The Living Dead

Harry Potter and the Dream

The room was dimly lit, furnished only with a dusty sofa in the corner and the bed that Harry woke up in. He wasn't overly worried, because he recognized that he had gone to bed in Ron's room and was most likely dreaming. This particular dream had happened before and nothing extraordinary had occurred. He had just sat in the windowless, doorless room until he awoke. It was a nice change from the nightmares that plagued him, so he didn't mention it to anyone. This time, a door materialized in the side of the room, and Harry watched it suspiciously. Generally, this would be about the time in his nightmares when Lord Voldemort would burst through it and murder everyone he loved, Harry would wake up in a cold sweat, and no one would talk about the screams that issued from their room at night.

This time, the door opened slowly, and a cloaked figure glided into the room. It wasn't trying to be dramatic, Harry decided, it just appeared that way, with the black cloak and the dilapidated room and the shadows in the corners.

"Hello," he said, because he didn't have anything else to say. "Who are you, then?"

It was only recently he had become self aware in his dreams, so it didn't surprise him that he had no idea what this creature was. Was it possible that it would morph into a dementor? Harry couldn't stand the thought of reliving that night again - replaying it over and over in his head in the moments before he fell asleep was good enough for him. The creature stood there for a minute, then opened its mouth and spoke. The words were startling enough, but the voice it spoke them in caused Harry's mouth to open a bit.

"I am Death," the figure said softly. Its tone, its cadence, even the way it breathed sounded exactly like Albus Dumbledore. "You are not dreaming quite yet, Harry Potter."

Harry smiled at Death. Dumbledore had called them 'old friends' and Harry saw no reason to be afraid. If he was to die now, which he thought was rather annoying after surviving everything, at least the two of them could walk side by side.

And maybe his parents...

"I am not here to kill you," Dumbledore - Death - sounded faintly amused, but also serious. "I am here to repay you."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "For what?"

Having a conversation with Death was weird, yes, but Harry didn't know if Death's payment would be something he wanted to accept. Was it rude to refuse a gift from Death? 

"You have delivered eight pieces of a soul that should've been mine to collect years ago," Death said slowly. "In return, I grant you eight souls, eight people you wish back."

Harry stared at him, names running through his mind. There were countless dead from the Battle of Hogwarts, countless dead from Voldemort's exploits around the world. Was it his place to bring back just those closest to him? A small, desperate part of him ached for the chance to choose the people he missed most, but another part of him realized that being selfish in a matter of such importance would not be wise.

"I will choose for you," Death said, as if sensing Harry's discomfort. A weight lifted off Harry's shoulders, but part of him whined in protest.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Harry asked.

"I was discussing it with Albus Dumbledore," Death said. The cloak around him swished impatiently, as though it was a sentient being. "Ah, yes, it is almost time to go. Harry Potter- these people I'm sending back are genuine. Please do not accidentally curse them into oblivion in your haste to check."

"Dumbledore - are you bringing him back?" Harry asked desperately. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. 

"Ah, no," Death said, almost awkwardly. "He told me you would ask that. He also asked me to relay the message that he is happy now."

Harry fought the urge to laugh. Of course Dumbledore had managed to befriend Death and make him messenger boy. He missed the old wizard so much it hurt. If now, though, he was happy, there were people Harry missed more. People like Sirius Black and Remus Lupin who had lived tragic lives and died far too early.

His parents...

"What about my-" Harry began, but the room was fading and Death vanished. "Wait!" It was too late. The room faded from view and Harry, falling, woke up screaming.