Hello to those who are new to my content and those coming from my story Invictus. This my attempt at writing a Harry Potter fic. It's been dancing around in my head for some time and I'm wanting to put it 'on paper' so to speak.

I'll be focusing on my other story more than this, but I'm putting out a couple chapters of this as I've thought of this one for some time.

It's got a couple tropes in it including !MasterOfDeath! Harry and a few others that are fairly common.

Anyway, here's the story.

Edit: This chapter is being released early as an infuriating travesty has befallen the chapter I was writing for Invictus. "Gone. Reduced to atoms." I'm pissed and am not in the mood to rewrite what I just wrote. Updates on Invictus will be delayed for a week. Sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this collection of shapes that form words. This is a work of fanfiction that I make no money from. I'm just playing in other people's sandboxes.

"So, we meet again, Peverell."

A cold voice, emanating from a figure cloaked in shadow, laughed quietly.

Harry Potter, Lord of houses Potter and Black, slayer of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and known to only a few, 'Master of Death', couldn't even bring himself to care to respond.

Following the war, he and Ginny had decided to break up. No ill will was held between the two, it was seen as mutually beneficial for them to part ways. He'd been accepted as an Auror and, with the help of his friend Neville, learned his place in the hierarchy of Wizarding Britain's government, being the Lord of two Noble houses.

Through this exposure to the pureblood side of the place he considered home, he met her. He'd known of her at school, mostly that she was pretty, intelligent, and was extremely cold to any boy that tried to approach her. She'd been cold to him as well after the war, but he grew on her when they had been enduring Wizengamot meetings and passing laws that needed to be voted on and compromised on behind closed doors. Or when they'd meet in his capacity as an Auror, her acting as a junior prosecutor for the DMLE. Those meetings eventually turned into friendly visits, then eventually more.

Eventually, and he still didn't know why, she gave him a chance. From that chance, he experienced something he'd been deprived of nearly his entire life.


She didn't care about the scars that marred his flesh from what he experienced during the trials and tribulations of their school years. She only cared that he was a good man worthy of being loved. He loved her because she was she, and he was he.

And she was taken from him.

He thought the war ended with the death of Voldemort, but he should have known better. The beliefs in wizarding supremacy that Voldemort professed didn't originate from him, they existed long before even Albus Dumbledore was born, they existed before even the establishing of the British Empire. Voldemort preyed on the fears of Purebloods losing what made them them.

They were only separated by culture when it came to muggleborns and half-bloods raised in the muggle world. Purebloods became a smaller and smaller group after the horrific losses they suffered in the war with Grindelwald and later Voldemort. They saw their entire culture dying, and sought a means to take it back.

And Voldemort answered that call for a savior as any serpent would.

With treachery and deceit.

After Harry had perused through the Black family library, and the Potter Vault that had been sealed since the end of the first Blood War, he realized how truly dangerous the old Pureblood families were capable of being.

A centuries old uninterrupted line of semi competent to very intelligent individuals adding more innovation to different spells and enchantments that had been in their family since, in the case of the Blacks, the time of Rome, makes for a dangerous group of people.

Voldemort had waged a war of attrition that nearly wiped out half of all the Purebloods in Britain. Aside from Dumbledore himself, only the Purebloods working together would have been strong enough to kill Voldemort.

The solution to having a strong enemy is to divide your greatest potential threat, blood supremacy being a very divisive topic for the upper echelons of Wizarding Britain.

He only knew of this level of detail from his fiance. Her family had desperately tried to stay neutral in both wars, barely managing to keep both warring factions at bay.

But it didn't save her this time.

The few remaining Purebloods that still held to Voldemort's brand of supremacy wanted to lash out at him for 'killing their and their children's futures'. They were the sons and daughters of the inner circle that were killed or imprisoned following the death of Voldemort.

They killed and tortured two of his friends, friends he would have fought his way through hell for the sake of. But they did something that caused him to be the very beast he knew he was capable of being.

They took his family.

She said she had a surprise for him. A 'Christmas present'. He only found out what it was when he had her cold body wrapped in his arms. Priori Incantatem had saved his life, once upon a time. But then, as he held the mortal remains of his soulmate, it made him wish he had the courage to end his pain.

Her wand showed multiple shield charms and a slew of cutting and blasting curses, which wasn't necessary to know when a large portion of their home had been torn apart and debris blasted all over the place.

But it was a different spell that had him shaking and screaming towards the heavens at what else he been robbed of.

It was a spell used for a pregnancy test.

She said she had a surprise.

He'd walked out of their home, having set her gently on their bed, before he walked out to the front and heard a slight crack of someone apparating.

His wand had lept into his hand, a sickly purple light at its tip, ready to strike down the unknown wizard.

The unknown individual had shown his hands to show that he didn't have his wand at ready. He pulled his hood off to reveal the face of his would have been brother-in-law.

