Harry Potter and the Cursed Heart ~discontinued~

Chapter 4

To say Harry had been pleased with the result of his trip to Diagon Alley would be an understatement. He had been planning on meeting Alice but his earlier-than-expected meeting (of sorts) had been a pleasant surprise. She was as he remembered but the way she had reacted to his magic when he hadn't even directed it towards her proved she really was powerful. And not just that, but the way their magics worked together, so familiar to each other and yet exciting and new; it was thrilling to say the least. And to think he had only just started to think about her...

*flashback*

"Master."

Harry whipped around to face the cloaked figure, "Listen, buddy, I know what Hermione and Ron have been saying about me in the papers, but I'm really not into that sort of thing." He found he would have started rambling if the figure hadn't cut him off with a deep chuckle.

"I can assure you that this is nothing of the sort. I could feel your pain and felt it would be a good time to introduce myself and offer you a chance of revenge."

"Revenge?"

"As the holder of all 3 Deathly Hallows, you are my master. And as I possess the power to help you, to send you back, correct the errors of the past and undo the damage that they've done, you therefore can as well."

"So what you're trying to tell me, is that you're Death, and you can do some time travelling to help me get revenge." Harry hadn't noticed, but as they had talked, the figure had been moving closer and closer to him. He was close enough now that he could make out some definite features. For starters, he wasn't wearing the full reaper garb often seen in depictions. Instead, he seemed to be wearing a black travelling cloak over a sharply pressed suit. He had a gaunt face, his high cheekbones accentuated, and deep sunken black dark eyes shown. His nose was long and hooked but it fitted with the rest of his look. From what Harry could tell, his hair was also black and swept back. He carried a black cane held in one hand which wore a large white ring. Overall, matched with his tall height, he was an imposing figure, and Harry could see how many would be scared of him.

"To put it simply, yes." He spoke in a refined manner. In the style expected of nobility.

Harry nodded silently for a second, contemplating the repercussions of if what this stranger said was true. He seemed to entertain the idea, thinking it plausible and was surprised at just how calmly he was taking it. "Why the cloak? It seems like a nice suit you've got on," was the only response he could get out through his muddled brain.

However Death took it all in his stride, responding politely as ever, "ah, my apologies. I'm supposed to wear it to add to the menacing look. I should really take it off."

After he gracefully removed his cloak, placing it in a sophisticated way across his arm, Harry got a full look at him and realised his prior observations had been correct, yet he did seem ever so slightly less terrifying, although he did still frighten Harry. "You say you can help me, but how?"

"Well to start, I can remove all the compulsions, blocks, and other things of the sort placed o-"

"I'm sorry, I'm just going to have to cut you off there. Compulsions and blocks? Since when?"

"Since birth. There are all sorts of compulsions, such as loyalty to Dumbledore, dislike of Slytherin, and my personal least favourite: willingness to self sacrifice. As for the blocks, it appears the meddling old bastard blocked off most of your access to your core, regulating your use of magic..."

At this point, Harry found he couldn't listen anymore. His whole life had been controlled by an old man who never even gave him a choice. By a senile coot who had controlled his whole life. By a manipulative fool who had pretended to care. And now he remembered Hermione and Ron's deceit and how they had been set up by Dumbledore. Oh he was fuming. And he made sure this was very well known by Death (I won't tell you what exactly was said because it definitely wasn't PG and we don't support that language in this house, no sir).