Hey guys! Now, I know I have a few (more than that) ongoing stories but don't fret! They haven't been abandoned, I promise! I'm working on all of them but sometimes and idea just hits you, you know? So here we go!
Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, rape etc. but not graphic. Slash, pairing unknown so far. Mentor!Father!Snape (cause that's always kinda cute) and OOCness.
Summary: He was given a choice, it wasn't a hard one really. A chance to make things right, to live in peace with people you loved. Wouldn't you choose the same? Armed with knowledge of the future and the path, Harry, now returned to his body the day he got his first Hogwarts letter, sets out on a journey with a new old family to save the world from the true evil. The only good thing? Bumblebee's die after using their sting...
On the 2nd of May, 1998, Lord Voldemort died at the hands of his accidental seventh horcrux, Harry Potter.
On the 2nd of May, 2098, Harry Potter died at the hands of a mundane, during the great Magic Purge as the last magical being left alive.
The pain hit them both at the same instant, and they both hit the ground. The Dark Lord's scream of 'Avada Kedavra' still rang through the forest, as the onlookers stood, frozen in place, staring in horror. Meanwhile, in another time, Harry Potter lay on the ground in the forest, glaring defiantly up at the grinning mundanes surrounding him, as what appeared to be the leader pointed the barrel of a gun at his forehead, the range point-blank.
"Well, well, well. Harry Potter, the greatest wizard to ever have lived. How does it feel, knowing you're going to die and being unable to stop it?" the man grinned ruthlessly.
"Are you quite finished?" Harry asked impatiently.
"Eager, are we? Well, then. It's been 5 years since you became the last one left. Any last words before I send you to hell?" the man cocked the gun.
"Yeah. I'll save you a seat."
Harry crooked one eye open, staring around himself in utter shock.
"Hello, Harry." He spun to face a man, all in black.
"What? Who are you?! Where the hell am I?!" Harry demanded as his hand reached instinctively for a wand that wasn't there.
"Calm yourself. You are aware of your status as the Master of Death?" the man asked, raising one hand to stop Harry's imminent tirade.
"My what?!" Harry snapped.
"I shall take that as a no, then?" The man quipped softly, sobering when Harry just glared harder. "You have the resurrection stone and the invisibility cloak, of that you are aware, but what you don't know is that the Elder wand also belongs to you. When Draco Malfoy disarmed Albus Dumbledore, he became the wand's master, while Voldemort believed it was Severus Snape, as he was the one to kill him. Then, in turn, you, Harry Potter, disarmed Draco Malfoy during your escape from Malfoy Manor, instating yourself, young one, as the Master of Death. Unfortunately, due to the Elder Wand being in Voldemort's hands and eventually lost, you never recovered it."
"Me? Th-the Master of Death?" Harry asked softly.
"Yes. As not only the Master of Death, but also the heir to the Peverell family, you are the… how shall I put it? Dark God, just as Voldemort is a Dark Lord." The man said seriously.
"No! No way! I'm not evil!" Harry cried in denial.
"Harry, my dear boy, dark does not always equate to evil, just as light does not always equate to good. The dark is merely… the absence of light." The man spread his hands around them at the black space.
"How could the light be evil?" Harry glanced around himself at the surroundings before fixing his gaze on the man again.
"Think of Albus Dumbledore. The things he has done for the 'greater good' can be, and are considered by many, to be evil deeds."
"What?!" Harry cried in shock.
"His blatant manipulation of a young Tom Riddle, which led the boy to becoming a Dark Lord when all he had needed to stay off that path was a new, good and caring home. His leaving you at the Dursley's, going directly against your parents' will, letting Sirius Black go to Azkaban without a trial, not offering either the Potters of the Longbottoms the protection they so desperately needed, knowing full well how you were being treated at the Dursley's, not even caring that your letter was addressed to the 'cupboard under the stair' or that you were so severely abused you could have died. Giving Madame Pomfrey explicit instructions to ignore your wounds and malnutrition, because 'he would deal with it'. Sending Hagrid, a man bound to speak only worship about him to pick you up when someone else, such as Snape, would have been far better equipped to help you, as well as willing to. Did Hagrid even comment on your apparent home life? No! Then there's the way Albus Dumbledore allowed an eleven year-old boy to face Voldemort alone, a twelve year old boy to fight a basilisk when I can assure you he knew all along what was happening, a thirteen year-old boy to be taught by a werewolf that hasn't taken it's wolfsbane potion despite the fact that it was his duty as Headmaster to ensure and be present when he took it, then allowing a fourteen year-old boy to compete in the triwizard tournament when he was your magical guardian and thusly able to withdraw you from it, are you aware of how hard Severus Snape argued for that, risking loss of his job to keep you safe? Then there was allowing that horrid Umbridge woman into his school, and then he dragged a sixteen year-old boy into his machinations of one Horace Slughorn, a man known for lusting after young boys in the hopes that you could seduce him into doing as Dumbledore wanted, before shipping him off to search for Horcruxes and then throwing him head-first into a war that had nothing to do with you! And had he not used you as a public figurehead to gain people's support by spreading the tale of the Golden Gryffindor, the Boy-Who-Lived? And another thing! He set you up! When that prophecy was made by Trelawney, it was in his office at Hogwarts. I don't suppose anyone questioned why he was in a public place conducting an interview, completely against protocol, when a prophecy was conveniently made? It was because he orchestrated it! He was a cold, manipulative man who allowed himself to sleep at night by justifying that everything was for the 'greater good', including the allowed abuse of two young, innocent boys before, just when they were ripe for picking, snatching them up in his hand. You know, Filius Flitwick was supposed to go pick up Tom Riddle, but he mysteriously fell ill just days beforehand, and in turn so did half the staff with a 'bug that was going around', the other half being the next in line to pick up new muggleborn or raised students until they reached his name. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was a monster! The true definition of evil!" the man hissed.
