A/N: I wanted to put this at the start instead of the end because I wanted to say a few words before you all started reading. For those that read the original 'A Better Life', I hope you enjoy this new one. The plot for the old one died a long time ago, with a part of me that no longer exists. The base premise itself has changed to be honest, but I tried to put as many ideas as I could into it. The old story is gone, deleted from the site with all the original chapters lost to me as well. At first, I wanted to simply give the story to another to finish, but that wouldn't do my story justice, nor would it be fair to myself. I know that a lot of people loved the story, but I hope you'll enjoy this one just as much.

The first chapter may feel rushed, but I assure you this fast pace is what I was going for to set the theme. I want to thank you all as well before you read the chapter. Your continued support of my stories is the only reason I even write anymore. Without it, the last creative part of me would probably be gone. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Now please, enjoy the story.

Prologue

It wasn't so bad, dying. Sirius had told him the truth, he did feel like he had just fallen asleep. His eyes were slowly coming into focus, revealing a large white room all around him. He stood up, noticing that he was draped in only a white robe and shoes while there were pathetic sounding cries coming from below him. The room almost resembled King's Cross Station, if someone ever had the time to clean the place that was.

He moved towards the bench in front of him, noticing that the crying was following him. He glanced down, noticing the baby like creature that was clutching to his leg. He panted, trying to release the creature from his leg.

"It won't let go." A voice called out. "You're the only thing keeping it alive." The voice explained, making its way to him.

"W-Where am I...?" Harry finally managed to ask, flailing his leg.

"You are in the afterlife, Mr Potter." The now hooded figure replied, gripping the creature by the neck. "You're the second last one." An inhuman chuckle escaped from the hooded figure as it placed the creature under its robe. "I thank you, Harry Potter."

"Y-You're Death, aren't you?" Harry stared at the figure, feeling a coldness overtake him. "You're here for my soul…"

"No." Death shook the hood, holding out a small book from one of their skeletal hands. "Harry James Potter. Born in July 1981 to Elizabeth Maria Potter nee Evans and James Charlus Potter. You've lived an…well you lived." The voice remarked, with a bored tone permeating through. "I've seen farmers with more exciting lives than this."

"Hey!" Harry frowned. "I fought against Voldemort!"

"Fought?" Death smirked. "You locked into Priori Incantatem with him in a graveyard. Managed to get possessed by him a year later. You did nothing the following year, and now to top it all off, you let him kill you! What kind of bloody life do you call that then?"

Harry's frown deepened. "I destroyed the Diary! And got the other Horcruxes!"

"A Ronald Weasley destroyed the Locket. One Hermione Granger destroyed the Cup. Dumbledore destroyed the Ring. Voldemort himself destroyed his own one within you. And a BLOODY DEATH EATER DESTROYED THE DIADEM AFTER YOU STABBED IT IN THE WRONG PLACE!" Death bellowed at him. "For the love of the universe, you are one of the single most irritating humans I've ever come across. And I've known every evil in history!"

Harry sighed. "Look, can you just send me to the rest of the afterlife? Or is this my punishment for the life I led?"

Death groaned, removing the hood to reveal a half-decomposed skull. "I haven't had a brain since humans started fires, and yet you have still managed to give me a migraine!" He held out his hand, waving it at him. "And you hold the bloody Hallows!" He closed his one remaining eye, motioning his skull up. "What did I do to piss you off? Was it the whole Black Death thing? I was going through a phase! After all, you weren't exactly speaking to me then! You did fuck all to Fate, and she started the SPANISH INQUISITION! NOT TO MENTION WHAT PRIDE DONE TO ATLANTIS! Why are you punishing me?!"

Harry watched on with confusion as Death seemed to have a breakdown. "I'm the Master of the Hallows? The Master of Death?"

Death released a blast of energy, forcing Harry to his knees. "NO ONE IS THE MASTER OF ME! I AM DEATH! THOSE TRINKETS WERE STOLEN BY YOUR ANCESTORS." He pulled out his scythe, resting the tip of its blade under his chin. His breathing calmed as he eased up his grip. "But, you are the Master of the Hallows. As such…I am forced to give you a second chance…" He begrudgingly admitted, forcing Harry to his feet.

