My new story 3 I'm giving you a fair warning ahead - this is gonna be a SLASH story at some point, BUT I have no idea at what point exactly that will be the case. It could be after only 20.000 words or after 100.000 into the story. No idea whatsoever! Whose who like it, enjoy and review!

"speech"

thoughts

$parseltongue$

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Just my personal touch to his story.

Warnings: Will be slash at some point, undecided on pairing and will take a while till then, enjoy :3

Fortuna spins her wheel round and round and as the earth spins it's circles, in the sky a new day starts his walk, no one may know what the day will bring to you all anew the hope takes root, as the beggar ascends the blue atop and standing proud and tall at fates door.

1. Whirling Wheel

Harry descended into the Chamber of Secrets. It quickly became his retreat at the populated school as even in his headmasters office, calm never truly settled in. Being the leader of a boarding school for children truly revealed to be a full-time job, nevertheless a rewarding one. He had discovered his adeptness for teaching back in fifth year as the leader of the DA and now was happy to fully utilize that skill and hobby.

Harry sighed inaudibly and took a deep breath. The downside of the quiet in his retreat was that the memories came storming back and he grudgingly he let them flood him. Sometimes you just have to take the time to let your mental reins fall and allow yourself to remember and mourn for what you've lost. Occlumency only provides temporal relief, it is no solution. And Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Man-Who-Vanquished-The-Dark-Lord-Voldemort, the recipient for the Merlin Award First Class, former Auror, teacher of Defense against the Dark Arts and now Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had a lot on his plate.

Truly, he had a lot to remember and grief for.

Starting with the death of his parents, his first kill Quirrell, the murder of Diggory, the loss of Sirius, Dobby, Hedwig, Fred, Remus, Tonks,...and many more. Harry lied down on the lounge and closed his eyes, hands closed above his stomach like a dead. He wished he could cry, looking back, the past seemed to mingle with mistakes or inadequacies from his side. He could have managed so much better.

But the tears refused to flow as these particular memories had have been brought forward far too often. Time has smoothed the rough edges over and the shards of glass that were his memories no longer managed to make him bleed tears. No the memories he feared and that hurt were those that happened recently. The memories of betrayal as his supposed friends abandoned him one time too many. The only ones he still kept in contact with were Neville and Luna Longbottom, George and his godson Teddy.

Betrayal was no strange concept for him. After all his parents died because such a supposed friend betrayed them to Voldemort. He himself was turned on often enough. At birth, second year, forth year, fifth year, the year on the run. Betrayal by wizard kind in total by leaving him, their savior, at the Dursley's. His parseltongue ability turned most of school against him, his election as Champion of Hogwarts led to the betrayal through Ron, betrayed by the ministry and made into a scapegoat by the press and then again left by Ron on the run.

He was also betrayed by Dumbledore as he found out, endangering him, his friends and ultimately killing Sirius at the Ministry. Leaving him with the Dursley's, withholding information he needed and much more. He made him into a sacrifice for the Greater Good. Those two words enraged him more than anything else. Harry hated them with undying passion.

Those betrayals left him with a bitter taste in the back of his throat but he didn't cry from those wounds anymore. He had learned to accept them one by one, by telling himself that he did that he could at those moments in time. Truly, he did what he could, gave all what he had and more then he should have ever had had to give.

It were those more recent memories that hurt. But he brought them up before his inner eye one by one, reviewing them and hoping time would be merciful and dull the edges soon. He had to remember in order to not suffocate from the bale. He did it in order to find inner peace after.

The memory when Ginny divorced him. It turned out what he couldn't create a family with her as his childhood and basilisk venom had rendered him impotent. It wouldn't have been an issue normally, but he was never properly checked over by a mediwitch before and a private examination had brought forth many problems with his health. They tried to overcome it as best as they could, but Ginny simply couldn't stay in the end. She grew up with seven brothers, a big happy family was her wish as much as Harrys. She couldn't life with the thought of never being a mother and so they divorced after three years of marriage.

The divorce separated Harry from the Weasley's. He still kept in touch with George, Hermione, Bill and Fleur, but nobody else. He couldn't bear to as they stood on Ginny's side supporting her decision. Harry only could stare dumbly in shock as Molly had kissed him on the cheek and explained to him that he was welcome at the Burrow's anytime and they didn't hold it against him that he had failed to do his husband duties. Even Ron - his so called best mate - demanded in court for him to provide necessary alimony for his sister to keep up her living standards. Without a proper marriage contract they managed to strip him of nearly half his inheritance.

