Chapter Text
Time. A thing that people want more of, yet they waste.
A thing that passes quickly for some, yet slow for others.
But, for an immortal. Time is nothing.
It goes by quicker than one can think, than one can understand and realise.
Harry James Potter, the Master of Death, rarely acknowledged how fast time was going.
How everyone around him was growing up and getting on with their life.
The one time he realised this was at Teddy's graduation, but other than that, he simply forgot.
Until the year 2036. Twenty-four years after he had met the Avengers (barring Thor, of course,) and twenty years after Teddy left Hogwarts and became a man.
Twenty-four years of a rather peaceful life.
— LINE BREAK—
Earlier in the year, there was an attack. No, it wasn't an old pal of Voldemort's, nor was it another Dark Lord. It was just a criminal. Well, 'just' is probably a bad term, it was an infamous thief that was notorious for his curses. As such the two victims were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were hit with a curse that would slowly kill them. At first, the curse was nothing more than a painless tingle, but gradually it would turn deadly. By the time the curse was recognised, the pair were too affected to be cured. Harry knew they didn't have long, everyone did.
The victims? Molly Weasley and Arthur Weasley. At the age of 86, the pair died decades earlier than wizards can live to.
He was fast asleep when a burning agony consumed him. Leaping out of his bed, Harry collapsed to the floor, biting painfully at his lip to stop the desperate cry from escaping. His right hand clawed into his chest where his tattoo was, trying to dig his heart out to stop the torture. The pain stopped. He fell asleep once more, but on his floor and out of exhaustion.
Hands clung to him desperately an hour or so later.
"Ron?"
"Harry. Harry. Please. I don't."
"Ron, Ron!" The hysterical and almost sixty-year-old redhead froze slightly, "What's wrong?"
"They…mum and…and dad...they're…they pa…they died…in…in their sleep." Ron threw himself into Harry's arms as they sat on the immortal's bed, "Harry, they're gone." His voice was a mumbled whisper and Harry couldn't help but clutch his best friend tightly as thoughts of his parental figures passed through his mind.
"In their sleep?"
"Yes." Ron sniffled, "All peaceful. They…they were holding hands…and…had…small smiles…they looked happy."
"Ssh. It's alright." But they both knew it was a lie, things would be difficult now -at least for a little while.
Soon it was the funeral. Red was everywhere. Not blood, but hair. Mr and Mrs Weasley had their children, their grandchildren and even a couple of great-grandchildren. Most of which had kept the red hair gene. Harry had been asked to speak, but he could barely choke out much other than the fact that they were his parental figures -he, of course, didn't say anything about Molly trying to get him together with Ginny and all that drama as she had eventually realised she was in the wrong. He didn't go to the reception after the funeral. Merely hugging his friends and surrogate family before leaving. Teddy, who had, of course, gone to the funeral, wanted to follow his godfather but knew that the man wouldn't appreciate it. So, he decided to check in the next day.
For a good few days, Harry sat in his house, leaning heavily against the wall in his underwear with empty bottles of Firewhisky surrounding him. Eventually, he pulled himself together. Thing was, he wasn't getting himself hammered just because of the deaths, no it was also because Harry had come to the rather clear and obvious realisation that everyone around him was ageing and soon…soon he'd be going to their funerals too…
And wasn't that a terrifyingly painful thought.
— LINE BREAK—
Four years passed.
Logically they should've all seen Hagrid's passing coming. The half-giant just continued to handle his creatures despite himself getting on with age and actually being unable to handle the dangerous creatures he loved so much. Luck would have it that Hagrid was dealing with the one remaining Blast-Ended Skrewt -that had somehow survived many many years in the Forbidden Forest- and unfortunately was too slow to miss its attack. He died on the way to St Mungo's.
Harry, himself, organised the funeral. He felt that he owed it to the man that essentially saved him by telling little eleven-year-old Harry his true parentage. Only a few went to the funeral -the staff and some students- but Harry made certain to inform the creatures that adored Hagrid, as such the funeral was filled with rather dangerous and large creatures.
