A/N I don't own My Hero Academia or Harry Potter.
Harry Potter and The Academy of Heroes - Chapter 1
Sometimes, one is Destined to be a hero. Sometimes, Fate makes the decision for them. Most of the time, being a hero is a choice that neither Destiny nor Fate can make for us.
As Harry Potter exited the champion's tent, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the sound. The tent itself was charmed not to let too much sound in, so only now he was exposed to the roaring crowd.
In front of him, on the other end of the arena, there was a dragon chained near a nest full of eggs. It had black scales and was overall lizard-like in appearance. This is if one skipped that instead of front legs, it had a set of giant bat-like wings. Its entire tail was covered in bronze spikes, the smallest of which would probably be the size of Harry's forearm. There was also its head; A large collection of teeth sharp as daggers and horns that could easily pierce through an armored truck. It also had yellow eyes, with vertical pupils like a cat's, which immediately focused on Harry as he entered.
He gulped and pulled his wand.
"Accio Firebolt!"
He stood there, waiting patiently for his broom to arrive, but it did not. In fact, there was no indication it would. In the past, he could feel that the spell worked, but now there was nothing. He tried again. And again. But nothing happened still.
"Looks like Potter is having trouble with the spell. Summoning charms are generally taught near the end of the fourth year. Looks like our youngest champion might still need some practice." Bagman's voice echoed across the stadium. "For those of you who do not remember, the caster needs to have a clear image and know the general location of the item."
"Like that's gonna help me…" Harry muttered. He tried one last time before resigning himself to plan B. It had little chance to work but he would try anyway.
As started to rapidly cast engorging spells, the stones that littered the arena became large boulders he managed to levitate several of them.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. I am not sure where Mr. Potter is going with all of this now, but so far he is sticking to the most basic charms… Is that softening spell? Why would he… And now he stuck himself to one of the boulders! Ladies and Gentlemen. Sticking charm is usually taught in the first year of Hogwarts, as opposed to permanent sticking charm taught in the fifth year. And now… I can't believe it! He is shooting the levitated boulders at the dragon. But they are softened. Wait! He banished his own stone! Ladies and Gentlemen! This might not only be the bravest approach yet but also the craziest!"
As his boulders sailed through the air, Harry filtered out what Bagman was screaming. He was flying at the dragon stuck to a giant boulder with softening charm on it. He had a good chance of dying.
The dragon, for its part, was busy angrily batting the boulders away with its tail. Most of them survived the impact thanks to softening charm, instead just changing the direction. None of them had the levitation charm maintained, so they landed around the nest, littering the area.
Harry's boulder met the same fate, but luckily he kept the levitation on it. Otherwise, he would learn what being crushed under a giant stone felt like.
After unsticking himself from the stone, he was now near the nest. There were still several dozen feet of distance to cover. Now came the second most dangerous part of his plan. He applied the color-changing charm to his robes to make them roughly the color of the ground. He dashed from behind one boulder to the other. The dragon didn't immediately look toward him, but now he was too close to try that again without being noticed.
Harry leaned from his cover and pointed his wand at one of the engorged stones on the other side. He muttered the engorgement spell again. The stone he was pointing at started to quickly grow until it exploded violently, getting the dragon to roar and look in that direction.
This was his chance. Harry dashed to another cover, closer to the nest. He repeated the method three times before he was near the nest. He could practically reach and touch the dragon.
One more spell and another stone grew and exploded. The dragon focused its gaze in that direction. Harry jumped into the nest and grabbed the egg.
Only to then look right in the eyes of the angry dragon mother.
"I blame Dumbledore." He muttered. He had no way of knowing that a special spell was put on the arena so that everything the champion said was heard by everyone on the stands. He also didn't notice that the crowd was in total silence. Not that it mattered to him.
The torrent of flames covered his entire body.
For a fraction of a second, Harry was sure he was dead. From his research into dragons, one thing kept coming back: you can't survive being directly immersed in Dragonfire.
To his surprise, he didn't feel anything. Harry expected death in flames to be painful and horrifying, but there was just… numbness and a bit of heat. Before, he was slowly tiring with the amount of magic he cast. Now it was like he could lift a mountain. Was that what it felt to die?
"I… Ladies and Gentlemen…" Bagman's voice reached him. But why?
Finally, the torrent died around him, only to reveal the world back. Except it was… strange. The reality seemed to be tinted with green.
He was still holding the egg tightly. He could feel the egg.
He could feel the world.
He was not dead.
