Chapter 1: Death's Proposition

Harry James Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Dumbledore's Heir Apparent. The Man Who Conquered. Dark Wizard Hunter. The titles could go on and on. Not a single one of them mattered to Harry.

Harry reflected sadly that there were so few now that so few challenged him. That at the age of twenty-five, there was nothing left for him to truly do.

Oh sure, another dark lord might pop up again, but Harry had already shattered the base that the usual dark lords would pull from for followers. It turned out that cutting dark wizards done by the dozens could cause even the most fearless of dark lords to give in.

It was all nice and trite for a Dark Lord to rouse up some other wizards to scream for some kind of violent change. Kill the muggles. Kill the muggleborns. In one particular case in America, it had been killing the purebloods.

They all fled in terror when Harry breached their borders. Shattered their wards tore down their castles.

He was just so damn tired.

Of winning!

"Goddamnit," Harry roared, kicking the previously crowned Eastern European Dark Lord Rother's head clean off his shoulders.

He watched dispassionately as the head bounced across the floor for some distance before it rolled off into the distance.

Hermonie had said it best to him some years ago, "Harry," the pretty witch had said, "You just can't stay still. It's why you and Ginny broke up; it's why we never worked out."

"You were right 'Moine," Harry said, settling down on a plush purple armchair he had conjured, staring at the breaking dawn visible through the torn open roof."

From the instant he had stepped foot into Hogwarts, he had been running, rather, sprinting forward. He had seen a life where he could be anything he wanted, and he had taken it. In his first year, he was exceptional neigh prodigious. He had already been able to manipulate magic wandlessly, though he hadn't known that it was called magic since he was six.

After a brutal beating from Vernon Dursley, Harry had, in his anger, blasted him through a wall.

That had stopped the beatings and had started the fear. Harry hadn't understood what he had done at the time, but if the Dursleys were willing to set him up in Dudley's Second Bedroom, who was he to complain?

Every day, he worked tirelessly to create the same effect, unwilling to go back to what he had been. Scared that if the Durlseys figured out he couldn't do it at will, things would go back to the way they were.

It hadn't taken him a week before he had managed to send one of Dudley's broken toys flying. He had kept up until he needed to practice in out-of-the-way parks due to the force he could generate was even greater than sending Vernon through a wall. He hadn't realized it at the time, but he was beginning to develop the first stage of Occlumency as he consciously controlled his emotions to create the desired effects.

When he had broken into the second stage of Occlumency and touched his core a year later, he hadn't stopped smiling for a week, further disturbing his relatives. All of this with no magical training.

It was little wonder that he had been at the top of his year as far as actual magic usage. He had strained and warped his core since he was young in a way he had later discovered should have permanently magically damaged him, yet he had escaped that fate.

At eleven, he had brutalized a troll with magic, knocking its head clean off. Dumbledore had been concerned, of course, about the mental effects of him having done so and had him see a healer from Saint Mungos.

Of course, the healer from Saint Mungos had just taught him to further his occlumency by giving off the impression of a traumatized boy rather than the violent satisfaction he had gotten from killing the troll. Not in a deranged psychopath way, but more in a way he had only felt similarly when flying. The sensation of danger driving his mine rapidly to its absolute peak…

It had been beautiful.

Of course, the Healer had thought him traumatized, but Harry knew that wasn't the case. Why would he be traumatized when killing a troll was all it had taken to earn his first friend in one Hermione Granger? A girl who had seen his violent way of doing things and did not think he was a crazy, deranged psychopath and instead thought he was a good friend.

Heh, in some ways, he thought Hermoine had also been a bit abnormal.

After burning one Quirnius Quirrel to death for being a pansy possessed by Voldemort who apparently couldn't stand up to being touched by his bare hands, he had been excited to discover there was somebody after and willing to kill him and who he wanted to kill back for murdering his own parents.

Having killed his first wizard at the age of eleven, Harry knew he craved 'the danger.'

Second Year had been spent looking for what he knew to be a basilisk that avoided him like an absolute tease. Only after figuring out that Ginny Weasley had been possessed by Voldemort's diary had he been able to go find the blasted creature.

By himself, of course. There was no way he was going to share the glory of killing THE Slytherins Monster. He may have been put into Gryffindor the moment the hat touched his head, but he wasn't stupid.

