|Oh God, Here We Go Again
Author: Hellenbackagain PM
This is a Harry Potter fic with some minor book Xovers. Harry died, again, and is sent back, again. Though this time he gets to change everything. It's not an original Idea, but it sparked something in my brain. Please review. editing doneRated: Fiction M - English - Harry P. - Words: 1,831 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 5 - Published: 03-30-11 - id: 6856805
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Harry is killed at 17 during a fight with Voldemort. He's sent to his Death's office (explained later) and finds out that this isn't the first time that this has happened. Harry's Death (who can have a human name) is mad at his arrival. Apparently, people dying before their time is a black mark on the various Deaths' records, and Harry is getting perilously close to getting this particular one fired. When Harry asks what was supposed to have happened, Death goes off on a rant saying how he was supposed to have killed Voldemort, found his soul mate ("Some Granger girl...") and lived to be a centennial age. But since Harry keeps getting into life-threatening situations for one reason or another, he keeps dying before that happens. Harry is surprised about the soul mate part. Death gives Harry a paper to sign that allows him to retain his memories (the previous times, he wasn't given this option for some reason). Harry is deposited to a previous time of the writer's choosing. Eventually, Harry gets it right. He kills Voldemort, gets the girl, and lives to a ripe old age of whatever. And Death doesn't get fired Harry had to have died at least three times before this one. The memory keeping contract must be included. Death must refer to Hermione as "some Granger girl" when Harry's soul mate turns up in his rant.
I don't own anything except the reaper names, which anyone can use if they'd like. If someone wants to use any of my ideas in their stories just let me know so I can read them, I really don't care if you use them. Thank you for letting me go on, and now, on with the story! (^_^)
I am also so very sorry it has taken so long for me to fix all my mistakes and such. I promise to start writing at least a page a day until all my stories are done. Stupid life, getting in the way.
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The first thing that Harry noticed was that he wasn't in pain anymore. He opened his eyes and was assaulted by bright cheery colors everywhere, and sunlight flooding into the room. Blinking quickly to adjust his eyes, he looked around him slowly. The walls were a bright gold washed red, the tile white stone with gold swirled throughout it. The odd thing was the ceiling was a solid mass of white glowing mist, which Harry figured was the source of the light. He was sitting in a very comfortable chair, and across from him was a large desk, looking like it was made from solid jet with gold inlay. Sitting behind the desk was, well, he wasn't quite sure what the person was exactly, only that she was female.
The woman looked like she had had a bad bout with cat polyjuice and died her hair purple and ears red, a red fluffy tail curled up behind her to rest on her shoulder. She was filing what seemed to be gold painted claws, then buffing them against her shirt. What had him shaking his head was the fact she was wearing jeans with a Pink Floyd's the Wall t-shirt, and her skin was a mix of soft tan with red and purple splotches. Harry just stared at her, then shook his head, and cleared his throat to gain her attention.
Without looking up from working on her nails," Nice to see you again Mr. Potter, please take a breather, get your bearings, and relax. Your R.M. will be with you shortly, after he takes a few Motrin."
"Um, ma'am, could you please tell me where I am exactly. The last thing I seem to remember was Voldy dead in front of me, and Ron stepping up behind me, then I'm sitting here. Please, what's going on?" Harry stood up and walked over to the desk, running his fingers through his hair nervously.
"Well, Mr. Potter, Harry, the only way I can say it is rather bluntly, so I'll just go ahead and tell you now. Harry, you're dead, and I mean DEAD dead, your R.M. will explain this a bit more to you. As for again, well, he'll tell you that as well, but needless to say, we have met before." She was looking him in the eye the whole time, her eyes wide open pools of truthful blue. The shock of this revelation hit Harry hard enough that he just numbly walked back to his chair and sat, letting out a quietly sad "oh".
A few moments later, what seemed to be a young man walked into the room. He was somewhat tall, with long oak brown hair that he tied back in a loose tail. Wearing what seemed to be a pinstriped suit under his dark green and brown robes, he strode over to Harry with a very disappointed look upon his face. "Well Mr. Potter, I am your personal R.M., you can call me… Tim. I find myself with a problem, and unfortunately you are the root of said problem. You see, this is the eighth time you have come here then sent back with all memory erased of these visits before you are sent back to a bit before you died. This isn't working as it should, so if you would follow me to my office, we'll get this all settled."
