Chapter 1
Sometimes, Harry wished life wasn’t always so cruel.
June 30th, 1995
“Harry, we needed to run, you know this,” Hermione was telling him, eyes intent. Harry had decided it would be better to start hunting the horcruxes as soon as possible. After Dumbledore had died in the ministry, and after the lessons he’d received that year; Occulomency and Horcrux studies alike, he hadn’t gone back to the Dursleys. He’d refused. He was beaten like dog, day and night. And honestly Harry contemplated even warning his mother’s despicable sister. But Hermione always said that Harry had the best of hearts. So Harry sent a letter- only one. And then he was gone.
Because if it weren’t for his magic, then Harry might’ve been killed before he’d even reached the age of two. And in his eyes that was unacceptable.
He hadn’t cared for what the Order might think or what they might have done to him. None of Order members except the Weasleys had ever cared for him.
To be frank, Harry wasn’t expecting to see Hermione and Ron right outside the train station, bags in hand, eyes knowing. They’d known what his plan had been all along. They had refused to leave, regardless of what Harry had begged or pleaded; loyal till the bitter end.
Ron stood to Harry’s side, as a constant support never yielding to anyone. His eyes had grown keener with the years of neglect they had all faced. It wasn’t easy to be placed in danger year after year and then come out completely okay. The three of them had issues with authority and they tended to not trust anyone but themselves.
“I know,” Harry scowls, “I hate it though. We shouldn’t have left. We should have just stayed!” Harry demands, making Ron sigh deeply.
‘Mate, we fought off the Death Eaters best we could, but the whole thing is insane. They’re after you, and because Hermione and I refuse to leave you alone, they’re after us too. Reinforcements were obviously coming. Now that we know about the taboo curse-the Gais,- we can better handle them,” Ron smiles to soothe away any feelings of guilt his best friend might have felt.
With the official announcement of Harry Potter going missing, curtesy of their lovely, stupid Order members, the war that had been awaiting on the horizon, erupted.
Muggles were dying left, right and centre, and even more Muggleborns were being attacked by blood purist arseholes.
“It’s the safest choice for our families if we stay away for now and finish our mission as fast as possible,” Ron tells Harry whose face had fallen at the mention of their mission.
Harry stands still, a bit horrified at the prospect of never seeing Ron’s family, his and Hermione’s true family, again. But he knew his friends were right.
They needed to kill Voldemort and to do that, they needed the Weasleys safe, because otherwise the three of them would do anything -sacrifice anything- to make sure they stayed safe.
Harry and Hermione had been unofficially adopted into the Weasley family. Molly loved them as much as her own children -maybe even more sometimes too if one believed Ron and Ginny’s annoyed mutterings.
It was always funny to Harry when Molly began matchmaking Hermione with Ron and him with Ginny, until Harry came out as gay and Ginny as bisexual, and then Molly was trying to set him up with any of her sons; she tended to favour him and Fred. And Molly had almost cried tears of joy when Ginny brought home Luna and Rolf, declaring them as hers.
“Do we have the coordinates on the next Horcrux?” Ron grumbles, eyeing the three they already had that Harry was holding. He was the only one not affected by the horcruxes’ presence. The reason pointed to a justification, the three of them didn’t even want to contemplate.
So they didn’t.
But they did see the research the three of them all did, almost frantically. They ignored it when the other one needed a harsh cry. But they were always there to offer comfort when needed.
“We do, it’s at Gringotts.” Hermione retorts, reading the results of the ritual they could only perform on the full-moon of every passing month, using Harry’s blood- the blood that he shared with Voldemort himself.
And each ritual only pointed them in the direction of a single horcrux not within a single meter’s radius around them. Hermione and Harry had be forced to do some crazy Arithmancy to get that part of the ritual down. They had the diadem, the locket and the ring. The diary soul-piece had been destroyed and it left them with two horcruxes to find.
They would only be able to destroy them all, when they got to Hogwarts and could get Basilisk venom; they had no idea where the Sword of Gryffindor was but they wouldn’t shift their focus, not when they already had a possible solution.
“Then lets go break into a bank,” Ron sounded exasperated and amused, though Harry saw the exhaustion prevalent in his eyes, similar to the tiredness in his own.
“Les do it,” He sighs, hoping this all would end soon.
August 1st, 1995
“Harry, do you know why your dragon is acting weird?” Hermione asks warily.
“His name is Apep, Hermione. And he’s not mine,”
“Harry, just because the dragon is pink and angry does not give you the right to name it after the Egyptian god of evil and darkness,” Hermione scolds him, “Choose another name for the poor thing!” She demands and Harry blinks up at his best friend.
“No. He tried to eat me,” Harry pouts and Hermione looks up at the sky, begging for patience.
“Hey, guys why does Apep look so on edge?” Ron asks, firewood in hand as he wobbles over to take a seat beside Harry, his leg bandaged up. Harry’s own arms were heavily bandaged and it had been a couple days since the incident with the Snatchers.
Apep, the dragon that they had saved from Gringotts had proceeded to stick to Harry like glue after their timely escape. Hermione had begun teaching him runes to draw on the majestic dragon’s back, hiding the being from everyone but them.
