Harry Potter was dead. Of that, Harry was sure. But dead people couldn't feel, so why was glass beneath him and why was his heart still thumping in his ears? Very slowly, Harry got up. He was surrounded by white, but the more that Harry looked, the more there was to see. Eventually, the White place revealed itself to be a rather crude imitation of a train station, a train station with a sign of Platform 9 and 3/4 hanging above himself. Jolting, Harry was flash backed into the very first time he stood on this platform, with the Weasley family beside him and Hedwig in her newly acquired cage, finally about to head to the destination where he was fated to die seven years later.
"Wrong." Said an amused voice from behind him, and Harry whipped round to come face to face with someone who looked eerily like himself. But there were slight differences, in the length of the thick dark hair and the way he stood relaxed against a station column, but most of all in his cold dark eyes. The eyes seemed to bore into his very soul and pick apart all his secrets, not that they mattered much now he was dead.
"Wrong again." Death said, for Harry know without a doubt who this man was. Death seemed to be amused by him, watching him with one corner of his mouth tilted upwards in a cold smile that made Harry shudder to the bone. He felt so small and insignificant, so infantile next to this God, that he desperately wanted nothing more than to turn away. But still his eyes looked into Death's, and Death looked into him.
Death pushed himself up from the wall, and made his way closer to the Boy-who-lived. Death smelled of cigarette smoke and grief, if grief could be smelt. It made Harry's stomach lurch. Death spoke with an icy smoothness that washed itself over harry, forcing it's sound into his ears and brain.
Once Death was closer, he paused, and shifted uncomfortably as if waiting for something.
"Master - " He broke off.
Harry blinked, then realised that yes, he was technically the master of Death now.
"Master, you have been decieved."
Harry's mind raced with all of the possibilities of how he could have been decieved.
"You have been kept ignorant of your heritage, and Master, the universe cannot handle it. Fate herself is dying ,Master, Space is cracking, and Time is withering away. Peace can barely move, and Chaos is overwhelmed. Magic cannot survive if we do not do this, Master, and I am sorry for what has to be done. We are all powerless to stop it, we have strayed to far from the original path set that the universe and everything in it is fracturing. This time round, Master, everything will be as it should be, and there will be no more meddling to us. So mote it be, Master."
"Wha-"
"Things have been changed during your lifetime, things that noone was supposed to interfere with. An old man has trapped you in deceit and lies, and everything is suffering becuase of it. The gods will protect you this time around, Master, if that you have my promise."
And then Kings cross was cracking, still unbearably white in the colour of hospitals and it was blinding him. The cracks grew and seemed to shatter the very air around him, turning into a storm of fractured memories and snippits of his life. He marvelled for only a second, heart racing with fear until they twisted and aimed straight for him. He was in utter agony, his own memories cutting his mortal body into ribbons. He was coming undone, and he merged with the pain until he was ripped apart afresh, over and over as the eternal Gods looked upon him with pity from thier weakened states. It was cruel but nessecary, his soul intact but his body now nothing but the atoms it was made from, as Time stepped forward and sent the soul back to the day his body was birthed. And Time rejoiced and Fate smiled, Lady magic and mother nature clasping hands in relief, Death melting back to the shadows to watch his master as the universe righted itself once again.