Grimm New World

Italics indicate spells and thoughts


What…what happened?

Harry sat up, sheets spilling over the semi-comfortable bed he was lying on. His thoughts felt sluggish, vision hazy and his remembrance of past events murky, as if he had just woken from a deep sleep. The room was a soothing beige colour, the curtains drawn tight, only a sliver of light peeking through. Harry slowly got up, noting with surprise his unfamiliar clothes – a quite hideous onesie, for some reason?

His memory felt foggy, confused, like someone had cast an Obliviate spell upon him. He felt deep anguish and grief, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what for! It was a strange feeling and trying to think back just made his head throb.

On his tableside, there was a glass of water, which he eagerly gulped down, easing the pain of his parched throat. Some kind of electronic device buzzed once next to it, before falling inanimate again. Harry picked it up cautiously, turning it over. It had a large, flat screen, of the like Harry had never seen before. The newest technology he remembered his cousin Dudley crowing about was one of those phones where you could play a game with a small snake. On the screen, a single message flashed, Harry squinting hard to read it.

R: The transcripts have been approved. You're going to Beacon, kiddo. Don't forget your debts, or we'll remind you of them.

Where's Beacon? What transcripts? What 'debts'? Who's 'R'?

Harry read it through twice, forehead scrunched in incomprehension, trying to understand what the message meant. He tried to click on the message but was instead directed to a password. Growling in frustration, he set the device back down on the tablet and went to the window.

With not a second of hesitation, he threw the curtains open, the light momentarily dazzling him.

"This…this isn't Hogwarts."

A bustling city was before his eyes, stone architecture like so many other cities. The afternoon sun burnt brightly in the sky, people bustling to and fro. Cars moved up and down the street, people chatted and laughed, a yellow-orange motorbike roaring past as Harry looked out through the window. Was he in London?

Turning away, Harry took off his onesie, opening a wooden closet to try to find some clothes. Distracted as he fumbled through the dark closet, sweeping aside different clothes to try to find some suitable for him, Harry froze suddenly when he saw the mirror on the backboard of the closet.

"Who…who am I?!"

Messy black hair, the famous lightning scar and emerald-green eyes had been replaced by a mop of blonde hair and dark blue eyes. Harry was wearing a completely different face, a completely different body! He gaped in astonishment, patting himself over as he tried to work out what was going on. Picking up the Elder Wand, he readied himself in front of the mirror, preparing to cast a spell.

"Finite Incantatem!" He yelled, heart thudding as he waited for the features to melt away, freeing him from this nightmare.

Nothing happened.

Harry staggered backwards, settling himself on the bed. As he did so, an object fell to the ground, making a great clanging noise. Harry didn't bother to find out what it was, content to stare vacantly into the distance, hand tugging through his now-blonde hair.

Question swirled through his mind, all those which he could not answer.

Where am I? Who am I? What happened? Who's R? Where are my friends-

"Oh."

It was a small sound, lightly uttered, yet the heartbreak inside was unmistakable. Harry folded inwards, nails forming crescents on his palms as he finally remembered the events that had happened before he woke up.

Ron and Hermione died…I was trying to bring them back …but the Resurrection Stone…

Harry stood slowly, still holding the Elder Wand in one hand. With small, almost pained movements, he surveyed the room again, only the smallest ember of hope remaining…

There was no sign of the Resurrection Stone.

What was the point? Free from the choking horror of a near-death experience with Voldemort and watching his friends die in front of him, Harry was able to view his actions a little more clearly. Even if he could revive his friends, what would it be for? They would appear like shades before him, barely alive, and Harry would find no resolution there.