Draco Malfoy.

Harry was sorely tempted to curse him and rip out whatever information the blond prick had that caused him to arrive minutes after what happened.

"Potter," He had said, looking at the dark haired man with a hint of worry, "I'm here to help."

"What the fuck can you help me with?!", he had snarled, his eyes glowing slightly from his magic responding to his fury, "She was taken from me and you stand here offering to help?"

He started shaking and his wand arm was twitching.

"My wife is going to find out soon that her sister was murdered by those I had once seen as friends." Malfoy had ground out, "They asked me to help them to attack Longbottom and I said no."

Harry had looked straight into Malfoy's eyes.

"Details," He had demanded, "Now!"

And so Malfoy did. There was talk amongst many of the Purebloods from the war that planned on 'teaching the blood traitors a lesson'. The Malfoys were one of the few that managed to maintain most of their wealth following the war. Harry had vouched for them for one reason.


She lied so he could get the chance to kill Voldemort. That was the only reason. His word was gold for who would be treated with either hatred and convictions of crime, or with a pardon.

Malfoy explained how he had learned of the plan to attack the Longbottoms just a few hours prior. Malfoy had sent an emergency message to Longbottom manor for them to prepare. He didn't find out the plan to attack Harry until just minutes ago.

"You don't feel bad about betraying your pals?" Harry asked mockingly, his voice slightly manic sounding from his grief.

"They betrayed me when they attacked my wife's family," He growled, looking affronted, "They deserve everything they will get."

It was something of a small scandal when Draco Malfoy went against his father's wish and married Astoria Greengrass. They had just married months prior and Harry had been jokingly talking of how awful it would be to have a Malfoy as family.

Draco was still a bastard, but he could be tolerated in small doses. He was still an arrogant blood supremacist, but he wasn't his father. Being around Astoria had made him a better man overall, something that Harry saw happen to himself when he had first gotten with Daphne.

Draco explained how they got information on Harry's home and its defenses.

Ronald Weasley.

He had been lied to, one of the bastards had polyjuiced themselves to look like Neville and had told Ron how he was worried about Daphne influencing Harry. That he had "discovered" that Ron's fear was valid. That the blonde snake had ensnared him with a love potion and was trying to use Harry's influence in Wizarding Britain to bring a resurgence in the Pureblood cause.

Ron, being the trusting fool he was capable of being, told 'Neville' about some of the defenses used at Harry's home to get through and 'save' him. Ron, after the war and death of Fred, had actually been motivated to better himself. Bill had taken him under his wing and helped guide him to eventually become a fairly competent curse breaker several years in the future.

Ron had been familiar with some of the wards as it was Bill that was paid to help raise them. His 'friend' ended up getting tortured and killed, along with Hermione who had been visiting.

Harry had known his home was attacked when he felt several of the wards disable and shatter when he had been in the field investigating a crime ring that was smuggling illegal items into Knockturn Alley.

After Draco had explained everything, Harry had calmed his blinding rage into a more dangerous cold fury.

"Where are they?" He asked simply.

"Nott's manor." Was the reply.

Harry was about to ask where Nott's manor was when he heard another crack of apparition. Both Harry and Draco raised their wands at the third person, his own wand out.

"Identify yourself," Harry snarled, "Now, damn you!"

"It's me, Neville," the stocky man said, still not lowering his wand.

Harry didn't believe it for a second.

"What was the password for Gryffindor tower in our fifth year?" He demanded.

'Neville' thought for a moment, before he spoke.

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia." He answered.

"Who was with us in the train compartment in fifth year?" He asked.

'Neville' stiffened.

"Luna." He whispered, his breath hitched slightly.

Harry lowered his wand, Draco following suite.

"What happened?" Harry asked, more kindly than when he asked Draco the same question.

"They attacked us," He muttered, glancing at Malfoy, "Malfoy warned us and we were ready. Luna's at Saint Mungo's right now, under guard."

Neville looked at how Harry was standing and his demeanor.

"I'm sorry." Neville whispered, knowing Harry had lost something irreplaceable just minutes ago.

Harry didn't reply. He simply looked at Malfoy.

"Take me to Nott's manor." He said simply.

Malfoy simply nodded and stepped towards Harry.

"Me too." Neville said, stepping towards the other two men.

Harry shook his head.

"I don't plan on coming back unless they're all dead." He said, coldness in his voice.

"You are my friend, Harry," Neville countered firmly, "I'm not going to let you get yourself killed to take those bastards with you. I'm going with you and that's final." He finished, leaving no room for discussion.

Malfoy was glancing between the two, the scent of ozone in the air.

The Potter and Longbottom Lords were two of the most powerful wizards in their generation. Potter was head and shoulders above all his generation in raw power, even more so after the Dark Lord's death, and Longbottom wasn't the weak and shy near squib that everyone thought he was at school any longer.

