Summary: When the road you're on is already in the verge of crumbling, you could either choose to foolishly continue onward, or turn back and change paths. Harry decided on the latter. MoD!Harry

Pairings: Older Harry/Voldemort, other side pairings

Warning: AU, Time-Travel, Universe Hopping, New Identity, Slash (this means Boy/Boy), MasterOfDeath!Harry, Killings/Torture

Disclaimer: If I were the author of Harry Potter, Dumble would have chocked on a Lemon and drop dead, not AK-ed. So no, I do not own Harry Potter.


Chapter 1: Traveling through space and time

In a barely lit room with only an unmade bed and a dark-tainted window, there was a man sitting on a cushioned throne, simply staring outside blankly. A stranger that has never laid eyes upon him would even mistaken him for a doll, if his chest were not moving that is.

Other than his youthful appearance of a late teen, he represents a weary old man with jaded scarlet eyes behind those round framed rose-tinted glasses perched atop his nose. His whole being ripples with barely tamed power at random intervals, distorting the air that surrounds him in an almost chaotic yet lazy manner.

The state of the air outside his homely wards were polluted, forcing him to wear his neoprene half-mask that was charmed with an air-ventilator charm –which he was currently laying on his nightstand– if he wishes to go hunting for food or entertainment.

He missed the sky that was once upon a time blue–now an awful shade of dark green with a tint of black, or the ocean that used to be so vast and beautiful, now just a desolated wasteland of sand and bones. He could no longer stand the sight of his crumbling planet, so he hid the ugliness behind his rose-tinted glasses that he had stolen many decades ago.

Gaia's fate had long been decided. She would crumble. No matter how much she cried or pleaded with him in her bouts of insanity. He had learnt the hard way how to ignore her pleas, lest She broke his mind. Even with all the power the man held within the palm of his hand, he could never produce an offspring to help his dying Planet without a partner who isn't infertile. The other reason would be that he fears being involved –not that he would openly admit it– as he has not had any good human contact in his life; more so after being forcefully restrained on a cold metal table where he was littered with incisions on a daily basis.

He had developed a condition called merinthophobia, much to his disgust and self-hatred.

The man –for that was what he is, and he could never be called a boy even if he were to look the part– turned towards his only companion on his lap; a common garter snake that he had stumbled across, and started to hiss out a random conversation to distract his wondering mind from those awful skin breaking wires they called restraints.

Just as his state of mind began to waver in his usual bouts of insanity, a dark mist started to form out of the corner of his eyes. This caused his damaged mind sharpen and focus, wanting and sincerely hoping that it was someone or something magical.

His wish was soon answered when a hooded figure was formed, its cloak billowing eerily and its hood shading its features. The cloaked figure was tall; around six three, and thin.

They both stared at one another behind their shades before the man with the piercing scarlet eyes spoke up.

"State your name and purpose of your visit." His voice was raspy from years of disuse, but it still came out strong and demanding. The man's accent was unusual, if one were to not know he had talked in the tongue of serpents for decades.

"I am Death." The cloaked being introduced itself with a somewhat airy and carefree tone.

The man conjured a needle and nicked himself on his forearm. It had itched. He dropped the needle and watched as it disappeared just before touching the ground with disinterest.

"You are neither dreaming nor hallucinating."

"Why have you come? Are you here to take me away?" The man questioned once more as his blazing scarlet eyes narrowed in suspicion, yet there was hope as well. Hope that this being would take away all his suffering and let him rest with his loved ones.

"Take you away? In a way." The being answered slowly.

The only indication that he was listening was the subtle twitch of his crossed ankles. Death glided towards the seated man, and stopped at an arm's length.

This made the man stiffen, but he refused to move away or show any signs of weakness.

"You should have noticed by now, that you do not age like normal humans, both Muggle –or Parasites by your dictionary– and Wizard alike." The scarlet eyed man hummed his agreement, but remained silent. "Death is eternal, and so is its Master. As I exist forever, so do you, Master of Death."

"…Master of Death?"

Then it clicked.

