In which DEATH realizes the appalling tactics some wizards use to avoid meeting him

(There is a round planet that does not ride on back of 4 elephants on the back of a turtle swimming through space but circles an insignificant yellow sun.)

The shrouded figure watches as a teenage Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. exits his father's house. A skeletal hand pulls an hourglass from the folds of a shadowy cloak, inspects it with bright blue eyes and speaks with the echoes of eternity.

OH, BUGGER

!

Death places the hourglass on his desk and studies it. There is a lightening shaped crack threading through the glass and a small black stone rests in the neck. The sand no longer falls. He taps the globe, bones clicking against the glass, but the stone remains fixed and sand refuses to drop.

If Death had an imagination, he would imagine this to be a Bad Thing. Instead he grins (in a frowning sort of way) and reworks the nodes. Wizard wars always annoyingly add to his workload.