Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Edits 6/29/20 – Made some grammatical and punctuation edits. I am about to start on Chapter 2 and have finished planning 6 chapters of this fanfiction. Expect an update this week!

Chapter one – Death, Prophecies, Scars and Number 7

AVADA KEDAVRA!

Sickly green light of the unforgivable blanketed his vision and then darkness. No longer could he hear the rustling of the trees in the Forbidden Forest, nor could feel the breaths of anticipation or trepidation from the Death Eaters. He, for the first time, felt blessed nothing. No fears nor sorrow towards the fact that he had to lay his life down. No joy at the fact that he might be reuniting with his parents. Just nothing. And then there was light.

He opened his eyes to a vista covered in white. He is currently laying on the floor without a stich of clothing on him. Neither did he feel the familiar weight of his glasses. Then again, his vision is not blurry like is usually is without glasses, no it is as if he gained perfect vision overnight. He got up to his feet and looked for any indication as to where he was. He saw a door to his right and posted on the door was a note.

Think of some clothes to wear and they shall appear, obviously you do not want to be butt naked with your meeting with Death.

Love,

Monsieur Death

Death. That's right, I just ate a killing curse to my face again, not that I remember much of the first time other than my mother's pleading. He imagined a simple pair of black socks, trainers, and blue jeans with a grey t-shirt. Quickly donning his chosen apparel, he made his way to the door. Opening it, he was taken aback by the sight in front of him.

Currently, he is standing in a luxury apartment, likes of which he has not seen before. The décor is tastefully decorated, the furniture, wallpaper, and other knickknacks none of which seems out of place. That was not what caught Harry Potter off guard. No. What he is currently gaping at is the man wearing grey sweatpants, green t-shirt with the words "I am Death" displayed across the torso of his t-shirt yelling at the TV.

"Stupid ICC, why the fuck can't the match be a draw! IT WAS A LOW SCORING MATCH WITH EXCITEMENT FROM BOTH SIDES WHICH WENT TO A DRAW. AND BY THE WAY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT OVERTHROW CALL BY THE UMPIRE. MADNESS, I TELL YOU! AND THEN- "

"Umm Mr. Death?"

"SON OF A SUPERNOVA! I AM ON A GOOD RANT SO SHUSH! Anyways where was I. AH YES AND AFTER THAT PIECE OF SHIT UMPIRING, IT CAME TO A DRAW AND THEN AFTER A SUPER OVER, WHICH ALSO WENT TO A DRAW. YOU WOULD THINK - and by the way both teams played well, despite me pulling for the Kiwis you know and Ben Stokes what a guy I say, must make some deathly promotions when lads make it here! - YOU WOULD THINK THEY WOULD SAY FUCK IT, IT'S A DRAW. BUT NOOOOOO LETS GIVE THE FUCKING WORLD CUP TO THE TEAM WITH MORE BOUNDARIES! BOUNDARIES I TELL YOU!"

"Uhm Mr. Death sir? I have – "

The man known as death whirled around to see Harry Potter fidgeting away at his front door. With a sheepish smile he exclaimed "Ah, Mr. Potter! Welcome to my humble abode. I am Monsieur Death. And yes, my first name is Monsieur. Don't know why though. I think The Big Bang did for shits and giggles if you ask me."

While sanctimoniously nodding to himself, he snapped his fingers and instantly changed to a black three-piece suit, with an emerald tie and black shoes. "Much better! I will be remiss of my station if I do not present myself properly. Proper workplace and all that jazz. Not a word to my wife Fate though, she will make me sleep in the couch for next 1000 years. Yessir!"

Uhh I just saw you yelling at a television about some cricket match in your sweatpants!

He took a closer look at death. Tanned skin, black hair, and blue eyes and seemingly a tall man with seemingly broad shoulders and think arms. His defined and high cheek bones combined with his other features screams of a man of power and influence. He looks like the man every man wants to be.

"Apologies for that unsightly outburst, that was the 2019 Cricket World Cup Finals. You see when you are immortal, you get to watch all the cricket you want. I mean a Test match can go on for 5 days, I can only play Pokémon games so many times. Okay Harry Potter, my new source of entertain- correction new charge! Follow me to my study please."

And with that, while whistling a jaunty tune, the entity known as Death made his way into his study. It took a few seconds for Harry Potter to register that Death was skipping away. He followed him, while still bewildered by the turn of events. Death reached the door and held it open for Harry to enter. Harry entered the room, still very much caught off guard. Seating himself at the comfortable chair behind his desk, he motioned towards the empty chair in front of him. Harry sat on the chair and stared blankly.

Death noticed the blank look on his face. Good, the little skit I did shocked him good. A bit of a blank slate would help him make a more objective decision. A warm smile crept up to his face. He remained silent for a few minutes, and then he started, "You have lived a very difficult life Harry. I cannot tell you how glad I am that you turned out to be such a fantastic young man. Any other human being would have succumbed to their inner demons and would have gone down a destructive path. Yet you preserved, for that, well done Harry."

He maintained his smile as he observed the changes in Harry's body. His body seemed to sag in relief and a small smile worked its way to his face. His face tinted with a pink flush, clearly not an individual used to honest praise.

After a few moments of comfortable silence he continued, "A child who was left to the wolves with little to no support from those he should have received some, those whom he truly could trust can counted by one hand."

