It has been 300 years since the Battle of Hogwarts. 300 long years wondering, trying to find a way to die, or live. Who knew a cloak, a rock, and a stick, could cause so much trouble.
Harley Rose Potter, Harry to her friends, of which there were none, not anymore. All of them gone. Death "the next great adventure" had taken them all. All except her, now she wondered the world looking into long forgotten magics and lore. Anything to keep her mind busy.
So, it was with little fear that she found herself standing in front of the Veil of Death. She had never been able to come back here, not after Sirius had fallen. Now she could think of no other option. All she owned she carried in her small bag. One that Hermione had made for her shortly after the war. It had all her enchanted trunks in it. Although if this was death, why she would need it, she didn't know. It was better to be safe than sorry. In another bag, one she had created about a 100 years ago, she carried her gold, a lot of gold. It was surprising just how much money one could accumulate, when one lived forever.
Mistress of Death, that was the newest title she had gained. During the war when the Deathly Hallows had come into her possession. To this day she could not get rid of them. They came back to her each night, no matter what she did to them. You would think dropping a wooden stick into a volcano would do something, but no it was there on her pillow, that night when she went to bed.
Now here she stood in front of the veil, wanting to fall forward, but still fighting against get own instincts that screamed danger. Although she had no idea what could actually kill her. She had been "killed" countless times, beheading being the worst by the way, but she just woke up in her bed the next morning. So, with one last look around the chamber, Harry stepped forward into the veil. Then she just seemed to start falling, it seemed endless. She got the ground with a hard thud, before she passed out she looked up to see nothing but green, then she knew no more.