A long awaited meeting.
While I was awaiting the inevitable I spent my time going over texts in engineering, chemistry, robotics and physics. I was always more inclined too the biological but with this new super genius mind even subjects I'm not naturally talented in have become much easier too digest. One of my goals is to eventually make my own version of the iron man armor that can use all the latest technologies along with wizarding magic, I've explained before how magic and electricity are inherently opposite forces but a tiny little adjustment is all it takes to play nice. The goblins had figured this out centuries ago, the answer was actually within us all along. It turns out the magicka pathways of the body have evolved specifically to allow both magic and the electric charge found in neurons to coexist. Wizards tend not to care about the inner workings unless they're a potions master, studying self transfiguration or a necromancer. Potion masters require decades of study and their work would never interact much with muggle technology, those who study self transfiguration are more focused on the whole rather than the working parts and most necromancers are to busy worrying about raising undead and achieving immortality then getting a TV to work.
Back on topic of the iron man thing, even with my IQ boost I'd be years away from making the tools that make the tools that can make the armor. Luckily for me I made sure to copy Tony's memories of pretty much any branch of science he had ever had a passing interest in. (A few of his risque escapades managed to sneak through, much to my dismay, I really gotta refine that memory magic.) Of course I'd need to be a billionaire in order to even begin making a suit and although my investments are doing good I'm decades away from being that rich... so for now all my designs are theory based.
Another cool thing I picked up was a language Tony had made to specifically encrypt any blueprints, the symbols and nuances of the language make it hard to decipher and could take a team of researchers years to translate, but for me it was like I had been fluent in it for years, any notes I make from now on will be in this language to make it harder for any ne'er do wells to steal my shit. I also make a note to try and use the language in place of traditional runes. I'm waiting for personal computers to advance a bit before I get one so my notes are paper only for now.
I had discovered that the attending age for Hogwarts in this universe was actually 13! so that means by the time I start first year it'll be 2005, all the differences I'm starting to notice between this universe and canon are making me concerned. My main point of worry is snake-face and his magical mcguffins, I started research into Horcruxes (which I could actually research now thanks too the forbidden section of Kamar-Taj's library) and by cross referencing with the memories of Tom, I discovered that the soul shard that was in Harry was not a Horcrux in the traditional sense. Herpo the foul was the creator of the Horcrux ritual, said ritual requires a great deal of preparation and incantation among other things, and although Voldemort was prepared to split his soul for a final time he most certainly DID NOT perform any of the necessary incantations needed to finalize the ritual.
This explains why his soul fragment was never able to fully possess Harry even after Tom had overcome the blood protections. Another thing I discovered is that Tom most certainly has ALL his memories. When Herpo was making the Horcrux he wanted too retain his full memory and magic capabilities (as any dark lord would), so the ritual performed not only creates the Horcrux but also allows a one way connection where the main soul piece can channel the magic and recall the memories from the fragment. In the event the fragment is destroyed the magic would eventually return to the main soul (which wouldn't happen for mine since I assimilated it) and the main soul will already have obtained a copy of the memories so the only real advantage canon Harry got from destroying the Horcruxes was that Voldemort was no longer tethered to the mortal plane.
There was also this theory going around the fandom that Voldemort was halving his soul each time but from perusing his memories I can tell that he had modified the ritual slightly so that his soul was separated into 1/7ths rather than dividing by 2, 7 times. The full ritual hadn't been prepared when Harry got the scar so the soul fragment I had absorbed was a teeny weeny little piece of Voldemort that splintered off due to a combination of, Lily's protections weakening him, the main soul already being damaged, the killing curse ripping the soul out of the body and all the horrible dark magic that had deformed his soul.
So the magic I had gained was pretty negligible in the grand scheme of things (Although it did let me obtain the bloodline gifts of the Slytherin line so yay for silver linings). An interesting phenomena I had discovered about Horcurxes was that a fragment can only obtain a full corporeal form again IF the main soul is currently without a body, hence why Tom nearly came back in the second book. If Tom had succeeded the main soul would have been pulled into the new body and both pieces would have merged. So if I fuck up in any way during 2nd year a Voldemort with a full 70 years experience of dark magic will have the young youthful body of his 19 year old self... well... that's gonna be hell on my anxiety.