If Fate herself was not tearing that White Whiskered Wanker a new one, I would be. "Ten years of suffering from his own blood and flesh, unnecessary tribulations by the one who were supposed to guide him, constantly left to the worst of humanity. Yet he conquers."

Harry felt and odd sense of joy at the praise the mythical figure was giving him. Yet deep down, he feels that he has not enough. He sacrificed his life! He did not conquer. He died without raising his wand. He let the curse hit so his enemy can be mortal once again. He died, thus he conquered none.

Death saw the conflict in Harry Potter's eyes. Without wavering his smile, he looked at the journal sitting in front of him. He opened the journal and flicked to the page he was looking for. He smiled wider. "October 31, 1991. Harry Potter, without knowing any form of defensive magic, selflessly attempted to save a girl whom he barely knew from the troll. Then the Chamber of Secrets fiasco, the tragedy of Sirius Black, your exemplary display of moral fiber in the second task, your actions in the third task and then your sacrifice today. Time and time again you have overcome overwhelming odds. If I cannot classify that as conquering great odds, I do not know what is."

Harry opened his mouth to refute, but nothing came out. He slowly closed his mouth and continued looking at Death with a bewildered expression in his face. Clearly, he understands that he had help in all his "adventures". Right?

Death snorted, "Even if that gargantuan snake was blinded by a phoenix, it is still a tall task for a fully competent team of Aurors to take down a thousand year old Basilisk, much less a pre-teen with a sword. Obviously, there was an element of luck with the phoenix tears, but that does not mean you did not turn the tides on your lonesome."

Where most men his age would be crowing at the praise, he his receiving, the lad acts as if praise were the last thing he expected. Now, enough brow beating, let us get to why we are here.

"But congratulating you alone is not why the two of are here today. No, we are here to discuss all potential avenues that you can take from here."

That last sentence only seemed to deepen Harry's confusion. I thought I am done after death and that I finally get to meet my family and pass on. What does he mean by other options?

Death cleared his throat. He waved his hand and a bottle of whiskey and two glasses appeared on his desk. He poured the alcohol into the two glasses and moved one towards Harry. "Lagavulin, my favorite whiskey. Or rather my favorite whiskey after watching Parks and Rec, a future mockumentary. That Ron Swanson fellow is my idol. You see, time does not apply here. The past, present and future of your world is easily accessible in this plane of existence. Really does help keep away my boredom you know. Muggle entertainment is really the shit," he rambled while taking a few sips.

Harry took a tentative sip from his glass. The alcohol felt stronger than fire-whiskey. He frowned, "What other options. As you probably know, I am very dead right now. I thought the only option for me is to stay dead and move one to the afterlife like everyone else."

"Ahh that would be true if you are completely dead you see. There are a few reasons why you are not completely dead. Fate has deemed it inappropriate for you to die."

Harry's eyebrows shot up to his unruly raven locks. He quelled the desire to abruptly stand and yell out profanities. As he looked over at Death, his smile still has not fallen. There is no point in being angry at Death. Rather I don't think it will do my any favors here. Let's calm down and figure what to do. Harry counted to 10 ten mentally. Death seemed to be amused by his antics.

"Good. You managed to not jump the gun as the muggles say. I think we should start at the very beginning of your troubles, the prophecy. Despite the vague nature of the prophesy, you are by all intends and purposes supposed to kill him or at the very least, make him mortal again.

"Fate deemed you as her champion to not only remove the parasite Tom Riddle but possibly stimulate the process of promoting equality within the magical world. Just rendering him mortal would barely satisfy the requirements of her prophesy.

"In a sense, immortality is no way for a human to live thus removing his soul anchors pull him back to the world of living. All living is subjected to death, so if you are immortal, you are not alive in a mortal sense. All Fate's prophecies are intended for mortals after all. The Flamels were not immortal, their intent was to extend their lives not to live forever. Humans are not equipped for immortality, hell most are not equipped for lives over 2 centuries. If you had completely vanquished him, well you no longer had to worry about a psychopathic megalomaniac trying to kill you and your loved ones.

"Of course, either would happen in due time and really any deviation from the norm tends to correct itself overtime. I mean you are not the only champion Fate has ever picked, she would likely pick another one way or another. Point is, don't worry, be happy. Whether other people suffer should not be your concern. You my friend can consider yourself to have done enough anyways, since you did render good ol' Moldywarts mortal again." At the end of his spiel, Death gave a self-satisfied and sagely nod. How he can do such conflicting expressions is solely a mystery of death.

Harry Potter's confusion and apprehension only grew with Death's statements. Let's untie one knot at a time. Where is Hermione when you need her? Shaking his head, he asked, "Doesn't Tom still have Nagini?"

"When he hit you with his curse and killed his horcrux within you, he created a magical backlash that destroyed his familiar. Pity that the shock only can harm nearby horcruxes and Tommy boy himself. I wish it offed his Death Munchers at least, my hellhounds could do with some chew toys. Do tell me to show pictures of Ruddy, Terry and George St. Pierre later. I know, I know but George St. Pierre wanted no other name. You see, he followed all of George's UFC fights as a pup, so he only goes by the name."

Harry nodded, wisely ignoring the rest of answer. So, all the horcruxes are destroyed and I have barely satisfied the conditions of the prophesy. But there is something else he is trying to get at here. He sighed and raised an eyebrow, "So if the prophesy was fulfilled, what more is there to discuss?"

