Harry Potter and the Adventure in Death

by Animal Arithmetic

If the man who died to save you was only a hop, a skip, and a jump away... would you take the plunge? "Bottoms up," said Harry to the mysterious man on the other side of the table as he took a drink of the deadly potion.

1. The Plunge

One. The Plunge.

The silence, Harry Potter decided, was utterly and completely excruciating. It pained his very core, how still the magical school's grounds were. Teenagers from every house should have been laughing and playing in the warm summer air, enjoying their time before exams glared down on them. Instead, there was not a soul about the grounds to enjoy the clear blue skies. At the moment the sky mocked the mourning magic-folk at their recent losses. The sun shinned brightly down on that small corner of the world when a dark, rainy day would have been more appropriate.

Harry Potter, however, merely felt empty.

Useless.

He could not save them all, and he hated himself for his lack of strength to save them all. He was the Savior, was he not? People expected him to make sure everyone came out of this war alive.

Harry shook his head to push the thoughts away. It would not do well to dwell on things he could not change, no matter how hard he tried. There was no Time Turner he could use, no spell, no potion, nothing.

He could do nothing to ease their pain.

And he hated feeling so useless.

Now that the world had no need for him anymore, he had been more or less by himself for the past twenty-four hours. In those twenty-four hours he had cleaned up the grounds of Hogwarts as much as he could. He had watched people cry, sob, and scream at their loss. Some had even cursed at him, but only two had raised their wand in grief and anger.

On that early May afternoon, once everyone else had left, Harry Potter stood looking down on the corpse of one Severus Snape. All the other bodies- both dead and just merely injured- had been cleared out earlier that morning. Only one dead body remained. No one had come to retrieve the greatest spy the world had ever seen. It was a sorry sight indeed. Blood had dried and caked onto the long, pale neck, and the dark eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling of the Great Hall.

Choking back a sob, Harry closed the eyes of the bravest man he had ever met.

He now understood everything the Potions professor had done, had done for him, for the Boy-Who-Lived. How could Harry thank him, now that he was dead?

Harry kneeled beside the still, cold body of Severus Snape. "Snape... Professor? Sir?" he tried, desperate for the man to wake up and tell him everything would be okay.

Maybe he was just sleeping, and that stupid snake hadn't really killed him-

No, he was definitely dead, Harry decided as he placed two searching fingers to the man's neck. Snape had no pulse and his neck was stone cold. Some of the blood came off and stuck to his fingertips as he pulled away. He stared down at his hand in morbid fascination. He was so close to Snape, he had touched him, and the man wasn't even alive to give him a snarky comment.

"I wanted to thank you," Harry whispered, brushing a stray strand of the long black hair away from the pale face with his left hand. The hand unsoiled from any blood. He ran the same hand through his own growing hair. He would have to cut it soon. Once his teacher had been laid to rest, perhaps. It could wait that long.

A tear escaped his eye and landed on the blood-soaked neck. It mixed with the dried blood and ran down the side of Severus Snape's neck. The small drop of sorrow revealed a tiny trail of pale skin as it went.

"I'm so sorry."

"It is alright, child."

The sudden noise startled Harry and he turned to face the long table to his left. He hadn't even heard the man enter. There he saw a very strange man. His black hair fell about his face in disarray and his lowered head caused the fringe to hide his eyes. His skin, pale, contrasted greatly against his dark hair. The robes draped elegantly about his frame were of the purest white, not even a speck of blood or dust to mare its beautiful sheen despite how dirty the Great Hall was at the moment. He raised a hand in a semblance of a wave. A tinkling sound filled the air and it was then that Harry noticed the simple, yet graceful, silver jewelry decorating his wrists and neck. Surely he would have heard the stranger's jewelry tinkling as he walked in, yet there had not even been an echoing sound of footsteps in the large, empty hall.

"Did I frighten you?" the stranger asked, his voice low and sinister. "Where is that Gryffindor bravery your insufferable house loves so much? Surely the Savior of the World is not afraid of an old man like me."

"I wasn't expecting anyone to be here still," Harry replied, standing so he was not looking up at the man. Old? This man couldn't even be same age as Snape. He looked at least a decade younger than the spy. Now that he noticed, the stranger almost looked like the man at his feet. Harry decided that they were at least cousins, if not brothers. "Are you here for Snape?"

The stranger shook his head. The messy black locks bounced around his face, and he still did not look up. A smirk twisted what Harry could see of his face into something that unnerved his very soul. Harry took a small step back. "No, Mr. Potter. I am not here for Mr. Snape." It was strange to hear the fearsome man's name with the title in front of it. Harry had only heard 'Professor' as any sort of title in relation to the Potion Master. The smirk grew. "I am here for something else all together."

