Note: Lord of the Rings, finally! :P I ask all the hardcore Tolkien fans out there to please let me know in the comments if I screwed up the mythology anywhere and I promise to let you know, in turn, if it was done by accident or design.

As this chapter was quite rushed, I also beg you to please forgive any additional mistakes.

Chapter 4: A Gift Explained and a World Rebuilt

Harry did not know how long he had been asleep before he started becoming aware of his dreamscape. It could have been minutes, it could have been years. He couldn't care less. All that he cared about was that Death was sitting in that very same lounge room (he couldn't call it a living room with Death at its centre), drinking tea just like he had all those years ago, and making Harry want to bawl his eyes out like an infant.

He might have been fifty-two years old, fought two wars, lost everyone he ever loved, denied the escape that was death and the comfort that was love, but even he was allowed to throw a tantrum in the face of losing the peace and quiet that came with sleep. This damn spectre was everywhere! Not only that, but he had been avoiding Harry like the plague for the past thirty years. Only now that he was finally trying to get some rest did the… Man? Being? Thing? …see it fit to disturb him once more. Not! Acceptable!

"Oh, so what? Now you want to talk?!" exclaimed Harry angrily, sprawling rebelliously over one of the lavish couches.

"I find myself bored and out of work," replied the spectre evenly. "So yes, I did find this an opportune time to drop by."

Harry huffed and Death looked at him distastefully in face of the reaction. At least the spectre seemed to have developed a greater range of emotion in the past few years. It didn't matter though, Harry was allowed to act immature in this situation.

"Fine!" he agreed. Might as well get it over with. "Talk."

"Talk?" questioned the older… whatever.

"Yes talk," prompted Harry and fought to keep his temper in check when Death continued to look at him uncomprehendingly. "You know! Talk! Explain why you are here! Gloat about your immense power and superior intellect! Say your piece and get out! … And stop looking so smug!"

"I know not of what you are referring," Death replied with what was without a doubt a mug expression, "I am merely experiencing satisfaction at a gamble paying off."

"That," explained Harry, fighting to keep his temper in check, "would be what we humans refer to as feeling smug."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" observed the older man (he appeared as a man so Harry was calling him a man, damn it!), taking on an indulgent expression. "You are, after all, the last of your species. Of any species for that matter."

He was infuriating! Harry took deep breaths and quietly counted to ten. Nope! Not working.

"Explain," he growled quietly. "Now!"

That was definitely a smirk Death was sporting. "As you wish."

The man made a show of getting comfortable and taking a sip from the tea cup that appeared out of thin air. Harry was about to snap when Death finally looked at him indulgently and began with the explanation.

"Your gift turned out to be quite useful, but I can't say it was surprising considering your history." He paused there, only to sigh when it became apparent that Harry was not taking the bait. "The entire universe is shaped by magic. Magic is what creates the worlds in which you live in. It creates souls and allows them to interact in physical vessels that it shapes for them, some times even granting them access to some of its power. When beings die, it is my job to collect their souls and sort them. Souls capable of interacting with magic have to return back to magic, others can be reborn into new vessels without joining the whole. You called the process rebirth.

"It is the experiences of the returning souls that feed magic, making it stronger and wiser, while it is the will of all the souls linked to it while interacting with the world that control it. Souls believe that they require a physical plain of existences in which to interact, magic shapes worlds and bodies for their use. Beings believe that they will become extinct without a physical way of procreating, it allows them a way to do so. Humans believe the Earth is flat, it makes it so. They believe that it is round and surrounded by countless other worlds, again magic will see it done.

"Even I was created by magic when it became obvious that souls incapable of interacting with magic while on the physical plane brought nothing worthwhile when returning. Their lives too short and their senses too few to be of worth, requiring them instead to go through many lifespans before their presence into the magical core made a difference."

Harry was pretty sure Death was confusing him on purpose. "So you are saying that magic is sentient," he attempted to clarify.

"In a way," allowed the man, scrutinising him quietly. He must have come to a conclusion because he took up the explanation once more, this time actually attempting to make Harry understand. "Magic was but a seed at the beginning of time. It travelled an empty space where nothing changed and it learnt all that there was to learn about that space. Then it split itself in half and relearnt the same space only to realise that there being two parts of it in the space made a difference. So it split itself in four, then eight. It kept multiplying exponentially and started to learn.

"The original piece remained the same, but the rest started to form patterns, habits, even bonds. When magic became too stretched, it called all the pieces back to it and everything that had developed individually became part of a whole. Then magic repeated the process again and again, until the individual pieces started forming opinions, thoughts – personalities. They started demanding things and magic followed the pull to see what happens.

