Death is but the Next Great Adventure

Sugar, Spice, & Everything Not-So-Nice

Harry's protectiveness flared when he realized what was happening and he'd immediately and defiantly pointed out the illogical lesson plan with a narrowed gaze directed at the professor. Snape had sneered down at him and deducted points for speaking out of turn, causing Michael to scoff from his spot in the back of the class and mutter something undoubtedly nasty about Harry under his breath.

When Snape assigned the ridiculously long essay on how to identify a werewolf, the Hufflepuff students collectively groaned in defeat, as it was their team playing Gryffindor the following day and there would hardly be time to write two feet by the next DADA class.

Again, Harry silently fumed at the thought of Remus coming back from something as horrible and traumatic as the full moon and having to grade essay after essay about how to identify 'his kind.' Harry was thoroughly tempted to either throttle the vindictive professor, or incendio the essays before Remus saw them. Harry knew it was an irrational thought and that Remus could fight his own battles, but that didn't take any of the conviction out of the third year.

Despite his anger, Harry couldn't do anything outright to the professor, so he took his small revenge in the only way he could think of. Employing the help of his perpetually bored companion, Harry discretely watched the professor in benevolent amusement as his friend drifted a little too close to the edge of the veil behind the man and caused him to shudder, frown, and pull his robes a little closer. It didn't look like much, but Harry knew that the older man's pride was the only thing keeping him from shivering and turning pale from the bone-deep cold Death could induce, much like the Dementors, but on a less physical and more psychological level.

'Let the bastard think that a pack of Dementors are nipping at his heels! Serves him right.' Harry thought bitterly as he felt his friend return, absently noting the shiver that ran through a Ravenclaw sitting a few seats down—they were the closest person to Harry at the Great Hall table, since it was early and none of Harry's friends had arrived just yet.

'My, I do hope more foolish humans plan on stepping on your toes, I could use the entertainment.' Death sighed with great misfortune and Harry restrained from rolling his eyes.

'Perhaps if you were more forthcoming with the locations of the Horcruxes, things would be a bit more interesting.' Harry deadpanned, feeling the familiar itch under his skin to act and continue hunting down the pieces of Voldemort's soul. Death didn't reply for a contemplative moment.

'Point taken. Find a time to get off school grounds and I'll tell you where to go.' Death's tone was as casual and uncaring as usual when giving up important information.

'The next chance I have to get away is the next Hogsmead visit, which is a week before winter break. I can work with that.' Harry began to sift through the details of how he would slip away from the crowd during the visit, so his friend didn't bother speaking again and just silently slipped away to continue his current pastime of watching over the pathetic form the once great Dark Lord had taken as of late.

...

As the fall term dragged on into colder, more monotone months, Harry forced his mind to focus on his studies and practicing to bide his time until the next Hogsmead trip. His routine was only broken a few weeks before break when he was on his way to lunch and was snatched from the hall to be dragged gently into an empty classroom. Harry was on the verge of cursing head from shoulders when he saw who had plucked him from his path. Harry adopted a bemused expression that the grinning Weasley twins paid no mind to.

"And what wicked scheme have I been forced into now?" The raven-haired boy drawled sarcastically, pulling expressions of synchronized mock-offense from the twins.