Draco opened his eyes to complete white. The shock of the white in contrast to the cacophony of the colors of the battlefield kept his eyes from adapting for several long moments. He couldn't remember the last time that he had seen a place that was as white as this.
Something staying white implied that it was well taken care of and unpolluted. Through Potter's conquest, very few parts of the world were left unpolluted. Places of art and history obviously fell into disrepair; who had time to maintain their past when their present was in constant danger? Hospitals lost their cleanliness as they were operating on over triple mass capacity at all times. They were constantly understaffed, undersupplied, and unable to keep up with the flow of human bodies. No one cleaned the streets, no one took the garbage, no one stopped animals destroying things, and no one kept lawlessness from running rampant. So pure white was a color that Draco had seen less and less of.
Draco couldn't understand what he was looking at. The white was a contradiction to the world that he knew. His world was disaster and ruin. This place was peace and tranquility.
Draco's eyes finally adapted to his surroundings and he could start to understand what he was looking at. He was in a medium sized room where everything in it was completely white. A fireplace that roared white fire was surrounded by comfortable white sofas and armchairs. The walls were lined with white bookcases and books that could not be read because they were all white. Windows were on the walls but couldn't be seen because the outside was a complete white. With a sudden realization, Draco realized he knew what this room was. It was his father's study in Malfoy Manor.
He hadn't seen this room since it was bombed shortly after he had graduated from Hogwarts. Potter had finally pushed through the legislature that gave him the right to attack those that he had deemed to have committed crimes against the state. Of course, the Malfoy Manor had been the first target on his list. He had rained down hell onto the Manor, and Draco had only just barely escaped before he was killed.
Through his years on the run, Draco had come to think that the attack on his home would have been understandable if it had been done by anyone other than Potter. His family had been willing Death Eaters in the first war, and were visibly attached to Voldemort when he came back for the second time. His parents very obviously deserved to be brought to justice. But it was Potter who had done it. Anything that Potter did was immediately categorized as bad in Draco's mind.
Draco's eyes were drawn to the only thing in the room that was a color other than white. It was a man sitting behind the desk that had belonged to his father. He sat with his legs propped up on the table and his arms held lazily behind his head. He was the very picture of cockiness and satisfaction. He wore a black muggle 3 piece suit with expensive looking black shoes that tapped against a lamp on the desk. He had short black hair but couldn't see what color his eyes were because they closed. He looked to be bobbing his head along to a song that only he could hear.
Draco stared at him in shock and couldn't not find it within himself to move from his position. He couldn't believe the disrespect this man had. To sit in his own home and treat his father's objects with such blazen disrespect.
His father's objects?
These weren't his father's objects. This room had been burned to ashes after Potter's attack. There was nothing for his father to claim ownership of. And his father would have trouble claiming ownership of something from beyond the grave. Why was he thinking about what his father would think about objects that he used to own? Why did he care?
He hadn't cared about physical objects that weren't useful in taking down Potter since the Manor had been torn down. Why was he feeling so offended about a man putting his feet on something that was for all intents and purposes just an expertly carved piece of wood. A piece of wood wasn't going to bring down Potter.
"Ah, so you finally noticed." The man said, as he took his feet off of the desk. "I hope you can excuse my disrespect but it was necessary in order to move things along a little faster. I'm afraid that we don't have that much time before you are going to have to make your decision."
"My decision?" Draco asked, but was shocked at the sound of his own voice. It shook him that it had sounded so youthful. Nothing like the deep tones that he had grown so accustomed to. Now that he noticed the weirdness, he noticed that he was remarkably shorter than we remembered himself to be. With a slight tinge of panic, he realized that he looked like he was a child again. He was at least back to what he looked like before going to Hogwarts.
"I see you notice the other thing too," the man said. "Let me give you a brief explanation of what's going on with you. You are dead."
Draco remembered the stabbing of the blood made weapons Potter had thrown at him. "Yeah, I remember that." he said quietly, still not used to the youthfulness of it.
"I really must thank you," the man said. "You were really the only one who had the power to stop Potter once he really got going. But from prior experience, I really had not expected it."
"What?" Draco said confusedly.
"You know, Potter? The guy who kind of took over the world? He's kind of a big deal in case you haven't noticed."
