Hello all!
So a friend of mine introduced me to the RWBY series not too long ago…y'all can figure out the rest.
I decided to do a crossover with the Harry Potter series, since I couldn't find that many on any website. This story will follow a slightly altered version of RWBY canon (for obvious reasons).
Post-Deathly Hallows, everything up to the epilogue is canon.
Pairings: Harry x Blake x Yang, Ruby x Weiss
Other tags: Huntsman!Harry, Tsundere!Weiss
Warnings: Lemon in later chapters. Gore, violence, mentions of abuse. I will post additional warnings in the chapters where these are apparent.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I most likely don't own it.
Enjoy!
Remnants of Magic
Chapter One
[Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmaster's Office]
Harry James Potter sighed wearily as he fell into his office chair. A wave of his hand brought a crystal decanter and glass floating over to his desk. After a mind-numbingly long day at the Ministry for Magic, he needed a drink.
Idiots, the lot of them, he thought bitterly. Even after two hundred years, the Ministry was just as corrupt and useless as he remembered it. Hermione had tried everything she could as Minister, but after her passing thirty years ago, the magical government had swiftly returned to its roots.
Of course, the only reason he was even called today, besides being the Headmaster of Hogwarts, was because he was still magical Britain's poster boy. His whole visit consisted of maybe ten minutes of conversation with the current Minister about how alarmingly inadequate his leadership was, and the next hour and a half trying to evade the vultures who just wanted to earn his favor.
He poured a generous helping of Ogden's Finest; he was slightly disappointed that his magic, paired with the Hallows, wouldn't let him get drunk, but he would give it his best shot.
He was just taking a sip when his fireplace flared green, indicating an incoming Floo call. Harry glanced sadly at his glass and sighed. He set the glass down and crossed to the fireplace, taking a pinch of Floo powder from its place on the mantle and tossing it into the flames. "Potter," he said.
The fire seemed to twist in on itself before a face emerged in the flames: Emilie Bones, great-granddaughter of Susan Bones, and the current head of the Auror Corps.
"Yo, boss," she said happily.
Harry sighed. "For the millionth time, I'm not your boss anymore," he replied. Her bubbly, outgoing (and if he was being honest, obnoxious) personality was the last thing he wanted right now. "What is it?"
Emilie's face fell into a pensive frown. "You remember the Browning case?"
Harry thought back. "Vaguely. Guy was kidnapping Muggleborns and planning on selling them to the highest bidder, right?" That had been a fun takedown. It was hilarious how Wizarding homes were warded against magical entry, but didn't have protection against someone kicking the door in.
"That's the one," replied Emilie. "My team and I were searching the property, and we found…well, you'd better see for yourself."
Harry hung his head and groaned. So much for his evening off. "Alright, let me get ready." With that, he ended the call and made his way to his private quarters.
His twelve-compartment trunk was kicked open, and with a wave of his hand his gear came flying out: magic-suppressing handcuffs, armor made from interwoven dragon and basilisk skin (the monster in the Chamber of Secrets was a veritable treasure trove), and a wand holster flew around before settling in their proper places on his person.
After a moment's thought, he waved his hand again and out flew a Glock semiautomatic handgun. Shield charms were versatile, but a bullet would shatter them like glass. He loaded the firearm and slipped it into a holster, which went on his belt. Extra magazines went in his pocket.
Finally, he opened the last compartment. Inside lay a single wand, a ring with a cracked stone set in it, and a folded, silvery cloth; the Deathly Hallows.
He carefully picked them up, holding them reverently. After a moment, he slipped the ring on his finger. The Elder Wand went in the holster on his wrist, and he swept the cloak around himself, wearing it as a silver cape/hood combo.
Satisfied with his appearance, he turned on the spot and Disapparated.
He reappeared outside of a three-story, Victorian-style mansion. Emilie was leaning against the front gate, and she straightened when he approached.
"Glad you could make it, boss," she said, falling into step beside Harry.
"What are we dealing with?" he asked.
Emilie frowned. "That's the thing, none of us can make heads or tails of it. It looks like some sort of ritual chamber, but we don't know what for."
"Did you contact the Department of Mysteries?"
Emilie scoffed. "After the snafu last time? We thought it would be better to call you first."
Harry conceded the point. "Alright then, let's see what you've got."
The ritual chamber was situated in the basement. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all smooth stone, lined by torches. In the center of the room was a large runic array, drawn with a silvery substance Harry immediately identified as unicorn blood. Aurors were moving through the room, taking notes and photographs of every piece of evidence they could find.
Emilie and Harry stopped at the edge of the array. "What do you think, boss?" asked Emilie.
Harry knelt and studied the array closely. "It's not like anything I've ever seen," he admitted. "But the fact that he used unicorn blood doesn't mean anything good." Only the Darkest and most depraved rituals called for unicorn blood.
