A Different Death, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Laptop I used to write this. The italicised content at the top is quoted directly from DH. Granians are a breed of winged horse, noted as being 'Grey and particularly fast' in [i]Fantastic Beasts & where to find them[/i].

A/N: (Canon) Voldemort kills Harry (temporarily) with the Elder Wand, which ought to make him the master, right? So here's an alternate look at what could have happened.

[i]Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear - He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light...[/i]

Even as he fell to the ground, he saw the wand Voldemort was using, Dumbledore's wand, the Elder wand, flying through the air. As his vision faded, which itself was confusing, since the killing curse was supposed to be instantaneous, he noted that his fall had caused the Resurrection stone, the one he'd dropped just a moment ago, to bounce into the air and towards him.

[i]He lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself.[/i] Then he heard the sounds of an argument.

A short, petite even, white-haired girl was laughing at a tall, slender, frail looking old man. At Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore.

"'Master of Death' pul-lees. Apprentice if anything. Probably a good thing you never collected the set."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're too set in your ways. I wouldn't want an apprentice that thinks they know better."

Harry groaned. "Did anyone get the number of the train that hit me?" He rubbed at his eyes. His glasses had gone missing, and in any case, he wouldn't believe what he was seeing anyway. "Professor Dumbledore? The last thing I remember is... Oh. I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Not entirely, my boy. But your death, at the hands of Voldemort, destroyed the horcrux that lay within your scar, and your Mother's protection reflected part of the curse back upon Voldemort's familiar, Nagini. Voldemort is no longer anchored to the realm of the living."

The small girl, who Harry could now see had pink irises, nodded. "And since you're the 'rightful owner' of my Hallows, you've gained a unique opportunity. You see, I'm offering you a meaningful afterlife." She then silenced Dumbledore with a glare.

Harry shook his head sharply, trying to disrupt the cobwebs from his mind. "So... You're death-"

"Death. With a capital. It's a name, not just a job description."

"And because I possessed the stone, had the cloak passed down my family line, and was the supposedly master of the wand, you're offering me a job?"

"To put it simply, my fellow personifications have once-mortal apprentices whom can directly touch the world. I currently do not. Oh, I've been promised one, but the paperwork keeps getting lost, and shuffled from one committee to another, and buried, and... well you get the idea. Thirteen Millenia later, and still waiting. So I started an apprenticeship scheme. Three objects, and the person that obtained and mastered all three would get the position."

"How did I master your Hallows? I never even touched the wand."

"The Cloak, you used to hide and protect not only yourself, but others. The stone, you used not to call others from their afterlifes to take them from my realm, but so they could guide you to mine. The wand, you proved yourself willing to die at it's tip. Ordinarily that would mean that it would pass on to the next wielder in truth, but your act of selfless sacrifice, in accepting death... Well, need I say anymore?" She mused for a moment. "That, and you're the first to 'master' it that shares the blood of the Peverells.

"I must protest." Dumbledore finally broke the silencing that Death had put upon him. "Harry isn't truly dead, he can yet return to the realm of the living, marry his redhead, and have a quidditch team's worth of children."

Death quirked her head. "You mean the redhead that resembles his mother? I really don't see why he ought to try and relive his parent's relationship. Besides, I doubt he has an Oedipus Complex..."

"Now that I think about it... I agree with Death." Harry shook his head. "Ginny was an alright time out, but I don't really see myself in a stable relationship with her. That time felt like I was living someone else's life, rather than my own. She only wants me for my titles, not for me."

"You're rambling Harry." Death said amusedly. "So anyway, the deal is simple. You work for me, as my liaison in the mortal realm. You won't age, though the phoenix tears in your blood would have stabilised you at twenty-five for a couple hundred years anyway-"

"They would've?"

"Don't interrupt. You'll be unaging, and your task will be to oversee the important points in the timeline to do with my domain. Deaths of inspirational leaders and martyrs and such."

"You said that other personifications had their own apprentices? Are they contemporaries or are they..."

