Disclaimer: the Harry Potter 'verse belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros, not me.The 'core threads'' verse belongs to theaceoffire on fanfiction dot net. The Hunger Games 'verse belongs to Suzanne Collins. I make no money off of this work of fiction and in no way intend a copyright infringement. The Hulk and the other avengers belong to Marvel. Blackbeard (the Assassin's Creed 4: Black Flag version), Ezio Auditore, Connor and Edward Kenway and Altaïr Ibn La'ahad belong to UBISOFT and their respective developers. All other characters mentioned will have a disclaimer prior to their introduction into the story.
I make no money off of this work of fiction and in no way intend a copyright infringement. The actions, beliefs and other such things of the characters in no way reflect my own opinions, beliefs or theoretical actions in such a situation as that described.
The actions, beliefs and other such things of the characters in no way reflect my own opinions, beliefs or theoretical actions in such a situation as that described.
There may be mentions or descriptions of sensitive topics which may include topics such as suicidal thoughts, substance abuse, torture, illegal actions such as underage prostitution and prostitution itself and rape (if only statutory). Should any of these topics offend or trigger flashbacks/panic attacks, self-harm or the attempt of such, suicide or the attempt of suicide, please turn back now and contact a helpline. I, the author, am in no way responsible for such things since you, the reader, continued of your own volition. Helpline numbers will be provided at the end of the story and at the end of each chapter.
Should any of these topics offend or trigger flashbacks/panic attacks, self-harm or the attempt of such, suicide or the attempt of suicide, please turn back now and contact a helpline, which shall be provided at the end of each chapter and again at the end of the story.
I, the author, am in no way responsible for such things since you, the reader, continued of your own volition. Also Spoiler warning for the Hunger Games books and the main 7 Harry Potter books (except Cursed Child).
Also Spoiler warning for the Hunger Games books and the main 7 Harry Potter books (except Cursed Child).
"Alright old friend, let's get ready to jump. Hey, maybe we can stop by that dimension with the underprivileged girl from a coal mining town and a deranged lunatic for a president. I mean, sure, it's post-apocalyptic but I kinda feel sorry for her – especially when she loses her sister to those bombs. I'd like to mess about in that dimension at any rate." Harry said to Death, whom he'd been close with for a very long time now. They'd been family for more than nine millennia, in fact.
"Of course, dad. May I suggest we also stop by the dimension of the woman who wrote those books that were scarily accurate when it came to your old life despite being in a different universe? It's just that there are no other sources of information on your life – you destroyed them all after you killed Voldemort, ran away from your former friends when they betrayed you and killed your family, made radioactive exploding MUFFINS and destabilized the entire planet when they tried to cook together. Oh, no, wait. That was in a different multiverse. Never mind. But please can I pick up some new blends of tea from my counterpart in the 'core threads' dimension? They're SO good. Please?" replied Death, in his long, rambling way of slower than normal speech, acquired over many millennia dealing with stupid idiots who don't care about the fact that you had to either BE dead to see Death – also known as the Grim Reaper, and Ted to Harry – or you had to be the master of Death to see him. Boy, was that an awkward conversation. Who knew that some people enjoyed being treated as slaves and dressing differently to others and that Harry had thought the cloak made him look like a homosexual trying to hit on him for just such a purpose? Not Ted, that's for sure. He still managed to sound like a pleading child, though. Luckily, that had been in his old incarnation, so it wasn't quite as awkward as it sounded.
"Of course you can, Ted. Jumping to the dimension of Katniss Everdeen and the Hunger Games in five….four…three…two….and…JUMP!" yelled Harry, as he cannon-balled into the temporary dimensional/universal tear he'd made in the fabric of the universe which would close and repair itself as soon as they were out the other 'side', as it were.
