AN: Hello and welcome to Harry Pendragon. I would like to thank anyone who reads this story in advance. It was fun to write. I would also like to thank my Beta and friend Alpha Flash for helping me to Keep motivated and helping me in planning and plotting this story. For all the formal bits and bobs, Let it be known now that I do not own Harry Potter or the Harry Potter universe. That privilege and honor are reserved for J.K.R. With that all said, then, without further due, I give you CHAPTER 1!

Chapter 1

Harry watched as the world around him slowed to a crawl as Sirius fell backwards into the odd archway in the center of the room. He saw the look on his godfather's face and noticed the look of resignation as he fell. It was the look of someone who had accepted that he was going to die. That the world was finished with him and that he was ready to leave it.

But Harry was not ready for him to leave. He was not prepared to be left alone again. He was tired of it all. Of the darkness that plagued his life day in and day out. The darkness that had started with the Dursleys from the day he was placed on their doorstep.

Sirius had been one of the only people that had brought light to his darkened living. He was the hope of a family that he had never met. He was a light at the end of a very dark tunnel that was the Dursley home. Harry knew feeling these things for someone you had just met was odd. His longest time with Sirius was over the summer, even if that was only a month. But it had been one of the best months he had ever had.

Unlike so many people in his life, Sirius had not treated him like a child. He understood that he had been through things that no child should ever have endured. He realized that those experiences had given him both a blessing and a curse. He was blessed in not having to see the world crash down around him at an older age due to having established world views of the controversy that life brought.

However, he was cursed for that exact reason. No child should have to grow up as fast as he had. To be beaten for no reason other than existing. To be starved and hated by those that you are supposed to be able to call family. To have friends who would listen to an old man and ignore him for no good reason.

He was moving before his brain had registered what exactly he was doing. His feet started carrying him away towards Sirius as he disappeared through the veil of death. His body was there one moment and then gone in the next. He heard Remus calling his name and felt fingers barely grazing at his robes, but it was too late before he could get ahold of them, though Harry was gone. He was sprinting toward the veil in the center of the room. Both sides of the fight stopped what they were doing as they watched the boy run headlong for certain death. But Harry paid them no mind as his friends called for him to stop.

They watched Harry follow Sirius through the veil, his body disappearing just as his godfathers had. Both sides of the fighting were now in stunned silence as they stood there. Those fighting for the 'light' were shocked to see their so-called Savior disappear before their eyes. Those of the dark were more concerned about what their dark master would do to them when he found this out. Not only had the prophecy they were sent to retrieve destroyed, but his trophy was now dead. His anger could go either way.

This was the scene that Albus Dumbledore stumbled upon as he made a well-timed entrance to save Harry and his friends. Well, good time on his part. Though he would never admit it aloud, he had noticed that most of his plans for such fell somewhat short. He had been late helping Harry in his first year only to come upon the boy lying in ash. In his second year, he could not get Fawkes to bring him to the chamber. And on it went, well lay plans falling short. However, it was not for naught as the boy still seemed to see him as his Saviour.

However, this time, it did not mean anything at all. How could it be when the blasted boy was dead? Years of planning and this was how it would come down to. The only thing that utterly confused him, however, was the fact that he was dead at all. According to the prophecy, only Voldemort could kill him. So, if that was true, then how did he die?

Dumbledore, however, wasted no time thinking about it all just yet as he quickly took advantage of the lull in the fighting. He captured the death eaters and secured the students. Unfortunately, Voldemort had arrived to see what had been taking so long for his followers to return.

The ministry had found him alive by the end of a spectacular fight between them. However, it meant little in the end, as Voldemort had taken it over within a few years. Dumbledore had died at the hands of his ego, thinking himself above Voldemort. He took the secret of the Horcruxes with him to the grave only to tell Severus Snape. However, the man, seeing the way the dice were falling, chose to side entirely with Voldemort. Ultimately, the dark lord won, taking over the wizarding world and sending it into a dark age that would last many centuries. Muggles and muggle-borns alike would suffer travesties beyond any other in history as the dark lord swept over the land. One country after another slowly falling before his might. All this is due to Harry Potter trying to save his godfather.

