Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.
Summary: Death comes to pay the boy-who-keeps-avoiding-him a visit. How is Harry going to explain Death's presence to his friends? Think "Meet Joe Black".
Author's note: Here is the second chapter! Is that a plot I see?
Chapter 2: Knock Knock
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Harry awoke with a start. Someone had whispered his name. Someone. Something. Whispered it right into his ear.
Harry…
"Who's there?" asked Harry quietly.
Me…
The voice has a breathy, scratchy quality to it. And it was right next to Harry. He could almost feel a slight breath on his temple. If the voice didn't sound so hollow, Harry would swear someone was wearing an invisibility cloak.
Harry looked around wildly. Where was the voice coming from?
A light breeze caressed Harry's cheek. Harry looked at the window, the door, but neither was open. Maybe it wasn't a breeze… maybe it was more like a… sigh, a departure. Harry shivered and pulled the blankets closer to him. The situation felt ominous and cold.
I must be dreaming, thought Harry. He fluffed his pillow a few times, and then closed his eyes to fall asleep.
Someone was knocking on Harry's door the next morning. Harry had to squint his eyes as he got out of bed. The sun was shinning brightly through the window. Hedwig ruffled her feathers in a sleepy manner as Harry tripped over his schoolbooks to open the door.
"Uh… you're needed downstairs, Harry," said Dudley.
"Fine, okay. I'll be down in a minute." Harry shut the door as Dudley turned away.
Life with the Dursley's had improved, certainly. He had fewer chores, he could do his schoolwork, Hedwig could fly free, and the Dursley's would actually let Harry receive visitors. Of course, the one visitor Harry wanted to see most was the one visitor Harry could never see again. Sirius. Everything in school years and summers past mattered little when compared to the hope he once had in Sirius's presence and the pain he now felt in his absence. Classmates (including Ron and Hermione) were not allowed to visit him, but the adults dropped by (mostly Remus and Tonks). He looked forward to school starting (in a twelve days) when he would get to see his friends again. At least it would be a distraction from the memories of last year.
Harry filled Hedwig's water bowl and opened the cage door and window for her. Then he got dressed and headed downstairs to see what his aunt wanted.
Petunia smiled an eerily sweet smile (she had been doing that all summer) and asked Harry to set the table. Harry knew that it was an effort for her just to smile, so he didn't put up a fight. Besides, he felt so dejected and tired that his aunt could have told him to make breakfast, take out the garbage, and mow the law at the same time (just like she used to) and he still wouldn't have put up a fight.
As Harry was placing down the forks, the doorbell rang.
"You didn't tell me anyone was visiting this morning" said Petunia with a hint of menace in her voice.
"I didn't know anyone would be visiting this morning, Aunt Petunia," replied Harry.
The doorbell rang again.
"Would you like me to get it?" Harry was fairly sure that no one with an evil intent could enter the house, but he felt wary all the same.
"Well of course. I'm certainly not answering it. It might be one of your freak friends. And don't expect my Dudley to answer it either."
"Okay, okay, I'm going," grumbled Harry. It was probably just Tonks or Remus or somebody.
Harry walked to the door. Although, he had to admit that there was a feeling of… not fright or panic, but of foreboding…
As he reached for the doorknob, he could hear the voice again.
Harry…
Harry pulled back his hand.
The doorbell rang again.
"Well? Are you going to answer the door or not?" asked Aunt Petunia.
Harry reached again for the doorknob.
Open it…
Harry took a deep, shaky breath (although he couldn't really understand why) and yanked the door open.
On the front step stood a boy about his age. He had light brown hair, a strong jaw, and a lean, angular frame. His collarbones stuck out, his arms were strong but thin, and his fingers were long and knobby. He wore casual slacks and an open necked collared shirt. He looked sophisticated and refined.
Harry just stared at the boy. He was unnerved by the boy's eyes. They looked so old and dark. They seemed to stare right through Harry. If eyes were the windows into the soul, this boy had no soul. The boy didn't seem evil (even evil people had souls; they just had very wicked souls), he just seemed… hollow, blank, otherworldly.
"Um… can I help you?" asked Harry finally, very uncertain about the whole situation.
"Yes. I am here to visit you." The boy's words had a factuality to them, a finality. As if everything he said was the end all and be all. But then again… the boy sounded as if he were plucking words delicately out of the air, testing them, seeing how they sounded on his tongue.
"Visit me?" asked Harry. "Do I know you?"
The boy laughed. It sent shivers down Harry's spine.
You know me, or at least, you think you do, said the voice Harry had been hearing. The voice circled around Harry, until it was coming from the boy himself.
"What are you?"
I am the solitary. I am the inevitable. I am the end we all hurdle towards.
"And why would I think I know you?"
Why would you know me?
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you. And how can I hear you?" Although Harry meant for his words to be harsh, Harry found himself voicing them with a certain awe and revere.
You can hear me because I am addressing you. And you still have not answered my question.
Harry was silent.
Who am I? asked the voice, a little more forcefully.
