Master of Death

I chapter

King's Cross

Silence fell between the former headmaster of Hogwarts and Harry as the teen contemplated the words Dumbledore had spoken. It was strangely relieving to know this all, to have it clarified. Not only about Voldemort and Harry's own existence and life, but about Dumbledore and Grindelwald and the Hallows. Somehow it felt like he had known it all along and yet it was soothing to have someone speak it all out loud. Even if it was all in his head.

But the idea of going back… it wasn't as soothing. He knew he could go back, now, and he could go on, if he so chose. Going back he could possibly save the world some pain and lives, he could end Voldemort's reign of terror, possibly that very same night. He could… but did he want to?

He had chosen death. He had welcomed it with open arms. According to Dumbledore that was sign of a true master of Deathly Hallows… and yet now he could go back, to life? But wait… the Hallows… the Elder Wand.

"You meant the Elder Wand to go to Snape," Harry said slowly, repeating his earlier words. "But that didn't work out the way you planned."

Dumbledore said nothing, merely looked at him curiously.

"It didn't work the way you wanted to, because… because Draco Malfoy disarmed you before Snape used the Killing curse," Harry continued, his eyes widening as realisation came to him. "Draco Malfoy disarmed you. Draco Malfoy… beat you. It wasn't a duel maybe, but he disarmed you. He was the master of the Elder Wand."

"I suppose he was," Dumbledore agreed with a solemn nod. "Without ever knowing he has held the power Voldemort so craved."

Harry looked up, barely registering the words. "And I disarmed him," he said slowly.

"That you did," the old man smiled. "You are truly the master of all three Hallows right now, Harry. The Cloak which you inherited, the Stone which I gave to you, and the Wand which you mastered when you disarmed Draco Malfoy. They are all yours, now. Even if Voldemort has the Elder Wand, it will not work properly for him unless he beats you first."

"But he did kill me," Harry said with a frown.

"Did he, really?" Dumbledore chuckled. "Did Severus kill me, really? In wisdom of hindsight, I now wonder if he would have become the master of the Elder Wand even if Draco Malfoy had not disarmed me first. I am not sure if a planned death, even in the hands of another, is truly a defeat or if it is an unconventional victory."

"I am the master of the Elder Wand then?" the teen asked to make sure. "And the others too, I'm master of all the three Hallows…" the wheels were turning in his head rabidly. "What will happen to them if I go on? Who will master the Hallows then?"

Dumbledore frowned. It seemed that he had not considered this before. "I… am not certain," he said slowly. "Their magic is unlike any other. It is possible that they will be left without a master until someone will claim them, or that… that they will lose their powers along with their master."

The old man looked at the teen. "The Hallows have never been unified under one master, Harry. Though many, myself included, have dreamed of such of event, it has never occurred. So there is no telling what sort of power you could wield over them," he spent a moment in thought. "I think… yes, I think it is very much possible that should you chose so, you could take their power away with your death."

Harry nodded. He had thought so. If he would die now, if he would go on and chose to take the Hallows with him, the Elder Wand would turn dead in Voldemort's fingers. It would either turn into a wand like any other or it would simply lose all of its power. Maybe it would even be destroyed.

And without it, without the Death Stick… Voldemort would not be as powerful as he had once been, would he? Most of the Horcrux were gone, Harry himself included, all that was left was the snake and Voldemort himself. Hermione and Ron, or possibly Neville, would take care of the snake. And then Voldemort would be like any other man. He would be able to die like any other man.

'I don't need to go back,' Harry thought, somehow relieved by the idea.

The thing he had found he was most afraid in the war, was the peace that would follow. Harry had never known such a thing. Even at the Dursleys there hadn't been peace for him, and he had started feeling the approaching war the moment he had stepped into the magical world. There had never been peace, not true one, whilst he had been there.

How could someone like him, after a history like that, get adjusted to peace? Or would his life be endless spiral of fighting? He could become an Auror and spend the rest of his life combating dark forces and fighting dark wizards. What sort of life was that? No, he thought, thinking back to his sixth year and the paranoia momentarily peace had brought to him. Even if he had been true about his obsession over Draco Malfoy's dark doings, he couldn't live like that. No, he wasn't fit for peace and he didn't have the energy to fight forever.