Harry just stared at the man, his eyes wide and unbelieving. He stood up and started to follow as the R.M. walked away. "What… what do you mean EIGHT times? Also, what does R.M. mean anyway?"
"Well Harry, let's go with the easier question first. R.M. means Requiem Manager, so I am your personal one. Each R.M. have about a hundred people they look after when they die, and sometimes make sure that their clients don't die at the wrong time." They entered into an office and Tim motioned Harry to sit in the chair opposite the one behind the desk, then sat down himself with a sigh. "My problem is the fact that the people around you seem to want to see you dead early. What should have happened is that you would live to be around 200 years old with your soul mate, some Granger chit, and have lots of children, grand children, and great grand children. In stead, you keep dieing, hell, even Sirius and Cedric weren't suppost to die, but because they were entwined with your destiny, they couldn't go back unless you go back to a time before they died." Tim sighed and ran his hands over his face.
"Wait, they weren't supposed to die, but because of me, they couldn't be sent back?! What the fuck! What kind of logic is that?"
"Well, because of some of your last deaths happening after they died, it couldn't happen without major paper work and such, but after this last one, we're going to do something that hasn't been done in a couple hundred years. It would figure that his heir would cause all this trouble, ah well, on with the show. Harry, I will be sending you back to the age of eleven with all your memories intact. It will be up to you to fix everything, including being with your soul mate. You won't be alone though, because we're going to be sending Sirius back with his memories intact as well, though he won't escape Azkaban, you are going to help and get him out the legal way."
Harry sat there stunned by all this information, especially the information about Hermione, as he watched Tim take a long drink from the mug on his desk. He screwed up his courage and asked his last question. "Sir… Tim, how did I die the last seven times? I would really like to know, if you don't mind. As well as what caused all of my deaths to begin with."
Tim looked long and hard at him, then nodded slightly. "Alright Harry, you have every right to know, though I won't be going into deep detail. The first time you died was when Voldy went through your body at the end of your first year. The second time was when you starved to death before the Weasleys rescued you before second year. The third time was when you slipped on the water in front of the entrance to the Chamber and hit your head on the edge of the opening and slid all the way down onto a rib bone that was pointed up and went through your kidney on impact, and that was a mess and a half. The fourth time, your uncle beat you, emptied your trunk, shoved you in it, and mailed you to the North Pole, and that was after fourth year. The fifth time, Umbridge got way to pissed at you and made you draw circles over and over until you bled to death. Sixth time was in sixth year, you tried to fight the body bind on you and ended up falling off the edge of the tower when Snape ran into you on his way out. Seventh time you died, you drowned when Ron was running a little behind and he didn't know CPR. This time though, he was under orders from his mother to kill you for your money. I'm sorry, but Ron, Ginny, Percy, and Molly all have it in for you for your money. The other Weasley's are just fine though. Here, have some coffee while you take this all in." Tim handed Harry a mug similar to his own, and sat back, watching him.
Harry just looked down into his mug, watching the coffee tremble a bit as his hands shook slightly. He didn't know what to do with this information. Especially with those four out to get him, he didn't even know what to do about it. Was it only recently that they had planed and even thought about it, or had that been the plan all along? He didn't know, so, he had to ask. He just had to know if all those gifts of love had actually been part of a plan just to get money he didn't even care about. "T…Tim, is it… I mean, did they plan this all along?"
Tim shook his head sadly, "No Harry, well, not Ron or Ginny at least at first. Molly wasn't in on it to begun with, but Percy was the start. His Idea though actually came from another source. The original plan was to have you marry Ginny, but the back up plan was for a false will that stated they got everything of yours. Dumbledore thought it all up, in fact, your whole life, all you're suffering, he planed it all. Hell, he isn't even dead. He put his brother under the Imperious curse, then switched places with him. It wasn't Aberforth who let you all into Hogwarts it was Albus."