That's a few years away anyhow, in the present moment I had a nice little seating area right outside the Pottery where I was currently doing a bit of light study and enjoying the rare instance of nice weather in Britain. Vitamin D was not the only reason I was sitting outside however, I had actually gotten the Ancient one to send off a letter too a certain someone so that I could finally get this dreaded meeting underway, he should be here soon...
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The last handful of years for Albus had not been good at all, when he had first left young Harry with Petunia he desperately hoped she would let go of her anger toward her sister and take him in, when he received word from Arabella that she had, it was a weight off his shoulders. For the next few years his monitoring tools had shown all was well with the protections Lily had placed and Albus spent his time trying desperately to make sure that a dark lord like Tom could never rise again. At times he wanted too scream in frustration, Bagnold had started throwing people in without trial near the end of the war (which he could understand at some level, he was also very tired from the constant terror and bloodshed) but the new minister Cornelius had completely ignored his suggestions on finally getting those few inmates a trial, "If they're in Azkaban they're most likely guilty, why waste ministry resources?" were his exact words... add too that the fact that a few of the less notable death eaters got away with a simple excuse about the imperious curse and well, Albus had his hands full.
Sometimes he cursed himself for not taking the position of minister when it was offered, but he was already supreme Mugwump and Headmaster of Hogwarts and he truly believed no one should have that much power... all those fruitless years trying too ensure bigotry and corruption could never take hold of the ministry's inner workings, he was getting too old to keep this up. But it went from bad too worse when one of his monitors alerted him the blood wards at number 4 Privet Drive had been tampered with.
He had been stuck in a Wizengamot meeting about sourcing the dye for the official robes from a different supplier (why must everyone be so caught up in useless topics such as this when its more than likely another war could be on the horizon?) so when he eventually apparated there he was too late. The house was empty, no signs of a fight or a struggle just nothing! and the wards were just... gone, they weren't taken down or destroyed, it was like they had never been there to begin with, it was baffling! Albus knew of only one wizard who could accomplish such a thing, but from what he could gather that wizard should be a formless shade so how could he do this?!
Albus dread too think what fate had befallen young Harry, his monitors had shown he was alive... but Albus knew there were things far worse than death. He had searched every inch of the house for a clue and when he discovered the blood in the cupboard and the signs that someone had been living there he immediately cast spell after spell to determine who it was. When it came back as Harry's blood Albus's heart sank... Petunia didn't... did she? Albus was ashamed to admit that for a brief moment he was glad that the Dursley's had most likely met a gruesome fate. He had words with Arabella afterward about the state of young Harry and he realized that she was beginning to suffer from early onset Dementia. Albus felt like a fool.
A few more years passed and Albus was at wits end, his monitors still showed that Harry was alive but he could not find a trace of the boy. He had gone to the goblins in a last ditch attempt but he was stonewalled, he had started to consider turning to darker arts to secure Harry's safety. He couldn't let another innocent die due too his negligence, he owed it to James and Lily... he owed it to Ariana.
He was sitting at his desk in Hogwarts going over this years budget when Fawkes had flamed in with a letter clutched in his talons, he recognized the seal on the parchment as the Masters of the mystic arts. The ancient one was often busy safeguarding this dimension so it was rare too receive correspondence from her, however after reading a brief message from her at the beginning of the letter he realized that she was merely passing it on from another. An even rarer occurrence, this individual must be of unique origin for someone such as the Ancient one too act as a mere messenger.
When he finally got to the letter he understood, he would not have believed it too be true if it were from anyone else. The letter was written using a dicta-quill meaning the author's speech was translated too written word and those words left Albus relieved, confused and slightly amused.
Dear Albus I forgot your middle names Dumbledore, shit wait that sounds really douchey don't write that.