This confused Harry. "Not here for Snape? Then... What for?"

The smirk twisted into a sinister grin that promised something Harry probably would not like, even if Harry could not see his eyes. "You."

"Me?"

"Did I stutter, Mr. Potter?"

"Hey." Harry frowned at his name. "I'm pretty sure I've never told you my name."

"Everyone knows who you are, Mr. Potter." One corner of the grinning mouth stretched further into a sneer. "Boy Wonder, Savior, Boy-Who-Can-Escape-Death. Among others too numerous to name. Perhaps later I could be bothered enough to name them all."

"What-"

The bracelets on the stranger's left hand tinkled as he waved his hand to silence Harry. "Please, Mr. Potter," he said, his voice hinting towards a deal. Whether it would be good for Harry or not, he could not fathom. "I have a proposition for you."

Harry narrowed his eyes behind his scratched glasses. "A proposition, huh? What kind?"

"So suspicious!" The stranger returned to smirking. He leaned back, but did not raise his head. "Why do you not trust me?"

"I don't even know your name."

"I have not told you?" Harry noticed the mocking tone instantly. The stranger simply waved a hand despondently. "It really is not all that important at the moment. What is important, however..." The man leaned over the table and clasped his hands in front of him on the wood. "Bringing Severus Snape back to life."

Harry stared down at the stranger in shock. It was possible to bring the dead back to life? Well, Harry managed that feat just yesterday, but that was with the Resurrection Stone, and Harry had lost that some time ago. No, it shouldn't have been possible in the first place. Harry had really never followed the 'rules' in magic, but he knew that no matter how special he was he could not bring Severus Snape back to the living.

"But that's not possible," he said at last. "The Resurrection Stone-"

"Has been destroyed," the man interrupted, all dark amusement fading from his lips. "But I do not mean for you to use the Stone."

Harry turned the words over in his mind. Something stuck out and he frowned. "What do you mean, me?"

The man frowned as well. "I mean," he started slowly, leaning further over the table; his hair still shielded his eyes from view, "that there is anoter way to bring back Severus Snape. Without the Resurrection Stone, preferably. It is such messy business, that Stone."

His words made Harry pause. As he thought of a proper response, he sat down across from the stranger. "Why would I want to do that? Bring him back, I mean?"

Again, the man smirked. Harry was starting to hate that smirk. It made him sick to his stomach. "Do I really need to answer that, Mr. Potter? You feel that he," with a light chiming sound from his bracelets, he pointed towards the prone body behind Harry, "deserves a second chance. He gave his life to protect you. He spent half his lifetime doing so. The first half was more horrible than anyone can imagine. Anyone," he pointed right at Harry with a thin, pale finger, "besides yourself. You know exactly what happened; you can relate."

The tinkling filled the air as the bracelets slowly swung and hit each other when Harry could not reply. How could he? What was he supposed to say? He turned to look down at Severus Snape on the cold, stone floor. True, Harry did want to bring the man back to life, to give him a second chance at a life he had no control over. He spent almost forty years being controlled by everyone around him. For twenty years he had been strung along between two of the most powerful men the world had seen as of yet. Harry wanted to give him the chance to finally live his own life without the controlling clutches of a madman and a wise man. Could it really be so simple to bring him back for that second chance he deserved?

"Would you be willing to give your life up for his?" The soft voice coming from the other man surprised Harry. He turned back to face the stranger. The pale lips twisted into a sad frown. "Are you willing to trade places with him?"

"I..." Harry turned to look back down at the older man. Was he willing to die for Severus Snape, his tormentor and protector in school for the past seven years? Was he willing to do the same thing the dead man had done for him? He turned back to the stranger and steeled his emotions. "I've done what I was supposed to do. I have served my purpose in life."

The stranger threw his head back and laughed. It was a dry, rattling sound that unnerved Harry to his very soul. How was it humanly possible to create such a sound? It reminded him of a Dementor. Unpleasant memories popped to the forefront of his mind, but he managed to push them back with a shudder. Really, he could not figure out what was so funny as the man continued to laugh. He almost regretted his decision.

Almost, but not quite.

As he calmed down, the strange lowered his head, eyes closed until his fringe covered his eyes again. "Is that, so, Harry Potter?"

"I've caused enough death," was Harry's reply. "I should pay it back with my own."

