Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, if I did Harry would have been a Dark Lord. I also do not make any profit from this work of fanfiction. This fic is co-authored with avergefish, so make sure you check out their fic too!

Warnings: There will be heterosexual and homosexual relationships. This is rated 'Mature' for adult situations, swearing, violence, and sexual situations between both same gender and opposite gender pairs.

Prologue: The Deal

Harry Potter was not a happy man. He hid his unhappiness well, but that did not mean it wasn't there. It had been ten years since the Man-Who-Vanquished had killed Voldemort in the final battle at Hogwarts, and Harry was bored. He was busy -always off on deadly missions hunting down various dark wizards and dangerous magical creatures as an auror- but still bored. To any outsider looking in it would appear that Harry had everything he could have ever wanted: a loving wife and children, close friends, and a good paying job that kept him occupied. Harry might have been content, maybe even happy with this life, if not for the fact it was all a lie.

Ginny was cheating on him, and had been for almost the entirety of their relationship. His three children Albus Severus Potter, James Sirius Potter, and Lilly Molly Potter were not actually Potters. All three of them were in reality children from Ginny's affairs that she passed off as being his. As for his friends -Harry had discovered years ago that Ron was only his friend because of his status as the Boy-Who-Lived turned Man-Who-Vanquished. Hermione had really been his friend in the beginning, but Ron and Dumbledore had eventually corrupted her beyond redemption. She had used her position as his best friend to climb the ranks of the ministry and was currently causing massive amounts of trouble with international and interspecies affairs. Ron whom Harry actually helped stay in the auror training program on multiple occasions, had been Harry's partner as an auror until he started going on the more dangerous jobs. Now Ron just lazed about and did paperwork.

Then there was the fact that both of them had literally been paid by Dumbledore, from his own accounts, to be his friends during their years at Hogwarts and were still being paid now through Ginny. And Ginny sure loved his money, using it to get the newest, best equipment for her job as a professional Quidditch player for the Harpies, a full new wardrobe every season, and to attend many lavish parties throughout the year. Even when Harry didn't go she went anyway, claiming the reason behind it being her social obligations as 'The Lady Potter'.

Then there was work; yes, the pay was good, but the hours were horrible. He rarely ever got any vacation time and he always had the hardest, most dangerous jobs. If ever he dared to call in sick he was met with stares of disapproval and resentment when he returned. They had no appreciation of the constant danger he was in -that they put him in.

In fact, he had been killed on the job too many times to keep track of. The only reason he wasn't already in a casket six feet under was his status as the Master of Death. Turned out he couldn't be killed. Every time he died he was simply sent back into his body -and if his body was too destroyed to return to, it was mended until it was safe for his soul to inhabit.

Currently Harry was in Egypt. He had gotten a lead on one of the very few surviving Death Eaters and had traced him to within a kilometer radius of his current location. Harry was mildly familiar with the area because of a job he had done in the past with Bill. William, or as he prefered to be called Bill, Weasley was a cursebreaker for Gringotts and had been on an excavation trip a few years ago. Harry was sent along as protection detail for the team. It had been one of the most enjoyable jobs he had ever gone on. Unfortunately, Harry himself was no curse-breaker, and he was all too aware of how nasty some of the old Egyptian curses and wards could be.

Harry could hold his own against most magics, having had to learn how to defend himself against some pretty dark curses if he didn't want to keep dying on every mission he went on. He now had a very extensive repertoire of illegal curses and spells that he was not beyond using when forced into a corner. However, he was nowhere near skilled or knowledgeable enough to take on an Egyptian curse on his own.

Harry sighed as he looked at the vast, nearly endless expanse of sand in every direction. He appeared to be in the middle of nowhere and the nearest wizarding settlement, his only source of supplies and aid, was kilometers away. Harry had his standard kit with him but he got the impression it wouldn't be enough for this mission. Now the question was should he make his way to the settlement to get more supplies, potentially giving the Death Eater time to escape, or pursue the trail while fresh and risk being underprepared?

Well, it wouldn't be the first time he'd confronted a Death Eater unprepared, and this was one of the last ones. Decision made, Harry set off to capture his target. It took a few days, but Harry finally cornered the man near the entrance of a ruined pyramid. The Death Eater fought tenaciously, but proved to be no match for Harry's extensive knowledge and magical aptitude. Unfortunately Harry was too focused on capturing the Death Eater to notice when he stepped past the threshold of the ruined pyramid, activating a long dormant curse placed in the entryway.

None the wiser and having been successful in his task, Harry returned to England satisfied with a job well done. The Death Eater was booked, his paperwork filled out and handed in, and Harry was on his way home for a much deserved shower and nap, completely oblivious of the active curse that had attached itself to his body and was now feasting on his magic.

Ginny was at practice, and the kids were at Hogwarts for the year so Harry came home to an empty house. Ginny would often complain about the fact that Harry had them living in Grimmauld Place, but Harry liked the manor. It was big, and while it used to be gloomy and decrypt it had been refurbished and was now a wonderful home. He had a lot of memories here and was reluctant to leave it.

