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The Omnipotence Paradox
Chapter 3: The Accidental Omnipotence
Death, Albus Dumbledore surmised, was like falling through the deepest ocean. You spend your whole life above ground, shrouded in darkness, breathing and struggling, trying desperately to eke an existence for yourself out of a harsh world. Then, when you finally die, you simply fall backwards with a splash, crossing the barrier into death and you slowly drown in the warmest, deepest ocean in existence. All your worries and cares seem to slip away and be left behind on the dark surface. Dumbledore thought that if all life once came from the oceans, perhaps all life eventually returned there in the end. And as you continue to fall farther, the water's warmth increases as you slowly fall forwards towards a beckoning light at the oceans bottom; the final barrier.
As Dumbledore felt himself slowly sinking deeper and deeper, wrapped in the warm embrace of what one might call creation, his blissful sleep was suddenly disturbed by what one might call a 'jerk'; the feeling could be more accurately compared to reaching the end of a bungee cord, before suddenly shooting back up. Dumbledore was rising rapidly through the warm waters, heading swiftly towards the cold, dark surface. As the former headmaster broke the waters calm surface, he felt himself blinded by darkness and encased in a chill that pierced his body, forcing a ragged breath through his lungs.
As Dumbledore felt the warmth slowly return to his body, he opened his eyes and looked around into the glaring light. He was lying on his back, bone dry and disoriented, staring at the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"Hey Headmaster," a calm voice spoke beside him in greeting.
Dumbledore looked to the right, where he saw Harry Potter, the supposedly dead Chosen One, standing and holding his hand out to him with a slight smirk. Dumbledore looked straight into Harry's glowing green eyes, and being completely unable to penetrate his thoughts, uttered the first word that drifted through his mind.
"Huh?" Dumbledore sputtered. It was not the most eloquent sentence the aged warlock had ever uttered, if it could even be called a sentence, but it did accurately surmise his current feelings of the situation.
Still smirking, Harry pulled the elderly man to his feet and gave him a quick look over to make sure he was fine, before casually leaning back against the Great Hall's podium. "You'll get over the disorientation in a moment. Just take a few deep breaths to help center yourself and adjust to being back in your body."
Dumbledore followed Harry's instructions without thought, almost as if he felt compelled to. Looking closer at his former pupil, Dumbledore noticed there had been a drastic change in his student, and while the overall image still screamed 'Harry Potter', there was a drastically different feeling to him. Dumbledore noticed the new cloths, the lack of glasses, and the confident manner that Harry now held himself with. Perhaps the greatest change was in what couldn't be seen, as Harry seemed to emit a calm strength that saturated the air around him in waves, making one feel as if everything would be alright, and that you could instantly submit your full trust in Harry.
Gathering his wits about him, Dumbledore saw past Harry to the front of the staff table and started gaping in awe. Standing just behind Harry were some of the greatest warriors the world had ever known. Godric Griffindor stood tall and proud watching the headmaster, his long mane of golden hair falling behind him, with one hand resting against the handle of his famous silver, ruby laden sword. Beside him stood Rowena Ravenclaw, her fair skin and long, flowing black hair a stark contrast to her stern demeanor, and Helga Hufflepuff, a rather short woman with her wild red hair done up in a knot at the top of her head and a kind smile on her face. They were joined by the leader and war hero Aurelius Ambrosius, his brown hair and beard cropped short, eyes glinting fiercely in the dim room. Beside him stood the former King, Uther Pendragon, who was a tall man, and bore the air of nobility around him like a fine cloak, with graying long brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. The younger man beside him seemed rather unassuming compared to Uther, with short, black hair and a kind face; but his eyes seemed ancient, weathered and beaten from witnessing too much bloodshed and death. He had a seemingly hidden presence, blending in or commanding absolute respect if needed; he reminded Dumbledore of another black haired young man. It took Dumbledore a moment to place him; he was standing before the greatest swordsmen and warrior the world had ever seen: Arthur Pendragon – King of Briton and wielder of the legendary sword Excalibur.
