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Memento Mori, Memento Amor
Chapter 1: The Dark Lord's Fall


Coming back to life was like waking from a long sleep. His head was spinning, his limbs numb from being dead for what had seemed forever and the inside of his mouth felt drier than a river emptied from drought. He was sure that some dirt clung to the edges of his lips and his eyelids, from lying face down against the earth for so long. Incoherently, Harry wondered if he was like Sleeping Beauty, awakened from her corpselike state by a kiss.

Except, it wasn't a kiss that had summoned him back into the world of the living, it wasn't even the prophecy or the war or even his friends, still desperately fighting. It was the Horcrux, that had died and been left behind at King's cross. The horcrux had allowed him to come back to life (and perhaps, being the Master of Death had helped a little as well).

But there was no time for that now.

He was dimly aware of voices, muttering in tones of reverence and delight, as well as the rushed shuffles of robes, almost as haunting as the quiet breeze rolling across the trees. It felt different now. The Forbidden Forest seemed to shake with quiet murmurs, almost alive and aware of Harry's every breath while Voldemort's followers remained oblivious to the ever so slight rises from his lungs.

Harry felt as if he could feel something whispering in the trees, a presence in the wind. He was hyperaware of the wand pushed up his sleeve and the invisibility cloak, cushioning his chest against the hard soil. And he could feel something hummingwithin a few feet away. But before he could question it, he felt the same hum from his wand and cloak.

"My Lord...!"

He let his eyes part for a fraction, straining them upwards for a glance. It looked as though a congregation of black robes had decided to hover in a circle. It appeared that Voldemort had been blasted back when he had killed Harry earlier, a fact that surprised him. He wondered if it was an effect from destroying your own Horcrux or even...

"...Is he dead...?" The Dark Lord rasped, standing up despite the Death Eater's protests.

Harry hastily shut his eyes and stilled his breath. His fingers twitched for his wand while his mind, still sluggish from King's Cross, asked what he would do next. Was it more wise to feign death for a while and then catch the Dark Lord by surprise or would he try to kill him now? There was still Nagini to contend with...

The image of the infantile Horcrux from the train station flashed through Harry's mind and he felt his hold on his wand weaken.

No. He couldn't kill Voldemort or Nagini now. Not when he had seen what became of the shattered pieces of Tom Riddle's soul. That fate wasn't one Harry would wish on anyone.

But what can I do? Harry thought. Nagini has to die eventually. It's too dangerous to let the possibility of Voldemort returning to power again linger. But perhaps Voldemortat least the part of Tom Riddle's soul that is Voldemort nowmight listen to reason, a last minute pleading for remorse...

A cool hand settled on his wrist, returning Harry's mind to the reality at hand. He didn't open his eyes nor did he dare to breathe. It was odd, but at that moment, Harry just knew from touch who this woman was.

"...My son... Draco... is he alive?"

Her grip was tight, cutting off his circulation, and Harry thought of his own mother then, how she might have looked before she had to die. Was she just as desperate to see to her son? Was she that brave that she would turn her back on her world just for him?

Fighting back the lump in this throat, he whispered back a fierce 'yes.'

Then he listened to Narcissa announce that he was dead. Voldemort let out a cry of joy, rampantly speaking of how a mere child could never best him while cheers and sparks were thrown into the air enthusiastically. The death eaters' triumphant cries sounded like drums preparing for war but they could not drown out Hagrid's sobs.

Don't worry, Hagrid. Harry wanted to say, as he was lifted in the giant's arms, the 'guest of honour.' as Voldemort had put it, in the dark army's march of victory into Hogwarts. Everything will be alright. I'll find a way.He saw the little horcrux in his mind again. I'll find a way.


He felt suffocated, even though Hagrid was carrying him reverently like a sacrificial lamb. Dizzying feelings were swarming within Harry's consciousness, pulling at him eagerly as the wand and invisibility cloak had earlier. He was aware of every death eater's presence, as if they were flames he could see in the dark and when they stepped into Hogwarts, Harry felt the school's aura swell up as the brightest of suns.

He fought the urge to vomit, and instead, listened to the sound of Hagrid's sombre breaths, the footsteps of the death eaters echoing down the staircases and the frantic heart beat pounding in his chest. They stopped, after many turns and twists. Harry could guess from the number of steps and the general direction that they were at the doors to the great hall. It was odd but he could feel something surrounding the doors, like solid light had wrapped around it. He wondered if his venture into death had given a better perception of magic because then he could sense when Voldemort lifted his wand.

