Death Never Stopped Me Before

|Chapter 8|

Unsure of how time was passing seemed to become a constant for Harry, as the blank void offered no reliable timestamp. A few days could have passed since Harry last saw Death, but it was just as likely that it had been only a few minutes. After Death's imparting words, Harry had frozen still, his mind blanking at the implication that he could return to the land of the living. To return to the war... to return to Tom... It wasn't an idea Harry had entertained, not wanting to be swayed from his mission. But now Death was telling him it was possible? But how?

"I don't know what to do," Harry whispered to himself, his voice echoing across the void of nothingness. "What should I do?"

"That is something you must decide for yourself," came Death's response. Harry startled, spinning around to see the creepy child-like entity. "I can not choose for you."

"I want to see them," Harry said softly, images of his friends flashing through his mind. "I want to see him..." A barrage of memories filling his mind. Toms smirking face as Harry slipped in the mud. Tom's peaceful expression as he slept next to Harry. Tom's heavy gaze, filled with desire and lust. "I just... I don't want them to be disappointed in me."

And wasn't that the truth. Here Harry was, dead and gone, yet the fears of abandonment and judgment still plagued him. He knew that their opinions of him shouldn't dictate the things he does, but he was terrified of losing the only family he'd ever had. Beside him, Death hummed in acknowledgment and sank into a seated position, his legs crossed over each other.

"Disappointment, anger, sadness," Death said softly. "They're all so fickle. Here one moment, overpowering everything, gone the next. Even if they are angry, they won't stay that way. Their love and loyalty for you will always come through."

"He must be so upset with me," Harry whispered, his face closing in with regret. "We parted on such bad terms..."

"He's trying to bring you back, you know." Death said, causing Harry's head to snap up in shock. He met Death's neutral expression with wide eyes, his mouth gaping.

"C-Can he do that?" Harry asked, nervously tugging at his hair.

"No one can bring back a soul who is unwilling to return." was Death's response.

Death's response only reminded Harry of their earlier conversation. "Is that what you meant?" he asks suddenly, letting his green eyes drift from Death's indifferent expression to the reflection of himself on the ground. "When you said I could decide?"

"Yes," Death simply says. "You have the choice as my Master—"

"As your what?!" Harry cried, his eyes widening as he whipped his head around to stare incredulously at the immortal being disguised as a child.

"You united my Hallows and greeted me like an old friend," Death says, tilting his head to the side. "That makes you my Master. Should you choose to return, any time you visit me, you will always have the option to go back."

Harry's mouth was wide open, his eyes blinking owlishly at the very thought. He had always assumed that the Master of Death was nothing more than a fairy tale told to children. But apparently, it was real and Harry had somehow managed to accidentally become it. Actually, that seemed pretty on par with the way his life goes.

"What would you do if you were me?" Harry asks, his mouth slowly closing as his face returns to stare at his reflection on the ground. "Would... Would you stay? Or would you go back?"

Death hummed the same tune, the same eerily familiar tune that both set him at ease and made him hauntingly lonely. "I could never be you, Master," Death said, hugging his knees to his chest. "I am an immortal being whose very existence outlives all. I'm afraid I am unable to help you in this aspect."