Death's expression grew somber. "You see, there is one slight problem with everything that happened. You were never meant to die till you reached a ripe age. But here we are on your 7th death in your life."

Harry's eyes grew comically wide and spewed out the whiskey to his left. Death, with a casual wave of his hand, vanished the spewed-out whiskey. Harry drew in a deep breath, trying to wrap his around the revelations. So, it turns out that I was never supposed to die at all. But wait, there is more! I have already died 7 times, six of which I do not remember. Huh that must be some real strong whiskey. Yep, that explains everything.

Death lips thinned to a fine line, much like a certain transfiguration teacher. He poured himself some more whiskey and continued, "Whenever Fate determines a champion and a prophesy, the outcome can only go two ways, a worst or the best outcomes possible; never a situation where the prophesy is barely satisfied. A prophesy by fate is different from other prophesies, they have the possibility to deviate fabrics of existence in potentially dangerous. Still it is probability, but not even the two of us can determine the extent of the uncertainty.

"That was why Fate decreed that Albus Dumbledore as the guide for the prophesy. Prophecies by Fate have a prerequisite of establishing a proper guide for the champion, much like Merlin was to King Arthur. Usually guides are meant to be an individual with great influence, wisdom, and power. At the time of the delivery of the prophesy, he fulfilled many of the requirements. There was no one else for us to consider. Nonetheless, his attempts to manipulate destiny instead backfired spectacularly on all of us. Neither Fate nor I could have accurately predicted the way he would guide you, or in this case, misguide you. We are not completely omniscient or omnipotent, although we are omnipresent.

"From the way he handled the leaking of the prophecy, the security and death of your parents, the subsequent abandonment and suffering under the Dursleys to the subtle manipulations he did to engineer your death, lead us to why we are here.

"You died four times under the tender cares of the Dursleys before the age of 11. After Hagrid revealed that you are a wizard, they were hesitant to act as brazenly as they were prior to your introduction to the wizarding world. Although, they did try to employ more subtle means. They have less subtlety collectively than that of a troll," Harry snorted in response to that jab at the Dursleys.

"You went into Hogwarts as a mentally, magically, and physically underprepared child. You survived your first year. In your second year, you died once while facing the Basilisk, and then another when attempting to protect your godfather from dementors. I find myself wholly surprised that you only died twice during your stay at Hogwarts and I must give you credit for surviving despite the overwhelming odds against you. And yes, each time you died you did come here. My wife found you to be the most adorable baby, child, and teenager baring the great me of course."

Death paused for a few moments and reached out to his glass and took a sip of Lagavulin. He wanted Harry to digest what he just said. Yes, he is being longwinded, but in this case, in a situation where the threads of fate could be in potential danger, he must take appropriate precautions. Besides, Harry no longer has that thrice damned horcrux in his person anymore; he is mental and magical capabilities are no longer suppressed. He could see the changes in his expressions over the last few minutes, shifting from sorrow, anger, remorse, and then complete nothingness. Death took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. Alright, showtime.

"Because of the unprecedented nature of the occurrences of your life and the fact that you have now died 7 times. You are entitled to one last chance at living."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and closed his eyes. He pinched the bridge of nose. Well this day has clearly been one comedy of errors after another. First apparently Snaped loved my mother, then finding out through his memories in the last minute that I am supposed to off myself for the Dork Wanker to die. End up eating a killing curse to the face, making the said wanker mortal again and then there is this whole meeting with Death. Yep, I should write 7 books after my life, future to be a bestseller for sure. Deep breaths Harry, and one donkey at a time. Slowly opening his eyes, he asked,"What you mean by another chance at living?"

"Well you could choose to go back to the same time as when you just died and finish the job. I don't really recommend living in a world where a prophecy was barely met though, there are some general unpleasantness you would not want to know or see. Ever. Choose this option and you still will remember what we discussed, unlike the other six times.

"Another option for you would be to pass on to the Elysium and spend the rest of your days with your family and friends that passed on, baring of course the numb skulls who were thrown over to Tartarus.

"But the final option is an interesting one. You get to go back in time to the end of your second year, the day after freeing Dobby and the day Hermione wakes up from her petrification. You will get to retain all your knowledge and experience thus far, including this conversation. You will also no longer have that thrice damned horcrux attached to your scar anymore and thus be able to attain your true potential."

Harry gripped his fists in frustration and narrowed his eyes, it does not seem like there are any easy choices here, despite the low hanging fruit of moving on. It seems clear that he prefers Harry to take option three. He told Harry of the choice of moving on; however, based on what Death has been telling over the last several moments, that does not seem to bode well to anyone. Option one seems like a harebrained situation to dive into. Even though he would return to the war, barely fulfilling the prophecy would leave him open to unknown threats. If his understanding is correct, and he is not going confirm it with death for the slight chance of being manipulated into talking an action that he does not completely support, options one and two leave potential dangers in the fabrics of existence that could even leave two powerful beings such as Death and Fate vulnerable.

On one hand, there is the possibility of saving many from the taint of war and reuniting with my friends. On the other, a chance for some sort of peace and solace and finally rejoining my lost family. Saving people who have I have grown to care for or meeting the people who have always cared for me. Harry attempted to rub his eyes and them remembered he did not feel the usual pair of glasses in the way. Seeing the expression of confusion painted across the young Potter's face, Death let a gentle smile fill his countenance.

