Hi everyone, as mentioned last week, I've decided to rewrite this fic because I was not satisfied with it. I sincerely think it will be much better and I've written eight chapters so far, things will be moving more slowly but I hope in a more coherent manner, I'll post one every saturday for the forseeable future and if the rythm changes I'll let you guys know,

As usual, I do not own anything and I hope you enjoy,


Command Center, Confidential Location

"Commander Potter," someone greeted him as he passed through the steel-made corridors of their base of operations.

He barely acknowledged who it was, carrying on his way to the scouting mission.

Given the low number of magicals left, even the commander of the wizarding forces was forced to take on duties like those.

War was all mankind seemed to be able to do. Despite the progress they claimed to make, be it technological or magical, humans never changed.

Harry knew that better than anyone for he had spent most of his life in one war or another.

Even when he was too young to realize it, he had lived in a constant state of war. Voldemort had declared war on him and his years before he was even born, and it had raged on for decades.

The Dark Lord's action had had a far more perversive effect than any could have planned. When he had sought to subdue the muggles, he had revealed their world to them.

Despite the muggle and magical government working hand in hand to stop the public from realizing the truth. They had failed.

Although Harry found it hard to blame them, for that at the very least. Once more, Voldemort was the one to blame. And even then, the pace at which muggle technology developed pretty much ensured the discovery of magic at some point or another.

Still, the muggle world had changed, no longer did religion take such a large place in muggle societies. No longer did people believe it was right to forcefully convert others.

And to his and the wizarding world's surprise, the muggles had accepted them when in 2012, the existence of magic was acknowledged by the United Nations.

In the past decades and centuries, most of the muggle world had released themselves from the shackles of religion, leaving few zealots enough to start witch hunts anew.

At first, the ICW and the UN collaborated to create a set of rights that would apply to either class of citizens in both worlds. And the wizarding world had slowly opened its doors.

The Vatican had even presented its formal apologies to the wizarding community for the wrong they had inflicted on them.

At first, it had seemed like everything was going to be all right and Harry had watched the events unravel from the comfort of his home in the company of his wife.

Ginny was everything he had ever wished for, and Harry had no wish to be what he had once been. He was perfectly content to leave the world be as long as it allowed the same to him and his.

It had not.

Soon after the "Discovery" as the muggles had come to call it. The effects of their activities had begun to make themselves known.

It turned out that filling the air with filth, destroying the land around you, and all in all destroying the planet you lived on was not very good for one's continued existence.

It had started small, with barely noticeable events like longer dry seasons and harsher winters, more frequent floods, and otherwise more violent weather events. But it had taken little to no time for things to get worse.

By the time Ginny stopped her quidditch career, after five English league titles and two world cups, the world had gone to shit.

For years the muggles had asked the wizarding world to fix their mistakes.

When it came to repairing a city damaged by a tornado or salvaging the crops of flooded land, there was no better thing than magic and thus the wizards had not protested, provided they be paid for their services of course.

And given the wealth the muggles had made for themselves, they had what it took to pay.

It had fooled the muggles to believe that magic was capable of anything.

Sadly, it was not.

There was no bringing back the many disappeared species entire ecosystems relied on. No way to restore the coral reefs or drop the temperature of the oceans of the world. No way to clean the atmosphere the muggles had poisoned.

Maybe if they had begun fifty or sixty years ago, and it was big maybe, something could have been done. But once again, the same could be said about the muggles. Had they reduced their pollution and their destruction when they knew what it was doing, they would have been fine.

But no, much like in the wizarding world, money was king in the muggle world. And with money came greed. And it was greed and greed alone that started the end of the world.

Lines had been drawn, tipping points had been reached and exceeded and finally, it came.

It was not climate change that ended humanity, no, it was plenty capable of doing so itself. Neither was it a war of muggles against wizards as one might have believed. No, it was a war for survival. If any wished to survive the coming decades and the destruction climate change brought, they had to secure the least affected lands and the most resources.

The US and its allies had declared war on Russia and had somehow convinced the wizards of their countries to take their side. Harry was still puzzled as to how they had done that.

There were no reasons for them to involve themselves, it was why he had remained with his close ones, seeing no reason to endanger himself for the muggles and having seen more than enough war for a lifetime already.

Up until the day where Harry had visited Kingsley, who was still minister after over fifteen years in office, a young Auror Harry ignored everything off had barged into the room to announce Godric's Hollow had been leveled by a missile.

The life he had begun to build with Ginny had been vaporized, along with his pregnant wife, and the manor he had built with his own wand, surrounded by woodlands and nature, all of it was gone.

He had felt his heart die at that moment.

And as he was going to take his own life, another bomb struck.

Except for this time, Harry had his wand out, and as if he had never stopped fighting, he had summoned everything he had to stop it from impacting.