In mid-transit, Harry touched the dimensional beacon he kept keyed into Death's magical signature so Death could wander off and not get lost three dimensions over in a planet of really intelligent apes that had raised a fierce, proud man of immense strength, stamina, and a nice guy. Unless you were a member of the black tribe that killed his 'mother', the she-ape, Kala. Then, he'd probably kill you and eat you alive. But still, a nice guy overall. He spoke and wrote French, English, and Jungle-speak too. Yeah, they really didn't like it when Ted showed up, scared Tarzan's wife, child, friends and jungle family. If he'd been mortal, and not…well, DEATH, he probably wouldn't have survived Tarzan's attack. Poor Ted had had severe chest pains for almost a week after that. Then again, getting stabbed 47 times in the chest with a massive hunting knife in as many seconds would do that to you – kinda obvious, really. He'd have to visit some time – Jane's cookies were delicious and he knew Ted had a MAJOR sweet tooth. Maybe then he'd let him kill off the author of that many-times-damned series called Twilight, regardless of the 'homework' it would generate. Harry shuddered at the thought of even the title of it before putting it out of his mind.
Just as he reached the other end of the dimensional rip, he barely had enough time to think 'Oh crap!' as Ted whipped past him and accidentally thumped him on the back of his head with his scythe. Then, he hit the solid ground of his destination and immediately collapsed, unconscious and groaning.
The Hunger Games Dimension (disclaimer: this belongs to Suzanne Collins, not me)
Katniss Everdeen was out hunting. Again. She did so every day in order to put food (fresh enough that she had to make sure it wouldn't leap off the table) in her family's mouths. Somehow, that family had grown to include Gale over the years – and, by extension, his family as well. She already had bagged plenty of roots, herbs and various other useful plants alongside a few deer – they'd be eating well tonight and Greasy Sae would be pleased, as would the other market-people. Normally nothing unusual happened on her hunts – the electric hum of the border fence would be non-existent, the animals would either be scarce or abundant and there were NEVER any weird glowing things hanging in the sky. 'What if it's a new capitol invention?' thought Katniss, before all thoughts were wiped out of her mind by the sudden appearance of a falling humanoid shape.
When it let out a muffled groan, she disregarded those thoughts immediately since it appeared to be just a boy – perhaps a Capitol citizen on a 'wilderness experience' gimmick? Still, he appeared to be injured so she'd best get him to her mother. Heaving a sigh and gritting her teeth, she hauled the boy up onto her shoulders, supporting his weight in a kind of half-nelson fireman's lift combination with his arm pinned underneath hers and his torso slumped over her. She hurried home, pausing only to squirm underneath the gap in the fence, tug her catch through after her and then drag (with rather a lot of difficulty) the boy through as well. Stowing away her bow and arrows in the hollow trunk that marked her entry point, she carried on.
Hastening onwards, she drew more than a few incredulous stares and double-takes as she half-sprinted, half-hobbled on her way towards the seam with a lumpy bag on her back and a still groaning, unconscious boy being dragged alongside her. Eventually, she reached the borderline of District 12's rich and poor areas. Gale immediately spotted her and moved to help, taking the burden of the boy off of her so she could concentrate on re-arranging her load so the plants wouldn't get any more crushed than they already were – at least, not until her mother needed them. Between the two of them, they made it to Katniss' house and called for Katniss' mum.
"What is it dears?" Mrs Everdeen said as she entered the kitchen, dusting scraps of thread from her hands and dress. Then she spotted the boy and instantly entered 'apothecary' mode.
"Right, Katniss leave – this could get messy and I know how you get. Gale, you put the lad on the table there after I clear it." She swept an arm across the table and threw on a few sheets as a sterile tablecloth. "Three…two…one…LIFT! Good, he's where I need him now. PRIM! Get me my bandage scissors and be quick about it!" she yelled, just as the aforementioned girl entered the kitchen and then scurried out to follow her mum's command. Prim returned a few moments later, scissors safely in hand. She handed them over and washed her hands before rolling up her sleeves and preparing to help.
