Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works, like the anime Hellsing. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.
Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.
Note 1: AU.
Advertisement: I would suggest reading Tigerman's "Portus" (One-shot) and "RuneMaster" (novel length), they're both great fic, especially "Portus". (mail me if you want me to advertise your fanfic)
"Stupefy!" an aged voice shouted within the great hall, the voice was one that not many had ever expected to ever hear again in their lives, but in death, hopefully waiting to greet them on the other side with their family members, loved ones, and the like. The voice which shouted the spell belonged to none other than Albus Dumbledore.
There had been a funeral and everything for the great man, for the self styled Leader and Lord of the Light. Many a man, woman, and child, had looked up to the man as their shining beacon of hope in the darkness when times got tough. He was the only man that the self styled Dark Lord Voldemort had feared in the first war, and was probably still the reason why Tom Marvolo Riddle had kept to the shadows until after the great wizard had supposedly fallen at the hands of Professor Severus Snape.
Many were wondering how such a man could possibly be alive, and why in the world he had stunned the her of the second war, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, Harry Potter. Why, instead of congratulating him, did the aged former Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry orders the Aurors he had with him to shackle the savior of the Wizarding World.
There were cries of 'Why!' and 'Stop!' and a clamor of other words, all mixed into a chaotic mess, as some tried to whisk the hero away from the figures of public safety. When the Aurors had escaped with their charge, the people turned their attention to the one who seemed to have orchestrated it all. Albus Dumbledore was met with spells, curses, charms, and hexes, as well as shouts, screams, insults, and demands, as well as some congratulations.
The headmaster made his way to where the teachers' table normally sat, as the professors looked out and over the lesser denizens of the once great educational institution. As he walked up there, and conjured a podium for himself, the hall grew quiet in anticipation for his words. He may have done something confusing and confounding, but he was still Albus Dumbledore, the man that could do no wrong in the eyes of witches and wizards everywhere.
"You have witnessed today the fall of a once great wizard," Albus Dumbledore spoke, every word escaping from his lips was laced with his magic, "A man who was once called Tom Marvolo Riddle, a half blooded descendant of the House of Slytherin, who in later years turned into the monster that he is most famous for becoming, Lord Voldemort. We have in the past and in recent memory lost many of our number to his lust for power and the fulfillment of a deep seeded hatred for those that did not see the world as he saw it, as well as how he himself envisioned the future of our world. He was finally stopped today, by a child of prophecy, one Harry James Potter, while I congratulate the young man for his success, I still look down upon his method of defeating his destined foe. Death is never the answer, killing is never the solution. I myself admit that I did not murder Grindelwald when I defeated him, I sent him to a fate worse than death. Sometimes life is crueler than anything the next great adventure may hold. I feel the loss of all those that have lost this day, and in past days, weeks, months, and years..."
"You-Know-Who had to die!" someone decided to shout, the speech was being magically broadcast all over the affected areas of the short lived war and tyranny, interrupting the former headmaster in his speech.
"Why did you have the Chosen One arrested!" another shouted.
"He did it for us!", "He's a Hero!", and a number of other things were shouted all at once as the one question that many wanted answers to was not being answered.
"Harry James Potter, the Chosen One as you have decided to call him, did not murder Tom Riddle for you. As I said, Tom Riddle did not have to die, but simply stopped," the former Headmaster continued, after silencing the crowd with an explosion from his once-again-his-wand, "Harry Potter knew that death was not he answer, yet he still killed, rallying others behind his cause, how long do you think it would have taken for his fame to go to his head, for the glory of his victory to convince him to seek out more. He was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. He had to be taken before his bloodlust could spread, before he could infect the rest of society with his vigilantism. He acted on his own, without going through the proper channels in government to get justice for his fallen, for his lost loved ones. I'm sad to say that while he was the Chosen One, he still had a choice when it came to the outcome. What kind of young man thinks of ending the life of another ever since starting Hogwarts?"