"Notice?" Draco said.
"Yeah," the man said. "It was kind of a mistake to send him back now that I think about it. It was too close of a call to just a clean sweep to his rise to power. I might have made it a little too easy for him to accomplish his goals. So I really have to thank you for being such a big thorn in his side over the years."
"You...you sent back Potter?" Draco asked, not fully understanding what it was that the man was saying.
"Yeah, didn't he tell you about that?" the man asked interestedly. "I hope that your mind is still intact. It would be really unfortunate if that I had waited as long as it did for you only for you to turn up useless to me in the end."
"YOU SENT BACK POTTER?!" Draco yelled, suddenly infuriated. "HE WASN'T JUST MAD! YOU ACTUALLY SENT THAT PSYCHOPATH INTO THE PAST!"
The man suddenly lost the joviality that he had had previously. "Calm yourself," he commanded. "Or else our conversation is going to come to an end and I won't send you back to stop what Potter did."
Draco's mouth shut itself against his will.
"Good," the man said, his humor returning immediately. "Now, it's time that we talked about what it is that I want you to do. You have noticed by now that you are in the body of yourself at the age of 11 correct?" Draco nodded numbly. "Good, good. That is because if we can come to an agreement, your soul is about to inhabit the soul of your body at the time of your 11th birthday. Do you understand?"
Draco nodded, but he didn't really believe it. He was going back to inhabit his 11 year old body? Could he change everything that had happened?
"Yes," The man said. "You can change everything. Anything you didn't like about the first time around, you can change it to your will. Knowing what you know of the future, you can change it and shape it in your vision."
Draco could feel the excitement grow in him before skepticism took over. "You can send me back. Why didn't you send anyone back to stop Potter? Why didn't you send me back earlier to stop him?"
The man sat in his chair and thought about his answer. "To be honest. I don't really care about stopping Potter or not. What I do care about is the damage that he did to the world. He has almost completely killed out the entirety of the human population. If things had been allowed to continue as they were, he would have no obstacles standing left in his way of complete domination of the planet. The only thing that was standing left in his way was you."
Draco scoffed. "I'm not the last person left of the resistance. There are resistance members left all over the world."
"Yes, but your death represents the death of their hope," Draco froze at his words. "Let me tell you the story of Potter's first run through. Without knowledge of the future, Dumbledore was allowed to run Potter's life however he wanted to. He carefully molded him into a hero that was worthy of stopping Voldemort and he succeeded. He groomed Potter to where in one final confrontation, Potter gave his life to stop Voldemort. Except that didn't really stop Voldemort. Unbeknownst to Dumbledore or anyone else at the time, he had taken extra security measures in order to ensure that his life would not end that night. And after Potter's sacrifice, his victory was assured. Of course, there were still other members who would fight against Voldemort, but the symbol of Potter dying took the fight out of his opposition. Potter was the boy-who-lived. He was the one that had saved them from Voldemort the first time around. He was the symbol that fueled their rebellious spirit."
The man pointed a finger at Draco then. "And this time around, you were that symbol of rebellious spirit." Draco felt a wave of dread wash over him. "You certainly weren't born that way, no way in hell. Raised as a bigoted pureblood who hated those below you, it was way too easy for Potter to get others to hate you for your beliefs. But as Potter began to change, bit by bit, people began to realize the horror of his actions, and how powerless they were to stop him. And there you were, standing stalwart against his actions. You were the one that could bring people together in order to fight against Potter. If they had any thoughts of rebellion, you could bring those out, and lead them against, even if you and them knew they would not survive it. That's why I picked you. That's why I waited so long for you to die to pick you. You have the power to change the world and you were the best one from that world to shape the world in your image. So I ask you, do you have what it takes to change the world?"
Draco stared straight into the eyes of the man. His black eyes stared at Draco as if he was daring him to accept his offer and go back into the past. Draco thought back to all of the people that he had met in his life. All of the people that he had inspired to give up their lives for him. All of the people who believed in him to stop Potter. All of the people who would give anything to go back and free themselves from Potter's tyranny. Passion burned behind Draco's eyes as he stared into the man's eyes.
"I have what it takes."