Mrs Everdeen quickly split open the boy's clothes and began checking him over for any overt and/or dangerous injuries that could cause complications later on. Even when it wasn't necessary, she still checked because in doing so, she might halt an unseen or unknown problem in its tracks, even if the patient wasn't previously aware that the injury or complication was there in the first place. Finding nothing except a curious mark underneath the skin, just over his heart – a mix of a triangle, a straight line and a circle; the circle was in the centre of the triangle and the straight line bisected the circle vertically which Mrs. Everdeen thought was a little weird but not unattractive like some of the Capitol people's tattoos she'd seen in her days as a rich sector apothecary.
Checking the youth over, she found a nasty lump on his head and immediately trimmed away some of the hair, covered the lump in a healing salve and put on some chamomile tea before she waved smelling salts under the boy's nose and woke him.
Seneca Crane, the Gamemaker, in particular, enjoyed some of her tea blends – helped settle his stomach, he said. Even if there were no medicinal plants actually in the tea itself, he still said it. Poor fool had no idea she'd been charging him and the other Capitol and the Capitol's brown-noser citizens exorbitant prices for such simple things – to them it was cheap, and it worked and so they kept coming and she kept stashing away money in an emergency fund in case she needed it. She'd started the practice of keeping such a fund when she'd been shown the shocking life of the poorer residents of District 12 by her now dead husband.
Coming to with a groan and a pulsing headache, Harry blearily opened his eyes, took stock of his self and, not noticing the others in the room with him, unthinking, began thoroughly cursing out Ted.
"That damned fucking bastard, hitting me on the head with his stupid fucking scythe. Stupid son of a syphilitic whore with crabs and the scabby, rabid donkey she kept tied up behind the whorehouse for entertainment between tricks better learn his bloody fucking lesson before I tear him in half and use his entrails as Halloween decorations and his bones as cutlery. See how he likes healing from that. Asswipe."
"HMMHMM" came the rather emphatic throat-clearing noise of the only thing worse than a cross dragon – an angry mother. Jumping and paling, he spun around to find one angry woman, two girls with mouths hanging open and a burly boy snickering amusedly to his self.
"I do hope you will refrain from using such language in front of my daughters again young man. I'd hate to have to find a way to slip something nasty into your tea." The woman said in such a saccharine tone that he flinched and shudders ran marathons up and down his spine – and not in the good way either.
"Err…of course not, ma'am. Now, I have a few questions and I'd like you to answer them. 1 – Where am I? 2 – Who are you lot? 3 – Is there anything I should know about being here…wherever here is?" replied Harry, recovering quickly from his inbuilt fear of angry females with the capability and know-how to do him damage in a humiliating way – they reminded him altogether too much of the Dursleys before he'd condemned them to as many different versions of hell he could manage when they'd died, shot dead by virtue of their bodies resembling sieves in London town when they made their racist, bigoted views clear and many took offence – especially when the local police joined in on the locals' side too. He could do that, since he was the master of Death and had bested both the generic 'king of hell' – Samael/Lucifer and the 'almighty father' - God aspects of most dimensions he'd visited – alongside those from other pantheons as well; speaking of which, Morrigan still owed him a glass of that Brandy from her mortal life. Being an animorphmagus was SO useful at times. As did being able to out-drink the Dionysus/Morrigan team at the local pub.
"Well, you're in the Seam, District 12 on the outskirts of Panem. We're the Everdeen family – I'm Pauline, the youngest is Prim, she's too young for the reaping or I'd be far more of a nervous wreck than I am, as are Rory, Posy, and Vick, all of whom are in the after-school club at the moment my eldest is Gale – he's the one standing next to you and my eldest daughter is Katniss; both of them are eligible for the Capitol's reaping. And, in reply to your final question, not that I know of. From where do you come that you ask such questions, stranger?"
