"Peter?" the name slipped out of his mouth.

His neighbour was standing in the doorway looking quite shocked.

It was quite suspect, if Harry had to be honest. The other boy had just opened his door without knocking and was now looking like he'd seen a ghost. Peter really didn't seem like the type, but for a moment Harry half wondered if he'd misjudged the other bloke and this was a ridiculously bad attempt to steal from his flat.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Is there a reason you look so shocked to see me in my living room?"

He had to wonder what had Peter looking so shell-shocked. Harry rather thought he deserved exclusive rights to that expression after whatever the fuck happened earlier.

'What the actual fuck?'

Peter stood still for a few moments longer, drinking in the view of Harry alive and well, before coming back to himself. He rubbed the back of his head and smiled nervously, trying to act casual in front of his supposed-to-be-dead neighbour.

"No, nothing's wrong, I just wanted to stop by and…" Peter's senses picked up the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.

'Oh thank god,' Peter thought. He had an out.

"…and introduce you… to a… friend of mine," he dragged out his words, waiting to catch a glimpse of Ned's head coming into view.

Peter ignored the dubious look Harry was giving him, and beckoned Ned over.

"No need to be shy buddy," Peter grabbed a confused Ned by his arm as soon as he was within reach, and pulled him over to the doorway. "Ned, this is Harry, the new neighbour I told you about."

'Okay Peter, just act natural. Sell it.'

Harry watched bemused as Peter strode into the apartment, pulling his friend inside with him. "Harry, this is my best friend Ned. He really wanted to meet you."

Ned and Harry just stared at each other blankly for a second or two, not sure what to make of the situation - or Peter's behaviour. Harry was the first to jolt into action, reaching his hand out to greet the bloke. "Alright there mate? Good to meet you."

"Uhhh… nice to meet you too dude," Ned replied, clumsily grasping Harry's hand and giving it a shake.

"Did you two want to come in…?" Harry asked with uncertainty, pointing to the seating area behind him. Something was off about Peter's behaviour, but he decided not to read too deeply into it. Maybe he was just nervous about having his friends meet.

Ned and Peter exchanged glances, communicating silently.

"Uh, sure," Peter spoke up, though he didn't sound so sure. He had a pinched look on his face, and seemed reluctant to move. "So, Harry… what've you been up to since we got back earlier?" Peter asked.

'Oh nothing much… just going for a walk, dying, and meeting Death. Oh and I found out I'm now some sort of little godling, by the way!' — is what Harry thought, and would have said were he an absolute fucking lunatic.

Instead he went with, "Not much. I just took a nap on the sofa. I only woke up ten or twenty minutes ago."

Which was sort of true. He had been napping in a way — being temporarily dead counted as napping right? — and he did come back to life — i.e. wake up — ten or twenty minutes ago. He then spent that time standing in his living room questioning everything he'd ever believed in, which Peter had interrupted. He could get back to that later though. For now, the distraction was welcome. The less time Harry had to have this existential crisis the better.

"So, Ned!" he exclaimed cheerfully, patting the rather big fellow on the back and ushering him further into the living room. "How long have you known Peter?"

"Uh, since middle school I guess." Ned responded, looking quite uncomfortable in this forced social situation.

"Perfect! You can tell me about all the embarrassing things he's done," Harry grinned at the other boy, trying to make him feel more at ease. "I'll get the popcorn."

"Uh, sure."

"Wait, what!? No! No. Don't you dare say anything Ned," Peter cried, stomping over to Ned and covering his mouth with his hand. "It's bad enough you told May about the last decathlon bake sale."

Harry laughed at the display - Ned trying to jerk away from a determined Peter. Poor Peter looked mortified at the idea of any embarrassing memories being shared.

"What happened at the bake sale?" Harry asked, wondering what could possibly have gone wrong.

Ned managed to get his mouth free from Peter's hand and blurted out, "Peter sat on a chocolate cupcake! He-"

Peter had managed to, for lack of a better word, climb Ned at this point, knees digging into his friend's sides as he reached over and clamped his hands over Ned's mouth again.

"What's so bad about sitting on a chocolate cupca..." Harry trailed off as he pictured the sight. "Oh no."

Ned nodded, eyes sparkling with mirth and muffled laughs escaping, even with a red faced Peter still trying to silence him. Harry couldn't help but join in for a little bit, laughing at Peter's reddening face.

