Created at
Index progress
Dropped
Watchers
408
Recent readers
0

STORY DROPPED!

Summary
: Harry Potter gets hit in the face with the Killing Curse, and is saved by his Mother's sacrifice. What happens when the failed curse brings something forward in Harry's Soul, that was supposed to have been forgotten? What happens when Harry remembers his old life of being Victor Von Doom?

Will include: Demons, Time Travel, Magic, Kinda OP Character(Seriously, it's Doom!)
Last edited:
HD-0: Prologue- Victor's Backstory
Pronouns
He/Him/His
0. Victor's Backstory.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which is owned by JK Rowling, nor do I own Marvel Comics. I also lay no claim to the characters of Harry Potter, Victor Von Doom, or any other character I have used in my fic, except for the completely OC characters I introduce.


This is a work of fanfiction, not made for earning money, but just to satisfy my hobby of writing. There is also no guarantee that I will finish this work of fanfiction, so keep that in mind before taking a look inside.


Also while I do have a Pat-reon account, it is completely open for the public, with no paywall for any post on it.


AGAIN, EVERY POST ON MY PAT-REON IS OPEN FOR PUBLIC VIEW!!!


Yours faithfully, HelloDarkness07.





A/N: If interested in comics, look up "What if #52" from 1989 for the backstory about Victor Von Doom who is now our Main Character. There are just a few differences, as written in the A/N below this short summary of Victor's life.






Victor Von Doom was born in the small country of Latveria in 1950, to a pair of Latverian-Romani Tribal people, Werner and Cynthia Von Doom. The country was under the strict dictatorship of a Nobleman named The Baron, who had connections with the USSR, and even Hydra, which is what allowed him to stay in power despite being surrounded by powerful nations.


Where Werner was the Tribe leader, a Medic, Cynthia Von Doom was a Witch, who had lost her life to a spell gone wrong when Victor was all but a child.


Victor's dad, Werner, was forced to flee when he failed to heal The Baron's wife, and the Baron put the blame on Werner. After a few days of hiding out in the cold, Werner made a deal with the Baron, and gave himself up just so Victor and their tribe would be left alone.


Victor was enraged, hungry for revenge. In his father's belongings, he found some of his mother's old belongings, and realized that she was a Witch, who died because she made a deal with a Demon Lord called Mephisto.


Victor became even more enraged, and decided to kill the Baron, having only one of the targets close to him. He began using his genius intellect to create devices capable of killing a lot of people, keeping the Baron's men at bay, and waged a one man war against the Baron by combining Science, with Magic.


Victor was not succeeding, but his actions were having a needed side effect. People were rallying in support for him, for the dismantling of the Baron's dictatorship. One of them.. was his love, his Valeria. Just teenagers, Victor and Valeria had the mentality of 'Us against the World', which proved to be their driving force.


However, his deeds were not unnoticed, and an American General came to Victor, fearful that he would die at the ripe old age of 14 or be found by enemies of the US. Not wanting to waste such talent in a backwards nation like Latveria, the General offered Victor a position in the Empire State University.


Victor was ecstatic, knowing that such an opportunity wouldn't come again, and hopeful that he might find a way to contact his mother's soul, wherever it is. Reluctantly, he left Valeria behind, he left Latveria behind, to go to the United States of America.


There, Victor met with fellow genius, Reed Richards, whom he had to share the spotlight with. Victor was annoyed that Reed was smarter than him, but he was also annoyed by another thing. Reed's mentality.


Reed Richards was a genius, but he felt science was very rigid, that there is nothing but the Laws of Science. But Victor knew, from his mother's books, that the world isn't just Science, it is Magic as well. He believed Science to be an art form, something you needed to master to be able to bend the laws of.


During college, Victor created a machine to contact the dead, using complex codes, and even some of the Witchcraft knowledge of his mother's. He didn't use Witchcraft yet, not believing himself ready to go down that path yet, but he did use some facets of it.


Like the Symbols of the Runic Language, symbols of Witchcraft.


But, one of his calculations was.. off, despite him checking multiple times. When Reed Richards dared to correct him, Victor turned the machine on, now enraged at the boy. The Machine blew up in his face, sending both him and Richards flying through walls.


But, the experiment had one benefit. Victor had seen his mother, on the computer screen, held by chains, as she whispered a single name. Mephisto.


This incident caused Victor to be expelled, and deported to Latveria, as soon as he was healed. Victor, now ashamed of himself for having failed, decided to try and do one thing to redeem himself. Rescue his mother's soul from the hands of Mephisto.


But, his Witchcraft knowledge wasn't going to be enough, he knew. If it was, his mother would have escaped on her own. So, he travelled east, through Europe, and Asia, and ended up in Tibet.


There, he met with a man named The Ancient One, and begged him to be taught Magic. The Ancient One heard his pleas, and asked why he wanted to learn. And Victor told him about his mother, about Mephisto.


The Ancient One agreed to teach him, and teach he did. For two years Victor Von Doom learned Sorcery under the watchful eyes of his Master and another Sorcerer, Karl Mordo.


When another man came to ask for Healing, for help restoring his hands by Magic, Victor cut them off, replacing them with his Robotic hands. He had not abandoned Science, even if he was learning to become a Sorcerer. He was a man of both Science, and Magic. And he was proud of it.


And then, after deeming themselves ready, the Master and Pupil pair infiltrated Mephisto's Realm, Hell.


They rescued Cynthia's soul from Mephisto's clutches, and sent it on towards the Heavens, to a better fate. But, Mephisto was the Master of Hell, the Supreme Hell Lord. He proved stronger than Victor had expected, and alas, his Master lost his life. Master Yao's spirit distracted Mephisto long enough for Victor to escape back to Earth, and then rose up to go to Heaven, where it belongs.


Victor came back to Earth, now knowing that he rescued his mother's soul, only for it to be replaced by his Master's. (He did not know Yao went to heaven). But, he didn't get enough time to rest.


Dormammu had sensed the death of the Sorcerer Supreme, and rose to the opportunity to attack Earth.


Victor was forced to take over the mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme, and battled Dormammu. He sent Dormammu back to his Realm with much effort, but was injured in turn, his body cursed by Dormammu's Magic.


His Doom Bots, ones made in the Tibetian Monestry where he was learning Sorcery, took him to Doctor Stephen Strange, the man whom he had gifted robotic hands for extra precision. But even he was unable to heal him, and in the end, Victor gave one last order to his Bots.


Take over the mind of Doctor Stephen Strange. Which they did, using the robotic arms as an In.


And then, he died.


His dreams of liberating Latveria were destroyed, laid bare by his own desire to learn, and then, to rescue his mother. His lover Valeria left in the harsh reality he left behind.


Victor had expected to stay dead, to meet with either his Master Yao in Hell, or his mother in Heaven.


But, when he next opened his eyes, he was.. somewhere else. He was.. a baby once again.


Reincarnation.


Why he kept his memories, and why HE was the one to be given this chance, Victor didn't know, and he didn't care. He just cared, that he had a second chance.


A second chance to right his wrongs. A second chance to actually do some good in his life. And who knows? Maybe he'll get to rescue Yao's soul from Mephisto's clutches just like they did with his mother.





A/N: The only changes to the actual What if #52 storyline, is the fact that Victor fought Dormammu alone. He did not have help from the Avengers, the X-Men, Spiderman, nor even the Fantastic Four. He did it all alone. These all teams and superheroes didn't exist in his world yet, not as Superheroes at least. So don't be surprised if he doesn't recognise anyone save for Captain America.