He wanted to go on. He wanted it over. He wanted to go to where his parents were, where Sirius and Remus and Tonks were alive, and he wanted to embrace them.

"I will go on," Harry decided finally, sparing a kind thought for Ginny but knowing she would find another to love. He spared anther for Hermione and Ron but knew that they would have each other. People would miss him, but they would go on without him. "I will take the power of the Hallows if I can, and I will go on."

Dumbledore nodded his head with sad agreement. "That is your choice," he said and stood with Harry who was now looking forward to the train tracks. He could hear a train approaching. "And after the life you have lived no one can disparage you from wanting peace."

Harry nodded and then turned to look behind them where the wounded, mutilated baby still lay underneath the bench helplessly whimpering. "I can't help it," Harry echoed Dumbledore's earlier words before steeling himself and walking towards the creature. "But I can take it with me. I can give it peace."

Dumbledore said nothing. Swallowing his dread and nervousness, Harry kneeled beside the bench. Then he hesitated, not wanting to touch the wounded creature with his bare hands. Just like before, when his robes had appeared from his wish, a velvety cloth appeared from nothing to his hands. With a sigh of relief, Harry wrapped the cloth around the wounded child and then carefully gathered it to his arms. It whimpered once, red eyes peaking up from deformed face, and then, finally, fell silent.

When Harry stood up, Dumbledore was gone. Glancing left and right, the youth sighed and pulled the mutilated creature closer. Now that he was holding it, he found that he didn't have the heart to let it go again. "Well then," he murmured to the creature with a sad smile. "I'm sorry that the one time someone picks you up is only to take you from this world. Oh well… Let's go."

He stepped closer to the clean, almost completely white train. To his shock, the baby in his arms seemed less mutilated as he did, so he took another step. Again the child seemed to heal a little, the open wounds closing a little bit. With each step it happened again and when Harry was finally at the train's doors… the baby was no longer mutilated at all, but instead it was completely healed - a little dirty, but undamaged. And when Harry stepped inside to the empty train, the baby's eyes turned from red into dark green, the pupils no longer slits.

Harry sat down with the child. The doors closed and with a slightest jerk, the train began to move. Smiling down to the child, the youth pulled back the black velvet a little, and gently brushed some of the dirt from the baby's face. The child seemed a little afraid, but was no longer in agony. "We'll be alright, Tom," Harry murmured instinctively, his fingers gently over the child's hairless head. "We'll be alright. No need to be afraid."

The child cooed and calmed down. Not much after, the gentle rocking of the train seemed to lull him to sleep. Harry smiled again, rearranging the cloth around him gently and then looking up.

To his surprise he wasn't alone. A man in dark uniform of a conductor was standing before him, holding up a clipboard. "Good evening," the man spoke to surprised Harry, "and welcome to the Reality Express, Mr. Potter, Mr. Riddle. Anything you wish you will get, just wish it and it will be so," he said, reminding Harry of Stan Shunpike slightly. "Now, what is your chosen world, and point of arrival?"

Harry blinked with confusion. "E-excuse me?" he asked.

"What is your chosen world and point of arrival?" the man asked and smiled slightly. "Where do you want to go in which world?" he clarified.

"I… I thought this was the train to… well, onward," Harry said carefully. "It doesn't go to, well, death?"

"No, that would be the Death Express, that one goes to on as you say. This one is the train that travels through the void between realities and goes to other worlds," the conductor answered almost cheerfully. "So, is there a world you would wish to go? It's one time opportunity; you won't get this chance again, so choose well."

Harry stared at the man for a long while speechlessly and then leaned forward. "What does it mean, another worlds?" he asked slowly, his hands tightening around the child in his arms. "Like other planets?"

"No, other Earths. There are hundreds of thousands if not hundreds of millions different realities in existence, hundreds of millions of Earths. And more are created every moment," the conductor said thoughtfully. "See, a reality or multiple realities, as it usually is, are created whenever a choice is made. Universe demands to see all the outcomes of this choice, and thus all of the outcomes exist in separate realities, completely unaware of each other but still just as real as each other. And it's like that with every choice and people choose a lot during their lives."