Nott and his band of lying treacherous bastards would die tonight. In a very painful manner.

"Fine," Harry said, "But they're mine to kill."

"As long as I get a few." Was the simple reply.

The two men nodded and turned towards Malfoy.

"I'll need to take one at a time," Malfoy explained, "And it'll need to be outside the ward's range."

Harry nodded and turned to go back into his home.

"I'll be back." He said simply, walking towards his home with purpose.

He walked to where he kept his equipment, a hidden warded room that contained armour, potions, and other items that helped when your job was hunting dark wizards. Grabbing a dragonhide cuirass, he pulled off his robes and put it on. He then grabbed several enhancement potions and downed three of them.

Pepper-up, Endurance Elixir, and a Pain numbing draught.

He didn't need to grab his invisibility cloak, he already had it on him. He also had the Elder wand. It wasn't something anyone knew, as he never had the need to use it. But now, he wanted his targets to taste the bite of Death before their corpses even hit the ground. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed a dose of Polyjuice and put it in his pocket.

Grabbing his back up cuirass for Neville, he walked out of the house, glass and debris crunching under his boots.

He walked back towards Neville and Draco, still standing 50 yards from his home.

Malfoy quirked a brow at the cuirass in Harry's hand, before the raven haired man tossed it to Neville.

"It will probably be snug," He said, "But I don't need you taking a hit that can be avoided."

Neville nodded and stripped off his outer robe, forcing the dragonhide onto his much stockier frame.

He managed to fit it on by having it tied loosely, but it would protect his chest and other vulnerable parts from spell fire when they inevitably would be killing several people tonight.

"Will they all be there?" Harry asked.

Malfoy nodded.

"Very likely." He said simply, stretching out his right arm for Harry to take.

Harry stepped forward and grasped ahold, feeling a squeeze and hearing a pop as the two apparated.

The two arrived around 250 yards out from Nott Manor, Harry being able to sense the Ward line just in front of him.

"I'll be back with Longbottom." Malfoy said simply, before disappearing with a pop.

Harry was left to his thoughts for a minute.

Everything I've done has been for others.

Even after everything he went through, the death of his mother and father, all the terrors he lived through, the betrayal by the public in '95 and '97, Sirius, Remus and Tonks. He had tried to be worthy of their sacrifice.

He had tried to stay the course. He had tried to be a good man. A man that his mother and father could be proud to call 'son', a man that Sirius and Remus would have seen as a good nephew, someone that could lead a broken nation into a better future...A man worthy of being called husband by one Daphne Isabella Greengrass.

I would have been a father.

He had the chance to be something greater than any other thing he cared about. His titles meant nothing to him. Lord Potter. Lord Black. Boy-who-lived. Man-who-conquered. They all meant nothing compared to the two titles he had stolen from him on this night.

Husband. And Papa.

His fury burned like ice in his veins. He heard the whisper of a long forgotten voice.

Yes, Harry. You know the spell. Use it.

The last of Voldemort's sycophants would die tonight, their screams of mercy will go unheeded.

He heard a crack and turned, Malfoy having brought Neville.

"We ready?" Neville asked solemnly.

Harry nodded.

"You leaving?" He turned to Malfoy.

"You'll need a witness," He said simply, "I was heading here to speak with a couple of friends and "Several cloaked figures screaming blood traitors killed my friends right as I got here"." He used quotes, "I barely escaped, you see. I got tagged by a cutting curse though." He looked at Harry, gesturing towards his wand.

Harry nodded and raised his wand to cast a moderate strength cutting curse at Malfoy's forearm, a slight flash of silver shooting towards Malfoy's arm.

Malfoy hissed in pain and pulled at his torn sleeve to wrap it around the slash to slow the bleeding.

Malfoy pulled out his wand and conjured a vial and let his wound bleed into it, filling up the vial.

After it was full, he handed it to Harry.

"I'm keyed into the wards," He explained, "You'll need some of my blood to get passed it."

"Won't it trip still?" Neville asked, "My wards need more than just the blood of someone keyed into them."

"Nott's wards aren't as good," Malfoy said simply, "Your wards are from centuries before his."

Malfoy then tightened his sleeve further.

"I'm going home to console my wife," He said quietly, "Kill the bastards and show no pity." He said simply, before disapparating.

It was just the two, Harry and Neville, left.

Harry pulled out his flask of Polyjuice.

At Neville's raised brow, Harry answered with one word.


Neville nodded, steadying himself for what was going to happen in but a few minutes.

Harry dripped a drop of Malfoy's blood into the flask, the contents hissing at the added ingredient.

Harry shook it slightly and handed it to Neville.