"Good, good!" the man said excitedly. He snapped his fingers and a parchment appeared before him on the desk. "Then there is only one matter of business that we have to go over before we can send you back."
"First," the man said. "You need to set a goal for yourself. The magic that will send you back needs a binding will and goal strong enough to make the connection. You need to set a goal for yourself that you will do anything to accomplish. The goal you set for yourself will bind your magic to its will and make you take the actions necessary to accomplish it. So be careful when you set this goal as it will become your life's purpose. I assume that it will be stopping Potter no matter what the cost?"
Draco thought to himself for a long moment. Stopping Potter was his goal. It would be so easy to just say that stopping Potter was what he wanted most in the world. But he knew that his wish wouldn't be completed if that was the goal he set for himself.
"No," Draco said after a long minute of silence. "No, I'm not going to make that my wish." The man looked at him interestedly, but didn't move to say anything. "What I want isn't accomplished by making sure Potter doesn't succeed in what he wants to do. I want to make sure that no one is able to take control of the world again like him. I don't want anyone, be it magical or muggle, to have complete control of the world. I want to tear down the power that leads people to have complete control over others. I want to be free from control. I want to be free."
"That's a pretty lofty goal," the man said with a grin spreading on his face. "I have to say, I've never had someone speak in such lofty terms before, I am intrigued. But how are you going to word this declaration of yours?"
Draco thought for a long moment before stepping forwards towards the parchment that would become the contract that binds his goal. He picked up the quill that the man had provided him.
"I, Draco Malfoy, will be free."
"That's it?" The man said, astonished. "'I , Draco Malfoy, will be free' that sounds completely ridiculous. What does it even mean?"
"It means what it says it means," Draco said. "I will make myself free from Potter's tyranny. From anyone's tyranny. And I will free everyone else from tyranny as I do it."
The man looked at him for a long moment before he broke out into laughter. "Oh, I like you!" he said through his shakes. "You know what? You remind me of myself a little, very well."
The man stood up and the desk and chair he was sitting behind disappeared. He stretched arms wide and said, "Draco Malfoy! By your own decree and by the power of magic itself, YOU SHALL BE FREE, if you have the power, the will, and the wit in order to bring it to fruition."
Vibrant colors began to swirl around the man. Every color that was imaginable to the human eye and infinitely many more times of infinite colors that were not. The very world around them shook. The room of the Malfoy Manor study was whipped away until Draco and the man were standing alone in a white void that continued on into infinity. The colors swirled around them and shook the expanse around them harder.
The colors expanded and pulsed and shook and melted against each other. Magical reactions that Draco couldn't even begin to comprehend rubbed against each other and burst with loud pops. Draco saw lines become planes and planes become objects and objects become something that was incomprehensible and those incomprehensible things become something even more incomprehensible and on and on and on.
The vibrant colors emanating from the man were beginning to shake so hard that even the white around them was beginning to disappear. The infinite expanse of white void that had previously expanded infinitely and encompassed infinite length was replaced with the colors and pure magic that was coming from the man.
"Now, Draco," the man said through his laughter as the magic burst out of him in powerful waves. "You might not be able to do this much magic but don't let that get you down. I'm expecting great things from you. I'll be watching and waiting with bated breath for what you will accomplish."
Draco looked into the man's eyes and truly, for the first time in his life, understood what magic was.
He was horrified and in awe of what he saw in equal parts.
The infinite white void was now completely encompassed in the man's magic and somehow Draco understood what the man was doing.
The magic had encompassed infinity, and now the magic was shrinking. Bringing the infinity closer together and concentrating it into a smaller area. Rapidly, the magic worked to bring everything into itself and break the world. And as the white void collapsed upon itself, Draco was able to see beyond infinity.
To the infinite number of worlds that existed beyond his own. To those worlds that would be left behind through his travel back in time. He saw the world he lived in, in the instant where he had died, frozen and stagnant in the place that existed past infinity. He saw the infinite futures of his world and the infinite futures of an infinite number of other worlds that had been cut away, just like his was about to be.
Draco looked at the man and wondered.
"Who are you?"
"Draco," the man said as the entirety of the infinite white void was compressed just around him and Draco, and an instant until it surrounded just the intangibility of Draco's soul.
"I am Death."