A hush fell on the death eaters, the anticipation heavy in the air. Again, Harry could feel the burning light swell within the Dark Lord's wand before it rushed out as an alohomora charm, followed by a heavy confringo which eagerly ate the doors in flames.

The doors were blasted apart with a third spell that Harry didn't recognize, but he felt the hinges break completely and the doors land heavily at the opposite end of the hall. Silence answered them.

Voldemort, and Harry knew that it was him because he could actually hear the wand singing with delight at the tasks it had achieved for its master, walked in first. His steps were calm and deliberate, the only thing anyone could hear or focus on.

The death eaters followed, with Hagrid moving slowly behind them. The giant was trembling, his massive legs dragged against the floor. Harry fought the urge to embrace him and tell his friend that he was alive. The magic shifting around him, from the wand and the invisibility cloak and the tug far in the distance, told him that it wasn't the time yet. He needed to wait.

"No... NO!"

It was Professor McGonagall. She was screaming obscenities that Harry had never dreamed that he'd hear from her mouth before.

"Harry, Harry! Harry, please wake up! You can't leave me too!"

Her voice was joined by others. Some yelled in denial. Some were openly sobbing like Hagrid was. Some were swearing at him, asking why he was playing a joke, why he was failing them. Those comments stung the most, because they were right. He was fooling them and when he had walked to his death earlier, he truly would have failed them.

I'm sorry.

Hot tears burned within Harry's eyelids but he kept them shut. He had to keep pretending. No matter how much it pained him to hear his friends in despair; he needed to keep this facade up until he could come up with a plan...

"Yess..." Voldemort hissed, "Your saviour, the boy-who-lived is dead and no more! He stood not chance against me!"

"You liar! He wouldn't... he... Dumbledore..."

"Was wrong," The delight increased the more that Voldemort spoke. "The fool believed in love, that a silly non-existent emotion like love could defeat me. The boy had no such love for you—"

Harry was irritated about this. He had faced Voldemort with the intention of sparing his friends from further deaths. The Dark Lord knew nothing of real love—then he felt saddened, because Voldemort truly knew nothing.

"The boy was a coward, he walked to his death willingly, without a fight—"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Startled, Harry felt the beginnings of a lethal cutting curse about to be released from a familiar fourteen inch willow wand, with a unicorn core glowing brightly in the middle. And there was a forbidden curse, about to be ushered from thirteen inch cherry wand, from the other side of the hall.

Harry wrenched open his eyes, about to shout but it was too late.

The incantations were said and were fired towards Voldemort from left and right. But the Dark Lord easily repelled these attacks with powerful rebounding shields and in the case of the cruciofrom Neville's wand, dodged it completely. Harry felt the remnants of the torture curse being absorbed into Hogwart's walls, assimilated into the school's broad aura. As for the cutting curse, it had bounced back towards its castor.

Ron let out a cry and Harry saw the spurts of red gushing from his arm. Hermione screamed, running towards his side but Ron tried to refuse, babbling at her to stay back. She refused, pointing her wand at his wound, trying to whisper any remedies she knew. They weren't working. It had been a dark curse that Ron used.

Neville looked white and then he was livid, shouting out a succession of spells—stunning spells, banishing charms, more attempts at the crucio like fireworks within Harry's head. He had never known magic could feel so volatile and destructive, like corporal emotions run rampant.

Professor McGonagall joined him, transfiguring overturned chairs and suits of armour into vicious dragons or lions to attack. They were alive with her fury.

They didn't work. Voldemort blocked or dodged the charms all and when he saw it fit, cast a quick freezing charm to hold Neville in place. The lions he killed with almost instantaneous curses and before the professor could utter another offensive spell, he blasted her into the wall and she fell.

"You dare to attack me?" Voldemort whispered, his cloak swishing as he walked down the center of the hall, wizards and witches watching him from both sides.

Hagrid stiffened, holding Harry closer.

No one moved. Harry could only hear Hermione's frantic whispers, echoing sobs from different students, Ron's pained groans and Neville's stilled wand.