Needless to say, Harry had never been to the Burrow ever since.

There was no death threat this time, no dark lord lurking in the shadows, just Harry and the Weasleys. And it just so happened that the Weasleys chose the Weasleys over him. Now he no longer could hold any delusions on wether he was Mrs. Weasleys seventh son. He may be a son, but the son of Lily and James Potter and no one else. Thankfully, by that time he had outgrown his need of parents and family. Of something to fall back upon.

Ron and Hermione had two children of their own to take care of as did Fleur and Bill. So after work hours soon it was only George and sometimes Neville with Luna who joined him for a drink. Hermione too chose family over a friend and even though she was on his side in the divorce, if she didn't want a divorce herself she needed to take sides. She chose Ron. Scarce letters from Hermione reached him sometimes but he never answered them and none of the other Weasley's. He visited and helped raise Teddy, caught criminals then switched his job to a teacher and soon George, Neville and Luna were the only ones he had steady contact with.

Soon after the attacks began.

The wizarding world turned to him for help agains the muggle terrorist attacks. Ron himself had the gall to come up to him and demand - yes demand - him joining in the fight. Needless to say he refused. He was now a teacher and his war won. He told them loud and clear that he had no intention what so ever to involve himself in another war by more that selfdefense and defense of the castle.

At that, he was made a scapegoat once more. They screamed at him labeling him a traitor to his nation but they also couldn't afford to lose him at the same time, so the ministry decided to utilize him and his name to the best of their ability. The following school year he was made Headmaster of Hogwarts.

It was like discharging pus. You needed to cut open and clean the wounds before they could begin to heal.

Wiping the few tears away he still had in him Harry rose fluently of the lounge and moved towards Salazar's library. The library had easily become his most liked place in the whole wide world. He sincerely regretted not having found it when he was in his second year. That's right, it was the year he nearly got killed by a thousand years old basilisk to save his former wife. He really needed something else to do than rescuing people who wouldn't stay grateful for long anyway.

Only after quitting as an Auror and distancing himself from nearly everyone around him had he been able to see the damage he himself and others had inflicted upon himself. It was like when his eyesight had been stabilized by a mediwitch. He would never be able to regain his full eyesight but he could stop it from deteriorating further. As such he couldn't shrug away the harm already done to his body but he could stop it from getting worse. He no longer needed acceptance from others, no longer craved affection and friends with such vigor as back then. Which was the Dursleys fault. And who left him with them and secured his misery? Dumbledore. In the end most of his pain could be traced down to him. In the years after his former mentors death he had learned to despise him and was only a step away from outright hate. He refused to let it eat him up though. Unfortunately he had no way to correct his life.

The library was in one word beautiful. Harry had always liked the smell of books and back in the day libraries were his sanctuaries. He bitterly regretted having befriended Ron back on his way to Hogwarts. The others lazy attitude and dislike of books had unnoticeably transferred itself to him. While Harry was smart he purposefully slowed down his learning ability. It had begun with the Dursley's beating him to a pulp and starving him if he dared to bring home better grades than Duddley. That was balanced by him when he escaped to the school library from his cousin and friends and read every book he could get his hands on there. But with Ron...

With Ron it was the desire for acceptance and friends which led to him adjusting his personality to fit that of his new friend. He did most of the reckless stuff he did just to be liked. Now at his age he wished he had found friends who liked him for himself for once. Fred and George were the obvious choices. And then Draco. Yes, Draco Malfoy. The git made for surprisingly good company once you looked past his pureblood facade. Harry sincerely wished he had given the other a chance and discovered that without a war pitting them against one another.

He wished he could have sorted it out with Snape, actually be there for the welcoming feasts each year. Common days, common years with simple happinesses. Trying out pranking perhaps... He had a legacy to uphold after all.

The ancient magic of the castle flowed directly through here or more correctly the magic of the lay line flew directly underneath and directly affected the library, preserving the books since thousand years ago and some even older than that. The library was a work of art. It held three times the amount of books compared to the school library and no one but him had access to it. Secretly, he considered that the ultimate revenge against Hermione.

The library was separated into three general sections: Light Magic, Dark Magic and most importantly Parselmagic.

