Prologue
Through the dense fog, Albus Dumbledore could tell that the sun was very nearly down. He brought his scarf once more around his neck as he made his journey through what was shaping to be a cold twilight.
Dumbledore checked his watch again. He had only a few more minutes.
However, that was not his worry. He knew how long it would take to arrive. He knew exactly where he was going.
He stopped to collect himself, leaning his weight fully against a tree. He breathed in, eyes closed.
He had to trust his judgment. He had to be confident that he was doing the right thing. Otherwise, he would never be able to push through.
He used his powerful Occlumency skills to clear his mind, storing any worries and troubles he had for later. One deep breath in, and he switched his persona on.
Eyes sparkling, mouth a wide grin. He hummed to the heavens a melody which birds would chirp too, were there any. He cheerfully laid one foot in front of the other, making one of the few treks novel to him.
Finally, as he made his way, the trees around him began thinning. He heard the sounds of gushing water.
At that moment, the shabby workings of a very old bridge came into sight, directly above a vicious river that had the energy and wild will of a young rabbit.
This was where it began, the legend of the three brothers. This foggy, desolate space would soon spring a new legend.
He walked up to the bridge, fascinated by the historical significance of the forgotten relic. My, it had taken him more than a few weeks to pinpoint its location. Scouring history books and documents, uncovering when and where Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus lived, and where they were likely headed when they encountered Him.
Dumbledore stood patiently, waiting. He passed his time with a challenge, curious how many words he could think of rhyming with heberdenia, a plant he had spotted along his journey.
He knew he would not be waiting for too long.
Just on time, a misty form materialized in front of Dumbledore's eyes. The sun was entirely down now, and only the diffused light from it as well as the glowing full moon above granted Dumbledore vision of it.
It stood tall like the willow trees around it, gazing down at him patiently. It was wrapped in a long black cloak with many ripples and tears, and carried an odor of burning flesh. The figure did not move. The hood was slightly declined, queueing Albus to the fact that it was watching him.
"Good evening." Dumbledore nodded respectfully. He had a feeling that, were there a face encompassed by that black hood, it would be smirking.
"I suppose the proper question for you would be do we have a deal? But seeing as this is our first encounter, I'll begin by introducing myself. My name is Albus," he said. "How do you wish to be called? Yanluo? Supay?"
"You may call me Venerable One, Albus." Its voice was raspy, though deep. Albus felt privileged to hear it.
"Venerable One, I appreciate your time. Frankly, I am aghast that we have not met sooner after all the lemon drops I have eaten over these long years."
The figure was stoic, making no acknowledgment of Albus's joke. Albus continued into the crux of the meeting. He was there for a reason and he understood the value of this being's time.
"It has come to my attention that Lord Voldemort has acquired a weapon that may destroy our efforts to resist him. I come before you in desperation. I do hope that the two of us have a common enemy in him."
The figure spoke.
"I have no enemies, Albus Dumbledore. It is not my place to meddle in the affairs of humans."
Albus's eyes showed his defiance. He would not give up so easily.
"This common foe of ours has escaped your clutches through artificial means –"
The figure cut him off.
"This foe floods me with souls daily. Why would I help you destroy him?"
Dumbledore stared unblinkingly at the figure so much taller than himself. He smiled confidently. Despite the biting remarks, Albus pretended he was talking with a warm, close friend.
"Because the way of life he seeks is unsustainable. He would see it that all Muggles and Muggleborns die, and pureblood wizards become the majority. However, our numbers are not large enough to maintain life. We will die out. And you will be out of a job."
The figure did not move. In fact, the only evidence to it not being a statue was the slight rippling of its robes caused by the cool breeze.
"Do not pretend you know anything about me. Whether I care about the demise of the human race, or if I enjoy my job is none of your concern. But we are here to talk business, and luckily for you I am prepared to make a deal."
"As I had hoped," said Dumbledore. He brought from his purple gown a cloak of invisibility. He unraveled it and there, in its center, lay a stone and a wand.
The cloaked figure laughed at the offer.
"What makes you think I am interested in these? Or that I would wish to remove them from the mortal world? Do you know how many souls I receive from dimwits in search of these trinkets?"
Dumbledore mentally grimaced. It had been worth a try.
"Then how would you like to be repaid for your services?" asked Albus earnestly. His smile was unnoticeably forced.
The cloaked figure stood quiet for a moment, as if calculating and scanning for an edge to trick Albus twenty moves down the road.
"I require five honest souls in exchange for my help."
Albus noticeably paled. The truly wicked traits of the figure before him finally came to light. His persona was switching off and his Occlumency shields were being tried with emotion.
It was clear to Albus that this Venerable One had no use for these souls amidst a flood of so many daily. He just wanted to part Albus of something, the grief of which might even shorten his life. Maybe this figure was looking forward to their next exchange premature. Dumbledore made another offer.
"Take me. I offer myself in exchange."
Death laughed.
"Why would I want you, Albus Dumbledore. No, no. I'll have you any day now. You are aging and your dismal offers show for it. I require five honest souls. Additionally, I do not require the cloak of invisibility. I require the human whose trunk you stole it from last night."
Dumbledore's eyes glinted with emotion that his face did not show. He looked down. Going in, he knew it might come to this. He was willing to offer the Deathly Hallows in a heartbeat, even his own life. It was his sincerest hope that one of these might interest this being. He was also aware of the possibility that He may require what meant most to Dumbledore: the sacrificial lamb, the young man he loved so dearly. It was a price for the mere sake of setting a price.
Tears sparkled in Albus's eyes.
He had to accept. Too much was at stake. Where did six lives stand against millions?
Sourly, Dumbledore wondered what people would think about him in a thousand years. Would they applaud his action? Or would his name become a taboo? And if things did not go as planned, would he become the fool who thought he was cleverer than Death? He thought he could make a deal with Death, but in the end Death tricked him. He had not learned from Beedle's tales when he was a child.
But he had to do what he thought was right, regardless of what others might think or how he would be remembered.
Albus found no need to hide it. The tears fell freely and his age engulfed him. He summoned a stick to lean heavily on, looking back up at the haughty figure.
"One more thing," Death added. The grin Dumbledore imagined within the hood was from ear to ear.