"Well, I'm glad to see I arrived in the right place this time. I'm Lord Hadrian Potter Peverell Black Hogwarts, highest ranked Soldier of the wizarding and muggle worlds, Wartime Leader, Master of magic; death in all its forms; and Enchantment. I decided to do a bit of dimension hopping and, since I like you lot, I figured I'd stop by here, ruin all of President Snow's plans, manipulations and Death 'games' – too much paperwork to fill out if I kill him outright, so I guess I'll just have to play with him a bit. That and Ted wants a piece of him too – his soul, particularly." Replied Harry, merrily conjuring a lavish feast as he did so. After so many centuries, such 'impossible' feats were as easy as breathing to him.
He failed to notice the utterly stunned looks the others' faces were locked in and continued whistling a jaunty tune, conjuring and cooking food all the while. Food prepared, he went about cleaning everything – sideboards, tables, furniture, beds, clothes, floor, blankets and duvets, machines (mainly the T.V. and Mrs. Everdeen's surgical gear and her sewing machine), and even everyone in the area. He didn't even notice the slight draining of his immense magical core – and that wasn't even considering the other 9 billion, 9 million, nine thousand, 9 hundred and 99 cores and counting he kept suppressed and unused in his mental world. A few races had been really ticked off about that fact since each magical core was technically a part of your soul, and for someone to have so many, it was assumed (normally rightfully, just not in his case) that the others had been stolen from innocents – since only their souls were pure enough to begin the ascent to the afterlife immediately after death of the body – and thereby open to the possibilities of a fast, 'easy' capture, without a complex ritual beforehand, performed willingly by the victim. Once he'd demonstrated that they were all his, and naturally occurring within him, they'd been shocked and awed; with a healthy dose of fear mixed in. It wasn't like it was his fault he absorbed ambient magic of all kinds just by existing, even if it was directed. And the energy from attacks against his person – or his 'extensions' in the form of anything he created or used, ever.
"Err….My lord, you do realize you can stop now, right? This much food will keep us fed for years – and as for the cleaning stuff, thanks but it's a futile effort since the coal dust will just accumulate overnight. In case you didn't know, the reaping is in a few days and not only do we now have to store all this safely, but we've also got to go and attempt to prepare ourselves for the inevitable death of one of our own." Mrs Everdeen said, tearing up as she thought on the matter of the reaping and ensuing death of one or both of District 12's members selected as tribute to the Capitol – something that would affect everybody, since it was only a small town and therefore everyone knew everyone, if only in a vague sort of way considering half of them were rich and snobbish and the other half were toughened, wearied warriors toiling endlessly for survival, meagre as it was.
Mrs. Everdeen turned, sobbing heavily and fled upstairs, drawing sympathetic tears from Prim, and burdened sighs from the others – Katniss in particular. They too turned and went their separate ways – Katniss and Gale with the remains of their kills to the Hob, and Rory, Posy, and Vick turned and went into their shared bedroom. Once they'd left, Harry spun around to the mountain of food he'd created and willed it to pack itself away into the appropriate space. Instantly, it soared to his command. Then, he went around and willed the various spaces to constantly replenish the supplies of food currently in them and store it safely away, ready to use. Bending to his will, runes for just that task appeared in the very woodwork and charged themselves up with the magic he was releasing. Next, he willed ever-clean runes into every surface that was cleanable in the house. Once again, reality bent to his magic and his will, muttering about bipolar women all the while.
As soon as he'd finished, Ted appeared, only to receive a (loud) bollocking from Harry about being careful with large objects that could reap people's souls as they fell through trans-dimensional rifts at insanely high speeds – faster than darkness, even. They fell so fast that nothing registered, nothing existed and, if they miscalculated even the slightest bit – they could be erased from existence, literally. By the end of the rant, Ted was cowering in the corner, weeping slightly and rocking back and forth in fervent distress – he'd allowed his magic to revert him to his base 'angry' form again, hadn't he? It took Harry several hours, even wrapping Ted in a hug and repeatedly reassuring Ted that, yes, Harry still loved him as a pseudo-son (probably because Death had only recently been re-incarnated as a tiny child at first – until Harry came along and raised him in his current form), no, he wasn't cross anymore and that, yes, Ted could get some Ice cream if he wanted, for Ted to calm down. What neither realized was that Katniss had heard….and seen everything, and was currently wide-eyed and feeling rather curious about this man who'd appeared, literally, out of thin air. She sneaked quietly to her bedroom and promptly fell asleep, dreaming of emerald-eyed children with immense archery skills and magical powers guarded zealously by Death himself.