Barely managing to do it, Harry had felt his reserves empty as the gigantic missile stopped above him. Adorned with what Harry knew was a Chinese flag.

Rage like he had never felt before had coursed through his body. They had dared to take what was his; what he held most dear to his heart. The very thing he had fought for all his life.

With a thunder-like crack, Harry had disapparated, shattering the wards that remained in place.

His first stop had been Hogwarts where he had retrieved the elder wand, it has been as if his entire being urged him to it. And one thing that Harry had learned over the years, was to follow one's instinct, for it was usually right.

He had then apparated in a succession of cities, crossing Europe and Asia in barely more than an hour, that night the entire Chinese Government had screamed as cursed flames took their revenge.

He had been ruthless, placing muggle-repelling jinx around the building to prevent any from escaping their fate.

It turned out his instinct to use the elder wand had been right, as it had been the only thing standing against the entire destruction of Beijing. As fiendfyre was highly volatile, and certainly not to be used when too emotional.

Harry had no wish to kill the innocent, he was not Voldemort, but the guilty had paid.

In the following years, he fought relentlessly. Not because he believed in the cause, but because he was a coward.

After Beijing, he had never managed to do what the missile had almost done.

As such he had sought death by other means, and many times it had been a close call, but for some reason, Death never seemed to keep him.

He had fought amongst muggles and wizards, decimated targets with the power of the elder wand and the knowledge passed down by generations of Blacks.

He had become a military expert of sorts, studying intently how muggles fought and how to best use magic to counteract the many weapons they had developed.

It had not been enough, however, even with the elder wand, he could not be everywhere at the same time.

They had bit by bit, destroyed the planet they all lived on.

It was quite ironic really. They were fighting over the lands that were spared the most from climate change and ended up destroying them in the process.

Humans were stupid that way.

But death had kept avoiding him. When it was the one thing he truly wanted, he had been denied, fate had always been cruel to him and there was no reason to believe it had changed.

So he had kept fighting, even if there was no reason to do so anymore.

"Sir, your file," a young man interrupted his thoughts, forcing Harry to stop.

"Thank you," he nodded at the barely of age magical while taking the file, the young man quickly took off and he opened it.


Harry sighed; it had been a while. With a few other quick steps, he finally exited the hidden base, nodding to the men guarding the doors, and with a loud crack, disapparated.

Only to arrive in a desolate place.

Not much was left. London had been one of the major targets for nuclear strikes coming from Russia and China.

With nothing but a tap of the elder wand, he placed a disillusionment charm on himself and carried on.

He could still recognize some places from the ruins left.

Big Ben and the British parliament were perhaps among the most conserved, though none of the bridges crossing the Thames were left.

He disapparated once more to cross the river, barely hearing the crack that was the telltale sign of apparition.

Still, coming back to London left him with an opportunity.

While he was sent to scout and hopefully bring back useful intelligence or resources, there was little but one thing on his mind.

For years he had fought, losing track of who he was as his friends and family were killed off.

Ginny had been the first, but certainly not the last.

Harry had even forgotten how old he exactly was. Somewhere in between the end of his thirties and the beginning of his forties, he guessed, but he had no precise idea. He had stopped caring about time a long time ago.

Probably when Hermione had died, she had been the last.

Fighting on the same side as he, to avenge her loved ones and perhaps to seek death as he did.

Though she had been much more successful than him. And between the inventions she made and her encyclopedic knowledge about magic, she had been of much help.

And yet, it was he who was left. Left to remember what could have been. What he could have had.

Maybe if he had been better, if he had not left the wizarding world to their devices, he could have done something.

But ifs and maybes did not change the past.

Nothing could.

And so for years, he had fought, seeking what he thought he deserved, to rest.

All the while knowing there was one thing he could do, remembering one place he had once visited as a boy.

It was what led Harry as he walked through the desolated streets of London. Finding no sign of life nor leftover supply they could use. But with one goal in mind.

The British Ministry of Magic, or what was left of it anyway.

It took little time to find it, the magical protections having faded long ago.

He was not the first to come, as was made evident by the makeshift entrance that had been carved through the collapsed rock.

Taking his wand out, Harry stepped through it, with nary a thought he summoned a bulb of light at the tip of it.

With his goal in mind, he did not let himself be distracted, not by the skeletons laying around, nor by the utter despair he could feel in the air.

This was what happened when many died, if magic left a trace, it was even truer for death.

Still, Harry pressed on, going deeper into the bowels of the ministry than he had for decades.

He had no idea how long it took, but he knew he had been at it for hours when he finally arrived in front of a familiar door.

He could feel it, the magic radiating from it. Sheathing his wand back in his holster, he grabbed the knob and pushed it open.

Harry smiled as he found himself in front of seven doors.