Also! Don't know if I'm really back to writing or not, this idea was just begging to be written. My Diploma's placement program is a bit slow, and I haven't received any calls yet, which is the only reason I'm writing this. SO DON'T PUT TOO MANY HOPES ON ME!!! I might quit and keep this story open.

Tata!
 
HD-1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which is owned by JK Rowling, nor do I own Marvel Comics. I also lay no claim to the characters of Harry Potter, Victor Von Doom, or any other character I have used in my fic, except for the completely OC characters I introduce.

This is a work of fanfiction, not made for earning money, but just to satisfy my hobby of writing. There is also no guarantee that I will finish this work of fanfiction, so keep that in mind before taking a look inside.

Also while I do have a Pat-reon account, it is completely open for the public, with no paywall for any post on it.

AGAIN, EVERY POST ON MY PAT-REON IS OPEN FOR PUBLIC VIEW!!!

Yours faithfully, HelloDarkness07.




Fandom: Harry Potter, Marvel, MCU, or a crossover between the three.

Timeline: 1981.



"No.. Not Harry, please.. Take me! Not Harry.."

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" A Green flash. A blinding explosion. Nothing.

~~~

For over 5000 years, humanity has used Magic. In one form or another, it always found Magic and used it. Be it for good, or to cause harm.

Some were born with a connection to the planet below them, and nature all around. Druids, they were called, most of the time. But another name they went by, was Priests of Nature.

Some were born connected to their Entire Universe. They went by many names. Warlocks, Mages, Sorcerers, and finally, Wizards and Witches.

And there were those that learned to connect themselves to the planet, or the Universe, over years of training. They weren't usually born with anything special. They just had a will to learn, to survive, and an affinity to the Mystic Arts. They went by the name of Sorcerers the most.

Lastly, came Witches. Not to be confused with the female Wizards, Witches were those that made deals with one entity or another, in exchange for Magical power. Some took these powers from other Dimensions, some took them from strong beings from this Universe. Whatever the source, the powers still put them a step above the others.

But not one of these extraordinary groups of Magic users had managed to completely study the one subject.

Soul.

Such an amazing concept, and one that has remained mostly mysterious, even amongst all the Magical Communities.

Some were unwilling to stoop that low, while others were afraid of the Soul's true power.

Some did try, but they failed to understand what the Soul told them.

Even still, from the limited understanding of the Soul that the Magic users had, some had managed to devise a way to.. manipulate it. A few created artifacts, so pure, that they restored the Soul to its prime, and kept it like that.

Some created artifacts so vile, that just creating one of them damned their souls for eternity. Horcrux, the wizards called them, and no matter who created them, no matter how many you created, Death came to them still the same.

Death, the Entity took offense to the creation of these Horcruxes, and usually took their souls way before their time.

But even if the Wizards had mastered the vile art of taking a part of a soul, and keeping it safe, they still did not understand the soul completely.

Our story starts when a Wizard, barely a year old, was hit upon by a Curse that was designed for just one purpose.

To Kill.

It wasn't the most evil curse, not even close. But it was the one that gave guaranteed Death to anything it hits.

There was no 'building a resistance to it', no defending it with a magical shield spell.

No magical shield, no matter its strength, would be able to shield its user from the curse. The only way to protect oneself from the curse, was to not be the first thing it hits.

Physical barriers.

When Tom Marvolo Riddle cast the curse at a 15 month old baby Harry Potter, he did not foresee the consequences.

His soul was mangled from the creation of 5 Horcruxes, which was already stretching the limits of the soul. The instability of his soul led to a piece of Tom Riddle's soul, a Sixth Horcrux of his, to latch on to the only source of pure Magic it could find. Harry Potter.

Harry Potter himself didn't remain unaffected. Oh no, his soul went through the most unexpected results.

His soul was a recently reborn soul, one cleared of its past memories. The past of a Sorcerer, a Man of Science, and Magic, was erased completely, to give it a new start.

But as it usually is, Energy can never be completely destroyed, nor created. And what are memories within a soul, if not Energy? So, the memories of it's past life remained hidden, waiting to be written over, by Harry Potter's new life, his new Memories.

However, the Killing Curse forced the memories buried deep within the soul to come forth, and the 15 month old Harry Potter, merged with that of a 30 year old Sorcerer.

When he was knocked unconscious because of Magical exhaustion, the Sorcerer and the Wizard became one, and began the process of seeing their memories from an outsider's view.

The soul was still pure though, so despite the amount of memories that made up the Sorcerer, the Wizard remained the Dominant personality. Only now, he had a flavor to it that resembled the Sorcerer.

When he next woke up, Harry Potter, a new resident of Number 4, Privet Drive, wasn't just a Wizard. Now, he was also a Sorcerer, and a Scientist.

He wasn't just Harry Potter anymore. He was also Doctor Victor Von Doom, the student of The Ancient One.

All the while, the small piece of soul that once belonged to Tom Riddle, remained unnoticed inside the scar on Harry Potter's forehead, safe from the dangerous person that was now Harry Potter, but also unable to do anything to its vessel.

And so, Harry "Doom" Potter woke up inside the cupboard under the stairs, unknowing what his presence might bring to this new Universe he found himself in.



Summary: Harry Potter gets hit in the face with the Killing Curse, and is saved by his Mother's sacrifice. What happens when the failed curse brings something forward in Harry's Soul, that was supposed to have been forgotten? What happens when Harry remembers his old life of being Victor Von Doom?
 
HD-2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which is owned by JK Rowling, nor do I own Marvel Comics. I also lay no claim to the characters of Harry Potter, Victor Von Doom, or any other character I have used in my fic, except for the completely OC characters I introduce.

This is a work of fanfiction, not made for earning money, but just to satisfy my hobby of writing. There is also no guarantee that I will finish this work of fanfiction, so keep that in mind before taking a look inside.

Also while I do have a Pat-reon account, it is completely open for the public, with no paywall for any post on it.


AGAIN, EVERY POST ON MY PAT-REON IS OPEN FOR PUBLIC VIEW!!!

Yours faithfully, HelloDarkness07.



Vernon Dursley smiled in satisfaction, as he drove the car back home. Looking into the rearview mirror, he asks, "Son, how did you like the movie, then?"

Dudley had an excited smile on his face, as he exclaimed, "It was amazing! How Indi just whooshed his whip! And wham! I wish I had a whip like him!"

Vernon chuckled at the excitement on Dursley's face, while Petunia just smiled indulgently. They had just seen the newly released movie, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and sure enough, both father and son loved it.

Petunia didn't enjoy the movie too much, but she did enjoy spending time with her husband and son. Just her husband and son.

"We'll get you one, don't you worry son." Vernon reassured him, not able to say no to his son. Besides, what harm would a toy whip do? Maybe it'll even keep their Freak of a nephew in line.

Soon enough, the car parked in front of their house and Dudley immediately ran off towards the door, only to be stopped by the lock, as well as his limited height.

"Come on! I'm hungry!" Dudley whined, forcing Petunia to hurry up with unlocking the door, and allowing all three of the Dursley family to walk back into the house.

Vernon took a deep breath, as he always does as soon as he gets home, and surprisingly smells something aromatic.

Sniffing a few more times, he calls out, "Pet? Did you leave the stove on before leaving?"

Petunia, who was busy taking her coat off, immediately frowns, and sniffs as well. She immediately notices the smell and as she starts walking towards the kitchen, she says, "No. I made sure to turn the gas off before I even left the kitchen."

"Mum! I smell bacon, can I have some?" Dudley whined, and sure enough, Vernon then recognised the smell as that of cooked bacon.

He followed Petunia to the kitchen and finds her looking around the stove, which sure enough, was turned off.