"Kreacher!" Harry summoned the old elf. Harry and Kreacher had set aside their differences years ago. Harry had come to love the barmy old elf almost as much as he had once loved Dobby. Though no elf could ever replace his much beloved crazy companion.

"Master Harry has summoned Kreacher?" A mild pop announced his arrival.

"Yes, can you get a bath ready for me? Then, if it's not too much trouble would you prepare a light supper? I believe I'll be eating alone tonight," Harry requested as he took off his cloak and boots.

"Yes master Harry, Kreacher bes doing so right away," the elf exclaimed with a happy nod of his head.

"Thank you." The elf disapparated, presumably to start his bath.

Hermione would be furious with him, of course. She often complained about how little progress she had made over the years in regards to her horrid S. P. E.W. campaign. She didn't seem to realise that most elves simply did not wish to be freed. And sure, some of them were abused, like Dobby and Winky had been, but not all elves were treated horribly by their owners. He respected and appreciated Kreacher, besides elves needed the magic of being bound to a family and enjoyed serving them. If he ever hinted at freeing Kreacher he knew the poor elf would become hysterical.

Harry made his way into the master bathroom, shedding the rest of his clothing as he went. The bathroom mirror had already fogged up and the air was a pleasant-smelling steam. The tub was full and contained scented bubbles.

Harry knew the scents were caused by many of the healing and relaxation potions he normally bathed in after a really difficult case. Harry had filled out over the years, but he was still smaller and thinner than he should have been, than he would have been if not for the treatment of the Dursleys throughout his formative years.

His body was nearly covered in countless scars of various ages and sizes, the most prominent of them being the scar around his neck from slytherin's locket, the puncture in his arm from the basilisk fang, and the words 'I must not tell lies' on his right hand. To everyone's surprise the lightning bolt scar on his forehead had started to fade as soon as Tom Riddle had been killed for good, and was now almost invisible.

Harry sank into the pleasantly warm water and allowed himself to relax and let go of the month's stressors. He was just starting to doze off in the bath when Kreacher woke him by quietly popping in.

"Master Harry not bes sleeping in the bath!" the elf said, "Master Harry bes needing to eat the supper Kreacher has prepared for him then bes going to sleep in his proper bed."

"Ah, yes, thank you Kreacher. I'll be down in a moment," Harry said as he rose from the now lukewarm water and wrapped himself in a warm fluffy towel. He made his way into the master bedroom and dressed in a pair of warm cotton pajamas. Harry was served moments after he settled onto his chair at the dining room table.

A plate of hot lamb roast, yorkshire pudding, and greens were placed in front of him alongside a mug of apple cider. "Kreacher! I asked for a light supper!" Harry complained half-heartedly as he started on his meal. As usual, the elf had made more than necessary but Harry still finished his plate. Though not as good a cook as Molly, or even Harry himself, Kreacher's food always left Harry feeling sated.

Pleasantly stuffed and more than mildly sleepy Harry made his way to the master bedroom so he could retire for the night. He would have to be up early in the morning to get started on his next assignment. Still oblivious to the curse that was destroying his magical core, Harry settled into bed and fell asleep.

Harry is very confused when he wakes to the glaring white of King's Cross station. Unlike the last time he was here, there is no Dumbledore and no mangled baby Voldemort hiding under a bench.

"Why am I here?" Harry asks the empty space around him, not really expecting a reply.

"Because you are dead." The voice is smooth but heavy, many voices layered into one. Harry turns to see what closely resembles a dementor with a living human's face. The man, as it appears to be male, practically oozes cold, dark, despair and desperation.

"Well met, my Master," the being says as he watches Harry take in his appearance.

"Well met, Death," Harry replies. "If I may ask, why now? Why not any of the other times I died? What killed me?"

Death lets out a long-suffering sigh. "You are not meant to die at all. As my Master, I am incapable of reaping your soul. Even now, I cannot touch it." To demonstrate, Death reaches out to Harry, his skeletal hand going through Harry's slightly transparent body. "The only reason you are here now is because of a curse I thought I would never again encounter. It eats away one's magical core and seals the soul off from the body, killing the person in such a way that they can never be resurrected."

"Lestrange, the Death Eater I finally caught earlier today, he cast this curse on me?" Harry questions. He could have sworn he recognized every spell the slippery bastard had sent his way.

"No. It was placed on the entryway of an old pyramid as a way to cull back the number of necromancers in Ancient Egypt. It latched onto you when you passed through its threshold during your battle with Lestrange," Death explains. "But we are now in quite the predicament. I am incapable of reaping your soul, but you are incapable of being sent back to the land of the living."

"That is quite the predicament," a new feminine voice chimes in. Soft and silky, it soothes something within Harry that he wasn't even aware had been upset.

Death and Harry turn in sync to greet their newest companion. A pale woman with long raven hair and dazzling sapphire eyes smiles at them. Her lithe frame is cloaked in a royal purple dress with an ever-changing black pattern shifting on its surface.

