God Of Death.

Alvis walked into Dumbledore's office with Fumi perched on his shoulder and a bloodied sword in hand. He greeted the old man and the four Heads of House who were gathered for a meeting with a cheerful smile, waving his free hand.

"Good morning, Headmaster!"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but responded pleasantly as the others stared at the sword. "Good morning, Lord Black. Might I ask where the blood on your sword comes from?"

"The basilisk that was under your school, in the Chamber of Secrets. I came to see what you wanted to do with the carcass since it belonged to one of the Founders."

The Headmaster nodded, popped a lemon drop into his mouth, and replied: "I see, I see. Thank you for bringing this to our attention. Would it be possible to have the carcass preserved somewhere while we discuss it? And, of course, could you show us where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is so we can explore it and catalog what's inside?"

Alvis pulled a pouch from his bag and tossed it onto the desk with a smirk. "One basilisk carcass, coming right up. It's about twenty meters long, so be careful where you pull it out. Oh, and Fumi took care of its eyes, so those shouldn't be a problem. The venom, however, is still an issue, so handle it with caution."

"Duly noted."

"As for the entrance, it's in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I put a barrier in front of the entrance to keep anyone under twenty from going down there, so you can explore whenever you like."

He'd already taken a look and grabbed the most interesting things from the Chamber, anyway. 

Flitwick cleared his throat, drawing Alvis's attention.

"Is that the Sword of Gryffindor?"

"Yes."

"Where did you find it?"

"In a hat."

Three of them exclaimed indignantly, while Snape rolled his eyes before retorting: "Don't be ridiculous. Such an artifact wouldn't be found in some common hat."

Alvis tilted his head, then extended a hand toward the shelves, summoning the Sorting Hat. Placing it on his head, he addressed it directly: "Ah, here's an interesting mind, albeit fractured. How may I assist you?"

"I need your version of the sword, please."

Nothing happened for a moment, then he felt a familiar weight on his head. Letting his version of the sword levitate beside him, he pulled the local Sword of Gryffindor from the Hat and showed it to everyone. He noticed the confusion on the faces of the three who didn't know he came from another dimension, though McGonagall and Dumbledore seemed more intrigued than anything. Curious, he placed the two swords side by side.

The magic of Convergence immediately set them ablaze and fused them, to the horrified exclamations of the other people present. He examined the resulting sword and nodded, satisfied to see it was still venomous. Cleaning it, he slipped it back into his bag.

"See? Found it in a hat. A very special hat, granted, but still a hat."

"How did you do that? And why were there two swords? And what gives you the right to just take an artifact from a Founder like that?"

"Magic, confidential magic, the sword likes me, and it always ends up back in my hands when someone tries to take it."

"And you think we're just going to believe you, just like that?"

He shrugged with an indifferent air. "You say that as if I care about your opinion."

"You really are a Black—arrogant and utterly disrespectful of others, just like your cousin."

"And you really are a Snape—an ass who gets off on tormenting innocent children who've done nothing wrong, just like your father."

Snape immediately stood, wand in hand, but Alvis didn't take his hands out of his pockets. "I forbid you—"

"Forbid me what? Returning your insults? You have no problem blaming people for the crimes of others in their family, so you shouldn't be surprised when someone does the same to you. You can dish it out, but you can't take it."

Snape opened his mouth to respond, the tip of his wand glowing, but Dumbledore stood abruptly, slamming his hands on the desk. "Enough! Severus, put your wand away. Lord Black, I would appreciate it if you refrained from provoking my professors, especially as Severus has my full confidence."

He raised an eyebrow as Snape begrudgingly lowered his wand, his teeth clenched.

"He may have your confidence, but he's a poor teacher for beginners. I would strongly suggest hiring someone else for the first five years—someone with the patience to deal with children who know nothing about potions and have no real intention of pursuing it as a career. Just my advice. But as I said, sometimes children have reasons behind their actions and complaints."

"I will take that under advisement. However, the school's budget is limited."

"With all the donations and tuition fees?"