"What do you mean?" someone shouted.
"I had long since known that Tom Riddle had not perished all those years ago," the former headmaster stated, "I knew that he would return, as well as knew of the prophecy that was in play. Harry Potter was needed by the world to stop the monster that was Lord Voldemort from destroying our world. That was the reason why, I regret to say that I had squashed some information from leaking to the public. I blame myself for what had happened. The Harry Potter that everyone here at Hogwarts saw and interacted with was nothing more than a mask, a farce, a face, a front. Behind which hid a murderer, one who cared only for the death of his destined foe. Professor Quirinus Quirrel did die of a sickness as was reported, but was brutally burned alive by none other than Harry Potter, after the incident the young man claimed that it was practice for his final confrontation with Tom Riddle. During his second year here, it was said that the Legendary Chamber of Secrets had been opened, but in truth Harry Potter had been trying to place himself in his foe's shoes, trying to figure out how the monster thought by doing as his foe did, and targeted those that Slytherin was supposedly against."
"What do you mean by supposedly?" one pureblood asked, "He hated them, and even coined the term Mudblood!"
"That is a historical misunderstanding," the former headmaster said, "Salazar Slytherin cared for all magicals, how was he to know that one comment would affect so many a thousand years after the school he had helped create was born. He had found it dangerous for those with our talents to come to the school for education as those were the days when the muggle world saw us as nothing more than demon worshippers, as practitioners of some dark art, a time when muggles would have exploited us for our gifts, as well as would possibly endanger the lives of those gifted muggleborns. Slytherin did not want his students to have to suffer through separation from their loved ones, as the parents of muggleborns in those days were obliviated. Slytherin did not approve of this separation of parent and child, which was why he disdained their attendance."
"How do you know how some dead guy thought?" a halfblood asked.
"It was written down in the original Hogwarts: A History, a version that had been edited over time, to suit the needs of the rewriters," the former headmaster replied, "The original version was written by all four founders as well as the first professors, the only surviving copy I accidentally found in my home as I waited for the final outcome of this civil war."
"How are you alive?", "You're supposed to be dead!", "We're not mad that you're alive, but...", "Get back to Potter!"
"How I am alive was a plan concocted by myself, Minister Scrimgeour, and a select few," Dumbledore explained, "Voldemort would have remained in hiding as would his agents if I remained alive, but once I had faked my death, the world believing that I was gone, that monster included, he surfaced bringing his host of followers with him to the surface. Had I not done what I had done, the war would have lasted for a longer time than the last one. It was all for the greater good."
Albus Dumbledore continued to sway the people into believing every word that escaped from his lips, with a little help of his more powerful magic, and his commanding aura. Little did the populace know, that once they stepped into the halls of Hogwarts or even met Dumbledore, that he had been discreetly casting spells on them, ones to bind their magic, their unique powers, as well as weaving magics that made them more susceptible to suggestion, to believing in rumors, to mind control. After his defeat of his long time friend, after the loss or rejection of such a friendship, he had decided that ruling the world from the shadows was more his cup of tea. He weaved spells and spoke incantations behind the Wizarding World. He had created the monster known as Voldemort, as well as the mastermind behind the creation of the secret weapon of the British Magical Government. Harry Potter was nothing more than another tool for dark wizard extermination.
Albus Dumbledore had weaved a web so intricate and complex that one would be hard pressed to unravel it all. Everything was almost as old as he was, and some of it was even older as the old goat had a thing called unlimited access to the Time Room of the Department of Mysteries.
He had planned for the fall of both Voldemort and Harry Potter, as well as his second or third rise to power, to being the Leader of the Light, the true Savior of the Wizarding, and by extension, Magical World. Harry Potter was but a tool, all relationships that he thought he had cultivated during his years in Hogwarts were all farces, nothing was real. Even his relationship with his best friends, and one time girlfriend. Everything had been planned, bought, and paid for, in blood, sweat, tears, and cold hard gold. Money makes the world go round after all, he knew this fact, as well as that money is power, and he had killed and stolen enough of it to be the most powerful man in the living world.
