How do I know that he is not in danger from you? You are after all Death," the fierce grandmother said, looking at her only grandson.

Yes, she had recognized this deity right away, the bony hand that she just released was a dead giveaway. The voice, the cloak and the apathy, also helped her identify him. She wasn't sure what Death wanted with the child. She wasn't even sure what she would do with him. She knew she was getting on in years and wondered if she had the energy to raise another child?

"Madam," Jim said as he retook his chair, "you know as well as I do that there will be many pure-blood Death Eaters that will do anything to escape punishment. You also know that your government is corrupt. They will buy their way out of prison and when they do they will plan. They have gone after your grandson once; do you not think they will do it again?" he asked while his hollow eyes stared at her blue ones, trying to make her understand just how dire this situation was.

"I can protect my grandson," she snapped, only a little cowed by the deity.

"While I am sure that you will do your best to defend the child, there is only you and your brother here in this house. You are both at an age where protecting anyone other than yourselves would be a chore hard accomplished," he stated firmly, not even trying to be gentle anymore, his patience running thin. "The boy will need to have someone his age to grow up with if he is to grow up happy. And I know you will not want to take young Harry, I can see it in your soul. You are a bitter old woman who blames a child for the death of your son." He raised a finger and pointed it accusingly at the woman, who simply glared at him completely affronted.

"How dare you speak to me in such a way," she fumed as she leaned forward, her blue eyes glinting with anger, fists white as they gripped the arm of her chair, in her grief forgetting who she was talking to. "Why do you think he would not be happy here? Are you saying that I would neglect my own grandchild? He is all I have left of my Frank," she all but wailed, looking once more at her only memory of her beloved son and feeling the loss.

"If he stays here he will be lonely and depressed, because he will have no friends. You and your brother are cantankerous old people that are very set in their ways. There are no other houses in this area. Can you truly tell me that it would be to the child's benefit to stay with you? Or are you just being selfish?" Jim demanded, using what he could to get this woman to think for a minute.

He knew that she would blame the child for his father's death and that would not be healthy in any way. He was not above using guilt instead of logic to make her see reason. He knew he shouldn't be giving her such a hard time, however, he also knew she was bullheaded and he needed to be firm in his dealings.

"I love my grandson," she stated firmly, her eyes sparkled with rage.

"And yet, you do not call him by his name," Jim stated as fact.

At that the woman withered, she was so distraught over Frank's death that she knew, she just knew, that it was somehow the child's fault. Frank had been mysterious these last few months, only stating that he had to protect Neville. She felt the tears run down her face at the truth of Death's words. "Will they love him?" she whispered as she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

"I know the people I want to take him to will take the responsibility of them and they will care for them— the boys will live as brothers. I will make sure that you get progress reports and pictures so you know that your grandson is healthy and happy. If you agree to this you will need to set up a muggle Post Office Box to receive these reports as the people I am taking him to live as muggles, on the other hand they are surrounded by magic," he answered as kindly as he could.

Augusta, having dried her tears that still threatened to spill at any second, settled back down at that and was thoughtful. She pondered the words of the immortal in front of her. She knew he spoke the truth, but her selfishness was getting in the way. She just lost her son, damn it all to bloody hell. She viciously wiped at the tears that spilled again. There was an inner battle going on in her head. Could she really give her grandson to someone she didn't know? Still if it made the child happy then maybe it was for the best.

Jim drummed his bony fingers on the arm of the chair while she fought with herself. Glancing every now and then at the children. He could take them without this woman's permission; however, he wanted it to be as legal as possible.

After about thirty minutes of silent debate, Augusta spoke, "I have thought about this and perhaps you are correct. I think the boys need to be outside of Britain. It's been less than a week and already they are calling Harry the Boy-Who-Lived, making him a hero for something he had no control over. Stupid sheep, they have already forgotten that his parents died that night. Perhaps it would be best if Neville was raised away from here," she conceded and then requested. "Tell me more about this family."

"Very well, there are two elderly aunts and two young sisters," he conceded to this small request. "The sisters are as different from each other as the night is to the day. The youngest sister is the one I would like to place the boys with. She too has suffered from a recent trauma and I think having the boys will help all of them heal. She lives with her aunts, who will help her. All four of the ladies are all very powerful witches, though they practice a different type of magic than yours. Together they can train the boys to do what you would call rituals and wandless magic. There is a magic school near where they live, so there is no need to worry in that regard," Jim explained as best he could without giving out too much information.