The public and the dragon seemed to be equally confused at his survival. Though not as much as Harry. But he would ask questions later. For now, he did the only possible semi-sane thing of running away as fast as he physically could. The time seemed to slow down as he chased to the exit. The dragon didn't immediately pursue him, but as he dashed out of the arena, Harry heard the chains holding the Hungarian Horntail strain. Luckily, he was already away.
Back inside the tent, he was finally able to take a look at himself. He expected to see the charred body, maybe something like… magical aura protecting him.
He didn't expect his lower body to look like a green human-bird hybrid.
He was also still on fire, except now it was green and not yellow.
The teachers and other tournament officials poured into the room. Dumbledore and McGonagall were both second, following directly after panicking Madame Pomfrey. The school matron was looking on the verge of a heart attack and only her steel willpower kept her going. She would probably faint once Harry was healed. Or declared dead. She started waving her wand in the air faster than Harry could follow. Or did she?
Harry found his eyes working better than they ever were before. If he ignored the greenish tint the world had, he could see perfectly at any distance. And the details were sharper than he had come to expect.
He was still on fire though.
"Mr. Potter! What have you done this time?!" McGonnagal sent her signature disappointed glare at him.
"I have no idea!" He screamed, panicking. Did they not see he was on fire?
Madam Pomfrey threw her hands in the air.
"I can't reverse that transformation, Minerva."
"Mr. Potter. Experimenting with becoming an Animagus is dangerous alone. This," she gestured at him, "is precisely why until you achieve full transformation, it should be done in a controlled environment."
"Woman! Did you miss the fact that I am currently on fire!?" The teen screamed at her.
"You will behave yourself, Potter. Twenty points from Gryffindor. Maybe that will teach you respect." Snape sneered at him.
"You tossed me into an arena with a dragon. I will behave however I bloody want!" Harry finally lost his remaining patience.
"He should be arrested for being an illegal animagus," Karkaroff grumbled.
"The law states that he must register only after achieving his first full transformation. I'm not sure what animal he is, but that is by no means a full transformation." McGonnagal corrected.
"I believe Mr. Potter is, in fact, a phoenix animagus."
That opened another can of worms. Several teachers immediately started to argue between themselves over if that was even possible. Harry just muted them in his head and instead focused on trying to figure it out himself. Figures that adults would be useless.
He was an animagus. But he never undertook the ritual. He read the book about it, yes, but mostly because he was curious about his father and Sirius. So what happened. That would explain why he didn't die in Dragonfire. Or why he was currently on fire.
"Poppy, can I try something?" Snape detached himself from the discussion and sailed unnoticed over to where the medic was still frantically trying to figure out what was wrong.
"By all means. I'm officially out of ideas. Looks like a long stay in Saint Mungo to me." She gave an honest opinion, for which Harry was grateful.
Snape's wand barely made any motion, making it impossible to recognize the spell. Harry had to admit that he was impressed with that trick. His hand almost didn't twitch.
"As I suspected." He grumbled loud enough to attract everyone's attention. "Mr. Potter, being the dunderhead, as usual, botched the potion. That's why the transformation got stuck mid-way."
"But I didn't take any potions!" Harry tried to protest in vain.
For a moment Snape's and his gaze met. Instead of the usual loathing, Harry saw some unfamiliar emotion. He had no idea what it was, but it looked out of place on his professor's face.
"Potter. There is the time to tell the truth, and there are times to lie. Now is not the time."
Harry was about to protest, but something in how Snape phrased his sentence struck him. Like he was trying to subtly tell him something. But what could… The time. The time to tell the truth, times to lie. He wanted him to lie. For some reason. And yet, it was probably the first earnest suggestion he got from the professor.
"Yes… I took the potion. I needed some edge in the mysterious first task. I'm a fourth-year for Merlin's sake!"
"Good that you finally confessed, brat."
"Can eet be reversed?" Madame Maxim asked, turning to Snape.
"I will take care of that. It might take me some time though." The potion master didn't wait for their answer and nodded for Harry to follow him. Dumbledore stepped in his way.
"Now, Severus, I'm sure Poppy can…"
"The potion that would fix the damage is one of my designs. I am not sharing it with anyone until all my patents are finally processed by the international potioneer commission." He glared at Dumbledore. "Not even you, Headmaster."
"I… see. Very well then. Proceed."
"You would allow that snake to administer an untested potion to a student?" Moody glared at the potion master with his real eye while Harry felt the fake eye focus on him.
"Severus has my absolute trust." Dumbledore placated the stern former auror.
Neither Snape nor Harry listened. The older man was storming toward the castle with Harry right behind him (still looking like a giant burning half-man half-chicken). They made a bee-line to the dungeon in total silence. The school was empty as everyone remained at the stadium waiting for some news regarding just what occurred.
