Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to them.
A/N: I've seen lots of "Main Character is Overpowered" stories. Here I try my hand at it, going as far overboard as I possibly can while making it fun. This will be for the laughs and absurdity of the tropes I can put Harry though.
Precisely at the Vernal Equinox, Stonehenge, the twentieth day of the third month of the year 1980 C.E.
Time froze, as it did on a biannual basis, not that any mortal noticed, now or ever. The nargles and wrackspurts, immortal as they were, took note, but they were too absorbed with their own fun to care.
On top of the largest stonehenge structure still standing, the grey-robed personification of Time took his seat. He took care that his massive feet, comfortably on the ground, did not press down on any of the frozen humans or animals that currently were admiring the ancient landmark. Pulling out an hourglass, the figure tapped it twice, shook it thrice, and set it down beside them on top of his seat. And waited.
Several soft pops echoed in the frozen air, as other personifications appeared, an assortment of all shapes and sizes present. Some were quietly talking as they each took their seats on top of their own stone structures. At the appropriate time, though time meant nothing to Father Time, Time cleared his throat.
"Thank you for arriving promptly," Father Time began to a few amused chuckles. "Mother Earth, I must say you look ravishing in your floral dress."
"Flatterer," Mother Earth smiled. "Every season I change my clothes, and every season you complement me."
"Are you two done flirting?" Sister Death yelled loudly to chuckles all around, before lowering her voice to a 'normal' tone of earthshaking. "I have a legitimate complaint here."
"We all know what your complaint is, Sister," Uncle Destiny sighed. "We all know you hate the Masters."
"I get the reasoning behind the Masters, the whole connection between us and humanity to make sure we don't go beyond our boundaries, blah blah blah, it's just my current Master is totally useless," Sister Death complained. "He broke his soul apart so now he's my Master, but because he's a fraction of a soul, he's completely insane and useless to me. I can't use him."
"As loathe as I am to agree with Sister Death, an impotent Master is no Master at all," Brother Birth added, surprising the group of aspects. "A new Master of Death must be found."
"You say it like it is that simple," Aunt Autonomy countered. "Your current Master must be vanquished by your future Master. We can't just pick and choose our Masters, otherwise it would defeat the purpose of them."
"Perhaps," Uncle Destiny nodded. "But that isn't to say we can't grease the wheels of choice and agency."
"You speak of creating a Prophecy?" Niece Magic guessed.
"I do," Uncle Destiny confirmed.
"I agree with Aunt Autonomy," Cousin Creation announced. "A simple prophecy isn't enough to break the bonds of a Master."
"What about loosening the bonds to slip through?" Cousin Destruction offered. "There are loopholes that we've used before."
"Loopholes in the law are the bane and blessing of those of us who are required to follow the law," Nephew Science concluded.
"A future Master of Death, retroactively crowned, aided in breaking the Master Bond that would make them the Master of Death in the first place." It was the first time Strange-Neighbor-Who-Somehow-Shows-Up-To-Reunions-Even-Though-No-One-Invited-Them Dream had spoken in several decades. Their scarcity of words in the past gave them more weight in the present.
"Perhaps it is time to rejoin the Hallows once again?" Sister Death proposed, eager to latch onto any plan to rid them of her current Master.
"I don't like it," Aunt Autonomy scowled. "But I can support it with some conditions. The new Master must have an advocate from a young age, someone to train them and teach them and, most importantly, to make sure they will not be manipulated by anyone. The choice to become the Master of Death must be theirs and theirs alone, when the time comes."
"Uncle Destiny, you shall draft a Prophecy to start the process. Cousin Destruction will verify the loophole will work," Father Time decided. "Aunt Autonomy, you shall select seven guardians that will aid the future Master and will teach them their responsibilities as a Master. Brother Birth, you will oversee the whole thing to make sure Sister Death doesn't cheat."
"Great, the sooner I have a new master, the better," Sister Death smiled.
"All in good time," Father Time joked as the rest groaned at the pun.
"Now that that's taken care of, the new decade requires new forms for each of us," Strange-Neighbor-Who-Somehow-Shows-Up-To-Reunions-Even-Though-No-One-Invited-Them Shadow announced. "Old, young, child, attractive, hideous, male, female, androgynous. All new forms for everyone."
"Dibs," shouted Death, Autonomy, and Magic at exactly the same time.
"So, Death, umm, hypothetically speaking, how badly do you want to loophole this thing?" Destruction asked their counterpart after the seasonal meeting.
"How badly can you loophole it?" Death asked, still adjusting to their new form.
"Badly enough that it's making me step back and question the sanity of loopholing the laws this much."
"Can Time override it, or sanction us for loopholing it?"
Destruction thought for a second before calling Creation over to them.
"Hypothetically speaking, if I give you that concession you wanted, the one we talked about last week, would you convince Birth not to look too closely at the loopholes?" Destruction queried. "You know you can make Birth do whatever you want with a flutter of your eyelashes."
"You mean the…" Creation trailed off, not denying their relationship with Birth.
"That one," Destruction confirmed.
