Not Quite Dead Yet

Alina opened her eyes. Had it worked? Had she made it to the Realm of Death?

She looked around. A small room, the walls lined with books. Old, shabby furniture lovingly polished. And a bird stand in a corner. She was still in Professor Snape’s living room. It was still dark, and Woodstock was still perching on her right arm.

Her shoulders slumped. She had failed.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement. Whirling around, she found herself facing…nothing. Then the air wavered, swirled, and a shadowy figure folded back the shimmering hood of an invisibility cloak.

She jumped up. ‘Harry?’ she squealed.

The man shook his head. ‘No,’ he whispered.

His voice was low and gentle, but it caused an icy shiver to slide down her spine and made the tiny hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. She blinked and shook her head, trying to focus. But even when she squinted her eyes, she couldn’t make out a face in the dim light.

‘Do not try to see my face, little Necromancer,’ the shadowman said softly. ‘It will be the last thing you see.’

Woodstock raised her head, opened her beak and screamed piercingly, the feathers around her head bristling.

‘Hush!’ Alina shushed the agitated phoenix, although her heart was thudding so hard that she could feel it in her ears. She swallowed dryly. Once more she squared her shoulders and looked pointedly not at the shadowman, but at the bird stand to his left.

‘So you’re Death?’

She stared fixedly at the bird stand and hardly dared to breathe. When he chuckled softly, the room grew darker and Alina shivered.

‘Indeed.’

At that word, her heart seemed to stop beating. Go on, Alina urged it. We’re not quite dead yet, I think. I hope. A pressure inside her chest eased, and her heart resumed its previous frantic race.

‘So it worked? I’m in Death? But where’s the River?’ She frowned, confused. This was not how it was supposed to work. ‘And where are Professor Snape and Harry?’

She bit her tongue. It was probably not particularly polite to blurt out one question after the other like that. She took a deep breath. ‘Sir, I really don’t want to be impolite. But it’s rather important that I find Professor Snape and Harry. Harry Potter that is. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him…?’

Alina trailed off. She could have kicked herself. If he was Death Himself, of course he knew Harry Potter. And…She frowned more deeply, as her gaze focused on the hem of the cloak the shadowman was wearing. Wasn’t that Harry’s famous invisibility cloak? She’d seen it only the once, but it looked awfully similar. Or did all invisibility cloaks look like that?

‘You have come to help them,’ the shadowman—Death—stated. ‘That is commendable.’

She shuddered. A very strange feeling was spreading through her. She was beginning to feel rather stiff. And tired. Kind of achy, without being able to put her finger to what was hurting exactly. Was that how age felt?

‘As for why you are not in the River—you are not a trained Necromancer, child. For all your fervent desire to pass beyond the Veil, your skills were only sufficient to transport you to your personal, subjective dimension of Death and not into true Death.’

‘Oh no,’ she sighed. ‘Sir! Please! I need to help them, Hermione has been abducted, their connection to Life, it’s been broken. And—and—they—they just—they mustn’t die yet!’

But with the cold ache that suffused her came an odd sense of tranquillity. All of a sudden, Alina wondered how she could be so sure that their time hadn’t come yet. Or that her own end was not scheduled to take place right now, right here.

oooOooo

‘Sorry, Sev’rus,’ Harry coughed, ‘thanks for the offer, but I’m not quite ready for a mercy killing yet.’

‘Don’t be an idiot, Potter!’

Of all things to do, Harry started laughing, naturally ended up swallowing water, and promptly caused both of them to almost drown once more. When they were steadily treading water once more, Severus wondered why he was even bothering. They had both swallowed copious amounts of the water of the Fifth Precinct. Even if a miracle were to occur, neither of them would ever be the way they had been.

‘This may come as a surprise.’ Harry paused to spit out some water. ‘But even though I’m a Gryffindor, I’ve heard of the concept of a back-up plan.’

‘What?’

‘Trust me, Sev—’ Another fit of coughing. ‘I fucking hate this damn river—You need to cut those bonds now. Need to get behind you. Sorry—you’ll have to swim for both of us. But if this is going to work, I need to touch your heart.’

‘My heart? My arse!’ Although he was tempted to say more, Severus reached over to their joint hands and released the ties, well aware that these tethers wouldn’t aid them anymore. If it was Harry’s last wish to die alone, he would respect that. What surprised him—shocked him, in fact—was the sense of loss this caused him. Had the knowledge that he wouldn’t die alone been such a comfort to him?

Then strong young arms wrapped around his back and two hands pressed over his heart. He could feel Harry’s cheek against the skin between his shoulder blades. A voice hissed slithering sounds and suddenly heat flowed from Harry’s hands, suffused his skin, enveloped him in a bubble of magic.

All at once swimming was easy, the way Severus imagined it might be in the shallows off a southern coast with crystalline sands and palm trees.

‘What the bloody hell?!’ Shock disrupted the rhythm of his movements. His face went underwater. But it was no longer the cold black water of the River of Death. This water was turquoise, translucent, warm. Pure.

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