These three were of course separated into under sections like Advanced Transfiguration, Advanced Potions, Magical Creatures and all the other subjects in the Hogwarts curriculum. That was the Light Side. The Light Side alone has taken him over a decade to complete reading. Yeah, it was a LOT of books. This library and the distance from his former friends has reawakened the beast in him craving knowledge. He came down here and read for hours each day. Harry never removed the books from the library, fearing to damage them carelessly. Even Tom - as annoyingly stupid he sometimes had been - had the brains to not damage and take out the books inside. Though, he probably thought that no one but him would be able to access the Chamber. Otherwise he probably would have tried.

The books he liked reading most, against all expectations, were the vast history books. Harry had never found himself interested in history before now, but he discovered that the subject in itself was well worth studying. Now that the topics were no longer dominated by Goblin Wars, he actually found the material interesting. He found the texts from a certain Marvick Sendo more intriguing than those of others. He carefully selected the topic he wrote about and wrote in a dry, unbiased style, which didn't fail to capture Harry's attention. It felt like the author wanted to invite or rather force his readers to think while reading his books.

Marvick wrote about the different magical beings in the world starting with Elves and ending with Vampires. He traveled quite a lot during his fairly long life, Harry concluded, as his books were able to compare to travel journals, though more objective and composed. The man didn't differ between the light creatures or dark ones what-so-ever, a fact Harry found the most interesting.

Until now each book he ever read about a magical creature, it was defined by it's status as light or dark. And while Marvick did mention which category the being belonged to, he never made the assumption the rest of the world concluded. Never once did the author translate the characterization light to good and dark to evil. Instead he introduced Elves he made acquaintance with, even one from the Elven Court, described their talks and important or unimportant but interesting landmarks. The same he did with vampires, centaurs, hippogriffs, dragons and lots of others.

Harry read about pieces of information he had never encountered to that day about those races and found Marvicks conclusions as to which political decisions from those races had affected the human history and shaped it.

Defense Against the Dark Arts came in as a close second. Harry was always gifted in DADA so that didn't come as a surprise for him. That came as a surprise was his liking and pull towards the Dark Arts themselves. They were represented by a fast majority in the Library of Salazar Slytherin. This wasn't the first time he had come into contact with those. Still, it was the first time no one pulled him away and chastised him on his darker side's interference. Dumbledore and later Hermione and Ron, have always ensured to keep Harry away from the subject of his interest. Lecturing him on the importance of self-control. Well, Harry had enough of self-control.

Then there was the Dark Section. Prejudiced as Harry was raised he still had some issues reading, not to mention learning that magic. As it turns out he was actually pre-disposed for that magic and Dumbledum had the nerve to withhold him his legacy from his fathers side. Harry had needed a week to calm down sufficiently after that particular discovery, before he completely immersed himself into the Dark Magic.

As it turns out the Dark Arts as cruel as some were, were useful in other instances and some were 'dark' for less than a decade. The Ministry conveniently classified everything they wanted as 'dark' and banned it under prosecution of the law. Some magic required the caster to be born dark, which was true for purebloods only. As part of the family magic and a child's inheritance even only some of those were able to inherit it too. The movement of integration of muggleborns into magic society since the beginning of the 90 banned most of the so called 'dark' magic. Slytherin had gathered truly dark curses in his arsenal which only the darkest or cruelest of wizards and witches could perform. Harry had needed some time to understand that there was a difference there and which exactly. Still he never contemplated releasing these books to the general public. No. Releasing this knowledge onto the world would bring devastation and a truly Dark Age. He couldn't comprehend how some wizards had the state of mind to invent some of the more gruesome magic.

And the Dark Arts were not the only part of 'dark' magic as Harry previously believed. There was Spell Creation Arts, specialized on Dark Spells, History of Dark Magic as that was no part of the official History of Magic class. After reading the books in that section Harry truly understood that the sentence 'history is written by the victors' meant. He debated changing the name of the class of History of Magic into History of Light Magic. So much history lost, lying underneath the castle, gone from the face of the earth. Dark creatures were probably the only ones who still remembered at least parts of it.

And that was his second biggest regret concerning the library. The books about Dark Magical Creatures were... detailed. He could have helped Remus with their help. He could still help the other werewolves with them, but with the muggles attacking nobody would be inclined to biggest regret though was the Parselmagic. The parselscript tomes were truly enlightening and he found himself studying the century old texts contained in it.