Harry didn't know if his heart was able to beat while in the afterlife, but he was sure if it could then his was in his throat. "So, I can go back to my life?"

Death laughed at him, gripping his skeletal ribs as if the laughter was causing air to leave his non-existent lungs. "You want to go back to that shit show of a life?! Are you serious?" He asked, shaking his head at the young man. "I'm offering you a second chance at LIFE! Not a chance to return to that train wreck."

"B-But, I have to defeat Voldemort!" Harry argued.

"No, you don't!" Death snapped. "You followed a prophecy from a woman who has only made THREE damn predictions! ANYONE could've killed him, Harry. The Prophecy meant your bloody Horcrux! Neither can live while the OTHER survives. If that was true, BOTH of you would've dropped dead when he was revived in the graveyard!"

Harry sat dumbfounded for a minute. "S-So, I completed the Prophecy...? I don't have to fight anymore?" He asked, his head throbbing at the thought. "But Dumbledore told me…"

"Dumbledore was a fool, Harry. A good man. An amazing teacher, but a fool." Death sighed, fixing his hood back in place. He brought out the large ledger of souls. "He put all his eggs in one basket out of fear. Fear that he couldn't defeat Riddle."

Harry closed his eyes. "D-Death…were their deaths necessary?" He asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

"I can't answer that. That is my sister's department." Death explained. He removed the scythe from his hand, motioning to a room. "That is the Sharded Hall." He clicked his fingers. "For the small, small price of two of the Hallows, you may try your live again. You'll be placed in the body of another Harry Potter in another life. I cannot guarantee that the life will be better or worse, only that it will not follow the events of your life."

Harry watched as the Hallows came into view. "The Wand and the Stone." He instantly chose, reaching out for the cloak. "This is a Potter family heirloom, I can't give it up." He hugged it close to him, trying to ignore the fact that he looked like a child clinging to a blanket after a nightmare.

Death watched the young man. "Ignotus Peverell, the only one who actually earned his reward. Something he has done in all realities." He chuckled for a second, taking the wand and stone. "In exchange for this, you must promise never to seek out the three Hallows."

"I promise. I'll only keep the Cloak…if it is the Potters in the life I choose." Harry wiped his eyes. He didn't know when the tears started, but he knew why they were coming. "W-What's going to happen to my friends?"

"Neville Longbottom will destroy the snake, but die in the act." Death whispered. "Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley will defeat the Dark Lord with the help of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who will also perish in the fight. It will take years, but England will recover. Your friends will live happy lives, except for Ginny Weasley, who will forever mourn the fact she never reconciled with you."

Harry sighed. "I suppose I can't expect a happy ending for everyone…" He stood up, moving towards the Sharded Hall. He opened the door, gasping at the multiple floating shards of glass. "T-These are all my life?"

"Indeed. Life, like a tree is ever branching." Death mused, leaning against his scythe. "Each of these shards represent a different life, all of which share one common theme: your birth." He motioned for Harry to choose one. "Choose carefully, for you may never get another chance, Harry."

Harry moved towards the shards, feeling a pull towards one of the smaller shards. He reached his hand out, feeling it attach to him. "What happens now?"

"Curl your hand into a fist, and your soul will move to the body of that Harry Potter." Death frowned. "Your memories will not meld, so be careful." He smirked. "I wish you luck, Harry Potter."

"Thank you, Death." Harry whispered.

"Don't fuck your life up again." Death added with a chuckle.

Harry smirked. "I'll try not to." He curled his fingers around the shard. He tightened his grip, feeling the shard turn to dust. "Goodbye." He whispered, feeling an almost Portkey like pull on his navel before his eyes closed again.

"Take that Fate. You bitch." Death smirked to himself, clearing the other shards away. "It's all up to you now, Headmaster." He pulled a small shard from the stone and the wand. "I nearly have them back."

-ABL-

His eyes opened to a white ceiling and he instantly worried that it didn't work. Could he have been so unlucky that he went into the final moments of another body? Was his Fate well and truly sealed? He heard the beeping of a heart monitor, and surmised that he was in a hospital. He held his arms up, noticing that they were slightly muscular. Not enough for him to be considered ripped, but enough for him to be considered a healthy weight.

