Chapters 221-230

Passing from One Bad Dream to Another

‘I’m a Necromancer,’ Alina said. ‘So I can enter Death. Of course, without a sword or bells I have no chance in the River. But I’ve managed to enter the Realm of Death anyways, when I was asleep. I even managed to take Hermione with me.’

She took a deep breath. ‘So I figure I should be able to get in. And—’

‘Then what?’ Crudass asked belligerently. ‘You said you don’t have that Necromancer stuff. What are you trying to do? Kill yourself on top of Professor Snape and Hermione?’

‘Professor Snape is a powerful wizard,’ Alyah piped up. ‘And he has those bells and Godric Gryffindor’s sword. Are you sure that he won’t be able to make it out again on his own? I mean, he’s done that before.’ She smiled apologetically at Alina. ‘I’m sorry, I’m worried, too, really! It’s just, I’m wondering what a Second Year, Necromancer or not, can possibly accomplish in Death.’

Alina raked her hands through her hair and moaned. ‘Didn’t you listen?’ she wailed. ‘They are not in the River! They went beyond the Veil! Without Hermione’s wands they can’t get out on their own!’

‘We can’t just let them die!’ argued Jo Flamel.

‘Are we knights or what?’ cried Terrwyn, outraged.

‘Everybody CALM down,’ Ebe ordered. ‘Alina, do you have a plan?’

‘Thanks,’ Alina mumbled. Turning to Barret, she said, ‘I know how dangerous all of that is, Barret. Really, I do. Better than you. But I really do have a plan.’

Cato grinned and rubbed his forefinger along his nose. ‘Slytherins don’t even go to the loo without a plan,’ he commented approvingly.

Crudass groaned in defeat.

‘Professor Snape’s phoenix,’ Alina said simply. ‘Phoenixes can enter the Realm of Death. They continuously pass beyond the Veil and back. It’s what phoenixes are all about. Life and death. And,’ she added triumphantly, ‘they are known for their ability to carry really heavy loads.’

For a moment it was very quiet in the dungeon. The only noise was the regular dripping of a faucet at the back of the room.

Then the Little Knights exhaled in a shared sigh.

Crudass shook his head. ‘And here I thought that breakneck plans were trademarked by my House.’

‘It’s a good plan,’ Cato said. ‘But you’ll need to get out of Hogwarts, to Spinner’s End and into Spinner’s End without anyone noticing. And that’s going to be tricky.’

He screwed up his face in a thoughtful grimace. The others remained respectfully silent. Cato was the mastermind that devised the wicked details for their plans. They knew better than to disturb him now.

oooOooo

The soft sound of water and the sensation of warm wavelets lapping at his calves elicited a strong urge to pee in Harry. And that in turn made him open his eyes. Severus was holding him in his arms, just barely keeping him upright—for he was swaying on his feet, his eyes unfocused.

Unceremoniously Harry wrenched the sword of Godric Gryffindor out of its sheath and stuck it into the ground before him. Gratefully he leant on his makeshift crutch and rubbed at his bleary eyes. An endless surface of sparkling water stretched around them. He couldn’t make out the horizon at all. Far, far away was a thin stretch of light where the glimmering water met the glittering sky.

The sky was studded with scintillating, sparkling stars. It was positively encrusted with them. Harry could barely make out any black around them. It was impossible to get your bearings. So much for the uses of Astronomy, he thought with disgust. But somehow the stars had a positive effect on him. Gradually he felt stronger, awake, almost normal.

But Severus was slumping over him now, as if he was falling asleep for good. Rudely he poked his right elbow into his friend’s side. ‘Oi! Severus!’

The Necromancer jerked back and awake, forcing Harry to straighten up. Only then Harry noticed the dark figure that stood a few feet away from them.

Death was waiting to say goodbye. At his feet the warm water had frozen for several feet in diameter. Mist curled up around the edges of the ice.

‘Thank you,’ Harry told Death respectfully. Already the water around his feet was getting colder. Harry shivered. But there was one thing that he wanted, no, that he needed to know…‘May I ask a question?’

The sharp inhalation next to him told him in no uncertain terms what Severus thought of his inquisitiveness. But Death appeared amused. Inaudible chuckles made the ice at his feet crack and break. ‘You may. But be warned—I might answer.’

‘Great.’ Harry gulped. This was probably not one of his more brilliant ideas. But he needed to know Death’s intentions—if there was a catch to the help they had received. ‘Right. Err…I was just wondering…Why are you so generous?’

Beside him, Severus winced. But Death hissed with silent laughter. The ice spread further, closing in on them. Harry’s toes were getting numb. ‘I am not generous, Harry Potter. Trust me, when Death is generous, it looks very, very differently.’

The figure raised his head. Harry’s eyes were inevitably drawn to the darkness of within the hood, where Death gazed at him.

Nightly shadows reached for him. But there was some light, the eerie glow of dim fires. When he squinted his eyes, the scene slid into focus. Dead bodies lay in heaps. Red flames flared from torn clothes and tangled hair, licked at motionless limbs. A horse-drawn cart was approaching, with more corpses piled up on the bed.

Then Death lowered his head again, and for a second, Harry felt as if his face was caressed by the softest of fabrics.

‘That is Death’s generosity. A bad dream of pestilence and plague that does not pass away, but comes to life and instead claims the dreams of men, both the bad and the good, until it is men who pass away.’