"That sounds promising," Augusta nodded and gave the sleeping children a small smile.

"I will not tell you exactly where they will be," he continued, relaxing back into his chair and crossing his legs now that the old woman had calmed, "because there are too many people that are going to look for the boys to use them for their political games. I will let you know that it is a peaceful place, not touched by the war that has torn through Britain. The environment is calm and there is plenty of room for growing boys. The family is a little eccentric, but I will stress to the women that the boys be schooled in etiquette, if only for politics. From what little I can see of young Harry's future, both will return to England when they are fourteen. All I can see is that it is a pivotal point of fate." He really hated that bitch, Fate, for wanting these boys, one of whom will be his master if his glance in the future came to pass, to grow in such a dismal life. He truly hoped that the witch will grow with the boys. For all she is loose on her morals, she is a kind and thoughtful woman.

"You can promise me that he will be taken care of, better than if he stayed here with me?" Augusta asked to make sure she wasn't throwing him to the wolves. If what Death said was true about her and the future, then it was the least she could do for her grandson.

"You have my word. If this does not work the way I have planned then I will bring the boys back into your care," Jim said, putting his skeletal fist to where his heart would be, if he had one, to show that he was indeed giving his word.

"Very well, do you have the documents that are needed to transfer guardianship to you?" Augusta asked, actually relieved that her grandson would grow up happy. The more she thought on Death's words the better she felt about this. She and her brother were not tolerant enough people to be having two young boys running around the house.

"Yes, I have them here," Jim said as he pulled the documents from his robe. He handed one to Augusta to read and sign. He made sure that she left the recipient blank. He would need Gillian Owens to fill that part out.

Augusta signed where he indicated. "I want to thank you for taking the time to help my grandson. I did not know that Death interfered with the living," she said in a questioning tone as she handed it back to Death.

"Every thousand years or so Fate upsets the balance by creating a prophecy. Had there not been a prophecy then I would not have interfered. I only stepped in to… curve Fate's hand. I cannot completely change the future but I can help even the odds, so to speak," Jim said, taking the signed document and put it in his robe.

"Oh, well, I am sure you are doing what you think is best," the old woman stated, not quite sure what he was talking about.

"I need to ask two small favors from you," Jim said, returning his gaze to the Longbottom Matriarch, "If you could watch the boys for about an hour, maybe less. There is one other place I must go and it would be … unhealthy for them to come with me. The sleeping spell I put on them will last that long. I also ask that you send one of your house elves to retrieve young Harry's and Neville's belongings from the house your son lived. It is to my understanding that Frank already retrieved young Harry's things from Godric's Hollow. It would help immensely if they had something to remember their families. It will also help the people I am taking them to, to not have to purchase all new things." He knew the Owens had little in the way of money and resources, so this would help immensely.

"Of course, I will watch the boys. I want to say goodbye to my grandson before he leaves," she said fondly, and then called a house elf.

"Put the children's things separate; the cribs, the toys, the clothes and perhaps pictures of their parents. Pack their parents belongings in a separate trunk and put anything of value in their vaults, perhaps you should get some help," Jim told the house elf that had popped at his side.

"Yes sir, Master Deathy, sir," And with a 'pop' the elf disappeared to do as it was told.

Jim turned back to Augusta. "I must leave. I will be back in one hour or less," he said standing, stepping to the corner, where the shadows were the darkest, and then fading away towards the pull he felt from young Harry's godfather. He could feel everyone connected by magic to the boys. It will serve him well in the future.

Later that day around noon, Azkaban

He reappeared in a cell in the depths of Azkaban. The Dementors fled when they felt his presence, in fear that Death would kill them. He was the only thing that could. Jim looked upon the person sleeping fitfully on the small cot. He looked around the dark grey, slimy cell and saw only the cot and a bucket. There was one thin and torn blanket attempting to keep the person huddling under it warm in this very cold stone prison and he felt nothing, as was his way.

He sedately shook the man to wake him. "Sirius Black, I need you to wake."

The man on the cot woke and groggily looked up at Jim. "Who's there? Is it time for my trial?" he tiredly asked, and then taking a closer look at the presence in his cell with him, he screamed and fell to the floor. "AHHH! Who the bloody hell are you? What the hell are you? Oh Merlin, I'm going to die, that or I've gone crazy. Funny, I thought it'd take longer," Sirius said in confusion, still lying where he had fallen to get away from the man in the liquid like cloak.

