Humanity

Summary:

The war with Voldemort is all but lost; the Ministry is near collapse, and those few still brave enough to continue the fight are forced into hiding. Desperate to end the bloodshed and finally end Voldemort's war, Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix decide to summon a hero from another dimension who will be able to defeat Voldemort once and for all.

Instead, they get a warrior who has been raised his entire life as an emotionless weapon in the form of someone who has been dead a long time; will the Order be able to help this boy who has been taught his whole life that he's just a weapon? And how will Voldemort and his Death Eaters react to a warrior whose vocabulary doesn't include the word mercy?

XXXX

Dumbledore sighed sadly as he stared at the wooden table before him; the dining room was filled almost to capacity with people who were likewise silent as they tried to process the day's bad news.

Bad news seemed to be all there was lately, and each day, the Order of the Phoenix held their breath as they awaited the newest list of victims left behind by Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

The latest piece of horror, though, had been especially hard to bear as Voldemort had decided to make an example of Dumbledore and his Order for their continued resistance; two days prior, during a regularly scheduled Hogsmeade weekend, Voldemort had unleashed his forces on the unsuspecting village. The end result was still being tallied, but it was suspected that at least two dozen children and villagers had been mercilessly slaughtered; what hit even worse was when one of the Death Eaters had thrown off his mask to reveal the sneering face of Severus Snape.

Snape, it was thought, was the Order's greatest weapon; he was their spy in Voldemort's ranks, and on more than one occasion, Snape's warnings had saved innocents that would have otherwise died.

While a genuinely unpleasant individual, Snape was respected by all for putting his life on the line in order to let Dumbledore know what Voldemort was planning; what no one knew, save for a few individuals, was that the reason Snape had volunteered to become a spy was due to him believing he owed a debt to his oldest friend. Back when he was still a loyal Death Eater, Snape had overheard a prophecy between Dumbledore and a seer named Sibyll Trelawney, in which it was foretold that Voldemort's reign would soon come to an end and that the one responsible for said defeat would soon be born. Snape, eager to reap the rewards for such news, had immediately run to his master to tell him what Snape had heard; it was only when Snape learned that the "Chosen One" was, in fact, the child of his oldest friend, Lily Potter, that Snape realized that he had inadvertently put his friend directly in the line of fire of Voldemort. Though Snape changed sides and became a spy, the damage had been done, and the child of Lily and James Potter had been killed, along with James Potter's parents, who had been watching the child while Lily and James attended an Order meeting. All trace of friendship immediately vanished between Lily Potter and Severus Snape, as the former saw the latter as responsible for the death of their child; Snape learned this lesson well after trying to approach Lily to apologize for his part in the death of her son, only to become a guest of St. Mungo's soon after as a result.

Snape had become an entirely different man after the attack by Lily; he rarely spoke unless directly asked a question and seemed far more subdued than he had before, never once giving the suspicion that he was not totally loyal to Dumbledore and the destruction of Voldemort, that was why it was such a hard blow when Snape at last decided to show his true colors during what was quickly becoming known as "The Hogsmeade Massacre."

"What are we going to do now?" Mad-Eye Moody asked from where he was leaning against the far wall, "We're well and truly buggered now."

"How do you figure that?" One of the Order (a witch with bright blonde hair) asked,

"That bastard Snape knows the name of every member of the Order," Moody growled, "And even those whose homes lay behind wards are in danger of having their family kidnapped or tortured by the Dark Lord and his ilk. So might as well face it, boys and girls, it's over."

"So that's it?" Sirius Black asked, "You're just going to give up? Never figured you for a coward, Moody."

"Watch what you say, boy…" Moody growled as he took a threatening step forward, "I've been fighting dark wizards and witches since you were still a swimmer in your father's pants, and you know what all those years of fighting have taught me?"

"What?" Sirius sneered back,

"When to fight and when to run," Moody replied softly, "We have barely thirty fighters left; the Ministry is damn near ready for collapse thanks to the incompetence of Fudge, and Voldemort has us outnumbered at least five-to-one. So, tell me, Lord Black, how do you plan to win what even a blind man can see is a lost cause?"

"I don't know!" Sirius retorted as he jumped angrily to his feet, "But it's better to fight than to just roll over and become Voldemort's bitch!"

"Hey, I'm all about noble death," James Potter replied with a wry laugh, "Pointless noble death, however…."

"So even you are ready to give up, Prongs?" Sirius asked in astonishment, "After what he did to Harry and your parents?"