"Magic took on a new apprentice a few years ago, that Lovegood girl, when her previous apprentice, a man by the name of Flamel, opted out. His wife was Time's champion, and so he's considering your bookworm friend. Supposedly she proved capable of managing herself when given great temptation in your third year. His test to her, and she passed with flying colours."

"Luna and Hermione?"

"Only Luna at this time. Though I'm given to understand that, as she sees the raw manifestations of magic, the energy, not the personification, she's regarded as 'loony'. If your friend Hermone does become Time's new apprentice, she'd become able to see the flows of time. You'll know the other apprentices as you see them, but I don't think you've met any as of yet."

"And what would an apprentice of Death see?"

"Souls. The bindings of life. The ties of the soul to the body. The strength of the bindings will tell you how healthy an individual is, though that doesn't warn you of accidental deaths. You won't need to attend every death, obviously, that would drive anyone mad, but you will be more aware of souls passing on."

"So what other personifications and apprentices might I encounter? If I take the job, that is."

"Exactly. Death, I feel that Harry should return to the mortal plane."

Without even a change in expression, Death had brought down a surprisingly large hammer down upon his head. "I don't know why I let him nag me into allowing him to tag along."

'Where did that hammer come from?' Harry thought, though he didn't voice it. "My job?"

"Make sure that the people who are supposed to die, die. And remember, the only thing certain is me, though even I'm known to be merciful."

"What do you mean?"

"The small deaths, the ones that don't sway major turning points, I can be lenient. Give a person a few minutes to say goodbye. Avert a death that need not happen. A mercy killing for people in pain. Inspire someone to have a fatal turn even." She grinned ferally. "When you say yes, your first job will be to finish off mister Riddle."

"Where do I sign?"

His eyes glowing freely, the Killing Curse green never being more apt, Harry threw the soul of Riddle into the fiery pit of hell.

"Great job Harry. Now that you're official, it's time for you to meet some of the other personifications."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"This is Time. Time, this is my apprentice Harry." Time wore the guise of a white-haired man, one eye blue and one red. The resemblance to Death was startling. "All things die given time, so we ended up looking related. Don't worry about it."

"Oh yes, I recall this one. My prospective apprentice cares a lot for him. It's a possible cover for the both... What do you think Death?"

"Love was saying that either your apprentice or Magic's would be compatible with him."

"I am right here. Hermione and Luna are both great girls, but I don't see what the point of your discussion is."

"All three of you are ageless, so it's more convenient to put the three of you under one roof and claim a relationship. Like the Flamels were a couple."

"I can see your point, but still..."

"Right, on with the tour. These are the twins, Fate and Destiny." A pair of dreamy looking women. Identical barring one having pink hair, the other blue.

"I believe I owe the both of you something..." Harry buried his fist into the gut of the blue-haired one, and his foot snapped up between the pink-haired one's legs. It might not be as effective as hitting a guy between the legs, but it still hurts a plenty. "It was the machinations of your agents that ruined my life. A prophecy? Better make sure he's safe, by stashing him in the cupboard under the stairs for ten years. Toughen him up by throwing a Basilisk at him. And a Dragon. And an underground lake full of Inferi for good measure."

"It was all part of the plan, so you could fulfil your destiny" The blue-haired one, obviously Destiny, protested, "You needed Basilisk venom, and the Dragon was part of the tri-wizard tournament for Riddle's resurrection. The lake full of Inferi firmed your resolve to end Riddle once and for all."

"Is it any wonder I'm mad at them?" Harry asked Death in an aside.

Death just shrugged. "They deserve being taken down a peg every so often. On we go. This is Love." To say that Love was good looking would be like saying the food at a three hat restaurant was 'nice'. The word doesn't do justice. Love was an absolute bombshell.

But Harry was unphased. "I'd ask where you've been all my life, though that sounds too much like a cheesy pick-up line."

The leggy, busty, curvy blonde smiled sadly. "I'm sorry Mr Potter, the meddlings of others hid you from my gaze. I'd offer to make it up to you..." She licked her lips.

"That is an idea..." Harry trailed off.

"Moving on." Death insisted. The next personification they encountered was a dark haired slip of a girl, with the same startlingly green eyes as Harry. "This is Luck. You know, the resemblance is uncanny. I'd call it a coincidence, but this is the one personification that I can dismiss such considerations around."