He had all the things one needed to be considered as all powerful, as unstoppable, he had dabbled in all the arts, all of the known sides of magic. He was a master in the art, in his gift, one which many in his world took for granted, and few took advantage off, though as soon as he got word of such individuals he squashed them like bugs and tarnished their images and names, and had the public believe them dark practitioners and criminals.
He had quality and quantity on his side. He was the strongest, most cunning, most devious, most intelligent, wealthiest, and all other such things in the living and mortal world. He was all those things, but someone had forgotten to mention to him that there would always be one that was even more powerful, one greater, one more than mortal, compared to him. There really was no such thing as a real number one, a numero uno really didn't exist.
As Albus Dumbledore continued to rise in the world, regaining all of his semi-lost fame, and a little bit more fortune, as well as finally gaining a reason to exterminate the Goblin Nation, his secret weapon against future problems was laying in a heap on the floor of one of the maximum security cells in Azkaban Island, guarded by none other than Dementors.
The former headmaster had found a way to control them, without and empty threats or promises, there was an actual control device hidden away in one of the vaults that he had managed to confiscate in recent memory. With it he managed to gain control of all of the dementors in the world, and seeing as they could only be found in Britain's small part of Europe, he had them all under his thumb.
He had immediately reimplemented their use once Harry had been captured, he had prepared in advance press releases as well as memory proof that he had found a way to control the creatures. The dementors were ordered to break Harry Potter's mind and will, turning him into a person that would do anything for the person that took him out of the hell hole he had landed in after saving an ungrateful world.
No one had bothered to visit him, he knew not what Albus Dumbledore had planned for his future, as well as all of the plans that the old man had made with him in the thick of things, or any of the other machinations that the old man had had in store for the world since way past before the young man was born.
All he knew was that he had been betrayed, he had been betrayed by the world. He had lost track of how long he had been immersed in his greatest fear, he knew not time, nor anything save for the meals he was brought by his greatest tormentors and fears, as well as the four walls of his cell. There were even no bars, only a small hole through which his food was given to him.
The first time he had been let out of his permanently dark and decrepit prison, he had been given some instructions by an auror. He had complied with the instructions, he fired off a Killing Curse at whoever he was told to kill, he didn't really care all that much, the dementors had done their very best to make him compliant, had made him cooperative, and appreciative to whoever took him out of his cell and away from the his greatest fears. That first time, he did his level headed best to make it so that he was not returned to his cell. But it was not meant to be, after he had done his job, he was flung back into his cell, but before that he had learned that ten years had passed, and that he was never going to be allowed back into normal society. The name and House of Potter had been irrevocably tarnished, and all of his possessions, monetary or otherwise had already been subdivided and handed out. He had nothing to his name save for his life and his magic, two things that Albus Dumbledore could not afford to take from his little weapon.
Almost every ten years after that, he was let out of his cell only to fight whoever it was that the government needed extinguishing, every time he left his cell, he noticed that there was no real visible change to the Magical World, things had stagnated even further, and at one time found out that the more progressive nations had also fallen into the trend of becoming stagnant, all due to the machinations of one Albus Dumbledore, though no one suspected that it was him. Though there were those that wondered how the old man could keep going, how he was so strong.
One day Harry found out how the old man was still alive, even way past his prime, of what magicals termed as really old. Harry had accidentally witnessed the former headmaster draining the life and magic out of his political allies, as well as some seemingly random people. The path to immortality was paved in death, and one day Harry thought that he would become food to the self styled Leader and Lord of the Light. But little did he know that Dumbledore needed him to be kept alive, needed him alive for all future conquests, there was also the fact that as Harry got older, he also grew more powerful, exponentially more so than the former headmaster which would make it impossible for the old man to drain him of his life and magic.
