- ADVENTUS -

September 1st, 1996 - Hogwarts Express - Scotland - Universe Designation: 5.231.1

Harry Potter was angry. He was sad. He was grieving. Less than three months earlier, his godfather, Sirius Black, had been murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange. The event had drastically affected Harry's life. Some parts for the better, most for the worst. For the better, Harry had finally been emancipated while inheriting the entirety of both the Potter and Black family vaults. This provided him with all the gold he could ever ask for, not that he planned on using all of it. Before setting off on the Hogwarts Express, Harry had tied the contents of both vaults to his moleskin pouch, allowing him to draw objects from it at will. A rather handy item that he had already found rather useful.

He now sat in one of the rear compartments on the Hogwarts Express, his right shoulder pressed against the wall separating the compartment and the hallway. To his left were Hermione and Luna. Across from him were Neville, Ron, and Ginny. Ginny and Luna were discussing some article that had been recently released by The Quibbler. Ron, Neville, and Hermione were talking about their studies, with Hermione once more reminding Ron to do his best regarding his schoolwork. Neville, who had been doing better in his schoolwork after receiving his own wand that summer, took Hermione's side. This seemed to only annoy Ron.

Harry, though, was minding his own business. He was deep in thought, trying to plan out his future. He still needed to kill Voldemort. Harry also needed to plant the seeds for his distant future. He needed to start taking his studies seriously, as well as establish his role as Lord Potter. Things wouldn't end with Voldemort gone. He needed to make sure something like Voldemort's rise never occurred again. This could only be done from the base of the problem. The entire reason this war had begun. 'Blood Purity'. People needed to be educated in the fact that the purity of blood meant nothing. It was all about the intent of the magic used and the education of the masses that mattered. Harry intended to drive forward the change needed.

"What is that?"

Luna's voice drew Harry's attention to the other end of the compartment. The blonde girl was leaning against the window of the compartment, with the outside rushing past them as the Express moved toward Hogsmeade. She was wearing her Spectrespecs, though the way she was sitting made Harry a little nervous. Hermione leaned closer to Luna, peering out the window. "What the..." Hermione's whisper only increased Harry's nervousness. A feeling in his stomach caused his gut to turn. Ginny and Ron had turned around, and were now looking out the window. He felt Hermione's hand grab him by the collar, pulling him closer to the window. After a moment, all six of them were looking through the glass.

His eyes scanned the surroundings, immediately spotting what they had been examining. Off in the distance, hovering over the mountains of Scotland, was a massive black cloud. The cloud was pulsing with emerald green and bright pink lightning. But Harry wasn't watching the cloud. His eyes followed what was exiting it. A black spec shot from the interior, speeding toward the Hogwarts Express at dangerous speeds. Despite his seeker reflexes, he lost track of the black spec, his eyes returning to the massive cloud spread out before them.

"What in the bloody hell is -"

Before Ron could finish and before Hermione could reprimand him, a violent shaking grabbed all of their attention. Harry immediately collapsed into his seat, with Hermione nearly collapsing into him. Neville fell to the floor, yelling out in surprise as the Express swayed from left to right. "What's happening?!" Ginny screamed. None of them could reply. It all happened so fast. Before Harry could so much as blink, the entire compartment fell into chaos. Gravity seemed to fail as the six went flying into the air. Ginny's head hit the ceiling with a CRUNCH! while Hermione flew up into Harry's ribs. The last thing Harry saw before he was knocked unconscious was Ron falling through the window of the upside down compartment.

"Subject spotted. Life signs indicate he's alive," Harry blinked. The worst pain he had ever felt in his life coursed through his body. He could feel his broken legs and a broken left arm. Harry also took note of the fact that he was pinned, his chest to the ground. Trying his best to breath, he peered up toward the source of the voice. He was certainly surprised by what he saw. Harry could see what looked like Ginny's hair flowing out from beneath a large pile of rubble. He could see Ron's hand-me-down trousers sticking out of the ground, his legs severed from the rest of his body. The worst was Luna. Her head had been completely severed, lying only a few feet from Harry. Her eyes were still open, peering up at the sky in what Harry would think was wonder.

