Title: Debt Collector
Rating: PG
Summary: You can't avoid the Debt Collector.
A/N: Reminder, this stories in this series are abandoned and have typos and think-o's and probably other problems. Read at your own risk. Sorry, I'm not going to try to write Hagrid's accent; you'll have to imagine it.

Sirius Black jumped off his motorcycle before it had fully stopped and ran towards the house that no longer had a front door. As he reached said door, Hagrid walked out of the house carrying a crying baby in a light blue blanket. "Hagrid, where are James and Lily?!" he shouted. It wasn't until then he noticed the large man was crying quietly.

"They's gone, they is." Hagrid sniffled loudly. "Only little Harry is left."

Black cried out in guttural anguish, grabbing his head and turning, stumbling until he was leaning against the front wall of the house for a long moment. When his agony reduced a little and he recovered some of his senses after the shock, he turned back to find Hagrid had walked off the porch away from him. "Wait! Give him to me; James told me to take him if anything ever happened to them."

"Can't," Hagrid said as he stopped and then turned and looked back, "Dumbledore said to get Harry and bring him back to Hogwarts. I've got to keep him safe."

Looking at the large man and knowing most spells wouldn't do much to him, Sirius knew he'd have to get Harry later. "Fine, you keep him safe; I have to go chase after Pettigrew. Take my bike to make it easier; the keys are in it." He pulled his wand out and Apparated away.

Hagrid blinked a few times, staring at the now empty space and wondering just what was going on. Deciding it probably didn't matter, he turned to his right and walked towards the motorcycle, appreciative of the offer as it would make it easier to take the little tyke back to his place.

A few steps before he reached the motorcycle, a black cloaked figure suddenly appeared right in front of him, face completely obscured, though in the low light of the night that wasn't surprising. The man was also quite tall, but still nearly a foot shorter than Hagrid himself.

There was something very wrong, Hagrid could feel it, but he wasn't sure what it was. He didn't see a Death Eater mask, but given what had happened in the last hour, the lack of one of those foul masks didn't mean much. He took a half step back and twisted slightly to protect Harry so the babe wasn't as close to the Death Eater; he also wished he had his umbrella. "You can't have him, Death Eater."

The man let out a hoarse raspy cough that seemed to turn into a laugh. When he recovered, though he hadn't moved, he said also in a raspy voice, "I have not been that amused in a long time - so few call me what I really am. Now, give me the child; I will have him to collect the debt I am owed."

"No!" Hagrid denied him though he took another half step back.

"Very brave you are, but you should be very scared of me, Rubeus Hagrid," the man said, still not moving.

"Being scared doesn't matter; you won't get Harry."

The man paused, "Perhaps you don't know who you are dealing with." Faster than the eye could follow, a pale gaunt hand came out of his robes, snapping to the side and there was suddenly a scythe in his right hand that was taller than Hagrid with a malevolent reddish glow coming from the long blade.

"I will take the child," the raspy voice said and turned colder, "for a debt is owed as he will allow me to collect. Hand him over, Rubeus Hagrid, unless you wish to be a part of the debt."

After a few seconds of mimicking a statue in which the only sound was the baby's hic-up cries, a now shaking Hagrid slowly bent down and with trembling hands set Harry on the ground, even if it pained him to do so.

Death held out his left hand and the boy and blanket slowly levitated and came to him. Taking the bundle and cradling it in his free arm, he swung his scythe in front of him and was gone.

Hagrid fell to his knees and then his elbows, crying on all fours for some time. Eventually, he managed to find some control and crawled over to the motorcycle and pulled himself up before he drove it back to his house and Dumbledore, still crying.

Making it to the school, he left the vehicle in front of his cabin and went inside, flopping on his bed, amazed he was still alive yet feeling guilty for having given up the Potter child and failing Dumbledore - not to mention he was still scared out of his wits. He didn't even get up for the knocking at his door, and thus he was found when the Headmaster came inside.

"Hagrid, do you have him?"

The half-giant lifted his hand as if to point but started bawling harder as an answer before he buried his face.

Completely surprised and not expecting this, Albus Dumbledore waited a full minute and when there was no change in the large man he left and returned over ten minutes later with a basket. In the basket was every calming potion the school nurse had and he started giving them to his Groundskeeper.

Thankful that Severus had recently brewed a new batch of potions because there were only two left of the dozen he'd started with, Dumbledore finally had the half-giant to the point that he could keep his emotions mostly under control.

"Now, what happened and where is young Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"He took him. I'm a sorry, Headmaster, but you just don't tell him no. Harry was injured too, a bloody forehead that will scar for sure."

Dumbledore puzzled over that declaration because he would have said before this night that Hagrid would have felt that way about only himself and Voldemort. "Voldemort is still alive?"

