Hadrian Morningstar: King of Champions

by DZ2

Prompt Response: When Harry's name came out of the Goblet, they thought it impossible enough, seeing as how he's, apparently, dead. What happened next makes so many wish he was: on the other hand, at least Harry can have some fun. Dark/Evil OP Cambion Harry/Tonks

1. Lost, Found, Hero, Nightmare

Hadrian Morningstar: King of Champions: A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own any crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.

Key Pairing: Dark/Evil Harry/Tonks

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

'Mental Speech'

/Parseltongue/

Chapter 1: Lost, Found, Hero, Nightmare

"EXCELLENT! We now have our three Champions, but in the end, only one of them can be victorious; only one will be able to hoist this chalice of champions…this vessel of victory…the Triwizard Cup!"

As Dumbledore's somewhat-overdramatised announcement revealed the prize that awaited one of the three chosen students at the climax of the Triwizard Tournament, however, even the Headmaster of Hogwarts – and other titles – couldn't help but lose some delight, as well as celebration when, suddenly, a burst of darkest-coloured fiery magic announced an impossible occurrence.

The Goblet of Fire, which had already named the three selected Champions for Hogwarts – Cedric Diggory – Beauxbatons – Fleur Delacour – and Durmstrang – Viktor Krum – was now igniting for a fourth time, filling the Great Hall with bursts of its blue, fiery contents, all of which shot up into the air in protest of what was happening.

None moreso than Albus Dumbledore himself, who drew his wand at the unexpected magical incident, where he then proceeded to aim his magic at the fire in a bid to protect his students, many of whom ducked and cried out in alarm as the bursts of fire narrowly missed their heads, or worse.

As Dumbledore doused one of the flames, however, the Goblet blew its top, sending a fourth piece of parchment fluttering through the air, much to the shock of all present, both staff and students alike. Holding up a shaking hand, if only to try and make sense of what was going on – as this was something even he had not expected, much less thought was possible now that the three had been chosen – Albus eyed the piece of parchment that the Goblet had spat out with such extreme force.

When he did so, however, his eyes widened and his body suddenly went stiff, rigid and pale, his blue eyes filled with horror and disbelief, while his voice barely broke through the murmurs and whispers of the still-alarmed students, "No…that…it's not possible…"

As people stared at Dumbledore in curiosity, some of them shrank back suddenly when the Headmaster's eyes snapped to the sea of faces, his voice booming like thunder as he roared at the assembly.

"WHO HAS DONE THIS? WHO WOULD BE SO CALLOUS AS TO PERFORM SUCH A CRUEL JOKE? SHOW YOURSELVES…NOW!"

"Albus? Calm down and tell us," insisted Minerva, moving from where she'd been watching with the rest of the staff and their guests. "What…what's going on? Who…whose name is on that scrap of parchment?"

With shaking fingers, and eyes that were filled with one-part horror and one-part rage, the latter of which made many of those watching remember why Albus Dumbledore was so feared and respected by both Light and Dark-siders alike, the Headmaster's voice cut through the silence.

Though the words he spoke were not what any of the students gathered expected him to say…

And with good reason.

"Harry Potter!"

Gasps of horror, disbelief, alarm, awe, curiosity and even anger filled the hall from both staff and students alike as the whisper of the name echoed through their ears, resulting in all aforementioned emotions and many more besides.

As Dumbledore handed the piece of parchment to Minerva, who'd also gone pale with horror at the insinuation, it was the least-favourite teacher in all of Hogwarts who not only spoke out against what had happened.

He also reminded everyone why it was that this was impossible.

"But…but Potter's been reported dead for…for ten years now, Headmaster! You gave the…the…tragic…news yourself!"

A few students scowled when they heard a very faint titter lacing Snape's wording of how tragic it was to receive such terrible news.

However, it was the third of the four Heads of House who now faced the students, his steely glare reminding everyone why it was suicidal to try and cross a goblin, "If this is somebody's idea of a joke, especially if those people happen to have red hair and think themselves the new Marauders, I assure you; your punishments will not be lenient…unless you own up to it here and now!"