He had made it, the Department of Mysteries.

'Which door to choose now?' Harry asked himself.

It had been decades since had dared to cross that first door and though he vividly remembered the different rooms and what had happened there, he could not remember which door led to which room.

Choosing a door at random, Harry pulled it open and walked in.

He frowned, the room was barren. Before the realization hit him, it was probably the time or prophecy room.

Both had been destroyed after his first visit and visibly the department had been busy elsewhere and had not reconstituted the rooms. He walked out of it and before closing the door, made sure to mark it with a cross, as he remembered Hermione had used the same so many years ago.

The doors spun around him for a few seconds, rearranging themselves before they settled once more, the marked door having moved to his right.

Shrugging, Harry opened a new one and stepped in, his eyes widening at the sight of brains in water tanks. He quickly exited the room; he remembered all too well what they could do to you.

Marking it, he closed it and waited for the doors to rearrange themselves.

The next door, however, refused to open, 'The Love Room', or so Dumbledore had said.

None could enter according to the long-deceased headmaster, it seemed it had not changed in the decades that had passed.

He marked it and moved on to the next, a faint smile appearing on his face as he did so, that was it.

If death would not come for him, then it was up to him to make the trip.

He entered, taking decided steps to the Arch in the middle of the room.

As he did, Harry began to the voices, though he could not discern what they said.

The Arch was covered in runes but what attracted his attention was the veil, the silvery substance that had once absorbed his godfather.

Though a small part of him felt bad for abandoning those placed under his command, it was with no hesitation that he stepped through, and his world went black.

His eyes snapped open, 'what was happening?', he was supposed to be dead.

But he could feel something beneath him. He could feel himself, the ache in his shoulder from a decade-old curse, the recent scar that pulled on the skin of his thigh, all of it.

Yet he could see nothing but white.

Groaning, he pushed himself from the ground, finding he already had his glasses on.

"Seriously?" he could not help but question aloud as he realized where he was.

He had been there before. Decades ago, and yet he could remember it as if it was yesterday.

The night he had died, well, sort of.

With a deep breath, he managed to calm his mind. Though it had not been his favorite skill to learn, occlumency was useful.

It turned out that Snape was not a bad teacher, he had simply used the fastest way to create an ability in occlumency in someone. By repeatedly battering his mind with his attacks of legilimency, Snape had aimed to develop an instinct for the mind to defend itself.

Yes, it was mostly unsuccessful against Voldemort, but their bond had run far deeper than the mind alone. Since Tom's death, no one had been able to breach his mind.

It did not mean Harry was lauding the man for anything else, he had still taken the opportunity to bully and humiliate him and countless others at every chance he got. He had chosen to carry a grudge against a man long dead, against a boy who had done nothing to deserve it.

It was loathsome as far as Harry was concerned, especially when one considered the fact that Snape had been the one to report the prophecy to the Dark Lord and was ultimately responsible for his parent's death.

But much like with his dear former headmaster and his secretive ways, Harry had long forgiven the dead potion master. There was truly no point in holding a grudge against a dead man.

Which he was too, Harry thought with a strained smile.

'But if I'm dead, what's happening?' he could not help but think. Maybe all people who died ended up there, though he found he had trouble believing it.

Realizing he was as naked as the day he was born, he wished for a set of robes and found plain grey but comfortable robes appearing on a bench he could have sworn was not here before.

He slipped them on, feeling immediately much more comfortable. Exactly like the first time, and as such, neither was he surprised to see King's Cross Station beginning to take shape in front of his eyes.

Of course, there were no deformed Horcrux babies, he had checked. Which was a relief as Harry could still feel his skin crawl at the mere thought of it.

Suddenly, he felt something in his back and spun as he ducked instinctively flicking his wrist to release the elder wand, only for nothing to come from it.

But all thoughts of fight left Harry's mind as he gazed upon the figure that had materialized in his back.

It was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, she had blonde almost white hair, and her eyes seemingly changed color as she advanced toward him as she seemed to be surrounded by some sort of ethereal glow, and he could do nothing but gape.

"Welcome Harry," she said and her words were enough to break the green-eyed wizard from his trance.

"You know my name?" was the only thing that seemed to come out of his mouth.

She laughed, it was a beautiful crystalline laugh and it reverberated all around them, filling up the space.

"Oh my, you are refreshing my child." The beautiful blonde said chuckling.

Harry frowned, it was a weird way to address him, she did not seem like she was much older than him.

"I'm sorry" Harry began, "but who are you? I just died and I'd like to see my family, I don't have time to waste on games."

The blonde finally stopped laughing and looked Harry in the eyes and the adult wizard now felt like a child and knew he had chosen the wrong words.

"I am Death, and you're in my realm."

Harry gaped, 'Oh shit,' was the only thing he had in mind.