"The Hallows…"

"Correct. Just like wands, the Hallows choose their rightful master; you were and are the only one worthy enough to hold all three."

Death saw that its Master was unable to form words, so it dropped the subject momentarily. "The humans are slowly dying, and so is this Planet along with Magic. The road you walk is already on the verge of crumbling. Will you go onwards, or will you turn back and change paths?"

The newly pronounced Master of Death snapped from his daze-like state. "Are you indicating that alternate universes do indeed exist?"

"Certainly."

A simple yet unnerving answer. The Master of Death continued to look fixedly at his servant(?) before he furrowed his brows in suspicion. The whole thing sounded too good to be true. He would rather this being reap him and be done with it.

"What do you require in exchange if I were to agree?"

Death shrugged elegantly.

The man hummed in thought. He could recklessly agree and change roads, or he could continue rotting away in this wasteland called Earth. Tough choice. The scarlet eyed man snorted inwardly.

"I have questions."

Death gave a small nod.

"How are you going to move me if I were to agree?"

"As we will be staying for an unlimited amount of time, Master will become an infant." Death simplified. They were silent for a few more minutes before the man's brow twitched.

"It would be greatly appreciated if you were to elaborate."

Death chuckled lowly. It was not a pleasant sound and the scarlet eyed man held back a shudder. It would take time to get used to that.

"Your body and soul are both well acquainted with one other. If I were to force your soul to exit the body that it feels most safest, the results would be… messy."

"I will assume that this is the reason as to why my body could still function after my head has been severed from my neck."

"You assumption is correct, my Master. Your body is linked to your soul, and your soul is linked to my person. The only way for you to stay at an unfamiliar place and restart your whole life with your current body is that I would have to force it into being a newborn."

"And this will lead me into being raised by matrons from an orphanage." The scarlet eyed man spat with hatred.

"Please allow me to fully explain before that pretty little head of yours even bring up the idea that I will allow my Master to be cared by mere mortals." The man's shoulder relaxed slightly and he gave a jerky nod. "Undisclosed blood adoption."

The man continued to wait for an explanation that would probably not happen if he were to not ask.

"… Would it kill you to elaborate without my asking?"

"Perhaps it would."

The scarlet eyed man crossed his arms over his chest in a sulky way that made his servant chuckle in mirth.

"Forgive me my Master, if you were as old as I am, you would find entertainment in leaving out …details." The man pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "But as I am… fond of you, I will keep this habit to a minimum."

"That would be much appreciated." He sighed.

"After your body's de-aging, I will need two Magicals of your choosing into procrea–"

"What if I were to want parents that are non-existent?" The man interrupted as an idea formed.

"… I assume you will want to be in a specific lineage?"

"The Gaunts." He agreed with Death.

"There are other universes where Marvolo Gaunt has siblings or more children." The scarlet eyed man gave an upward tilt of the lips, glad that Death picked up on his want to be related to the man he highly respected.

"Where Marvolo has a sibling whom gave birth to a son?"

"There is."

"And others are the same?"

"Yes."

"Will I retain my looks?" The man traced his features with feather light touches absentmindedly, as if to memorize them just in case.

"The blood adoption will not interfere with your current appearance, but would you like me to remove all your scars?"

"No, these scars… Each one is a reminder of how weak I was, without them I would lose my ambition of growing stronger and fall into melancholia faster than anyone could draw first blood. Do not mind them, please continue." The scarlet eyed man fingered the scar that was wrapped around his neck –mockingly alike a collar– with immense resentment.

Death eyed the scar, and underneath Its shadowed hood, Its eyes flashed with murderous rage.

"Very well. Afterwards I will personally compel the two to have sexual intercourse with one another before modifying your bearer's memory of your birth. As much faith as I have with my magic that humans have no way of detecting, it would be safer for them to act on it rather than to have someone question your birth."

It waited for Its Master to digest the information for his plans before It continued.

"I will be the one who cares for you whilst you are still a newborn."

The ebony haired man looked doubtful for a split second before returning to his default, serene expression. Death either missed or ignored it as It continued.

