Chapter 2 - Fight From Death

Running from Death when he was dead was not admittedly good idea, but everything so far had not been so good either;

'Right! If turns out everything is alright and I just overreacted there than Death would be fine with an apology right? It wasn't as if he was chasing him right now?'

He looked behind and, yes, Death was vey much chasing him- or more like floating at fast speeds towards him with a tattered starry cloak billowing behind him, he held had an uncanny resemblance to a certain red eye demon that like to do that.

Ron kept running and it seemed he would never get anywhere in this white void that stretched out forever, nothing new ever appearing. He wasn't in anywhere recognizable, no Kings Cross Station like Harry had claimed, and oddly he was still wearing his dragonhide armor even in death, absent of anything else.

Why was he running?

Ron slowed down.

Why was he running, when Death had claimed that Harry and Hermione were simply gone in such a careless and emotionless voice as if he was talking about the weather?

His pace turned to a slow jog and he came to a halt and slowly turned around, and he didn't seem tired at all, adrenaline still pumping in his veins.

He came facing a fast approaching Death, sycthe raised to the heavens, a shimmery and starry and oh so familiar cloak billowing around it and he felt rage build up as he wondered morbidly if he had taken that from Harry.

He watched as Death came closer and wondered how he had outrun him when he was flying at such fast speeds, and wondered if he was toying with him, that he knew that he would never get away and was dangling hope infront of him to snatch away.

And he wondered if he had done the same to Harry and Hermione too.. and they were gone now.

And Ron's eyes blazed with fury.

"Fine! Fine! You know what, Death? I'm not scared of you, I'm. Not. Scared. I lost my fear of you a long time ago.."

"You're Nothing To Me.

And if you wanna make me Gone too, then fine.

I don't know why i ran, but i'm not learning to stop right now, I already learned that a long time ago.. theres no use running.

But.. please.. what have you done with Harry and Hermione... because i swear, they better be somewhere good right now! They better be happy and reunited with their families because if they're not then Heaven is a lie and you're.. Evil."

My roar dulled into a whisper on the last word, and Death had slowed down and he was almost there, but it seemed his words had not been meaningless to this eternal being for it lifted one bony arm up and took off its veil, he gazed at the skeletal head thats teeth were pulled into a grin that he knew would never hold humor, Death's head tilted into something vaguely.. curious

Death only held one eye that bored into him, and he could see it in perfect detail, the dark black stone with its unblemished surface- not cracked but still the symbol of the deathly hallows seared into its surface, and he wondered with a slight triumph if the other was still laying somewhere deep in the Forbidden Forest, where near Hogwarts once stayed, its illusion of ruins becoming reality. If Harry was gone, he had left his own mark on Death, how ironic that both had left theirs upon each other, Death's in the form of a lightning shaped scar and Harry's in the dark, hollow and endless socket.

Their mouth opened with a creak and they whispered in a gravelly voice that seemed to come from only him;

"Death is fair."

"That wasn't an answer."

"The price.. you payed.. to summon those flames.. beyond life and death.. lies Nothing.. that is where they are... that is where you shall go.. that is what you Paid." He hissed.

"Harry.. Hermione.. gone."

No afterlife. He would never see them again. Gone. Nothing.

He roared.

A sound of pure fury and anguish and Death glided forward unconcerned.

"Thats all i needed to hear." He said, Harry and Hermione would want him to not give up as they had selfishly done so.. they would want him to keep fighting.. and Ron had always been stubborn.

He charged,

and on some deep, primal instinct he raised his arm to something and he felt his fingers wrap around a familiar hilt as he pulled the sword of Gryffindor from an invisible hat that had longed since burned.

He rushed towars Death whom had his scythe raised.

And bravery met fear in a CLANG!

He was not Voldemort.

He would fight.