"It's quite all right, young one," Death dropped her enrapturing gaze from Harry's green eyes. "I am not as your silly tales describe me to be."

He was speechless, there was a legendary being, right in front of him, talking to him as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Still, Harry regained his wits quickly, he had a goal.

"So… When do I get to see them,"

"Yes, I know, your family" Death interrupted him, "You do have quite the tunnel vision, your wife had told me of course but it is still impressive,"

"You've seen Ginny?"

"I have" the being confirmed."Please, have a seat" she gestured toward a bench that had not been there before, "There are quite a few things I'd like to discuss with you."

Harry restrained a sigh, things always had to be weird with him, he could not even have normal death. Still, he took the offered seat, knowing he did not have a choice anyway.

"I know you, Harry James Potter," she began, "I have watched your life as it unfolded across many different timelines. Watched you grow old, die young, and live a happy life and sometimes a miserable one. But one thing never changed; your character. It is why you are here today,"

Harry frowned, what she talked about barely made sense. What did she mean by different timelines?

"Far before your birth, your ancestors set into motion events that were beyond their comprehension. The Peverell brothers found a way to call on me to defeat a great evil, one much like Tom Riddle, who had defied nature's ways and found a way to cheat me. You see, Harry Potter, if there is one thing that is and will always be true, all things must die. Even I, at some point, will meet my end, not for a long time, but still, I will."

Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach, somehow, without knowing precisely what was happening he could feel he was getting screwed over again.

"By splitting his soul, Tom Riddle condemned himself to eternal damnation, but only because you killed him and destroyed his abominations. Sadly, I have no way of delivering those like him to such a fate."

'That's it,' Harry thought, he was seeing it coming from a mile around now.

"Yes, you are quite the clever one," the entity praised him, and Harry couldn't help the blush that formed along with his widening eyes. She could read his thoughts, immediately wanting to facepalm himself at realizing the stupidity of what he was thinking. Only to realize she was probably hearing everything anyway, her knowing look pretty much confirmed it and reinforced his blush.

He cleared his throat and got his blush under control.

"So, what do you want from me?" He asked trying to restrain any other thought from crossing his mind.

"As I said before, I cannot intervene in the physical plane, not directly, but I can through another. It was what I did with your ancestors when I gave them my hallows, with each came a life of servitude to me where they had to answer my call to slay any that dared to defy nature's way. But there are many worlds and while some are fine being left alone, some I cannot,"

"Many worlds?" Harry questioned, dumbfounded by what he was hearing.

"Why yes," she exclaimed jovially, "There are thousands upon thousands of them, each filled with so much life" The being sounded happy at this, making him frown.

"I don't understand…"

"Why do I seem happy with them having so much life if I am Death?" the being interrupted and Harry nodded. "Death is as much a part of Life as Life is a part of Death, the two go hand in hand, side by side, without one there cannot be the other and vice-versa. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded slowly, "I think so…"

"From Life comes Death and from Death comes Life, if the dinosaurs had never come to an end, the humans would have never existed. And from the death of your planet will come life once it has repaired itself. Yes?"

Harry nodded more firmly; he understood now.

"But as I was saying, every so often, comes one that tries to break the rules that govern us all." She sighed, "And in such a world, most of the timelines I have seen end in endless death, endless night, with no chance for life to bloom again."

"Why should I help you?" he couldn't help but ask, "I didn't ask you for anything, the hallows came to me, I didn't even seek them out."

"Because I believe you are not the type of man that can watch millions die when he knows he could have done something."

Harry groaned, there it was, his "saving people thing" as Hermione called it.

The being smiled as she watched him think, probably reading his mind as he did so and Harry found it hard not to smile at her, it was weird.

"I truly am sorry, young one, ideally I would take care of it myself, but I cannot. Ideally, I would let you pass on to your well-earned afterlife, but as you have realized, we do not exist in an ideal universe." Harry nodded at that, there wasn't anything truer than that.

Life is harsh, and life is unfair, though once there had been beauty to it.

"The Great Other, as some call him, seeks to kill everything and add it to his army of the dead to conquer."

"Inferi?" Harry frowned as he asked, it sounded a lot like them, and sure the abominations were bothersome but far from what he considered dangerous. He was not a witless teenager anymore and conjuring a storm of fire was not beyond his skill, especially armed with the elder wand.

"Of a sort," the being answered cryptically. "This world is very different from your own, it is far behind technologically, you could consider it as a version of your middle age."

Harry raised his eyebrows, the Middle-Age? He was not the best at history but he knew those times weren't good ones.

He knew people lived a hard life at that time, the many being dominated by the few, not that much had changed, but at least living conditions had. He had heavily studied the wars of the time, it was essential in understanding how the muggles had built their societies around warfare and how they fought now, something wizards and witches had little experience in besides a few dark lord and goblin rebellions.

