Disclaimer:

I solemnly swear that the literature and works of the Harry Potter Verse belong to JK Rowling, Bloomberg and Warner Bros. The only thing I own are the one-shot ideas that popped into my head and whatever OCs I would create for them. This is a work of pure fiction made solely for fun, constructive reviews will be welcomed, flames will be ignored. Any references to characters in real-life or fiction are purely coincidental. If I could make money out of my ideas, it would be nice...

Mischief Managed Damn It!

Title: Into the Harry-verse (Working Title) Trailer 4

Posted Date: Jul 02 2023

Tags: Multi-verse Harry Potters, WBWL, manipulative Dumbledore, Slight Crack

Possible Challenge(s): 1 Gender-bent Harry Potter, 1 Squib / John-Wick Harry Potter

(Note: This one is T-rated)

Listen up, maggots! I am only saying this one more time.

My name is Harry Irons, Sergeant First Class of the Paranormal Protection Unit, a task force created by the United Nations of Magic to monitor all magical activity and to prevent breaches of security.

The year is 2033, 88 years since the Dark Lord Grindelwald had broken the Statute of Secrecy and exposed us to the No-Majs, and 50 years since the ICW got destroyed due to widespread corruption. Since then, my people and I have been at odds with the No-Majs and in a civil war with those who sided with the dark lord or followed his ideals.

I enjoy fighting Nazis, taking out the Knights of Walpurgis, wrestling with the recruits, and eating my treacle tarts under the moonlight.

At the age of 12, immediately after going through an education cocktail of general studies and military training, I served under Lieutenant Minerva McGonagall for 5 years before I got transferred to another task force to handle a threat by an upstart dark lord named Voldemort who was causing trouble in Britain.

I think you know the rest of this story.

I had to do guard duty for a bunch of brats in Hogwarts while avoiding the old man who seemed determined to put me in one of those houses that make up the culture around here. Then at the end of that school year, I had to stop the dark lord upstart from stealing a priceless artefact belonging to the Flamels while dealing with a bratty Boy-Who-Lived named Marcus McKinnon.

I had to take out a giant ass Basilisk while messing with a Primus-Be-Damned Horcrux that was in the middle of possessing a little girl in the following year, Dementors in the year after, along with dragons, mermaids, some weird and illegally bred mutated crab creatures, giants, werewolves and the other terrorists over the next few years.

I had front row seats to witnessing the apparent bigotry against anyone with certain talents in the form of students hexing the Boy-Who-Lived and attacking others with green magic or possible fae ancestry like Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, and watching the idiots praise that Brat-Who-Lived like he was Merlin's son.

I also had to deal with a tournament that I somehow got forced into by blood, hence having to deal with the stupidity of the populace, the students, and let's not forget, a fucking restoration of Dark Lord Grindelwald himself.

After that, I had to fight every terrorist and werewolf in my path along with the idiots belonging to Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry. During which I found out that I was apparently the last remaining heir of the Ancient and Noble Family of Potters, and I was supposedly one of the candidates for some prophecy along with Marcus and Neville.

And I had to keep saving the British Dunderheaders again.

And again.

And again.

And Again!

And somewhere along the line, this happened.

(Cue Uptown Funk Instrumental)

I seemed to end up becoming an icon similar to the Brat-Who-Lived, and I got the more competent people from the Ministry asking more advice while some of the more idiotic bigots tried to get me arrested on whatever trumped-up charges they could throw at me.

I found charm imitations of my spear, food endorsements of my Treacle Tarts, training brochures based on my physical regime and even a holiday lullaby was made about me somehow!

We Do Not talk about that last part.

It all came to a head around the seventh year of my time in Britain that I took out the upstart Dark Lord and his crew of Death Eaters, and then Grindelwald for good. The interfering old wizard tried to get me arrested and then killed for taking out his apparent boyfriend, forcing me into a duel where he used a spell to force me into some wormhole.

I made sure to repay him at the last second with a bullet to the head as a final "Fuck You" from yours truly!

My attempts to get out of the wormhole ended up with me sent to an alternate dimension where I found myself being surrounded by other types from other worlds. Supposedly we were all called to deal with Voldemort as usual since their version of the Boy-Who-Lived had died, and the mini-me civilian version was forced into the position without a chance to refuse or keep up, so they just do not care whom to get as long as it fitted the old bastard's idea of fulfilling the prophecy.

That was not happening on my watch. I will make sure Mini-Me is going to get stronger with my boot-camp training so that he can show these pansies what it really means to kick ass, and I will also prepare another bullet for this version of Dumbledore.

After all, I am Harry Irons, the Soldier of Primus. And I do not intend to break that streak anytime soon.