Hagrid shook his head violently. "His body is there with James's and Lily's. We must go get them, Headmaster."

"Shortly my friend, but tell me about Harry. What did you mean?" Dumbledore implored him.

Hagrid shuddered. "He just appeared as I was about to leave and told me to give Harry to Him. When I told Him no, He said maybe I didn't know who He was and He was right. I thought He was only a Death Eater - which made Him laugh at me. I'm sorry, I just had to do as He said. I couldn't see His eyes but I felt Him stare right through me and I was sure He was going to kill me right there; I had to do it."

"Who took Harry? I need to know," Dumbledore asked again, even more gently this time.

In a whisper, Hagrid spoke the name he didn't want to. "Death with his scythe."

Dumbledore sat there, surprised and barely able to breathe, fearing he'd seen the last of the Potter boy. He knew Hagrid wasn't lying to him as Hagrid wouldn't in general and certainly not about something like this.

Leaving the Groundskeeper, not having any words of comfort for a troubled friend for the first time a in very long time, Albus made his way back to his office. He wasn't sure why, but he went over to the drawer where he'd hidden the Potter Invisibility Cloak when he'd borrowed it and found it still there. He confirmed his special wand was still in the pocket of his robes also. In the end, he had no idea what to make of the happenings this night.

Not sure what else to do, he headed out to start taking care of the bodies of the Potters and to gather anything of value. He'd store those away in case Harry turned up. Taking a little bit of blood from Lily would also be in order, also in case Harry was found and Albus needed to enact his plan to keep the boy safe.

Death stood on the other side of the damaged house, dim cries from the half-giant in the background, not that he cared. The baby was now silent, thanks to his magic. He carefully laid the flat of his blade against the baby's forehead for a moment and concentrated.

Feeling a pull, he moved them to another location, one underground and lit by torches. A sound of surprise from his right caused him to turn. A flash of green was returned to its sender with a swat of his scythe's blade. The man with long blonde hair flew backward with a look of surprise frozen on his face. Death flicked his scythe again, sending the soul on its way as he didn't want to deal with it personally. The young woman on the floor, who was curled in a ball of trembling fear, he ignored.

Walking over to the wall, he pushed his scythe into a crack and pried causing the door to pop open. Seeing the first part of the debt owed him, he stabbed his blade into the book, causing it to scream. He smiled as he caught the soul fragment and then popped it into his mouth to hold. He actually did eat death. The repeat of the night's joke causing him to let loose of his raspy laugh again, which caused the girl to lose control of her body and pass out.

Death ignored the smell now coming from the girl and laid the flat of his blade on the boy's forehead again. Feeling the pull, he transported them to an old rundown shack. The magics there did nothing useful to him and his presence protected the boy. A moment later, he stabbed the ring and ate the soul fragment before taking the stone from it as he recognized it. Holding it, he could feel the location of each of the other Hallows. Holding the stone to the boy, he found they resonated - so he really was of the right line. He'd consider what to do with those later.

Still using the boy as a divining rod, he moved them to another place not far away. In this large, old, and rundown house, he found a snake and killed it, eating the soul fragment.

Using the boy as a pointer again, Death transported them to a house that had seen better times, though this one was livable. Looking around the room, he saw the next piece of the soul owed him. He stabbed the locket and ate yet another fragment.

"Who are you?" a squeaky voice demanded. "That's locket was my masters."

Death turned and looked at the house-elf. "Leave me." A wave of his scythe and the elf was thrown backward, impacting the wall hard and crumpled into a heap. Ignoring the unconscious elf, Death used Harry again to find the next fragment. He could have used the fragments in him, but the boy and his weapon made it easier.

Now standing in a small room of rock deep underground, Death felt for it and sensed it on a high shelf. His scythe stretched out, becoming as long as it needed to be and stabbed the cup before flicking the soul fragment back towards himself. He opened his mouth and snagged it out of the air, like a morsel of food.

Another trip took him to a large room filled with junk. It was only a few minutes before he found the object he needed. Again he disposed of a soul fragment into himself. Checking the boy, he smiled as he found there was only one other piece left and it was on the move. No matter, the being thought as he sent himself southward.

He arrived with the sound of waves behind him. The half-moon setting behind didn't matter; he was completely in tune with the small soul fragment coming toward him since he now held most of the soul. With a flick of his scythe, he knocked the fleeing spirit to the ground and back a little, stopping it completely. "Your time is up, the debt is due, and you will not cheat me!" his raspy voice ordered.

The partial spirit cried, "No, I don't want to go."

"I cannot be denied," Death told him, "postponed for a brief time perhaps, but never denied."

"But-" the spirit choked on its retort as it watched the being lower his scythe to the baby he hadn't noticed before. The point of weapon touched the babe very gently before it was withdrawn with a black mass on its tip, which the being licked off and swallowed.

