Chapter 1: Death Lends a Hand

I would like to thank my betas for this fic, achieving Elysium, darrelldeam, alix33 and Nyx Nox.

For the rewrite I'd like to thank Morgan K'Karse and Wolf Shaman for taking a peek.

This is a rewrite, and if I do it right, then all those pesky plot holes will be gone. That and I didn't like the last two or three chapters of the original, so they might change.

Warning: I was told that I should add this; some people think I'm bashing. Well, arguments might be taken as such. Harry hates the British Magical World (not all of Britain just the magicals), and has no problem stating that fact or fighting with people he thinks are sheep, bullies or just plain stupid. So, yes, that might be construed as bashing. I am however, not making anyone evil or different than how I see them from the books, still my point of view may not be yours. So if you don't like bashing, then you may want to give this a miss.

Also, before you get too deep in the story, the boys won't be going to Hogwarts until the 14th chapter. This is a crossover and it will encompass both worlds. If that isn't your cup of tea, then I'm sorry to lose you. You really don't see much of Harry and Neville until chapter six; it is mostly the Owens witches.

There will be cussing, Harry has a potty mouth.

Again this is a rewrite, though it doesn't really start to change until chapter seven, just some removing unnecessary items (like A/N's and disclaimers), flow issues and rearranged paragraphs. That and I combined chapters so they are much, much longer. I am thinking of deleting the first story, but I'd hate to have all the people who put it in their favorites and communities lose it. I know I hate clicking on a link and not finding the one I was looking for.

Now that that long A/N is done, which will not be repeated, on with the tale.

This will be the only disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter or Practical Magic. J.K. Rowling, and everyone who helped her publish the works, own Harry Potter. Alice Hoffman (novel), Robin Swicord (screenplay), Akiva Goldsman (screenplay), Adam Brooks (screenplay), the publisher and directors own Practical Magic.

October 31, 1981, Godric's Hollow

A tall skeletal figure, known as Death, or Jim, stood stoically by and watched as Lily Potter begged for her son's life. His long, flowing black robe cover most of his features, but you could see the bony hands creep from the sleeves.

"Stand aside, girl. Stand aside," the man known as Voldemort said, motioning his hand as if to push her aside by force of will.

"No. Not Harry, take me instead… have mercy." Lily once again begged the most feared Dark Lord of the century. She had heard him kill her husband, and she would do anything to prevent him taking Harry's life, hoping her sacrifice would aid in this endeavor.

"So be it. Avada Kedavra," Green light shot out of Voldemort's wand and connected to Lily, making her drop immediately. Voldemort laughed and turned his wand to the baby staring at him from the crib. Not bothering to say anything except, "Avada Kedavra." He cast the same curse that just killed the child's mother.

Death watched, with the two souls of the child's parents, as the curse struck the tiny crying child. To their great surprise, the spell they were sure was going to take Harry, rebounded off of the baby's head. It caused a lightning bolt wound to form just above his right eye. The curse struck Voldemort directly in the heart and for some unknown reason, caused his body to burn to ash, leaving behind a robe and wand. The soul of Voldemort did not join Jim and the Potters; instead, it screeched at Harry and flew out the window.

The spirit of Lily turned to Death and pleaded, "Please, sir, there's a prophecy about my child, can you help him? Take him somewhere where he can learn to protect himself and will be safe. Please, I beg you." Like any other mother fighting for the life of her child, you could hear the desperation in her voice and see the pleas in her eyes. Her whole soul was crying for this deity to hear her. James' soul was next to his wife's and nodded in agreement, eyes moving with the same frantic entreat.

Jim— which was not his real name, but given to him by a deceased redneck, Fate liked it and he was stuck with it— looked down at Harry and noticed the piece of Voldemort's soul imbedded in the slightly bleeding wound on the child's forehead.

So, this is why he didn't join us, Death mused to himself. He looked harder and saw the Hallows in this boy's future. Other flashes of the life the child would live past before his eyes. He must be kept safe, he thought and made up his mind to help. He bent down and kissed the injury on the crying dark-haired toddler's head, removing the soul piece.

He turned to the Potters and said, "Yes, I believe that I will help your little one. I cannot see the future very clearly, but I can see some. If Albus Dumbledore has his way, this child will live a horrible life. He will die young. I cannot let that happen," Jim said in a slightly amused tone. "Journey on to your resting place knowing I will do all I can to keep him safe." He waved his hand to lead them to where they needed to go.

