Harry Potter didn't live a very good life. For some strange reason, his uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia didn't like him very much. Or at all if he were to be honest. They always gave gifts to his cousin Dudley, but never to him. It didn't help matters that he was a freak, as his family loved to call him. He was also a very dainty thing, a small and frail child. It could be his genetics, but what could you expect from a drunk of a dad and a whore of a mom. His aunt Petunia always said that. It never even occurred to him that he was that small because a lack of food. After all, he had been living off scraps for as long as he could remember, and he had not died yet. He was hungry sometimes, true, but the next morning he always felt better, even when he had had nothing to eat. And he had broken almost all bones in his body at one point or another, but that couldn't account for his short stature. Every time a finger bent the wrong way, or his arm cracked after another punishment by uncle Vernon, he was always as good as new next morning, with only a mild discomfort that couldn't be classified as an ache. So, yes, his physical condition must have been the fault of a whore and a drunk. But even then, a whore and a drunk would surely be better than uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia. Of that, he was sure.
But even with all the abuse he endured from his family, Harry Potter still wished for a better life.
He didn't ask for much; he didn't want the newest clothes or the most popular toys. No, he didn't even want toys at all. He wanted just one thing above all else, love.
Of course, a five-year-old orphaned boy who was hated by everyone he met wouldn't know what love was, but he wanted it nonetheless. He wanted his teachers to be proud of him, which was why he always gave all he could in his studies. He wanted other kids to befriend him, which was why he helped them all he could. He wanted his neighbours to like him, which was why he always picked up the trash on the streets everywhere he went. But most of all, he wanted his family to like him, which was why he cleaned the house, prepared the meals, did the laundry, did the dishes, weeded the garden, and did everything his aunt and uncle ever asked him to.
But, in his pursuit of love, he always got the short end of the stick. For by doing well in school, his uncle punished him because he outshined Dudley in class, which was unacceptable. For helping other kids, Dudley beat him up and told lies about him, because he was stealing his friends. For picking up the trash, he got starved and locked up in his cupboard, because then his aunt Petunia wouldn't be able to tell the same neighbours he wanted to please that Harry was a criminal in the making and a good-for-nothing boy. And, worst of all, for obeying his cousin, aunt, and uncle in order for them to like him, they got the encouragement necessary for them to do it all over again.
So yeah, Harry was screwed. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't.
But there was one thing that Harry never got into trouble for, just one little thing, and those were his powers.
He would be punished for them if his family or anyone else ever found out, of course, but harry knew how to keep that hidden. Not to escape punishment, no, that was a consequence and not a reason. The reason was, once more, he wanted to be accepted as family. And if his aunt and uncle knew for sure he was a freak they would never love him.
And so, he didn't show it, but he always practiced it. After all, his cupboard was boring enough as it was, so he had to find entertainment. And making cat figures out of fire, making orbs of light dance in his palm, or making his led toy soldiers move and fight on their own did make for very good entertainment. That was all his freakishness was to Harry, entertainment.
He didn't even realize the realize how useful it could be until one day.
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He had once again outscored Dudley in a math test, but after being continuously framed by Dudley of bullying, and after his family had told the school multiple times he was a good for nothing criminal, the teacher got angry at him for cheating.
It didn't matter that he didn't do it, it never mattered, because the teacher believed it and it was enough.
Harry only wanted to please, so why did all the other kids got gifts and hugs and kisses after getting a good grade and he got scolded? It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair at all!
Harry was so, so very angry, that he was about to yell when suddenly his teacher's hair changed to a pink colour. He sat there for seconds, horrified as the implications started to pour on him. He painted his teacher's hair pink! Now his family would definitely know he was a freak. After all, people just couldn't change another person's hair colour without touching it!
And, as he expected, when his family heard of the incident, they just knew it was him. His aunt petunia paled, snarled at him and called him a freak before slapping him so hard his neck was hurting immediately. But it was his uncle Vernon that took the cake. He punched, shoved, yelled, and when Harry finally fell to the floor, too weak and in so much pain to do anything, he also kicked. He blacked out.
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Harry didn't know how long he had spent locked up in his cupboard, but he was getting really, really hungry. So, he guessed it must've been at least a week. He was starting to feel desperate, so he wished with all he had to be able to go to the kitchen to get some food. Just an apple would be nice, but he needed the door to open.
His powers, as always, obliged and the door opened.
He got to the kitchen and grabbed an apple. After all, he only wished for that, and it wouldn't be nice if he got more, because that would be stealing, and he didn't want to steal. But when he gave the first bite, he muffled a shout of pain. He had forgotten his uncle had loosened almost all his teeth when he punched him, and he wasn't healed yet. His arms, legs, chest, face, and fingers were healed, but not his teeth. So, he settled for the next best thing, he took a knife and started slicing his apple.
He didn't turn on the lights because his uncle would notice, so he cut himself in the finger. And watching small drops of blood trickle by, he got angry again.
He didn't read a lot because his uncle and aunt didn't let him have books, but even he knew just an apple was something he should have. He was only eating, so why even then was he getting hurt?
He looked at the knife that wounded him and wondered, just this time, if he should hurt his uncle for a change. And so, he took the knife and climbed up the stairs, stealthily opened his uncle's room and stood next to him.
He was so defenceless, harry realized. It would be so easy, to hurt him just this once. Maybe if he did, he would realize it didn't feel good and would stop harming him, right? So, he took the knife with his two little hands and moved it closer to his uncle's neck. But just as he was about to slice, he remembered that harming other people wasn't nice, and so he left the room, finished his apple, and went to sleep.
Harry would realize, in decades to come, that this was the first crack in soul.
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Six years later, Harry realized he was not a freak. He was magic, magical, a wizard. Hagrid told him. His family were muggles, that's why they didn't understand, and his parents weren't what they said they were! They were heroes! And so was he! Maybe people would notice him now, maybe he would have friends!
He bought everything he needed to buy and then some once he was in the alley. He bought his cauldron, and more potion ingredients than needed. A good trunk, and a very pretty snowy owl. He named her Hedwig. He also bought the nicest version of his uniform that was available, and he was so happy he finally had a wand! A magic wand! But it was the bookstore where he went crazy. He bought not only the first-year books, no, he bought the sets for all seven of them. He also bought books on magical theory, history, a very beginner-friendly book on offensive magic, which he didn't know was dark arts, and pretty much anything that caught his eye.
The rest of the summer was passed reading, and reading, and reading. He eventually finished all the books for the first year but didn't master the spells. He only managed to do about half of them.
Finally, it was the day he was going to Hogwarts, and he couldn't be any happier. That was until he realized he didn't know how to get to the train. He began panicking, but a family of redheads helped him, and he made his first friend, Ron. He even told him about Hogwarts houses, which he already knew, of course, but he was helping him nonetheless, and it made him happy to have a friend, so he nodded along in all the right places.
Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Gryffindor sounded nice, he supposed, but not like Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. In one, he could have a lot of friends, and in the other a lot of books, since Ravenclaw had its own library. Decisions, decisions… But one thing was for sure, he didn't want to be in Slytherin, since only evil wizards went there.
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It had been fifteen minutes trying to convince the hat not to place him in Slytherin, but it had made a really compelling argument.
"Really, Mr. Potter, just think of the things you would be able to do! All of that magic! All of that power! Nobody would ever treat you wrong, no one would ever dismiss you again! And all that in Slytherin! The road to greatness would be yours! Surrounded by followers, every one of them trying to befriend you! And those who hate you would never lay a finger on you again, you would never hurt, for they would fear you!"