"Would you like to come in, maybe?" asked Harry hesitantly. The boy didn't seem evil, but he didn't seem to be a saint, either. Whatever the boy's intentions were, Harry wasn't about to tell anyone he would have normally told if the boy was a Death Eater. Somehow, the boy seemed beyond all that. He seemed to command respect and a cautious step.
Who am I? Answer me first.
Harry started going through people in his head, but the boy reminded him of no one.
I am the thought that is always in the back of everyone's mind. I am obsessed over and feared from. People ignore me and welcome me. It is people's instinct to avoid me for as long as they can, but in the end, everybody meets me. I am what you saw on the Halloween sixteen years ago, in the graveyard two years ago, and in the Ministry last year. I am the very presence you do not fear except when it involves the ones you love. You know who I am; you just will not say it. Now, who am I? Why do you know me?
Harry stared at the boy. What he was saying (or whispering, or whatever Harry heard) sounded impossible, and yet the boy's eyes gave it all away. Harry dawned with understanding. It sounded inconceivable, wrong, and like a sure sign Harry was insane, but it was the only answer that truly made sense.
"Why-- Why are you here?" asked Harry, not without fear. "What do you want?"
"I am here to visit you," repeated the boy.
Harry blinked. "Okay… Come right in…" Harry moved out of the way and held the door for the boy. "Aunt Petunia, I'm inviting a friend up to my room!" Harry called to his aunt.
"Just be quiet! Dudley is watching a TV program and he doesn't need the background noise! And stay out of sight! I don't want anything weird… Understand?" Petunia shouted from the kitchen. She had become increasingly… lenient over the summer, as long as Vernon wasn't home and she wasn't entertaining. The threats that she received from professors and other adults in Harry's life might have had something to do with her lenience as well.
Harry and the boy went upstairs.
"Okay," said Harry, once his door was closed and locked. "What is going on? And why are you here? Has anything bad happened?"
Relax…
"Nothing bad has happened," said the boy nonchalantly, as he glances about the room. "I just know things you do not."
"Is something wrong with my friends?" Harry started to panic. Why was Death sitting in his room talking about things Harry doesn't know?
I said relax…
Harry sat down on his bed and the boy stood in front of him.
"I know you do not worry about death or pain to yourself," said the boy. "But I know how much you care about others."
Harry stood up quickly. "What is this--"
The boy's eyes flashed, silencing Harry's outburst. "Just listen. I know that one of your friend's time has come."
"What? What does that mean?" Harry asked harshly. " 'Their time has come?' "
"It means that I must take your friend away. Your friend will be leaving this earth."
Harry grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt. "Speak English! Are you going to murder one of my friends? Is that what you're saying??"
"You forget whom you are talking to," said the boy as he calmly pushed Harry's arms off of him. "You forget what I am saying."
Harry took a few breaths to suppress his anger and panic and sat down on the bed. He'd have to be really dumb to piss of Death. "Okay, okay. I'm calm. So you're saying that you're going to murder one of my friends."
"I 'murder' nobody."
"Fine. Whatever. Just tell me what's going on."
"You are… impatient." The boy looked thoughtful. "There is really no need to be impatient."
Harry was starting to get annoyed. If one of his friends was going to die, he wanted to know as soon as he could. He wanted to stop their death. But Death seemed to have all the time in the world, and Harry didn't dare upset him by complaining out loud.
The boy continued. "I have watched your life for a while, and I see how much emotion exists in it."
"Tell me about it."
"Pain and grief, happiness and loyalty. For this reason, I want you to give me a tour of your life."
Harry felt confused. "You do know that my life pretty much revolves around death, right? That I am famous because of it and pitied because of it, that I was basically born to it and it's my fate to administer it, and that, of course, my life will end with it. It can't be all that different from your life."
"It is much different. I do not live, I exist. I am not a material being. I do not feel emotion. I want to understand why there is emotion. Therefore, you will show me that emotion by letting me participate in your life." The boy examined his hands. "Besides, I need a vacation."
"So nobody will die while you're here?" asked Harry hopefully.
"No. Because I am an existence, I am always at work. People will die, but my concentration will just be here, at the moment."
"So no world wars?" said Harry cynically.
Harry could swear he saw Death smile. "No, there will be no world wars."
"So what about my friend?" asked Harry "Why can't you save them?"
"You are going to save your friend," said Death.
"Me?"
"Yes. The longer you interest me, the longer I can allow your friend to live. When I go back, your friend will come with me."
Harry had tons of questions to ask, but there was one in particular that he dreaded. "Who--" started Harry shakily, "Can you tell me, who is going to die?"
The boy smiled. "I do not think that will make your life very interesting. I do not want you to be grieving the whole time I am here."
"What?" Harry spluttered. "You're not going to tell me? How can I save them if I don't know who it is?"
"By having an interesting life, of course. By showing me feelings, emotions. By being my guide."
Harry was at a loss. "But I have to know! You can't leave me worried like this!"
The boy raised an eyebrow. "So you are worried right now? Why? You have nothing to worry about as long as you do what I tell you."
"But--"
"You can start making your life interesting by forgetting about knowing whose time is up," reminded Death. " You do not need to know."
Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration. This was going to be complicated.
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