"I have my cloak," Harry said simply, pulling it from where he kept it, "You'll need the disguise."

Neville gave Harry a look of understanding, grabbed the flask and took a gulp from it.

Neville's features and hair shifted, and then his frame and height shrunk.

He pulled off his robes for a moment, tightened the dragonhide from it fitting better, and then cast a temporary shrinking charm on his robes before putting them back on.

"Ready?" Malfoy's drawl was heard.

Harry nodded and put his invisibility cloak on, vanishing from sight.

There were once three brothers. He thought to himself.

Each Hallow seemed to emulate different aspects of death.

The wand was a violent and unstoppable Force of nature when wielded by a powerful wizard. It would reward the strong and youthful, but in the end, just as how a man's youth and vitality will leave him, so to will the wand. And it will leave you when you most desperately need it.

The stone was the soul wrenching need to have your loved one returned to you, but will always be out of reach until you are reunited in death.

The cloak, which was more than just a simple long-lived invisibility cloak, was capable of leaving you completely undetected by magical means. Wards would not pick him up when he crossed their threshold. Moody's eye was able to see through it because the eye had been enchanted by Dumbledore after he had inspected the cloak for years following the death of James Potter. The cloak was death in its most dangerous form.

Unseen. Unheard. Unknown. You wouldn't know it was there until it had already taken you.

Harry uncovered his head and jerked it to gesture for Neville to follow him. Harry pulled out the blood that Malfoy gave him and tossed it to Neville, who caught it and covered his left hand in it. He waved his wand to check where the ward line was and felt it. The two walked to where the key point was, which was the front gate, and prepared to enter. Neville smeared some blood on his hand and stretched his hand over the ward line.

His hand washed through the ward and the buzzing sensation slackened, letting Neville step through.

Harry simply walked across the ward line with his cloak on.

The two walked straight to the front of of the manor, spotting one cloaked man larger than even Neville was.


Harry and Neville continued walking straight towards him.

"Draco," Goyle called, "Didn't think you'd b-."

He was interrupted by a cutting curse cast by Neville that tore through his throat without resistance. Falling to the ground with a wet gurgle, Goyle grabbed at his throat to try and stop from bleeding out.

Harry, still under his cloak, cast a silent piercing hex aimed at Goyle's head.

The result wasn't pretty.

Harry transfigured the corpse into a bone, put a disillusionment charm on it, and banished it away.

The two advanced further and entered the manor itself. They could hear the sounds of shouting and the scent if medical potions was in the air emanating from one of the rooms on the right.

"Fucking bitch nearly took my damn arm off," A voice could be heard, "Fucking blood traitor!"

"Hold still," A voice instructed, "I need to reattach the tendons and arteries or you'll lose the arm."

Harry and Neville walked towards the room, wands in hand.

They had the misfortune of Lord Selwyn having walk out of the room, his wand out to clean some blood off of his hands.

Selwyn spotted Neville and his expression showed suprise, turning to hostility immediately.

Selwyn was a man who served Voldemort in the first blood war. He was one of the Death Eaters that was in the thick of much of the duels and full scale battles that involved the Hit Wizards and aurors, having been a duelist in his younger years.

Instincts born from years of fighting trained fighters and killers caused Selwyn to already have his wand up, casting a shield charm as two curses, a cutting curse and piercing hex of intense power, smashed into his shield with a resounding clang.

"Intruders!" Selwyn shouted, casting a bonebreaker at Neville, "One's invisible and the other looks like Malfoy!" His shield buckled under the salvo of cutting and blasting curses that came from Harry and Neville, forcing him to dive behind the wall.

The man's comrades scrambled to pull their wands and help, having been caught off guard by the intrusion when they were trying to fix themselves up from their raid.

Harry snarled an incantation in parselto gue, slightly modifying the density of the spell. He flung a wide range Severing curse through the wall, tearing it down as it tore completely through the construct.

Based on the screams heard through all the dust and debris in the air, he had hit multiple people.

A flurry of multicoloured spells were sent back as a retaliation, including more than one sickly green coloured one.

Whipping the Elder wand upward harshly, the marble floor was torn up to act as a shield for Neville and Harry.

Neville ran towards the left, trying to outflank them under the cover of the marble.

After the flurry of spells impacted the marble, Harry banished the marble at them, catching another couple of enemies, the sound of screams and breaking bones still heard over the shouts of incantations and explosions.

Harry spotted Neville to the left having been able to draw the attention of most of them. Several curses were sent towards him, most being batted aside, shielded, or dodged. One or two made their way through, being stopped by the dragonhide.

Harry pulled the cloak off and shouted out an incantation to get their attention.


A bolt of purple lightning shot from his wand and impacted with a deafening explosion that knocked nearly everyone that wasn't incinerated by it to the ground.