"I am in need of a few minutes to find such a universe."

"You may take as long as you need." Death closed Its eyes underneath Its hood and relaxed Its body while remained standing.

Half an hour was passed with the scarlet eyed man petting his pet before Death twitched.

"Master, I have found a place where Marvolo Gaunt indeed has a little brother, Markos Gaunt. He ran away from home once he reached seventeen and after killing his father. He then raped a woman, leading to him having a son named Marbas. I have already compelled him and your blood mother into having intercourse."

"And who is this blood mother?"

"Well Master, why not find out yourself?"

"Oh a mystery. Any more surprises?"

"Some people are not born, and some are. Some things have never been discovered or made. The world has a lot of mysteries left unsolved."

"So what you're saying is that… That universe is alike, but different as well. This would mean that my information or history here should be crossed referenced, lest I say things that have yet to exist."

The man placed his fingers on his chin as the thought out loud.

"And the date?"

"1943 of October."

"My birth will be around July of 1944? How coincidental." The scarlet eyed man snorted as his servant shrugged.

"And you?"

"I can travel around without any restriction, Master."

"Then you would not mind holding onto my treasures while we travel would you?"

"I would not."

The raven haired man waved his hand and an emerald green trunk flew towards him, already shrunk and secured to the highest possible level. All of his important items were already packed beforehand in case of any emergency scenarios –even though his wards are impeccable, one can never be sure. It seemed that his previous mentor's word of Constant Vigilance has been drilled into his mind the man mused.

Death accepted the miniature trunk with a tilt of Its head and stored it inside Its cloak.

"Please hold on to it with care until I request of them."

"Yes, my Master. Before I forget once again, I have a gift for you."

"Oh?" A flash of surprise from the man's scarlet eyes came as fast as it went.

Death pulled out a vial that was covered with scratch marks from Its cloak. The inside was filled with a silvery mist. "The things I touch usually tend to be damaged or rot away unless I wear gloves."

The man almost wanted to lean away from the entity. Almost.

"May I ask what that is?"

"A partially damaged glass vial; often used to store potions or medication."

A frustrated sound was made by the man and he sighed in defeat.

"And what is inside said glass vial that you hold within your right hand at this very moment?"

Death made an amuse sound from the back of Its throat.

"A soul."

"A soul?"

"Yes, a soul."

"And whose soul is that you are holding imprison?"

"One of its pieces used to be stored inside a black diary before I forcefully sewn all of them together."

"Perhaps you are referring to a black diary, one with an initial of T.M.R. on the cover and an inscription of T.M. Riddle inside the first page of said diary?" It nodded to both his spoken and unspoken question before handing the vial to Its Master. The man accepted it and stared at it in awe.

It was really beautiful. Who would've thought such a corrupted soul could be breath taking?

"Why are you giving me his soul? Will he be following us?"

"Indeed he will, but as he has no body, I am devastated to say that you will need to provide him with one naturally."

"…"

"…?"

"… Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"If what you are saying is indeed what I am thinking then yes."

"You–.. That–.. Argh! I need to produce a body for him!? An actual body that comes from myself!?"

"You have always dreamt of being a father… Was I wrong?"

"Of course not!" The scarlet eyed man's composure was destroyed as he facepalmed with a pinched expression. "So I need to have sex with a random someone before you could plant the soul inside a developing fetus?" He couldn't contain a shudder at the thought of being intimate with a stranger, or anyone in fact. He handed back the fragile container and It placed the vial inside one of Its many pockets.

"You will insert it, not I and before you ask, my Master, he will not retain his appearance but would take much of yours."

"What do you mean I will implant the soul? And perhaps you do not know, but we do look very much alike." Much to Ginevra's horror. He could still remembered when his features had started to change after he had hit his 17th birthday. Only the youngest Weasley knew whom his features were turning into, and it had freaked her so much that she almost drove a stake into his chest when he was having a sleep over at the Burrow.

"Indeed I do know, as well as to the reason why."

