Harry Potter and Sandman are not mine. JKR and Neil Gaiman thought of them before me.

Chapter 3 - Amidst Waves and Cloudless Skies

In the face
Of change
That's when she turned to me and said
"I'm not sure anymore"

And there
Amidst the waves and the cloudless skies
That blanket the year before
I watch my life wash ashore

-Rise Against - Everchanging


Tom Marvolo Riddle's eyes snapped open, even as he thrashed, gasping for air. He tumbled, limbs flailing, onto a cold floor of roughly hewn wooden planks. His eyes dilated as his lungs scrabbled for air. In a dark corner of his mind, he was aware that he was hyperventilating. Was he to die even before he lived?

And then abruptly, he lay still, limbs and back a faint red, chafed and scratched on the rough planks. He was breathing normally now, his chest rising and falling with each wheezing breath, abdomen rippling and clenching. His eyes stared unseeingly at the browning, canvas roof high above him. That dark part of his mind wondered whether he was finally in hell. was he? it didn't matter. The details didn't matter, he had to act on Dumbledore's words, right now! Only, he couldn't remember what Dumbledore had said to him or Potter. Yes, Potter had been there. He distinctly remembered Potter squeezing his shoulder, but anything after that was a haze. He shivered, it was cold here, wherever here was.

He raised his arms into the meager light that flooded in through a gash in the canvas wall, they looked quite normal, at least they weren't scaly or green! He flexed his fingers and found them quite numb, the cold had started to seep into his bones. Looking down, he noticed with a start that he was completely naked. He let his hands fall to the floor. He lay there, for a few minutes, eyelids closed as he experienced something he'd sorely missed -freezing cold.

When he finally propped himself up on his elbows, His upper arms quivering, his breath billowed in wispy threads of mist. He was shivering, and the light that had seeped in before seemed snuffed out. He was sure, that if he strained, he could hear the crickets chirping outside.

He put his numb arms on the bed -he knew now that he'd fallen off a bed- and pushed himself up. On the first try he fell down in a heap onto the bed, his legs giving way under his weight. He shuddered then, the frozen blankets seemed like cardboard. When he next tried his legs stood, if a bit wobbly, firm. Gritting his teeth, and putting one leg after the other, he eased off the numbness in them by hobbling around the partition he was in, which he presumed was a bedroom.

As he walked -the hobbling had stopped once he'd got some warmth into his midriff- his fifth circuit round the bedroom, he was aware of a small stack of folded clothes on the rickety little end table beside the now frozen bed. He was sure they had not been there when he walked near it before, but when he bowed to examine them, he noticed that droplets of moisture had frozen on them, glinting now like diamonds.

Hurriedly, he pulled the dark blue turtleneck sweater and the baggy olive cargo pants that were a few sizes too big for him. He shuddered, the cold seemed a bit at bay now, though not much. He wondered who had left him the clothes. He wondered whether he should go through the flap and confront whoever it was, or whether it was not smarter to rip a hole in the canvas tent walls -for it was a tent, he understood that- and run. In the end, his curiosity won out, and he argued that if he tried to run in this cold, he would surely freeze, or freeze off some very essential bits.

Cautiously, he pushed open the flap that served as a doorway and slipped out into what seemed like the dining room/kitchen/living room and hall. It was not cold here, and the candles and lamps cast a golden light over everything, making it look like King Midas himself owned the tent. Breathing deeply, he stretched out in the comfortable warmth. 'All My Loving' by the Beatles was playing from a radio hidden somewhere.

"Well, get over here and eat your dinner!"

Tom Riddle nearly snapped his neck as he spun towards the kitchen, his empty hand stretched out in a dueling stance. He was staring directly into the eyes of a extremely pale woman, who he was sure was in her late twenties. Her raven hair flowed down, over her shoulders and onto the black blazer thrown over the black Tee Shirt she was wearing. She was giggling. Curled lips adorned with dark red lipstick that seemed almost black and her dark eyes crinkled, the flourish of eyeliner that curled downward at the middle of the bottom eyelid of her right eye, seemed as if it was laughing at him too.

For the first time in his horrible life, Tom Marvolo Riddle felt something, a lingering warmth in his chest, felt it to manifest at the oddest moment, attached to the oddest person and knew it to irrevocably tie him to them.

"Oh come on! No need to be so dramatic Tommy!"

As he stood dumbfounded, staring at this woman -who was so obviously insane- who he'd never seen before. He felt something tug at his heart, pulling at his heartstrings. Merlin! this was what Potter meant wasn't it?.

He looked at the little wooden table the woman was sitting at. A plate was laid out in front of the chair opposite of her. Various salads and meats were piled high, in an appetizing display. His wand lay, curled up tightly in her right hand.

Smiling some more, she pointed soundlessly at the plate, The fingers on her left hand then forming a gun at him and her right waving his wand at him. He ducked hurriedly as sparks shot above his head and she laughed even harder, Tom found that he wasn't angry at all. On the contrary, he found himself drowning in the melodic waves of her laughter, a mellow smile forming on his lips.

He sat down and started to eat. As he started on the still miraculously warm bacon strips he glanced at the woman, she'd conjured up a top hat and was twirling it in her left hand, while motioning her eyebrows suggestively.