"There is very little magic as most of it died with the Dragons," the being said the word with something akin to reverence. "It is not the dragons you think of, in this world they can be many times bigger, the largest would have dwarfed even your school,"

Harry raised his eyebrows, this was no normal dragon, yet he had no reason to believe the being would lie.

"They are the keepers of magic and without them, it is dying, but it is about to be revived through the birth of three dragons. Though I fear it is not enough, I do not think it is and I do not wish to take the risk, for the consequences are terrible."

"So… you need me to bring magic back, well more than it is, and kill an evil wizard and a bunch of inferius" Harry summed up sarcastically.

The being laughed, "Basically, yes."

"And then you'll leave me alone when I pass on next time, I get to be with my family and you never ask me anything again, yes?" Harry half asked half stated.

He might not be able to resist his saving people thing but he was not going to get played into saving everyone every time something went wrong.

The being nodded, far more quickly than Harry expected.

"I also want to see my wife,"

"Very well, you do not have long, souls tire from traveling between planes as it is not their natural state."

Harry nodded; it seemed the tale of Beedle the Bard still held some truth after all. He had not been so concerned when he was going to die. But he had no wish to inflict pain on his wife.

Before any other thought could cross Harry's mind, Ginny appeared in front of him, and all thoughts of the ethereal being left his mind.

The next thing Harry knew, he was engulfed in the loving embrace he had missed so much. The one only Ginny seemed to be able to give, one that assuaged his worries and made him feel like everything was going to be okay. And he cried.

He cried for the life that had been stolen from him, his wife, and the future they could have had but was taken too soon.

Years of despair at being alone in the world came out of Harry and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"It's okay my love," Ginny kept repeating in his ear as she held him close to her, rubbing soothing circles in his back as he let out all he had held in since her death.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Hush you, you have nothing to apologize for,"

He stayed in her arms for as long as he could before the warning of Death came back to his mind, no matter how good it felt, he was hurting Ginny with each second he took for himself.

"I…" Harry knew not where to begin, there was so much he wished to say.

"It's all right Harry," Ginny said as she cupped his right cheek with her hand. "I know what you have to do, it's who you are and why I love you so much."

Harry gave her a strained smile, "I love you too, more than anything,"

"But you have to listen to me, you can't go on as you have," Ginny said with sadness etched on her face, "You can't cut yourself from the world and your feelings, it was your feelings, your love that made us win against Tom."


"No buts, Harry," Ginny smirked, and he could do nothing to prevent the smile from forming on his face, this was everything he had ever wanted. "I want you to find love again, I want you to be happy in this world, find someone worthy and please, let her love you."

"I can't Gin', you're everything I ever wanted,"

"Yes, you can Harry, you have to. If not, you'll lose, and it will all have been for nothing. Besides, eternity can be a bit boring, I wouldn't mind another woman to chat with," she chuckled.

Harry nodded, more to settle the argument than anything, he could not picture himself loving another as he had the fiery red-haired woman that was his wife.

"I know you won't consider it right now, but keep an open-heart Harry, please."

Harry had no idea what to answer, it still seemed unfathomable to him to consider loving someone else. To some, it would appear foolish, but Harry knew that love was perhaps the only thing capable of transcending and living beyond death, his oath might have until death does them apart as its limit, but his love was not restrained by such things.

Still, now was not the time to argue about anything, Harry merely wished to hold his wife for as long as he could.

"I am sorry," the ethereal being reminded herself to them, "but time is running out…"

Both husband and wife squeezed each other even harder, enjoying the few seconds they had left. "Please, Harry, never forget that you are not alone, we'll always be with you, no matter where or when you end up," Ginny whispered in his ear.

In the last moments they had, Harry tried his best to memorize every single detail he could about his wife. Her fiery red hair, freckled face, and her warm brown eyes filled with nothing but love. And before he could realize it, Ginny was gone.

Harry's green eyes filled with tears. He had gotten what he had wished for so many years, but it had come and gone so quickly.

Death cleared her throat, reminding him of her presence.

The green-eyed wizard wiped his eyes clean with his sleeves and turned around.

"I imagine you have questions about what your task entails,"

"I do," Harry said having finally regained control of his emotions. "I don't know where to start though…"

"I usually find it quite useful to start at the beginning,"

Harry held in his smile, his former headmaster had used a similar line, it just seemed like a lifetime had passed since then.

"Death is a woman?"

"I am not," Death chuckled, "I thought you would be more comfortable if I looked similar to what you know, I do prefer a woman's face though."

He nodded, it made more sense than to assign a gender to an eternal concept.

"Do you have a name then?"

This time the ethereal being fully laughed.

