Chapter Text
Harry stared at the spot where Dumbledore had just disappeared into the haze of what appeared to be King's Cross Station. Feeling lost, he sat down heavily on the bench behind him.
“Well, thank goodness that old goat is gone,” a deep voice says.
Whirling around, Harry is startled to find a dark-cloaked figure standing there, looking at where the headmaster had just walked away. The figure looked back at Harry and seemed to grin in what looked like amusement. It was hard to tell as the uppermost part of his face was covered in shadows cast from his drawn-up hood.
“Whaa… who are you?” Harry stuttered out.
“You should already know the answer to that, Harry. I am what you greeted with open arms.”
“Death,” he whispered. “Why are you here?”
The shrouded figure broke into a large smile this time, although Harry could not see if it reached his eyes. “You called for me, Master, so I came.”
“I didn’t call… wait, did you call me master?”
“Yes, Harry, you have collected all of the Hallows and have come to me without a fight. You have met the requirements for becoming the Master of Death. Many have tried and failed, but you, descended from the Peverell line and marked by Fate, have done the impossible.”
Stunned, Harry leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes before they sprang open again at yet another revelation. “Wait, but I’m dead right now, aren’t I? How can I be the master of death if I died?”
The figure tilted his head, considering the young man before him. “Who told you that you’re dead, Harry? This isn’t the afterlife.”
“If this isn’t… where am I right now?” Harry knew he was gaping, but he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around what this person (was Death a person?) was telling him. “I must be dead,” he stammered out, “I was literally hit with an AK to the chest.”
“Let me clear up a few things for you.” The figure sat down next to Harry on the bench and drew back his hood. The man who was revealed was stunningly beautiful; there was no other word to describe him. There was an other-worldliness to him that seemed to make his dark eyes swirl with gold. “You aren't the Master of Death, but rather Death’s Master, and as such, you have choices as to what happens next. This space is your personal limbo; it looks different to everyone. Technically, yes, you have died, in that your soul is now here and not in your body, but you aren’t dead in the conventional sense.”
“Choices? What choices do I have? Don’t I get to go onwards now and see my parents and Sirius?” Harry looked bewilderedly at Death, who smiled patiently down at him.
“If that is what you wish, it is certainly possible, but it is not the only option. You can choose to go back if that is what you desire.” The man shrugged one shoulder as if to indicate that it really didn’t matter what Harry chose. “You can go back to where you left off and continue the fight. You can live out the rest of your life.”
With a wave of the man’s hand, the air in front of them shimmered. Suddenly, there was noise and color surrounding him once more. People swarmed, and a train whistle blared. It was quite a shock to Harry’s previously muted senses. The bright red, gleaming Hogwarts Express stood proudly in front of them. Seeing a familiar head of red hair darting past, Harry jumped up and chased after it. What he saw ahead of him slowed his steps considerably. Who he thought was Ron was running towards a much older-looking Hermione. The man next to her turned at the child’s approach, and a wide grin broke across his face.
“Ron…Hermoine,” Harry whispered. “They look so different…”
A hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Just watch,” said Death.
Ginny came from around the corner, holding hands with a young girl who reminded him so much of the few pictures he had of his mother, Lily. Seeing all of his friends together, in what he could only assume was a vision of the future, Harry felt a tear fall down his cheek. They had survived, and from what he saw before him, they had flourished. He saw himself next. An older man who smiled down at his three children and then up at his wife, Ginny. Harry found himself smiling as well.
“This, I want this,” he said, turning to look up at the man who had created the vision with teary eyes. “I want all of us together and happy.”
“This is but one option,” Death stated, “And there is more to the story than you know.”
Suddenly, the people were gone. In their place was what looked to be Dumbledore’s office. Ron and Hermione sat before the desk as Dumbledore paced behind it and muttered into his beard, “He is starting to shake off the compulsions, and he hasn’t been spending enough time around young Miss Weasley for the potions to truly take. This is a great concern. We cannot risk him losing sight of our goal at this crucial moment.”