The dragon was immense, powerful and much too savage for them to keep the creature with them safely longterm. Due to years of maltreatment and abuse the dragon suffered from flaky pale, almost albino, scales and milky pink, partially blind eyes. Apep bore the marks of brutal treatment from goblins; with horrendous scars on its face made by vicious slashes and scorch marks tattering Apep’s entire body- those were from hot swords.
Harry kind of saw himself whenever he looked at the dragon; beaten down and forced into being manipulated for his safety. It had taken a couple days for him to actually manage to look at the dragon without remembering remnants of his childhood, a childhood no one knew. Some had their suspicions and Harry knew Albus had known but no one had actually done anything about it until he had been strong enough to fight back.
Hedwig tended to only tolerate Apep at best. She was annoyed at the fact that another creature was taking so much of her human’s attention. The owl was in a constant state of hovering jealously, which was very amusing to the three friends, especially to Harry, who needed all the love and all the care.
“Does the Dragon hunt by any chance? Could we ask it to get us some food?” Ron pouts out, a bit disgruntled. The three of them were all a bit too thin for comfort, wrists gangly and bones protruding.
“Ask him,” Harry points out and Ron takes one look at the gigantic dragon and shakes his head, an unamused look on his gaunt face.
“Could’ve just said no mate,” Ron grumbles, making Harry snort.
“Go catch another rabbit or something. It makes for good target practice,” He tells his best friend who glares at him.
“You know those little buggers are hard to catch,” Ron demands, making Hermione snort.
It was the day after Harry’s sixteenth birthday and after almost dying from a scalding fever the night before, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Ron and Hermione kept checking on him randomly throughout the day, still not over the trauma of almost loosing him the night before.
Harry lies flat on the forest ground, deciding that it was best if he relaxed for a bit more. It had felt like he’d been having a genuine heart attack. It was fine though, although the ache was still there, a constant source of pain that seemed to increase and then decrease at random intervals.
If he told Hermione, she’d ship him off to a muggle hospital in seconds, stating he was on the verge of a heart attack- and that wasn’t something he wanted especially now.
He’d be fine though. At least until he destroyed all of the horcruxes. His magic seemed to be his personal hospital when he desperately needed it the most. It had never let him down thus far.
“So we are just going to house a dragon now,” Ron grumbles. “Not even earning his keep,”
Hermione smacks him for that, making Harry laugh. “As if Apep needs to do that! Let the poor thing relax for a bit, my god Ronald,”
“But-”
“No,” Hermione proclaims, ending all of Ron’s arguments with a single word. Harry thought it was rather impressive, if he was being honest with himself.
It’d been a week since they’d actually stolen the cup horcrux from Gringotts and Harry had taken to holding all the horcruxes on his person, given he was the only one who wasn’t affected by the utter malice the horcruxes seemed to ooze. It was strange to Harry, who felt more pity than disgust when he looked at the once whole soul of Tom Riddle. It was weird how Harry seemed to sense more pain than hostility coming from the soul pieces of Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Harry thought Hermione and Ron were confusing the two emotions; maybe because they weren’t as used to its presence. Harry was so used to pain, he found he missed it when he wasn’t in some sort of agony.
And perhaps it was an unhealthy outlook to take.
But it was Harry’s outlook and he was still alive thus far- so he must be doing something right.
“It’s just the snake now right?” Ron tries to affirm, eyes blazing a bit with hope and the need to be done with this war.
“Only the snake,” Hermione affirms, her light brown eyes firm in her resolve. It was just the snake.
Just the snake and they were done.
Admittedly, they didn’t manage to get that far.
January 1st, 1996
The world seemed to explode in upon itself almost all at once.
At first all Harry had to worry about was the war, the horcruxes and killing Voldemort.
Now, those were the least of his worries.
Not when the entire magic community was now under lockdown.
Not when muggles had discovered magic.
And not when they were absolutely terrified of them.
Harry didn’t have the time to give two shites about Voldemort, not when little kids were being handed over to muggle governments by their families for millions of dollars.
Not when babies were being slaughtered.
And families were being ripped apart.
Not when wizards, witches and wixen were being experimented on left, right and centre.
And not when wixen were now flocking to him, Hermione and Ron for guidance. As if they weren’t kids themselves. As if there weren’t qualified Aurors, Hit wizards, Hit witches, and Unspeakables who were hundreds of times much more qualified than they were.
Thankfully it seemed like the sheep of the flock tended to defer to him as their default leader, while the more qualified personnel tended to treat him as a fellow general/ soldier-of-arms.
And not when Harry had basically become a deity incarnation. Death had basically become his irritating, annoying third parent, who enjoyed raising his blood pressure more than an actual deity should.
Sometimes Harry thought about what would have happened if he’d just left the wizarding world when shit began to actually hit the fan.
He wondered if the wizarding world would’ve been exposed much sooner. Or if as many people who managed to survive, would have.
He was considering doing it again, especially when his stupid deity decided to drop a bomb in his hands.
“To save the greatest number of your people, you must join hands,”
Now Harry didn’t really want to do that. Not at all. And he’d told Death as much, to whom had replied in a very manipulative manner if he was being honest.
Of course he didn’t want all of the wixen to die?! What? Was he heartless?
No, he wasn’t unfortunately. And Death knew this. So he was stuck in a tough place; with a flabbergasted Ron and Hermione beside him, but resolve deep in their eyes.