"I know not about your trial, Mr. Black. I do know you are innocent; however, I cannot talk on your behalf. I am Death, you may call me Jim," Death said with a slight nod of his head. He knew this man was in young Harry's future.

"How the hell did you wind up with a name like Jim?" Sirius asked still looking up from the floor. He didn't want to go anywhere near this… man. His eyes were wide with fright, yet he had a bemused look on his face. Jim, he thought, what a funny name for something that can kill you.

"I am not here to send you to the beyond," Jim stated, ignoring the question. "I need to talk to you about your Godson," he said as he retrieved the prisoner from the floor.

Sirius tried to fight the hand that pulled him up, but it was a wasted effort. "What about Harry? What did you do to my godson?" He asked, backing away from the deity, wishing he had his wand, even though it would be useless. It would make him feel better.

"I am going to be taking him out of Britain where he will be safer and I would like your consent. I do not need it. Nonetheless, I did not want to take your godson away without your knowledge and consent. Thereby negating any chance the people I am sending him to being brought up on kidnapping charges," Death answered in a no nonsense voice, as if it were already a given.

"You want to take Harry out of Britain? Why?" Sirius demanded. He already felt as if he had failed James and he didn't want to do the same with Harry. "I was going to take him when I got out of this hellhole. I'm sure Dumbledore is working on a way to free me. If only that rat bastard traitor hadn't gotten away," he said, thoughts muddled as to why Death was here and not the Headmaster.

"Mr. Black, I do not see you leaving here anytime soon. From what the people who have died have told me as they pass to the beyond, Dumbledore has already spoken for Severus Snape —yet tells your Wizengamot that you are guilty of the crimes which you were arrested for. Many were very angry about this fact, feeling that justice has not been served," Death stated as fact and then tried to change the subject to why he was here. "You cannot be there for young Harry. I can assure you that where I am taking him, he will be well cared for. I just need you to sign this document," Death said, removing the document from his robe and tried handing it to Sirius.

Sirius didn't take it though, he was just staring at Jim completely gobsmacked. "What! Snape's free while I rot here?" he bellowed as he stood and started pacing, throwing his hands in the air and ranting all the while, making the other inmates yell back with jeers. "What kind of bullshite is that? Are they even going to ask me what happened?" the hysterical man asked, still fuming around the small dank cell.

"As I said before, I can do little to get you out of this place. I am only here to help young Harry. I will tell you this when Harry disappears they will more than likely come and speak to you to see if it is some elaborate plan of the Death Eaters. Tell them of your innocence then— but do not speak of me," Jim explained, trying to get the angry man to see reason.

"Well, of course, I'm going to tell them I spoke to Death. They'd lock me up if I did," Sirius stated as he stopped pacing and mulled over the words.

"If you speak to the correct person you may yet receive a trial. When young Harry is older he can send you letters to let you know that he is well. You will need to set up a muggle Post Office Box to receive them."

Sirius waved the last comment aside, still in shock that Dumbledore thought him guilty. "Lily set us up with one of those years ago. Something about getting pen pals in the Muggle World, we never got around to it, but I paid for ten years ahead. It was a once in a lifetime deal. I think I have about five years left. If I get out of here before then," he mumbled absentmindedly as he retook his seat on the cot. He turned to Death and said, "So are you going to tell me where you're taking Harry? You said you didn't need my permission and that this was all a formality. Since I don't know when I'll be getting out, I might as well sign the damn form for you." He then retrieved the parchment from Jim's skeletal hand, which was still extended towards him. "You got a quill? Not like there are things like that in here," he said sullenly indicating the room.

Jim handed him a never-out quill from his robe. He pointed out what to fill in and what not. "I cannot tell you where young Harry will be going. I can only give you my word that he will be safe," He took the forms and placed them in his robe, "I will take my leave of you, Sirius Black. I will endeavor to explain to him what has happened to you. Remember my words." Were the ominous words floating around the cell as he faded away.

Same day, around afternoon teatime

Jim appeared back in the sitting room of Longbottom manor. Augusta was holding a sleeping Neville and rocking him, crooning sweet nothings and pleas for understanding in his ear, tears running freely down her distraught, yet determined face, kissing his forehead and petting his blonde hair.

Young Harry was still asleep in the playpen Jim had conjured. There were miniature trunks in front of the playpen.

"Do you know which of these trucks are for the children?" Jim asked Augusta, looking at the many trunks and hoping they were not all for the boys.

