Starts during Hogwarts Battle.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The two spells collided between Harry and Voldemort, and the Dark Lord's spell rebounded, striking him instead. The Elder Wand flew through the air, and Harry caught it easily, watching expressionlessly as Voldemort collapsed to the ground, dead, just like the other bodies that already littered the floor.

He closed his eyes as cheering filled the Entrance Hall, and he was surrounded by the survivors. He was jostled back and forth, people grabbing hold of any part of him as they could, and he assaulted with hugs. Harry sighed in relief. It was finally over. He could now live his live without fear with his friends.

"Harry!"

"That was awesome, mate!"

Harry opened his eyes and smiled at Ron and Hermione, his two best friends, as they appeared before him. They both enveloped in a huge hug, Ron patting Harry's back, and Hermione crushing his ribs until they creaked. The other well-wishers backed off slightly as the friends reunited.

"Blimey mate, that was risky! You're bloody lucky it even worked!" Ron yelled.

"Oh Harry, I was so scared!" Hermione cried.

"Guys!" Harry said with a laugh, pushing them away from him, "It worked out fine. I'M fine. And now the wizarding world has been saved, we can finally have normal lives!"

Hermione beamed at him with happiness, and Ron wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her to him.

Harry smiled at them, laughing as Hermione kissed the redhead, causing Ron to blush crimson. That moment with his friends was by far the happiest moment of Harry's life, and he would treasure it always.

Because the moment that came after it was by far the worst moment in his life.

As Ron and Hermione kissed, an anguished scream was shrieked by a man whom Harry didn't know. He charged Harry.

"YOU MURDERED THE DARK LORD! YOU WILL PAY, POTTER!"

Harry raised the Elder Wand, but the man had already cast his spell, even as students slammed into him, dragging him to the ground.

"DEFODIA!"

The gouging spell slashed through the air, slicing into Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a large number of other students. The cheers that had filled the hall had been replaced by screams. Blood splattered onto the already bloodied stone floor, and student rushed to friends that had been hit with the spell, the majority of which were seriously injured.

Harry had only caught the edge of the spell, the man having been shoved to the ground during the casting, so his aim had been affected, but he had still been dealt a grievous wound. His right arm was covered in deep cuts, but luckily the bone itself hadn't been smashed. Harry dropped to his knees, clutching his blood soaked arm, and gasped, forcing himself to remain conscious. He staggered to his feet, and turned around, searching for Ron and Hermione.

"Guys, are you alright...?" his voice faded out as he looked down at his feet, which had become soaked by a dark liquid.

Blood.

He stared at Ron and Hermione as they lay on the floor. They were holding hands, and their eyes were open, but they were staring vacantly up at the vaulting ceiling.

"No..." Harry whispered, dropping to his knees, his hands darting out to grasp his friend's arms, "NO! It was over! You can't be dead! Wake up! WAKE UP!" Tears streamed down his face, and he shook their arms. They had just fallen asleep. They were fine. If only Harry could wake them up...

"Harry," a voice spoke softly from behind him. "I'm so sorry..."

Harry stared at the bodies of his best friends through vision that was distorted by tears. He stared at their features, which in death were serene and blank, clear of the emotion that had made them the amazing people that they were. He stared at their joined hands, which had remained connected even after they had fallen to the floor. Lastly, he stared and the deep, bloody gouges that bisected their chests. The spell had caused wounds so heinous, that they had been killed almost instantly.

"NO!" Harry screamed, so loud that the rest of the hall fell into silence, even the cries of the injured were quietened.

Harry sobbed, lowering his head and covering his face with hands that were covered in the blood of his friends. He took them away, and gazed down at his red palms. "NOOO! It's my fault," he whispered, and clenched his bloody fists, "My fault that they're dead..."

"Harry..." the soft voice came again, and he knew it to be Luna, this time thick with unshed tears, "It's not your fault. You didn't kill them."

At these words, Harry's tear filled, emerald green eyes became alight with uncontrollable rage. He sprang to his feet and spun around, pointing the Elder Wand at the bastard who had cast the spell, and was currently being held down by several students as he tried to escape.

He looked up at Harry with a sneer, a sneer that quickly faded once he saw Harry's expression.

"You..." Harry snarled softly, "YOU..."

The man, who Harry guessed was a death Eater, began to tremble with fear. Harry pointed the Elder Wand unwaveringly at the man, and glared as he began to beg for mercy. The students holding him down let go and backed away, knowing the Death Eater was too scared to move anyway. Unfortunately for him, Harry was deaf to the pleas, incensed as he was. This Death Eater had taken the two most important people in the world away from him. There would be no forgiveness.

He slashed the wand through the air, wordlessly casting a spell, and watched emotionlessly as the man was consumed in flames until all that was left was ashes. Harry stared and the remains before turning away, dropping to his knees beside his friends, unaware of the stares the others were sending him, and the absolute silence.