His stomach wrenched at the sight before him. Blood and limbs were everywhere. The Hogwarts Express lay in pieces around him, with no one in sight other than the bodies of his friends. But he couldn't focus on their bodies. He was more focused on the voice that had spoken. It belonged to one of the two figures moving through the wreckage before him. The figures stood side by side, their presence cloaked in shadows. Their outfits were a seamless blend of sleek technology and tactical design. One was male and one was female, with the male standing somewhere around 5'11" while the female stood around 5'5".

Both were draped in hooded, jet-black robes that seemed to drink in the light, the fabric melding into angular plates of armor covering their shoulders, torsos, and arms. Hexagonal patterns glowed faintly in crimson across their masks and along their limbs, pulsing like veins of energy running through their suits, giving them an almost mechanical aura. The female appeared lighter, built for speed and precision, with smoother lines and a more streamlined silhouette. The glowing on the female's suit were subtle, almost hidden, suggesting a focus on stealth and reconnaissance. In contrast, the male carried more weight, their armor bulkier and reinforced for direct confrontation. The crimson patters on the male's gear shone brighter, like a warning, his stance imposing as he navigated the rubble. Each held a blade as sharp and angular as their attire, the metal gleaming faintly under the light. Together, they looked like ghosts from the future. Silent. Deadly. Unstoppable.

The female had spoken, her eyes on Harry as the two made their way toward him. The male shook his head. "We would be more sure of his survival if Furva hadn't derailed the train like she had,"

"It certainly looked cool," The female spoke.

"There's two more in the rubble," The man said suddenly. Harry's head tilted, his eyes scanning the area to his right. And sure enough, two others were alive. Hermione and Neville. Neville was lying on the ground, blood pouring from his head. The bottom half of his legs beneath his knees were completely gone. He was covered in blood, and yet he was still alive, his right hand reaching out to Harry in desperation. Not too far from Neville was Hermione. She was buried underneath a piece of rubble, with only her left side visible. She was bleeding profusely, his left hand reaching out to him as well. Harry let out a weak sob at the sight of them. Ginny. Ron. Luna. Dead. Hermione and Neville soon to join them. How had everything gone wrong so quickly?

Before Harry could look away, the two cloaked figures had each stepped up to Hermione and Neville. The male stepped down on Neville's outstretched hand, producing a blood-curling scream from the boy. Harry could only watch in horror as the man dropped, plunging his knife into Neville's heart. Neville Longbottom slumped into the ground, his entire body going limp as the life escaped him. The female dropped over Hermione, pressing the rubble further onto Hermione, whose face contorted in pain as tears rushed down the visible side of her face.

In a moment that would haunt Harry for the rest of his life, the woman slammed the blade of her knife into Hermione's face. The blade cut right through the middle, drawing blood immediately. Harry and Hermione locked eyes, and he watched as the life behind them slowly faded until her outstretched hand fell to the ground. The two removed their blades from his friend, with the woman flinging Hermione's blood onto Harry's face while cleaning it. He could only look on in stunned horror as the two approached him. Cedric. Sirius. Ginny. Ron. Luna. Neville. Hermione. They were all dead. Everyone he had ever cared about was dead. How could this happen?

December 25th, 1896 - 7:19pm - Hogwarts School for Witchcraft & Wizardry - Scotland - Universe Designation: 1.396.3

Roseline Evans was a peculiar witch. Not the most peculiar Albus Dumbledore had ever met, but certainly up there. The two had crossed paths on the Hogwarts Express five years prior before their first year. Rose had been looking for a free compartment and had stumbled upon Albus' at the end of the train. The two shared awkward introductions, before spending the next three hours discussing their favorite forms of literature and what they planned to do at Hogwarts once they arrived. It wasn't until the two were both sorted into Gryffindor that their friendship solidified.

The two went about the next five years in relative peace. Exams came and went, friendships ignited and faded, and yet the two remained as thick as thieves. Now, their O.W.L's were only six months away, meaning the two were crunching their studies to ensure they were both prepared. To facilitate their preparations, Rose and Albus had retreated to the Astronomy Tower, with Rose pointing out that the stars helped her concentrate. Seeing as Albus also held an admiration for stars and curfew would not begin for several more hours, he decided it was not a bad idea.