When Hagrid had died at the age of 112, Harry had been talking to Teddy, who had come to inform his daughter was pregnant and that he -Teddy- was far too young to be a grandparent when really he was already fifty-two years old so it wasn't all that young, when suddenly pain welled up in his chest. The immortal bit his lip causing blood to drip down his chin as he gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting in. Once the pain passed, he received word of the half-giants death…
— LINE BREAK—
Barely three years later in 2043 came a death that would hit Harry hard. The death made the immortal inconsolable. He was hysterical and…well a danger to himself, except he was immortal so there was only so much one could do to one's self…
Harry had been spending time with the Avengers -most of whom were retired from the superhero business and by most, it was Tony, Bruce, and Clint as they were the old guys on the original team (in their seventies, not that Tony would appreciate anyone saying). They were all visiting Tony in his Malibu home -where he'd gone after begrudgingly retiring from everything about ten years ago due to his health, he'd had a stroke and been convinced to retire as Iron Man because his heart just wasn't working well anymore; of course, having the arc reactor in him certainly didn't help as he had developed breathing difficulties thanks to it.
Then it happened.
Harry had stood up to grab a glass of water and was returning to his seat when he felt it. He stumbled into the doorframe, one hand clenching the frame enough to cause cracks in the structure the other digging into his chest with his nails (obviously not actually into his chest but enough to draw some blood) after dropping the glass of water, sending glass shattering into every direction along with the water. The group of past and present superheroes looked up, concern etched into their faces. Harry's teeth dug into his lips, sinking painfully as he withheld a whimper. The agony that surged through his entire being came to a sudden halt. It felt like minutes -no hours- had passed when it was really only a few seconds.
"Harry?" Steve said worriedly at the unnaturally pale complexion of his partner (yes they were still together), before Harry could reply -though whether he would've said anything or not was unknown- his phone rang and he hastily answered -oh, yes technology does work around magic, the 'fact' that it didn't, was a mere old wive's tale they used in England to stay separated from the Muggles. Though, recently the British Wizarding World has started to come into a more modern era, hence the phone call he was receiving from Hermione.
"What happened? Who -who was it?" He demanded as he answered the call,
"Harry…there…there was an attack…some…some criminal. He…he placed…bombs…Muggle bombs…all throughout Diagon Alley…he was in the Apothecary…when…when they went off…the potion ingredients…they…some were explosive and…the Apothecary wasn't even that close to the bombs…but…the ingredients…they reacted to the brief…the small…small amount of…damage done to the shop…and it went…it went up in flames-"
"Who? Who died? Tell me!" He shouted through the phone before it fell to the ground as she answered him, his hands fell limp at his side. Steve rushed over before Harry could fall to the ground. He was trembling, but it seemed to be out of sadness and fury. Suddenly, Harry apparated away…all the way back to England or more precisely Diagon Alley, London.
Landing harshly on the floor of the alley. He watched as people screamed and cried, bled and fell in shock and horror. But Harry could hear nothing. He stumbled across to the wreckage where the Apothecary used to be.
His eyes travelled all over the ruins until they fell on the body.
He ran.
Shoving and pushing people aside before falling heavily to the ground.
His magic started to spark out of control, forcing people to stand away from the distressed man as he placed the head of the deceased man on his lap, manoeuvring the body from under the white sheet that covered the majority of the corpse.
"No. No. You can't be dead. Come on. Kiddo, please. Wake up. Please. It's not your time. Please." He mumbled into the brown hair of the fifty-five-year-old, "Don't leave me. Please. Teddy, wake up!" People watched with sorrowful eyes at the screaming and crying young man before them clutching the corpse. A slight pause in his magic was the opportunity the MediWizards and Aurors were looking for, they sent a powerful sedation spell at the hysterical man.
Harry woke hours later, confused and lost. He was unsure whether it was all a bad nightmare or if it was reality. Unfortunately, his answer came when a Healer entered his room to check on him. Worried that she'd stuff him with more sedatives, he abruptly apparated back to Malibu where everyone still was. They all looked at him as he stumbled in and fell to the floor on his knees as though to pray for Teddy to be returned to him.
"He's dead." He choked out, "Teddy…he's dead." Instantly Steve was swooping down and wrapping his lover in a hug. Holding him gently, but tightly to his chest as the man released agonisingly loud sobs that broke everyone's hearts.
"Ssh." He murmured repetitively rocking back and forth in an attempt to comfort and sooth Harry, who thankfully fell asleep thanks to his exhaustion after about fifteen or twenty minutes of none stop crying. Steve looked at his old (and current) teammates, they met his gaze and nodded.
They all knew that this one would take a while to accept and one that he'd never truly get over.