He made an irritated sound and huffed out in frustration. It has been so long since he showed any emotion other than boredom, rage and bloodlust freely. In just over an hour, Death had already accomplished the things that even his Parasite toys had failed to do.

Death stared at its Master as he continued to mumble out incoherent hisses.

"What about his memories?" The man finally huffed out.

"All are intact."

"Would that not mean he will remember his life… and death?"

"Indeed he will."

"He would kill me once he finds out I was his killer."

"And he would not succeed."

The man sighed. He knew that even with the soul's memories intact, he would still out-power the soul. He was a monster in human skin after all. A man-made monster.

"Should I have a need to apparate all the way to –the ruined– Gringotts for gold?"

"There would not be any need. Death's Vault has always been everywhere and … untouchable."

"Excellent… Will I be getting my own name?"

"If you so wish to."

"Finally I get to choose a much better than my current mundane one! Perhaps –"

As they continued their discussion, the scarlet eye man had thought about the things he would be doing in the near future. The pros definitely exceed the cons. He would've killed himself if he continued to live… no, survive in the world he's currently in. The problem was that he was just unable to remain dead for long.

Oh he tried killing himself plenty of times. From slitting his throat to beheading himself. From holding his breath to drowning himself. From setting his body aflame to throwing himself into a pit of lava. Everything he tried had failed. When his limbs (and head) was cut off, they would reattach themselves –he doesn't even know how– even after he was halfway across the world. They would just pop up the next day or something.

The first time he had to reattach his limb, he had screeched like a little girl in the face of a pedophile. It was that painful. All the skin and veins and nerves and muscles and bones and… everything, connecting forcefully into one.

He had gotten used to the feeling with time and now he would just feel an odd sensation if he were to accidently cut his fingers on accident. Perhaps his reactions and feeling to pain were numb and void. Perhaps he had acquired a medical condition called congenital analgesia. What the medical crapping name means is that the person cannot feel physical pain. He would only feel an itch or a blunt force like when your friend pokes your sides.

Other than re-attaching limbs, if his lungs were filled with water, they would force him to puke everything out, even his stomach contents. It was unpleasant but bearable.

The most hated was his skin. His burnt skin would drop off, alike a snake during their shedding. It was awfully itchy and would lead to him scratching his skin off –which was counterproductive. Not tickly itching, it was itching that you need to scratch to satisfy yourself. It took a lot of control, but he managed after a few month of being a no-skin human.

After finalizing everything to the tiniest details to avoid any potential danger to his new identity, the scarlet eyed man narrowed his eyes as he stroke his pet's head.

"When will we be leaving?"

"Now if you so wish it." It held out Its hand, waiting for the man to accept it.

The man tilted his head towards the window and removed his glasses as he fixed his gaze at the polluted green sky a last time. The sky was one of the first things that changed after the air was polluted by poisonous chemicals and gasses. Humans were forced to wear masks to avoid would not miss such a sight.

He placed his smaller, scarred hand upon Death's bigger and pallor palm.

As soon as the entity's fingers entwined with his, he felt his body shudder. His scarlet eyes widen and brightened to crimson in unmasked pain. It was a feeling he had become unfamiliar with. Excruciating pain that he once felt when his equal tortured him, when Parasites experimented on him.

He felt his bones, organs, innards and the like, melt and he couldn't help but scream in distress. It was unbearable as he felt his skin tighten, blood boiling, and muscles forcing themselves to break apart.

His vision started spinning with rainbow colored laser beams, everything became blurry as tears trail down his slowly fattening cheeks. Just as inky black spots appear, an arm hooked around his waist and he disappeared.

On the year 2157, Harry James Potter vanished, leaving only a snake lying on a still warm throne.


A/N

My inspiration for writing this fic is due to: The beginning to the beginning by HuskyWalker. For those people who love reading TMR/HP time-travel fic, read it! I recommend it!

And please bear with me, the other chapters would be longer and less boring. It will get better \(OwO)/

My apologies for grammar mistakes and spelling errors. My first language is not English.

Rainbows and sunshine,
GenderlessPerson