It seemed like forever before Voldemort said, "You are both purebloods, yet you rebel. How foolish. Can you not see the perfect society I will create? Under my rule, the wizarding world shall rise into glory, but only if you see this opportunity and join with me."

His voice was soothing, magnetic, almost like a kind father's. Harry found himself hating Voldemort for that, having such a beautiful voice and using it to tempt others as the serpent in the Garden of Eden. He could understand why so many were charmed by him when he had been Riddle. It was a voice that willed many to his side, to the point of obsessed devotion.

"I do not want to hurt you," Voldemort continued gently. It made Harry want to vomit. "I do not want to harm any children tonight. You are all part of my plan, essential for magic to rise. You are precious to me. Dumbledore has been leading you all astray, weakening you and taking away your potential. He has ignored the dangers of integrating mudbloods into—"

"Into what? Your sick twisted vision of the world? Well, I want no part in it, you murderer! I like muggles and I like the way things were when Dumbledore was alive!" Ron shouted, "Bring Harry back to us! Give him back!"

He shouted another dark curse (Harry was starting to wonder if Ron had taken to reading in the Restricted Section of the library secretly or if the twins had had something to do with this increasingly violent repertoire) but it rebounded again from Voldemort's shields, hurtling back towards him.

"Ron!"

There was a sickening squelch, liquid falling on the floor and now it was Ron who chanting a name in horror.

Hermione, it seemed, had pushed him to the ground and tried to counter the curse, only for it to drive through her defences and hit her in the chest. She was bleeding heavily. Harry felt the tiny sparks of the curse, left over, eating away at her skin.

"...I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Mione... please don't... please don't die... Mione, hang on..."

They were both bleeding, on the floor. The only difference was how much blood they were losing.

Voldemort's laugh echoed into the ceiling. "How poetic, that the mudblood whore dies for the blood-traitor. It brings tears of joy to my eyes, a fitting end. I wonder how much you will suffer, Weasley, for defying me when I kill her in front of you..."

He raised his wand, the first syllables on his tongue. The air turned cold, as Harry realized that he was sensing the killing curse being channelled from the dark lord's wand. He panicked, thoughts of 'No, not them, not Ron and Hermione, not them, no!' rushing within his mind.

Three things happened.

The magic from the wand, the cloak and the stone in the forest whispered, 'Now.'

Voldemort whispered, "Avada Kedavra."

Harry jumped up from Hagrid's arms (he ignored the loud gasp from the giant and bewildered looks from the death eaters) and dashed in between the dark lord and his two best friends, facing the frightening green light for the third time in his life.

It did not hit him.

Instead, it shot straight into the ceiling, as if repelled by Harry's mere presence. Staring in shock at Voldemort's equally stunned face; Harry was beginning to wonder if there was more to being the Master of Death than he had previously believed...

Every eye was fixed on him.

"Impossible..." Voldemort stepped back. "You were dead... I killed you..."

The dark lord looked so very small in the moment that Harry could not help but quirk a sad smile. "Apparantly I'm not that easy to kill. Boy-who-lived, remember?"

For a moment, Harry thought he saw something indescribable flicker in those red eyes, before the slits on Voldemort's pale face went livid and he aimed a wandless cutting hex towards Harry's face. Instantly, Harry brought up a shield charm, forgetting to say the words. The shield absorbed the spell before redirecting the remaining blasts towards the walls.

Voldemort howled and fired again, "You will not defeat me!"

Pandemonium erupted.

Students and professors, renewed with vigour at Harry's inexplicable rise from the dead, began to shout spells at the death eaters, who were still startled. Hagrid happily bashed a few death eater's heads together, shouting "He's alive, I should'a known!" Even more surprising, it seemed, was the moment the house elves stormed into the hall, holding up pots and pans, being led by brave little Kreacher, who was shouting encouragement towards their side.

Madam Pomfrey rushed towards Ron and Hermione, covered by Professor Flitwick (he really was quite the duellist, Harry was thankful that he was on their side) and Professor Slughorn who was surprisingly adept at hexes. "Go, Mr. Potter, go!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, while jumping up and down, firing charms. "We will take care of the rest."