"You seem to have noticed the lack of glasses in your person. Understandable with the shock of everything really. You see, you no longer require any optical assistance because of the removal of that horcrux in your scar."

Harry raised an eyebrow but was intrigued at the prospect of knowing more about the consequences of the scar. Schooling a more neutral expression, he inquired, "Would you please tell me what the consequences were of having such a scar and if there were other methods of removing it than eating a killing curse to my face?"

"The knowledge you seek requires some background information about horcruxes and the night of your parents murder. Would that be permissible by you?" A nod was Death's only answer.

Death gave a low chuckle. This is going to be slightly unpleasant. He leaned back on his chair and started, "As you know, a horcrux is a portion of a soul torn apart from a being using means most foul. The ritual is conducted on a new moon, the darkest time of a month, the ritual is triggered by the murder of a child no less than the age of two. The runes utilized in the process are prepared by the death of a virgin female's blood. The blood is constantly prepped over the period of seven days, case and point the death of Ms. Myrtle. If the investigators had done a rigorous autopsy, they would have found traces of ritualistic magic which would have pointed them to Tom Riddle. Alas, the prejudices of blood in Magical Britain labelled her as unworthy of being investigated at the time. If anything, there were sick parts of the society and the school who felt vindication of the death of a muggle born."

Revulsion accumulated in Harry's gut has he heard Death describe the creation of a horcrux. A presence tainted with magic most evil. His revulsion grew when he understood that he was a vessel to a heavily tainted soul. His face fell and it was all he could do to stop the bile from spewing all over the place. He clenched his fists and drew in a couple of deep breaths. He slowly relaxed and returned to school a more neutral expression.

Death watched with sympathy to Harry's reaction. For Harry to understand the gravity of the situation, he must provide him with all the information that is necessary. This is a man whose childhood ended on the Samhain night of 1981. This is a man who has survived his whole life, life filled with one tragedy after another. There is no other way to work with a man like him than to be completely honest with him. Something that Dumbledore managed to botch up completely by acting like a consummate politician using his pawns for satisfying ends that he has no right determining. He let Harry gather himself before he continued.

"When Riddle attempted to kill you, he truly was attempting to create a horcrux. After killing your mother, he began to prepare for the ritual. Unbeknownst to him, your mother finished the sacrificial ritual which triggered with her sacrifice and powered by your magical core. You see, you were quite the powerful baby magically. Your parents and their friends used to serenade the social gatherings after Order meetings with stories of your capabilities. Well it was more of Sirius Black bragging about his godson to every single and attractive witch in the Order."

They both chuckled lightly at Sirius's antics.

"Cheers to a fine man."

"Cheers to Padfoot, a horn dog to the end."

"Cheers."

They clinked their glasses, and each took a sip. Setting his glass down, Death continued, "Using both their sacrifices as a base and your power as the source of power, Lily and James Potter created a ritual powered by blood, love and magic. It was created by combining the work of several ritual, runic and other obscure forms of magic. It is by far one of the most powerful rituals known to all magical kind, and your parents were the engineers of a brilliant piece of magic. So much so that I would go far as to label their work as centennial magic, magic that would define a century."

Harry sat up a little straighter in his chair. He is currently a mess of conflicting emotions, he is simultaneously brimming with pride, shedding tears of sorrow, and overwhelmed by guilt. Pride for the capabilities of his parents, sorrow to the extent to the extremes that had to go through and finally guilt at his lackluster approach he had to his education. A wry smile adorned his face. Should have listened more to Hermione really.

Death let out a sigh. Dangerous thoughts young one, can't let you falter now. "Harry, you must stop right there before your thoughts bring you down further. I ask of you to consider this; you were not raised in an environment where you were encouraged to engage in scholastic pursuits, much less live. Additionally, there is another reason why you were not so heavily vested in intellectual pursuits, which I will reveal to you soon. I will say this, there is no other person who would have been able to do as well as you have, given the several severe constraints placed on you. I and my wife have watched you for a while now, and I cannot put to words how proud we are of how you turned out to be," he finished kindly with a sincere smile.

Harry felt the words lessen his guilt and shame. He wiped his tears by grabbing a tissue from the tissue box on the desk. Doing his best to gather himself, he gave a quick smile and nod for Death to continue.

"The final piece of the ritual is the swolio rune on your forehead made from phoenix tears given by a willing phoenix and the combination of your parent's blood. And yes, it was good old Fawkes who gave those tears. As Riddle was preparing for the ritual, the runic ritual coalesced the emotions of love and the intent to protect directed towards you, the last sentiment of their lives.

"As soon, as he fired the killing curse, your magic combined with the ritualistic magic reflected the curse back at Riddle. This caused an unintentional consequence of ripping a portion of his soul and latching on to your soul. The swolio rune in your scar then contained the evil in your scar and that is how your famous scar was created, for without the rune, you would have either been possessed by Riddle in the worst case or dead in the worst case."

Tears leaked down Harry's cheeks. For a while he has made his peace that this scar is a cursed scar, despite what Dumbledore said in his first year. With all the unwanted attention the scar brought him, he perceived it as a curse. After the summer of his third year, his opinions on his scar solidified and over time he could not find sufficient evidence proving otherwise. Now, here comes Death with the true tale of his parent's noble deeds. He reached out to touch his scar, the final symbol of his parent's sacrifice.

