Document Ver. of A Wolf's Way.

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this story as I do not own Harry Potter, all rights go to J.K, our Queen.

Prologue

When Harry would think about a supposed after-life, he did not imagine an empty room. He truly did mean empty: everywhere he looked it was barren and white. Harry supposed he'd at least see Sirius or his Mum and Dad. Maybe this was one big prank on him, a "Welcome to the After-life!" for him. He couldn't see any banners, not even some tiny arrows telling him where to go.

'Can you feel the magic?'

The voice was rumbly yet it still manged to glide around the room, as soft as feathers. As though it had been locked away until the voice made its presence known. The maic pulsated and buzzed, swirling and twirling in the air.

The voice chuckled, it was low and deep, in harmony with the magic, 'Turn around, child.'

Harry spun around, eyes meeting the owner of the voice. It was a wolf, a great-big, hulking, healthy timber wolf. It wasn't a werewolf, Harry was sure of it, or he'd be dead - again. Besides, it was much too bulky for that, not a frail bone in that body. 'And who are you?' he snapped. I don't have time for this, he thought, I should be meeting with Sirius or something!

'No one of your concern,' it growled back. Harry's breathing hitched as the magic spiked with the wolf's anger. 'Let us get this over with, for you disturbed my rest.

Pfft, sorry. 'Over with what?'

The wolf pressed its nose to the floor, and the floor obeyed. The magic twisted once more before spitting out three, flat images. 'Death's Cloak, Stick and Stone,' it drawled, 'you own them all: you are the "Master of Death".' It snorted before flicking the images away.

Wait, what? 'Excuse me?' Harry spluttered, 'how?'

'I did not witness the story, so it is hazy at best: the Cloak was your family's Heirloom, you were gifted the Stone by an "Albus Dumbledore" and you managed to disarm a "Voldemort" before one of his spells broke the ground and you drowned.'

'But,' Harry pressed on, 'Voldemort killed me, he should the Master of the Elder Wa-Stick.'

'Technically, the water killed you,' it drawled, snorting in mockery.

You're kidding me. 'I'm Master of Death on a technicality?! It's not even cool anymore!' Harry yelled. It was like he was Death's illegitimate offspring or something!

'If it makes you feel better, He agrees with you. So, I offer you a proposition: for the price of a sliver of your soul, we'll send you back to the day before you recieve your "Hogwarts letter".'

'Hold on, my soul?'

'Yes. Unfortunately, this'll make your soul unstable, so we'll replace the piece with a bit of my late loyal servant, Wulthric. You'll "call the shots", don't worry. Though you'll be able to talk to him and him to you.'

Harry acquiesced as it started to sound promising now. Finally, he mused. 'Do I get to be a wolf, like you?'

'Yes,' he sighed, 'It'll be an "Animagus" for you.'

Good, Harry thought. He'd been an Animagus for a short time before his death, though it was a stag like his dad.

'One last thing,' it added, 'you must create a third side. Never truly join either the Light or the Dark. My servant will help you.'

'What? Why?'

'The world's not black and white, little boy.' The wolf let out one last, haunting bark before Harry travelled, 'it wouldn't have mattered anyway, the decision was already made.'