Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works, like the anime Hellsing/Naruto. I also DO NOT own Disney or Star Wars. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.

Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.

Note 1: AU.

Note 2: I'm not all that good when it comes to writing accents.

Promotional Sentence 1: Read Lord of the Phoenix's "Player" if you want a dose of what Harry could also do in his life, set after 5th year.

Promotional Sentence 2: I would suggest reading Tigerman's "Portus" (One-shot) and "RuneMaster" (novel length), they're both great fics, especially "Portus". (mail me if you want me to advertise your fanfic)

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Exiled

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chapter one

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"Problems child?" an old man that had not been in the vicinity only a moment ago asked the troubled young mage. His dusty and old gray robes covering his form, a long gray beard adorning his face, as he sat on a stump that had not been there previously, or so the young mage thought as he had been partially paying attention to his surroundings. It was an engraved survival instinct which had been instilled in him since he was young as each day of his life had been a fight for survival.

Harry Potter had only just found out the other night that he had once again found himself caught in the web of machinations of an unknown foe, set before him were tasks that could potentially end his life before he had gotten to actually live. He was once again thrust before the the jaws of death, and it was assumed that he had once again put himself there directly or indirectly.

His life, his year, like every other year, was once again a fun filled one, or fun filled if one wanted action and adventure of every turn of a corner in one's life. Harry was not pleased when told that he would not be able to simply quit from the tournament, the Ministry of Magic officials informing him that there was no way out, that he was magically bound to participate in the ancient tournament, even though her rules had slightly been violated.

It was a Saturday, an he had decided to go out for a stroll around the lake to clear his head, and escape from the stares, glares, and comments of his peers and schoolmates, the other schools not really caring much for him other than the fact that Hogwarts had two Champions whereas their schools only had one each.

Harry escaped from the castle, as its cramp atmosphere had become too much for the young mage, even though he had lived with ridicule and distrust, jealousy and malice, before, that didn't mean that he would allow himself to simply bask in it. He didn't want to be amidst all the negativity directed at him. He didn't even have a friend to back him up, to believe in his innocence, in his not wanting to be in the tournament. What need after all did he have for more fame, was he not an already famous figure the world over, not only for his defeat of one of Magical Britain's greatest self-styled Dark Lords, but more especially for the fact that he had managed to survive the unsurvivable of all dark curses, the Death Curse itself.

The Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, famed far and wide the world over as the one curse that could not be blocked with magic, and once a living thing had been hit by it there was no way that a true casting of the curse could be thwarted from its purpose. And while there were those incapable of casting such a thing, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that Voldemort was incapable of casting a true killing curse, he had after all done the deed many times before, to adults no less. So why did one babe survive his curse when no other had managed to, not even the child's parents had managed to survive.

He thought about his life for the duration of his stroll around the lake, it was quite big, and so with some hours, he managed to wander aimlessly to the other end of the lake, the part opposite from the castle itself, and with the wall of trees that made up the formidable tree line of the Forbidden Forest, he gazed at the majestic castle that he considered as his home, his true home as compared to that hell hole that he had been dumped in, forced to barely survive each day intact, and remain human. It really was a miracle that he had not gone crazy and slaughtered the masses for each time that things didn't go the way of happiness, instead following the path of problems. Problems like the one that led him to the spot parallel to the castle across the Black Lake.

His life, while a short one, had already allowed things that some adults would only dream of in nightmares. Harry had gone through so many things that would have driven any one else mad or to the point of not only contemplating, but actually comitting suicide. Had it not been for those that he had considered his friends and family, he would have gone insane already and probably ended his very own existence. It looked like this time, that outcome was a distinct possibility.

"Come again?" the young mage asked the old man who he could have sworn wasn't there a moment ago, sitting on a stump in the middle of the shore of the lake and the boundary of the forest.

"I asked if you have any problems," the old man repeated, "You looked troubled, so I couldn't help but ask. Maybe if you shared what ails you, you might feel less burdened by whatever it may be."

"I..." Harry couldn't help himself, after his minor moment of hesitation, he more or less gave the old man the tale of his life, from the first memories that he could recall of his life, a green flash, which was the Killing curse taking the life of his mother as well as rebounding off of him and hitting his would be killer, all the way to recent events as well as wondering why the old man was not aware of the happenings within the castle, or even how the old man had managed to get to where he was.

