by Louis IX
Check first chapter for disclaimer and global warnings. Style is "tourist guide speaking".
Champions as the Crossroad of the MultiversesChapter: Wherein a Champion defects, suffers consequences, and triggers. Obvious crossover in 3… 2… 1…
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
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Welcome to Sol!
We are a small star system on the fringe of our galaxy. Our yellow star bathe four telluric planets, and four gaseous ones.
And we have life! A civilization, even. Look at Sol-gamma, that is, the third planet from our system. An iron core allowing for a space-worthy magnetic shield against most radiation, and a gaseous atmosphere to burn most material comets, it's really an ideal world for carbon-based life. And it's also at the perfect distance from its star for liquid water. A true cradle, of which there are very few in the universe.
Too bad that their current inhabitants don't care about that.
Still… let's have a look. Life has clearly evolved into many species, with only one with true intelligence – some are intelligent but lack the proper appendages or tools to transfer accumulated knowledge to the following generations.
Although can we speak about intelligence when most of the members think about their own comfort first? It's an open debate, so don't throw the towel just yet! Instead, let's have a look at how this species lives.
Apparently, they tend to occupy all the available space on the part of the planet's crust that's above the water level. But not equally. When there is no fertile ground or waterway available, there won't be a great number of them – there might be settlements if the ground contains rare ores or crystals, but nothing more. They call the largest settlements "cities", their race members "humans", and their planet "Earth". Nice, no?
Let's approach our sensor. Since the planet rotates between each of our visits, we use random coordinates for this. Here we are… Oh! I know this one! I have been told that it's their largest civilized city. It's called New York. Let's see...
Oh.
Damn.
That's a big guy. Compared to the others, I mean.
Apparently, the humans have very strong enemies! The beast is ravaging the city! It's really too bad that we are too far to do anything, really. By the way, popcorn is available at the dispenser. Two galactic credits a pop.
Humans seem to have strange abilities, don't they? What a curious race… some have nothing, while others can shoot lasers from their hands.
Impressive.
And they continue to fight against the monster, even though he kills them by the dozen.
And that man, who just appeared, all golden? Ah! Wow! Look at him go at the behemoth! He's the most powerful of the bunch, that's for sure. He must be their supreme leader, or something, no?
Well… the fight is finished, now, and the heroes start licking their wounds while the Golden Man floats away.
Thank you for having visited Sol!
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Quitting is Not an OptionWelcome to Sol!
Oh, I recognize you. It's not your first visit, then? You must be quite interested with our little system. I'll skip the introduction, then, and go straight to the exploration.
Let's roll… there! We are on the northern part of an island, where a castle sits, and many children play… with brooms?
That's unusual. But, at least, they seem to be all able to do the same shtick, by opposition of the ones wearing capes. It's perhaps a cultural thing. Let's approach.
Oh, it seems that the castle is, in fact, a school. And the children with the brooms also learn to move a stick in an elegant fashion too.
Ah!
Strange, I never saw that particular kind of power, before. I mean, we saw New York and their so-called "super-powered" individuals, before. But they all have a different one. Here, they all do the same thing. It's like they have the same power or something.
Well, not with the same ability or result. Look at this one, always goofing off. Or course your powers won't work well, lazy-ass! Sorry, it gets to me when people don't apply themselves. Our institutions of teaching, at least, do things properly.
Next to that one is another, but she's focused, and it works better. Another seems to not pay attention… hey, it still works! I guess they have several differences in their abilities, too, with some getting it quicker than others.
Something sounded, and they all stand up and move somewhere. I guess they have scheduled time periods, right? Or Pavlovian education or something. Let's see what they are doing next. Wow! That's quite a large room. For humans, I mean. I count five hundred individuals, and they are all sitting. And eating. And then… the one with the long beard says something and unveils…
That's a powerful artefact, right there. And its job seems to… shoot paper airplanes? Ah, no, they are just bits of paper, it's the old man who summons them to his hands. And he reads them. And some people stand up, while the others clap. Is it a game?
Wait a second, I think I have an option for this video, to activate subtitles, or even sound. But I won't be able to speak to you at the same time, though. I will just be able to intervene as subtitles.
You want me to activate it? Alright, here it is.
"Harry Potter."
