The Boy Who Kept Dying

Chapter 3 (Death plays)

A/N: Not my story! Original avalible on ao3

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Death led a bruised and bleeding 7-year-old into the Kings Cross Station waiting room. Death's very human form he mostly preferred to wear blinking slightly to show his more traditional cloaked and skeletal form in his intense anger. A beating from his favorite child's uncle had gone too far.

"Hey Dis?" Harry asked smiling at his friend happily through a split lip. "You had chocolate last time I was here. Do you think we could have some more of that before we move on?"

Death stopped in his tracks at almost the same place he did the last time he collected Harry. "You remembered?" he almost whispered in stunned awe, laying a hand on the dirty mop of dark hair.

"Of course," Harry smiled broadly, not seeming to pay attention to any of his many injuries. "I toooold you I have a great memory. And, this is the only time I've ever had chocolate before. It's hard to forget your only friend and your favorite food."

Death promptly waved a hand over the boy, healing the worst of his injuries before he conjured the table of food once more. This time he had already decided he was returning the boy, so he couldn't heal all the injuries, or it would raise questions. This child was too precious and too intriguing for him to take the boy into the next realm where he would no longer grow and develop. He watched as Harry jumped into one of the chairs and reached first for the chocolate cake. Death cleared his throat with a stern but fond look. "Eat something healthy first, little one," he said as Harry just chuckled at him and reached for the chicken instead.

Death decided to keep Harry a little longer this time and spend some time with him. Time moved differently in his waiting room than it did in the mortal world, so he could keep the child as long as he wanted and return him to the same time he left. So, he chatted with Harry over the food, even eating a little chocolate with him. Death then decided to teach Harry how to play Mancala, Go Fish, and Solitaire. He figured Harry could play Solitaire by himself when he returned and was locked in his cupboard for long hours. Death of course won at Mancala every time, but Harry won in Go Fish, though Death was pretty sure he was somehow cheating even if he couldn't figure out how.

After a while, Harry looked at Death with a confused expression on his face. "Erm, Dis? Are we moving on sometime soon?" He asked. "Not that I'm not having the most fun I've had my entire life," Harry quickly added to not offend his friend. "I just thought that people normally move on, right? See their families and all on the other side."

"Do you want to move on?" Death asked, genuinely curious.

Harry smiled at him. "I just admitted that the most fun I've had in my entire life was when I was dead, so yeah, I'm thinking moving on might not be a bad thing," Harry laughed.

Death looked at him sadly. A 7-year-old shouldn't want to move on. "I'm not ready for you to move on, Harry," Death admitted honestly, shocking himself at how honest he was being with his young friend. "I don't understand you, and that fascinates me. And, I want you to grow up and be happy. Things will get better for you, I promise. I can't tell you much, but do know that at least in four years, you'll be able to get away from your relatives for a while anyway." Death knew the young wizard boy would eventually be able to go to Hogwarts; he just wished it came sooner.

"I don't want to lose you again," Harry said sadly, pushing the glass beads from the mancala game around distractedly.

Death looked at him in deep thought. "Well, I think we've established at this point that you will remember me, as strange as that is," Death mused, and offered, a little hesitantly, expecting rejection at any moment, "I could visit you occasionally in the mortal world if you would like."

This offer made Harry's face light up around the still visible bruises. "I'd love that, Dis!" he exclaimed and clapped his hands together excitedly.

After another thought, Death pulled an ancient-looking coin from out of his pocket. Yes, Death had pockets in the jeans he wore, not creepy black robes this time anyway, though his dress shirt was black. "This is a ferryman's coin," Death explained as he handed the coin to Harry. "In myth, it's to pay Charon, the ferryman, to get into the underworld. For us, it'll call me if you hold it and think of me. I will come to you whenever you call me no matter what time it is."

Harry studied the ancient coin in his hand that looked Greek in origin. He looked at it like it was the only gift he had ever received; Death sadly knew that it probably was. "Thank you," Harry said in an awed whisper before rushing over and wrapping Death in a tight hug.

Death closed his eyes and hugged the small child back. He didn't know how this child had wormed his way into his heart, but he was firmly there to stay. "I must return you now, but call me if your uncle beats you again. I can heal the worst of the injuries."

"Yes, Dis," Harry said a little sadly...maybe he wasn't allowed to call his friend if he wasn't in trouble.

Death frowned at the sad tone and then realized what it was for. "And, call me if you just want to talk or play cards, anytime," he added. He also handed the pack of cards to Harry so that he could continue playing Solitaire when he was alone.

Harry's face beamed as Death took his hand one more time and led him back to the mortal world.