“Are we sure Death meant this bloody motherfucker?” Ron whispers -not really whispering because the entire Dark, Grey and Light sects stiffen- and Hermione ends up smacking the ever loving crap out of Harry’s best mate.
“Ron we are here as diplomats,” Hermione scowls, making Ron even more displeased.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like the bloody fellow,” Ron grumbles.
“And exactly what- pray tell, makes any of you believe that I would ever offer a truce to you,” A silky smooth voice announces, and the masses part for Voldemort as he makes his way through his people and strolls towards the front. The bastard was always so dramatic wasn’t he? Harry couldn’t help but grumble internally, trying to get Death to listen to his internal pleas.
But she remained insufferably silent on this matter.
Tom Marvolo Riddle seemed to have gotten all his good looks back and appeared just as human as the rest of them were. Only difference were his cold, ruby-red eyes that glinted if his interest was caught or if the madman was enraged- which always seemed to be the case when he was looking at Harry.
Harry signals with a wave of his hand and the entire world quakes when Apep slams into the ground right behind Harry. One by one, Apep’s fellow dragons land steadily behind him -the apex predator if one may…the prime dragon of them all- and then Harry gives a small smirk, enjoying the way Voldemort’s left eye seemed to be twitching.
“I think you’ll make the time V,” Harry raises a brow threateningly.
Bellatrix was on the brink of utterly loosing it and Harry wanted- oh how harry wanted her to break rank so he could strike the bitch down. “How dare-” She begins, trying to stride forward and was stopped by the muscular arm of her husband, who sends her a scathing look.
“Enough. They would use any excuse to attack us. You know this,” The eldest Lestrange brother demands at his wife, who sends Harry and his friends a scathing look.
“And be happy doing it,” Neville snarls at them, eyes blazing in rage. His wand was clutched so tightly in his hands that Harry thought it was seconds from breaking.
“Yes, yes. We’re aware.” Voldemort drawls, seeming bored, but his eyes were intent on Harry and the dragons that Harry had asked for aid.
“How are you controlling them, my dearest Harry?” Tom smiles and Harry gives him a look of disgust.
“Obviously by not controlling them in the fist place, you maniac,” He replies, staring at the man with bewilderment.
Tom tsks, still gazing as if in wonder at the monstrous yet stunning beings that accompanied Apep.
“Very well, I shall hear your demands and offer some of my own. We shall join forces by the end of this night, Harry Potter head my words.”
Harry thinks he should’ve just asked Death to kill him.
January 1st, 1996- The terms and conditions
“We can’t work together if you are intent to keep Bellatrix, and the Lestrange brothers under your command,” Harry immediately begins. “We want them gone and their magic stripped,” Harry instantly goes on the offensive, not even looking in the direction of the three in question.
“YOU THINK my lord would sacrifice me, for you? A filthy half-breed-” Voldemort waves a hand and instantly Bellatrix was frozen in place, a wretched look on her face.
“Interesting. You would have me sacrifice three of my best soldiers for you, when the muggles are keen to see us dead and gone?” Voldemort asks him and Harry nods firm.
“There is too much bad blood between us and those three. We need you. You’re a Lord appointed by Lady magic. And according to her, you’ve had your sanity restored given the horcruxes that I had given up to help her. So really Voldemort, you do owe me a life debt,” Harry proclaims and instantly the magic latches on between the two, holding both captive to their magicks and the people with the debt between them.
Voldemort blinks and then slowly starts to smile, “Ah, I see. So you were the one that destroyed my diary,” His smile was beginning to piss Harry off but he smirks back.
“Yeah I was twelve. And I killed your Basilisk to do it,”
Silence. Disbelieving silence.
Before Voldemort was laughing and he nods slowly, “Acceptable, however it was only Bellatrix who was involved in the attack against the Longbottoms. Her and Barty. The Lestranges were standing guard outside of the house, unknowing of what was happening inside,”
“Bullshite.” Harry deadpans before Neville and Augusta could work themselves into a frenzy and attack. Hopefully by the way Hermione was frantically whispering to both of them, they would come to understand the severity of what would happen if they intervened.
“I have more control than that disgusting bitch. I do not scream at my enemies. I merely strike them down,” Augusta warns, while informing Harry and the others that her control was as impeccable as ever. Neville moved to stand beside his grandmother, face still as a stone.
Luna on the other hand, skips up towards Harry, who immediately turns to her. She -like Harry and Tom- was also a disciple of a deity. She was the student and incarnation of Lady Fate. She was one of the deadliest and most powerful Seers alive and she wouldn’t hesitate to intervene anymore. Not since the moment the muggles had discovered them.
“Harry…. Marvolo… Hello,” She greets with a gentle curtesy. Her expression was as open and whimsical as always but her eyes remained sharp.
Voldemort blinks at the name Luna had called him, before deciding that -in fact- he actually seemed to like it.
“Hello Luna,” Harry smiles softly at her.
“The Lestranges, in fact, weren’t involved in the direct attack, Harry. They’re only sin is their inability to keep tabs on their people,” Luna offers airily. There is a pause and then Harry inhales slowly, thinking deeply on the issue.
He turns to look at Neville, whose eyes soften when they land on his godbrother.
“Bellatrix then, her and her alone, seeing as Crouch got thrown to the dementors,” Harry revamps it and then the second he does, Voldemort nods.
