Great Hall, Hogwarts — Evening
The long tables stretched into shadows as flickering candles hovered above, casting a pale, wavering light over the faces of students and professors alike. The usual chatter was subdued, whispers curling like smoke among the clustered groups.
"Did you see him?" a first-year Ravenclaw muttered, voice trembling.
"Death walks these halls," a Gryffindor replied, eyes wide, staring at the empty space near the staff table.
The legend had taken form — a figure none dared name outright but all feared. Daniel. The Reaper in mortal flesh, draped in shadows as thick as the darkest night. His presence was an accusation to the fragile peace Hogwarts tried to uphold.
At the staff table, the professors exchanged uneasy glances. Minerva McGonagall's jaw tightened; Filius Flitwick nervously adjusted his robes. The tension was palpable, thick as potion fumes.
Only one remained calm, eyes twinkling with quiet curiosity, the weight of centuries behind his gaze.
Dumbledore.
He watched Daniel move with unnerving grace, his aura swallowing the light — the student's eyes flicking toward the dark figure with a mix of reverence and terror.
"Why does Death walk with such purpose?" whispered a Slytherin, voice low and uncertain.
"Because," another answered, "sometimes Death is not the end, but the beginning of something far darker."
The hall seemed to hold its breath.
Daniel's lips curved into a faint, cold smile as he surveyed the room — the living and the frightened — knowing this was just the first ripple in a tide that would drown them all.
Later, in the Quiet Depths of Hogwarts — Daniel's Private Chamber
Shadows writhed and twisted along the stone walls as Daniel stood alone, eyes closed, voice barely above a whisper.
"Go," he commanded, his tone sharp, imbued with the weight of countless eons. "Feed on the spaces between worlds — every corner of the multiverse where death waits, where fear festers."
The darkness responded, tendrils of shadow spilling from the room, slipping through cracks, folding into themselves — a silent legion dispatched on his call.
"But not yet," Daniel added, eyes snapping open, blazing with ruthless discipline. "The children's air is heavy enough for now. I will not drown them in despair before their time."
He took a slow breath, the faintest echo of regret threading through his voice, though no softness softened his words.
"When the moment comes, I will call again. And then… no shadow will hide, no prayer will save."
The room fell into cold silence, broken only by the distant echoes of whispered spells and a world unaware of the reckoning lurking in its shadows.
Hogwarts - Late Night, Potion Classroom - The Air Heavy, Cold.
The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the dungeon walls. Bottles clinked softly as Severus Snape meticulously arranged his ingredients, the familiar bitterness of brewing potions grounding his ever-chaotic thoughts.
The room fell colder, unnaturally so.
Snape didn't need to turn to know who approached.
"Death walks these halls," he muttered, voice sharp, laced with quiet defiance. "And now, it strolls into my classroom."
Daniel's footsteps were soundless, yet his presence devoured the warmth, the very air vibrating with something… ancient.
"I taught you to be more original with insults, Severus," Daniel replied, voice smooth as silk, cold as the grave. His dark coat billowed slightly, the faintest ripple of shadow trailing behind him — the unmistakable echo of the Reapers, always near. "But I suppose grief dulls the wit."
Snape turned, arms crossed, eyes narrowing behind greasy strands of black hair. "I'm grieving nothing," he snapped. "I'm… observing. And wondering… what game you truly play here."
Daniel tilted his head, an amused, icy smirk curling at his lips. "Game?" His eyes burned — blacker than void, colder than any winter. "I play no games, Severus. You know what I am. You know why I'm here."
"You walk beside children," Snape spat, low, furious. "Teaching them death, sharpening their fangs, their claws. You call it protection — I call it preparing lambs for slaughter."
A pause.
Then — laughter, low and humorless, curling like smoke.
"You still cling to this fragile idealism," Daniel whispered, stepping closer. The room dimmed. Even the candle flames seemed to shrink in his presence. "You forget, Severus… lambs die. Wolves live."
Snape's jaw clenched. "I made a vow to protect Lily's son. You—"
"I made the vow long before you muttered yours," Daniel interrupted, tone cutting, each word sharp as a dagger. "To her. In blood. In death. You think you're the only one broken by her loss?"
For the briefest moment, a flicker of raw pain rippled across Daniel's eyes — gone in an instant, replaced by that cold, ruthless mask.
"I protect him my way," Snape snapped, stepping forward, his black robes swirling. "Through discipline. Through boundaries. You… you teach him to kill, to wield shadows, to dance with Reapers—"
"I teach him to survive," Daniel snapped back, voice lowering dangerously. "You think Voldemort plays fair? You think the world beyond these stone walls cares about innocence? I've seen the corpses pile, Severus. I've buried friends… family…" His voice faltered for half a breath — a memory slicing deep. "I watched the so-called gods bleed. You want this boy shielded, weak, ignorant? Or carved into the weapon fate demands?"
Snape's hands curled into fists. His face was pale, fury simmering beneath every word. "A weapon is still a child lost."
Daniel's stare hardened. His shadows coiled tighter, whispering unspeakable truths into the corners of the room.
"No," he corrected, voice like ice cracking. "A shielded child is a corpse waiting to happen. But one forged… one prepared…" He stepped in, their faces inches apart. "Lives."
The dungeon stood still. Even the potions bubbled quieter.
Snape exhaled, ragged, frustrated. But his gaze flickered — doubt creeping beneath his usual steel façade.
"You'll push him too far," Snape warned quietly. "You'll make him like you. Hollow. Untouchable. A shell of bone and vengeance."
Daniel's smirk returned, colder now, almost sad. "You speak as though I wasn't already dead long before you met me."
Silence.
Only the faint whispers of Reapers filled the void between them.
Daniel stepped back, adjusting his dark coat, his eyes momentarily softening — a dangerous kindness that vanished as quickly as it came.
"Train him in potions," Daniel instructed, voice shifting back to command. "Teach him to mend the body, while I teach him to dismantle threats. You guard his soul — I guard his life. Together, we honor her."
Snape hesitated.
Then, reluctantly… he nodded.
A fragile truce. An understanding painted in blood, loss, and bitter truths.
As Daniel turned to leave, the shadows following him like obedient wraiths, Snape's voice cut through the gloom one final time.
"And when he falls to this darkness you feed him…?"
Daniel paused at the threshold, his silhouette sharp against the torchlit hall beyond.
"Then I fall with him," he declared, voice grave and final. "But not before I take every last threat, every false god, every serpent of fate with me into the abyss."
The door creaked shut.
And Death walked on.