A dark look came across James Potter's face, which made those near him shift uneasily away; even Sirius seemed afraid that he had gone too far; it had been nearly fifteen years since the death of James' son and parents, and yet James and Lily still felt the pain of their deaths as though it were yesterday.

"There is nothing I want more in this world than to see Voldemort die by my hand for what he has taken from me," James said, anger evident in every word; beside him, Lily nodded in agreement, "But I will not risk the lives of my wife and children to achieve that result. I'm sorry, Padfoot."

"So, that's it?" Sirius demanded as he looked around the room; many seemed unable to meet his eyes, "You're all going to just leave England and let Voldemort have it? Let him enslave every Muggle-born and kill those he has no use for?"

"Sirius, we can't win this war; surely you can see that!" Dedalus Diggle replied sadly, "The enemy is too strong! We've lost over a dozen of our comrades in the last week alone, and unlike the Dark Lord, we cannot replace those losses."

"So what!" Sirius snarled, "This is our homeland we're talking about! And I, for one, will stand and fight for it!"

"Hear, hear!" Several Order members cried though they were outnumbered by those who remained silent.

"Then you'll die," Moody sneered, "Along with everyone who follows you. And the end result will be the same. You'll all die for nothing."

Before Sirius could snarl back a retort, Dumbledore suddenly lifted his head and spoke in a weary voice,

"There is another option."

"Another option?" James and Lily asked as one, "What other option?"

"Long ago, when I was a younger man, I found myself in Egypt, investigating the mysteries that might have been left there from a time long ago when magic was much stronger in our world than it is now. Luck seemed to be with me, for several months after arriving, I discovered what appeared to be a long-forgotten tomb." Dumbledore's eyes misted over as he lost himself in the memory, "Inside, I found a great many wonders that I ensured made their way to responsible hands for further investigation and study. But the most wonderous thing I found in that tomb was a scroll that I immediately hid away once I realized what it did."

"What did it do?" Remus Lupin asked

"It contains instructions on how to perform a ritual that would allow a person to summon a hero from another dimension to fight on their behalf. However, the scroll emphasized that this ritual should only be used as a last resort as the ritual is a one-way trip."

"So, anyone we summon…" Lily asked in growing horror,

"Would be stuck here, precisely," Dumbledore concluded solemnly, "Which is why this decision should not be made lightly."

"We'd be essentially kidnapping someone from their home!" Remus cried aghast, "How can any of us even consider it!"

"Needs must," Sirius replied, though even he looked pained at the thought of actually following through with such a ritual, "If this ritual summons a hero who will finally rid us of Voldemort, then I say let's do it!"

The next few hours were spent in deliberation as the Order argued the pros and cons of going through with the ritual; it was only after several hours of argument that it was finally agreed upon that the ritual must be performed as there was simply no other way that anyone could see.

XXXX

Harry Potter stood at parade rest in front of his bunk as he awaited his commander to arrive and debrief him on Harry's previous mission; the minutes continued to tick by, and yet Harry didn't move a muscle as he waited.

Like every other soldier in the Magical Military, Harry was clean-shaven, with a military haircut; he used to wear glasses, but his eyes had been corrected when he was seven. He was dressed in a pair of black camo, multi-pocket cargo pants, a pair of black military boots, and a black muscle shirt; despite barely turning sixteen, Harry's arms were littered with scars, and many more lay hidden beneath his clothes from past battles. His wand was strapped to his right wrist, as was the norm, and his 1911 pistol was securely on his hip.

Like all children, Harry had been taken from his parents at five years old and placed into the Magical Military program when it was discovered that Harry had magic, as all those who could perform magic automatically became the state's property upon discovery. He would unfortunately not see his parents again for five long years, and those next few years of Harry's life were pure hell; there was no other way to adequately describe it.

The instructors pushed the recruits to the very edge of their physical and mental limits, and those who couldn't overcome those limits were quickly put down lest they infect the other recruits with their weakness. Discipline was paramount in the Magical Military, and harsh punishments were handed down to those who defied the trainers; whipping was a common punishment, though there were harsher ones, depending on the severity of the crime. It was quite normal for a group of over a hundred to be whittled down to barely a few dozen by the end due to their horrifying training methods. All trace of individuality was quickly snuffed out as the trainees were taught that their only concern was the protection of the state; Foolish notions like mercy and forgiveness were also beaten out of them to ensure that they became the perfect soldiers for the state. Even though their names were taken from them upon entering the program, Harry became number 61013 and would remain so until he either died or graduated and was thus allowed to have his name back. But Harry overcame everything that was thrown at him and, upon finishing his training, quickly became known as a being of pure destruction and death on the battlefield, something that had made his father, Colonel James Potter, quite proud. Unfortunately, James Potter and his second in command, Sirius Black, had both been killed last year in a suicide attack by rebels. Harry was sure that his mother would have been proud of him as well had she not been killed in battle a few years after Harry had been taken into the program. Despite his young age, Harry quickly gained fame for his ruthlessness and sharp tactical mind, earning the nickname "Reaper" due to how destructive he was in battle, leaving few survivors.

