Reviews:
- Naruto Uzumaki: I completely agree. Nerfing characters often nerfs the story as a whole. However, Harry's 'nerfing' is only a direct result of his arc for the early stage of this story. He's going to go through a lot of ups and downs before reaching a space where he's comfortable as himself as the entity 'Death'. The 'Prime' aspect of his consciousness is only temporary, with Harry soon making an important choice that will drive his character forward. So don't worry, Harry will be overpowered again. But as with most characters in any story, he's going to have a journey to get back to that point.
~ One Year Later ~
December 29th, 1941 - Somewhere in Washington D.C. SSR Archives Division - Multiverse - Sector 31.199999-A:
Agent Lydia S. Ford leaned over her desk, pushing her wire-rimmed glasses up her nose as she leafed through a new stack of documents. It was late, the overhead lamps humming softly above the neat rows of filing cabinets. The rest of the Strategic Scientific Reserve's archives floor was nearly empty, except for a few distant silhouettes hunched over their own tasks. Lydia preferred it this way. Quiet, orderly, and without prying eyes. Across from her, Agent Charles Humphreys sipped his cold coffee, grimacing as the bitterness hit his tongue.
"So, what's so urgent that you dragged me away from the decoding room?" he asked, resting a booted foot on an empty wastebasket.
Lydia tapped a thin manila file folder. "Potter Incorporated," she said, voice hushed despite the emptiness. "Look at these manifests. They've been sending…medicine to the Allies. Only medicine. And then-" She flipped a few pages, revealing a short list of coded shipments. "These entries are strange. It looks like harmless supplies - compresses, antiseptics, tonics - but the field reports from the front lines say the wounded recover twice as fast as normal. Sometimes faster,"
"Isn't that a good thing?" Charles asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "We can use any advantage we can get. Especially if this Potter chap is just...overly generous,"
"That's the thing," Lydia said. "Generosity doesn't explain these anomalies. We have doctors in the field baffled by miraculous recoveries. Soldiers claiming they tasted something odd in their 'tonics', or that their broken bones mended overnight. If it were just one or two cases, I'd chalk it up to luck. But we're talking entire platoons bouncing back as if nothing happened,"
Charles lowered his cup. "You think he's doing something...unnatural?"
Lydia shrugged. "I don't know. The SSR's gotten wind of reports from the Department of Occult Warfare, too. Whispers of strange energies. Nothing concrete. But now I hear rumors Potter Inc. is expanding into tech and bioengineering. Some sort of 'Project Aegis'," She tapped the folder again. "No lethal weapons, just medicine, at first. But what if that's just the start? What if they're on the verge of something bigger?"
Charles leaned forward, a new spark of interest in his eyes. "You're suggesting that Potter Inc. might be mixing science and…something else? Magic, maybe?"
Lydia tried not to scoff out loud. Magic. It sounded ridiculous. But the world was growing stranger. The SSR had files on things that defied explanation. Strange relics, unexplainable phenomena, and now this. "Let's just say the line between science and impossibility is blurring. We've got rumors about Hydra chasing artifacts that glow with eerie light, and some British wizard causing trouble in Europe. If Potter Inc. is ahead of the curve, who knows what they've discovered?" They fell silent for a moment, the distant hum of a fan and the shuffling of paper the only sounds. Outside, a siren wailed softly in the night, a reminder of the uneasy world they inhabited.
Charles eventually cleared his throat. "So what's our next step? Do we pull in Potter for questioning? Request a formal inquiry?"
Lydia shook her head. "He's too well-connected, and right now he's useful. We're winning battles we might've lost without his 'medicines'. Command isn't going to jeopardize that on a hunch. But I can keep digging. There must be more records, more clues," She narrowed her eyes at the name on the file cover. "We just need something concrete, something that says what Potter Inc. really is doing,"
Agent Humphreys finished his coffee and set it aside. "Keep me posted, Ford. If anything else odd turns up - any strange shipments, odd codices, or unexplained events - let me know. The SSR needs to be ready for whatever is coming," She nodded, and he stood, heading back to the decoding room and leaving her alone again.
