A/N: I'm doing this because I want to. I have no plot planned, no updates planned, this could fizzle out in a few days, or this could turn into a huge story. I have vague scenarios, enough to tell you this will contain slash if you didn't see the romance tag... but not until Harry is older.
I haven't even read all the LOTR books, though I am planning to. I have seen the movies, but most of my information is coming from quick google searches. I don't know how many plot holes this will have. It'll also be cliche... the first chapter is super short but others should be longer.
That is the only warning you'll get. Enjoy.
It had taken Harry way too long to figure out that he wasn't aging, even as his friends grew and matured around him. When he said 'friends' he meant it in the most bitter way possible, by the way. Ron, Hermione, and everyone else didn't betray him or anything, and they made it clear he was always welcomed with them, no matter what. But even Harry could see how they acted around him. The way they averted their eyes, cleared their throats and acted awkwardly.
He was different from them, on a whole different level, and they knew it. They just weren't comfortable around him any longer, and the sooner Harry accepted that the sooner he could deal with it.
So, when he turned twenty-five years old, he left without another word. He traveled the world for a bit. Watching as time passed by, learning different magics, teaching himself a handful of languages. It was a lonely life, but he survived. He had always prided himself on being very adaptable. After all, when a half-giant showed up at his house declaring that he was a wizard, he hadn't really fought that much and had accepted it easily enough.
Then, it had happened. The muggles had discovered magic, and they weren't happy. For the first time in a long time, Harry rejoined the wizarding world and played yet another huge part in another war... a war which they had lost. A war which destroyed the majority of the entire population, and had shown Harry sights he wished for nothing more than to forget.
So much blood, and death, and torture. Horrible things that seared themselves into his mind like a brand, adding to his collection of scars, and leaving him hollow and empty. The worst part was probably the children. The most innocent of all, falling easily, cut down one after another.
Then, Harry had died.
Darkness was everywhere. Harry couldn't see his own hand in front of his face. If he even had a hand. Time moved slowly, and everything was fake and real at the same time. It didn't feel like he was in whatever afterlife existed, it felt as though he was floating in between, waiting. Waiting for... something. He wasn't sure what, but calmness filled him, keeping him relaxed and quiet in a situation most would freak out in.
Finally, after what could have been seconds or billions of years, a voice echoed around him. It was loud and terrible, but it didn't bother Harry or disrupt the calmness. "Harry James Potter, you've died at last," the voice said, sounding empty like it really couldn't care less. "I am known as Namo, or Mandos. I am the doomsman and the judge of the dead."
Harry blinked (at least, he thought maybe he did) at Namo/Mandos. "Am I being judged?" he questioned softly, voice soft and quiet as if he were half asleep. What would his judgment say? He had killed people, and done some terrible things, after all, telling himself, in the end, it would save the most lives. So maybe, despite who he had saved, the people he had killed would still bring him down in the end. If so, he would be alright with it, believing that he deserved it.
But it was not to be. "You are not being judged today, Harry. You are, after all, my 'Master.'" For a moment he was confused, but then he understood. The Deathly Hallows. Master of Death. The thought had occurred to him, over his long lived life, but he had dismissed it, if he were being completly honest. After all, he had thrown the items away, and when he went back to find them, all three had vanished. He had decided it didn't matter, either way.
But still, if he wasn't being judged, then what exactly was happening? Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and for the first time the calmness was broken and he felt sick. "Don't bring me back," he spoke quickly, voice pleading. "Please, I can't do it again. Haven't I done enough? I'm okay with dying, I'll welcome it... I want to see my family again."
"You shall," Mandos spoke, and for a moment Harry relaxed, before growing tense again at the next words uttered. "But not yet. Do not panic. I'm not sending you to your world, but another- a world known as Ea, more specifically Middle Earth in the year 2641."
"And will I be happy in this world?" Mandos didn't reply, and Harry decided that he really didn't like this 'Mandos.' But he also clearly didn't have much of a choice in the matter, now did he? "I have a feeling there's more to this then what you are telling me," Harry said quietly. Once more, Mandos didn't answer. "Well," Harry finally said, "I don't have a choice, do I?"
Oh, so he answered that then? Harry relaxed back into the darkness, knowing he probably wouldn't see it for a long time, as he waited for Mandos to get on with his business. "Well you will still have the memories of this life, they will be dulled, like a very long dream." He frowned. He wasn't sure he liked that, but it may help him adapt to the new world quicker at least. "Good luck."
And then, the darkness faded, and Harry was once again thrust into a world he wanted nothing to do with.