Italicized: POV/Flashbacks/Thoughts/Spell

Bold: Monster

POV: Harry Potter | Date: December 2nd, 1998

Harry Potter groaned, his muscles tensing slightly as he slowly opened his eyes. When he opened them, he was surprised to find a chandelier shining down on his face. Then it hit him. Harry looked around and found four women lying around him. Alcina Dimitrescu was lying on her back, her legs draped over the edge of the bed. Cassandra lay on top of her, drool falling out of her mouth. Daniela and Bela lie on either side of Harry, their left and right arms respectively draped over his chest. All five of them were naked. And all five of them were wet. From blood and...well, the obvious. Harry blinked. His magic was coursing through the room, something that didn't happen unless his magic was out of control. And that rarely happened. It was expanding. Growing. Strengthening.

"Hey handsome," Bela trailed, grabbing him by the chin as she kissed him once again. Harry grinned, his magic pulsing further as he deepened it. He pulled away when a thought crossed his mind. "Claire," He spoke, wincing slightly as his magic retracted. Bela frowned, raising an eyebrow as he shook his head. Harry got up from the bed, resulting in a groan escaping from Daniela. She grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back down into the bed while Bela kissed him. Harry closed his eyes, trying to think. His magic pulsed further, his hand traveling down to cup her ass. He immediately pulled back, shaking his head as he pulled up, getting to his feet before either of them could grab hold of him again.

Whatever they were doing to him, it was causing his magic to bubble and grow excited. It was causing him to think irrationally, to make bad decisions. He needed to find his way home, and get back to Claire. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Harry rolled his left shoulder as he winced in pain. It had been an eventful night. Taking a deep breath, Harry turned on his heel, and disappeared with a Pop!. He reappeared within his room in Heisenberg's factory, pulling out his map to find that four rifts had closed. That left him with only twelve rifts. Chicago, Illinois. Dallas, Texas. Mexico City, Mexico. Pasto, Colombia. La Serena, Chile. Hong Kong, China. Kamina, DCR. Lisbon, Portugal. Plymouth, England. Caen, France. Wels, Austria. Bern, Switzerland.

The door to the cube slid open to reveal Sirius. He had a blackened eye, making it obvious that he had been in a fight. He moved to Harry's side, looking down at the map as Harry spoke. "Four rifts closed, leaving us with twelve. My new abilities are worsening, and I'm not thinking rationally. I need to get myself under control. I need to speak with Dumbledore," Harry explained. "We'll split up and go around the twelve rifts, finding which one leads back to our universe. You'll take Chicago, Dallas, Mexico City, Pasto, La Serena, and Kamina. And I'll take Hong Kong, Lisbon, Plymouth, Caen, Wels, and Bern. I'll use my shadows to recon around London in search of the Ministry of Magic. And you'll do the same with your Patronus. But we need to be sure that we find our universe. Any alternate universe may be almost identical to ours. I'm not sure how to tell if it isn't, but I'll figure it out,"

"Where were you last night? You just...vanished. You didn't...kill anyone, did you?" Sirius asked.

"I've killed over a thousand people, Sirius. If I did it wouldn't be extraordinary. I...well..."

"You got lucky?" Sirius questioned with a grin. Harry frowned, rubbing his forehead as he tried to suppress his annoyance. Sirius chuckled, grabbing Harry by the shoulders as he shook his godson. "Well, look whose the dog now. Who was it? That girl Luisa in the village? All the boys are swooning over her. Or maybe it was one of Donna's dolls? Did Angie seduce you?"

"No. It was...Alcina. And her daughters," Harry replied. Sirius' eyes widened at that, his shoulder-shaking coming to an abrupt stop as Harry got to his feet. "I don't want to talk about it. It was abrupt, and it wasn't planned. Now let's go," Harry spoke, grabbing his bag off of his back as he grabbed hold of Sirius. He turned his heel, sending the two spiraling through space and time before they landed in Chicago. Harry let go of Sirius and apparated again, landing in Hong Kong. Harry took a deep breath from the magical power it took to travel around the world twice, before turning to look around. He spotted a large window looking into an office building, magic rolling off of it in waves. That was it.