"Oi, I think I've got something here!" cried one of the Aurors. He had his arm up to the elbow in a small jar–clear evidence of an Undetectable Expansion Charm. When he couldn't grasp whatever was inside, he pulled his arm out and upturned the jar. A long, spiraling horn fell to the ground and rolled away. Harry's eyes widened in fear.
"Erumpent horn!" he shouted, diving away from the extremely volatile artifact. The other Aurors quickly followed suit, and Harry wandlessly brought up a Shield Charm.
The Erumpent horn exploded violently, tearing the far wall to pieces. Rocks, torches, and dirt flew everywhere, impacting the Shield Charm with tremendous force. As the last few pieces fell to the ground, Harry cancelled the charm. "Is everyone alright?" he called, his own voice muffled to his ringing ears.
A glow drew his attention downwards. In his haste to avoid the explosion, he had landed right in the center of the array, which was now glowing a bright silver.
Harry's eyes widened. "Oh, shi–!"
His world was consumed in light, and he knew no more.
[Break]
Harry awoke with a groan. He opened his eyes, expecting to find himself in the basement ritual room. Instead, he found he was back at the ethereal King's Cross station, where he'd met the spirit of Albus Dumbledore and made the decision to go back and defeat Voldemort.
"Hello, Harry Potter."
The voice startled Harry; he leapt to his feet, wand in one hand and pistol in the other, and aimed both at the buxom redhead that had spoken. Her black dress hugged her curves almost obscenely, drawing extra attention to her shapely hips and impressive bust.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" he demanded.
The woman seemed amused. "Really, Master? You don't know who I am?" She giggled softly. "Think for a moment. You're holding one of my artifacts."
Harry stared at the woman before something clicked in his brain. "Death?"
The woman grinned. "Indeed."
Harry slowly replaced his weapons. "No offence, but why exactly am I here?" he asked.
Death looked confused. "Well it's obvious, isn't it? You died," she said matter-of-factly.
Harry gaped. "Beg pardon?" he croaked out.
"That array you activated was a special runic symbol that invoked my power," Death explained. "Call it an area-of-effect Avada Kedavra."
Harry stood in silence. He was dead. D-E-A-D, dead. No replays, no extra life, no Horcrux to give him a choice in the matter.
"So does that mean…my team...?"
"Your friends managed to make it out of the array before it activated. They're fine."
Harry sighed. "That's something, I suppose…" he muttered.
Death observed her champion with interest. She had, of course, seen his entire life through his memories –being a primordial deity had its perks–and she could say without question that Harry James Potter was the most unusual of all those who had met her. Usually, people would be panicking, begging to go back, raging at the unfairness of it all, or attempting to bargain with her.
"So, I guess this is it then?" asked Harry, oblivious to Death's internal musings.
Hmm…maybe.
"…Not necessarily."
Harry's head shot up. "Huh?"
Death smiled at her champion. "While it is true that you have passed on from the Wizarding world, I believe your accomplishments are worthy of merit. You reunited my Hallows." As she spoke, the Hallows vanished from their places on Harry's person and reappeared over Death's outstretched hand.
"And you have defeated the one who thought he could evade me with his pitiful attempt at immortality," Death finished. "In light of your deeds, Master, I will offer you a choice."
"A choice?" Harry parroted. He was very confused. First, Death herself tells him he's kicked the proverbial bucket, and now this?
"Indeed. I cannot send you back to the Wizarding world, as that would be a violation of the very laws of nature–even I can't change those," Death explained. "However…I could send you to live your life in peace in another dimension."
Harry was having trouble wrapping his head around what Death was saying. He had a chance to live again, but in another dimension? "What would I have to do?" he asked.
Death held out her hand. Black particles swirled above it before solidifying into what looked like a flatscreen TV. The image of a planet similar to Earth appeared, but there were a few differences. For one, the continents were arranged differently, but the most obvious feature was the shattered moon.
"This is Remnant. This is where you will be going if you so choose," said Death. "But be warned: the planet is infested with monsters known as Creatures of Grimm. They are soulless beasts that have intense hatred for everything except themselves."
The image shifted to show a black-haired man wielding a large sword battling one of the aforementioned beasts. Suddenly, the sword's handle extended and the blade split into segments before rotating, turning into a scythe, which the man used to bisect the creature vertically.
"Huntsmen and Huntresses are people who hunt down and eliminate these creatures," Death continued. "It is their job to protect the innocent…something I believe you are familiar with."
Oh yes, his "saving-people thing", as Hermione aptly put it.
"If you choose this path, you will be given the opportunity to become a Huntsman. I will grant you the skills and weapons you need to succeed, but that will be the last of our interactions until you die for good." Death smiled. "So, Master, what will you choose? Will you move on? Or will you take this opportunity?"