Lydia flipped open the file once more, lingering on the name: Harry Potter. Just a man, supposedly. Yet his fingerprints were all over these subtle miracles and whisperings of the extraordinary. Somewhere out there, Potter Inc. was planning something new, and the SSR intended to uncover it. They might not have Harry Potter in front of them, nor any cosmic truths, but they had paperwork, patterns, and persistence. Sooner or later, they'd piece together the puzzle. Lydia pressed her pen against a blank page and began writing notes that would one day lead to a hundred new questions and maybe, just maybe, some answers.
April 18th, 1942 - Potter Estate - Earth - Multiverse – Sector 31.199999-A:
The missile silo had been abandoned for years, a relic of a bygone era when the world lived in constant fear of annihilation. Harry had found it by accident. Or perhaps it had found him. He didn't believe in coincidences any more. Not after all he'd seen. The towering steel doors, rusted and forgotten in the middle of the American Midwest, had whispered of potential, a chance to carve out a space away from prying eyes and dangerous questions.
That had been nearly a year ago. Now, the silo was unrecognizable. Above ground, it looked like a modest retreat. Warm light spilling from a cosy living room window, a well-tended garden, and a pool that sparkled under the sun. It could have been anyone's sanctuary. But beneath the surface, twenty levels of meticulously crafted ingenuity descended deep into the earth, each floor serving a purpose in the delicate balance Harry had created between innovation and secrecy. He stood now on the deck of that pool, leaning against the railing as the day progressed. A soft breeze carried the faint scent of the pine forest that stretched beyond his property, and for a moment, the world seemed almost...peaceful. Almost.
His reflection in the water was sharp, angular, and unfamiliar. The boy who had once stood on the precipice of a war in a different world was gone. In his place was a man whose every decision was calculated, every action deliberate. His once unruly hair, now streaked with premature silver, framed green eyes that no longer held the innocence of youth. They were older now. Wiser. Haunted.
The year had passed in a blur of effort, invention, and solitude. From the moment Harry had stepped into this world, he had known that his presence alone was enough to tip the fragile scales of the universe. He had resolved to tread carefully, to act only when absolutely necessary. That resolve had lasted all of a month.
Potter Incorporated had been born from necessity as much as ambition. The world was at war, and Harry knew enough of history to understand the stakes. He'd started small, introducing more advanced medicines under the guise of innovative pharmaceutical research. It hadn't taken long for the world to take notice. Polio treatments, infection cures, and new surgical methods spread like wildfire through hospitals, saving thousands, perhaps millions, of lives.
Then came the technology. Vehicles that ran on electricity decades ahead of their time. Planes capable of greater speed and efficiency than anything the Allies had seen before. He sold them sparingly, making sure his innovations wouldn't tip the balance too drastically. He had learned that lesson the hard way before. But Harry wasn't naïve enough to think his contributions would go unnoticed. The Strategic Scientific Reserve had taken an interest almost immediately. Their quiet inquiries had grown into more persistent overtures, and while Harry had rebuffed them at every turn, he knew they wouldn't stop. Men like Colonel Phillips didn't know the meaning of 'no', and while Harry could appreciate their determination, he had no intention of becoming a tool for their war machine.
Despite his refusal to directly join their efforts, he had found ways to help on the front lines. Late at night, when the stars were hidden behind clouds of war, he would apparate into makeshift hospitals and bombed-out shelters, healing the wounded and bolstering the spirits of soldiers who had given everything for a cause they barely understood. They didn't know his name. They barely remembered his face. He was just a shadow, a whisper of hope in the darkness.
Yet for all his efforts, the war had taken its toll on him. He had seen things that reminded him too much of his own battles. The Wizarding Wars, the bodies piled high in the aftermath of Voldemort's campaigns, the haunted eyes of those who survived. Here, it was no different. Refugees streamed through cities, their lives shattered. Bombs rained down on homes, reducing them to rubble. And the soldiers - boys too young to have seen anything but blood and death - looked at him with eyes that begged for an end that would never come.