(clearing of throat)
Dear Albus Dumbledore,
Its ya boy, Harry. yes that Harry, I'm doing good. You've probably been freaking out the past few years huh? well consider it payback for leaving me with the Dursleys... I've been told by a certain protector of reality that you're on the up and up, So I shall withhold judgement until I've heard your reasoning. It better be good though ya hear? Anyway you probably wanna talk in person. Well I'm chilling at the Potter ancestral home which I've rebuilt and renamed too the Pottery, pretty cool name huh? The wards will let you in but uh... any unexpected guests will probably get fried so maybe just bring yourself. Wait that makes it sound like a trap, its most definitely not a trap I promise, call up my home-girl and she'll let you know. Actually she's probably busy fixing a leak in reality never mind just... I'll be here this afternoon just show up, anyway that's it uh.... yeah.
Yours truly (I mean it) 'Harry' Hadrian James Potter. Okay done. I said done, stop writing. STOP IT, How the hell do you get this thing to stop?! Seriously that ink is expensive stop wasting it you feathery piece of shi_/
Needless to say, Albus cancelled all previous appointments he had today.
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The wards alert me that someone had shown up on the property, sure enough an old man wearing what has too be the brightest red robes came into view. Definitely Albus Dumbledore, although he seemed tired he still had an air of caution around him. When he quickly spotted me he made his way over. He took the seat across from mine and once he was settled I could see his shoulders sag in what I could only assume was grief, I made a small gesture with my hand and there was now a tea set on the table (a neat little trick the Ancient one taught me)
"Would you care for a cuppa?" I asked while pouring myself one, leaning into my British accent felt both normal and foreign. The troubles of being two merged minds.
"That...sounds rather delightful if its not too much trouble."
we both sat there taking a drink before Albus eventually broke the silence. "Harry... my dear boy there are a number of questions I want to ask you, but first and foremost are you safe? are you living alone? I received your letter and although quite amusing, it left out numerous details"
I took another drink before responding "Well... a whole lot has happened to me over these last few years, I am living alone and I managed to get everything sorted out with Gringotts, so I've been able to live comfortably here without any help. I could sit here for the next few hours telling you all that has transpired but it would be simpler if you simply ask questions and I give you the answers" This also gives me time to... 'alter' a few of the facts, I'm not comfortable letting Albus know of my ability to do away with the dredges of society by consuming their beings.
"Yes, I've tried to clear out as much of my schedule as I could but unfortunately I am needed for many things. Before I begin with my questions I owe you an apology... when I left you with Petunia I had thought she would have overcome her dislike of her sister and taken you in as her own. Its only recently I learned that she had decided to instead take out her frustrations on you... judging by the blood stains I had found under the cupboard." The apology caught me slightly off guard but I didn't show it, my bigger worry was that I had left behind some of my blood from when my scar burst open back at the beginning of my journey. That was a rookie mistake, especially considering what Voldemort had managed to achieve with only a few drops of Canon Harry's blood.
Albus continued "That also brings me too my first query, were you attacked at the Dursley's? I couldn't find a trace of your relatives and I assumed the worst" Right then into the deep end.
"well... that's a slight tale in and of itself, as you correctly assumed the Dursley's were not kind to me... in fact they were very physical when voicing their distaste" Albus seems to visibly age but I continue on.
"One day it got very bad, I felt this pressure building up within me and I would later learn I had actually started developing into an obscurial." This causes Albus to become visibly distressed.
"An obscurial?! truly?! Oh my dear boy if I had any idea I... I am so, so sorry for the horrors you must've faced living there. Believe me when I say I thought it was the safest place for you, the ministry was, and still is, filled with corruption and I wanted to avoid any of... 'his' followers from getting their hands on you. After what had happened to the Longbottoms I assumed that nowhere within magical Britain to be safe." I am able to taste the remorse coming off him with my magic, but Dumbledore is supposed to be a master Occlumens so I am withholding any of my judgement for the moment.
