Re:HP-A New Life

I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.

https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon

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Chapter Three: The Weight of Choice

The object in Death's hand shimmered, shifting between forms Harry couldn't quite identify. It was almost alive, a representation of something far greater than he could comprehend. He could feel its pull, its gravity, like the Hallows, yet it was not dark or malevolent. It was something entirely different.

Harry forced his gaze away, looking back at the faceless void beneath Death's hood. "Explain," he demanded, though his voice wavered. "What's happening? Why am I here?"

Death's presence seemed to grow heavier, its voice a low resonance that filled every corner of the endless station. "Fate favors you, Harry Potter, because you corrected its mistake. You fulfilled the prophecy when it was broken, shattered by Tom Riddle's defiance of death. You restored what should never have been broken. But in doing so, you caused ripples—unforeseen consequences that fate did not account for."

Harry frowned, his mind racing. "Unforeseen consequences? What are you talking about?"

"The war, the losses, the suffering… none of it was meant to be," Death said, its tone devoid of emotion. "Had Tom Riddle died the night he sought to kill you, the world would have taken a different path. Your parents would have lived. The countless lives lost to Voldemort's tyranny would have been spared. The balance would have held."

Harry's throat tightened. "But that didn't happen."

"No," Death agreed. "Because of fate's oversight, you endured trials and pain that were never intended. The balance is fragile now, teetering on collapse. To mend it, fate has convinced time itself to intervene."

Harry's stomach dropped. "Intervene? How?"

"Time will turn back," Death explained. "The threads of your world will be unraveled and rewoven, as if they never existed. This reality, your reality, will disappear."

Harry staggered back a step, his mind struggling to grasp the enormity of what Death was saying. "Disappear? You mean everyone… everything… gone?"

"Like a dream fading upon waking," Death said simply.

Harry's heart pounded in his chest. The faces of his friends flashed before his eyes—Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the Weasleys. All the sacrifices, the victories, the moments of fleeting joy. "Why me? Why now?"

"Fate believes it owes you," Death said. "It intends to give you the life you always desired—a loving family, a childhood free of pain and fear. You will grow up surrounded by those who cherish you. You will never know the cupboard under the stairs or the ache of loss. But…"

Harry stared at the figure, his fists clenched. "But what?"

"Fate believes that this new Harry Potter will be better," Death continued. "It does not understand that it was your suffering, your trials, that forged you into the man capable of defeating Tom Riddle. Fate underestimates the importance of what you endured."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "So, you're saying… this new me might not be able to stop Voldemort?"

"It is possible," Death said. "Fate cannot see beyond its own weaving. It believes the threads will align as they should, but it does not comprehend the weight of your scars or the fire they lit within you."

Harry felt a wave of anger rise within him. "And you're just going along with this? Letting fate undo everything?"

"I am not fate," Death said, its voice colder now. "I do not meddle. I do not decide. I end. But this time, I am giving you a choice."

The shimmering object in Death's hand solidified for a moment, becoming a simple, smooth stone. "You may accept fate's gift and live the life you always dreamed of, free from pain and burden. You will forget this life entirely. Or…"

The stone shifted, growing darker, heavier. "You may carry your memories—your burdens, your scars—into the new life. You will be the only one who remembers, the only thread connecting what was to what will be."

Harry stared at the stone, his mind spinning. A life of love and peace, free from the weight of everything he had endured. No nightmares, no guilt, no scars. For a fleeting moment, he felt tempted. But the thought of leaving everything behind, forgetting everyone he had fought for, made his stomach churn.

He clenched his fists. "If I forget, I'll just be hoping everything works out in the end, won't I?"

"Yes," Death said.

Harry took a deep breath, the answer clear in his mind. "I can't do that. I can't just forget. Not when so much is at stake. Not when there's a chance I can make things right."

Death's void-like face seemed to tilt, as though in acknowledgment. "Then you have chosen."

The stone in Death's hand grew darker still, pulsing faintly. "Take it, and carry your truth into the new life."

Harry reached out, his hand trembling as it closed around the stone. The moment his fingers touched it, a wave of cold surged through him, mingled with a strange warmth—like the merging of two worlds.

The station began to shift, the white expanse flickering like an old filmstrip. Harry held tight to the stone, his jaw set. He wasn't sure what lay ahead, but he knew one thing: he would not let fate decide his path.

Not this time.