Prelude to a Eulogy

The first thing Harry felt was nothing at all. Perhaps he could have described it as cold but his body wasn’t just absent of warmth, it was absent of everything else too. It was like floating but floating would require gravity to be separate from it. Not overstimulation or isolation. Not even a perfect balance of any extremes.

He simply was in Nothing.

Harry tried to move his hand, wiggle his toes, hold his breath, or even just swallow. Anything to prove he was alive, he had to be alive. But that wasn’t quite right, was it? The last thing he remembered was intense pain short circuiting any rational thoughts he had. A truck had crashed into their car, there was no way he could be alive. 

But then how could he be thinking?

Having ruled out the other senses, Harry willed his eyes to open in a desperate plea that he wasn’t stuck in a paralyzed nightmare. To his delight, it worked! There was no feeling of muscles contracting, skin wrinkling up or eyelashes peeling off one another. Instead his utter nothingness turned into a murky haze of colors before his eyes. It was dark and light at the same time, blue merging with yellow which bled into black and returned as something Harry had never seen before.

He tried to look around but the view stayed the same. Oh Harry could tell his head was moving; his eyes had tracked a path from a splotch of coriander to a basin of sickly lilac. But there was no way to return back to where he had been before. It was like trying to refocus on a branch in a tree where once had sat a bright yellow bird. The colors swirled around him in constant yet restrained motion. The space around Harry was never allowed a moment to rest or a moment to tell a story in his brain. He was floating in a soup of illegal existence.

Honestly, Harry felt right at home.

Somehow managing to move forward, Harry tried to find a reference point for why he was even here. His eyes were starting to glaze over from the world he wasn’t meant to see and the barriers of the space were both expanding and shrinking rapidly. In a panic Harry swam in a direction that just felt right. There was a shrill voice in the distance calling to him, he was sure of it. He just needed to reach it.

One arm propels his body forward while a foot steps onto the beginnings of a floor below him. Colors bleed away into a somber wash of grey as his path slowly transforms into the resemblance of a corridor. Harry can almost feel an ancient rug decaying under his feet, can just about see flickering torches hung upon a battered stone wall. If he were to look back he would see only darkness instead of nothingness but he kept his gaze steady and straight. 

As Harry walked forward the imprint of a cold stone floor below him dispersed into soft sand and his body picked up a light breeze. Birds cried back and forth in the distance and he could hear what Harry could only imagine was the ocean. The monotonous hallway was slowly fading away until it was replaced with crumbling walls and pillars fallen onto rocky cliffs. Every step made Harry more aware of the scenery around him. He had found himself in the deteriorating ruins of a limestone temple sat on top of a cliff. If he peered over the edge he could just about make out giant waves crashing against the rock before receding back into the sea. Patches of withered grass sprouted in between gray-brown sand as Harry carefully made his way down to the beach.

The island was quiet and somber. It told a story of loss and of what is left behind. Harry had no clue where he was but he was sure it had once been simply amazing. Maybe the temple had even been full of people dancing or praying or eating or any number of things. Harry was sure it had been warm and festive and the kind of thing that made a sad man want to smile again. But if Harry looked at the still ruins and tried to merge them with the images in his mind, he simply couldn’t. No matter what he did this place would always be one of absence and of the quiet sadness it brings with it.

Turning away before Harry himself started to cry, the young boy looked out onto the sloping beach to find the source of the voice he had heard before. It took a few tries but finally he found a silhouette of black and grey sitting upon a fallen pillar by the seashore.

“Hello?” he called out, maneuvering his lanky body through overgrown bushes and piles of rock, “Can you hear me?”

What came in response was nothing a human could ever produce but Harry could understand clear as day. 

Hello child, the Creature trilled almost fondly, not turning away from the churning sea, I’m so glad you found me. I was wondering if I would have to come find you myself. 

Harry froze in response, not sure what to make of that, until the Creature reached a spindly grey hand out from under its deep black cloak and gestured for Harry to come sit next to it. 

It said no more as it waited. Harry stared at its hand simply resting on the pillar – grey leathery skin stretched over prominent bones, ash dusting into the crevices yet he just knew it would be pleasant to hold. Silver rings and bracelets adorned the hand and it had light red rouging around the knuckles and wrist.

Silently, Harry moved tentatively to sit next to the odd Creature. It was tall yet not skeletal, its body wrapped in faded red fabric that tied at the shoulder and bunched at the waist before falling down around its feet. A heavy black cloak rested over this garment, clasped with a simple silver chain above its chest. A long neck held its head up high with short wavy black hair framing sloping cheekbones and a narrow chin. 