There's that person, the fourth the bearded man called. It's a boy. He's pale. And smaller than the others. Strange, nobody applauds.
"I haven't put my name in the Goblet. You know that, right?"
Apparently, his friends don't believe it.
"Harry Potter, come here please!"
That's the old man, insisting. Apparently, he must do something. What? Stand up and move in some anteroom, it seems.
"What now? Time to come back?"
That's a boy who had been waiting there, with the two others. They are quickly joined by the adults.
"Extraordinary, really. Gents, Ladies, he's our Fourth Champion for our Tri-Wizard Tournament."
Must be an official speaking. He's especially proud of having that "Harry Potter" in the game. Pardon me, the Tournament. Also, I'm sorry, but it appears that the closer we get to the action, the less our sensor is able to accurately transmit information. There are glitches and timeskips aplenty.
"Harry, have you put your name in the Goblet? Have you asked an older student to do so?"
"No!"
Sorry, another timeskip. A longer one, this time. Thankfully, our sensor is attuned to the protagonists. Or, at least, the boy who appears to be in trouble. We are now in an office that seems to be… the old man's. What a clutter.
"Professor, must I compete? Really? I didn't sign anything… could I refuse to participate?"
"You heard the judges, my boy. You are under a magical contract that forces you to compete. If you refuse, you'll lose your magic."
"Why? I mean… if I didn't sign a thing, the Goblet can't target me, right? It must target the person who had put my name, instead. So, if I refuse to compete, I won't be the one losing my magic?"
"You can't know that, Harry!"
"But people have died, in that Tournament! And I saw… the dragons, sir. I don't want to face that. Even if I'm wrong about the Goblet, I'd rather lose my magic than my life."
"Harry! No!"
"I refuse to compete, and that's final! Such is my Vow, so mote it be, et cetera."
Oh. Those people can wave their sticks and make light shows, but I didn't know they could do… that.
By the way, between you and me, they speak of "magic", as if we didn't know that any technology sufficiently advanced- but you know that already, right. Moving on…
Apparently, there was more than the little blue coming from the stick (which they call wand). After speaking, he seems to have created quite a light show. And the old man… cries?
"Harry, my boy… what have you done?"
"Refused to compete, as I said. Guess I was wrong about the Goblet. But, at least, I won't have to compete. You can send me back to the Muggle world, now."
"You lost your magic, Harry, but… I can't let you leave the school. You are a symbol of hope for all wizardkind, Harry. It also means that, as everyone knows that you are a Champion… you'll have to face the dragon."
"What? No!"
"I'm sorry, Harry. It's for the Greater Good."
"Of whom? Not me, that's for sure! No! I said no! Leave me with the Dursleys! At least, with them, I know they loathe me! I just sacrificed my magic to get out and it isn't enough for you? What do you want? Kill me? No! Nooo! NOOOOOO!"
The boy seems to have fallen unconscious after this. I'm not sure, but there are some glitches in the feed… that I have already seen somewhere else. See those? They are shaped like worms. I wonder…
We've seen the witches and wizards of England, and none had "super-powers" like those we have seen in New York – or elsewhere, it was not the first time people had noticed that.
Perhaps it's the same place in their head that holds magic and powers, implying that they can't get both, and those who trigger can't become magic-users. Or vice-versa. Or something. And by losing one, you could get the other?
I could perhaps write that down and submit a paper on the people of Sol-gamma.
At the same time, the line about the "Greater Good" sent chills down my spine. It's the catchphrase of several of the greatest criminals in our own history. Theirs, too.
Sorry if I muted the feed, there, but there was nothing of import. Even later, things are as one would expect: the wizard who lost his magic can't summon a simple spell during his classes, or retaliate when attacked in the corridors.
However, as he goes his way down on the totem pole of that school of magic, without the ability to actually do magic, something does happen. It starts by the spells bullies use to attack him losing their effectiveness faster. And they tire faster.
After that, progressively, the spells do less and less, while their casters become more and more tired – to the point of gasping for breath. Since bullying is quite stupid, those doing it don't extrapolate, and instead press on the attack. Soon, the spells do nothing and are absorbed by his body, as if it was a black hole for magic, while the attackers are left unconscious with a case of magical exhaustion.