The boy stared at the black clad conductor for a moment in shock. "You mean to say that out there is a reality where, I don't know… Tom Riddle never chose to become Voldemort?" he asked, looking down to the sleeping baby.

"Not just one, I suspect there are thousands and thousands of them," the conductor said with a nod. "The decision was made a long ago, after all."

"And there are realities where I chose to go back to living instead boarding this train?" Harry asked.

"Few hundreds already, yes," the conductor agreed. "I'm afraid to say that you are already, permanently, dead in some of them, but I suspect you will triumph over this Voldemort fellow of yours in most realities where you chose otherwise," he looked down the clipboard. "And when you make a choice about which world to go, I suspect more realities will be born where you chose otherwise, as is the nature of universe and all."

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a bit bewildered and suddenly wishing that he had Hermione there, explaining this whole thing. He had thought that time was linear, a single line that couldn't be affected, especially after his third year, but apparently he had been wrong. "So, there are these words and… I could go to them?"

"Just to one of them, I'm afraid. It is one time offer after all," the conductor smiled apologetically. When he realised that Harry didn't know what to say to that, his smile softened. "How about we try and narrowing down your preferences? Usually in these cases people prefer to go to realities different from the ones they lived in so… what sort of differences between your reality and the one you're going to are you looking for?"

Differences? "Like things which went certain way in my world that I would've preferred to go other wise?" Harry asked and the conductor nodded. "Alright. Is there a where Albus Dumbledore didn't die in year nineteen-ninety-seven?"

"Oh yes, quite many in fact," the conductor nodded, looking at him with amused smile. "You might wish to narrow it down a bit more."

Harry frowned and thought about it. "My parents… and Sirius…" he murmured and frowned. "I want a reality where Albus Dumbledore, Lily and James Potter and Sirius Black are all alive."

The conductor nodded and then frowned a little. "Hm… there is handful of realities where your First War against Voldemort never ended in nineteen-eighty-one," he said. "Some of those realities are quite ghastly. In few Voldemort did die, in those realities Neville Longbottom has tendency of inhabiting your space in Destiny, I'm afraid…"

"There are realities where Neville Longbottom is the Boy-Who-Lived?" Harry asked slowly.

"Quite a few, yes," the conductor nodded. "Would you wish to go to one of them? Or do you wish to continue narrowing your choice down, still?"

Harry thought about it. If he understood this right, the options were pretty much limitless and he could go to any sort of world possible. But what would he do in such a world? If the world already had a Boy-Who-Lived, then he wouldn't have any duty to perform there - he'd be free to do whatever he wanted. But he also wouldn't know anyone there, he wouldn't have any friends or a live. And he had already realised that peace wasn't something he could handle.

On its own, Harry's gaze drifted to the sleeping baby. "What will happen to Tom?" he asked, looking up to the conductor. "If I go into some other world, what will happen to him?"

"Well, he's with you, so I think it's safe bet to say that he's going where ever you're going," the conductor raised his eyebrows. "Unless you'd wish leave him here…" he seemed disapproving of the thought.

"No… no," Harry said. "I'll take him with me. Except…" he frowned with slight worry. "Is he whole? Or is he… sick, like Voldemort is?"

"Well… how whole can you be when you are mere shard of a soul?" the conductor asked somewhat sadly. "He is not like you think, though. He is unintentional. Knowledge maintained by the other pieces was never passed onto this one. So, I guess… there is still hope for him."

"Would he grow up right?" Harry asked. "Or will he be like Tom Riddle, evil from birth?"

The conductor shrugged. "People are the choices they make, and, sometimes, the choices made for them," he simply said and lifted his clipboard again. "Will you be taking Mr. Riddle with you then, Mr. Potter?"

The teen was quiet for a long while before finally nodding. "Yes. Yes I think I will," he said. "I want to go to a world where Dumbledore, my parents and my godfather are alive. Oh, and Severus Snape and Cedric Diggory too. And Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks and Alastor Moody - and everyone else who were killed in the second war in my world."