As Harry waited for his commander, he noticed a strange blue light begin to surround him in a way that immediately made him wary; was this some new type of magic that the Unspeakables had decided to test? Was Harry to be the test subject? His instincts screamed at him to run that he was in danger, but the discipline that had been beaten into him since childhood held him in place. If he had been chosen to be the test subject for a new branch of magic, then so be it. After all, it was the duty of every soldier in the Magical Military to willingly give their lives for the state if needed.

Slowly closing his eyes, Harry waited for whatever was about to happen; a moment later, he felt as though someone had set him on fire, and he quickly bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming, never once leaving parade rest.

He had the vague feeling that he was falling and was tempted to open his eyes, but the agony he was in made such a small thing impossible as all of Harry's concentration was on trying not to scream and thus dishonoring himself.

A moment later, the feeling stopped, and the pain vanished as quickly as it had come; as Harry took slow breaths and tried to calm himself, he could hear gasps and whispers echoing around him, followed by someone exclaiming,

"Blimey! It worked!" Someone shouted in what sounded like awe,

"It's a kid? How the bloody hell is a kid supposed to help us!" Another voice asked,

"Maybe the ritual failed?" A third voice added.

Not recognizing the voices, Harry's eyes immediately snapped open, causing even more gasps and whispering; he was standing in what appeared to be a basement and was currently surrounded by what looked like several dozen people, all of whom were wearing robes with the hood up to hide who they were. Immediately, Harry's training took over, and he dove to his left, ripping his pistol and wand from their holsters; Harry didn't know where he was and was currently surrounded by strangers whose intentions were unknown. Furthermore, he had not been notified of any new training programs, if that was indeed what this was; unwilling to be taken by surprise, Harry rolled and came to his feet, firing a round from his pistol as he did so.

To Harry's surprise, rather than his shot killing its target, his shot went wide and hit its victim in the shoulder, causing the robed figure to spin and hit the floor with a curse,

"I missed…" Harry thought in surprise as he dove behind some wooden boxes as cover, "I never miss…."

Before Harry could think on the matter further, the basement lit up as the robed figures fired a dozen different spells and curses at the boxes that Harry was currently hiding behind. As the spells began to tear his cover to pieces, Harry growled in annoyance; it wasn't the first time he had been outgunned and outnumbered with little information on how it had come about, but one thing was always universally the same about said encounters, Harry always ended up being the one left alive at the end.

"Stop!" An elderly voice called out, "We need him to help us, not see us as enemies!"

So they wanted him alive, did they? That made his job easy as he had no such weakness for his enemies.

Rising from his hiding spot, Harry aimed his wand at the closest robed figure,

"Confringo!" Harry said in his monotone voice, watching with disinterest as the blasting curse flew straight toward its target; just before it struck, another of the robed figures cried out in a shrill voice,

"Avis!"

Instantly, a flock of birds flew out of the figure's wand between Harry's target and his spell; a moment later, the spell struck the birds causing a small explosion that blanked the basement in smoke and feathers.

A single twitch of the eyebrow was the only evidence that Harry was frustrated with his failure to kill his opponent; staring through the smoke at where his opponent had been a moment ago, Harry began to move from his cover, not wanting to be where his enemies thought he was; straining his eyes through the smoke, Harry saw one of the robed figures with their back to him.

Knowing the value of a hostage, Harry quickly holstered his pistol, stormed forward, and wrapped his arm around the neck of the robed figure, pressing his wand into the figure's neck.

"Make a sound, and you'll die before they can reach you," Harry said in a cold voice that made Harry's hostage stiffen with alarm.

"Please," the voice replied, and Harry realized that his hostage was a woman, "We mean you no harm! This is all just a big misunderstanding!"

"Irrelevant," Harry replied in the same cold voice, "Until I gain further information on my current situation, you are my hostage. Failure to obey my orders will result in your immediate termination, do you understand?"