Now, Albus was sitting at the edge of the Astronomy Tower, peering down at his potions notes. Rose was sitting at the edge as well, only she was sitting down on the exterior wall, positioned horizontally. The only thing keeping her from falling was the sticking charms on her skirt and the wall itself. Her dark red hair was hanging from her head, trying to reach the ground as her eyes shifted from her potions texts to the stars. Albus peered down at her and frowned. "You're going to get yourself killed doing that,"

"If I die, I die," Rose said with a shrug.

"If you say so," Albus replied, shaking his head in amusement. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Are with second years?" Rose asked in annoyance, shaking her head and shooting a face at Albus he had seen many times before. "They're the same plant. Aconite is another name for them. They're just used differently,"

Albus sighed at her annoyance. "We have to cover all of our bases, Rose. The O.W.L's cover all five years of our magical education. We need to be as prepared as possible for this,"

Rose leaned forward, taking a moment to stretch her back. A groan escaped her before she corrected her posture. Sitting down horizontally wasn't particularly easy. Luckily for Rose, her core was the strongest part of her body. Albus shook his head, unsure why she still insisted on sitting in that position. It would be both of their lucks that Rose's sticking charms would wear off, and she would go plummeting down to the ground before either of them could react. Of course, whenever he mentioned this, Rose promptly told him off. Rose spoke. "You're not wrong, but I don't see why you're worrying so much. We're both smart and powerful enough to pass these tests no problem,"

"I agree with you, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't study. It's better to be prepared than walk into -"

"Yes, walk into danger with your eyes closed, and your hands tied behind your back. You've said it once, you've said it one hundred times," Rose cut off.

Albus shook his head once again in amusement. He peered back down at his potion's notebook, only for a faint flashing in his peripherals to draw his attention to the horizon. What he witnessed there shocked him more than anything had in his entire life. A massive black cloud pulsing with emerald green and bright pink lightning, barrelling towards Hogwarts at unimaginable speeds. Albus immediately jumped to his feet, barely acknowledging that his potions book fell out of his lap into Rose's face. An 'OW!' rang over the castle as Albus swiftly removed his wand from his pocket.

"Rose, get up from there," Albus peered down at Rose, only to find her stunned into silence. She was now upside down, her eyes wide as she examined the cloud. It continued to draw closer and closer, nearing the castle with impressive speed. "NOW!"

Harry was dropped down onto the marble floor of wherever he was now. He had been too stunned to focus as the two carried him through the portal. Now, though, he stood surrounded by ten individuals. The two that had killed his friends, a random woman in robes he hadn't seen before, and seven men sitting behind the large table ahead of them. Harry took a moment to examine the table in front of him. The seven men were eyeing him with a mix of interest and disinterest. One man sat a bit higher than the others in the center of the table.

The man was commanding and statuesque, dressed in an immaculate white suit, its sharp tailoring accented by intricate silver playing across his chest and shoulders. He looked less like a man and more like a figure carved from divine authority. His long, flowing coat swept gracefully around him, its edges catching the soft light around them. A striking silver beard framed his stern, chiselled features, his sharp jawline and high cheekbones lending him an air of regal dignity. His piercing emerald green eyes, cold yet alive with purpose, were watching Harry emotionlessly.

The man on his left - sitting behind a name-plaque that read 'Council Member 2 - was leaning back in his chair, his presence dominating amidst the six others. He had thick, silver hair that was combed neatly back, save for a stubborn wave curling just above his temple. A grand moustache swept across his face, perfectly groomed, showcasing the sharp angles of his jawline while lending him an air of old-world sophistication. Perched low on his nose was a pair of tinted glasses, half-concealing emerald green eyes that were sharp and calculating. He wore a tailored suit, dark and flawless, accompanied by a tie adorned with intricate patterns and a broad fur-lined collar.

To his left was 'Council Member 4' - a deeply disfigured man. He had raven-black hair that fell in jagged strands across his forehead, a wild contrast to his otherwise composed demeanor. Much like the others, his face was adorned with angular features that accentuated the sharpness of his jawline and the subtle curl of his lips. His eyes glowed an unnaturally emerald green, their intensity cutting through the dim light. One eye, however, was surrounded by intricate scarring, the skin marred as though fire or machinery had torn through it. This left behind a patchwork of flesh and metallic implants around the left eye. Around the man's neck, faint gold circuitry glimmered like veins of light, indicating more implants. He wore a high-collared coat, fastened with a single button.

