Cheat Fate and Pay

People talk of fate as if they understand it. They talk of chance meetings between strangers in bars as if there's some profound importance to them. There isn't. Fate doesn't bother herself with the petty things like love and heartache all too often. Fate cares about the bigger things: plans set in motion that change the course of a nation, of a people. Mortal enemies entwined in a timeless dance with an enraptured audience whose lives will be changed when one claims victory.

I stay ambivalent. If I were to involve myself, I'd be investing myself, and investment isn't without its perils in my work. I watch, but never for too long, and wait for Fate's instruction. She tells me where to go, and when, and who it will be.

And so it was when I found myself in a dark, damp tunnel. There have been many like it in my memory: damp roots dripping onto dirt. Sides rough and uneven with rocks and clay, dirt and debris: lifetimes that have gone before. A name rang inside my head, one with too many 'S's, as I watched a young boy, face wan with pallor, eyes wide with fear, smile curved with excitement. He didn't see me, not yet, but his time would come.

Had I been prone to sentimentality, his youth might have tugged at me. But it didn't. I am not kind-hearted, or loyal, or warm.

He passed right by me, shivering against the unfelt caress of my cloak, and reached a trapdoor. His hourglass dribbled down to seconds. He muttered something I did not hear, magical stick in hand, unlocking the padlock so that the crudely hammered timbers could be pushed aside.

A noise came from the other end of the tunnel; the scrapes and echoes of another, moving quickly, racing as if they, too, could see the hourglass. The hourglass that, momentarily, stopped.

I watched, waited, heard his cry to the dying boy, watched the dying boy sneer.

If the dying boy looked pale, weak and emotionally unstable, then the newcomer was his opposite: there was colour in this boy's cheeks, a liveliness in his eyes. Energy exuded from him.

"Severus! Severus, come back! Don't do this!"

The lively boy ran past me with no recognition of my presence, but the dying boy did not heed his words. He reached up, anger emphasising his actions, shoving the trapdoor violently out of the way. No light came through the hole it left behind. The only light came from their magic sticks; both boys squinted into the chasm.

"Severus, now! We'll both die out here if you don't listen to me!"

When the animal caught the scent, he stalked slowly into the space, watching, waiting. Considering his prey.

The dying boy began to back away. Humans always respond to sudden threats in the same sort of way: they move slowly at first as their brains try to wrap themselves around the situation; but when comprehension sets in, they run. When the dying boy began to run, the wolf saw its chance, pushing itself off its haunches into a great leap, and then a sprint. The lively boy didn't run away: he ran forward, dropping his human form as he travelled, shifting into a creature of the forest, tree-like prongs rising up from his new head that he pointed at the wolf.

They crashed together in a crunch of bone and animal screams. The dying boy continued running; his hourglass remained still. The lively boy-animal didn't waste any time. He drove the wolf back, violent and fast, sending the wolf to the floor, licking its wounds. The lively boy-animal took his chance while he had it, shifting his form back to the boy, running after the dying boy, leaving the wolf behind.

The wolf made chase, but his spirit had gone; unsettled by that which it did not comprehend. The boys left the tunnel, escaping claws and teeth by fractions of seconds, leaving me watching over the wolf.

Fate had sent me here. Fate had set this in motion. Fate was never wrong.

The lively boy had laughed in the face of Fate.

The hourglass restarted, the top half containing much more sand than it had done before. Years replaced the seconds.

The dying boy wasn't dying anymore.

Involving myself is investing myself, and investing myself is perilous. I didn't involve myself. I watched. I told myself that watching was a mistake, but when news reached me of a certain foursome, I tuned in.

I spoke to Fate. I learned what the lively boy had set in motion. He was going to change the world. By saving his enemy's life that day, Fate had changed her plan. She'd left a choice behind: a single choice belonging to the girl with the heart. The heart is always the human's, to give to who they choose.

The girl with the heart swayed once this way, and then that, as constant as a tide between two shores. The harbours were equally inviting, for a time. She was attracted to danger and uncertainty. Both promised that.

The heart never chooses between good and evil. The heart only knows what the mind wants; the heart sees the many routes it could take to the target, each littered with its own sacrifices, the stakes that must be sold to reach the earthly Nirvana. The heart doesn't choose between good and evil. The heart chooses how much it's willing to sacrifice, how much blood it's willing to witness, how many other hearts will suffer to reach its fruit.