The strange man gave the impression that he was eying Harry carefully, judging if his words were true. "You really believe that you killed all these people, do you not?" The feeling that the strange man was studying him did not leave Harry.

"I did."

"Tell me, Mr. Potter." He laced his fingers together and rested his chin on top, his elbows spread wide on the tabletop. The bracelets clinked softly in the eerie silence. "Did you point your wand at every single person who died in this horrendous war? Did you utter the curse that would take away their breath, their life?"

"No, but-"

"Did you," the man interrupted, raising his voice slightly, "cast the Imperious Curse on various people to kill others?"

"No, but I-"

"Then I fail to understand how you killed all those people," the man interrupted again.

Harry opened his mouth then promptly shut it. He had no idea how to argue that point. He had never cast the Imperious Curse to have someone kill another, and he had never pointed his wand at someone with the Killing Curse on his lips. The only person he had purposefully killed was Tom Riddle, and that was with a simple Expelliarmus.

Making up his mind, Harry nodded shortly. "Alright."

"'Alright'?"

"I'll do it."

"Do what, exactly?"

Harry had a feeling that the man was playing with him. "I'll trade my life for Professor Snape's. What do I have to do?"

The mouth twisted once again into an unnerving grin. A pale hand, accompanied with light chiming, dove into a pocket of the white robs. When it withdrew, the man held a vial. In it was a deep green liquid. "This is a... special potion. You will die, and nothing will bring you back."

He held out his long, pale hand. The bracelets jingled and the pieces of silver jewelry sparkled in the ray of sunlight that filtered through the beams of the once-grand ceiling. As Harry reached out for the small container, he noticed the blood still staining his fingers.

Severus Snape's blood.

"I've got blood on my hands."

"So you do, Mr. Potter."

"I killed him," whispered Harry, staring up at the stranger in horror. "It's my fault he's dead. If I hadn't-"

A hand waved in his face. The tinkling jewelry calmed Harry almost instantly. "Did you set the snake on him, Mr. Potter?"

"No."

The hand holding the glass container moved over the table and stopped inches from his bloodied hand.

Harry hesitantly took the small vial, desperately trying to overlook the red on his fingers. He held it in the sunlight. It, too, seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, except the bright bursts of light were not white or yellow. Instead they were a deep red, like rubies sparkling in the natural light. The blood from his fingers transferred to the glass, leaving small pink streaks on the surface.

"What-"

"Do not question it," the stranger replied, waving his now free hand. Once again, the bracelets tinkled softly at the motion. "Do you want Severus Snape to live again or not?"

Harry squared his shoulders and straightened his back as much as it would allow. Maybe if he could act brave he would not feel as scared as he was. "Yes, I do."

"But...?"

That one simple word deflated Harry Potter. "But what about my friends?"

"Ah, of course. How could I forget?" The lips grinned sardonically at the strong concern in the younger male's voice as he pulled out a note, almost acting as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long while now. "This note should explain everything we have talked about." He held it out for Harry to take. "Plus a little extra."

Harry took the note, his gaze lingering on the stranger's face for a moment longer before he turned his attention to the note. At the last paragraph he quirked an eyebrow and glanced up. "Why are you requesting for them to take our bodies to the Hospital Wing?"

The man let out another rattling laugh. Harry wrinkled his nose in revulsion. Noticing Harry's dislike, the man quieted and waved the younger man's question away. "I am more worried about the fact that you have not questioned why I had this note all ready in the first place."

"That was my next question."

"Very well." The man made a showing of taking a large, deep breath before exhaling. "It sure is good to breathe, is it not?" At Harry's glare, he merely chuckled, a sound not too unlike the laughter that had unnerved Harry earlier. "Truthfully, I was merely hoping you would accept this proposition. I had no idea if you would take the offer or not. It was merely a whimsical wish. A... friend of mine believed that you would."

Harry shot him a disbelieving look, but did not push it. "So once I take this potion, I'll die for good?"

"Not even you will be able to come back from Death's clutches."

Harry nodded, suddenly weary. He felt so drained. When was the last time he slept? Well, now he could rest for good. All that running about, trying to destroy a madman... It had taken a lot out of him. Harry more or less looked forward to dying. Again. "Alright. So once I take this... potion... Snape will come back?"

The man frowned. "Not exactly." At the confused look Harry gave him, he grinned and continued to explain. "Once you arrive there, you will have to fight for Severus Snape. You will not have a wand. Magic does not exist in death. You will have to argue with the Fates to bring him back to life."

"The Fates?"

"You'll find out when you get there," he replied languidly.

Harry frowned at the stranger. "You're helpful."

