When Harry James Potter had been 17, he'd become the so-called Master of Death. Which didn't really mean anything. Really. It just meant he accepted the reality of death. That it was natural. Nothing to be scared of. At least he thought so for about the next 100 years of his life. Then his wife died, his friends died... his children started dying. His grandchildren. Great-grandchildren... by the time his great-great-grandchildren started to die, his descendants had grown so numerous that he couldn't remember all their names anymore.

He mostly stayed in his little cottage in the middle of the woods, lived off the land and enjoyed reading, long walks... from time to time one of his descendants would come by. With food, stories and questions. Gramps, they all called him. Sometimes they told their friends about him, and those friends told their friends, and so on. At some point everyone that came by called him Gramps, even if they weren't related to him, and Harry didn't mind. He enjoyed their visits and the new books they brought him. New things to learn. New things to try. After centuries and centuries, the years and people started to blur. They forgot his real name, his life sinking from history to myth. And Harry remained in his forest, helping out those seeking knowledge and guidance.

Until one day he was outside gardening and reappeared standing in the middle of a burning fire, two women staring at him with fear and hope.

They spoke to him and he just... didn't understand one word of what they were saying. None. With lots of pointing, gesturing and doodling he managed to figure out that he was in England, still. In 1193. And the two witches had summoned him to help fight off their mother's death.

He couldn't and wouldn't do that, he explained. Death was natural, after all.

But he was the Master of Death, no? That was why they had summoned him. Why they had spent years looking for this old, druidic ritual.

Yes, he told them, he was. That was beside the point.

For some reason they thought he OWED them for summoning him and given that he had been taken from his home, he didn't agree. So he left them standing in their small home, turned to the streets of their village, and just started walking. He learned the variety of Old English they were speaking. Then he learned what kind of French the upper class was speaking. He traveled all through the Isles... Europe... and finally the world. Learning everything he could. Meeting new people. He no longer felt like a relic of times long gone. He remembered now. He was Harry Potter and he was there. Alive. He never stayed long in one place, ten years the most. Then he moved on. He made friends, had lovers... but never ever more children. Children, he thought, losing them had almost broken him. Never again.

Things around him started to shift and change, and what little Harry remembered from history didn't come to pass. Was it because he was here? Did his existence change things?

Should he return to his life of seclusion or risk erasing his own existence?

He had just waded into the Mediterranean Sea, his trousers pulled up to his knees on a sunny day in 1716, when he was suddenly pulled away again. This time, he stood in a cave in 2256 in a world, where Europeans never settled in North America. He kept on. Moved on. Lived on. Through centuries, universes and cultures and all sorts of magic. He studied them all. Learned everything. He had all the time in the world, after all. And where he went, people would ask him to ward off Death. And he would decline and move on. Until one day, out of nowhere, his heart seemed to stop. Pain. Unbelievable pain shot through him. This is it, he thought. Now it is finally my time. Finally, I can rest. See my wife. My children. My friends. Maybe someone else had found the Deathly Hallows left behind in his world.

Instead, he felt himself dragged away again. And reappeared in what looked like a bar. Wood everywhere. And two tall men in jeans and flannel staring at him in shock.

"Who the fuck are you?", the guy standing in front of him said.

The other one was kneeling on the floor, looking up at him in horror.

Clothes. Language. Late 20th, early 21th century, Harry guessed. His chest felt like it was going to cave in on itself.

Death was gone. The knowledge hit him like a tonne of bricks. Death was GONE.

"Who am I? Who are you and what have you done to Death?!", Harry snapped at them.

"I asked first!", the standing one growled and pulled the other one to his feet.

"I don't care. You don't want to play games with me, kid. What have you done to Death. Talk or I'll peel off your skin piece by piece."

His voice turned louder, vibrating the house around them. He no longer needed to say his spells out loud, magic simmering through his veins. Suddenly he felt it, a bolt of pure power racing towards them. Harry threw up a shield around him, as the man in front of him was hit by magic. Something broke. Harry's head started ringing and a power, so much stronger and darker than ANYTHING Harry had ever felt, broke from the man and shot up into the sky.

"It's gone.", the taller man said, staring at the other one's forearm, "The Mark is gone."

"Yes, but..."

"Excuse me? Hi! In case you forgot: I am still standing here with a lot of questions and exactly zero patience.", Harry interrupted them. Death was gone and all around them, he could feel a shift in energies. Magic. Power. Rippling through where they were and changing things on a cosmic level.

"Yes, right...", Tall started, "My name is Sam, this is my brother Dean. We... ah..."

"I killed Death.", Dean informed him, throwing his brother a strange glance.

"You killed Death. Death. What for? Shits and giggles?"

The brothers just stared at him, and Harry wondered if he had gotten the saying wrong. Maybe he was off by a century? Maybe this universe didn't have that saying?

