Summary: Harry never asked to be trapped in a new world filled with heroes. And he certainly never asked to be reborn as a clone of a hero. Slash.

Unbeta'd

A New Dawn

-Chapter 5-

1

In his previous lifetime, Harry had met Death on three different occasions and in three different forms.

Although, it did not happen right away. He recalls a specific day in which he had been working in his greenhouse at the back of Grimmauld Place. He had got himself a new plant – a valerian, to be exact – and was excited to place it along with the other plants he had been growing for the past two years. At the age of twenty-one, Harry had reintroduced himself to the arts of herbology and was surprisingly enjoying it now that he wasn't being forced to complete tedious tasks. It was also peaceful when comparing it to his job as an auror. Here he did not have to deal with runaway Death Eaters or annoying politicians that try to win his favour. He simply had to take care of them with the many instructions found within a herbology book he bought on a whim.

Carrying the plant pot in hand, Harry moved over to a specific plot of ground he had prepared for the valerian. He had chosen the plot of ground because of the almost desert-like dirt found. According to the herbology book, valerians don't need too much water to grow and can be perfectly raised in the desert if cared for properly. So picking up a small shovel, he begins the hard work of trying to break through the dry ground. When Harry is halfway through digging up the hole, the sudden sound of his shovel colliding against something metal rings out. Harry froze up and peered down the hole. Using his shovel once again, Harry hits the ground at the exact same spot and the sound appeared once more. It sounded close to the surface, so Harry drops the shovel and uses his hands to search for whatever object was there. He soon finds it. A ring. Harry pulled it out and brushed the dirt off the jewel connected to the ring. Harry recognised it.

The resurrection stone.

While in a state of shock, the stone disconnects from the ring and Harry's reflexes catch it before it could fall to the ground. Then at the corner of his eye, a figure appeared outside his greenhouse. Harry could not see the figure clearly as the windows in his greenhouse had a misty element to them. But Harry knew who was outside. He could make out that the figure was encased in a black cloak and his blood ran cold. He dropped the resurrection stone back into the hole and the figure vanished. Not caring for the plant, Harry rushed back into his house.

He did not leave his room for the rest of the day.

2

The second time Harry had met Death was a few months after the first incident. He had gone to the park to enjoy the unnatural sunny day and it seemed like other people had the same idea. The park was full to the brim with people enjoying the first signs of the summer sun since the dreary rainfalls that happened last week. Harry made sure to wear some sun protection as his skin would easily fry. It had been his day off from work, so he wished to enjoy himself. He chose to sit on a bench near a pond and watched young ducklings follow their mother around. He stayed watching them until the sun cream no longer protected him and he could feel his skin heating up. So he began to make his way home but was stopped as he made it to the park gates.

"Excuse me," a high-pitched voice calls out from behind him.

Harry pauses and turns at the sound. Before him was a little girl; her hair sleeked back into a high ponytail and was wearing a frilly blue dress. This made her stand out amongst the crowd as the dress was horrendous to the point Harry had to squint to comprehend the thing. The girl took no offence to his reaction. Instead, she continued to smile at him.

"Yes?" Harry had replied while wondering where the girl's parents were. "Are you lost or something?"

"Oh no," the girl said shaking her head. "It's just that you drop something."

Harry knew for a fact he dropped nothing. "I think you're mistaken."

"No, I'm not," the girl interrupted. She then stretches out her arm and resting on her palm was a stick. A wand Harry knew too well.

He thought he had left it in Dumbledore's grave, but there it was in the hands of a little girl. The Elder Wand – it called out to him to take it but Harry resisted the urge. Spinning around on his feet, Harry walked towards the park gates once again, ignoring the little girl.

"You can't keep running away," the little girl yells, annoyance in her voice. "You'll have to accept. Sooner or later."

3

Harry was sat next to his kitchen table when he had met Death for the third time. The day had started normally, and Harry had come down from his room to make some food. As he walked into the kitchen, he noticed three objects resting on the large dining table.

It was the Deathly Hallows.