The woman merely gulped in fear as a reply, causing Harry to shake his head in disgust at her apparent weakness; suddenly, the smoke dissipated, and Harry glared angrily as he saw that he was completely surrounded by more than two dozen robed figures, all of whom were currently pointing their wands at Harry.

"Release my wife!" One of the robed figures snarled, taking a step forward before another figure placed a calming hand on his arm,

"Peace, James, we did not come here to fight,"

"Tell that to him!" The figure that Harry had shot earlier retorted as blood ran down his arm; as Harry heard the voice, he twitched in recognition.

"You should have ducked, Sirius," another robed figure replied,

"Really?" The shot one (Sirius apparently) retorted, "You want to make jokes, NOW?!"

"Remove your hoods, all of you, right now!" Harry ordered, pressing his wand into the woman's throat, "Or this one dies first!"

"You touch a hair on her head, and I'll bury you!" The robed figure that Harry strongly suspected was her husband spat.

"The hoods," Harry stated, showing how unintimidated by the man he was by pressing his wand deeper into the woman's neck and eliciting a groan of pain from her, "Now!"

Slowly, one of the robed figures stepped forward and lowered his hood; were it not for the steel-like discipline that had been beaten into Harry, he would have dropped his wand in shock, for standing across from him was General Albus Dumbledore, the commanding officer of the British state, and Harry had attacked him! Granted, it could be a trick, and Harry's mind immediately came up with half a dozen ways in which his senses could have been fooled.

"Do as he says," Dumbledore stated simply, "All of you."

Slowly, the other robed figures began lowering their wands and taking off their hoods, causing Harry's discipline to be sorely tested as he saw ghosts surround him; there was Lieutenant Arthur Weasley, who had died six years prior. Standing next to him was his wife, Molly Weasley, who had been hanged after evidence had come out that she had been sending messages to the rebels for a year; her reason for this was that she wanted her children to be free from the life she had been forced into. Unfortunately, her children had all disappeared soon after, and the rumor was that they had joined the rebels in retaliation for their mother's execution.

More and more ghosts seemed to fill the basement as Harry saw faces that he had never expected to see again, but the one that shocked Harry the most was when James Potter removed his hood and glared at him. This shock was multiplied when Sirius Black removed his hood a moment later, likewise glaring at Harry.

"You're his wife?" Harry asked his hostage, "I heard him call you, his wife. What is your name? Answer me!"

"Lily," the woman answered quickly, "My name is Lily Potter."

"Impossible…" Harry whispered, slowly unwrapping his arm from around her neck and turning her so that she was facing him; pressing his wand into her stomach, Harry slowly began pulling down her hood to reveal a face that Harry had only seen once but remembered in great detail.

"Mother?" Harry asked, causing the woman to stiffen in front of him as she looked at him for the first time; he had her eyes, and as her own widened in shock, she suddenly realized why he seemed so familiar.

"Harry?" Lily asked in shock; though she had asked softly, her voice seemed to echo throughout the basement, causing a few of the Order to gasp in shock. James and Sirius seemed to turn white as they heard Lily's words, and both took a step forward to get a better look at Harry.

Only Dumbledore had managed to avoid having a physical reaction, though inside, he was shocked to his core; Harry Potter was alive! True, it may not be their world's Harry Potter, but the fact that one had been summoned meant that the prophecy could hopefully still be enacted, and Voldemort could possibly be killed.

As Dumbledore stared, he couldn't help but feel sorrow at how the Harry from this world never got the chance to grow up as this Harry had done, though perhaps that was a good thing; the boy was tall and powerfully built, with scars trailing down his muscular arms. On his right bicep lay a tattoo of two wands crossed over a broadsword that was embedded into the skull of some type of creature; over the top of the tattoo were the letters M.M.B.

"Harry, is that you?" Lily asked again as she reached out to touch the boy, only to stop when Harry grabbed her wrist,

"Who are you?" Harry asked in a cold voice that shocked Lily to her core, "You are not Capitan Lily Potter. She died in battle many years ago. You are not her!"

"Capitan?" Remus asked in bemusement, "Since when did Lily join the military?"

"Remus Lupin," Harry growled, bringing his attention to the werewolf, "Rebel leader and werewolf. Responsible for the death of Lieutenant Colonel Amelia Bones. Current bounty, twenty thousand Galleons, dead or alive."