"Do you want a peaceful world?" the conductor asked worriedly. "Because with this criteria the options are rather limited - and if you wish to join the Wizarding World of your new reality, I must warn you. Magicians have tendency of going into some sort of conflict every now and then. Human nature and all…"

"No, I don't care for peace," Harry said and frowned, his eyes trailing back to Tom. A war time was no time for infants. "But I guess it could be pretty bad for Tom if there was outright war in the new reality. I suppose it would be hard to take care of a baby while fighting a war, so…"

"That's understandable," the conductor nodded. "It will require some tweaking with the engines, but I think we can do it," he nodded. "This has narrowed the possibilities down to one, as well. Now then, do you have any particular platform in mind? King's Cross perhaps or the Hogsmeade Station? I believe you are familiar with those ones…"

"King's Cross will do," Harry nodded.

The conductor nodded with satisfaction. "Very well. We should arrive in two hour's time," he said. "Feel free to wish some refreshments in the mean while. I'll come around to inform you about our arrival when we are getting close."

"Okay, thank you," Harry nodded. With a nod of his own, the conductor turned to leave but before he could Harry spoke out, remembering his talk with Dumbledore earlier. "The Deathly Hallow," he said. "Can I, uh… make sure that they don't work back in, er," he motioned towards the direction the train was coming from, "in my world? Whence I came. Can I make sure they don't work there anymore?"

"Of course. Just wish them here," the conductor said. "They will follow their master."

"And the things wished here, I can take them to the other world?"

"Just because a thing was wished into existence, it doesn't make its existence somehow less real than the things that are manually created."

"That helps loads, thank you," Harry nodded with slight relief and watched as the man left. After that he spend a moment in silence, just digesting what was happening and what he needed to do. This wasn't what he had planned but… maybe he could have something in the new world that he hadn't gotten in the old one.

"This makes me feel a bit selfish though," Harry murmured to sleeping Tom Riddle. "I left my world in midst of war, my friends… I left them in war. Well, I thought I'd die, I thought we'd both die, but…" He hadn't even asked if he could go back. And he wasn't going to either.

After another moment of silence, feeling a bit apprehensive but knowing that he had to do it, Harry turned his thoughts to the Deathly Hallows and wished very much that they would be with him. That the Elder Wand would just vanish from Voldemort's fingers and appear to his. That the Invisibility Cloak would be at his pocket once more. That the Resurrection Stone he had dropped would once more be in his finger.

And there they were, his inner pocket swelling with the Cloak, the Peverell ring appearing right into his middle finger and then wand suddenly materialising right into his hand. The Deathly Hallows, all three, in his possession. After all that had been said about them - after how Harry himself had, at a time, longed for the wand, they brought him little happiness. Exception was, perhaps, the cloak. It was a relief to have it on his person again.

"The Elder Wand, huh," Harry mused eying the fancy, knobby piece of light shaded wood. He had, once upon a time, seen Dumbledore wield it and then he had seen it in Voldemort's hands. It was strange to be holding it himself, knowing the wand's dark history and its alleged power. Power which couldn't exist just in rumours, with so many great wizards running after it.

Harry would keep the wand. He somehow knew that trying to destroy it would be impossible. So he would keep it instead, avoiding any unnecessary displays of power and treating the wand just like it was his own. His own, broken… Before Harry knew it, he was longing to have his own wand with him, the holly wand with Phoenix feather, the wand that had saved his life so many times, the wand Hermione had broken.

And there it was, the two pieces, still connected by the phoenix feather, falling to his lap. For a long moment Harry stared at them over baby Tom Riddle's sleeping form before, almost as if in trance, pointing the Elder Wand at the pieces. "Reparo!" he said and watched with amazement as the wand, though its damage had supposed to been beyond repair, resealed itself.

Smile split to Harry's face. Taking the Peverell ring clumsily off while still keeping Tom in his arms, he tapped the Elder Wand against the broken stone. "Reparo!" he said again and grinned as the stone became whole once more. "Alright then," Harry muttered, feeling a bit more confident. "I think we will be alright, Tom."