"The stove's off. Where's the smell coming from then?" Petunia asks, standing up.

Immediately, both their eyes widen as Vernon's face turns red in anger. "BOYYY!!" He yells, and turns around.

Walking to the hallway in front of their front door, Vernon slams his fist on the door to the cupboard under the stairs a few times, and calls out, "Boy, you come out of there right this minute, or I swear to God, you're getting lashed!"

Surprisingly, even the threat doesn't make said boy come out of the Cupboard under the stairs. Getting angrier, Vernon grabs the handle and pulls the door open. His words of anger stop right at his tongue, however, when he sees inside the cupboard under the stairs.

"What's wrong, Vernon?" Petunia asks from behind him, already holding a cooking spatula, no doubt so she could punish the boy herself.

Vernon shakes his head, and as he starts looking around the cupboard, he says, "The Boy's not here, Pet. Where the hell is he?!"

Immediately, Petunia and Vernon start going through all the rooms on the ground floor, finding nothing. The door to the backyard was locked, but even opening it and looking for the boy finds no results.

It is only when Vernon starts looking upstairs that he finally finds something. There were four rooms upstairs, not counting the single bathroom. One bedroom for the couple, one for their loving son Dudley, one for guests, and one as an extra bedroom, which they used to throw broken stuff in.

Dudley's broken toys, the old TV, the useless books that Dudley got for his birthdays, old clothes, and a lot of other stuff was thrown in the room, and mostly forgotten.

And right now, Vernon could see light coming out from underneath the door to that room.

His anger immediately comes to the forefront of his mind, and stomping forward Vernon slams the door open.

Immediately his eyes land on the subject of his anger. His wife's nephew, the Freak, the boy, Harry Potter, sat on the spare bed, the toys and broken stuff shifted to one side of the room, while the old cutting board just.. floated in front of him. And on that cutting board, was what he had smelled immediately upon entering.

Two dishes, one with two slices of toasted bread, while the other had a single sunny side up egg, and two strips of bacon. And one glass, full of warm milk.

The boy in question had a knife and a fork in his hands, as he calmly cut at the egg and bread, and put it into his mouth, giving no heed to his imminent punishment, all the while staring outside the window at the night sky.

"BOYYY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING UP HERE, EH?! DID YOU NOT HEAR WHEN I CALLED YOU FROM DOWN THERE?!" Vernon yelled, taking a step inside the room.

Before he could take a second step, however, he saw something that immediately stopped him. A second knife, this one he recognised as one Petunia used for cutting onions or the like, was now floating between the boy and him, its tip barely an inch away from his right eye.

The boy turned away from the window, and as he calmly cut another piece from the egg, he softly said, "I heard you, Uncle Vernon. I just didn't care."

For not the first time in his life, the boy's eyes made Vernon wary. It had always been like this, although he had tried to ignore the feeling most of the time. It made him feel as if he wasn't.. enough. He wasn't significant as compared to the four year old child in front of him.

But still, Vernon had ignored it once he realised the boy wouldn't do anything to him and braved on. Now, however, those eyes promised that he wouldn't just sit back and let Vernon throw his weight around.

Gulping at the look, Vernon took a step back to get away from the knife, but the knife followed him all the same, until his back was right at the wall next to the door.

"It is good that you came here, uncle. A talk has been long overdue, don't you think?" The boy said, once again cutting another piece of the egg to eat, all the while staring up at him.

Suddenly, there was a sound of rushing footsteps as Petunia appeared in front of the open door. She immediately stopped, once she saw the knife floating right in front of Vernon's face, which had an expression of a man confused whether to be afraid, or angry.

She turned her head towards her nephew, who had obviously noticed her appearance, and with a scream of fear, she immediately turned back the way she came to run away. Before she could do that, however, the boy's eyes glowed with an eerie green light and Petunia found the door slamming shut, having missed her nose by barely an inch.

Shaking with fear, Petunia slowly turned around, while noticing all the proof of Magic that was openly being used.

The knife floating threateningly in front of Vernon. The cutting board floating in the air, that the boy was using as a dining table. The door slamming shut.

Her lips quivering, Petunia asked, "What- what are you doing? How are you doing this?"

The boy swallowed the morsel already in his mouth, and looking at her drily, he said, "Using my Freakishness, of course. But you already knew that, Aunt Petunia. You've always known I was different from your.. disgustingly normal self."

The boy had always been far too well spoken for his age, so his words did not catch her off guard, at all. It was how he knew that he was different, and that too because of her own behaviour, that did.

Shaking her head, she tried to deny, "I know nothing about your freakishness." But her voice betrayed her nervousness about lying.

The boy frowned, and waved the knife in his hand, which caused the knife floating in the air to come even closer to Vernon's eyes, and said with barely a whisper, "Do not lie, Aunt. You've known I was different since the moment you first laid eyes on me. I still remember the argument you had with Vernon about it, when you found me outside your door. You WILL tell me all you know about my.. Freakishness.. or.."

And then, the knife in front of Vernon's terrified frozen face dropped down to Vernon's neck, forcing him to lean further back into the wall to avoid being cut.

"Wait! WAIT! PET! TELL THE FREAK! FOR FUCK'S SAKE, TELL HIM!" Vernon yelled, as he pushed himself up the wall to avoid the knife.

SMACK!

The flat side of the knife landed on Vernon's cheek, leaving a small cut where it met the blade, before taking its position on his neck once again.

Looking at him in disapproval, the boy said, "Keep your voice down, uncle. You don't want Dudley to come investigating.. Do you?"

Petunia widened her eyes, fearful, and immediately dropped down to her knees and said, "NO! Wait! I'll.. I'll tell you! What.. what do you want to know?"

The boy smiled, his evil nature showing for once, and said, "Tell me, how did you know I was.. Freakish.. even when I was a baby? And remember.. don't lie. I can tell when you lie."

Petunia gulped, and said, "How could I not know?! When my own sister was a freak!"

Try as she might, she could not keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Raising his eyes, the boy ordered, "Go on," and she had no misconceptions about exactly what he was doing.

Taking a deep breath, Petunia began speaking. She told him about her sister, about that dirty little friend of hers, and how the two used their freakishness over and over to mess with her. She told him about the letter her sister got when she was 11, inviting her to a School for other Freaks like her. She told him about how she went and studied there for 7 years, before marrying another Freak and disappearing from her life for good.

Before one day, HE came upon their doorstep, left there by Lily's old headmaster for her to take care of, because Lily and her Freak of a husband had gotten themselves blown up by another Freak.

"Interesting." The boy mumbled to himself. "Ignoring your obvious jealousy over my mother's Freakishness, you spoke the truth. And what do these Freaks call themselves? What am I?"

Petunia dropped to her knees, her lips quivering as tears flowed out of her eyes. Glaring at him all the while, she whispered, "Wizards. They call themselves Wizards. That's what you are, you freak. There's a whole World out there, hidden in the normal world, full of freaks like you."

The boy hummed, ignoring the insult with practice. With a wave of his hand, the tray floating in front of him moved to the side and the boy stepped down from the bed.

Taking a couple steps, he walked towards the window, his hands behind his back, and said, "Now that that's over with, there is something else we need to talk about."

"What now?" Petunia asked harshly, wiping her eyes.

The boy's hand twitched before a broken toy from the back of the room flew towards Petunia and hit her right in the back of her head.

"Aagh!" Petunia yelped, holding her head.

Vernon startled in his place, and yelled, "PET!" as she cried. Glaring at the boy, Vernon's face turned red as he yelled, "We took you in, boy! We fed you!"

("Not nearly enough." The boy interjected.)

