THE NEXT GREAT ADVENTURE: A ROLE PLAYING GAME

"I have nothing more to say to you, Potter," he said quietly. "You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry had not even opened his mouth to resist. His mind was blank, his wand pointing uselessly at the floor.

But the headless golden statue of the wizard in the fountain had sprung alive, leaping from its plinth, and landed on the floor with a crash between Harry and Voldemort. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung out its arms, protecting Harry.

"What — ?" said Voldemort, staring around. And then he breathed, "Dumbledore!"

Harry looked behind him, his heart pounding. Dumbledore was standing in front of the golden gates.

Voldemort raised his wand and sent another jet of green light at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak; next second he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand toward the remnants of the fountain; the other statues sprang to life too. The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest, before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, the goblin and the house-elf scuttled toward the fireplaces set along the wall, and the one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool. The headless statue thrust Harry backward, away from the fight, as Dumbledore advanced on Voldemort and the golden centaur cantered around them both.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly. "The Aurors are on their way —"

"By which time I shall be gone, and you dead!" spat Voldemort. He sent another Killing Curse at Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security guards desk, which burst into flame.

Dumbledore flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry, though shielded by his stone guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed, and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gong-like note reverberated from it, an oddly chilling sound. . . .

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. "Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —"

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!" snarled Voldemort.

"You are quite wrong," said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. Harry felt scared to see him walking along, undefended, shieldless. He wanted to cry out a warning, but his headless guard kept shunting him backward toward the wall, blocking his every attempt to get out from behind it. "Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness —"

Another jet of green light flew from behind the silver shield. This time it was the one-armed centaur, galloping in front of Dumbledore, that took the blast and shattered into a hundred pieces, but before the fragments had even hit the floor, Dumbledore had drawn back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, shield and all. For a moment, it seemed Dumbledore had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold upon Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Dumbledore. Voldemort vanished. The snake reared from the floor, ready to strike —

There was a burst of flame in midair above Dumbledore just as Voldemort reappeared, standing on the plinth in the middle of the pool where so recently the five statues had stood.

"Look out!" Harry yelled.

But even as he shouted, one more jet of green light had flown at Dumbledore from Voldemort's wand and the snake had struck —

Fawkes swooped down in front of Dumbledore, opened his beak wide, and swallowed the jet of green light whole. He burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled, and flightless. At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one, long, fluid movement — the snake, which had been an instant from sinking its fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke; the water in the pool rose up and covered Voldemort like a cocoon of molten glass —

For a few seconds Voldemort was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth, clearly struggling to throw off the suffocating mass —

Then he was gone, and the water fell with a crash back into its pool, slopping wildly over the sides, drenching the polished floor.

"MASTER!" screamed Bellatrix.

Sure it was over, sure Voldemort had decided to flee, Harry made to run out from behind his statue guard, but Dumbledore bellowed, "Stay where you are, Harry!"

For the first time, Dumbledore sounded frightened. Harry could not see why. The hall was quite empty but for themselves, the sobbing Bellatrix still trapped under her statue, and the tiny baby Fawkes croaking feebly on the floor —

And then Harry's scar burst open. He knew he was dead: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance —

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature's began. They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape —

And when the creature spoke, it used Harry's mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move. . . .

"Kill me now, Dumbledore. . . ."

Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again. . . .

"If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy. . . ."

Let the pain stop, thought Harry. Let him kill us. . . . End it, Dumbledore. . . . Death is nothing compared to this. . . .

And I'll see Sirius again. . . .

TNGA

And just as suddenly as the pain began, it stopped. The creature with was red eyes gone. Harry kept his eyes closed, savoring the release of —

Harry's eyes shot open with the realization of his last thoughts. "Oh no. . . ." he whispered softly.

Immediately Harry began to sit up. No longer was he lying on the hard marble of the Ministry atrium but instead in a cheap office straight out of the early 1980s. Harry felt the scratchy carpet, smelt the cheap cleaners, and tasted the dry, sterile air. Memos were stacked in cubicles with photos of bland family members each one more unremarkable than the last.