In the interest of preserving their friendship, Harry decided to offer the poor bloke some sympathy. "That's bad but it's not terrible," he comforted Peter, though he may have been betrayed by the unrepentant grin on his face. "I think you can let go of Ned now, Peter."

Peter shook his head.

"Don't tell me there's more."

Ned gave an affirmative nod.

"Oh this I have to hear."

Harry decided to help Ned. He moved closer and poked Peter repeatedly on his ribs until he let go of Ned's mouth to smack Harry's hand away.

With his mouth freed, Ned was able to blurt out, "he walked into the girls bathroom!" Ned took a deep breath. "When he went to clean up, I mean."

Harry winced, feeling no small amount of second hand embarrassment on Peter's behalf.

'Although,' he mused, 'as far as traumatic memories involving girls' bathrooms, I think I come out on top.'

"It could still be worse," he tried to comfort Peter.

"How?" the sulking teenager in question asked, having dismounted Ned. He crossed his arms and gave Harry something of a peeved look that he found especially amusing.

"Well…"

Peter raised his brow expectantly.

"You could have actually shat yourself?"

If looks could kill—

"Oh by the way," Harry ignored all the warning signs and continued, "did you eat the cupcake afterwards?"

—Harry would be six feet under.

They ended up spending quite a bit of time hanging out that evening, and it proved to be a surprisingly fun experience. Ned had brought with him a Star Wars lego set that they worked on together. Harry didn't know anything about the franchise, but he thought the ship they put together in the end looked absolutely wicked. When Ned found out, he was absolutely scandalised and insisted that he and Peter educate Harry on "the amazingness that is Star Wars" as soon as possible.

After the starship was built they ordered some pizza, then Peter brought over his laptop and they spent the night watching sketch comedies until Ned had to leave. Peter followed suit soon after.

As the hours passed, Harry had just about forgotten the odd way Peter and his friend had turned up at his door. He was far more preoccupied by his own turbulent thoughts. He had to admit, it was a mercy that Peter and Ned had come by. Their company served as a welcome distraction from the day's revelations. Merlin knew he needed to feel normal for just a little bit longer.

For a few moments here and there, Harry was able to forget the weight of the day's revelations, hanging over his head by a fraying rope.

After they left, however, the rope snapped and he was forced to sit there, alone with only his thoughts for company.

Whys. Whats. Hows. Over and over again, like a broken clock sounding out the same hour.

So it went, till nearly midnight. Harry couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, plagued by thoughts of his earlier ordeal.

He had died.

Snuffed out by a single shot.

And in death, there was Death, who had told him that he was now immortal, with the potential to wield power beyond his wildest imagination. If that wasn't enough, he was then comforted by the surprisingly caring deity — or god, or personification, or whatever Death was — and sent back to the realm of the living as if his life hadn't fundamentally changed.

Harry couldn't bear it anymore and shot out of bed, moving to the living room. The curtains were drawn, letting Harry see the glow of the streetlamps, the dark windows of the apartments across the street, and the starry night sky up above. He stopped, only centimetres from the glass planes, and took in the view — mundane and perfect — for several minutes.

"Well… 'spose these should be shut," he muttered, taking a step back and pulling the curtains closed.

The room instantly darkened, lit only by the faint traces of light filtering through the fabrics of the curtains. Harry held out his hand and focused, closing his eyes out of habit.

A wisp of darkness materialised in his palm, and when it dissipated he was left with a small octahedral stone, dark and translucent, with a familiar symbol carved into it. A line within a circle within a triangle. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows.

A moment of further concentration was all it took to materialise the remaining Hallows — the Elder Wand in his other hand, and the Cloak of Invisibility wrapped around his shoulders.

With all three of Death's creations on his person, Harry could feel their power circling around him, shooting through the tiny hairs of his arms, and burrowing deep into the bones of his body. For a brief moment he could see into his soul and the doubts, digging into him like thorny vines wrapped around his throat, disappeared. Then, they were back, choking and battering Harry for answers.

He knew he was something different now.

Not human, surely. But a god? No, that didn't feel right.

Death had called him a 'Child of Death', but that didn't feel right either.

He was just Harry. But he was also becoming something much greater than himself and he just could not comprehend it.

Perhaps he didn't need to. Did it matter if he was ready to understand all of this?

At the very least, he knew his magic was a little stronger now than it had been a month ago, and stronger then than it had been the month before; steadily but slowly increasing — since that day he had united the Hallows, he realised. What other changes had they and their creator wrought?