It had been… disappointing. He had arrived in the chamber dressed for war: read his comfortable red Weasley sweater because he thought it would be cold and his favorite pair of trainers so that he could run, but it had all been for nothing.

The Diary had apparently possessed his friend Ron Weasely's sister, which meant he had to take things a little more cautiously. He cared about Ron, and he wasn't going to let his sister be killed by some possessed object.

The monster had appeared. He had bludgeoned it with magic, knocking it for a loop with his eyes closed, taking advantage of his ability to sense the magic that he had discovered in the early Dursley years. Dumbledore's pet phoenix had appeared with a hat, which he had been disappointed in till he saw that the hat had a wicked cool sword.

With a gesture of his wand, he had brought the sword flying into the air and impaled the creature just when it opened its mouth after a suitable battle where he had sprinted around the chamber, trying to avoid its thrashing.

The secrets of Syltherin's chamber hidden in his study to the right of the wall after his second year, had turned him onto the power of ritualistic magic.

Specifically, the rituals Slytherin had left were designed to alter the soul of the user, which would, in turn, direct the magic of the wizard to change the body.

With nothing better to do, Harry had spent all of the third year of his Hogwarts career performing the rituals with specifically prepared components completely, a total of forty-nine.

He later found out through his reading that this was an immensely stupid and dangerous thing to do, but in Harry's opinion, the results were well worth it.

His formerly scrawny body had bulked up. He had grown taller. He didn't need glasses anymore. His magic itself became far stronger and more flexible.

The only bother that year had been the stupid dementors hunting for Sirius Black. Harry didn't particularly care for the things as they made him feel unexplainably sad when he saw them. But his DADA Professor Remus Lupin that year had at least taught him the Patronus, though funnily enough, he couldn't really make it work except for a shield.

He still didn't really understand that; he was happy, wasn't he?

He had found out about Sirius Black that year, the supposed betrayer of his parents, which had ignited an odd fiery feeling in Harry, and after a stand-off with Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin, things had been resolved as it turned out Sirius Black was innocent. Which was cool, Harry though he didn't really understand why Sirius had made so many comments about living with him. He guessed it would be better than the Dursleys, so he thought it would be worthwhile.

Back to the castle they had all trouped and surrendered Peter Pettigrew to the Aurors.

Harry now had plus one godfather.

The next year had been the Triwizard Tournament, which Harry had thought seriously about attempting to enter just for the entertainment value.

He had decided not to because Sirius seemed to be concerned for some reason and Harry felt oddly bad about worrying the man, not to mention Hermonie had also loudly stated how dangerous it was directly to his face.

It was truly an illusion of choice because he had ended up being entered anyway.

Moody, the new defense against the dark arts teacher, had tried to pull him to the side to give him tips, and Hagrid had even invited him for a stroll in the forest, but Harry had taken no help.

He didn't want to spoil the surprise.

It was a good choice because they were up against Dragons! Dragons! Harry could barely contain his excitement truly disappointed he was going fourth, though the other champions didn't seem as excited as he was.

When he had come out against the Horntail, he had already known what he was going to do.

What would be cooler than to outfly a dragon!

Summoning his firebolt, a gift from Sirius the previous year, he had swooped and dived around the dragon, laughing like a maniac, though the wind swept his voice away before he had swerved between the creature's legs and taken the golden egg.

He had gotten distracted from solving the stupid egg as, for the first time in his life, Harry's hormones started to kick in.

It had made him somewhat of a mess with girls to be honest.

A fact that could not be more clear as Fleur Delacour of all people had asked him to a ball and shyly he had accepted astonishing everyone at the table.

It had been a nice night, and Fleur was surprisingly a good conversationalist who he had managed to strike a friendship with.

A friendship that had only been reaffirmed when he had rescued her sister from the Black Lake. Along with Ron.

He still wasn't sure why he had stayed behind, but afterward, he had reaffirmed to himself he was merely looking for a good fight.

He had blazed through the maze, stopping only momentarily to prevent a strangely misty-eyed Krum from attacking Fleur by sending him flying unconscious to arrive at the cup with Fleur.

Despite himself, he smiled at the other girl, and she grinned at him as they took the cup together.

That was when things went wrong.

