Foresaken (Old, being rewrote)

Forsaken Death

It was fate, was it not? Peril forsakening him wherever he dared to travel. This time, he couldn't recover from what just occurred. The killing curse was blinding, launching towards him at a frightening pace as he had a moment a terror filled realization before it hit. It wasn't fair! Nothing was ever fair to Harry, he just had his victory the start to his happy ending, yet there it happens again, a random Death Eater killed him. Voldemort was dead, he had a chance to actually live a life. Not some half-life of running and desiring an end to a war he shouldn't have ever been forced into, a real life. With Ginny. With his friends at his side, a page turning to start the story he wanted to be remembered for.

If he was able he would have cried out in mourn as his soul was cut harshly from his physical form where he found himself hovering over his own corpse. The wand of the Deathly Hallow was still held by his lifeless hand, a ring that was formerly a horcrux positioned on the same hand. Harry's soul shook, as he took in more details of his body. His eyes were locked open in some perpetual terror and his mouth was open in a silent scream, his hair had fallen back to showcase his mark of a former horcrux. The world spun as he peered around desperately searching for his killer, Lucius Malfoy was the face of guilt as spells fired in his direction even if the words were unreachable to Harry's own ears. The Malfoy was shot down quickly, as he fell to the ground. Narcissa fell to her knees in front of him, a hopeless expression on her face as she shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. Draco stood his ground trying to protect his mother by a wave of shields and spells. Pointless but honorable.

With frightfulness, his gaze turned back to his body that was now being cradled by two of the most beloved people in his life. His limp body's head was being cradled in Hermione's lap as she cried and seemed to plea with a God for him to get up to walk again with the living, Ron sat beside her one of his arms over her shoulders as his other free arm was laid to where the hand tightly gripped at Harry's dead arm where he shook the arm in a denial of the death, another plea. A plea that wouldn't be answered, as Death wasn't in the mood for Harry to slip back through the cracks of this life.

"I would advise you to walk with me," An angelic voice softly offered as a bony hand fell on his shoulder, Harry blinked as he looked up, and when he opened his eyes again he was in a new place. The person he turned to look at was a young anorexic looking face of a man that reminded him almost of Snape. The man had the same chalky white skin, black piercing eyes, long black hair, thin lips and a similar fashion sense apparently. A key difference lies with the fact his nose wasn't hooked, instead it was small and unremarkable on the man's face.

"Who are you?" Harry sputter having a voice and a semi-physical form back as he stumbled back on two legs away from the Snape like figure who simply sighed and watched a Harry looked frantically around the pure white void that starkly contrasted with the man in pure blood robes and the scared boy.

"I go by many names," The man demurred in a whisper, taking a series of purposeful steps towards Harry who found himself unable to move other than a frightful blink. The man raised a hand as he was too close for Harry's comfort, the dark one's raised hand ghosted over Harry's cheek, and trailed up to the horrific scar that once held the horcrux, "The easiest name to give you would be Death, as from the story you know of me and the concept mortals have granted me the name speaks very adeptly to your minds."

"Why?" Harry managed to say as he was granted to speak again but no more, luckily the supposed Death chuckled and pulled away, dark brooding eyes peering maraudingly into his own.

"That question is subjective, and depends on which why of this horrendous situation I foolishly managed to get intertwined with. Why I bother even talking to you, as per protocol you should already be reaped and to the train? Or why I touched you? Why you are here? Why Lucius Malfoy shot the killing curse? Why Voldemort cause this war? Why Dumbledore used you... now simply which why? Or was it a different one of a vast assortment of whys?" Death rambled his voice growing more and more annoyed as he glared down at Harry, his expression twisting into a familiar sneer.

Harry opened his mouth to talk, but found himself unable to answer.

"You have no need to speak, I can explain all you need to know with a few sentences then the questionnaire can ensue," Death drawled, his voice tighter now and not openly angry, "You know the Tale of the Three Brother's well by now, don't you? How I offered great power to those three mortals, each eventually falling to my pull even my favorite the third? Well, you, Harry Potter got all three trinkets of mine and managed to get the title of Master of Death! Congratulations!" The white void filled with the sound of clapping as Death dramatically turned his back to Harry extending his arms outwards, "Only..." Death's voice was a deathly whisper as the clapping lolled, "Now you, as assumed from the title and story my Master of sorts. Not you fret or misunderstand, you will NEVER control me! I am in control!" Death spun on the heels of his feet and spun, his cloak spinning around him in a Snape like way, with a similar angry glare as he looked disgustedly at Harry, "The relationship we will maintain is as partners of sorts, and as such, I wish to correct wrongs in your cursed life.

"For one, you being the child forced to fight Tom Riddle. That was stupid, wrong, exceedingly ridiculous. Let me tell you a little secret, Dumbledore was never on your side. Dumbledore was on his own, you never were able to see the full extent of his plans for you because he held cards way to close to his chest with no one able to follow in his would be footsteps. You may see him as honorable or noble, but he was only in for himself. The last dark lord fell to him with ease, despite past relations that should get a glaring example to how Dumbledore should have corrected the problem. Riddle was scared of Dumbledore to a point, giving him another example yet he sat back and basked in the terror and death around him.

"Secondly, I wish for you to reach full potential before we work together. You are still young, you haven't tasted happiness, felt a lust for life, a seeking for more with something that wasn't forced by love potion. The magic you were denied your first life is offensive, the worst possible thing you can do to a magical being is block a large percent of their magical core. You had so much you were unable to do, wandless magic was far from reach, Occlumency, Legilimency, Necromancy- your own blasted Soul Mate bond!" Death's face was scrunched up in anger, but it seemingly wasn't directed to Harry, "That will be nicely corrected and you will be able to face happiness, it'll be easy but you'll feel happy to the end," Death's voice cooled down to a drawl, "Thirdly, I never was one to lay down and surrender to injustice. I try to help out all I can with mortals, but with the job compromises must be made," Harry attempted to speak, but couldn't, "You'll be able to talk in a moment, I will send you back to a time where you won't be pressured into a role unless you force yourself into it. That compulsion won't carry over as all the compulsion charms, curses, keyed hatred and so on won't be tainting your mind. You will go back to a time you may disagree about where, but it shall be 1942 where you will be able to truly live. Speak."

"What?" Harry quietly implored, his voice was meek as Death raised a brow at him rolled his eyes.

"Mortals.... Mortals... which what? Or is that just a closed response?" Death dead panned, sounding very unamused as he stared down Harry, making him squirm.

"What were you saying about..." Harry found himself trailing off for a moment, his will thin to ask the question as if Death told of truth his life was a complete and utter lie, "About Dumbledore."

"Ahh," Death darkly purred, a glint of malice resting in his gaze, "You're going to hate this."