The seat to Council Member 4's left was occupied by Council Member 6. His face was sharp, angular, and solemn, marked by a calm intensity. His raven-black hair was neatly combed back, with a streak of silver catching the light at his temple. His piercing emerald green eyes were fixed ahead, distant and calculating, with a faint scar along his left cheek. He was wearing a tailored black coat, double-breasted and adorned with golden buttons. It hugged his lean frame, featuring a high collar that only added to his features. He was wearing black dragonhide gloves. Harry also noticed that wisps of black smoke coiled faintly around him, curling from nowhere and dissipating into the air, an unsettling reminder that the man was not of this world.

The seat to the right of the man in the center - Council Member 1 - was occupied by Council Member 3. This man was the most terrifying of them all, exuding an aura of terrifying dominance that rocked Harry to his core. Council Member 3 had an angular jaw and high cheekbones much like the others, concealing his gaze behind a pair of black sunglasses that only added to the mystery and intrigue surrounding him. His hair, jet-black and meticulously combed back, bore a slight rebellious curl. Harry took note of the large scar that traced from his left cheek down his neck and under his shirt. He was wearing a black tailored suit that fit him like a second skin, with subtle red stitching catching the light surrounding them. A crimson pocket square rested neatly in his jacket, the only splash of color in his otherwise monochrome attire.

To his right was Council Member 5. He had very pale skin, which was offset by the dark ink of intricate tattoos creeping up his neck. Harry took note of his slicked back hair. Much like the others, he had very sharp and angular features, which were only deepened by his state of dress. A tailored, navy trench coat draped over his broad shoulders, the high collar framing his sharp jawline. Beneath the coat, a three-piece suit hugged his lean frame, its midnight blue fabric complemented by a crisp white shirt and a perfectly knotted black tie. Harry could tell that every detail about him was deliberate, from the polished silver clip sitting against his chest to the faint chain of a pocket watch peeking from his vest. What unnerved Harry most was the scar running over his right eye, which was a sickly white that indicated blindness. His left eye seemed fine.

Council Member 7 was the last at the left end of the table. He, like all the others, had angular features and piercing emerald green eyes. His raven-black hair, which was shaved and greying at the sides, gave him a modern appearance. He had the faint shadow of a stubble along his jawline, softening the sharpness of his cheekbones. He wore a tailored black overcoat, accented with subtle crimson lining, framing his lean frame. Beneath the coat was a black and grey three-piece suit, the crisp white shirt and slim black tie completing the ensemble with sophistication. He also wore black leather gloves. His posture was the most relaxed of the seven, with one hand tucked casually in his pocket while the other lifted a cigarette to his lips.

The cloaked woman he hadn't seen before was just as imposing. She was shrouded in dark, flowing garments that clung to her form like shadows come to life. Her hood was drawn low, obscuring her face in an abyss of darkness. Golden accents traced the edges of her black robes, indicating a sigil of authority. Her arms were bare, the flesh replaced with intricate glowing golden designs etched into dark metal that seemed to pulse faintly with life. The arms looked forged for destruction, a slight hum of energy crackling off of them that led Harry to believe they could crush stone with the ease of lifting a feather. If she was the woman he thought she was, she had derailed the Hogwarts Express with ease.

The female from before spoke first. "The subject has a strong magical core with room for improvement and additions. While his physical strength is minimal, his intellect and magical prowess make him a good candidate for Gladiatorial status,"

Council Member 1's eyes bore into Harry with interest. "I see. His aura is vast, though not as large as others I've seen. His magical core is powerful, but bound by ancient magic. No doubt a scheme by Dumbledore or some other inconsequential cretin. Remove the bindings and place him in Sector 5 for assignment. Good work, Gemini," The two cloaked figures nodded. The aged council member turned to the other cloaked woman. "Furva. Report to Sector 4 and alert the Peritus to commence the torching of Universe-5.231.1. Move onto the next,"

"Yes sir," Furva, the sole destroyer of the Hogwarts Express, disappeared in a blur of black and silver.

Harry groaned as a strong hand grabbed him by the neck, dragging him across the marble floor. Before he could react, he was thrown into a large chute, falling for what felt like five minutes before being dumped out onto a thin pad. "Get up," A voice spoke. Two hands wrapped around his armpits, dragging Harry up from his collapsed position until he was on his feet. Harry was met with two grown men, each wearing uniforms with a symbol Harry didn't recognize on the left breast. A triangle, a circle, and a line overlaid on top of one another.