They were right. For the next few months, Harry was a mess. He was either crying or not there -as in he would stare at nothing and zone out. It was quite frightening to see. He went on all of the missions the Avengers (both new and old) were sent out on. Each time he'd throw himself into the missions, getting more and more injured each time. Until finally, it was too much for Steve to watch.
When Harry woke up after one very bad injury that left him in the hospital for a few days, Steve decided enough was enough.
"Harry, you have to stop." The large blond stated as he grabbed his partner's shoulders, "You can't keep doing this. It won't bring him back! Teddy's gone, Harry. He'd dead. And I'm sorry for telling you like this, but you need to accept it. Teddy's dead, Harry. And he isn't coming back." Harry stared in shock at Steve. They stayed like that, just staring into each other's eyes for minutes, before Harry visibly relaxed and went limp in Steve's arms, the blond gently lowered them both to the ground, before he pulled Harry in and hugged him. He felt the raven-haired mans tears soaking into his shirt. "Ssh, it'll be alright. I'm here for you." Though Harry was still in mourning over his godson, it was still progress.
— LINE BREAK—
Three years after Teddy's death, Harry was over at Tony's Malibu house visiting said man.
Sitting in a chair next to the bed that Tony rested in, Harry clutched the man's hand.
He'd rushed over when the ex-superhero had asked him over.
So there he was.
"Hey, Harry." Croaked the seventy-six-year-old,
"Hey, Tones. How are you doing?"
"Oh, you know…dying." He joked but he hastily continued at Harry's expression, "Not that that's funny or anything, sorry!"
"No, it's…it's fine. I'm glad you…seem so carefree…about dying." Harry answered a bit unsure about how his statement might come across. But, Tony only released a raspy chuckle causing Harry to raise an eyebrow in confusion.
"When…when I was still an arrogant prick before…well Afghanistan and all, I was terrified of dying. Ironic, right? After all, I was called the Merchant of Death and sold weapons that killed people. But, now that I've met you and after everything that's happened the last few decades, I…well I'm not scared of dying. I accept it and all." Harry tightened his grip on the old man's hand at the prospect of another friend dying, Tony noticed and squeezed back, "Sorry." He whispered,
"No. It's fine."
"Harry. Thank you."
"I haven't done anything…" He murmured with a faint blush,
"No, you have. I reckon if you didn't stick around to help us…I reckon we'd have split up and hated each other or something. You've done a lot, Harry and I speak for all of us when I say thank you for everything, you're great."
"Stop it!" Harry mumbled clearly embarrassed,
"Also…I've left everything to you-"
"What? Tony, no!"
"Tony, yes." Said man replied with a cheeky grin on his aged face, "Look, I know you'll look after the company for the next few years and then you can sell it or something. My money is going to go to different charities and places."
"Tones…"
"Harry, I know you wouldn't accept all my money, but please take my company."
"…Fine." Harry sighed causing Tony to grin in victory.
The wizard looked away for a minute before he felt it.
Agony in his chest made him tighten his grip, as usual, his lip was bleeding as he choked on his whimper.
When it faded he turned to Tony.
A faint and blissful smile was on his face, but his grip on Harry's hand was limp.
He was gone.
Passed on to the great beyond and all that.
"Thank you for everything, Tony, you're not the only one who's been helped." He whispered as tears trickled down his face.
— LINE BREAK—
Everyone around him seemed to be dying far too close to one another. Barely a year after Tony death came Natasha's. Unlike Tony's yet somewhat similar to Teddy's it was a violent one.
At sixty-three years old, she was sent out on what was to be the last mission she would've gone on before retiring from the field. When what was supposed to be a simple in and out mission, turned south. She got separated from the rest of her team, which normally wasn't that big a deal, but she was ambushed and was shot by multiple guns from the enemy. By the time her teammates found her she was long gone and covered in bullet holes.
Holding her tightly, however, was Harry.
He'd felt her dying, the usual pain in his chest that he still didn't quite understand, and had somehow subconsciously known her whereabouts and apparated to her. He killed the remaining enemies before grasping at her bleeding corpse in mild horror.
Sure he had seen blood and gore due to the war but nothing was quite as horrific as this.
— LINE BREAK—
Another year passed when Bruce passed away painfully. Since retirement, he'd been keeping away from the city and trying to live in a calm and peaceful environment. Unfortunately, something happened and caused the Hulk to make an appearance. The strain of the transformation back to Bruce was too much for his small seventy-nine-year-old body. He died as he changed back. Harry felt it in his chest like he did with the others.
