Harry's first thought to himself was that it was too bright for him to be dead.
Even with his eyes closed, the light that shined through his eyelids blinded him. Cautiously, he opened his eyes; to find himself standing- it didn't feel as if he were.
He blinked, trying to adjust his vision to the light.
Now that was weird. He was standing on what looked to be a dock. There was the sea- that wasn't moving- in front of him and a port behind him to which the dock was connected, far off in the distance. However, the strange thing was how everything was white, and he did mean everything.
He wondered absentmindedly if this were the afterlife, and if he was doomed to stand by the sea for all eternity.
But then he spotted a little girl sitting on a bench not far off, further towards shore. Both of which- the girl and the bench- he could've sworn weren't there the last time he blinked.
He started to walk towards her, but every step he took seemed to lead him farther away from her.
Confused, he turned to look out to sea again, only to find that he hadn't moved a step away from the edge of the port.
Turning his head around, intending to call out to the girl, he found that she was suddenly just a few steps in front of him.
Jumping back in shock, his foot slipped over the edge slightly, and he tumbled backwards. Before he could fall in, the girl grabbed his arm with a strength that didn't match her frame, and pulled him forwards, steadying him. "Careful now, Harry James Potter. It's not time for you to go, yet."
"For the love of-" he started before stopping himself. He wasn't going to curse in front of a little girl.
Composing himself, and willing his heart rate to slow down, he rubbed his eyes to try to see her face better. She was stood right in front of him now, as if teleported up from the bench- which had now disappeared. Wonderful.
Try as he might, he couldn't see what she looked like. She had a face, yes, with eyes and a nose and a mouth, very determinedly human-looking. However, he couldn't describe her. It was as if every time he had some notion of what she resembled, his memory was wiped. The most he could accurately determine, was that she didn't look any older than 10.
But before he could start speaking to ask her anything, she cut in with a flat voice.
"Hello, Harry James Potter, Boy Who Lived. You may call me Death."
He blinked once before nodding slowly. Alright, fair enough. He pretty much guessed that he'd be dead at this point, to come to this dimension-defying place. It'd also explain, well, why she was so unexplainable.
"Why don't we take a seat? She questioned, voice not changing from her previous tone, so it sounded more like a statement than a question. She was gesturing at the bench that suddenly reappeared to the side.
With a slight nod and a hint of disbelieving laughter at her tricks, he sat down, as did she shortly after. Even wizards of the highest caliber would find it difficult to pull all the illusions she's doing consecutively, wandlessly, and wordlessly. Well, she was death, afterall.
"Is this the afterlife?" He questioned, gesturing around him.
With the same tone, she replied, "No, Harry James Potter. This is the crossroad. It's the station between the living and the dead. Not many face me here, as they are usually one of three; either they're living, dead, or they've become a spirit in the mortal world. For the most part, the living stay living till they die. The dead stay dead, and the spirits are doomed to forever remain in the mortal realm after the choosing to remain."
"Why am I at the crossroads then?" He questioned her, eyebrow raising.
"You get a choice, Harry Potter. Tell me, do you remember how you died?" She asked, face more blank than it was before, as she avoided his gaze.
"No, not really. Though, I'm not sure I want to." He replied honestly. "I know my life before this crossroad wasn't the greatest. But in all honesty- I can't remember much else."
She replied, "I'm afraid you have to remember. In order for you to move forward, you have to remember and accept the past." With that, she grabbed his hand despite his protests and he was pulled into the memory.
"Weasley, we haven't got long till curfew." Finnigan interjected, "We should get started."
"Fair point, Shea." He said, grinning. "Petrificus Totalus" He called out, pointing his wand at Harry.
Harry's body fell limp against the floor. Whatever was coming next was going to be a dark curse; he knew that much.
He couldn't move, but he certainly could feel. He felt his cloak and uniform being ripped up after their incantations went to work, and he felt the chill enter his skin and seep into his bones. He felt his tears run down his face- making his face freeze as they slid from his eyes down to his cheeks and snow.
Spell after spell were cast onto him. Each more creative in torture than the last. He thanked the bitter cold for making his body numb, for blocking out the senseless beings that were draining him of his life.
When they stopped, they jeered at his expression, his lack of dignity and the blood-soaked ground beneath him.