"I doubt even Messers Weasley and Weasley would be so cruel, much less tactless as to make such a callous move against our school and call it a prank, Filius," argued Professor Sprout, having joined her colleagues in front of the Goblet, where she eyed the parchment, her voice full of doubt, but also a sliver of neutrality as, seemingly content on taking on the role of calm amongst the sea of rage and disbelief felt by her colleagues, she asked, "Could…could it be a mistake? I mean; Potter…he is…um…"

"I believe the word you are looking for is dead, Pomona," growled Severus, though only he heard his own addition.

'And good riddance!'

"Then how did his name come out of…"

Before Filius could finish, his eyes widened, as did the eyes of many present when suddenly, a loud, booming GONG echoed through the Great Hall, accompanied by a wave of ice-cold wind that was so cold, but so potent, it sent all the flames in the torches around the room retreating into their holders, plunging the entire Hall into almost pitch-black darkness.

Almost being the key word as, at the same time, a thin, faint, eerie-looking shaft of blood-red light appeared on the other side of the Goblet, shining not in the air or near the now-extinguished Goblet, but, instead, to the shock of the spectators, the light seemed to shine from within a fissure that seemed to have appeared on the floor of the Hall.

As the students craned their necks, trying to see what was happening, a tumultuous CRACK followed the gong, causing the fissure to widen, sending more eerie red light into the air.

"WHAT'S HAPPENING, DUMBLEDORE?" Exclaimed Barty Crouch Senior.

"I…I don't…I don't know, Bartimaeus," insisted Dumbledore, looking over his shoulder, "Alastor…can you…what can you see?"

For the first time since knowing the somewhat-crazed ex-Auror, however, Dumbledore was alarmed to notice Alastor had a look of sheer, unbridled terror etched onto his face, his magical eye fixed on the fissure as it cracked and splintered, causing a mini-chasm to open in the ground.

At the same time, the students let out a series of alarmed, terrified cries when the red light from within the chasm revealed itself to be what it really was; a sea of blood-red and inky-black-coloured flames, which rose up like a thousand dragons breathing a thousand bursts of fire into the air from below the school itself.

As the flames tickled at the Great Hall's ceiling, those nearest the chasm went from alarmed to awed, if not disbelieving when, from within the fire itself, something rose up.

It looked like a chair; a large, high-backed chair forged from pure-black metal, with what looked like spikes, or perhaps horns, which were protruding out of the head of the chair; to look at it, minus the spikes, you'd be forgiven for comparing it to Dumbledore's golden throne, especially when, as the throne rose from the bowels of the Earth, it also revealed two human skulls in place of the arms of the throne, shining with bejewelled, black fixtures that only sent shadows and fiery wisps radiating around the room.

As the throne rose up from within the now-widened red-and-black fiery fissure, however, so too did those nearest the flames notice the throne was, somehow, impossibly, occupied by one whom seemed unfazed by the flames, the Dark Magical aura that danced across the floor and into the air, or the sea of awestruck, alarmed, questioning faces watching them rise from the depths of the earth, like they were rising from the Underworld itself.

The figure was tall – not Hagrid or Maxime-level tall, but still tall enough to be called a fully-grown human – and pale to behold, his pallor making him look like he was somewhere close to albino, though that could have just been the glow from the flames that surrounded him. He was also a man, whom seemed to be in his late teens or early-twenties, judging by the young, roguish air of handsomeness he projected all around him. His body was dressed in a skin-hugging black outfit, emphasised by a long, blood-red coat that seemed to resemble folded wings around his tall, lean frame. On one hand, the stranger wore a silver ring with a pure, green stone that, from where he watched the throne and its occupant rise up, Dumbledore gasped when he also saw a pure-black insignia etched into the green stone.

An insignia he knew very well, given his ex-lover, and many others, had followed such an insignia over the centuries, not to mention the fact it was faintly engraved onto the wand held by Dumbledore himself, not that too many knew that, or what it meant.