"Then hypothetically speaking, you have a hypothetical deal."
Death and Destruction looked at each other with twin grins while Creation held their own smirk inside. Eons at this job, and Creation knew several fundamental truths. One such truth was the more fun Destruction had, the more opportunity Creation had to grow, usually by a factor of ten. They'd do their thing, to the short term detriment and amusement of all, but the long game belonged to Creation. Creation always won.
"Birth approved this?" Autonomy asked in disbelief.
"Creation is really good at what they do," Death remarked casually. "Can we count on you?"
"Are you kidding? This will be hilarious."
The stage was set. The players were in place. The contingencies were laid out.
Destiny and Death shared a glance, their immortal esoteric invisible beings hovering over the small village called Godric's Hollow. Trick-or-Treaters, sensing something amiss, quickly hurry to the next street over in the pursuit of sweet sugary goodness.
Destiny nodded their head with each significant event in their plan. The spy betraying the friends. The current Master of Death creating the necessary distraction in his (and given the state of his soul, iit/i would be a better pronoun) attempt to thwart Destiny's prophecy, and in doing so guaranteeing its fulfillment. His/Its arrival and attack of the Potter family, which included the death of both parents. Death had handpicked the Reapers who'd work this case, with special instructions to give James and Lily Potter the best possible post-life package possible, including full Observation Rights and Diamond-Level Access.
It was when the Current Master of Death attempted to murder the Future Master of Death that Destiny and Death nudged things to a more appropriate path.
The ruined house, once protected with the strongest magic known to mortals, lay silent except for the faint whimpering by the Boy-Master. Death and Destiny moved closer.
"The soul shard has attached to the boy, as predicted. It isn't nearly powerful enough to overwhelm the boy, unless he suffers extreme mental trauma throughout his entire childhood," Destiny diagnosed. "Overall, all things are proceeding according to plan."
"Thank you, I'll take it from here," Death nodded. Destiny didn't know exactly what she and Destruction had concocted, and she wanted to keep it secret for a bit longer. Much more fun that way.
"Good luck, I'll see you at the meeting next spring."
Alone, Death observed the surrounding home and land carefully. Death didn't often get involved in mortal matters like this, not since the development of the smallpox vaccine. Death took its time, savoring everything, touching the curtains, picking up a framed moving picture of the family that was destroyed by the whims of the former Master, smelling the now cold dinner spilled onto the kitchen floor. Death finished the inspection back at crib of the Boy-Master.
Crouching down, Death placed one of its fingers to the still bleeding lightning-shaped wound. It emitted a hissing sound, not unlike an angry wounded raccoon, before Death withdrew its finger slowly. Stuck to the end of the finger came a black smoky entity, stubbornly clinging to the Boy-Master's head wound. Death brought it close to its face.
"Hello, Tom. You have a choice to make. You can fight against me, and this portion of your soul will be tortured forever, or you can work with me, and your pitiful existence may continue for the moment. The choice is yours."
The smoke emitted another hiss, and Death raised its other hand and snapped its fingers once. The results were immediate, the smoke contracting and expanding rapidly, turning more grey than black, steam rising from apparent wounds in the smoke.
"That, Tom, is what awaits you if you do not agree. That was, from your perspective, ten years of mild torture in your own personal Hell. Less than a second passed here in the mortal realm, by the way. You can have an eternity in Hell until you are destroyed years from now, or you can help teach your host everything you know. Your relationship can be symbiotic or parasitic, the choice is yours, but only one path will spare you the pain you just experienced."
It took a few seconds, but the smoke pulsed faintly and withdrew back into the Boy-Master's skull.
Death smiled, a horrifying sight in any circumstances, but in their current form even more so. That was one more mentor collected for the new Master of Death.
Death placed a thin blanket over the child, all that was needed on the unusually warm night, before settling down in one of the few remaining intact rocking chairs. Death didn't need to wait long for another of the Boy-Master's mentors to arrive. This one was key to making the rest of Death's schemes work technically within the rules.
Sirius Orion Black, disowned scion of the Black family, ran towards the destroyed home in a futile attempt to save the lives of his best mates. Curses and vows of vengeance against Wormtail flowed out of his mouth as his feet beat across the ground. Faster, faster, he had to get there now, even if it was all in vain.
The wards had collapsed, the second sign he was too late after the destroyed state of the building.
Sirius paused a moment to shed a tear for his fallen brother as he hurried through the kitchen.
He spared a glance at the photo of the Potters and him at Harry's first birthday, the last picture they'd taken before they went into hiding. It hung crookedly on the staircase, the only one still on the wall.
He stopped at the door to Harry's nursery. Lily lay dead before the broken crib, but miraculously Harry, his godson, still stirred. He withdrew his wand in case this was some type of trap by the Death Eaters. A quick scan, followed by a more thorough spell to make sure, convinced him he was alone except for the unusually quiet child. A light blanket covered the boy. If it wasn't for the fact that Harry was alone right now, he'd march off to kill the traitor of a rat.
