Chapter 1 - The Present
"Harry Potter...come to die!"
Harry woke up with a start, nearly out of breath and covered in sweat.
It had been 10 years since that night and he still had nightmares. Willingly walking to his death had left its mark.
Harry looked around the massive bedroom he slept in, the bed fit for a king was feeling as empty as he did right now.
Two burning emerald orbs searched the shadows of the room. It was still before dawn and the room was dark, yet a sliver of silver light came in from the balcony windows, its curtains not entirely closed.
A ray of moonlight shot through the window, something that had been part of the extensive environmental runic arrays that made up the sky of this pocket dimension that held Peverell Castle Grounds.
He got up from his bed, scratching the scar on his right arm, where the Basilisk fang had pierced through all those years ago.
Over the last 10 years, he had grown into a man, overcoming years of malnutrition and stunted growth. He now stood close to 6'3" and after years of training, he had achieved a body like that of a swimmer and a warrior mixed. His eyesight was easily fixed with a series of magical rituals, now enhanced beyond that of a human. His reflexes and strength had been improved with some other rituals, achieving results beyond that of a normal wizard.
He had put the improved body to work over the years, finding an interest in mastering combat with the sword and wand combination. After becoming Master of Death, the knowledge of master wizards and combatants long past was easily accessible. He would train with the likes of the Knights of the Round Table with his ability to call upon souls. Bringing back Dumbledore for a bit of magical combat training was just the icing on the cake, especially when he had access to those like Merlin. Anyone legend of magic or might that had died had fed his insatiable want for more knowledge and skill. He would never be the weak and helpless boy walking to his death again.
He left his room, walking out into the brilliant moonlight on his balcony connected to the master bedroom. It made for a fantastic view that overlooked a lake reminiscent of the Hogwarts grounds. It always brought a bit of nostalgia, except that the whole valley that his manor was in was surrounded by large mountains. This wasn't a location on Earth, but rather one built within a trunk, the largest expanded space he had ever seen.
Peverell Manor was more of a castle than not, with maybe 50 square kilometers of space, housing all sorts of magical creatures and beings. Whoever had made this place, one of the Peverell brothers perhaps, had created a spatially enhanced forest within the trunk. One that continued as long as a person ventured into it like some endless treadmill of trees. He didn't even know how many creatures called this place home but had made friends with many of the more magical and social beings.
His attention was drawn to the moonlight reflecting off the lake, many meters below his balcony. Harry's eyes were focused but his attention was on memories of the past. Like a movie passing in front of his eyes, the memories of those he loved and lost flashed across his mind's eye. He wondered if he would ever not see them on nights like this.
"Chancey," he whispered.
A pop and a well-dressed house elf appeared behind him. She had a cute little dress and comfortable shoes, "Master Harries isn't sleeping?"
Harry chuckled lightly, "No, he isn't."
Chancey was aghast at such a prospect, "Chancey will bring Master Harries some tea!"
"That would be perfect, Chancey. Thank you."
Harry had a seat at the large outdoor table and kept his eyes on the Lake, casting a couple of warming charms to make himself comfortable. It was a cool night but it felt good to wrap himself in a soft blanket of magical warmth.
Chancey popped back in not 2 minutes later with steaming hot tea in his favorite mug. A specialty of the house elves here at the Peverell Castle. There was an entire garden that they maintained and a few different types of tea was one of the results of that.
It was halfway through that very same cup of tea that he was contacted by the entity that he had come to know all too well. It was strange that his nightmare had led him to the very same being in both dream and reality.
Death smiled at him, "Harry."
Harry looked into the face of his mother. No, not his real mother, just the form that Death decided she liked for some weird reason, or maybe no reason at all. He had given up trying to figure it out. He nodded his head and offered tea and a seat knowing she would never accept or have any care about it at all.
Death's smile never relented, as if it was part of how it viewed the world. The smile wasn't the creepy part though, it was the pupil-less black eyes, somehow emitting green death energy. They saw everything and yet he could never see where they were focused. It was more like he could feel her attention when it was on him.
"What can I do for you this beautiful moonlit night, Lady Death?"
Its smile grew, "You are stagnant here, Harry. Taking care of these creatures is honorable, yet it isn't worthy of your life and time."
"I make my own worth, thank you. And I hardly take care of them, just throwing an occasional meal to our local dragon hardly counts as such."
A wheezing laugh that had surely taken souls before, came out of the entity in front of him. Another strange thing was that Death never sat down. It didn't even acknowledge human customs, but usually just stood there smiling.
"I have knowledge of a place where my influence is challenged...where Hadrian Peverell would thrive."
"Thrive? Where is this place...America?" Ignoring the other name she used for him sometimes.
"Somewhere else."
"And you want me to go there and...what? Shake things up a bit?"
Another laugh. "A place where Death's touch is needed. A place where my Champion will find...things of interest," Death said, his mother's head tilting to the side.
"So, I go there and what...wipe a bunch of people out for you?"
More laughter, "Yes or no."
"So, I am your Hit Wizard now?"
"People Harry would wipe out without my will, others he would save."
Harry understood that to mean people on the level of Death Eaters and their victims, both sides of the coin. He nodded. Maybe that IS what he needed, a good fight.
"And getting there?"
"Step through my gateway, Death will guide you as needed." She often spoke in the third person, but it didn't make it any less creepy.
"Gateway...you mean the Veil in the Ministry?"
"A doorway to Death," Death agreed.
Harry sighed, "And this won't kill me?"
"You are already mine, Harry."
"You know what I mean."
"A silly question, Death's Champion fears not Death itself. You are mine."
The tattoo on his upper back tingled as it glowed in green light. When he was accepted by the Hallows, the symbol appeared on his just below the base of his neck. The items themselves sort of resided within the tattoo, like dimensional storage meant only for them. As they technically were a part of his role as Death's Champion or Master of Death, they stood as his symbol to her.
Death's patience was infinite, so making her wait while he thought about it did nothing to dampen her mood, but Harry made her wait all the same. She wasn't affected by time but had to create this avatar to interact with those that are. Death is omnipresent, it just exists, uncaring and unfathomable. He looked back to the lake where the only dragon inside his trunk was currently diving toward the surface for some pre-dawn bathing. She loved the cold water, it probably felt amazing on her old scales.
The Norwegian Ridgeback was getting up there in age, her green scales were turning into a dark turquoise with a bit of charcoal coloring on the edges. The old matronly dragon was a grouch, but she absolutely loved fresh tuna, so Harry had an in with her. She began to respect him when no matter how much fire she flung at him, it would just swirl around into a ball and disappear after sometime. He never attacked her, but only spoke respectfully, and eventually, they became respected allies that dwell within the same place.
Jormandeza, the Cerulean Scythe.
Dragons always had a thing for titles, and she refused to answer to her name without mentioning her title. He watched her pull out of the lake and her scales looked beautiful as she flew up into the night sky.
"What do I bring if I go?" He spoke to Death.
"Everything, there is no coming back."
Harry looked back at the visage of his mother, the smile and burning black and green eyes still present. He saw the truth in Death's resolve.
If he chose to go, there truly would be no coming back. He hadn't explored this world much, if at all really, though he admitted he was tired of dealing with magical society in general.
"A new adventure, then?"
"A new life."