As well as the ring, the stranger wore a silver-and-gold pendant with what looked like a blood-red circular-shaped charm fixed into the pendant, a series of runes – none of which Albus was alarmed to note he could translate, much less guess their purposes – engraved into the charm around the pendant, each one almost helping to fix the red circle in place.

Finally, the stranger also wore a pair of red-and-black boots that looked like they were made from the hide of a beast that not even Dumbledore, much less Moody or even Newt Scamander himself could have claimed to recognise, suggesting it was either forged from some ancient, if not extinct creature, or perhaps made through means unknown to Dumbledore and the legendary magi-zoologist.

The only reason that Dumbledore knew about these boots was because of how, as the throne stopped rising, the youth stepped off the black throne, the sound of his boots striking the ground causing a rippling echo to resonate through the hall. Curiously, if not alarmingly, this also caused the fissure to close before the flames in the room returned to their brackets, once more bathing the hall in a warm, but no-less eerie glow that was augmented by the presence of the tall, dark, handsome stranger in their midst.

As the flames' light danced over his pale frame, the stranger drew in a deep breath before he looked to Dumbledore, who gulped hard when he saw two emerald-green orbs that looked as though they contained the first light from the very first Killing Curse ever cast. Now those eyes were staring at Dumbledore from under a head of messy, but not untidy or untameable black hair that emphasised the attractive air felt by many as they stared at the youth, who drew in a second breath before his voice cut through the silence of the hall.

"So, tell me…exactly what lowbrow, impotently-driven, suicidally-challenged mortal would be stupid enough to actually invoke such ancient bonds that risk my ascension from my domain?"

As Dumbledore opened his mouth to respond, however, he was cut off when the young man snorted before, as though contradicting his earlier remark, he laughed uproariously, the amusement evident to all who heard it. "Not that I'm complaining that much, mind you; it feels like an age since the last time I was able to break out of my rut and have some fun, even if it is by having fun in the mortal realm! But still, who'd be so crazy to think they could actually get away with summoning me from the depths of Hell, just for the sake of your pathetic mortal hopes, dreams and so-called genius plans?"

"HELL?"

"Is he?"

"The fire…could it have been…"

"How else do you explain the fire?"

"Or the throne?"

"Or the Dark Magic?"

"This isn't good…"

"SILENCE!"

Dumbledore's voice boomed through the hall, masking the air of alarm, if not horror felt by Albus as he looked to the man before him, his voice growing softer, but no-less clear as he addressed the dark-dressed newcomer, "Now, if everyone will please not panic, perhaps you might explain who you are, young man? And…what did you mean by summoning you here?"

"Well, to the second, you have that to thank for this happening, old man," drawled the youth, indicating the Goblet of Fire, before the young man hummed curiously, "On that note, I wonder if Lu knows just how lowbrow and such a tragic waste you mortals have made of one of his greatest, most-binding contract-makers? Probably not, since you now use it for what I thought was a long-since abolished interschool pissing contest instead of the grand spectacles it was used for…"

Here, the youth sighed deeply, chuckling to himself before he folded his arms and gestured to Dumbledore with a nod, "As for your first question: who am I? Well, if I might be brutally honest with you, Albus, that's a little harder to explain, but I'll do my best."

Brushing his clothes down, the stranger chuckled softly before indicating the Headmaster, as well as the parchment he still held in his shaking hand, as the young man told him and the rest of the hall, "Cliff Notes version? If you want to know who I am, I strongly suggest you look in your hand, old man; after all, my name…well, my old name, is written on that itty-bitty piece of parchment there."

"YOU CAN'T BE HIM!" Exclaimed Severus, causing many to jump as they wondered if, or perhaps when, Severus Snape might have learned to show any emotion apart from grumpy snarkiness and bias towards everything not Slytherin.