Apparently, the Harry Potter boy starts living the maxim "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger". And, if his discussions with his sole remaining friend Hermione is something to go by, it isn't the first time he faced danger.
But he doesn't notice all this. His will seems absent since his Headmaster's betrayal.
New timeskip. Ah… here we are. The boy… versus his dragon. Damn, that's a big one (again, at the human scale).
The boy is whiter than ever, and his steps seem mechanical as he advances towards the arena, towards the dragon. He reaches the limit where burn scars mar the earth and continues walking. He's hypnotized and doesn't even stop when the dragon rears up, inhaling deeply.
And then the maw opens and let forth a gout of fire so hot that it hurts just to look at. The draconic flame engulfs him, and the beast doesn't let go, sensing somehow that its meal wasn't yet cooked to perfection.
The public has started to scream as the boy was walking to his scaly death, and the fiery breath had everyone on their feet. And then, the cries abate, replaced by interrogations and speculations at the scene.
The dragon can't seem to stop spewing fire. It also seems to panic, trying to backpedal away from the still-bright column of fire. But it can't. As if committing to such a definitive attack was like signing a magical contract, the beast is forced to continue. With no way out: as a creature of magic, it couldn't survive without it.
To the surprise of everyone, the dragon starts to lose height and weight at an alarming rate as its body is converted to fuel for the superheated plasma jet. It ends up deflating completely, flat as a balloon.
What a surprise!
Look! The boy is still standing!
And he moves! Well, he's still shrouded in fire, but he moves without problem towards the eggs.
Ah, a bit of timeskip, there. Apparently, he's still in fire while in class. And his egg is melted. However, the girl-Champion seems interested in him, now. Given how her own training focuses on fire (and her invulnerability to it), I guess that there could be some common ground. With the old man's companion bird, too.
However, both are shafted when the second trial of their Tournament happens… in the lake. Not having the clue (because his egg melted), he merely follows the group and ends up on the shore. His steps make the sand vitrify, and the water evaporate. And, slowly, he walks down the slope towards the lake's depths.
Our sensor being underwater, we don't see much. But I can see him throwing fire when attacked by creatures with a certain reach, the hot plasma flash-boiling the water – apparently, Harry's fire is still going strong.
But the target is quite deep in the lake, and all that pressure ends up collapsing the bubble generated by the fire. And then it's smothered. And then the attack of pressure and cold and suffocation by tons of water… starts to be absorbed by the ever-present void in himself.
There was no magic in the attack, and no magic in the response but his power in action: from what we see, we can infer that it will do something each time he's in mortal danger. Here and now, he's "just" absorbing the pressure from around him. And acting as a drain for the whole lake.
Apparently, his outflow is quite impressive, because the people outside start to panic: the shore is receding, and the lake level is lowering. But the drain stops when the pressure allows him to restart his "furnace". It allows him to create more bubbles for the remaining hostage – his. Ron Weasley. Apparently, the old man is more blind that he thought possible. Or, at least, that's what his facial expression let us guess.
The redhead doesn't seem happy to be awakened while still at the bottom of the lake, but Harry can't make the trip towards the surface with him: he can't swim, never having learned how.
Fast-forward, into the Maze: Harry walks through the hedges. They try to pierce his skin, succeed, but they are consumed as they do so and he continues forward. Same with the gravitation trap: he continues walking, ignoring the attack as his power absorbed it.
Oh, the treachery! The Cup at the end was a portkey, and it sends him near Voldemort! But the mental attack is absorbed easily enough. Pettigrew's weak spell, too. But, in the darkness, he doesn't see the hole dug for the grave-robbers to get bones from Voldemort's father. Nor the newcomer on scene, Barty Crouch Jr, who pushes him forward.
"We can't let you go free."
That's the madman speaking, right now, after using a few spells to pack the earth around him.
Hasn't he seen what happens when the boy's surrounded? He absorbs everything! And then he can use it himself. It has taken Harry months to be able to regulate his fire output.
Concentrating on the danger of his situation (or so it seems), Harry heaves… and the earth obeys. And then, fire and water jets materialize around him. Both damaging. Both deadly.
Soon, as he absorb the earth-based "attack" preventing him to move, he can channel his power into earth growing from the soil under his feet. And the Death Eaters on site disappear, buried alive or plainly crushed by the weight.