"We gave you a roof over your head!" Vernon continued, ignoring the interruption.

("In the cupboard usually used for shoes.")

"We clothed you!"

("Using Dudley's throwaways.")

"And you hit her? You threaten us?!" Vernon finished, spittle flying out of his mouth.

Rolling his eyes, the boy said, "That was hardly a hit. She hit me with a hot off-the-stove frying pan last month, when I couldn't cook the bacon for her little Diddykins perfectly. She should be able to handle a little plastic."

Petunia just whimpered while Vernon grit his teeth. He barely stopped himself from yelling some more, however, when the knife that he had ignored for a short while dug closer to his neck, leaving a small cut as a warning.

Ignoring them, the boy said, "Now, no interruptions please. We need to discuss your behaviour from here on out. Obviously, I will not be allowing you two, or your son, to beat me around anymore, nor am I allowing you to yell at me unjustly."

He took a pause then, to let it all sink into their minds, and then said, "Let's be honest, you want me here in your house just as much as I want to be here. Not at all. But unfortunately for us, I have nowhere else to go. Until I find some place else, we will have to tolerate one another."

Turning back, he smiled that nasty smile of his, before saying, "So, I offer you a deal. I will be staying in this room from now on. You can still throw in all the broken stuff here, I might just find a use for it or throw it out myself. I will cook my own food, using your rations of course. I will still use Dudley's old clothes, since I don't really care for new ones. And you.. will leave me alone."

"And in return? What do we get? What do you even have to offer?" Vernon asked, with false bravado.

The boy looked at him with a single raised eyebrow, and asked, "Your life in your own hands isn't enough, Vernon? Do not assume for one moment that I've forgotten all the scorn you gave me for no reason at all. All the smacking around, frying pan on my head, curses and the like. And let's not forget the words you said against not just me, but my parents as well. Be grateful that I am leaving you alive at all, Vernon. Because trust me.. I would lose no sleep at all after killing the three of you."

Vernon and Petunia widen their eyes in fear, as Petunia shouts, "NO! Don't kill us! If you do then- then- those freaks will come after you!"

The boy paused to think and said, "Yes, I suppose that is a factor to be considered. Be grateful then, you will remain in the mortal world at least until I have no reason to make it change."

Turning towards Vernon, he said, "As for your demand. In return, Vernon Dursley, I will not use my Magic on you. How's that? You two do your bare minimum of the duties as my guardian by providing me a good enough room, food, and clothes, and other than that? Nothing. You leave me alone, and I leave you alone. Capiche?"

Afraid for their lives, Vernon and Petunia had no option but to agree. Despite him saying that he would not kill them, neither of the pair totally believed him. Especially after the cut he had left on Vernon's neck.

"Good. Now that we're all in agreement, get out. It is 5 minutes past my bedtime, and I find myself terribly annoyed for having missed those 5 minutes." The boy said with a smile.

Petunia hastily got up from the floor, and both Vernon and her scrambled out of the door which slammed shut as soon as they were out.

Heart beating quickly, she looked at Vernon and whispered, "Vernon..? What will we do?"

Vernon shook his head rapidly, while his reddened face slowly lost its colour, and said, "Nothing, Pet. I would rather leave him alone and ignore his entire existence than have him spoil our good family. Bloody freak!"

Petunia couldn't help but nod in agreement. She just wished she had just dropped him off at the Church like Vernon originally planned. Maybe then she wouldn't have been threatened in her own house!

Not knowing how their life would change, or if it will at all, Petunia and Vernon stepped down the stairs to find Dudley already asleep on the sofa, having done so while watching the TV. Petunia took Dudley to bed with them that night, not wanting to be away from him after the debacle from earlier.

Before sleeping, she couldn't help but wonder, 'Shall I ask Vernon to go up there while the boy's asleep and put him in his place? No.. he'll just do this all again another day, then. And he might even be angrier if that happens. Forget it! I'll just focus on our little family, and hope the boy doesn't mess everything up for us!'



It is said that memory does not form in a child until they are past their earliest years. But this has never been true for Harry.

No.. Harry James Potter remembers it all. Even his past life, as Victor Von Doom!

The only thing he does not remember, is the first 15 months of his life, from before he regained his old memories and not from a lack of trying.

The oldest memory Harry can remember was from when he was 15 months old. He was woken up by loud noises, only to hear Vernon and Petunia Dursley arguing loudly about what to do with him, the apparent nephew of Petunia.

After the confusion of his situation had worn off, he had first thought that this was a dream after death. Or maybe even his personal Hell for the Sins he had committed, and there were many, at least according to the usual Morals that people naively believed in.

The first on the list was his abandonment of Latveria, which he had done to fulfil his ambitions of learning more about Physics and Engineering. When the General from the United States offered him money, the finest school to teach him and finest labs to experiment in, he gladly accepted. He was even happy to be away from Latveria.

He had left Latveria to the tender mercies of the Baron for three whole years. How many people had died then? How many children had slept cold at night? Starved?

He had believed that his room inside the cupboard under the stairs, which was always cold, and the fact that Petunia fed him so little, was a direct result of that Sin of his.

His arrogance had then led to his classmate, Reed Richards, and himself, being injured, despite the boy genuinely wanting to help fix his calculations.

Another Sin, he thought. Arrogance.

'But at least I had finally seen proof that my Mother was actually trapped in Hell.' He amended, as he always did when he was debating with himself.

And then, instead of returning to Latveria to continue his War against the Baron, Doom had then decided he wanted to bring his Mother from the clutches of Hell first. And so, Doom abandoned Latveria once again, to go East.

To Kamar Taj.

There, he somehow managed to convince the Sorcerer Supreme, Yao, to not just train him in using Magic, but also make him his successor to the post of Sorcerer Supreme.

And once both Master and Pupil felt they were ready, they went to Hell, to rescue Cynthia Von Doom, his mother.

Little did Doom know then, that Master Yao was so sure of leaving the Earth Dimension in better hands, that he went to Hell fully prepared to die. And so, when Mephisto, the ruler of Hell, attacked them, Yao sacrificed himself, allowing Doom to free his mother and escape.

His mother went to Heaven, as she deserved to after the torment she had suffered, while Master Yao.. got stuck in Hell, under Mephisto's tender mercies.

A third Sin.

His then current predicament, being stuck in the body of a baby being raised by relatives that were negligent at best, and abusive at worst, was most likely the corresponding punishment for that Sin.

And as if that wasn't enough, when another Evil Demon, Dormammu, took the opportunity that Yao's death presented and attacked Earth, and Doom was fatally wounded while sending Dormammu packing, Doom decided to commit another Sin. His final Sin, in that life.

He ordered his Doom Bots to upload his memories into the mind of the Doctor caring for him. Doctor Stephen Strange. A promising man with talents in Sorcery rivalling his own, who had once come to Yao for help, himself.

The final Sin's punishment.. he didn't know. His memories being inside the mind of a baby? Unable to do anything but cry when his diapers got wet? Or when hunger struck him? A genius unable to say more than a few words, those few being Mama, Dada, and No.

The only other Punishment possible would be if there was a third set of memories in his mind somewhere and he just didn't know it yet. But that would be pretty unlikely.. wouldn't it?

And so, believing that this is his Hell, he had just.. gone with the flow. Petunia wanted him to sleep inside the cupboard? Sure. Go hungry because he cried a bit louder this afternoon? Yup, got it. Cook for Dudley? At least he'll get to smell good food that way.

He was obviously biding his time, because deserved or not, there was no way in Hell, pun intended, that Victor Von Doom, the Sorcerer Supreme, was staying trapped in a Hell dimension. He would suffer the punishment until he felt it was sufficient, and then he would leave.

