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July 29, 1999, near Folkestone, Kent, England

The moon's glare was all that lit the small roadside trail in front of Harry. Pulling the Cloak closer around his shoulders, Harry shielded his gaze away from the glaring lights streaking down the road from the quaint village below. As he paved down the gravel path, a loud cheer sounded ahead, momentarily causing Harry to freeze. Skimming his surroundings, Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he located two muggles drunkenly singing out merry cheers as they stumbled away from an alleyway.

Tapping the cracked glass on his watch, Harry scowled before picking up his pace. He had approximately twelve minutes to reach the Eurotunnel Terminal in Folkestone. If it wasn't for the damned Ministry and their stubborn hounds, he would have just Apparated directly onto the Eurostar train. 'Bloody Ministry and their damn records…'

Three Days Earlier

A screech erupted through the forest as a flailing creature, cloaked in rags of black, frantically swam through the air to escape from the ethereal pulsing light. Sagging down, Harry allowed his patronus to fade away as he watched the Dementor fade into an imaginary dot in the night sky. With a flick of his wand, the campfire was quickly snuffed out and the tent collapsed in itself. Grabbing his knapsack, Harry quickly packed his belongings as he kept a wary eye through the treeline.

It took too long for Harry to realize that the Ministry had been tracking his movements. Every jinx, every charm, every Apparition, the Ministry knew. From Surrey to Edinburgh to Herefordshire, it seemed as if the Ministry's Hit-Wizards and Aurors were always one step ahead. It was only when a group of fresh faced recruits arrived to apprehend him, did Harry manage to discover how they kept finding him so swiftly. A variant of the trace, one that tracks magic used throughout Great Britain.

Grumbling to himself, Harry made sure to pat his chest before nodding. He kept everything important in separate mokeskin pouches upon his chest. A few books from the vaults of the Potter and Black families and as much gold he could grab and fit into a couple of pouches when he first discovered the Ministry's verdict while he was in Gringotts.

As Harry trekked through the forests outside of Godric's Hollow, he couldn't help but ponder what his parents would've thought if they saw him now. 'They'd be bloody pissed off' Harry mused as he blew out his cheeks. It did not matter to the Ministry that Harry was both Head of the House of Potter and Black. The fact that he had defeated the Dark Lord had only earned him peace for measly three months.

Then there had been the incident at Nott Manor. The extinction of the Nott family line. A tragedy to be sure, but it served its purpose. A catalyst in the campaign against Harry James Potter, the Man-Who-Conquered. Never mind that he was only directly responsible for the death of Tiberius Nott, a marked Death Eater. His wife and two children had been killed in the firefight by other Aurors on his squad. He personally saw Head Auror Robards kill the man's wife.

Of course none of that mattered now. The Nott family was dead and the papers had begun their smear campaign. Not every Death Eater and sympathiser was caught at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. Those who remained in power, they were the ones who were most dangerous and yet, without hard proof, were untouchable. Blackmail, bribes, backroom dealings, all factors Harry estimated they'd used in their campaign to slander his name.

The "Public Enemy Number One", they called him, yet again.

He was sure that wherever Sirius was, he was likely having a nice laugh at his circumstances. Statements from his team during the Nott raid plastered the pages of the Daily Prophet. The Quibbler, however, published articles in his favor. Luna's segments on his actions during the war attempted to cast him in the light of a savior of Wizarding Britain. It was unfortunate that many still held a large stigma against the Quibbler. They were too enraptured on the mainstream news of The Daily Prophet and the Wizarding Wireless Network. Like leaves in the gusts of Autumn, the public was quickly swayed.

Harry was pulled out of his musings when he heard the tell-tale call of an owl flying overhead. Drawing the Elder Wand, Harry cautiously prepared to fire a spell only to immediately recognize it as Neville's tawny owl. "Constant vigilance", Alastor Moody's quote echoed through the chambers of his mind. Carefully tapping the letter with a branch he gathered from the forest floor, Harry reluctantly proved its unresponsiveness before tearing the letter open:

Harry,

I hope this letter finds you. The Ministry has been going spare trying to find you. I'm not sure if you've heard, seeing as you are on the run and all. But there were rumors going around that France is offering asylum. I've contacted Hermione who talked to Fleur and the rumors are true! I have included a ticket on the Eurostar train that crosses the Channel.

