Harry was tired.

Really fucking tired of it all.

He had spent seven years of his life fighting and protecting people who were lying and betraying him the entire time. He had fought, cried, suffered and fucking died for them. Hell, he even gave up his own mortality and chance for peace to stop Voldemort.

And how does the Wizarding World repay him? They steal from him, sell his secrets, potion him for three years to make him fall in love with a creepy stalker and put him on a silver platter to be devoured by the preverbal wolves.

Maybe he should start at the beginning.

It all started during the final battle. Harry had walked to Voldemort ready to face his death, ready to meet his parents when he 'woke up' so to speak in a misty space. There, he was met by a man who was sitting on a bench amid the fog.

In retrospect, Harry realized, he probably should have been a bit more freaked out but he had mostly been so tired that he had kind of jst plopped down next to him.

Harry should have really realized that seeing a weird man in a fancy suit and holding a cane with a goatee and a Scottish accent in a field of mist should have registered as really weird.

As it was, Harry had just waited for the other to talk first and stared at his old trainers.

"It is good to see you, Master," The mysterious man had said after a while.

Now this did get a response. "What?!"

"You are my master, Master, and I am your servant to command." The man had stated in a calm voice.

"Master?" Harry has asked. "Master of what?"

The man had peered at him and shaken his head. "I am Death."

"Oh."

Memories came back to him now. Hermione telling him and Ron the story of the Deathly Hallows and saying the one who had procured all three would be the Master of Death. Harry had thought it was a myth, but it appeared as if he was wrong.

"What does this mean, uh, Death?" He asked.

"You are my master and I am your servant to command," Death repeated. "You have procured all of my items and as such you have received a gift from Magic herself."

"A gift?" Harry didn't even bother asking about the whole Magic thing.

"You shall forever be immortal, never being able to die, but being able to sense and communicate with those departed from the realm of the living. You shall receive a few other abilities that go along with the title of Master of Death, however those are undetermined."

"Oh." Harry repeated dumbly.

He couldn't die.

Well Fate seems to like to fuck him in the ass, didn't it?

"You must go back, Master, you have unfinished business with the mortal world. But before you go…" Death leaned over.

"What are you-!" Harry asked when Death placed a single finger on his forehead. It was the last thing he knew before he blacked out.

Harry had awakened on the forest floor where he had fallen when Voldemort killed him.

The rest of that day is obvious. He survived, played dead for a while to then appear in the time of need and kill good-old-Voldy.

That wasn't the interesting part. No, the interesting part is when Harry had finally managed to stumble into the Room of Requirement a few hours later and finally collapsed. For the first time in years, he had a sleep that wasn't filled with screams and faces of those he lost.

Harry's mind was suddenly free as if someone had reached and untied the invisible ropes he didn't even know were holding him down.

And suddenly Harry could breathe.

The results of this little mind awakening took a few weeks. Harry hid himself away in the ever caring Room of Requirement for nearly half a year. He just… couldn't make himself go back out those doors.

So instead, he studied and slept and relaxed and worked out. Harry did all the things a normal teenage boy would have done his whole life and not for the first time at seventeen.

The room supplied everything he could possibly need. He had his own little sleeping nook with the comfiest bed on earth. Two walls were covered in books of both muggle and magical variety. A large fireplace was often roaring on the other wall underneath the large TV screen (which Harry didn't even want to consider how it worked in Hogwarts) which offered all the movies Harry had been denied to watch as a kid.

Harry had actually spent nearly a week doing almost nothing but sleeping, eating and bathing. Three things he had rarely been afforded to do while on the run. After he felt he made up for that lost time, he began to read and watch some tv. He still wasn't ready to leave the safety of the room yet. Harry didn't want to have to face all the people, the expectations, and such that he wouldn't be able to hide from if he left.

And yeah, Harry knew he was hiding. He also knew in a deep part of his mind that he was probably depressed. So he buried himself in books with their stories and their facts to hide away. He attacked his studies with a vigor he didn't know he was capable of.

Harry couldn't believe he had always slacked off! He suddenly saw how important it was to learn and learn and learn. If he had done this years ago, maybe the events of the past few years could have been avoided.

It wasn't for another two weeks that Harry realized that he was actually remembering everything he read. Not just most or the general idea, no, Harry could remember everything.

That night Harry found a book laying on his bed about eidetic memories.

Harry spent days trying to figure out how this skill had never shown itself before now before it came to him; someone had blocked it. He had realized after stumbling upon a book on Legilimency which described how a skilled legilimence could, if powerful enough, could block abilities, memories, even parts of someone's personality if they really wanted to.

Dumbledore.

Dumbledore is the only one skilled enough to do it, the only one with something to gain and the only one with the opportunity to do it before the skills became noticeable.

Snape certainly was skilled enough to do it, but Harry didn't see anything he would have to gain by making Harry a worse students. As it was, Harry had never meet the man before Hogwarts and definitely would have noticed the change to him if it happened when he was eleven.

Voldemort was also skilled enough in the mind arts and would have something to gain by making Harry weaker, but Harry new that Voldemort's plan on dealing with him was simply to kill him and be done with it. Going through thr trouble of messing with his mind just before trying to kill him was a stupid thought which he banished.

Which left only Albus fucking Dumbledore.

At first, he couldn't see why Dumbledore would possible want to do this to him but then Harry slowly pieced the pieces together. He noted how it was Dumbledore that left him at the Dursley's and insisted he go back. It was Dumbledore who knew everything all along yet did nothing. It was him who set him up to die like a pig. It was him who destroyed Harry's life to have a pawn.

Three weeks after that, he began to train.

He already had some muscle mass after Quiditch but now Harry was rather proud to say he was pretty good looking. The signature messy Potter hair he had trimmed the first week he was there until it was short and agreeable. After nearly two months of daily workouts, he had strong muscles.

The room had supplied him with regular muggle gym equipment for awhile. Once he grew bored of that it began to supply, of all things, bloody gymnastic equipment.

With nothing else to do, he found himself a few books on the subject, a couple of movies and began to teach himself gymnastics. At first it was hard, Harry could see why this wasn't normally a self taught thing, but as the room couldn't conjure a real person, it was all he had.

Harry, much to his own surprise, found himself enjoying the sport. H liked the feeling of moving his body in new ways, of flying in the air for short bursts, for spinning and twisting and falling and flying.

One day when Harry was going through his regular exercises- weights, running, bars and beams- he noticed something sitting on the coffee table in front of the comfy couch.

Walking over, he saw that it was new book. Whenever the room felt he had should learn something new (he jokingly thought of the room as a fun professor once) it left books for him to read before dropping off whatever came with it a few days later.

Picking it up, Harry saw the title of An Idiots Guide to All Things Guns. Another muggle book. With a grin, Harry settled down with the book, work out forgotten in his new project.

Who knows, Harry thought. Maybe I'll leave the Wizarding World and become James Bond.

Actually, that didn't sound like such a bad idea.

Too bad Harry didn't realize he would become someone so much more than James Bond.