— LINE BREAK—
Four years passed where Harry was grateful for the lack of deaths in those years. Harry and Steve came closer in those years, many would look at them as though they were a worried couple and even though they weren't married or anything, they always seemed to look at each other with a gentle smile whenever they overheard someone saying something about them. Then in 2052, another alien invasion happened. Any and all available superheroes were called in to assist. Even Thor, who was in Asgard, came to help. Harry was there too.
His emerald eyes caught sight of Steve falling to the ground, he heard the agonised scream that exited the Super Soldiers mouth.
He ran over to his bleeding partner, holding him as a golden shield covered them both.
"Steve, come on. It's alright." Harry murmured as he pressed against the gaping hole in Steve's stomach, blood covered his hands as Steve's blue eyes stared up at him, the life slowly fading as the blond used his remaining strength to move his hand to the wizard's cheek. "Come on, you'll be fine, the serum will fix you up."
"Ha…rry. I'm…not going…to make it." He coughed, some of the blood from his mouth splattering across Harry's pale face,
"Yes, yes you will."
"Har…ry. It's too big. The…the wound is…it's too big….Bleed out before…before it'll he…heal."
"No. No, no, no." Harry rambled pushing more of his magic into healing the large wound, but it wasn't enough, Harry should know that magic couldn't heal something so fatal.
Wiping a hand down Harry's face in a gentle and comforting manner, Steve gave a small smile, oblivious to the trail of blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth, the two shared one final kiss. When Harry moved away, still clutching Steve, the blond whispered, his voice was so very faint that it could be passed off as a breath.
"I…love you."
Then he was gone.
The world seemed to freeze as a scream of anguish and heartache cut through the air.
Superheroes turned to the distressed man and watched as he clutched at his chest.
Around them, the enemies seemed to evaporate with silent screams of pain.
Harry refused to let go of Steve.
Only two original Avengers remained.
— LINE BREAK—
For the next eighteen years, Harry seemed to have disappeared off of the face of the earth. No one heard from him nor did they see him in the streets. The immortal had gone on an 'adventure' of sorts. Sending himself all across the world. For a vacation? No. He was out there searching for objects from the only two Master of Deaths before him. He wanted answers that Death would not give. So there he was travelling the continent for anything. He eventually wandered back to his home in England with four boxes of journals between both of the Masters of Death.
He read and he read. But he could find nothing useful. All he learned about the two were that they were both arrogant pricks. Letting the final journal he was reading fall heavily to the ground like the rest of them, Harry leaned back in his chair and pressed the heels of his hands to both eyes, rubbing harshly at them, before suddenly falling backwards as a wave of pain hit him in the chest.
"Fuck." He whispered rubbing harshly at his chest, directly above his tattoo. He knew who it was that had died. Squeezing his eyes shut, he continued to absentmindedly rub at his chest, "Damn, Clint'll be pissed that he died before he was one hundred." He muttered with a dark chuckle thinking of the now deceased ninety-nine-year-old.
Clint had been the only one (save for Thor, Harry thought to himself) to have a good life despite SHIELD and all. He'd retired and lived happily with his wife until she died a couple of years ago. His children had grandchildren, making him a great granddad.
Overall, the man had been very happy with his retired life.
Except, he'd be very annoyed that he died before he was a century old because he'd been looking forward to receiving a letter from the British Queen for living so long -Harry had told him about the letters that hundred-year-olds received, though Harry also told Clint that he wasn't English nor in an eligible country to receive said letter, not that the stubborn man acknowledged said information. "And another one bites the bloody dust."
— LINE BREAK—
Colour Harry impressed, but Minerva McGonagall just wouldn't let Death or his reapers take her…or perhaps they were just frightened off whenever they went to collect the stern ex-professor. She lived to the age of one hundred and seventy-five. She reached the year 2100. Harry was amazed by the woman -sure there were wizards and witches who lived longer, but this was someone he knew, cared about and was from his world.
— LINE BREAK—
Harry didn't remember his conversation with Steve about reincarnation until the fourth of July…2118.
Why? Because as he was walking down a street in North Yorkshire, England, he saw a very familiar man.
He ran and ran towards the man, pushing him around gently so Harry could see the blond's face,
"My god, Steve?"