I wish you could come here but the Ministry has been monitoring everyone who knows you personally extremely closely. It's utter bollocks, I tell you. I don't know if I can risk another letter but I want you to know, most of the DA fully supports you. Best of luck mate. The train leaves at 8:45 p.m. on July 29th. Which means you'll be in France on my birthday. Don't be late.,

Neville

It was nice to hear from one of his remaining friends, but he was glad that they were not trapped like he was. He would rather that they be protected from the Ministry. Not stuck camping in abandoned buildings and the middle of the wilderness. Harry, however, frowned at the carelessness from Neville. If the letter would have been intercepted then Neville would have been accused of treason. Harry couldn't do that to Neville, it was too dangerous to send a response back. Tucking the letter and the ticket into a pocket in his pack, Harry began making his way south, towards the city of Folkestone.

July 29, 1999, Folkestone, Kent, England

As he suspected, the terminal was occupied with a Hit-Wizard patrol. Their misuse of proper muggle clothing gave themselves away. Whether it was now standard protocol for the Ministry to dispatch MLE teams to all transportation centers in Britain or if the news of France's asylum held merit, Harry did not know. Tucking his chin behind the collar of his jacket, Harry made sure to slide his wand into his hand before prowling in the center of the crowd to blend in. A bit off from his position, Harry could see several of the Ministry's crups scouring around the crowds. It would not be long before they caught his scent.

As Harry made his way through the building, his eyes scoured through the crowd to see if anyone was watching before darting into the loo. Once inside, Harry quickly made his way into a stall before fastening the lock. He crammed his cloak into the pouch around his neck before slipping his wand into a second mokeskin pouch he stashed in his briefs. It was better now, that it was placed out of the reach of the government, or any other wizard or witch for that matter.

Emerging from the stall, Harry kept his head down with his ticket clenched in his hand as he approached the ticket handler at the entrance to the sitting area. A glance towards a clock on the wall told him that he only had six minutes to get onto the train. The ticket handler didn't even gave him a second glance as he stamped the ticket and allowed Harry past the entrance gate.

Approaching the train's doors, Harry could see at least two Ministry Hit-Wizards looking his way. Their dogs didn't make him feel any better either, continuously sniffing the air while growling at the nearby muggles. For once, Harry was grateful for the amount of Muggles still in the terminal. Hastening his pace, Harry pushed past several annoyed travellers as the crups behind him began creating a wide berth. Breaking free from the crowd, Harry scurried into the waiting train.

Passing through the compartments, Harry finally reached the last cab which played host to an amorous couple and a snoozing old man. Releasing a sigh of relief, Harry found a small aisle seat and quietly settled in. Looking down at his watch, he resisted the urge to tug at his collar as the long hand slowly revolved around the face. Only two more minutes and he would be on his way to freedom.

Drumming his fingers against his knee, Harry leaned back and closed his eyes. Two more minutes. Two more minutes till the train moved. Two more minutes until he would leave British soil. Two more minutes until he would be able to leave this nightmare behind. Only the sounds of his breathing filled Harry's ears as he exhaled through his nose deeply.

The train slowly started moving and Harry exhaled deeply. He wanted to weep. His first home, a place where he truly belonged, was swept away in a few short seconds, leaving him to flee everything he had once known. A bitter taste crawled past his tongue as he half-hearted glared at the retreating train station. In only a few short hours, his new life in France will start. Freedom.

Closing his eyes, Harry allowed himself to settle into a comfortable position in the cushiony seat. Allowing for the lull silence of the compartment to cajole him to rest.

"Constant vigilance"

Harry's eyes snapped open as a wand hovered inches away from his face. Only allowing time for a surprised gasp to elicit from his lips before a flash of red filled his vision.

July 30, 1999, Department of Mysteries, London, England

Groggy. That was the term Harry would use to describe himself. Blearily blinking his eyes, Harry winced as a myriad of bright lights flashed across his vision. Attempting to raise a hand to block the annoyances, he froze when the clinging sound of metal chains audibly rang. Weakly raising his hand once more, Harry stared in befuddlement at the metal fetters fastened across his wrist with his other hand hanging beneath.

"Eyes up, Potter." Someone from above spat as a hand yanked his hair back, pushing his gaze to the wavering mural in front of him.

Swimming with endless ripples against an unseen breeze, a hazy pane of black silk gestured invitingly to his shackled figure. Framed by a tall stone pointed archway so cracked and crumbling, it was a wonder that it still stood. So delicate yet so resilient, it appeared as old as time itself.

The grips on his upper arms released, dropping him upon the rough stone dais surrounding the centerpiece. Several flashes of light illuminated the chamber, allowing Harry to peek through the fringes of his hair at the hems of grey robes surrounding him. Planting his foot against the crumbling stone beneath him, Harry's legs began to scream as he unsteadily rose from the ground only for a foot to plant itself on the small of his back before shoving him back down.

