Stranger in a Strange Land

A/N: Hey guys. This is going to be a non-cannon/AU/Crossover fic due to the changes I'll be making. For sake of ease I'm going to be changing the HP timeline to a more present day. All characters are JK Rowling's and Roosterteeth's not mine. The events depicted here within are not real but are based off a multitude of different experiences, people, and personalities. Not sure about ships or bashing but I definitely will include some based on how the story plays out. For old readers, you know how it works, for the new ones please consider leaving a review as constructive criticism is always appreciated. As always, I am not JK Rowling or Monty Oum, nor do I own the Harry Potter or RWBY series. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy. Fenris.

Dialogue Key:

'Talking'

'Parsletounge'

'Thoughts/Magic'

Chapter 1

Scotland, Hogwarts Castle: December 1996

Harry ghosted through the long corridors of Hogwarts Castle on his way to the Room of Requirement. Years of sneaking around, coupled with recent training, had ingrained in him the ability to move silently and almost completely without notice. It had certainly come in handy when it came to dealing with fangirls and enemies, like Draco Malfoy. Few, if any, were aware of Harry's true level of ability. Contrary to popular belief, Harry was far more skilled than he seemed. The Triwizard Tournament and Voldemort's resurrection during his 4th year had been an eye-opening experience. He had begun personal training the day he discovered the Room of Requirement, with the help of the house elves. Then the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries and its aftermath had slammed the message home. Voldemort wanted him dead and the fate of the wizarding world rested on his shoulders. To top it all off he was facing an opponent who had a lifetime of magical training and experience. Ever since, Harry had been training relentlessly. When he wasn't training, he was learning as much as he could at a pace that would have left Hermione dumbfounded, had she known. Ever since Harry had realized the gravity of his situation his razor sharp and fierce intellect, suppressed and hidden thanks to years of abuse at the hands of the Dursley's, had been working at a furious pace. And so, Harry's crusade had begun; but every so often the weight of his burden would rest heavily on his mind. Today was one of those days. With a soft sigh Harry paced before the Room of Requirement before slipping into the familiar configuration of his "headquarters". Behind him the door disappeared. The twenty by twenty room was well lit and comfortable. Directly across from the door, against the back wall was a large mahogany desk, a comfortable desk chair, and four massive bookshelves; two on each side of the desk. The shelves were stocked full of books on every kind of magic, muggle and magical combat, history, philosophy, runes, arithmancy, politics, mythology and anything that could possibly give him an edge in the coming conflict. The desk was haphazardly littered with open tomes, scrolls, quills, inkpots, and various bits of parchment with notes scrawled across them. The right wall held a massive fireplace in the center, in front of which rested a large maroon rug with a couch and several recliners. To the left of the fireplace was a door. It led to a small apartment with a bedroom, full-size bathroom, kitchen, and small dining room. The left wall had three doors set in it. The farthest room to the left held a full gym; complete with workout machines, free weights, a track, and a medium sized pool. The middle door held an armory. Inside was every kind of handheld weapon known to man. All kinds, sizes, and styles of blades, guns, and other weaponry lined the walls. Harry trained with many of them in order to be prepared as best he could, Lucius Malfoy was infamous for his use of an English rapier during the first war with Voldemort. The final door led to the room Harry used the most. He referred to it as the combat simulation room. Essentially the room would configure itself and training dummies into a simulation of actual events or training sessions that Harry would engage with in order to put himself to the test or learn new hand to hand or weaponry skills. All he had to do was make a choice from the book on the wall next to the door and when he was finished the results of the simulation would be displayed on a board over the door. All in all, it was an impressive set up by anyone's standards, but sometimes Harry couldn't help but feel that it was never going to be enough to tip the scales in his favor. Dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt, Harry dropped his stuff at the foot of the desk and stepped into the simulator room. Moving quickly, he selected a simulation he hadn't run before. It was labelled Operation Desert Storm: SAS Bravo Zero Two: Iraq, January 1991. The simulator fired up and Harry found himself outfitted in muggle combat gear. Without hesitation he threw himself into the firefight, making use of his non-magical weaponry just as much, if not more, than his magic. After an hour of furious fighting, Harry got caught in the open and was hit by enemy fire. The simulation marked him as Killed in Action and shut down. Harry feel to his knees and slammed his fist into the floor.

"FUCK!"