Harry stepped up to it, extending his hand as he concentrated on all of the shadows around him. The people walking in the daylight, the plane passing overhead for landing, the showing kiosk in the center of the street, the cars, everything. A black mist wrapped around his wrist, moving down his hand before firing from the tip of his fingers. The shadow flew through the mirror, only not through the other side. The window began to crystalize as the surface began to bubble. The shadow moved into the parallel universe, forming a person as his mind began to transfer to that body. His shadow blinked, looking around to find...nothing. It was a barren wasteland. The entirety of - he waved his hand, his magic spreading through his shadow's immediate area - Philadelphia was destroyed. And he had never heard of an incident this large happening in his old world. This wasn't it. Removing his shadow through his wrist, Harry turned on his heel and disappeared.

POV: Harry Potter | Date: December 3rd, 1998

Harry Potter pulled his shadow out of the small mirror residing in the bathroom of a family residence within Plymouth. His last stop. It was negative. Not their universe. He sighed, turning to the door. He examined the knob with a frown, before turning his heel. Harry disapparated from Plymouth, appearing within Heisenberg's factory to find that Sirius had already returned. His godfather leaned back against the counter in the Foundry, a frown crossed over his face. "I'm assuming that by the lack of your urgency, your six weren't it," Sirius pointed out. Harry nodded, letting out a disappointed sigh as Sirius' frown deepened. "So...we need to either find more rifts, or we need to find another way there. There doesn't happen to be a way to use shadows, is there?"

"Not that I know of. And if there is, it would take a lot of willpower. I don't think I'm powerful enough right now to do it. After a night's rest, I'll see what I can do," Harry replied. Sirius nodded, deciding that made sense. After all, he would have to be magically exhausted too. After casting all of those Patronus', Harry was surprised that his godfather wasn't almost dead in exhaustion. Sirius grabbed his bag full of momento's and disapparated. Harry sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he took a seat on his bed. He laid back, closing his eyes as he tried to bring his magic back to normal. His sheets morphed beneath him and the light intensified. Harry groaned as he opened his eyes, trying to shield them from the light as he looked around.

He was...back in the castle chamber. In the bed. On his back. His magic had brought him here to...return to normal? Harry tried to get up but felt to hands press against his shoulders. Two blowfly swarms materialized into two vampire daughters. Daniela and Bela. "Hmm. Come back to play, Harry?" Bela asked, licking his right cheek while Daniela began to trail kisses alongside his neck. Harry groaned, his magic pulsing out as he placed a hand on her neck, pulling her into a deep kiss that she eagerly returned. His irrational and idiotic decisions continued as Cassandra appeared, pulling down her pants before climbing on top of him, straddling his waist as she ground against him. This would be fun.

POV: Harry Potter | Date: December 4th, 1998

"Ah!" Daniela exclaimed, her nails scratching into Harry's back as he drove into her. Cassandra lay off to the side asleep, and Bela lied above them on the bed panting. Alcina lay on the floor, having fallen off after only an hour of fun. Harry released into her, letting out a long groan as he fell on top of the beautiful blonde. Daniela clung to him as he let out a shaky breath, sliding off of her as he moved onto his back. His magic had grown exponentially in the past twelve hours, bursting out in explosions that seemed to only draw the four closer to him, and drew him closer to them. It was stupid of him to stay, but he couldn't leave. Not until he was done with them, and they were done with him. A fair trade.