"I don't have it anymore, you know," King Arthur spoke softly, with a small smile as he looked straight into Dumbledore's eyes. "The sword was returned to the Lady of the Lake, Nimue, when I died."
Dumbledore's eyes widened comically, as he looked dumbly at the Muggle King who just seemingly read his mind. "Merciful Merlin…"
"Speak not of that wretched name in my presence!" and angry voice hissed.
All eyes followed the voice to a dark corner of the Great Hall, where a cloaked woman was leaning against the wall, hidden in the shadows. Much like King Arthur, the short woman seemed completely unassuming and could easily fade towards the back of the crowd, at least until you got a good look at her. Her cloak was blood red and fully covered her diminutive form except her face. Full, ruby red lips stood out against the pale, porcelain skin that covered her face. With angry pink eyes and long, fiery red hair that framed her lovely face and spilled out from her hood, the woman held an ethereal beauty that could not possibly be human.
"Be still, Morgan," King Arthur calmly commanded.
"You know of the pact!" She hissed back, her voice possessing a seductive, hypnotic quality to it. "I no longer care for a world that had long abandoned me; I only desire my final retribution!"
There was only one legendary Morgan that Dumbledore could think of King Arthur knowing, but it couldn't be, "Morgan…le Fay?"
The infamous sorceress turned her fierce glare from King Arthur to Dumbledore. "Be silent, fool," Morgan growled.
"Reign in your temper," Godric growled in a deep timber.
"Now don't you get involved Godric," Helga chastised, while Rowena just shook her head.
"What do you know of my suffering, you insolent child!" Morgan screeched, as fire seemed to swirl around her.
Aurelius began to rub his eyes, while Uther calmly remarked, "She used to be such a kind lass."
"Don't speak down to me as if you're my better!" Morgan raged, her temper causing the nearby Slyhterin table to auto-ignite. "I've lived for centuries before you were even a speck in your mother's womb!"
"Calm down, all of you!" Harry commanded calmly, his voice echoing in the suddenly quiet Great Hall; as if compelled by some unknown force, everyone, even the fiery le Fay, had fallen silent.
"Tense," James Potter commented as he entered the Great Hall with three others, "who died?"
"We all did Prongs, and that's a really bad joke," Remus Lupin sighed next to James.
"Ease up Moony," Sirius Black laughed. "It wasn't that bad, now something like…OW!" Sirius cried, gripping his head where Lily Potter had hit him.
"The remaining Weasley's and Hermione are holed up at the Burrow," Lily reported to Harry, "but they refused to respond to Remus' calls, considering they think he's dead."
"Which he is…OI!" James shouted as he rubbed his side after Lily had elbowed him.
With a sigh, Harry waved his hand and the Slytherin table was restored to normal. "Listen, all of you, Morgan isn't some evil megalomaniac trying to overthrow Arthur's kingdom and steal his sword like the legends say," Harry quietly began, "Just like Sirius, Dumbledore, and myself, she got blamed for things that either weren't her fault or were completely untrue; Morgan actually helped Arthur and the Knight's of the Round Table to unify his kingdom. She was an accomplished sorceress and healer, but after the King died, one of her most trusted allies betrayed her."
"It was that traitorous worm Myrddin Wyllt. I took him as a student due to his raw power and dedication, but when Arthur died, he began spreading filthy lies that I had assisted that traitor Sir Mordred in the death of the King," Morgan explained, spitting the honorary Knighthood of 'Sir' as if it had left a bad taste in her mouth. "He then tried to take credit for my accomplishments, and worse, the fool's believed him! After all the blood and tears, everything I had sacrificed for their sakes and the lousy bigots abandoned me when I needed them the most. They then turned on me like rabid dogs, and under Myrddin's command hunted me down as if I were some form of dangerous creature that would steal their children away in their sleep – another of Myrddin's tall tales. They hunted for me relentlessly, armed with swords and spears made of cold iron; it was that wretched dog Myrddin that managed to deliver the final blow and removed my head. For a man to kill me, 'The Undying Enchantress of Avalon', I swore vengeance on his immortal soul before he made the final stoke; I care not for saving this wretched world and the pathetic sheep that dwell within it, just leave Myrddin Wyllt for me to destroy."