But still…they would do it for me…they would do whatever it took…

Harry grimaced, disliking of where that train of thought was leading him. In the end, he had to admit that Dumbledore had been right in his warnings, much to his reluctance. Merlin, but the fury that he had felt was still simmering, fed by his grief and rage…

Harry shook his head, trying his best to dispel such thoughts and feelings. Kneeling to the ground, he picked up the item that had made such a racket on the floor before his flashback. It was a long, thin sword, embossed with a brilliant blue handle and an ornate golden cross-guard. Altogether, it was a stunning weapon, beautiful in its simplicity. Harry handled it gently, the sword giving him the same feel as Gryffindor's sword; one of great history and tradition. He noticed a sheath beside the sword and tried to pick it up.

"AH!"

The sheath transformed as soon as Harry handled it, turning into a white shield, which Harry hastily dropped, letting it bounce and crash into several other objects. Having made another loud noise, Harry winced, wondering if anybody was going to come in to investigate the disturbance. Fortunately, nobody bothered to do so, and Harry cautiously approached the shield, looking over it with wonder.

Is this some kind of new technology? A sword that can turn into a shield? That's the kind of stuff you hear about in fantasy books!

Gently, Harry felt over the shield, before his fingers brushed against a small button, which he pressed, and voila! The shield was once again a sheath.


After that minor mishap, Harry left the small room, outfitted in new clothes he found in the closet – a pair of jeans and a plain black hoodie. Every time he looked in the mirror, it was a shock to the system to see a completely different face staring back. A smidge of baby fat still filled out the cheeks, giving a naïve and youthful appearance. The blue eyes reminded him of Dumbledore's, a resemblance he certainly didn't appreciate.

Taking the electronic device with him and fixing the sheath with the sword within onto his hip, Harry descended downwards, noting that he seemed to be in an inn. Reaching the ground floor, he exchanged muttered pleasantries with a seemingly hungover man, eyes severely bloodshot – Harry reflecting to himself that they had almost looked red in the artificial light of the corridor.

He stepped out of the inn, breathing in deeply the warm fresh air with relish. As he had previously surmised, the buildings were low built, made of brick and marble, very much like London as Harry remembered it. Harry quickly walked into a small alleyway, taking out his wand and muttering a spell.

"Point-Me Leaky Cauldron." He said, trying to find his way to Diagon Alley, where he knew he could find other wizards and witches. The wand remained in his palm, unmoving, frustrating Harry as another simple command failed to work.

"Does this wand work at all?" He muttered to himself, eyeing it with slight distrust.

"Avis" Harry casted, and within a moment a flock of birds were circling in the air, their tweets like music to Harry's ear. Harry smiled bittersweetly, mind immediately cast back to when Hermione had cast the same spell, what felt like so long ago. Reminded of his dearest friends, Harry's smile faded, replaced by slightly gritted teeth.

He attempted to use the Point-Me spell again, and once again it failed to work. Harry paced slightly, unable to understand why such a simple command had no result. Leaving the alleyway, he looked around, noting that the Sun was beginning to set in the sky, reddish glow leaving pink trails in the sky.

I need to find somewhere to sleep…but I don't have any money…

While Harry was looking around, he noticed a girl walking on the street. She was wearing a black-buttoned vest with coattails, white shorts, black heeled boots and purple leggings. Interestingly, she had a large black bow on the top of her head, a startling fashion statement. She stood out so much compared to everybody else that Harry immediately identified her as a witch.

She must be…who dresses like that in London?

Harry crossed the street to get to her, tapping her on the shoulder lightly.

"Excuse me." He said politely, making her turn around slowly. She had amber eyes, something Harry had only ever seen on Madam Hooch, the Quidditch instructor.

Yep. Definitely a witch.

The girl seemed nervous, twitchy even, under his gaze. Her luminescent eyes were darting this way and that, as if she was worried about getting caught or something.

Nah, that's stupid. She's probably just wondering who I am.

"Yes?" She replied, voice cold and smooth.

"I was wondering if you knew where we are? You see, I'm trying to get to the Leaky Dungeon, but my wand doesn't seem to be working." Harry explained, expecting her to know what he was talking about.