"Some parts of magic were directed into forming worlds as an attempt by the many pieces to decorate the empty space. They would watch over the worlds and fill them with pieces of themselves only to find out that those pieces would eventually weaken and return back to the main body of magic rather than their creators. Then the pieces would shape magic into physical bodies so that they could interact with their worlds.

"At that stage, when the pieces were recalled to the whole, all the worlds that had been created merged into one. When magic went to break back into pieces, they appeared in physical forms straight into the created world and continued to shape it. Like children, they would play, learning, until they were called back.

"Eventually, they shaped magic into creating me, a being in charge of capturing the energy of their weakened creations and returning it back into the physical realm. As time passed the different pieces started resisting the pull, so magic forcefully dragged them back and stopped splitting itself in parts. Rather, she created beings much like the pieces had done, knowing that they would return to it when weakened and allowing only a few access to its Core. That is how magical and non-magical beings came into existence.

"Magic grows in strength and experience, but it does not have a will of its own. It does not want anything, it simply does. Only pieces split from it and magical creations can in time develop wills of their own."

Still confusing and mostly irrelevant, if mildly interesting. "We were created by magic and eventually weaken much like any magical spell which is why we die. Because magic created us we live much longer than any spell so we develop wills of our own," recapped Harry. "How is this relevant to my gift?"

Here Death smiled and Harry was not sure if he was going for a nice smile, but what came out made him want to run for the hills.

"Your gift is the mark that has appeared on your body," was the smug (that was definitely smugness in his expression) reply. "It focuses magic. You are immortal in the sense that we have a deal that renders me incapable of reaping you – I might feel slightly remorseful about that, but we'll get back to it later – which means that you remain separate from the Core. As the number of beings left in the world dwindles, the stronger your will's pull becomes. Now that everyone is dead, magic is yours to wield and yours alone."

"Why would you do that?" demanded Harry, slightly unsure whether he wanted to burst into tears or jump up and beat the other to a pulp.

"Because I could feel the end coming. Magical beings wanted non-magical beings gone and vice versa. Magic was accommodating both your wishes, being pulled apart in separate directions. It was confused and self-destructing, wiping itself clean of all it had learned," explained the spectre, becoming progressively angrier as he went on. "We were going to revert back to that single seed and all the millennia spent shaping this world and developing free will would have been destroyed.

"I was created by pieces of magic, not magic itself. Were all beings to die, I would have followed and I had no will of my own to change that outcome. I am Death, I will not allow your petty arguments and flights of fancy to see me gone forever. You cannot kill Death!"

There was a long silence after that outburst and Harry stayed silent less he inspire another tirade. He was pretty sure that neither of the two would be able to hand another outburst and he did not care to see what would happen were the two immortals to clash. Still, he was pretty sure he preferred the condescending and icy cool countenance Death had portrayed last time. He said he had no will, but Harry was pretty sure that was only in the face of magic. The strength of his will pulsed through the dreamscape, battling against Harry's own unrelentingly and it hurt!

"What do you want from me?" demanded Harry at last.

"When you gave up and went to sleep, your will became dormant and stopped controlling magic. It went on as planned and destroyed the world. The two of us and the Core is all that remains of that world so I want you to rebuild it. Once that is done, I could care less if you spent all eternity sleeping your life away."

"I cannot create souls," protested Harry. There were a lot of things he wanted to protest about, but the expression on Death's face made it seem like a bad idea to refuse the order or fight it too much.

"Technically you can, but you won't have to," replied Death. "Every time one of your loved ones died you directed magic towards preserving their souls." At Harry's uncomprehending look, he seemed exasperated. "Surely you felt the pain of your body adjusting to controlling the new influx of magic! At the beginning the mark must have been draining your own magic before connecting enough with the Core to channel its energy."

Harry could remember the first few episodes and the healer's explanation of magical exhaustion as the cause of his fainting spells. Still, not important right now. What was that about his loved ones being alive?

Death seemed to sense his questions and urgency so he went on with a sigh. "There are thousands of souls that I have been unable to return to magic because your will was that they remain in the world. Your closest friends and family even retain their individual memories, personalities and characteristics due to the effort you've exerted in keeping them from combining with the rest of the souls."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Harry did not know how to feel about this or even what the new information meant for him or the others. Towards the end, he had come in terms with death as a natural process, to now find that he had influenced that process did not sit well with him.

"There used to be others like me," explained Death. "They weren't tethered to a human like I was so they perished with the passing of the world. You cannot recreate them, but you can assign their duties to any other long-lived being with a connection to magic. Your loved ones," he continued, slightly distasteful at having to use the word, "currently fit those criteria due to their state of existence. They will build the world for you. You just need to assign them their duties and link them to the Core through your connection to it."