"Now, let us address the horcrux and the aftereffect of that magic. The horcrux significantly suppressed your physical, mental, and magical growth. This is also why I mentioned that you should not feel guilt for your lack of academic interest. As it is contained in your scar, the ritual magic has been continuously trying to fight the scar.

"However, compounded with the inhumane treatment and the lack of love in your life, plus the ridiculous blood wards erected using a portion of that magic by Dumbledore, the centennial ritual magic waned over time, thus increasingly the foothold that the dark magic of the Horcrux had over you. Finally, the horcrux knows that you are a threat, even though Riddle does not know the whole prophecy. Why should he let one of his arch-nemesis reach his full potential? These few factors combined severely hampered and suppressed your physical, emotional, and magical growth. Additionally, that infernal thing was the cause of your sight issues. Just because your father required glasses, does not mean you need them. After all, you are just as much your mother's child as you are your fathers. There is a revelation I would like to make; this might hit you too hard."

Harry gave him a wary nod, wondering what on earth could be more troubling than all he had heard or experienced thus far. Death sighed; he has been sighing like as if he some character in a Hallmark soap opera. Universe forbid he watches one again. He lightly shook his head to clear out the Wrackspurts as young Luna Lovegood would say.

Dumbledore has been the cause of many headaches for Fate and Death. Ever since he placed Harry at the Dursley household, they have been trying to put out one fire after another. There is no other way around it, he must inform Harry about another gruesome factor about the horcrux. He schooled a more neutral expression and began.

"Dumbledore by throwing you to the Dursleys, removed any chance of removing the horcrux. If you had been placed in an environment where you had received love, within five years after that night, that horcrux would have been eliminated harmlessly. But, by placing you in the Dursleys, the loveless environment increased the hold that the horcrux had on you to the point it was able to gain a foothold against a piece of centennial magic."

Death watched as he saw anger building up in Harry. Death could see how hard Harry was trying to compose himself despite the revelation that he made.

Eventually, Harry just cried. Death waited. He knew that all the grief in his life stems from that fateful Samhain night to unknowingly lose a chance at getting rid of the leech in in his person that belonged to his parent's murderers hurt him. For him to lose that opportunity due to a man he trusted, that almost broke him.

Death conjured a box of tissues and waited patiently till he was done. To have so much placed on the shoulders of one too young.

Harry composed himself, he felt embarrassed by his show of emotion. Before he could apologize for his breakdown, Death held a hand up to stop him and gently smiled at him.

"Harry, it is acceptable to cry in situations in like these. You do not need to apologize here nor feel shame. You have done nothing wrong."

Not trusting his words, he just gave a nod. A comfortable silence pervaded the office. He did not trust himself to talk anymore about Dumbledore's actions. When he was composed enough, he asked, "What about my parseltongue ability? Wasn't that a part of what I got from Riddle?"

Death let out a belly laugh. He snickered, "Not at all. Your ability is quite genetic. Parseltongue is an ability that the Blacks used to have and your paternal grandmother Dorea was born a Black. The ability neither inherently malevolent nor benevolent; much like any other ability, the nature solely depends on its wielder. Although with all the damn inbreeding those cretins engaged in, no one in the family displayed that ability anymore. If I recall correctly, they did a ritual that would help keep their magic stable despite all the inbreeding, to avoid a situation like the Gaunts. The cost, however, was them almost completely being stripped of any future children wielding innate abilities, unless they do the Ancient Tango with a muggle born or a muggle, consensual and loving Tango of course. One of my more ingenious pranks really. Toujours Pur indeed when you copulate with your cousin. Morons the whole bunch of them I tell you. Sirius was smart to want to distance himself from that clusterfuck, how on earth do you think he became a Gryffindor?" His grin grew wider as delved deeper into his explanation. Harry felt a smile creep up again despite the heavy nature of the previous topic.

A comfortable silence grew between the two of them. Harry mulled over the contents of the discussion and tried to organize and figure out his next course of action. Just as Death mentioned, and now that the initial shock of death and other topic have worn off, he felt as if a mist that has been shrouding his mind and a burden that weigh upon his shoulders has suddenly disappeared. In mere moments since the death of the horcrux, Harry Potter felt like a changed man. Time to ask about the three choices.

"What is so special about my seventh death? Also why am I allowed to keep my memory of this conversation when I wasn't before? And I take it that I was not given a time travel option before?"

Death chuckled, "Channeling your inner Hermione I see. No matter. To answer your last question, no you were not. To answer your first two questions, it has to do with the number seven again. The universe allows Death and Fate some leeway after the seventh unintentional death of a prophesized one, which is you in this case. That leeway is what gives us the right to act as we see fit. Prior to our current encounter, our hands were completely tied. This is also the reason you get to travel back in time. This is also your final chance, be it the original timeline or time travel. It is straight to the afterlife for you if you die after your seventh chance regardless of whether you fulfilled your destiny or not.

"Additionally, your seventh death allows us to carry out the ritual for time travel. The ritual has an interesting pre-requisite, it requires to you be touched by death seven times. The configuration same as the ritual your parents created to protect you. Ancient Runes at Hogwarts will explain to you what a configuration is at the OWL level, but really delve into at the NEWT level, much like any technical terms I will be telling you. After all, ritual magic, though outlawed by several magical governments, is still something many magical families utilize and those governments dare not cross some of the more significant families, much like your family of the past. It was told your grandfather, Charlus, was quite the force to be reckoned with.