It gave the texts a pleasant spice by being written in parselscript. To the best of Harry's knowledge no one has read those in at least the last five centuries. They were already old when Salazar Slytherin had gathered them in his personal library, now they could be considered ancient.

It only was one shelf. One shelf with books written in parselscript and all at least two thousand years old. One of them dated even four thousand years back. Even with magic these books felt brittle and Harry was very careful handling them. He got even more careful after the first few pages. Which idiot labeled parseltongue as 'Dark'?! Parselspells were Healing Arts and they were far more advanced and stronger than any 'normal' spells used now four thousand years later. One book described the healing process after the Cruciatus curse for hell sake! For any nerve damage at all. Neville broke down crying when Harry told him. His parents died three years prior to his discovery.

Prejudices, preconceptions. How many prior rendered judgments had made his life hell? Happiness seemed so close and yet now after so much time too far out of reach. Harry was approaching his sixty-seventh birthday and though it was only middle-age for wizards, he no longer saw any future for himself. He saw himself getting old in the ancient castle and dying without a legacy of his own. What was the use of all that knowledge if there was no one there to benefit from it?

And so Harry came to the idea of time travel. His life was starting to get dull, of course he still had a lot to read in the Chambers library, he didn't read all the books available, he would still need at least another decade before finishing. The only section he finished and learned by heart was parselmagic, so Harry looked for another project to occupy his time and dissipate the dullness.

Recently he felt like another person looking at him walking through life through a window, walking in predictable patterns. And as Harry bloody Potters life had no chance to be boring before, the boredom now was numbing. The isolation. As much as Harry hated his 'abnormalities' before, as much he appreciated them now. His abnormalities were the only part of himself he managed to preserve through his life after all. Freak was a word drawing smiles on his lips. Normality was overvalued as he came to know.

And being Harry bloody Potter was that made him hope he would be able to do it. Time Travel. Everyone was so sure that it was only possible to travel two days back at most. And he decided to prove everyone wrong.

He researched Time Turners, but alas there was only limited information on those available. He managed to prosecute one from France for a ton of money and much bribing. Still, he had more than a few tons to spend after all. Money never was a problem. Still there was close to no progress after three years of close research. The gold dust was a mixture of fairy dust, moonstone and spells for health stabilization. Hard to achieve and hard to build. Theoretically it was possible to travel further back in time than two days by enlarging the glass and mass. If one would build a Time Turner ten times as big as the original one, as big as a house, and collect enough of the mixture to fill the hour glass, theoretically it should be possible to travel back ten times as far back. But counting in the unpredictability and concentration of the mixture, it would probably only send a person back up to five years back in time.

Nevertheless it was only theory. The Time Turners in all of England were destroyed by him in his fifth year at Hogwarts. The other countries would never hand over all of their Turners and he never would have enough money to by them all. Additionally, Harry strongly suspected that even if he collected all time Turners in the world, he would be unable to fill that theoretical glass.

And last but not least, five years wouldn't be of much use to him really. He would probably take that much time to build it, if not longer. There was nothing he needed additional five years for.

Exhausted Harry flopped down on the lounge again. He debated going up to his flat beside his office, but had a change of heart. After all tomorrow the weekends began and he deserved a bit ease and tranquility. He took a deep breath and slid into a meditational state of mind, strengthening his Occlumency shields and banning his nightmares into the back of his mind. Nightmares weren't daily occurrences anymore and Harry was deeply thankful for it. But on days like today where the past seemed to lurk behind the next corner, he held his shields firm. No use ruining his night and thus the next day by carelessness. And so he delved deep into his mind, clearing it of thoughts.

Then, by no conscious decision, Harry began to dream of how things would be if he were to begin anew. He guessed that it would probably be impossible to rescue his parents. Who would take a baby serious? But he would be able to get Sirius out earlier. He could avoid trouble at the Dursley's and once Sirius were out of Azkaban he could life with him. At last he would be able to spend some quality time with his godfather. He also could prevent his body from taking damage with malnourishment. He would be able to grow tall and with no problems at childhood and proper treatment at St. Mungo's of the Basilisk venom... he could have children. A family.

"Hello, Harry."

Startled Harry jumped from the lounge and turned towards the voice. First there were only outlines, you could see there was something there, but no visible form took hold. After, slowly but surely the form of a hooded figure appeared as if painted onto a canvas of air.

"Death?"

