Author Note:

Hello and than you very much for wanting to read this story. Now, before we dive into it there are some things we must first discuss.
As you might have read in the story description, there exists a general trigger warning for anything depicted in this story. With that out of the way I am happy to bid you a warm welcome to, what I hope to be, the first story in many to spring from this little brainchild of mine.

Without further ado: Welcome to A Master of Death Saga: Lord Peverell.

Chapter One: War Is over

It was not often that the entire Potter family resided in their home, with James furthering his career as a Quidditch coach, Lily with her work as an unspeakable and Albus with his work as a curse-breaker visits like these were few and far between. It was in moments like these that he missed Ginny, his wife of nearly seventy years, she had passed just a year ago now.

Harry had grandchildren now, little Harry, Charlus, Ronald and Esmeralda, they were a delight to have around, and even they had finished Hogwarts now. It was Christmas, and just a few hours ago Esmeralda had announced that she was pregnant. Harry could hardly believe that he was going to be Great-Grandfather. In times like these he missed his friends; Hermoine, who was suffering from Dementia, Ron, who died when he was just fifty, to the hands of a dark wizard, it had been his last field duty as well. Ginny, who died of dragon pox and poor Neville, who now resided in the same ward his own parents had been in.

Albus, unlike his siblings, liked to visit his father and he did so often. It was a sobering experience to see the man you heard so much about slowly wasting away. He had talked about it with Teddy and Lily, who both also noticed the signs. No, Albus knew that Harry Potter was dying, and he also knew that the man himself was unaware yet. Albus cast his green eyes towards the humbled form of his father, sitting in the black faded recliner that had once been a permanent fixture in his old office, at Hogwarts. Albus noted the far away look in those eyes, who had once been the same shade that his own were in, but had faded thanks to heavy years.

Harry opened his eyes, expecting to see the familiar ceiling at Grimmauld place, like every morning since he retired. What he did not expect to see was the brilliant white ceilings that seemed a little too familiar. Immediately he jumped up, not noting that the action was far easier than he remembered. As he took in the sight around him, his breath hitched in his throat. He was back here, the same place he had been in his seventh year, when he was last struck with the killing curse. As Harry looked around the white pillars of Kings cross for what felt like centuries, two pairs of eyes were watching him doing so. Patiently waiting for the man to calm his raging nerves. Finally, the restless green eyes settled on their form, and the pair prepared for the torrent of questions that was surely to come in their wake.

"Professor?" Harry asked, still not noting that his voice was far stronger than the whisper it had become in his old age. Albus Dumbledore smiled, the same grandfatherly smile that had been his trademark when he had still been alive.

"What, how?" Harry asked again, stumbling back for a moment.

"It seems you passed away again, my boy." Albus said, his smile still etched on his face, yet not fully reaching his eyes.

"It had been a long time coming." Albus said next, breaking the subtle silence that had fallen over the three. Harry shot a questioning look at his old Headmaster.

"I am not sure what you mean professor?" he asked.

"You took a lot of dark magic thanks to Voldemort's little Horcrux, Harry." Albus replied, his face turning sombre. "I spent a lot of my time up here beating myself up about that little fact." Albus added, his voice soft and vulnerable. After those words the atmosphere turned silent again, the three of them just looking around.

"Who is that?" Harry asked after what seemed like hours. Albus raised an eyebrow and looked beside him, letting out a small chuckle.

"Well," The old man paused as he studied the robed figure at his side. Seemingly hitching mid sentence. "I haven't a clue, my boy." Albus said.

"Well met young master." the figure said immediately after, its voice unheard. It was as if the words were spoken, not to his ears, but directly into his mind. It was more than a little disconcerting and reminded him of the visions Voldemort tormented him with in fifth year.

"Young master?" Harry asked, his voice high. As far as he knew, he had been no-one's master since Kreacher died, adding to the fact that this figure was a little too tall to be a house elf, it made no sense within his mind. The figure did not seem to react to his question either way and continued to speak.

"It gladdens me much to see, he who united my hollows, standing before me. I have waited a long time for one to complete such a feat. Given that there were many that came close." The figure seemed to eye the aged Headmaster for a moment, but given that there was no face visible, Harry could not be sure. However, the mention of the Hallows, which he had indeed united at the end of seventh year, peaked his interest.

"Wait," Harry said, raising his arms, "So, you are, death?" he said, the question sounding much more like a statement then he intended it to.

"Yes." was all the being 'said'.