His hair was, uncharacteristically, plastered to his head and his face shone with sweat. Bruises littered his arms, shoulders, and back as a result from dodging and aggressively throwing himself into cover. He felt like his legs were on fire and his breath came in uneven, ragged gasps. Despite his rapid increase in knowledge, physical strength, endurance, skill and determination it was never enough. It didn't matter what simulation he ran he still died, every time. He had fought hundreds of battles both muggle and magical, ancient and modern yet every time he died. How long he survived varied depending on the simulation, but the end was always the same. With a grunt, Harry picked himself up of the floor and went to shower. An hour later he was sitting at his desk, slogging through a book on ancient Norse magic, when his patience snapped.

"WHY!?"

His scream of fury echoed around the room, the following silence broken only by the heavy tome as it crashed to the floor. Harry slumped to his knees with his head in his hands, utter defeat marring his face.

"Why?" He sobbed into the deafening silence. "What did I do to deserve the doomed fate that I have been given?"

"Nothing child, this is the work of men, not gods."

Harry threw himself to the side and rolled into a crouch, as his training and natural instincts kicked in, wand pointed at the people who now stood in the room. There were five in total. The oldest was a large, muscular, one eyed man with short white hair and beard. He was dressed in dark red and brown clothing, with a tattered black cloak hanging from his shoulders and a spartan gold crown upon his brow. In his hand he held a long spear. His single, dark blue eye shone with knowledge and power as the man gazed at Harry. To his right stood a woman, of a similar age if Harry had to guess. She was tall and slender with whitening blonde hair. She had a soft and comforting face, adorned with a kind smile and green eyes that were not to dissimilar from his own. She moved with easy grace and poise. Next to her stood a younger man. His hair and beard were a fiery red and his face was that of a warrior. He was tall with the typical warriors build and was wearing some sort of leather armor with sheep skin chain mail. A massive hammer hung from his belt. The man's face was blank save for the single raised eyebrow. On the old man's left stood another young man with a lithe build, noble face, piercing gray eyes, and jet-black hair. He was dressed in a forest green tunic with two short swords belted to his waist. The final member of the party was a woman who stood to the left of the man in green. She was a strange one. She seemed to be made up of light and dark which was divided in the middle. On the light side her blonde hair was tucked behind her ear showing one brilliant blue eye that seemed to be scrutinizing every inch of him. Her dress on that side was white and fell to just above the floor. On the dark side, her jet-black hair fell in a curtain over that side of her face, concealing her features from view. The dress resembled that of a widower.

"Who are you?" Harry's voice cracked like a whip with its sharpness. "How did you get in here?"

The one with the hammer took a step forward, his hand falling to the haft of his weapon as Harry's wand swung to aim at him.

"I admire your courage kid but if you point that wand at my mother again you will feel my wrath mortal."

The man's voice rumbled like distant thunder, carrying with it the same threat.

'Well excuse me. It's not like five-random people I've never met, who still haven't identified themselves, just appear in a room that no one has access to." Harry replied in a sarcastic tone, his anger overriding his natural instinct to cower in fear.

The man in green looked at the others and shrugged.

"I like this kid."

The older woman rolled her eyes.

"Of course, you do Loki."

She walked over to the warrior and placed her hand on his arm.

"Relax Thor, can't you see that we startled him. Of all of us I would have thought that you would understand the most hmm?"

The man grumbled as he removed his hand from the hammer and stuck his thumbs in his belt. The woman then turned to Harry.

"Perhaps we should start over."

Harry's mind was racing at light speed. Ignoring the woman for a moment he turned to the man in green.

"You're Loki?

"Yes." A simple but mind-blowing reply.

Harry turned to the warrior.

"And you're Thor?"

The man nodded. Harry looked at the three-other people in the room.

"Then I suppose that would make you Odin, Frigga, and Hel, right?"

Frigga turned to Odin.

"I told you he was intelligent."

"Indeed, you did," replied the King of Asgard

The man's voice was gentle, but it had an undertone of steel and undeniable power. Harry was shaking his head, his wand hanging limply in his hand.

"My intelligence aside this isn't possible. I've finally gone insane. There is no way that I am actually standing here holding a conversation with five of the most powerful and influential members of the Norse pantheon. It's just not fucking possible."

"Why don't we all take a seat," Frigga's voice washed over him like a warm summer breeze. "Perhaps we can explain."

