A/N: Last thing with my Harry Potter meets Death two-shot. Of course, if anyone likes it I'll probably come up with another chapter of it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, he would actually keep the Elder Wand and do something good with it, instead of getting rid of it.
Harry woke up in an empty train station with a pounding head ache. A piteous moan came from under a bench to his left, and he snapped his head in its direction. He wrinkled his nose at what he saw. It looked like the form Voldemort had been stuck in during fourth year. In other words, it looked like a malformed baby that had all of its skin scraped off.
Despite himself, Harry felt pity for the thing. He slowly walked over towards it, and kneeled next to it. The wizard frowned slightly when it seemed to recoil from his mere presence, as if it were in pain from being in proximity with Harry. When the wizard, still curious, tried to touch the thing, he heard a cold, monotone voice rise up from behind him.
"Harry Potter, I suggest you do not touch that…abomination." The voice held a note of disgust as he looked at the thing, which had curled up into a ball.
Harry groaned. If this was who he thought it was- and he was quite sure it was, for there was no mistaking that penetrating cold aura- then he was truly dead. No more second chances, no more ways to finish the fight with Tommy-boy.
At least, he thought hopefully, his sacrifice would protect those he loved.
"I believe it is polite to face those you are speaking to, Harry Potter."
The wizard turned around to look Death in the eye. Death appeared exactly as he had before, and was spinning the Elder Wand in meaningless patterns as he looked at the Boy-Who-Lived. The silvery Cloak of Invisibility was draped around the gaunt figure, giving him an otherworldly look. Harry noticed that the only Hallow missing was the Resurrection Stone. Instead, Death had kept his hourglass.
The dark teenager seemed to notice Harry's stare and began to speak.
"I believe that you have learned of the "Deathly Hallows", yes?" It was a statement, not a question.
"They are curious artifacts. The Hallows were not made by myself, of course. I would never be so foolish as to trust mere mortals with my own creations." Death ignored Harry's indignant scowl at that, "But they do draw their power from my very own essence. I cannot deny that your ancestor, Ignotus Peverell, and his brothers were great wizards. Foolish, but great."
Harry was suddenly struck by the similarity of that statement to the remark Ollivander had made in their first meeting. The teenager sitting in front of him was mysterious enough to be the old wand maker's child, so Harry supposed he shouldn't be too surprised.
"But," Death continued in his monotone voice, "I am off-topic. I did not replace Albus Dumbledore for no reason. I am here to speak with the Master of Death."
"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"
Death leveled another icy gaze at him. "Don't be foolish, Harry Potter. You know the legend of the Three Brothers. The fact that I am speaking to you is enough to confirm part of that ancient tale.
You have done what no other has done. You have united the Deathly Hallows, and in doing so are my," for the first time since Harry had first encountered the personification, Death seemed to be showing real emotion. In this case, it was a mix of disgust and annoyance. ", so-called Master."
At first, Harry wanted to start laughing. The thought that he was the Master over the force that had plagued his life since he was an infant was simply too crazy to think about. He smiled at Death, half-expecting the being to burst out laughing.
Harry blinked at that. The thought of Death laughing was too weird even for his screwed up head to comprehend. He stared at Death, meeting the empty tunnels of the being's eyes with his own emerald gaze.
The wizard saw nothing but complete and total seriousness in the entity's eyes. Harry's mirth dried up when he realized that the being wasn't joking, or playing any sort of prank on him.
"You may refuse your position, Harry Potter. Should you choose to do so, the power of the Hallows shall be broken, and you will return to the mortal realm unchanged. The final confrontation with Tom Riddle will occur with your own strength against that of your nemesis."
Death began to idly twirl his wand, which transformed into Death's scythe. The entity continued to twirl it and seemed to be tracking the shining obsidian blade with his onyx eyes. He continued to do this for several seconds, seeming to find a sort of twisted peace from it.
Just as Harry was about to break the awkward silence, Death returned his gaze to the confused wizard.
"Or," he said, "you may accept your position. Should you choose to take the Hallows, you will return to the mortal realm as the Master of Death, still Harry Potter…but more. The final confrontation will be a completely mortal Tom Riddle against the very thing that he fears most. This decision is your own."
At the end of his monologue, Death transformed the massive scythe back into the Elder Wand, and held it out to Harry.
Harry was torn between taking the wand and leaving it. If he left the wand, he might lose to Tommy-boy, and doom the Wizarding World. But if he took it, he didn't know what would happen to him. He didn't know if he would even be Harry Potter anymore. Harry didn't know if he would remember his friends, or the Weasleys, or any of the people he had met at Hogwarts.
He didn't want power, and he didn't want to leave his friends. For a moment, he was going to ignore the offered Hallow and go back as himself.
But then that small voice in the back of his head acted up.