As for those who thought to get out by walking on the stone pavement instead of the earthen ground… his experience in the lake made him used to the problems related to pressure (and his first "element" too, as it was simply the void, the absence of everything, that absorbed everything thrown at him). It means that applying earth control with added pressured, he could create and manipulate stone. It meant sturdier walls to hide behind, and spikes to erupt from the ground.
On top of that, earth plus water makes mud to immobilize his targets, and earth with fire makes lava. With their spells swallowed by the void that had initially replaced his magical power, his enemies stand no chance.
Timeskip, again. It seems that our sensor has just enough time to catch the boy progressing in his learning about the elemental arts, much like his alchemist of an ancestor tried doing. Now… we are a month or two later.
Harry Potter is in his house… oh, sorry, his uncle's house, and quite miserable. But people knock at the door and walk inside. Many people. They convince him that it's a good idea to escape an incipient attack from what they call "Death Eaters"… by flying brooms over the countryside.
Except him. Despite the fact that he's a good flyer, they let his bookworm friend drive one while he's "protected" in… that. Let me check the local technology. Ah, here: it's called a sidecar. And the big engine with the big guy on it is a motorbike.
And here it is: apparently, the thing had been added as an afterthought, because the axle snaps at the first hard bank, catapulting Harry in the air, in a high-speed course ending (as most of those do) against the unforgiving ground.
"AAAaaahhh!"
Yes, yes, we know. He's frightened. But… see? He seems not to fall as fast as before. Realizing what's happening, he concentrates, and as the ground rushes up to him, his descent turns into a horizontal flight quite suddenly.
"Woohoo!"
We know that, too. But, Harry? Word to the wise (from the wise, actually): don't shout like that when you're surrounded by enemies.
Apparently, the sudden danger doesn't frighten him anymore: between his mastery of the few natural elements that had already tried to kill him (void, fire, water, pressure, plants, earth, air), he could generate concentrated elements, including electricity.
Nobody would ever call him weak ever again. Not a wizard, sure, but not a nobody.
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Tools of FateLet's rewind for a bit. Our "magic" sensor can get images and sound from several places at the same time, despite the fact that it skips moments from time to time.
Since we have other people of interest to follow, let's have a look at what happens with Hermione, while Harry was labouring in the Tournament.
Since he tells her everything, she is able to achieve leaps of logic few could make. You see, the Goblet of Fire is only understood by old people set in their ways, with most of the younger in awe of the thing and not thinking clearly. With a clear mind, a bit of creativity, and quite a grudge, one could go far with such a powerful artefact.
Given that she started doing things like brewing Polyjuice in secret during her first year, she wasn't above creating a duplicate of the Goblet of Fire or ask Harry to pocket it after the Maze… or simply use the thing, at night. Or all of the above.
Apparently, she got a brainwave at some point, and formulated ways to use the goblet against their true enemies. Since she didn't really want them to trigger with elemental powers like Harry, she started with a single name: Bellatrix Black – whom she knew had tortured Neville's parents into insanity. Why? Because she was already in prison, and wouldn't be able to escape if she changed suddenly… or so she hoped.
A few days later, the newspaper carried the information back to her that her plan was successful: the evil witch was dead. Hermione still had to find a paper where the person had written their name voluntarily… but that was quite easy to find in a school of magic where each assignment had to be signed – which is how Harry got enrolled, himself. Especially in their History of Magic classroom: she even found some from Tom Marvolo Riddle, dated 1945.
She thus collected the cup (in her multi-compartment trunk, cleverly disguised as a Muggle suitcase so that purebloods would sneer at it and not think for a second that it might contain their valued artefact), and the autographs of many people she suspected of being Death Eaters... and other criminals.
Thankfully for her plans, only people who hadn't reached their magical maturity could have a Triggering event out of the traumatizing parting of their magic. Adults simply lost theirs – and if old enough in muggle years, senility and/or death would appear immediately.
Because, yes, she ends up ending Dumbledore, too: the man is too focused on the fact that Voldemort might return someday, and impinging on Harry's development at the same time. And then his early career.
Despite succeeding as a young Auror (one with special powers, with more added as he fought against poison, possession, and acid), Harry's fed up and wants to leave the country anyways. So, over another vacation, he goes through the Leaky cauldron to search for a travel agency, with the goal to find himself a place to settle elsewhere in the English-speaking world – it wasn't like he had learned a foreign language, while at Hogwards.
