Harry stood before the Veil, and he let himself stare at it for a while. It was a simple thing, so plain and soft, no more than a curtain hung in an archway in a large empty room. A dark facade that separated Harry and what laid beyond, as much a barrier as any obstacle or obstruction in his path, except it would be as easy to cross as any floor or empty space. It was ominous and wrong, a juxtaposition within itself and the space it filled. Yet Harry felt that same tug he'd felt the day Sirius died, and he again knew there was something on the other side waiting for him. He had an inkling as to what waited for him, and he squared his shoulders as he remembered what he came for.
He wasn't leaving without it, no matter what. Harry was going to have his way, one way or another. His stubbornness outlasted all else, and he held more leverage in his hands than any witch or wizard had ever before held. For Harry wielded power like a birthright, and wore it like a second skin.
Without another moment or pause, Harry wrapped himself in his Invisibility Cloak and stepped through the curtain.
It was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced before, and yet felt impossibly familiar. He felt as though he was walking through water, or perhaps trying to swim through air, or simply falling through the depths of nothingness. His ears rang despite the silence, and his teeth chattered despite the lack of cold, and his lungs burned despite his ease of breath. His eyes could see only darkness, even though he could sense another presence. He was not alone.
"You do not belong here. You have walked to your Death, little wizard."
Harry did not bristle at the cold voice surrounding him, but he did pause in his searching movements. He knew whom the voice belonged to. Harry knew it would be there, it was why he had come.
"Clever little thing, hiding from me, wrapping yourself in the very fabric of my being." It whispered, voice ringing through the space from far and near, it was impossible for Harry to tell where it was coming from. "But you cannot hide from me forever. Nobody escapes Death. Perhaps you would come out and greet me like a friend?"
Harry said nothing as he palmed the Resurrection Stone, turning it thrice in hand, and closed his eyes. He did not think of a specific person, no, he thought of everyone. Harry pictured Remus and Tonks, together even in death. Harry thought of Fred, so frail in George's shaking arms. He thought of Sirius, Cedric, Dumbledore, and of his parents. Harry drowned himself in the thoughts of his dead loved ones, of the people he should have saved and did not get to in time; preventable deaths that he had not been able to see coming, and people he'd been unable to save.
The silence rang around him, and he welcomed the waves of grief threatening to pull his head under the intense surges of emotion he was unable to suppress any longer. Harry accepted his losses, and he allowed himself to (not forgive, never forgive) let it go. He allowed it to flutter away, leaving him emptier than he'd ever been. He buried his guilt and threw away his pain, lifting his eyes hidden beneath his Cloak to face the darkness as he clutched the Stone in hand. Then, he lifted the Wand.
"Lumos." Harry's quiet word shattered the silence, and the light that burst from the tip of his wand was so blinding it drove the darkness back. He was suddenly and overwhelmingly surrounded by white light, beneath him and above him and all around him. He was bathing in it, and even as the light burned away the darkness, the heaviness surrounding Harry did not abate. He felt as heavy as ever, no matter how light everything else was around him. Harry was the exception, weighed down by his very soul even in such an intangible and untouchable space.
"You have nerve coming here." Harry felt Death's presence more than he saw it, but he could have sworn he saw a dull Mist swirling around him. "With those stolen gifts in hand."
"You have no power over me." Harry said unflinchingly, "Even if you wanted to kill me, I am untouchable. For how can you find me? How can you beat me? How can you kill me when I have the very thing that could keep me alive forever?"
The air around him seemed to grow cold, but Harry ignored it as the Mist grew stronger, more concentrated. Death was searching, he knew, but it did not worry Harry in the slightest. The Mist was writhing and scouring, getting closer and closer to his relative location. As it reached him, however, the Elder Wand Harry held the aloft, still glowing brightly, flashed and burned the Mist away.
A scream of agony filled the air, an awful twisted noise that burned Harry's ears, a tearing sound that shattered the silence and slashed at Harry's mind like shards of broken glass on fragile skin. Harry remained silent as Death seemed to seethe and burn, and waited. Nothing was real where they were, not pain, not happiness, not the anguish that weighed Harry down. All he had to do… was wait.
"Wicked, wicked thief." Death snarled, and the sound of its anger pulsed through the space surrounding them. "Why have you come if not to die? Why torment me this way?"
"Because I want something from you." Harry said evenly, "And you will give it to me."
"What makes you think I'd give you anything, Thief?"
"Because I have something you want as well." Harry declared, and he felt Death's hesitation as waves of uncertain cold washed over him. "It would be a trade."