Harry had thrown up a wandlessly cast shield to block most of the debris and mute some of the concussive force, but it still left his ears ringing.

Neville had the forethought to throw himself to the ground and cover his ears right as he heard Harry's voice.

Before most of their enemies could recover, Harry resumed launching blasting and cutting curses in a constant flowing stream of wand movement, seamlessly linking each flourish with the next.

Several of them, presumably Nott and some of the more experienced ones left, managed to recover in time, jumped up to begin making a fighting retreat out of the room and up to the second floor of the Manor.

A couple more dropped from curses sent by Harry and Neville towards their backs. Harry was distracted for a moment when he saw Neville get tackled by Selwyn, who was covered in blood and his wand was shattered into a mess of splinters.

Neville managed to throw Selwyn off of him and began driving several punches into the older man's face without any mercy.

"Fucking go!" Neville shouted at Harry, driving another punch into Selwyn's face with a sickening crunch.

Harry turned to the retreating survivors and levitated himself, a difficult feat managed by only very skilled wizards, towards the second floor without using his wand. The shock that showed on their faces was deliciously sweet.

"I'm not done yet." He snarled manically in parseltongue.

The survivors, bloody and haggard from the raid, and now from Potter and Longbottom hitting them unprepared, were in no shape to fight back and hope to win.

Nott, who stood at the back, snarled something in Latin and the wards of the Manor shifted.

Harry felt a rush of magic go straight towards him. The shield he cast from the Elder wand was one of the strongest he knew. It was a shield spell that his grandfather, Charlus Potter, had improved upon during the 1940s. With the addition of the Elder wand's enhancing ability, the shield was stronger than most defensive spells in Britain, being able to withstand intense spell fire.

Even with its strength, the shield cracked from the influx of magic channelled from the wards.

The fool thinks that will save him? He thought.

If he had to guess, Nott had caused most of the wards of his Manor to collapse by channeling their magic into a blast to kill him.

And it failed.

Nott had promptly fled to another room, the door closing loudly and a flash of light indicating he fortified the room.

Harry turned towards the survivors, the shock visible at his shield holding up to the assault.

"My turn." He whispered.

It happened too fast for his enjoyment. Their shields buckled within seconds of his onslaught, curses from the Black and Potters families forming a ceaseless chain of death and destruction being delivered to those who stole from him.

One was engulfed in black and purple flames, melting into a blackened puddle of meat and blood. Another turned inside out, but still remained alive for seconds longer.

None were spared his wrath. Only when the gurgled gasps for mercy were silenced did he walk briskly to where the last one, Nott still lived.

He pointed his wand towards the door and blasted it into ash, overloading the charms hastily cast upon it.

Harry's thoughts ground to a halt when he saw her in front of him. Long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

His wand lowered, leaving him open to the cutting curse that tore a gash into his upper thigh.

Growling and nearly falling over, he threw up a shield to block the flurry of curses that came towards him.

Fucking Polyjuice.

His Occlumency shields, which was the only thing that was keeping him from having an emotional breakdown, was unraveling from the sight of her.

Another curse slipped through, stopped by his harness but opening a slight tear in it.

"I'm the one that killed her," Nott declared in her voice, "I killed her and she screamed as I killed her." He enunciated each syllable with another curse being cast.

Harry felt his Occlumency break, his fury boiling over.

He roared in fury and fired an overpowered cutting curse instead of shielding.

The curse that struck him opened a gash across his face, barely missing his left eye.

His growl of pain was drowned out by the screaming that came from her voice.

His curse had torn clean through Nott's shield and severed his wand arm near the elbow.

Whimpering from the pain, Nott cradled his ruined arm, rocking back and forth slightly.

Harry stalked towards him like a predator stalks its prey, wand glowing eerily.

Nott managed to look up at Harry and glared at him with pure loathing.

He spat at Harry's feet.

"You can kill me, but you won't stop us," He stated, "The only thing I regret is that I didn't kill you with your whore."

Harry raised his wand, ready to end the torture of her face staring at him with such hatred.

"She kept screaming your name as a choked the life from her," He cackled, "And you. Weren't. There."

Harry snarled and whipped his wand horizontally, hearing a wet slink sound, the cackling going silent.

Nott's head fell off his shoulders, making a wet thunk as it hit the floor and rolled a short distant, eyes lifeless and empty.

Harry froze for a moment, before turning around, his knees hitting the ground. He started vomiting up the contents of his stomach, a mix of too many potions and the sight of what he'd just done.

He couldn't forgot what form Nott took. He had to have gotten some of her hair and planned on trying to play with his mind, which he did.

He couldn't forget her eyes, so expressive when you know her. How they seemed to shine when she was happy, or when they looked like they were carved from ice when she was angry. They weren't supposed to be glassy and lifeless.

And he had to see it for a second time.

