It was a quiet day, it was always quiet here. The sky above was grey, the sun would not shine in this place this place of the dead. The grass was permanently yellow-green, trapped for ever in a state of dying. Rows upon rows of battered and worn tombstones lay before him, He needed to clean three rows. The Giant man was the keeper of the dead, it was his duty to tend their resting place.
Acheron Styxx smiled faintly as a cool breeze swept over the graveyard. He put on his aviator sunglasses and walked down the gravel path, duty called. He did this everyday, he would wake, dress, eat and do his labour before bathing under the moon light. He crouched and dipped the scrub brush into the water. "hello mr Potter " Acheron said to the worn head stone " I wonder why a mage like you was not Cremated".