Harry was only let out of his cell every five to ten years or so to deal with some supposed threat to the Wizarding, and by extension Magical, World. Dumbledore kept growing more powerful with age, while most other seniors grew weak, he grew strong. Immortality could be gained by many means, one such would be living forever, or for a really long time, but true immortality could only be obtained in death or with death. Voldemort lived to kill, while Dumbledore killed to live. What difference was there truly between the supposed greatest of either side, none really. Voldemort was correct when he claimed that there was no light and dark, but only power and those who chose to use it.
Around six hundred years after Harry was sentenced to a life in Azkaban, a dark lord finally managed to oust Dumbledore from power, by the only way that such a person would ever give up their hold on power. It had occurred right before Harry killed the new leader of the free world. Just like the seemingly countless other tiems that he had done his job, he returned to his cell in Azkban to be forgotten by the rest of the world. Without Dumbledore to order people to release him, he was forgotten by the people, time, and by history itself. Only magic seemed to remember him, but what good did that do, nothing.
The world changed after Albus Dumbledore had passed, dark lords and light lords were more frequent, that unexpected ousting of a once great man had left a large whole waiting to be filled, all the greedy men that were held at bay by the once great man, found what they believed to be their time in the spotlight, and so the magical world descended into chaos, the likes of which had never been seen even when compared with the dark ages.
Through it all, Harry's power just grew and grew, grew exponentially, there was absolutely no end to his growth, or his life for that matter. The prophecy that caused his life to go from bad to worse to shit, had forever sealed his fate. He was immortal, and it was the kind that was real, sure he wasn't remembered by anyone save for himself and the somewhat sentient force or energy known as magic, but he was immortal, death could no longer touch him, as he named Master of Death by accumulating all there Deathly Hollows. Another master could only be ordained once the old one either somehow died or relinquished power in some form, and Harry had no idea of that little bit, not that he wanted his existence to end, his purposeless existence.
With the acquisition of all the three items with some connection to the powers of death and by dying, Harry was ordained death, the anthropomorphic form or incarnation of that inevitable state of being.
Throughout history, even the very existence of Azkaban Island was lost to history and memory, not even legends or myths about the island existed.
A thousand or more years pass before someone by accident chances upon the sole remaining well of Magical Power in all the world. Everywhere else in the world magic has finally left, gone, disappeared, and over all ceased to exist. Due to the infighting of the magical world, and the general distrust between all the races, the magic had died with every magical being that existed, leaving the last magical being the one that resided in his cell in the ancient prison.
Once magic was more or less finally expunged from the world and from the gene pool technology and all related sciences took over, it even replaced religion, as many things started to make sense, some had even uncovered what the Departments of Mysteries had failed to discover through their countless years of existence. The world of magic had died, and with it came the dawning of the world of science.
The one that chanced upon the forgotten island was a young scientist that was searching for a new power source for the space ships that flew the cosmos in search of other worlds, and in some cases other worlds to conquer or destroy. Earth was nothing more than a relic to the human race. It was a dead world, one that no one really knew what to do with it, as its usefulness had died out.
The young scientist and his team had requested a final sweep of the planet, for there was the possibility that the dead origin of the human race might still have one final purpose, one final use, it may either contain or be used as a power source. The initial scan had picked up nothing, but it did have the effect of awakening Harry from his self imposed exile as he knew that the world he lived on was dead, he had witnessed its death and decay, as well as that of countless other things. He was Death itself.
The scan had managed to jolt him out of his meditation, his trance, his form of suspended animation, as he had learned through the exponential growth of his powers that he need not concentrate on his work, as it was a seemingly automatic thing. He knew all that he had to do as well as when to do it, and no matter how normally impossible it was, he could do it. No matter how many matter he had to attend to in a single moment, he had the ability and the capacity to see it through. He was in a sense omnipresent, omniscient, and omnipotent, so long as it had to do with his field of expertise, which consisted of life, death, and magic.
