Chapter One

"…and the third brother greeted Death like an old friend…"

**Harry Potter POV**

Harry knew that it was time to go. Time to leave the past that so caused him to clutch at his chest as if his heart was being squeezed from the inside as he thought back over what he had gained but most importantly - what he had lost.

The War. That's what they ended up calling it just before they could no longer speak of it, took everything. The war had been so encompassing, so vast, so devastating that even the historians felt that there was no other to compare it to. The war between the perceived 'Light' and 'Dark' couldn't be contained to just Great Britain like the Ministry of Magic had fooled themselves into believing. The Death Eaters were wider spread than that. The beliefs of pureblood supremacy was a global issue the ICW had battled and failed to conquer for many centuries. It took Voldemort's resurrection to truly trigger the final steps towards the utter collapse of the Statute of Secrecy.

There were too many blister attacks for the obliviators to keep up with and with how technology kept advancing in the muggle world, while the wizarding stagnated, videos of feats of magical destruction surged over the internet and spread like a viral disease all over the world. In a matter of hours millions of viewers watched as rogue wizards and witches blew up buildings and tortured people indiscriminately in the streets.

Actions that couldn't be hidden, ignored or twisted into stories of elaborate hoaxes. Governments took action and then the world was at war. The atrocities committed against human and non-humans escalated until no one was spared. People grew paranoid at strangers on the street; the kind old lady that they have been served fresh bread by their whole lives, their friends, their family. It became all encompassing. Not even the children were safe. If anything, they were the biggest targets. It seemed that people got the idea that to truly wipe out what they feared, they must eliminate everything – including the children to ensure extinction. It was the Holocaust, The Killing Fields and Stalin all over again.

And it worked.

Harry had tried to stop it, stop Voldemort, but knew that no matter the destruction of the Dark Lord, nothing could stop the world-wide chaos that he had started. It was the deaths of his friends that made him retreat, watch as the years passed by, the death tolls continue to rise with no end in sight. It wasn't long before he noticed that he never changed over the years like the world around him. Well, not in the traditional sense of the word. Yes, he experienced some physical changes. But it wasn't aging.

Something had begun to whisper in the depths of his mind back at the Battle of Hogwarts, when his fingers had clasped around a certain three items. But he had pushed the thoughts aside, shut a giant mental door on that dark whispering voice that told him why.

The changes were small at first, barely noticeable to the naked eye. He was always too short and emaciated in appearance due to the upbringing he was forced into by a certain meddling old coot. But that too began to change slightly, while still remaining very demure in height, his physique began to become more proportionate with his current height. He became lithe or even delicate. His skin began to lose the natural tan he seemed to always have, becoming pale, almost like snow and soft. That's what annoyed him the most; the scars, the callouses, the physical memory of his suffering was gone. As if it had never happened. But he still felt them on the inside, as if they were still there, only now beneath the new soft shell that his body had become.

The changes didn't stop there, oh no, if anything it only got worse. And that whispering voice could be heard laughing on the winds if Harry found himself focusing too much on that door. Harry always had a problem with taming his hair, but it wasn't something he found he didn't dislike per say. When he had found out it was a Potter trait he was pleased. If only to feel as if he had more connection to his deceased family than he had first thought. A silly notion, but to an eleven year old, it was a comforting one.

Now though, that too began to change. His hair grew to the length of Sirius's, which wasn't too unpleasant at first. But realizing that the texture of his hair began to change, Harry truly felt that what made him Harry Potter started to fade from living memory. His hair was now a silky, inky black, so black it seemed to absorb light and curl slightly. Thankfully his eyes stayed the same vivid green he so loved, a colour he shared with his mother.

Though what really sealed the deal for Harry was a certain mark that seemed to appear as if it had always been there that started at the back of his neck with a long forgotten language swirled down his spine.

The Deathly Hallows.

Harry Potter had become the Master of Death.

It wasn't until Harry found himself standing over a ravine that used to be London; staring down at the remains of a once grand sprawling city reduced to rubble and now an almost natural landmark, that Harry finally met him. He didn't make any grand entrance or start spouting off some random speech about nature taking its course or that it's time to move on. No, he, they, it, just….stood there slightly off the side and behind him for hours. Never speaking a word or making a move.

It was Harry that made the move to speak first, finally shifting slightly to take a look at the being that had been silent and still for the whole time. "I'm guessing that the last has fallen." Death merely inclined its head slightly as Harry let out a sigh.

'The last' being the last of humanity, of civilization, of any form of living being. Harry didn't count himself part of the living, as someone who didn't need to eat or sleep or even age, he didn't think he could qualify as 'living'.

"You are the only being upon this earth, besides myself." Death stated indifferently.

"What is there for me? Is there anything besides my continued existence upon an empty world?"

"There are many infinite worlds you can inhabit. As you are the Master of the Hallows, all doors are open to you. No opportunity withheld."

Author's Note:

I thought to add in a chapter of how Harry became who is in the future chapters (or the start of that journey anyway) to kind of explain why he is in the Hannibal universe. The chapter may be familiar to others you may have read, and as a person that has read thousands of Harry Potter fanfictions myself, I couldn't for the life of me tell you who I got the prompt from. Sorry.

First of all, someone had sent me a prompt ages ago that I have only now decided to give a try writing about. Also, I love the Hannibal/Harry Potter crossovers out there and don't believe there is enough of them so I thought to give it a try myself.

Thanks for reading,

Elashor