Without a care for the boy they left behind, broken, they left him to die.
And then it was white again. Like the snow. "Sorry." Death said, not sounding particularly. "You had to remember in order to choose which path to take."
Harry snatched his hand away from Death's touch and brought his hand to his hair, running his fingers through it in a calming motion. He briefly noticed the tears that wetly stained his cheeks. "Why'd they- I never did anything- I just- I need a moment." Harry said, breathing heavily and voice trembling.
"Sure. We have all the time in the world." The small girl said with a relatively gentle voice for an entity who had been emotionless throughout their encounter.
And they did genuinely have all the time in the world. There was no concept of it in this world, the two of them just sat there, staring at the white, unmoving sea. It felt all of ten minutes and ten years at the same time.
"What are my choices again?" Harry asked, after his feelings had calmed.
"You have many, Harry James Potter. At a point in your previous life, you've become my master, and thus I am forever at your service when you enter my realm. You are the second person to have become my master, after the first had lost that position when-" She hesitated for a second before continuing, "when she'd chosen to finally, completely die."
"Past life? I've lived before?" He asked, eyes filled with wonder. "What was it like?"
With an expression he would've deemed as amusement on Death's face which really was just a relaxation of her features, she asked, "Would you like me to show you?"
With Harry's affirmative nod, she grabbed his hand once more.
After going through all the memories of his previous life, he wasn't sure what he should feel.
While he felt sad about the life he'd left behind the first time round, he was happy that he didn't get trapped again. And while Harry was angry about how things turned out in this life, he was delighted about how things were in his first.
The bias people had for Slytherins was painfully obvious. It wasn't hard to believe that people would turn bad even if they're good people at heart should they stay in that house.
A part of Harry's favorite memories of his first life was his children. Three beautiful children whom he loved dearly.
Albus Potter was sorted into Slytherin, and though the bias towards him was less than usual, he was the son of the savior of the wizarding world, after all. But even then, he wasn't entirely accepted either.
He had one good friend that stuck by him, Scorpius Malfoy. Harry vaguely remembered Draco Malfoy in his second life, and he was pretty much the same arrogant, stuck-up boy in both lives. However, his son was the sweetest thing. And he nearly stopped them from ending up together.
At that point in his life, he nearly failed Albus, but he sorted things out in the end. James and Lily Potter, named after his parents, were both Gryffindors. On Harry's deathbed, all three were proud to call him father.
The only thing he regrets in his second life is not reaching out to Hermione. She'd been killed by the troll that rampaged through the dungeon and girl's bathroom in his first year.
He'd seen how special and important she was to him in his original life, how she was always there when he needed her. Would she have still been alive if he'd befriended her at first on the train when she was looking for people to teach her spells? If he and Neville had taken her up on her offer to wander the train?
But it was too late for what-ifs now.
"Is it possible for me to see my children or friends before I leave for the new life?" Harry asked, a hesitantly hopeful look upon his face.
"Unfortunately, no. Your timeline has already long since been severed from theirs."
Solemnly, he answered, "I understand." Then, he tilted his head to look at her on the bench, "May I ask you another favor, then?"
"If it's in my power, it's my job to do so, as you are my master, Harry James Potter."
"Can you choose the next world for me to go to? I don't want to relive my life again, and there's no use dwelling over the past."
Thinking for a moment, she answered, "Yes, that I can do."
"Is it also possible for me to keep all my memories and abilities?"
Once again hesitant, she replied, "Yes. At the end of your first life, you wished for the memories to be forgotten."
"Right. Then, I think I'm ready." Harry said, standing up and walking to the edge of the port. He vaguely remembered that she pushed him into the water the last time he was reborn.
"Alright, now face me, Harry James Potter," She instructed, "and specify that you wish to be sent to an entirely new world in a different realm with all the memories and powers you currently possess."
"Thank you, Death." He said, with a nervous smile on his face.
"I wish to be sent to an entirely new world in a different realm with possession of all my current memories and powers," he repeated.
With that sentence, hands were on his back, and the last thing he saw in that world was the white of the sea spreading over him and bringing him under.
In another universe, when he woke up, he was a wailing baby by the name of Harrian Baratheon, Heir to the Iron Throne.