It was the memories that troubled him most. Not the memories of this world - those he could compartmentalize, bury beneath the weight of his work. It was the memories of his first life, fractured and incomplete, that refused to let him rest. He could remember flashes. His parents' voices, the warmth of Ginny's touch, the sound of Ron's laughter. But the details slipped through his fingers like sand. Faces blurred, voices faded, and every attempt to piece them together only deepened the ache.
The Zeroverse was no help. It whispered to him in riddles, offering glimpses of truths he couldn't grasp. It amplified his power but left him disconnected, confused. He had spent countless nights in his lab, pouring over ancient texts and experimenting with spells, searching for something - anything - that might bring clarity. He had found none.
The elevator's soft chime broke the silence, drawing Harry's attention. He stepped inside and pressed the button for Sublevel Nine. The descent was smooth, the hum of machinery a comforting rhythm that reminded him of the life he had built here. When the doors slid open, the Control Room greeted him with its familiar glow. Monitors lined the walls, displaying real-time data on everything from the silo's environmental controls to the state of the wards protecting it from magical intrusion.
"Hermione," he said, his voice quiet but firm.
"Yes, Harry?" The AI's voice was warm, as always, a reminder of the friend he had left behind in another life.
"Run a diagnostic on the wards. I want to make sure everything's intact,"
"Of course," Hermione replied. "No anomalies detected. The wards are functioning at full capacity,"
"Good," Harry muttered. He sank into the chair at his workstation, his fingers tracing the edge of the console. "Let me know if that changes,"
The holographic interface flickered to life, displaying a complex schematic of his latest project. He had been working on it for months. A weapon powered by the Tesseract, the Aether, and the Eye of Agamotto. It was nearly complete, but something about it still felt...wrong. As he studied the schematic, the whisper returned. It wasn't the Zeroverse this time. It was something older, more ancient. A soft hum at the edges of his consciousness, pulling him toward a path he couldn't yet see. Harry closed his eyes, letting the sensation wash over him. "What do you want from me?" he whispered into the empty room.
There was no answer, only a faint echo that lingered in his mind: Keep moving. The path is ahead.
With a sigh, Harry leaned back in his chair. This was going to be a long day.
November 2nd, 1942 - Potter Estate - Earth - Multiverse – Sector 31.199999-A:
Harry stood before the pulsing blue core of Project Aegis, his hands resting lightly on the edge of the reinforced console. The energy swirling within the containment chamber was mesmerizing. A chaotic storm of light and shadow that seemed alive, flickering and sparking against the containment glyphs etched into the walls. This was no ordinary magical project. This was an experiment with forces that defied the laws of reality. Feral Magic.
The Zeroverse had first whispered to him of its existence shortly after his arrival in this fractured timeline. It wasn't the carefully controlled magic he had learned at Hogwarts or the disciplined craft he'd honed through years of war. Feral Magic was something entirely different. Primal, untamed, and dangerous beyond comprehension. It was raw power, unshaped and unyielding, capable of reshaping worlds or reducing them to ash. Most terrifying of all was the knowledge that another Harry - his counterpart in this universe - had already tried to harness it.
Harry glanced at the containment chamber, his thoughts drifting to the fractured memories he had uncovered about this world's Harry Potter. Known as 'The First', that Harry had been a prodigy turned tyrant, consumed by his desire to wield Feral Magic and bend it to his will. His experiments had torn rifts in the fabric of this reality, leaving behind scars that echoed across time and space. Project Aegis was Harry's attempt to clean up the mess and ensure that such power could never fall into the wrong hands again.
"Status report, Hermione," he said, breaking the silence.
The AI's voice filled the chamber, calm and precise. "Containment is stable at 97%. Glyph integrity remains within acceptable parameters, though the energy spikes in the north quadrant are approaching critical thresholds. Recommend recalibration within the next hour,"
Harry nodded. "Noted. What about the test results from the last infusion cycle?"