"You see, your scar is made of a 3-7 configuration. Two very powerful numbers superimposed together. Three vital aspects of the ritual bound together by seven runic arrays. An array can be a collection of runes or a single rune that is connected to an energy source and/or another scheme or rune. A collection of runes is called a scheme and a single standalone rune is just another rune.

"The three complex runic schemes, made from your father's blood, another set of three schemes made from your mother's sacrifice and finally, a single rune that ties the schemes to you. The ritual was structured in such way that it required the sacrifice of your mother to be triggered, which also meant that you were the only viable source of power for the ritual at that time."

"Can you tell me more about the aspects of the ritual?"

"Your parents made one hell of a combination with three aspects. The three aspects for that specific ritual were: blood, sacrifice, and protection. All tethered by the love for their child. Piece them together and it would say: Through the blood of a father and the sacrifice of a mother, may our child be protected from all malevolent forces. A combination of 21 words, the pinnacle of a 3-7 configuration. The level of understanding of arithmancy, runes, charms and other obscure magics required is of the highest degree."

To Harry, the more Death speaks of his parents, the more he is amazed by the love and devotion he feels towards them. He is amazed by their skill and ingenuity, their tenacity and determination. If only he ever got to meet his parents in a better setting than from the Resurrection Stone during a war where he was just told that Riddle's immortality was dependent on Harry living. Taking a moment to gather himself he asked, "So what do we need for this ritual? Are there any potential side effects or drawbacks for anyone of us?"

"All we really need is an injection of magic from me and Fate. The combination we would be using is as follows: Through the threads of Fate and the touch of Death, may you traverse through fabrics of time to fulfill your destiny.

"Do not worry about any drawbacks, there will be none for any of us. Although, this ritual will revitalize the ritual magic of your parent's protection. The revitalized protection will aid in your physical, mental, and magical healing immensely. I also hypothesize that the protection magic will bolster your magic significantly. After all, the ritual did require the use of phoenix tears, more so a phoenix who provided the cores of the two wands that went to two extremely powerful wizards. I guess one other consequence would be that the blood protection at the Dursleys will no longer exist, but we have taken precautions to fool any instrument tethered to measure the wards. Those measures will disappear with either the death of Dumbledore or when you reach seventeen. Other than that, your soul will travel back in time to your second year. Why that time in the second year? Our calculations depict that there are higher levels of uncertainty the more in time we send you back. It may yield high rewards, but we shudder at the high risks associated with time travel, " Death shivered as if he just pictured any possible outcomes of further time travel.

"Fate would be here in a short while; she is working on certain preparations," Death finished with an impish grin. An envelope appeared in front of Death, he opened and read the letter inside silently. After what seemed like a few minutes, he waved his hand and vanished the letter.

"Speaking of my wife, she just said that she should be done in a few moments, weird to say that when time is really wonky in this dimension. We got enough time to discuss a few things. Now, have you made your decision on what you want to do?"

Death at this moment had a countenance that portrayed picture perfect innocence. Harry could not help himself. He laughed. He laughed so hard, he started wheezing and doubling over. Desperately trying to stifle himself from falling over again, he looked at Death, who had enough decency to flash him a sheepish grin while scratching the back of his head.

"Yes, but I think we both know how hard you tried to get me to go back in time," Harry chuckled a few more times. Death's visage transformed with mock indignation. Harry held a hand up to silence him. "At least you did not try to take away my agency, and neither were you trying to withhold any information from me. If anything, I am thankful for you being open and honest with me in your approach as much as you possibly could. One final question, what is with the Master of Death nonsense and the Hallows?"

Death clasped his fingers together and chuckled, "Nonsense indeed. It is nothing more than a bunch of rumors that were blown out of proportion, which then were written as legends and children's fables. No, there is only one Mistress of Death and that would be my wife, as any married person would attest to. On a more serious note, me and my wife are bound to the tenants and principles of the Universe and all her glory. We do have the highest degree of leeway within the universe, as we are doing her work.

"Deathly Hallows are, however, powerful magical objects. So much so that people thought that they were blessed or cursed by Death. I will assure you I have done no such thing. Yes, the three brothers did exist, and their legend does hold a cautionary tale for anyone trying to best Death." At this, Death's expression grew somber. "Mortal beings can only dare hope to collaborate with death, even prophesized champions of Fate such as yourself. No mortal has the capability to move against Death indefinitely, which includes that insolent whelp Riddle, much less 'master' Death."

He took a sip of the brown liquid that lay forgotten until then with a pained expression. Egad! I have sinned to leave her unattended for so long. Forgive me Ron Swanson! Harry looked bemused at the antics of the legendary entity known as Death. His moods are as fickle as a pickle.

"Although, I think the Hallows have the potential to aid you in your quest. Just do not waste too much time on trying to gather them. Elder Wand is rumored to switch ownership upon the death of the previous wielder, although we know it is not the complete truth; to win the allegiance of any wand, all one requires would be is to defeat its wielder. Though, I guess true potential of the wand would be in the hands of a Peverell, who are your ancestors. I have not shown enough interest in that wand to figure out the details, so have at it if you want to.