The two men looked exactly like Harry, with jet-black hair and emerald green eyes. Only there were slight differences. For one, they were massive, resembling body-builders with the amount of muscle on both. The doppelganger to his left growled at Harry while the one on his right spoke. "Welcome to Sector 5. Give me your left hand," The man to Harry's left grabbed his left wrist, pulling on his hand before Harry could agree or disagree. In the span of a second a metallic device was pressed into his exposed left forearm. A burning sensation coursed through Harry as he groaned in pain. When the man to the right removed the device, Harry's eyes widened. Clear as day, a large barcode stretched halfway down his forearm, with a code spelled out below it. G-ZX-3468.

The man to Harry's right continued. "The barcode and number are your identity. The barcode allows you entry to anywhere with Gladiator-access or below. Locations requiring Master-access are restricted to you. This...is a reminder," Harry screamed in pain as a burning sensation ran through his lower back. The pain persisted for a moment as Harry leaned against the two doppelgängers for support. When it ended, he peered around. Unable to spot the wound, the man to his right explained. "A Gladiator insignia. For further identification. It will also be a reminder of who you are now. Whatever your name was when you arrived, it no longer applies. You have seven cycles before you must choose your call sign. In the meantime...welcome home,"

Harry was then unceremoniously shoved down the steps leading away from them by the man to the left, tumbling down the flight before landing on the street below. Once again, unconsciousness found him as his head hit the ground, uncertainty and anger being the only things on his mind.

Rose didn't have time to react. Albus' exclamation rang through her ears the same time the fire reached her. Rose's sticking charms disappeared as an explosion vaporized the Astronomy Tower and Albus. The explosion and the shockwave ensuing it sent her careening toward the ground. She never got to learn of Albus' fate. The second her head hit the ground, Rose was no longer outside the walls of Hogwarts. She was in a completely different place. A blinding pain coursed through her as she recovered from the fall, her back and arms bent in impossible angles. But she couldn't think about that right now. Her only concern were those in front of her.

She was inside a bright white room, facing a large marble table that held seven men. The seven all had different yet oddly similar appearances, and were watching her with indifference. A woman Rose didn't recognize stood to the right. She was an older woman wearing a white lab coat, carrying a silver clipboard in her left hand. She had weathered and scarred skin, with a jagged line running from her right cheekbone to her jaw. Silver strands streaked through her dark brown hair, tied back loosely to reveal her dark hazel eyes. A faint burn marred her left wrist, hidden beneath the cuff of her coat. The woman occasionally sneaked glances toward Rose before turning back to the clipboard in her hands.

"That was reckless, Magus," Rose peered to her right from the floor, spotting to men standing there. One was a man cloaked in lightweight, segmented armor. The armor was centered with a glowing purple insignia that pulsed with arcane energy that even Rose's untrained magic could sense. Beneath the plating, Rose spotted dark fabric etched with faintly glowing geometric patterns that seemed to provide various physical enhancements. A rune-engraved belt around the man's waist secured pouches filled with magical tools. Their face was hidden behind a sleek, dark helmet with a reflective visor. Golden accents traced its edges, adding an enigmatic and futuristic flair. A fitted black hood draped seamlessly over the helmet, enhancing their imposing presence. Rose took note of his other limbs. His arms were encased in flexible, segmented plating, moving down toward gauntlets inscribed with softly glowing runes. Slim, tailored leg armor covered the man's thighs and shins, glowing faintly with the same arcane energy as the rest of the armor.