The Creature seemed to sense Harry’s staring and had turned its head to meet his curious gaze with an indulgent smile. Seeing its full face gave Harry the distinct impression that this was something that modelled itself after humans but never quite bridged the gaps. Its slender face was sunken yet also sculpted, slanted eyes resting in the valley of a prominent bridge. The rest of the nose was like a volcano, sloping up before coming to a deep crevice before continuing on downwards. Its lips were full but stretched thin, the top such a deep black it almost seemed like the remains of volcanic ash. Sterile white iris surrounded in grey met Harry’s gaze under black lined lashes framed by dustings of red eyeshadow. Thin black eyebrows rested lightly over them and Harry could make out a smattering of red and black freckles peaking up under muted red blush and grey contours of the face. Silver studs dotted the Creature’s ears, lips and nose, complimented by a silver chain crossing between the eyes and a matching ring in its septum. Harry could see now how its black hair was curled in waves like the sea, falling down around the forehead, past the ears and resting by the neck.

It seemed ancient. Almost like a mother. It…. no she seemed like home.

Neither said anything for a long while. Harry’s eyes flitted back and forth as he took in the being before him, trying to figure out anything everything he could about her.

Was she a spirit? No, her eyes held too much wisdom and wit, entrancing Harry like the bright side of the moon. Was she a god? Not like any of the ones he had ever heard of, demanding constant worship and attention. If she was a goddess she was one who had existed long before humans were ever needed and would stay long after they faded away.

The Being was here yet everywhere. Harry could feel her in the shrieking of the wind against brittle grass, in the pebbles falling onto the ocean floor.

She was lost, or perhaps she was loss herself? The island grew and caved around her, still as she was. She was the absence eating away at it yet she filled it right back up.

Harry reached out to her, desperate to feel more, to sink into the cavern his soul was leaning over. The Being simply caught his hand in hers and held it tight.

Not so fast, little one. You move too quick, your mind is thinking faster than your soul can run , her discordant tones cooed, before whittling away in urgency, Sit with me and feel. The ocean will overtake you unless you stand tall. Feel deep and feel true, tsakáli mou. My jackal. Tell me who you think I am. Tell me who you know me to be.

Harry stayed quiet as her sound washed over him, dampening all other noise around him. In this moment it was only him and her, grey hand encompassing tan. Her skin was not soft but comforting all the same, like the worn and brittle blanket Harry would wrap himself in on cold nights in the cupboard. He breathed in and closed his eyes, tethering his existence in this strange new world completely.

What he could only describe as a wave of sensations blew through him. He was suddenly aware of so much more yet almost nothing had changed. Harry could feel his being melding into hers. Her essence was like an imprint of a memory long gone. Grasping onto that absence of feeling, Harry let his mind race through his memories aimlessly.

First he was brought to a particularly dry November two years prior. Petunia had been particularly vindictive that year following an incident with Aunt Marge’s horrid dog Ripper. He was forced to sit on the back steps for hours and say nothing, luckily with one of Dudley’s old coats. It was mind numbing and the only company Harry had was the slowly wilting roses he had been force to prune all summer. The slow, aching dread he had felt watching them die with no ability to stop them was something he could feel like a bitter lemon on his tongue.

Next he found himself watching in horror as Piers stomped on a grass snake he had just been talking to. Dudley was sick that day but the rest of his gang took no day off. Piers had always been particularly cruel, even more so when Dudley was around as he could ignore one of the only unspoken rules Dudley seemed to follow - no hurting animals. The death was brutal but quick and as the other boys’ wicked laughs rang in his ears Harry could only hope it was a painless end.

Finally Harry was sat in the quivering silence of the night, fist balls in his mouth to keep his ragged breaths from waking the Dursleys. He had just jolted awake from another nightmare filled with overwhelming green light and the distant echoes of screaming. It had long been a staple for Harry but he had never dared mention it to anyone. It would just mean he was even more of a freak, especially if he told Aunt Petunia he was sure he had heard his mom screaming. So instead Harry lay in his cupboard, trying to make out the rafters in the darkness and hoping for the night to take him. He knew his parents were freaks and drunks but he couldn’t help but wonder if they would’ve loved him, cared for him. The only way he could know them was through passing on. It tempted him in these quiet moments late into the night. Why wake up tomorrow or ever again? But it wasn’t always so scary. Sometimes, only sometimes, Harry fell asleep smiling with the comfort that only a thin veil separated him from those who could truly love him.

The memories, the fear, the grief, all of it swirled around him as he gripped his fingers tighter around the Being’s sturdy hand. He felt her all around him, in and through him. She was here yet she was everywhere. She tasted like ash in his mouth and dirt against his skin.

He had never loved a feeling more.

Opening his eyes with a gasp for air, he locked his pupils onto hers and breathed, “You’re Death."

Death smiled wryly, the action smoothing and stretching her leathery skin.

That I am, tsakáli mou. My jackal.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

That you have.

Harry let out a shaky breath and smiled, taking in the fondness of her words, “Well… if I’m here that means I’ve died, doesn’t it?”