"Mixed," Hermione replied. "The protective wards enhanced by Feral Magic showed a 320% increase in durability compared to standard enchantments. However, the energy drain required to maintain the wards is unsustainable for practical deployment. Attempts to reduce the draw resulted in instability, leading to partial collapse of the ward structure,"
Harry frowned, running a hand through his hair. The potential of Feral Magic was undeniable, but its unpredictability made it nearly impossible to control. Even with the containment chamber filtering out its wildest fluctuations, the energy resisted his attempts to channel it into something usable. "Show me the data from the stabilization matrix," he said, stepping over to the primary console.
A holographic display sprang to life, filling the air with swirling streams of energy signatures and mathematical equations. Harry scanned the data, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he identified the weak points in the matrix. "This isn't going to work," he muttered. "The current configuration is too rigid. We're trying to force Feral Magic into a mold it wasn't designed to fit,"
Hermione's voice took on a thoughtful tone. "Would you consider adopting a more adaptive framework? Perhaps something akin to the Zeroverse's dynamic resonance system?"
Harry paused, the idea sparking a glimmer of hope. "That...might work. Feral Magic is too wild for static constructs, but if we could create a system that adapts in real time - responding to the fluctuations instead of resisting them - it could stabilize the energy flow without compromising its power,"
"Implementing such a system would require extensive recalibration of the containment chamber and a complete overhaul of the glyph network," Hermione warned.
Harry cracked a faint smile. "When has that ever stopped us?"
Project Aegis had begun as an idea born of necessity. The war raging across the globe wasn't just a battle of nations. It was a clash of ideologies, technologies, and - unknown to most - forces beyond human understanding. Hydra's pursuit of arcane artifacts was only the tip of the iceberg. Beneath the surface, a darker truth loomed. Remnants of Feral Magic still lingered in this world, fragments of The First's experiments that refused to fade.
Harry had first encountered one of these fragments during a mission to recover a lost artifact in northern France. The artifact - a jagged crystal pulsating with Feral Magic - had been buried beneath the ruins of an ancient battlefield. When he had touched it, the magic within had surged through him like a wildfire, tearing at his control and threatening to consume him. It was only through sheer force of will and his connection to the Zeroverse that he had managed to contain it. That encounter had been the catalyst for Project Aegis. Harry realized that the only way to counter the growing threat of Feral Magic was to understand it. To study its nature and find a way to harness its power safely. It was a gamble, one that teetered on the edge of recklessness, but the stakes were too high to ignore.
The containment chamber hummed with energy as Harry worked, his hands moving deftly over the console as he adjusted the stabilization parameters. The new framework Hermione had suggested was complex, requiring him to integrate elements of Zeroverse dynamics into the glyph network. It was a delicate process, like weaving threads of fire and shadow into a single, cohesive tapestry.
As he worked, he couldn't help but think about the potential applications of Project Aegis. If he could stabilize Feral Magic, the possibilities were staggering. Enchanted shields that could withstand nuclear blasts. Medical wards capable of healing injuries that defied conventional treatment. Weapons that could turn the tide of battle without causing mass destruction. But with that power came risk. Feral Magic was not meant for mortal hands, and even the smallest mistake could have catastrophic consequences. The First had proven that.
"Hermione, what's the status of the failsafe protocols?" Harry asked, his voice tight with concentration.
"All failsafes are operational," Hermione replied. "In the event of containment breach, the chamber will self-seal and vent the energy into the Void. However, there is a 0.03% chance of the venting process destabilizing, resulting in-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Harry interrupted. "Total annihilation. Let's not dwell on that,"
He leaned back, taking a moment to catch his breath. The containment chamber glowed softly, the energy within pulsing in time with his own heartbeat. For all its dangers, Feral Magic had a strange beauty to it. A reminder of the raw, untamed potential that existed beyond the boundaries of human comprehension. "Almost there," he muttered. "Just a little more..."