Faintly, a soft whish followed by a light plink was heard.

Harry's ears perked up. He was bombarded with the familiarity of the sound. Harry's mind was brought back to the summers with the Dursleys, when, stuck in his room doing homework or writing letters, he would wad up his parchment and toss it to the rubbish bin. Harry followed the sound.

When Harry turned the corner he glimpsed a head of the most towhead blonde hair he'd ever seen. Upon looking further he could see it belonged to a tall, yet skinny woman who was barely out of her teens dressed in tight jeans and a leather jacket straight out of a Buzzcocks concert. He could see she was listening to headphones while wadding up piece of parchment and aiming for a distant rubbish bin.

As Harry approached, he made as much noise as normally possible in order to avoid surprising her. When he was halfway down the hall she suddenly turned up to look and immediately made eye contact. Instantly, Harry felt like his entire life was on display in a Diagon Alley shop. He knew that she wasn't human because no human could make Harry feel like that with a single look.

"You're right, I'm not human," she said abruptly in a very un-girly tone.

Harry straightened and stood still with his jaw hanging open. "How? . . ."

"That's really what you want to ask? Not where am I? What am I doing here?"

Harry sighed. Of course dying wouldn't be easy.

She snorted. "Normally it is rather easy. Dying. Just like falling asleep. Or so I'm told," she said replied to my thought while seemingly placing all her attention on throwing the parchment into the trashcan.

"Wait. . . . what?"

She raised her eyebrow and looked back at me in response.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"Finally! The good stuff!" she exclaimed. "I am Death."

Harry stared in response. "I'm guessing this isn't the standard protocol," he said flatly.

"Nope," she replied, popping the 'p.'

"Why am I here then?" Harry asked resignedly.

"I got bored."

". . . .bored?"

"Well when I say 'I', it's more like 'we'."

"BORED?!" Harry exploded. "YOU WERE BORED!"

Death's expression changed instantly. No longer aloof but intense and intimidating. Harry was suddenly stuck to his chair, frozen. "Understand this Harry James Potter. I allow you to feel like you have a body. I allow you to speak. I. Will not. Be. Yelled at."

Just as quickly as he was stuck, Harry was released. He instantly exhaled. "I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "I forgot who I was talking to."

She waved him off, "It was my fault. I was baiting you. Better you get it out of your system now then later."

Harry made to speak but was interrupted.

"Now with that done. I have a proposal for you. You see I along with Fate and a few others have been getting rather bored for a while. All work and no play is now way to live, you know? But in the past few years we've actually found something entertaining that you might be familiar with."

Harry looked at her questioningly. What could death find entertaining?

"Why video games, of course!"

Harry simply stared in response.

"RPGs, role playing games, specifically," she continued. "And while they were fun for a while, they were no where near as immersive as we wanted. So we made our own! We tried to create a game as realistic and immersive as possible while still having some of the elements we liked from the games we played. While there were a few headaches while we were creating the game we're almost done with it.

"And that now brings us to you."

"Me?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Yes, you. One Harry James Potter. You see we need someone to beta-test the game."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. Death took it as permission to continue.

"Now why you, you might ask? To be honest, most people live extremely boring lives. You however led a rather exciting life. Even amongst wizards, who are a rather strange and entertaining people, your life was exceptional. Dark wizards, monsters out of bedtime stories, damsels in distress, you had it all!

"Now in agreeing to beta-test our game, you will be granted a boon. The boon is mostly as an apology from Fate for giving you such an epic yet shit life."

Harry opened and closed his jaw making to speak but couldn't find the words. "A boon?" he finally asked.

"Yes," she confirmed now looking very intently at me. "Specifically, you get the opportunity to live a real childhood. Sirius Black was your parents secret keeper, Voldemort never visited your house on Halloween and you're not the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry thought about it for a while. "Where do I start?"

Death grinned, "Okay here's what we're going to do. . . ."