That was the original plan.

Of course, like always, no plan stays that way while actually implementing it.

The changes in his plan happened when he first used his Magic, completely accidentally too, funnily enough. And that too without any training in this body whatsoever.

It happened barely two months ago, in fact. Harry had gone hungry that night, like a lot of nights, and couldn't sleep. His mind kept on repeating to itself, 'I want food! I want food! I want food!!'

And suddenly, with a burst of Magic that he barely even felt coming from himself, the door to the cupboard under the stairs snapped open, without anyone even touching it. At first he was startled, but not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Harry immediately ran to the fridge, and stole two slices of bread, one slice of cheese, and a whole glass of water.

That was plenty enough for 4 year old Harry, especially since he was in the habit of eating less.

Eating it slowly, and silently so as to not wake the Dursleys up, Harry then gulped down the water, kept the glass back in its spot, and returned to his cupboard.

Only then did he focus on what had just happened. And it was also then that he knew.. he wasn't in any Hell. There was a specific flavour to Hell's magic, and whatever he used just now wasn't it.

This was just a new life. A normal, regular, reincarnation of a new life.

As for his Magic? There were two possibilities.

First, Harry had kept the Magic from his previous life.

And Second.. his mother in this life had also dabbled in the Dark Arts, like Cynthia had done in the previous one, allowing their sons to be born with a natural talent in Magic.

Of course, he had never even considered a Third option. Even Doom could not have foreseen a subspecies of Humanity born with the ability to use Magic. Magic that did not come from any Demon, nor any Book of Witchcraft.

A subspecies that had their own Schools, Governments, and who were hidden from the other.. mundane population in the so-called Wizarding World. Petunia may have hidden a lot of details about these Wizards, but Doom was smart enough to read between the lines, sometimes even when the Lines didn't exist.

But.. this still did not mean that his mother, Lily, and his father, were at Peace. They died protecting him from a Dark Wizard.

And if Dark Magic was involved.. It is possible that his parents' souls are still tormenting in Hell, to this day. Harry hoped it wasn't so, but he could not deny the possibility. Which means that just like Victor Von Doom, Harry would most likely have someone to retrieve from Hell.

The next two months were spent using his old memories as guides to manipulate the magic in and around him, and master it enough that he could force Petunia to explain his Magic, and force Vernon to just leave him alone.

For now, he could just move things around, create and manipulate fire, and with mixed results, influence someone's minds. But he knew now that once he turned 11, there would be a whole new School of Magic to learn.

Mastering his Sorcery once again would come after mastering his inherent Magic, if he didn't do so before turning 11 that is. And after that?

There was a whole new World for the taking, and a whole list of tasks to complete. After all.. the souls of his Parents, as well as Master Yao, did not deserve to stay inside Hell for Doom's mistakes. Nor did Latveria deserve to stay under the control of the evil Baron.

Doom had barely managed to do it when he was with the Sorcerer Supreme. But Harry.. Harry will do it by himself, and make Doom proud. No.. he will surpass Doom.

Harry will succeed wherever Doom had failed, of that he had no doubt. He will make sure of it.

 
Awesome story
Looking forward to more.

Question, when Harry sees the Tesseract, will he think its the Cosmic Cube?
 
Awesome story
Looking forward to more.

Question, when Harry sees the Tesseract, will he think its the Cosmic Cube?
The Doom that died and was reborn as Harry did not even get to learn about the existence of something like that. He got injured, studied at Kamar Taj, and died soon after. He didn't even fight the Fantastic Four yet. Read What if #52 please!
 
HD-3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which is owned by JK Rowling, nor do I own Marvel Comics. I also lay no claim to the characters of Harry Potter, Victor Von Doom, or any other character I have used in my fic, except for the completely OC characters I introduce.


This is a work of fanfiction, not made for earning money, but just to satisfy my hobby of writing. There is also no guarantee that I will finish this work of fanfiction, so keep that in mind before taking a look inside.


Also while I do have a Pat-reon account, it is completely open for the public, with no paywall for any post on it.


AGAIN, EVERY POST ON MY PAT-REON IS OPEN FOR PUBLIC VIEW!!!


Yours faithfully, HelloDarkness07.





A/N: There is no fixed update schedule!!!!


If I write something, I will post it both here, and on my Ptrn account. If I don't post anything for over a month or two, consider it dropped and move on.


Also, feel free to take the Plot Bunny if you want!!


Read on!






1989: Age 9


There are many places all around the world that people generally tend to avoid. It can happen because of a multitude of reasons.


Myths of the place being haunted, wild animals calling the place home, the place not at all suitable for human traversal, etc.


For this particular plot of land in a forest outside Surrey, England, covering just shy of 1 square kilometer, the reason was somewhat.. odd.


If anyone ever asked the locals why they avoid this particular part of the forest, they would say, "Have you ever tried going there, mate? Even the bloody rats refuse to get close to that place, forget animals and birds. And fuck me if I'm ever going there."


Or something of the sorts.


It wasn't always like this, of course. One day everything was fine, animals and birds roamed all around the place. And just like that the next day, all the animals and birds vacated the place in a rush that scared the locals.


For just shy of 3 years now, not a single soul has stepped foot inside this part of the larger forest. Either due to their respect of whatever's in there, or fear for their life.


All.. except for one person, who is coincidentally the source of all the myths surrounding this place.


With a soft pop that sounded loud in the silence of the woods, Harry Potter - formerly known as Victor Von Doom - appeared at the rocky bank of a river flowing through the forest, with an unconscious chicken held in his left hand, and a backpack hanging off his other shoulder.





(TW- GORE!!! VEGANS STAY AWAY FROM THIS PART UNTIL TW ENDS!!)





Walking back a few steps, Harry stopped in front of a tree a fair distance away from the river, and held the chicken upside down, touching it gently to the bark. Anyone watching would have found themselves mesmerized to see the bark magically extend away from the tree, as it bound the chicken to itself, although not too tightly.


Turning away from the chicken for a moment, Harry walked into a tent that had already been erected on the riverbank, unbuttoning his shirt and taking his backpack off, and exited barely a few seconds later with two items in his two hands, sans his shirt and backpack.


The first was a copper bucket that was at least half a century old. While the other was a normal steel knife, although it was sharper than almost any kitchen knife in London.


Harry gently placed the bucket below the upside down chicken. Joining his hands, he bowed his head to the chicken, and softly whispered, "Thank you for your Sacrifice."


And then, with a clean and strong swipe of the knife, Harry cut into the carotid arteries at the neck of the chicken, allowing the thick lifeblood of the chicken to start draining into the bucket below it.


Once the chicken had died, Harry turned away from it and with nary a single bout of hesitation, jumped into the river after taking off his pants as well.





(TW over, but there will be mentions of what has been done.


TW- didn't read? :- Harry drained the blood of a chicken that he killed himself into a copper bucket.)





(Harry's POV- First Person, Present tense)


After washing my hands and face with a healthy amount of soap, and cleaning myself as much as I can, I get out of the water. A simple wave of my hand causes all the water still stuck to my body to float away from it, and return to the river, allowing me to dry quickly.


Another wave of my hands causes the campfire I had set up so long ago to light up, and my bag to eagerly fly out of the tent. Wearing my clothes once again, I pull out the tiffin I had packed before coming here, and start eating the sandwich while soaking up the heat of the flames.


