After saying his final farewell and that he'll soon be joining them, Harry dispelled the Stones effects, his family vanishing back beyond the Veil. He straightened his back, a posture of defiance and acceptance of his ultimate fate, and walked towards the clearing where Voldemort and his Inner Circle waited for him under the pale green light of the Dark Mark floating in the sky.
"Ah, Harry Potter, the 'boy-who-lived' … come to die" Voldemorts hissing voice grated on his nerves, while a pale faced Hagrid struggled helplessly against the constraints held by the surrounding Death Eaters. Nagini slithered to join her Master, whilst Bellatrix could barely contain her glee at the Dark Lords final Triumph.
Harry closed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable. He dropped is wand, instead touching his father's cloak, he had hidden under his clothes, for one last time. His other hand rubbing the Resurrection Stone he had taken with him as a reminder that he was not alone, that he was loved. He couldn't help taking one last quip "Well third time's the charm Tom, or in our case… seventh… I guess?".
With all the power Voldemort put into the spell that would bring the end to the biggest annoyance of his long live, further enhanced by a, for lack of a better word, 'reluctant' Elder Wand, the flash of the Avada Kedavra was so bright it could be seen for several miles. Blinded, no one noticed the form of Harry Potter shimmering into invisibility as he fell.
Back at Hogwarts the harried defenders watched the bright green light with trepidation. Hermione and Ron holding another as they quickly realized what their best friend had just done for every single soul remaining in the castle. Harry was gone, so only the Snake and Voldemort himself remained.
With a ringing in their ears the Death Eaters slowly regained their sight. Bellatrix hurrying to Voldemorts side as he lay there unmoving. He quickly came to and pushed the fussing woman out of the way, looking confused at the place where Harry stood mere seconds before. The only sign of him a blast mark on the forest floor and the white holly wand, that was brother to his own. Seeing the wand, and still sitting on the ground he quickly realised that he himself was unarmed, the Elder Wand not in his hand nor anywhere beside him. Finally regaining his wit, he struggled to stand upright. "Bella, my wand", he ordered her. "My lord" she sighed sweetly as she pulled the thirteen-inch yew wand out of her spare holster.
He grabbed it and performed a non-verbal summoning charm, to no avail, the Elder Wand not coming back, after some more obscure spells without result he gave up. Without the Priori Incantatem he was unbeatable, even if he had to use his old wand.
"Bella, take the brats wand with you and snap it, it shall be proof enough that their little hero is dead, the rest of you guard the oaf on our way to the castle". He turned to the rest of the Inner Circle, "Lucius, get the Dementors, Dolohov you get the remaining giants in place, Greyback… Avada Kedavra, your filth is no longer needed. To Hogwarts my …friends!".
In a realm beyond time Harry Potter awoke to loud unearthly screaming. When he opened his eyes, the sight was … disturbing. What looked like a miniature, fleshy version of Voldemort was hanging splayed in the air, impaled on a multitude of thin black spikes or tendrils, that seemed to puncture the surrounding featureless whiteness. Images began to penetrate his mind, showing like a fragmented movie the night of Halloween 1981. Voldemort being told where to find them by a cowering Wormtail… flashes of a ritual circling a red and gold shield… the sleepy village of Godrics Hollow, grass covered in the nights frost. The Potter cottage shimmering into existence at the end of the road. His father trying to get to his wand before being felled in green light. His mother, having tried and failed to apparate or portkey out of the nursery, pricking her finger with a needle and drawing the shape of his scar, the sowilo rune on the spot over his heart in her own blood. "I love you my angel" her last words to him before pressing a kiss to his forehead, the rune lighting up and sinking into his skin. The whole horrid scene he had to relive thanks to the dementors played again. Voldemort laughing, Lily Potter begging for her son's life, offering her own three times. Again, the flash of green. The pale, gaunt figure, barely more human than he-who-has-no-nose, standing over his crip muttering with sarcasm "my supposed equal". Raising his wand for the final Killing Curse.
And for the first time he KNEW what happened that night, something everyone until this moment could only speculate. Understanding flooded his mind. His mother gave her love, her soul, her life to power the rune of the sun she had inscribed upon his chest. She gave a plea of judgement to the gods, to weigh her actions and decide the fate of her son.