Hot lava churned in the pit of Harry's stomach and filled him with rage. It took several minutes for Harry to calm down. During that time, Harry sat down next to the objects. He stared at them. Why is it so persistent? He thought as he folded his arms, the urge to touch them being too high for him to handle. Harry wanted nothing more than to throw them right out of the window, but he knew they would appear again. In what way Harry did not know. He wanted this to be over. He had enough of Death's game. So with a resisted sigh, Harry gave up. He lost and would give Death what it wanted. What else could he do? This would keep happening until Death wears him down. It succeeded. Harry was tired. He wanted this to be over.

Harry placed his hand over the resurrection stone. Death soon materialised before him. It wasn't in the form of the black ghost Harry had first seen or that of a little girl in a horrendous dress. Death wore the skin of an old man with a cane in his hand, as if too weak to stand on its legs. It beamed at Harry.

"So you accept?" Death said, walking towards the chair opposite Harry. It sat down and placed the cane on the table. Staring under wrinkled eyelids, Death awaited his answer.

Harry did not know if this was the right choice. He could not be sure of himself, but it was the only choice he seemingly had. Death would not stop.

So he nodded.

4

He died.

Knowing this makes the trip back to Mount Justice a difficult one. Harry tries his best to interact with M'gann as they walk out of the grocery store with bags of food in hand, but right now, Harry cannot stand her bright and bubbly personality. He wants to be left alone to deal with what he had been told. To mourn the loss of friends. To mourn his own death. Harry always believed that after the death of Voldemort things would get better. That he would never have to go through another tragedy. He is proven wrong. Life is never easy, Harry knows this. But why? Why him? Harry never once complained about what he has been through or wished it upon another person. He took the responsibility given to him in stride and made the best out of a terrible path he had been given. Now that life has gone along with those he loves.

He feels numb as M'gann's chatter flows through his ears and gives a strained laugh when she makes a joke. Thankfully, she does not notice his odd behaviour. Maybe Harry is used to acting as if everything is okay that no one else can tell. He has had a lot of practice in his past life. Past life – Harry is never going to get used to saying that. Not when his memories are still so fresh. Harry, in a morbid second, thinks of who must have come to his funeral. He imagines the Weasely family there along with the newly joined family member, Hermione. Her sitting down in a seat, her arms around her pregnant stomach. He thinks of Andromeda Tonks holding Teddy. Oh, how he has forgotten about Teddy. The boy loses a godfather without even realising it being as young as he is. Kingsley must have been there too to say farewell as the Minister of Magic and as a friend. Did the wizarding world grieve for his death? Ever immortalised as the boy-who-lived and the man-who-conquered? Was there even a funeral at all? This he will never know.

Death has decided to stay by Harry and trek along on their journey back to the cave. "Your friend will not be able to see me," Death tells Harry when he didn't even ask. She stands to the left of him, her dark eyes following his every movement. Harry knows why she is shadowing him. It's to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Harry wants to explode at her, yell what could he do to himself that hasn't been already done? He can feel himself breaking apart. The glue which has been holding Harry together all his life now leaving him, but Harry is able to keep himself composed. For a little while, that is.

When they all reach the cave, Harry becomes hyper-aware of his surroundings. He notices Superboy, Robin and Wally waiting for them in the kitchen. They seem to be talking about how frustrating it is to wait for their next mission. Well, Wally and Robin are talking about that while Superboy just listens. M'gann and Harry begin to take out the essential ingredients for pancakes and put the rest of the stuff away. Harry's breath becomes short as he does this but not out of exhaustion. He needs to be alone and quickly. He excuses himself from the room, aware of Superboy and Robin staring at him as he heads to the bathroom. Only Death follows.

He makes it to the bathroom just in time and locks the door. In a blink of an eye, Harry finds himself on the floor struggling to breathe. He tries to steady his breath, but nothing seems to be working. Harry's body feels too large in a world so small. A hand caresses his back and Death wraps her arms around him. He can't breathe, he tries to tell her. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. The words repeat in his head as he grasps his throat. Harry can see Death's lips moving, telling him something. But he cannot hear her. He cannot hear anything. His vision begins to fade at the corners of his eyes.

