The Dinosaurs Mate

Harry was tired. He had defeated Voldemort many, many years ago. And then he had figured out that he was the master of death.

He hadn't really noticed at first, it was very subtle. He had been trying to move on with his life, with reporters hounding him at every step when it happened. A stray death eater had wanted to finish what his master had started and tried to kill himself and harry in some sort of suicide magical overload that was supposed to kill everything within a 13-meter radius in a sort of explosion.

It had happened so fast, harry had reacted fast, but with so many people around him, he hadn't reacted fast enough. The explosion had caught 7 people, including harry in its radius. I was a hot burning mast of destruction, burning everything around it to ashes, and leaving a huge crater in its wake.

People expected to find nothing when the dust had settled, and yet, there laid their saviour, Harry Potter, alive, with barely anything to cover his modesty.

Harry hadn't known what to believe at first, I mean, he was supposed to have been dead. Blown to ashes. And yet, here he was standing, alive and well, without a scratch or burn. Not even a singed hair.

That had only been that start of his end. People had taken it very badly that he hadn't died when he was supposed to, but somehow with time and patience, and a little persuasion from his friends and war allies, had the people going back to their normal lives, and had treated it as a bad incident.

But no matter how many years had gone by, Harry didn't age at all. He still looked no older than 20 years old, give or take a few years.

Hermoine, always the smart one had tried to tell him about the Hallows, yet harry hadn't believed her at first. Until he woke up one day to find them all neatly laid beside his night stand. First the cloak, the wand and finally the ring.

Harry had tried to burn the cloak, break the wand again, yet they always came back unharmed the next day. Maybe even faster than that.

But as he mentally grew older, so did his friends. Older and older and yet he remained the same on the outside. Eventually... they died, leaving him alone. Sure, he had their kids as company, but he knew that they too would someday fade and die as well.

So, he did what he thought might end it all. The Veil of Death.

Nothing was known about it, except that no one ever came back from there, they just thought that the people sent through there died. And that was exactly what Harry was hoping for.

Now, here he stood, meters away from certain death.

He had placed a lot of clauses in place at Gringots, should he really do this. All of his money and valuables were to be given to Rons and Hermoines children and their grandchildren.

Harry took a deep breath, and steadied his heart. For someone that was almost 200 years old, he sure was nervous. It's not every day that you get to walk to your own death willingly. He donned the invisibility cloak, had the ring on his finger and held the wand in a holster on his wrist. Harry could only listen to the whispers from the Veil, as it beaconed him towards it.

And he did. One step at a time until he was almost touching it. Felt the cold tendrils that emanated from its core. It kind of felt like a dementor was close, except without the feeling of hopelessness that came with them.

Harry didn't look back, he just took the final step, and then, he fell. Fell for what felt like seconds, hours, months even years. And it was so cold, right down to his bones.

But then, suddenly, it stopped, and he felt warm, oh so warm. Like a mother's hug was all around him. But he couldn't see anything. He couldn't really move as well, like he was restrikted somehow.

I lasted for quite a while and Harry slept for what felt like months and months. Until one day, he started feeling walls pushing around him from all angles, like they wanted to push him out somewhere. He tried fighting it, but was too weak to really fight it. Then he was cold, like he had been pushed outside butt naked. He tried to protest, but all that came out of his mouth was a gurgling wail. He was so shocked that he instantly quieted down.

He couldn't have, could he. He looked at his oh so short chubby hands and almost wailed again. He, Harry James Potter, had been reborn. As a boy or girl, he didn't know yet, he just hoped it was the first one, he'd rather not deal with girl problems. But if it came to it, he would roll with it somehow.

The woman that had just given birth to him/her was a brown eyed, brown haired woman, that looked at him with adoration. It almost choked him up when he/she saw her looking at him/her that way. No one had ever really looked at him/her that way. Was this what a mother looked at her child felt like? If so, then he/she liked it.

His father? Had brown eyes and weird short brown spiky hair.

"Oh, Mihae, they're beautiful." His father said. Well, he said 'they' so no luck in identifying their gender there.

"I know Shiyuma, but what should we call them?" His mother asked her husband. They both looked at him/her then at each other.

"How about Sena?" Mihae asked. Shiyuma looked like he was thinking it over. Then he looked at Harry again, and smiled.

"Sena, Kobayakawa sena sounds perfect." He complimented his wife.

Harry, now Sena could only stare at them while they decided their new name.

There was one problem though, Sena couldn't really feel their magic anymore. Like it almost wasn't there.

And with that Sena started crying again.