And wasn't that really all that mattered? Sure, people would think he was evil like Voldemort, but no one would hurt him again. Is it really that wrong? Wanting to be safe? To not be hurt? And if they did harm him, he would be so powerful he would be able to protect himself! To defend himself! He would be able to cause them pain like the one they caused him! Like the time he almost cut his uncle's throat!
And wasn't that a revelation for Harry, for he realized that while he could become great in Slytherin, as the hat had hinted, he would become a murderer, he would become evil. No, he didn't want that, he wanted friends, and for that he had to be good.
Harry ended up in Gryffindor.
And, once again, decades later Harry would find out that it was this moment, in which he almost gave in to the temptation to make others hurt for harming him, that caused the second crack on his soul.
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He now had another friend, Hermione, and all it took was for him to save her from a rampaging troll. Nothing too hard, just easy. Harry now had two friends, and Hermione even liked books! She was smart, just as him! Maybe he would be able to stop pretending to be dumb in order to get Ron to like him. After all, they were two against one now, right?
Alas, he was being hopeful. He could talk to Hermione about academics, but he never could initiate a conversation, and even then, he had to dumb himself down. He now had two friends, but he found it to be a lot of work. And he was liking the idea of staying friends with Hermione more than Ron. After all, she was at least smart, and didn't get angry at him when he wanted to do homework.
But he wouldn't leave Ron, he just couldn't. Only evil people abandoned their friends, and Harry Potter wasn't evil.
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The end of first year brought a lot of changes that Harry never really wanted. He had saved the philosopher's stone, and that was good. That was a strike against evil, and Dumbledore seemed to like him more for it.
But he killed a man, Quirrel. He wasn't a good person, with being an unmarked death eater and all, but he was still a person. And he killed him.
And wasn't that what evil people do? Kill others? Not only evil, but it was the evillest of people who killed. So, what was Harry now? Was he evil for killing Quirrel? Was he good for saving the stone?
Even Professor Dumbledore, who seemed to be happy with him earlier, was forcing him to return with his aunt and uncle for the summer when he could've easily stayed at Hogwarts. And that was when he got his answer. He was being punished.
Punished for killing Quirrel, even though he did it to protect the stone and to defend himself. But did it matter? He was being punished, so he was, at least, somewhat evil. He would have to do better, to be a better person, but for now, he would have to live with his evil self.
He didn't notice the lone tear dropping from his eye and the crack from his soul when it appeared.
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Second year wasn't exactly off to the best start. His windows had bars and his door more locks than he thought possible, but Ron and the twins rescued him. He wasn't that bad after all, he decided.
But then, the petrifications started. At first, nobody was exactly against him, only somewhat suspicious. He had, after all, been the only one present in the hall when he found Ms. Norris and the writing on the wall, but it wasn't until the duelling club that the school truly turned against him. After all, Slytherin's chamber was opened and he was discovered to be a parselmouth. He didn't blame them, he couldn't blame them, he would've thought the same thing. But still, he resented them. Some more than others.
Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were to be expected, since they really didn't know him. Slytherin must've known he wasn't the heir of Slytherin, really, but they wouldn't help him, so he was okay with them. No, it was Gryffindor that hurt.
His family in the school, wasn't that how McGonagall described the houses before his sorting? Well, his family had betrayed him. Hurt him. Again. And he hated them for it.
Worst of all was Ron, who decided he was a Dark Lord in the making, and practically cut all ties with him. In the whole school, only Hermione was there for him, but even that was taken from him when she was petrified.
He eventually put together the clues, only for Hermione's petrified form to confirm it, so he went to Lockhart for help. Stupid of him, in retrospect, but he needed help. He couldn't allow the basilisk to kill Ginny, even if he didn't much like her brother right now. She was in danger, and he could help her. Wasn't that what good people did? But Lockhart attacked him, and he almost died. Only when he banished him against a wall did he realize what had he done.
The tunnels were structurally weak from centuries of disuse and lack of maintenance, so his impact caused a cave in, burying him inside of tons of debris. He had killed yet another man. Again in self-defence, but it didn't help. The fourth crack had appeared.
He did rescue Ginny, but he was lethally wounded. Basilisk venom would do that to you. And when he destroyed the diary, he was attacked by the mother of all headaches. His vision was darkening, and he was barely hearing Ginny screaming his name. It didn't matter, he was dying. At least he was still a decent man. Not good, but not evil either, not even considering the two men he had killed. He remembered his cold, bitten limb burning, and he knew no more.
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He woke up in the infirmary, as usual. He felt strong, stronger than ever. He also felt different, quicker in some ways. But most of all he felt confused. Why was he alive? Why couldn't he die before people found out he was a murderer? Why?
Dumbledore answered that for him, phoenix tears. Such useful things, but a shame they were wasted in him. He told Dumbledore what happened to Lockhart when he asked, and he could swear his eyes stopped twinkling and got a steel edge that he didn't want to see ever again. He was a murderer now, he knew. And Dumbledore knew it too, so he punished him again, another summer with his relatives. Harry found out he couldn't even complain. He would've punished himself, too.
The school had found out about Ginny, and they all received him amidst cheers and ovations in the great hall when he left the hospital wing. He resented them still, of course, but he forgave them. And when Hermione woke up, he had his two friends again. He was happy, so he didn't notice how some spells seemed easier, and even those new ones felt familiar. He never noticed how he was now thinking faster, so he couldn't do anything about it. But his grades were mediocre still, he didn't want Ron to feel bad, which he would if Hermione and him got better grades.
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Summer was dreadful, but that was a matter of course. It didn't surprise him, not even when aunt Marge and Ripper the hellhound came to visit. He was happy when she became a balloon, but he left the house anyway. He didn't want to stay a second more with his relatives, lest something bad would happen to them.
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Harry found out Sirius Black betrayed his parents, and he hated him for it. He wanted him to die for it, but most of all he wanted to kill him himself for it. So, taking his ever-reliable invisibility cloak, he raided the restricted section of the library. He cast a gemino spell on all the books he could, and started reading in the nights all those he couldn't. It took two months, but he had read everything he didn't copy, including several books on Dark Arts. Just beginner stuff, but they were things he needed all the same.
He did question what he was becoming, whether learning something so dangerous would do him harm, but he never thought about it again. He needed this, he needed the power to best Sirius Black, he needed it to kill him, so he continued. The dementors lay forgotten, he only wanted more power.
He found himself almost caught practicing the Dark Arts in an unused classroom almost a month later and decided this couldn't be allowed to continue, so he searched for somewhere where he could practice in peace. He only thought to ask someone when he met Dobby again in the kitchens. Excitable little fellow told him everything he wanted to know.
The come and go room, or the room of requirement. It had everything he needed, enchanted dummies that could duel with him, and guaranteed privacy. He didn't tell anyone, he just couldn't. Nobody would ever understand, not even Hermione, so he kept studying in secret.
One day, a couple of months later, when pacing in front of the dancing trolls tapestry, he got distracted.
He had learned all spells he had found in the restricted section of the library, but it wasn't enough. Not to fight against Sirius Black and win. He knew that, but he didn't know where else to look. He couldn't ask the professors, the wouldn't understand. So when a door different than the usual one appeared, and he found himself in mountains of forgotten junk, he looked for books. He had wished for more dark spells, right? And this door had appeared, so there must have been a reason for it.