"The…Leaky Dungeon? Your…wand? I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about. Is this some kind of joke?" The girl spluttered, caught off guard.

Harry stopped, confused.

"You're not a witch?" He said, running a hand through his blonde hair anxiously.

"A WITCH! Who do you think you are?!" The girl exclaimed angrily; previously aloof expression replaced with a furious one.

Harry paused, realising how offensive his words may sound to a muggle. Understanding his blatant error, he tried a different line of enquiry.

"My name is Harry Potter," a brief look at her face showed no recognition, (definitely a muggle, although with his current features Harry supposed he would be hard-pressed to prove he was Harry Potter anyway), following up by asking, "What's your name?".

"I'm…Blake." She replied slowly, inching away from Harry. After a brief moment's silence, she fully turned around and started walking away. Harry grimaced, knowing he hadn't made that great an impression.

"Wait! Do you know where we are?" Harry shouted after Blake, repeating his earlier question. Blake turned around slightly, a baffled expression on her face.

"You don't know where we are? We're in the centre of Vale!" She replied, quickly running away from the lunatic with the blonde hair and blue eyes.

Harry was left standing on the street, people passing him by.

Vale?

Being left with even more questions was a bitter pill to swallow. At least he knew he wasn't in London, probably the reason why the Point-Me spell wasn't working. The sun had almost fully set, and Harry set off in pursuit of finding answers to all his burning questions.

Harry walked briskly, trying to find an establishment that he could enter for the night, unwilling to disturb anymore passing pedestrians after his disaster with…uh…Blake? Finally, after street on street of repeating houses, he found a sign saying, quite simply, The Club. He entered cautiously, not knowing what kind of place he was in, with the ambiguity of the sign.


It was an extremely large room, with a DJ stand by the back and a large dance floor in front of it. There was a circular bar in the middle, giving the impression that this was like a pub Harry had once been in with the Dursleys for a special event. (They hadn't wanted to take him, but Mrs Figg had been ill that night).

However, there looked like there had been a great disturbance in 'The Club'. Chairs and tables were strewn around, mostly in pieces, as if a tornado had swept through. Shattered glass was everywhere, Harry wincing slightly as he heard the soft tinkling noise as he stepped over some. Men in black suits with red ties and glasses were doing their best to clear it up, brooms hard at work.

Harry moved quietly over to the bar at the centre of the room, where three injured people were sitting gingerly. A pair of twin girls were sitting next to each other, both sporting cut lips and horrifically bruised faces. Harry couldn't help but remember the crowds of Hogwarts students after the battle, all having similar conditions. Next to them, there was a man, black suit and waistcoat, red glasses on. However, unlike the other men sweeping the glass away, he exuded an aura of authority.

"What happened here?" Harry asked quietly, tensing slightly as all three looked over at him. There was silence for small while, the sweeping away of the glass and rubble the only noise.

"Why are you back here, kid?" The man muttered, evidently hostile.

Back?

"I've been here before? Who are you?" Harry asked urgently, prioritising this before any other questions he had.

The man looked at him tiredly, as if he could see right through him. With a small sigh, he chuckled bitterly and leaned forward towards Harry, pinning him with a dark, defeated stare.

"I'm Junior, but you already knew that. It's not gonna work, kid. He's gonna come to collect on those debts someday. Claiming amnesia won't stop him."

"Who?" Harry asked, knowing the answers were so close but just out of reach. In response, 'Junior' chuckled again and refused to answer.

Harry sighed, unwilling to use force to get his answers…yet. He tried a different tactic instead.

"What's my name?" He asked, needing to know whose body he stole.

Junior looked at him with an incredulous stare, obviously unbelieving of his professed amnesia. One of the twins – the one with the red, tattered dress on, eventually replied.

"The name's Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls of the tongue, ladies love it." She sung mockingly, like she was laughing at an inside joke that Harry wasn't in on.

Jaune Arc?

