A lot of people jump into this story thinking its something else. I can tell you what it isn't. Its not a story where Harry will be OP as fuck, and its not a story where Harry will know wtf he's doing. Harry is flawed and trying the find himself just as much as a normal human. If your looking for one of those stories, I suggest you look elsewhere. Also this story sticks closely to cannon. I'm new to writing fanfiction and cannon is my crutch.
'Why was it so cold?' The only thought left in Harry's brain. He couldn't feel his fingers; he couldn't feel anything, really. He tried to wiggle his toes, no dice. The last thing he remembered was the flash of green, and then there was nothing. Where was he?
Was he dead? The thought sent a cold serpent of dread down his spine. He couldn't be, no way. But, what else could be possible? The actuality of it was undeniable. This was really it. It was so hard to comprehend death. Just days ago, everything had been okay.
No, not great. Not anywhere close to perfect, but at least he had been alive. Running from Voldemort and suffering from constant tension. But he could take that. He could take the fact that Ron left, and he could take the stress he and Hermione were constantly under.
Now though, there was no beat in his rib cage, no breath in his lungs, no warmth. The worst part wasn't any of that. What took the cake was the feeling of loneliness. He had failed everyone, and now he was to float here and rot.
It was so dark; it was nothing. This couldn't be what awaited everyone; if so, he could see why Voldemort feared death so much. Harry saw something in the distance. His vision was still terrible, it seemed. The figure was blurry, warping and pushing against the darkness that surrounded it.
He finally got a good view of it when it was almost right on his face. It wasn't floating, not like him. He felt like the closer it got, the closer the ground appeared. Until his bottom was firmly planted on the cold surface below him. The figure was distinctly feminine.
She was large, so much greater than him. And she looked down at him, her expression unreadable. He couldn't help but feel like this was some strange dream. She wore a robe, maroon in color. He had a feeling this wasn't her proper form, only one so his mind wouldn't break.
She had many black eyes, dark as what surrounded her. He felt he should be bowing, as foolish as that sounds. She had a weighty prescience. It bore down on him. Her skin was a marbled white, polished. Her hair was a mess of multi-colored curls, Each one a slightly different texture. She looked wild, changing. Warping every time he glanced away or blinked.
"Harry Potter..." Her voice was the only stable thing about her. The only piece that seemed to stay in place. But, she said his name somberly. A small regretful smile on her face, not really a smile.
"How unfortunate, so young..." She looked distraught, her dark eyes filled with pity. He had an urge to ask, damn recklessness.
"Who are you?" He hadn't moved from his spot on the ground, barely even registering his presence anymore.
"I am Fate, young one." He blinked owlishly at her. Fate? And he put his thoughts into words.
"Fate?" She laughed, her eyes crinkling in absolute joy. She calmed down after a second, regaining her composure. She shook her head, and it made him all the more confused.
"So clueless! For one so smart, you sure don't know much." Harry knew he wasn't an idiot. He was decent enough in school. But, to be called bright? His intelligence was not a thing he usually got complimented on.
"Me? Smart? You've got the wrong Harry." She raised a single eyebrow; her expression was skeptical, edging on amused.
"Don't doubt yourself, Harry. I know so much more than you...I know what is and what could have been." Her hands moved behind her back, the words ominous. His face must have displayed his discomfort because she broke away from her stoic expression.
"My name is Fate, Harry. What is fate?" He honestly couldn't tell if she wanted him to answer her.
"What's bound to happen?" He knew it, but he felt unsure still. And when her shifting features became pinched, he felt a sense of slight dread. He didn't want to disappoint her, and he thought he did.
"Ah, no, Harry. That is destiny; you wouldn't like her as much as me. You, humans, are always getting things wrong..." Her eyes shone in a way eerily similar to him.
"What even are you?" He couldn't resist. She clearly was no human.
"I can't explain that to you; you couldn't understand." He knew he didn't have a pleasant expression on his face. He'd be okay without the answer. It would be nice to know what she was, though.
"You'll be fine Harry, it isn't why I'm here anyway." He was more than a little ticked at that. Harry didn't like people dismissing him. But He wouldn't push the topic; he felt a strange sense of wariness on that subject.
"Why are you here then? Why am I even here? What is here?" They were not as much questions, more panicked confusion. He had no idea what was going on, and what she said brought it back to his attention.
"Your dead Harry..." When he opened his mouth after she said that, she put a hand up.
"Please, let me finish. This is not the final resting place, don't worry. The reason you are here is me; I want to give you a second chance. You have had an unfair life, one never tilted in your favor. And, you had no way of completing your destiny. This time though, you'll have the advantage."
His mouth flopped open, confusion and shock written all over his face. He already suspected he was dead, but he was currently meeting Fate, who offered him a redo? Sounds like vivid imagination; he tried to pinch himself and found he couldn't. Harry wasn't there; he was nothing.
The reason why he couldn't feel his body was clear now. He looked back up at her, a desperation to know bleeding from his body language.
"What advantage? What destiny?"
"I cannot tell you your destiny, but I can give you an advantage." She looked off to the side and motioned something in the distance forward.
Another figure came into view, just as large and all-encompassing. It was masculine this time, though he wore no clothing. He seemed to be made of smoke, swirling around. He had no facial features, only a single eye through the smoke. An eye that looked like glass.
"Truth, thank you." Said Fate. Harry guessed the new being was named Truth, a hint to what he was. His eye grazed over her and then focused on him.
"The human?" His voice was a deep timber, holding a slight rasp of disuse. Truth held none of the warm vibe of Fate, he unlike her, seemed dark and depressing. Fate nodded at his question. The smile had long since faded from her face.
"Fate had asked me to give you truth, and I will grant her wish. She holds a certain fondness for you, don't dare waste her gift. Know that the truth is never easy to take, and your truth will be ruthless." Truth paused and looked down at him. He waited for something, a cue for him to continue. Harry nodded, ready for it.
"You've been lied to since after your parent's death. You are more powerful than you know and more capable than what they tell you. You are not who you think. You've got snippets of yourself. Here and there, sometimes the truth peaks through." Harry felt a strong urge to interrupt.
"What do you mean?" If Snape was a being made out of smoke with a single eye, his name would be Truth. The glare Truth sent him probably could top the snarky professor's nastiest.
"Don't interrupt me, or I will stop. You, Harry, aren't anything like who you think you are. You aren't a reckless idiot, and you certainly aren't as naïve as you act. Someone had stolen who you are, and they hold it captive. I have the power to give what was taken from you if you choose."
Truth once again stopped, waiting for Harry's input. But all he could feel was disbelief. That was simply who he was, never had he once thought he had anything as crucial as that taken from him. He didn't like the idea of someone stealing from him; he wanted it back.
"I want it." Truth dipped his head in recognition, his eye clouding to a deep green shade. And all of a sudden, Harry remembered.