Harry woke up lying on a black marble floor. A rug made from a black bear lay below him. He could also feel the heat of a fire heating his right side. He lay there for a long moment, trying to understand his feelings. The last thing he remembered was running into the veil after Sirius. How had he gotten here?

"Young man, while I must say that my rug is rather comfortable, do you truly plan to lay about all day?" a calm voice sounded above him.

Harry looked up, and his green eyes met a pair of Pitch-black orbs. It was not just the pupil; the man's entire eye was black. Yet Harry did not find himself panicking at the oddness. Instead, just calmness enveloped his mind. He took in the rest of the man's features. He had a longish nose and thin lips. His long black hair hung down to his shoulders, limp against his head. It was not greasy as Snapes had been, but like it was... dead. His cheeks were sunken to the point where they looked unhealthy. His pale skin was as white as milk. He wore a jet-black three-piece suit with a blood-red tie and handkerchief in the breast pocket. His black Oxford shoes shined in the light of the fire. A platinum ring adorned his right pinky finger with a large peril sitting within it. His long, bony fingers grasped a tumbler of amber whiskey.

Harry slowly got to his feet and looked around the room. It was a dark room with its floors and walls made of black marble. A large fireplace sat before two oversized high-back chairs made of deep brown leather with Mahogony feet. The studs in the leather are shiny brass. A side table made of the same mahogany sat between the two chairs, a second glass sitting on it, and a decanter of the amber liquid.

He focused upon the man once more as he came fully to his feet. He could feel the power rolling of the man and decided that it would be best to be as polite as possible. "I am so sorry, sir, but it would seem I am a bit lost. I was looking for my godfather but somehow ended up here."

The man looked at him for a long moment before he nodded. "Have a seat, Mr. Potter. You and I have much to discuss." He told him to move to the other chair. He reached over, took up the decanter, and poured the liquid into the glass. Ice cubes appeared under the liquid as he filled it up to what his uncle Vernon would call one finger. But for an average man, it would be seen as two. He gently slid the glass towards him. "I suspect you may just need this. Besides, I do not get many coming here to drink with."

Harry just took his seat, wondering what was going on exactly. "Er, thank you, sir."

"Do not say er, Mr. Potter." The man reprimanded him gently. "It passes one off to be a simpleton who is incapable of the most basic of thoughts. And we both know that you are no simpleton." He said, his black eyes bore into his own.

"Yes, sir, though many would have you believe otherwise." Harry told the man sitting up a bit. He had put up a bit of a ruse over the years. While not a genius or having perfect memory and recall, he was intelligent in his own right. However, after years of conditioning from the Dursleys, he had done his best to hide that.

The man nodded in approval. He slowly raised his glass to his thin lips and took a sip. Harry looked down at his own cup and decided it would be rude not to. He had drunk fire whisky once or twice at parties in the tower. He took a sip while bracing for the severe burn he would experience with it. However, that burn never came. Instead, it had a pleasant woody taste. A hint of a smile came to the man's lips as he saw his face. "I detest the taste of Wizards fire whiskey. They have a desire to make everything magical and give them magical properties. However, whiskey was perfect from the word go and did not need their meddling. This is a fine batch of American bourbon aged fifty years."

Harry nodded slowly. "It is better, really. It's smooth with only a little heat from the liquor compared to fire whiskey."

The man nodded his head. The two sat in silence for a brief time as they sipped their drink and enjoyed the fire. Finally, the man decided to speak. "Tell me, Harry, do you know who I am?"

Harry sat and thought for a moment and stared into the fire. Finally, he spoke softly. "I believe I do."

The man's hollow black eyes stared at him. "Then say it." He commanded.

Harry looked over to meet the man's eyes. A sense of certainty came to him. "You are the end. You are the white horseman... You are death." He stated in a soft voice. He was not afraid of death. Despite his youthful age, He felt he was coming to meet an old friend.

Death nodded his head, not taking his eyes from him. "You are correct." He stated simply. "I find myself intrigued, though, that you do not panic. Most who meet me are beside themselves in fear. Pleading to go back. Yet you do not."