Dumbledore turned to face the two teenagers. Hermoine had a determined look on her face, ready to do whatever the headmaster asked of her. She shook her head and said, “But if he is starting to remember, won’t he know what’s coming? How do we get him back on our side? I know the obliviates have been working, or he would have done something stupid by now.”
Dumbledore looked grave. “It is possible that after so many memory alterations, he has developed something of an immunity to them. I will have to draw out the memories themselves,” he said as he stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Ron perked up. “So it’s not over?”
Hermoine glared at him. “Of course not! We can’t just let him roam about freely, now, can we?” she said as she crossed her arms.
Dumbledore sat down heavily in his chair. “Forgive an old man for burdening you, but you must keep watching Harry and reporting back to me. He mustn't be allowed to run loose.”
Both teenagers sat up and looked resolved to do what the headmaster said was necessary.
Harry slumped back down onto the bench. The world seemed to be spinning around him. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. Hermione and Ron were… spying on him! They were dosing him with potions and layering on compulsions! Dumbledore admitted that he was wiping Harry’s memory, and they had done nothing but sit there casually and pretend that was fine!
“I’m sorry you had to see that, but it was important that you know the truth before you go back,” said Death.
“But why?” asked Harry, distressed. “Why would they do that to me? They’re my friends!”
Death merely shrugged. “They were never on your side, Harry. I can show you more damning evidence than this, but I think that this was enough to get my point across.”
“And what exactly is your point?” Harry yelled, filled with frustration, hurt, and rage.
Death gave him a pointed look, and his eyes flared gold for a moment. “I needed you to see that not everything is as it seems. I wanted you to be fully informed before you made a decision that you would have later regretted.”
“So what exactly are these choices that I seem to have so many of?” asked Harry, with rage still burning a hole in his chest.
Death nodded in approval. “You can go on to meet your parents and reunite with those that you’ve lost, you can go back to the world of the living and finish what you started, or you can choose to go back further and do it over again. I, personally, am in favor of righting several wrongs and getting a little revenge against those who would wish harm against my master.”
Harry nodded, feeling an intense and overwhelming flood of fury at his so-called friends. “I want to go back, back to the beginning of all of this.”
“Well then, there are really two options. You can go back to the major turning points in your life. The first being when you were left on the Dursleys’ doorstep and the second being when you got your Hogwarts letter.”
Harry grimaced as he thought of living with the Dursleys again. He definitely didn’t want to go through that again. But only having a month to prepare before going to Hogwarts didn’t sound that great either, and knowing the old goat, he would have started his machinations much earlier.
Death shook his head as if he could read Harry’s thoughts. “I wouldn’t let you go through that sort of abuse again. There are other options. You could be raised by someone else.”
“But who? The Dursleys are the only family I have,” protested Harry.
“Not true, your grandmother was Dorea Potter nee Black, making you distantly related to Narcissa Malfoy nee Black. The Malfoys have a strong familial claim for guardianship, but with their participation in the war, it is not the best option.”
Harry was gaping as he tried to make sense of this. “Malfoy and I are cousins?!”
Chuckling, Death nodded. “Distant cousins, yes. However, like I said, I doubt their allegiance would preclude them from taking you in, especially so soon after their lord’s demise. No, I have a better idea.”
Humming and nodding, Harry gestured for him to go on.
“There is an option where you can grow up in the company of someone who has your best interests at heart… me.”
Harry was gaping again. He was completely and utterly stunned. “But how…” he whispered. ‘Raised by Death himself,” he thought hysterically.
“Quite simple, really. I have a mortal form that I can take. Since no one directly handed you to the Dursleys, I can simply appear and scoop you off the doorstep.” Death looked quite proud of this idea; clearly, he had been wanting to propose it for some time.
Harry stared at the man like he was crazy. “But don’t you have, I don’t know, like, deathly duties to attend to?”
“Who says I can’t do both? I am quite good at multitasking, you know.”
Harry hesitated, thinking of all that he had witnessed. He wanted revenge. He wanted to fix his mistakes, and clearly, there were more of them than he originally thought. “Okay, let’s do this,” he said.
Death grinned like a Cheshire cat and held out his hand. Harry took it and immediately felt a sensation not far off from that of a portkey, an uncomfortable pulling at his navel that whirled him away.