"Yes…sorry, do I know you?" Harry snapped out of his trance as he realised that this, of course, wasn't his Steve,
"Oh. My…I'm very sorry, you just reminded me of…well, my…deceased partner." The reincarnated Steve gave a sad smile,
"I'm sorry. Did he pass recently?"
"No…It was quite a long time ago. But, you never quite get over…well -not to sound cliche- your true love."
"I see…"
"Sorry, I'll let you get on with your day, you don't need me pestering you and all." Harry rambled still trying to get over the fact that this was not his Steve, but it was the same soul. As he turned the blond quickly reached out and put his arm on the man's shoulder,
"I…would you like to grab some coffee?" He asked with a slight flush, one that Harry knew all too well,
"Yes. I would like that very much." He replied with a gentle smile and the two wandered off, talking about themselves -Harry finally introducing himself.
— LINE BREAK—
Stephen Hayward walked into a restaurant with his wife and two children. He didn't know what compelled him to choose this Italian restaurant but the minute he walked passed it, he…well needed to go inside. Luckily, his family agreed and wanted some Italian food. As the four were led to their table, Stephen's blue eyes wandered around the room before pausing on a rather petite dark-haired boy hidden in the far back corner. The male was currently drinking what he assumed was a beer or something whilst his finished meal was cleared away.
"I just need to go to the bathroom," Stephen whispered giving his wife a kiss on the cheek before diverting to the mysterious raven-haired boy's table. "I'm sorry, but do I know you? You seem very familiar." The boy looked up and Stephen was stunned by the bright emeralds that seemed to stare into his very soul. He noted the recognition that passed through the beautiful eyes.
"We…must've passed by each other a few times."
"No, it's more than that. I felt a connection or something -please note that I am not insane."
"Do you believe in past lives, Steve?"
"My name's Stephen…how'd you know?" He didn't answer the original question because he just didn't know, Harry gave a sad and gentle smile,
"You finally got what you wanted. A family. I'm happy for you Steve -sorry Stephen." Before he could ask what the boy meant, he'd stood up and paid before saying a faint goodbye and leaving.
— LINE BREAK—
By this point, Harry was practically all by himself. He'd run into a few more reincarnations of Steve -there was a time the pair were at Stanford University together (Harry thought he may as well go to college and university to pass time) and another when Steve was a young teen with a friend who looked very much like James 'Bucky' Barnes only with two flesh arms and no metal one. His deceased friend's families had all but moved on. Most of them didn't even know him anymore, maybe just tales of a mysterious Uncle Harry. Thor, the only friend that remained alive, was stuck in Asgard as he had taken the throne a few centuries ago and was busy ruling, ensuring that there were no threats. Unfortunately, a war was brewing within the realms -all nine because if the enemy defeated the eight realms, then they'd come for Midgard.
The world changed a lot over the many many years. Harry was around to witness it all. It was interesting…yet it still terrified him just how much was changing. He shouldn't be around to see any of this, yet here he was.
Two hundred decades passed and it was the year 4044.
"Hello, my friend, it has been a while." Came a sudden booming voice from behind the immortal, Harry jumped up and leapt over to hug the God,
"Thor, I've missed you!"
"And I, you. How have you been?"
"Alright, bit lonely. How have you been…your majesty?" Harry asked with a teasing grin causing Thor to release a loud chuckle,
"I have been well, my friend. Though I, unfortunately, have not come on a social visit. There is a war brewing within the realms. Should eight realms fail, the enemy would descend on Midgard. I…" Thor paused and took in a breath before grasping Harry by the shoulder, "I fear this may be the last time we see one another, my friend."
"Thor?"
"I feel that we will be victorious, but that I will not make it out alive."
"No…"
"I apologise, my friend. Know I have faith that we shall see each other someday."
"What?" Harry asked in confusion,
"I must go, my friend." Thor pulled the smaller man into a hug, holding tightly before placing a kiss on the top of Harry's messy locks in a brotherly/fatherly manner.
"Wait -" Harry wanted to ask what he meant but found he couldn't, so when Thor turned to him he simply said, "Good luck, Thor. Thank you for everything." Thor nodded his head, the God was surprised that his throat was tight as he choked on his emotions before he disappeared leaving a mark on the grass.
— LINE BREAK—
It had been a year since Harry had last heard from the Asgardian king.
