The inspiration for this story comes from 'A Happy Accident: 70 Years' by 'Njchrispatrick.' You should go check it out. It's cool.

When Loki was dragged from the Quinjet, Iron Man and Cap leaping out after them, a thought came to Harry. It was a thought he'd been avoiding for years, ever since the Battle of Hogwarts. There was another way he could get out of the mind control. As it stood, it was several times stronger than the Imperius, so strong that not even a crack could be formed, no matter how hard he tried. Until someone else did something, he was stuck, with his mind a slave to Loki.

But what if there was no mind to control?

There was a way he could get out of it. Just thinking about it sent shivers up his spine. Only in true desperation would Harry even consider such a thing. Now that Loki knew about Natasha knowing, though, he wasn't going to let this go on for any longer. He had to do something before the team was torn apart from the inside-out. With such a powerful enemy, in-fighting would only

The deep, festering power within him, hidden for so many years, began to stir. Harry gingerly poked at it, knowing that if he accepted it for what it truly was, there would be no going back to his relatively normal life. Well, normal for him, at least. But if he could get out from the control Loki had over him, maybe it would be worth it. He could learn how to control it and prepare himself for what he had to do. If it saved those people around, him, however indirectly, Harry would do it.

After all, he was no stranger to sacrifice.

2002

"Harry, Harry, can you hear me?" The panicked voice of Hermione broke through the haze clouding his brain like a knife through butter. "Harry! Oh my GOD, RON!" He heard frantic footsteps speeding towards him. That couldn't be right. How could he hear footsteps? He was supposed to be dead. The cutting curse...a memory of explosive pain ripping through his body, seeing his leg on the other side of the courtyard, feeling blood spilling out onto the ground. That couldn't be right. How could he hear Hermione? He was dead. Or supposedly dead.

Was this the afterlife? Was he hallucinating? Or were they dead too, all killed in battle with nothing more to hope for than their family keeping good memories? No, that couldn't be. The rough stone pavers dug into his back, little sharp bits almost cutting him. The air carried the unmistakable stench of battle, blood, sweat, tears. This was a reality. There were no questions about it. Someone must have saved him.

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except a ragged wheeze. Hermione cried out again in anguish, tears landing on his dirt-covered cheek. Harry knew if he opened his eyes, he would be met with carnage, the worst thing Wizarding Britain had seen since the Battle of Hogwarts. And here he was, lying on the ground, unable to do anything. Even trying would be a fruitless attempt. The swirling feeling of his magic, ever-present, was almost drained. He was empty like his skin was punctured to let the magic flow out. That couldn't be right.

"Harry, wake up, goddammit!"

"I'm...awake..." As he cracked his eyes open, an offensively bright light forced its way through. He squeezed them shut again. Slowly, his eyes worked their way open, only to see what he knew he would. The anguished faces of Ron and Hermione hovered in the ash-filled air. "Calm...down." Harry managed a wry smile, despite the strain it caused his muscles.

"How did you survive?"

Harry didn't reply, though there was no need to. He was busy asking himself the same question, though his answer wouldn't come until several weeks later when he was discharged from St. Mungos.

2002

Harry smiled up at the air hostess as she handed him his meal. From the look of things, it was supposed to be scrambled eggs and fruit salad. It was closer to yellow slop and plastic caricatures of fruit. Oh, if only he'd been able to take an International Portkey to the SHIELD Headquarters. He did understand the reasoning behind the decision, but it would mean he wouldn't have to eat the sorry excuse for food in front of him. No matter. He had to eat.

Harry shifted to place the food on the tray table. A sudden twinge of pain raced up his leg. He looked down at it, frowning. There...there was no reasonable explanation for what he'd gone through in the last few weeks. After the battle, he'd been rushed to St. Mungo's, sans a leg. Though the Mediwizards worked tirelessly to try and grow it back, it was too late for it. Harry had already known this. Strangely, during the night before when they were going to break the news to him, Harry's leg grew back. Like a lizard's tail, only a thousand times stranger. There was a massive scar from where it had regrown, a ring of raised tissue circling his thigh. Apart from that, there was nothing more to indicate what had happened.

Harry removed himself from the hospital as soon as possible. The last thing he wanted was to become a test subject because his leg did something stupid. Still, he wasn't complaining. After a few days, he was fully able to walk on it again without the knee giving out beneath him. It still hurt but there was a big difference between having a leg and not having one.

Just as he began tucking into the food, determined to scarf it down quickly and avoid the tasteless mush, a soft voice spoke next to him. "Hello, Harry Potter. I've waited a long time to finally meet you." Harry jumped in surprise. The eggs fell back to the plastic plate with a very audible squish.