"... You offer up my Hallows freely?" The eagerness in Death's voice overwhelmed the disbelief, and Harry smiled.
"I never wanted them in the first place." Harry said, looking down at the little Stone in his hand. "When I first heard of them, I felt the pull. I felt the dark desire and wanted to search for them and take them for myself." Harry paused, and sighed. "But then it faded, and I realized they are poison. They were never meant to be wielded by us, as they were unwillingly gifted to the Peverells so long ago."
"Nobody cheats Death." It murmured, and the soft sound made Harry shiver as it vibrated the air around him. It felt as if his body was dipped in ice water and frost crawled over his skin to crystallize his pores. "The Peverell Brothers did not deserve those gifts, they did not deserve my Hallows. They three made a mistake the day they demanded prizes from me, and yet here you are. Have you no fear that you are making the same mistake?"
"Yes." Harry admitted, and the ominous pressure building faltered. "I am afraid. But I need something from you, and you want what was taken from you. You've always hated that us wizards wielded that which rightfully belonged to you, haven't you? Well, I can offer you the Cloak of Invisibility, the Resurrection Stone, and the Elder Wand. In exchange, you have to give me what I seek. A bargain, of sorts."
"A bargain." Death whispered, "And if I refuse?"
"Then I will remain here forever, and you will never find me." Harry smiled, and he felt Death's anger nearly choking him. It did not matter. He was safe. "The Cloak will shield me, the Wand will protect me, and the Stone will keep my grief at bay for as long as you try to overwhelm me. I am untouchable with all three in my possession. You know this."
Harry was prepared for the following onslaught, so he remained perfectly still as Death screamed, throwing its power in all directions. It writhed in pain as it tried to fight the light of the Wand, screamed in anger as it failed to see through the shield of the Cloak, and it thrashed against the Stone's unyielding stubbornness. No matter what Death did, Harry was safe. That was the point of the Hallows, of course, to Harry's satisfaction and Death's destruction.
The attacks continued, though Harry did not know for how long. Time felt endless, but Harry found he did not grow tired of standing perfectly still with his eyes attentively watching the tense invisible battle flowing around him. Death did not tire either, throwing all its endless energy into the fight they both knew it could not win.
Suddenly, everything stopped. Harry was left alone in the brightness, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Death's suffocating presence lightening the air and releasing Harry's screaming lungs. He could not die, but he could suffer. Death had planned for Harry to submit to the suffering, the pain, the anguish, but that wouldn't work. Harry's whole life had been filled with pain, and a little more was nothing compared to an entire lifetime.
"What is it you seek?" Death asked finally, defeated and cautious.
"The lives lost to the Wizarding War." Harry answered promptly, "So many people, Muggle and Magical alike, died needlessly. They did not have to die. I want them to live."
"You cannot ask this of me." It hissed angrily, burning Harry's eyes and choking his throat. "Thousands of deaths over multiple decades, it would be chaos."
"I don't care, find a way." Harry said firmly, "They didn't deserve to die."
"You are worse than all three Peverells put together." Death spat, stinging Harry's skin with burning needles. "You mean to humiliate me further with this request, little thief. To sabotage my victories and victims."
"After this deal, no one will ever challenge you again." Harry snapped, clutching the Stone and tightening his grip on the Wand. "Your Hallows will be returned to you, and your dominion over all of us will be unrivaled. Wouldn't that be worth it to you?"
"What you seek is foolish. Think of the consequences, little thief." Death sounded almost begging, terrifying warmth ruffling Harry's hair and leaving painful heat in its wake. "Hundreds of thousands of people waking from their long slumbers, some from recent years and others rejoining life after decades. This would destroy them, and the balance of this world."
"Find a way." Harry gritted his teeth, "You know a way, you just don't want to do it. I want everyone who died to be unharmed, and be able to live their lives without Voldemort's reign. I know you can, so do it."
The following silence was heavy. It was suffocating, pushing Harry down and crushing him under devastating waves of anger, despair, thought, and resolve. Death knew what had to be done. It knew that Harry was going to win in the end, and it was pointlessly fighting that inevitably with all its might. Fortunately, Death was wise enough to know when to concede.
"Are those your only conditions?" Death asked softly, and Harry felt a bit of foreboding building around him.
"Yes." Harry said, despite the screaming in his head that begged him to stop, that clawed at his skin and pounded in his head. "You will make sure every death caused by Tom Riddle, A.K.A Voldemort, or any of his followers is undone. Every person who died during that war, innocent casualties as much as violent instigators, will have the chance to live again."
"And in exchange?" Eagerness bled out into its voice, and Harry swallowed unease. "You will give me back that which was stolen?"