And a reason there was. The room had hundreds of books that delved in the Dark Arts. Some almost a millennium old, so it was a good thing he knew Old English. He also found a shrinkable trunk with enlarged compartments and a featherweight charm, so he kept all of his new books there, hanging it around his neck on a golden chain he had found.
But there were not only books on the dark arts, there were so many good things and books on forgotten knowledge, he stayed inside for three days.
Hell broke loose in the castle when he didn't appear for three days; people thought Black had gotten him. But no, they didn't and couldn't know that what happened was that Black got himself in a lot more trouble than anticipated.
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After almost getting expelled, almost getting caught practicing Dark Arts, almost getting killed by the whomping willow, almost killing an innocent Sirius Black, almost killing an innocent Snape, almost killing a guilty Pettigrew, almost getting killed by a werewolf Lupin, almost getting his soul sucked, time traveling, almost getting killed by a werewolf Lupin again, rescuing an innocent Sirius Black and Buckbeak, and lying to Ron, the school ended.
Thinking back on it, Harry realized he was no longer a good man, but he wasn't all that evil either, so he started accepting himself for who he was. The cracks were beginning to heal, finally being free of the burden. He had almost killed his godfather, his professor, and a traitor, yes, but he stopped himself. He wasn't so impulsive as he would've been before, so he thought it was a good thing. Finally, after three years, he hadn't killed anybody this year, thought it was close sometimes.
He was content. Mainly because Hermione had seen him use the Dark Arts and understood. She disapproved, of course, but she understood.
The thing that really got her mad though was when he told her about the books, nobody every kept her away from books and got away scot-free. He had to give her the ones he had already finished in a trunk similar to his. He would have to do a lot of reading over the summer, because Hermione wanted to read too, but he was okay with it.
He didn't notice he now could perform spells he had never even heard of, how he was smarter, or how his memory improved. He didn't notice a thing.
But even if he had noticed it would be worth it, because he was finally comfortable in his skin and his cracks were healing.
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Nightmares and nightmares, that was a very accurate summary of Harry's summer, but it didn't even compare to the living tragedy that was the Tri-Wizard tournament. Seriously, an event that was cancelled because most participants and a good number of spectators died during the tasks being brought back was beyond moronic.
That it was banned for underage students to participate did help matters a little bit, but even then the mere idea was laughable. That it happened mere months after the first confirmed Death Eater raid in over a decade just had Harry's instincts screaming bloody murder. Something bad was going to happen, and it was equal parts intuition and experience that saw Harry foretelling it was him that was going to get screwed.
And so days later found Harry getting furious over his name being entered, and apparently selected, for the competition.
Even when he was underage. Even when Hogwarts had a champion already. Even when Dumbledore made sure that safeguards were put in place to avoid this type of scenario specifically. Even when he was a fourteen-year-old that couldn't be expected to survive.
It didn't matter, Harry was selected as a fourth champion and this time not only was the whole of Hogwarts against him, even the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were antagonistic towards him. Out of the whole school, only Hedwig and Hermione stood with him. The rest of the them, and most of Europe, wanted to burn him alive, apparently.
He denied every allegation, of course. First to Dumbledore, then to his traitorous house, then to the three schools altogether, then to Britain via Rita Skeeter, but it didn't matter. They believed he entered himself, so nothing he could say was going to change their opinions of him.
He found out he didn't care as long as he had Hermione, but it still hurt. It was second year all over again, when he was innocent, and it was glaringly obvious he was, but nobody seemed to believe him. He went to the room of requirement and took out all books that could be useful, stashed them in a couple of trunks, and moved them to the Chamber of secrets.
The place was as gloomy as ever, and the basilisk looked exactly the same as it did seconds after its demise. He decided to explore before doing anything. After all, he was excused from any and all classes for the duration of the tournament, so why would he not take advantage of it all?
Inside the mouth of Slytherin was a passage, not to the basilisk nest, but to the inner chamber. Rooms, study, library, treasury, and hell, there was even a kitchen. If he had supplies, there was no need for him to leave at all, but he still had Hermione, so he should report to her. And it would be boring down there without her.
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Months later saw a Harry Potter with a lot more magical strength than before, a lot more knowledgeable, and admittedly a darker Harry as well. If he were to be honest, his repertoire of Dark Spells greatly outnumbered any other type of magic combined. But if you spend over a year doing intensive study on that subject, it would be understandable. Hermione had accepted his private studies with a lot less reticence than the previous year would've suggested, but he guessed she was worried and wanted him to have the best fighting chance possible.
Besides, excluding the Dark Arts, he had finished the Hogwarts curriculum last year, so maybe he wasn't as defenceless as they thought him to be.
The first task was dragons, funnily enough. Historically there was always a dangerous creature involved for the first task, but choosing the second most dangerous magical creature for the tournament re-debut was almost laughable. Still, Harry needed that egg, so the egg he was getting.
Dragons are easy to trick, if you know what you are doing.
Entering the arena he transfigured a bunch of rubble to look like himself, and used that replica to engage the dragon while he casted a disillusionment charm to avoid being seen, a full-body bubblehead charm to avoid being smelled, and a privacy ward keyed to himself to avoid being heard. After that, he only needed to send one or two spells to the dragon that matched the spells his transfigured double was using to hold its attention. And while the beast was busy fighting, quite literally, a piece of dirt, he stealthily stole the golden egg and left the field.
All in less than five minutes, he got first place for the task. Tens from Dumbledore, Maxime, Bagman, and Crouch, while a seven from Karkaroff. It was obvious the man was biased, but harry didn't care. He wanted to complete the tests, but didn't want to win. It served no purpose what-so-ever. Not to him, at least.
And what do you know? Gryffindor, realizing they had more to gain standing by him than against him, opened their arms again. Hypocrites, all of them. But he forgave them, because deep inside, he still wanted more friends.
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He asked Hermione out for the Yule Ball, but she already had a date. She looked surprised, blind-sided even that he asked her, but he couldn't tell why. She was her best friend, the only person in his life who had never abandoned him, so she was always going to be his first option, in his mind.
But still, she already had a date, and responsibilities are a part of life. He told her that, and she seemed sad. Understanding, but sad. Harry really didn't understand, but it didn't matter. He could always spend the night with her some other time, so it didn't matter.
He ended up taking a French student. Claire, he thought her name was. It didn't matter. She wanted to attend the ball with her friends, but etiquette dictated she should be taken by a partner. They made a deal. Dinner and three dances, and they were out of each other's hair.
Harry was fine with that.
He was not so fine with Victor Krum dancing with Hermione, but he didn't know why, so he let it slide. He would talk to her later, anyway. So after the dinner and the three dances, Harry left his partner with her friends and left to the chamber. He needed to prepare, after all.
All the while, the nightmares hadn't receded. And they featured Victor Krum a lot recently.
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The second task should've been easier than the first one, since it didn't have you facing a dragon. Rescuing a hostage from the lake should've been easy, but not when you didn't know which hostage was yours.
The blonde girl looked a lot like Fleur, so maybe she was her hostage. He hadn't seen her anywhere, so that must've been it. The Ravenclaw student, Cho Chang, was Cedric's partner to the Ball, so she was his. But Ron and Hermione…
Logically, he knew Ron was his hostage, since there was no way Krum was aware he even existed, while he had taken Hermione to the ball, but he valued Hermione way more than Ron, so he didn't know what to do. While waiting, Ceric arrived and indeed took Chang. When Krum took Hermione, he looked after them until he couldn't see them anymore, and he felt something in his stomach at them leaving but ignored it. The time was running up. Both for his gillyweed and the task, but Fleur didn't come. Making a decision, and knowing he could only take one hostage, he cast the best sound-proofing charm he could on himself and both hostages.