Carefully, he closed his friend's eyes, resting his hands on their faces for a moment, tears once again flooding his eyes. "I'm so sorry..." he whispered. They were gone, and he would never see them again. Harry scrunched his eyes closed in despair.

Then it hit him. He could see them again...

He jumped to his feet and lunged through the crowd, shoving anyone obstructing his path out of the way, and sprinted out the doors. He ignored the cries and shouts for him to come back, and ran for all his worth. He ran until his lungs burned from lack of oxygen, and a stitch seared his side, and still he kept running.

He reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and began to follow the path that had been carved by Voldemort and his followers on his journey back the castle. He followed the destruction until he reached his destination. The small glade just before the clearing in which Voldemort had killed him. He followed the faint presence in his mind, rummaging among the foliage until he found it. The Resurrection Stone.

Harry brushed away all the leaves surrounding the rock, and slowly he reached out for it. The second he picked it up, however, he lost consciousness.

For a time, Harry only knew pain. It seared through his veins, and scalded his nerves. It was worse than the Cruciatus Curse, and trapped in his mind as he was, he was unable to scream. Harry just wanted the pain to end, even if it meant death. Finally, after what felt like eternity, Harry awoke. He was still in great pain, and his whole body ached, but now the extreme pain seemed to be originating solely from his chest. He sat up slowly, and as he did, three objects slipped off of his chest.

He stared down at them for a second, uncomprehendingly. Then he understood.

"Oh no..."

Lying in his lap were the Elder Wand, his Invisibility Cloak, which he knew for a fact had been in his pocket the last time he checked, and the Resurrection Stone. The Deathly Hallows.

"... What have I done?"

Twelve Years Later

Harry Potter woke up to the shrill beeping of a mobile phone. He groaned and rolled across the bed to rummage through the pockets of his jeans that were lying on the floor beside it. He pulled out the device that was creating the horrendous racket, and froze as he realised the significance of this particular phone ringing.

It was an old model, chunky compared with the new sleek phones that were currently popular all over the world, but Harry had not gotten it to be used as an everyday phone. It was the phone only to be used to call him if the caller needed his help with something huge, something serious.

He sighed, rubbed his sleep filled eyes, and flipped open the phone.

"You idiots had better not have lost another nuclear bomb," he grumbled. "I will actually murder you. By the way, it's been a while, Nick."

Nick Fury sighed over the phone. "There haven't been any world threatening events since your last mission, Potter. I'm only ever going to call you if I have to. Your skill set is not something I want to become reliant on."

"And yet, here you are, calling me," Harry said condescendingly.

Fury growled, "I haven't got much choice in the matter. We need you to come in."

Harry sighed, and balanced his elbow on his knee, cupping his face in his hand. "Yeah, yeah. What did you do this time? I was serious before. If you lost another bomb, I will kill you."

Fury scoffed before continuing, "Not a nuclear bomb this time. Actually, it's something that is potentially much worse."

Harry groaned and got out of the bed. He had checked into the hotel the night before, and already the room was a mess. He searched his bag for clean clothes, and after locating them, threw them onto his bed. "What's worse than losing a nuclear bomb?"

"Losing a man capable of creating numerous bombs that could devastate the planet."

"... Seriously, you guys need to get better at your jobs. You suck."

"It wasn't my people," Fury snarled, already angry from talking to Harry after less than a minute, "He was in Afghanistan doing a weapons presentation for the army. They were attacked, and Tony Stark was captured. There is no doubt that they will use him to build them weapons, and we have to stop them at any cost. A band of terrorist cannot get a hold of what Stark can create."

"So what, you want me to fly to Afghanistan and get him back? How long has he been missing?"

"Just under a month. So far we have been unable to locate him. That's why we need you to find him, using your fairy powers."

"Great way to convince me to take the mission, Nick," Harry retorted sarcastically. "It's Wizard powers."

"I don't give a damn. Potter, we need you there yesterday. Get your ass to base as soon as you can. You leave immediately after briefing." The line went dead. Harry cursed and threw the phone onto the bed where it landed on top of his clothes. He took a quick shower, got dressed and finally, apparated to base.

He silently appeared in one of the many maintenance closets dotted throughout the huge Helicarrier. He opened the door and scanned his surroundings before leaving. No one noticed him exiting the closet, and once outside he immediately schooled his features into that of a professional agent. He strode past other agents, many of which leapt out of his path so as not to hinder him. Harry knew that he had become much more intimidating mostly because of the Hallows, but he had to admit that his default expression was quite fierce. The work he had done the last decade hadn't permitted him to become anything else.

After becoming Master of Death, Harry had undergone a transformation of sorts. He had grown to the height that he would one day have reached if he hadn't been immortalised, which was just under six feet, and during his travels after he left Britain to explore the rest of the world, he had discovered a way to fix his eyesight. He no longer needed glasses, and he was always thankful for that when involved in a fight. Going blind in the middle of battle could result in death. Not that he was capable of that anymore.