“So be it,” He drawls and then it seemed like an hour to Harry, who watches a green light escape from one of the men who stood at Voldemort’s back. The green light struck Bellatrix so hard, she flew back and landed, only to die instantly, her expression forever in the form of a shriek she’d never be able to scream. Well, they'd asked for her magic to be stripped, but no one would complain now that the woman was dead. By the glint in Voldemort's eyes, he seemed to know that.
“Next?” Voldemort asks, a slow amused smile on his face at the shock on all the faces in front of him. The only person who didn’t seem to be shocked was Harry Potter, who eyed him with a hint of disgust and a bit of expectedness. Of course, the only person who would be able to read him was his prophesied foe.
It was interesting. The way Harry Potter could read him so well, and how he, himself, could read the Potter boy so well in return.
“Next, all killing and inter fighting shall cease on both ends, any grudges held between any of the people on either side shall be settled in an honour duel.” Harry proclaims next, not even blinking at the scene in front of him.
Not a single tear had been shed over the crazy Bellatrix Lestrange neé Black. Not even her sister- who stood as solemn as stone. It seemed Narcissa had grieved for her sister years ago and had no need for it now.
Had Andromeda been here, instead of with Harry’s godson and her grandchild- he expected the woman would act somewhat the same, if even more cold.
“Acceptable,” Voldemort nods and Harry eyes the man warily. Voldemort was being too poise over all of this and Harry was getting ready for the punchline.
He noticed the formation the Death Eaters took and it was much in the manner as his own people.
They all knew Voldemort would never hear from anyone other than Harry himself given the momentous times other ministry officials had tried.
The ministry finally had put things in both their hands, seeing the amount of wixen each counterpart had saved during the duration of the World Wizaridng War.
So now, after decades of outer-sect fighting; the three magical sects were finally coming together to join forces; the Light, the Dark and the Grey.
They were all magic.
And since magic itself was under siege. It was their duty as wixen to save it.
Harry suspects that Lady Magic had told Tom, exactly who her sisters had chosen as earthen incarnations; Death had chosen Harry and Fate had chosen Luna; as such no harm was to come to either. It was the same on his ends as well. Tom Marvolo Riddle, was off limits. It grated on his nerves a little but it was fine in the end.
As the incarnation of Death, Harry was allowed to use all of her abilities- as such he was able to speak to the dead.
His loneliness had abated when he was actually able to meet his parents, and see Remus and Sirius and Tonks once more. His self-hatred had eased the more he allowed his loved ones to speak to their deceased. The way he could introduce Teddy to his parents and have Andromeda speak to her daughter.
It helped- just a bit.
“I’ll require a vow,” Harry raises a brow and Tom nods.
“As long as I get one in return.” He muses and Harry purses his lips.
“Agreeable,” Harry responds even if all he wanted to do was punch the bugger in his pretty face. “Now what are your terms?” Harry raises a brow almost challengingly and Tom simply smiles.
“To kill the muggles who attack us of course. No mercy should be given.” Tom replies and Harry inhales slowly again.
He expected this of course and planned ahead for it. The old Harry would have been repulsed at any mention of killing anybody. But seeing dead kids, tortured kids, starving children -babies really- changed someone.
“Of course.” Harry drawls out, “We are prepared to face them with lethal force. They do not desire negotiations and we do not want any more magical blood spilt. We will fight, to the death if may be,” He announces and Tom slowly smiles, it was a cruel little thing. One that promised vengeance and murder.
He wasn’t called a Dark Lord for nothing after all.
“So we are in agreement,” He muses, causing Harry to nod.
“We are,”
Tom stepped forward, leaning down to look Harry in the eye, a softer look appearing in those red, ruby eyes. “So let us vow it then Harry Potter,”
Harry replies with nothing but a firm hand for him to take.
And take it, he does.
February 3rd, 1997
“Harry we need to get OUT OF HERE!” Hermione screams trying to pull Harry along but his eyes were caught on the survivors of the magic camp.
There were twenty or so magical beings chained to the floors and Harry’s whole heart was in his throat.
He could feel the desperation coming off of all of them in waves. It made his body stiffen and made his eyes sting. It started a while ago, his ability to detect emotions. It started around the same time of his sixteenth birthday. The aches in his chest had become almost an after-thought but now that he was thinking on it, they weren’t as painful as they used to be.
“Stop, I can’t. We need to help them,” Harry demands, taking in Hermione’s stricken look.
Her face almost looked grey from her fear and her eyes were a molten volcano of rage as she grabbed his shoulders and tried to shake him- trying to shake away the stubbornness Harry believed.
“We can’t save them Harry. We can’t even save ourselves!” She snarls, shaking him. “There are bombs detonated to unleash the second someone with an ounce of magic walks into the camp! They had electromagnetic waves that interfere with our magic and we can’t apparate in, no to mention out,” She repeats slowly, her whole body heaving with the effort and anger she was feeling.
“Hermione,” Harry shakes his head, “I have to try,” He begs her and Hermione chokes out a sob, shaking her head desperately.
“I will kill you myself if that’s what you want Harry Potter but don’t you dare sacrifice yourself! I WON’T ALLOW IT!” She thunders, her hair frizzy and standing on end. Her curls never agreed with her, whenever she was emotional. Hermione used to say, her hair had a mind of its own sometimes.