He heard rustling from beside him. "He's awake!" A male voice called out. He couldn't place the voice, but what came into view was an almost mirror image of him, except for the eyes.

"D-Dad?" Harry wrapped his arms around the man, holding onto him. So, he was in a place where at least his father survived the war. He let out a sobbed chuckle, tightening his hold on the man.

"Jesus, he must've really been hit bad." A female voice called out. Unlike the first voice, Harry could place this one. It haunted most of his nightmares for nearly two decades.

"Mum…" He whispered, breaking the hug to turn to her. Age had been good to her. She had a small wisp of grey hair on one side of her hair, but her face remained wrinkle free and serene. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to him. "What happened?"

Lily held onto him, breaking the hug with a large frown. "You, you're a reckless idiot! What the hell compelled you to attack the Dark Lord like that?!" She shouted at him, causing him to pale. Voldemort was still around? His heart began to beat faster. Was this life just like the one he left? Was the only difference the survival of his parents?

"I-I'm sorry." Harry breathed out, wiping his eyes. "I'm so sorry. It was stupid. It was reckless." He whimpered. Years of emotions began to pour out of him. "I just wanted to keep everyone safe…"

Lily wrapped her arms around him. "Shh…" She held onto him, rubbing his back. "You're alive, Harry. That's all that matters."

James frowned as his son broke down. He'd never seen Harry act so emotional before. His son usually remained emotionally distant to everyone as a safety mechanism. He heard the door open, turning his head to see the Headmaster. "Oh great…" He muttered. "Your grandfather's here."

Harry frowned, turning his head to see a man in the doorway. The man had grey hair, though a few specks of black could be seen throughout it. His eyes were piercing into him as he strode over to them. What made Harry's heart stop was when the man spoke, he recognised the voice instantly. "VOLDEMORT!"

Tom Riddle raised an eyebrow at his grandson. "I haven't heard anyone call me that since I was sixteen, Harry." He chuckled softly, taking a seat beside him. "What possessed you to attack the Dark Lord like that?!" He snapped, glaring at him. "Your mother has been worried sick here! And I don't like seeing my daughter like that!"

Harry's complexion paled to the point he resembled a corpse. His mother was the spawn of Voldemort? What kind of fucked up life had Death dropped him into? He took a step back, summoning the wand beside him without a word. "Let me out of here, now!" He ordered, gripping the wand tightly.

Riddle watched him carefully. "Harry, put down the wand." He said softly, though his tone held a strictness that showed his years. He summoned his own wand, thinking carefully. "Legilimens!" He cast, breaking through the rather weak defences that his grandson had up. He watched the memories carefully, blinking once he was done. "That's not our Harry." He said softly, gripping his head tightly. "He's…" He sat back down, wiping some blood from his nose. "I'm not sure what he is…"

James and Lily watched their son in horror. He lowered the wand, seeing the concern the two had for the elderly man. "I was dead." He said softly. "Killed by the Dark Lord Voldemort." He whispered, taking a cautious step forward. "Because I held the Deathly Hallows, I was able to gain a second chance."

"That makes…sense." Lily whispered, matching his careful steps. "Our son took on the Dark Lord a few days ago." She took a deep breath. "We had just turned off his life support machine…he was brain dead. W-We were here to guide his passing."

Harry's eyes widened. 'Your memories won't meld.' Now it made sense to him. There were no memories in the head to meld. He had basically taken over a husk of himself. "Death told me I'd have no memories of my new life. I suppose he chose that for a reason." He placed the wand on the bed. "Who is the Dark Lord...?" He cautiously asked, frowning at them.