"Thank you, I'll rest better knowing he is in your hands. Let him know that we, his parents, loved him and we'll always be watching," The red-haired, green-eyed soul of Lily said and with one more fond look at her beloved child she faded away.

"Tell him that he needs to choose his friends carefully so he doesn't make the same mistakes we did. Tell him his daddy doesn't want to see him anytime soon," The messy-haired James said and with a thoughtful look he too faded away.

Jim looked to the crib. "I cannot take you with me, little one, but I know of a place where you will be kept safe." He waved his hand, and created something like a baby carrier and attached it to the inside of the front of his fluid robes. Once done, he picked up the exhausted Harry from his crib and placed him there. He cast a spell so no one would see the baby and ensured that he would be lightweight and fast asleep for most of the journey. The deity then left the house in Godric's Hollow via the shadows, leaving behind many confused people.

Jim faded back into reality in the British branch of Gringotts bank. Gringotts was always open, the greedy little buggers. There weren't many goblins this time of night. Not many people came during the night. It was far emptier than the bustling daytime. Usually only the shady characters of Knockturn Alley ventured here this late. A few vampires and Dark Wizards were about, but Death ignored them. Jim blended in perfectly with his dark robe, and the hood raised to cover his downright terrifying features.

The lobby was spacious and made in white marble. There were counters on either side of the room. Doors lined up behind those counters, leading deep into the bowels of the bank. Goblins were busy counting coins, weighing gems, and writing in ledgers.

"I require an account manager, someone to do a heritage test and someone to read the will of Lily and James Potter. If you must contact their solicitor, you'd better make it quick. I do not care if you need to wake them up. They must be sworn to secrecy. Only then may you tell them who is requesting their presence. Time is of the essence and we must act quickly," Jim snapped out his impatient demands to the goblin at the nearest counter.

"Who are you, wizard, to tell me what to do in such an abrupt manner?" The goblin growled, not really happy to be on this shift. The last thing he needed was a rude wizard who thought himself to be better than goblins.

"I am Death, goblin," Jim parted the hood, showing his skeletal face. "Do you wish to defy me?" he asked in a menacing voice that carried around the lobby, making all of the goblins sit up and notice and the Dark creatures to flee. The clerks all stopped what they had been doing, some going so far as to fall off their perches and hide under the cubicles. They knew there was someone here they could not fight, and were all hopeful he was not there for them.

The goblin teller turned very pale, making his face a shade of pea green. His black beady eyes widened as far as they were able. His claw like hands shook, dropping the gems he was counting.

"I am so sorry, sir," the frightened being began. "Please forgive my rudeness. I knew not who you were. I will see to your demands right away. Please, if you would follow me into one of our conference rooms. It will only be a few minutes. Please, sir," he begged disjointedly once again, as he fell off the stool in his haste to run and do what this entity wanted done. He moved quickly, fearing it would kill him and chose another if he didn't immediately do what was demanded.

Jim followed the scurrying goblin to a room that was furnished with little more than a long wooden table with some straight back chairs. The walls were plain white marble with no adornments. The floor was a nice and simple wooden floor that had a clean shine to it. He sat in one of the chairs on the far side of the wall. He was sure to check on the infant hidden in his robe, wanting to make sure he was comfortable while they waited. He impatiently tapped his fingers on the table. He had much to do, but this would take up most of his time tonight.

The poor baby had passed out from expending so much power to block the curse, plus the small sleeping charm Death had placed on him helped him keep his slumber. If his parents had not died for him, and he didn't have so much power — not to mention the prophecy— the poor child would have died. They say that three is a magical number. Death was a part of life, but the boy hadn't died. That fact alone caused him to take interest in him. However, he did enjoy seeing the living. Being able to remove a soul from Fate's hands truly made his night. He would have to be careful as Fate was a sneaky bitch.

Jim waited impatiently for about ten minutes before three goblins and a wizard entered the room.