Harry fit right in with the other agents, dressed as he was in dark clothes and a black jacket. He had developed muscles over the years due to the training he had forced himself to endure, never wanting to be at the mercy of a foe ever again. But unfortunately, for all the height difference and muscle definition, Harry still looked to be in his late teens to early twenties. It had caused him many problems in the past, but had also given him a few advantages. After all, who would suspect a teenager of being a secret agent? Well, honorary, but only because he refused to be recruited as a permanent asset by SHIELD. He had better things to do than paperwork. Therefore, he had volunteered himself as a last resort. Fury could call upon him if they really needed him, but otherwise, they could fuck off. Harry's magic wasn't there to solve every single one of their problems.

Harry entered the bridge, and was immediately noticed by Fury who had been scanning the door for him. Fury walked over, shadowed by a female agent with red hair and a frown.

"Agent Potter, I appreciate you getting here so fast." Harry raised an eyebrow in reply.

"This is the agent you were on the phone to ten minutes ago?" The redhead asked doubtfully.

Fury ignored the question and led the way to the main conference room. "That will be all, Agent Romanoff, you may return to your station," he dismissed.

Romanoff stared at the Harry. "You're a little young to be working."

"That's enough, Romanoff," Fury cut in. "Potter, in here." Harry entered the room before Fury, not even glancing at the other agent, and Fury shut the door behind them.

After typing on a computer, and transferring the information onto the rooms many screens, Fury strode over to the closest, which now displayed a map. "Stark went missing along this road. They were ambushed, and this led us to believe that the terrorist camp must be close by. I want you to sneak into the camp, rescue Stark, and deliver him to the army without the army realising you were there. You need to be a ghost. I don't want to have to deal with the army snooping around because of a magical rescuer. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, "Sneak in, grab Stark, give him to the army, be a ghost. Statute of Secrecy. It wasn't that complicated, Nick."

Fury glared at Harry for using his first name, but didn't comment. Harry was very difficult to deal with. He was stubborn, serious, and refused to follow orders that he viewed to be wrong. He was also extremely powerful, and had agreed to work with SHIELD if they needed his assistance during particularly difficult operations about five years before. Because of this, Harry was known only to the very top management. Besides, who would believe they had a wizard contracted to them anyways?

"One more thing, Potter. If you are somehow unable to free Stark, you will have to kill him. As important as he as to the army, what with his company supplying most of their weapons, we cannot risk him giving away secrets if he hasn't already. Keep that in mind."

Harry sighed, "I figured as much. Are we in the air or at sea?"

"Sea. We're currently situated just off the West coast," Fury informed him.

"Okay. Once I arrive on the right continent I'll be able to apparate. I should have this done within the week, and after that I better not hear from you for another seven years."

Fury sighed, "Get out of here, Potter."

Harry smiled at him mockingly before walking over to the window, his face slipping back into his expressionless mask. He opened the large window, and removed the Elder Wand from the holster around his wrist.

Over the past couple of years, Harry had spent his time improving his skills. After what had happened during the Battle, Harry had sworn to himself to never allow evil to reign again. Voldemort may not have been in control for long, but he had caused irreparable damage to the Wizarding people. Every family had lost someone, and Harry had lost almost everyone important to him. He had been unable to face the Weasleys after what happened to Ron and Fred. He blamed himself, and feared that they would blame him also, and hate him for it. That would be unbearable. So he had left them. Instead he spent his time hunting down every last Death Eater in the country until there was none left free. It was during this time that Harry had discovered his Animagus form.

He jumped up, and balanced himself on the window sill in a crouch.

"Quit showing off Potter, and get out of here."

Harry ignored Fury and closed his eyes, searching within himself for his animal form. He had discovered it about a year after he had become the Master of Death, and it was no surprise that his form reflected death.

Wizards were unable to perform magic while in their Animagus form, and over the following years, Harry discovered a way to overcome this problem. He called it Partial Transformation. Harry felt his back burn, and with a burst of magic, great black wings unfurled from his back. The feathers were black, yet slightly blue tinged, just like his hair, and in this partial form, his eyes gained the sight aspects of his animal form. His nails curled into talons, and he looked more like a bird mutant than anything else.

"Gonna wish me luck, Nick?" Harry asked over his shoulder.

"I'm gonna wish the other guys luck, Potter. They're going to need it if you decide they need killing." With that, Harry leapt from the window, his wings catching the air with a snap, and he soared upwards.

When he had first discovered his animal form, Harry hadn't been surprised. The Hallows had affected him in many different ways, some of which were good, and some of which were bad. But he had to admit, his form was fitting. After all, ravens were known to be harbingers of death...

I know 'Master of Death' Avengers has been done before, but I really wanted to try it out. I'll continue it if anyone wants me to. Thanks for reading.