"No… no…" Harry whimpered, dropping to his knees and crying softly. "It can't be true!"
"It is! Did you know that he fed Tom Riddle a potion that slowly made him lose his sanity starting when he was seventeen? That was where Voldemort truly came from. The Tom Riddle you met in the diary was a good man, desperate for a second chance at life so he could get his well-deserved revenge. And Ginny Weasley? She and her mother had been plotting since they and Dumbledore orchestrated their meeting you, their sons and patriarch clueless as to the money they had been receiving from a young age along with the marriage contract made in your second year. She was a slut who has been sleeping around behind your back with over half the boys in Hogwarts! Called it 'practice' for when she married you. And let's be honest, we both know you don't. Like. Girls. And never have." The man snarled ruthlessly.
"What do you want?" Harry asked, looking completely defeated.
"I want to give you a choice. Now, you can just die and pass on to heaven or whatever they call it, or you can go back to 1998, where you were and finish that ridiculous war of yours, for which you were completely fighting on the wrong side, or finally… I can send you back to the day you got your first Hogwarts letter and you can start over, do it right!"
"I… I can?" Harry asked.
"Yep! With some added benefits but I can't tell you about them until you officially choose that choice and I can swear you to secrecy so I won't be accused of favouritism…" the man laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head.
"All right! I choose that!" Harry cried decisively, though his mind was still spinning both from all the information he had been told and attempting to absorb it.
"Brilliant!" the man said, before clapping his hands and the room instantly lit up to white. "Okay then… in addition I'll give you the abilities metamorphmagus, elemental and seer. That last one will help you with your cover, so you can just save a few lives along the way."
"Thanks, that's… that's really nice of you." Harry said sincerely.
"And lastly, I'm going to give you empathic abilities. It works like this; you'll be an empath, which allows you to feel and manipulate people's emotions. I'll also give you enhanced strength, speed and senses. Trust me, kid, you'll leave every vampire and werewolf in the dust once I'm through with you!"
"Umm… I don't know if I feel comfortable with tha-" Harry protested softly, only to be cut off by the man's dismissive wave.
"Oh, you'll get over it. And as the Master of Death, the Dark God, you'll never die. Well, not unless you want to, at least, though in order to do so you have to give the Deathly Hallows over to someone else. Oh, but I can give them all to you straight away, so don't worry about that! They'll come as soon as you call for them, straight into your hand. So you've got plenty of time to figure something out. And, as a personal favour, I'll give you the ability to grant 100 people eternal life or save them from the brink of death, without turning them into vampires. I hate vampires. They're fucking cheaters." The man said, scowling at nothing. "Who knows? Maybe… just maybe… you'll be able to resurrect a few people who are dead already with that little gift? Who knows…?" The man grinned mischievously at him, winking.
"Hang on… if I don't age, am I gonna be stuck in my young body forever? Or will I stop when I'm 16 or 20 or something?" Harry asked, tilting his head in soft confusion.
"Uh… I think I'll just let you decide that. As a metamorphmagus, you can change what age you appear to be and so on…" The man replied, chuckling softly and rubbing the back of his head in a kind of sheepish nervousness.
"Okay… all righty then!" Harry said, rubbing his hands together. "Now what?"
"You just gotta walk through that door there." The man replied pointing to a space behind Harry as a door appeared.
"Oh, wait!" Harry called, pausing half way through the threshold. "What's your name?"
A few moments later, Death rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"…now, I know I forgot to tell that kid something…"