"Yes. We receive far less due to the two wars. It's improving, but we're not yet at a level where we can afford to go beyond the bare minimum. Selling the basilisk should allow us to replace outdated equipment and improve certain areas, but it won't sustain a long-term salary."

Alvis tilted his head thoughtfully. "What about the colony of Acromantulas in the forest? Their venom sells well. I'm sure Newt Scamander could help you set up a system to control their presence in the forest, which is dangerous for the students, and harvest ingredients from them."

There was a moment of silence as Dumbledore stroked his beard, clearly considering the suggestion. "That might be a solution... I will take it under consideration."

Alvis nodded at him, then added: "I've looked into the curse on the Defense professor's position and dealt with it, so try to hire someone competent next year, if this one isn't up to par."

"Duly noted. Thank you. Anything else?"

Alvis tapped his lip, then nodded, pointing at Snape. "I'd like to examine your Mark if you don't mind."

Snape raised an eyebrow but exposed his left arm. "The Mark disappeared with the Dark Lord's death."

"And you truly trust him not to have left some kind of trap in it, in the unlikely event of his death?"

Snape scowled but made it clear he didn't want Alvis to examine his arm. 

Dumbledore sighed and said: "Severus, let him examine your arm. He knows what he's doing."

Alvis gave a broad smile and added: "Like a certain Potions Master, I might be a professional bastard, but I'm very good at my job. And terrible as a teacher."

Snape gritted his teeth but extended his arm nonetheless. Alvis conjured a chair directly in front of him and sat down before pulling out the Elder Wand. It immediately began to heat up in his hand, and Dumbledore gave a startled cry as his wand flew from his pocket and fused with Alvis's, creating a wand of pale white wood with purple veins running through it. A similarly colored crystal, pulsating with power, was embedded at the base of the handle.

Everyone stared at the new wand as Alvis raised an eyebrow. "Okay, why in Helheim do they change colors every time this happens?"

Then he turned to Dumbledore. "By the way, what did you do with the cloak?"

"I keep forgetting to send it back to you."

Dumbledore stood, opened a drawer in one of his shelves, and retrieved a package. Alvis took it with a nod, setting it aside before focusing on the former Death Eater's arm. He cast several detection spells, revealing traces of dark magic, which he brought to the surface. Snape tensed, gritting his teeth as a faint outline of the Mark reappeared.

Alvis tapped his glasses, activating their enchantments, and got to work dismantling the remnants of the Mark.

"Hmm... Just as I thought. There's an enchantment designed to drain the victim's life energy if the creator dies. It even has a matrix allowing the creator to draw on your magic if needed."

He heard several horrified gasps, and Snape grew even tenser, his face pale. 

Dumbledore asked: "Can you remove it?"

"Of course. Just a moment..."

Alvis located the part of the Mark that linked it to the others and exploited it, adding a rune of truth to all the remaining Marks. This would prevent their bearers from lying. Next, he pulled a specially treated sheet of parchment from a packet in his bag.

He made a shallow cut over the Mark, pressed the parchment onto it, and let it soak up the blood. Then, speaking in Parseltongue, he cast a spell to transfer the Mark onto the parchment. The blood formed the shape of the tattoo on the parchment, and he nodded in satisfaction.

Carefully peeling the parchment away, he closed the wound with a spell. A final diagnostic confirmed he had removed all traces of the Mark, and he released Snape. Alvis then produced a metal bowl and burned the parchment inside it.

"And that's that! I'd still recommend going through a purification basin, but there shouldn't be anything left now."

Snape nodded, massaging his arm. "Thank you."

Alvis inclined his head, leaning back in his chair as he stored his wand. "You're welcome."

"Lord Black?"

He turned toward Dumbledore, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Would it be possible to remove the Mark from the other Death Eaters as well?"

"Loki, no! Or find yourself another curse-breaker to do the job."

"Why is that? You just said it would slowly kill them."

"And that's perfectly fine."

He ignored the shocked gasps again and continued in a harsh tone: "You know my opinion on Death Eaters, Headmaster. They are criminals who don't hesitate to rape, torture, and kill innocents for idiotic reasons. They deserve nothing more than to be hanged, like the traitors to the Crown that they are. The only reason I made an exception for Snape is that he's your spy and genuinely trying to atone. The rest can go to Helheim for all I care—I won't lose a wink of sleep over it."