He nodded his thanks before running blindly through the cross-fire of hexes and curses, shooting in different directions of the hall. Students, teachers and aurors alike were fighting for their lives. Harry could see Luna and Cho working on breaking the spell on Neville while Dean and Seamus defended them from misfire. To his surprise he saw that Draco and some of the other Slytherins were joining, blasting back the Carrows from a group of helpless first years.

Professor Trelawney was helping a haggard Professor McGonagall up, but the Transfiguration Professor still looked fierce and ready to maim and kill if necessary to protect her students. She and the Divinations Professor knocked more than their share of death eaters unconscious with a vicious blend of spells that Harry was going to have to ask them to teach him some day.

There was Bellatrix, taunting Mrs. Weasley with threats against Ginny and once, Harry would have been outraged to see this. But he trusted in Molly and the Order. He knew his task.

He ran towards Voldemort, but the dark wizard was stepping back towards the gates, looking at him with bewilderment... with fear.

"This cannot be happening... I will notlet this happen. It is a trick!" Voldemort nearly slipped on his robes. Harry continued to approach calmly. A few stunners grazed his arms as they rushed through while all lethal spells seemed to bounce away from him. "You can't be alive... you cannot be..."

"You've said that already," Harry pointed out, once he was a foot away from Voldemort. "Denial won't change what is."

"Don't mock me!" He hissed, in what was perhaps parseltongue. Harry wasn't sure. If he wasn't a horcrux anymore, would he be able to understand it? "I killed you!"

"No," said Harry. "You killed yourself."

Voldemort recoiled, realization dawning upon him. "No...that night on Halloween..."

"Yes," he stepped forward, transfixed by the red eyes. "You made a seventh horcrux that night... you placed your soul in me... And now I live, because the one you killed in the forest was your soul." He gulped, recalling the pained cries of the little horcrux. "Do you feel remorse for this?"

There was a flinch and suddenly Voldemort was shouting, "Avada Kedavra, Avada Kedavra!" over and over, as if it were a prayer. But each time the green light rushed towards Harry's heart it would avert paths and dash into the darkened ceiling like a firework.

"You can't kill me," said Harry, "not with that wand."

Voldemort staggered back, his hands shaking. Harry had never seen the Dark Lord so unhinged. Maddened with rage, yes, but not so openly afraid.

"No... No... I will end you... You're mine, Harry Potter, my life to extinguish! I will not rest until it is my hands that squeeze the last breath out of your, even if I must do it myself!"

At first, Harry was unsure what Voldemort meant.

But when he heard the expelliarmusshouted, felt it burst through the air and nearly drive the wand in his sleeve away, he thought he knew. Then there were cold fingers clamped around his neck and Harry knew that if the killing curse wasn't going to work, then Voldemort would strangle him personally.

Harry gasped, pushing at the older man's chest and trying to kick him away. But Voldemort had a strong grip and Harry couldn't quite concentrate with the sensation of the air being blocked from his lungs. It felt like he was drowning, but he wasn't cold. Instead his body swelled up with pain, as if it were a balloon about to burst and then constrict into tattered little holes. Blurs filled his vision. The only things that stayed clear in Harry's vision were gleaming red eyes.

He kicked the dark lord in the groin. This loosened the grip and startled at groan from Voldemort, while Harry tried to punch him and get away. But the force of the hands returned, crushing Harry's throat with more force. He felt his back crush against the brick wall.

Hogwart's magic rose angrily, seeing the master of death being cornered in her vicinity. The enchantments on the ceiling rushed downwards in a bolt of lightning, separating Voldemort from Harry and burning the dark lord's hands.

Harry slumped back, gasping for precious air. He felt the lingering phantom pains around his skin, his neck and knew that the bruises would remain for a long time. Shaking, he rose to his feet, meeting Voldemort's livid gaze with calm.

"I told you...," he said with difficulty. His throat felt constricted, smaller after nearly being strangled to death, "that you won't be able... to kill... me..."

"Shut up!"

He felt himself being punched but did not fight it. Every time this occurred, it seemed that Hogwarts would interfere or Harry would be hit and get back up again. His gaze never wavered.

Voldemort seemed more and more erratic as time went on. His magic had no effect, neither did his physical attacks. Sweat trailed down his forehead and this time, when Harry looked at him with steady countenance, the dark lord shrank back.

"What are you?" He hissed. "Why won't you die? Why can't I kill you?"

Harry managed another half-smile, blood trailing down his lips. "Because I'm not afraid of death anymore, I've mastered it."