Harry grabs her back, trying to shake some sense into her, “Hermione, there are kids in there. Children who were abandoned by their muggle parents and people who tried to save those kids. I won’t allow the muggles to kill any more innocent magicals. I won’t. We don’t deserve this. I’m tried of watching people die.”
Harry steps back from her and Hermione stares at him blankly for a second before she too had hardened her resolve and moved to step up beside him.
“Fine. Let’s save them. Friends even after death right?” She tells her best friend who gives her a smile.
“Friends even after death, Hermione.” He tells her and then they ran, because the pain those people were feeling was too much for Harry to bear. Because the pain of his fellow wixen was too much for Harry to be able to walk away without guilt.
He had no inclincation of survival in this wretched world. But Harry did want to save as many people as possible, even if it did mean that by the end of this war, all magicals would inevitably die. That was the stark truth, especially going up against the billions of muggles who saw them and their magic as a threat.
The wixen all looked like they were reaching the end of their days and Harry didn’t think he wanted to know what would have happened if they had turned away from their desperate claims of help.
Harry and Hermione had forsaken all attempts at sneaking into the compound and had just opted to blow up the damn thing best they could- at least before they were blown up themselves.
“WHAT are you doing Harry James Potter?!” A very angry voice exploded in his head and Harry winces at the tone.
“Tom, I couldn’t leave them!” Harry demands and Tom proceeded to spend the next ten seconds using every single curse word imaginable.
“I hope Marvolo is calling you an idiot in all thirty languages the man knows.” Hermione scowl at Harry who winces but opts to send an explosion at the missile launchers situated at the side of the concentration camp.
“I swear he shows you his library one time, and suddenly you’re best friends,” Harry grumbles and Hermione whips her head around to glare at him.
“WE HAVE ONCOMING MAGIC USERS! ALL BASES ENGAGE!” The voice was echoing over the bases speakers until Hermione got fed up and just sent multiple Reductos at anything that made such an annoying noise.
“Engage! ENGAGE!” Echoes of military soldiers screaming out commands rammed in Harry’s ears. But Harry wasn’t focusing on them. He was focusing on the dozens of pairs of eyes, staring at him in utter hope. And Harry didn’t have it in him to disappoint all those people… all those kids. God damn it there was an actual toddler there who was staring at Harry like he was an actual angel.
Harry was the farthest thing from an angel there was.
But he’d be damned if he didn’t save these people today. Harry calls upon his Master of Death powers, summoning the Elder wand to his palm, the Resurrection ring to his finger and the Invisibility cloak to his shoulders. Moving quickly, he plants the cloak on Hermione, the sentient cloak already knowing to protect his best friend.
Then Harry moved.
Being an incarnation of Death had a couple quirks to it that no one else was really allowed to know about. One of them was that he couldn’t actually die without actually wanting to.
Death wouldn’t allow it. She’d just return his soul and fix his body.
And Harry took advantage of that whenever he was on the battlefield. He would sacrifice his body for anyone. Death was getting pretty worried about him doing that too often though.
Harry was shooting spells left, right and centre. He didn’t care who he hit as long as it was one of those despicable muggles torturing kids.
Hermione stared in awe at her best friend. It seemed he had gotten much better at doing bullets than he’d let on. He had yet to be grazed by a single bullet. And thank god for her friend’s foresight in giving her the cloak because she wasn’t as good at dodging.
They’d all been shot one too many times in order learn that lesson.
“Harry, hit the main fence with Fiendfyre. You can control it better than I can. I’ll use the defensive ward,” Hermione hisses, referring to the ward that some of the highest ranking intellectuals, Marvolo and her had worked on.
“Got it,” Harry replies, not looking in her direction to give away her position.
And they attack both of them, just outside the realm of detonating the muggle camp’s preventative explosives against any magical being.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Harry. How are you apparating all those people out of there if you manage to save them?” Tom’s voice echoes in his head and at Harry’s very obvious silence Tom curses again in his head. “Just focus on saving them you idiot. I’ll be there as soon as I can,”
Harry, despite himself, couldn’t help but smile in relief because Tom and he worked best when they were on the same team. They learned that through trial and error. It seemed fifteen years of being enemies, they really started to know one another on a level no one else really understood.
And as such, they made a literal killing team.
“I don’t think I can hold them off long enough for them all to escape, so hurry please,” Harry says sheepishly and suffers through another minute of Tom calling him every synonym of an idiot in the English dictionary. It was a couple seconds before Tom was speaking to him again.
“Alright send them my way, brat. I managed to get outside out their anti-apparation zone. As long as they can run fast enough. My Knights and I shall them back to base,”
Harry actually grins, “Thanks Tom,” He replies and then was raining spell after spell, attempting to get even the semblance of a head start on the soldiers who were racing to intercept them.
It didn’t even take a second under Harry’s attention for the electric fence collapsed in upon itself and then there were wixen running. Then the hostages were struggling to race towards the forest. “Keep heading straight, someone will meet you there. It’ll be outside the anti-apparation site,” Harry commands flawlessly before he was forced to run up dead and centre, continuously moving regardless of the stitch in his side.
He felt kind of like he was underwater, struggling to breathe but being forced to swim in order to maintain his life.
Adults and the more older kids were hauling the younger children into their arms and racing past him with tears and cries of thanks, that somehow empowered Harry despite the odds being stacked against them.
Even if they failed here, Harry would have no regrets.
Because at least he tried.
