The Death That Wasn't
Darkness.
Harry Potter had faced death before—more times than he cared to count. But this time, there was no pain, no fear, no resurrection stone to guide him back. Just an endless void stretching in all directions.
His last memory was of his body giving out, old and weary, surrounded by loved ones who had long since moved on to their own adventures beyond the veil. He had lived a full life, one of love, war, and sacrifice. He had no regrets.
And yet... he still existed.
A slow awareness crept into him. His body—if it could even be called that—felt weightless, as if he were floating in a place beyond time. Then, a pull. Something yanked at his very being, dragging him away from the abyss. A whisper of wind rushed past his ears, and suddenly—
Light.
Harry gasped, his lungs filling with air as he sat up. His eyes adjusted to the bright blue sky overhead, interrupted only by the occasional drifting cloud. He was lying on a dusty road in what looked like a small village, filled with simple wooden houses and people in tattered clothing walking about. But there was something... off.
For one, he felt different. Younger. Lighter. Stronger.
He looked down at his hands—no wrinkles, no scars from decades of battles. His body was lean but sturdy, as if he were in his early twenties again. He touched his face, feeling smooth skin instead of the worn lines of age. Even his messy black hair, always untamable, fell around his face like it had years ago.
"What in Merlin's name...?" he muttered.
"You must be new here," a voice said from behind him.
Harry turned to see a young man in ragged clothes, watching him with an amused expression.
"New where?" Harry asked, his voice steadier than it had any right to be.
The young man tilted his head. "You really don't know? This is the Rukongai, mate. Welcome to the afterlife."
The afterlife.
Harry blinked. It made sense—he had died, after all. But this wasn't the peaceful beyond he had imagined. There were no pearly gates, no comforting embrace of long-lost loved ones. Just a dusty street in an unfamiliar town filled with people who... didn't feel like ghosts.
And yet, there was something in the air—a strange energy, humming beneath his skin like a low current of magic, but different. Denser. Stronger.
He clenched his fist, feeling that power surge through him. Wherever he was, he wasn't just some wandering soul. He still had strength.
And something told him this was only the beginning.