For a brief moment Harry had no recollection of where he was. Looking around he saw a bright white mist and behind it, walls made of smooth stone, the glass ceiling above him twinkled with stars overhead. A singular train track ran through the centre of the room, which seemed to extend further than Harry could see, seemingly never-ending.

Then he remembered. Voldemort. The Killing Curse. "I'm dead," Harry spoke to himself with dawning comprehension. "I'm in... Heaven? Hell? Someplace in between?" Truthfully, even with the potential of his death, Harry had never considered what may happen next.

Harry spun slowly on the spot, trying to regain his bearings. Nobody was with him, the room devoid of life except for Harry, which was just as well as he realised he was as naked as the day he entered the world. As soon as Harry was aware of his nudity, the shadows themselves seemed to leap, encompassing him in a sleek and black robe.

Dumbledore's voice came from beside Harry, and Harry turned to the previously empty space. Dumbledore stood wearing robes of pure white with his eyes twinkling with life, ironic considering he was dead. "Harry, you certainly are a wonderfully brave man!" Dumbledore complimented. "Let us walk," he instructed, indicating the eternal room.

The two walked along the side of the train track. "Professor?" Harry asked after a few moments of silence. Dumbledore looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow expectantly. "I'm dead aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," Dumbledore confirmed.

"So your plan worked, I died and now Voldemort can be killed."

"Ah. I suppose that is true. One innocent life to save many innocents from evil," he admitted.

Harry nodded neutrally. "I suppose I can't even be angry. And I'm too dead for it to matter either way."

"My apologies," Dumbledore said sincerely.

Harry sighed. "So is this Heaven?" He looked at the white mist surrounding them.

"No," Dumbledore replied. "A more accurate term would be Limbo, the crossroad of life and death."

"Limbo looks like King's Cross. But cleaner with less people," Harry replied in confusion.

Dumbledore laughed merrily. "It looks different to all. Maybe King's Cross represents the crossroad of your past, continuing on your old Muggle life of normalcy or taking a chance for a new life."

The two continued to walk until they saw a creature on the ground. The abomination looked like the unholy fusion of an overgrown foetus and a corpse, its bloody form writhing on the otherwise pristine floor.

"Professor, what is that?" Harry asked, eyeing the body.

"Something beyond either of our help. A part of Voldemort sent here to die," Dumbledore replied, looking at the soul piece with pity. "I expect you now realise that you and Voldemort have been connected by something far more than mere fate and prophecy. Since that night at Godric's Hollow all those years ago."

"That's the soul in my head then? The thing that lives in my scar."

"It was, yes. That connection was severed by Voldemort himself. He destroyed the Horcrux he never intended to create."

"I have to go back, haven't I?" Harry said. The war still hadn't ended, even if Harry's life had.

"Oh, that's up to you," Dumbledore responded good naturedly.

"I've a choice?" Harry realised how little of his life was his own choice, rather than the manipulation, prophecies and choices from others.

"We're in King's Cross, for a reason," Dumbledore theorised. "I think if so decide, you'll be able to board a train." He raised a hand and train came into existence, materialising next to the pair.

"And where will it take me?" Harry looked at the train, a vibrant ruby red steam engine that looked as though it had never been used.

"Onwards. To the next great adventure."

"Voldemort has the Elder Wand though. And Nagini is still alive and its the final Horcrux."

"True." Dumbledore conceded before adding, "Although Master Longbottom has already vanquished Nagini with the Sword of Gryffindor." Dumbledore outstretched his hand and the Sword of Gryffindor appeared, its blade shining in the light, its ruby encrusted hilt glistening. "Voldemort will soon die."

"Whether I stay or go?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "And whether you stay or go, my wand is loyal to you."

Harry paused, scrutinising the man in front of him. "Your wand?"

Dumbledore smiled. His body convulsed, his robes darkened to pitch black that flowed like the cloak of a Dementor, his face tightened until it was a skull. His voice changed, now a deep and raspy tone. "Yes, the Elder Wand of my invention. You are the Master of Death. The wielder of the Elder Wand, the securer of the Resurrection Stone, and the keeper of the Invisibility Cloak." As he spoke the Hallows materialised, hovering towards Harry. The Stone cracked open, releasing its energy which merged with Harry's soul, the Cloak covered him, stretching until it encased him with invisible threads. The Sword of Gryffindor's blade separated with the Elder Wand positioning itself into the new space.

"You're Death!" Harry yelled in realisation.

"And you are my Master. I am granting you life once more. You may turn around and resume your old life, with little memory of our meeting. Or board the train and find a new life. It is your choice, Master."

Harry made his choice. Onto the next great adventure.