Peter Pettigrew killed Fleur Delacour before his eyes with the killing curse. Harry had only been able to stare at her body, shocked, and then a resurrected Voldemort with Harry's own blood resummoned his Death Eaters.

Harry had gone berserk, breaking free from the grave with his magic and summoning his wand to his hand to lash with a vengeance at everything in front of him.

He had gotten a couple of Death Eaters before priori incantum locked his and Voldemort's wands.

Things just got worse from there. He had managed to escape vengeance in his heart and renewed his dedication to magic.

With the ministry fumbling in the breeze and installing Umbridge at Hogwarts his fifth year he had given in to Hermonie's demands and trained his fellow students. When he had received a burning vision of Sirius being tortured he had run to the rescue.

It hadn't been enough. Bellatrix Lestrange had killed the person who was the closest thing he had to a father figure, although Harry had never been willing to admit it.

He had lashed out against Voldemort but had fallen short, only being saved by Dumbledore.

In the sixth year, the secret of Voldemort's immortality had been discovered, and he and Dumbledore frantically searched for and found the Horcruxes, destroying them one by one. They had even had to take a trip through Gringotts to recover Helga Hufflepuff's cup. Though the Goblins had been a little upset about some of his unorthodox entry methods. They had destroyed Horcruxes until it was just Nagini, or so Harry had thought.

Voldemort had come personally to Hogwarts with his Death Eaters, and the entire school had fought back, even a number of the Slytherin.

That was when Dumbledore revealed to him Harry was also a Horcrux.

His reaction at the time he reflected had shocked the old wizard. He had shrugged his shoulders and then said, "Well, that sucks," and marched into the forest, letting Voldemort murder him.

Except that wasn't it.

Somehow, Harry had woken up and, upon doing so, was in the perfect position to destroy the rest of the Death Eaters and Voldemort at once.

He hadn't hesitated. They had never seen it coming. Though he reflected, the maniacal laughter afterward may have been a touch much.

He had finished his last year at Hogwarts with no threats and feeling emptier than he had ever felt.

Dumbledore had taken the time to harp on him about love, but Harry couldn't see the point.

What good was love?

He had left school on a personal mission to end Dark Wizards, though really Harry acknowledged internally he just didn't know what to do with himself.

The Man Who Conquered?

Hah, what a joke. What worth was there in conquering such a tasteless existence?

The air ahead of him shimmered, and a voice spoke cold and unrelenting, "Are you satisfied, my Master?"

"Oh, piss off, Death," Harry replied, exhausted, glaring at the curtain. Somehow, after a random Duel where he had beaten Dumbledore a couple of years ago and won his wand, Harry had been introduced to his most hated title.

"The Master of Death, should live a more satisfying existence," Death said.

"Oh really? Where in the rulebook does it say that?" Harry groaned.

"Nothing you do can satisfy you now," Death said, "I've told you more violence won't bring you what you seek."

"Uh huh," Harry said dryly, "I certainly thought I enjoyed kicking that guy's ass."

"Did you?" Death asked.

Harry quieted down, staring thoughtfully into the distance, "There's nothing left to do, Death. You're really my only friend now. I thought being strong would give me what I wanted. Why do I feel more empty?"

"Albus Dumbledore would say love was what made life worth living," Death said calmly.

"Love?" Harry raised an eyebrow at the space, "I don't know if I've ever felt that emotion before. I don't have a family, and there's no chance of making one now."

It was a natural consequence of being the true master of death; Harry could not have children; how could Death create life?

Death seemed to hesitate from beyond the veil, and Harry took the chance to stare at the orange sky that peaked in through the broken roof.

"There is another world you could go to," Death said, "It's a world where you're no longer the boy who lived. Instead, your twin sister is the girl who lived, after having survived Voldemort killing curse. It is a world where you died instead of her, your unconscious magic sacrificing itself for her life."

Harry paused despite himself looking at the air in interest, "My parents, are they alive?"

"Your father, James, died that night, but yes, your Mother and Sister are alive."

"Huh," Harry stared back at the sky, "You would let me go there?"

"It is within my abilities. I would reincarnate you on the day of what would have been your counterpart's eighteenth birthday on July 31st."

"Isn't that a little late?" Harry asked, confused.

"That would put you squarely in what would be the beginning of your fourth year. Magical school starts when students there are fourteen."

"Why would you do this for me?" Harry said calmly, staring into the sky.

