The grounds of Hogwarts were a tempest of chaos and destruction. Once-majestic towers crumbled under the relentless assault, and the night sky was ablaze with the eerie glow of spellfire. Shouts of courage and cries of pain mingled with the thunderous clashes of magic, creating a symphony of war that echoed across the Scottish hills.
Harry Potter stood near the entrance of the shattered Great Hall, his breath ragged and his body bruised. Blood trickled from a cut above his brow, mingling with the sweat and grime that coated his face. His emerald eyes, usually bright with determination, now held a depth of weariness. He clutched his wand tightly, the familiar weight both a comfort and a reminder of the burdens he bore.
Across the rubble-strewn courtyard, Lord Voldemort emerged from a veil of smoke, his pale skin luminescent under the ghastly light. His scarlet eyes locked onto Harry's, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Harry Potter," he called out, his voice smooth yet dripping with malice. "The Boy Who Lived... come to die."
A shiver ran down Harry's spine at the finality of those words, but he squared his shoulders. "It doesn't have to be this way, Tom," he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.
Voldemort's expression twisted at the use of his given name. "You dare speak to me of choices? You, who have defied me at every turn?"
Harry took a cautious step forward, the debris crunching under his worn shoes. "Yes, I dare. Because despite everything, I still believe there's a part of you that understands this is madness."
For a fleeting moment, a flicker of something—doubt, maybe—passed over Voldemort's face. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Sentimentality is a weakness I discarded long ago," he sneered. "And it will be your undoing."
The wind picked up, carrying with it the acrid smell of burning wood and the distant screams of those still fighting. Harry's heart ached knowing that each cry could belong to a friend—a life extinguished too soon. He thought of Ron and Hermione, their unwavering support throughout this harrowing journey. He thought of Ginny, her fierce spirit a beacon of hope. And he thought of all those who had sacrificed so much to stand against this darkness.
"I won't let their sacrifices be in vain," Harry whispered to himself.
Without further warning, Voldemort slashed his wand through the air, sending a bolt of green light hurtling toward Harry. Instinctively, Harry dived aside, the Killing Curse narrowly missing him and blasting a crater in the stone floor where he'd stood moments before.
Rolling to his feet, Harry retaliated with a volley of spells—Stunning Charms, Binding Hexes, anything to gain an advantage. But Voldemort deflected them effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise.
"You're slowing down," Voldemort taunted, a sadistic grin spreading across his face. "Feeling the weight of destiny, perhaps?"
Harry's muscles screamed in protest, fatigue threatening to overtake him. But he couldn't afford to falter—not now. "Destiny isn't set in stone," he shot back. "We choose who we become."
"Platitudes will get you nowhere," Voldemort snarled, unleashing another barrage of dark curses.
Harry dodged and weaved, but he was tiring. A slicing curse grazed his left arm, searing pain ripping through him. He hissed but kept moving, forcing himself to ignore the warm blood now soaking his sleeve.
Drawing upon his remaining strength, Harry summoned a protective shield. "Protego Maxima!" A shimmering barrier materialized, momentarily halting Voldemort's assault.
Behind the translucent shield, Harry's vision blurred. His head throbbed, and his limbs felt heavy—as if the very air conspired to hold him back. "Not yet," he urged himself silently. "I can't give up yet."
Voldemort paced just beyond the shield's reach, his eyes gleaming with predatory delight. "How noble, fighting until your last breath. But tell me, Harry, what do you hope to achieve? You are alone. Defeated."
Amidst the encroaching darkness at the edges of his sight, Harry saw movement. Figures were retreating—students, teachers, the last defenders of Hogwarts—falling back into the castle's depths. Buying time, he realized. They were counting on him to hold Voldemort here.
"You're wrong," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not alone."
He closed his eyes, focusing inward. He felt the faint thrum of his heartbeat, each pulse a tether to those he loved. Memories flooded his mind: laughter in the Gryffindor common room, the exhilaration of flying high above the Quidditch pitch, quiet moments of solace with friends who had become family.
A soft warmth spread through his chest, soothing the pain. He opened his eyes, meeting Voldemort's gaze with renewed clarity. "As long as they live in here," he tapped his chest lightly, "I'll never be alone."