"They have free wills!" exclaimed Harry in outrage. "I cannot just order them around, decide their fates for them."

Death observed him for a long moment before nodding. Suddenly the room was full of people. Ron, Hermione, Luna, Draco, Neville, George, Fred II and I, Angelina, Mr and Mrs Weasley, everyone!

"Ask them," ordered Death and Harry could only look around dumbfounded.

"Harry!" exclaimed Luna, throwing herself into his arms. "See? I told you we won!"

"Luna?" asked Harry, fighting to keep himself upright while supporting her weight from where he had stood to take in the new additions to the room in surprise. "Are you really here?"

The girl in his arms nodded and giggled, much to the amusement of her daughters and husband.

"Do you all know what is happening?" Harry found himself asking once more, only to be faced with varying reactions. Luna nodded happily, her family smiled indulgently, Hermione started spouting theories one after the other, many looked confused, Draco glared, Caelum inched towards Victoire… Wow! Too much!

Instead of allowing Harry to try to make sense of everything that was happening, Death stepped forwards, his mere presence demanding attention and respect. At once the room had quietened and he made his request.

"There is a choice you must make," he announced. "Either help Harry in reshaping the world from scratch or let go of your link to him and join the rest of the souls waiting to be sorted before they are reincarnated into the world."

Harry stared at him in incomprehension. Was the guy for real? You did not just spout statements like that and expect people to make a choice or even know what you are talking about. He was, however, proven wrong when all his friends seemed to be contemplating the statement with no need for further clarification. So being dead meant that they had encountered Death and his pompous ways before. For some reason that came as a surprise to Harry.

Time passed after that, but with no frame of reference Harry had no idea how much. He felt disassociated from the situation. The people he had spent so much time with, were being respectful and reasonable in face of Death's request, giving the spectre's request priority over Harry's emotional and mental stability. He wasn't whining over being forgotten. He was, however, disgruntled to see Death receiving respect from anyone, much less the friends and family he had thought to be well beyond his reach.

By the end of the confusing meeting, an agreement had been reached. Harry only knew that fifteen of the people who had arrived in his dreamscape now had a connection to magic and the living world through Harry and that the rest were now truly beyond his reach. When the fifteen were gone as well, leaving him alone with Death once more, he could still feel their presence at the back of his mind – Neville, Luna and their two daughters; Ron, Hermione and Rosie; Fred II and his two siblings, Teddy and Victoire; Draco, Scorpius and Caelum.

"Your will has diminished," observed Death after a long silence. "Even after seeing your loved ones, knowing they are out there, you have no desire to live."

It was true. Harry was confused and tired. He didn't know what was happening. It was like he was existing in a separate dimension from the rest of the world, moving at a different speed. He did not know what was real and what was not, or even what he wanted. He had wanted death, but now even that turned out to be different from what he expected. What did he want?

"Sleep, Harry," advised Death. "Sleep and let your friends rebuild the world humanity destroyed. Sleep and preserve your strength because your reserves will be drained along with the Core's in this endeavour."

So Harry slept, alone and without purpose in the vastness of space, feeling a distant buzz of excitement and creation through his link to the others.

::

Even in sleep, Harry dreamt of the new world as it took shape. He was unsure if he visited the actual world or if it were his dreams giving it shape. He didn't know what to make of it.

First, there was only water and then a single continent sprang from its depths. That was when Death released the first souls upon the darkened land. They were magical souls, familiar to Harry in the sense that they had been witches and wizards in the old world. The souls interacted with the world and Harry felt their suggestions being accommodated by the fifteen linked to the Core through him.

Then, it was decided that all souls would be allowed to return to the new world. Harry was unsure who made the decision, but he felt the notes of discord that buzzed in his head after it was made. When Death released one soul of each kind, the muggle soul was returned to him as soon as it reached the new world.

Death sent more muggles, only for their suggestions to not be accommodated. They wanted a valley, they got a mountain; they wanted a river, they got a desert. Harry was pretty sure he was not the cause of those happenings. They originated from the mind disagreeing with the rest at the back of his head. He understood that muggles were being discriminated against and that the voice responsible for it was growing strength, but did not know if he could or should do anything about it.

As time passed, Harry became capable of differentiating the voices in his head. Yavanna was the one to ask for light and Fred was the one who build the Two Lamps that were to light up the new world. Rosie was the one to fill them with light and Scorpius was the one to extend his protection over them. Caelum was the one who destroyed them and together with the new world.

After that, Harry could still hear Caelum, but he could tell that he was far away from the rest, acting on his own. While the fourteen who remained started rebuilding with Teddy protecting them and their work, Caelum hid and waited. Harry could tell exactly what he was waiting for – the muggles to return. He had sworn not to allow their existence in the new world and waited to see if the others would wish for their reappearance.