Death simply smiled in return, mischief dancing in her eyes.

Harry looked away, overwhelmed by the moment and the being before him. His eyes scanned his surroundings again, catching on the temple as it stood above the sea.

“Where are we?” he asked, still not looking at her yet not looking away.

Nowhere on Earth, though in a way I find this island very reminiscent of Greece. I like to call it Thanatos, though of the few I bring here even fewer get the reference, Death chuckled to herself 

Moving to sit facing the water while not letting go of her hand Harry murmured, “I’ve never been to Greece. I’ve never even seen the sea before…”

Death squeezes his hand, as if to reassure him. You will see Greece one day, little one. Maybe we can even walk through the ruins together.

Harry looked over at her in shock.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Death gave him a sad smile. Your journey is not done. In fact, your life was cut far too short. It happens more often than you think, Ananke can be a fickle woman. She chuckles to herself at this comment. I will send you back soon, mikrí mou. My little one. You are not yet for this world and even those who walk with death must cross over at some point.

Harry could only stare at her, trying to comprehend what was being said to him. This felt important yet it was all slipping away like sand through his fingers. Death was far kinder than he thought she would be. He was so tired and despite her inhuman nature, she was the first place to truly feel like home to him. The only place he felt safe.

Caught in his own emotions, Harry didn’t notice his body moving until he was already buried in the rough textile of her robe, arms around her sturdy waist. He could feel her long arms maneuver him until he was positioned in her lap, head resting in the crevice of her shoulder. Harry could feel Death pull her cloak over him and hugged her tighter. It was a heavy cloak, almost like miles of ground pressing upon him. A little claustrophobic but ultimately quite comfortable.

Finally Death wrapped her arms around him and rested her head atop of his. Do not be afraid of the world you must go back to. You walk with the end times and I will walk with you always. Not many come to Thanatos, I brought you here for a reason. Moving Harry’s head back, Death brushed his bangs away to reveal the jagged lightning scar that always sat there. Touching a finger to it, she continues, I have been with you since you were a child. If Ananke were to have an opinion she would say I have been with you longer. Walk with pride as you are a child of Death, Harry.

Harry shivered as Death’s trilling tones formed his name. It sounded haunting yet beautiful. It sounded just right. Wiping away his tears he looked up at her, asking “What does any of that mean? Who’s Ananke? Why are you saying any of this to me?”

Death chuckled in response before brushing a cold kiss to his forehead. I cannot explain that as it will come to you later, silly child. Ananke is what your kind would call Fate. She is a companion to me though I believe the human term would be wife. Her white irises softened with affection at the thought.

Harry mulled that over for a moment.

“If she’s your wife… does that make you her wife?” he asked cautiously.

Yes, little one. I suppose it does. Death answered with a soft laugh.

Harry was silent for a moment before quietly asking, “... You can do that?”

He could feel Death laugh silently to herself. While I do not follow human marital traditions I have seen many pairs of wives and many pairs of husbands pass through together. So to answer your question…. Yes, you can do that.

“Huh,” Harry said simply. 

He looked up at Death with a curious face. “If Ananke is Fate… do you have a name? Names are very important, y’know,” he said with a faux innocent smile, “My name is Harry!”

Death hugged him closer, seeming to cherish the moment, before laughing to herself again. Harry doubted anyone had made her laugh like this in a long time.

You are correct, names are very important, she answered indulgently, While I go by many names – Death being one of them – my personal favorite is Melinoe.

“Melinoe…” Harry mimicked, feeling out how the name sat in his mouth before smiling up at her, “I love it!”

Death simply smiled in return.

Now Harry, you have to go soon. There is one more thing I must do and it will hurt but please do not panic. She said, holding Harry tight to her chest. You will not remember the pain. I hope instead you will remember the security I will bring you and the sound of the sea. Brushing aside his hair once again Melinoe kissed Harry gently on the forehead. If you cannot live for me, please live to see the sea one day. 

Gripping his head lightly, Melinoe pulled it back to have a better view of his forehead. I cannot send you back for free. I do not wish to, nor should you wish to. Death does not play in favours, only equal exchange. You will be a missionary for me, an agent if you will. She brought her other hand to rest over Harry’s scar. It will all be explained once we meet again but your time here is running out. Sleep well tsakáli mou. My jackal.

And like that Harry’s entire world exploded in pain. It wasn’t intense but it was searing him from the inside out. A darkness Harry didn’t know he had inside of him slithered up through his throat and escaped from his mouth only to turn to smoke blown away by the wind. He felt lighter than he ever had, more himself, but so so tired. The scar on his forehead was shifting, growing, as the pain slowly left him until all at once his body and mind settled into a hazy sort of calm.

I will see you again, Harry.

Harry didn’t think he had ever slept better.