“What do you expect, a miracle?” Harry asked.

“Get in the boat, Potter,” Snape said dangerously, his eyes giving Harry the ultimate death glare from between the bridge of his hooked nose.

“With all due respect,” Harry began ignoring Snape’s snort, “it would not be wise to send someone in such a rickety craft, when they already have a slight fear of such…things.”

“Eloquent as ever, Potter.”

“So why were you sent?” Harry asked Snape, eyebrow raised.

“The boat, Potter.” The statement was severe, the same tone he used when handing out detentions to the unfortunate soul that crossed his path.

“Oh come on, just tell me,” Harry whined. “It’s not like it could have been Dumbledore.”

Snape grit his teeth, and motioned towards the boat.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell,” he breathed. “You mean to say, that even in death, Dumbledore sends you?”

“The former headmaster believes it is high time we reconcile our differences. Apparently, after death is such a time,” Snape drawled. “Besides, he did say he had seen you before…”

“True.”

“The boat awaits, Potter. Even the golden boy, the boy-who-lived, the savior of the wizarding world, cannot escape death.”

Harry glared at Snape. “It’s not death, I’m afraid of. I’m not getting in that boat.”

“Do you need special accommodations?” Snape asked with a wave of his hand. “Perhaps a yacht would be more to your liking. The dead do not receive special treatment. At least, not in this one case.”

“Why don’t we just use brooms?”

“Would you like to swim across, Potter?” Snape asked sarcastically.

“If I could, I would,” Harry snapped.

Snape frowned. “The second task?”

“First time.”

“You mean to tell me, the savior of the wizarding world, the one who defeated the Dark Lord, doesn’t know how to swim?”

Harry nervously patted the fringe of his hair down. He had never been able to banish the habit completely, no matter how much Ginny had yelled at him. “Look, there’s got to be another way to get across,” He said desperately.

Snape looked curiously at Harry. When he died, he would have been an old man, yet, here in death, Potter was a panicky child, afraid to get in the boat. His physical body also reflected that of a child, the one of Harry Potter as an eleven-year-old walking up to the sorting hat. “There is no other way to get across, Mr. Potter. You have to take the boat.”

“What will happen if I stay here?”

“The world does not bend to your every will! Nor does death! Get in the bloody boat!”

“No,” Harry said sullenly.

Snape’s whole body tensed as he breathed in, and let the air out. He was trying very hard not to strangle the boy in front of him. “Why not?” he asked angrily.

“Nothing good happens when you get on a boat.”

“You took one your first year. While it may have been detrimental to myself and some of the other professors, it was a good thing for you.”

“One time,” Harry said sourly. “The rest, were not fun.”

“Fun, Mr. Potter? You want it to be fun? Your head must be more swollen than I thought.”

Harry shook his head. “Fine. Whatever.” He stood in front of the boat, biting his lip uncertainly. As if the thought had just occurred to him, he asked, “Why does Dumbledore think that we need to reconcile our differences?”

“The boat, Potter. Then I’ll tell you. In fact, I’ll tell you lots of things.” Snape had no intention of talking to Potter at all during the boat ride, but then again, he didn’t need to know that.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said as he walked hesitantly to the boat.

“I named one of my kids after you. Albus Severus,” Harry said, trying to stall time, but there was a burning in Snape’s eyes that was focusing in on him. Harry knew that he would not cross Snape after his next order.

“Shut the hell up and get in the boat!”