By the time Harry finished the recalibration, hours had passed. He stood before the containment chamber, his hands resting on the console as he watched the energy swirl within. The new framework was holding, adapting to the fluctuations of Feral Magic with remarkable precision. "Stabilization at 99%," Hermione reported. "Energy output has increased by 43%, with no signs of instability,"
Harry allowed himself a small smile. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. For the first time since beginning Project Aegis, he felt a glimmer of hope that his efforts might succeed. As he turned to leave the chamber, the whisper from the Zeroverse returned, faint but insistent. It wasn't a warning this time, but a message. A promise.
The fire burns, but it can be shaped. You are its forge.
Harry paused, his hand on the doorframe. "Then let's get to work,"
~ Omake - Poolside Diplomacy ~
It had been a long day in the silo, and Harry decided to indulge in one of his few genuine luxuries. The above-ground pool. The deck was pristine, the water crystal clear, and the faint scent of pine drifted in on the breeze. For once, everything seemed peaceful. He set his towel on a lounge chair, slipped out of his boots, and approached the edge of the pool.
Then he saw the bubbles.
They started small, a few harmless ripples disturbing the otherwise serene surface. Harry paused, frowning. "Hermione, is the pool filtration system acting up again?"
"Diagnostics indicate no anomalies," Hermione replied promptly. "The system is functioning within expected parameters,"
Harry crouched by the edge, peering into the water. "Then why is it-?"
Before he could finish, a plume of water erupted from the center of the pool, drenching him from head to toe. He stumbled back with a curse, wiping his glasses with the hem of his shirt. When he looked up, he froze. A small, scaly creature bobbed at the surface, blinking large, curious eyes at him. It had the unmistakable appearance of a baby water dragon, no more than two feet long, with shimmering blue-green scales and tiny fins protruding from its back. It let out a high-pitched chirp, its mouth opening to reveal rows of needle-like teeth.
Harry blinked. "Hermione...what is that?"
"Analyzing," the AI said. A moment later, she continued, "The creature appears to be an aquatic drake. A juvenile, to be specific. Likely displaced from the Feral Realm due to residual magical flux in the area,"
Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. "Residual flux. Great. Just what I needed," The drake chirped again, tilting its head as if waiting for him to say something. Then, with a surprisingly graceful motion, it dove underwater and reappeared a moment later, holding one of Harry's enchanted pool floats in its jaws.
"Oi! That's not food!" Harry exclaimed. The little creature froze, staring at him with wide, innocent eyes before letting out a mournful squeak. Harry groaned. "Oh, for Death's sake. Fine. You can chew on it. Just don't swallow it," The drake let out a triumphant trill and began gnawing happily on the float, which now had several puncture marks in its surface.
Harry sat down on the edge of the pool, watching the creature with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "You're lucky you're cute," he muttered.
"Shall I begin preparations to return the drake to its native realm?" Hermione asked.
Harry hesitated, studying the tiny dragon as it splashed and played in the water. For all its disruptive antics, it seemed harmless and oddly content. It swam in circles, occasionally stopping to chirp at him as if expecting a response. "Not yet," he said finally. "Let's give it a day or two. Maybe it'll decide to go back on its own,"
"And if it does not?" Hermione inquired.
Harry sighed, leaning back on his hands. "Then I guess I'll have to figure out how to take care of a pool dragon," The drake let out a delighted squeal, flapping its fins and sending a wave of water over Harry's legs. He laughed despite himself, shaking his head. "Well, at least you're better company than some of the people I've dealt with lately,"
As the sun began to set, Harry found himself oddly at peace. The drake floated lazily in the water, its earlier energy spent, and for once, the world seemed to hold no urgent crises. It was just him, the pool, and an uninvited - but strangely endearing - guest. He smiled faintly. "You know, maybe this isn't so bad,"
A/N: Feel free to leave review, favorite, and check out the linked in my profile for early access to chapters!