Prologue
Harry was sitting in a couch, a couch made out of shadows he had conjured.
His once shining emerald eyes looked at his surroundings with his cold, calculating, emotionless, and dull eyes only to see a ruin of nothingness.
There standing in front of him should be a standing proud and radiating castle that he knows most of his emotionally 11-16 year old selves.
If he were like them right now, he would be a sobbing mess. But no, that was him million years ago. Right now, there sitting is a soldier, a warrior, a killer, or... Death.
Now this is where he chuckles. Death, now that was something.
After battling at the 2nd Wizarding War where every wizarding community of Britain has been killed, he had accidentally put together all of the deathly hollows and didn't know that he had become the Master of Death or presumably... Death himself.
The story of the Peverell brothers were just a fraud of the real story. The hollows were created to be found, be found by the true master, the true wielder, the true Death.
The Master of Death was just a title, you yield the hollows and become its master, and be the end.
After being clueless about his heritage, he had travelled all around the world being tutored about all of the things known throughout the world.
Then he noticed it, he had been counting the years he had travelled and saw that he hadn't aged. He had though that his magical genes might be the reason why he age smoothly so he just shrugged it off. But then he had been given the most very important hint that had led him to know his true heritage.
While he was travelling near Bulgaria, he didn't know that a raging muggles war is happening at the place and got himself shot at the heart. He had though that this was the most pitiful way for him to die after all of the near death situations he had encountered all of his life. But then, he frowned. Why is he still alive? Shouldn't he be dead?
Then after a lot of researching and seeing all three deathly hollows at one place, all of it pointed the fact that he has become The Master of Death. But to check if it's real, he had practically went to the remaining ruin of the gringgots and did an inheritance paper. And what he saw made him boil.
So million years had passed by and he still hadn't aged and can't be killed. I mean come on, killing death is like touching the wind.
So he had done eveything he could do to pass the time like going to the past and killing Voldemort over a thousand times and rewind it back to the original timeline again, getting powerful by the years to come after his hard trainings, finding out the fact that he had been betrayed and lied to by his so called friends (except padfoot and moony of course) and was suppose to die at the wizarding War, plotting ways how to do his revenge, and watching in fascination as dead souls come near him all the time after their death (duh) and passed through him to be sorted in the purgatory weather they go to hell or heaven.
So yeah, actually he's practically plotting right now. He was planning to go to the past and ruin every plan Dum-the-door make and might be even thinking of allying with Voldemort since both him and himself practically liked to kill-wait let me rephrase that, obliterate the manipulative goat to oblivion.
So now, preparations really need to be made.
An evil smirk graced his pale face as he tried to imagine the reaction of that old goat once he realized that he's messing with the wrong entity.
Hey guys!
This is Atlas speaking!
This is my first fanfiction in this app!
Opinions are all well recieved
Hope you all like this
I got inspired by two very entertaining stories of:
Harry Potter and the Travel To Alternate Dimension by D Dark Phoenix
And
On a Pale Horse by Hyliian
