Chapter Text
Saturday, 2nd May 1998, between 5 a.m and 6 a.m
At the Battle of Hogwarts, in the Forbidden Forest
Harry believed with all of his heart that the only way for Voldemort to be killed, was for Harry to let Tom hit him with the Killing Curse; this would destroy the horcrux in Harry’s scar.
For one second, Harry’s plan worked. He was hit with the Killing Curse; but it was the horcrux, not Harry’s own soul, that was separated from Harry’s body.
****
But then Tom Riddle realised, If I can come back from the dead unexpectedly, why can’t Potter? Maybe I should make sure he stays dead. So Tom hit the corpse(?) of Harry Potter with a second Killing Curse.
This second Killing Curse did was it was supposed to: It removed the soul of Harry Potter from his body.
****
Meanwhile, Hermione was battling Bellatrix Lestrange. When Hermione saw Harry be hit by two Killing Curses and drop, then Hermione got quite distracted. When battling Bellatrix to the death, there can be only one outcome when an opponent is distracted.
Hermione outlived Harry by only seconds.
****
Someplace timeless and eternal
Harry found himself in a waiting room. Already in the room were many people, of every age, gender, colour, and type of clothing—or in the case of one old man, lack of clothing. Scattered about the room were Hogwarts students he recognised, magical adults who had fought Voldemort’s forces at Hogwarts, and Death Eaters (with their masks either in their laps or still on their faces).
On the opposite wall of the waiting room were three maps: Great Britain, North America (with Greenland, Mexico and all the Caribbean islands except for Jamaica greyed out) and Australia/New Zealand. By the maps was a sign, “Language spoken here: English.”
A bright light flashed, and the chair next to Harry now had someone sitting in it.
“Harry?” said a quite-familiar voice.
Harry never initiated hugs—but now he fiercely hugged Hermione next to him. Across the room, Harry saw one of the Death Eaters glare at the pair of them; Harry gave the shitstain Pureblood the two-finger salute.
****
As Harry waited for the woman with the clipboard to call his name, he looked about the waiting room and he kept thinking, I’ve been here before. He could not explain this feeling, but neither could he convince himself he was wrong.
The last time I was here, I sat over there. I started a conversation with Fred Weasley. He told me how to remove the Trace from my wand.
****
After Harry and Hermione had flashed into the waiting room, a few other Hogwarts defenders and Hogwarts attackers flashed in, but Voldemort never did. Harry sighed; obviously Voldemort had survived the Battle of Hogwarts—at least temporarily.
At one point, Harry looked at the woman with the clipboard and thought, The last time I was here, she had her hair put up in a bun atop her head.
****
Three hours, eleven minutes after Harry’s death
The woman with the clipboard said, “Harry James Pott—no, no, no, you are fucking kidding me. Harry Potter, you’re back here again? Not to mention, the last time you were here, you promised Gerhardus you would not come back for years yet—expect to be screamed at.”
Hermione asked the woman, “Harry is back here ‘again’? What do you mean?”
Harry said, “I’ve been in this waiting room before, but I don’t remember anything else.”
By then, Harry had stood up. Now Hermione stood up too, and grabbed Harry’s arm. “Harry, whomever you’re supposed to talk to now, I’m there with you.”
Hermione then frog-marched Harry over to the woman with the clipboard.
Hermione looked at the woman’s clipboard, then pointed at the top name on the list. “ ‘Hermione Jean Granger’—that’s me. But I’ll be with Harry James Potter; tell this to whomever I’m supposed to talk to.”
The woman with the clipboard said, “This isn’t allowed, one client sitting in on another client’s meeting with his or her Grim Reaper.”
Hermione replied in a haughty voice, “Harry has a long history of being buggered by bureaucrats, starting with a woman named McGonagall. I am going with him; accept this and move on.”
Harry laughed. “Language, Hermione.”
The woman with the clipboard shrugged, then opened a door. On the other side of the door was a corridor and a white-haired old man with white angel wings. “Two to speak with Gerhardus, Clarence,” the woman with the clipboard said.
“Hoo boy,” muttered Clarence.
****
Soon Harry and Hermione were led to a door that had a name on it: Gerhardus Freiherr von Schiffer, Grim Reaper. Clarence opened the door. The two British teens walked in.
“YOU!” Gerhardus yelled.