Blanket Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the rest of the Potterverse does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form.
Blanket Trigger Warning: death, undiagnosed mental illnesses.

Hello, my name is Death.

You may have heard of me.

Some people know me by 'Grim Reaper', of course, but I much prefer Death. It has a much nicer ring to it.

I'm here to tell you a story.

This story is about a girl called Ginevra Weasley. She was a colourful girl – red comes immediately to mind, as does green. Green eyes and deep, deep red hair.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Please do excuse me.

Ginevra Weasley saw me three times.


The first time was when Ginevra was very little, but six, I would imagine. It was a party. Humans love the things, particularly Ginevra's family. Their house was clean and all the family was invited.

When I arrive for Elanor Weasley, I am too early.

It happens occasionally.

I greatly dislike it when I am early, because then, you see, I have to wait. I have to watch as the last breath leaves the body. As healers are called for, and as children start to cry. And then the soul relaxes. And I pry it from the body, and disappear hurriedly.

Ginevra Weasley was sitting on her grandmother's lap in a chair apart from the rest of the festivities. The rest of the guests were under the pavilion, laughing and probably drinking too much butterbeer. Elanor was telling Ginevra a story, still very much alive.

I lean in closer.

"It was a hard time," Elanor says, quite softly to Ginevra.

"Why, Grandmama?"

"Because, my child, bad things happen. Terrible, terrible things happen. Your grandfather – "

Her breathing becomes husky. I prepare myself.

"Grandmama, are you okay?" Ginevra slides off Elanor's lap in concern.

Elanor seizes her grandaughter's hands, clutching them tightly. "My child. My heart."

Her hands shake in Ginevra's, and she clasps them – "Grandma! What hurts?"

"Harry Potter. He saved us all. Death, Ginny – death is coming –"

The gnarled hands relax.

Ginevra screams. People come running. Healers are called for.

In the middle of the chaos, I step in and gently pull the old soul from its body. It is warm in my arms.

I carry it away, leaving the Weasleys behind me.

At the last moment, I turn. I cannot help it. Sometimes I wish I had not.

Ginevra is looking straight at me, staring into me, piercing me with her brown eyes.

I close my eyes and disappear.

That look will haunt me for years and years to come.


The darkness slivers and hisses out of the snake.

A girl lies on the tile floor, her fierce hair spread around her like blood.

Darkness hisses, loud and quiet in the same moment.

It hovers over the girl –

And slithers in.

At home at last.

If you didn't notice already, this story is slightly inspired by The Book Thief, a marvellous book/movie which I cannot recommend enough. I hope you enjoyed the first snippet!