Five years have passed since I discovered the Magic already inside this body, and learned about the subspecies of Humanity named Wizards. Five years, since I gave up on pretending to be the weak child the Dursleys wanted me to be, and became who I always was.


Doom!


And every day since then has been spent getting better and better at manipulating, at using the Magic in me.


But..


I may have been Victor Von Doom, former Sorcerer Supreme of the Universe, but this body is still that of a young child, and so, I am limited in how much Magic I can expend at a time, or even in a day.


If I try to cross those limits? Physical, mental, and Magical exhaustion, that can last upto a week. And that's over the spells failing. Of course, like any good scientist, I learned about it through experience.


But after these five years, I have discovered wonders about this Magic of mine that would have seemed impossible in my past.


It would have once required me to cast a long incantation to teleport from one place to another, either through portals or direct spatial manipulation. But now, in this body? All I needed to do was think about going somewhere and I am already there.


Once I would have had to create a potion and read a spell out of one of my mother's books to have a vision of some place else. Now? Scrying was something I could do with any reflective surface, albeit with a lot of focus, and with mixed results. As for actually viewing the past, I haven't been able to achieve it yet through direct application of Magic, but I have no doubts that I will be able to do so soon enough.


For Doom's younger years, Magic was limited to using Rituals to imbue his Electronic devices with wild Magical Energy, and something that just could not be directly controlled. But for me, Harry, Magic was something I could directly control to give rise to effects that I just have to Will into existence. And it has never been easier than this, not even when I was the actual Sorcerer Supreme!


There were a ton of other such examples which made me glad that I had this new Magical body.


This place was something I had claimed for myself after I first discovered my ability to teleport without using Sorcery or Witchcraft, through direct wormhole creation. It was a fascinating find for me, and even to this day I am still discovering the limits and rules about this type of teleportation.


Doom's life had taught me that using Magic in front of everyone might be a wonderful way to get control over a clan of gypsies, but at the same time it was the worst way to bring attention towards yourself while you're not strong enough.


And so, these last five years have helped me become a Master in pure manipulation of this Magical Energy that wizards have inside them. This did not mean, however, that I ignored my other talents.


I was once a Master of Witchcraft, Sorcery, and Science. I was once the Sorcerer Supreme of my Universe, and as I have said before.. Doom does not forget!


Alas, while my Witchcraft knowledge has proved of use to me, in protecting this place from wandering eyes and wild animals for example, the Sorcery knowledge is not something I can use as of yet. And the primary reason for that is my physical age.


Sorcery, the study of Mystic Arts. The study of ancient spells in a hundred languages, and of other Dimensions. Of Gods, and Demons.


When Master Yao took Doom under his wing, it took him a week to cast his first spell, and of that week, five days had been spent getting used to sensing the Magical energy that Sorcerers use and getting the body and spirit used to casting said Magicml. After that, however, it took me only days to Master what my fellow students took months.


But now? My body has not yet grown. It is not yet capable of channeling the vast energies that I had learned to manipulate as a Sorcerer. And the Magic of the Dimensions is truly vast, very much powerful. So much so, that I doubt that I would be able to even begin learning Sorcery until at least my 15th year, when my body will just be getting strong enough to handle those Magics. And that's after all the training I'm already doing with my Magic.


As for Witchcraft, the knowledge left to me by Cynthia Von Doom has been of immense help. The Runic Language that Cynthia's books taught me, allowed me to cast protective enchantments around places that I call my own, and even around myself.


Thankfully, my Wizardry Magic and Witchcraft Magic worked well together allowing me to cast those enchantments without troubles.


Because after the life I had lived before, I was in no hurry to take in the Magic of a Demon within my body, which I had done as Doom, just to be able to use Witchcraft.


But with good news, there is also the bad.


After I discovered the British library in London at the age of 6, I went there a lot, to study everything about Magic, hoping there will be something about the Myths of Magic in the least. But while searching for Myths of Magic, I encountered something else.


Or rather, I did not see something when I was expecting to.


In the World Maps, I looked for my home, Latveria. And no matter where I looked, I just could not find it anywhere. It was supposed to exist between Romania, Serbia, and Hungary, and easily visible. But I did not find it.


Not in current geography books, not in those of the past.


The only mention of Latveria was of a small failed Kingdom in the 13th century, which was defeated and later absorbed by Wallachia, which was ruled by Basarab I.


Doom died in 1977, after becoming the Sorcerer Supreme for barely an hour, and I regained my memories in the winter of 1981. But still, somehow, I was not in the same world that Doom used to be in.


So there was no Latveria, no Valerie to find and ask forgiveness from, no Master Yao to rescue from Hell, and probably no Mephisto to take revenge on.


Even still, I did not lose hope. Just because the world has changed does not mean my goals have. I will still become the strongest I can be. I will still become Doom!


And hefty goals, means hefty threats.


So, there were many enchantments placed about this small plot of land that I had claimed for myself, anchored to eight Rune carved trees in eight cardinal and ordinal directions, and one central Rune carved tree, powered by my own Magic!


Enchantments, to induce fear the closer a being gets to the center tree, which is where I have left the chicken to drain, of its blood, and an enchantment to make the entire plot completely inaccessible to any scrying spell or spying spell. An Enchantment to make wild animals and birds stay away, and another to hide any magic used under the borders.


And these Enchantments weren't the only thing I've used the Runes on either. Many artifacts that I've created, either from scratch or from repairing the broken stuff that was originally present in the room before I took it over, have those runes carved on them carefully.


The magic inside me would constantly be leaked, by very tiny amounts. After barely an hour or two of studying the leakage I had deduced multiple ways to track the energy around the world, which made me realize that the Wizards, who have an entire Civilization of Magic, would no doubt be able to do the same.


And so, I enchanted the watch I was wearing to stop said leakage by absorbing the excessive Magical energy into itself, while using said Magic to hide my presence from all wandering Magical eyes.


And now, I was ready.


Once the blood was mostly drained from the chicken, I replaced the bucket with an empty one, and picking the half filled copper bucket of chicken blood along with my backpack, I started walking again, this time towards the forest.


It took me a few minutes of walking to reach a small clearing inside the forest, which was where I was going to do something.. dangerous.


The first thing I did was empty out the blood in the bucket, which was around 150ml, into a larger bucket which already contained a couple liters of Chicken blood. I have been slowly collecting this blood after taking chicken from all around Surrey.


And yes, it had to be chicken blood.


Taking a deep breath, I raise my hands causing the collected blood to float up into the air. With another wave, the blood moves around the clearing, and settles down on the ground in various spots. Closing my eyes, I take another deep breath, and recall the excessive blood.


What remains now, is a collection of my Mother's Runes, 13 of them arranged in a circle with a diameter of exactly 4 meters with me in the center. And it took just a quarter of a liter to do this.


My job is not done yet, however.


Taking another breath, I slowly drop my hands down, causing the blood to spin around me in a circle. It then expands away from me until it goes even further than the Runic circle, only to then split into two concentric circles. One inside the Runic circle, and one outside of it. That too drops down then, to paint the ground in blood, while the excessive blood is pulled up once again.