The other man was dressed similarly. The man had his face obscured by a sleek, angular helmet with sharp edges and glowing golden accents. A faint golden light spilled from the visor, hinting at some sort of energy within. A flowing black hood draped over his head, shadowing his features, while a long, tattered cloak etched with flickering sigils flowing weightlessly from his shoulders. His dark, metallic chest plate was adorned with swirling arcane patterns that pulsed with gold and crimson energy. At its center, a glowing symbol glowed with arcane energy. A gladiator helmet Rose recognized from ancient texts, mostly used to represent ancient Rome and the Roman Empire. This man turned to the gold-clad man turned to the black-clad man and continued. "You nearly killed the Subject,"

The black-clad man, most likely the man referred to as Magus, shrugged. "Things happen, Gladius,"

"Enough," The man at the center of the table spoke, his voice echoing through the room. His emerald green eyes flashed for a moment, and Rose suddenly felt her broken bones mend, allowing her the freedom of movement. Deciding it would be stupid to try and run - especially given she saw no visible exits - Rose rolled over, sitting on her knees as she peered up toward the table. The woman standing beside the table spoke. "Subject has a weakened magical core, little combat experience, and given its placement in the timeline lacks hands-on experience with technology,"

"I recommend spacing it," Magus spoke. Rose's eyes widened. She didn't know what 'spacing' meant, but she assumed it was not good.

"That is a waste, even for a subject as weak as this one," Gladius said, motioning to Rose, who frowned. "I recommend placement as a Servus,"

"Agreed," One of the men at the table said.

"Well then, it's decided," The man in the center replied.

"Councilman, if I may," The woman standing beside the table spoke again. The center council member motioned for her to continue. "While this subject is weak at the moment, there is room for improvement. Its magical core, while small, shows signs of increasing. Perhaps placement as a Codder would be more appropriate,"

The councilman turned back to Rose, examining her for only a moment before nodding. "Very well. Send it to Sector 6," Before Rose could react, she was grabbed from the back of the neck, being dragged across the marble floor before being tossed into a metallic chute. By the time she hit the ground, she was quickly pulled to her feet. In the span of a second, Rose felt a flaming sensation on her left forearm. She took note of the fact that her Gryffindor robes were gone, leaving her in only her undergarments, exposing a great deal of her body. Her eyes widened in pain as she peered down at her left arm, taking note of the metal poker being pressed against her skin. It was being held by a massive man with jet-black hair and emerald green eyes much like her own.

"Welcome to Sector 6," The man removed the poker from Rose's arm, causing her to cry out in pain as some of her flesh went with it. What she saw there confused her. A combination of letters and numbers, C-ZZZE-3925, and an emblem of crossed swords. The large man continued. "That's your serial number. The symbol is your identity. You're a Codder now,"

"What does that mean?" Rose asked, surprised evident in her features.

"You're the Domus Mortis' cannon fodder. Codder. You'll be on the front lines of any multiversal conflict, where you'll meet your inevitable demise. Now get the fuck off of my platform before a new one arrives," The man dropped a small package into Rose's right hand and merely shoved her off of the platform and onto the path before her. Rose's eyes widened at that explanation. She was nothing but cannon fodder? Something to delay enemies, her body being used as a human shield. Rose took a moment to examine the room ahead of her. But it wasn't a room. It was more of a world. A space so vast it seemed to stretch on forever past the horizon. But there were no buildings or structures.

Peering into the package the man had given her before, she spotted two items. A sleeping bag and a small jumpsuit. Taking a look at the world ahead of her, Rose noticed that nearly every inch of it was occupied by a sleeping bag. Among these sleeping bags were hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of nearly identical people. Individuals between the ages of eight and forty-nine wearing identical jumpsuits, possessing jet-black hair and emerald green eyes. Rose spotted a few with red hair occasionally, but most had black hair. Rose's eyes widened. What WAS this place?

"This is the Domus Mortis," Rose turned toward the right, spotting a young body who was no older than six. He was as thin as a toothpick and seemed on the verge of collapse. Despite his clear physical ailments, the boy strolled up to her and motioned for her to take a seat away from the platform. Rose cautiously did so, watching sadly as the boy slowly dropped to the floor. He crossed his legs, leaning forward to examine her. "You're an odd variant. Female. Red hair. But your energy is different. Surprised the Council didn't notice,"

Rose shook her head. "I don't understand any of this,"

"Most newbies don't, so I'll give you the rundown" The boy said. "This is the Domus Mortis. An entity that exists outside of space-time that focuses on one thing and one thing only. Taking over every universe and achieving multiversal domination. The Domus Mortis consists of seven Sectors and six Classes. Sector 1 is the highest Sector, containing the Power Core. Sector 2 is below that, containing the Council. They run the Domus Mortis. That's where you were just dropped from. Sector 3 contains the Masters. They're the best of the best of us variants,"

"Variants?"