He pulled himself to his feet, his left leg protesting against the weight put on it.

He wiped the blood out of his eye and limped out of the room, not wanting to look back.

Walking down the stairs unsteadily, Harry saw Neville wiping blood off of him, most not his own.

Selwyn had been beaten to death, his face a complete mess.

The entire Manor had been trashed from their assault, none surviving based upon the lack of sound coming from the fallen.

Neville turned at the sound of Harry coming down the stairs, still trying to wipe the blood off of himself.

"Lost my wand and there were two others that were still trying to fight me," Neville said quietly, "It wasn't pleasant."

He bent down to show Harry something.

"Erumpet fluid," Harry said, grabbing the vial and noticing the liquid within the vial that Neville pulled from a corpse, "Why the bloody hell would they need it?"

Erumpet fluid burned hotter and melted through magical shielding better than most fire spells, save for Fiendfyre.

Neville shrugged, not knowing why the hell they'd have it.

Harry, still trying to pull his thoughts together and not break down in front if Neville, didn't see something in the corner of his vision fast enough.

One of the Death Eaters, younger than them, probably just graduated from Hogwarts, pulled himself up and fired a blasting curse with a shaky hand gripping his wand, his other hand clutching his openly bleeding chest.

Harry had only a split second choice on what to do.

Luna shouldn't lose you.

Harry clutched the vial to his chest, put his hand on Neville's chest, and wandlessly banished him from the room, right as the blasting curse struck him.

The Dragonhide armour would have prevented it from being lethal. A few broken ribs would have been it. But Erumpet fluid was volatile to magic, and explosive magic was very volatile.

The last he saw was Neville's look of shock and him shouting, before there was a flash and he knew no more.

"So, we meet again, Peverell."

Harry hadn't heard that voice in over 3 years, three years that were complete bliss for him.

Death, or at least the entity that symbolized death, was here to speak with his master.

Harry didn't wish to speak with Death, the previous time had been difficult enough.

"Just let me die and see her." He commanded.

"Not until you have listened to my offer."

Harry shook his head.

"You're Death," He said simply, "What I want is something you won't give."

"I can offer you your beloved."

Harry was silent at that, not knowing how to translate that into what he heard.

"What?" He asked quietly.

"I can send your soul back to save her," Death explained, voice still flat and devoid of most emotion, "As my 'master'," The last word was said with a small amount of distaste, "Your soul is more resilient. It will survive the journey intact."

Harry was skeptical of Death's offer.

"What is your price?" He asked coldly.

"Simple," Death said, "But, before you accept, there is another detail."Harry glared at Death, demanding an answer.

"I cannot send your soul back a short distance in time, at least how you see time." Death said, "You will arrive, should you accept, at one of two points. At around the time your name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, or when you and your cousin were nearly kissed by dementors one year later."

Harry stared at Death with complete distrust.

"You do realize I will try and save those already dead?"

Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore, Fred... Daphne. Everyone he could.

"I do not care to have to temporarily part with souls that will inevitably pass on," Death replied simply, "Those you care for will live at most around 100 years. That may be long for a mortal, but it is merely a grain of sand in the hourglass for a being that has existed before your kind discovered how to even harness magic."

Harry still stared at Death, or the material form it took.

"What is the price?" He asked again, not accepting anything until he knew.

Death looked at him silently, before he let out a low chuckle, the most emotion he ever showed in front of Harry.

"You are so much like your ancestor," Death said with amusement, "He didn't trust me at all, unlike his fool brothers. They thought they could outsmart me, Death itself, with my own power. But Ignotus knew better. He knew something important that his elder brothers in their arrogance did not... I. Am. Inevitable." Death's presence grew larger, "The strongest of men wither and die, the strongest blade rusts and fades back into the Earth, nations are destroyed, the greatest empires die. And they all returned to the dust from which they came. They all return to me. You cannot hope to grapple with me and hope to defeat me at a game that has been my purpose since life began."

Death's presence then shrank back to its previous level.

"Your payment," Death said simply, switching back to Harry's question/demand,"Will be for you to cast one of the Hallows into the Veil of Death before your mortal demise. You will be the final 'Master of Death' in your world."

"My world?" Harry raised a brow in question.

Death chuckled again.

"Your world is not the only one, my dear 'master'," He answered with a slight mocking tone, "Death and Life is not exclusive to what you can see and feel within your reach. Now, will you accept the offer?"

Harry still wasn't trusting of Death, much to the entity's continued amusement.

"What will happen when I get there?" He asked, "There were issues that weren't fixed until after the war."

Harry, only finding out a year after the death of Voldemort, had bindings put on his magic by Dumbledore as a child. The old man did so when Harry was an infant when the Horcrux, which Dumbledore didn't know what it was at the time, was trying to feed off of his magic. Dumbledore put the bindings to prevent the 'Dark magic' from feeding off of his magic like a parasite.