The moment the Avada Kedavra hit little Harry on his forehead the rune flared with the power of the sun it represents.
Time froze.
More symbolic images communicating the will of 'the gods' played in his mind. A scale, the hallows, the veil, an eye, a man kneeling in supplication, a bird taking flight. The judgment complete, the light obliterated Voldemorts physical form, his wraith banished from the house, a white tendril connecting to the scar, fate sealing the pact and marking him the equal. He was not a horcrux, merely as the prophecy dictated marked by Voldemort.
The whiteness returned and with it the impaled creature and its writhing and screaming. Slowly the white receded giving place to flecks of the darkness beyond. Not a simple black or abyss. More like what you see when your eyes are closed. The distant sound of falling sand reached his ears. Reaching for his Gryffindor bravery Harry asked "Where am I?".
An eye opened in the Darkness, the iris a dark forest green. "You are in the Balance, Limbo, the Abyss, humans have many names for the place beyond their understanding."
"And who are you?"
"I am not a who, but a 'what' or a 'where' I may be. I am a place, a concept, a reality. The living call me Death, or Time, or the End. I ,as much as I am an I, am a Truth of existence, a necessity to the function of the Universe, like Gravity, Magic and Fate, the things which you humans attribute to gods."
His mind spun, it was bizarre, but what did he expect? The Grim Reaper in his cloak with a scythe over his shoulder? Dolores Umbridge in a bikini? Of course, his crazy life deigned him unworthy of something simple, like a personification of a universal concept. Hell… he'd take talking to Dumbledore over this, at least the old goat was occasionally funny.
"Sooo… why exactly am I here with" he looked with disgust to the writhing creature "that…., and not with my family?"
"But Harry, my boy, isn't family just another word for those people we love and love us in return" a facsimile of Dumbledores voice answered him.
"Ok…. So, you do have a sense for humor, doesn't answer my question tho"
"Just because I'm ephemeral doesn't mean I hold no interest in the affairs of beings. You are here Harry Potter, because of your mothers' sacrifice, because of Fate, and because you fulfilled the 'gods' judgement. Your mother gave your life over to us to care for. I know your life was hard, but it was the price of surviving certain death. It formed the basis of who you are, a selfless human being, flawed but noble. Even if Dumbledore and your relatives could and should have broken you, you prevailed.
"You love the people you have lost, you are loved by people still alive. You have saved so many from an early grave.
The hallows came to you instead of you seeking them out. You touched the Veil itself and were prevented from entering it. You were confronted with your own end and faced it head on. You accept me as I am, rather blaming yourself than cursing my necessity. And as such I deem you worthy. Harry Potter, you have mastered what I am"
"Are you kidding me, so what? I died for my friends, to stop Voldemort, I did my part. Can't I just rest in peace?"
"Certainly, you have earned your place here. But that doesn't mean you are finished on the mortal plane. The moment you accept what I aim to give you, you will exist in the Balance. Both alive and dead. You can visit your parents, but since nothing per se 'lives' here, you will have to do that with your friends and living family. And you can bring me the last two pieces of Tom Marvolo Riddle and those, who have unwittingly become his property."
He heaved a sigh. This conversation was really tiring him out. Weighing his options, the offer of having the best of both worlds, he didn't hesitate long. "Well then, Death, how do we do this? Do I simply say 'I accept' or some ritual sentence and 'so mote it be'?"
"Nothing quite so dreary. You have the Hallows, accept them into you, integrate them into your being."
"Oh so easy", he grumbled, fumbling to take out the cloak and stone, the wand appearing in his hand. Concentrating on accepting the power of them he felt the cold touch of the stone, the smooth texture of the cloak and the rough surface of the wand. With a small white flash the cloak crumbled to dust and sank into his skin, his hair taking on a white, silvery colour. Next he felt a stabbing pain in his eyes, the stone breaking apart. His previously light green eyes took on a deeper forest green colour like the eye of Death itself, a dark ring surrounding the iris. Last was the overwhelming power of the wand, it flowed through his veins, pumping his bones and muscles full of the cold comforting power, whilst painfully fixing incorrectly set bones, healing years of starvation and neglect.
What stood in front of Death was a pale, handsome man, eyes opening, aglow with eldritch power. His figure tall, proud and unyielding.