"First," he cut through introductions and spoke ominously. "We need to read the Last Will and Testaments of Lily and James. We will then continue with the heritage test and end the night by securing their bank accounts." He turned to the people who entered. Death kept his head hidden beneath his hood, not wanting to scare any more people— it makes them harder to deal with— but he was willing to do so if necessary. Even with his hood closed the people who had entered the room were scared. His presence alone was enough to put fear in the bravest of men or goblin.

"I am Mr. Roberts and as Head Accountant Spearhead is the executor of these wills, I will hand the proceedings over to him," the wizard, who introduced himself as Mr. Roberts said as he opened his portfolio and shakingly removed two wills. "The Potters wanted to make sure that their wills were in as many places as it could be so no one could say they didn't have one. I now turn this to you, Spearhead," the portly man said as he handed the wills to the goblin beside him. His hands were shaking so bad that it took a couple of seconds for the goblin to grasp the parchment.

"Just give us the highlights for now," Jim suggested as he raised his hand. "I only need to know who will have custodianship of young Harry, so I can get him there safely."

"According to James' and Lily's wills," Spearhead said after glancing through both wills, and then nervously back at the deity, "Mr. Potter is supposed to go to the Longbottoms first. If they are not available, then he will be sent to Sirius Black. If he is not available, he is to have a guardian picked out for him by, well, it says you, sir." the goblin made a quick glance at the robed figure, then showed him the part of the will with the name 'Death a.k.a. Jim'. This caused confused faces to bloom around the room.

If Death had an eyebrow he would have rose one, but as it was he just stared blankly at the goblin.

"I'm not sure how that happened," the bewildered goblin continued in a shaky voice, "as that was not the will that was signed. It looks like magic itself chose you to be the one to guide Mr. Potter. This is concurrent in the wills of both the parents, should they both fall. There is some monetary allowance for anyone who raises Mr. Potter. There are also some bequests that will be put in the appropriate accounts when the wills have a public reading. When Mr. Potter comes of age, everything that is left will go to him." He handed the documents back to Mr. Roberts, who made three copies and placed them in a stack on the table. Spearhead looked back at Jim to see if he needed anything else from him.

Jim nodded his still concealed head in thanks. "Those wills must be read as soon as possible. I thank you each for your time. You must keep this to yourselves," He demanded as he drummed his fingers on the table, his body stiffening. "No one may know, unless you are looking for an early visit from me, then go ahead and tell everyone," was his casual threat, making the beings in the room quake with fear. "I will make sure young Harry is safely received by the Longbottoms once things conclude."

Mr. Roberts took up the original will, planning to keep it in his office. He nodded to the dark man seated across from him as formally as he could.

"It was my pleasure. I'm so sorry that it has to come to this. My law firm held the Potters in high regard and they will be missed. I'd like to leave you my card in case Mr. Potter needs legal service when he is older," He anxiously handed a card to Death and put the original will into his case. He was going to keep that as safe as he could, not wanting to anger Death. Then both he and Spearhead, as sedately as their trembling legs would let them, left the room.

"Now," Jim said to the two remaining goblins, both of their eyes widened at being addressed, "Harry needs a heritage test performed to ensure he is receiving everything due to him." He removed the infant from his cloak and carefully cradled him in his long, bony arms. He held the baby close, preparing his hand so a finger could be accessed to perform the blood test.

"We, of course, will be more than happy to do such a test for you. We've been trying to get the Potters to do this test for decades," The goblin on the right, who introduced himself as Axegrind, stated in frustration. "They seemed to have forgotten their linage and we wanted to remind them. We have reason to believe that a curse was placed on the family a few decades back, but until one of the heirs came in for the test we could not prove it." Axegrind paused to take a breath.

"Who put this curse on the family?" Death asked, tapping his finger on the table. Perhaps it was something he should look into, if the child did not break the curse when he is older.

"We, in the heritage department here at Gringotts, believe that the curse is only on the young men who have come of age," the anxious creature continued. "It is something you might want to watch for as Mr. Potter ages. We are not sure who caused them to forget but they denied us at every turn," he growled his frustration and then stilled, and peeked at the hooded deity to make sure he hadn't offended it. "Now, since Mr. Potter is still a toddler, I will of course be as careful as I can. The test doesn't require much blood —just a few drops. I see that he has a wound upon his head, should I just take the blood from there, and would you like us to call a healer to fix that?" he asked, relieved that Death did not take offence to anything that had been said or happened so far.