It sounded ridiculous but some part of Harry was sure he was right. The figure looked exactly like Death is described in stories. Except for the part with the scythe. There was none there. And after the Peverell brothers story, Harry came to believe in Death somewhat.

"Hello, Master." Death, it seemed, had a good sense of humor. At least the sarcasm was noticeably there in his raspy voice and the mocking bow did the rest nicely.

"Wow, joking aside. You are death? How come you look like the Grim Reaper out of fairy tales?"

"Stories have to come from somewhere, boy. Near death experiences. Never heard of them?"

"So the descriptions of you come from people who nearly died?"

The hooded figure nodded.

"I paid them a visit, prepared to take them with me, but they were strong enough to hold on to life and so I left again. Alas I must say no one had escaped my clutches as often as you did."

"Oh?"

Death laughed.

"Quite. I admit I became interested in you and didn't protest about you becoming my master because of it. You proved your worth to me, more than anybody else had managed and I had a fun time betting on when you will die and come with me."

"Glad to be of service.", Harry commented dryly. "But I've never seen you."

Again Death laughed. But this time it was short.

"Oh, no. Think again, boy. You saw me, you just don't remember anymore."

Harry stayed quiet for a long time, but no meeting came to mind. He looked up to Death puzzled. The figure sighed.

"Think. The first time you escaped death was when you were just a baby. I know for sure you saw me as I saw my reflection in your eyes. You were just a child and so you forgot."

"Oh... And other times?"

"Other times you came REALLY close to coming with me, were in second year from the basilisk venom, in forth year at the cemetery, fifth year I was there for your godfather and you nearly came along, sixth year not so much, but seventh year was interesting."

"Wait." Harry sat down, suddenly weak in the knees and ran a hand through his hair. "Did you come today because today I will die?"

Death smiled. Harry had no idea how he knew as there was no face to see, but he knew Death was smiling.

"Yes. You called me, because you decided to die."

Harry stared at the other completely gobsmacked.

"What?! That's ridiculous! I may be bored, but I'm not suicidal! I was just lying down and relaxing, prepared to fall into blissful sleep!"

Death shook his head.

"I don't know how or why, but I only come when my master wishes his death or the death of others. Since you aren't in battle or dangerous situation, I came to the conclusion you wanted to die yourself. Or do you want me to take somebody with me?"

"NO!"

Harry stared at Death wide-eyed and not only slightly angry. 'What's going on here?'

"Look. As I said I don't want to die or kill someone else. I was just lying here, relaxing and thinking about my past. I don't know why you're here!"

Death floated closer and stared intensely.

"Your past? Were you thinking about how you wanted to change it?"

They clearly weren't on the same page here. Probably even in a different book.

"Yes. I researched Time Travel, because I wish I could go back and change things. But I can't. My research only works in theory and only about five years back in time. What does that have to do with the price of butter? I thought you only deal with death."

Death backed away and laughed. More like roared his amusement into the world. Harry just wished he would get the joke.

"Boy! You really are a great master, I chose well! Are you saying you want to go back in time? To the day of your birth? Because I can do that."

Harry was officially confused.

"How?"

"How? I'm Death, Master. And Death is timeless. I exist wether you like it or not and as my master you have certain privileges. Like Time Travel. But it works different with me. I have no corporal body and souls are my customers. That is why flesh stays on earth and returns to earth, you see? So I won't be taking your body with your soul."

"How?"

Death sighed.

"Look, I will explain, so please get your brain to work again. I can't actually time travel and so neither can you."

"But you just said-"

"Silence! Death is all encompassing, boy. It's the cycle of rebirth. I take the souls and when the souls are ready they are reborn with no memories in a new body. They have no memories, because it's the law. It would be too confusing to have all the memories of previous lives. Though sometimes some memories still remain. I can't take your body, like a Time Turner, but I can take your soul, after the death of your mortal body. Wishing to travel back, you wished for suicide in a way and as such I came running. You understand?"

Harry shook his head and tried to process the information.

"So... basically you can take me to the moment of my birth?"

"Yes, I can take you anywhere you like though. Your soul will simply be housed in another body."

"No thanks, being Harry Potter is enough trouble. Still as tempting as it is, I can't. It's of no use to me to travel back to my younger me and forget everything."

"Oh, no need to worry about that one. You are the Master of Death. My Master. As I said, you have certain privileges. If you say you want to retain your memories, you can."

"Oh."