"Impossible—"

As Harry moved forward, Voldemort raised his hand, as if it would guard him from what Harry's words seemed to do.

"I don't want to kill you, Tom—"

"Do not call me by that name!"

"—I only want to give you another chance, please. Surely you can step down, surrender, subject yourself to Azkaban. It doesn't have to be this way. The prophecy does not have to be fulfilled if you renounce your title and redeem yourself. There's still hope for you, Tom, I know it."

"No," Voldemort twitched, his nostrils flaring. He even began to laugh hysterically, "What do you know about me, Harry Potter? You know nothing of my life, what I have suffered to become great—"

"I know," he insisted, stretching out his hand. "I know about the orphanage. I know about the muggles and what they did to you. I know who you've killed and I know why. Your horcrux in the diary once told me that we were both alike in startling ways. At first, I was horrified and disinclined to believe him, but now, I can see the truth in his words. You wanted acceptance, that's why you walked down your path. And... and I think I understand that, or at least I want to, if you'd let me. Just take my hand, say you'll try for some remorse. We can walk away from this."

Voldemort, no, Tom, stared at him eyes wide, as if Harry were death himself.

His fingers rose, spellbound by the words promising another path and Harry felt his heart beat faster and then—

-Harry felt great pain in his chest, ringing through his body. Shocked, he looked down, seeing long slender fingers wrapped around the wand that Voldemort had thrown away, now stabbed into his heart. Globs of deep crimson stained Harry's robes, oozing slowly around the yew stick and the length of Voldemort's arm.

He opened his mouth, but felt only blood gurgle up through it and stared helplessly at the shaking Dark Lord, who looked unhinged with madness.

"I'm sorry, Tom," said Harry gently to the other wizard's surprise.

He held Voldemort's hand in place, before he raised his own wand and dug the Elder Wand firmly into Tom Riddle's heart.

Crumpling, the dark lord's body fell over top of Harry's, a puddle of red accompanying them. As the world seemed to swirl away into the distance, and Harry heard the distant cries of his friends growing farther away, he wondered if he and Voldemort looked like star-crossed lovers, dying in each other's arms. It was an odd thought to have when you died for the third time, but then again, Harry had always been a very odd wizard.


A train whistle woke Harry. Once more, he found himself lying naked on the floor in a white space filled with fog. He stood, envisioning long green robes, happily putting them on when they appeared. Once he was decent, he looked around, wondering where the station was. The puffs of fog cleared, revealing the platform for King's Cross. Harry could see several trains lined up, all marked with different numbers which Harry took for their destinations.

It was as peaceful and surreal as Harry had remembered it and it seemed like eternity since he had arrived between here and there at all.

Loud shouts broke Harry from his relaxed contemplation. He spun around, surprised to find the elder wand form in his hands when he thought of it. More puzzling was the appearance of the invisibility cloak wrapped around his waist like a belt and the resurrection stone, as a ring on his finger. But before he could analyze their appearance, he spotted Voldemort, thrashing against a crowd of faceless conductors, trying to pull him on a train, marked with the number zero.

Harry rushed over, feeling a shiver of unease when he saw each conductor's face painted pure white, not a hint of feature there. Only the general human shape and dusty uniform comforted Harry into believing that the conductors meant no real harm. They were only doing their job. It wasn't easy being death's collectors.

"Let me go! I don't want to go on, I refuse to die!" Voldemort swatted at the conductors comically, even attempting to bite one of their arms off.

Silently Harry winced and then did a wandless immobilizing charm on the dark lord. The elder wand happily completed the spell with ease and with more force than necessary. Harry had only meant to freeze Voldemort's feet in place, but the wand apparently thought that Voldemort deserved his body save for the head to be motionless.

"You," Voldemort spat, once he saw Harry. "This is your fault!"

The conductors, sensing that the struggle was done, stepped back and watched the confrontation quietly. It made Harry uneasy, like he was giving judgement in a hall lined right to left with faceless statues.

He stared at Voldemort, noting that the man did not look younger or healthier in this place as Harry and Albus had (or did, at the moment). Instead, his features seemed more serpentine, covered with scales and his eyes were red and bloodshot. His back was hunched and there was a slur to his speech. He had become more monstrous looking in the afterlife, perhaps a reflection of his tattered soul.