Then everything turns black.

5

It takes a while before Harry comes to his surroundings, but he is no longer in the bathroom. The room – if you could call it that – is a blinding white and Harry gaze upon the faint outlines of a train in the distance. He notices that he is sitting on a bench on the train platform. He's back at King's Cross station. The place where he had met Dumbledore when he had taken the killing curse for the second time. Did he die again?

"You didn't die," says a voice, cutting through his thoughts. It is Death and she is sat beside him with a worried expression. "I brought you here to help you calm down."

Harry says nothing in reply. What could he say? That he was grateful? He found out that he was dead and now alone in a new strange world. How could he thank her for that? When Harry chose to become the Master of Death, he thought that it would mean taking control of Death but that was wrong. It means becoming her companion. Her equal. Death did not have control over Harry just like Harry did not have control over Death. He accepted this with ease. Harry never wanted the powers of the Deathly Hallows in the first place, but Death chose him as her master for that reason. And just like always, Harry has no choice but to accept what he's given in life.

"Breathe, Harry."

But breathing does not come easy. He is still short of breath and gasping for air.

"Follow my breathing," Death tells Harry, her arms still around him.

And he does. Breathe in. He holds it for a few seconds. Breathe out. Breathe in. Hold it for a few seconds. Breathe out. He loses track of how many breathing in and breathing out he does before he is able to regain control of his body. That's how he notices his head between his legs. Death must have moved him to help. Harry sits up straight after a while, his head feeling more clear. Death's arms tighten and Harry's head is now in the nook of her neck. She is stroking his hair and whispering words of comfort. Harry wants to push her away, but he can't bring himself to. Instead, tears seep from his eyes.

It must have been at least an hour before the tears stop. Harry's throat is dry and his nose completely stuffy, but he does not move from the spot in Death's arms. He stays there, accepting the warmth she offers.

"Feeling better?" Death asked, her warm breath brushing against his hair.

"No," Harry says, his own voice hoarse. He is not okay, and he doesn't think he will ever be. His life has been turned upside down. He has lost his only family. What can he look forward to now?

"I know you're in shock, but things will be better here. In this world, I mean. No one here will know who you are, and they cannot use you without your permission. You can mourn what you've lost, but do not let that take away from what you've gained. You can have a family once more, but only if you let it happen."

"How…," Harry begins, "how did I die?"

Death sighs. "There was an accident at the ministry, in the Department of Mysteries. The remaining Death Eaters had planned an attack. You and Ron pursued them into the Death Chamber. You both attacked them, but Ron stood too close to the Vale. You didn't want a repeat of what happened last time, so you push him out of the way. A spell hit you and you fell into the void."

So he died saving Ron? Is he–?

"He is fine," Death says, sensing his next question. "He survived at the cost of your life. I found you in the Vale, your soul wandering around. I got you out, but I could not bring you back to life. Not in that world, at least. So I brought you here and placed you in a body that you can call your own. I think the trauma of dying was far too great that you wiped it from your memory."

Harry is thankful that Ron is fine. Harry will gladly die saving a friend. He had died to protect Hogwarts. In some sort of grisly humour, Harry thinks, I guess the third time's a charm.

"Before I send you back," Death utters, breaking apart from Harry, "there is something I must give you. Something which belongs only to you."

Harry looks up at her curiously. With a wave of her hand, they appear once again. The Deathly Hallows. They float before him and Harry stretches his arms to grab them. The invisibility cloak still feels soft as the day he got it. The Elder Wand warms the palm of his right hand as if greeting an old friend. The resurrection stone is heavy as he wears it on his ring finger. The Deathly Hallows tingle in union at being reunited with their master. They are at home.

"You must go back now. You cannot stay here forever."

Harry reluctantly nods, and Death sends him back.

He awakens once more and this time with Batman standing over him.

Author's note:

Hello! I hope everyone's good. Thanks for all the well wishes to do with my coursework! It means a lot. I hope this also answers your questions on whether Harry is the Master of Death and the type of relationship he has with Death herself.

Feel free to comment! I love hearing your thoughts.