Harry shook his head, knowing he had to move on to another question before they got bored of him and kicked him out of the place. Their hostility was already rising, slowly but surely.

"Where am I?" He asked, desperation clear in every syllable of his speech. Junior snorted in exasperation, standing up and walking away before Harry could say anything else. It was only him and the twins now.

"Vale." One of them responded, bored.

Harry grimaced – it was the same answer Blake had given him. Useless.

"Where's Vale?"

The twins fixed him with an unamused glare, hands straying in synchrony towards their side, where Harry noticed they both had small swords. Harry tensed further, taking a small step back and holding his wand tightly.

"We don't want to fight again tonight, but you're becoming a nuisance." They said together, both standing up.

Harry gritted his teeth, aware that he couldn't afford to back down at this point.

"Just answer…and I'll leave." He prodded, shuffling backwards, preparing for a quick exit.

One of the twins started forward suddenly, sword half unsheathed, making a rasping hiss. Harry raised his wand, ready to start throwing spells around, but the other twin stopped her from continuing.

"She said that too, before she beat us up." The attacking twin revealed, bright green eyes livid.

"Who?" Harry asked, aware that he had too many questions, and they couldn't all be answered.

"Doesn't matter. We don't want to start anything else. You're in the Kingdom of Vale, Arc, in the land of Remnant. I don't know what else you want to know." The other twin said, every word dripping of annoyance that Harry was still there.

So, so much more. But I have to be careful here, I don't want to get the muggle police or foreign aurors involved. At least I know I'm not in England anymore. Where in Merlin is Remnant?!

"Thank you." Harry said quietly, leaving the bar, feeling the hostile eyes watching him go.

Harry stepped outside, hissing slightly as the cool chill of the night assaulted his senses. His breath turned to steam in front of his eyes, finding a small, rusted bench to sit down on as he tried to sort his way through the puzzle that had emerged as soon as he had woken up in that beige room.

Who's R? Who's Jaune Arc? Where's Remnant? Where's Beacon? What debts do I owe?

…why am I here?

Harry tipped his head up, looking at the night sky. When he was younger, he had often stared into the night sky, gazing up and wondering what was out there, if anything was watching over him. The stars were bright, twinkling away, beacons of hope and beauty in a bleak universe.

Although the stars were brilliant, Harry had always preferred the Moon, with its luminescent radiance and…perfect…circular…shape…

What happened to the moon!

Harry blinked, rubbing his eyes before looking at the moon again. Just as before, a large portion of the right half was fragmented, pieces floating disjointed, seemingly held together by the moon's gravitational force. It might have been fantastical, laughable, except…it wasn't. It was terrifying.

Harry's arms felt weak, bile rising up his throat as he tried to understand the implications. His vision blurred, eyes starting to glow dangerously as he processed the moon. Small objects all around him started to shake and lift slightly, a testament to his suppressed magical power. The last he remembered, the moon was still perfectly whole, so did that mean he was in the future…or another world?

There was a ringing noise in Harry's ear, the rusted bench making a sharp screeching sound as the metal warped around Harry's fingers where he was tightly clenching it. The ringing was getting louder, louder, louder and the wind picked up, a strong breeze lifting the leaves underneath the giant skeletal tree, a giant shadow looming over…

Harry blinked.

There was no skeletal tree. There was no shadow. All that was in front of him was some leaves settling to the ground, sticks and stones making soft thumping noises as they settled back into the ground. Harry looked at his hands, baffled by the power he now seemed to hold within him. He raised his head plaintively, hoping that the moon had been a hallucination. Unfortunately, the same wretched sight greeted him, making his stomach turn, mind spinning with bitter realisations.

I don't think I'll be going home anytime soon…


My second offering. Hope the writing isn't too bad :)

Quick warning: I never finished writing this fic and I'm not sure that fully sure I will. Fingers crossed?

As always, please follow my community The Superiority of Villains, gracias!