This time, the Valar – as his friends had come to be known in the new world – drew four continents from the oceans. One for non-magical beings, one for light magical beings, one for dark magical beings and one for those who were no longer capable of being reaped by Death. Neville and Septimus grew two trees on the Undying Lands which were to house the light. There, they were protected from Caelum.

This time, Death released all the souls onto the new world and the Valar gave them back their physical forms before allowing them to roam across all three of the new continents before a judgement as to their nature could be made. The souls had spent too much time in the void between states of existence to retain their memories and personalities of the old world. Harry could feel the Valar's wish to grant them a second chance and achieve a peaceful co-existence just as he could feel Caelum's rising fear and anger at the influx of muggle souls.

As time passed, Caelum's hate grew and Harry could feel other magical presences beside the boy, fuelling his fear and hatred. He prowled the middle lands that had been created with mortal, non-magical beings in mind and laid them to waste. Then one day, he came across something that caused both him and Harry pause – elves.

They weren't a race known to either of them before this moment. They weren't magical, but had the capacity to interact with magic; they were mortal, but could exist for millennia; they had no purpose predetermined by an existence in the previous world, but were forging their own path. Distantly, Harry knew them and understood himself to be responsible for their existence. He had done this, creating new souls just like Death had said he was capable of doing. He could also feel Caelum's hesitation to disturb them, but succumbing to his followers' poisonous whispers.

He allowed one of the other magical beings standing beside him – Sauron – to have his wish. They experimented on the elves, pulling and twisting their souls until they were certain they weren't a danger to the existence of magical beings. Then Sauron went further, taunting Caelum for being incapable of creating new souls like the Valar were so obviously doing and manipulating him into proving himself by using the foulest of magics to reshape some of the new souls into a new type of being – orcs.

By the time the Valar became aware of the elves' existence, it was too late. Caelum had been too deeply corrupted by the magics he wielded and his thoughts poisoned by the fear and mistrust of his followers – others who had also been deeply hurt by the muggles in the old world. He was captured and imprisoned for Three Ages while the Valar restored peace.

Dragons, basilisks, orcs, ogres, giants, werewolves, vampires, demons, goblins and others who had joined Melkor's – as Caelum was known to them – armies were sent to the Dark Lands were they were to remain until they were capable of existing without laying ruin to the world. Veela, dwarves, mermaids, phoenixes, centaurs, unicorns and their kin were left to run loose on the fourth continent that had been created for their use.

When it proved that muggles had suffered greatly during the conflict, magic was directed to wipe their memories of past events that had taken place both in this and the old world. They were allowed to dwell on Middle-earth and Harry approved of the effort so he directed his thoughts into creating more souls for their race, the race of Men. With no predjudice from the past world fuelling their hatred for everything magical, he had no reason to deny them a second chance.

As for the elves, the Valar greeted them with open arms. Luna favoured them and, as always, seemed to know something about them that others didn't, and the rest readily invited them to join them onto the Undying Lands. Some accepted, others remained on Middle-earth, curious about the new world they found themselves in.

Out of the elves that left for Aman, the Ñoldor elves proved to be the most skilful. Fred marvelled at their eagerness to learn and even allowed one of them, Fëanor, to forge three jewels from the very essence of the Two Trees of Valinor – the Silmarils.

When Caelum was released after begging for forgiveness at the end of the third Age of his imprisonment, Harry could hear the lies behind his every word but did not have the heart to intervene. When he started manipulating the elves into turning against the Valar and banded with a giant spider, of all things, to destroy the Two Trees, Harry's soul cried in despair, even as he turned away. He would not deny Caelum his revenge even when it was misdirected and disproportionate.

This time, when the Valar attempted to create light, Harry pulled at the Core, demanding that it obey as the Sun and the Moon were given form. When Rosie expressed the wish, he pulled once more, giving shape to a myriad of stars. Maybe this was a new world, but if it was within Harry' power, he would make sure that his loved ones had enough to remind them of home, even if he had to exhaust himself to see it done.

After that one act, Harry fell into an even deeper, exhausted sleep that could no longer be pierced by dreams. He could feel the weight of magic being pulled from the Core and through him into the new world, but he could no longer determine what it was used for. He could feel the war brewing and Caelum's focus shifting to the Silmarils in an effort to deprive the Valar of all they valued as recompense for his imprisonment, but he could no longer focus on the specific happenings. He was cut off, but not forgotten as every time the Valar pulled at the magic, they sent a quick apology through the link. Harry was still there, sleeping and waiting for something to change.