Augusta looked up from the last reminder of her son and waved to the trunks. "The four on the right are for the boys. The rest is the furniture and the rest of the family's belongings. I had the house elves leave it here so that I may look through it later and figure out what was valuable and what was not," she said as she kissed Neville on the forehead one last time and placed him next to Harry in the playpen, knowing that it would be a long time before she saw him again. She was hoping that she had made the right decision. She was putting her trust in a deity that he would grow up well.

Jim took up the trunks she indicated and put them in his robe. He then conjured the carriers he had used before and picked up Harry and placed him in the first one and the placed Neville on the other side. He waved his hand and the playpen disappeared. "I will be leaving now. Take heart that all will be well. If not then I will return the boys into your care. I recommend you set up that Post Office Box and I will make sure that the sister writes and tells you how the boys are faring. I will be returning for a short visit to get the address, so do it today if you can," he told her.

"Please take care of them," Augusta begged as the plans formed in her head.

"They will want for nothing," he promised and stepped into the shadows and then he and the boys disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind a very distressed grandmother, whose tears began anew, but the first forms of determined plans could be seen forming on her face.

New Salem, mid-morning

Jim appeared near a house in New Salem, Massachusetts, a relatively small town where the witches were well known. Not well liked, but respected enough that the boys would not fare too badly. After all if he was only going to curve the line of destiny, then Harry needed to have some hardship in his life —and children can be cruel. Jim did not want the major adversity that Dumbledore, or Fate, had planned for the child, so he chose here instead. Since the witches were known here, any accidental magic the boys did would hopefully be brushed off as a quirk of the Owens family.

Given the time Jim made sure the boys were well covered and warm, as it was as cold here as it was in England. After making sure the boys were well, he proceeded through the white picket fence that surrounded the large house, looking around the yard as he went.

There were large square garden beds littering the front lawn, covered in dew and frost. A large glass greenhouse, covered in dying roses, stood to the left of the house. The house sported a large front porch that had furniture scattered in small clusters. Small tables could be seen on the small hill just behind the house. Chess boards and games could be seen on the various tables. Gravel walkways webbed the entire yard, leading to the various entertainment spots. Dozens of cats prowled around looking for wayward birds.

Jim ascended the porch and knocked on the door. Hearing a lot of noise in the house, he made sure to knock loudly. He could hear the slaps of running bare footsteps coming to the door.

A young woman answered the door. She had long reddish blonde hair, a cute pixie face, body like a runway model, dressed in a small black nightgown and covered with a see-through robe. She took one look at Jim, who was still covered with his robe and hood, and her greeting turned into a yell for her aunts. The last time she had seen this… person, he was chastising her and Sally for trying to bring Jimmy back from the dead.

They hadn't meant to kill him in the first place and were only trying to right the wrong. If he hadn't been such a drunk and abusive asshole, then he wouldn't have died from that accidental overdose of Belladonna and they wouldn't have tried to bring him back, or had to kill him the second time. However, he was going to brand Gilly and then try and kidnap both of the sisters. They had no idea, what his plans were after that, from the way he was going on it would not be pretty. So Gilly mentally told Sally to drug the bottle of booze to make him sleep, and somehow he died. They were only trying to bring him back so they wouldn't go to jail. He came back much worse than before, and the nightmarish week that followed still haunts her to this day. It was not pleasant being possessed by that vile man. The whole thing was a huge mistake. This person let them know that, after they finally exorcised Jimmy's spirit.

Oh, they would have learned their lesson by themselves; after all, the aunts told them time and again when they were growing up, that one shouldn't raise the dead. They had warned Sally that those brought back from the dead would not be human, but —something dark. Of course the aunts were correct and Jimmy came back darker and tried to murder her, which is why they killed him the second time.

This person let them know if they weren't going to listen to their aunts they better damn well listen to him. And that scared the bejesus out of them. They won't do that anymore, not that they were going to go around killing people again. It was a mistake that should never be repeated.

Sometime Gilly wished the Book was not enchanted, so they could just remove that ritual, but the magic on the Book prevented that. The aunts said it was to teach responsibility.

The Book was a Book of Shadows that has been passed down to the Owens women for over 300 years, created by the first witch in the family, Marie Owens. All of the Owens women took up their family name after the passing of their loved ones. It was part of the curse.

