There had been a prophecy long ago, one that foretold of a Keeper and Guardian of Death coming to the world and passing three trials before ascending to his rightful place. The prophecy was told through generations, spreading through the stars and, inevitably, getting lost in translation. When the prophecy reached the ears of the humans on Earth, no longer was there to be a Keeper and Guardian of Death. No longer would that Keeper and Guardian need to pass three trials.

When the prophecy reached the humans on Earth, the Keeper and Guardian had become the Master. The trials had become objects that would grant power to their wielder. As is the nature of humans, they sought after this power, their greed knew no bounds, nor did their pride. When a human found an object, that object was boasted about and then stolen by another human whose greed overwhelmed them.

Eventually the tale became just that, a tale in a book of tales meant for children. There were not many humans left who believed in this tale but those who did would stop at nothing to claim the three objects. After all, if a human was to have all three objects at once they would be unstoppable, they would have immense power, they would be the Master of Death.

Unfortunately for those desperate humans, just because a prophecy has been forgotten and lost in translation does not mean that it has changed or faded out of existence. Unfortunately for those humans so desperately searching for three legendary objects, those objects were not what they were made out to be.

Fate has no use for objects, Fate uses trials, Fate likes to build character. Fate would never stoop to allowing an important person come into existence because they had managed to find some objects. The idea was laughable and a deadly insult. Fate had chosen the one who would face the three trials, it was up to the human whether or not there would be a Keeper and Guardian of Death sooner rather than later.

The first trial, an unhealthy living situation. One that would test the character of Fate's chosen, a trial that would test the moral fibre of a being that would have to Guard one of the most powerful Constants to exist. A test of suitability.

The second trial, discovery of manipulation. Trust broken can never be reforged and yet what is done to the breakers will show a person's heart. Vengeance or Just Desserts, a choice many would say is rather similar and yet Fate knew it was not so. A test of heart.

The third trial, sacrifice. For some sacrifice is an easy thing, for others it is the hardest. For the chosen it would be both. Sacrifice meant it was over, sacrifice meant giving everything up to aid the betrayers. A test of resolve.

The test of suitability was passed when a snake was let free and simply slithered away.

The test of heart was passed when hidden secrets came to light and dealt with without bloodshed.

The test of resolve was passed when the chosen gave up his life for those he loved and hated.

The Keeper and Guardian of Death was born.

Information streamed through his mind after Harry died, an ancient prophecy passed through stars and generations turned to a fable. Three trials to face and pass. The result of passing those three trials. He was not the Master of Death as Hermione had surmised. He was the Keeper and Guardian of Death and there was someone who had tried to run away from his Constant. The balance needed to be kept, there could be no false immortals.

As Harry turned around to leave he caught a glimpse of what seemed like a train station with an old man sitting on a bench awaiting something. He decided it was not important, he had a duty and a Constant to Guard.

When Harry returned to the Earth it was not where he had fallen. He was several feet from where he had fallen and his body still lay there with Narcissa Malfoy leaning over it. He paid no attention to her, she was not important at this time. The man who was eagerly waiting her judgement was who he had come for.

As Harry looked upon Lord Voldemort he could not help but sigh in dismay. The soul of Tom Riddle had been a beautiful thing when first created and yet it had been twisted and mangled almost beyond recognition. There were jagged scars crossing the entire surface, essence slowly oozing out of the scars that had recently opened up.

"I am sorry Tom Riddle, son of Merope Gaunt, that you felt you had to do this to avoid my Constant. Come with me, I will heal you."

The soul yearned to reach out and take what was offered and yet the vessel was stubborn. The vessel had been corrupted and had kept doing what the soul had been planning before it had been mangled beyond all hope. It would seem Harry would have to do this the hard way.

"He is dead, My Lord," Narcissa Malfoy announced and the Death Eaters erupted into cheers as Voldemort smiled in self-assurance, nothing could stop him now.

The cheers of the Death Eaters suddenly faded away as something else faded into existence, or rather, someone. Before them stood Harry Potter dressed in a green cloak, black trousers and shirt with a pendant hanging around his neck and a ring on his left hand.

Harry Potter smiled at them and then held out his hand to Lord Voldemort, "Come along Tom Riddle, son of Merope Gaunt, this is not where you are supposed to be."

"How dare you use that name!" Lord Voldemort cried as he cast numerous curses towards the boy who stood before him. Curses that were absorbed into the boy's body without him seeming the worse for any of them.

"Tom Riddle, son of Merope Gaunt, it is time for your suffering to end. Release you vessels and come with me."

Lord Voldemort gasped as a tugging sensation made itself known, it was as if a treasure was leaving him behind in favour of Potter. And yet as the tugging grew stronger emotions began flooding into him. This was not what he had wanted, he had not wanted such needless spilling of magical blood. He had simply wanted to make sure no other child had his childhood and had adopted the Great Salazar Slytherin's method of removing all Muggle-borns from the Wizarding World.

Voldemort sighed as the tugging stopped, the treasure had left him and was now being cradled in Harry Potter's hands. "Thank you," the Dark Lord whispered as he watched the boy he had been determined to kill cradle his treasure with such care.

The Keeper and Guardian of Death smiled at him softly, "You are safe now Tom Riddle, son of Merope Gaunt, be free."

The body of Tom Riddle nodded his head once and slumped to the ground with a smile on his face. Death Eaters cried out as Dark Marks vanished and a sense of peace washed over them. No longer were they attached to a seventh of a soul, sanity was returned to those who had lost it. Love washed through them all as they remembered what had originally been their Lord's goal.

The war was over, no more blood was spilled, Light and Dark merged to become Grey. The Grey watched out for those that couldn't watch out for themselves, laws were overturned and those shunned were welcomed.

Floating in space was a young man in a green cloak cradling a soul as it slowly healed. He fed the soul with all the love and support he could provide. This was his duty, to Keep and Guard Death and those in the Constants realm. And so he would Keep and Guard the soul until it was ready to return to Life.