Utter rage filled him as he took note of the ragged, much to saggy clothes of the hostages. They appeared skeletal really. No-one's cheekbones should stick out so far. Their faces that had been so devoid of life prior were now stark with a desperation that punched Harry in the gut.
It was like they’d just started to live after eons of breathing without really being alive.
Harry flinched as sharp pain raced up his shoulder and he cursed- he’d been shot.
Fuck. He hated being shot. Gosh it was like he’d just had his entire arm ripped off.
He hated muggles lately. He’d never really had a chance to like them in the first place. But their inferiority complexes were causing thousands upon millions of wizards to die.
Death was not happy with all of the extra work she was having to do.
And Harry was forced to suffer, being on the receiving end of her whining.
He waited until every wixen had been evacuated before he allowed the Fiendfyre to be released from his wand, and then he and Hermione were running.
There were muggles running after them and Harry couldn’t afford to even look behind him, except when he was attempting to blast any of oncoming solders back.
“OH MY GOSH. I’m going to actually kill you Harry James Potter,” Hermione snarls, whipping around only to blow up the ground behind her as they tore through the terrain, trying to get out of the anti-apparation range.
“Live long enough to do it,” Harry wheezes back. The cold air felt like knives on his skin but Harry didn’t stop not once, despite being magically depleted and his stamina running low.
They ripped through the final barriers and their ability to apparate suddenly came forward in their awareness.
There was no one near them at the moment, whether it be any of the hostages or the muggles.
And so the two best friends shared a single look, hands slapping in a bruising grip before they were tumbling into a hasty, somewhat frantic and unsafe apparation back to their home base.
February 4rd, 1997
Harry was lying down in agony, while the people around him proceeded to stare at him in disappointed worry. “I’m fine,” Harry grits out and Tom actually smacks him, uncaring for his shot arm.
Pomfrey was glaring at him as well, “Irresponsible! You got yourself shot in your bloody arm,” She was mumbling under her breath, not meaning a single word of her rant but needing the outlet regardless.
“Well I would have believed you Potter, if you didn’t look as pale as the Bloody Baron,” Tom snarls, red eyes flashing with his magic. His rage was wild and animalistic, Harry found. And he didn’t like having Tom mad at him. Not since the elder man and him had formed a tentative alliance and then an even more tentative friendship.
His parents had been bewildered at first and then even more understanding after watching events unfold. They’d even spoken to Tom -Marvolo to everyone but him because he refused to call him by his middle name sue him, it felt weird- and had approved of the more sane version of Tom, who only emulated Voldemort 10% of the time- which was usually when he got angry, but that was fine. Especially if he aimed said anger towards the muggles.
“I couldn’t just leave them there!”
“You should’ve called for backup. We would have helped.” A disgruntled voice interrupts, staring at Harry with angry eyes.
“Neviile, you don’t get to lecture me.” Harry tries to point but ends up wincing. “You literally pulled the same thing three days ago!”
“You’re making your wound worse. Sit down you brat,” Tom snaps, moving to elegantly sit on the side of Harry’s bed, glaring him into easy submission.
Neville glares at him, remaining firm in his outlook, “I had five other people with me! It wasn’t just two people against a compound of muggles trying to kill us all,”
Harry narrows his eyes for a second before he sighs and falls back on the bed he was on, pouting under his breath, “Yeah, yeah okay,” He grumbles. “I’m sorry I worried you. But I-”
“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘I would have done it again’-” Tom mocks him using the voice he did when he tries to imitate Harry’s own way of speech, “-then I will simply Crucio you,” Tom says bluntly and it is a testament to how far Tom had gotten and just how charismatic the bastard was because no one bats an eye.
Harry blinks and then decides it’s better if he keeps quiet.
“Harry!” Neville shouts, and Harry decides to divert their attention to the cute kids that Harry had saved in an effort to mitigate their rage.
“Don’t even think about it,” Tom deadpans making Harry shoot a glare at him.
“Stop going into my head without permission,”
“Stop being stupid then,” Tom replies instantly, red eyes not backing down from the challenge he saw in emerald green.
“I don’t want to watch kids and innocents die.” Harry grits out, “I can’t watch it knowing I could’ve done anything- something to help,”
“Well I don’t want to lose you!” Neville demands, “You and Gran are the only family I have left and I’ll be damned if I lose my brother. I just got you back,” Neville glares at Harry who softens instantly at the mention of family.
“Yeah okay, Nev. I’d be the same if it were any of you so I understand. Sorry Neville... Tom,” He grumbles, looking down at his fingers.
He ends up getting smacked upside his head by an irritated Tom, who was looking away from him, because the idiot was allergic to any ounce of emotion.
“Just don’t do it again, you dimwit,” Tom grumbles before getting up elegantly, patting off invisible dust and striding away.
“Fucking ponce,” Harry groans.
“Language,” Both Pomfrey and Neville snap and it ends up making him bark out a laugh and then yelping in pain from the tug in his bullet wound.
Stupid muggles and their stupid anti-magic technology.
“That hurt, ow,” Harry mumbles.
“Then don’t get shot next time,” Neville drawls, his expression still annoyed, but his brown eyes were softer, more understanding.
Yeah, Harry decides. They’d be just fine.
April 10th, 1997
“Is there no other option?” Ron sighs, massaging the place inbetween his eyes.