The Owens curse made it so the men that the women of the Owens family fell in love with were doomed to an untimely death. The women would know it was time by the chirping of the death beetle. That sound was every married Owens woman's greatest fear. This curse was cast by a hysterical Marie Owens when she was abandoned by her true love to raise a child on her own after being cast into exile from the village where she lived.

There were more footsteps and Aunt Frances and Aunt Bridget (Jet) appeared, dressed in long nightgowns and button up housecoats, which covered them completely from neck to foot. Both sported long grey-brown hair arranged in sloppy buns.

Jim held up his hands and said, "I come in peace. I have an offer for young Gillian here and I am in need of a great favor —I believe that she can grant. I also feel that this offer will benefit her as well. Please, may I enter your house? I promise, I mean you no harm," he said, trying to placate the shocked witches.

Gilly and the aunts looked at each other, their confusion showing on their faces. What could this person want from them? They hadn't tried to raise the dead again.

"Wow, didn't think I'd see you again. Well at least 'til I died, which I'm hoping will be many years from now. It will be many years from now, right?" the young witch said, with nervous doe eyes. When all else fails, flirting with something that scares you rarely hurts.

Of course, it didn't work. The person's face never even twitched. Sighing Gilly and the aunts moved out of the way to let Death in the house. Aunt Jet led them to the living room.

The living room was like the yards and gardens and fairly cluttered. The furniture, while matching in color, was never the same pattern. They varied from flora patterns to sea scenes. Gadgets were scattered all around the room. Pieces of their practice could be seen everywhere: altars, small animals, crystals, daggers and a crystal ball of all things. To say the women were eccentric was an understatement; however, it was tastefully done and gave off an aura of welcome.

After the women settled, Jim started to pace for a minute gathering his thoughts. He wanted to do this in as quick and succinct way as possible, giving them a lot of information without over encumbering them. He stopped striding and looked at the women in front of him and then spoke, "I need for you to listen. I am going to impart a lot of very important information to you. I haven't much time; I have been too long away from my duties as is."

The three stunned women nodded and nervously settled back in their seats. It would not do to piss this guy off.

"I have with me two toddlers that are in need of care. Both of their parents are dead, killed in a war in their community. One of these boys is a Destiny Child; a prophecy has been given and he is one of the key players. He needs to be kept safe and he needs to learn all you can teach him, in addition to what he will learn in the magic school you will send him to," Death said, waving off the question for the moment. "The other child is the same age; I had hoped the boys could grow as brothers. I am asking you, Gillian Owens, to take up this task," he said, taking his place in a sea scene chair in front of the witches. He looked at them expectantly, taking care as to not wake the children still in his robes.

"Ummm let me get this straight," Gilly said, running her hands through her hair. "You want me, and not Sally, to raise children. Have you gone completely mad? I mean, come on, I'm not the responsible one. I like to party, and sleep with lots of men—I get into a lot of trouble. Do you really think I can raise children— sanely?" Gilly asked, completely bewildered. She looked at Death as if he had lost all his marbles, and wouldn't that be weird.

From the tilting of his head, it appeared he was looking down his nose at her, and he simply continued, "I have thought hard on this and I feel that you and your aunts would be the best guardians for the children. They need a mostly carefree environment to grow in. Your wild side is just what they need to not take life too seriously. Though, I do stress they both be taught etiquette, just not as strictly as they would have been taught if they had been raised where they come from. They will have a major part in their government when they come of age," he stressed and then he stood and conjured a playpen to put the children in. Taking first Harry and then Neville and putting them in the playpen.

All three heads turned to the sleeping boys and as one they cooed. They wanted to get up and hold them, but were held in place by their fear of the deity standing before them.

"You have to understand these boys need to be raised outside of their home country," Jim explained as he stood there, looking at them with his hollow eyes. "There are many who would use them in political games. One man was going to put young Harry in a home with people who hated magic. He would have been grossly mistreated. You three can raise them carefree, yet with a strong sense of responsibility, hence the aunts. For all they are carefree, they know there are lines that must not be crossed," he stated with a pointed look at Gillian, if the directness of his glare was anything to go by.

With a wave of his hand, he cancelled the spell that had kept them asleep. The boys woke with a jerk and looked around fearfully, hoping the people that scared them earlier were gone. After all, the last thing they remembered was Neville's mum and dad screaming, and the mean people laughing and that scared them. The boys started crying in earnest, wanting someone to hold them and make the bad feelings go away.

