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The mist hovers like a spectral presence, encircling the forest in a veil of oppressive humidity. Scarlet and gold leaves fall between the trees, a beautiful cascade of silent death.
Harry's footsteps are muted in the fog, his gait smooth and sure along the well-trod, meandering path.
Ahead stands a figure dressed in black. A Reaper in the bush, waiting. Hair as dark as raven's wings, black eyes sharp, he waits with the endless patience of the summoner.
"Snape," Harry greets the man, stopping dueling distance away, in case there's trouble. "What do you want?"
Severus Snape tilts his head, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Don't you know?"
"Know what?"
The older man does not reply, enigmatic as usual.
"Why have you summoned me here?" Harry asks in an angering growl. Wind stirs around him, swirling the vapor at his feet.
Snape raises a wand up and points it at him. "You have lingered here too long, Potter."
The wand is made of Yew. Harry recognizes it as his.
No, it was his…before.
Before he was murdered for it, here in the woods.
By Snape.
Severus grins wickedly, triumphantly. "Time to go. Depulso Saecula."
The mist dissipates at long last.
~FIN~
