Name: Death (Or Something Like That).
Timeline: Halloween 1981.
Fandom: HP.
Ship: Gen.
Rating: K.
Summery: James Potter meets DEATH. And it's entirely not what he had expected.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
James' eyes were squeezed shut and his fist was closed around his wand, like a child hearing the rattle of the chains dragging up the roller coaster.
But the fall never came. He opened one eye carefully, and then the second. Noticing the ceiling of his house was about as unharmed as it could be, he sat up.
"Is that it?" He asked himself. His surprisingly unharmed living room seemed remarkably like a youth club after the police had raided the party.
"It depends on how you look at it."
James turned his head. Standing on the collapsed front door was a hunched figure in an enormous black hood. An unnaturally sharp sickle wrapped the October Sky moon in a cold embrace above his head.
How sharp does a sickle need to be to reap souls?
"What do you mean?" asked James.
"What I mean is that if you look at it from the eyes of the living - yes, that's all. But it's an extremely pessimistic way of thinking. Look at it from the eyes of the dead- it's just the beginning."
"It's very encouraging," James lied. "So ... who are you?"
"Who do you think I am?"
"I do not know ... at first I thought you were Rocky Davis- you know, from the 'Mad Goblins' band..."
"Really? Well, that's so flattering ..."
"But then I realized Rocky has a really good posture. Don't be offended, but you have a rather curved shape, mate."
"Yes, eh? Well, you can have it all."
"So if you're not Rocky Davis, you must be -"
"DEATH," completed DEATH kindly.
James sighed. "That's what I was afraid of."
"Yeah, well, what can you do."
The standard order of events was constructing in James' mind. Now, when it was detached from his body, it was organized and clear than ever.
He always thought that Peter was such a nice guy ... He regretted not hanging him from his shoe laces in the Hogwarts Express' loo in their first year after all.
"What about Lily and Harry? And Voldemort? What happened to them?"
"I have bad news, good news and even better news."
"That sounds optimistic. Start from the good to the bad."
Maybe DEATH was grinning under his hood, but James couldn't see it, and was glad of that. "Wonderful - just like life. You're beginning to catch the whole idea of being dead."
"Thanks."
"Anyway - the best news is that lovely Lily is dead; a charming addition to my collection, if you ask me. The good news is that I managed to bite off a piece of little Tommy's soul, too. The bad news is ... well, the baby survived."
"Bummer," James let out, too stunned to be shocked.
"Yes ... you know, with all this rotten technological development I don't get a lot of little babies nowadays. Too bad- I like children."
"I guess ..." James shook his head, which wasn't actually there. "Tell me, what will happen to him now?"
"To who?"
"To Harry."
"How should I know?"
"I don't know. I thought you were involved in the works of larger forces then my humble self..."
"You think?"DEATH snorted scornfully. "To hell with these Fates -" a roof rafter was disconnected from the ceiling and almost hit DEATH's hooded head.
"... They are so cool! I wish I had their style ..." he piped obsequiously.
James was not satisfied. "But what about what was left of Voldemort? What about the prophecy?"
"Pah - people ask me this all the time. Look, man, I'm just getting orders – when someone up there decides its time to have a big tea party in the Land of the Mortals, I will be there to collect the souls of the wicked. I don't know anything about the whole 'End of Days' thingy-" DEATH's skeletal fingers made cynical quotation marks in the air. "And as for your first question - well, no one can get away from me. I ran into Tommy a few times on the street. One day we'll meet for lunch. You know how it is."
"I don't think you understood me quite well," James ventured to say.
"I think I understand you better than you understand yourself."
"But -"
"Well, enough talk." DEATH stuck two skeletal fingers in his mouth and let out a chilling hiss, like the sound of the train brakes that is heard too late when your car is stuck on the tracks. A jolly handsome white horse jumped into the house through the shattered door frame. DEATH stroked his head in appreciation.
"A horse. It's... cute," said James, surprised.
"Yeah, eh? A good horse, too."
"Ah... you know, I was expecting you the have something scarier as a mount- a zombie dragon, or at least an evil unicorn..."
"I know. Once I had the skeleton of a horse, but it kept falling apart. Not to mention the inconvenience ..."DEATH climbed easily onto the back of his horse and gave James a hand. "You coming?"
James decided to be a smart-mouth for one last time during his stay in the land of mortality. After all, everything has its one last time.
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
James sighed and took DEATH's senseless hand, and he threw him onto the saddle behind him. Then he spurred his horse, who started racing and soared into the black sky, skyrocketing up and up, beyond the stars, into the clouds of eternity.
"Say," shouted James in an attempt to overcome the silence that thundered around them. "What will happen to Sirius and Remus and Peter and all the rest?"
DEATH rolled his eyes to the question. "I'll tell them you said hello when I see them. I'm sure it will not be too long."