“No other option,” Antonin Dolohov replies, his golden eyes grim.
The most important and powerful members of the resistance were all standing around the round table of Avalon- an ancient artifact offered to them by the Goblin race as a token of their treaty with the wixen.
“There are only two people here with the actual power levels to accomplish what you’re implying Dolohov,” Narcissa muses, arms crosses and grey eyes frigid. Beside her stood the Malfoy men; Draco standing beside Harry himself, both engaged in a silent conversation of the eyes, and Lucius who stood beside Tom, an everlasting stone statue of support.
“Indeed, and it’s the Dark Lord and Potter,” Rabastan Lestrange responds, looking a bit weary for wear.
They were all looking like that lately.
“You want us to open a portal to a whole other realm?” Harry deadpans, looking at Dolohov like he was insane.
“In theory, he is correct.” Regulus Black murmurs, his Unspeakable cloak wound tightly around his shoulders. As an Unspeakable Tier two, he was one of the top magical researchers in the country.
The pair of them had bonded over their love for Sirius and the man had asked Harry to call him Uncle Regulus. It had taken a while, but eventually Harry had taken to calling Sirius’ brother by the familial name.
“The veil itself in the Ministry is said to be a door to other worlds. We had been researching it before this all occurred.” Regulus murmurs.
It was very evident to the wixen around the globe, that magic was slowly running out.
With the depletion of magic, nature was slowly withering away.
What was once a land filled with oceans, lakes, rivers, forests and wildlife, was now a shell of desolate, dead waste-land.
“There is no other choice. Magic itself has less than a couple months left to sustain this realm. As the only beings with magic left, we won’t survive having it stripped from us.” Tom explains strictly. There was no ounce of compassion in his voice, although his eyes looked saddened. Harry and Luna understood the plight of seeing their deity -their friend, their teacher, their third parent honestly- in so much pain. And Lady Magic was in agony at having her magic torn away from a realm she had deemed hers.
She was furious at the muggles and heartbroken over her children.
Harry had met the various deities to Death’s displeasure and jealousy. Tom had introduced him to Lady Magic for some reason and Lady Fate had just decided out of nowhere that she had to meet the elusive Master of Death who had been a subject of one of her prophecies. Harry felt honestly bad for Luna if she was forced to deal with her all the time.
“Hmm the Arithmancy and rune insignias look correct, however this much power might actually disable someone magically,” Dr. Dorcas Meadowes murmurs, her dark eyes trained on the parchment in front of her. To her side was her wife and Harry’s second godmother Marlene McKinnon. Both had been thought to be dead, same as Regulus Black, but the three had escaped Voldemort’s reign and had gone into hiding. Harry still felt awkward around the two. Sirius he could understand- the man had been in Azkaban, he couldn’t have raised him. But Dorcas and Marlene had been some of his parents best friends. They didn’t have an excuse in Harry’s opinion. Sure they were in hiding, but when they heard that Voldemort was gone and Harry had been the sole Potter survivor- they just should have been there for him. Regulus hadn’t even known what had been going on in the world until five years ago when he woke up from his bloody coma and decided to instantly go undercover among the Unspeakables.
Harry still thought his uncle was bloody insane for doing that.
Marlene’s violet eyes lit up in an almost magma hue, as her mage sight took in the equations. “The magic around them looks good too,” She murmurs, using her mage sight to verify the findings.
“We know it would.” Antonin sighs. As a Tier One Unspeakable himself, who had taught Regulus everything he knew, the man was an actual genius.
All Unspeakables were geniuses in their own right but Harry was only recently discovering how much of the world had been held back from him. Just how much Dumbledore had manipulated him into being pliant and stupid. Honestly he would’ve called the man a pedophile to his face if he could- no elderly man should be that obsessed with a kid.
It was strange meeting most of his parents' friends now, in the middle of a bloody war as opposed to when the wizarding world was at peace.
Harry would have loved knowing them as a kid. Maybe even being raised by one of them.
But no one knew how he’d been raised- or hadn’t been raised actually. Tom had his suspicions but Harry had never once insinuated anything regarding his childhood.
All his survival instincts that had been instilled into him, had been waved off as a consequence of either having a Dark Lord after him or because of the war.
“Would we even know if this new realm would be better than this one?” Kingsley demands, looking exhausted, yet his gold eyes were stern.
There was a stark moment of silence before Antonin sighs, “It’s a gamble. It will have to depend on the Dark Lord and Potter,” He explains. “The more power they give the ritual, the better a chance the portal they make gives us a better chance to survive,”
Harry looks up locking his gaze onto one that seemed on fire, due to its intensity. “I’m fine with it,” He offers and Tom nods.
“We’ll all be dead anyways if we don’t try,” Tom drawls with a prompt sigh of exasperation. “When is the deadline?” He demands.
“We have two months until Earth become uninhabitable to human life,” Regulus drawls, looking to Antonin who nods his approval.
“And only forty days until magic is completely gone. We need to set up the ritual before then. Preferably on Beltane, where the magic will be the most potent,” Antonin winces, catching the looks of utter bafflement around him.
“You’re giving us twenty bloody days to finish a ritual of this caliber?” Bathsheda Babbling demands, in utter shock. The Ancient Runes professor, a woman who ranked first in runic studies in the entirety of Britain, was staring at Dolohov like he was insane. Even Harry was blinking rapidly. Each rune in the ritual was at minimum a looked like a pentatonic link and Harry could even see a bloody runic triskaidecagon in some of those calculations, which took trained professionals five months’ time on average to complete, with only around an eighty percent chance of success on good days.