"Of all the questions I have imagined you asking, those were never ones I considered," Death said once she had calmed down.

Harry was settling on a she, she might not be a woman but calling anyone it, felt deeply wrong.

"But to answer your question, I do not, I simply never needed one."

"So, I should just call you Death?" He asked to make sure, he had no wish to offend such a being.

She shrugged, and he felt even more disturbed by the gesture than anything else, it just felt so wrong to witness Death shrug.

"I am sure there are more important questions you must ask, young one." She said with a single raised eyebrow.

"Errrr…" In truth, he was truly baffled as to what he could ask. "Will I get my stuff back?"

"Only the hallows I'm afraid," she sighed, "they are the only things that can transcend with you,"

Harry frowned. He did not have much but all he had he deeply cared for.

"What about my body?" he realized she had used very specific words, making him think there was more to it.

She sighed, "I'm afraid you'll have to forego your physical envelope."

"So what will happen to me?"

"You will be born again,"

"Is there no other way?" Harry was reluctant to follow this path, it would mean there would be years before he was able to do anything.

She shook her head, "Your body has died, only your soul will transcend to this world, and because my hallows are tied to it, they will follow."

Harry felt a chill go down his spine, another thing had been tied to his soul years ago. If it had not died with Voldemort's killing curse, he could not picture the consequences of bringing the former dark lord with him. One dark wizard was enough.

"I am afraid my attention is required somewhere else," Death interrupted his train of thought and Harry understood he had little time to ask questions that could well mean the difference between life and death.

"Where do I start?"

She gave him a tight smile and Harry had a feeling he already knew the answer,

"I am afraid your task does not have a single point of departure, if I know you well, many things will attract your attention and even I could not distract you from them, for it is simply who you are. But you need to find dragons. They are the key to bringing magic back."

"That's it?" Harry had barely time to speak before Death snapped her fingers and his world went black.

His eyes snapped open. He felt warm but yet something felt truly weird. He felt himself being picked up. 'Picked up?' Harry thought, how could anyone do that? He was not the largest of men by all means but still, no one bare Hagrid should be able to do so with such ease.

The memory of what had happened hit him in full force, he had died, and then he had seen Death and his wife. His eyes widened as much as they could, 'I'm a baby,' he realized.

True to this thought, he tilted his head and saw the baby hands that had replaced his grown ones.

That was when he noticed his surroundings. He was in a richly decorated room with a very high stone-made ceiling. The room was circular, much like the towers of Hogwarts had been.

"My lady," the voice of whoever held her in his arms, for it was a woman's voice, interrupted his thoughts, "your sons,"

'Lady' Harry thought as he was passed to another person, did it mean he was born into the nobility?

"My sons," the woman whispered, and he could do nothing but stare at her face. Warm grey eyes filled with love gazed at him, he felt the need to speak, to say something but only a gurgle escaped his lips.

She chuckled and he smiled, his new mother was beautiful, her dark hair contrasting with her very pale complexion.

Suddenly the door banged open, and his mother curled around him. Despite being in a babe's body, Harry could understand they were in danger.

He tried to feel for his magic but only got a feeble answer. 'Shit' he couldn't help but think, as a baby, he only had so much and was powerless now.

He felt something squirm against him and he noticed for the first time the other babe. She had said sons, plural, it was logical there was another one, but Harry was surprised for having missed it.

He felt his mother relax, "Ned," she said, Harry tried to see who it was that had entered the room but failed.

"Lya," the man named Ned answered as he approached, apparently it was his mother's name.

281 A.C

Tower of Joy

They were seven facing three, though it was no ordinary three.

Those men were of the Kingsguard, the fiercest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms.

Ser Arthur Dayne, the sword of the morning stood with a sad smile on his face, the hilt of the greatsword Dawn poked up over his right shoulder.

Ser Oswell Whent was on one knee, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. Across his white-enameled helm, the black bat of his House spread its wings.

Between them stood fierce old Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

All preventing their group of seven from moving forward.

"I looked for you on the Trident," Ned said.

"We were not there," Ser Gerold answered.

"Woe to the Usurper if we had been," Ser Oswell said.

"When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slayed your king with a golden sword and I wondered where you were," Ned continued.

"Far away," the White Bull answered, "or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne and our false brother would burn in the Seven Hells,"

"I came down in Storm's End to lift the siege," he told them. "And the Lords Tyrells and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty, I was certain you would be among them,"

"Our knees do not bend easily," Ser Arthur Dayne answered simply.

"Ser Willem Darry fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and prince Viserys, I thought you might have sailed with them,"

"Ser Willem is a good man and true," Ser Oswell answered.

"But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out.

"The Kingsguard does not flee," the Sword of the Morning continued, "then or now," he donned his helm.

"We swore a vow," the White Bull said and did the same.