"Albus Dumbledore would say that it is only natural to pity those who live without love. Your family in that world still suffers these many years later from your absence. Others do as well. You could save them."

Harry laughed harshly, "Save them, huh?" he said, his tone mocking, "I'm broken, Death. There is no saving one such as me. All I know is war."

"What do you have to lose?" Death asked, and to that, Harry had no reply.

Harry eyed the disturbance warily, "Fine, I was just about done here anyways,"

With a wave of his hand, another wall of the castle was demolished, and Harry could almost feel Death's dry gaze on him.

"Was that necessary?"

"One for the road, you know," said Harry.

Then the space around Harry warped, and Harry Potter's original world knew no more of him.

Instead, Harry appeared in an out-of-the-way alleyway in the all too familiar Knockturn alley.

He strolled, humming through the alleyway as if he were a normal man out on a jaunt.

Observers looking in from outside the alley were shocked when out of the alley flew a man who rolled across the ground a couple of times before he came to a stop.

Out into the actual Diagon Alley stepped Harry after the man, orienting himself a bit.

The alley looked the same as usual, and Harry was wondering if this place could really be called a separate world. He glanced at the unconscious man before lightly saying, "Sorry mate, but you go pointing that stick around so fiercely against anyone else you'll poke someone's eye out."

Harry looked around with the air of a man who was observing a rather intriguing play.

Then he sighed, "Looks way too similar."

He was a little letdown, but he walked up to a stand, grabbed a daily prophet, and was gratified to see the Quidditch World Cup was happening this summer.

The other inhabitants who had watched what happened turned away; there was no need to deal with the obviously insane Hogwarts student.

Harry patted himself down as he realized he didn't have the Elder Wand or even his phoenix feather wand.

"Oh goddamnit," Harry cursed before he spun on his heel and headed towards Ollivanders. Furthermore, he realized that he really was eighteen again, though his hair had kept its length messily falling into his eyes.

In fact, he noticed that a couple of witches were shooting him 'the look' as he had termed it.

Not that he really knew what that look meant. It was just something witches did as far as he was concerned.

He hummed to himself, strolling down the alleyway, one of the chamber music ballads that Dumbledore had shown him. The man at the time seemed to be trying to achieve something, though Harry wasn't sure what that really was.

He entered Ollivanders, walking a bit into the store before spinning instantly as he detected the man was about to emerge. It wasn't a conscious decision, but letting someone get the drop on him simply wasn't in Harry's nature.

"Hello," Garrick Ollivander said, looking at him, but the man seemed confused, "I'm sorry, young man, do I know you?"

"Uh, the name is Harry," Harry said.

Garrick quirked his lips, "Harry? I see? What can I do for you?"

"Uh," Harry looked around the store, and the other man also looked around the store before their eyes met again, "You don't happen to have any ice cream, do you?" Harry asked somewhat dryly, raising an eyebrow at the other man.

Garrick chuckled, "I suppose a man entering a wand shop would want a wand," his mystique somewhat breaking.

Harry nodded, his own mouth quirking despite himself. Garrick had ended up tortured in his previous world, something Harry did feel a little bad about.

A number of wands were tried and discarded. Both Harry and Garrick searched high and low through the store for a wand.

Harry felt a little bad about wasting the man's time as he could already feel the pull from one of the top shelves attempting to draw him in, but politely, he waited for Garrick to pick up the right wand.

Eventually, Garrick paused, "I wonder," he murmured, reaching up to the right dusty shelf, he pulled out a box.

He handed the box, looking at Harry cautiously.

Harry, on the other hand, was trying to suppress his smile as he flipped open the box and gently grasped the wand.

Warm wind stirred throughout the shop and caressed the shelves, giving celebratory twirls in the air.

"Ah," Ollivander murmured, "I had wondered when that wand would be chosen. Holly wood and a phoenix feather. Eleven inches. It is odd that it would choose you, 'Harry.'"

Oh yeah, Harry had almost forgotten that his wand was brother's with Voldemort's.

Ollivander looked at him seriously, "I would be wary of 'Harry,' the man who owns the brother to this wand was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Harry cocked a brow at the other man, "Well, the wand can't help that. I'm sure we'll do great things together."

Harry's new wand shot welcoming heat up his arm, and he grinned at it.

