Magic, the power to bend reality to your will and exercise control over the world, something to be used with care and reverence for the betterment of everyone right?

Wrong.

Instead, magic should be used to remove the memories of people around you when you do something embarrassing like asking a girl out who you thought had feelings for you, but was really just being kind. Or for when you answer somebody that you thought was talking to you but in reality they were talking to someone behind you. Truly, the need for magic in those scenarios trumped any moral obligation to help society.

Standing frozen in that suffocatingly narrow hallway, Hachiman weighed the pros and cons of apparating right out of the crowd of people that just witnessed his embarrassment at the hands of a middle schooler. If only Death had been kind enough to grace Hachiman with a WAND to go with his shitty magic powers he could have just performed a mass Obliviation on the witnesses with enough control to not cause permanent brain damage.

He had to resort to the tried and true method of running away with his tail between his legs.

What a shitty second chance this life is turning out to be.

xxx

Harry/8man POV:

I lost. Voldemort and his party of masquerading menaces easily defeated me, boy wonder himself, and the wizarding world was sorely unprepared for war that came for them. Not even my brief resurrection was enough to stop Tom from defeating me and taking me prisoner as he committed muggle-born genocide. All who opposed him were swiftly defeated and most likely assured a slow and painful death.

Dumbledore's half-assed prophecy was completed, and the Boy-who-Lived died at the age of 19, to an Avada Kedavra from the big man himself. It was a relief to finally go, but what I didn't account for was Death himself.

"So the Master finally returns, it's… a pleasure to finally meet you, I am Death." A figure dressed in black loomed over me, menacing for sure, but I couldn't bring myself to feel frightened, in fact, I couldn't feel much of anything at all. Where are my arms?

"Where am I? Who are you really? And what's with that shitty mask?" I asked this so-called Death, I tried to move my body, but nothing was responding, all I could do was think and speak.

"I assure you, I am really Death, and you Harry Potter, are dead." He emphasized this with a wave of his hands, as some of my fallen friends were brought before me and then vanished. If this really was Death, then once Voldemort kicked the bucket he would definitely get a kick out of how similar the mask of Death was to that of his death eaters. After he cried about how unfair it was and how he wasn't allowed to die of course.

"Okay, Death, what do you want from me? Isn't it time for me to move on to where people go when they die?" I was tired, and right now I wanted to see my parents and Sirius more than anything.

"Hmm, no I don't think you are quite ready yet, Harry Potter."

"What is that sup-" Before I could finish my question the figure disappeared and everything went dark once more.

xxx

After that I sat in the void of nothingness for what felt like years, unable to move, speak, or feel. And so I dreamt of Death, and of the Hallows, turns out that because I had at one point held each of the hallows I was the "Master of Death" though I really didn't feel like I was in control of anything at the time.

My fathers old invisibility cloak, the Gaunt ring turned horcrux, and the wand I stole from Draco's cold hands. I could feel the Hallows in the back of my mind thanks to the meager Occlumency Snape drilled into me, they sat behind heavy protections that I was in no position to break, nor did I have any inclination to try.

The memories of previous Masters were floating around near the hallows, and from what I could tell held nothing but sadness and regret, so I avoided them zealously. I was sure that if those memories were assimilated into my mind that I would break and may never recover, especially with the loss of all I held dear still fresh in my head.

"Hehehe," A low, grating sound suddenly pierced my mind as I floated, Death was chuckling.

"Something funny?" I asked, equal parts irritated and eager for something to finally do. He paused and seemed to stare straight into my soul for a moment.

"Not yet"

xxx

"Congratulations Hikigaya-san, you are now a mother to a… beautiful baby boy" a doctor hesitantly proclaimed, holding up an oddly quiet baby with the most dead green eyes either of the boy's parents had ever seen along with a single strand of hair pointing up to the sky. Dr. Yukimura decided that he would have to look the baby up in 20 years, as the baby would definitely be on some sort of yakuza watchlist just because of those fishy eyes.

The doctor slowly moved the baby over to the mother, and Hikigaya Hisako held the baby in her arms lovingly, gently resting him on her chest, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.

"He's beautiful," she said.

Hikigaya Daichi gave a small chuckle, "Yes he is dear, our baby boy is going to do great things." (a certain wand maker sneezed, before giving a slight smile, great and terrible things indeed).

"Have you decided on a name for him?" the doctor asked

""Hikigaya Hachiman""

xxx

This had to be some sort of punishment for something I did, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what it was. After the squeezing sensation was over, I could hear muffled noise coming from the mish mash of colors that was holding me, then movement, before another blur of colors held me, then more noise. Perhaps I was in some sort of Purgatory for not defeating Voldemort. Death could you kindly please stop laughing, my eternal damnation isn't funny damn it!

It was about 2 weeks into my new torture when I came to terms with what had happened to me, I was once again born into the world, to a married Japanese couple that seemed to be very exited and cared about me very much. I figured Death must fancy himself a prankster and waited for him to end this elaborate scheme to bring me back into the nothingness, but he never came.

My skill with the Japanese language was nonexistent, but I could figure out that my new name was Hikigaya Hachiman. First name Hachiman last name Hikigaya, and what a mouthful that is, I think I'd rather just stick with Harry, thank you.

As a baby I was stuck being reliant on my two new parents, which still felt weird for me to say. Imagine that! All it took for me to finally have a family was to die to a snake-human dark lord. I could still feel my magic flowing through my veins, pushing my development a little faster than normal, but I had yet to see my parents perform any magic at all. I spent most of my time practicing the limited wandless magic I knew in the secrecy of my crib, and attempting to speak and move my arms and legs. For a couple of months I sank in and out of consciousness, with many embarrassing and humiliating moments of a grown man breastfeeding in the body of a child. Before I knew it I was able to crawl my way around to explore this new territory.

The Hikigaya residence was about the size of my "home" in Surrey, with an upper and lower floor. Thankfully, there was no cupboard under the stairs, and though I had doubts my new family would resort to such a thing, I had yet to see their reaction to any accidental magic.

I decided that I would spare my parents the worry of giving birth to a freak, and kept my magic to myself. It would be absolutely devastating if I spent two lives without having any loving family to come back home to.

xxx

The first word that my mother and father heard from me in this new life was Kaa-chan, which was what my mother would point to herself and say at least 20 times every day. My next word was Tou-chan, and after that they started to point out different things around the house and say the word in Japanese. It was hard for me to dissociate myself from constant English, but it had to be done to grow up normally in this new life.

My parents were almost never around together, I figured that they must be working a job that travels for work often, and had to switch off to take care of me. If daycare was anywhere near as expensive in Japan as it was in Britain I could understand their reason for taking off work instead of paying for a stranger to take care of me.

I spent my days enjoying my time with one or both parents, simply basking in the feeling of family, and my nights practicing my speech, a bit of wandless magic, and trying to strengthen my little arms and legs. Death seemed to want me here for a reason, and I wasn't too sure if I would have to face off against a Dark Lord again. At 10 months old I was able to take my first few steps before falling and nailing my head against the ground. My parents were initially frantic, but after they saw no damage they seemed relieved that I was able to cry after all, as it was a rare occurrence

It was hard for me to not worry for my old friends and my new family, I had no idea what the situation with Voldemort was, if he was still alive, or anything at all about what was happening in the world around me. No matter what happened I would take care of my family, even if they came to hate me because of what I could do, it would be worth it if they were protected.

AN: This is my first attempt at really writing anything significant. Let me know if there are any mistakes and what you might want to see.