At the end of it, I used up 1.5 liters of blood to finish my task. A summoning spell carved in Runes, to summon Demons to this world. And a Devil's trap to keep them contained.


Because before I do anything.. too big in this world, I need information. Information that I can only get from a demon of the Nether Lands.





That night, at the stroke of midnight, I once more stood in the clearing right outside the Devil's trap. Spreading my hands to the side, I let my magic flow, and command, "Venit creatură din Iad!"


(A/N: Romanian- Come, creature from Hell.)


Almost immediately, there's an increase in the speed of wind flowing through the forest, as the Summoning spell painted in blood shines brightly, as if the blood was burning. There's an explosion of smoke at the center of the clearing, and once it clears I gaze upon the creature I had just summoned.


With a short but muscular stature, four limbs with claws, two wings at the back, and two horns on its head, was a brown skinned gargoyle, floating in the air.


The gargoyle takes a second to look around, and as soon as its eyes land on mine, it screeches loudly, and then flies straight towards me.


"SCREEEEEE!!!"


Only to slam right into the barrier created by the Devil's trap, that burns it brightly.


"I am guessing that you cannot understand what I'm saying, nor are you even capable of any manner of speech. But even still. Thank you for taking part in this experiment of mine." I calmly say, watching the Gargoyle fly around trying to escape from the Devil's trap.


And then, I lift my hand up, pointing it at the flying gargoyle. The gargoyle senses its life being in danger, and immediately snaps its head towards me to shoot a dark red ball of flames out of its mouth. The flames, surprisingly pass through the barrier of the Devil's trap and slam into the place where I just was.


Appearing on the other side of the Devil's trap, I glare at the gargoyle and whisper, "You dare attack Doom!? Now die!"


Suddenly, a red beam of magic shoots out of my hand and hits the gargoyle at its back, blowing a hole straight through the gargoyle's chest. Within seconds, the gargoyle is dead.


The corpse still remains floating, however, with black smoke covering the wound, and I keep staring at it with my hand still pointed up, the red beam of magic still touching the corpse.


Slowly, the smoke starts converging at the point my magic is touching the gargoyle. The Magic of the Gargoyle, the smoke, forms into a dark spot on the corpse of the Gargoyle, and pulls on more and more magic, until there's nothing left.


In a process that lasts for just five minutes, the entirety of the gargoyle's Magic gets condensed into a single black spot barely half a centimeter wide on the demon's back, right at the center of where my attack had hit it. With no magic remaining to sustain the being anymore, the gargoyle turns to specks of dust, and blows away with the wind.


At the end, all that remains of the gargoyle is a single, almost circular crystal, less than half a centimeter wide. The red magic beam still connected to it slowly dissipates, as I pull the crystal towards myself and observe it.


It was dark brown in color, not black as I originally thought. It shone dully, not enough that it will light up a room, but enough that it will be seen in a dark room. But most of all, the most recognisable thing about it.. was its God awful smell.


Even the gargoyle itself wasn't this repulsive; if I didn't have supreme control over myself, I would have probably already puked.


"No doubt the density of the Hellish magic is intensifying its stink." I couldn't help but mumble to myself, as I summon something from my backpack.


The item in question is a small, old jewelry box, one I'd found lying around in an antique shop, made completely out of mahogany. Placing the Gargoyle crystal inside the box, I close it and am immediately relieved when the scent disappears, along with the distinct hellish magic that the Crystal naturally gave out.


Looking around, I wave my hand to gather everything else and as soon as I'm packed, I start my walk back to the tent. Now, it's time to wait.





For 7 days I kept an eye on the clearing, waiting to see if someone comes to investigate anything. But nothing of the sorts happens, giving me confidence that the death of the Demonic gargoyle was not felt anywhere outside the Barriers I've erected.


I enter the clearing once again on the eighth day, and summon another gargoyle. This time, I let it rage around until it attacks me with a fireball, and watch in satisfaction when the fireball just slams into a barrier created by the modified Devil's trap, which then absorbs the fireball to strengthen itself.


Nodding in satisfaction, I once again whisper my thanks for the sacrifice as Master Yao taught me to do before ritualistic sacrifices, and kill this gargoyle as well, before taking its magic tor myself and adding the newly formed crystal to my slowly growing collection.


The time will come for a bigger fry to be caught, but until then, I will have to satisfy my curiosity by killing these Gargoyles and slowly work my way up the chain of command.


 
Did he discover the protections Dumbledore put on the Dursley's house as well as his mother's protection on himself?

It would have once required me to cast a long incantation to teleport from one place to another, either through portals or direct spatial manipulation. But now, in this body? All I needed to do was think about going somewhere and I am already there.
No sling ring and just waving his hand in a circle?

But now? My body has not yet grown. It is not yet capable of channeling the vast energies that I had learned to manipulate as a Sorcerer. And the Magic of the Dimensions is truly vast, very much powerful. So much so, that I doubt that I would be able to even begin learning Sorcery until at least my 15th year, when my body will just be getting strong enough to handle those Magics. And that's after all the training I'm already doing with my Magic.
Even with how the bodies of witches and wizards of HP world seemingly are more durable than normal people's?
 
HD-4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which is owned by JK Rowling, nor do I own Marvel Comics. I also lay no claim to the characters of Harry Potter, Victor Von Doom, or any other character I have used in my fic, except for the completely OC characters I introduce.


This is a work of fanfiction, not made for earning money, but just to satisfy my hobby of writing. There is also no guarantee that I will finish this work of fanfiction, so keep that in mind before taking a look inside.


Also while I do have a Pat-reon account, it is completely open for the public, with no paywall for any post on it. It is there, solely for the purpose of being a central repository for my ffn ideas, and plot points.


EVERY POST ON MY PAT-REON IS OPEN FOR PUBLIC VIEW!!! Don't sue me!


Yours faithfully, HelloDarkness07.





With an explosion of Magic larger than any before, a Demonic being comes into existence in the clearing. Different from the Gargoyle that I had first summoned, however, this one was somewhat… humanoid.


He, and it at least looked like a male demon, still had wings, horns, and a pointed tail, all of which I assume they have a habit of maintaining in the mortal world, and his skin too was an unnatural shade of purple. But he had more than a hint of intelligence in his pure black eyes.


After appearing in the clearing, he takes a moment to first look around. As soon as his eyes land on my short form, he looks down, and frowns.


"Runes." He says to himself, annoyed. "I should not have answered your call, Wizard."


So he recognises that I'm a Wizard? I guess my Magic hiding techniques don't work too well on Demons, which means it probably won't work that well on Gods as is. I shall have to keep that in mind.


I look at him, and point out, "The call was open for all Tier III Demons of the Netherlands. If not you, someone else would have accepted the Summons anyway."


The type of summons depends on the amount of Magic I provide from my end, as well as the amount of magic my Summoning spell can sustain. Of course, if a higher Tier demon wants to come, I will not be able to stop them. They'll even be able to stabilise the portal from their end. Which makes what I'm doing all the more riskier.


The demon scoffs then, and as he starts walking around he states, "I do not recognise these symbols of yours. What do they mean?"


I smile to myself at his obvious attempt at stalling, and say, "The inner circle is the spell I used to Summon you. As for the other one, well you should probably recognise it. Even if it will look a little bit different than your regular ones."


The demon scowls, recognising it. "Devil's trap." He says.


I nod once, confirming it.


Taking my silence as a cue, the demon asks, "What do you want then? What have you summoned me for, Wizard?"