The second scan was what detected the anomalous energy pouring out in waves in an area that the science team was not aware existed, there were no such records of its existence in all the archives and databanks of their computers. So the young scientist volunteered to investigate.
What he found when he had his transport hover over the desolate waste that once was filled to the brim with water was an unchartered island, on it he found possibly the oldest man made structure in all the world. When he performed a scan for any sign of life, he was shocked to find that there was still something or things living on what must have at one point in time been an island. There was life on a dead planet.
It came as quite a shock when the young man had found those signs of life, and immediately sent his findings back to the rest of his team, as well as a request for someone to pick up whatever the life forms were. While it was a choice based on protocol, as well as a need to know the how and why, it was potentially the worst choice the young man had ever made in his entire career.
It had taken less than a day for the military to send some people to evaluate the situation, and when they deemed that it was safe enough to actually approach the structure, they went in with full battle gear prepared for anything.
Through the years, Harry had finally been able to subvert Dumbledore's remaining shackles on his life, the final orders to the dementors had been erased, and that which was his greatest fear became his greatest servants and allies. While Harry may have had power over life, he had never actually attempted to bring something or someone back to life, or create life, he simply found it a pointless exercise, nothing worth attempting. It wasn't like he wanted to prove to anyone that he could, or show anyone his worth. Most didn't and wouldn't believe him, or see him as he wished to be seen.
As soon as the military personnel had entered within the still active wards, he sent out his servants, they still retained the ability to hide from mundane eyes, but it seemed that magic was finally detectable by science, but that didn't matter as the mundane didn't really have anything to harm or mortally wound the creatures, especially since they worked directly for Death itself.
As soon as the first dementor made its presence felt, they apparently could control their effect on the living as well as the extent of its reach and the intensity of the effects, they made short work of the soldiers, sucking out souls left and right, something which they had wanted to do for a very very very long time. Human souls were so rare nowadays, and such a buffet was something they could not afford to pass up. Sure Harry occasionally brought them along when it came to his errands, as well as made them the gateways to the next great adventure, one which Harry doubted he would ever be truly capable of undertaking due to his job. The Dementors were the still commonly perceived form which death took, as sightings of the dementors was rather common when it came to wars, Harry had made sure that his servants took with them some kind of bladed weapon when they reaped souls. Only those with magic, those just born, those just survived from a near death experience, and those about to truly die, were given the privilege of seeing the dementors, or Harry for that matter. If death was described as some emaciated form or some skeletal figure in black robes, well that description was probably very accurate, as that was exactly how Harry looked.
He walked through the chaos of the battlefield, the mortal soldiers not knowing what was it that was taking lives, but knowing that if they didn't figure out what it was, find it, neutralize, or escape from it, no one would be reporting back to base.
The young scientist was left just within the protective wards of the former island and present plateau, he was ordered to stay there until the military had sufficiently assessed the situation as well as found those life forms that he had found in the ruins. While waiting he had failed to monitor the soldiers' life signs, as he believed that there wasn't anything alive on the dead planet that could harm battle ready soldiers. He was deathly wrong when a rippling distortion a few feet in front of him formed, and out of it stepped a man dressed in black robes, that made no sound as he approached, and didn't even seem to breath. His hood was up and therefore no face was discernible.
"What is your purpose here?" Harry whispered, but the young scientist heard the question loud and clear.
"Well...Originally it was to find a potential source of power for our ships, then I found you, or rather signs of life on an otherwise dead planet," the young man said, "What about you? What is your purpose here, as well as how have you been able to survive?"
"I see...for your information, I live here, have been living here for thousands of years, your initial scan of the planet awoke me from my state of suspended animation, I believe that is the closest to what such a young thing as yourself would be able to comprehend," Harry replied.
"Th-Thousands of years! But you don't look a day over thirty!" the young scientist couldn't help but blurt out, "Impossible! Preposterous! No living being could live that long! Especially without sustenance!"