Because now, he was clearly terrified, alarmed, in a state of sheer disbelief and even angry on a level that not even every Gryffindor combined, especially the Weasley Twins, would have been able to make him feel as he snarled at the emerald-eyed youth, "Potter is dead! Just like his arrogant wastrel of a Father and his…the woman he married…"

"Too true, Severus Snape," drawled the young man, nodding before he smiled wolfishly. "At least...it's true about James Potter being dead. Well done for remembering that…also, regarding the woman he married, as you put it, her name was Lily, and I have it on the best-possible authority that she wishes for you to hurry up and join her in the next life so she can thank you for what you helped make happen thirteen Earth-Years ago."

Gasps of alarm filled the hall at that revelation, while Severus' terror levels skyrocketed as he saw Karkaroff, as well as several Slytherins and a couple of others around him, eyeing him with hatred and suspicion.

If the boy knew what Severus had done, then screwed royally didn't do justice when it came to showing just how badly the Potions Master was…well…screwed.

Meanwhile, ignoring the reactions to his previous statement, the youth spread his arms proudly, beaming like the Nundu that ate the Thunderbird as he declared in a loud, proud and none-too-amused tone, "But while Harry Potter, aka my old identity, seemed to have ended ten years ago…dead is one thing I am not. For you see, it was at that time that my new life started and, for quite a while now, I have been, as I am now, no longer Harry James Potter…well, I am known as Harry, and I do still have the full Potter rights, mantle, name, magic and history, as well as genetic material brewing deep inside my, so I'm told, impressively-sized Gobstones…but I digress; for the longest time now, both in your time and mine, when it comes to my friends and close, personal relations, I have a new name."

Here, an aura of fresh, magical energy filled the hall, making more than a few tremble and quiver, while others, specifically those from the Muggle world, including a certain brunette, were switching between frantically whispering a well-known religious prayer under their breaths, whilst constantly crossing themselves as they did so, not that it seemed to be doing anything to the stranger in their midst.

Meanwhile, the young man who said he was once Harry Potter grinned triumphantly as he announced his, apparently, new identity to them all;

"To everyone else, including you poor, misguided mortals, you may call me…Hadrian…Morningstar!"

A collective gasp of horror filled the Hall, accompanied by more frantic whispers and crossing gestures, which only seemed to amuse Harry, judging by the wolfish grin he sported, "Yes! That's right, little humans, I do mean the Devil, the one, true King of Hell, Supreme Overlord of Darkness…well, the King of Hell bit's true, but still, it's nice to meet you all; thanks for throwing out the red carpet and welcoming me back to the mortal realm…"

Lowering his arms, Harry, or Hadrian, or whatever he was calling himself, chuckled mirthfully, as he turned to the sea of students behind him, "Oh, and you can stop with those silly mortal poems and pitiful excuses for anti-Demonic chants; thanks to whoever was dumb enough to make such a jerk-ass move, most-likely because they, or someone close to them refused to accept I was apparently dead, and because they thought they needed me to be alive, kicking and back from wherever I was that they couldn't get to me…but I digress. As I was saying, thanks to those suicidal souls, the doors were flung open, the invites sent out and now, to put it simply…"

Another wave of magic flew out of Harry's body, alarming and unnerving many as he chuckled, his tone rumbling like thunder, "Hell has come to Hogwarts…so…let the games begin, shall we, kids?"

As everyone trembled against the waves of magic that the young man Harry Potter, or Hadrian Morningstar, was giving off, the emerald-eyed scion chuckled softly, "I confess, I'm also interested to see what you can do and whether or not you lot still have it. So, now introductions are over and done with, I suppose this is the part where you all run away…here, let me help you, kiddie-winkles!"

Snapping his fingers, Harry opened the doors to the Great Hall and a stampede worthy of a panic on the African Savannah flew through the doors as practically every student in the school, as well as many of their guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, all raced for the sanctuaries of their dormitories, carriages and boat. This just left Harry, as well as the staff, all of whom watched as Harry turned to face the Goblet once again, a look of pity crossing his face as he walked over to the plinth.