Once in the dungeon, Harry expected to be taken to Snape's office or at least the potion classroom. Instead, they were walking toward where Harry knew the Slytherin house was located. They were about to take the last turn when Snape suddenly stopped in front of an empty wall. He pressed a closed fist to a barely noticeable hole and Harry (with his super-powered eyes) noticed that a small silver ring was glistering on the professor's hand. Since when did Snape wear a ring?
The wall in front of them folded into itself, revealing a stairway leading lower down. Snape took the lead without a word. Harry was about to say something, but Snape's glare told him to stay silent. As the teen took the first few steps, the wall behind him closed leaving him in darkness beyond the green fire that covered him still.
The short walk led them to a small, but very comfy-looking room.
"Take a seat, Potter."
"Aren't you afraid I will burn something?" Harry glared at his professor, having no idea what was going on. He had enough. So far, he was curious and clung to hope that he would get some answers.
"This room is indestructible. Not even Voldemort would be able to mess with it. No sound, thought, or even magic can leave it. No tracking spell, no scrying ritual, not even a bloody God would find out what is going in this room. You can freely sit and speak. We will not be overheard." Snape turned his back to Harry and started to browse through the chest of drawers that stood in the room. Besides the couch and the cupboard, there was a green leather armchair, a low table between it and the couch, and a small bookcase next to the larger seating furniture.
Harry reluctantly sat on the couch, only to find it really comfortable.
A tray with two teacups and a teapot was placed on the table, along with a plate of cookies. Snape took a seat in the armchair and bit into one of the cookies. Reluctantly, Harry took one of the teacups and smelled it.
"Earl Grey." Snape sighed. "Potter. At the moment, I am perhaps the only one who is on your side." That exclamation surprised Harry. Snape? On his side? That was not something he expected.
"What is this place?" The teen asked a serious question.
"Tell me, Potter, what kind of people end in Slytherin?" Snape paused, but he received no answer. Harry didn't want to immediately tell evil, but to be fair he had little idea of actual requirements. Only that hat wanted him there. "One must belong to at least one of the categories. The core were and are pureblooded bigots, who end up there for their own safety as well as the rest of the castle. Then there are those incredibly ambitious, who want to reach the stars and beyond. Finally, there are those who are more cunning than most. Who will do anything to survive. Now, remember that the Sorting happens when you are eleven. So the last category should not be too common. And in a perfect world, it wouldn't be. Very few are born cunning. They become cunning in their short life."
Harry suddenly got the message. Cunningness like that was forged in fire. He knew it better than many.
"But what about this room."
"Salazar Slytherin was as cunning as he was ambitious. He was also a realist. He knew the real world and what kind of people would come to his house. He made this room so that he or his successors could safely discuss sensitive matters with their charges. With each new head of Slytherin, more and more wards and protections were added to this ancient chamber. I myself applied a special lotion to all furniture that would ensure that any mind-altering potions were nullified the moment someone touched them. The same is on the doors and the key."
"So we can speak freely and nothing will leave this room?" Harry asked, to clarify.
"Did I stutter, Potter?"
"No. I just… I wanted you to state it. For that matter, you did not answer my question." The teen glared at his professor.
"Clever, Potter. Yes, everything we say in this room is private and will not be disclosed without your explicit permission. Now… you live with your aunt, correct?"
"Yes?" Harry once more had no idea where the discussion was going, but he was slowly catching up on how Snape worked. He didn't give answers. He expected him to figure it out himself. "What does it have to do with the fact that I am a giant flaming chicken?"
"You exhibit traits exclusive to phoenixes. It's not 'flaming chicken', as you eloquently called it. As for what it has to do with it, are you aware of what quirks are?"
Suddenly, Harry understood. Contrary to what people believed, he was not a total idiot. He often dumbed down his work and hid his potential. He didn't shine, but he always passed with minimum effort. He didn't apply himself, but when push came to shove, he was always able to do whatever he had to in order to survive.
"From your expression, I can tell that you guessed where I am going. Yes, you possess a quirk."
"But… can wizards even have a quirk?" That was something that always bothered him but no book mentioned it.
"For the longest time, it was believed to be impossible. Even during the Grindelwald War, or what muggles refer to as the Great Quirk War, wizards and quirk users were considered separate sub-species of homo sapiens: Homo Magicus and Homo Superior respectively. But in reality, one can possess both magic and a Quirk. Like you. Or like me."