Harry reached into his expanded moleskin pouch and pulled out the correct amount of gold and placed it gently in Ollivanders palm.

"See you," he grinned at the man and wandered back outside again, taking a deep breath, feeling complete again. Sure, he could do a decent bit of magic without his wand, but the fine details were always easier with his wand.

He turned back up the alley, whistling cheerfully before almost instantly he stumbled into a shorter red-headed girl who was, in a word, stunningly beautiful with a slim but curvy figure who bumped off him with a small cry.

"Easy there," he said, steadying the girl.

"Than-" she stopped staring him dead in the face, "Dad?" she whispered, her voice seemingly shaking as she examined you. Slowly, she reached up a hand to Harry's face, stroking its length in awe.

"Rose!" came a cry, and Harry looked up to see a beautiful, svelte, red-headed woman walking up to them, focused on the girl in front of them, "Where did you go? You know it's safer to stay together with the reports of Grindelwald in the country."

Now that Harry thought about them both of them seemed rather familiar but he couldn't really place his finger on it.

On the other hand, Grindlewald rang a bell. Was he still at large?

Harry felt his wand heat up in the wrist holster he had placed it in.

The woman stopped in front of him, her face paling as she looked at him, "James?" she whispered.

Suddenly, she drew her wand, "Rose, step away from him," she said quickly.

Rose instantly backed away and worriedly looked between him and the woman.

"Who are you?' the woman demanded fiercely.

Harry looked at the woman nonplussed, "Uh, my name is Harry. I'm just here doing Harry things; you can put the wand down."

The woman's eyes were beginning to tear up as she glared at him, "Who the hell do you think you are wearing his face?" she whispered.

"Um, lady," Harry said calmly, "I'm not wearing any face but my own. It's not polite to point wands at people," he tried to say gently.

"Mum," Rose murmured, "Why does he look like dad?"

Harry's mind rapidly calculated everything before him before he came to the correct conclusion, "Lady, that is not my daughter."

The lady continued to glare at him, meeting his eyes directly emerald green, meeting the same shade of emerald green.

"Your eyes," the woman said softly, lowering her wand as she gazed at Harry, looking shocked.

"People say I got them from my Mother," Harry lightly joked, trying to defuse the tension; he really didn't want to fight these people for some reason; there was something strange about the magic between them.

"What is your name?" the woman murmured, staring at him.

"Didn't I just answer that?" Harry asked, nonplussed.

"Your full name," the woman yelled suddenly, "Tell me your full name."

Harry contemplated lying; he didn't really know this woman, and given that he, in fact, did seem to be in an entirely different world, he wasn't sure if saying Harry Potter would be the best idea. However, as he looked at the woman, he realized he didn't really want to lie to her.

It was a strange feeling.

"Harry Potter," he said softly.

That's when the first curse went flying.

Harry, though, was always ready for a duel.

He deflected the curse to the ground, where it erupted in a cloud of dust, obliterating the street from the sheer magical power of the curse.

Harry crossed his left hand behind his back hiding it and slimming his form while at the same time providing him a secret weapon if he decided to use wandless magic gestures.

The next curse came flying forward, and instead of deflecting it, Harry muttered the countercurse, neutralizing it.

He took a couple of hasty steps back, flicking the fingers on his free hand behind his back, dispersing the stone cloud in a second.

"Lady, please let's use our words here; people need to use this street, you know?" Harry tried to calmly talk the woman down, though that just seemed to enrage her further.

More curses came his way, and Harry neutralized them rather than deflecting them calmly, gazing at the woman who looked more and more infuriated.

Rose stepped up beside her mother, gesturing with her own wand, unleashing bolts of fire that burned toward Harry.

Energy to matter transfiguration was difficult for the average wizard. Harry was no average wizard.

With a flick of his wand, he turned the fire to butterflies even as they soared at him.

People cried out, screaming, and scattered away from them.

"Really," Harry muttered under his breath, "I love a good fight as much as the next person, but I'd at least like to know why we're fighting."

As Rose advanced, the red-headed lady started making calm sweeping motions with her wand, and Harry could taste the ozone, and a spark of blue light began to flicker around her. The woman was summoning lightning.

"Oi," Harry said, a little put-off, "No need to use lightning. That's a little dangerous, don't you think."

