1 King's Cross
Lord Hadrian Potter found himself suddenly awake in a familiar white train station.
He looked around the all too familiar blinding whiteness around him and wondered if he had gone delirious in his old age while lying on the bed of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries or if he had finally kicked the bucket, so to speak.
If it was the former he couldn't wait for old bastard Death to come and take him away from that horrid place, and if it was the latter, he couldn't wait to go and meet all his departed loved ones and beat the shit out of the person who had met him when he was here the last time.
Harry was pushed out of his musings by the sudden presence of another in front of him.
The entity was a stranger to him, but he knew who or rather, what it was.
Some deep part of his subconscious recognised it for what it was.
It was much taller than him and resembled a skeleton with a black cloak draped over it, the train of the robe trailed behind the wearer and it covered everything except the entity's hands which were ghostly white - the fingers thin and long.
It was Death - the only splash of darkness in the pristine, white platform 9 and 3/4 of King's Cross Station.
Harry couldn't see its face, only two pinpricks of light where its eyes were supposed to be.
Idly, Harry looked around to see if the entity was carrying a scythe, but he wasn't really surprised to not find one.
Part of him was overwhelmed, yet still, a larger part was relieved.
Maybe now he could rest in the afterlife with his family and forget about the war.
Everything aside, after the war, he had learnt manners which in hindsight, he had been sorely lacking in his childhood.
Therefore, with a sardonic smile on his lips, he spoke, "Greetings, Death."
"Master," the cloaked entity rasped.
Death so badly wanted to deny this mortal his title.
The mortal had so many titles to his name already.
The Lord of two Noble and Ancient Houses out of the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight'.
The Boy Who Lived.
The Man Who Conquered and now, another one would be added to that already impressive list.
The Master of Death and with it would come an even more prestigious position - The Last and Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse.
Death sorely wanted to deny this mere slip of a mortal the recognition brought about by the joining of the Three Deathly Hallows and yet, even as Death thought these treacherous thoughts, it felt unsure.
Death was not a person, or a creature, or a thing that could conceivably have a 'master.'
Death simply was.
So, how could it tolerate someone as its master?
However, it couldn't obliterate the boy, since he was already dead and Death's Master to boot.
Death used the moniker 'boy' because that was what The Great Hadrian Potter was to the entity.
A mere slip of a boy in front of an entity which had lived for aeons and was the be-all and end-all of everything.
Even when life ended, death would still remain forever and when it said 'forever', it wasn't being a whiny, dramatic teenager.
It actually meant forever and this boy would be its master for aeons and aeons to come.
How swell!
How Wonderful!
Death gave an internal sigh.
It was being introspective and nobody wanted Death to be introspective, even Death itself.
Because the last time it had been introspective, Death had created a watered-down version of itself - Dementors.
It had also turned introspective when it had had a huge fight with Fate and Death had ended up creating Inferi.
So, Death wrestled back its emotions before they took a turn for the worse and he was again scolded by his siblings for creating another 'devastating and horrible' creature and tried to get back to the proper order of business.
Since it couldn't get rid of its Master and there wasn't another Master of Life or Master of Fate or Master of Despair, it couldn't even throw off the human to someone else and continue on with its existence, Death tried to find a way to keep the human away from it - far, far away and not bother about the consequences.
Thinking things through, Death had a Eureka moment!
This human, This Harry Potter never had a family and craved for a familial connection.
Hmmm...
Death could work with that.
Adjusting its voice so as to give off a feeling of mysticism, Death started, "Master, it pains me to inform you that you are dead."
Harry huffed at those words.
Thanks for stating the obvious, Sherlock! But he kept the acerbic words to himself.
"However, you cannot remain dead. You are my master and Death cannot lay claim to its master's life. Therefore, in a few moments, you'll rejoin The Land of The Living."
Harry had actually expected such an outcome.
He had long realised that he didn't age like other magicals and after the war, even his emotions had become muted, which was why his relationship with the youngest Weasley had gone down the drain faster than he could say 'potatoes'.
"It is upsetting, nonetheless, expected," the green-eyed boy replied.
Death frowned at its Master.
Why wasn't 'The Great Harry Potter' behaving like other mortals?
Where were the histrionics or the pleas to be allowed to live for a few more years or even months?
Where was the whining tone that the mortal wanted to speak to or see his loved ones for one last time?
This person really went against conventional wisdom in life and was not acting per norm even in death.
Death felt even more irked!
"Master, you can either go back to your current body that is lying in the hospital or you can choose to have a brand new start somewhere else."
Harry grumbled to himself at that but still chose the second option.
With a pointed sneer on its face, Death growled, "Your wish is my command, Master," and sent the soul of one Hadrian Jameson Potter tumbling through The Void of Death and into The Land of the Living.
If Harry had looked back in that moment, he would have noticed a malicious grin on Death's face and a malevolent gaze.
Since this boy dared to rise above its head, Death would keep on shuttling him from one life to another and have him reflect on his stupid decision to join The Three Deathly Hallows.
Why couldn't the mortal have been satisfied with just the cloak?
Why did he have to go and be the one to join the three artefacts?
Well, now that the deed was done and nothing to say for it, Death would like to see if the mortal could grasp the reality that the world was bigger than just the mere mortals living on Earth.
In the meantime, Death thought to go and pay a 'friendly visit' to another mortal who was lounging in its realm - that dumbly-dorie or something boy who had been audacious enough to plan all this and pave the way for Potter to be its Master.
At the end of the day, even if it couldn't vent its feelings on Master, nobody could stop Death from getting even with the other mortal and release some of the pent-up resentment and anger it had accumulated since the blasted day The Deathly Hallows had been joined.
