Summary- After living a tragedy filled life, Harry Potter takes his last breath. A world away, a Winchester takes his first. Reincarnation isn't all it's cut up to be. MoD!Harry. Gen. AU.

Chapter 1: Drawing A Straw

It took him two years to notice he wasn't aging, and three more to accept it.

Harry Potter had been trying to get his life together during war time. Not the fight against Voldemort in his teens. No, not that one. Shortly after Voldemort died, the muggles found them. And it hadn't been pretty.

Almost everyone he had cared about had died then, barring Hermione. Together, they had tried their best to move on amiss their grieving. Until he began noticing the little things. He still looked like he had at eighteen, and now in his late twenties, he couldn't pass it off as aging gracefully anymore. Hermione had tried to help him figure it out, going through the books that remained from the wizarding world in between the bloody fighting still happening.

It wasn't much. Many witches and wizards had been forced to go into hiding or flee to the farthest corners of the world possible, looking to escape the war, and most of the places of magic had been destroyed or were being studied. Raids by the muggles went on weekly, finding any magical being and executing them in place. He and Hermione had been close to a breakthrough when it had happened. They had been ambushed and Hermione had died in his arms from a bullet to heart that had been aimed at him.

Harry had screamed his pain and in his rage, he'd laid waste to every single soldier that had been present. A bullet to the head had done him in. Exhausted and grieving, Harry had embraced Death with open arms for the second time in his existence.

l.

Harry woke up in darkness. He was surprised, mostly by the fact that he had woken up at all, something he was not expecting seeing as he had died.

He was floating, he thought, feeling weightless and light. He couldn't see a thing, but yet Harry had never felt more at peace. He was content in enjoying it for a while before he grew restless.

What was happening?

"You are in my domain now, little master," a voice rang in his mind, not soft but not loud, neither male or female, sounding young and old all at once, gentle and cruel at the same time. Harry couldn't even find himself startled.

"Who-" He paused. "What are you?" He corrected himself. A chuckled resounded, all around him yet not.

"You already know me, Harry. And know me well," came the vague reply. Harry thought for a moment, before he realized just who he was before.

"Death," he breathed out, fearful and awed at the same time. Death chuckled once more.

"That's correct," he confirmed, sounding pleased. "I've been waiting to meet you, little master."

"Master?" He echoed, dread suddenly filling Harry to the core of his being. Death certainly wasn't implying that, was he?

"Owner of the three Hallows, you are the Master of Death."

"But I threw away the stone and snapped the wand!" Harry protested, feeling the icy fingers of panic starting to creep up on him. His denial sounded weak even to him.

"Something like that is not enough to rid of them, Harry, surely you know that. Even you do not believe that. You cannot lie to Death."

Harry had no retort for that. He knew that Death was right. It made sense now, why he wasn't aging.

"I didn't want this." In his focus to make sure they never fell into Voldemort's hands, Harry had not thought about what it would do to him to have at one point possessed all three Hallows. Immortality- he didn't want that. He wanted to pass on, to see his dead loved ones. To rest.

"I died," Harry reminded. "How can I be the Master of Death if I died?" He felt a spark of hope. Maybe this was just a joke?

"And I will remedy that shortly. You can be killed but never will you truly die."

That spark of hope was swiftly and harshly snuffed out. Harry took a shuddering breath. He zeroed in on what the deity was saying.

"Remedy that?" He would have been okay floating in this emptiness forever if meant peace. But what Death was implying...

"A new world you will be born in. Reincarnation. My master must walk the earth, even if it is not the one you were born to. Your world ended as it should have, it is time to go to a new one."

"Do I have a choice?" He had a feeling the answer was a no.

"It is time to go," Death said instead. Harry wanted to protest but suddenly, he was sleepy and so very tired.

"We will meet again, little master."

ll.

The first thing he noticed was how cold he was. Harry could feel himself wrapped up in a blanket, but he was still so cold.

Harry frowned mentally. Everything was blurry, but he could hear the sounds of something beeping and the flurry of activity. Not to mention the weird sensation of being held in the crook of someone's arm. Harry knew he was short, but to be carried like that? Where was he?

His meeting with Death finally came to the forefront of his mind. Then everything else followed. He was a baby, Harry realized. A baby.

"-he's not crying-"

Oh god, Hermione. She was gone.

"-very healthy, nothing to worry about-"

Everyone was gone.

Overcome with grief, Harry let out a piercing wail, startling his new parents and a couple of nurses.

A plot bunny that just demanded to be written. I hope you like it. Excuse the shortness.

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