Based loosely on Reptilia28's Don't Fear the Reaper Challenge. Enjoy!

Harry Hurt.

No, not like 'Voldemort's on a rampage and handing out cruciatus curses like candy' kind of hurt. This was different. When he had been hit with a few of those, he had only wished he was dead.

This kind of hurt though, this was worse.

Slowly, trying not to aggravate the issue, Harry gently opened his eyes. He immediately wished he had not. The light was too much. Far too bright. Especially after feeling like he had just passed through a tunnel. But there really was nothing he could do for it. After a few minutes, Harry decided to try again. He cracked his right eye, lifting his right hand to shield it from the light.

Another mistake.

Moving his arm made him wonder if rather than wishing he was dead, he actually was.

"Well of course you are, boyo."

Huh? The Irish Brogue launched from beside him once again.

"I said, well of course you are boyo. Now get your lazy bones up. It isn't as if this is your first soiree into my neck of the woods."

Suddenly there was even more pain. Hands roughly gripped Harry's shoulders, dragging him into a sitting position before another gasp of pain burst forth from Harry's chest. Considering all he had been through, why did this ache so much.

"Well, see, the cruciatus just tugs at your soul a bit. T'is is death hisself. You've actually been separated from your body once again, boyo." Harry was really starting to dislike this person. The Irish voice sounded, once more, impatiently but from in front of him as he opened his eyes.

Instantly Harry wished he had not. The angry sounding voice was echoing from an individual in front of him who looked vaguely familiar. There were several chins and the face was purple, or at least turning purple. Years of conditioning instantly kicked in at seeing that face so close to his own and Harry flinched, trying to curl up for the inevitable.

But then it did not come. After a moment, Harry relaxed and peeked out from behind his arm. The angry face was still there, but the man was standing back. With his arms crossed and tapping his foot on the ground, his eyes bore into Harry's in a way his Uncle's never had.

"Well come on, boyo. We got us a lot of work to do for yet anoter of your mistakes. Let's get movin."

Not even waiting, the man turned and began to move. Harry sat, rooted to the spot for another moment before jumping to his feet to follow. It was in this moment when Harry finally took a moment to notice his surroundings.

The walls were white, in an antiseptic way. The floor was the cleanest thing he had ever seen, a traditional pattern less tile, which simply seemed to go on forever. There were no pictures and all of the surrounding gurney's, apparently better for arrival than actual chairs, were empty. That said, he could see each one had been used rather recently.

That was an eye opener. And a reminder.

A reminder of the deaths he had seen, not only recently even. Harry's oldest memory, thanks to those damned dementors, was of his mother's sacrifice. Since then, he had seen Quirrell, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Fred, George, Arthur, Molly, Remus, Tonks, Hagrid, Hedwig…well, far too many had died. He had even seen Ron and Ginny take killing curses.

But those were not the ones that got to him. No, for some reason Harry could not explain, the death that had ruined him was hers.

Hermione, falling lifelessly to the ground, that ad sent him over the edge.

They had been at the Battle of Hogwarts, hoping it would be the end. Harry and the golden trio had destroyed all of the horocruxes. They had followed Snape, and somewhere along the way managed to kill Nagini. Or Neville did, giving his own life to end the bloody snake.

The battle had been going back and forth at that point. The Death Eaters had given jut as well as the defenders of Hogwarts. Lives were ending left and right. And as expected, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were right in the thick of it.

They had lost their innocence long before that. Taking a life of a Death Eater, it was a moral battle long since ended. Today was about survival. And that survival had already been expensive.

Ron was the first to fall. He had just managed to drop Lucius with a stunner when Bellatrix came from the other side, casting a bludgeoning hex which caused the red-head's head to turn into a fine mist.

But there was no time to react. Harry followed this with a cutting curse of his own, one too powerful for the dark witch to bat away. It blew through her defense and removed the dark head of hair from her shoulders.

The loss of Ron had struck a chord in Harry and Hermione. They had been deadly before. Now they were ruthless.

Harry was so caught up in returning the favor while he singlehandedly began to turn the tide of the battle that he missed the arrival of the biggest player besides himself. He missed the cruel red eyes turn their hatred on the young teen. They missed the wand movement and the green light erupting from the tip.

But a set of chocolate eyes missed none of that. Noor did the bushy brown-haired with sit still.