Harry bowed. "I don't know if I should thank you, or hit you."

"The schemes of others put you in those awful situations. I gave you the tools to get out." Even Luck's voice sounded a lot like Harry's would, if he were a woman. "Would you say that it was luck that brought you Fawkes and the Sword? That your visions just so happened to occur for the important events? That you knew just when to dodge the dragonfire? That you happen to talk to the one house elf that knows where to hide your clandestine club? That R.A.B just so happened to be the brother of the your innocent godfather, and the locket stored within the house you stayed at? That Riddle chose to, again, fire a killing curse, the one thing that your mother's sacrifice would reflect? Why not a reductor through the chest? I couldn't prevent what the others were doing, but I could play with it."

"Well, I guess I'll thank you. Thanks."

"You should join the practical applications of advanced probability theory that we hold around here every month. I promise to go easy on you."

Harry blinked. Twice. "Would this practical application happen to resemble a certain card game, in which monetary values are wagered?"

"Also known as a poker night? Yes."

Harry grinned his trademark lopsided grin. "I'd like that. Is it just poker, or strip poker?"

Luck gasped. Death's grin resembled a skull. "Luck cleans up. Always ends up getting a full house to your three of a kind, and such. On to the next one. This is my bff War."

War resembled Death. Equally short, just as feminine, but with vivid red hair (red, not ginger), and eyes of amber. "Pleased to meet ya. Even if you did bring about the end of not one, but two of my wizarding Blood Wars."

Harry scratched his head sheepishly. "From the mortal side of the fence, wars, resulting in destruction and multitudes of deaths, is seen as a bad thing. No offence."

"I know. It's just the paperwork. At least my apprentice is stirring up some trouble between the non-magic America and non-magic Middle East right now."

"Famine and Pestilence not attending?" Death asked War.

"Those two sticks in the mud? No."

"Pestilence is a green-haired tall guy with a face full of sores, and the worst halitosis you'll ever encounter. It puts a Dragon's combustive bad breath to shame. Famine is a frail boy, more bone than anything else."

War grinned. "Everyone always expects us to be masculine too. Have you ever seen a woman fight though? We're far more vicious."

Death grinned too. "And much more willing to kill. Men come over all chivalrous and unwilling to kill the 'fairer sex'."

"Reduce social inequality, kill indiscriminately?" Harry jested.

"I knew you'd fit in."

"Straight." Luck smirked, laying down her queen of clubs and nine of diamonds. "King through Nine."

"So, what are the odds of an apprentice beating Luck at her own game? A million to one? Less?" Harry lay down his queen and ace of Hearts. "Royal flush baby."

"Why did I listen to you Death? 'Let's play Strip Poker for once.' You said. 'Have you seen how tasty my apprentice is?' You said. He's got a poker face only matched by you, and dead people." Entirely appropriate, given their identities and roles.

"You know the rules Luck. Take it off."

"I swear Death, you're more interested in seeing her knickers off than I am, and I'm the one that won the hand."

Hermione, Time, Magic, and Fate had been knocked out earlier, while Luna sat serenely, clad in only her undergarments, as was Love in her lingerie. War and Death both still had their skirts on, and Destiny was down to her panties. Harry had a pile of clothes in front of him, though he was minus a shirt. Probably why Luck wasn't as lucky as normal, too busy drooling. The only other man still at the table, Pestilence's apprentice, was stroking his pet Nundu kitten in his underwear.

"Dar-ha-ling," Love said. "We're just interesting in seeing Luck lose for once. That we see a show at the same time... Well, I'm all for free loving."

Luck grumbled, but stripped off her last item of clothing, hopped up on the table itself, giving everyone the much anticipated show, then dropped right on to Harry 's lap, sans clothes. Harry plucked the lacy undergarment off his pile and pocketed it. Whispering in her ear, he told her; "You can come and reclaim these from me personally, later."