"I will relinquish your Hallows to you willingly." Harry confirmed evenly, "The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility."
"Then I believe we have a deal." Death said, and Harry felt freezing cold and burning heat that cut through him without mercy. He was filled with sadness and anger and triumph and giddy acceptance. He felt Death's annoyance and uneven excitement, and his heart beat loudly in his chest, swallowing the feelings that were not his own bubbling up his throat. "Reveal yourself to me, little thief, and surrender to me."
Harry lowered the Wand and slipped off the Cloak, hanging it over one arm, and held the Stone gently in hand. He shut his eyes as Death's oppressive Mist approached, unable to decide if he wanted to face whatever Death had in store for him, and he held out his arms. Taking a deep breath, Harry willed himself to open his eyes and watch as the Hallows floated away from him, hovering in the air above his head, and then faded until they were nothing more than Mist, joining the growing cloud of dull Mist surrounding him.
"Aaaahhh. You were right about one thing, little thief." Death sighed in satisfaction, and Harry shivered as the Mist reached forward and caressed his cheek. Its touch burned. "My Hallows were the only things keeping you safe. You are vulnerable now, completely at my mercy. There will be no more hiding."
"I knew that." Harry said, holding his head high as the Mist curled around his ankles and made them tingle with numbness that threatened to topple him. "I am prepared for whatever you have planned for me."
"Is that so?" Death struck Harry in the chest suddenly, and he crumpled in on himself. Harry fell to his knees with a gasp as his ankles gave out on him at the same time, and his body ached as his chest throbbed with anguish and pain. "You are not afraid?"
"Of course I'm afraid." Harry trembled, wrapping his arms around himself, and he shut his eyes with a harsh grimace. "But it doesn't matter what you do to me as long as those people get the chance to live again. As long as they're safe, that's enough for me."
"What a curiously stupid little thing you are." Mist curled under Harry's chin, forcing him to look up. His eyes fluttered open as cold brushed his eyelids, and he stifled a gasp.
The thing in front of him was devastatingly beautiful. Death's vestige was so breathtaking Harry's chest constricted and spasmed as he choked. One delicate hand was forcing Harry's head up with both softness and painful harshness. Death was the most terribly gorgeous thing he'd ever laid eyes on, and it burned to look at it and left spots dancing in his vision. Its figure burned into his eyelids and reduced his ability of speech to mere ash on his tongue and smoke in his throat.
His heart pounded in his chest as it released his face, and Harry gasped for breath as his strength waned, his hands slamming into the ground as he fell forward, barely supporting him as he sputtered and coughed. Harry felt peeled open and flayed, beaten by Death's gaze and bested by its touch. Nothing compared, or came anywhere close. Death's features would forevermore be ingrained in his mind, haunting him for however long his 'forever' would be.
"You have no idea what I'm capable of, little thief." Death whispered, and Harry felt its breath against his face. Harry did not open his eyes.
"Keep your end of the bargain." Harry gasped, pressing a hand to his chest and clinging to the fabric of his shirt to ground his spinning and dimming mind. "You have the Hallows, so bring them back. Save them."
"It shall be done." Death assured him, "You, however, will be going with them." Harry opened his eyes, but he did not dare look up as confusion flooded through his mind and let clarity bleed through.
"What?"
"Did you think you could survive the journey through the Veil?" Death laughed, and Harry shuddered. "The moment you relished the Hallows, you passed officially into my realm. You are dead, little thief. As you were meant to be the moment you crossed my border."
"... But you're bringing me back?" Harry frowned.
"In a way." Death said ominously, "You will be saved the same way they will be saved." Harry did not understand, and Death laughed. "I am rewriting history, little thief. Rewinding time and altering the world's rhythm for you. Everyone who died will be saved, one way or another. Whatever follows will be your fault, and your fault alone."
Death leaned down and kissed Harry's temple, its lips pressing against Harry's scar, impossibly cold. Harry gasped, and then he screamed.
He was shattering. He was being torn apart. His head was splitting, breaking, thrown into chaos and ripping itself into little unretrievable pieces. He was spiraling and cracking unrecoverably, his mind flooding with pain unlike any he'd ever felt before. He was melting and freezing, his very soul aching and fracturing and snapping.
Then he was falling, and sweet darkness took him as the pain finally consumed him. He wasn't sure if he was alive or dead, but somehow he knew he was neither.
Even as his mind floated into the ether, into nothingness, he could not help feeling satisfied.
He'd done it. Harry saved them. Every single one.
Whatever happened… it was worth it.