He untied Ron first and took a firm hold of him. He swam closer to the blonde girl but was stopped by the mermen. After a three second stand-off, Harry pointed his wand upwards and casted one of the newest curses he had learned. The sonic-boom curse. When used on land, it is enough to incapacitate permanently everyone in a hundred-meter radius by rupturing their eardrums. Underwater though, it it would be a miracle if half of those members didn't die.
He finished the second task a few seconds before the time limit, but got awarded second place for saving two hostages.
Dumbledore didn't seem very happy with the mermen's condition, but Harry didn't care too much. The first thing he did when he got on land was to make sure Hermione was fine. She was, and by the look she gave him, she had the same concern about him.
And all was good for a little while.
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The third task was the moment when shit hit the fan. Cedric died, and it was mostly his fault. Voldemort got a new body and toyed with Harry during a duel. When their wands connected and he met his parents, all he could think of was Pettigrew and how he was always the reason for everything.
While his parents stalled Voldemort, he ran towards Cedric's body, but not before glaring at wormtail. His rage overtook him. Two fateful words and a jet of green light was all it took for Pettigrew to die and his mending soul to be cracked once again. This was the third man he killed, but the first one he murdered. It wasn't self-defence, it was rage and anger and hate and wrong, but it felt so, so right.
The nightmares and visions got worse, but he was learning to deal with them. At the same time, he felt himself getting more comfortable with his knowledge, some tricky spells now being as easy as breathing and some previously unknown ones cropping up on his mind. This time he did notice all of it, as well as his intelligence growing once more, but he could only attribute to one thing.
He was evil. He was scared, but he was definitely evil. He didn't tell Dumbledore or even Hermione. He didn't tell anybody, but he knew murdering meant you were. And so, the fifth crack appeared, with nobody to notice.
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He spent the summer isolated, alone, and reading more and more on the Dark Arts. He was almost done with the books he got from the room of requirement and was starting to fear where to get more books.
Voldemort had returned. He needed to be able to defend himself and his friends and Hermione. He needed more power, so he waited until he got to school and entered the Chamber of Secrets. But, there was a little something stopping him from getting in the library and treasury, he needed to pass some sort of test.
He followed the instructions and understood the requirements to access it. He needed to be a parselmouth, have basilisk venom in his veins, and at least accomplished-level knowledge in the Dark Arts and potions.
He didn't know what accomplished level meant, but apparently, he was at the level. After a couple of hours of tests, he got access to the library.
The library was, at the very least, twice the size of the Hogwarts library. There were books for every possible thing you could imagine, including lost arts like blood and soul magics, though there were not a lot of them. They were perfectly ordered, so he decided to read the library index at first.
Apparently, Salazar Slytherin decided to pass the accumulated wealth and knowledge of his family through a magical inheritance test instead of a blood inheritance. This meant that the candidate needed to fulfil certain magical requirements to access the whole library and treasury.
While Harry was able to access some of it, more tests would be required until he was able to claim the Slytherin Lordship and gain free access to everything in place, including a blood adoption potion. If he made it work, for all intents and purposes, he would become the new Lord Slytherin, with a heritage that could be traced back at least two thousand years.
And wasn't that a surprise? While Salazar was the most outstanding member of his family in written History, his family was a behemoth. One of the founding families of the Magical Council, apparently. And so, he had centuries worth of information in his library.
Apart from the more obscure arts like Enhancement, Illusion, and Natural magics; and the extinct ones such as blood and soul magics, Salazar had a sizeable collection of every possible subject. Transfiguration, charms, runes, conjuration, mind arts, etc. But the four main subjects, which were apparently arts the Slytherin family specialized in, were cursebreaking, Dark Arts, Potions, and Duelling. In the index, there was even a progression chart and recommended books for those four branches of magic. And, while potions were something Harry never really liked, he could see the usefulness of it, so he decided to start studying all but cursebreaking following Salazar's book.
He took some more tests, and found out that he was at the accomplished level both at Potions and Dark Arts, but just novice level at Duelling. He would have a very busy year. And the next time snakeface dared to show himself in front of him, he would have another thing coming for him.
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How Harry got dragged into teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts for third years and up while he himself was an only accomplished practitioner of said branch of magic he would never really know. But he would agree that these kids needed to learn and needed it fast. Voldemort was back, and the ministry's teacher was a joke. Umbridge's horrible fashion sense, personality, voice, and barbaric punishments seemed terrible enough, but it was the lack of real defence content that was unforgivable, in Harry's eyes.
He was back, and he was waging war, so he taught the basics. A correct duelling stance when attacking or defending, how to duck, roll, sidestep, and evasions in general. The most useful offensive spells too were taught. The stunner, full-body bind, summoning, banishing, blasting, cutting, and the basic elemental spells, like incendio and aquamenti. Defensively there were not many spells to teach, but the various shield charms were a must. The Patronus charm was also taught, but that was it.
If learnt correctly, each of these people would be ready to at least defend themselves in a combat situation. And harry must've been a good teacher, because things were progressing nicely. They learnt everything he taught them, now they needed practice. It was then that Umbridge caught them.
Harry personally didn't care much, but it was what Umbridge needed to take control of Hogwarts. Harry was still working on Slytherin's courses, but it wasn't enough. It was times like this when he wished Hermione hadn't returned the time turner. Useful boogers they were.
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He should have known. It was so glaringly obvious that he should've known. Now, he was surrounded by death eaters, backed up by school children. Granted, they were the best and brightest of the lot, but they still weren't ready for a battle of this calibre! Neither was he, for that matter.
He was so relieved when the order arrived, he almost lowered his wand. Almost.
He and Sirius ganged up on Lucius. When they finally disarmed him, Hermione screamed. It was a sound that chilled Harry to the bone. He turned her head towards her, where she and Tonks were duelling Dolohov. Both were down, though Hermione was bleeding, a lot. It was only the arrival of Alastor Moody that stopped him from running towards her.
They were on a battle and, as much as it hurt him to say it, they needed to get out of this mess before he could check on her. He would kill Dolohov later, for that was the only possible conclusion in his mind.
When he heard the mad cackling of Bellatrix, he was almost to late to see it. Sirius goading her opponent, the madwoman firing a stunner, Sirius falling through the veil.
Time stopped.
And with a roar of rage so primal that everyone stopped their respective battles to watch, his magic broke through a wall, exploding outwards. The effect was instantaneous, as all the people in the battleground lost their standing and tumbled down, not that he noticed.
His eyes were reserved for Bellatrix and her alone, and she was going to die. Harry was going to kill her, damn the consequences.
He ran after her, all the while she was still goading in that singsong voice that grated his nerves, but it didn't deter him. He ran as fast as he could, and upon seeing her, he cursed her.
But it wasn't a normal curse, it wasn't even a centuries old forgotten curse he learned from the Slytherin books, no. Harry attacked her with the cruciatus.
So much was his hate and anger and desire to kill, that he held her for over thirty seconds under the unforgivable, with her screaming her throat raw.
By the time he stopped, Bellatrix was twitching on the ground uncontrollably, a pitiful yet soul-soothing sight.