Harry had spoken with Dumbledore's spirit after the war using the stone. The man had apologized for the mistakes he made and had explained why he did certain things.

He left Harry at the Dursleys because no one could be trusted that were friends with James and Lily still lived. Remus would have been declared unsuitable by merit of misplaced hatred from his affliction, Sirius was a believed traitor, and everyone else was killed, or in the case of the Longbottoms, driven insane.

Dumbledore had begged for his understanding. The man had guilt for his failings and begged the boy turned man that he wronged for forgiveness. Harry let the old man have his forgiveness, and a promise to try not to summon him and disturb his peace.

"The 'issues' as you call them, will be repaired by the influx of magic from your soul and a little 'present' I shall leave you," Death said, "Your bindings on your magic will be removed upon your arrival."

Harry looked at Death for a long moment, then nodded.

"I accept your offer," He stated, "But why run the risk of Riddle living? What happens if he somehow manages to kill me?" Harry scoffed at the last part.

"Whether it be in one year, a hundred, or a thousand, Tom Riddle shall die. He is but one cowardly mortal that has tried to flee from me by mutilating his very essence. His ancestor, Herpo, was no different. Nor were the magicals of Egypt. I value the end to any mortal shackling me in any way over the continued existence of one man." Death said simply, "No other who has united the Hallows had the willingness to relinquish their power of immortality, until you."

Harry prepared himself for what was about to happen as he felt the environment begin to shake.

"Your word is your vow, Peverell," Death whispered harshly, "Stripped from all lies, half-truths, and false pleasantries, your very magic and soul is tied to this agreement. Go back on your word, keep the Hallows, and your soul will be mine! You will know no peace. You will be cast into the void, never to be reunited with those you hold as sacred to you. This is my vow!" Death's voice rose to a volume that seemed to encompass Harry's very being.

"Good luck, 'Master'."

With that, Harry Potter was struck by a blast of pure darkness. He felt a ripping sensation and was pulled into blackness, everything going dark.

"I know you are there, sister."

Death called out, seconds after the last Peverell vanished.

A woman in robes with a symbol on the front in the form of a balancing scale and thread above it appeared with a small laugh in front of him.

"You said I would handle Potter," She said with a glint in her eye.

Death shrugged slightly.

"He is within my domain, as the descendant of the Peverells." He stressed the last word.

"Yes," His sister said, "But, he is touched by Fate. Me." She countered, pointing to herself, "His string runs through the center of the tapestry of his world, one pull in any direction will change the entire pattern. I have the final say when they are alive, you when they are dead. We must balance things."

"He ceased to be entirely yours when he united the Hallows," Death countered as well, "He is in a position where it concerns both of us. No man can live forever, the Hallows are unnatural and the very nature of how the three Peverells were able to imbue part of my essence into them shouldn't have been something they could have thought of doing."

The three Peverell brothers were the most capable wizards in all of Europe at the time. Death saw what they could potentially do if they meddled with trying to use necromantic rituals to try and summon him.

Ignotus had urged caution, being the only one that thought better than to try and meddle with matters of mortality and death. But his brothers didn't listen. In there folly, they crafted objects that were a bastardized form of what they eventually became when Death put his own power into them.

They had been traveling from where they had just completed their ritual to seal some of his very nature into material objects. They had sacrificed 49 rapists and murderers, seven deaths for each of the seven runes surrounding the ritual matrix, and without realizing it, gave him the means to manifest a portion of his presence to speak with them that very night.

When those who say they felt Death's cold hand on their shoulder when they were surrounded by death, they weren't always exaggerating.

Wherever the loss of life was thick in the air, he could project his presence to haunt and frighten those less fortunate who survived.

It was amusing to see and feel them shiver from his presence, even when he wasn't 'touching' them. The strongest and most steadfast of warriors and healers were the most preferred prey of his. There was so much pleasure to be had when those who defied his inevitability most sternly were reduced to a quivering mess when he would merely whisper sweet nothings into their ears.

The wand and the ring were the only ones created by the brothers that night, Ignotus didn't want his cloak to be touched by death like the others, at first. His cloak, which was a masterpiece by the standards of all other cloaks, still wasn't what its successor was.

Ignotus was the only one that was looking over his shoulder all the way back to their home, feeling like something terrible would happen.

He was right.

Death had been able to make the trees creak, the wind chill, the animal life going silent in fear from the actions of their ritual. Antioch and Cadmus were too drunk on their success to notice.

The legend was partially true, but only insofar as he congratulated and rewarded them on their success.

As a 'gift', he imbued them with more of his power, making the wand be superior in every form of spellcasting, not just the destructive kind that Antioch had made it. Cadmus' stone didn't actually resurrect the dead, it created a ghost like mirage that he deluded himself into thinking was his beloved. Death made it real, but it fed off of magic to keep the spirit in the world of the living.