Apparently, the Wizarding "world" has been quite sheltered, in the last thirty years or so. Because the Simurgh attacking London right at that moment took him by surprise. It took everyone by surprise.
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AlchemyHarry tried to help, of course. He was able to use the Void to absorb the sound-based and mental attacks of the massive creature, getting new abilities all along. He was also surprised to find other people with "unusual powers" (not quite magic) trying to push the flying monster away from the heavily-populated metropolis.
After having displayed his powers during the fight, it was quite easy to approach the group of people with capes – they called themselves "capes", too. And ask about things.
Apparently, there were several such capes offering transit opportunities through teleportation. Given his lack of options, now that his house in London was reduced to rubble, he takes the first one that comes, and ends up in Brockton Bay – saw that coming, didn't you?
…in pieces. Apparently, his Void resisted the teleportation effect because it considered that having his body "disintegrated and recreated" was an attack. But like all attacks, he absorbed the attempts and gained something: the ability to teleport by himself.
And, as usual when he gains new powers, he experiments with them. Mixing elements, he had already gained powers over mist and rain, from water and air; electricity and fire gave him plasma; plant and pressure gave him wood.
With the Simurgh's mental attacks, he was able to influence minds, too, spreading excitement (with fire) or apathy (with earth). And now, with the teleportation, he could add effects (or teleport through them) such as entering a "teleportation pond"… or using an explosion of fire at his point of arrival, or departure, or both. Thinking about that, he had a wide smile as he faced the wondering heroes. Because, for obvious reasons, that was going to be his call sign.
"Hi! I'm Phoenix!"
And let it be said that he didn't care that that particular cape name had already been taken, several times even – although, for some reason, most tended to die in a fire, at least half of them self-arsoned. Harry choosing it could be interpreted as if the nickname itself didn't want to die (and, this time, there was a good chance that it would live long… as long as Harry wasn't doing anything improper to that cause). Harry nodded gladly as he repeated his name as introduction when shaking hands with every cape, and it wasn't only because of the obvious link with his previous time in Britain: it was also an indication of what happened when he teleported by using fire. Being invulnerable to the element counted, too.
He was quite proud of having a few abilities attributed to the mythical bird, and was quite distraught when, finally searching something by himself in the library (and learning to use indexes, something the Wizarding World lacked), he found out that there were no other special abilities in the folklore. Apparently, phoenix tears having healing powers, and the rumoured strength in carrying people were both plot devices for his time spent in the Secretive Chamber.
But no matter. "Phoenix" was to be his hero name, not his species or class or whatever.
In his interactions with the various capes, he discovered that there was at least one who could be like him: a wizard – or, to be more exact, an ex-wizard. The man was Myrrdin, and thus taking the only other name he wanted to be called as (Merlin) – because Paracelsus was being quite a mouthful, and Flamel a touchy subject. He even had robes and an archetypal wizard's staff!
So, Harry went to Chicago. And he used his still imprecise-as-hell method of teleportation to do so. He ended up standing on what looked like, for him, futuristic train tracks. And he had just enough time to open the Void for a short moment when he felt, more than heard, the high-speed high-technology locomotive approaching. The Void absorbed most of the blunt damage done to his body, but there was still enough blood splattered on the engine to raise quite the bloody ruckus when the train came to a bloody rest at the bloody station.
And the new immortal alchemist (I told you that Flamel was touchy, right?) was now invulnerable to blunt trauma… and massive blunt trauma.
Myrrdin was uncooperative, but Chevalier told Harry that the self-styled wizard hero wasn't a wizard at all, and was tired of having that question asked at every turn. It was just an image, a copyrighted disguise even, which he was forced to wear… and that others were discouraged to wear. Same as Chevalier with his armour – making medieval history re-enactment professionals quite mad. PR priorities and all that rot.
"But… we had the robe before he did. We have a millennium of history, even." was Harry meagre complaint.
"You'll have to sue the Protectorate." Chevalier replied. "Which I don't advice, personally. After all, we're the United States. Our judges have jurisdiction over things happening all over the world, while you can't do a thing here. We could sue you back and forbid robes in your whole country."