Dumbledore sighed, looking old and weary, and asked gently: "Is there nothing that could change your mind?"

"No. They chose to serve and accept that Mark. They can deal with the consequences." Alvis pulled out his pocket watch and stopped himself from cursing as he stood abruptly. "As delightful as this conversation has been, I have to go. I'm late. Have a good day."

Without waiting for a reply, he left. Fumi tightened her talons on his shoulder, and they vanished in a burst of flames.

Once in his living room, he sighed and placed the package containing the local Invisibility Cloak on the coffee table. He dropped into an armchair, rubbing his face, exhausted and weary. Perhaps he could have made an exception for the Malfoys—Lucius and Narcissa had spied for him to protect their son—but he couldn't justify it without revealing his origins. He sighed again and pulled out his cloak from his bag. It immediately fused with the local one, doubling in size.

This time, there was no strange color change; it stayed as it was. Taking out the Elder Wand, he levitated it into the air and cut it in two. He waited a moment to see if the halves would reattach, but nothing happened. Nodding in approval, he stored one half in his bag and wrapped the other, leaving it on the coffee table, ready to give to Harry.

He left quickly—he was running late.

Parking his motorcycle in the school lot, he smiled as Harry came running toward him. He removed his helmet and dismounted just in time to catch Harry, lifting him onto his hip.

"Uncle Al! You're late!"

"I know, sorry." He turned to the Grangers, who were approaching more calmly than Harry and nodded to them. "Thank you for waiting with him."

"It's no trouble," Dan said. "Was there a problem with your work? Normally, you're always early or on time."

Blinking at the unexpected question, Alvis scratched his cheek near the scar by his lip and replied: "I don't work. I was just helping an acquaintance with a venomous snake problem."

Hermione gasped in surprise and immediately exclaimed: "You don't work?! But how do you live, then?"

Tilting his head, he looked at her as her parents scolded her for the rude question.

"I live off my inheritance."

"But... that means if you squander it, Harry will have nothing left, right? Isn't that a bit irresponsible of you?"

"Hermione! That's not something to discuss. Nor is it your business."

"But—!"

Alvis rolled his eyes at the girl's indignation. He had forgotten how self-righteous she had been in her youth. Thankfully, she had loosened up after the war. Even before, considering she was the one who thought it a good idea to set a professor's cloak on fire, paralyze a classmate, brew a highly illegal and regulated potion in a bathroom, drug, kidnap, and impersonate two students using said potion, attack a professor and later kidnap and imprison a journalist in her Animagus form...

He tilted his head thoughtfully. His Hermione had done many illegal and morally questionable things during their school years and beyond. Did that make him a bad influence? Probably, but he struggled to see how that was entirely a bad thing.

"First, I'm not squandering anything—it's not like I spend excessively. Second, it's a lot of money, enough to live like royalty for at least twelve generations, minimum. Third, I'm from a family related to Harry's, so his inheritance from his parents is untouched. No one will access it until he comes of age. Finally, how I live is none of your concern. You're not my mother, my family head, or even someone related to me by blood, so you don't get to dictate how I live or manage my money. It's my problem, not yours. You're just my nephew's friend, not my financial advisor or my boss. Understood?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, caught between indignation and her respect for authority figures. 

Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder and said firmly: "Hermione, he's right. Apologize."

Though she pouted, Hermione lowered her head, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Peverell. I was just surprised."

Alvis inclined his head and smiled gently at her. "It's alright, Hermione. Just remember, it's rude to dictate how others should live their lives if you're not responsible for them. Giving advice is one thing; criticizing without understanding and trying to impose your views is another."

She nodded, looking chastened. 

Dan sighed and decided to change the subject, asking: "You didn't have too much trouble with that snake?"

"No, don't worry. I dealt with it without any problems."

The man raised an eyebrow and asked: "Did you kill it?"

"It was truly dangerous."

"Why didn't you call animal control?"