Reaching the Goblet, Harry ran a hand over its surface before, clicking his tongue, he sighed with a mixture of inevitability and dry humour as he shook his head slowly, "You know, on one hand, I really should return you to Lu, you beautiful thing, you. But, on the other hand, if he sees what's become of you, when compared to the terror factor your powers once had, he's likely to send The Four to raze this place to the ground, with or without my permission. So, on the other hand, I can sense your power and the coins you have yet to be collected and…well, since I am the King of Hell, it's only fair that I be the one to cash in your chips, eh, girl?"

"What are you doing, boy?" demanded Barty Crouch Senior, watching as Harry reached into the Goblet and, closing his eyes, he clenched a hand around his pendant. "Don't touch that: it is a relic owned by the Ministry of Magic. If you do anything to it, you will be sentenced to…"

Before Crouch Senior could finish, his eyes widened in alarm, as did the eyes of the other staff members, even Moody, Karkaroff, Filius and Snape, when a blood-red light seemed to swallow up the Goblet, which then flew up Harry's free hand until it reached the pendant, which pulsed and thrummed with a low, ominous thumping noise, similar to a heartbeat.

Once the Goblet's light, and the Goblet itself, had faded, Harry opened his eyes, shuddering softly before he looked not to Crouch, but to the white face of Albus Dumbledore as he smiled softly, if not with the same pity he'd shown the Goblet itself,

"Two hundred and twenty-three, counting yours truly."

"I'm sorry?" asked Dumbledore, a part of him wanting to address the boy by his name, but fear, or perhaps whatever self-preservation he managed to gather up, holding his tongue as he saw those green eyes lock onto him.

"That's how many souls have been bound to the magic of the Goblet since the last time it was emptied and cashed in," explained Harry, as though the meaning behind his strange words, as well as the number he said, was supposed to be obvious. "Given that only three people can be named as Champions for the Tournament…well, four this time, but, again, I digress. Since it's only meant to be three at a time, that means it's been…mmm…I think…carry the one…yep…seventy-four Tournaments since the Goblet was cashed in. out of curiosity, Albus, dear boy; how many Tournaments have your three schools held since the first time you people at Hogwarts, as well as Beauxbatons and Durmstrang decided you couldn't be bothered to just lie them down on the table and measure?"

"At least 125," replied Filius, earning a curt nod, if not a surprised look from Harry.

"Is that so? Thank you, Master Goblin; I'll be sure to check our records and see who might have cashed in back before the seventy-four," said the emerald-eyed scion, again sounding as though what he was saying was supposed to make sense.

While Filius looked shocked by the boy's curt tone, Harry then looked to Crouch, "Also, Mr Sweeping Brush-Tache, just so we understand one another, the Goblet of Fire doesn't belong to your Ministry of bleating sheep and honking geese; it has, and always would have, belonged to the House of the Morning Star, meaning me. And, as the current Morningstar, it is mine to reclaim, do with as I please and, as you all saw, cash in and save from your little pissing contest getting any more pathetic than it has been for…what was it, Master Goblin? 125 times since its inception?"

Filius nodded.

"Gotcha, 125 times," added Harry, looking now to the other members of staff, some of whom seemed to amuse, if not impress him; when he looked at Snape, he sneered and scoffed before, to the shock of everyone there, the only one he gave any sort of respectful air towards – namely by dipping his head respectfully – was Filius, who returned the gesture in kindness.

When he looked to Moody, however, Harry's eyes narrowed before he smiled wolfishly, licking his lips slowly as he mused, "Hmm…interesting…"

"What is?" asked Dumbledore.

"Quantum Physics," said Harry, earning a dumbfounded look from the crowd before Harry returned his attention to Dumbledore.

"Now, since my life is also connected to the same cashing in I just performed, I suppose I'll amuse…well, myself, and be a part of your little Quatro-Wizard Tournament, as we'll now call it. So, to the Champions of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, I wish you luck, and, as a wise man once said, not that I remember who it was; may the odds ever be in your favour."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked to the still-open doors of the Great Hall.

As he reached them, however, Professor Sprout suddenly found her voice, "Hang on: you wished luck to our friends from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; aren't you going to do the same for Hogwarts too, Mr…Morningstar?"