"Now, you are the last piece…come Tom Riddle."

Riddle tried to flee the other way but the scythe stretched out and grabbed him. Before he could utter any protest, he was pulled back and into an utterly completely black maw that held nothing but screams in a voice that he recognized intimately as his own.

Pleased that yet another that had tried to thwart him was caught, he smiled and said, "The book is balanced again." He then looked down at the boy in the crook of his arm who'd fallen asleep as he should have considering the time of the night. With as much gentleness as he'd used to extract the soul fragment a few minutes ago, he touched the handle of his weapon to the boy's forehead and watched it change so there was not even a scar.

Perhaps he would do one more thing before he left the boy and returned to his regular work. Thinking carefully, he returned north for a few minutes, before taking his longest trip yet far to the south.

Given the time, it was no surprise that the two people he was visiting were asleep in bed. He floated the boy over and set him down next to the woman with silvery hair, who placed a thin arm over the boy and pulled him to her without waking. Dropping the other items on a chair along with a note, Death looked at the boy one last time. "I'll see you in 142 years Harry Potter." Then he was gone.

Albus woke late, feeling his nearly 100 years. After a good stretch, he reached for his wand and stopped, frozen in mid-motion, as he noticed it was not in its usual place. He found and put on his glasses to make sure; he was now certain the wand was not anywhere near his bed. Thinking back to last night, he hurried through the secret door to his office and checked his drawer. James's cloak was also gone.

With a sigh, he headed back to his chambers and dug out his original wand.

Jean Delacour woke instantly to a screaming wife and then a crying baby. "What?!" he shouted as he grabbed his wand from the nightstand. He couldn't see anyone else in the room based on his quick glance around.

"Where did he come from?" his wife, Apolline, demanded as she pointed at the baby boy who looked to be about a year old. "And how did he come to be in bed with us when he was not when we went to sleep?"

The husband rose from the bed, his wand held in front of him as he looked around the room. He saw only one thing out of place: a chair. Examining it, he found an Invisibility Cloak, a wand, and a golden stone. He finally noticed the note and picked it up, his wife watching him as she also calmed the boy with a slow natural bounce as only a parent would.

"There's a note that says: YOU WANTED A BOY. TAKE GOOD CARE OF HARRY POTTER. YOU WILL GIVE HIM HIS FAMILY HEIRLOOMS WHEN HE IS OLD ENOUGH." He looked at her, "That all it says."

"Who is Harry Potter?" she asked.

"I have no idea."

She looked down at the boy, who she'd manage to calm down after she'd awakened him suddenly. "He is cute and Fleur will enjoy a little brother."

"I'm sure we'll find his family eventually," Jean assured here. "I'll check with the Ministry in Paris this afternoon. I supposed I should box these things for him until we find his family or he's ready for them."

Harry stayed with the Delacours and they never found family for him. He grew up loving and being loved by his new parents, his sister Fleur, and his little sister Gabrielle when she was born.

Not long before he was eleven, he received his invitation to Hogwarts, but he turned it down already having a reservation at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, much to the consternation of Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore tried to force the Delacours and France to return him to England and Dumbledore's care, but the Delacours appealed to the ICW. Despite Dumbledore being a Supreme Mugwump of the body, he lost his case because they said Dumbledore had had his chance and since he'd misplaced the boy, and the fact that the boy was happy where he was, Dumbledore didn't deserve to disrupt the boy's life.

Dumbledore and many in England were upset with the Delacours and the French, but there wasn't anything they could do about it.

Harry grew up without any life-threatening adventures and Dumbledore was frustrated because he couldn't find any evidence of Voldemort still being alive when he thought he should be. Dumbledore died a frustrated man and Harry lived a long life until he was 143 years old.

At his death, a calm Harry saw a tall being in a black cloak, his hands lost in the folds. "You look familiar," Harry said as he cocked his head trying to figure it out. There was nagging feeling that wouldn't leave him alone, but he couldn't figure out what it was trying to tell him.

"I believe you have a few things of mine that I left for you?" the raspy voice asked.

"I'd hand them over if I had them," Harry replied. As he noticed his hands were much younger looking, he added, "You don't bring anything with you in death, or I think I'm dead."

"You are. Are you sure you don't have them?" the being asked.

"Yes, I mean-" Harry stopped as he patted his pocket and felt something in it. He pulled out a wand, a cloak, and finally a stone. "I don't know how these got here, but I guess you mean these?"

The being held out a pale gaunt hand and Harry placed the three items in the being's hand, which pulled them back into his cloak.

"So, who are you?" Harry asked curiously, not afraid at all.

"An old friend. Come, Harry Potter. There are people who want to meet you and I am sure you'll enjoy meeting them…"

(A/N: A little something that hit me and was small enough I could just write it out. Fortunately, I had the time and it felt good to write.)