Ignotus acted just as his descendant did, showing no trust to Death the first time they met. Death had nearly decided to not speak with his 'Master', but thought differently and had spoken with him promptly after he'd been struck by another Killing Curse by Riddle.

Potter off course rejected the offer to travel back the first time, having inherited the good sense to not take a deal at face value.

Ignotus had demanded, not to have his own cloak enhanced, but to have a cloak fashioned by Death himself, hiding him from all magical detection ever devised by mortal hands.

Death never thought that Ignotus had a plan. He thought for some time, but eventually agreed, wanting to end the entire Peverell line to not have another try and meddle with death centuries later.

He crafted a cloak, the very waters that the three had transfigured a bridge over to avoid Death's trap, was woven into the tapestry. He gave the cloak to the untrustworthy man, who smiled back at the entity who would be the one to ferry his soul into the afterlife. Death was offered a deal, instead of him offering as he often did.

Ignotus, draping the cloak over his frame, had offered to gift the cloak to him upon his death, so long as Death did not take vengeance on him or his descendants for the transgressions of their forefathers.

Death promptly agreed, a ghoulish delight at the thought of Ignotus making a deal for the sake of generations who would never be.

But Death had been tricked.

Antioch was killed first, getting drunk after killing an opponent that he feared to face before he had his wand. The man feared death so much at the hands of his enemy that he accepted a deal from Death itself to be given a weapon to save him from the bequeathing party.

Antioch was taken by his own arrogance, believing himself to be unkillable with his wand and boasting about it, spawned by his fear of being too weak to kill his foe with his own power.

Cadmus wasted away from feeding his magic into the stone to have his lover returned to him. He refused to move on and lost his mind as his body and magic failed him, causing him to kill himself from his lacking magic causing his beloved to fade.

Ignotus was as shrewd as he expected, not doing anything particularly stupid that would get him killed. Only after several decades did Death feel Ignotus begin to fade. Ignotus enacted a ritual similar to what he and his brothers did, giving Death a means to speak with him.

Death had greeted him, expecting him to have the cloak returned, but Ignotus simply smiled, handing the unenhanced cloak to him.

He never specified what cloak he'd be gifting.

Ignotus died, Death's cloak still in the hands of his descendants, his children and grandchildren being protected from Death's wrath by the deal they made.

For how much he hated that he was tricked by a mortal, his own little game turned against him, it was something that had him laugh loudly, sending every creature in the vicinity fleeing in terror.

Fate began to speak in response to her brother.

"You may seek to cleanse the world of your own power being in the hands of mortals, even if it is but a dirty and cracked shard of it, but you should not have circumvented me."

"Just as you circumvented me when you weaved a prophecy concerning the last Peverell?" Death asked rhetorically, "You made something that would echo into other worlds with the intensity of it. It is not merely the current world that is effected. Those touched by Death and Fate in the way that Potter is has caused far too many issues in the past when we weren't there to fix the mistake."

Other worlds, other Earths, had been effected by the little deal he had made with Ignotus Peverell the first time it happened. The deal ended up protecting every descendant of Ignotus Peverell, not just the Peverell of that particular world.

With that, Death had no solution to keep the Hallows from being made, aside from doing what he had done originally, deceive them with the promise of gifts and have them destroy themselves, with Ignotus always dying years later. Potter inevitably being the only one to have the will to reject the Hallows and possibly make a deal to destroy one or more.

The cloak was one Death was willing to let go. It was a reward won by the intellect of a man that knew better than to fight death to live forever. He earned it. But the wand and stone were direct abominations stained with the desire of unworthy men wanting to win against death.

"I will let you have this one, brother," Fate said, "But I expect repayment."

Death merely smiled at her.

"Will this suffice?" He asked, pulling forth a broken string and tossing it to her.

She caught the string and inspected it, her expression turning to surprise.

"You would part with this soul?" She asked, "You'd give this one another chance?"

"If it would stop your incessant complaints about Peverell, then yes." Death said simply.

Fate just rolled her eyes at her counterpart.

"You are so insufferably dreary."

"And you are obnoxiously bright."

The two promordials simply chuckled and vanished from the constructed environment, the area vanishing into nothingness.

End Chapter:

As I put in the top note, my other story had a chapter suffer a terrible fate. (So. Many. Words. Lost.) To make me feel better, I finished this chapter which I've been working on for around a month here and there.

This story won't be my primary focus, as I'm already writing a separate story and I dislike the thought of writing multiple stories at the same time. That being said, I'll still update this, but it won't be as frequent as my other.

Anyway, with this chapter, I claim this fandom in the name of Raging Smurf. The stars shall pale beside my might.

Have a wonderful day.