It wasn't even delivered in an aggressive tone, which was even more anger-inducing. The man was just telling the truth as he knew it.
Not wanting to suffer from another collision with a train (it had been painful, that first time), Harry tried to take a plane back. But he had no passport, and even his country of birth didn't have legal documentation on his existence (since only the Muggle side was consulted). He was trapped in the US until he could slip away.
He would, of course, it was just a matter of time. But as he retraced his steps eastwards, he arrived back in Brockton Bay to see scenes of fighting and desolation. Since he had just popped there, some people thought he was hostile to their faction, and attacked.
Blunt force trauma was a thing, but you generally died quickly. Pierced by metal blades from everywhere… that was another thing entirely. Thankfully, the Void was open by reflex as soon as he arrived.
"Metal powers?" he asked himself, surveying the battlefield from up high (where he had teleported as he exited the pincushion). And he was slightly disappointed, as several belligerents were clad in metal. So he resorted to the age-approved method of finding one worthy opponent in a stack of hay: "Eeny, Meanie, Miny… Moo!"
He had pointed, wanting very much to do something even if he knew it wouldn't happen. Still, it happened…
…and Hookwolf found himself transfigured into a cow. It was strange enough for everybody to stop fighting for a while. And the cow, seeing all those stares directing at it, decided that discretion was the better part of… something.
It tried to flee, only to be caught at the edge of town by displaced townspeople – those who inhabited the city block Medhall had replaced, in fact.
They were angry, they were hungry, and they were also… black. Seeing the meat-on-unsteady legs hurrying towards them, they put in place an ingenious trap consisting of… a shotgun discharge in the head. It worked, and the beast was dead, and they cooked it, and they ate it. At some point, some cutlery appeared in the midst of the cooking meat, and they were quite happy as they didn't have knives to cut it in smaller bits – they had used axes to get it into kabob-sized broaches.
Back in the fray, Harry wondered as much as the others… but he soon shrugged: if his magic was now working again (and much better than before, too), it meant that the Goblet of Fire's interdiction only had jurisdiction over Britain. Or Europe – the version including the United Kingdom, at least. Being a subject of the British Magical World™, those geopolitical considerations were out of his understanding and he thought of something else, and more immediate: "Eeny, Meanie, Miny, Moo!"
There were still four people shrouded in metal: the two gigantic Valkyries, one man who did almost nothing but surrounding himself with spikes pointing outwards, and another who simply fought with his fists. That realization (and the spikes) grew just as he was sing-songing, making all four targets point to Kaiser. And Kaiser was transformed into a cow, too.
Note for the novice wizard: when Transfiguring someone who's inside a container, check the container's solidity beforehand. As it was, the metal armour was heavy and thick, only Kaiser's power allowing him to move it effortlessly – seriously, the guy offered Magneto-like vibes… until his bovine happenstance happened, obviously.
As it was, ground steak started pouring out of the armour's only openings: the face, as if the thing was the output of a meat grinder. Under pressure.
"Aaaah! What is this sorcery! I'm burning!" came from one of the female fighters – although the voice was mechanical, the woman not having a voice box. And hair, too. Instead, she had scars. Apparently, she was not only a pit-fighter of the highest degree (if they did degrees down there), but also a vegan. One who had built such a high intolerance to animal products that her skin sizzled under the assault. Soon, a smell of burnt pork permeated everything.
"This is crazy!" another girl exclaimed. Although this one was heard only by Harry, because she had lifted her levitation tool (a slab of asphalt-covered pavement) in an attempt to evade the frantic gestures of the twin giantesses: thinking that they might die the same way, they were quickly removing their armour, without care if they ripped the clothes underneath.
"I know, right!" Harry exclaimed, alighting next to her. He was looking at the thirty-feet high Playboy-worthy models in skimpy underwear. In fact, most of the citizens were watching in rapture (not all of them, because some slept… and a few housewives were occupied with… smacking their husbands up the head).
"I don't know what's happening, but it's quite the spectacle!" Rune continued. Apparently, like those housewives not burning their husbands, she was quite interested, and proceeded to make comparisons. Using her hands. On herself.