"I don't know how you do it Harry. I can understand Love, she's always willing to spread it around, and you bagged Luck after the strip poker game. Those fellow apprentices of yours, the blonde and the brunette, fair enough. You do share a house on the mortal side. I heard the lines you fed to Fate and Destiny, after a few too many drinks, and nice job with both at the same time. I can even understand why you had a shot with magic, since you're by no means lacking... But how did you seduce War?"

The amber-eyed, red-headed goddess looked up from her pillow of Harry's chest with a yawn. "You jealous Death? That he got into my pants before yours? Or that Harry got into my pants before you could?"

"Why does everyone think I'm into women?" Death whined.

"It could have something to do with the oversized hammer you carry. Just a theory." Harry murmured. "Penis envy, so you carry around a bludgeoning tool of your own."

War snickered. "Harry has all the bludgeoning tool he needs right here."

"Be nice War. We're all friends here."

"But wouldn't you rather I be naughty?" She sat up and straddled Harry's waist. "It's the bad girls that have all the fun."

"I'd offer to spank you, but we both know how that turned out last night." Harry's statement almost had War purring with remembered pleasure. "Anyway, Death, what brings you here? It is my day off after all."

"Some... Downtime?" War said huskily.

"You tease. Hold off on that, lest you cause Death to have a conniption. Or at least a nosebleed."

"What's a little bloodshed between friends Harry?"

For the first time, Harry noticed the spots of blood on the sheet. "Sorry." He said contritely. "I didn't realise last night..." He blinked owlishly. "I can understand Luck, and even Magic, but I would've expected War to have had some company before. Blood[i]lust[/i] is named such for a reason."

"Everyone expects War to be a big, hulking guy. Not a short girl with a small chest. It puts people off, for some reason."

Harry tweaked her nipple. "You're practically a deity, you could go out and have any man you choose."

"But I chose not to. Do you think we could... ya know?"

"Insatiable. I don't mind threesomes, as I proved with Fate and Destiny, but I draw the line at exhibitionism. Death, are you staying or going?" He lifted the sheet on one side of him. "If that's alright with you War?"

War sat, whereas she'd been straddling Harry's waist from upon her knees. "I hadn't been planning to share... But Death is my bestie. You in or out Death?"

...

"Luna, Hermione, Luck, Magic, War, and Death? This bed is seeing quite the collection of blood spots."

War traced a fingernail over Harry's chest. "To be fair, most of the men around here are either pigs, slobs, or emaciated stick figures."

"Oh?"

Death continued in War's place. "Famine and Pestilence are more like brothers to us than anything else. Time basically is my brother, though that doesn't explain why War hasn't. Love's apprentice is a chubby kid with a grape in his diaper. War's apprentice has a turban and a beard down to his waist. Magic's last apprentice had a thing for women with ample bustlines. Famine and Pestilence's apprentices are a stick of a boy, and ugly as sin, respectively."

War picked up the thread. "Speaking of which, over on continental Europe, Pride is a conceited S.O.B who thinks he's a gift to women. Sloth and Gluttony are slobs. Wrath... Well, he's attractive, but insane. Literally. Lust, Avarice, and Envy are women. None of those seven have apprentices. Neither do their 'holy' counterparts, humility and all that. That and the 'holy' ones couldn't seduce their way out of a wet paper bag. Particularly Chastity, though she is obviously unsuited."

"So Britain is the home of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and a few other base concepts. Europe houses the seven sins, and their counterparts... What about America?" Africa? Asia?"

"America is home to 'Art' and 'Science', and other liberal age concepts. Pretentious wankers, the lot of them. Africa houses the 'animal spirits', things like 'Lion', and 'Snake'. Asia is home to some outmoded honour system. There's about fouty men there, but they all look almost identical, and none of them are attractive, in my opinion." War sniffed, before her smile turned predatory. "So we were reduced to looking for a mere apprentice to ravish us. You more than succeeded."

Death grinned too, on Harry's other side. "I think I'll keep you. How does immortality sound?"

"Well that was a terrible day." Harry complained as he materialised in the discorporate plane.

"What's the probably Harry?" Magic asked.

"Paternity suits against me. An even dozen witches claiming that their children were sired by me, and all looking for a juicy payout. Or my surname."