He raised his wand and started incantating the killing curse, but was stopped when he arrived and disarmed him. It speaks to the level of anger Harry had that instead of looking towards him, he instead unsheathed a dagger from Salazar's armoury. It was a dark artefact, of course, but he wanted her to suffer. He slashed at her face three times before a hand on his arm stopped him.
Dumbledore had arrived.
The duel that ensued was of proportions so epic that Harry wondered what he had been doing all along, and almost ended with Dumbledore's victory. However, Voldemort had another ideas.
He possessed harry, trying to consume him. Revelling in his hate and anger for the death of his godfather and possible death of Hermione that, for just a fraction of a second, something inside Harry's mind broke and he accepted it. He accepted the anger and the hate and the hurt and the power. But just as he was about to loose his mind, something inside of him snapped, sending waves of magic rolling all around him.
The backlash expelled Voldemort from his mind, and he left with Bellatrix as soon as the aurors and minister arrived.
The look Dumbledore sent him was so disapproving, that for a second Harry felt he had done something bad. In normal circumstances what he had done to Bellatrix would've cracked him, for it was so horrible it could be worse than death, but he just didn't care at the moment.
No, his sixth crack wasn't caused by him torturing another, it was because he had watched the last person of his family die. The last person that loved him. Sirius. His godfather had died.
With a scream that spoke of rage, impotence, sadness, misery and utter suffering, he blacked out.
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During the summer, Harry didn't know if he was being punished by the gods, was going insane, or the things his mind was telling him about were really happening.
It had started the day after the battle of the department of mysteries, but he was getting memories, knowledge, and skills that were not his, but Voldemort's. Thankfully personality didn't seem to stick, but he felt himself thinking faster, and getting better at everything.
He had more pressing matters when he heard the prophecy, so he supressed everything.
By the end of the summer, he had sorted everything out through occlumency. One of the mind arts which he ptacticed, but once could never truly reach his standard, was now working at full force in an almost obscene strength. And he finally knew what had happened.
The snake-faced asshole was planning to use his murder as a base for the ritual for his final horcrux, but when the curse rebounded, a part of his soul got stuck in his forehead. Leeching his magic. And hampering with his mind.
Once Sirius died, the pain was so strong his magic made the horcrux release the hold it had on its magic and mind, only being there. And once Voldemort possessed him, the conditions of his grieving mind were just right for Voldemort's mind to truly overlap with his for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough. The horcrux must have thought it was being re-absorbed, for it released fifty years' worth of memories, skills, and knowledge. He knew everything Voldemort knew prior to his defeat on Halloween 1981, truly marked as his equal.
Harry didn't know if he was supposed to be disgusted or excited about his newfound abilities and knowledge, but he knew one thing. War was coming, and he was as prepared as he would ever be.
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Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts was the true start of the Second Blood War. People were dying left and right, everyone suffering. Harry knew he needed to do something, and with Snape teaching Defence, the only students who would learn would be Death Eaters.
He completely devoted himself to study the chamber but started making preparations for open war.
He asked Dobby to bond with him, which the little elf accepted. After which, he asked Dobby to please search the whole room of lost things and separate the completely useless stuff, useful things, and valuable but useless things. He then selected from the useful pile things he could need and told Dobby to sell everything else. It took months, but eventually everything was sold for over fifty million galleons. That, Harry thought, should be enough. He deposited almost all of it in a trunk and asked Dobby to buy things that were needed with the money. Potions, wardstones, unperishable food, muggle ballpoint pens, notebooks and parchment, everything that could be needed.
He also tasked Dobby to remember the name of each tome in the Slytherin Library and the school Library, as well as his personal one, and buy every single useful book he could find not already on the list. Through him, he also payed the goblins to render the basilisk for ingredients, which cost half a million galleons for the greedy beasties. He also had armours made from the basilisk skin and ordered Dobby to further buy Dragonhide ones. He also kept all the wands from the room of hidden things.
There was no denying it. Harry Potter was preparing for war.
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Thanks to the five time turners he managed to nick off the time room in the department of mysteries, Hermione, Ron, Neville, and himself managed to spend ten hours a day training. From 8 am to 6 pm they trained. Duelling, Dark Arts, Potions, everything they would need they trained in the chamber. Then, at 6, they used the time turner return to 8 am once again and start their day. By the end of it, they were beat.
But it was a good thing they did, for when Draco Malfoy let Death Eaters enter Hogwarts through the secret passage of Honeydukes, the four of them were able to stall them enough for the professors to mount a good resistance. When they cornered the six death eaters, including a raging Antonin Dolohov, the professors arrived and Harry left to warn Dumbledore, who was in the astronomy tower, apparently. But he never made it in time.
He found Snape, the newly disfigured Bellatrix, and a scared Draco Malfoy cornering the headmaster. Malfoy disarmed him, but it was obvious the headmaster allowed him to. After a minute or two of bantering, Snape murdered him. The green light of the killing curse and then he was falling.
Once again overcome by rage but backed by a horcrux free mind, magic, and the skills of the Dark Lord himself, he started a three-way duel between the three death eaters.
Malfoy died first, having lost his wand hand to Harry's cutting curse followed seconds later by a blasting curse that blew a hole on his chest.
Snape was the next one to be defeated, but the coward ran away before Harry could finish him off. It was him who brought Voldemort's attention to his parents, so there was no way he was going to let him live. Time would tell, and he would be having a rough time fighting without the leg which was burned to cinders by his fire whip.
Bellatrix though, the duel was most satisfying. Harry got a nasty scar across his nose and another one on his chest, but Bellatrix lost an arm, a leg, her wand hand, and an eye.
But still, she escaped. Now there were three assholes he needed to hunt.
He got to the teachers and other members of the DA as soon as he could, but there were no casualties. Injuries, yes, but no casualties.
At some point, though, reinforcements in the form of Fenrir Greyback and a dozen other death eaters had arrived. Harry killed four of them, including the werewolf. Hermione killed two, but she was standing strong still fighting. The rest were captured by the order. Except Dolohov, who escaped. Another slippery bastard.
When everything had calmed down more, Harry informed the order of the death of Malfoy and the escape of both Bellatrix and Snape. The death of Dumbledore would be the first big event in the war, and everyone lost a little hope once more.
The first thing Harry did next day was to take a trip to the chamber. There were a couple of things he had been putting off since the beginning of the schoolyear that couldn't wait anymore. He took his lordship test.
Dark Arts, Potions, Arithmancy, Runes, Duelling, and Cursebreaking. All of them had to be at least at the expert level, and he was. Well, Voldemort was, but now his knowledge was his. It took four days to complete all six evaluations, but he managed. He got complete access to the full library, treasury, armoury, and to the blood adoption potion, but he had no intention of drinking it just yet. He also received his lordship ring, making Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden boy, boy-who-lived and Hero of the Light the Lord Slytherin. Life truly is funny sometimes.
He ordered Dobby to store everything in the chamber in his trunks. A trunk for gold and gems, a trunk for heirlooms and artefacts, a trunk for weapons and armour, a trunk for books and scrolls, a trunk for potions and supplies, and finally a trunk for all the rest. He wore all six of them around his neck with anti-summoning charms, notice-me-nots, and magical signature locks. He only keyed himself, Ron, and Hermione on it.
He was ready. If Tom returned to the chamber, there would be nothing left. He got to Hermione and Ron and explained his plan. After all, they weren't safe in Hogwarts anymore.
The ministry fell four weeks later, and Hogwarts got occupied a week before the new schoolyear started.