Harry saw that the robe was hindering her, so he helped – he had quite the experience in removing wizard robes, and this one wasn't that different. Soon, she wasn't concentrating enough to maintain her lifting power, so the slab of concrete fell. Harry held her in his arms, while keeping their initial altitude, absently noting that the thing slammed into one of the fighters below – one of the few not being captivated by the twin goddesses, who had been trying to fight two of his enemies at the same time. With Krieg splattered, Assault and Battery could stop concentrating on the (possibly gay) Empire member and leave their senses open to the wonders before them. Since they were together, they ended up together too, much like Harry and… "Mein name ist Tammi." she said affectionately, tracing his face.
"How old are you?" he asked suspiciously – those robes she had worn had padding everywhere, and she had lost her mask too. Thankfully, she was still clothed.
"Thirteen, why?"
"Aaaah!" he almost let her go, unheeding of the multi-story fall. Instead, he did the gentlemanly thing (he was British, after all) and let her safely down on the nearest platform… which happened to be Medhall's roof. Where no ladder led, or escape door, or anything. And then he fled the German jailbait.
"Why do I have to stumble upon superstitious men?" the girl asked herself plaintively. "It's as if everyone had triskaidekaphobia!" A pause. "I didn't want to marry my cousin, but at least, in the Herren family, we marry young!"
Decision taken, Rune activated her power and took off, taking with her a bit of Medhall's roof. It meant that, in the next hours, the rain falling on the town would enter straight into the building, flooding the upper floors. Thankfully, nothing important was there: just the CEO's office. And Max Anders had said that he was going out for a "little errand", so nobody cared.
The last time he had said so, he had come back with Kayden Russell, freshly married, and with a little Aster in tow. So the regular people in Medhall didn't question why Kaiser was seen more and more in the news, nor the fact that you never saw the two of them in the same place – for some people, this kind of reasoning was akin to proof.
Harry descended to ground level, and found that the two giantesses had reduced to normal size. "Huh. Convenient." he thought. He wasn't the kind of man to be blinded by their natural beauty… especially in Brute restraints that covered their whole body in chains.
"Who are you?" a woman enquired from behind him, and he whirled around. Too fast, and he ended up making a complete turn on (and fool of) himself. Cautiously, he did the half-turn and met… someone with an American flag in front of her mouth.
"Miss… America?" he asked.
"Militia." she replied, surprised that he didn't know. But he had a foreign accent, so he could be excused. She herself came from abroad, and had had difficulties adapting. Still had, in fact, in some incongruous domains.
"Okay, Militia, what-"
"Miss."
"…what? No! I'm a Mister, myself."
"No. Me."
"…Licia? Alright. So… I'm-"
A sigh.
"Hey, you did cut me! I didn't say Madam, or Missus, right? You introduced yourself as Militia, so I thought-"
"It's Miss. Miss Militia."
"Okay, Miss Miss. Let me-"
"I don't miss!" she exclaimed, lifting her weapon, which was currently transiting into different forms. "I never miss." And she shot what she thought was a warning shot, a small ball of rubber. At low velocity.
What flew out was a banana peel. And its aerodynamic profile being quite different than the rubber ball, it flapped harmlessly besides Harry's head, patted his shoulder on its way, like an old friend, and disappeared in the distance. Rumour has it that Stormtiger slipped on it. As he was flying away, yes.
Harry was a professional, one who didn't appreciate being pelted with pelts. He took the weapon from the hands of Miss-Miss-America-whatever, who… let him. She was too shocked by his professionalism, surely. Or just by the fact that she had missed, he'd never know.
And the weapon changed in his arms. It cycled through several shapes before ending as a… conductor's staff.
"A wand? Nice!" Harry wondered, then used one of the first spells he had learnt – well, since he didn't have matches on him, it would be one of the second spells he had learnt. Or not. After all, he had only spent three years of magical education before becoming something else entirely. So a bit of leeway could be excused. "Locomotor… Leviosa!"
Wand… check. Will… check. Word… well, they clearly identified what he intended to do: he remembered his first year fondly, but the memories were jumbled. So… Wingardium Leviosa to lift a feather, and Locomotor Mortis, which Hermione and Ron had worked on to put Snape in check by immobilizing his legs? Latin words weren't that complicated. So… check.