"The Resurrection Stone is a truly insidious bit of magic. The basis of the stone is based on establishing weak connections to lingering magical signatures of those who have died within the last 50 years. Then magic is meant to exploit all the regrets and fears of the wielder and the loved ones that the wielder has lost over the last 50 years. One of the worst kinds of necromantic magic I tell you. The stone enchants the wielder to commit suicide to power it enhancements, therefore compels the wielder to commit suicide. The stone was used as an interrogation method by the Peverell family to gain blackmail material the dead and regrets can make one's tongue looser than inebriation or the manipulation of a seductress. Veritaserum can be hampered by a Master Occlumens, but not that infernal stone. Thread lightly when dealing with that stone."

Harry's eyes widened at the stone's description. "So, the stone just wanted me to commit suicide. I assume Dumbledore knew this and wanted me to wear this at the very last moment. I open at the close my arse! He wanted the stone to be the final nail in the coffin!"

Death countenance turned solemn and gave a short nod. "Indeed, he did. His plan was awfully convoluted. Happens when man looks for the forests but does not see the trees. The man is flawed beyond belief and considers himself to be the highest authority on all things magic, with all those thrice-damned titles and positions. Thus, he believes that it is his right to make the decisions in place of other people. You see, a man who claims to act in place of the 'The Greater Good' fails to recognize the simpler solutions that provide a much more comprehensive answer. That combined with the fact that he is a consummate politician who really did not want to see tremendous change in the magical world. No, if the status quo were maintained, for him that would mean the retention of power. Even if that meant that most Death Eaters were left to their own devices, much like after the First Blood War. "

Death's expression morphed into one of great anger. The air around him seem to ripple as a response to Death's anger. To see such a jovial and a gentle being suddenly displaying his anger is truly terrifying. Harry felt the hair at the back of his neck stand, and he felt shivers going down his spine. Note to self, never piss off a legendary entity ever, or at least never have their ire shifted anywhere towards my general direction.

Death spat, "Greater Good' my arse! He is only a mortal; he has little to no understanding of the machinations of the universe. Therefore, he has no right whatsoever in meddling in the affairs of Fate and Death and dictating what should and should not happen in a grander scale of things! Did you know that the bastard attempted to highjack our meeting? Fat chance of that happening, he would have sent you back to your original time and royally fuck up everything. What an imbecile and such impudence!"

Suddenly his expression turned to a manic grin. "Oh well, the twinkly ol' git found himself to be an involuntary playmate for my three precious hellhounds. I wonder how much of his bollocks would actually be in his person when I pay him a visit next time". Shrugging at his own rhetorical ponderings, he shifted his attention to Harry. Schooling an innocent expression, he asked, "You wouldn't happen to have any bright ideas to anger me do you, Harry my boy?"

Harry gulped and felt sweat accumulate in his palms. With a vigorous shake of his head, in voice a touch higher than he would have liked, he exclaimed, "No sir! Will be on my best behavior sir!".

Death was once again the jovial gentle man prior to his explosion, and with that change the tension in the room bled away. With a grin plastered in his face, he proclaimed pompously, "I say, good man! I do declare you to be an upstanding gentleman of the highest caliber. Baring me of course". With a quick nod to himself, he changed topic back to the original discussion.

"Then there is the Invisibility Cloak. The cloak is extremely capable of rendering a person completely invisible from all forms of detection, both magical and mundane. When I mean all, I do mean all. It was rumored to even conceal you from Death. Naturally, that is a bunch of hogwash. As I said, no mortal can hide from me indefinitely; if I want to track you down, there is nothing that can stop me from doing so indefinitely. There is one caveat to the cloak. The cloak only works for those with the bloodline of a Peverell."

Death grimaced and he saw the unspoken question in Harry's mind without even trying to take a glimpse at Harry's mind. I bet he is wondering how he was found out by Moody and Dumbledore them. He took another sip from his glass. He continued, "Additionally, one of the reasons why the twinkly git 'gifted' it to you after stealing it from the rubble of Godric's Hollow. He had no way of using it, though he did find a method to suppress the cloak's capabilities. The ill begotten blood wards of Dumbledore, interfered with the blood magic of the cloak, thus making you visible to powerful magical enhancements used for revealing, such as Dumbledore's glasses, Moody's eyes, and the Thief's Downfall at Gringotts. Without that inference, there is nothing capable of stopping the cloak, I suggest you use it wisely. After sending back through time, you will be able to use the cloak again and since we have devised precautions to Dumbledore's interference, you do not have to fear any more interference."

Hint at using the cloak at Gringotts to get the cup again if necessary. Got it. Harry nodded, and Death understood that Harry read the unspoken message clearly.

Good, he is off to a good start.

"Now then, we are almost at the end of our time together. Let us go through the 'do s and don't s' of your time travel". Death reached for a drawer in his desk and pulled put a single piece of parchment. He read, "One, you can relay the knowledge of the future to anyone who you can trust absolutely and those who have achieved a certain level of proficiency of occlumency.

"Two, the incidents of the Triwizard cup and most of the Graveyard events will take place, regardless of how you act. Be it saving Sirius and imprisoning Peter Pettigrew or even killing Barty Crouch Junior, the events will conspire in some way shape or form.