"It is a tragic day when the person who saved us all, turns on us in the end." The noise echoing throughout the chamber quietened as the reverberating clacks of heels grew louder and louder until it stopped.

A hand gripped his chin, forcing his head to turn to the stern visage of Amelia Bones. Her eyes roamed Harry's face, searching, before she released him with a huff. Hanging his head, the drabble escaping from the crowd and the Minister faded to a dull buzz.

Seconds began to feel like hours as Harry found himself slowly dragged to the foot of the veil. Inaudible rumbles sounded from behind as Harry locked his gaze with the flutters of the silky curtain.

"Harry"

"Harry"

"Harry…"

A spell snapped the manacles encircling his limbs but Harry paid no notice. Reaching out, Harry allowed his hand to brush against the thin curtain. Slippery. It was almost tangible, a chill gracing his fingertips before dancing away.

Rubbing his fingers together, Harry gaze flitted back to the thin shroud before him. Unseen to all but him, the curves amongst the shroud gently formed the silhouette of two faceless figures, one sloping and twisting with arches and the second rigid and strong. Both gesturing to him with invisible smiles. A flash of verdant green and tint of chocolate brown flickered for a short second before it was swept away by the next current.

The flashes from the cameras in the room blended away as Harry took his first unaided step into the figures' welcoming arms.

Sometime, Somewhere

Harry blinked.

The light that he had seen as he had embraced the curtain was gone and all he could see were stars. Thousands of them. Glistening and streaking across the sky in a haze of ethereal beauty. Without thought, Harry raised his hand to the sky, as if to brush away the tears of an unseen lover.

The soft sounds of footsteps across the dew-laden grass aroused Harry's curiosity as it came to a halt besides his head. Tearing his gaze from the marvel of the night sky, Harry glanced to the side to see a pair of feet, as pale as a vanilla ice cream with a slight touch of caramel, waiting patiently.

"Now, what are you doing here?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer only to have it close as the feet disappeared and instead, a body covered in sheets of black came to a rest near him, rustling the wet grass beneath. Shifting his gaze upwards, Harry found himself slightly peeved as a hood disguised the identity of the strange individual.

"Who are you?" His voice cracked which would have embarrassed him just a few years ago, but at the moment, what was there to care about at that very moment?

"A concept." The individual besides him answered. Lifting a hand into the air, the individual traced a single star in the night sky before its light burst and extinguished.

"I don't suppose I can get a better answer now, can I?" Harry snorted as he turned his head and began observing his surroundings. An inconsequential hum answered his question as Harry slowly identified several stone monoliths revolving around him in a circular pattern.

"And why so?"

Harry frowned at the question as he attempted to delve back into his memories. They were murky, swamped with unwanted bog and mess. But eventually, several echoes of his final moments finally wavered past his eyes.

"I'm dead." Harry answered as the drapes over his mind carefully parted. "The Veil. I passed through." Silence filled the air as Harry lowered his chin.

"So you say."

Harry's mind came to a screeching halt as he threw himself forward. Jerking his head in the direction of the individual, Harry stared, bewildered, at the hollow darkness occupying the hood that rested next to the grassy outline of his own body.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry demanded as he took in a shaky breath. "I died. I know it. The Veil of Death. My godfather fell through it because of that bint and he never reappeared."

"He fell because it was his time."

"It wasn't!" Harry burst as his hands tightened into fists. "It wasn't his time!"

"Yes, it was," Harry stumbled back as the individual floated to its feet. Brushing away the drops of dew that collected on its robes, the figure turned towards him as it summoned a staff to its outreached hand. "Do not complain of mercies granted upon you."

"Mercies?" Came a stutter from Harry lips that he instantly hated. "You call my godfather's death a mercy?"

"His presence was a mercy." The individual corrected as it leaned against its staff. "A gift you wasted."

"Who are you?" Harry once more demanded as he began to pat his body down in an attempt to find his wand. Twisting his head to stare at himself, Harry found himself pausing when all he had on was a simple shirt and trousers.

"A concept, a belief. An end to all and the beginning to many. I am Death." Harry blinked before blinking once more. There was a slight temptation to laugh at the absurdity of such a comment but Harry found his tongue halted.

"Oh" was the only most intelligible answer that escaped his lips. "I don't suppose you have the skull face as well would you, you prick?"

There was a modicum of silence before the individual leaned back and laughed. A virtuous melody seemed to spew from its faceless hood as it rested a hand against the hem of the robe's hood before slipping it down.

