Chapter Text
“So, do you remember how we got here?” Ronald Weasley asked his best friend and partner in crime, Harry Potter.
Harry turned to stare at Ron, his green eyes bewildered. “No idea, I was hoping you knew.”
The room the duo had appeared in was white, bland and utterly dull. The floor was carpeted and the walls were padded and had Harry not experienced being sectioned once before, he might have wondered if he was back in the mental asylum. What was worse was that Ron and he were buck naked and apparently eleven years old again. Harry wasn’t sure which of those was the very worst however.
“Isn’t this what that muggle mental asylum looked like?” Ron asked curiously. He had been the one to notice that Harry had actually been kidnapped not just run away.
“Well, yes; but it isn’t.” Harry sighed. He scanned the room sourly; at least he sure as hell hoped it wasn’t the mental asylum.
“How do you figure that?”
“Have you noticed our lack of clothing and apparent age?” Harry dryly replied, meeting Ron’s eyes.
Ron stared down at his skinny prepubescent body, noting the lack of hair and development that he was used to in his twenty five year old body. “Huh.”
A door appeared in the centre of the room and a figure stepped through. Cloaked in black and carrying a heavy scythe, the figure stood casually before the two now-eleven-or-twelve-or-thirteen-year-olds (it was a little hard to be sure). Harry felt vaguely cheated that he had died not eight years after killing the Dark Lord while Ron felt like screaming in terror.
“Welcome, Heroes.” Death greeted them blandly.
“Uh, hi,” Harry said, waving a hand slightly confused.
Ron shot Harry an incredulous look. “Hi? You can’t say hi to Death!”
“Why not?” Harry asked.
Ron gaped, stumped. “I don’t know, but you just can’t!”
Death watched two of his favourite heroes argue over whether it was proper to be casual with the personification of death. This had never happened before, most people were too nervous of his presence to banter with anyone who they might have died with. But then, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter had never been completely normal.
“Have you finished?” Death asked, amused.
“Uh,” Ron stared white faced at Death. “Yes?” He asked weakly.
Death rolled his eyes, Weasley was far too nervous, why couldn’t the redhead act like Potter did?
“So, I presume we’re dead?” Harry asked.
“Correct.” Death agreed complacently.
There was a pause as Ron and Harry waited for Death to expand on the ‘how’ of their sudden deaths. Death stood in front of them bored, mortals took an unnatural long time in the acceptance of their loss of life.
Harry sighed in annoyance, “how?” He growled.
Death blinked, “how what?”
“How did we die?!” Ron demanded, no longer in awe of Death and instead trying to understand how he could have died at twenty-bloody-five years of goddamn age!
“Oh.” Death said eloquently, bemused by Weasley and Potter’s easy acceptance. That was unexpected. There was usually a lot more tears and platitudes involved. “Exploding toilet.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Harry asked stunned. “Did you just say we died from an exploding toilet?”
“Indeed.” Death agreed, twirling his scythe negligently. “That’s not why you are here, though.”
Ron glared at Death in annoyance. “And why are we here?”
“A second chance,” Death replied, getting far too much enjoyment out of Potter and Weasley’s twitching eyes.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Can you stop with the single word answers?” He complained plaintively.
“Yes.”
Ron ground his teeth. “Then explain!”
Death chuckled darkly and brushed a gaunt hand across the dark wood of the door beside him. “Potter is the Master of Death and so when he died he should have come to this room alone, however the trauma of your death dragged Weasley along for the ride; hence your presence in this room. As for where this room is; this is Limbo.”
Harry exchanged a surprised glance with Ron; whatever he had been expecting, that had not been it. “Okay, that makes sense; so, a second chance?”
Death cocked his head in amusement. Mortals were fun to toy with. “The Deathly Hallows were never meant to be a reward, they were a punishment.”
Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. “So I gathered.”
“How do you figure that?” Ron asked.
“Everyone who owned one died shortly after.” Harry replied dryly.
“Indeed.” Death agreed. “Furthermore, it was because of the Deathly Hallows that Riddle focussed his attention upon you as a child. The Invisibility Cloak does not just conceal the wearer from all eyes but also drags the wearer and the wearer’s descendants into the spotlight. The Elder Wand does not just defend and defeat but also drags the user and the user’s descendants into any and all confrontation. The Resurrection Stone does not just revive and contact the dead but poisons the user and the user’s line with madness and the obsession with death.”
Ron wrinkled his nose. “So that’s why everyone knew the name Potter regardless of the time or era.”
“And why Riddle was barking mad.” Harry added.
“And why Dumbledore fought three wars despite his age and incompetence.” Death agreed. “But all these benefits and detriments are magnified when one owns all three.”
Harry felt his stomach sink somewhere near his toes. “Crap.”
“Shit.” Ron added.
Death snorted in amusement. “I had expected you to join me almost immediately but then you did the unexpected, Harry Potter.” Harry raised an eyebrow while Ron smirked. Death rolled his eyes at the two incredibly different reactions. “You refused to remain as Death’s master. You had not sought it and so you refrained from using any of my gifts selfishly or without cause.”
Death could almost claim to be proud of the dark haired boy except that this decision made his existence infinitely more difficult. Ron grinned and clapped Harry on his shoulder and ruffled the green eyed boy’s hair.
“Atta boy, Harry, always doing the unexpected,” Ron laughed.
“I’m so pleased you find this amusing, Weasley.” Harry rolled his eyes.
Death cleared his throat, “which brings me to my offer of a second chance.” He paused watching the duo’s sudden silence and intense focus; creepy, even by his standards. “Because you have died and because Potter is the Master of Death, however reluctantly, I am willing to revive you in an alternate universe where the Dark Lord was defeated by Neville Longbottom twelve years previously. You will not have family or anything else but you will have a chance for happiness in a universe unaffected by black magic.”
“So there is no Dark Lord?” Harry asked hopefully.
“None,” Death agreed.
“Will Hermione be there?” Ron asked.
“She will but she is already friends with your alter ego, Ronald Billius Weasley.” Death replied.
Harry blinked in surprise. “Alter ego?”
“You both have alternate selves in this universe, which means you will both be renamed.” Death replied, grinning darkly beneath his hood. Harry almost felt like shivering.
Ron was disappointed that Hermione would be unlikely to look at him twice while excited at the thought of another adventure. Eight years was a long time to not have an adventure in. Both boys hadn’t truly grown up after their school years, neither willing to settle down or do anything vaguely permanent. Peace time was incredibly boring.
“I’m in.” Harry grinned, excited.
Ron nodded enthusiastically, “yep.”
Death smirked as he pulled open the door and revealed a swirling blackness behind the wooden surface. “All you have to do is walk forwards and then you will be in the new universe. You will have all your memories plus the memories pertinent to your new life. Enjoy yourselves, Weasley and Potter, and remember to dust off your more adventurous side.”
Ron and Harry stepped through the door, grinning madly. They were Gryffindor’s and Gryffindor’s never back down from a challenge.