Tom was running. He usually ran into the small wooded area near the orphanage when the older boys started to beat him up. It was his haven, his safe place. No one ever followed him into it.
Reaching his usual clearing, the six year old stopped. There was a person already there, sitting against a tree, twisting a strange looking stick in his hands. It was perhaps eleven inches long and had strange bumps on it.
The stranger had messy black hair and bright green eyes, and a lightning bolt shaped scar rested atop his brow. He would've been rather unassuming had it not been for the scar.
He was absently staring at the stuck, humming quietly under his breath.
"Who are you?" Tom asked cautiously, stepping forward into the clearing. There was no way this person hadn't heard him running to the clearing, so it was best to simply talk to him.
The man looked up at Tom, then back down to the stick, shrugging. "Harry," he answered simply. "Who are you?"
Tom narrowed his eyes and slowly sat down where he was- across the clearing from Harry. "Tom Riddle," he said proudly, holding his head up.
Harry chuckled. "Well, Tom, it's nice to meet you. Tell me, why exactly were you running as if the hounds of hell were on your heels?"
Tom shrugged, glancing back through the trees. "The boys at the orphanage we're trying to beat me up again. I usually come here to hide," Tom didn't know why he was telling this stranger that. Why he was even still there. There was just something about this Harry that felt familiar for some reason. It comforted Tom even though he didn't know why. If anything, that should've made him even more wary.
Harry gave a small nod, still not looking up from the stick. "I see. Why this clearing?"
"It's peaceful. It makes me believe that one day those idiots won't kill me." Tom twitched as he inadvertently revealed his fear of death, even if in a rather roundabout way.
Finally, Harry stopped looking at the stick and locked eyes with Tom. "Do you fear death?" He asked, voice nary a whisper. But Tom heard.
"Yes," he said truthfully, choosing to not deny it. He had already practically stated he did, so why lie?
"Why?" Harry asked. "What is so scary about death?"
Tom blinked. "What is… death is the end. There is nothing after. Death is the same as destruction. Why wouldn't it be terrifying?"
Harry chuckled. "A childish reply, I should've expected." Before Tom could even open his mouth to retort, Harry carried on. "Dying is not the end. There will always be something after- whatever that something is depends on your choices. Living, I should say, is much scarier. You never know exactly what will happen, who will betray you, who is using you to their own ends." Here Harry seemed more like he was musing to himself than anything.
Tom's eyebrows furrowed as he thought that over. "But life is your existence." He insisted.
Harry nodded. "True. But why fear what will give you eternal peace over the thing that you need eternal peace from?"
"And what, exactly, would you need eternal peace from?" Tom challenged.
"Life," Harry said simply.
Tom gave Harry a deadpan look, "You're crazy."
He chuckled again. "Perhaps, but really, who is truly sane in this world?" He seemed to muse to himself for a moment again, and as Tom stood up to leave, he spoke again.
Tom had turned around and was walking away when he heard Harry's parting comment. "Death is not to be feared- it has only one card. Life has a full deck. You'd do well to remember that, Tom Riddle."
When Tom turned around to ask what he meant, Harry was already gone.
Shaken, Tom returned to the orphanage, mulling over the odd conversation. Had he imagined it? No, he would never have come up with something like that.
But what the hell did that whole thing mean?
Shaking his head, he put it from his mind, subsequently forgetting about the conversation.
Five years later, when Tom was leaving Ollivander's, his new wand in his hand, he felt a mark on it. Looking it over, he saw, written in small handwriting just about the handle, the words 'Fear not death, Tom Marvolo Riddle'. Seeing the words, the memory of the conversation in the forest returned, and Tom truly considered Harry's words for the first time.
Many years after, when Tom closed his eyes for the last time, releasing his last breath, he glanced at his wand, faithfully next to him as always, the words engraved on the side looking as fresh as if they had just been carved on.
He had lived a full life, going through Hogwarts finally freeing himself from his fear of dying. He hadn't gotten married, but had adopted a few magical children from orphanages, and he worked as one of the best ministry workers they had.
Now, prepared for death, Tom mentally thanked Harry for his weird words as he left that clearing as a six year old all those years ago.
Finding himself in a white expanse looking astonishingly like King's Cross, Tom heard a voice from behind him. "Tom Riddle."
He turned to see Harry, looking as he had when they first met, stick- now recognized as a wand- in hand. "Harry," he acknowledged, looking him over before snorting and taking a small step forward, "or should I say, Death."
Harry gave him the smallest of smile before gesturing towards a train that just appeared. "Your afterlife is waiting." Tom gave Harry a nod as he stepped on to the train, internally chuckling.
Fear not death, indeed.
~•~ ~•~ ~•~
Probably a little stupid, yeah, but whatever. It was a small little plotbunny that wouldn't leave me alone. This was planned to be just a oneshot, so don't expect anything else unless enough people ask for Harry's side of this or something.
~Faeries and Vampyres