Chapter 1
"I'm so tired..." said Harry to himself staring at the stars in a balcony, at Hogwarts. It was in the middle of the night, under his invisibility cloak. Cold, lonely night. At least the stars were there to keep him company.
With a sigh, the boy looked down, noticing a figure running to the forbidden forrest. He rested his head on his palms, watching Him. Quirrell. Voldemort. This is the sixth time he's relieved his life. Harry is exhausted of fighting and surviving. Of not being able to stay dead. He never wanted this. He never wanted to be the Master of Death. In the end he just stopped caring.
In his second life he tried to do things better but it didn't change much nor did he feel better about it. Even though some people survived, many others died.
In his third life he tried again, in a different way. By then he believed he just had to find the best ending, the best version of his life. He was wrong. He died even before his third year started.
In his fourth life he stopped trying. That's a lie. He tried to be happy. No fighting, no death, no adventures. Just him, his life, and his friends. Except his luck got worse and he lost his friends. Ron and Hermione, both left him. They became bored of him. He had Neville and Luna, so that's something. Dumbledore, unfortunately, did all he could to make this life a real nightmare. Always watching him, treating him not differently from Tom Riddle. He died at his hand.
In his next life, the boy was angry, frustrated, hurt. So fought and fought, just not against the enemy but against Dumbledore, his plans and all his people. He tried, again and again to make the adults take care of all the danger and problems while he's just living peacefully. Not that it worked. He was more alone than ever. He was always so angry all the time that for a moment he thought that he was channelling his inner horcrux. He died alone and by Ron's hand. That is, in Dumbledore's orders.
And now I'm here. And I'm in Slytherin, he thought with some amusement. It was definitely much more peaceful, despite all the stares and afraid looks. I can live with that. Draco is a surprisingly good friend. Ron is always trying to either fight him or befriend him. It feels like they've changed roles. He did befriend Hermione though. And Neville. And Susan. And so many others. And yet, he still felt alone, misunderstood.
Tired.
Voldemort is still out there, Dumbledore still trying to end him, and he's still the chosen one. The green eyed boy has seen so many people die, his parents, his friends, enemies and Sirius. The Dursley died once too. That was because of him, in his third life, when he lost control of his magic and their house exploded with his relatives inside. And him too.
In his current life Harry isn't sure what he's going to do. He's being distracting himself by reading and learning. He isn't like Hermione but when someone has lived so many lives it's hard not to want to study to understand everything better. Maybe he can find a way to stop this nonsense. That's just his wishful thinking, of course, but it is worth it. Maybe that's why he's friends with Hermione in this life.
"Wonder how I'm going to die this time?" he murmured, going back to stare at the stars. They never changed, always there, light guiding him through the darkness. He feels safer when alone and in the dark. He loves spending time with the thestrals. He can't wait to meet with Luna again.