Death's Choice

By Ammie Hawk

Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form own either Harry Potter or Star Wars.

Summary: In the final battle against Voldemort, Harry chose not to go back. Death decides to give his favorite a fresh start instead and sends him to a galaxy far, far away. Trapped in a much younger body, Harry finds himself on the cusp of another war, but this time he has something he never had before: Family.

AN: So, I have never done anything with the Star Wars fandom before, so please try to bear with me. This story will loosely follow canon starting during Attack of the Clones and onward. So anything that doesn't line up is intentional, and I reserve the right to take artistic license with certain aspects that pertain to this particular story. So, please bear with me and hopefully enjoy the ride.

Prologue: Death's Choice: Harry

The creature behind them jerked and moaned and Harry and Dumbledore sat without talking for the longest time yet. The realization of what would happen next settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes, like softly falling snow.

"I've got to go back, haven't I?"

"That is up to you."

"I've got a choice?"

"Oh yes." Dumbledore smiled at him. "We are in King's Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to… let's say… board a train."

"And where would it take me?"

"On," said Dumbledore simply.

Silence again.

"But you want me to go back?"

"Stop," a new voice echoed through the space around them.

A figure emerged right in front of them, seeming to come from the very fabric of the air itself. It took him a moment to realize that it had removed a cloak, which up to that point had concealed their presence. That realization paled, however, in the overwhelming presence of the being now standing before them. It seemed to be made of both shadow and light, everything and nothing, and everything in between.

"Your task is done," it waved a hand in Dumbledore's direction and the old man disappeared.

The being took the newly vacated seat but did not turn to face Harry. The wizard couldn't help the shiver that went through him. Not of fear, but of something more deep and profound.

"You're Death," he said quietly, almost reverently.

"Yes," Death agreed. "Before we begin, let's get rid of that, shall we?" a hand rose and waved at the withered and writhing creature, which dissolved into a black mist, almost like smoke, before disappearing completely. "A choice lies before you, Harry, to go back," a wave of its hand produced a door, right at the edge of the platform, "or to go on," another wave and a train, unlike anything he had ever seen before, pulled up right beside the door.

"But…" he hesitated slightly, "why did you send Dumbledore away?"

"He was only here to explain the Hallows and how you were the only one worth of claiming the title Master of Death. This, just like the Peveralls before you, is your reward."

"But that was just a trap," he shook his head. "You created the Hallows to trick them into their deaths."

Death laughed, a sound both grating and beautifully melodic at the same time, "That is true. This, however, is not the same. This is truly a reward. You may go back to the life you had," it indicated the door. "An offer I have not made before, and am unlikely to make again. Or you may go on," he motioned to the train.

"What about the Hallows?" he swallowed nervously.

"This is the only concession I will give you, Harry. This choice is yours and yours alone, I do not want you influenced by any outside force, even myself. As for the Hallows, should you return, they will be yours, and everything that goes with them. Should you move on, all but the cloak will return to me. The cloak will find its way into the hands of a deserving individual."

"And what about Vol—"

"I gave you the one," Death held up its hand. "It is time to make your choice."

Silence settled over them. Harry sat there, unsure of what to do. He knew this was an important decision, one he couldn't take lightly, and apparently, he wouldn't be getting any help or advice on it either.

He felt a bit lost, but strangely grounded. This choice was huge, but it felt like it was the first real one he'd ever had. All his choices up to this point, he could admit, if only to himself, had been made for him, or manipulated so he made the choice someone else wanted. Now, for the first time in his life, it was solely up to him, and it was about his death.

With that thought, he leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. It was time to actually think about the options in front of him.

On the one hand, he could go back, make sure Voldemort was dead, and the Wizarding World was free. It was what he was supposed to do, was prophesized to do. But he knew, in his heart, that he'd be going back to more of the same. Sure, he'd have his friends and a future, possibly even a family, ahead of him, but no real choice. If he walked through that door, it would be the first and last real choice he would ever have. His career, whether he had a family or not, everything would be laced with high expectation and if he failed to live up to them… Well, he had seen what had happened in his fifth year.

On the other hand, he could board the train and move on. That choice held freedom. No expectations. It also held his family. The people who loved him for him, not what he could do for them.

He felt Death shift slightly beside him and knew his time was running short, he had to make his choice. He could go back to his friends and a future of basic servitude to The Greater Good, or he could move on with his family and the freedom it provided him. The truth was, he already knew what he wanted. True, his choice would make his friends sad, but they would move on eventually, everyone did. And besides, didn't Dumbledore tell him once that, what was it? to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. And honestly, that sounded much better to him than going back and stagnating.

"Okay," he let out a shaky breath. "I've made up my mind."

"And what have you decided?"

"I choose to move on," he closed his eyes, a sense of peace filling him as he said it out loud. "I made that choice when I walked into the forest."

"Very well," Death nodded, motioning to the train.

Harry pushed to his feet and made his way forward. He noted that the other door had not disappeared, which meant he could still change his mind. When he finally reached the train and had lifted his foot to board, Death's voice gave him pause.

"Just so you know, Harry, neither choice would have affected the outcome of today."

"What do you mean?" he cocked his head curiously.

"Either choice would have had Voldemort dead by the end of the day."

"Thank you," he bowed his head in gratitude.

"No need to thank me," Death chuckled. "Your actions brought about this end, not mine. Now go, your next journey awaits."

He gave a small smile as he fully entered the train, the door sliding closed behind him. As he took a seat across from the door, his eyes slipped closed. He was at peace and he'd finally get to see his family.

On the platform, Death eyed the train as the door closed behind the teen. For half a moment, they had thought he might change his mind and choose to go back, but he hadn't. They knew the boy wasn't suicidal, and while he hadn't taken as much time as Death had anticipated, he had weighed his choices carefully. Knowing this, Death made their choice.

Death waited while Harry seemed to settle on the train, and felt him slip into unconsciousness. Well, that was helpful. With a wave of their hand, they set to work. The boy, his one and only true master, would get what he always wanted, maybe in not quite the way he expected.

As they concentrated, the boy's body began to regress in age. With another flick of their wrist, a barrier settled over his mind. No point in going to all this trouble if the child wasn't going to appreciate his efforts. Once that was all completed, they sent the train on its way. It wasn't going to Harry's death, not at this time, but it was going where he wanted, to a family that would appreciate him.

When the train was out of visual, Death held out their hand and waited. It took but a moment for the Elder wand and the resurrection stone to appear in their outstretched palm. They extended their awareness for but a moment to locate the Invisibility Cloak, and were pleased when the blonde girl that was young Harry's friend picked it up. As they had said, a deserving individual would possess the Cloak, and they were sure their Master would be pleased by the development. However, with the wand and the stone back in their possession, no one else could ever claim the title of Master of Death again.