That Lighting Bolt Scar

The boy who dies

"You okay" Cedric asks Harry, as they stand up.

"Yeah, you?" Harry answered, but he got no response as they both looked around. Where had the Cup taken them? It looked like a graveyard of sorts, something about it seemed... very familiar to Harry.

"It's a port-key..." Cedric stated, "Harry, The cup is a port-key!"

"I've been here before," Harry interrupted, now he knew why it seems so familiar, "In a dream."
Harry walked towards a gravestone, looking closely at it. There were three names depicted on the stone, Thomas Riddle, Mary Riddle and Tom Riddle Sr. They all died on the same year.

"Cedric, we have to get back to the cup," Harry said, desperately hoping Cedric would listen to him, "now!"

"What are you talking about?"

Suddenly, they both heard the sound of a door creaking open. Peter Pettigrew stepped out, holding something in his arms, which made Harry scream in pain whilst holding his hand over his scar.

"Harry, what is it?" Cedric asked worriedly as he stepped closer to Harry.

"Get back to the cup." Harry demanded, screaming in pain as he held his scar even tighter than before.

Cedric jumped away from Harry, pointing his wand at the suspicious man in front of them.

"Who are you?" Cedric demanded, "what do you want?"

"Kill the spare" a sickly, frail sounding voice commanded, Harry looked over as he saw Pettigrew lifting his wand towards Cedric, before reciting the words of the killing curse.

In the spur of the moment, Harry pushed Cedric out of the way, resulting in him being hit instead.
Everything went numb, he could no longer see, not that he was that good at seeing before.

Though, suddenly, everything was full of colour... well, shade? He wasn't sure, but it was definitely black and white he was seeing.

Harry looked around, taking in his surroundings, until suddenly a heavy sense of dread filled him as he looked at what was forming next to him.

"Hello, Harry." A soft, almost silent voice whispered out. Was... was he dead? Wow, Boy who lived just died.

"Uhm, am I dead?" Harry asked, Death (?) chuckled at that, yet it was a shortlived chuckle.

"Not quite, seeing as how you are the Master of Death, Harry." Death smiled at him, well Harry thinks he was smiling. He wasn't sure what expression the deity had on his face. Wait, how was he the Master of Death... what even is a Master of Death?

"I see you are confused," Death continued, "You see, you have two of the Deathly Hallows in your possession, which usually wouldn't be enough to orient you as Master of Death, BUT you came into contact and held the Elder wand for a few minutes, and during those few minutes, you were accepted as Master of Death."

Harry looked at Death completely gobsmacked, it felt like he had just been hit by a train, or a killing curse. This made no sense, what does being the Master of Death even entail?

"Wait, how am I not dead? I was hit with the killing curse, I know I survived it once, but that was all my mother's doing." Harry said, clearly not buying whatever Death was saying.

"Being a Master of Death means you a technically immortal, well, until you decide you want to die."

Harry looked at Death like he was the most peculiar thing on the planet, which is probably true seeing as how he's Death.

"So I'm not dead?"

"Yes, but you can't go back to your timeline."

"Wait, why?!" Harry asked, voice shaking. Why can't he go back to his friends, if he's immortal shouldn't that be possible?

"Well, you see," Death spoke quite firmly, "I need you to go back to 1940s, and by that I mean Lord Voldemort's time."

If Harry's jaw wasn't on the floor before, it was now. "You want me to go to Lord Voldemort's time?"

"Yes, of when he was still Tom Marvolo Riddle, and when he is in 4th year."

"Why?" Harry quiered.

"So you can stop him from becoming Lord Voldemort in the first place."

"How am I meant to do that?"

"Well," Death chuckled, "you'll just need to find out."

"Won't it be suspicious if I just randomly go into Hogwarts in my 4th year?"

"No, because I'll put you in the body of a boy who is going to transfer, Hadrian Peverell."

Harry contemplated that for a second, before asking "What would happen to Hadrian?"

"He's already dead, currently he's at St Mungo's right now in a coma."

Harry eyes widened at that, was he really going into the body of a dead boy? How did he even die?

"How did he die?" Harry questioned, having a feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

"Hadrian... well, he committed suicide."

Harry flinched at that, he's had his fair share of suicidal thoughts, but he never acted on them.

"Why... why would he do that?" Harry asked, his voice breaking a bit. Harry has always had a lot of sympathy for people he deemed similar to him.

"He became severely... depressed after his parent's death when he was 12."

Harry started feeling more and more sorry for the boy, to have your parent's taken from you at such a young age is horrible.

"I'll... I'll do it, I'll go back to Voldemort's time." Harry agreed. Death nodded his head at that and suddenly Harry was blacking out again.

A few seconds later, Harry woke up to bright lights, and the feeling of tubes and wires all around him. He tried to sit up but he soon realized how sore his body was.

Well, not his body, though he guessed it was his body now. He soon became aware of how bright the hospital room was, the lights irritatingly blasting into his eyes.

His new body was covered by an anti-suffication blanket and was aching at every joint and in every muscle, obviously from not being used for quite some time.

Harry, now Hadrian, soon heard the sound of someone walking down the corridor to his room, he watched the door carefully before a young woman opened the door. Only to take one look at him, seeing him awake, and then shutting the door as she, he assumed, went to get a Healer.