Harry looked down at his glass and swirled the ice around a bit as he thought about his words. "I suppose that I'm tired of living, you could say. I'm tired of the pain."

Death nodded absentmindedly. "I can understand that, I suppose." He sipped his drink. "You know you were not meant to go into my veil? You were meant to go on for at least a few years before entering my domain."

Harry's brow scrunched a bit at his words. "I see. I am sorry if it has caused you trouble."

Death stared at him momentarily before waving his hand slightly in dismissal. "It makes no real difference in the end. One day, everyone shall enter my domain. Though with you here now, it prevents one individual from entering here." He motioned to the other corner of the room just behind Harry's chair. He looked back only to see a vile creature that looked oddly like Voldemort's homunculus form. Death watched him as he looked it over. "I see you have already come to recognize it."

Harry nodded a bit. "Is... is that Voldemort?"

Death nodded slightly. "A piece of him, at least. You see that a rich fool has committed the most heinous of crimes a mortal could ever commit. He has split his soul through vile acts."

"Like killing, you mean?" Harry asked, trying to understand.

Death shook his head, his limp hair moving side to side. "Yes and no. While murder is a perverted act and is a part of this ritual, killing is not exactly a sin. You see, murder is a sin as you do it out of malice and hate. You murder for the fun of it and just to do it. Killing, however, is not the same. Tell me, Harry, let us say that your father had killed Voldemort that day in nineteen eighty-one. Would that be murder? Would it be a vile act done out of hate and the thrill of killing?"

Harry thought for a moment. "No, I suppose not. He would have been defending me and Mum."

Death nodded and looked back into the fire. "Killing someone to defend yourself or others is not in and of itself evil. When you go out of your way to kill someone or put yourself in a position, you may end up killing someone who is evil, Harry. But we are getting into semantics here and away from our main topic. You see, with him splitting his soul, he has become immortal. This disturbs the balance of the world."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, trying to put it all together. "So, to kill him, one would need to have sought out and destroyed all of the fragments." Death nodded his head, but then another thought came to Harry. "That was in my scar, was not it... I would have had to have died anyway to kill it."

Death looked at him for a long moment. "And there are your brains coming back, I see. Again, the answer is much more than a simple yes or no. Yes, that was a piece of his soul. But you would not necessarily have had to die. It is indeed an effective way to destroy them if they are as a living creature. However, it is not the only way. For instance, you could have gone to the goblins, and they could have taken care of it. Though I believe that your headmaster had planned on you dying to destroy it."

Harry froze with his cup to his lips. He slowly looked over at Death. "Dumbledore wanted me to die?"

Death nodded his head absently. "Yes, it would appear as such. He seemed determined that he would be the one to kill Voldemort. And I suppose he could have if he were working on your behalf."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "My behalf?"

"Yes, well, there was a prophecy involving you and Voldemort that said that one could only die by the other's hand. That you already know about. It has many ways to interpret it, and that is why it is so dangerous to try and control the way a prophecy will play out. One way or another, it will be fulfilled." Death told him.

"Ah." Harry nodded a bit. "Well, I suppose they are having a rather tough time of it without me then, huh."

Death nodded his head and leaned back in his chair. "Ah, yes, and you have brought us back to the main problem. How do we deal with this mess? While part of me wants to say it is your fault, I also cannot. I can understand wishing to save your few tethers to the world. Reckless but understandable nonetheless."

Harry nodded in appreciation, knowing full well that it was, in fact, his fault. "I suppose you will be sending me back then?"

Death nodded, obviously deep in thought. "I could do that, yes. However, the question is when to send you back. I cannot just have you step through the other side of the veil. It would be too odd and raise too many questions. Neither can I have you just appear amid battle just before as you would be disoriented. Hmmm, quite the conundrum that we find ourselves in."

Harry, for his part, just sat looking at the fire. He really did not want to go back to that hell hole of a life. "Just do not make it too far back, please. I would rather not live through all of that a second time if you are to be giving my memories back or not."

Death looked at him for a long moment before nodding a bit. He got to his feet with a surprising amount of dexterity for someone who seemed so frail. "Wait here. I must talk to someone."