"That was a rather interesting tale you have told me," the old man stated, stroking his beard he stood from the stump, which prompty turned to ash, not that the young mage noticed it, "I applaud your bravery and resilience, it has gotten you quite far, and based on the trials which you had to face, were forced to face, you have quite the character, quite the will, and dare I say it...belief...or might it simply be stubborness," the old man paused a bit to chance a glance at his young companion, then asked, "Don't you feel better now? ?Having released such a heavy burden from your chest."

"I..." the young man hestated a little bit as he realized that he did indeed feel a little bit better, like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his chest, for a moment he felt as if the weight of the whole world no longer lay on his shoulders, like Atlas had finally found a way to escape from his eternal punishment and did not need someone else to take his place, "I...yes...thank you for listening...I haven't met much listeners in my life."

"It seems so," the old man agreed as he stood gazing at the castle on the other end of the lake, just as the young mage returned to doing, it was a rather breathtaking sight or so the old man thought that it was.

"I wish I knew what to do..." the young mage said aloud, "I don't think that I can count on my so-called friends this time around to lend me their support, not after their doubts of my credibility, of the words that escape my lips. I don't really understand how my best friends, one I view as a brother, the other as a sister, how they could simply believe that I did not some underhanded deed and entered my name in the Goblet of Fire, just to endanger my life yet again..."

"Do you truly feel that you can trust no one?" the old man asked, not taking his eyes away from the castle in the distance.

"At the moment, I do," the young man replied, "Save for you, for some reason. I don't know why, but I seem to be compelled to trust you...why is that I wonder..."

The old man instead of answering immediately, tore his gaze away from the castle and fully faced the young man whose life had not been pleasant up to that point, and unleased something unto the world, only for the youth to experience, to feel. It was like a tidal wave stronger than any tsunami had suddenly crashed into the two of them. It was so sudden and surprising that the youth did not have time to recover from the sudden crashing of power.

"I can and will help you," the old man spoke authoritatively, "I have heard your life's story, I have peered into your soul, I have gazed at your entire Being, and found you worthy of a power sometimes older and at the same time just as old or even younger than time and existence itself."

"Wha...?" the youth said, slightly confused, shocked, and a plethora of conflicting emotions, none of which were anger and fury.

"My name is of no consequence, for I am quite certain that you shall learn it sometime in the future," the old man spoke, "I would shake your hand young man, in congratulations for surviving as long as you have, without interferance from realms higher than this one," so he held out his hand, and waited until the youth grasped it, then continued, "I pass on to you, Harry James Potter, the name, position, status, rank, and responsibility, of the Evil God. The term evil does not necessarily denote that you are evil, it is merely a title, as good and evil is relative. Do you accept?"

"I..." Harry really didn't know what to do, he had never in his wildest dreams ever thought that it would be possible for him to experience something like this, and thus in his confused state, he agreed, "...accept."

Their grips were firm, confirming the transference of power from one to the other.

When the deal was made, the pact solidified, the wind around the two figures suddenly picked up, turning into a howling tower of dust, mist, and wind. The mist was of a ghostly golden color, just as the old man's eyes were as Harry noticed locking gazes with the man. The ground shook beneath their feet, nature wailed, the water near them churned, and the fire underneath the earth grew to temperatures hotter than the sun.

Then Harry felt as if all of existence was gazing down on him and up at him at exactly the same time, he felt as if he was one with everything, then as soon as the feeling appeared, it was gone, and he was nothing, simply nothing. It all happened within the blink of an eye, but to him it seemed as if an eternity had passed before him, it was chilling and exciting all at the same time.

"I have seen in you an unbalance," the old man spoke, his presence remaining, even after his body had joined the mist in the form of golden dust, "The you that exists now is of good, one could call you the embodiment of the Good God, but soon your balance shall merge, and you shall be both the Good and the Evil...I shall also leave another parting gift, this one free of charge or test...Belief is a powerful thing, just as strength of Will is...imagination is an indispensible tool, and the only limitation you have are those that you place on yourself...but to challenge you, I shall restrict your entire Being, fight against the bindings, and master your entirety. You shall be among the gods very soon, but what use would all that power be if you cannot adequately use it?" the old man's voice faded with the parting words, "Good luck, young nephew..."

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