Shoving Lily aside, Harry aimed his wand at Remus, only for every wand in the room to be raised in the werewolf's defense, even as Remus stared at Harry in complete shock,

"I have a bounty on my head?" Remus asked in shock, "I'm responsible for the murder of Amelia Bones?!"

"Indeed you do," Harry retorted in a monotone voice, unafraid even as two dozen wands lit up dangerously, "And if you think your friends will prevent me from collecting, then you underestimate me, a dangerous mistake to make."

"You so much as twitch, and it'll be the last thing you do," Sirius growled, "I don't care how badly we need you."

"That's enough!" Dumbledore snapped, finally losing his patience at how badly this whole situation had gone; to the surprise of everyone, Harry suddenly snapped to attention,

"Yes, sir!" Harry called out, making the others look at him in surprise, none more so than Dumbledore, who stared at Harry curiously.

"Now, let's begin with introductions, shall we? I take it you know me and a few others here?"

"Yes sir," Harry replied immediately, still at attention, "You are General Albus Dumbledore, commander-in-chief of the magical armies of Britain, Ireland, and Scotland."

"I'm a general?" Dumbledore asked in joyful surprise, "How entertaining!"

"Personally responsible for the death of the Dark Wizard, Gellert Grindelwald," Harry continued, "Shortly afterward, you had all those who fought under Grindelwald executed as well. You have led the magical state for the last sixty years as we fight against the hated enemy."

"The enemy?" Dumbledore asked, deeply disturbed by what his counterpart had done in Harry's world.

"Muggles, of course, sir," Harry stated simply, causing gasps,

"You are fighting against muggles?" Sirius demanded in horror, "You're no better than Voldemort! This is supposed to be our hero?!"

"Why are you fighting against muggles, Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly,

"Muggles discovered that magic was real shortly after the end of World War Two," Harry replied, "And immediately attacked, seeing us as a threat. The war continues to this day, and all those with magical blood are expected to fight in it. We are taken from our families at five years old and placed into the Magical Military Program; there, we are taught how to best serve the state and the war."

"Dear god…" Molly said in horror as the others stared at Harry in shock, "They take children from their families at five years old?! That's far too young to be trained for war! What happens to the ones not strong enough?!"

"They die, sir," Harry stated simply, causing shock to echo throughout the room, "There is no place for weakness in the state,"

"The state?" Lily said softly, "Sounds an awful lot like communism,"

"I'm afraid I don't know what that is, ma'am," Harry replied, still at attention, "May I ask where I am, ma'am? And why am I here?"

The Order of the Phoenix looked at each other for a moment, none of them knowing how to properly answer the question, when Sirius spoke, voicing what many were no doubt thinking,

"That's a long story, lad."

"Yes sir," Harry replied automatically, causing a few to share looks of confusion about the boy's behavior when he was trying to kill them all just moments ago.

A few moments later, Harry had been informed as to why he had been summoned and the fact that he was now a permanent guest of this new dimension, which annoyed Harry a great deal though he was too disciplined to admit it.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Harry asked Dumbledore, making the old man tilt his head in curiosity.

"Permission granted," Dumbledore said at once, "And you may stand at ease, Mr. Potter."

Shifting quickly into parade rest, Harry looked at Dumbledore silently for a moment before speaking again,

"If I am to understand my mission parameters correctly, sir. You want me to kill your resident Dark Lord and all who follow him. Is that correct, sir?"

"Of course not!" Dumbledore replied in horror, "Everyone deserves a second chance, Harry. The only one that must be destroyed is Voldemort. He is too dangerous to be allowed to live any longer."

"I'm afraid I do not understand, sir," Harry replied, confusion evident on his face, "You are fighting in a war, and the way to win a war is to kill your enemies, correct, sir?"

"The lad's got you there, Dumbledore!" Moody laughed, "Got much experience in battle, boy?"

"Of course, he hasn't!" Molly retorted, "He's a child!"

"No, ma'am," Harry replied, turning his head to face her, "I have not been a child for a very long time. I am a soldier, and my duty is to my commanding officer and to the state." Then, turning back to Moody, Harry continued, "I am well-trained for combat, sir."

"Heh, We'll see," Moody replied with a sneer, "The ritual was supposed to bring forth a hero who would kill Voldemort. Is that you, boy?"

Harry's face went blank at that, and for a moment, Moody didn't think Harry would reply when suddenly the boy spoke in a voice as cold as ice and which caused even Moody to shiver in dread,

"When do we start, sir?"