Magic frowned. "You do know that it's-"

"Impossible. Yes. I know, you know, the other personifications know, Hermione and Luna know, but the wizarding public doesn't. How can I explain that I signed a contract with an amortal being, for a limited form of immortality, in exchange for my reproductive viability? Though it's probably better than the alternative of having to reap my own children at some point."

Magic shrugged. "Don't. Just tell them that after you were hit with Riddle's second killing curse, you were rendered infertile."

"Hmm... I did sign that contract after said curse... Magic, has anyone ever told you that you're brilliant?"

She blushed. "Not to my face. You're welcome." She blushed an even deeper red when Harry gave her a kiss.

"I'm going to give a press conference tomorrow, and make a binding oath to that effect. As long as the wording doesn't falsely state that the curse was directly responsible, it'll hold up..." Harry trailed off as he considered the logistics. "It'll have to be sworn on my magic though, since I can't die..." He looked up at Magic. "If I did misword it, would you bind my magic?"

She snorted. "Not bloody likely. I know War and Death already told you, but I have to repeat it, you're only only decent man around."

"I'm not sure about that. I can understand Death not wanting to get involved with Time, but what about everyone else?"

"Well Death's a bit ignorant when it comes to that kind of thing, but... Time basically picked Hermione as his apprentice for the same reason Victor Krum picked her as his date, back in '94."

"You've... Lost me."

Magic blinked in surprise. "Why Percival Weasley made Head Boy, and was so quickly elevated to first Crouch's, then Fudge's assistant? Why Dumbledore hesitated so long before putting a stop to Grindlewald? Why Dumbledore couldn't bring himself to kill him? Why Voldemort had so few female death eaters?"

Harry considered her words for a few more seconds. "Did not need to know that about Percy. Or Voldemort. Already suspected Dumbledore though. But no, I didn't know about Krum."

"Nice winged horses Harry." Luna complemented him. "And are you ready for your live interview?"

"They're Granians Luna. Sigurd, Sivard, and Seigfried."

"But aren't those all the same name, in different languages?"

"Sigurd is Norse, Sivard Scandinavian, while Seigfried is Germanic. Don't worry, the Granians only respond to one each. I bought them so we wouldn't have to Apparate or Floo everywhere. Would you rather have Sigurd or Sivard?" He pointed out which was which, all the while grooming the third, Seigfried.

"I think I like Sivard of the two. I take it you chose Seigfried for yourself."

"Yep. So, Diagon Alley for the live interview of the Wizarding Wireless, and the transcript is licensed to The Quibbler. Have you got your Dictaquill and parchment?"

"Yes and yes. Let's ride. And Magic says you owe her one and should pay up as soon as possible."

"I'll head on over tonight. I get the impression Magic's not one to share though."

"Like War and Death, or Fate and Destiny? I doubt it."

"Sometimes I get the feeling I'm just a boytoy. I'm Death's apprentice damnit."

"Well the French do refer to orgasms as 'La petite mort', so if the title fits..."

"Bah. Sivard, Seigfried, Diagon Alley ho!"

Really, winged horses might not be the fastest way to travel, but Granians were still a good deal faster than thestrals, and even most broomsticks. That and Luna's presence, as the apprentice of Magic, seemed to have supercharged them. Harry guessed that his presence may do the same thing to thestrals, but there were none on hand to test such a theory.

In any case, the Granians got them to Diagon Alley in short order.

"Right. Settle down, settle down. First point of order will be to address any questions, secondly will be a short statement. This entire conference is being broadcast through the WWN, and the official transcript will be published in The Quibbler. This lovely lady to my left is Luna Lovegood, of the same publication. Without any further adieu, can we have the first question?"

After several minutes of reporters screaming out their questions over one another, Harry pointed to one in the first row. "How do you feel about being Teen Witch Weekly's hottest bachelor for the third month running?"

"Undeserved, to be perfectly honest." He held up his hand for silence. "I'm making no plans to hit the dating scene in the near future, so to leave so many pining for me is less than satisfactory in my eyes. Next question."

"Rita Skeeter, Dalily Prophet. Rumour has it that you denied the first dozen paternity suits, but what is your response to the latest?"