He turned his head to look at the...person who was now sitting directly next to him. He wasn't sure where they had come from or why they were sitting next to him, as Harry was the only one in his row. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn't determine what their gender was. Their voice replayed in his head but nothing came to Harry. Somehow they looked young and old at the same time, alive and dead, male and female, happy and sad. It was like someone had put a bunch of oxymorons, contradictions and opposites into a blender and this being was the result. They were nothing and everything all at once. It made Harry feel strangely small, though at the same time he felt like he could control the universe. What the Hell...

"Um, hi. You have been?" Harry tried not to stare at them, instead deciding to take a drink of water to ease the tension.

"Of course. You are my potential master, after all."

Harry spluttered, spitting water out onto the seat in front of him. "What the fuck? Who do you think you are?"

They didn't reply. Instead, the woman who was sitting in front of Harry turned around. Her face was twisted into an almighty glare. "Watch your language, young man. I don't know who you think you're talking to, but some people don't appreciate those words." She turned back around, before swivelling back. "Who are you talking to, anyway?" She stuck her head forward, wedging it in the small gap between the seats, smiling expectantly.

"No one, I'm talking to no one." Harry pointedly ignored the person beside him who was cracking up, their bellowing guffaws almost causing his ears to ring. He grimaced in annoyance.

"Oh, you have to be talking to someone, dear. No one gets that mad at no one."

"Well, maybe I do. And maybe I want to be left alone." He gave her a pointed look. She seemed unfazed. "Please, just leave me alone. I'm trying to eat my breakfast."

"Do you want to talk about another topic? Well, you kind of look like my son's poster of Captain America."

Harry groaned. He knew he should have used his glamour. This was the last thing he needed right now. "I don't want to talk about it. Leave. Me. the fuck alone."

"Fine. But don't use that language again, okay?" She turned back around, though Harry knew she was keenly listening in to see what would happen. It seemed he had found the dictionary definition of 'nosy parker.' A few years ago, his temper would have snapped. He was able to keep it in check now, thanks to his almost year-long tenure as a SHIELD Agent Trainee. They weren't kidding when they said he would get no special treatment.

Harry turned to the person sitting next to him, discreetly casting the muffliato and notice-me-not charms so the nosy woman in front wouldn't be able to hear their conversation because apparently, the person was invisible to everyone but him. Instead of cursing his luck, Harry found himself being intrigued. Who (or what) was this strange being who could only be seen by him? The remark about being their 'potential master' did disturb him, but there had to be a reason behind it. They were magical, given that they knew who he was and the way they looked at him with what appeared to reverence. The thing was, after beginning his work at SHIELD, Harry was introduced to several different branches of magic, sorcery and supernatural powers. This being could be from any one of those, and he was determined to find out which one it was.

"Alright, let's forget the potential master stuff and start again." The person nodded sagely, reminding Harry of a wizened turnip. "Who are you? Do you have a name?"

They paused for a second, considering something, then spoke. "I have many names I choose to go by. Some days it's one, other days another. I'm not one to stay with the same name for a long time. It's boring when you're as old as I am. At the moment, I like the sound of Eira. That works for now. Quite pretty, isn't it? The name means 'snow.'"

"Okay, Eira." Bemusement filled Harry. This Eira was a peculiar person, wasn't she? "Why have you found me?"

"Finally, an interesting question. Well, not necessarily interesting, but one that I enjoy answering no matter how many times I have to do it." Eira's smile grew two times bigger, so big it almost split their face in half. "The Hallows."

All of the air rushed out of Harry's lungs. "What did you say."

"The Deathly Hallows, Harry. Don't you remember?"

"How could I forget?"

"You couldn't, Harry. It isn't in your personality or mind to just forget doing something so momentous as uniting the Deathly Hallows."

"Well, I want to forget."

"That isn't on the table, you know that. The Hallows don't want to be forgotten, and neither do I."

"Yeah, and what do you have to do with the Hallows?" Harry cast his gaze to the window, staring out at the clouds sitting peacefully in the clouds.

"Tell me, do you remember what is foretold to happen when you unite the Hallows together? In the 'fairy tale,' at least." Harry could hear the apostrophe's around the words. "Do you remember the burden that is meant to fall on the shoulders of the Uniter? The power they're supposed to gain?"

"What, the power of the 'Master of Death?'" Harry spat. "Yeah, that's nothing but a legend. If you're playing at being Death, you're doing a piss poor job of it."

"I'm hurt! I'm wounded! Someone call the doctor, Harry, I'm dying!" Eira dissolved into a cackling fit. "Your leg. How do you think that happened? Or were you just going to ignore the questions swirling around in your mind? I know they're there, I can hear them. 'How? Why? What? Why me again?' They're all there, Harry. They're all there."

"I know they're there. I choose to ignore them. It was some freak accident, that's all."