“That’s impossible to do,” Babbling states blandly. “You’re just asking us all to die,” She points out the triskaidecagon with her index finger, “This runic link alone, with take five months to complete, four if we’re lucky. And it needs fifteen magically powerful wixen to even maintain the bloody thing! I’d assume they’d need a sorcery level on the Merlin power scale at minimum,” She snarls, looking very displeased, her glasses propped up high on her face.
“We understand that Mistress Babbling but there is no other choice. No one noticed the magic fading from the earth because no one was even expecting it to happen. It’s unprecedented,” Unspeakable Tier One, Levina Monkstanley the IV speaks, her piercing aqua eyes unyielding from the Rune mistress’ form.
Tier fives were usually trainees, while Tier fours were considered research assistants. Tiers three and up, one would be considered an active Unspeakable researcher but wouldn't have executive power. That was for Tiers two and one. Tiers two were managing research directors, who were in charge of many different research groups in the Unspeakable department.
Tier ones though, they were considered administrators. They had full veto power of any research topics presented and had control over multiple departments in the facility. They were also the higher-ups that communicated with the Ministry, considering that the Ministry held no power among the Unspeakable department. The Ministry could offer topics of research that were currently high in demand but Tier Ones were not obligated to do anything they didn’t want to do. They held the magical ability to uphold the massive amounts of power they held though, so it all balanced out. There had only been five Tier One Unspeakables in his time. They were the cream of the crop, the most powerful and the most intelligent.
They were the spell crafters of hundreds of new spells, the potions masters, the researchers of the science behind magic. They were masters in both muggle and magic sciences and Harry had met the Tier Ones only a handful of times. And that was because of how protected they were. They were usually magically powerful in everything that mattered, but weren’t as inclined in defensive or offensive magicks- not for lack of ability mind you but because they just didn’t have to. They usually had a band of aurors, which were usually in numbers of five, protecting them at all hours of the day. The aurors were hidden of course, due to how protected an Unspeakable’s identity was supposed to be. However all that security had gone right out the window during the war. It was every person for themselves now, And as such, everyone was expected to fight.
Levina Monkstanley, similar to her predecessor was an absolute expert in the field of spell-crafting and charms and her preference lately was finding out how many spells she could tweak or experiment with to make them able to kill someone.
Hermione found her absolutely lovely. And Harry was a bit scared for the world as a result.
The woman was one of the only five Tier one Unspeakables in the entirety of the British Isles. She held enough titles for Dumbledore to get jealous and she did not pander to fools.
“The only reason why we discovered it in the first place is due to children exhibiting magical exhaustion without having done anything strenuous magically,” Augustus Rockwood, an Auror and Tier two Unspeable, interrupts.
“I understand that,” Babbling was struggling not to roll her eyes, Harry could tell and the flair of amusement in the back of his head told him Tom recognized it as well. “But what you’re asking of us is impossible to attempt, let alone to implement,” She wasn’t backing down. She had enough accomplishments to her name for her word to hold as much sway as any Unspeakable- especially when they were discussing runes.
There’s a moment of silence when everyone tries to process her words. Harry stares at the parchment silently contemplating.
“So you’re basically telling us to either die like rodents or die actually trying,” Harry drawls, a bit unimpressed and he locks eyes on Babbling. “If we go in shifts of people working on it during all hours of the day, is it feasible?” Harry asks and the silence turns stifling as all eyes turn to their expert in runes. Babbling blinks before her eyes narrow and she turns to the parchment again, calculations running behind her eyes.
Dorcas moves forward as well, given her mastery in the subject, and starts calculating as well.
“It’s possible….” Babbling winces out, eyes hesitant. “But we’ll all be much too magically drained and exhausted by the end of it. We’ll need Potter and Marvolo to be in their best shape. Hence why during the week leading up to the ritual, they mustn’t do anything too magically straining,”
“It’s possible?” Hermione looked surprised and she leans forward to watch Dorcas work, intrigued.
“It is,” Dorcas affirms softly, yet there was worry in her dark eyes.
“Then allow us to attempt it,” Tom nods, speaking with authority that had every one of his people standing just a bit straighter.
May 1st, 1997
There was around three thousand British wixen left and two thousand magical beings that had joined forces with them, including King Ragnok of the goblins, the two Queens of the seven seas (curtesy of the Black lake at Hogwarts) and King Rhaenvir of the centaurs.
Most magical communities had went off the grid, and despite their escape plan having almost a fifty percent chance of success, no other magical community seemed keen to risk their people on such a low chance. As such, countries were working on different escape plans. And Harry prayed that as many magicals as possible made it out alive in time.
Death herself had told Harry that she didn’t seem to have a lot of work scheduled in Britain which, to Harry, affirmed their hard work was going to pay off in the long run.
With the end of magic, brought the end of the entire world as they all knew it. True, everyone was beyond terrified and the deity of Fate and her incarnation were not permitted to enact any hints or help. And, as such, the pressure on the shoulders of the adult wixens in Britain increased with every passing day, until finally the dreaded day had arrived.
Beltane was upon them.
And their time was officially up.