"Yeah...variants," The boy said. His eyes widened until he eventually laughed. "We're all the same in the Domus Mortis. All variants of the same person,"

Rose frowned. "I...don't understand,"

"My name is Harry Evans. Most variants in the Domus Mortis are variants of Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily. Every variant is different in some ways. Some minimal, some very apparent. Your evidence of that," Harry motioned to Rose, indicating her gender and hair color were complete opposites to the original Harry Potter. "The Council are the oldest Harry Potters besides the original. They run everything. The Masters are the strongest Harry Potters, capable of annihilating entire universes by themselves. Sector 4 contains the Peritus. They're the scientific minds of the Domus Mortis, making sure everything runs. Sector 5 contains the Gladiators. They're not smart enough to become Peritus or strong enough to be Masters, but they're smarter than Codders, making them valuable. They're the only Sector that has any semblance of freedom. According to rumors, they have a city up there on Sector 5. They get to work, have jobs, go about their lives. Only they have to fulfill their duties as a Gladiator,"

"We're the Sector below them. Codders. We fill the front lines of any multiversal conflict, serving only to hinder enemy movements. While they're busy cutting through us, the Masters or Gladiators and do their jobs and take out the opposition," Harry shook his head, smiling slightly at Rose's incredulous look. "The bottom of the barrel is Sector 7. It houses the Servus. Servants of the Domus Mortis. Their living conditions are worse than ours. They don't have sleeping bags and are forced to create their own clothing from scratch. They're usually the weakest variants. Mostly squib variants or malnourished variants,"

Rose's eyebrow rose in confusion, her eyes unconsciously running over his small form. Harry laughed once again. "Don't let my looks fool you, I'm a bit stronger than I look," Harry raised his arms, watching Rose with a grin as he flexed his forearms and clenched his fists. Six blades shot out between the knuckles of his hands, with three blades on each fist. Rose's eyes widened in shock as she examined the stainless-steel blades reflecting the lights in the room. Harry took a moment to wave them around before allowing them to retract back into his hands. "I was experimented on as an infant. Something called 'Weapon M',"

"I'm so sorry," Rose whispered, examining Harry's hands for a moment.

Harry merely smiled. "Don't apologize. I am who I am because of what happened. I've come to terms with it,"

"So..." Rose leaned forward, her eyes scanning the sector around her for a moment before turning back to Harry. "Tell me more. Tell me...everything,"

Eons Later

His time within the Domus Mortis had been pure hell. He had started off rejecting their rules. Their ideologies. Harry was tasked with his first assignment seven cycles after arriving, claiming the name 'Omen'. He had chosen due to how closely it related to his life. Good and bad omens. It also related to the prophecy. His first assignment had been the standard Gladiator assignment. Travel to a universe and determine whether it was qualified to enter the Domus Mortis' network, or if it needed to be torched. Torched, of course, being a gargantuan Fiendfyre that spread throughout a universe in the span of only five-hundred years.

He had arrived in Universe-1.175.2, staying in that Earth's version of London for seven days. It was on the seventh day that he was approached by another Gladiator. Prometheus. The masked man wore a metallic suit of armor and a black hood, armed with a silver bo-staff and pistol. The Gladiator had confronted Harry, instructing him that the choice needed to be made. Harry had unwisely refused, resulting in a fight. Prometheus had promptly kicked his ass, possessing extreme strength and magical ability. Harry had been tossed back into the Domus Mortis, where he was forced to declare the universe inadequate for integration. Universe-1.175.2 was then torched, erased from the multiverse in seconds.

Harry had had three more assignments after that, each time stalling with his decision. This had ended in the same outcome. Harry was beaten to a pulp by the Gemini Twins, Gladiator Tracker, and Gladiator Magus respectfully. Each beating had left him more and more broken. The first fight had left him without his right arm, requiring a prosthetic. The second without his left eye. The third fight had ended with him receiving a cybernetic spine. The fourth had ended with Harry needing a second heart, a third lung, and a prosthetic right foot.

It was at this point that Harry stopped caring. He couldn't physically care about any of the universes he visited, making him a perfect Gladiator. His assignments went from lasting a week to as quickly as an hour. But now his decision was much simpler. A choice made in the span of a second. "I'll take them all,"