But watching Hermione dive in front of a killing curse meant for him, that ended all forms of rational thought. Harry had no earthly idea why her death hit him so hard, but he felt it. Harry exploded, a light the same color as his eyes launching forth its own shockwave. Every living thing that light touched died.

All except one.

By some terrible nightmare, as Harry collapsed, he saw Voldemort stand as Harry breathed his own dying breath.

Harry's eyes hardened as he recalled what he had been doing just prior to awakening here. With a determined glint, Harry strode after the being who looked far too much like his uncle for comfort.

Down a long hall which appeared as sterile as the room he had just left, Harry followed this man. The only sound was the hollow echo of footsteps. After what felt like an incredibly long walk lasting only a few minutes, the two arrived at a door.

Without hesitation, the large man led him into the room, offering Harry a seat. As Harry settled into the chair, the large man imitating his uncle settled his own considerable bulk into the chair behind the desk.

And stared.

And stared.

After several tense moments of staring, Harry had enough.

"So…what is going on?" After a few more seconds of intense staring, the man began.

"Mr. Potter, do you really hate me that much? Based on the confused expression on your face, I must assume you are lost and confused. Such a terrible thing we kept having to wipe your mind." The last line was muttered more to himself than anyone else. He paused to study Harry once more before removing a folder from his desk which he began to review. "Mr. Potter, as your reaper, I must inform you that you have died, yet again. This time your foolishness could quite possibly cost me."

"Reaper?"

"Yes. I am Ian, your personal slave, I mean reaper. I used to have several more accounts, but you have ruined that for me, yet again."

"Ummm, again?" Harry was lost and the confusion shown through in his tone.

"Of course again. You think I would be this upset if this was your first death? I wasn't even this upset at your second, third, or fourth attempts to depart from the living."

"Fourth? Are you saying I have now died 5 times?" Harry was still trying to wrap his head around the whole death thing. This seemed like an incredibly elaborate prank by the twins. Had he not seen both die himself, he would be waiting for one of them to pop out.

"No." Harry Breathed a sigh of relief. "This is the 7th time you have died. Exactly once for each year you attended Hogwarts. It was those keys your first year, the Acromantulas in second, Boggart in third seeing as they do take on the abilities of your fear, falling down the stairs from an upset Cedric fan in fourth, blood loss from a blood quill in fifth, and splinched yourself in sixth. Naturally you managed to live through the most insane situations. Do I need to remind you the why behind your current visit?" Harry shook his head, still trying to wrap his head around things. Apparently Ian was insane. Or Harry was. But Ian wasn't done chewing Harry out.

"But here is the thing, boyo. Dying is the worst, but it really is your own fault." That drew Harry up short. Well, more so than previously.

"My fault?"

"Well of course. You could have had it all. You are a legacy of unbelievable strength and ability, you know. Not only that, but your father was a master of transfiguration while your mother could out charm and out potion any other individual out there. Head Boy and Girl, they were. Found their soul mates, they did. You on the other hand, content with mediocrity. Completely skipped grabbing that soulmate or two. Probably would have been a disappointment."

"Hey now, there is no need for that."

"No, well then do tell me just what kept you from living up to their legacy."

"Nothing. I did what I could."

"You mean," Ian leered over the desk making Harry truly feel small, "You fell in with that red-headed buffoon."

"Ok, stop this now. Do not call Ron that."

"Well why not? He is another factor in your early death. That idiot's manipulations almost cost you as much as the twinkle-eyed one, or either of the red-headed potioneers." Harry was truly and completely lost at this point. Ron? Manipulation?

"What are you on about. Ron has been my best mate since first year."

"is that so? Did you know he is the one who spread the rumor about you being the heir of Slytherin?"

"He would never!" Harry was truly becoming annoyed. Harry had just watched Ron die not that long ago and now this jerk who looked too much like his uncle for comfort was attempting to change his mind. The grin which spread across Ian's face was unsettling.

"Indeed? Well let's watch, shall we?" Ian pulled out a pensive and placed it on the desk. Inside was a swirling silver mist, the likes of which Harry had come to know well. "These memories were pulled directly from this best mate of yours. He passed through here not long before you did." Ian gestured to the mist. Harry was hesitant at first, but seeing Ron in the pensive led Harry to leaning in and entering the memory.

Ron was sitting in their charms class, shared with the Hufflepuffs. Justin was sitting close to him.