Voldemort's lip curled in disdain. "Sentimental fool."
The Dark Lord raised his wand, and Harry knew the shield wouldn't hold against the next onslaught. Summoning every ounce of magic he had left, he prepared to counter.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The spells collided, and for a heartbeat, a golden beam connected their wands. The air hummed with raw energy, the force of the spells sending shockwaves that shattered nearby windows and sent loose stones tumbling.
Harry's scar seared with unimaginable pain, a white-hot agony that nearly drove him to his knees. His hand trembled, grip faltering on his wand. "Not now," he begged silently. "Please, just a little longer."
Voldemort pressed harder, sensing weakness. The green light of the Killing Curse began to overpower the red of Harry's disarming spell. "This is the end, Potter!" he shouted, triumph shining in his eyes.
Time seemed to slow. The sounds of battle faded into the background, replaced by the rhythmic beating of Harry's heart. He felt disconnected, as if watching the scene from afar.
"Is this how it ends?" he wondered. Regret washed over him—not for himself, but for the lives he couldn't save, the futures stolen by this senseless war. "If only I had more time... if only I could do it all again."
A tear traced a path down his dirt-streaked face. "I'm sorry," he whispered, though he wasn't sure to whom—the friends he'd miss, the family he'd lost, or perhaps himself.
The golden beam shattered. The force threw Harry backward, his wand slipping from numb fingers. He hit the ground hard, the impact jolting the air from his lungs. Gasping, he tried to rise, but his body refused to obey.
Footsteps approached slowly. Voldemort stood over him, wand pointed directly at Harry's heart. "Any last words?" he asked, almost lazily.
Pain radiated through every fiber of Harry's being. Breathing was an effort, each inhale sharp and shallow. He looked up into the cold eyes of his enemy and managed a faint smile. "You may kill me," he said hoarsely, "but you will never know love or friendship. And in the end, that's a fate worse than death."
For a moment, Voldemort's expression faltered—confusion mingling with something akin to doubt. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Goodbye, Harry Potter."
The words echoed strangely in Harry's ears, distant and hollow. The world around him blurred, the edges fading into darkness.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The flash of green light was the last thing he saw.
Silence enveloped him—a profound quiet that was neither peaceful nor unsettling. Just... empty. Harry floated in the void, weightless and untethered. There was no pain here, no fear. Only an overwhelming sense of loss.
"Is this death?" he wondered.
A soft glow appeared in the darkness, growing brighter and warmer. From within the light, a figure emerged—a woman with vivid green eyes and hair like flames.
"Mom?" Harry's voice broke as emotion surged within him.
She smiled gently, sadness and pride mingling in her gaze. "Oh, my sweet boy."
He reached out tentatively, his hand passing through hers like mist. "I'm so sorry," he choked out. "I tried—I really tried."
"I know you did," Lily whispered. "And you were so brave."
Other figures appeared beside her: his father, Sirius, Remus—all looking at him with unwavering affection.
"You've done more than anyone could have asked of you," James said, his voice steady.
"But it's not over," Harry insisted. "Voldemort... he's still—"
"Shh," Sirius interrupted softly. "Rest now."
A new voice resonated around him, deep and resonant. "Or perhaps, a different path."
From the light stepped a being of indiscernible age and gender, cloaked in robes that seemed to be woven from the fabric of the universe itself.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, awe and apprehension mingling.
"An old friend," the being replied enigmatically. "You stand at a crossroads, Harry. The veil between life and death is thin, and for someone like you, exceptions can be made."
"I don't understand," he confessed.
"You possess a rare soul—one forged through sacrifice, love, and resilience. Such a soul can influence the tapestry of fate."
Harry glanced back at his parents and friends, their faces filled with quiet encouragement. "Are you saying... I can go back?"
"Yes," the being affirmed. "But the path will not be easy. Choices must be made, burdens carried anew."
He hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing upon him. "If I go back, can I change things? Save them?"
"Perhaps," the being said. "The future is ever in motion, shaped by our actions and choices."
Closing his eyes, Harry took a deep breath—though he had no lungs in this place. "I want to try. I want to make it right."