Tom looked up at him. "In your world, he was your trusted mentor." He spoke softly. "In this world, he is a vicious dictator, and one who has waged war with England for decades. He rules most of Europe with an iron fist. Muggles and Magicals alike speak his name with more than an ounce of fear." He wiped the last of the blood from his nose, rising to his feet. "He holds the only Shadow Phoenix in existence and is rumoured to have stolen the philosopher's stone from the Flamel family years ago. He calls himself the Immortal Emperor. You know him as Albus Dumbledore." He whispered, placing his hand on his grandson's shoulder. "And you, are Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily. Grandson of Dorea, Charlus, Viola and Thomas." He sat him down. He turned to his son in-law and daughter. "And in his world, I was the one who killed his parents…"

Lily knelt down to her son…to the person who was her son. "Harry...?" She cupped his chin, seeing the pain in his eyes. "You're safe, Harry." She promised him.

Harry took a deep breath, letting the tears fall. "I don't want to fight anymore…" He whispered, shaking his head. "I-I just want to live my life." He wiped the tears away, staring at Riddle. "Y-You're my grandfather...?"

Riddle nodded, summoning a bottle of water from the table. He poured out a glass for the young man. "Drink it slowly, you've may have been only hurt moments ago, but you've been in a coma for more than two weeks now in this world." He glanced at Lily. "I'm guessing that your mother isn't the child of Voldemort in your reality?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "Tom Marvolo Riddle was born to Merope Gaunt and Thomas Riddle Senior on New Year's Eve, 1926. His mother had seduced his father with a love potion. Once she fell pregnant, she stopped giving it to him, hoping he'd stay with her. Alas, she was wrong." He spoke softly, taking a small sip of water. "She died giving birth and he was placed in an orphanage. At eleven, he was discovered by Albus Dumbledore. At that point, he was already dark. His childhood spent working on the power he had discovered."

Riddle frowned, pondering on the events. "Most are similar. I was born to Thomas and Merope Riddle. My mother had been saved from an abusive family by my father." He smiled softly. "I'm the eldest of four children, and the only one to have magical blood. My siblings are all within the muggle world, and all are happy." He took Lily's hand. "I married a muggle woman by the name of Viola when I was thirty-five and she was twenty. She bore me five beautiful children." He smiled at his daughter. "Who in turn have borne me many grandchildren and a few great-grandchildren." He chuckled.

Harry stared at them for a moment. "I see." He stood up carefully, checking himself in the mirror. "Did you see all of my life?" He asked politely.

"Most." Riddle nodded. "Your shield work is dreadful, though some memories were properly hidden away." He watched the young man carefully. "Your name is Harry James Potter, born on the 31st of July 1980. Your parents were killed in front of you at the age of one. You grew up with a muggle family and didn't know of magic until you were eleven." He gestured to him. "As for here, you're the eldest son of James and Lily."

"E-Eldest…?" Harry stuttered, turning around. "H-How many...?"

"Potters?" Riddle asked softly. "Including you and your parents, six."

Harry found himself back into a chair as quick as he could, gripping his head. "Death whispered something as I left, but I didn't catch it. You're the descendant of a Peverell. So am I…"

"The descendant of two, actually." Riddle corrected him. "Cadmus and Ignotus, the second and third brothers."

Harry frowned. "Do they exist in all realities? H-Has Death…?" He stood up for a moment. "Where are they?! I'm not allowed to have the stone or the wand."

Riddle smirked. "Good, because I was leaving none of them to you in the will. My grandson with a Deathly Hallow? It's be pure madness." He clicked his fingers, making the ring appear on his finger. "The wand is locked within my personal vault in my home. The cloak is in your father's possession."

"I see." Harry took a deep breath. "Then, the two of you could summon Death. I need answers…"

Riddle raised an eyebrow. "Are you mad? He hates me! You Potters are ok, but the Gaunt blood within comes from Cadmus Peverell."

Harry frowned. "We need answers. Death could've forced me to the afterlife, or even allowed me to return to my life. He didn't…"

James walked out of the room, returning a half hour later with two small boxes. He opened his one, placing the cloak on the table. "I want answers." He said softly. "Can you do it, Thomas?"

Riddle nodded, opening the last of the boxes. He took the ring from his hand, and placed it around the wand, covering both of them with the cloak. "This may only work one time, so be ready." He warned them. "From ancient wood and cloth of old, from stone of the endless and the power of the originals, with thy name and thy command, I summon thee, the Immortal Entity, DEATH!"