"He said either I killed my brother or he would.", Dean told him, right when a loud rumble was heard outside, "Maybe we should check that out before you filet us?"

That was an excellent idea, because Harry's headache was growing and the air was so thick with magic, he could hardly breathe.

Instead of walking to the door, Harry just vanished the whole house around them.

"What the...", Dean started, but Harry ignored him. All around them, bolts of energy were starting to hit the ground. Starting little fires. Then the Earth broke open all around them, releasing columns of dark smoke into the world.

"What did Death call this? The Darkness?", Sam asked, alarmed.

"Yes."

Not far from them a cloud was forming.

"Move!", Harry told them at the same time as the brothers headed for a black car to their right.

As Harry just slit into the backseat behind the two and Dean started their car, a mad laugh escaped from Harry.

After millennia of ordinary, predictable things, this... this was NEW.

The car wouldn't start, the Darkness came closer, and Harry weighed his options. These guys had killed Death. They had answers. He needed them, at least for now. He threw up a shield around the car and felt that cosmic energy crush into it with maddening strength. One spell wouldn't do it, he realized in shock. He kept casting more and more shielding spells, replacing those that kept breaking around them. SOMETHING really wanted to grab Dean out of the car.

"Looks like I am not the only thing you pissed off today.", Harry groaned and both brothers turned to him as if they were only noticing him now.

"The hell you doing in my car?"

"Saving your murderous ass."

Then, suddenly, it was gone. Vanished, like nothing had happened, and sunlight streamed through the car's windows.

Harry took a deep breath. He had DONE it. Whatever the hell that thing had been, it had not gotten anywhere near them.

"So... the Darkness? Great descriptive naming there. How'd you piss it off? Or was it just, you know... a friend of Death?"

"No, those are two separate problems.", Sam groaned, rubbing his forehead.

"Yes. Great. We released a monster that has been locked away since the beginning of time by God himself into the world. Now we gotta put it back.", Dean growled, finally starting the car, "And then there is you, of course. No offense, I am sure you are pissed and powerful, but you are just not that scary right now."

"That's just because you are fooled by my friendly smile.", Harry said, threateningly showing his teeth.

"Okay. You are pissed about Death. He wanted my brother dead. That got him dead. End of story.", Dean declared, turning onto a road.

"Death is a fact of life. If Sam's time had come..."

"It hadn't, though.", Sam interrupted him, "Death wanted me dead, so I wouldn't interfere with his plans for Dean."

"Plans?", Harry asked, his eyes shining with excitement, "Death doesn't get involved. Or he isn't supposed to."

"He got involved here, though... because of the Darkness.", Sam told him quietly.

"Yes. I have never felt anything like it.", Harry mused. What was this he was feeling? He hadn't felt it in so long... excitement. And fear. That thing had been powerful. Extremely powerful. And it felt... wrong. It didn't belong here. Not in this world. Not in any world. And Death was gone. He felt almost giddy. New things, DANGEROUS things. That hadn't happened to him in ages. And deep down, he was still very much a Gryffindor, looking for adventure. And Death had broken the rules and gotten involved in the lives of these brothers. That was something he needed to know more about. Never had he interfered with Death, but then again, Death had always done his job before.

"Okay, I'll help."

"You what? Dude, we don't even know who you are. Or what, for that matter."

"Dean.", Sam hissed, "Please don't antagonize possible allies."

"My name is Harry, and I am human.", Harry shrugged.

"And what else? Because you just vanished a house."

"I'm a wizard."

"You what? Like a witch? Sold souls, bodily fluids everywhere?"

"No. What? Is that how magic works in this world?"

"Yes.", Sam told him wearily, "Mostly witches sell their souls to demons, to get power."

"Mh, yes, I have seen worlds like that before. But I am a born wizard."

"Worlds? You travel worlds?", Sam asked, his eyes wide, while his brother's gaze stayed glued to the road.

"Not by choice. I go where I am summoned. But most don't know how to summon me, so I often spend centuries in one world. Once I stayed so long, the Earth grew too hot for any life to exist before I was called away."

"What did you do then?", Sam's eyes grew wider and wider.

"I took one of the last ships off the planet.", Harry shrugged. He hadn't liked to leave Earth, so the other times space travel was possible, he had stayed firmly put.

"Why... why do people summon you? I mean... do people just randomly summoned a wizard, and you are the only one?"

"No, there are countless wizards in infinite worlds and all across time. But I am the only Master of Death. Or I was. What am I Master of now, you think?"

Dean violently hid the brakes and turned around.

"Master of Death?"

"Yes."

"Master of Death?!"

"Yes.", Harry repeated, rolling his eyes.

"Where the hell have you been all this time?!"

"Around. Weren't you listening?"

"So you didn't care when Death was locked up... freed... the Apocalypse... nothing?"