Alvis shrugged nonchalantly. "It was quicker to just stick a blade in its head."

"That's cruel," Hermione pointed out.

"No, it would've been cruel if I had tortured it instead of ending it in one stroke."

"But you could have captured it instead of killing it."

Alvis rolled his eyes. "How about we agree to disagree? Yes? Wonderful." He didn't wait for a response from the girl, who was stammering at his retort and handed his helmet to Harry. "We won't take up any more of your time."

The parents nodded, but Emma spoke up before he could mount his motorcycle. "Before you leave—the children have to work on a history project together for school. Would it be possible for you to come to our house tomorrow after classes so they can work on it? You're welcome to stay for dinner as well."

"Of course. Thank you for inviting us."

"It's no trouble."

They said their goodbyes, and Alvis rode off with Harry.

.

Entering the library, Alvis placed the books he had finished reading on the returns pile and made his way to the shelves. He briefly noted a woman wearing the uniform of the Masters seated at one of the tables, but he paid her no mind. She radiated danger—he could sense it effortlessly—but she was also a member of the sanctuary. He was safe as long as he didn't cross her.

He sighed upon seeing that the books he needed were too high to reach and glanced around for a ladder. Using magic to summon the books was a bad idea, given that many were enchanted and some could react poorly to external magic. And opening portals inside the library was strictly forbidden; he had been reprimanded more than once for breaking that rule.

Letting out another sigh, he began climbing the bookshelf to reach the three books he was after. Naturally, the librarian chose that moment to appear and scold him. "Mr. Peverell, climbing the shelves is not allowed!"

"You should've considered short people when designing them," he replied nonchalantly. Jumping down with the books in hand, he added: "Or maybe invest in a stepladder."

"I'll take that suggestion under advisement. In the meantime, ask someone for help next time."

"I'll take that suggestion under advisement as well," he responded with mock innocence.

He heard an amused snort from the direction of the woman, while the librarian shot him a dark look but refrained from further comment. Smirking, Alvis took a seat at one of the empty tables and began delving into his studies on enchanting through sorcery. Shrugging off his coat onto the back of his chair, he rolled up the sleeves of his tunic, exposing the tattoos on his forearms.

He worked peacefully for several hours, finishing two of the books and filling up a notebook with his observations. Sorcery differed greatly from magic—not just because it relied on an external source, but because it heavily drew upon beliefs and legends. To excel, one needed to understand the various gods who could form pacts, the accessible dimensions and the creatures inhabiting them, and the esoteric entities capable of influencing their world, for better or worse.

And all of this had to be done without getting killed by accidentally summoning some eldritch horror because you skipped over the warnings at the end of the book. It was fun to study.

A soft clearing of a throat made him lift his head from his reading. His gaze locked onto equally green eyes—though hers were a shade lighter—belonging to the woman he'd noticed earlier. Up close, she was truly stunning. Emerald-green eyes, jet-black wavy hair, high cheekbones, and a straight nose gave her an air of nobility and confidence. She was undeniably attractive, which immediately put him on guard. Beautiful and powerful? Dangerous.

"Yes?"

"Have you finished with Lu-Tze's treatise on time segmentation?"

"Ah, yes, of course."

He handed her one of the tomes, and she nodded in thanks. Just as he was pulling his arm back, she grabbed his wrist and examined the marking on his right arm.

"Interesting tattoo."

He nodded, not attempting to pull away from her surprisingly strong grip. "It's the mark of Loki, the Asgardian god of chaos, magic, and mischief. My family has worshiped him for generations."

She smiled, amused, and gave a slight nod. "I've heard of him, of course. He happens to be my favorite god."

"Really?"

She inclined her head and released his wrist. "Indeed. It's rare to meet fellow devotees."

He shrugged. "True. I know there are a few in the Nordic magical communities, but most associate Odin with magic rather than Loki. It's odd, given that Loki is the only pure mage in the mythology."

"Quite so. I'd be very curious to hear more about your perspective on Norse mythology. Perhaps we could discuss it another time?"

"I'm busy today, but I'm free tomorrow. Would that work for you?"