Once he was seventeen and he could do magic outside of Hogwarts, the order came to deliver him to The Burrow. The battle of the seven potters was a full massacre. But not for the order, no, for the death eaters. Harry himself killed nine of them that night and fought with Voldemort to a standstill. The only casualty for their side was George's ear.
Once rested, Harry, Ron, and Hermione told everyone their plan. They left a day before the wedding.
What would've been months spent hiding on the lookout for any clue of horcruxes, was diminished to a mere two months. Harry explained them, Voldemort had made seven of them.
The diary of Tom Riddle, which was destroyed in second year. The Peverell ring, which Dumbledore destroyed. The Slytherin Locket, which was destroyed within the week of the hunt. Harry himself, which was destroyed by Voldemort's possession during his fifth year. The Hufflepuff goblet, which was stolen from Gringotts and destroyed immediately after their escape. Rowena's Diadem which had been collected from the room of requirement by Dobby. Good thing Harry kept the basilisk's fangs in his trunk, for it too was destroyed.
The only one left was the snake, and only because there had to be seven and Harry connected through it the same way he connected through Voldemort. Now they needed to go back to Hogwarts.
They arrived a week later and organized a resistance. Harry killed the Carrow siblings, but Snape escaped again. The students only celebrated for a couple of hours before the Death eaters surrounded the school.
The rest of the order, the concerned citizens of magical Britain, and the few loyal aurors convened in Hogwarts, ready for war. All of the students that were of age were also allowed to join the fight. It was appearing to be the final battle with Voldemort.
Things didn't quite go that way. Voldemort managed to sway the acromantula colony to his side, and it joined the battle. With them, dementors, giants, and a whole lot of death eaters, the battle went downhill fast. The Hogwarts' defenders managed to win the battle, but Voldemort and his inner circle quickly fled after Neville murdered the snake horcrux, rendering him mortal once again. And the casualties were truly too much. Lavender Brown, Colin Creevy, Padma Patil, Fred Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Filius Flitwick, Hagrid, along with half the auror forces and citizens. The final death toll was of over a hundred and fifty defenders.
Of course, the other side didn't do that well either. The acromantula colony was exterminated, as were all the giants killed. The dementors fled at the power of more than two dozens combined patroni, and three quarters of the death eater army perished. The inner circle itself lost seven members, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange were killed by Neville, Antonin Dolohov fell by Hermione's wand, Kinglsey killed Yaxley, and Harry himself killed with extreme prejudice Severus Snape, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy. Thus, ending the Malfoy line.
No matter who won, the battle was a senseless loss of life, and so it was dubbed the tragedy of Hogwarts.
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Ron left shortly after to be with his family, but Harry and Hermione, alongside Neville and some members of the order, brought the fight to the death eaters for two years. Two years of darkness, of war.
Two years of senseless slaughter, until finally Voldemort himself decided to lead a raid on Hogsmeade. Harry, by now the defacto leader of the resistance, headed the force of the defenders into battle. Once he saw Voldemort himself there, he activated anti-portkey and anti-apparition wards. He would not leave alive this time.
The duel was of epic proportions. Fiendfyre and spells just as destructive were used by both sides, and it was such a gargantuan duel that both the order and death eaters had to flee the vicinity of the duel just to survive. After three hours of the most intensive transfigurations, animations, curses, and sometimes just raw magical power, the battle ended when Harry threw the same dagger that killed Bellatrix at him.
His aim was true, and it embedded itself on Voldemort's chest. Distracted, wondering how he had received such an injury, Harry took no time in disarming him and binding his legs and arms together with transfigured animals.
"I will not die, Potter! Not now, not ever! I have travelled further the path of immortality than anyone before me, and not even you can do anything about it!" He raged once he was defeated.
By now, the other battles had either ended or paused to watch the final moment everybody had been waiting for. Harry was so tired, he dropped to one knee. He was panting, but he still made eye contact with the Dark Lord.
"Three hundred and eight, Tom." He said between loud breaths. Voldemort was just confused by that retort; he couldn't answer before Harry started to speak again.
"You have made me kill three hundred and eight people. Three hundred and eight wizards and witches that probably had family somewhere. Three hundred and eight husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters. You made me a mass murderer, Tom. And now I will carry the burden of these souls for the rest of my life."
The grounds were deathly quiet. Even the Dark Lord was not making a noise. Whether he admitted defeat or was just too entranced by Harry's words, he would never know. But for the rest of the fighters, they were just now coming to realize the burden the man they followed carried. For he killed his enemies whenever he could, even when they were about to do it themselves. He was taking the burden upon his own shoulders, instead of letting them suffer it.
"You, Tom Marvolo Riddle, are a monster. And not content with being one yourself, made me into one as well." Harry said before standing up and walking towards the restrained Voldemort, slightly raising his wand so it was aiming at his chest. "And you are not immortal, not anymore. The diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, the diadem, and your snake. All of them are gone, Tom. You are no more than another wizard about to be killed by your creation. You are just a number. You, Tom, are about to become three hundred and nine.
"YOU LIE! I CANNOT DIE! I AM LORD VOLDEMORT! I AM IMMORTAL!" He, finally confronted by death, couldn't do much more than trash and scream. But there was not even the slightest of hesitation in Harry's eyes. There was just cold, pure determination.
"Goodbye, Tom." He said.
"NOOOO-"
"Avada Kedavra."
The incantation of the killing curse was spoken so calmly, that even the order shivered. That was the voice of a murderer. Of a hero, true. A broken man, definitely. But he was a murderer, nonetheless.
The details of the battle got exaggerated more and more with each account, and soon it was named the battle of the new century. It was fitting, they said, that Grindelwald was defeated in the battle of the century back in 1945, and now the Voldemort in the battle of the new century in the early 2000. Poetic, they called it. For Harry, it was needless dramatics, but he wouldn't complain. After all, he could finally rest. After almost two decades of constant suffering, Harry could finally have a night of peaceful sleep.
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Magical Britain took almost a year of constant effort to rebuild. And even then, it was the most basic of functioning governments. Kingsley Shackelbolt became the new Minister of Magic, while Ron entered the auror department. Harry, too, was expected to join, but he never did.
As a matter of fact, a week after the fall of Voldemort he left England with Hermione and headed towards Australia to search for her parents. It took two months, but they finally found them. The only thing was, the reception they received wasn't exactly warm.
Hermione was never exactly a loved child, because her parents were career people, so they barely paid her any mind. And now, with gigantic bank accounts courtesy of Harry for when they were hidden away, and an excuse to fear the magical world, the decided to cut all ties with Britain and Hermione.
She was devastated for months after that, Harry having to comfort her some nights. But it wasn't unilateral, for he was very serious with his last words to Tom. He was a mass murderer, no matter how you put it or his reasons. And so, Hermione was left to pick up the pieces. They spent a year in the country, both helping the other recover from the traumatic effects of the war.
At a certain point both started to share a bed but didn't paid it any mind. They were too busy mending their souls. Then, their comforting hugs got longer and longer, until they could be better described as an embrace. From that, things escalated until they became a couple.
A broken, lost, and damaged couple, but a couple still.
When they returned to Britain, they immediately drew the public eye. Most people were happy to have two of their heroes return, and even happier to see them closer than ever. Of course, there was a certain family of redheads that wasn't so thrilled.