The woman flicked her wand at him, and a blade of blue lightning cracked across the street. Harry drew his free hand from behind his back and out into the open. He guided the lightning to his free hand just as he gestured with his wand toward the sky.

The lightning shot into the sky, and the air rumbled from its passage.

There was a multitude of cracks as Aurors emerged in red robes, a shaggy black-haired man at their lead.

He glanced widely around before his eyes landed on Harry, "Merlin's beard," he choked.

Harry was just as stunned. This was Sirius. Sirius was alive!

The other Aurors spread out, pointing their wands at Harry, and Harry felt a little offended.

"Hey," he said, directing his wand to the side, looking at the other men surrounding him, "She threw lightning at me. Why am I the one in trouble?"

"That's Lily Potter," roared a broad-shouldered Auror at him, "How dare you attack her?"

"Merlin's Beard," Harry said, echoing Siriuis, staring at the woman.

"Your father, James, died that night, but yes, your Mother and Sister are alive."

"Death, you cheeky bugger," Harry muttered, looking dryly at the mess that surrounded him.

"Put your wand on the ground and your hands in the air," roared the Auror.

Harry sighed, wanting to massage his already aching head, "As long as she," he nodded the way of the woman who was apparently his mother, "Doesn't shoot again, and none of you touch it, sure."

Harry slowly bent down and mentally apologized to his wand as he rested it on the ground in front of him.

He slowly stood up, both his hands open, to show that he meant no harm.

Sirius Black walked forward, gazing at him with the expression of someone who had been in a desert and had now been given more water than one could drink. He stopped a short distance away, seemingly warring with himself, before he spoke, "What is your name?" he asked.

Harry was starting to get really tired of that question, "Unless you have some veritaserum on you, you're not going to believe my answer," he said dryly.

Sirius looked unsure before he pulled out a vial, gesturing with his wand to float over to Harry.

Harry glanced contemplatively at the bottle before he sighed, shrugging to himself as he ran his magic over it, checking to see if it was poisonous. It wasn't. A little unfortunate; he'd love to die and be out of this situation.

Then he dropped three drops on his tongue in front of everyone.

He felt the effect take control.

"What is your name?" Sirius asked shakily.

"Harry 'bloody' Potter, Happy?" he said dryly, looking at the surrounding people.

Sirius looked like he had a Heart Attack. His Mother looked like she had a Stroke. His Sister's mouth was wide open, and her eyes were welling with tears.

Harry's heart twinged in his chest, and he winced.

A loud crack occurred, and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore appeared in a brightly colored stardust robe.

He took a step forward, looking around with an all-knowing air before he seemingly choked as he looked at you, "James?" he questioned.

Harry shot the man a glare, "Oh, not you, too."

Harry had been interrogated by the Auror department before. In fact, he had been interrogated by a great many auror departments. Out of a great deal of magnanimity, he tried not to kill Aurors when they appeared to ask him questions.

They were in an interrogation cell with a table and three chairs, one chair on one side and two on the other side.

Across from him sat a recognizable Amelia Bones next to a cute buxom auror with pink hair who was looking between them, looking slightly nervous.

They had once again administered veritaserum, this time sure it was actually working.

Harry could do nothing but dryly stare at them as Amelia Bones seemed to attempt to loom over him despite the fact he was taller than her.

"What is your name?"

"Is that some required question around here?" Harry sighed, massaging his head and feeling the chains shift around his arms with a couple of metallic chimes, "I'm Harry Potter."

"Impossible," Amelia Bones said, "Harry Potter died seventeen years ago."

"Well," Harry sighed, "Evidently not, seeing as I am here having this inane conversation with you."

Amelia Bones seemed to deflate somewhat, "The blood we took from you for testing seems to agree, but I still have questions. If you are Harry Potter, where have you been all this time."

Harry felt the cold touch of Death flow him as he spoke, not of his own volition, "I've been in the care of the Peverell family. They trained me and raised me as their heir, The last Lord of the family died recently so I was heading to Gringotts to confirm my own Lordship."

'What the hell, Death,' Harry thought dryly, 'That's your backstory; that's lame, not to mention a bit self-centered.'

All Harry felt in reply was a cold sense of smugness.

Amelia Bones seemed shocked, her eyes widening before they narrowed at her, "Did Lord Peverell fake your death that night?"