Harry looked at her, a dumbstruck expression on his face. He sighed, "It's not like it can hurt."

He stowed his wand in its holster and collapsed into one of the recliners. The deities sat opposite him on one of the larger couches.

"One moment please." Harry muttered. "Dobby!"

A sharp crack heralded the arrival of another being.

"Yes, Master Harry Potter Sir?"

"Two things Dobby. First can you see the people sitting on the couch? Or is it just a figment of my imagination?"

"Dobby be seeing thems."

"Well then, please bring us some tea and a platter of sandwiches if you don't mind."

"Dobby is not minding at all Master Harry Potter Sir."

With a crack the elf disappeared. A few minutes later he returned with the requested items before leaving again. After Dobby had left, Harry turned to his guests.

"Explain please."

Frigga smiled, "As you have already deduced, we are Asgardians, as to why we are here, well, we are here to help you. We…"

"Why," Harry interrupted, "Why help me, why now, hell why at all?"

"Because things are not as they should be, nor will they be as they should in the future." Odin replied. "The Norn's are angry. Fate has been twisted in a manner in which it should not have been."

"What do you mean?"

"Lives that should have gone on were lost, events were twisted, the future broken and you, you are at its source."

"WHAT!"

"Voldemort!" Hel spat the name as if it were made of venom, "That bastard split his soul and then separated those pieces from his body in order to create physical anchors. They tie him to this plane of existence. Such an act should not have been possible and because of it he has altered fate."

"We are coming to you now because fate has been twisted so severely that without intervention this world would destroy itself in a little over a decade. However, we are bound by rules and cannot interfere directly, so we have a deal for you." Frigga continued.

"You will do as we ask and destroy Voldemort and his soul containers. In return, we will grant you one gift each and the chance for a new life."

Here, Thor interrupted. "However, you must understand that you will not stay here. You cannot. In attempting to kill you, Voldemort split his soul and a piece of it attached itself to you, through your scar. The process of removing it will kill you. We will send you to a realm for outside of this one in a plane of existence that is separate from the one in which you currently reside. You will save this world, but in doing so you will give it up. Everything you know, and love will be gone forever with no hope of recovery. Nor will your new life be easy, even with our gifts. You will have to face life just as anyone else would."

"However, you would not have to bear the burden yourself, nor will you be alone." Frigga explained.

"This is crazy!"

"This is the burden you bear Harold Jameson." Odin's voice was strong, but it held a tone sorrow and finality.

"Bloody hell."

"Please believe us, if there was any other way we would take it. But this is the only way for your world to be saved and for your life to continue." Frigga was solemn.

Harry stared at the fire for a moment. "I don't have a choice. If I refuse, I might as well nuke the wizarding world. But if I agree. Everything would be gone. Life here has never been easy, or even happy, but there were good times. Still. AGH, fuck me." Then he turned back to the Asgardians. "I'll do it. I have no choice."

Odin nodded once, "Then rise Harold Jameson."

Harry stood, as did the deities, and as he did the room changed. Now they stood in a grand throne room. The Asgardians stood on a raised dais. Situated in the middle was Odin's throne, Hlidskjalf. Odin stood in front of the right side of the throne with Frigga standing to his left. Thor stood at his father's right hand, Loki stood at his mother's left, and Hel stood at her father's left. Behind each stood their own throne. All were dressed in fine clothes.

"Kneel Harold son of James." Odin's voice rang through the hall.

Harry knelt. Hel walked down to him and placed her hand on his head.

"For your service to the realm of the dead, through your promise to destroy Voldemort at the cost of your life, a sacrifice you make willingly. I Hel, Loki's daughter and goddess of the dead, grant you the ability to summon the spirits of fallen warriors to aid you in combat for a short time. Since I have no symbol of my own, I grant you the mark of Yggdrasil. Let it be a reminder that from dust you have come and to dust you shall return. This I grant you."

As Hel walked back to her throne, a dark purple aura surrounded Harry before fading away. On his left arm, just above the elbow, an intricate tattoo of Yggdrasil appeared. Loki was the next to approach.

"For your service to my daughter, in returning to her the soul which sought to flee from death, I Loki Odinson, god of mischief and cunning, grant you the title and abilities of an Arihéðinn, an Eagle warrior. You will be able to shapeshift into an eagle as well as augment your human form with the traits of the eagle such as sight, hearing, or flight. I give you my symbol of entwined serpents. Let it be a reminder that strength and courage have their place, as do cunning and strategy. This I grant you."