"Now it begins," Ser Arthur Dayne said as he unsheathed Dawn, and the white milky blade caused a shiver to travel through Ned's spine.

"No, now it ends,"

They met in a clash of steel, and immediately the three showed why they were so revered.

Ethan Glober was felled quickly, with a single strike of Dawn.

Ned's blade met against the one of the White Bull and Howland Reed joined him. The smaller man darted around the giant of the Hightower while Ned attracted most of his strikes.

He could not afford to look around as he ducked and parried the powerful strikes of his opponent, trying to find an opening in which his sword could slip through.

Finally, the White Bull, in his old age began to tire and Howland managed to slip a knife through the opening behind his knee and the feared Kingsguard went down on one knee.

Ned did not hesitate and raised his greatsword and the Kingsguard fell.

Looking around he was awash with horror, of his six companions, two more had been felled, Theo Wull and Martyn Cassel were lying in a pool of their blood, their eyes vacant.

Before he could join his remaining companions, they were overwhelmed by the might of two other kingsguards and Ned could do naught but watch as Dawn cut through Ser Mark's armor and eviscerated him while Ser Oswell plunged his sword into the exposed throat of Lord Dustin.

Only he and Howland remained.

However, before he could do anything else, a horrifying scream ranted through the air, grabbing everyone's attention.

"What are you doing to her!" Ned screamed as he readied himself to fight once more.

"Nothing of our doing," Ser Arthur Dayne answered calmly, "your sister is giving birth to our king,"

"Let us end this," Ser Oswell said but was stopped by his brother.

"There has been enough bloodshed, Lord Stark, lay your weapons," Ser Arthur Dayne said.

"And you will let me see my sister?"

Arthur nodded, "but if you endanger her or the birth, I will strike you down before any other thought can cross your mind,"

"Ned, are you sure?" Howland questioned and he nodded.

"Aye, my friend, Ser Arthur is right, enough blood has been shed, there need not be anymore," he said. "Do you give me your word, Ser?" Ned questioned and the legendary knight nodded, "I do,"

Eddard Stark trusted his blood-soaked greatsword in the ground easily. He did the same with two daggers strapped to his waist and Ser Arthur motioned for him to advance, keeping Dawn out.

Another scream resonated from the tower, and he quickened his pace, having no trouble identifying Lyanna's voice.

It was in a horrendous vision he found himself in as the door flew open, revealing a wetnurse who gasped at the sight of them and behind her, a blood-soaked bed and blood-soaked tissues everywhere around the circular room.

"All is fine, Wylla," Ser Arthur said, calming the woman, "how is it going?"

"The princess has birthed them, ser," the woman informed them and immediately both were through the door,

"Them?" he heard the kingsguard question.

"Twins, ser, boys,"

It was then Eddard saw them, the two babes in her arms, in his sister's arms, and he had trouble breathing.

"Ned," his sister greeted him, and said man felt a tear roll down his cheek as he knelt beside her, taking in the sight of his nephews, there was no mistaking who their father was.

The first one already had his eyes wide open, wider than any other babe he had seen, not that he had seen many in his life, and he could somehow feel the purple orbs judging him, somehow trying to determine his worth. The second one, while less aware, had grey eyes, a trait of the Starks.

"Lya," he whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. "I missed you so much,"

"I'm sorry brother, I tried to tell you but…" she began coughing heavily. "Arthur, come please, I do not have long, I can feel it,"

"Princess," the knight said as he approached the bed.

"I need both of you to protect them, please,"

"Of course," Eddard answered.

"You need not ask, my lady, I swore an oath," Ser Arthur dipped his head. "Have you named them, my lady?"

"Aemon, my firstborn, and Daemon Targaryen," she presented to them.

"I don't understand…" Eddard whispered; how could they be Targaryens?

"Rhaegar and I wed brother, before the old gods and the new," she coughed once more, this time more violently, he looked at his companion of fortune who nodded.

"On the Isle of Faces and at a sept near Harrenhal,"

"The rebellion…" he whispered, realizing what it all meant, "was built on a lie, brother," she continued, daring him to contradict her before being taken by another coughing fit.

"Why are there no maester?" he questioned the kingsguard standing behind him.

"None could be trusted,"

"She is going to die!" he roared and his second nephew, Daemon began to cry, though Aemon kept his eyes on him, though they were slowly closing as the babe was gained by tiredness.

"I'm sorry, my lord, there is nothing I can do," the wetnurse said, "twins are often difficult births, my lord,"

"Ned, please," his sister pleaded, and he did his best to calm down, "swear to me you'll protect them, that you'll help Arthur, please,"

"I swear it on the Old Gods, Lya, may they strike me down if I break my oath,"

"Thank you," she looked at him straight in the eye, "you need to separate them, I saw them, Aemon looks too much like his father…"

"Princess," Ser Arthur began but her glare interrupted him. "Please, I ask you to trust me, I saw them," she coughed again and Ned could see the life slowly draining out of her, feeling utterly powerless as there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say.