One night he was sitting on a bench in his garden that was on a cliff and overlooked the ocean. He would sit out here almost every night and just stare at the sea and the sky. Picking out each constellation he could spot.
Wrapped in a blanket as he stared at the sky, he watched as a large star fell from the sky before gasping.
His chest heaved as a wave of pain crashed into him much like the deafening ocean that was particularly violent tonight and was smashing harshly into the cliff.
He was on his hands and knees when the pain finally stopped.
Watery eyes glaring at the stars that twinkled happily and oblivious to his heartache.
He released a scream.
Sleeping animals for miles were startled awake.
His scream spoke of grief and suffering.
He had no one.
Thor was dead just like the rest of those he once knew.
He was alone.
All alone.
— LINE BREAK—
Another decade passed. Harry barely even noticed. He'd long since given up on time. But…maybe he should've. It was the 31st of July 4055. His 2075th birthday…never thought that would happen. He was lazing about on his bench in his garden. His gaze on the calm water below the cliff, but his mind was elsewhere. He was looking back on the memories he had of his friends when someone…or rather something called his name.
"Mr Potter." Harry jumped at the voice before his head rolled to the side to look at the being who spoke,
"It's been a very long time since someones called me that." He commented, before meeting the onyx gaze of the speaker, "Hello, Death."
"Yes, I don't doubt that it has. May I wish you a happy birthday, I'm sure you haven't received one of those in a long time too."
"You would be correct. Thank you." He added before patting the other side of the bench for the personified being to sit on, which Death did. "You've been avoiding me for…well the past two-thousand years it would seem."
"I have."
"Why?" Harry asked almost breathlessly,
"Because you had questions. Questions, I could not answer at the time."
"And now?"
"Now? I can."
"Why do -sorry did I feel pain every fucking time my friends died? How come the two other guys who were the Masters of Death didn't? How did they manage to die?"
"Straight to it, I see." Death sighed and stood up, "Mr Potter, there is always, always a loophole or two. One loophole was for them both, the other…for you. See the first Master of Death was cocky and arrogant. He challenged a man to a duel, but unlike you, he flaunted his power. Showed the Elder Wand off to all and used it. He died because the wand was disarmed and found a new master. Thus breaking the connection between himself and all three items. He was later murdered in his sleep, despite the disarming, he got the wand back as it was only a 'mock' duel, not one to the death, no. He still believed himself to be immortal, yet when his opponent learned the truth about the wand, well, he had to take it for himself like most people would. He killed my first Master in his sleep before taking off with the Wand. The cloak and stone were separated as his belongings were auctioned off.
"Several centuries later, another Master of Death came about. He was a Potter, your many greats grandfather. He was a fool. He too flaunted his powers and because of that, he ended up losing the Resurrection Stone which is how it fell into the hands of the Gaunt family. Still, he had the Elder wand and cloak. Until he was disarmed and killed. The cloak then continued to be passed down the Potter line until falling into your hands and well you know the rest."
"…Okay, so if I get disarmed, I'll break all ties with this and can die?"
"No."
"What?" Harry shouted, "But you just said!"
"That was their loopholes. You have one of your own."
"Which is?"
"You were asking about a pain in your chest?" Death replied with, causing Harry to glare at the primordial being,
"Whenever one of…my friends died, I felt agony in my chest. Below the tattoo. The others didn't have that…pain."
"Because they were very different to you."
"What?"
"They were arrogant and foolish. They flaunted their powers. But, you. You are different. You've kept the Deathly Hallows hidden and…well, words can't describe how incredibly selfless you are. You are not like the other humans."
"Umm…thank you? I think."
"The mark on your chest is, of course, my mark. All Masters of Death get it. That mark is the loophole."
"How?"
"Because you care. You got this power but nothing changed. You continued to love your friends and family, even more than before. You valued life differently than the previous two did. When their families died they didn't feel any pain because they didn't care." Death came to stand near Harry, placing his hand on the immortal's chest directly above the tattoo, "Have you seen the mark at all recently?"
"No, I tend to avoid mirrors."
"Take your shirt off."
"Take me on a date first." Harry couldn't help but retort sarcastically as he complied with Death's order, looking down at his shirtless torso, he spied the mark and gasped. "How? What?" He exclaimed looking between Death and his tattoo,
"Each time you felt the pain when your friend died was because of the mark. The pain made the lines shrink." Death explained…sort of. Harry looked back at the tattoo, which was only the Deathly Hallows symbol. The lines that originally coming out of the Deathly Hallows symbol were no longer there.