"The Undying Enchantress of Avalon?" Dumbledore unconsciously questioned.
Harry just grinned at the elderly Headmaster. "Look at her Dumbledore; doesn't she seem just a little too beautiful to be real? Did you really think 'le Fay' was her last name? Morgan is a Fay – or a Faerie, as some might say. They are the guardians of the planet, or more specifically, the planet's magical ley lines. It's their responsibility to help keep the ley lines stable and running; if anything were to happen to the ley lines, the world would crumble and die. As guardians, they are more or less 'immortal' once their born, but they can still be killed with weapons of iron, as it had the unique ability to repel magic, such as the natural enchantment's protecting the Fay."
Harry frowned. "It was actually Myrddin's relationship to Morgan that helped cause this situation. As her student, he learned all about the ley lines as well as the unique stones he later took from the Giant's Round on Mount Killaraus, which he then moved to Stonehenge. The rock itself was made mostly of sandstone; however it did contain small amounts of another substance – Mythril."
In the silent hall, Dumbledore's gasp was almost loud enough to echo. "But Harry, Mythril simply doesn't exist. Wizard's have spent millennia searching for it and found nothing…"
"…Because they keep looking in all the wrong places," Harry casually countered. "It is extremely rare and is fiercely guarded by the Fay because it has the exact opposite affect from iron; while iron repels magical power, Mythril absorbs magic, making itself stronger."
"But how can a metal absorb magic on its own? For an object to possess magic it needs to be enchanted or…"
"…Be organic," Harry once again interrupted Dumbledore. "Mythril is literally grown by the Fay, similar to a plant. In low quantities, it is like the Stonehenge stones – capable of absorbing enough magic around then to be used by others; In higher quantities, Mythril can absorb massive amount's of magic from around it to be used by itself, as in higher quantities, Mythril actually becomes sentient. The best example of this would be Arthur's legendary sword, which was the only sentient piece of Mythril that the Fay has ever allowed to leave them."
Dumbledore's left his mouth hanging open, completely astounded while King Arthur watched silently with a grin, similar to Harry's. "Once Myrddin learned this information, he turned the people against Morgan and killed her himself; with her out of the way, he went ahead unhindered with his plan's for Stonehenge. Thankfully, Myrddin met a rather abrupt end under…interesting circumstances. His dream was then passed to Salazar Slytherin, before it was finally realized by Voldemort. Using the ley lines and the Mythril in the Stonehenge stones, he was able to absorb the power of the planet into himself, literally becoming a roaming extension of the ley lines, with unmatched power over all – in other words, a 'God'."
Harry then tapped the scar on his forehead. "Problem is, the idiot linked our minds when he attacked Godric's Hallow, and then our bodies when he stole my blood. While it may have taken a little longer then him for my mind and body to accept the changes, he passed all his powers to me as well; or rather, he divided his powers between us. We're now both 'Gods', but neither of us are 'perfect' Gods; 'Neither can live while the other survives' and all that."
It had been over a century since Dumbledore had been this overwhelmed, the raw amount of information he had just been hit with made his brain feel like mush. Trying desperately to regain some of his wits, he asked, "But if you're both God's, why revive us?"
"Myrddin was returned to life, just like you were, by Voldemort," Harry responded. "He wants 'the most worthy lieutenants in history' to help govern his dark kingdom, so he's reviving some of the most foul wizards that have ever lived to serve under him. One of them was actually a childhood friend of yours."
"…Grindelwald?" Dumbledore asked almost timidly, "but he's still alive."
"Yes, and he was the only lieutenant not already a Death Eater that Voldemort didn't have to resurrect; which of course, brings us to why you are here," Harry said, his attention fully on the headmaster. "The possible outcomes of two Gods fighting are endless, and I will have my hand's full dealing with him. I need strong fighters who are willing to face Voldemort's hoard to keep them back long enough for me to stop him. If he can resurrect fallen warriors, I figured 'Why can't I?' and that's why you're here. Regardless of the consequences, this will be the final battle to end the war. What do you say Dumbledore, will you fight with us?" Harry asked with his right hand outstretched.