The girl with the heart had a mind that was torn, but her heart was not willing to sacrifice. She saw the path the no-longer-dying boy had laid out for him: a path of darkness and selfishness, of disregard and dissociation. The fork ahead was too shaded for her mortal sight to make out. She thought there was only one road left for him. The girl walked out of the life of the no-longer-dying boy and let the lively boy into hers.

The fork that had been shaded became overgrown, hazardous, impassable. The no-longer-dying boy no longer had a choice.

The lively boy and the girl with the heart enjoyed the love that bloomed in their blissful ignorance. They wrapped their arms around each other on an autumn day in a London park on the day that the no-longer-dying boy entered vassalage, bending his knee and bowing his head to a higher power.

His job was to lay tasty morsels at the table, fresh meats and old wines for his master's perusal, laying the table for the feast to come.

I did not get involved. I did not have a heart to be swayed by mortal occurrences. But this lively boy had thwarted Fate, she who rules over all. Fate has an iron fist and does not abide with disloyalty. The lively boy would suffer: three lives for the one he had saved.

The mortal did not sway me to his side, but Fate swayed me against hers.

Life, my counterpart, my enemy, my partner—she was also spurned by Fate. I met her in Asphodel Meadows. Fate had granted me three souls. With Life by my side, I would only take two.

I greet everyone, eventually, after all.

Had the lively boy not laughed in the face of Fate, the no-longer-dying boy would not be able to serve. If the no-longer-dying boy had, in fact, died, he would not have been sulking in the shadows of a dark hallway, outside a room, listening. Fate's voice filled the room with her heavy words, allowing truths to channel through the vessel into the ears of he who needed to know. He who could ensure they came to pass. The no-longer-dying boy also heard the words, wrapped them up in seasoning and sauce, carried them to his master's table and presented his delicious stolen meal.

His master unwrapped the gift, taking out the ingredients of the deadliest poisons known to man. He carried them to the lively boy and the girl with the heart.

When the master arrived, I was waiting at the top of the stairs, scythe in hand, watching the hourglasses count down final moments. Life stood beside me, white where I was black, nourished where I was starving, beautiful where I was ugly. I looked at her and smiled. I would take two tonight; she would take one. We did not yet know which. The girl with the heart would make the choice once again, Fate's eternal servant.

In the damp, dark tunnel, the lively boy's hourglass had so many years left in it I didn't bother to look. Now, his was the counter that was running out. The lively boy met the master on the stairs, and Life turned her back. The lively boy had no time to think; the lively boy knew what Fate had instore. He had no time to accept it, to choose it. The grim, ghostly green stopped his heart, stole him from Fate's grip. I waited before calling his soul forward.

The master entered the bedroom, the innocent child and the girl with the heart waited him. The master bade her step aside. I stood beside Life, watching, waiting, both of us with baited breath. One was mine and one was hers. The girl with the heart choose who.

The girl with the heart refused, and so her heart was stopped. Life shed a single tear before stepping forward, brushing past the master, and leaning forward. I watched her smile as she placed a single kiss on the innocent child's forehead. When the grim, ghostly green came for the innocent child, Life smiled. The master fell.

I stepped forward; my task awaited me. The boy who'd laughed in the face of death had paid the price, and it was time for me to meet him. I greeted most souls with happiness—they were now mine, after all. I claimed him with a permeating heaviness.

The lively boy had saved a dying boy, and in doing so, had sacrificed his own. The girl with the heart had been a pawn of others' games; a pawn of Fate, of a lively boy's gamble, of a no-longer-dying man's eternal regret.

An orphaned was left crying in their wake.

AN: So this story was written on a bit of a whim, after a conversation about the Immortal Overseers and a prompt I received: write about death. I capitalised the 'd' and this is what happened. I knew I was going to write about the Marauders, but this story really came together in the execution, and I hope you enjoyed it! I love feedback—positive or negative :)

Written for:
Potions Club at Diagon Alley: Asphodel—write about death
Valentine-Making Station: Heart Sticker—Write about your OTP (Jily)
Months of the Year Challenge: January—Write about someone who is particularly cold in personality (Death)
May Events Checklist at Hogwarts: National Smile Month—include a prominent smile. Commemoration Day of Fallen Soldiers—write about a character who died during the Wizarding Wars. World Red Cross Day—Write about a victim of war. Paranormal Day—include an aspect of the paranormal in your story.
Challenge Your Versatility at Diagon Alley: Genre—Spiritual
Fairy Tales Challenge at Diagon Alley: The Snow Queen—Write about Severus Snape.
If You Dare Challenge: 502. Death
Chocolate Frog Cards Club: Archer Evermonde—Include any character's involvement or lack of involvement in the First Wizarding War
Words: 1720