After the screams from Ginny, Ron, and Molly, they realized something wasn't quite right. Especially when phrases like 'You weren't supposed to be together' or 'Harry was meant to be mine' got alarm bells ringing in both of their heads. So, they went to St Mungo's to be checked out, and found evidence of chronic love and loyalty potions. Harry's love potion was keyed towards Ginny and Hermione's towards Ron, and both the loyalty ones were keyed to Dumbledore. What was more, there actually was a recent dose of love potions in both of them, presumably from their dinner with the Weasleys.
So, they cut all ties with the family and went to Gringotts to visit their vaults and find a good place to live. To their surprise, the Goblins weren't overly mad with them, just slightly resentful. And even that was removed when Harry offered a million galleons for reparations. Once the bridges were mended, they told Harry of his new responsibilities.
As of his age of majority, he became the head of both the Potter and Black houses, which were each considered among the wealthiest families in Britain. There was also the libraries, and Hermione's eyes gleamed at that.
The biggest surprise, though, was when Hermione wanted to activate a Vault of her own, now that she was of age. She was needed to do a blood inheritance, and it was found she was, apparently, the heir of a founding family thought extinct centuries ago, the Graingers. It was not as wealthy as Harry's houses, but it had a good twenty-six million galleons. And a library. Needless to say they were each absorbed in reading for the next couple of months.
When they decided they needed jobs, even though each was obscenely rich, their first option was Hogwarts. Which, with McGonagall as Headmistress accepted them immediately. Harry in the role of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, while Hermione taught Charms.
Five years later, they married. Hermione Granger, Lady of the Founding Family of Grainger, became Hermione Potter, Lady of the Founding Families of Potter, Black, Slytherin, and Grainger. And wasn't that a surprise, not they each had more titles than they could remember. Still, they were happy.
Until the next war, that was.
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It was a month after their wedding that Ronald Bilius Weasley became the new Minister for Magic, outvoting Kinglsey in the elections. The youngest minister in history, he was called.
For a couple of years everything went normally, until the Ministry decided to start 'The Purging Movement'. It was terrible. The werewolves, giants, and their descendants, including half-giants like Hagrid or normal kids like Teddy were brutally prosecuted and murdered. Even squibs were starting to get rounded up and sent to Azkaban just for being Squibs. And the reason the new Minister gave?
"It is for our own safety. Most of them allied themselves with You-Know-Who, so they need to be eradicated before they can choose another Dark Lord to follow. As for the squibs, they need to be rounded up before they can leave for the Muggle world. Who knows if they can break the statue of secrecy?"
And so, there was another war in Britain.
This one lasted only a year, and was more of a revolution and civil war than anything else, but it was bloody all the same. Harry and Hermione suffered plenty, fir their Godson Teddy was captured and murdered. The son of their mentor and friend, and they couldn't protect him. Suffice it to say, they were very active in the war efforts.
When Minister Weasley was captured, he refused to bend the knee and cursed everyone, especially Harry, Hermione, and Neville. But it didn't matter much, for he was killed via Veil of Death a day after his quick trial. And then, the third war they had lived and the second one they had participated in ended.
The Purging Wars were over.
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Fifteen years later, those same squibs allied themselves with marginalized muggleborns all over the world and founded an organization called "The New Inquisition". The name was self-explanatory. They hunted witches and wizards.
The worst part was, it took over five thousand deaths for the magical community to realize there was something wrong. And it was Hermione who finally figured it out. But after she did, she was fatally wounded. She wouldn't make it more than a week. And with a ritual of love and pure determination towards him, she sacrificed her life for her magic to be always with him. It would protect him and theirs, she said.
It left him broken, but determined to do better.
It wasn't until the attack to the Hogwarts' Express that he became broken. Twenty-two children murdered, while three wizards of age died as well.
Harry, having once again lost everything, took matters into his own hands.
With the same time-turner Hermione used in their Sixth year, he travelled the world and placed bombs in twenty-seven different locations. All of them were the buildings from where the new inquisition operated.
After twenty-six turns, Harry returned to London. He stood in a bar, and waited for 3 pm to arrive. At the second, there was an tremor felt in most of the city, followed by a loud exploding sound.
News that night spoke about a terrorist organization that completely destroyed over two dozen buildings simultaneously all over the world. The top intelligence agencies would investigate for years, but never find anything.
After making a very sizable purchase from a trunk maker in Diagon Alley, he made a visit to the goblins where Harry emptied his and his wife's Vaults of artefacts, books, scrolls, armours, weapons, and basically everything that wasn't gold, he gave the goblins orders to sell all the loose jewels remaining in the vaults, and use the coin to invest smartly. Considering the same orders applied to the Potter, Black, Grainger, and Slytherin vaults, the order was met happily.
After that, Harry would leave Gringotts and not be seen again by wizards or witches for forty years.
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It was Neville who found him.
He owed a cabin in the tulip fields of Holland. It was a peaceful life, but never a complete one.
He was now older, at 83 years. But for a wizard, especially one as powerful as him, his hair was barely starting to grey. Neville had come to him as an envoy from the International Confederation of Wizards. Apparently, there was a muggle war going on, once again controlled behind the scenes by a magical. All of Europe, parts of Asia and Africa, and even Mexico, Canada, and the U.S. were involved in this one.
Only, this time it was Russia stirring the pot.
And the wizard, or witch, in this case, was the Augury. Also known as Dark Lady Delphini, last name Riddle.
The fucking spawn of Voldemort.
Harry was regretful of not cursing his entire line when he had the chance. He could do it, too. His blood magic had greatly advanced.
The muggle war took nine years to resolve, while the magical one only five.
Curiously, the only country not yet affected by the war was Holland, because when Harry returned to England the alley, Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts were almost as glum as they were at the height of Voldemort's power. But apparently Riddle's spawn had a different way of working things. Instead of rallying purebloods and bigots to dominate the muggleborns and muggle world, she rallied muggleborns and outcasts to dominate the purebloods and magical world.
And she was more successful, too.
But, when Harry appeared wielding power hundreds of times superior to the last time he was seen battling, in the duel of the new century, hundreds rallied towards him. He tried to convince the muggleborns that it was not the way, and that he now had the power to put an end to bigotry and abuse of power. But they still had to stop fighting.
Not all heard him, and even less believed him, but with just that one speech The Augury lost half her forces.
She still had over fifteen thousand witches, wizards, vampires, werewolves, and the like, but still. Half was a good number.
In every battle Harry fought, there was only one result. Absolute decimation! He was famous for defeating Voldemort and was as revered as Dumbledore, but now he was being called the second coming of Merlin! The worst part of all, Harry really couldn't deny it, since he was using Emrys magics.
Five years of constant fighting, until he cornered Delphini Riddle in the magical district of St Petersburg. She tried to escape, but his wards were unbreachable. Only himself could take them down. The battle was brutal, but the rest of The Augury's forces were here, so it was to be expected.
This time there wasn't a duel of epic proportions to be used as inspiration on songs, books, tales, and legends. It was absolute dominance. It was a far more skilful and powerful wizard confronting a cowering student.
Nobody heard it, because Harry cast a silencing ward before he said it, but just when Delphini was restrained by conjurations once again, he spoke.
"Your father was three hundred and nine, he was the one who made me a monster. This world and people like you are the ones responsible for keeping this monster alive. I hope you didn't have any offspring, Delphini Riddle, because I would hate to become a monster once again." He levelled his wand at her chest and spoke again. "You now are thirteen thousand eight hundred and sixty three. Say hi to Tom for me, would you?"
And with the green light she knew no more.