Harry thought about it for all of ten seconds. "I'll do it."
Death smiled and nodded. "Very well. Hold still."
And with that, she poked him in the forehead, right on his scar. Harry couldn't even open his mouth before he collapsed.
[Break]
Qrow Branwen sighed happily as he fished a hip flask from his pocket.
Yes, it was only ten-thirty in the morning, but hey, it's five o'clock somewhere.
He relished the burn of the whiskey as he took a long gulp. Some may say he was an alcoholic, but he disagreed; he was an alcohol enthusiast. There is a difference, at least to him.
He let out a satisfied belch as he replaced the flask–nothing like a little help from Jim, Jack, and Jameson to take the edge off a long day. He was looking forward to his afternoon siesta. Not even noon and already dealing with five Ursai Major and a Nevermore? He didn't sign up for that.
…Well, maybe he did, but he didn't have to like it.
His dreams of a peaceful day were suddenly shattered when an explosion knocked him off his feet. He hit the ground hard on his back, driving the air from his lungs with a startled gasp.
For a moment, he lay where he landed, dry heaving, trying to get air back into his empty lungs. After proper breathing was established, he slowly clambered to his feet, brandishing Harbinger in its sword form, ready to meet any attack.
When nothing came at him, he took a look around curiously. There, roughly ten feet from where he'd been standing, was an unconscious teenage boy.
'What the actual…' Qrow thought, slowly making his way over to the teen. A gentle nudge with his boot confirmed it: the kid was out cold.
The kid was dressed in a gray button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled back, black jeans, and black combat boots. A silver hooded cloak was fastened around his neck. Beside him lay a black, rectangular object, undoubtedly his weapon. Oddly enough, it looked similar to his niece's Crescent Rose.
He stared for a few more moments. Finally, he reached down and hoisted the kid onto his shoulder.
He had a long trip ahead of him.
[Break]
Taiyang Xiao Long sighed through his nose, massaging his temples as he tried to stave off the migraine. "Let me get this straight," he said, trying and failing to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "You were just hanging out on a mission, minding your own business, and then there was and explosion."
"Yup," said Qrow, who was relaxing in an armchair while Taiyang paced the living room.
"And at the center of said explosion, you found him." Taiyang pointed at the black-haired boy, who was currently sleeping on the couch.
"Mm-hmm."
"And you decided, 'Oh, Taiyang can help!', and hauled him all the way here without so much as a by-your-leave?"
"Sounds about right," said Qrow, putting his boots on the coffee table without a care in the world.
Taiyang felt like grabbing the other man's flask and beating him to death with it, but that probably wouldn't set a good example for the kids. "So, ignoring the blatant disregard for your mission–for now, rest assured Ozpin will be hearing about it–what possessed you to bring him here, as opposed to, say, Beacon? You know, where they have actual medical facilities?!"
Qrow grimaced and put a finger in his ear. "Yeesh, could you be any louder? I don't think they heard you in Atlas," he complained.
"I'm about to kick your ass to Atlas and back if you don't start explaining…now!" snapped Taiyang. There was only so much of Qrow he could take, and that pot was dangerously close to overflowing.
"Settle down, will ya? You were the first person I thought of. Sue me," Qrow griped, his own patience starting to wear thin. "Besides, don't you think it's time that Ruby made some friends other than her sister?"
"Okay, first of all, leave my children out of this. Second of all, that still doesn't explain why you dragged this kid all the way here!"
"I don't know!" shouted Qrow, leaping up from the armchair. "I have absolutely no idea why! Okay?! It's just a feeling I had, so get off my case!"
Taiyang leaned back in shock; it usually took quite a bit to get Qrow so worked up, even if he had been drinking like a fish since he woke up.
Qrow collapsed back in the chair and pulled out his flask, holding it out to Taiyang in offering. After a moment's hesitation, Taiyang took it and took a swig, grimacing at the burning sensation. "So what now?" he asked as he handed the flask back.
"Fuck if I know," mumbled Qrow, peering into the flask, then downing the entire thing in two gulps. The empty flask fell to the floor.
Taiyang grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it so he was sitting across from Qrow. "You said you had a feeling. What kind of feeling? Good? Bad?" he asked. With the exception of antagonizing Atlas at every opportunity, Qrow rarely did things without good reason.
"I dunno," slurred the drunk Huntsman. "I just looked at him, and I got this feelin' he might be important somehow."
Well, that wasn't helpful at all. Taiyang sighed and stood. "Get some rest, Qrow," he said. "I'll let you know when he wakes up."
All he got in return was a lazy wave before Qrow passed out.
Taiyang just shook his head and left the room, heading outside. The flower beds outside needed some work.
And that's a wrap for this chapter! Let me know what you think!