Harry took a deep breath, sending a mass cleaning charm around the room. He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep only to open them after a moment. His breath hitched slightly at what stood above him, looking down at him. "Well...this certainly is not the most suitable time," It was a hooded figure, in black boots, wearing a black mask and carrying a scythe. Harry immediately went on the defense, sending a cutting curse at the figure only for it to fly back off of the bed, landing on its feet as it began to chuckle merrily. "You can't kill me. I'm already dead," The figure told him. It was a more feminine voice. Harry frowned, sitting up as he snapped his fingers. Clothes materialized around him as he got to his feet. "You are ready,"

"To die? I don't think so," Harry repeated. "I've still got to get home, get back to Claire, my life,"

"All of those things will occur in time. But presently, it is your time," The woman told him, inching forward as Harry extended his hand. Her scythe was ripped out of her grasp as it was pulled across the room into his grasp. Harry immediately gasped in pain as he fell onto his knee. His hand began to wrinkle and tear as it spread up his arm. It wrapped around his arm, up to his neck, and across his torso. He tried gasping for air, but only a hiss escaped from his rotted and torn lips. Harry tried to reach out for the figure, but she was still. Staring at him. Her face was cloaked, but he could see the emotionlessness beneath the cloud of black. She didn't care. She was killing him.

Harry tried to let go of the scythe to no avail, before falling onto his back. He stared up at the chandelier, trying desperately to find a way to let go. He tried magic, shadowmancy, anything he could. But nothing happened. His eyelids shut on their own, and he stopped breathing, his lungs and heart failing as he...died. But he was still there. He could feel it. Harry could feel Alcina, Daniela, Bela, and Cassandra's presence in the room, but not the figure's. She was invisible to him, something that hadn't happened before. Slowly opening his eyes, Harry got to his feet, looking down to find...himself. His body rather, lying on the floor dead. She had killed him. And...he was a ghost.

"You killed me," Harry told her.

"You technically killed yourself. Your need for control is your ruin," She replied.

"Why did I need to die? As far as I'm aware, Grim Reapers don't kill their subjects. They wait for them to die before guiding them to the afterlife. So why the hell am I dead now?" Harry questioned. 'Grim' held out her hand, the scythe on the floor beside Harry's body shooting up into her hand. Her hand was covered by a black glove, but it appeared to be nothing but skeleton beneath. She really was a Grim Reaper. The Grim didn't move, merely watching him as Harry looked around the room. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose only for his hand to pass through his head. Or his head through his hand. It didn't matter. None of this mattered, all he had to do was figure out what was going on.

"You are an exceptional case, Harrison. We require your assistance," Grim told him.

"You...need me. Concerning what?"

"A distinctive task," She replied. "One hand-built for you,"

"Great. Need me to kill someone? Drive a 'Death Taxi'? Or does 'God' need me to be his assistant?" Harry asked, annoyed and irritated that he wasn't getting an explanation bigger than 'we need you for something'. The Grim turned towards the mirror in the corner of the room, assessing her own reflection as she spoke. "You are careful. Thoughtful. Conceited. Powerful. Intelligent. Honest unless lying is necessary or convenient. But you lack something. Willpower. Your will is shaken. Sometimes you can will yourself to hold off a nuclear bomb. Other times, you can will yourself to get up long enough to save your friend and a little girl,"

"I tried. Those tranquilizers were powerful enough to drop four elephants. I couldn't move and I was slammed into a concrete wall. It took all of my will to keep myself from turning into a rage monster and destroying the entire city," Harry explained, offended that the Grim believed he wasn't strong enough to save Sherry. He had tried to save her and Leon, but...he hadn't. Once he found his way home, he would go back for them. Get Leon out of the Army's control. And save Sherry from the president. Harry would save them. The Grim merely nodded in understanding.

"You are required, Harry Potter. Take my hand, and we will start," The Grim told him.

"Start what?" Harry inquired.

"Your instruction. You will need to be equipped for whatever is to come," The Grim replied, brandishing her scythe before slamming it into the ground. She stretched her hand towards him as if urging him to his tomb. Harry glared. He was certainly dead. And he did not think it would be as simple as closing his eyes to return to his body. Harry acknowledged that he would have to take her hand. He needed to find a way out of this and the only way to do that was to take her hand. And so...he did. Harry stepped forward, grasping hold of the Grim's hand. A sensation of warmth spread through him before everything went black. He would save them.

This concludes Book 1 of the series. The events of the past few chapters will be explained as the series moves forward. The first chapter of the second book - The Student - has already been written. When it will be released is TBD.