"Look mate, I'm not saying he is bad, but name one parslemouth who didn't go bad." Justin's eyes shot open in terror.

"They say that You-Know-Who was a parselmouth, not to mention Slytherin." Justin looked ready to faint.

"Weasley, are you trying to say Potter is the heir of Slytherin?" A new voice erupted from behind them. Ernie Macmillan looked on with pure terror in his eyes. Ron opened his mouth to respond when a younger Harry strode into the room. The Hufflepuffs, decked out in their yellow and black, jumped back to their own seats, none daring to make eye contact with Harry.

Harry gasped as the memory faded. He turned a critical eye to Ian. "Those can be faked."

"Well of course they can. But if you need more proof, look at your fourth year or even the hunt. And it didn't stop at making a bad name for you in those instances." Harry was still groaning from the sense that Ian was making. And apparently there was more.

"What else was there?"

"You were incredibly famous, boyo. Ever wonder why no one beyond Ron and Hermione ever really tried to be your friends?" Harry tensed. Was Hermione in on this as well? Ian responded, as if reading his mind. "No, she wasn't in on it. She was the exception you never grew up for. No, we are still focused on Ron." Ian stopped and gestured once again to the pensive. With a deep breath, Harry threw himself into the tub once again.

Ron was sitting at the Gryffindor table. Harry was distracted by Hermione when Ron noted a green and silver tie heading in his direction.

"What do you want Greengrass?" Ron hissed. The young blond merely stared back.

"That is none of your business, Weasley." As she continued to make her way toward Harry, Ron stepped directly between the two. He looked ready to fight.

"Well if you are trying to talk to Harry, stop. He hates you snakes even more than I do."

"Well then he can tell me that himself." Daphne seemed to be getting frustrated. That was quite a task with the blond Slytherin.

"He won't even pay attention. Walk away now you Slytherslut." Ron crossed his arms.

After a moment of consideration, Daphne glared at Ron before turning to walk away. Harry kept watching until he saw her make it back to her own table. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny as she glanced once more toward the Gryffindor table before her eyes hardened."

Harry felt his heart break. How could Ron do that. Harry was not petty enough to fight over which house someone belonged to. He merely didn't want to be with Draco. Daphne had been nice enough up until 5th year. Harry nodded to Ian's unasked question as to whether he believed Ian about Ron.

"And he was not the only one." Harry sighed. As if this was not enough, now there was more. How many more betrayals could he handle?

"Who else?"

With a cruel grin, Ian asked his next question while directing Harry back to the Pensive. Harry, throwing himself in, almost missed the question. "Just why did you start dating Ms. Weasley?"

There was a late night. It was obviously a girl's dorm room. Sitting on the bed was Hermione and Ginny. Hermione had tears streaking down her face, but she was smiling.

"…then Harry came out and sat with me. Maybe I had it all wrong. Ron and I, all we do is fight. Harry…"

"Doesn't need you to get in his way right now." Hermione stopped at the red-head's interruption.

"What?" She sounded as if she was heading back toward tears. "What do you mean Ginny?"

"Hermione, Harry has all this stuff hanging over him. He doesn't need a girlfriend to get in the way right now." Hermione gave the younger woman a considered look.

"Or is it you don't think you stand a chance against me if Harry had to choose?" The room suddenly became much colder. Suddenly Ginny started laughing before moving over and pulling two bottles of butterbeer out of her trunk. While her back was to Hermione, Harry watched as Ginny dropped some sort of potion into one of the butterbeers before handing it to Hermione.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I got carried away." She paused, waiting while Hermione considered the drink. She let Hermione take a long pull from it before sitting back down beside Harry's bushy haired best friend.

"Yeah, you're right. I can do better than Harry."

Harry felt his heart drop as he left the pensive. Hearing that hurt nearly as much as Hermione's death. But he had no idea why.

"What….What was that?" Harry croaked that out.

"What else could it be? That was young Ginny potioning Hermione with a mix of love potion to Ron and loyalty to him as well."

That stopped Harry short. What could that all mean? If Hermione had to be potioned to love Ron…

"That's right!" Ian said in a sick sing-song voice.

Harry's head dropped into his hands. But the revelations just kept coming.

"Of course neither Ron nor Ginerva could really manage that level of potions until about the time you left to chase horocruxes."

"Molly." Harry did not need it explained. He knew where this was all going. "And the rest of the Weasleys?"

"As far as we know, no involvement beyond loving you."