"Well, I would," admitted Harry, stopping at the door before he chuckled, more to himself than anyone else, as he shrugged dismissively. "But you should trust me when I say I have it on the very highest authority as to how piss-poorly diluted this school's so-called talent pool has become, so unless the Champion for Hogwarts is Albus there, or perhaps the honoured goblin warrior, I don't think your lamb has a hope in Hell of making it past the first round, so…instead, I'll just say this…"

Turning again to face the thunderstruck Pomona, as well as the other teachers, Harry tapped his pendant with a finger before he winked, "I give you my word, when his end comes, and, trust me, unless you suddenly decide to up the ante before the First Task and be real magic users, it will, but when that time comes, your Champion will have a little while before being condemned to the fates worse than death; nighty-night."

The shock and horror factor skyrocketed when, after waving farewell, Harry vanished in what could only be described as a veil of the same red-and-black-coloured fire that had brought him up from…from Hell in the first place.

HMKC

"He…he's wrong…isn't he?"

Pomona looked to her colleagues, trying and failing to find support in any of their faces as they gathered in Dumbledore's office, the collective group of Hogwarts teachers gathered closely behind a more-secure location as they shared her expression and her emotional concerns – though, in Severus' case, she wasn't surprised to see he was the exception as he appeared to have reverted back to being Mr Snarky-Arse.

"Albus did warn everybody that, once chosen, there is no going back," insisted Filius, his expression one of curiosity as he wondered what it was about him that made him the only exception to Mr Potter…sorry…Mr Morningstar showing anything other than respect to his colleagues, as well as their guests. "And, from what I heard when he put his name in, I wouldn't exactly call Mr Diggory's entry completely willing…however, if he is half the student that his peers think, perhaps we might prove Mr Morningstar wrong."

"Of course he's wrong!" insisted Severus, apparently having found his voice now Harry was gone. "Potter is just showing off; pandering to the crowd. If any of you actually bought that crap he used to show off and remind us all how arrogant he is, then…ack!"

Suddenly, every head turned to the Potions Master as they heard him let out a strangled cry; when they turned, Dumbledore's expression turned graver than ever when he, as well as his colleagues, saw Severus' body buckle. However, what made them look so pale and terrified was the fact that something appeared to have reached out from the darkness and, as everybody watched, powerless to do anything else, they saw the thing pull Severus' black shadow off of his body.

As the staff watched in alarm, the Potions Master let out an unearthly wail before he hit the floor, his eyes wide and glassy, his body twitching and spasming while, apparently done ripping the shadow away, the black thing vanished, leaving the room empty again, save for the mortals.

"What…what in Merlin's name was that?" asked Minerva, kneeling by Severus' side, where she was a little relieved to notice he was still alive.

"Is he…"

"He's okay," said Filius, having followed Minerva's example, while his eyes narrowed, "But looking at his face, his reactions and these jerky movements of his…I'd compare it to a victim of the Dementor's Kiss…except he's alive, he's aware of his surroundings; he's just…"

"He's fine."

They all looked up at the sound of a familiar voice; to Dumbledore's shock, Harry was sat on the banister that ran alongside the stairs going up to his chambers, his expression cold and dark as he looked away from the twitching Severus to the ashen-faced Headmaster, "I was just taking what is rightfully mine; consider it my guarantee. As his life belongs to me, via my Father, I claim him and, as long as you choose to do nothing about it, not that anyone needs to worry about a worm like him, I give you my word, in the name of the Dark One, I will not reap or claim any other souls of any other living beings during my time in the Tournament…except the Champions, if and when they die, obviously."

"How…how did you…when did you…why…"

"Where? Which? When? Whatever happened? Wherefore art thou?" drawled Harry, smiling mockingly at Minerva, "You're running out of questions there, Minerva; trust me, if it wasn't for my honour meaning as much to me as it does to your goblin colleague there, I'd have taken your spirit, as well as the giant oaf and your boss for what the three of you did to me."