"Yes. He felt it best that the last Heir of his family be trained by him and was concerned about the influences of Gellert Grindelwald. I was taken as a safety measure. A precaution to make sure the male line of Peverell continued."

"That's kidnapping," Amelia Bones said coldly.

"You'll have to take it up with him, I'm afraid," said Harry, "That may be difficult, though, as he died just a month ago."

If the feeling from Death was smug before, it was downright cackling now.

Amelia Bones groaned, massaging her head.

Then Death spoke again through Harry, and Harry immediately wanted to strangle the concept of Death, "You look a little tired there, Madam Bones? Perhaps there's something I can do to ease it."

Harry wanted to bite his tongue in half. Death was literally flirting with the Head Auror of the ministry through him!

To Harry's disbelief, the older woman blushed, actually blushed, and looked away.

Tonks looked in disbelief between the two of them before she shook her head, getting a hold of herself.

"Madam Bones," she murmured, "This pretty much clears him."

Madam Bones sighed before looking at Harry, a blush still on her pretty face, "Administer the Antidote."

Tonks did so.

Madam Bones continued, "You've committed no crime," she said, "Would you like to press charges against Lily Potter and Rose Potter? They did attack you without cause."

"No," Harry shook his head, unable to suppress his wry grin, "I don't blame them for being shocked and assuming the worst."

"Well," Madam Bones sighed, "I suppose that means we're finished here. You're free to go, Mr. Potter, or I suppose Mr. Peverell."

Harry stood up and stretched out his back. He hated sitting for long periods of time. It was boring.

"Great," hummed Harry; he walked to the exit of the interrogation room and stepped out into the hallway.

He looked to the side just as Lily and Rose Potter emerged from next door to the interrogation room, both of them looking at him, shocked.

Actually, shocked did not quite describe it.

Rose looked horrified and, at the same time, hopeful.

Lily was gazing at him like he was exlir of life her eyes tracing over his form. Suddenly, tears burst from her eyes, and she ran up to Harry, embracing him in a rib-cracking hug.

"Harry," she cried out, tears running down her face as she pressed herself against him.

Uncomfortably, Harry noticed the mounds of soft flesh against his chest, and he tried to adjust himself a little, but Lily was not having it.

"I'm sorry," she was saying, "I'm so sorry."

Then Rose grabbed onto his arm, tightening her grasp around it and submerging his side into her developed though smaller mounds.

"Brother," Rose said softly, "You're my brother?" And she was looking at him with eyes that would shatter if Harry said anything to the contrary.

"Um yeah, Uh sorry about before," Harry said, trying to shift his arm only to press further into Rose's breasts.

Rose's face colored, blushing deeply, though she didn't let go of his arm.

"Harry," murmured Lily, and she took a deep breath, seemingly sniffing him for an odd reason, "Would you… There are some people I'd like you to meet."

"Uh, sure," Harry said a little hesitantly; he hoped these people were up to date because he really didn't want to fight anyone else.

Well, that was a lie. He loved fighting.

Fighting his family, though, felt wrong. His stomach tumbled at the thought as he realized these two people actually cared about him. He hadn't had that in…

So he walked a little awkwardly with them as Lily had embraced his left arm and Rose was desperately clutching onto his right hand with a grip so tight that Harry didn't think without his rituals his fingers would be okay.

They exited into the Ministry Atrium to be greeted by a flood of what looked like new reporters all holding cameras and quick quotes quills.

Then, a wall of noise washed over them as they began to shoot questions at them.

Harry quirked, his brow annoyed, and a bubble of silence washed over the group of them, blocking out the noise.

Lily and Rose glanced at him, surprised, but then they grabbed an arm each and pulled.

They walked, pressing through the crowd until they arrived at the fireplace.

"Black Manor," Lily said, throwing the floo powder into the fireplace, and given how large it was, they stepped through together.

They emerged into a familiar yet unrelated living room where a number of people had already gathered around. People that Harry actually recognized.

There was Sirius Black holding a tumbler of alcohol in a shaky hand. Next to him was a brown-haired woman of a similar age whispering into his ear. Also next to the man was a black-haired girl of a similar age to Harry, looking with concern at the man.

