“You might as well speak aloud,” the voice continued.
“Talking to myself still feels ridiculous, even if I can hear every thought. Besides, we’re not alone.”
Harry hesitated.
“Who exactly is ‘we’? Where are we? Are you Death?”
The darkness dissolved.
Harry found himself in a warm, circular chamber lined floor-to-ceiling with furs.
A fire crackled in the center.
Ancient shields and weapons decorated the walls, and in one corner a pile of enormous wolves slept in a contented heap.
Across from him, seated comfortably on large wooden thrones, were a man and a woman.
The woman wore an elegant white-laced gown and held a thick book.
The man was dressed in robes of the deepest black and carried a scythe.
“I suppose you are Death,” Harry said, eyeing their dramatic presentation.
“Indeed I am,” the man replied with a solid-oak smile.
“And this lovely lady beside me is Fate.” She inclined her head gracefully.
“We have a bone to pick with you, Mister Potter.”
Harry blinked.
“Alright… Does this have anything to do with me dying without fulfilling the prophecy?”
Death smiled.
“No. That was our doing—to bring you here. Left alone, you and Riddle would have tormented each other for another thousand years. I dislike debts that go unpaid.”
“But it wasn’t my fault I was a damn Horcrux!”
“We know,” Fate said, her voice soft and smooth as her flowing blond hair.
“We hold Riddle responsible. The prophecy was meant to end with his death far sooner.”
Harry’s shoulders sagged.
“Difficult when demons are eating your mind every single day.”
“You were never meant for Azkaban,” Fate said, gazing down at his emaciated form.
“So where did it all go wrong?”
“Not with Azkaban. Your brother failed to do the job he claimed.”
“My brother?”
“Yes. Dumbledore named him the Boy-Who-Lived as a baby. John never corrected the lie, even after he realized the prophecy referred to you.”
Shock and betrayal surged through Harry.
“He knew?”
“He did. Dumbledore told him shortly before Hogwarts.”
Rage boiled beneath the surface.
Once again, everything circled back to Dumbledore.
Fate stepped closer and placed a calming hand on his shoulder.
“Dumbledore deliberately chose John, knowing it was you. He feared another Dark Lord and did everything he could to keep you weak and controlled.”
Harry’s fists clenched.
“So he traded the risk of a possible Dark Lord for the certainty of one already here?”
“It was never meant to go this far,” she replied sadly, “but when Dumbledore died, your brother refused to intervene. Which brings us to why we summoned you.”
Harry stood silent, seething with anticipation.
“We are going to intervene,” Fate declared.
Harry jerked.
“Isn’t it a little late? I’m dead. The prophecy is broken.”
Death leaned forward.
“Normally yes. But in this case, we’re bending our rules. Tom Riddle must die.”
Fate fixed him with a hard sapphire stare.
“And I refuse to let that lemon-drop-obsessed puppet master dictate fate any longer.”
Harry met her gaze.
For a brief moment, she reminded him of Daphne Greengrass.
“So… what’s the plan?”
“Unlike your brother, you made the best of even the worst circumstances,” she said.
“You absorbed Riddle’s knowledge. That resourcefulness is why we chose you.”
“We’re sending your soul back in time,” Death continued, “to years before you leave for Hogwarts. Ensure Riddle dies. Ensure the prophecy is fulfilled.”
“What stops me from ending up in Azkaban again?”
“Save Ginny Weasley,” Fate answered.
Harry frowned thoughtfully.
“I have no problem with that, but Dumbledore will just find another excuse to get rid of me.”
Fate’s eyes gleamed.
“This is precisely why you are our champion this time, Harry. You think ahead. We already gave your brother one second chance. He failed.”
Harry’s eyes widened as the implications sank in.
“He died in the graveyard at the end of fourth year,” Death added grimly.
The revelations hit Harry like lightning.
“That’s why he let Voldemort kill him… he was expecting another reset.”
Fate nodded.
“In the first timeline he saved Ginny. In the second, his interference made Tom accelerate his plans.”
“Merlin… he really screwed it up.”
“Indeed. So heed this warning,” Fate said, her expression stern.
“Do not waste time on grand master plans based on foreknowledge. Take every advantage you can, as quickly and safely as possible. Your brother has already gone back. You will be dealing with another time-traveler who believes he is the chosen one. When we send you, it will be the third timeline.”
Harry absorbed it all, then asked the painful question: “In the first timeline… did I still go to Azkaban?”
“Yes. Dumbledore forced your brother to plant false evidence about the Chamber.”
“That utter fucker.”
Fate’s lips twitched.
“We’re giving you tools to fight back. The first is a lordship.”
Harry’s eyes widened in shock.
Fate explained the options—Peverell, Gryffindor, and Slytherin—detailing blood rights and the right of conquest.
Harry listened carefully, weighing every political consequence.
“Slytherin,” he decided firmly.
“It gives me immediate influence with the Dark side, special privileges at Hogwarts, and a banner worth rallying behind. Ambition and cunning don’t have to mean evil. And it proves I’m the true child of the prophecy.”
Fate clapped in approval while Death looked thoroughly pleased.