"And I am the Master over you?" Harry added.

"Yes."

"And that means, what exactly?"

"That you and I are going to spend a lot of time together." came the reply, this time combined with, what Harry believed to be, a chuckle. As if with the flick of a switch, pieces seemed to puzzle together. Harry grabbed his head as memories flooded his senses, forcing him to his knees. Images of his life flashed by, after a while being replaced by images of his life that he had never even witnessed. Harry cast his eyes towards death, Dumbledore seemingly having vanished at some moment, tears welled in his eyes as Harry closed his eyes once more.

The four children of Harry Potter had gathered together at the dining table of their fathers old house. All of them were still dressed in black robes, having just returned from the aforementioned man's funeral. It had been a quiet affair, much thanks to Lily, who had quickly shot down any notion that their father was to be buried like a war hero. The memory of Lily tearing the Minister a new one, when the man had the gall to suggest that their father was to be placed in the ministry Atrium for a period of seven days to allow the citizens of Britain to mourn their hero, still brought a smile to his lips. No, they had buried their father in the same cemetery that their Grandparents, and honorary uncles, in the crypt their father had built when he himself was their age. It had been a simple, yet beautiful, structure made from white marble, the entrance guarded by a Grimm, Wolf, Stag and Doe. The meaning of those statues had always been a secret to the four growing up, yet now, after they had gotten the whole story it had brought smiles to their faces.

"This is strange," James said, more serious than any of them had ever heard.

"What?" Lily asked, her voice still soft as tears still ran down her face. Albus himself had run out of tears hours ago, right when Hermoine, in a rare moment of lucidness, had broken down crying at the casket of her last friend, murmuring about being all alone now.

"I keep expecting dad to walk through that door," James pointed at the door, "With that toothy grin of his, laughing his ass off about how he got us all." The final words were spoken through gritted teeth as his brother visibly tried not to break down. Silence reigned over the Potters, as they contemplated those words.

"I kept watching Hagrid shake with absolute terror as he carried that casket himself." Teddy said, his face, for once, looking like the one he was born with, with the only difference being the green eyes that he had changed in honour of his Godfather. "Why did Hagrid insist on carrying the casket? I get that he is strong, but he clearly aged beyond such tasks." he added.

Lily responded with: "He asked me to, he said that he carried dad that night our Grandparents died, and again when dad died the first time." Her voice was quiet as the four of them were, once again, reminded that their father had lived a crazy life before they came along.

"I am going to miss the old man." Albus said, breaking the silence.

"We are all going to miss him." James responded.

Harry awoke again, staring into a pair of green eyes that he had only seen in the mirror before. He could not believe his eyes as he was staring into the face of Lily Potter, not looking a day older than when she had passed away. He was sure that this could not be his real mother, who's embrace he had not yet felt since the day of her passing, now many decades ago. Behind her stood the smiling face of his father, James Potter still looked like a splitting image of Harry when he himself had been younger. It was the fact that after he turned twenty-two, people stopped comparing him to James. It had only been when he met older people when he became headmaster that he found out that, just like he looked like James when he had been younger, he also looked like his Grandfather, Charlus Potter. Who stood behind his father, someone that he never met, but knew the likeness of.

Further away were the smiling forms of Remus and Sirius, two people he barely knew, yet cared so much for. Yet, it was Ron who caught his eyes last, and it gave him the most visceral reaction. He looked well, a little fuller than he remembered, next to him was Harry's wife, Ginny, who looked as radiant as he remembered her to be, before disease riddled her body. As Harry looked around, there were many people that he had lost during his life, he could spy Severus Snape near the back, Dumbledore and McGonagall next to him. There was Fred and George, and even Dobby.

However, as much as he wanted to go over to each of them, he was stopped by a hand made of the whitest bone, robbed in a cloak made of pure darkness. His new servant.

"I am afraid you cannot join them, Young Master." Death said, surprisingly it sounded remorseful when it spoke.

"Why can't I?" Harry said, struggling to keep his emotion in check. He spoke again before death could respond. "Have I not earned rest? Have I not fought, bled and died for it. Is there no rest for me in the life beyond? I always told my children that death was never something a Potter should fear, we are the ones that are supposed to greet you like an old friend. Are you truly so cruel to show me all that I have lost, everyone that I have lost along the way and then rip them away from my grasp again?" Harry screamed into the void, magical power as ancient as the being next to him coming off him in spades.

"It was merely your will to see them, thus as a servant I did your bidding, Master." The being responded.