'If I were to look into a mirror, would I recognise myself?' he wondered.

It was a silly thought, he knew he would still see the same reflection as ever, but the idea that he had changed as a person still gnawed at him. Certainly, when Death guided him into the depths of his soul, Harry felt different. For those precious few moments he had felt mighty and powerful, like something so much… more. But here, in the world of the living, he felt nothing of the sort. Harry James Potter was just an ordinary wizard in a world that was not his own.

It didn't matter though. Whatever it was Death had planned for him; whatever it was that he could become — all that mattered was this: did he want to go along with it? This path promised great power, but power for power's sake only was not something Harry had ever found compelling. If he could find a purpose, and use it for good, then maybe…

Death did say he had placed him in this world for a reason.

"It will challenge you even as it empowers you", he had said.

And what, pray tell, did that mean?

Harry let out a deep breath, shaking his head. Death's cryptic words didn't matter either right now. He just had to make a choice. Would he feign ignorance and live in denial, or would he face this new life head on?

Harry blinked in surprise, realising that he had brought the Elder Wand to rest on his chest, over his heart. Evidently his body knew what choice he would make before he himself did.

With grim determination, Harry gripped the Elder Wand tightly, pulled the Invisibility Cloak closer, and clenched his fist around the Resurrection Stone. He steeled himself for what might come, then focused on this new, seemingly divine, part of himself — a faint ember that could one day be a raging flame.

'Please. Show me what to do. I need help,' Harry pleaded, hoping for an answer — from Death, from someone, anyone. But there was no response. He was left in the silence of the night, with nought more than the sound of his heart beating heavily in his chest, pounding in an unsteady rhythm that had him nervous with anticipation.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump. Thump.

Then, suddenly, he was caught up in a strange sensation, not unlike the shifting of sand. It lasted only seconds, disappearing as quickly as it came — and with it, the Elder wand.

With the room devoid of light, Harry didn't see it happen, but he felt the weight of the wand disappear from his right hand. At first he wondered if it had simply fallen to the floor. Frantically, Harry rushed over to the wall on his right, reaching out and blindly fumbling at the light switches until the room was lit up. The wand was nowhere to be found.

"Oh for fuck's sake! This isn't what I meant," he squawked.

An attempt to summon the wand back, like he'd done so many times by now, failed. Frustrated, the wizard paced in the living room, kicking the coffee table petulantly for good measure.

'Bugger me. Now what?'

Just how was he supposed to do magic without a wand? He was a wizard for fuck's sake. It's not like he could just wave his hands and make things happen.

Harry went still.

'I was a wizard,' he realised. 'Not sure I still am.'

Frustrated, Harry moved over to the nearest sofa and slumped down.

'Bloody fucking hell, is this some sort of lesson?' he grumbled. 'Why bother telling Harry what's going to happen? No, "I'm Death and I'm just going to dump him back on Earth and leave everything as a surprise — what a lovely gift that'll be".'

Merlin. He was well pissed off now.

Harry fumed for a good few minutes, and let out some proper curses of the non-magical variety, before deciding to make the best of a bad situation.

"Lumos," he tried to cast, raising his hands and trying to mimic the flicking motion of a wand.

Unsurprisingly, there was no response.

"Lumos," he tried again, trying to dig deep and consciously draw on his magic, much like he did when trying to cast particularly difficult spells.

It still didn't work, but he felt something change — static in the air, it felt like. So he tried again, with more determination this time. He dug deeper and deeper, latched onto his magic, and then he pulled it out and pushed. Eventually, he felt something give — a small chill, a tiny warmth, a feeling of connection.

"Lumos," he tried for the third time, and not a second later Harry was whooping with delight at the flickering orb of white light floating in his palm. It didn't last for long unfortunately. The light started to flicker not ten seconds later before being extinguished.

Enthused by the brief success, Harry practiced the charm for an hour, casting it again and again.

Over the course of his practice he realised that his magic had fundamentally changed. It wasn't working at all like it was supposed to. As he got more familiar with manipulating it without a wand, Harry realised that sometimes the orb of light would form before he spoke the spell — before he even said it in his head. It was as though the magic was responding only to his will.

He wanted an orb of light in his hand, and that was what it gave him — Latin spell be damned.