"You scientists are all the same, unable to wrap your logic filled minds around the concept of the impossible being possible, and the concept of nothing being truly impossible," Harry stated, "Now I shall give you a choice, leave my home alone, or embark on the next great adventure."
"What in the world are you talking about? Home? Sure you may claim to have lived here for very long, but you don't own the place, while you may claim it as home, there are rules and regulations in place that forbid you from doing as you please, especially when it concerns dead planets," the young scientist insisted.
"Such disbelief was what killed off the fae, as well as a host of other races that depended on belief to survive and thrive," Harry said disdainfully.
"What in the name of Einstein are you talking about, fae? In case you haven't noticed, but there is no such thing as a fairy, or magic for that matter, there is only science," the young scientist stated, "There is no such thing as magic, no such thing as religion, or gods for that matter. There is only logic, and those that chose to use it, which is most of the human race."
"Perhaps it would have been better if Voldemort had lived...Dumbledore's influence was possibly a not so good thing for the rest of humanity...decisions decisions," Harry whispered still, he normally didn't speak at all anyway, but when he spoke, in whisper as it was, those he wanted to hear his voice heard it, no matter the distance between them.
"What in the world is a voldemort?" the scientist asked, "Another of your insanity induced creations? And to use such an inane word within the same sentence as one of the most revered personalities in the history of man...Its an insult isn't it?"
"Albus Dumbledore...I had thought that his name had vanished from history along with mine..." Harry said, "Tell me, what contribution to the human race did my former headmaster provide? How was such a warlock able to influence the scientific and technologic world?"
Harry was curious as he really didn't pay much attention to such things as he had more important things to worry about, such as sending the souls of the living turned recently dead onto their next great adventure, whether or not they had well ordered minds.
"How can you not know that he was the one that first theorized that the human race was meant to rule not only the world, solar system, or galaxy, but he universe itself," the young man stated passionately, "He was the one that built the foundation on which we live all our lives, in the pursuit of universal domination."
Instead of furthering their conversation, one of the soldiers ran out of the former prison, the look on his face simply screamed that he was scared for his life. The young scientist didn't really know how to react to such a sight, and noted that the man before him in black robes didn't seem to notice the soldier running to them.
As soon as the running man was near Harry, the dementor that followed him glided back into the structure, hiding itself away, once again hidden from mortal eyes. With it ceasing its chase, the soldier relaxed a fraction, and noted the man there with him and the scientist.
"W-Who the hell are you?" the soldier demanded, still a little shook up from his flight from death.
"He claims to live here," the scientist answered the soldier, "What in the world were you running away from, and where are the others?"
"D-Dead...every last one of them," the soldier said, really shook up, "T-They were in there...n-never thought I'd see them off the battlefield..."
"What are you talking about now?" the scientist demanded.
"Soul Reapers," the soldier replied, his eyes never really leaving the structure, "My comrades...all of them...one by one...fell at the icy hands of the servants of death."
"Young man, child of science and technology," Harry said, then plunged a hand through the soldier's chest, "I shall now show you that some things are very much real, no matter how few believe in them," he then pulled out the man's soul, visible to the young scientist and no one else, "I was patiently waiting for the end of time, the end of the universe to come, and you had to disturb my slumber, now witness a power that your scientific and logical mind will forever fail to comprehend," the soul, screamed and clawed at the icy hand of Death which held him aloft, and screamed and tried to claw his way back into his mortal shell. His attempts at regaining his life were futile, he was meant to die that day, and so he died, embarking on the next great adventure after Harry flung the soul through a portal that was not a portal to the afterlife.
"T-That...Y-You...You must have done something!" the scientist said, refusing to believe what Harry had actually done.
"Deny it all you want, but in the end, there is one eventuality, one inescapable reality," Harry stated, "I or my servants shall come for you, and as reality ends, we shall remain, and take all your souls to the final judgement. You now have undeniable proof that Death is very real, and I do indeed have servants. You have also located my home, but the question is...Will anyone believe you?"