That revelation hit Harry like a speeding hippogriff on steroids. Snape had a quirk? He was perfectly aware that on the muggle side of things, having a quirk was pretty much a one-way ticket to villainy or prison. The limitation put on people in quirks in Britain and the rest of Europe made it near-impossible to find honest employment or even to function in society. People with quirks were under various sanctions that ensured that they would not be a part of society, which made most of them turn to villainy. This in turn only reinforced the need for segregation and persecution of those with quirks.
"What… what does it mean in the wizarding world?" He finally asked his professor. "I didn't find any books on quirks. Not…" He wondered for a moment whether to reveal a certain tidbit of information. In the end, he decided that if they were to get anyway with this, he had to trust the professor. "Not even in the restricted section."
"I wouldn't expect you to. Not if you looked for it like most muggle-borns do. According to the ministry, Quirk users are dark creatures, along the lines of vampires and werewolves. And even then, they do not teach about them. In fifth-year muggle studies, there are basics of what an average muggle knows about quirks. Beyond that, it's almost a taboo subject. Something that is not discussed. European wizards like to pretend that quirks changed nothing. That the wizarding world is still a secret." Snape sneered. "As if those bastards could maintain the secret after cameras became popular."
"Wait, the wizarding world is not a secret?"
"The secrecy act has more holes in it than actual matter. Wizards don't know how to deal with cameras so they just obliviate everyone who they get their hands on and pretend nothing happened. Muggle governments do their best to support their agenda in exchange for concessions, but we are straying from the subject, Potter. I did not bring you here for remedial history classes."
"Right. What am I supposed to do now?" Harry asked, looking at his professor. It wasn't like he asked for a bloody lecture anyway. Snape started to actually take his role as a teacher to heart at the worst possible moment.
"Well, today I hope to teach you how to control the quirk enough so you can attend classes. The botched potion excuse should buy you enough time to get a grip on your power. Since you did not exhibit something like that during childhood, it is not Heteromorphic. It appears to be a transformation-type quirk with a yet-unknown trigger."
Harry scoured his memory for any useful bit of information. He didn't know much about quirks, but he wasn't totally ignorant. He knew who All Might was, thank you very much.
"Does the fact that I have phoenix tears and basilisk venom in me might have something to do with this?"
"Idiot. It quite likely has everything to do with it. You shouldn't have either of those in your blood permanently. Basilisk venom should've killed you years ago. Phoenix's tears would save you from pain, but you'd still die sooner or later. The fact that you have both is a quirk factor."
"But… I didn't have them before."
"It is a possibility that you just weren't aware. Did your blood ever cause someone's death? Did you burn anyone with just your touch?"
Harry focused. There was Quirrel, but he burned him with his mother's protection. That's what Dumbledore said. And there was that doctor when he was nine that was found dead after giving him vaccination at school. He was said to have overdosed on some unknown drug, but…
He was also Parsletognue and when he focused, he would swear that Hedwig talked to him. If not directly then at least sent some signals.
"Oh…"
"I assume that you already had some power. Quirks are known to mutate under extreme circumstances. If I am to hazard a guess, I would say that either you were exposed to minimal doses of both shortly after childhood… Bastard!" Snape suddenly leaped to his feet, knocking the table.
"Um…"
"Voldemort. Not long before your birth, he requested me to prepare a poison based on basilisk venom that would be undetectable and have a delayed offset. I used only three drops and had it become active nine hours after consumption. The traitor must've slipped it to your mother. If Dumbledore's phoenix was nearby when it started working, they would've been able to administer the antidote successfully. That would be a chance for both substances to enter your body for the first time. Your quirk was undeveloped back then, so you only absorbed minor traits of both. Then, you came to Hogwarts and you started to push your limits."
"But… But…" Harry really wanted to argue, but what Snape said made perfect sense. "Okay, assuming that this is true, where does it leave me?"
"Until the end of the tournament, you will be hiding your quirk and only use it when no other option is available. What were your plans for the future before the tournament started?"
"I… I didn't really think about it. I guess I considered becoming an Auror. Bill also made Curse Breaking sound cool, but I would have to catch up with a year-and-a-half of ancient runes and arithmancy."
"Both are out for you," Snape informed him in his usual emotionless tone. "Gringotts and the ministry do not accept quirk users. If you even apply, you will be discovered and tossed into Azkaban for not registering. Your career at Hogwarts would be likewise impossible."
"You are here." Harry pointed out.
"I'm Dumbledore's pet death eater. I could get away with murder as long as I remained useful. I'm also a true Slytherin. I know how to play a bad hand to win the game. And how to hide who I really am." The blunt manner in which Snape communicated with the teen was refreshing. He treated him like… well, he was still condescending, but in a more practical manner. He didn't treat him like a kid, but like someone who has to learn. It was also leagues different from his usual behavior.
"So… I have no option?"