Again with the sickening grin. The look of mirth made Harry nauseous. "I try my hardest. Fate will guide you."

"But I thought you said-"

"The Fates and Fate, Mr. Potter," the man interrupted yet again, his grin turning malicious, "are two completely separate beings."

Harry had to glance away to gather his bearings. Something didn't seem right about this man... "There's something you dislike about Fate." At the quirk of the other's lips, Harry corrected himself. "The Fates."

"Neither, both, either one," was his response. "It matters not. There is nothing neither you nor I can do about it." He fell silent, and Harry felt as if the stranger was studying him again. In a softer tone, the mysterious man continued. "Mr. Potter... Harry... The Fates will not hand over Severus easily. If you think that saying your death is worth more than another's because you were the Savior of the world, then you are greatly mistaken. To Death it does not matter. He cares not how much your life is worth nor how much you mattered to others. A soul is a soul."

Not a sound single penetrated the still air. The wind had stilled and Harry hardly dared to breathe. The atmosphere was not unlike twenty minutes ago before the man before him had interrupted his thoughts. It seemed as if the world had come to a standstill for this moment and this moment alone. Harry could not even hear the blood pulsing through his veins. It was so peculiar, so dissimilar from how the school should have been.

But Harry could not dwell on what ifs and should-have-beens. Nothing good every came on lingering in the past. So, pushing the negative thoughts from his mind, he nodded.

"Alright."

"'Alright'?"

Déjà vu.

"Yes. 'Alright'."

The man pulled back slightly, head cocked slightly to one side. "Fascinating..."

"What is, sir?"

"You are, Mr. Potter." The odd man smiled, but this one did not unease Harry as the last ones had. This one gave off an air of sadness. "Even after everything has been said and done, you are still willing to die and risk Severus' freedom to try to free him. You are truly a Gryffindor."

Harry shook his head sadly and glanced back at the body of Severus Snape. "Some might argue that my bravery is actually stupidity."

"Sometimes it is, sometimes it is not," was the light reply.

"And this time?"

The smile twisted back into an unpleasing grin. "I am still deciding that, Mr. Potter. At the moment, however..." He leaned over the table and bared white, pointed teeth. Harry could have sworn that he saw a glinting red eye. "I believe it is stupidity."

Harry frowned at the stranger. "But you are the one pushing me into doing this."

"I have said not one word telling you that you had to do this," was his scathing reply as he sat back. He plucked the small vial from Harry's hand and made to put it back in his robes. "If you have changed your mind-"

Harry reached across and took the vial back. "I'll do it, make no mistake."

Just as Harry uncorked the deadly concoction with a small pop and placed the vial to his lips, the man softly asked, "Do you think he will forgive you so easily?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, slowly lowering the vial.

He waved a hand, the tinkling the only sound for a moment. "Oh, nothing. It is just that Severus Snape is a very bitter man. He is suspicious of the world around him. Would he readily accept an apology, especially coming from the bane of his existence for the past seventeen years? His only friend died because of you. Did you know that?"

The thought brought a bitter taste to his mouth. He made his decision and lifted the vial. "Can I at least know your name?"

He shook his head slowly. The dark fringe moved aside to show closed eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I am not allowed to give you my name. I can tell you, on the other hand, that I work for the Fates and that I have made... a contract, of sorts, with Death. That is all you need to know. Perhaps we shall meet again. Oh, and Harry?"

Harry held the vial at his parted lips. "Yes?"

"Good luck."

Harry lifted the potion, as if making a toast. "Bottoms up," said Harry to the man on the other side of the table as he downed the deadly potion.

The man simply grinned as Harry slumped forward, lifeless once again for the second time that week. That was really too easy. Children really would follow along with just about anything you said if you convinced them enough- which, honestly, was not all that hard. Just a few of the right words and they were putty in another's hands.

With that unnerving dark and sinister chuckle, the stranger stood from the table. His hair parted to reveal a gleaming red eye as he lifted his head to look down his nose at the teenager lying dead on the table. He took the note from Harry's limp hand only to replace it with a new one. His bare feet slapped softly on the stone floor and the tinkling of the jewelry adorning his ankles came with the soft sound as he headed toward the tall, broken doors. At the threshold, he paused, stilled by the pang of guilt he felt at tricking the boy. Harry Potter had been manipulated his entire life. The end of the war should have ended the seventeen-year-long streak of manipulation.

He forced himself not to look back as he strolled past the once-proud doors. Near the wall he shimmered slightly before fading out of view.

It seemed that Fate had different plans for the Boy-Who-Lived.