The young man did not reply, instead he ran to his transport and left the planet's more or less nonexistent atmosphere as fast as his ship could go. Upon arrival on the greater ship, the so-called mothership, his ramblings were so bad that the rest of his team decided that whatever energy source found had caused their leader to go mad, and deemed the dead planet as unsafe, and while normally such things were to be destroyed, this time it had to be put under quarantine as no one dared to study it further, as well as risk its spread to the rest of the universe should the planet be blown up.
As soon as Harry resealed himself within his cell, his servants doing so as well in their own separate cells for some reason, he was met with a sight he had not been expecting to ever see or find. There was what seemed to be a ten year old child, wearing ragged grey robes, in his cell, leaning against the far wall, and beside him was what looked to be an emaciated wolf, a rather unnaturally large emaciated wolf.
"What in the world?" Harry couldn't really help himself, as it was the first phrase that filtered into his mind.
"Live long and prosper," the child-person greeted, even going so far as to performing the Vulcan salute, the wolf morphed its paw into a hand and did the same.
"My life is unending as it is. Now who or what are you, as I sense neither life nor unlife from you," Harry said, "I also know for a fact that no one alive nowadays would know what a Vulcan is."
"Straight to the point I see," the child-person said, "I am Nul Nusquam, I'm sure you've never heard of me."
"You'd be correct with that assessment," Harry confirmed.
"I am in a way similar to the Masters of the Crossworlds...I'm also sure you've never even heard of them," Nul said, "Those bastards have been hogging all the action lately, not to mention the Guardian of the Gate from before those three...I am here to offer you a deal of sorts...I am the Guardian of the Exit and the caretaker of the End as well as the Void."
"This offer, what does it entail?" Harry asked intrigued, it wasn't everyday that some unknown being visited Death with some sort of offer, be it friendship, a way out of the state of being Death, or whatever else, even a trade for Lemon Drops.
"I am very much aware of the wait that you have been experiencing," Nul said, "I may look like a kid, but I'm even older than you. I won't really go into detail about what I do, but I'm sure that you get the gist of things, due to what my pet it, as he is both the End and the Void, rolled up into one. My offer is thus, I shall end this Time for you, in return you continue your duties, but will play a more...interactive role with the living. I would also require you to end an existence similar to your own, that no prophecy may be fulfilled, and that the mistakes of this Time be repeated in another. I am sure you would have preferred things to have progressed in a different way."
"What you are proposing is to end this Time then, in a way, reset Time, once that has occurred I am to take a more active role in the running of my primary concerned world. Did I understand your proposal correctly?" Harry asked, the clearly more powerful being.
"I believe you did," Nul said, "The offer part is that you get to live from the very beginning, as Death, and not simply Harry Potter. You shall witness the end of this time, and the beginning of a new Time. You will become an existence before Time itself. All you have to do is prevent history as you know it from repeating itself. So how about it?"
"I want my home intact," Harry said, no longer in a whisper, "If you make it so that my home is tied to me or is found somewhat in a different dimension or something, as well as my servants surviving the trip, then I'll accept the offer."
"Let me think about it," Nul said, then a moment later gave his answer, "Done. Now witness the End of Time, as well as the new beginning. Happy hunting Harry!"
"Wait," Harry said.
"What is it?" Nul asked.
"Since I have accepted your offer, shall we seal the pact? The agreement?" Harry said.
"With what?" Nul asked, "Aside from your concessions, I don't see how a written contract would survive the trip."
"How about a simply handshake?" Harry offered his hand, which Nul took, and they shook, then Harry said, "I feel as though I've made a deal with the devil."
"Nah, I'm not him, but I know of one who is," Nul said.
Nul then simply vanished from the cell, as Harry began to feel all remaining life die out one by one, it was truly the End of Time, and he had to get cracking. He made sure that the last life he took from this ending Time was the one of that one young scientist.