"You could live off of your family fortune. It would easily last you several lifetimes. But you would commit suicide by proxy after few months. You would not be able to hide who you are and you are stubborn. You wouldn't go down without a fight, which would end with your death. You could also leave Europe. America is more quirk-friendly. But wizards there are even stricter. They live like a secret cult and never interact with wider society. They aren't even allowed to be seen by muggles. Any slip-up is an automatic death sentence. There…" Snape was about to say something, but Harry interrupted him.
"Just my bloody luck."
"Do not interfere when I am speaking. I was trying to tell you about one more option."
"The other two were to make me realize that it is the only option, right?"
"You aren't a lost cause after all. Good."
"You know, I was almost sorted into Slytherin. If Malfoy wasn't a douchebag I might've allowed it."
"I see." Snape pursed his lips. "Looks like I will have to have a word with Mr. Malfoy regarding his attitude toward others yet again. But your analysis is correct. The last option is to acquire a hero license. It would allow you to circumvent most quirk laws in the muggle world. And you would be protected from Wizarding laws based on the New Secrecy Act ninth amendment."
Harry looked Snape over. "This the loophole you're using. Or rather will use when it is needed."
Severus Snape found himself impressed. It happened roughly once every half a decade or so. He also didn't expect Potter to be the one to honestly impress him.
"Indeed."
"But… how did you hold to…"
"That is not important. After this year, you will need to disappear from Britain anyway. There is no way you will hide your Quirk for almost two years. I can help you. Prepare you. But I will require complete obedience during that time." Snape offered.
"You said it yourself. You're a Slytherin. Just be honest. What will it cost me?" Harry glared at his professor suspiciously.
"Three things. The first is simple enough. You will cut all connections with Weasleys and Granger. They are dragging you down and they are irritating me." The teen already opened his mouth to protest, but Snape's glare shut him up. "Secondly, once you master your transformation, I will want three vials of phoenix tears. They're second only to the philosopher stone when it comes to saving lives. Finally, you will agree to move to Japan with me."
"You're leaving?"
"It is getting harder to stay on top with the changing political winds. Delores Umbridge is pushing for stricter laws that would see me in Azkaban regardless of my hero license. I can take you with me provided you follow my commands."
"I accept." Harry extended his hand.
"Just like that?" His professor quirked an eyebrow. "No questions, no protests, no time to think? Rushing like a stupid Gryffindor again."
"As you said, I only have one option. There might be others, but I wouldn't find them in time. I need help now."
"Good. I will deliver your training regime tomorrow morning, together with the new diet. The latter will be taken care of by house-elves. You will exercise before and after classes. Before sleep, you will do light stretching exercises. I expect you to finish any assignments you get the day they are assigned. In your free time, you will be catching up on muggle subjects, especially hard science like math and physics. On weekends, you will be practicing your quirk under my guidance. To everyone else, this will be remedial potion classes as punishment for your botched potion."
"Do I get a time-turner? I also need to prepare for the whole tournament."
"The second task is at the twenty-fourth of February and involves rescuing a hostage from the center of the Black Lake. On the day of Yuletide, there is a ball where you will be required to open with a dance. The third task is a maze filled with dangerous creatures. You will be approached by Tracey Davis. She will teach you how to dance and in exchange, you will be her date."
"Aren't you… forbidden from telling me most of those?"
"No. I am forbidden to aid you in any way. Learning what's the task is not part of the task. Besides, you could've learned it all by anonymously request the tournament schedule. Davis is a half-blood from Slytherin, narrowing her choices of dates to near zero. She's been practicing ballroom dancing since she was seven. She requested permission to run classes when she learned about the ball, but Dumbledore shot her down."
"If you explained everything during classes, people might've actually learned something."
"Merlin forbids. They would've actually liked me."
"You know, professor, I actually start to like you."
"You will change your mind when we start training, brat," Snape grumbled. He had a reputation to uphold. Potter worming his way into his heart went against that reputation in every way imaginable.
A/N So welcome to my new story. I'm back and I'm writing anew. I have no idea what I'm doing. This story has no plan, only vibes and four scenes that refuse to leave my head. It's still more than I often work with.
A bit of background info: Grindelwald was in the Great Quirk War, not WW2. Wizards are still hiding in Europe and America. In Asia, they've returned to how things were before secrecy mostly. Magic is now an expensive commodity that is heavily regulated. Being a talented wizard is a surefire path to richness. They work on commission. The downside is that commissioning a wizard often requires government permission. Of course, there are those who do not find themself space and join the national Ministry of Magic or law enforcement. Just like with quirk, there are those who shine and those who just glimmer.