Silence descended into the Chamber. The possibility was tempting. 'And isn't this exactly what I wanted? A second chance at my life? So why am I hesitating?'

"Look, you can think all you like, but I'm a busy person. Well, not actually a person, but you get it. I'm needed and while a few minutes of delay don't mean much, I don't want to give a chance for a jam to build itself. Yes or no?"

"What are the repercussions?" Harry gouged holes into Death.

"Repercussions? None. Though reality as you know it will cease to exist."

"WHAT?!" Harry jumped up panicked.

"Oh, calm down. You want to change things, don't you? You won't simply repeat every step you took the same way, right? You are the Master of Death. And as such you being reborn in the past will kill the reality you build before. The changes would be greater if you had gone back five hundred years. As such you would have erased fife hundred years of the current history. But you only wish to go back seventy years and as such seventy years will be rewritten by you. There is only one timeline and no other dimensions, master. There is only this world."

"So basically I will change time?"

"Why so flustered? That is basically what you wanted is it not? And you wanted to rewrite history, no? Besides you wish to make it better, right?"

"Do not try to manipulate me! I've had enough of that in my life, I can make my own choices! And yes I want to make it better - but better for me and nobody else. Though it will be better for some people if I change the course of history... Hell, I will be a prodigy in Hogwarts with years of experience to build on!"

Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his face.

"I will need some time Death. Go about your business, I will call when I've made my decision."

And with that Harry was alone in the quietness of the dungeons again.

The next day found Harry sitting concentrated on the lounge and thinking about how he wanted to change things. Force the ministry to free Sirius legally, no glasses, no Ron to stab him in the back...

"So you came to decision, Master. You always were fast to act."

Harry opened his eyes.

"Hello, Death. And yes I prefer to act before missing the train and being left behind. We all have to deal with the choices we make and I'm ready to take responsibility for mine. I don't care if I'm being selfish. I have a right to happiness and in return I will make sure none of my friends need to die. I will get rid of Voldemort."

"You don't have to tell me that. I am Death, I don't care for the mortals and am only interested in you because you managed to escape me dozens of times and managed to become master. I will do my part of the job, collecting souls. You do your part and amuse me."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Right. I will be a selfish jerk then and just do what I like. I'm only human, I will protect me or mine and Dumbledore can go screw himself! I wish I could think like that... I guess I will just think of this as a second chance at happiness. Well to the task at hand. I was wondering if I could take something with me?"

Death shook his head.

"Only your soul and memories. I am not in charge of anything corporal."

"What about the Hallows?"

"You are my Master. The Hallows are forever yours to command. You won't be taking them with you, but they will still be yours in whichever time you wish to be. Claim them, when the time comes."

"Right..." Harry grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Oh, I will thoroughly enjoy the look on Dubledorks visage, when I claim them."

Harry giggled and then full out laughed. Yes, life was finally about to get interesting. He never said his goodbyes, just played chess with Teddy, and shared a round of drinks with his three friends. A last set of happy memories, before he left. He swore to make their lives richer and happier. Neville's parents, Luna's mom if possible and of course preventing the bullying and Fred would never die if all went the way he wanted. Teddy's parents would still be alive. Harry just hoped there would still be a Teddy.

"Alright. Where do you want to restart?"

"Is it possible to save my parents?" Harry answered with a question.

Death shook his head after a bit of thought.

"No, it's impossible. You are just a fifteen months old baby at the time. You can hardly walk, your speech is inadequate and you can't use magic to influence the situation."

"I can't use magic?"

"You are just a baby, Harry. You can't do magic. A child's core is still too underdeveloped for it. You would end up a squib. And even if you took that as a price for the life of your parents, even if used all the magic available to you, it would just be a puddle compared to the might of Voldemort. The madman can't be stopped by anybody from killing your parents. It's war. People die."

"I see..." Harry sighed. 'Well, that was probably too much to hope for anyway. I can't have everything. And thankfully I'm no child anymore. I will grieve for them, but I will always know they loved and cared for me. I'm glad I'm not dependent on parental figures anymore.'

"I don't wish to witness my parents die again. Please take me to the moment where I'm lying on the doorstep of the Dursley's. I don't remember when first did accidental magic, but if I don't wish for a malnourished and beaten body, I would better take precautionary measures."

"As you wish, Master. So mote it be." And with those words Death's skeleton hand grabbed his inner core and Harry fell into the cold dark sea of blackness.