This time a forest green aura surrounded him before fading away. A tattoo of Loki's symbol appeared on his shoulder just above Hel's.

Thor was next.

"For your service to the royal family of Asgard, in granting us the boon which we asked of you at a great personal cost, I, Thor Odinson, god of thunder and warfare bestow upon you the gift of War Bringer as well as the strength and knowledge to wield it. This sword was forged by the dwarf brothers Brock and Etri, to serve as a weapon for my steward. So long as you wield it, it will feel weightless, stay forever sharp, and be a symbol of my gratitude. I give it to you freely and bid you well. I grant unto you my mark, Mjolnir, may it serve as a reminder of the warrior's code. He who lives without honor shall find no rest. This I grant you."

A dark blue aura surrounded Harry and a tattoo of Mjolnir appeared on his right shoulder and a magnificent two-handed broadsword appeared strapped to his waist in a well-made leather scabbard. Frigga walked over to him and looked down with a smile.

"For your selfless sacrifice and service to all those whom you love, I, Frigga, Wife of Odin and Queen of Asgard grant you a family in your new world. Never again will you feel alone, nor will you bear the burdens of life by yourself. I grant you my symbol of the full moon and the Aurea Borealis. Let it serve as a reminder of life's beauty, that even in the darkness there is light. This I grant you."

Frigga bent down and kissed him on the brow. As she did a soft silver aura flowed around both of them and Frigga's symbol appeared as a tattoo over his heart. Finally, Odin himself stood above him.

"You have been given many good gifts today, but I would give you one more. For your service to the people of Asgard and the Realm Eternal in destroying Voldemort and restoring the balance of fate, I, Odin, Allfather of Asgard and King of the Realm Eternal, grant you the knowledge of runic magic, the knowledge of mind magics, and the knowledge of the world to which you will go. Unto you I bestow my symbol, the Vulknut held by my servant Freki and guarded by Huginn and Muninn. May it serve as a symbol of my gratitude and may it be a reminder to be ever watchful till the end of your days. This I grant you."

A golden aura surrounded him and on his back a tattoo of Odin's Vulknut, held in the jaws of the wolf Freki and flanked by the ravens Huginn and Muninn, thought and memory, appeared in the center of his back.

"Rise Harold Jameson, friend of Asgard."

Harry stood.

"Thank you. I appreciate your gifts and promise to use them wisely."

Thor grinned. "Just make sure to hit that little button just under the guard of War-Bringer when you get there. The sword has some secrets to share."

Harry was puzzled by the cryptic message but nodded his understanding all the same. Then he turned to Hel.

"Now it's my turn, what do I do?"

"It's fairly simple. First summon the Deathly Hallows to you through your right as the heir of Ignotus Peverell. Then summon the spirit of Voldemort before you, per your right as the Master of Death, and send him to his final judgement. Then relinquish your claim on the title Master of Death for all of eternity. Once that is done we will give your things and send you on your way."

Harry did as he was told and sure enough a dark, oily, black substance leaked from his scar, sending him to the floor writhing in agony, and joined the rest of Voldemort's spirit before he sent it to its final judgement, screaming in fury the whole way. It was only due to the Asgardians pulling him into a place between worlds that allowed him to complete the task. The Asgardians then gave him an enlarged mokeskin pouch for his belt that contained some money, his invisibility cloak, which was now a normal if long lasting invisibility cloak, his firebolt, some food items, a few spare changes of clothes, background documents, and some sort of electronic device they called a scroll. He also took his custom trunk which contained an apartment, identical to the one in his headquarters and stocked with personal items and necessities, and a library which contained every book in the Potter and Black libraries,

"Good luck Harry" Frigga said. Then the world turned white.

What is up guys and girls. I Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my new fic. Gotta admit this was a fun one to think of and I hope that you guys will enjoy what I have planned. That said Harry is not going to be some godlike, OP character who drastically changes the story. For now, the story will follow pretty closely to the original. FOR NOW. Anyways please leave a review, constructive criticism is always appreciated. On a different note I apologize for the changes. I realized that I posted a draft of this chapter and not the final revision.

Happy Hunting,

Fenris