He was not sure if he was disappointed. Almond eyes with irises of midnight black framed by double-lidded eyelids, stared in slight amusement at Harry's bemused expression through the sweeping flicks of her eyelashes. Molded onto a visage of pale ivory, her onyx locks were consolidated into a tight bun and her full lips pressed together in a minute smirk.

A faint memory from grade school wormed its way into Harry's head. Looking at him as if she knew, Death began to speak. "Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence."

"A little ostentatious for you isn't it?" Harry blurted out only to flush red as Death narrowed her eyes in question.

"Oscar Wilde," Death spoke as she approached a now nervous Harry. "Those were his words, not mine." Reaching out, Death trailed a finger down Harry's jawline before grasping at his chin. "You have questions you wish me to answer. Questions I cannot answer. Time is fickle and there is only so much I can afford."

"So all you are here for is to drop in, say 'hey' before leaving?" Harry snorted as he pushed Death's hand away. "Where are we?"

"A crossroads." Death answered bluntly as she tapped her staff against the ground. All around, the rubble surrounding the stone monoliths began to rise and fall, resituating themselves as the ground shook and tore away, revealing hundreds of pristine corpses of men and women rising to the surface. "A choice."

"Wait…" Harry spoke as the earth finally came to a rest and the stone columns around him glowed with unseen magic. "This is Stonehenge. We are still in Britain!"

"No," Death answered as she walked past the rows of unspoiled bodies. "Your world is no more. Instead, you have been brought to me to make a choice. A choice that those around you have had the privilege to make."

Harry's brow crinkled as he tore his gaze away from the peaceful faces of the dead. With another tap of her staff, multiple portals began appearing in every gap between each stone pillar.

"You have a choice." Death inhaled as she used her staff to point towards the open doorways.

"What if I refuse to choose?"

"Then you will be trapped here," Death replied bluntly.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Harry questioned as he glanced at the myriad of portals. "What have I ever done to you?"

"My Hallows have always been easily attainable by those who searched." Death spoke as she gazed up at the stars above. "But approval, many of them did not receive. For my Hallows are aware. Their will, their purpose dictated the fate of those who wielded. It was rare for one to come into possession of a Hallow. It was rarer for them to be approved. But you, you have been touched by all three. Even in your swift time with them, you gained their approval, and in turn, mine as well."

"That's great and all," Harry began as he ignored the small glare from Death from his dismissal. "But why force me into this choice? Why not just let me rejoin my family?"

"Intervention." Death answered as she planted her staff into the ground before leaning back against it. "Your life was snipped at an unapproved moment. As recompensation, you must continue to live out the remainder of your life in a different reality. When you leave here, you will have enough of your family's wealth to build yourself a life and several of their family magics at your disposal. Finish your education, then do what you like. It's your life to live now, with nobody to force your destiny or fate. Only what you make of it."

One moment she had been there, the next she was gone. Harry looked around Stonehenge before sighing and standing up. Closing his eyes, Harry walked forward, allowing for the static shock of a random portal to envelope him.

July 31, 1999, 12 Grimmauld Place, London, England

Theo Powell was having an unusual night. He hadn't been able to sleep well at all. It was as if he was being kept from his bed. Away from his wife's arms. He was currently seated at a table in front of the window that looked out onto the street. He had gotten up and brewed himself a pot of tea. Nothing soothed his body like tea with honey. As it was, it was a good time to work on a bit of his poetry.

Theo was looking down at his tea when he noticed movement on the street through the window. There was a young man standing there. He didn't look to be over the age of 19. The boy was staring up at his house. It was slightly unsettling in a way. He got up from his chair as the boy walked up to the door. Theo opened the door just as the young man raised his fist to knock.

"What do you want? It is the crack of dawn. Do you want to wake everybody in the neighborhood?" He whispered fiercely.

The boy had the grace to look a bit ashamed, "My apologies, I was told this was where my godfather lived."

Theo looked at him suspiciously, "My family has been living in this house for over a decade."

He immediately noticed the change in the boy's eyes. They had been a bright emerald green. Now his eyes were plain green. The type of green you see when you leave an avocado out on the porch for a day, the type of green that grass gets after it hasn't rained for a bit but isn't bad enough to turn brown and die yet. A definite change in appearance.

"You've probably been given the wrong address," Theo sniffed as he gazed upon the downtrodden boy. "But you should not be bothering folks this early in the morning. It's ungodly."

"I'm sorry," Harry spoke as he turned his gaze away from the slightly suspicious look on the man's face. "Enjoy your day."

Making his way down the steps, Harry's ears twitched from the click of the door shutting behind him. Casting a quick survey of the area around him, Harry ducked behind a tree and with a flick of his wand, disapparated from the desolate sidewalk.

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