"No," Jim said as he looked at the wound, "he will heal fine on his own. This injury has been contaminated with dark magic, best not use it." He knew that Harry needed to keep his scar, even if the reason for it being there had been removed.

"As you say," The goblin nodded. "If you would hold out his left hand, keeping his ring finger secure, I can get some blood to do the test," Axegrind requested, taking the ritual knife he needed into his hand so he could make the tiniest prick on the baby's finger. His hand quivered and he knew he would have to be extra careful, and even though the knife was spelled not to hurt, he didn't want to incur Death's wrath.

Jim held out Harry's hand and gently kept the finger in place so the cut could be made. The ritual knife put a small puncture on the finger and drew a slight amount of blood. Axegrind then placed the knife, sharp side down, on the parchment they had spelled for the test. The blood dripped onto the parchment. A few minutes passed before writing began to appear. As expected by everyone there, the test showed that the Potters were descended from Gryffindor and the youngest Peverell. It left Harry with two more vaults. It wasn't known what was in them, but there were rumors that great treasure was hidden there.

Axegrind picked up the parchment, made two copies and put one in a sleeve to be filed with the Ministry, the other to be placed in the Potter main vault. He then handed another copy to the remaining goblin. He knew he was done here so he nodded his head to Death and quickly left without being told.

Jim turned to the remaining goblin who introduced himself as Bigprofit, which was fitting for an account goblin. He was named so because he was better at making money than he was at fighting. Most goblins admired the fact he brought the bank prestige. However, being as goblins are historically a warrior race, some of his peers tended to look down on the accountant for his name.

"I would like all of the accounts in young Harry's name to be frozen. That is, all of them with the exception of the account that provides allowance to his guardians," Jim commanded calmly, leveling his gaze to the remaining goblin who was sitting nervously at being alone with something that could take his life without a thought. "No one is allowed access to the accounts. I do not care if Minister Bagnold herself asks. Additionally, I request that they are given the highest protection and security the bank can provide." His hollow eyes pierced the goblin's beady ones, making sure this creature understood that there would be great ramifications if his orders were not followed.

"It'll be done as you say," Bigprofit rapidly nodded his head; he did not want to know what those consequences would be. "We'll set that up free of charge. We want nothing to happen to this young heir's vaults. I'll set up an account for the main purpose of the allowance, and then, when Mr. Potter starts school, more will be added for his schooling and supplies."

"Thank you," Jim nodded. There was little meaning behind the two words and they were only spoken for politeness sake, since Death was a neutral being, he was always polite. "Now I must be off. Harry needs to meet his new guardians. I request a copy of the wills to show the Longbottoms that the Potters believed they were the best choice in guardians," Jim said as he returned Harry to the carrier in his robes. Bigprofit grabbed one of the copies of the wills and handed it to Jim, who placed it in another pocket. The goblin then took up the remaining papers, to be held in the Potter vault until they were needed.

All told, Jim and Harry only spent about an hour in the bank, but it was time well spent. Sometimes it was good to be death.

November 1, 1981 just after midnight

Jim slipped from the shadows and appeared quietly outside the Longbottom house. He arrived there so that no one inside would be frightened. Even though Jim was one of the most feared of entities known to man, he truly didn't like scaring people. He knew the Longbottoms were supposed to be hidden —however, one can't hide from Death, well, except those that had the Cloak, but no others— and they would be easily alarmed.

The house was Victorian style, with high windows and a cheery atmosphere. You could tell that it was well cared for because of its simple well-trimmed lawn and the full herb garden, dew and frost glistening off the dying plants. You could see a peek of the greenhouses standing behind the house, the moon's rays reflecting off them. The outside of the house was colored in a nice pale blue and the windows were framed with a soft violet. You would never know by the atmosphere that these people were in fear of their lives.

Jim walked up the gravel walkway leading to the front door. He adjusted Harry in the carrier and knocked on the wooden front door. It was late at night, or early morning, and Jim feared he may have to wake someone in the house to get an answer. He was just about to knock again when he heard footsteps.

"Who… who's there?" he heard someone nervously demand from behind the door.

"I am sorry to disturb you this late at night. I have come bearing bad news," Jim replied in a calming voice.

"What sort of bad news? You didn't answer my question, who are you?" the voice inquired, a little stronger now.

