Um. Hello. It's me? *dodges flaming missiles and killing curses* Ahahaha. Yeah. I think that Inner Demons is dead. Unfortunately. But if anyone wants to adopt it, I'll gladly give it away. Just PM me, and we'll work it out.

This is a new story, if you can't tell. I'm hoping you'll enjoy it :) It's a Reincarnated!Fem!Harry. Do you notice a trend here? Fem!Naruto, Fem!Harry? It's because I think there's a tendency in maga authors to make female characters weak. Not Hermione. Nor Hancock. But strongest character in HP? Harry, Dumbledore, Voldemort, Gellert Grindelwald. All male. In OP? Gol D Roger, Whitebeard, Shanks, Silvers Rayleigh, Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Ace, Sengoku, Akainu, Aokiji, Kizaru... What's the underlying pattern here? I mean, come on! That's off the top of my head. Where's the girl power? It's also notably worse in the Manga/Anime department. Hence, the Fem!Characters.

For the entire fic :

I do NOT own One Piece nor do I own Harry Potter. They are the property of Eiichiro Oda, and J.K. Rowling respectively. I merely play in their cosmic sandbox.

19-year-old witch Rose Potter blinked, opened her mouth to say something then closed it again. The scene before her…How could she describe it? It looked like something the Twins might think up for a Samhain celebration. Well, the remaining one, anyway, Rose amended.

For one, it seemed like she was back at the ghostly King's Cross Station she had briefly seen during her fight with Voldemort. Only, it was different this time around: there was no Dumbledore waiting for her there, blue eyes alight with that signature twinkle. Not only that, but instead of being made completely of vaguely transparent white stone, everything in the station –from the sturdy pillars to the two trains currently docked at the platforms- was made of some kind of dark grey stone veined with slightly glowing green. Secondly, a grandma was seated at a table smack in the middle of the platform she was standing on. The Grandma sipped peacefully at a teacup made form the same material as the station, before setting it down with a slight 'chink' on its corresponding plate. Two eyes rose to meet hers, and speared her with their intensity.

They were bright green- the green of an Avada Kedavra, the very same green that had stared back at her from the mirror for as long as she could remember.

"Well?" The Grandma asked. Her thin and reedy voice echoed slightly in the completely empty station. "Aren't you going to sit down?"

Indeed, there was a second seat directly across the Grandma, with its very own mug of tea steaming patiently away. A plate filled with a few pastries was set innocuously next to it.

Rose started forwards, manners taking control of her body and making her mechanically sit down on the offered seat. Her hands rested awkwardly on her lap until she cupped the mug between them, absently relishing the warmth that it provided. Now that she had a source of heat to compare it with, the station seemed vastly colder than before. Rose shivered and carefully took a sip of the tea after blowing to cool it down.

"So. You've died. Congratulations."

Rose choked on her tea. "What!?"

"Gyahahahahaha!" The Grandma burst out laughing. "You should have seen your face! I'm only joking. Let me introduce myself: I'm Death."

Now, Rose was sure she was being the butt of some kind of joke. There was no way Death was a shrivelled old lady wearing a decades out of style frilly dress. She hadn't survived a war to put up with this kind of thing.

"Excuse me, but is this some kind of joke?" Rose hissed. "I was in the middle of an Auror raid, and I really need to get back. My team is in a critical situation and it is a serious criminal offence to keep me here, to keep me from doing my job!"

"Relax, shorty. Your team made it out fine. You, on the other hand… Not so much. And, FYI, is that how you humans say it? FYI, I'm wearing this appearance is only for your sake. I know it looks ridiculous, but normal humans don't react well to seeing a skeleton talking to them, you know."

Rose gritted her teeth before taking a calming breath. "Look, I don't know who you are-"

"I already told you, I'm Death. La Faucheuse. The Shinigami. Thanatos. Hel. Mictecacihuatl. Whatever. If you'd met your maternal grandmother, you'd know, because what you're seeing right now, is a copy of her body. You've got her eyes, you know."

"-but I'm really not in a joking mood. I have a job, and I'm damn good at it. People are relying on me right now, and if you don't let me go, they could be in serious danger."

The Grandma, or Death as she styled herself to be, seemed to have enough of her protesting, as she stood up suddenly. A snapping of fingers later, and the wrinkled face had wavered before disappearing. In it's place, the grinning face of a skull. Its jaw clacked open and the same reedy voice filtered out.

"You believe me now, Miss Rose Juniper Potter-Evans? Geez."

Rose was glad she was seated or she might have dropped to the floor. Her anger evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, doused by genuine surprise.

"You died. Hurray, congratulations. Only, you know, you're the Mistress of Death. It means that you're my boss. Well, not really because you know what would happen if a human was the boss of a Kami-Class entity? Madness, that's what."

That couldn't be true, Rose thought. She wasn't in possession of the three Hallows anymore. The Stone was lying somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, and the Elder Wand was in pieces. She said as much to 'Death'.

"Wellll… 'Master of Death' isn't really a title that you can just abandon, you know? Especially not by snapping a measly piece of wood and throwing away a pebble. All you really needed to activate that title in earnest was a brush with Death. And lo and behold, you got hit right in the kisser by, dun dun dun: a Killing Curse. The first time around, the Horcrux in you died in your stead. Second time was the charm, if you'll pardon my pun. Brilliant, if I do say so myself! No, you've really become the Mistress of Death. That means… you get to have a few perks." Death paused and hummed pensively, before snapping its fingers in a 'aha!' gesture. " Think of it as the chocolate squares on the pillows of your hotel suite."