She was dangerous, yes, but not hostile. He saw no harm in discussing their mutual favorite god with her. She nodded with a faint smile, the glint of amusement never leaving her eyes.

"Tomorrow works perfectly."

"Wonderful." He extended his hand. "Alvis Peverell, pleased to meet you."

She took his hand without hesitation.

"Lora Luring, likewise."

She smiled at him one last time before returning to her table. Alvis resumed his reading, tucking the encounter into the back of his mind. He had assignments to complete and a Mastery in Enchantment to earn. He could think about the woman tomorrow.

.

Alvis looked up from his book when Andromeda walked into the living room with an irritated expression. He set his book aside with an innocent look that she didn't believe for a second.

"What did you do?"

"Many things I'll never confess to. What am I being accused of this time?"

She raised an eyebrow before tossing a newspaper at him. He glanced at the headline and burst out laughing.

"I know you had something to do with this."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, really? So you don't know why some acquitted Death Eaters suddenly find themselves unable to lie?"

"Not a clue."

She sighed, sitting across from him as a tea set appeared between them. Alvis picked up a cup with a smile, watching her sip her tea with amused eyes.

"Do you have any idea the chaos this has caused?"

"A lot?" She gave him a dark look, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. "In my defense, someone gave me access to a Dark Mark. How could I resist honoring Loki by making life difficult for magical Nazis?"

"What does that have to do with the Mark?"

"They're all connected. I exploited the link to add a truth rune. All they have to do is find a curse breaker willing to remove it. Of course, to do that, they need Parseltongue. Good luck finding someone who speaks it. Especially before they accidentally confess crimes to the wrong people."

She sighed, took another sip of her tea, and said: "Narcissa contacted me."

"Oh?"

"She wants to invite you to dinner. To get to know the new lord of her family, naturally."

"Naturally. And how's her husband?"

"I've heard he recently fell ill."

"Tragic, truly. I hope he recovers quickly."

Despite herself, she cracked a small smile as she asked: "Are you planning to accept?"

"I see no reason to refuse. But I'll need to leave Harry with you for the evening."

"We can take care of him, no problem. I'll let her know you're accepting."

He nodded in thanks, and they discussed the details before Andromeda left. 

Alvis checked the time and decided to leave rather than spend more time reading. He met the Grangers at the school, and they headed to the dentist's home. Once there, he stopped at the entrance with Harry to take off their shoes.

"Is that a knife?"

Alvis looked up from untying his boots at Hermione's exclamation and nodded. "Yes. Don't touch it—it's dangerous."

"I know that! But why do you have one?"

"Self-defense."

He placed his boots to the side and straightened with a groan as his back cracked loudly. That day's martial arts session had been especially grueling. Though he struggled to feel pain, sore muscles were still a nuisance when he could feel them. He walked toward the living room with the two children, where the Granger adults were already seated, Emma preparing a snack.

"But why do you have a knife?"

"I just told you: self-defense."

"Against what?"

"Anything that might attack me. You're aware the world can be dangerous, right?"

"But that's what the authorities are for! You could kill someone with a knife."

He nodded, hung his jacket on the coat rack at the entrance to the living room, and dropped into an armchair, rolling up the sleeves of his tunic. "I'm aware. Your point?"

"Killing is wrong."

"I completely agree. However, the authorities aren't always nearby. Being able to defend yourself long enough to escape and get help is important."

"But why a weapon?"

He sighed and pulled back the collar of his tunic, revealing scars that extended from his face down to his torso. They were impressive, which was to be expected since they had been inflicted by a necrotic undead dragon. It had been his first encounter with such a creature, and he hadn't been fast enough to dodge a swipe of its claws.

"Do you see these scars? A beast gave me these during one of my travels. If I hadn't had a knife with me, I would have been the one to die instead of it. The authorities would have taken days to find my body."

Hermione paled, and Alvis leaned forward toward her, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands.

"You see, Hermione, I've spent the last twenty-three years traveling the world, often to dangerous places—whether due to wild beasts or ill-intentioned humans. I've only been back in England since March when I gained custody of Harry, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm still in the habit of being armed at all times. That habit has saved my life, and the lives of my travel companions, more times than I can count. The world isn't safe, and the authorities won't always be there to save you. Thinking otherwise is naïve."

