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He walked slowly through the dimly lit forest, towards his impending death, a small stone dropped from his hand and hit the ground, and he took a deep, shuddering breath before he flung his invisibility cloak over himself, hiding him from prying eyes as he continued towards the small clearing, he was to meet Voldemort in.
"No sign of him, my Lord," he heard a Death Eater inform the madman as he approached.
"My Lord-" Bellatrix began, yet fell silent shortly after.
"I thought he would come," Voldemort began, "I expected him to come."
A moment passed in silence and Harry reached the group.
"I was, it seems, mistaken."
"You weren't," Harry denied, a blank look on his face as he smothered the feeling of rage, he felt at seeing the man.
He had to die for everyone else to live, and it was his fault, so excuse him for being angry, but he felt deserving of it.
"Harry Potter," he whispered.
In the background he could hear Hagrid struggling and telling him to get away, to get to safety, yet he stood, his head held high with a cold look in his eyes.
"Once more, Harry... bow to Death."
"I bow to no-one," he sneered.
The man's eyes flashed with rage, "Avada Kedavra."
Harry fell back, landing on the ground with a soft thud, as his vision quickly faded to black and all sounds stopped.
What felt like moments later, his eyes fluttered open, and he was greeted with the sight of what looked like King's Cross Station, except it was mostly a whiteish blue in colour, and yet it was completely empty of people.
He frowned slightly and pushed himself to his feet, intent on figuring out what had happened, as the last thing he remembered was getting killed by Voldemort.
Harry spun in a slow circle on the spot he was stood in, taking the sight of the railway station, there were no trains, and the little information centre, toilets, and cafes were missing, instead replaced by a bare wall.
Benches were lining the wall, and the ground was covered with a thick mist, but other than that, he was alone.
Or he thought he was, but that was a thought that was soon destroyed when he heard whimpering.
Harry's brows furrowed as he began walking in the direction of the noise, coming to a stop in front of one of the benches he'd spotted leant against a wall.
He crouched down, and peered under the bench, coming face to face with a naked child which looked like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper and starved.
Looking at the child, his mind made the connection as to what it was relatively quick, and once he realised, he scrambled away from it.
It wasn't a child, that man could not be saved.
"I see you realise what it is."
The words made Harry jump, as he'd not been expecting anyone there with him.
The man in front of him was unmistakable with his long white beard and twinkling eyes, and Harry came to another conclusion.
"So, I'm really dead, huh?"
The older man appeared to look at something behind him and frowned, before he looked him in the eye, "not exactly."
Harry raised an eyebrow and folded his arms, staring at the man for his strange- for him- behaviour, where was the cryptic drawing out of his words, and what was behind him that was so interesting?
He began to turn his head and froze when someone behind him spoke.
"Don't look at us."
The voice was strangely familiar, and he felt as though he should listen to the words.
He opened his mouth to question it yet was beaten to the punch.
"You'll find out why soon enough."
Harry considered this for a moment before nodding and turning to look at the man, ignoring the fact that the mist had cleared and he could see shadows stretching in front of him, towards Dumbledore.
Pretended that there was not a large group of people stood almost directly behind him.
"What do you mean 'not exactly'?" he instead questioned his old headmaster, who for once seemed as tired as his age suggested.
"You have a rare opportunity, my boy," they both pretended that they didn't hear the group of people behind him make rather loud noises of protest to Harry being called 'my boy' by the man, "because you held a Horcrux, you can go back to the living, giving the sliver of soul in exchange."
He hesitated for a moment, looking at the people behind him warily for a moment before he continued with his words, "or you could continue on to the afterlife, see your loved ones again."
The group behind him began protesting loudly again, but Harry ignored them as he thought about the options he'd been given.
"What about Voldemort?" he asked Dumbledore.
"If you go back, it will only be a matter of finishing him one last time."
"And if I chose to move on?"
"He will be stopped, eventually, but likely not before causing the downfall of Wizarding Britain, destroying most of Muggle England in his wake, and exposing magic to the world."
Harry gave a dark chuckle.
"There never really was a choice."
"No," he agreed sadly.
A moment later, and Harry's eyes snapped open in the middle of the forest, sticky liquid half-dried to his face, and the pocket watch on a chain like a locket, the one that he'd had for his entire life burning against his skin.
He stretched, before picking up the wand he'd been using, Malfoy's he thought and twirled it in his hand slightly.
The best way to kill Voldemort would be to send the killing curse at him when he least expected it, he mused, while fiddling with the watch, maybe he could catch the man gloating about killing him and do it then, while he still thought he was dead.
Yes, he nodded to himself, that seemed like the best idea he had so far.