"You may call me Jim. I bring you news of the Potters," Jim answered, still conveying calm. "I would like to come in and discuss this with you. I mean you no harm." He was trying to be as pleasant as possible, given the dire circumstances that brought him here. However, he was an impatient deity by nature and he had much to do this night and had already shirked his duty too much. He really had little time for nervous people.

A snort of disbelief was heard. "You can say you mean no harm, but how do I know that's the truth? I have no idea who you are and you haven't identified yourself. You've only told me you bring bad news. How the bloody hell is that supposed to make me trust you?" came the brave questions from behind the door as if that bit of wood would protect the person speaking.

Jim gave a heavy sigh of frustration and raised his voice slightly, "Frank Longbottom, know this, I can enter your house at any time. If I meant to kill you or yours I would have done so already. I would however like it if our conversation was not held through the door." He was no longer trying to calm the young man.

"That really doesn't help your case, buddy. Tell me what news you have and then go away," Frank stated firmly, you could tell he was getting just as frustrated. This war and the prophecy had made him as paranoid and Mad-Eye Moody. He didn't trust anyone with the safety of his family. That and this house was supposed to be hidden, so how did this man find it. Did his secret keeper give up the secret? "How did you even know where we were?" he voiced his thoughts.

"I am a deity, I see everyone," was Death's ominous reply, not telling which divine being he was. "Furthermore, I cannot just impart my news and leave. I have with me a …" pausing to pick the correct word, "package, that needs your attention. Please, let me in or I will simply emerge into your house," Jim stated firmly. "I have no wish to do that." What little patience he had was about to snap.

Feeling he had no other choice, Frank slowly and cautiously opened the door. He was a young man, with tired brown eyes and messy blonde hair. You could see from the dark rings under his eyes that he had not slept this night. He was grasping a wand tightly in his right hand, though it shook a little. "Why's your face covered if you mean me no harm? What sort of… deity are you? Have you come to harm my family? I will fight to my dying breath to protect them," he slurred slightly, raising his trembling wand to the dark robed figure standing on his doorstep.

"My hood is up so I do not frighten you. I will not answer your other questions as I have little time. May I come in now? I promise I will give my news, leave you with the bundle and depart," Jim replied once again calm, now that he didn't have to fight to get the door open.

Frank stood back still aiming the wand. "Come in, but no further than the hall here." Even with that hood up, there was a magic about the man that made him very, very cautious.

Jim entered the hall in all his regal manner. He glanced around and sniffed, never understanding why humans were so in need of possessions. It was an elegant yet simple area. He noticed a side table, with an oval mirror above it. And a tall coat rack to the side, where a few robes were. After his quick perusal, Jim turned to the man and softly, yet bluntly stated, "The bad news I bring is that the Potters were killed tonight by Voldemort. They named your family guardian to young Harry. He needs a good and safe place to heal from his trauma. Voldemort has had his body destroyed; however, I fear he is not completely gone." The news he brought would be bad enough without him snapping at a man who was only trying to protect his family.

"The Potters are dead?" The distraught, yet now wide awake, young man cried lowering his wand. "No, not James and Lily, what of little Harry?" he began firing questions. "How did you know they were dead? I haven't heard anything." He had however seen the fireworks and thought it was a good sign, now this… man stated that his friends and comrades in arms were dead. He was confused, with the conflicting thoughts. Voldemort gone, but people died to make it so.

"Yes, they are both dead. I was there when it happened," Jim stated simply. "They both died by the Killing Curse. As I am Death, I was there to witness the entire episode." He gestured to his robe and stated, "I have brought young Harry with me. I've already been to Gringotts and spoke with his manager and lawyer. Everything is set up according to the Potters' will."

"Oh, poor Harry. Of course we will take care of him," Frank said, moving to get the baby from Death's robe, only to remember who the deity was at the last minute and stood back to wait. "We had a bad feeling something was going to happen tonight so I stayed up. I wasn't going to answer the door, this house is supposed to be hidden. But I had a feeling that I needed to talk with you," He gave a great sigh, "Now I'm glad I trusted my instinct, mostly. Sorry about earlier, my family is the most important thing in my life."