"Yes, luckily I had managed to find the ritual needed to reverse my untimely demise, but I digress. My magic building up had caused a reaction to occur within my scar, I heard the screaming of what sounded like a man and it felt like my head burst open. I was at the time, in the presence of the Dursley's, so I can only assume they were caught within the large release of magic. I passed out and when I awoke I found myself within the wilderness away from Privet Drive entirely. My head felt better than I ever remember, the reaction also had cause the further scarring on my face but I find it a worthy trade off for a clearer mind." This is the backstory I had come up with while waiting for Albus, the Dursleys had caused a large magical outburst that assimilated the Horcrux in my scar, which had the knock on effect of causing further scarring of my face. Effectively explaining my new look.
"You say you heard a man screaming? Was it Vernon perhaps?" Dumbledore seems to be coming toward the conclusion I want him too. I further direct him toward the answer "No. I had never heard the voice before, although it sounded similar to a voice I remember having nightmares about when I was younger."
"Harry may I perform a quick scan of your scar? I promise it shall not be intrusive." I give him the okay and he pulls out his wand.
My eyes focus on what can only be the 'death stick', knobbly handle with elder berry carvings, as well as a rune carved on it. I feel Dumbledore's magic wash over the surface of my scar, it feels like him but there is also the underlying tone of death. I can only assume its from having his magic be channeled through a Hallow, curiously the aura of death seems to be attracted to my magic. The presence of the elder wand itself doesn't seem that hair raising either, although it is cold and sings of death it also has a sense of peace to it... and I'm detecting the barest hint of enthusiasm from it? like the magic itself is excited to see me.
There could be numerous reasons for this, anything from my own brief stint of being dead to Harry being a descendant from the Peverells. It could be a combination of these things even, or perhaps none of them. I make a mental note to find more information on the topic. Soon enough Albus finishes with his wand waving.
"Remarkable! When you first received your scar that Halloween night it was threaded with dark magic and try as I might no spell or incantation could purge it, but now... it's gone! Although you still carry the scar there is no longer any malevolent energies trapped within it, even the tissue itself has faded from the angry red I remember it being. This has truly taken a weight off my mind my boy."
Albus leans back into his chair and continues to explain. "Tom Riddle, the man who gave you that scar, he had delved into deep and forbidden magics and became so twisted and warped he could barely be called human. His magic clung to your scar and I feared it could have dire consequences for you should he ever return and seek to finish what he started."
At this point in time Albus hasn't quite found out that Tom made Horcruxes, he's merely aware that Tom went to great lengths to try and stave of his demise. I decide that some honesty with Albus will go along way for the future. "It... It wasn't just his magic within my scar sir."
I have his full attention now. I take a deep breath and continue "Do you know what a Horcrux is sir?"
Albus quickly realizes what I mean and his posture stiffens "A horcrux? My dear boy do you mean to tell me that Riddle had left a horcrux within you? the amount of power it would require to purge such a thing would have killed you!"
I explain "Well as you said he was already so damaged that when he 'died' a piece of his soul became lodged within my scar, my mother's protections kept it from sinking into me but when I had my magical outburst my magic 'ate' it for lack of a better term"
"ate?! I've never heard of such a phenomena occurring. Then again a living Horcrux itself is very unique, its unknown how two souls in close proximity would react, but I digress. Please my boy tell me more." Albus while disturbed, is also fascinated. Like the ancient one learning anything new is a rare occurrence for this man.
"My current theory is that the cannibalizing nature of obscurial magic and my brief look into the other side when the killing curse struck me, resulted in my magic loosening the Horcrux and ripping it apart too then assimilate the fragments. I gained some of Riddle's magic and memories." Albus raises his eyebrows at this.
"Thankfully it was just memories, they hold no emotional weight in my head so I haven't picked up any parts of Tom's winning personality. This is also the reason for my successful independence, although the memories are fragmented I now have a deep understanding of obscure magics and the workings of magical Britain. Thanks to this I also had gained knowledge of the ritual that could terminate the obscurial process."
