-+- Chapter 2 -+-

1946

Korvin floated gently in his study. In recent years, maintaining his solid form had been getting harder and harder. His Father was slowly sapping away at his remaining life force. The only benefit was that he kept his magic, whilst most ghosts didn't, being Death's son had a few perks.

"Korvin!" Tom rushed into his study, "I've done it!" He pulled back the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a tattoo on his forearm. Korvin could see the traces of magic lingering around the mark.

"What will you call it?" Korvin asked.

"The Dark Mark." Tom answered.

"That'll go nicely with the 'Dark Lord'." Korvin noted.

"Any luck?" Tom asked, he pointed at the work on Korvin's desk.

"No, Grindlewald wrote everything in ciphers, I've yet to crack them. Though, I feel I am close."

"Good. How's your other problem?"

"By my calculations, I'll be fully dead at 21."

"That's next year."

"It seems I'll have to craft a legend for myself." Korvin chuckled.

"And your magic?" Tom prompted.

"I'll still have access to my core, and physical things. I'll just look like a wraith." Korvin explained.

Tom nodded, "The wards?" He asked.

"They are still holding strong, as long as we don't leave the property, he can't find us." Korvin assured. One would think Death could easily find them, alas, Death is not omnipotent. Hogwarts' wards hid Korvin away for 7 years, the Gaunt Manor would harbour them for a while yet. They had abandoned Korvin's Manor, as Death had found them easily within his own home.

"That's good." Tom stated. Korvin nodded, he turned back to his work momentarily before asking, "What is it you want me to find?"

"I want to know if Grindelwald was one of Death's chosen. If he was, I want to know how he ran for so long, in the end, it wasn't even Death who killed him. It was Dumbledore." Tom answered.

"If he was, then his ghost would still be around. Death's chosen keep their magic and their ability to interact with the physical world. They wouldn't be useful to my father if they couldn't interact with the living."

"Well, after you crack the ciphers in his journal, you best go find him." Tom all but ordered.

Korvin smiled, "Of course."

"Join me for tea in my study later." Tom stated, "I wish to give you my mark." He spared a glance at the journal on Korvin's desk, before leaving the room.

Korvin shook his head in amusement.

-+-

"I've got it." Tom announced he threw a heavy book down on Korvin's desk.

"Horcruxes?" Korvin asked, staring at the title.

"You have any better ideas?" Tom inquired, "We can't hide from him forever, at least this will make his hunt harder."

"He'll get you eventually. He already has me." Korvin stated.

"I'm aware." Tom ran his hands through his hair.

"You'll be his if we fail."

"He'll be happy then won't he."

"Or disappointed you ruined his fun." Korvin teased.

"Either way, if we fail: I die, if we succeed: I die later." Tom reasoned, "There is no winning."

"True. Have you decided on an object." Korvin asked.

"Objects." Tom corrected. Korvin arched an eyebrow, "You suicidal?" He asked.

"Maybe a little." Tom admitted.

Korvin grinned, "Then what are we waiting for?" He floated out of his chair, his cloak flowing behind him. Korvin had taken to wearing a large black cloak, it maintained its physical shape. The cloak easily touched the ground when he floated a few inches off it. He wore the hood only around Tom's Death Eaters, shadowing his face from their view.

Only Tom's original clique from school knew who he was, but even they didn't know he had become a ghost. His face was always covered with a white mask, it had eyeholes, but as Korvin had no reason to breathe, nothing else was necessary.

Korvin flipped his hood up and slipped his mask on his face. He floated through the wall and waited for Tom to join him. "Basement?" Korvin asked. Tom nodded.

Nagini soon grew bored of slithering around Tom's study. She easily found her master and joined him and his friend in the basement of the Manor.

-+-

Nagini was the first horcrux, but she wasn't the last. Tom had come closer to death every time he split his soul.

As the years passed, Tom and Korvin had soon discovered Tom wasn't aging. "My Father likes the young." Korvin had once said, in lieu of a proper explanation. Tom hadn't spoken to Korvin for a while after that.

By the time Tom had split his soul 7 times, the wizarding world feared Lord Voldemort as their new Dark Lord. He'd gotten word of a prophecy. A child, one who would defeat him. Korvin laughed at the thought, and brushed it off as nothing to worry about. But the idea of someone handing him over to Death on a silver platter, had quickly dug roots in his mind. If there was even a chance the prophecy was true, he couldn't- wouldn't- risk it.

Korvin had become a full ghost, any traces of his human form had vanished. People feared his name as they did that of Lord Voldemort. They called him the Dark Lord's Shadow. Wizarding kind lacked creativity on occasion. They thought him to be alive. He's the tale mothers tell their children to scare them. To make them fear the dark, so they come home at night. So they don't wander the dark streets.

The rumors and stories weren't all that far fetched either. In order to truly craft a legend, he did in fact steal little children from the streets. He sent their body parts back to their families one at a time, with lovely written letters about their children's screams. He wrote detailed descriptions of how he killed them, and what he did to their bodies after their death. Every body part he sends back was accompanied by a new letter, in which the removal of the part is written in detail.

The wizarding families who've had their children taken from them, are usually of muggle or half-blood descent. Certain purebloods as well, but only those whom the Dark Lord deemed deserving, namely blood traitors.

-+-

On the night of All-Hallows Eve, Lord Voldemort found his match. His 'informant' Peter Pettigrew, had revealed the location of the prophesied child not even a week before.

Lord Voldemort had entered the house, his Shadow trailing behind him. The Dark Lord made quick work of the child's father. He was pathetic, really.

The Shadow gently floated over to the father's still form. He brushed his hands over the figure, and muttered a few words of passing. The Shadow was indeed a figure to behold, one might easily mistake him for Death himself.

"Careful my Lord, I sense wards." The Shadow warned.

The Dark Lord gave no indication that he had heard. As if in a trance, he walked up the stairs towards the remaining two magic signatures. The child's mother was dead before she hit the cold ground of the nursery. Lord Voldemort glanced at the child looking up at him from his crib.

His Shadow had said there were wards. The Dark Lord may not be thinking clearly (very few do when the very thing that could send them straight into Death's arms is staring them in the face), but his mind wasn't entirely fogged. He knew this child, this infant, couldn't harm him as he was right now.

He would pose problems when he grew older of course, but right now... Lord Voldemort figured he could live. The wards created by the mother's love were problematic. The Dark Lord saw his Shadow float up through the floor and help the mother's soul pass on, just as he did with the father.

When his Shadow was done he straightened up, and turned to face his Lord, "So..." the Shadow prompted.

"The child won't be dying today, I've no way to break the wards." Lord Voldemort stripped off his cloak and dropped it on the floor in front of the child. "Lord Voldemort died tonight." He stated.

The Shadow inclined his head in understanding. He floated over to the child, and hovered directly above his Lord's robes. "Avada Kedavra." The infamous green light shot from the tip of the Shadow's wand, striking in the direction of the child. Moments before the curse would've struck, it rebounded, hitting the Shadow square in the chest.

The green light crackled around the Shadow's form, he let out a grunt of pain and waited for the spell to finish its job. While the Shadow may be a ghost, his own magic still affected him. The Killing Curse can't kill that which is dead, which makes the Shadow the Dark Lord's favorite tool.

The Dark Lord trained his eyes on the crying child, a lightning shaped scar marring his forehead. "We'll meet again little one."

Lord Voldemort disapparated, as far as the wizarding world was concerned, he was dead.

Thoughts?