"But if this is the loophole…then…what?" Harry muttered in confusion. Death beckoned Harry to stand up, so he did. The two stood face to face. The height difference was almost laughable, Death was over a foot taller than Harry.
"In the simplest terms? Mr Potter, you can die. You are still the Master of Death due to the mark, but you are mortal once again." At Harry's bemused expression, he continued, "I understand that it is quite a confusing…thing. But, all I can say is balance finds a way. Balance is needed in this world, so loopholes are always there." Obsidian eyes met watery emerald ones. "You are crying?" Harry turned away from the being and looked out at the ocean,
"I'm free. I can move on." He whispered in glee.
"That you can."
"Will…will I see them again?"
"You'll have to find that out yourself." Death gave a small and surprisingly sad smile, "Mr Potter. I know the moment I leave you, you shall once again greet me. Now all I wish to say is that I am ever so thankful for you. You have restored my faith in humanity. You've shown me that not everyone on this planet is greedy and selfish."
"…I haven't done much." He murmured in embarrassment,
"Oh, but you have. So thank you." Death stepped closer to the boy and rather awkwardly drew him in for a hug with his somewhat skeletal arms before pressing a delicate but dry kiss on his forehead before disappearing into thin air.
Harry stood there watching the waves crash quietly into the cliff side, a small smile etched on his face as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before wandering into his house to sort out his belongings. Though all he needed to do was box things up and make sure his will was correct.
Standing on the edge of the cliff that night, Harry looked up. He listened to the ocean below him. The moon shone down on him as the stars sparkled in the sky. Turning back to the house he'd been living in for the last few centuries, Harry smiled softly and closed his emerald eyes for the last time before leaning backwards. The air brushed past him as he plummeted towards the rocks and waves. The pain was quick but lasted only momentarily as he smashed into the rocks below. Darkness came instantly.
— LINE BREAK—
Eyes the colour of the earth opened. Surprise, confusion and then disappointment flashed through his eyes. If he's awake, then clearly Death lied to him. As he stood up, Harry looked around in confusion, the place he was in was just white and slightly blurry. Arms wrapped around him. Harry tensed.
"My friend! I told you we would see each other again."
"Thor?" Harry asked looking at the figure holding him.
"Yes, my friend! It is I. Welcome to the afterlife."
"I'm dead?"
"Yes." Harry seemed to light up in joy before wrapping his arms around Thor, who looked like he did when they saw each other in 2012, he was wrinkle free and grey hair-less. "Come, my friend, let us greet the others and allow me to tease them with my victory!" Thor said wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulders and leading him further into the light,
"What do you mean 'victory'?"
"Ah, there was a glorious battle between your family and friends of whom would lead you into the Afterlife from this area. It was an interesting race. Deception and trickery were used at its finest, but alas, I won and beat them all to you."
"Good on you, Big Guy." Harry cheered with a smile at his large blond friend, who gave a cheesy grin. "So, why'd you look younger?"
"Ah, when one passes through the gates we revert to the age we most enjoyed. The age we wish to be once more." He stated and Harry assumed he just looked seventeen as that was the oldest he'd ever been and…probably the best age because of the end of the war.
Before Harry knew it, he was being bombarded with hugs from all of his friends. All of which looked so young back in their twenties and thirties. Suddenly a broad chest blocked his view, Harry looked up and smiled.
"Steve," He whispered before having the life -or would it be death?- kissed out of him,
"Hello, Harry." Steve murmured against the other's lips, "I remember all of my reincarnated lives, you know and…thank you." Harry just hugged the man he hadn't seen in so long.
"Teddy." He murmured as he hugged the blue-haired man before him,
"Hello, Uncle Harry."
"Hello, kiddo."
"Siri?" Harry gasped as he threw himself at his young looking godfather, the man was so different from the time Harry knew him, the time before Azkaban and being involved in the war.
Pulling away, he watched as everyone he knew parted with gentle smiles until there were only two people standing in front of him. All three of them grinned in unison.
"Mum! Dad!"
"Harry!" They cried and hugged their son.
They were all talking with one another, laughing and chatting as they got to know each other and catch up on the many things that had happened in Harry's life. Smiling to himself as he listened to them. He couldn't help but feel so…amazing. He was free and finally happy.