Eira sighed. "Stubborn, aren't we? Well, I guess I'll just have to change that, won't I?" Harry raised an eyebrow, having given up looking at the clouds when they turned a dark, stormy grey. "Look in your bag. The one with the Invisibility Cloak."

"Fine. If it will appease you, I will." Harry dug under his seat and retrieved the bag, rifling through it to grab out the invisibility cloak. It was disguised as a regular blanket to other people, a handy charm he found in an ancient tome in Diagon Alley. As he pulled it out, two items fell onto his lap, sizzling and crackling with pure magical power. His eyes widened. "What is this shit?"

"This is me being a little bitch, as you would put it, Harry. I needed some time to consider when I was going to show you the power you gained when you united the Hallows. The fight in Doncaster was the perfect opportunity. Sure, you'd been in semi-threatening fights before but this was the one to...warm you up to the mantle you must take up."

"And just what does this mantle entail?" Harry whispered, beginning to realise that this wasn't something that would go away any time soon. "Tell me."

"That's more like it." Eira cracked their knuckles, then their neck. "As the Master of Death, you cannot die for some time and must take a degree of control over the flow of life and death between the two planes. I guess I will report to you, though I will be taking the opportunity for a break. I've been doing this for thousands of years, ever since I last united the Hallows. Honestly, it gets exhausting after a long time. They whine so much." They tapered off, realising that they weren't doing the best job at convincing Harry to take up the offer.

"So, you're essentially Death?" He held off on the other question trying to force their way out of his mouth. "And how come you've been doing this for thousands of years? Last time I checked the Hallows weren't that old."

"No. I am not Death. And the Hallows are just the current iteration of these objects. They've been around since the dawn of time."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. Now that Eira said that it was the current iteration...that made a lot of sense. "Then...what are you?"

Eira huffed. "Death is a thing, not a person. As it stands, I am the current 'Master of Death,' though that is a very fancy title. Makes me feel all lofty. All it means is that I help some dead people pass over to the afterlife and can occasionally talk to them. I can't die, but that's cool. I've seen so many things and been so many places. The job doesn't consume all of my time. It's quite leisurely."

"If it's leisurely, then why do you want me to take up the mantle?"

"I just want a break, is all. Plus, ever since you united the Hallows I've ticklish."

"What?"

"Ticklish. Or itchy. Both work. There's been a little itch at the back of my neck. Five years, Harry. Do you know how annoying that is?"

"Very, I know." He glanced down at the Hallows, resting innocently in his lap. "Suppose I did accept the mantle. What perks would come with it? And what's up with the healing?"

"Oh, the healing. That's for when you don't know how to use the powers or are coming into them. It means that you can't die. Do you lose a lot of blood? Fall asleep and it will come back. Honestly, the rules around it are rather murky. Later on, you will learn to harness them better. The other perks include international Disapparition and being able to get answers from dead people for feuds." Eira gave Harry the jazz hands.

"That sounds miserable."

"No, it's quite fun. It isn't lonely, either, before you ask."

"And how would I accept these powers?"

"Oh, you have to expel all your magic from your body and die while accepting the power of the Hallows. They can be anywhere and will come to you after you do that. You do get your magic back when you wake up, it's changed, though."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, that's the unpleasant bit. It's fast, though. And then you get to talk to someone. That's cool. I talked to my sister who died a few years before I united the Hallows."

"I...I can't do that. I have a family. I don't want to outlive them."

"It isn't that bad, Harry."

"The fact that you have to convince me says a lot more than you're willing too. I'm happy where I am. I finally have a family. They may not be biological, but I count them as family nonetheless. I'm not ready to give that up."

"Harry, you have to understand!"

"Understand what? What is there to understand? You've been doing this for thousands of years, what's a few more? I don't want to do this. You need to leave me in peace."

"But the itch."

Harry didn't reply. Instead, he grabbed the repaired Elder Wand and snapped it in half. The two halves fizzled and sparked, making popping noises, before it died out altogether. "I. Don't. Want. It. How hard is it for you to understand that? I like my life right now. I've finally found something I'm good at and like doing. Can't you give me that." He tossed the remains of the Elder Wand towards a flabbergasted Eira. "There, take this. I don't want it now and won't ever in the future."

"You've got to reconsider!"

"No."

2012

So it seemed that Harry was considering taking up the mantle that Eira so dearly wanted him to. Over the last decade, he'd suppressed the power that sparked every time he thought of the Hallows. He was fine with one, the Invisibility Cloak. Never in a million years would he let it go. The others he held no sentiment towards. He cared so little that he wouldn't mind (in fact, he would be quite happy) if they went to die in a fire. Not that it was likely to work on the age-old all-powerful artefacts. Destroying things like that never worked unless you treated it like a Horcrux. As much as Harry hated the cursed soul containers, the Hallows could easily be avoided if they stayed with Eira. Not that they would be with her for long.