Albus gathers himself and replies "I am truly relived to see you are not suffering from any long term effects, although I am ashamed of myself that I was not there to assist you. While I encourage your independence I also insist that you reach out to me should you require help. Regardless of my schedule at the time, help will always be given to those who ask for it". Albus nearly says the famous line but unfortunately we are not at Hogwarts so its slightly altered.
"Now I'd like to assess the wards of your property, there were protections placed by your mother at Privet drive and I'm afraid they are gone with the disappearance of the Dursley's. I should be able to construct new protections along with the wards you had placed here"
I inform Dumbledore that the blood wards are actually still present "Actually sir, I ended up dragging the blood wards with me when I had my 'outburst' they started degrading but once I got the Pottery built I was able to merge them with the wards from the goblins and... they took quite well." Dumbledore is absolutely stunned at this, he opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally speaking.
"I...truly? Please Harry, may I inspect them?" I show Dumbledore too the ward line and he starts muttering incantations while conducting his wand through the air. As he continues he becomes more and more amazed, muttering "how?", "amazing" and "marvelous!". Eventually he concludes and addresses me.
"My boy I must say these wards are like nothing I've come across, the way the standard and blood magics intersect and blend perfectly, it even seems to be adapting and changing on its own. The only place I've seen wards like this are at the sanctums and Hogwarts itself, to have accomplished such a thing, regardless of any external memories acquired? You truly are your mothers child". Despite myself I blush at the comment.
Our conversation continues for another half hour where Dumbledore assures me he will be looking into the Hocruxes Tom may have left and that he will occasionally drop by to check in on me. I bid him a farewell and spend the rest of my day in a good mood, Dumbledore is an actual decent human AND I've managed to get him on the trail of Horcruxes a few years early.
For the next few weeks I keep up my studies and also start planning a heist! You see Riddle left 'security packages' all around the wizarding world filled with supplies, money and magical texts. Riddle traveled the world trying to learn as much as he could before coming back home as Voldemort, one of the things he would do is become an apprentice to a master that specialized in an obscure branch of magic. Studying these branches would take years normally but Riddle would very slowly and carefully send out mental probes to seep into the masters mind over the course of months. Eventually he would steal their memories leaving them brain dead and then he'd move on. Unlike my method, stealing memories in such a way was hard and would also cause you to either gain the personality traits of said person, or have them as a voice in your head. The people he would do this to were also dark bastards like himself so by the end of it he was literally the worst aspects of humanity personified.
He would also steal any of the texts these masters had (of which there were plenty!) and leave them in his caches after studying them. After doing a bit of memory diving I had managed to pinpoint on of these locations in Britain, Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton. I had the location on a map and managed to get a few photos which is all I needed for the mental image required to apparate.
I hadn't properly apparated yet, I was currently studying it as once it was mastered I would then qualify for a sling ring. I reverse engineered the process by using the texts involving multiversal energies and portal travel, then trying to replicate it with wizarding magic. My magic was currently swirling within me like a vortex as if I was doing the circular hand motions seen in Doctor Strange, but with my soul. I pictured Little Hangleton in my mind and suddenly I was spinning and for a brief moment I could swear I was outside of space, then just as quickly I was lying on the ground with my vision spinning rapidly. God that sucked worse than dying.
I make my way up toward Riddle manor under disillusionment, Little Hangleton is dark and dreary, all the dark practices from the Gaunt's and later Tom himself has left scars on the local magical aura. Meaning anyone living here gets to experience the worst of British weather all year round.
The manor is decrepit, the inside is barren with rotted furniture and to anyone else it would seem like there was nothing worthwhile here, I knew better. Following the memories of Tom I make my way to the cellar and stand before a completely unremarkable stone wall off in the corner. I can just barely taste the traces of magic in the air, I breathe in, then I speak in the tongue of serpents
"I forsake the name of my Father, I forsake the name Riddle. In the name of the Dark Lord Voldemort open!" with a slow groan of stone upon stone the wall opens and unfolds into a secret room.