"Well, to be fair, you did stab me with your wand when I was trying to help you make amends," Harry replied coolly. Being stabbed to death was not a pleasant experience. He would begrudge Voldemort for that for a long time.

"You shouldn't have bothered, stupid brat. Another idiotic ploy from that fool Dumbledore, no doubt, to rescue my immortal soul with love—"

"Albus is not a fool," Harry snapped, losing patience. He had been killed by this man twice, had his parents murdered by him and watched him torture his best friends. He had a right to be angry, "I didn't do it for you. I did it for the piece of your soul that was living inside me! He doesn't deserve to be trapped between life and death, to be a leftover to what's left of your main personality! He deserves a chance to be whole again and make amends for his mistakes. He deserves to be human, not that you'd know anything about it, you bastard."

Voldemort's scales shimmered with anger and suddenly the white fog around him began to turn black. The conductors edged away, afraid of the dark magic infecting this quiet place. Harry watched in horror as Voldemort's neck extended like a snake's, breaking through the immobilizing charm.

"Do not underestimate me," Now Harry was sure that Voldemort was speaking Parseltongue, "I still have one horcrux left. Nagini will suffice as a vessel to bring me to life but before I rejoin the living, I will gain much pleasure in crushing your pathetic afterlife for good!"

Harry felt truly afraid, watching Voldemort snap open his mouth to reveal sharp teeth. The man lunged, probably to swallow Harry whole. Harry raised his wand, thinking blinding of a stunning spell.

A red blur leapt over Harry and began to claw at Voldemort's eyes. Harry watched, transfixed with horror as he recognized the blur as the horcrux from before, trying to rip out Voldemort's eyes with its teeth and limbs, but failing.

It was vicious, scowling and screeching in syllables incomprehensible to man. Voldemort hissed, trying to pry the horcrux off, leaving red trails on its back.

"No!" Harry shouted, shooting a stunning spell towards Voldemort's middle, hoping to shock the dark lord away from his horcrux.

It didn't work. Voldemort only tore the horcrux off his face and threw it towards one of the trains. The horcrux hit its head against the steel outside of the compartment, sliding to the white ground with a groan. Harry wanted to rush after it, see if it was alright, but Voldemort dug his nails into Harry's shoulder, snapping his mouth open to eat him or kill him or...

"Stupefy! Reducto!" Harry roared, repelling the serpentine wizard away. "Don't touch me!"

Something wrapped around Harry's ankle, sending the teenager flat against the ground. He cried out, felt his body pulled towards Voldemort. It appeared that the dark lord had not only grown more serpent-like in the afterlife but had also acquired a long spiked tail. Harry might have found that hilarious on another day, but at the moment, it was downright terrifying, especially when those spikes were digging in his leg and Harry discovered that being hurt as a soul hurt a hundred times worse than when he was alive.

He screamed harder than he ever had when he had breathed air and Voldemort probably enjoyed every moment of it, the bastard!

Hot breaths were hitting his body; Harry could feel the snake face crawling up against his body, probably ready to destroy Harry's soul once and for all—

Harry!

It was a rough, infantile voice that sounded at the same time like an old man's. He gasped, feeling the spikes tear away from his leg and saw the horcrux once again, trying to bit and claw at Voldemort's eyes.

"Tom," Harry whispered, recognizing the horcrux for who it had been, who it was now.

He said my name, was the dizzying thought Harry had, He can talk! He felt rather like a new parent filled with pride and affection.

"I think that's enough fighting now, boys, we wouldn't want any of your souls to blink out of existence forever, would we?" said a familiar voice.

Harry looked up and beamed, "Albus!"

The older wizard beamed in return, gesturing to his companion beside him. "Hello again, Harry. It's nice to see you and Tom again and... er... the other Tom," he nodded to the snake-Voldemort, earning a murderous twitch in response, "I saw the commotion between the other Tom and the conductors and thought I should fetch Death to sort out the problem. Death, I'd like you to meet Mr. Harry James Potter. He's my favourite protégé," Albus boasted, making Harry blush.

He studied the figure carefully, feeling very awkward and shy. The feeling quickly disappeared when he took in what Death looked like.

"Huh... I didn't think that Death was a businessman."

"You were expecting a grim reaper, weren't you?"