Over the next few days, Harry inserted himself into the entire community, weaving it closer with itself, intertwined with invisible, indestructible chains. He applied the same runes that he had used in the Everdeen's house to every home in the poor district of the seam. He also set up a training/living area/base for himself near the entrance to the woods, kept invisible to hostile intentions – even subconscious ones – by extensive wards. Of course, the invisibility wasn't the only protection, oh no. There were anti-pest, anti-external energy, anti-surveillance, anti-invader and repelling wards, all on top of war-wards designed to keep undesignated 'safe' parties out at all costs – up to and including the destruction of the soul, the life-energy and the body of the invading party. And that was just the first layer of the war-wards. If the intruder somehow managed to get past that, they just had to get past the other 7,777,777 layers with even nastier effects – all tied together, and after all of that, would be Harry himself; Nigh-on invincible, extremely powerful, immortal and highly trained, not to mention still fresh while the intruder, if they'd made it that far, would likely be exhausted or dead with no chance of afterlife, resurrection or recovery in any way, shape or form. Call it overkill, but Harry took Mad-eye Moody's catchphrases to heart – especially 'Constant Vigilance!' and 'It's not paranoia or overkill if they really are out to get you or those you care about'.
And so, Harry trained, and trained, and trained, before escorting Prim, Posy, Rory, and Vick to school, placing protections to rival his own on them and all the 'friends' he met along the way; after all, it was a post-apocalyptic society so friends weren't in existence – just allies, resources, assets, opportunities, liabilities and enemies. After that, he'd wander around and place protections on the District itself to guard against malevolent intentions, threats, and accidents alike, and they too rivaled his own protections.
It was all part of his plan – get into the hunger games, protect the districts of allies of District 12 should they begin an uprising (which they would – he knew it), get to President Snow, Eliminate him permanently and make him and his join the Dursleys in the various hells, take over this dimension, place clones of himself in his place – tied to his conscious, naturally so the clones didn't get any ideas that weren't from him, and to warn him of any attacks from outside forces on his dimensions. Then on to the next dimension to enact similar plans until he'd taken over this half of the multiverse – the other half he'd leave to the alternate version(s) of him that didn't care to explore multi-dimensional travel. Luckily, there weren't many of his counterparts that were as dull as that, so he was considered to be 'the' God, everywhere he went.
Eventually, the day of the reaping rolled around and Harry instinctively made the entire area as safe as he could – which was very safe indeed. Still, the reaping proceeded as normal; with the effusive manner of Effie Trinket being the only thing to violate the solemn silence maintained by the people of district 12, and her ridiculous pink wig being the only splash of garish offense for miles around. Haymitch Abernathy wouldn't be an issue since Harry had stunned him and left him in a nearby field – the stench surrounding him would do the rest of the job in making sure everyone thought he was merely passed out, drunk beyond comprehension, and therefore unable to attend the reaping. Wouldn't want to get him shot by a firing squad, now would we?
Then Prim's name was drawn, just as he knew it would be and Katniss volunteered, just as he knew she would. The people just stared at Effie's enthusiastic, misguided excitement and raised their hands to their lips – middle finger on their lips, forefinger and ring finger off to the side – and lifted them in a salute to the walking dead. Then Peeta Mellark's name was drawn and Harry had his chance. He struck. "I volunteer as tribute in the place of Peeta Mellark!" he bellowed, joining Katniss on stage before anyone could comprehend that both of 12's tributes were volunteers for the first time in a long time, possibly ever.