Just as he raised his wand to send a message to Dumbledore to collect Harry so he could exact his revenge, a glowing light began to softly pulse in the corner of the wrecked room. In the time it took to raise his wand, Sirius' jaw dropped to the floor. Before him stood the ethereal bodies of James and Lily.
"Sirius, it is us, we don't have time for banter, and you need to be a Dogfather now more than a Marauder," James spoke rapidly, drawing Sirius's attention first. "Death has a special plan for Harry, because of the prophecy, but he needs a protector and a mentor. We can't do it, but you can."
"I'm so sorry, I killed you," Sirius began to weep.
"Shut it, you mangy mutt," Lily barked harshly before continuing more gently. "You tried to save us, but if you have any guilt over us switching secret keepers, you can make it up to us by looking after Harry. Voldemort isn't dead, he'll be back to kill Harry. You must take him away, raise him to be a fighter, a leader, and yes, as much as I hate to say it, a marauder, all while still being a child. The whole wizarding world will want to use him, so you need to teach him everything you learned from your Black family so he will be prepared. You can't let anyone manipulate him, ever."
"How can I raise a child, Lily? How can I raise Harry?"
"You can because you must. If you shirk off this, I'll never forgive you," James threatened. "We're dead, deal with it, but it's up to you to make sure Harry won't be joining us for a very, very long time. Don't trust anyone right now, not until all the dust has settled."
"We have to go, but I have one request for you," Lily spoke, her voice much softer than before as the light sustaining their image also began to fade. "Read Harry i A Christmas Carol/i by Charles Dickens. It's a muggle book. Read it to him every Christmas and for his every birthday. You'll understand eventually, but make sure to read it to him. Tell him we love him, and never stop protecting him from every threat, but also train him to stand on his own for when Voldemort returns."
"You were my brother," James smiled as his words were nearly drowned out by the gentlest of breezes outside. "I know you'll make us proud."
With that, they were gone. Sirius looked at his godson, fear at the unknown clouding his face, before newly found parental resolve tightened his features and he bent down to pick up the sleeping boy. First things first, he needed to get to a safe house. From there, he could figure out what to do. With his wand in one hand and the baby in the other, Sirius magically packed some baby supplies he'd need for the next few days.
"Merlin, are, are they dead?" Hagrid asked Sirius as the latter exited the Potter home a few minutes later.
Sirius didn't stop walking to where his enchanted motorbike lay on its side several hundred feet away, past the now-ruined ward line. Hagrid fell easily into step beside him, his height making up for the urgency Sirius was showing.
"Lily and James are, I'm taking Harry somewhere safe. No sign of Voldemort. Tell Dumbledore I'll contact him in a few days."
"Dumbledore told me to take Harry to Hogwarts, Sirius. I can get him there is a jiffy, he'll be safe there."
"No, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll keep him safe."
"I don't know, Dumbledore seemed pretty sure about it," Hagrid hedged. "Probably best just to follow and we can sort it out later."
"Sorry, Hagrid. I'll see about bringing Harry to Hogwarts later, but it won't be tonight."
"Could I, could I say goodbye to him?" Hagrid asked, tears forming in his eyes.
"Quickly, before muggles come," Sirius whispered.
The giant of a man bent down and gave the baby in Sirius's arms a scratchy, whiskery kiss. Sirius felt a teardrop on his arm the size of a walnut, but remained silent at the larger man's emotional outburst. A few years ago he would have made a joke or teased the gentle giant about it, but not anymore. Not tonight. He needed to be a serious Sirius. Heh, heh heh.
The three reached the vehicle. Hagrid, not understanding everything going on but wanting to help, took an extra step ahead and set it upright. With a smile and a nod of appreciation, Sirius mounted the bike and placed Harry in his lap. A few spells later and the boy would be as safe and secure as could be.
"I left Lily and James where I found them. Maybe Dumbledore can figure out what happened," Sirius suggested. "I'll see you around."
With a small wave, Sirius took off, going exactly the posted speed limit and staying on the ground. This wasn't the time to show off, or tempt fate. He had a place he could hole up with Harry close by, just a few miles away, and it didn't require using the flying capability James and he had added to it last Easter. Better to do it the muggle way.
Soon Sirius and Harry were alone, and both had a lot of growing up to do, one of them quicker than the other.
Back at the ruined Potter home, Death watched as Hagrid shuffled around giving his respects to Lily and James. His massive form only fit through the hallways because the walls were already torn apart. To Death's right, the shades of Lily and James Potter silently looked on.
"Will Harry be alright?" Lily asked Death, undetectable to the world of the living.
"I would hope so," Death answered. "I've stacked the deck in his favor, but I can't make Sirius or Harry do what I want them to. It'll be up to them."
"Thank you for letting us see him one last time," James bowed, unsure about what protocols and formalities existed for talking with the personification of Death.
"With luck, this won't be the last time," Death shrugged. "I have much to tell you, much more than my Reapers could. Let me tell you why all this happened."
Placing a bony arm around each of the deceased Potters, Death led them into Nothingness and Everythingness to give the strangest speech either former mortal had ever heard, as well as give the oddest offer either one had ever received. Seven, it turned out, was a very magical number indeed.