The aftermath was as expected. After all, not even Merlin could stop a war that affected four continents all by himself. The name of Harry Potter, once thought lost to the sands of time and regarded as a legend, again rose to prominence. But this time not only in magical Britain, but in the whole world. He rejected the positions of power in the ministry of magic, not even accepting the Chief Warlock position, but took seat in the Wizengamot, and everyone was flabbergasted at the power he held only in seats.
During his forty years of exile, he sought after all the knowledge he could. And, as fate would have it, he found nine more inheritances across Europe. All of them designed to choose an heir through a magical inheritance test, and he claimed them all. Added to the Slytherin, Potter, Black, and Grainger lordships, Harry now held thirteen founding seats, which was the equivalent of two hundred and sixty votes in the Wizengamot. Taking into account that all the other seats held a total of three hundred and twelve votes, he practically the law.
He was also, upon the death of Neville, named as the new Lord of the Longbottom family, since Neville held no heirs after the war. So, his votes rose a further twenty. His dominance on the political area were to a level where it wasn't even funny.
Also, his titles were exhausting to even keep track on. The-Boy-Who-Lived, Heir of Slytherin, Tri-Wizard Champion, Head of the Order of the Phoenix, The-Man-Who-Conquered, Vanquisher of Dark Lords, The Leader of the Light, The Bringer of Hope, The Defender of Magic, Guardian of Wizards, Lord Slytherin, Lord Potter, Lord Black, Lord Grainger, and most recently, Lord Longbottom, Lord Neferne, Lord Colchae, Lord Le-Fay, Lord Peverell, Lord Hufflepuff, Lord Ravenclaw, Lord Gryffindor, Lord Pendragon, and finally, Lord Emrys. Add to that the most powerful, knowledgeable, skilled, and wealthy wizard of modern history, and that was how the world knew him.
No more could he even wish to be Just Harry. It just wasn't meant to be.
Aside from taking his seats in the Wizengamot, he also accepted his old position of professor, teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, again. Even when he could teach every subject better than the current professor.
Except maybe History, Binns was, after all, very knowledgeable in Goblin Rebellions.
This time he also became the head of Gryffindor house, which was his favourite part of the job.
He taught in the same position for ten years, eight of which he was the Deputy Headmaster, until finally he became the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at ninety-one years of age. A position he held for seventy-three years, until he was a hundred and seventy-one years of age, when another war started.
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It was the ICW this time. After the discontent of muggleborns in practically every country of Europe, with the exception of Britain, they decided to take it upon themselves to 'prevent' another muggleborns rebellion. They started gathering them in camps and killing the most vocal of them.
Harry, considered too old to do anything, had to show them wrong. He once again got on a warpath across Europe. And after three years of war, thousands of casualties, and dozens of battles where he proved that yes, he was every bit as formidable as his youth, he once again singlehandedly won a war. Except this time, it wasn't to liberate Europe, this was a war against most of the magical governments of the continent. A man who, should he wish to, could rule the whole world, was just a simple headmaster. And they took his position as a sign of weakness, such fools they were.
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It was at London, right in the middle of Diagon Alley, that he spoke to the world for the last time.
"Citizens of not only Magical Britain, but of the whole Wizarding world. It is not easy to find myself in this position, but I'm afraid it has to be done. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Harry James Potter, the man who has too many titles to even bother to remember, and the Lord of so many houses that I won't name them all. But, most importantly, I am a wizard, and I am disappointed in our world. When I was born, my country was war-torn. Threatened to be destroyed by the late Tom Marvolo Riddle, or the Dark Lord Voldemort. My parents died because of him, and I suffered a miserable childhood because of the same night by which the world celebrated me first. By some freak accident I survived that night, and so my home was at peace once more. Thirteen years later the threat returned, and my government was so incompetent and corrupt, they refused to even acknowledge the threat. It wasn't until six schoolchildren took it upon themselves to defend the ministry from Voldemort that you realized what was wrong. And even then, it took four more years to end the war. More accurately, for me to end the war. And so, we again had peace. For Seven more years, that is. Until another incompetent leader who I am ashamed to admit I once called a friend decided to arrest squibs just for being born. Decided to slaughter werewolves and giants and innocent children, my godson included. And once again I had to take the call to arms, to rectify our society. And so, we had peace again. For fifteen years. Until those same squibs and werewolves decided to attack, and I had to raise my wand again. But we won, and everything was right. By this point I was so sick and tired of everything I left the magical world. I spent forty years learning and was content. But, once again, my peace was taken from me when I had to fight another war, a war of your own making. This time against The Augury, Dark Lady Delphini Riddle, daughter of the late Dark Lord Voldemort. Five years of war, but again I fixed everything, and so there was peace. By this point, I decided to teach. Maybe if I taught right, there would be no more wars. And they weren't, not in Britain. And not for eighty-three years, when the International Confederation of Wizards decided to kill muggleborns for something they might do, and only because of their blood. You once again asked me to intervene, and I did. See a pattern here, citizens of the wizarding world? The First Blood war, The Second Blood war, The Purging War, The Burning War, The Heir's War, and the latest Confederation War. Six wars, three local, and three global. I actively participated in five of them, and singlehandedly ended all six of them. I did it for you, for our children, for the world, and I am tired. I won't do it anymore. I want to rest." As Harry Potter, the six-times hero, said that, he took his wand and transfigured a single stone in the middle of the street to a huge obelisk. It specified the start and end of said six wars, and it glowed even in the middle of the day. Once finished, he spoke again. "I shall leave the wizarding world, permanently this time. I won't interfere with any war or conflict, magical or muggle, no matter the gravity. I solved the last six of your problems, and make no mistake, I solved them for you. It wasn't my doing; it was yours as a society. And I am tired of it. I will leave, and I will study. Magical or muggle, it doesn't matter. I will make it my life's goal to further knowledge, no other thing. If anybody wants to join me in my pursuit, just place a hand in the obelisk and it will tell you where I am. You can meet me there. But if you want to see me for any other reason, it will show you nothing. The glow will disappear the moment I leave this world, as my mentor was so fond of saying, to the next great adventure. So, feel free to record it. This is the last you have seen of me. I will publish books, but only that. To the people of the Wizarding World, this is good bye. Just do me one last favour, as a man who has given everything he had to give, I ask this of you. Don't muck it up."
As soon as those words were uttered, Harry Potter apparated away. He would never be seen again, and a hundred and sixty-seven years later, when only a few witches and wizards remained to see it, wasted by wars of their doing but with nobody to solve their problems, the glow of the obelisk died off. Signifying That Lord Harry too-many-titles Potter, the last true sorcerer, had left the world. Going to the next great adventure.
For the world at large, nothing changed.
For the few magicals remaining to see the glow die, it was the end of an era.
For his students, it was the saddest moment in their lives.
And for the man in question, Harry James Potter, he was content. Not happy, since of his three hundred and forty-one years only a little under a decade was he truly happy, but he was perfectly fine being content.
In the world that only brought him misery, content was good, it was his goal.
But what Harry didn't know, was that the moment his heart failed, the heavens and stars and magic itself sang a song of utter sadness, which would shape his next great adventure.
Harry Potter didn't live a very good life but did die a good death. Perfectly content with his place in the world.
All was not well, not for Harry Potter. But maybe it would be, sometime, somewhere.
After all, magic is capable of wonderful things. And Harry Potter was always the one to stretch the understanding of magic as far as it could go.
As the stars dimmed and magic calmed down, all the beings highly attuned to their magic, of which there was a ridiculously low number, heard an almost illusory whisper.
"Finally, I'll be there soon."