He set down his bacon and took a second to compose himself and then spoke for the first time, in what seemed an eternity.

He had wanted to ask 'how did you do that, conjure the hat?' but what slipped out instead was;
"Where are we?" His voice was raspy and cracked.

The woman stopped her antics with the hat and set it firmly on top of her head. "Well, there are trees outside, and finches and woodpeckers flying and pecking around in the morning. and the last time I checked the tent was in the forest of Dean! So, I guess we're still there." She winked at him at the end of it and his stomach fluttered somewhat unnaturally.

He next wanted to ask, 'who are you?' but what came out instead was;
"What are you? And how did you find me?

The woman smiled at that, somewhat sadly. Her eyes drooping she started playing with a piece of wood that was sticking out of the table. When she spoke again, she sounded somber and contemplative.
"Finding you wasn't a problem," she paused, scratching at the table, "I find everybody at the end" the smile slipped as she attacked the stringy piece of wood.

"End of what?" Tom, almost didn't want to know. He had a vague idea by now, and his stomach had started to churn. Staying had been a bad Idea, he should have run.

"Life" she simply stated, and then straightened to look him in the eyes. the slight smile had returned. "I think you know who I am Tom."

Silence. Tom could swear he could hear the wind howling in the treetops a mile away.

"Yes." he rasped, and her smile widened. "You're Death"

Her grin would have made the Cheshire Cat proud. Or maybe the cat had learned it from her. He felt moisture condensing on the back of his neck.

"Are you here to take me away? Onwards?"

She laughed so hard at that and so abruptly that he almost jumped. He stared at her, his mouth hanging agape, as she giggled, almost writhing in her chair. "You are funny!" she gasped finally, "You're definitely gonna make somebody very happy out there." She smiled , "No Tom, I'm not here to take you 'Onwards', at least not just yet." Tom could swear that she was mocking him, slightly. "I have to visit the recently deceased as well as the recently born."

"Born?"

"Yes, born. Honestly, do you feel like you did before?"

"No... I feel... New"

"Exactly." She started drumming at the table, as if that answered everything. Then tom asked the big one;
"Then, If you're here, what happens to everyone else dying and being born around the world at this moment?"

The woman - Death, looked somber again. "I am everywhere at the same time Tom, everywhere and at the same time, nowhere." Tom frowned " In fact, I'm at your old school right now, you're hell bent on killing everyone there, impressive body count, in fact!"

"I am not Voldemort." He paused "I don't, feel at all, like Voldemort. I feel... different." He was surprised to find that he was smiling.

Death smiled and Tom had the vague feeling that he'd passed some sort of test.

She slid his wand across the table, he caught it with his left hand, abruptly he noticed the plate had vanished, and surprisingly burst out laughing. He laughed long, and hard, he laughed for the surreality of the situation he was in, for the craziness that surrounded him, and for death, who he'd been afraid of for most of his life. After a few moments he heard her melodic peal joining in too.

"Potter's going to need help." he said, when he'd finally calmed. Death was smiling, like a teacher smiling proudly at her honor student. A very Goth-looking teacher.
"Yes, I suppose he will at that."

Tom was aware of the Kingston Trio playing 'Where Have all the Flowers Gone' on the radio, that he finally spotted was on the mantelpiece over the small cooking fire.

"Where have all the soldiers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the soldiers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards, everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?"

The lyrics hung in the air, like swirling mist that clouded everything, Death was smiling. And then, as abruptly as it had begun, it was over. The spell was broken. The song ended with a final "When will they ever learn?" and he stood up.

Death stood up and smiled, making him wonder if she was ever angry. He stretched out a hand, but she shook her head and mock saluted him. "You don't want to do that..." she smiled as he raised a questioning brow. "...If you don't want to go onwards."

He smiled then and snapped off a salute too.
"Goodbye Death, I hope I don't see you too soon." and after a while he added; "You're nothing of what I expected, and surprisingly, I'm glad."

She giggled then, one final time, "Call me Didi, Death is so formal, and nah, the next time we meet is probably going to be peachy keen"
she winked at him, and then she was gone, and Tom could swear he heard the beating of huge wings.

Tom sighed then as he stood again, alone in the dark. After a while he walked out, pushing the tent flap aside, into a humid, forest dawn. he looked at the scurrying squirrels and the nesting finches, and murmured to himself;

"Close your eyes and I'll kiss you,
Tomorrow I'll miss you;
Remember I'll always be true..."

He spun on the spot, whipping his wand to his chest, and with a crack! he was gone. The finches started chirping abuse at the loud noise so early in the morning. After that, the forest of Dean was yet again silent.

He hadn't noticed the trunk that lay under the bed with "Harry Potter" engraved on it in silver. Or the one next to that read "Hermione Granger".


Hey everyone, I know it's been a looong time, but I'm back again! Got me some HP inspiration! Anyway, I edited out the first section of this chapter and added it into the next chapter. And also some Misc edits that have been long overdue. It flows better like that IMHO :)

PS. Yes I know that Voldemort would off himself before humming a Beatles song. But that itself should show how vast the gulf is between this Tom and Voldemort.