What if this is the power the Dark Lord knows not? What if it isn't love and Dumbledore was wrong? Are you willing to sacrifice your friends and family just because you don't want power? Are you truly so selfish that you would allow everyone you know to die just because you wouldn't sacrifice yourself for them?
Harry's mind was a whirlwind as he thought over the situation, weighing the pros and cons of taking up Death's offer.
The faces of his friends flashed through his mind, each dead. That was when his mind was made up. If he became something other than Harry Potter, so be it, as long as he could protect the ones he cared about.
With a pale hand, Harry took the Elder Wand from Death's grip. For a second, nothing happened.
Then a sharp pain appeared in the wizard's hand. It wasn't anything compared to the cruciatus, but it still attracted Harry's attention. His green eyes widened as he looked down, and saw primal looking runes glowing on the Elder Wand.
Panicked and confused, Harry looked up at Death. The entity looked slightly confused, but seemed more concerned with his hand. Harry looked down, and saw that Death's hand was rapidly transforming into black mist, not unlike that which came out of the horcrux Death had destroyed for him.
The mist slowly began to seep into Harry's hand, drenching it in the blackness. Harry hissed as he felt it enclose his hand, it felt like a thousand ghosts were standing inside of his hand. The mist's icy feeling began to creep up his entire arm.
Harry returned his gaze to Death's body and saw that it was beginning to change into the icy mist, deteriorating faster and faster. Death was wearing a pleased smirk.
"It seems that we will be far more intertwined than I had thought, Harry Potter."
The identities of Death and Harry Potter ended at that moment, becoming a new being. Harry was in control, but the very essence of Death was so intertwined within him that he was someone different, someone new. Still Harry Potter, but changed.
Harry awoke to tears. He noted that his robes were completely soaked, likely from whoever was the source of the crying. When he heard the distinctive accent and the smell of the wild on the shoulder he was being carried on, he knew who had him.
That didn't explain why Hagrid was carrying him, or why he heard delighted cackles and raucous laughter around him.
Drawing upon Death's wealth of knowledge, Harry expanded his field. He knew everyone of the beings around him- their names, dates of birth and when they would die.
Harry was rather satisfied to know that Bellatrix would die tonight. He paid little attention to the others, as he found something far more interesting. Tom Riddle was by far the vilest thing he had ever felt. His soul was so mutilated that he was barely tethered to the mortal realm.
The part of Harry that was Death felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the thought of ending the filthy abomination, and removing it from the mortal realm forever. Harry simply waited as the fool brought him out and showed him to the defenders of Hogwarts as a trophy.
He was surprised when the anguished cries of his teachers and friends barely had an effect on him, but simply wrote it off. There were far more important things than worrying about their feelings.
As the battle was joined, Hagrid was forced to drop Harry. Utilizing the opportunity, Harry put on the Cloak, and slipped throughout the battle. He was rather surprised when the house elves joined, led b Kreacher, but it wasn't nearly surprising as when Molly Weasley struck down Bellatrix Lestrange.
When did she learn how to outfight Tom Riddle's best death eater, Harry thought. It wasn't as though she'd had much dueling experience before.
He took his mind off of it and began to move towards Tom Riddle. His reign of terror would soon be over.
The Dark Lord was enraged by the death of Bellatrix, and promptly began throwing killing curses in every direction. One flew towards a third-year that was standing next to Harry, who put his hand out in front of the green curse. The deadly spell fizzled out when it neared him, and Harry pulled off the Cloak. There was no longer a need for it.
Tom Riddle's scarlet, snakelike eyes widened in surprise and rage when he saw his formerly dead nemesis. A scream of anger erupted from the abomination, and he aimed the Elder Wand at Harry.
Harry drew Draco's wand and copied Tom Riddle's stance. The Dark Lord screamed at Harry, "You will not escape this time, Harry Potter! I will destroy you!"
"Your reign of terror is at an end, Tom Riddle. There are no more death eaters, and your power is broken. Today, you shall finally meet that which you fear most."
Tom Riddle slashed his wand through the air, screaming "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Harry disarmed the Dark Lord, and watched with a small smile as the Elder Wand landed in his hand. It had a warmth that was similar to his old phoenix wand, but also possessed a balancing icy aura. He strode over to the fallen, twisted corpse of Tom Riddle and changed the Elder Wand into his scythe.
Ignoring the gasps and confused looks from the onlookers, Harry drove the obsidian blade deep into the former Dark Lord's husk of a body, sending the torn, mutilated soul into Limbo. A small smirk grew on his face as he imagined Tom Riddle in his powerless, shriveled body in constant agony.
He changed his scythe back into the Wand, and began to walk to the Forbidden Forest. Harry ignored the cries of those who had defended Hogwarts, disregarding their pleas for him to return to his friends.
He had a stone to recover.