Jet stood quickly, getting over her fear to help the crying children, and picked up the nearest boy, which was Harry, and started rocking him. "Oh you poor dear, what's wrong? Shhh, it's okay, Shhh come on honey, calm down," she murmured his ear.

Frances picked up the other boy and rocked him to. "What happened to them? Why are they so scared?" the elderly witch asked Death as she stroked Neville's hair and bounced him gently. "Shhh, hush sweetheart, oh my precious little boy. It's okay Aunt Frances has you now. Shhh, it's okay."

"The last thing they remember, before I put them to sleep, was Neville's," the dark cloaked man pointed at the child in Frances' arms, "parents being tortured with a pain curse," he explained as he pulled the trunks from his robe.

This confused the witches as to why he would be carrying doll furniture, these were boys after all.

"I did not get there in time to save his parents. Young Harry," he pointed at the boy in Jet's arms, "has known of four people murdered this last week and I am sure that he is frightened of all the new people, though he really does not understand what happened. The only thing they do understand is that their mothers and fathers are not here anymore. You must see that the boys need people who will care for them. I am afraid that their last living relatives will do more harm than good." If he had eyes they would be pleading, that is if he felt emotion. However, everything came out stoic and bland.

"That's horrible," Aunt Frances said, still rocking the baby in her arms. "Oh, you poor precious darling, it's okay, shhh," she continued to comfort the child.

"Yeah, I can see that. I mean look at them they're really scared, but my question is, why me?" Gilly said looking at the upset boys. Her heart went out to them, but after everything that happened lately with Jimmy and the whole possession thing she didn't understand why Death would think she would be helpful.

"It is my understanding that mortals need love to overcome hardships," Jim said flatly, looking to the two women pacing about trying to ease the still crying boys. "I know your aunts love you and you love them in return. Nevertheless, I feel that if you had someone of your own to give love to, then together, you and the boys can heal each other," he explained, taking a seat now that he had removed everything needed from his robe.

"Yeah, okay, I can kinda see that, but what if it doesn't work? I mean, we've all suffered, do you really think that the boys and I will heal?" she asked, not sure what he meant for her to do. She wasn't a psychologist. She was just a woman who had been badly treated. What did she know about raising kids? That was Sally's gig.

"I believe that, yes, you three will heal one another," Jim stated firmly. "I have some forms for you to sign that will give you guardianship of the boys. I do not feel that you should adopt them as I do not want the Owens curse to pass on to any daughters they may have in the future. Also, they must retain their family's name if they are going to take up their positions later in life. Even a hyphenated name with Owens might pass on the curse." He didn't want that for the boys, they would have enough troubles as it was.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want that either. Though, I think we broke the curse when we banished Jimmy. We both felt a snap on our magic and felt lighter for it. I mean Sally cast that spell when she was younger just so she wouldn't fall in love. Imagine her surprise when the man she didn't think existed showed up. If it hadn't been for the aunts," giving a withering look to the two still pacing aunts, "making her fall in love with her first husband, she would have never felt the curse in the first place."

"We only wanted to make her happy and besides she got two wonderful daughters out of it," Aunt Frances said still rocking Neville, who was quieting down. She felt little remorse for doing that spell, they hadn't known Sally would fall in love. They were simply hoping that she would be content.

The boys were calmer, yet still sniffling and taking a look around the room, with big curious eyes. There were many things there to catch the eyes of toddlers; the shiny trinkets, the chirping birds and the pretty pictures of the ocean.

"Be that as it may, I do not think we should take that chance," the deity determined as he waved off the statement. "Now, let me tell you about the community whence the boys came. There is a secret enclave which houses a cohort of wand using witches and wizards. They have been hidden from the non-magical world since 1692. They have their own government and are self-sufficient. They have schools that teach the children how to do wand magic. There is a similar district in Salem, which has a shopping area that you can obtain books and other purchases from. It also houses the nearest magical school."

The aunts, still holding the children, retook their seats. They needed to hear this.

"Wizarding Britain has just gone through a civil war. Young Harry caused this war to mostly end," Jim said as the now seated witches looked in wonder to the small sniffling green eyed child. "There are three factions to the community. There are the pure-bloods, who feel that only families that have at least five generations of witches and wizards in their family tree should learn magic. Anyone else they want gone or killed. There are the neutral families, which consist of pure-bloods and half-bloods that will not take sides in this debate. Then there is what is known as the Light side, which have all flavor of witches and wizard, who feel that magic is a gift to be shared by everyone. This war has been ongoing since wizards first learned to record their history. It peaks when a Dark Wizard or Witch comes into power and gathers an army to take out the opposing sides."