Dumbledore looked closely at his former student; with the raw power circling around him, if even half of what Harry said was true, and he suspected it was, then Harry could easily just force his compliance instead of giving him a choice. Dumbledore knew if the situation were different, Voldemort would force him to obey his commands instead of giving him free will.
Dumbledore tried to envision a world with Voldemort as its God, but the sheer thought of it made him shiver. Harry's 'choice' wasn't really a choice at all. Dumbledore raised his right hand to grasp Harry's in a firm handshake. "I'll fight beside you Harry, but please, just call me Albus."
Harry's grin was infectious. "Fair enough Albus. Welcome to the Resistance."
The Dark God Voldemort was happy. The rarity of such an event should inspire fear and terror in all those who happen to be near him – and it did. With the power to remake reality, he could literally warp the world so that he had been it's ruler since the beginning of time, but where's the fun in that? Voldemort had dreamed for over half a century of conquering the world, and he would savor and relish the experience for as long as possible. Sure, it was taking longer the just automatically being the supreme ruler, but to a God time is no longer a factor in any decision – not enough time? Just freeze it. It's that simple. The only problem was the fools were starting to wise up and just surrender, taking all the fun out of conquest.
Oh well, if he ever got bored, he might just reset time and conquer the world all over again just for laughs; Voldemort was truly one sick puppy.
Once Germany had fallen, three smaller countries had been cornered; Luxembourg, Belgium, and the Netherlands all surrendered in a little over a day, and now he had his sight's set on Denmark. Voldemort's conquest of Europe was moving along quickly, too quickly actually. Voldemort wanted to make things a little more interesting and personal, and began thinking of ways to kill Albus Dumbledore all over again: beheading him; ripping out his entrails and chocking him with them; slowly ripping off limbs and cauterizing the wounds so he won't bleed out; choking the old fucker with Lemon Drops… so many possibilities and all the time in existence to make them happen.
It was at that point a little piece of information cycled through his seemingly infinite mindscape – Albus Dumbledore was still alive. But how? Voldemort knew he had perished when the Ministry of Magic was destroyed…Potter. After his reformation was complete, he tried to sense the Potter boy, but was unable too because he had died in the Little Whinging explosion. But Potter hadn't actually died; he had been reborn, just as Voldemort himself was. While Voldemort's transformation was almost immediate, Potter's indirect power surge meant the transformation had taken a week longer. And Potter's new God-like powers had come from…Voldemort himself? Through a Horcrux?! That little shit was stealing his hard earned Godhood and ruining his new world order due to a technicality.
"Argh!" Voldemort howled in rage, stirring the oceans and darkening the skies. What good was infinite knowledge if you could only access it under certain conditions? His once human mind was still straining to harness the awesome knowledge of the cosmos, and information wouldn't be brought forth unless he actively thought on the subject. It was infuriating.
Potter had created a little resistance group and stationed them at his old Alma Mater, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Voldemort had been holding off talking Hogwarts as it was going to serve as his own personal palace once his mission of world conquest was complete, but now…
Voldemort altered the course of the dark fortress Azkaban; Denmark would be spared for another day. He was going to crush the last of the true opposition in this world, and if Hogwarts happened to be destroyed in the battle, Voldemort would just rebuild it, better then ever, with a snap of his fingers; he was a God after all. He would destroy Harry Potter, and reclaim the last shard of his soul and with it the final piece of his power.
An insane grin spread over the Dark God's face; things were about to get interesting.
Harry stood at the edge of the Black Lake, watching the water ripple in the gentle breeze. The planet's finely balanced ocean currents were being destroyed due to Voldemort turning the Moon into his own personal toy; the temperature of Europe was already starting to drop due to the destruction of the Gulf Stream and the North Atlantic Drift, stopping warmth from the Equator from coming north. Unless something was done to stop the climactic change, the world would soon experience another ice age.