With that said, Harry begun wishing thing with an earnest.

By the time the two hours were over, Harry had had a change of clothing, young Tom had been clothed and was now sleeping away in a pram, and Harry had several truckloads of various things he thought he'd need shrunken and hidden away in his pockets. The two wands had found home in holsters, the holly wand's tube holster casually attached to Harry's hip next to a small leather satchel of gold and the Elder Wand concealed in arm-holster in is left inner arm.

"I see you have made some preparations, Mr. Potter," The conductor said while walking towards him once more. "Very wise of you. Though, if I may suggest it, you might want to consider a change of identity for yourself and young Mr. Riddle."

"Change our identities?" Harry asked with surprise and then gasped. "The world I'm going to already has a Harry Potter and a Tom Riddle?"

"Well… in manner of speaking. Either way, people know of both Harry Potter and Tom Riddle and possessing those names might make your stay in your new world not as peaceful as you seem to hope. In the least, I suggest another last name for you both. And either change or scratch your second names altogether."

"Uhh…" Harry frowned. All the names that came to his mind were the names of other people. His naming skills, apart from Hedwig who had gotten surprisingly good name from him, had always been below the par. When thinking of alias for himself, he had used Neville Longbottom and Vernon Dudley, for Merlin's sake.

"How about Newman?" the conductor suggested after they had spent a moment in silence.

"Newman?" Harry asked with surprise and then thought about it.

"It just seems like a fitting name for you," the conductor said with a smile and shrug. "That is what you will be, is it not?

Newman. It was rather obvious but in the same time it was probably better than anything he could come up with. "Yeah, alright. Harry Newman. Tom Newman. I guess it works. Or maybe Harold Newman and Thomas Newman…" For a moment he thought about second names. "Harold and Thomas Newman will do," he then decided, figuring that it was best not to mangle their names further. He couldn't think anything fitting anyway.

"Aright then," the conductor said while the train jerked and started to slow down. Reaching out, the man grabbed something out of thin air. "Here's your paperwork then," he said, handing stack of papers to Harry. Half of them were really papers, half were parchments. "Birth certificates and such, you know," the man said. "Can't go around without those you know."

Harry only had the chance to glance the top one. It was Tom's muggle birth certificate. 'Harold Newman' was marked down as 'Thomas's' father. Before he could argue against it, the train stopped moving with a soft, somehow sleepy jerk. "Alright then, do you have everything you need? All your luggage and things?" the conductor asked. "Money and such?"

"Yes, yes I have everything," Harry said, hurriedly folding the papers and pushing them to his inner pocked.

"Well then. Thank you for using Reality Express. Feel free to call upon us if you ever find yourself in Limbo again," the conductor said cheerfully while opening the train doors to Harry. "Good luck with your new life in your new world then, Mr. Newman."

"Thanks," Harry said with a nod. Taking hold of the handle of Tom's pram, he nodded to the conductor and made his way out of the train. After stepping down to the dark platform, this one real and physical in the actual King's Cross station, he turned to look at the train. It glowed pure white as stood there for only a split of a moment before fading away and leaving Harry alone with Tom.

Looking around in the nightly platform Harry sighed and looked down to the pram. The baby there continued to sleep undisturbed. "Well then, Tom," the teen muttered. "I guess we're on our own now. Now about we make our way to Leaky Cauldron and see where we can get from there, hm?"

The baby of course had no answer to offer. With a chuckle Harry braced himself for Disapparition, before stopping. One of the many rules of Apparition was not to Apparate with a child under the age of four. Groaning, the youth let the concentration slip. "On second thought, let's see if I can hail the Knight Bus," he muttered, heading towards the station exit, unaware of the many surprises he was going to encounter in the world he had came.

xx

I've always wanted to write one of those fics where Harry goes into alternate reality where his parents are alive and so forth... and in the same time I've held that urge back because there are lot of fics like that and I doubted I'd add anything new to the old plot bunny. But it seems I succumbed. Oh well. Maybe I'll manage to make something new out of this.

Mild warning of future slash, though it won't come into play until after dozen or so chapters and I doubt it will ever be explicit.