The cloak floated above them, turning into a spectral entity as soon as it gained enough height. "It's been an hour, kid!" He snapped at Harry. He bowed his head to Riddle. "Thomas."

"Death." Riddle bowed his head, smiling at him. "You certainly are a bastard."

"I did as you asked, Thomas." Death chuckled, moving closer to them. "For those who did not know, Thomas made a deal with me last night. His grandson's soul, for the shard within the wand."

"Shard?" Harry asked curiously.

"Fifty shards." Riddle explained to him. "Fifty realities wherein Death was fooled by three young men." He chuckled weakly. "The shards can only be relinquished by those who share the same blood as the originals. It was Death's punishment from his creator. He is bound to the Peverell Line until all shards return to him."

Death frowned. "As such, I currently have nearly all the shards of my wand, most of the cloak ones and soon, all of the ones from the stone." He sighed. "I saw opportunity, Thomas. Your grandson's soul was shredded by the spell. Even I couldn't claim it! But this boy," He gestured to Harry. "A soul as pure as snow, which it shouldn't be. It should be mangled by the stains of evil. I spared him from a life of pain, and in return, gave you your grandson back."

Riddle frowned, shaking his head at the spectre. "I needed MY grandson back!" He snapped. "He had years of training and more importantly, he was OURS! This boy, he may be Harry in soul, but not in spirit…"

Death rolled his eye. "True, but he can be taught. I left loopholes in his terms, you idiot. He may not be allowed to hold the wand or the stone, but I left important clauses in his return. You're supposed to be intelligent, Thomas. Find a way." He frowned.

Riddle glared at the spectre. "Our deal no longer stands. You may keep that shard, but I'll ensure that you are bound to this family until the sun itself burns out." He warned him.

"You dare threaten me, Thomas?" Death asked, staring into the man's eyes. "You dare?"

Harry summoned his wand, pointing it at Death. "You forced me here?!" He shouted, pressing the wand at the Resurrection Stone. "He hasn't gotten the shards from them, has he?"

"No." Riddle responded.

Harry summoned the Stone to him. "I've broken your terms. I hold the Stone."

Death groaned. "You're an idiot. You haven't used it." He grabbed it from him. "I can send you back if you want, but I'm afraid things have changed in your absence."

Harry frowned, gripping the wand tightly in his hand. "I will kill you." He warned. "I'll stay here, since it's apparent that they need Harry Potter…"

Riddle watched him carefully. "You will?" He asked, ignoring the spectre.

"If I have to…" Harry wiped his eyes. He didn't know when he started crying, but he knew the cause. "But you," He stuck the wand into Death's spectral neck. "My friends, any of them that have fallen…and that will," He choked out a sob. "All gain entry to whatever good the afterlife has."

"I will ensure it." Death frowned. "If Riddle here agrees to honour his promise!"

Riddle stared into the eyes of his grandson. "The shards are yours, as soon as Albus Dumbledore's soul is no more."

Death nodded. "I take my leave." He turned to Harry. "Many fell, but they fell with honour and dignity. Not one of them went to his side." He said softly. "They died with the same honour you did. They died with the same conviction that you had. I hope that thought can comfort you."

Harry closed his eyes. "Go. Before I decide to shred you apart…" He commanded, his voice tight and filled with pain.

Death nodded. "The day was won in the end."

"At what costs...?" Harry asked, staring at the now empty cloak. "At what costs…"

-ABL-

The next morning wasn't an easy for him. He sat up in the hospital bed, seeing Riddle–his grandfather sitting across from him. He didn't know how to feel about the situation at hand. He knew that Death would honour the promise, especially if it meant that he would gain more of the shards. If what he knew was true, it sounded like the Hallows were almost like Horcruxes for Death.

He noticed that his grandfather was staring at him intensely. "If you have a question, then just ask it."

Riddle smirked at him, shaking his head. "You sound so much like your mother. She's not the biggest fan of people beating around the bush. I think I know what the loophole is." He smirked.

Harry frowned. "What is it?" He asked softly.

Riddle chuckled. "I believe that the loophole has to do with your lack of memories. If I'm correct, then I will be able to return most of the memories my grandson held." He threw him a bag. "I brought Harry's favourite things to wear, so you'll look the part."