Harry sighed. It was rather jarring to realize how fragile something as large and seemingly indomitable as Earth, their home, truly was. To think the short-sighted idiocy of one man, or now a 'God', could cause one change that threatened all life on Earth. Even if Harry were to try and fix the climactic balance, Voldemort would just ruin it all over again; Voldemort was actually enjoying throwing the planet's ecosystems into complete chaos. The whole situation was maddening.
Rubbing his eyes, Harry could literally feel her gaze on him. Ever since his impromptu speech in the Great Hall, her gaze had seldom left him. Her near constant attention would have been flattering if it wasn't so unnerving – she was perhaps the most intense woman he had ever met. He knew why she watched him: he was a complete puzzle to her. His speech, his motivations, the actions he made and the reasons behind them all confused her to no end. With a grin he imagined that if she had been born a muggle human into this time period, she would have become a biologist, studying the animal life around her; Harry almost laughed at the image of her dressed in a lab coat wearing coke-bottle glasses, poking some hapless animal with a long pointy stick repeatedly to see its reaction.
When she had finally decided to approach him, he was almost surprised. There was a lot of directness in her, but she seemed to be intimidated by him. When she had reached his side, she looked straight into his glowing green eyes with her intense pink ones, and quietly said one word: "Why?"
Despite only saying one word, Harry instantly knew what it was that Morgan wanted to know: "Why do you continue to give and sacrifice yourself for the ungrateful?" The answer was simple and complicated at the same time, but he felt she needed to know, as he could see her mind drawing parallels between the two situations they had both experienced before their deaths.
"Because I have to," Harry quietly began, "because if I don't, everything would end. Life and death, the known law's of the universe, time itself, Voldemort has already began causing insurmountable damage to this plain of existence. He will warp the world, and once he gets bored he will just reset time to do it all over again, or hop to an alternate reality and start conquering there. I've spent too much time inside his head to doubt his motives, Voldemort's bloodlust and greed are truly insatiable. He has become an abomination upon the cosmos and must be stopped."
"Not good enough," Morgan said forcefully. "He may be a plague upon this world, but you are a God as well. You can run and abandon these fools to their fate, but you insist upon staying and fighting, risking your existence for others. Why?"
Harry laughed humorlessly. "Where am I supposed to hide? Anywhere I go, he can follow. And while I may have been burned by some people, that don't mean the whole of humanity is a waste. Most of the people that have died so far have never even heard of me, so what was their crime? Almost all of those that did wrong upon me were already killed during Voldemort's first takeover of Britain."
"Then why not just follow his example and conquer all?" Morgan retaliated. "With all the power you now possess, why not bend this world to your whims? The best and most exotic foods, legions of soldiers following your every command, any land in the world you desire, and harems of the most beautiful women to fulfill your lustful desires. Anything and everything yours; why fight that?"
"You must think pretty little of me," Harry mused, "or of humanity in general; or is it just men? Whatever," Harry said with a dismissive wave. "Besides," Harry now chuckled, "he hates me just as much as I hate him. I have no intention of sharing eternity with that piece of trash. What are we supposed to do for the endless eons together? Play Poker? Thumb wrestle? Bitch-slap one another till were blue in the face?"
Seeing Morgan's confused stare, Harry said, "Er…never mind that last bit. Modern humor, you see."
"No, I don't see," Morgan replied blankly.
With another sigh, Harry began rubbing his temples. Amongst the swirling maelstrom of knowledge and thought inside Harry's mind, one piece of information stood out: He's coming. "Morgan," Harry said, "I need you to go up into the castle and warn the others. Voldemort's on his way here."
Morgan continued to stare blankly at him, until he quietly asked, "Please?" Slowly, Morgan nodded, not once breaking eye contact with him, before she headed quickly towards the castle without a glance back.
Harry could actually feel the change in gravity as the Moon came closer to Britain. He looked to the sky as the waters of the Black Lake sloshed violently, as if trying to fly into the air as the Moon took its place in front of the sun, casting Scotland into the darkness of a total solar eclipse. In the distance, he could see the dark fortress Azkaban quickly approaching through the clouds.
It was time to end this. "Bring it on," Harry said quietly into the silence.