"You know of the prophecy?" Frank nodded his head in acknowledgement. "The events tonight point to this young man being the one spoken of. I have taken an interest in making sure he survives so he may fulfill the prophecy and live a long life," Jim said, trying to impart how important the child was. He told the distraught young man of what he witnessed and what he had done after. Jim took Harry from the carrier and handed the sleeping boy to him. The deity informed Frank of the monthly allowance and handed him the copies of the wills. Death did warn him that he would be checking on Harry. Jim then placed a small alarm charm on Harry to let him know if the boy was in great distress.

"I will do my best to raise him well," Frank said, after Jim finished.

Jim thought for a minute. "Unfortunately, I did not grab anything from the cottage for young Harry. Time was of the essence and I needed to get to the bank before something… irreparable happened. I will see you soon, young Frank," He did not foretell this man passing any time soon, but he would be returning whenever he could to check on the child. He then faded in his usual way.

Frank looked at where the dark cloaked man had been moments before, and wondered how he had left. Shaking his head at the mystery, he looked down at the baby in his arms. "Well, little guy, looks like it's just you and me, right now. I'll introduce you to Neville in the morning. I'm sure Alice will be happy to see you, if upset for the reason."

He walked up the stairs with his new ward and placed him in the same crib as Neville. Kissing his son on the cheek goodnight, he went back downstairs to keep his vigil.

November 4, 1981 10:15 p.m.

Jim's head jerked up when he heard the alarm he had placed on Harry. Unfortunately, he was in the middle of sending a large group of people to their final reward. A bus had overturned and many died. He called a minion to take his place so he could go to Harry. He rushed off wondering what could have gone wrong so quickly. He stepped into the shadows of the room, so he could see what was happening unobserved. He came out directly behind Harry. He quickly looked at the scene before him.

From where he was behind the children, he could see a clear barrier in front of them, which seemed to be keeping the spells being fired from hitting them. The two young boys were screaming as they watched four dark robed, white masked people, laughing and torturing the couple on the floor. Seeing all this in just a blink of an eye, Jim cast a binding curse on the torturers causing the female, judging from the voice, to scream at him that they would get free and take him next. With a wave of his hand the people were silenced. He knew the Aurors would be there soon—he could hear the alarm. He observed the distressed boys and saw they were relatively unharmed.

With another wave of his hand, Jim froze time. He didn't want to have to fight with anyone to do what he needed to get the boys away. He glanced at the couple on the floor and sighed. "I am going to do you a favor, young Neville. I am going to make it so your parents do not suffer years of pain and anguish," he told the crying blonde child.

He created carriers for the boys, casting a sleeping spell on them and placed them in his cloak. Walking over to the couple and leaning down he kissed both of them on the forehead, taking their souls and ending their life. He blew his breath in front of him so both souls were now present. "I am sending you to your final reward. I will take care of the children. It distresses me that I have to do this, for it was not your time. Nevertheless, I do not think that you want Neville to suffer years of anguish knowing he could see you, yet not reach you," he said, he could see the parents look towards their baby hidden in Death's robe with sadness and longing, "There is no cure for what you are suffering. You will feel the pain the rest of your life and you will never know your child. This is for the best, for all of you."

The dismayed souls nodded their understanding and faded from view, now content with the knowledge that their son would be cared for.

Jim unfroze time and stepped into the shadows once again. He reemerged into the lobby of Gringotts. It was evening, and there were more goblins this time, though not many customers. He stepped to the teller giving the same orders he had given four days prior. This time the goblins had been well warned that this deity might pay a visit. The teller immediately jumped from his stool and showed him to the same conference room. He stumbled as he left the room and went to gather the necessary people.

Jim settled in the same place and made sure the children were comfortable. After about ten minutes two goblins and one witch entered the room.

"I need the Last Will and Testament of Frank and Alice read first," Jim said as everyone was seated. "If only to find out guardianship of the boys, then a heritage test for young Neville and afterwards I will speak to the account manager."

The people around the table nodded. Everyone retrieved what they needed and set the folders and papers on the table.

The witch started, "I'm Ms. Price, the Executor of both wills. How about I just give a summary?" She quickly read both wills and then looked up. "Neville should go to the care of his grandmother, Frank's mother, Augusta Longbottom. If she can't take him then you're to find a home for him. It also states that you're needed to figure out where Harry is to live. The Longbottoms changed the wills two days ago." She looked at both wills again. "There's a trust fund set up with an allowance for Madam Longbottom, if she takes custody of the boys. If she does not, then she gets a separate vault for her expenses." The solicitor put the documents on the table and made three copies. "There are some monetary bequests that will be given during the public reading."