The Girl-Who-Lived lifted a shaking hand. "Pause. Rewind. I'm dead, I'm not coming to terms with that yet, but there's something more important. Did everyone in my team make it out okay of the raid on that Neo-Death Eater's Manor?"

The skeleton faced Granny sighed. "Yes,yes. I already told you. Apart from you, everyone got out fine. Which is why we're in this predicament. You're dead, but you're the Mistress of Death. That's kind of a conundrum, don't you think?"

Rose didn't answer. Her mind was whirling and she covered her face with her clammy hands. There was a sick feeling in her stomach, only now that she was dead, could she still throw up? Her stomach seemed to think so.

"Hey, if it helps, you're taking this better than most people. One guy, I remember, tried to fight me," Death shook his head fondly, like a parent amused by a wayward child's past antics. "Haaaa, Roger. Funny man. Do you need a little time?"

"No," Rose gritted out, focusing her mind. "You said there were perks. What are they?" the witch asked coolly, tone business-like.

Death leaned back into the overstuffed chair it was sitting in, liver spotted hands in a steeple. The empty orbits of the skull stared at her unseeingly for a while before Death spoke up again. "Well, it's like this. Normally, when you die, you get a clean slate, you know? Reincarnation, yadda yadda. According to past behaviour, yadda yadda yadda. If you're really bad, like that Voldemort fellow, you don't get reincarnated at all but you get stuck in Limbo. Now. It's when you're reborn that the perks you get come in: normally, your mind is wiped. The defining traits of your personality are there, like a vague outline of a drawing. Life lets you add details, shadows, highlights and colours to that base. You can even change the outline if you try hard enough.

You, on the other hand? I'd let you keep your memories. A few of your abilities, like magic. Give you a predisposition to earn a few more. That kind of stuff. Freebies, you catch my drift? Just cause you're a special little snowflake."

Rose nodded, deep in thought. "And if I refuse? The reincarnation?"

The entity burst out laughing. "You can't! You might be Mistress of Death, but even you can't alter the natural order of things. Death is a part of a cycle much, much, much bigger than you are. You are a speck in the grand order of thing. A bigger speck than most you may be, but still a speck."

"I suppose I don't have a choice, then. I accept. Two last things. Where, exactly, do I get to be reborn? "

"Oh… Umm. Well, the exact name of that universe is OP-954, but that doesn't tell you much, now does it? It's a world with humans, and a whole host of other creatures. It's a lot like your world, except instead of wizards there's pirates. And instead of a single Dark Lord, it's an entire Corrupt World Government. In this world, there are amazing fruits that can give you powers beyond belief, but also take away the ability to swim. To explain every single amazing thing native to this universe would take me hours, so I'll cut it short. Just know that it's one of the most entertaining universes to watch and that I'm sure you'll feel right at home, Rose."

"A different universe? Entirely? Wow," Rose gulped down her tea to quell her uneasiness. "And… Is there a possibility… I mean, a chance that I might meet someone from my old world, that's been reincarnated in the new one?"

A few people she desperately wanted to see again or meet came to mind. Her father, her mother, Sirius, Remus, Tonks…

"Meeeeh. You might. I think there's a few that crossed over to good old OP-954. This world is a big one, though, so you might end up not meeting them at all. And even if you did, they might not recognise you, mind swipe and all. Think of this new world as clean break: with no one to remember how you used to be, you have no reputation to live up to than the one you create yourself. Out with the old, in with the new, as they say hmmm?"

Pausing to let that sink in, Death observed Rose. The young girl had grown quite a lot, losing the gangly awkwardness that came with adolescence, and properly growing into her features. Lily's flaming red hair, that proud Potter nose, and of course, those signature green eyes made for a rather striking face. The lightning bolt scar of legend was displayed proudly on her forehead, as well as a multitude of others, speckling the girl's very fair skin as reminders of battles past and won. No, Rose Potter was no delicate flower. She was a warrior, and would without a doubt build herself a new home in her next life.

Rose's face was quite expressive, and Death knew when she made a relative peace with her impending future. Those eyes of hers narrowed, and her lips thinned with determination. She looked up, and stared at him without flinching. Atta girl, he thought fondly.

"How?"

A frail, bony finger pointed at the train docked at the platform they were on. Rose drained her cup and set it down before standing up. She made to leave the table, but a hand grasped her wrist, and a sting made her hiss. A swathe of cool soothed the slightly painful sensation quickly enough and she tugged her wrist free to see that a symbol had been tattooed on it.

"Really?" Rose chuckled bitterly.

"What can I say? I'm quite fond of that symbol, it has quite pizzaz," Death grinned before waving its hand at her, shooing her. "Well, off you go then."

Rose went to the train and opened one of its ancient doors. The dorr seemed to be made from wood, but she'd never seen a wood quite so black. Sparing it no thought, she entered one of the many deserted compartments. There was an uncomfortable pang of melancholy as she recognised the style of the compartment: it was identical to the compartments of the Hogwarts Express. It was there her life had started to look up. It seemed ironic it was there that she ended this life, and started another one as well. Only this time, there would be no Ron, no Hermione, no Neville, no Luna, no Dumbledore, or anyone she knew for that matter. Not even that ponce, Draco.

She sat down, and breathed out slowly, closing her eyes even as the train jerked to a start, before smoothly gliding along the tracks, the rhythmic sounds of the locomotive lulling her to sleep.

On her wrist, a circled inscribed within a triangle, the whole thing cut down the middle by a straight line, the mark of one incredible destiny and the symbol of the start of another.

Tadaaaa! Read at your leisure, and review if you can please.

Cheers,

Tetris Remix.