"Which apocalypse?"

"THE bloody apocalypse!"

"Dean. He's a transdimensional being."

"He what now?"

"Your brother is right. What happens here is big for you, nothing to me. That was, until you freed this Darkness thing. It's like me. And it doesn't belong here."

Dean started the car again, grumbling a little.

"So...", Sam tried again, "People summoned you to... what... tell Death to leave them alone and you do?"

"Of course I don't. Death is natural. It happens to everyone. Some day."

"So some poor bastard summons you, asks for help and you just say no and walk away?", Dean tensed.

"If you want to phrase it like that, sure."

"Dick move."

"These people rip me away from my world, my home, my life. They better be grateful I don't kill them before I walk off.", Harry growled.

"Touché."

They drove in silence for a while. Possibly hours. Harry wasn't good with time, really. When suddenly something shifted in his perception, ringing alarm bells in his head.

"There are people ahead. Two. One is... wrong somehow."

"How do you...", Dean started the moment they rounded a corner and saw cars and what looked like a road crew full of people dead on the ground.

"Oh, that doesn't look good.", Dean sighed.

"I felt their energy.", Harry frowned, as they stopped and the brothers gripped their guns, "Look out for the corrupted one. "

They left the car, when a man in the reflector jacket walked towards them. There were black veins on his neck and his eyes were... like a void. He oozed sickness.

"Hey, easy, buddy. Just stay cool till we figure out what's going on here, okay?", Dean tried carefully.

The guy just kept walking.

"Dean....", Harry tried, frowning, "don't shoot, please. I won't let him hurt anybody."

"Well great, because..."

And then the sound of a gunshot broke through the air, the infected man falling. Dead. Harry could feel his soul leaving before his body hit the ground.

"Sgu!", he swore and looked at the young woman with a shotgun now opposite them.

"Weapons on the ground. Slow.", she told them.

"Easy, Officer.", Sam tried, "We..."

But Harry had enough. He had been summoned. Death was... dead. The Darkness was extremely powerful, and this whole ordeal was giving him a headache.

One quick spell and the gun just flew across the pavement.

"What the...", the woman shouted, panic in her voice.

"Harry!", Sam sounded almost scandalized.

And Harry didn't care one bit. The young woman was bleeding, he realized. She took a panicked step back and he just waved his hand.

"What? Show me your wound. I can heal it "

"You... but... no, what?"

"Harry.", Sam tried again.

Harry frowned, "The way you reacted back there, I thought this stuff was common knowledge in this universe."

"Nope.", Dean offered helpfully.

"Oh. Oops. I am very sorry, young lady. My name is Harry. I am a wizard and can help you."

"A wizard.", the police officer repeated, "Like Harry Potter?"

"Exactly like that.", Harry smiled. He wasn't surprised by her knowing his name. This wasn't the first world where the story of his defeat of Voldemort had somehow become known through books. He had sometimes wondered if maybe it had been Death's doing. Or maybe there were others like him, travelling from universe to universe and telling stories. He had certainly done that. Set down with an audience and told a story he had heard or experienced from worlds far away.

The woman let him come closer and he moved her shirt away, carefully put his right hand on her wound and felt the magic flow out of his arm and into her body, knitting back together what had been separated. Ten seconds later he was done, and she was healed.

"What's your name, dear?", Harry asked, careful to look as harmless as possible. That wasn't too hard, really. His hair and beard had turned white long ago, his face slightly wrinkled around the eyes and his mouth. He knew he looked like a man in his early sixties, his glasses giving him the look of a slightly nerdy grandpa. He always dressed as neutrally as possible, just in case. Right now he wore something resembling sweatpants and a t-shirt with leather shoes, but he could transfigure anything within seconds.

Wordlessly, he cleaned her shirt and repaired it, with Sam and Dean hovering behind his back.

"Jenna.", she told him, her voice wobbling a little, "My name is Jenna."

She was staring at her uniform, her left hand caressing her unharmed skin beneath it.

"Jenna, can you tell me what happened here?", Harry asked carefully.

"They... there was a family in distress. I was sent here, but they were all dead. The road crew. They killed them all. And I killed them."

"They all have those black veins. Not human.", Sam said somewhere to Harry's left.

"Human, but corrupted.", Harry corrected," And there's more of them. The Darkness did this. This all... reeks of it."

"What do we do now?", Sam asked, "Is it contagious?"

Harry shrugged, then turned eastwards.

"What's that way, Jenna?"

"The town. And outside it, the hospital.", she hurried to answer, now back into professional mode.

"Okay. Then that's where we are going. Boys, let's move."

"Oh, so you've been around for a couple of hours, and suddenly you're calling the shots?", Dean snarked.

"Yes. I am. Glad we agree. Now get a move on. This is exciting. There is an adventure to be had."