The aunts got up and placed the now quiet boys back in the playpen as they were squirming to be let down and the house was not childproof. They returned to the couch next to Gilly and paid close attention to this very interesting story.

The boys were babbling to each other, not paying attention to the adults, still looking around at all the pretty toys.

"This last incursion there was an evil wizard. He calls himself Lord Voldemort; a name he chose to mock me," Jim stated blandly as he settled further in his chair and continued. "This man was leading the pure-bloods, though he is a half-blood. He is the other one named in the prophecy I mentioned earlier. When he came to young Harry's house four days ago, he killed the child's parents and tried to kill him. I am unsure what happened, but the Killing Curse he fired at young Harry rebounded back to him and destroyed his body. A piece of his soul, because it was so unstable, attached itself to the wound on young Harry's forehead. I removed that piece," he quickly said to the witches seeing their faces morph in horror.

"A soul piece? As in it just flew off the rest of his soul? What kind of vile magic causes that?" Gilly spat the question, not even wanting to think about how someone would accomplish it.

"It is the darkest magic there is as it requires the death of an innocent," Jim answered with a wave of his hand. "I fear he has done this many time and created more objects that contain parts of his soul that keeps him in the land of the living. He survives only in a wraith form, meaning that the prophecy is still in play. I am blind to the pieces as the spell that is used to create them keeps them from my sight, which is their purpose." He was mildly upset that Tom Riddle would try and hide from him, but not overly worried. All came to Death when it was their time.

The three women gasped in horror. Gilly thought what she and Sally had done was bad, but this was much, much worse. She looked at her aunts and they seemed to agree.

"Upon seeing the death of Lily Potter and having her soul beg me to remove her child to safety," Jim started again, "it gave me the ability to see a little of what young Harry's fate would be. It is connected to artifacts that are associated with me. I saw the bleak future and death, so I removed him from the home and took it upon myself to find who the next guardians were to be. I left young Harry in the Longbottoms' care, as per the Potter will. The Longbottoms are Neville's now deceased parents. I placed a spell on young Harry to let me know if he became distressed. When that alarm activated, and the Longbottoms died, I removed both boys and decided then that they needed to be taken out of Britain."

The women still silent nodded in agreement. If there were still people after the boys, then, yes, they needed to be elsewhere, but why here? Why them? Just what did this deity want? were the questions they wanted answers to.

"That is when I thought of you. If Harry Potter is to defeat this man he needs to be taught all he can so he has a fighting chance. Do you see now why I want young Harry here? You use magic in a different way than the wand wizards and in the long run it will be beneficial for these two young boys to learn all forms of magic available to them," Jim expounded, hoping that they would understand what he was trying to convey to them.

"So you are saying that this… Lord Volymart is still out there and he created things with parts of his soul. How creepy is that?" Gilly shuddered, thinking about that dark magic. "And you want us to teach Harry how to fight and protect himself. You do know that we try not to harm anyone, right?" She looked at Death, who nodded his understanding. "I mean most of our magic is for good stuff. How are we supposed to teach Harry… ummm protective magic, which we don't know much of? Most of what we have are passive curses, I mean there are some… questionable spells in the Book, like raising the dead, but most them are for love and happiness and such," she said, hoping that he was not asking them to train a warrior or something.

"Young Harry and Neville will be invited to a magic school, where they will be taught to defend themselves with a wand. I believe the one here starts at eight years old. What I want you," Jim pointed to each woman, "to teach them is the wandless and ritual magic that you use. I want you to teach them to get in touch with their magic so they can feel the power they have. This will give them a sense of peace that they will not learn in the wizard community. I feel that the spells and rituals in your Book of Shadows will give young Harry a bigger capacity to love, which is what he needs to learn. Voldemort has no aptitude for love, so this can be used against him. This is not something taught in the wizard institutes."

"Yeah, about that, if there is a hidden community then why don't we know about it? I mean we're witches. Why wouldn't they invite us join?" Gilly said, looking to her aunts for confirmation. They nodded in agreement, they knew nothing about any hidden world and there was nothing in the Book about it either.

Jim sighed, he was already running behind, and it looked like he was going to have to stay longer. He needed to make sure these women took the children. To do that they needed to understand just what they were getting into.