Harry walked into the bathroom, opening the bag. He raised his eyebrow at the sight of some of the clothes but changed into them regardless. The jacket was something he could appreciate. Ever since he saw Tonks' one years ago, he had wanted a dragonhide jacket. The jeans were rather plain, but he didn't mind. The t-shirt was a blank V-neck black one and seemed to blend in with the jacket. He walked out, seeing a pair of large boots. "I wear Doc Martins?" He scoffed.

"Obsessed with them. Much to my displeasure." Riddle chuckled. "I believe they were his favourite pair. Something to do with a fight he was in when he wore them." He shrugged, tossing him a pair of keys. "Come on." He walked outside with him, handing him a helmet. "You ever driven a bike?"

Harry stared at the bike in front of him. "That looks like the one Sirius owned."

"It should. He got you one for your sixteenth birthday." Riddle chuckled. "I can still remember the look on your mother's face when she kicked him in the bollocks." He grinned. "Apple of my eye for that one." He chuckled softly.

Harry put his helmet on, placing the key in the engine. "Why don't we just apparate?"

Riddle sighed. "That'll be explained soon. Just listen to my instructions and we'll be there in no time."

After an hour of driving without knowing the destination, Harry stopped outside a place he knew well. His hands trembled as he got off of the bike. "Little Hangleton…"

Riddle placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Shh, this isn't the same evil place as you remember, Harry." He brought him into the house, heading towards the attic. "When my parents discovered that I was magical, they had this room professionally warded so I could practice magic in the summers. When I had my own children, I converted it into a specialised meditation room. You're the only one of my grandchildren that used to actually use it for its purpose. The rest just used to bring partners home for a quick shag."

Harry snorted. It had become apparent that the Thomas Riddle of this reality like to swear quite a bit. He sat down on the large bed, crossing his legs. "How is this going to help me with my memories...?"

Riddle tapped several runes around the room. "I used to secretly copy the memories of all of the grandchildren in case they were ever kidnapped or had problems with their memories." He explained, moving towards the door. "The runes will now place all of your memories into your head. Enjoy."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling an immense amount of pressure gather in his head. With a scream of pain, his eyes opened to a plethora of different memories and experiences.

"Harry come on, we're going to be late for Potions!"

"Harry, you promised to spend the day in Hogsmeade with me!"

"Oi, you little bollocks!"

"Harry–"

"Harry–"

"HARRY!"

He ran out of the room, heading to the bathroom. After emptying the contents of his stomach, he stared into the mirror. He was Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily. Brother to Jasmine, Simon and Joy. He was…" He vomited again, thinking of the person he was. He was a bastard. He was a womaniser. Arrogant and quick to fight against enemies. He wasn't a nice person, but he was loved by his family. He wasn't that Harry Potter. He was Harry Potter the orphan. He wasn't going to be as arrogant as that Harry, but he knew that he had to be careful.

He knew one more thing, and that thing was truly worrying him. He walked into the kitchen, noticing his grandfather and grandmother. "There's no statute of secrecy?!"

Riddle shook his head. "At the end of the Second World War, the governments of magical Europe and muggle Europe combined for the first time since the Dark Ages. They decided early on that the best way for society to work was to be united. Magical beings and muggle beings share the world. We use our potions and magic for the betterment of humanity, and the muggles no longer persecute us. Disapparation has become a little harder to use in public. It's only used now by the police and army forces."

Harry nodded his head, kissing his grandmother's cheek. "Nana Viola." He smiled.

Viola Riddle stroked her grandson's cheek. "How do you feel, dear?" She asked politely.

"Better now that I have memories to go by." He chuckled weakly, holding onto her hand. He tried to keep himself calm. "All my memories weren't unlocked, were they?"

Riddle shook his head. "Not yet, Harry. It'll take a few weeks."

Harry nodded, pouring the tea for the three of them. He spent the afternoon chatting to his maternal grandparents, trying not to focus too much on the conflicting memories that were now filling his head.

A/N: Long ass Prologue, but I wanted Chapter 1 to deal with something important.