"You already know me, Death, and you Harry, were blessed with my gift," she says in greeting.

"Lady Hecate," Harry breathes in awe. This woman in front of him is the mother of magic, the origin of the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him.

"Hey now Hecate, it's not very polite of you to hog all their attention," calls another new voice. All three turn to greet the latest addition.

Her mocha skin is marked with various white runes and in the centre of her forehead there is a third eye. Her royal blue robes are sheer and appear to have a gauze-like texture. She is adorned in various jewels and precious metals, many gemstones woven into her long blonde braids. Her pale eyes sparkle with mischief as she approaches them.

"Fate," Death and Hecate say in a harmonious, if exasperated greeting.

"I should have known you had something to do with this," Death growls while Hecate lets out a sigh of discontent.

"Honestly. Such a welcome," Fate muses as she turns her attention to Harry. "While I have had great influence in this one's life I have nothing to do with your current situation. That blame rests solely on Chance."

Clearing his throat, Harry decides to try and get some answers. "Why, precisely are you two lovely ladies here? I don't begrudge your presence, but I don't understand it. I can see why Death is here, but may I ask your reasons?"

Fate and Hecate look at each other and seem to have a have a silent conversation between them. Finally, Hecate speaks. "We wish to make a deal."

"A deal?" Harry repeats lamley. "What kind of deal?"

Fate takes her turn. "Because of the three of us you have suffered. You have not lived a happy or fulfilling life, but you have served us all greatly, in some cases knowingly in others not. Your current predicament leads to an opportunity." She pauses to take a breath. "I would offer you a chance to relive your life, with the advantage of your current knowledge."

Hecate speaks up. "I would offer you the chance to live the remainder of your life in an alternate realm, one where you have not been so wronged by your loved ones."

"Or, we could both use our gifts to allow Death to reap your soul so you can pass on to the afterlife and rejoin the loved ones you have lost," Fate says in a sombre voice, "the choice is yours."

Harry, stunned, turns to Death. He may be Death's Master, but Death would need to agree to his choice as well. If Death wanted to reap his soul, then he should have the chance to.

"I will go along with whatever you decide. It would bring me no pleasure to reap your soul, but it also would not please me to see you continue on in an unhappy existence," Death says.

So Harry considers the offers placed before him. If he were to allow his soul to be reaped, something they all offered but did not seem pleased to follow through with, he would die. He would be reunited with his parents, with Sirius and Remus and Tonks, but he would be dead. Permanently, irrevocably dead.

If he were to go to an alternate universe he would be alive, but he would never quite be sure of how things differed, of what experiences the alternative him had. There was also the fact that he would essentially be stealing the life of another version of himself.

However there was that last option. To relive his life might be tedious, but it would give him a chance to do things better. To do things differently. He could prevent unnecessary casualties, relive his life the way he wanted to without all the manipulation and deceit and horrors of war. He could fix things. On the other hand, did he really want to go through being born, being a baby and watching his parents die because he isn't strong enough or developed enough to do anything to help them, dealing with the Dursleys….

"When you say relive my life, do you mean my entire life or only part of it? Would I be a 27-year-old man in the body of an infant?" Harry asks the deities before him.

"We would place your current consciousness into your younger body. You can choose at what age of your physical body you would be returned to," Hecate elaborates.

"You would also be blessed with the normal inherent protections that seers have. So, no one will be able to access your mind and see your memories of the future. However, you must be aware that some events may change because of your knowledge. Some you undoubtedly will change purposefully, other differences might not be so intentional," Fate explains.

"You would also be the Master of Death, even though you will not be in physical possession of all the Hallows, even if you choose to go back to a time before you collected them. I would ask that you re-acquire them as soon as possible though," Death chimes in.

"Alright, I want to do that," says Harry as he considers when would be the best time to go back to. With all that he remembers of his life he can't help but think that returning to just before his eleventh year is the best choice. He has no desire to spend any large amount of time with the Dursleys, but Dumbledore's true manipulation of him began with Hagrid. It would also give him time to start rectifying the damage of his childhood malnutrition and strengthen his muscles and magical core before Hogwarts. "Can you send me back to about a month or so before my first Hogwarts letter arrives?"

"We can," all three deities say in unison. Fate and Hecate share a smile and Death seems pleased.

"You are certain this is the course of action you want to take? Once we do this there is no going back," Fate cautions.

"I am sure," Harry replies confidently.

"Then so mote it be," the voices of the three deities combine in harmony as a powerful wave of what can only be pure magic encases Harry and sends him into the comforting arms of morpheus.

"May you be blessed with happiness in this new life, and thrive in your second chance," is the last thing Harry hears as the world around him goes black.

A/N 12/08/18 And so it begins. If you really like this story then hit that follow/favorite button. Your reviews are always welcome and appreciated, and a big thank you to my wonderful co-author averagefish. Go show them some love ok guys?