With that revelation, he tried altering the spell. He pictured the orb of light in other colours, and lo and behold, it appeared in different colours. Then it was sizes, intensities, rudimentary shapes. It was honestly incredible. A whole new world of magic to explore and without any of the stuffy rules of wizarding magic. He felt so in tune with the energies circulating his body and was almost giddy at the prospect of experimenting further.

Just before he decided to call it a night, Harry tried to direct his magic to mimic another spell — this time 'Wingardium Leviosa', the levitation charm — and he could feel his magic trying, but it was weak, sluggish, and unable to do as he asked. Interestingly, he did manage to levitate a plate when using the latin incantation.

Perhaps he needed to practice with normal spells before he was familiar, or attuned, enough to no longer need them?

Merlin's beard, that would be a right pain. This wizard had better things to do than spend hours practicing every spell in his repertoire all over again.

For a mercy, the elder wand rematerialised in Harry's hand soon after he decided to stop. Evidently it was only gone for the duration of the impromptu magic lesson, and thank God — or err, Death — for that. Based on how long it took to be competent with just a light spell, Harry didn't think he'd be graduating from wand waving and Latin spells for some time yet.

An hour past midnight, Harry went back to bed, finally feeling somewhat settled. He now knew why he was in this world, and he had a goal — vague as it was.

Things were looking up.

A little earlier in the night, around ten, Peter was lounging around in his bedroom. He'd gone back home as soon as Ned left. It wasn't that late, and a day ago he woulda wanted to chill at Harry's some more, but right now he was just completely freaked out and he didn't think he could be around Harry alone without blurting something out. It was hard enough faking normalcy when he had Ned around as a buffer. Hell, he was sure Harry noticed him acting weird but thankfully he seemed to ignore it.

In the safety and comfort of his own room, Peter spent some time trying to put the pieces together. It amounted to nothing though. Realising that he was in over his head, and missing far too much information, Peter called Happy to brief him and ask for advice.

"So you're telling me you saw this guy die?" Happy tried to clarify, after hearing the story.

"Yeah."

"And then he was alive?"

"Yup."

"And you're sure it's the same guy?"

"Hundred percent."

"And you're sure he's responsible?"

"That I have no idea about, but still doesn't change the fact that he was dead and then he… wasn't."

"So what's his deal? Sure it wasn't a twin?"

"He had the same clothes and his phone on him."

"Probably not a twin then… Zombie?"

"Uh…" Peter didn't even want to know how Happy jumped from twin to zombie. "I don't think so?"

"Alien then?"

"He doesn't look like one."

"And Thor does? Don't judge an alien by its cover Peter," Happy quipped. "Anyway, I'll talk to Tony and see what he says about dead people not staying dead."

"Thanks, Happy," Peter replied, already feeling better. Surely Mr. Stark would figure it out easily enough. "So what do I do now?" he asked, not wanting to just wait around doing nothing.

"Just keep an eye on him I guess. No matter what, be careful and stay safe kid," Happy instructed sternly.

"Gotcha!" Peter said, "I'll see what I can dig up, and I'll be careful. Bye Happy!"

"Talk to ya later kid," Happy replied, hanging up before Peter could.

'What now?' Peter asked himself.

He'd already done all his homework, and it was pretty late so he should go to sleep. Unfortunately, the knowledge that his new friend was possibly some sort of threat — a threat which by the way was right next door — was not conducive to sleep.

Peter sighed. 'This is gonna be a long night.'

In an upstate facility, a tired Happy Hogan made a note to discuss the Harry Potter situation with his boss in the morning. They didn't have much to go on, but he was definitely worried. This guy was living right next to Peter.

The kid was a pain in the ass sometimes, but it was his job to watch out for him. So, this 'Harry' fucker better pray he wasn't a threat, because Happy would bring in the big guns if he had to.

Happy New Year! (Please ignore the fact that it's the end of January.)

This chapter took a while. I never realised when I started writing this fic what a picky bastard I'd end up being. I told myself that I was done editing this chapter sometime in late December, then again in early January, then again a few days ago. I was going to post this 3 hours ago, then my brain decided "oh you know what'll be fun, edit this chapter again" and I ended up essentially rewriting around 1/4 of it overall.

I'm pretty happy with the end result though, and I hope you will be too! Thank you so much for the astounding response to the last chapter! I loved reading all the reviews as they trickled in; made my studying a lot more bearable.

I can't wait to hear what you think of this one.

Cheers!