It takes awhile to disarm any traps Tom left lying around, but soon enough I have everything not nailed down within a bottomless pouch. Various obscure magical texts outlawed by the ministry, as well as a few ingredients deemed illegal and some non-ethically sourced wizards chalk. I leave a nice surprise using a combination of wizarding magic and sorcery, then I make sure to conceal it with my void magic. Should anyone try and access this room again the entire manor will be brought down around them.
As I leave the grounds I take note of 2 more things I need to do before leaving this 'delightful' little town. First I meander over to the graveyard and find the resting place of a Tom Riddle Sr. Now I could replace the bones with duds and sabotage Voldy's resurrection plan, but a man like Voldemort will for sure be triple checking the remains for signs of tampering, and better the devil you know, so instead I simply summon a tiny little finger bone from the buried body and leave the rest untouched. I have a plan brewing should Tom try his hand at building his own body in a similar vein as canon Voldemort.
Onto my final task, I stand before the gaunt shack and yikes... shack is to good a word for whatever the fuck I'm looking at. I walk over the nettles and brambles covering the dirt path and approach the snake nailed to the door, once again I speak as a serpent "As the Lord Gaunt, Heir of Slytherin, I Lord Voldemort demand entrance to my ancestral home!" Luckily both the Gaunt's and Tom were arrogant enough to assume only they would ever have Parseltongue, so there are no blood locks placed upon the door.
The door creaks open and I spend a long time disarming everything from a tripping jinx to an eyeball rotting curse. I can taste the aura of death on my tongue once I reach the correct area. With a wave of my hand the floorboards peel themselves back, letting out protests as they do. I see the golden box lying there and with another wave of my hand it opens. All at once I hear whispering telling me to wear the ring, begging me to put it on. Unfortunately for Tom, his compulsions are consumed by the void of my mental wards.
I start channeling the void through my being, I use it to reach toward the ring and slowly start peeling off the enchantments one by one. Once it is safe I reach down and pick it up, I hold the ring in my palm and I stare at the Peverell coat of arms within the stone atop it. I can feel that same excitement from this Hallow as I did from the Elder wand. I can also taste the Horcrux within the gold of the ring, both taste like death yet the Hallow is welcoming and peaceful but the Horcrux is vile and hateful. It shows death is a neutral force, we are all the same in death after all.
This next step requires skin contact... I slowly put on the ring, on my left ring finger. Once its on I immediately begin channeling my magic down through my hand, I start digging into the ring. I can't go past the surface of the stone, even with my void magic it feels like something is blocking me, the ring itself however is a different story. I hear screaming as the Horcrux is forcibly removed from its container and broken down, the consuming of the soul satisfies a primal hunger, my body becomes saturated with magic as my stores deepen and I feel memories not my own slide into the back of my head.
Soon enough it is over, The gaunt ring is left completely intact despite the Horcrux being gone. This pleases me, I would hate to ruin priceless artifacts because of one man's inflated ego. I should get a trophy room built into the Pottery where I can display the other Horcruxes I collect in the future. I place another nasty trap and carefully seal the floorboards back up, I make sure to reapply the various curses I encountered on my way in and soon enough I'm outside the shack yet again. Before I return home a brief thought crosses my mind.
I look down at the ring I'm still wearing, the Resurrection Stone in particular. The ability to call upon anyone from beyond the veil. In the movies it was implied that death had no hand in making the Hallows, that the Peverells were just skilled enchanters. However I can feel the aura this stone gives off, even my void magic can't penetrate the stone's surface. I contemplate on who I should call... then a very peculiar idea crosses my mind.
"3 times right?" I say aloud to myself, I pull the stone from its socket in the ring, I hold it in my right hand and then I turn it over,
Once. I picture in my mind, the end. The great equalizer.
Twice. the feeling I had when I first passed on. The final horseman,
Thrice. A chill covers me like a blanket, the fog around me thickens until I can barely see in front of me. I look down and see my shadow slowly stretch as it crawls up the trunk of a tree. On its face, two lights start shining from where its eyes should be.
A figure steps out from the blackness and a chill runs down my spine, my body seizes up and...
I see Death.