"What do you mean, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, a part of him wondering how Severus was supposed to be a spy for Dumbledore and the Order if he was…somehow…Harry's.

"He's not," said Harry, earning an alarmed look from Dumbledore, before the younger man went on. "As for what I meant, first, Dumbledore, you should only ever address me as Lord Morningstar, but I'll give you this freebie since you're being generous. And second, I meant, as you know I mean, what you, your kitten there and your faithful lapdog did in not only leaving me on the steps of Non-Magic's equivalent of Hell on Earth, but also paving the way for what made me into the Morningstar…the new one, anyway."

Leaping off the banister, Harry landed next to Snape's downed body as he went on, "Also, on the topic of my price for playing your little mortal game, know that Snape will recover, but when he does, he's mine to command, so I wouldn't count on him making the teachings of your little school worse than they already are any longer. Like I said, his life belongs to me, and I decided to claim it before Mr Piss Poor Spy here decided to make things worse for himself, and your little flock of sheep, than they already are."

"What do you mean?" asked Pomona, earning a soft laugh from Harry.

"Let's just say, thanks to the actions of the wolf in your flock, things are about to get much worse for you and yours," explained the Morningstar, bending down where he tapped Severus on the head.

To the shock of the man's soon-to-be-former colleagues, Severus vanished in a swirl of shadows, while Harry rose up and turned to Dumbledore with a knowing smile, "And if you want to know more, since it seems my theory that you actually knew what was going on here is false, then, answer me this, Albus."

Looking to the remaining Heads of House, as well as their boss, Harry spread his arms wide before he chuckled mirthfully;

"It's nearly midnight on Halloween Night…do you know where Alastor Moody is?"

Yikes, talk about an alarming start; Harry's staked his claim to more than just the ratty little grease stain, but will his prediction about one of the Big Three come to pass?

Also, how did he become the Morningstar and what could it have to do with everything he's shown he's capable of?

More importantly, who'll piss off the new Devil first? Student or staff?

Ministry or Manipulator?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Reactions flow through the Houses of Hogwarts, including one place where one decides they see something more than just the Champion of Hell; also, Harry reveals 'where Alastor Moody is' while also making sure everything goes off without a hitch: after all, if he can't have fun, what's the point?

Please Read and Review

AN: PROMPT DETAILS:

So, if you remember the Dimensions of Delight, you know that this idea was meant as a response to a prompt I came up with and left in my forum; if anyone's interested, here are the details…

PROMPT TITLE: Hell's Champion: The King of Demons (Inspired by DC)

Harry Potter was believed to be dead, so when his name comes out of the Goblet of Fire, people are sceptical...until the Earth opens up and a tall, dark and handsome man rises from the earth, sat upon a black throne, wondering what mortal is stupid enough to risk his rising from the pits of Hell

(Dark/Evil Super/OP Demon/Cambion Harry: years earlier, Harry didn't die: instead, he was transported to Hell where he's had to learn to survive and grow stronger: one way he's done that is by amassing a King's Ransom of Soul Coins, which is the currency in Hell: the more Soul Coins you have, the more souls you own and the more powerful you become: in all the years he's been "dead" on Earth, Harry has amassed a vast fortune and legion of souls, all of whom have helped him become the new King of Hell: what skills and/or powers Harry possesses as King of Hell is up to you: as King, Harry has loyal demons, but there MUST also be those out to go after the King's throne and/or claim his soul for themselves: all the souls Harry owns have become demonic warriors/creatures with powers of their own to use to serve the King: what powers these may be is up to you: crossovers welcome: bonus points if some of the soul-corrupted demonic warriors under Harry's command are demonized incarnations of famous figures from mortal history: bonus points if Harry looks older than he should be because time passes differently in Hell)

Also, in case anyone's wondering how this is inspired by DC; it is inspired by that franchise because of the existence of 'Soul Coins' in Hell, which, as it says above, are the currency – not that mortals know that.

So, from that basic idea, we have the prompt and, now, we have the story, so…hope you enjoy what else is coming.