"She's eight," Emma interjected. "She's allowed to be a little naïve."

She placed a tray on the table containing tea, biscuits, sliced bread, jam, and peanut butter. Alvis nodded and leaned back into the armchair.

"Oh, I know. Children shouldn't have to face the dangers of the world. But they should have enough awareness of them to not be caught off guard if they ever find themselves alone, without a trusted adult nearby."

Dan nodded in agreement but changed the subject. "How about you all get to work? That project won't do itself."

The children nodded and pulled out their textbooks along with a few library books to begin their work. Their assignment was a report on the Hundred Years' War. There was plenty to cover, both from the magical and non-magical perspectives. 

Alvis poured himself a cup of tea and closed his eyes, listening idly to their discussion. If they needed his help, he would offer it, but for now, it was better to let them work independently.

"Alvis?"

He opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at Dan. "Yes?"

"You only recently gained custody of Harry?"

"Yes. I wasn't aware of my cousin's death until I briefly returned to England. Why?"

"Who was he with before you?"

"His uncle and aunt on his mother's side. They weren't very good guardians."

Emma nodded, her gaze fixed on the two children. "Considering he shows a lot of signs of abuse, it's easy to imagine."

Alvis tilted his head, curious. "Did you think I was the cause?"

"No," Dan replied. "It's obvious that Harry adores you. And it explains why he sees you as his hero."

Alvis nodded, his eyes softening as they rested on the boy. "He's far too aware of the dangers of the world," he murmured. "I just hope he ends up better off than I did."

Even if they were curious, the Grangers decided not to ask Alvis about his words. It wasn't their place to pry into his past. Instead, they asked about the places he had visited during his travels, as they were accustomed to going abroad for their vacations. He smiled and began recounting stories of some of the ruins he had explored, carefully omitting any mention of their magical nature.

Their conversation was interrupted when the children's voices rose in an argument, and Alvis sighed. He was about to get up to handle the situation with the Grangers when Hermione visibly grew upset, and one of the teacups exploded, scattering tea and ceramic shards everywhere. Silence fell immediately, everyone freezing in place.

Alvis sighed, then walked over to the children, both of whom looked terrified. "Are you hurt?"

Harry shook his head, but Hermione remained frozen, staring at the shattered cup. 

"Hermione?"

She jumped at his voice, then immediately blurted out: "I'm sorry!"

Harry looked at her in surprise and asked: "Why are you apologizing? It's not your fault—it's mine."

While Emma started mopping up the spilled tea and Dan checked to make sure his daughter wasn't injured, Alvis began gathering the pieces of porcelain.

"But… I was the one who broke it, not you."

"No, it's me. I got angry, and..."

He trailed off, avoiding any mention of magic. The two children stared at each other for a moment before turning to the adults. 

Alvis, more amused than anything since no one was hurt, asked: "Does this kind of thing happen often with Hermione?"

The couple hesitated before Dan replied: "Occasionally, when she gets emotional. Does the same thing happen with Harry?"

"Oh yes, don't worry. It's perfectly normal."

His amusement grew as he waved a hand toward the broken cup, repairing it instantly, then vanished the spilled tea.

"Completely normal."

Everyone stared at him in surprise, and Hermione immediately bombarded him with questions. 

He burst into laughter and dropped back into his chair. This seemed to irritate her, as he was too busy laughing at the situation to explain anything. 

Harry sighed and tapped him on the leg. "Uncle Al. Explain."

He managed to compose himself and nodded. "Of course, of course. Take a seat—I have a feeling we'll be here a while."

The family settled back down, and Emma poured everyone fresh tea. 

Alvis still wore a lopsided smile as he asked: "So, have you ever heard of magic?"

He could tell it was going to be a long evening explaining to the curious family what was happening with their daughter. But at least they wouldn't have to keep coming up with excuses to refuse visits to their home—a place far too steeped in magic to host non-magicals without sparking endless questions.

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