"Well, isn't this exciting, ladies and gentlemen? I give you the tributes of District 12! Katniss Everdeen and …..What's your name, dearie?" Effie called out, before becoming flustered as she realized she didn't even know the name of the second volunteer. All the while the vultures circled, filming constantly, dressed in beetle-like body armor. 'How appropriate – at least the filth are dressed as such here' mused Harry, as he subtly cast a spell to ensnare the minds of the reporters and ensuring that they wouldn't ever be able to film or write about him unless he gave the go-ahead, and then only be able to do so in a completely unvarnished, truthful way that displayed the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
"My name, as all of this district knows by now, is Hadrian Potter – though most call me Harry – and I intend to do this district proud." He said, with a slight wink at the surrounding villagers and letting them know he had a plan. Once again, the funeral salute was raised and acknowledged. 'We who are about to die salute you' thought Harry, snorting internally at the irony of that statement. The villagers, though, gave a nod to him afterward – signaling their intentions to let him do as he said he would and bring Katniss and himself back alive and as well as possible.
They were then bustled off the stage and into the main hall of the 'Justice' building. It's where the tributes can have their last moments of weakness – of emotion, before being thrown to the vultures and then it's into the 'game' that will kill them unless they're 'fortunate' enough to change the odds to being in their favour. Just like the Capitol says. They don't realize they're telling us how to win – other than not getting killed and killing others to do so. Harry was going to change all of that.
(A/N: from here on out, the story shall be a mix of perspectives, narrative voices, and other such literary things)
As we were led through the massive doors, peacekeeper guns poking our backs, I looked around, subtly spelling the entire place to the brim with security, obstruction and confundus enchantments so that the vultures wouldn't be able to carry out their normal invasion, even if they could somehow manage to overcome my other spells – the ones I'd placed in their subconscious minds the moment I saw them.
Still, I watched warily as they circled – cockroaches, the bloody lot of them. Onwards, we proceeded through the entrance into an elaborate atrium and seated on a velvet sofa, awaiting our final goodbyes. Katniss received visits from Marge; the mayor's daughter – who gave her her Mockingjay pin, her mother and her sister who gave her tearful hugs and mumbled goodbyes. I, however, sat alone and off to the side, waiting for the net to close in around me. In the last few minutes, however, I received a surprise, in the form of a visit from Peeta Mellark and his father – the Blacksmith.
The blacksmith was a large man, with a beefy build borne of thousands of hours toiling endlessly in the forge, and a complete contrast to his son who was a thin, pale boy with a soft outline and a delicate mien about him that belied a prodigious intellect and talent for artistry in all its forms. No wonder, then, that he was the one who did the delicate work of frosting all the baked treats, sweets, pastries and bread the smith also made rather than the smith himself who would probably end up just smashing his hard work thanks to his massive, muscled body.
"We….err…wanted to thank you for what you did out there today. It's not often that anyone would volunteer in another's place – even for the career districts. We knew you were a good person but even still, such things often have a limit – especially here and now. If you don't have a token, then we'd be honored if you'd use this." Said the Smith, in his rough, worn voice as he handed Harry a hammer emblazoned with a wedding cake (complete with an entire family of figurines) on the side of the hammer's handle. Harry simply shrunk it down and hid it deep in his cloak – currently disguised as an 'ordinary' royal purple silken coat with many pockets all over it. He hadn't expected to receive anything at all, let alone something so ….symbolic.
"Err….thanks guys. I….I wasn't expecting anything and even if I was, I'd have no idea where to start looking. So thanks. Thanks a hell of a lot. I'm really grateful for this. I shall use it and I shall treasure it forever – heck, I might even make it into a family heirloom." He said, stammering awkwardly through his sentences. Even after fifty millennia (being immortal did have some benefits – like owning all the best technology beyond what was thought possible when you were young) he was still awkward around strangers, relative strangers, new friends and/or allies and sometimes even with family as well. Damned Dursleys. Quite literally, in actual fact.
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