There was a much more put-together Remus Lupin standing next to a tall blonde-haired woman; together, they were in quiet discussion. Next to them, a blonde girl lackadaisically leaned back in a chair, her eyes half closed, but to Harry, she looked completely alert.

Another black-haired woman stood in the room; she was beautiful and vivacious, her eyes alight as she twirled a wand in her hand. That was Bellatrix Black, Harry realized. What was she doing here?

Bellatrix spun at their entrance to look at the group of them, and her eyes widened as she looked at Harry.

"Sirius was right," she murmured, "You look just like James."

The entire room stilled, drawing to attention, looking at all of you.

Lily spoke first, softly, "The Auror department verified if, with a blood test and veritserum, he's Harry, he's my-"

She choked, clutching onto Harry tighter with a death grip, which Harry might have minded except for the sheer warmth that came from the grip. He wasn't used to it, but he didn't dislike it.

"How?" choked Sirius, looking at Harry with wide eyes.

"I've been in the care of the Peverell family. I was heading to Gringotts to confirm my recent Lordship. That was where my Mother and Sister encountered me," Harry paused at those unfamiliar words, rolling them over in his mouth, "Apparently, Lord Peverell, my caretaker until recently, faked my death. He felt it best that the last Heir of his family be trained by him and was concerned about the influences of Gellert Grindelwald. I was taken as a safety measure. A precaution to make sure the male line of Peverell continued."

"I'll kill him," uttered Sirius, rising to his feet looking like a storm, "I'll rip that bastard to shreds."

"That will be difficult," Harry said, a gentle smile quirking his lips as he looked at the man who had been the closest thing he ever had to a father figure, "Seeing as how he is already dead."

Sirius stumbled back onto his seat.

Seeing as no one else seemed to want to talk, Harry did so himself, "So I've met you," he hummed, "Who are you people?"

Sirius spoke first, "Well, I'm Sirius Black, I was, I am your godfather, your father was one of my best friends," he gave you a strained smile.

Bellatrix spoke up next, "I'm Bellatrix Black; I am your godmother. Your mother and I were best friends at Hogwarts," she smiled at Harry in a kind fashion that did not match Harry's memories of her from his world at all.

Then Remus spoke up, "I'm Remus Lupin; I was also friends with your father," he was looking at Harry, a cross between stricken and overjoyed.

"I'm Sarah Lupin," the woman next to Remus said, "I'm Remus's wife."

The blonde-haired, lackadaisical girl eyed Harry, seemingly examining him and even sniffing the air. "I'm Celene Lupin. I'm their daughter. I'm also your sister's best friend."

The woman next to Sirius spoke, "I'm Cathryn Black, I'm Sirius's wife."

"I'm their daughter," the black-haired girl said, staring at you, her violet eyes penetrating, "Angelica Black," she said softly before looking down, seemingly with a light blush.

It might have been his imagination, but he thought he felt his sister's hand tighten vice-like around his own.

There was a long, awkward silence before Bellatrix spoke up lightly, "I think we should all head to the dining room to get to know one another."

There was a general murmur of agreement, and the group walked through the house, which Harry thought looked far better in this world than his.

Everyone sat around the table, which was loaded with food somewhat awkwardly. The adults were seemingly drinking him in, and the children were looking at him with long, interested looks.

Harry noted that both his mother and sister had refused to let anyone but themsleves sit by him.

They did, though, let go of his arms enough to feed himself, which Harry thought was a plus.

He took a bite of food and noticed that everyone was still staring at him, "This food isn't poisoned it?" Harry asked conversationally.

Sirius broke into a loud laugh and the tension of the room seemed to fade somewhat. No one seemed to notice that Harry had cast a charm on the food superstitiously just to make sure.

The food was clean, so Harry shrugged and politely tucked in. When one spends a large amount of time tracking down dark wizards, one can never be too sure. He knew a Hitwizard who went down to poison because he didn't check his food. Poor bloke.

He ate with the group of people trying to fade into the background as he watched them all interact. There was a camaraderie here, no. These people felt like they were one anothers family.

The teasing jokes. The warm smiles. The gentle care was apparent in their words.

It was something Harry reflected that he had always wanted but had long acknowledged he wouldn't get.

Authors Note: Ayo what's the pairing?

Simple.

Rose Potter

Bellatrix Black

Celene Lupin

Angelica Black

And the great thing is that's not the entire list!