"Finally, this will be your last chance to fulfill your destiny, there shall be no other chance after this. You will directly be sent to the afterlife upon a premature death. See that you make the best of this opportunity. Do you have any questions Harry?"

He nodded, "Does this mean I can't save Cedric from the graveyard? And Pettigrew?"

"Of course, you can. In fact, I highly recommend you do. He was one of the unforeseen casualties, much like many who will die in the Battle of Hogwarts. A word of caution though, killing Pettigrew would cause some unnecessary complications, so just make sure he gets a stay in Azkaban."

"What level of occlumency should the people I share my knowledge have? Do you have anyone in mind I can and cannot tell?"

Death clasped his fingers together. He answered, "I would say enough to keep any passive probes. Though, If I were you, I would be very deliberate in who, what, when, where and how you relay your knowledge. You do not need to blurt out everything to them, just a few nuggets here and there. Hell, if you can avoid telling that you travelled through time, it would be ideal. I cannot stress that you cannot be cautious enough with whom you share your knowledge.

"Off the top of my head I can name three people who you can share your experiences with. Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom."

"What about Ron and Ginny?"

Death sighed, "Can you honestly tell me that you can trust him to be there for you till the very end? Remember the Triwizard Tournament? Remember the Horcrux Hunt? I do not want to dictate any decisions for you, but carefully evaluate whether he has been a true friend or a fair-weather friend at best. Go back in time and carefully observe him. That is all I can tell you.

"As for Ginerva Weasley, you might have fooled yourself into believing that you have some feelings of love for her. However, remember that the horcrux in your person interfered with mind. You might have felt lust, however lust alone is no basis for a loving relationship. Lust is an emotion that a horcrux feeds and approves of. Question yourself young Harry Potter and pay close attention to your surroundings."

Harry tried to protest and offer a rebuttal against what Death just said. He really did. Yet, whenever he opened his mouth, he felt conflicted. As if a long-silenced part of him is attempting to finally voice its opinion. He held his peace for now, he will find his answers on his own. He settled for a slow nod.

Death took his silence as a sign of acceptance for now. That is a tribulation that he must figure out on his own. My role is to guide, not to dictate the lives of the prophesized champions.

"Finally, I have three pieces of advice to give you. One, bond with the house-elf known as Dobby. House-elves are extremely helpful being, more so in your quest. They have different grasp of magic and wield it differently that humans do.

"Two, use the Room of Requirement to learn mind magics. Trust me, there will be a pleasant surprise if you use that room for mind magics; in fact, if you can visit the room as soon as possible once you go back, that would be ideal. Until you have a decent grasp of mind magics, avoid eye contact with the sanctimonious old git and the surly git. Try not being in a room alone with them.

"Three, make a journal and take daily notes of what you are doing. If you are afraid that someone would find your notes, just have Dobby charm them so that they are unreadable to anyone else but you. Elf magic of that nature is almost impossible to remove, even with the help of the Elder Wand."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the first condition. He asked, "I thought Dobby wanted to be a free elf"

"Fun fact about house-elves, they cannot exist without being bound to a magical house or person. Hogwarts is probably the only exemption to the rule due to its ambient magic. However, unless they are bound to the castle and her magic completely, a house elf can only get by with a few scraps of magic. I think this conversation is better if you talked to Dobby instead. I believe that little guy has done more than enough to earn my respect, and I cannot give his reasons without feeling as if I let him down. You are free to make your own judgements on this". Death ended that discussion on a note that indicated that he is no longer willing to delve anymore to the topic. Death stood up from his chair for the first time since their conversation. He walked over to his door and turned to Harry.

"It is time young Harry Potter. It is time to right several wrongs, to finally correct the tangled threads of Fate. It is time for you to take charge. Hold strong and fast to your beliefs and most importantly live. Live, knowing that your parents loved you and even in their death, they have protected you. Live, not just to survive but to thrive. Live, learn, fall in love and most importantly may you gain a chance at achieving true happiness. Once I walk out from the room and close the door, the ritual will be completed, and you will be sent back in time. The next time we meet Mr. Potter, me and my wife will both be there to welcome you with open arms. I pray for your success, health, and wellbeing. Until next time we meet again, Harry James Potter."

Death stepped out of the room before Harry could register anything. As the door closed, a bright light enveloped him in a warm embrace.

Authors Note:

Hello All,

I write this fanfiction after being heavily inspired by the work of LeQuin, muggledad, Sinyk and Robst. I would like to tribute the idea about the Horcrux disappearing in an environment of love to CaskettFan5. Another tribute to Sinyk by calling Riddle Dark Wanker and such.

I have to say, this chapter took a life of its own. When I first planned this chapter, I also had a family meeting between Harry, his parents and Sirius. But Death just took over. He was a character that came alive.

I tried put an original twist on the prophesies, the hallows and the scar. The scar will play a decent part in Harry's development (or at least I hope it does). Just a little PSA, I do not do harems. This will be a Harry/Hermione fiction. I have never personally been in a relationship (despite being almost 24 years old) and this relationship may be a little bit of wish fulfillment on my part.

I try to map out three chapters for every chapter I write so I have a better idea. Even then, when I started this chapter, it really did take a life of its own. The ideas for the prophesy, scar and the hallows were not even in the plan.

I hope you enjoy it! Please leave a review and favorite or follow if you want to. I look forward to hearing your feedback.

Regards,

quatroquatro