"Arthur come closer, please," she whispered, seemingly not able do to more, "the chest, there is everything they need in it, see my son take his birthright back, please,"

"I swear it, my lady, I'll stand with the King and the Prince, always,"

"Thank you," she gestured for them to take her babes away. "I love you, my baby boys, more than you can ever imagine,"

Eddard felt more tears roll down his cheeks and took hold of Daemon, securing his head in the crook of his arm as Ser Arthur sheathed Dawn and carried Aemon.

She began to cough again and before he could say any more, the life left her eyes.

281 A.C


Babies were not meant to be conscious; it was one thing Harry had learned since he had arrived in this world.

He and his brother had been carried for over a month, on horses. Despite having lived several decades it was one thing he had never done before.

Still, the month thing was an estimate as it was hard to keep a sense of time when you were being jostled around for the entire day, alternating between being 'fed' and sleeping, he could still not realize he had to do that.

It was the only way for him to get food right now, so he had to suck it up, literally, but it was another reason why people were never meant to remember their early years.

Still, he had been able to follow the conversation between his uncle and the men he traveled with, Ser Arthur Dayne, ser Oswell Whent, and Lord Howland Reed.

From what he could gather, all important men.

Though they spoke little there were a few things he had managed to understand, his mother and father had married and had somehow been the cause for a rebellion. He could not help but shake the feeling there was something he did not see, it felt like a stupid reason to start a war.

Both his father and mother were dead, it seemed like whether in this world or the last, his life was not meant to be easy.

The knights, for it was what the title of ser meant, called him his grace, and his brother the prince. How could a babe be king of anything? Harry had no idea. While he had studied muggle strategy, he had never bothered with the royals and such.

But that would mean the rest of his family was dead, again, much like last time, though he took comfort in the fact that he had a brother.

To his great displeasure, however, it did not seem like they would grow together. He was sure there were reasons, though he could not understand, how could his mother have seen them? Had she seen them as adults? Did that mean she was a seer?

If so, the magic was not as dead as he had been led to believe.

But all those questions would get no answer, for now, he simply could not ask them.

Still, he tried to gain as much information as he could.

It was hard considering the many words he ignored everything off, they spoke of things like Winterfell, King's Landing, Tyrells, Baratheons, Starks, Targaryens…" and on and on it went.

He knew some of those were family names, as his own was Targaryen. But beyond that, it was all a mystery.

He guessed that he could at least estimate himself lucky that they spoke English, with weird accents he had never heard before but still, English.

They were heading for somewhere called Starfall. He could only guess it was a castle of some sort, it could not be worse than traveling on horseback, unable to control his own body.

Yes, being a babe was definitely not fun, not fun at all.

The travel was tensed, Arthur thought as he observed his companions.

While they had agreed, neither he nor his brother lay their guards down. Both men knew that they were now caring for the king of the Seven Kingdoms and his heir.

The prince had been the main point of contention between him and Ser Oswell, while he, like his brother, did not feel comfortable in entrusting the prince to Eddard Stark, the man that had led the northern army to crush the royal army after all.

He still could not help but replay the warning of the princess in his mind. According to her Aemon would look too much like his father, he had to be raised in utter secrecy if they did not want to attract the Usurper's attention.

Another side of him could not help to point out the utility of having the prince, the heir, raised in secrecy, on the opposite side of the Seven Kingdoms.

But could he trust Eddard Stark to raise the boy properly? To let him know of his place, of what will be required of him, and to train him so that he may do so?

Arthur had no idea.

He readjusted his king, that was sleeping inside the bundle tied to his chest.

Already there was something special in him, his eyes were far too aware for those of a babe, as if he actively listened to what they said, as if he understood. But like all babes, the king spent most of his time sleeping.

He could not help but feel the tense muscles of his face relax at the sight of the sleeping child, one that, even if he did not know, represented the future of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Are you sure brother? That this is a good idea?"

Arthur closed his eyes, "I don't think we have a choice,"

"I could go with him,"

Arthur shook his head firmly, "our priority has to be the king, there are only two of us,"

"The Bold still lives, brother,"

"He bent the knee."

"He did, but do you not think he would rush to the king's side if he knew the dragons still lived?"

He did not answer, could he trust him? A moon ago, there would have been no hesitation, but now?

"Once the king is safe, we shall try to contact him, but only then," he answered.

"Sers," the small and strange man interrupted them, "Starfall," he pointed ahead, and Arthur could not help but smile.

I hope you enjoyed and as I know the first chapter has not changed much from the first version, here you go with the second chapter ;)