When he opened his eyes, the light was intensifying, enveloping everything in a brilliant glow.
"Very well," the being's voice echoed, fading. "Embrace your second chance."
The world dissolved.
With a gasp, Harry jolted awake. He found himself staring at a dimly lit ceiling, the faint outline of a spider crawling across a crack. The air was thick with the scent of dust and something musty.
Disoriented, he sat up abruptly, his head spinning. He was in a small, cramped space—a cupboard under the stairs. His cupboard.
"What—?" he whispered, his voice higher and softer than he expected.
He looked down at his hands—small, delicate, the hands of a child. Panic surged through him as he scrambled to his feet, banging his head on the low ceiling. Ignoring the dull throb, he pushed open the cupboard door and stepped into the hallway.
Everything was achingly familiar: the threadbare rug, the faint hum of the refrigerator, the distant sound of Uncle Vernon's snores.
He caught his reflection in the mirror by the stairs—a young boy of perhaps three or four, with untidy black hair and bewildered green eyes.
"I'm... back," he breathed.
Suddenly, a translucent blue screen flickered into existence before his eyes, causing him to stumble backward.
System Initialization Complete
Welcome, Player! You have been granted the Gamer ability.
Harry blinked, rubbing his eyes. "What is this?" he murmured.
Lines of text began to scroll across the screen.
Status Screen
Name: Harry James Potter
Age: 3 years
Race: Human (Wizard)
Level: 1
HP: 50/50
MP: 30/30
Strength: 2
Agility: 2
Vitality: 3
Intelligence: 6
Wisdom: 6
Luck: 10
Perception: 2
Stat Points Available: 0
Skills: None
His heart raced as he tried to make sense of the surreal display. "This can't be real," he whispered, reaching out to touch the screen. His fingers passed through it as if it were made of light.
Another prompt appeared.
Quest Alert!
Main Quest: Change the Future
Objective: Utilize your knowledge and abilities to alter the events that led to the downfall of your loved ones.
Reward: To be revealed.
Failure: The timeline repeats.
Do you accept?
[Yes] [No]
Harry stared at the options, his mind swirling with disbelief and burgeoning hope. "Is this... some kind of second chance?" he wondered aloud.
Memories of the final battle flooded back—the faces of friends lost, the weight of regret. Clenching his small fists, he looked at the [Yes] button.
"I won't let it happen again," he declared softly.
He focused on the [Yes] option, and the screen responded.
Quest Accepted!
A new notification popped up.
Skill Unlocked: Gamer's Mind (Passive)
Allows the user to calmly and logically think things through. Grants immunity to psychological status effects.
Skill Unlocked: Gamer's Body (Passive)
Grants a body that allows for the user to live the real world like a game. After sleeping in a bed, restores HP, MP, and all status effects.
A sense of clarity washed over him. The panic subsided, replaced by a calm determination. He took a deep breath, his mind sharper than it had ever been.
"So, this is real," he mused. "A game... but in reality."
He navigated through the interface, instinctively understanding how it worked. There was so much to explore—stats to build, skills to learn, quests to complete.
But first things first.
"If I have the chance to change everything, I need to get stronger," he thought. "I need to prepare."
A quiet excitement bubbled within him. This wasn't just a second chance; it was an opportunity to become the person he needed to be to protect those he loved.
As the first light of dawn filtered through the frosted glass of the front door, Harry stood alone in the silent house, the translucent screens hovering around him.
"Game on," he whispered, a determined smile forming on his lips.
New Quest Generated!
Tutorial Quest: Learn the Basics
Objective: Familiarize yourself with the Gamer interface and complete basic tasks.
Tasks:
Access your Inventory.
View your Skill Tree.
Allocate Stat Points (when available).
Reward: 100 XP, Beginner's Guidebook, 1 to all Stats.
Do you accept?
[Yes]
Harry selected [Yes] without hesitation.
"Time to get to work," he said, a newfound confidence coursing through him.
He wasn't going to waste this opportunity.
A/N: First attempt at writing on this site, been sitting on this one for a while. Hope you guys enjoy. Next update out tomorrow, Gonna try for at least weekly updates.