"Well, miss Skeeter, and I do hope that you've cleared up that issue with the DMLE from the '95-'96 year." He paused and smiled indulgently. "My response to the latest round of paternity suits is the same as the first dozen. I did not sleep with those women, whomever they are, and I have fathered no children. The statement I shall be making after this Q and A session will shed more light on this issue, I do hope."

"Luna Lovegood, Quibbler. Our readership is interested to know just how many women you have slept with."

"Miss Lovegood, that number is more than one, and less than ten. Of course, that's part of the reason that I'm mystified that there are more than a dozen claims against me, especially since I have had contact with more than one of those less-than-ten ladies since sleeping with them, to use the same euphemism, and none of those have proven to be impregnated. Again, I will direct the Readership and Listeners to await the statement for more information."

After another dozen questions, more than a few of which overlapped, it was time to give his statement.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Members of the free press." He paused for the inevitable snickers, as he insinuated that the press failed to fall into the former categories. "The statement I am here to make relates both to the pending paternity suits, and to the longer term issues surrounding both my bachelorhood and the fate of the houses of Potter and Black." After the expected cacophony was quelled, he continued. "As for the state of my bachelorhood, I'm considering myself off the market, as I have invited both Hermione Granger, my long time best friend, and Luna Lovegood, quite possibly the only person to have had a less-than-abysmal date with yours truly, to reside long term within the ancestral Potter Manor, which is itself both unplottable and under a [i]Fidelius[/i] charm." A number of sighs, and more than one scream of 'You told me you loved me', which had Harry shaking his head. "As for the House of Black, I'm holding it in regency for my godson and member of the Black family, Theodore Lupin. Teddy is the son of Nyphadora Tonks-Lupin, whom gave her life in the war against Tom Riddle, may she rest in peace, and grandson of Andromeda Tonks. Andromeda Tonks was of course disowned from the Black family, which would render Teddy ineligible, if any legitimate members of the Black family yet lived. Bellatrix had no children before her well deserved death, and Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were cast out. As such, Teddy, the last living member of the Black bloodlines eligible to inherit, besides myself, shall take his place as head of house upon his twenty-first birthday. There are not, nor shall there be any marriage contracts between the house of Black and any other made on his behalf."

As he paused yet again, Luna pinched him. "Get on with it."

"As for the Potter family, this issue is tied up alongside the paternity issue. It has been discovered that, in the aftermath of the second killing curse cast upon me by Tom Marvolo Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort," Cue screams. "He's dead people, yeesh. Anyway, in the aftermath, I was rendered infertile. I repeat, Infertile. Though I am still able to, uhh, partake in bedroom activity, I am physically unable to sire an Heir. It's unknown what other effects might have occurred, but I can so swear that there is not, and may never be, a blood heir to the Potter line from my loins." He drew his wand. "I, Lord Harry James Potter, swear upon my life and my magic, that I currently do not have, and am unable to sire, an heir to the Potter line. So I say it, and so mote it be." His aura flared. "Expecto Patronum!" An enormous silver skeletal wolf, with ethereal fire blazing from its eye sockets, burst forth from his wand. "Huh. My patronus used to be a stag. Oh well. Even so, my magic is clearly still functional, and I yet live and breath, thus my word is truth. Thanks for your time." Without waiting for further questioning, he mounted his Granian, Seigfried. "Potter Manor."

Two hundred years later, and Harry James Potter looked and felt twenty-five. And once again, he was riding a Granian. Seigfried V, the great great grandson of his first Granian.

He again alit in Diagon Alley, upon a stage reminiscent of the last time he'd held a conference here. "Witches, Wizards, Goblins, Assorted sentient beings. Members of the press. Settle down. The first point of order will be the reading of the last statement made, two hundred years prior. The second point of order will be a short statement, thirdly will be to address any questions. This entire conference is being broadcast through the WWN, and the official transcript will be published in The Quibbler. This lovely lady to my left is Luna Potter nee Lovegood, the owner of the same publication. Without any further adeiu, can we have the statement Mrs Potter?"