If he was going to do it, he would have to figure out how to...well, die, before Loki was able to stop him. The power within him should be enough to hold of Loki's attacks for a short amount of him. An extremely short amount of time. He could already feel the command creeping up to him, preparing to immobilise his thoughts and control of his magic. That wouldn't be happening.

With a great cry, Harry finally let the power that was inside of him loose.

Sparks immediately began to fly through the white void that was his controlled mindscape, sickly yellow, festering green and a deep, deep black, so deep that light seemed to be sucked into it. A blazing fire began licking at his arms, burning them to a crisp, but when he looked down he was unscathed. The pain was so bad it felt like one-thousand white-hot knives were trying to tear him apart from the inside-out, cutting his organs into ribbons. Someone was screaming, and it took him a long time to realise that it was his scream that sounded. Something was trying to escape, something burning hot, exiting any way it could. It oozed out through his pores, streamed out of his mouth, poured down out of his nose and ears. It was golden, it was familiar, it was...magic.

His magic.

He hadn't felt this empty since the battle at Doncaster in 2002. This couldn't be right. He had to be doing this wrong. The thoughts were pushed out of his head as the pain increased tenfold, like an orchestra reaching crescendo, before everything cut out.

Nothing.

Just blackness and Harry's corpse laying on the white blankness of his already rotting mindscape.

Loki knew the second the connection had been severed. There was a strange power surge, then nothing. He was left wondering what in Odin's name Potter had done to get free of the Mind Stone. Getting free of it was impossible unless the person was dead. That couldn't happen, though. The man wouldn't be crazy enough.

Would he?

Natasha stayed in the jet, keeping in contact with Tony and Steve. Nothing was happening, when suddenly Harry started sparking, screaming and convulsing, a golden mist that made her feel incredibly light spewing out of his body. This continued for ten seconds before he fell limp, like a puppet with the strings cut.

A blinding light shone through Harry's eyelids. They were illuminated a bright red, veins crisscrossing in every direction. His body was stiff, joints creaking every time he moved.

"Harry?" a woman whispered.

"It can't be. Not this early." This time a male voice, petrified.

"Harry!"

He peeled his eyes open. Surprisingly the light didn't pierce into his eyeballs. It was now a gentle, comforting glow. Similar to the mindscape, but completely different. Kings Cross Station, when he'd stepped in front of the Killing Curse during the Battle of Hogwarts, was the first thing that came to mind. At the thought, the room began forming into something else. He was surprised to see that it was the gym where he properly met Steve for the first time. It did make sense. A lot of shared time was spent in that room, along with good memories that would last Harry a lifetime. Several now, seeing what he'd just done. The thought of the number of years ahead of him was dizzying. They loomed up in the sky like an imposing mountain range, impossibly vast and never-ending.

"Harry is that you?"

He swivelled around and was met with a sight he never thought he would see. Standing in front of him were two young adults, barely into their twenties. He recognised them immediately and felt his heart swell. Maybe Eira (or whatever their name was now) was right. Perhaps it was all worth it, the everlasting life, just to see his parents standing in front of him as more than ghostly spectres.

"Mum, Dad," he breathed, rushing forward and falling into their embrace. "You're here."

"And you shouldn't be, baby," Lily said, choking on her tears. "You're so young. Why did you have to die?"

"Harry, we're here. That's all that matters."

"I'm not staying," Harry sobbed, tears coming out full force. "I'm going back. The Hallows...I united them. I don't have long."

"So you're not dead?" Lily tightened her grip around her son, James doing the same. "Thank Merlin."

"I am dead. I'm just going back."

"Shhhh, son. We don't need to talk. Stay here with us. Just for now, let us be together."

And like that they stayed, clutching each other close. James and Lily didn't ask about his changed appearance nor about Steve. They accepted him fully.

And though Harry knew that sometime soon he would have to leave the comfort of his parent's arms, right now he was content to stay right where he was and soak in the love and affection that he should have received during his childhood.

For right now, things were good.

Well, I'm back, with a longer chapter. It was originally meant to be one chapter, but it would have turned out far too long. Part two of this 'Master of Death' arc should be coming out in a few days, as well as wrapping up the first Avengers movie arc. I will be taking a lot of time to improve the coherency and pacing of this story, as I know it is all over the place. I started off with no plan, so I'm kind of flying blind. Not anymore! I SHALL CREATE THE BEST PLAN!

I hope you enjoyed this. I know it may have come out of nowhere, but trust me, it is important to the arc that encapsulates Infinity War and Endgame. Look at me, setting things up a lot of chapters before they happen. Aren't I a smart cookie?

I didn't get enough sleep last night, heheh.

If you're going to leave a negative review, please make it constructive. That would be greatly appreciated. I don't like flames. They suck.

Sincerely,
Mariadoria