Harry Potter and the World of Cultivation

The Boy-Who-Lived - Again

A/N: Thanks for reading! ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭*

The wand, the stone and the cloak. These three items were situated in front of him in an orderly fashion. He studied them meticulously. He's seen over a century of peace pass by since the last battle. Nothing happened even when he used all three items, met death, and was revived. Was the tale of the three brothers a myth after all?

Ah, well. These peaceful days were nice after a lifetime's worth of excitement and adventure.

"Grandpa?" A mop of unruly black hair peeked through the opening of the door.

He smiled, "Come in Hadrian. Come give Grandpa a hug."

With a bright grin, the boy ran up and jumped on the bed, narrowly missing the three Hallows. Well, there's no harm since they were nothing special anyways. He snatched up the wand and tapped Hadrian's head, turning the boy a noxious purple. He also sprouted a grey beard and a scaly tail.

"Cool!" Hadrian giggled and glommed the elderly man, "Now I have dragon pox just like Siri!"

"Don't show your mom now."

"I won't!" He promised, though he launched out of bed and ran off to wreak havoc. Harry watched his namesake with fondness. Although he'd taught him well, Hadrian would very likely be caught and his poor mother would probably turn accusing eyes on him. It was quite well-known that ickle Hadrian shared many of his grandpa's traits, notwithstanding his marauding tendencies.

With a sigh, Harry leaned back into the pillows and rested his eyes. It wouldn't be long before his short-lived peace would be disturbed. In the moment he'd drifted off to sleep, a black miasma shrouded the room. The occupants of the Potter manor remained wholly unaware.

A skeletal finger tapped the temple of the sleeping Harry. He woke suddenly, and greeted death with a wry smile.

"Hullo again."

"Curious," A rasping voice intoned. The hooded figure was not unlike a dementor. The sound of rattling chains accompanied his every breath. "Why are you smiling?"

"Well, it's been a while. I've been expecting you."

"Yes," Death leaned closer. His breath smelled surprisingly of crisp autumn leaves and birchbark. "You've escaped me many times. You can escape me no longer."

Yet the wry smile did not fall from his aged face. He hummed slightly in agreement, "My mentor once said that death is but the next great adventure."

A/N: bring it on! ლ(~•̀︿•́~)つ︻̷┻̿═━一

Death straightened and his next words hinted at amusement. "Ah, yes. Albus Dumbledore. A quirky fellow, that one. He kept his little indulgences up until the end."

"Quirky, yes. I'd like to think so."

Death paused. The black swirling mist freezing along with it. The passing of this man was a momentous occasion indeed. It called for celebration. The hooded figure crooked a bony finger and two glasses of Ogden's finest appeared on the bedside table. It lifted one in salute, and rasped, "To Dumbledore, then."

Harry picked up the second glass. "To the next great adventure."

A/N: so chill. Cheers! (*￣▽￣)旦 且('∀｀*)

As he sipped, he missed the mysterious glint that flashed across Death's features. He smiled tiredly and his eyes slipped closed. It was a good day to die.

Not long after the black miasma had faded, a woman dangling her tail-rearing son by the scruff of his collar entered the room. Her features stormy and her gaze formidable. "Dad," she called, "you—"