Once that business was concluded, Harry cleared his throat. "As is obvious in hindsight, one of these consequences was a greatly extended lifespan. I'm not aware of an upper limit, if one even exists, but I feel as healthy as ever, and my magic has only strengthened. A second appears to be a result of exposure, in that both Luna Potter nee Lovegood, and Hermione Potter nee Granger, are as youthful and lively as I am. It doesn't look likely to change any time soon."

"Avada Kedavra!" A voice in the crowd yelled out.

Harry took the viridian bolt of light in the chest. "Oww." He said mildly. He wasn't the apprentice (and often lover) of Death without having picked up an immunity to certain spells. "It may not have killed me, but, as it has been for the last four-hundred years, use of that curse on any witch, wizard, or muggle is still a life sentence in Azkaban. Even if the Dementors no longer exist." His magic snaked through the crowd, and a blond man was hauled into the air by his ankle. "Abraxas Malfoy? I went to school with your great great grandfather. I might've missed a couple of 'great's, but details. I have to say that it doesn't look like the bloodline has improved any. Which is a shame, since I was the godfather of your great grandmother." With a wave of his hand, Harry apparated Abraxas straight to a cell on the island, right through the wards he himself had improved. (And were no impediment to Death).

"Anyway, as I was saying, I seem to be immortal, or at the least, very slow aging. Unfortunately, my infertility has not been resolved, and thus I am still the only blood Potter. My wives, similarly immortal, have been shown to be similarly stricken. Though there were, and thus are, other Grangers, the Lovegood line is in the same position as the Potter line. We live, we hold the seats and the titles, but there are still no heirs. Any questions?"

Five hundred years later, and Harry James Potter looked and felt twenty-five. Still. He was flying under his own power, as Seigfried XIV was nearing the end of his days, and Seigfried XV was still too small to carry his weight.

As he landed upon the stage in Diagon Alley, he yawned. The floodlights turned to focus upon him. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Wizards, Witches, Muggles, Assorted Sentient beings, Blood sucking parasites we call the press. Present company excepted dear. My name is still, as it was seven hundred years ago, Lord Harry Potter. My wife's name is still Luna Potter nee Lovegood, and she is still the owner of The Quibbler cloudsite. We yet live. We have been cursed at and shot at, poisoned, bitten by various toxic creatures, and set on fire by a dragon. Still didn't get rid of us. We're immortal, and not dying any time soon. And I feel compelled to point out that we have now matched Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel for lifespan. They died when I was twelve, for context. Any questions? No? I'll check in on my thousandth birthday."

A little under three hundred more years passed, and humanity had since expanded to the stars. Harry, Hermione, and Luna still resided on Earth, as did their 'masters', Death, Time, and Magic. Famine and Pestilence had faded away, the concepts all but dead, and the condition itself only remembered first hand by three (arguably) mortals. War was little more than a house body, living as much for Harry as for the concept. The concept still existed in fact, unlike famine and pestilence, mostly in the case of rebel planetary systems. Luck had gone interstellar, but came home for the regular Strip Poker night. Harry was still, to this day, the only one that had ever come out the better against her. Death and War had chased off Destiny and Fate, when they tried predict Harry's demise.

As the nanite swarm created a stage under his feet, he shook his head. So much progress had been made once the wizarding world had met with the muggle one. "Wizards, Witches, Ladies and Gentlemen, Sentients of all races, Robots, Mindless Automitons, Press. Again, present company excluded. I am, have been, and will likely always be, Lord Harry Potter. My wives are still the Ladies Hermione and Luna Potter. From the Dragon Reserve of England, Earth, I greet you on this day, July 31th, of the Year 2980. I use the old dating system, because it's all I worked with for almost eight hundred years. Today happens to be my thousandth birthday, and I'm still immortal. That being said, I'm undertaking a journey that our best scientists and magitechnicians have yet to crack. I don't know if I'll bother returning, but, in any case, it's been mostly fun. The nanites of myself and my wives are being put in charge of maintaining that which we cannot take with us, which is mostly just our house and land." And currency, but no need to incite a riot. "So farethewell."

With a crack, the Potters left the mortal plain of existence, never to return.