And Miss Militia was suddenly levitated… by the ankles. Thankfully… or not, she had been lunging to recover her lost weapon, right then, and her hand wrapping around his wand pulled it from his grasp, ending the spell.
Harry wasn't a cad – well, not completely anyways. Seeing the woman in front of him, upside down and starting to fall, he caught her quickly. And then, as he couldn't stop admiring her physique, he wondered aloud. "How old are you?"
"Is it a question to ask a woman?" she asked demurely.
"Let's say that I just got scalded and now I test the waters. Please?"
Having seen him with Rune (and his subsequent flight), she giggled. "Old enough."
In the grand scheme of things, if she could do like Battery and grant the Protectorate a new hero while catching a scoundrel for her own use… she only saw positives. Besides, she had vowed never to miss or lose her weapon, a long time ago… unless it was against her true love.
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Mission ControlHarry wouldn't die. He went and did crazy missions, with or without the faithful Missus Potter next to him, and sometimes met a messy… intermediate point (since it wasn't the end, obviously). But he always came back. Some people on PHO called that action "Respawning", like in video games – and wasn't Harry surprised to find hero-worship (and gossip) like in Britain! Thankfully, it was spread among all the heroes. And some villains, too, because people can't be trusted to all act in the common interest. They are all the same, but all want to be different. Go figure.
Back to Harry and his videogame-addicted fans. To please them somewhat, he created an illusion that showed a few hearts over his head, each time he "respawned", with one blinking off. Never the last one, though, and he made sure to have a few videos of himself shaking hands with Panacea or getting into a hospital (and out) and those hearts replenishing themselves.
Continuing the theme, he added a "level up!" gimmick when he successfully fought some BBEG. That meant he had to think up a few abilities to link to levels, and he came to the brilliant idea to gain the power of his downed foe – with magic at his fingertips, he could use spells to mimic almost all known powers (and some unknown). Wandless magic was something, but he also had the brilliant idea to make a trip home to hunt some Dark Wizards for their wands. Ollivander's shop having been destroyed in the wake of the attack on London, there was no wandmaker to make wands, nor was there a big stash of them available for any novice wizard to be linked to. Or for him to buy.
Finding one that accepted his dominion took some tries, like with his first wand, and he finally found his stick in the stash kept in Malfoy Manor – which included wands from the vanquished enemies of the Malfoy family (when they were able to defeat them, that is). Including some from the Potters.
When Harry started his "shopping" spree, he covered his body in various spells and effects to shield himself from the enemies' magic – he didn't fear much, but the Killing Curse could still kill him… or so he thought. And when he dealt with the Malfoys, he had additional spells covering him: resistance to mental assault, resistance to stupidity, and automatic translation of the veiled double-speak most of the politically savvy Malfoys used (not Draco, obviously).
Back in his brand new world, Harry had forgotten about having that last spell cast on him. And wasn't that a surprise when the normally plain words coming from Alexandria and the other high-level heroes was translated in something more complicated and sinister.
That made him rethink his vow to join his wife in the Protectorate. He did, but they also worked to unveil the actions of some of the worse heroes – some of them were sanctimonious liars or plain murderers trying to hide their nature. He didn't want to join the villains either, thankfully… even if some of them were genuinely interested in helping people.
So, in the interest of being a hero and actually helping people, he devised a way to have two cape identities. It allowed him to do the legal stuff during the day, and the less-than-legal during the night, and with another identity. And his wife agreed and joined him, the two of them not needing sleep anyways – she was a Noctis cape, and he had the benefits of adding Pepper-Up potion to the Elixir of Life (yes, the Flamels had experimented quite a bit during their centuries of life, and he pilfered that research without a care).
Improving his illusions, he even showed himself with his alter ego, either fighting or having angry words – that was a not-so-hidden response to those having noticed the physical similarities between the two identities, and who had suggested that he may have been both. The same illusions covered his wife's weapon, of course.
And then he found the way to create an actual duplicate, with whom he could shake hands, when the two of them ended up fighting an Endbringer together.
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To be continued… if the muse crits againAuthor's Notes: First parts were a test in writing the story as it would be told by an interstellar tourist guide showing our wonderful world to outsiders – the Harry Potter world, that is. Last parts rolled out by themselves, much later. Result is mixed bag. Posted as such, for inspiration (on what not to do, maybe).