Before Harry could speak again, he was gone. Harry just shrugged and looked back into the fire. He could not help but wonder if they would at least let him see Sirius one more time before he went back. He had thought about speaking to his parents as he had in the graveyard but found he did not have as much of a desire. While he would have loved to have gotten to know them better, would it really have mattered? He hardly knew them at all other than from stories of them. But Sirius was the closest thing to the family had had outside of Remus. Even the Weasleys were not family to him. They seemed not to be inclined to help him over the wants and desires of Albus Dumbledore, and that irked him.

After what felt like an hour, Death returned a slight smile on his lips. He took his seat once more and sipped his drink. "Well then, Harry, I believe we have come up with an excellent way to take care of everything."

"We?" Harry asked curiously.

Death nodded. "Oh yes, my sister Fate and me. I had to go and discuss my thoughts with her, and she has agreed."

"Okay..." Harry said, now horribly confused.

"Now then, here is what is going to happen. You see, while we can send you into the short-term past of your life as it is now, that really would not allow for events to work out the way they should. After talking to her, we have found that Dumbledore's influence on your life was too much to be rectified by such a short trip back. It would take you years to fight through the bureaucratic bullshit the man has formed around you. Thus, we have come to a different conclusion. Rather than send you back to a time in the last few years, you will be going back much further and gaining a whole new life." He told him with a hint of excitement. Harry really could not blame him. He supposed that it was boring if you had lived as long as him.

"A new life?" He asked.

"Yes, indeed, a new life. You will be sent back to the time of your parents' childhood as a child yourself. Now, some things must still happen to you, as it is for your development as a person. Along with accommodating all the changes that fate has now planned for." Death told him.

"Changes?"

"Yes, you will not be the boy who lived. You shall be the boy who lives godfather and guardian at least for a few years." He told him.

"So, I am going to be the godfather of what is in a roundabout way my own self... brother... yeah, we are going with that," Harry asked.

Death shook his head. "No, not at all. First, you will not be a Potter in this timeline at all. You will not be related to either Lilly Evens or James Potter in any way. Also, not to give out any spoilers, but they will not be the parents of the boy who lived."

Harry nodded. "Well, at least they will live."

Death gave him a disturbing smile. "Oh yes, they will live indeed. Though their lives shall be different than before." He told him mysteriously. "Now then, you shall be a pureblood in this life. This is needed so that you can have the respect of the old families, not just with your family name but also due to your blood status. I understand that does not mean much to you, but it does to others, and it will help you in this world. As to your family, your mother will be from a pureblood family but not from Britain. She shall be from America, and her family is not old enough to amount to much in the British world other than acknowledging her blood status. Your father, on the other hand, is from an extremely old and powerful family. You see, you shall be the last heir of the Pendragon family."

Harry sat there, taking it all in. "Wait, Pendragon, as in...?"

Death smiled a little more. "Yes indeed. As in Arthur Pendragon, the King of Britain and the magical world. However, you do not need to worry about being king. Moreover, you shall have a lot of votes within the Wizingamot. You see, your family gave up the title of king when the government became more of a democracy. However, they still retain a powerful position within the government and could always take back the government if they see the need for it. However, you should not need to; if you study, you should be able to make it work for you."

Harry nodded. "Okay, I can agree to it."

Death nodded. "Then let it be done then. A final piece of advice, though. Things will be different in this timeline. People may not be with people that they were in your original time, and that is okay. If someone is to be there, then they will be. Just go with the flow of it all. Let things happen, and let Fate take care of the rest."

Harry nodded a bit at his words. "I'll keep it in mind."

Death reached over his hand, coming to rest over Harry. "See that you do, young man. Oh, and before I forget, you shall retain your memories."

And with a flash, Harry Potter left the domain of death. Death leaned back in his chair and smiled as he took another sip of his drink. It would be interesting to see how the boy handled his new life. Part of him regretted that he would again have to experience his presence at such an early age. However, he understood it was meant to teach him the value of life. It was a punishment for causing all of this in the first place and dying the way he did.