Sighing, he dropped the watch and hauled himself to his feet, flinging his invisibility cloak, which he'd hidden in his robes before Voldemort killed him, over himself, just in time, as someone entered the clearing, he'd just woke in.
Harry quickly moved from the clearing in the direction of Hogwarts, where the man was most likely declaring his death to the world.
He reached the edge of the treeline quickly and saw that his prediction was correct, he could also see a dead snake by the entrance of the school.
Harry walked up behind the man, internally scoffing at the large opening the man had left out, likely thinking that no-one would dare to defy him now and poked the end of the wand out of his cloak.
"Avada Kedavra," he whispered so low no-one had heard it.
No-one heard it, but everyone saw the light.
Everyone saw as Voldemort dropped to the ground, dead.
No-one noticed the wand-tip disappearing back under the cloak.
It was over, but it felt so anti-climactic, it almost felt as though a second, even eviler Voldemort would glide down from the skies at any moment.
But it simply wasn't the case.
Harry frowned, but began walking up to the castle, dropping the wand on his way up, it wasn't his, but he didn't want to be caught with it on him.
He might have cast the spell against Voldemort, but even now, he doubted the Ministry would care.
He walked himself to the Great Hall, where Poppy was treating some injuries, and plopped himself down on a chair, pulling his cloak halfway down his back, revealing the top half of his torso, and leant against the table in front of him, drifting off to sleep before anyone realised that he was there.
An unknown amount of time later, he was pulled out of his sleep by Hermione grabbing him in a hug and attempting to squeeze the life out of him.
"He said you were dead!" she yelled at him.
"Well obviously not, but I am tired," he informed her.
She sniffed and pulled back, hitting him on the arm as she went, "you could have told us you were okay!"
"And interrupt the battle? I'd just woken up from some random curse in the middle of the forest, barely able to see straight," he lied, "I would have been a liability."
She frowned but conceded the point.
"Harry mate," Ron began, frowning harder than Hermione, "Hagrid said that Voldemort used the killing curse on you, that's not just 'some random curse.'"
Harry scowled, "it doesn't matter, I'm alive, he's not, end of story," he stood up from where he was sat, "I'm tired, I'm going to see if Gryffindor tower is alright, and if it is, I'm going to sleep."
He walked out of the hall, feeling their eyes on him, so what if he was in a bad mood, he'd just died, he had a right.
When he was about halfway to the tower, he paused and instead walked into one of the deserted classrooms, hopping up onto a desk and pulling his watch out from under his shirt, inspecting the swirling circular patterns.
It had been burning since he'd awoken in the forest, and he thought it might have something to do with the group of people that had stood behind him when he was dead.
He turned it over and stared, the latch, which had previously been broken, had miraculously been fixed.
Reaching out with shaking fingers, he opened it.
The room was filled with golden light.
For the second time that day, Harry's vision faded to black and he slumped down onto the desk.
Three hours later he woke, stretching his limbs out, he swiped the watch up from its place on the desk, chuckling at the ticking metal, he snapped it shut and stuffed it in his pockets.
"Well now, won't the Doctor be surprised?" he muttered to himself as he looked over the clothes he was wearing, slightly too large jeans, a hole-riddled black hoodie, and some worn-out trainers.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance, he'd have to get himself some better clothes, he doubted a suit would look good on this body, but he'd find something that would work for him.
He reached up and plucked the now useless glasses from his face, turning them over to inspect them, before casually tossing them across the room.
"Harry Potter, one of your greatest inspirations," he muttered aloud, "and it was me all along."
A wide, slightly mad grin spread across his face, and before he could smother it, he began laughing, giddily.
He spun around in a circle, before making his way to the door, quickly walking down the corridor, heading towards the Gryffindor tower.
"Harry!" a girl's voice echoed from behind him, and he turned to look at the person it had come from, another grin split his face as he took in the sight of both Ron and Hermione.
At that moment, a plan began forming.
"Where were you? You said you'd be in the tower!"
"Sorry, I couldn't make it that far, took a nap in a classroom," he scratched the back of his head, doing his best to look sheepish.
She seemed to deflate as she took in his state, he probably looked terrible, Chameleon Arches opening and dying both had the effect of making a person look rather ill, both happening in less than one Earth day to one person was probably a great way to look like you had five lots of the common flu at once.
"McGonagall wants to know if you're interested in helping to rebuild Hogwarts," Ron blurted out quickly.
He smiled as genuinely as he could, "I would love to," he lied.
He would improve his reputation with the British Wizarding population, and then one day, when they least expected it, he would bring them all to their knees.
And maybe, hopefully, this time the Doctor would be unable to stop him.
The Master flung his arms around the two humans and grinned.
"Let's go!"