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"You reckon this is the real one?" asked Ron.

"Only one way to find out, isn't there," said Harry.

"I think you should do it, Sirius." Hermione said firmly.

"Me?" Sirius asked, surprised.

"Your brother died to get it," Ron said, "and we would of had an awful hard time finding it without you, mate."

"Not to mention, you've got the sword." Harry added. "It's got to be you."

"How are we going to open it?" Ron asked. He looked terrified.

"I'm going to ask it to open in Parsletongue," Harry said. The answer came to him naturally, as if he had always known it. Looking at the serpentine S inlaid with glittering green stones; it was easy to visualize it as a minuscule snake.

"Right." Sirius agreed. His voice was too calm and his knuckles were white around the sword pommel. "I want the three of you out of the room. Ron, Hermione, you wait outside the door. Harry, as soon as you open it, you join them."

"I'm not asking because I see you as kids." Sirius added as they opened their mouths to protest. "Merlin knows you have earned the right to be here as much as I have, but a man has to face his demons alone. Wait outside. I'll shout if I need you."

"Right." Hermione agreed. She gave him a half smile and her eyes were slightly watery. She and Ron trudged across the drawing room's faded carpet, kicking up dust as they went. Just as Ron's hand reached the door handle, and the first hissing syllable formed on Harry's lips, someone knocked.

It was a polite little rat-tat-tat, like bone drumming against wood. It echoed in the silence; it's effects were immediate. The four of them spun around to face it; Ron and Hermione fell backwards into crouches while Harry and Sirius stepped forwards, wands at the ready.

Rat-tat-tat, it came again. They exchanged wary glances. Hermione opened the door with a flick of her wand. The man at the drawing room door was tall and thin; skeletal even. He wore a long black cloak, carried a scythe, and his face was bone white.

I DO HOPE I AM NOT LATE. Death said. He pulled an hourglass on a chain out of his pocket, frowning at it and tapping on the glass with one bony finger. Most of the sand was in the bottom of it, but a small trickle was caught in the top. Four wax stoppers choked the neck of it.

"Late?" Sirius asked nervously.

YOU WERE ABOUT TO KILL A HORCRUX, WEREN'T YOU? Death clarified.

"Oh. Yes. Of course." Harry stammered. "We were just about to do that."

I WOULD LIKE TO WATCH. Death said. TOM RIDDLE HAS BEEN RUNNING FROM ME FOR A VERY LONG TIME. IT IS EXHAUSTING.

"By all means." They agreed, quickly.

BY THE WAY, HARRY POTTER, Death said as he stepped through the door.

Harry flinched. "Yes?"

I HAVE FOUND YOUR LUGGAGE. It shuffled in behind Death, on it's many, many feet. It would have looked sheepish, if a luggage could.