"That is agreeable," Jim said as he checked on the boys. He then looked back to Ms. Price and said, "I will need a copy of those wills to take to Madam Longbottom." The witch nodded and handed one of the copies to Jim. He waved towards the door letting her know he was done with her. Then he looked at the familiar goblin, Axegrind, and waited to be noticed.

Axegrind looked up when the room went silent and seeing Jim look at him expectantly he hurriedly spoke, "If you would hold him still, we will be done in a moment."

Jim removed Neville from his robes and held him much the same way he had held Harry before, while the goblin picked up the necessary material. The cut was made, the parchment was written. This time there were no additional accounts. Neville was the only heir to the Longbottoms.

Axegrind made copies of the results and handed one to Jim and took the rest as he left the room, knowing his part was done.

"I'm assuming you want Mr. Longbottom's accounts set up the same way as Mr. Potter's?" the remaining goblin said, not quite as scared as before. He was unharmed the first time, so it was likely that if he followed orders then he would remain that way.

"Yes, Bigprofit," Jim said, putting the sleeping Neville back in the carrier. "I would also like to make sure they can enter their vaults anywhere in the world. I will be removing these two young boys from Britain," he stated. His mind was whirling with plans that no one needed to know. For what they didn't know could not be revealed.

He would need to head to the Ministry to get guardianship transfer papers. He wouldn't be leaving them here in England. He had an idea about who to take them to, but he needed the current guardians to sign the boys off to him so he can better place them in a secure home. There was a family of powerful witches that he had scared a few years back. They had tried to raise the dead. He informed them that that was not a good idea and they had learned their lesson well. One of the witches was remarried and had children and had moved from the home. The younger one though, with some help from her aunts, would make a good guardian for the boys. This might be just what everyone needed.

Breaking from his musing and facing the goblin in front of him, Jim continued, "With their enemies still about, I could be spending all my valuable time rescuing them were they to stay here," he gave a vague explanation. He didn't have to, but he wanted the goblin to make sure his orders were carried out. "I expect you to keep that information to yourself." He gave the goblin a hard glare, making him shrink back in fear. "I would not even be telling you if you did not need to know in order to set up the accounts." Coldness flooded through the room at his freezing voice.

The scared goblin shakily got all the necessary forms out and the two started signing them. After they were done Jim left the bank and reappeared in the Ministry. He was in the clerk's office where one goes to get legal documents.

The office was small with only a chair, a desk and a few cubbyholes behind them. There was a door to the left hand side of the cubbyholes that lead to the file room. He pulled down his hood and spoke in a quiet voice that carried around the room. "I require two guardian consent forms," Jim told the clerk behind the desk. Unlike Gringotts, wizards needed to view something to scare them into complying. He hated exposing himself, but needs must.

The clerk looked up from where he had been reading a magazine. He spotted the skeletal head and whimpered, "T...t...t...t…two ga…ga…guardian consent forms y…you say? I c…can do that. P…pl…please, give me just a ma…ma…moment to find them," the poor man stammered and hurried to the file room and looked for the documents needed. He was scared to death. It was not often people came to this office, preferring to go to their solicitor and they truly didn't pay him enough for this. "H…h…h…here you ga..ga…go sir. Thank you for your b…b…business. Have a nice day," the terrified clerk nervously handed the documents over, then scurried as far away from the dark form as he could, hoping to be alive when Death left.

Jim looked at the documents to make sure they were indeed the correct ones, after all, scared people made mistakes. He subtly cast a charm to make the man forget the last two minutes. He pulled his hood back up and left the office the same way he came. He shadowed in to Augusta's manor.

He could see she was crying. Someone must have told her that her son and daughter-in-law were dead and her grandchild was missing. "Madam Longbottom, I am sorry to come to you at such a bad time; however, there are things we need to discuss," he stated as he sat across from the distraught woman. "I fear your grandson is in great danger and I would like to make arrangements with you to place him with people that will protect him."

Augusta Longbottom looked up at the foreboding figure that had just appeared in her secure sitting room, and fainted dead away.