Harry felt his heart clench. Love? Considering how he grew up and his only in depth romantic relationship was manufactured, what the hell did he bloody well know about love? His head shot back up at the sound of a throat being cleared.

"Well, I supposed next we should go on to Severus Snape."

"Snape?" Harry questioned. Just last night…or what felt like last night at least, he had learned Snape loved his mother.

"Indeed, the greasy git did love your mother. But let us consider a few things. What did he ask both Voldemort and Dumbledore to do?"

"Save her?"

"Exactly. Save her. He did not care what happened to either you or your father. And what was the final thing he asked you as you died?"

"To look into my eyes."

"Sure enough. Tell me, who are you always told you got your eyes from?"

Harry gasped with the realization. "My mother." Snape cared nothing for him. Snape cared only for Snape. Through it all, to the very end, Snape cared solely for Snape.

"And finally, that brings us to Dumbledore."

That one brought Harry up short. The great wizard had always seemed so positive. He was the leader of the light, after all. Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, all that jazz. With a resigned sigh, Harry looked back at Ian.

"Ok, do tell."

"Mr. Potter, tell me who has made every single decision regarding your life?"

"Ummm….me?"

"Really? So you chose to go to the Dursley's? And who places a priceless artifact behind traps that three first-years could make it through? Who was the headmaster at the school where you were accused and bullied for being the heir of Slytherin? Who was the Chief Warlock of the judicial body which sent your godfather to Azkaban with no trial? Your magical guardian who granted you the ability to participate in the Tri-wizard Tournament? Need I continue?" Harry shook his head.

"Wonderful. Then we can move on to the next issue. Your soul mates!"

"Ummm…what?"

"Your soul mates."

"Right." With an exasperated sigh, Ian went more in depth.

"See, everyone has a soul mate. Actually, I take that back. Everyone has two soul mates. There is a reason for that. I mean, if everyone only had one, it would be nearly impossible for someone to find their soul mate. That said, it is not common. Finding even one of those, particularly if they live on the other side of the world, is difficult if not impossible. So many settle for a compatible soul, if not an actual soul mate. Generally, especially in today's society, marrying one person is acceptable. Not finding your soul mate generally is not that big a deal." Ian stopped reviewing the file, looking over it. His eyes bore into Harry's. "In your case, Mr. Potter, you have five soul mates. More than that, you met nearly all of them. And you still did not manage to love them, therefore completing the soul bond and increasing your abilities. And it cost the world as you could not defeat Voldemort."

Ian's voice grew as this went on. The final line was then said in a nearly soundless whisper.

"But now we get one final chance to fix it." There was a feral grin on Ian's face. "We get to send you back once more. But there are some benefits." With a flourish, Ian drew out a long sheet of paper. "Here is a contract, designed by Fate and Chance. With the approval of Death, we are being given the opportunity to send you back, much further this time. You will fix this. You will not die until you reach your 200's. Should you accept this, you will also receive Fate' gift and be playing chance's game. Do you accept?"

"Do I get to know the gift or game first?"

"Now what is the fun in that?"

"Fine, I accept."

"Excellent! This time, you shall retain your memories. There will be much to do. You must defeat Voldemort this time. And you have the tools. By loving all of your soul mates, you will expand your abilities. Yes, I know, more than one. That is part of Fate's gift. The other's are the fact that one of your soul mates was not at Hogwarts last time. One soul mate is some granger girl according to your account. The rest of the details have been redacted. Fate's gift is that information. Chance's game is that he will give you a nudge toward those soul mates. It will be up to you to decide what that means and to act on it. When you do, as a kiss is shared in love, your soul mates' experiences from this timeline shall be returned

"In addition, you must, obviously, end Voldemort. Death is tired of being cheated. You shall be his champion. You must stop Dumbledore's manipulations. They are costing lives well before they should be while he, himself, voids it.

"And finally, you must accept your role. Dumbledore, Voldemort, they are symptoms. Fix the system."

"Wow." Harry felt lost. That was a great deal of information. How was he supposed to handle all of this? He reached out to sign the contract that Ian was laying before him.

"Oh, one final thing, Mr. Potter."

"Yes?" The room began to fade.

"When you return, visit the goblins. Ask for an inheritance test and ask them about the end times prophecy."

End times prophecy? That sounded ominous. As Harry faded, he missed Ian's final words and smile.

"Good luck, our champion."