I pause a moment, during which he keeps staring at me. Tilting my head, I try to look inside his mind but just like the Gargoyles, this fails as well. The demon narrows his eyes at me, so I say, "I summoned you here for two reasons. The first was to see if Hell was aware of what I was doing. Which clearly, it doesn't."


The calmness he's showing proves that Hell has yet to detect the killings I've committed against their race. Or at least, they've yet to care.


"And the second?" The demon prompts, when I stay silent.


Smiling, I say, "And the second.. I wanted to see how my Magic stands against a true Demon of Hell."


Saying that, I point my fist at him and as he widens his eyes, I shoot a beam of bright blue Magic out of my fist. The beam slams into the demon's chest in the blink of an eye, and explodes with a loud boom that sends an explosion of wind all around. When the smoke thins out, however, the only sign of damage on the demon's skin, is a bit of burnt skin that was around as big as my head.


I.. expected more, to be honest.


This blast of Magic would have blown a hole straight through my head, and a rock as wide as I am tall, and still keep going. And it barely even burnt him. Hell, the only sign of pain on the demon's face is a scowl as his clawed hand gently rubbed around the wound.


Which means.. my Magic Extraction spell will not work with this demon as easily as before. It will still work, but the process will probably be longer, not to forget harder.


Seeing me frown to myself, the demon grins and says, "My turn."


He then points his hands at me, an expression of pure murder on his face. The hands glow a dark shade of red, just the feel of which would have frozen a normal man in fear, and then a beam of magic exits out of both of his hands.


And before it even reaches a metre away from the demon, the colour fizzles out and the spell dissipates.


The demon blinks, shock replacing the murderous look that was showing on his face and turns his palms towards himself to look at them. Scowling once again, he points his palms at me and tries once more, this time with a green coloured spell which has a thick black, shadowy border.


Which also dissipates after it leaves his immediate surroundings.


I let him try a few more times, each one showing the same results, and nod in satisfaction. Of course it worked, Doom designed it after all.


Taking a step forward, I bring his attention to myself, and say, "You only noticed that the Devil's trap was different from a usual one. You never bothered to wonder how. Or why."


"How!? How did you stop me from using my magic?!" The demon yells, taking a step forward and slamming his fist on the barrier that forms between us.


All that he gains, however, is a dry look from me and a black flame on his hand that takes him a second to extinguish, and not before it burns off its pinky finger.


But the goal has been achieved. His eyes have suddenly widened, true fear as well as shock now openly showing. Because now he has realised that I did something that was supposed to be impossible.


"You.. you used Demonic spells! But.. but.. you're not one of ours. I would have known. You're not one of ours!" The demon starts with a shocked whisper, but at the end, he screams it out at me.


"I am not one of your.. Witches, nor of any other Demon. And I will gladly stay that way for the rest of my life. How I used the Hellfire.. Well, it doesn't matter to a dead Demon now, does it?" I say with a small grin. My face turns sombre for a moment, and I say, "This is nothing personal, Demon. Thank you for your Sacrifice."


Before he can even say anything, I point both my palms at him. I focus for barely a few seconds before dark green runes light up around both my wrists, shaped in a circle. The green magic extends out of those rune circles and covers both my hands and extends towards the demon at breakneck speeds, connecting the two of us and illuminating the clearing in the dark of night.


"AAAAA RRRRR!!!!" The demon screams in pain, as my spell starts working slowly, moving to cover the demon's entire body, making it float into the air.


My Magic Extraction spell, the perfected result of the last two months of summoning the lowest grunts of Hell, the Tier IV demons, and taking their Magic for myself.


I keep supplying magic to the spell, and watch as something like a dark purple smoke is pulled out of the demon's body and is gathered at a point just over his heart. Or where I assume his heart is, if his body follows the same rules that a human's does.


Soon, however, the spell speeds up exponentially like it is supposed to, and within half a minute, the demon lies dead on the ground. The purple magic crystal, roughly oval in shape and five centimetres wide at its widest, drops down into the ground right beside it. I myself fell forward to my knees, a bit out of breath at the effort I had to take to kill this demon and take his magic.


Once I've caught my breath, I look at the centre of the Devil's trap and frown when I see the corpse still there. Waving my hand, I pull the crystal towards me, and as soon as it exits the Devil's trap, the corpse of the demon turns to dust and is taken by the winds.


Sighing, I bring out the wooden jewellery box from before and open it. As I see what's inside, I cannot help but smile in pride at what I've achieved in such a short amount of time. 37 crystals, all of them under half centimetre wide at the biggest, were kept inside the box.


Gargoyles, demonic bulls, hellhounds, and even a Hellcat. I've summoned a lot of Hell's Tier IV creatures, with this demon being the first Tier III one, who are capable of Speech. And I've killed them all.


A few of those crystals were even used to power the Devil's trap, which allowed me to imbue Hellfire in the barrier. But the rest.. they were kept inside this Box.


The box was enchanted using Runes, to keep the crystals isolated from not just the outside world, but also one another. It also traps all smells, as well as the rot of the Demonic Magic inside the box, and does not let anything out. At all.


This is not safe, keeping all my crystals in one box. But for now, this will suffice. Besides.. I have just one more to go.


Gathering all my stuff, I walk back to my camp and then teleport directly to my room in Privet Drive.


As soon as I appear inside the room, four lights that were installed within the ceiling, turn on automatically, and I am graced with the vision of beauty that is my room.


The room had changed a lot since I had claimed it from the Dursleys. For starters, the room was bigger from the inside than it is from an outsider's perspective. Almost three times larger in area, in fact, than it once was.


A King sized bed sat in the Northwest corner, since I liked my beds in the corners, with a very comfortable mattress, both of which I had spelled extensively to make my sleep as comfortable as possible. Surrounding my bed is a ring of Runic script, which not only protects me from attacks, both physical and magical, but also warns me if anyone even glances at it.


On the North wall, right beside my bed, was the Bookshelf, which was filled with books, and items that I had stolen from one place or another. The Surrey Public Library, The British Library in London, and even the Manor of old Mr Woolworth, who had died recently and left the house to a son who lived in the States. Most were either history books, fictional novels, or biographies, because I wasn't interested in much else. There were also Journals that I had written myself to document my inventions and discoveries, and even the Knowledge that I had written down from my past life.


Right next to the Shelf was a Wardrobe, in which I store my clothes, as well as my expensive items.


On the east side of the room, was the sole window, and right in front of the window was the study table/workbench. This is where I did all my preparations, all my documentations, and practised my Art. This is where I relearned how to combine Magic with Science.


And the proof of that was all around the room. The four white LEDs that light up the room, the ceiling fan which made the air flow around exactly how I like it, the Telly that I had painstakingly fixed and modified by inventing the technology I was missing, and most importantly, the 12 cameras hidden all around the room, capable of recording both audio and video in very high quality, and with memory storage capacity of over 1 TB. Each.


The first thing I do after appearing inside my room, is keep my backpack in the wardrobe, while keeping the Crystal Box in a Safe inside the wardrobe.


I sit down on my bed, legs spread out, and look at the Telly right in front of me. As soon as I think about it, the Telly turns on, and I am graced with the soft sound of the Late Night News on BBC1, as it starts playing on the telly.


But first, I raise my hand a bit and swipe it through the air. Immediately, the image on the telly shifts, now showing a grid of 4x3 videos, showing the live feed from the Cameras in my room.


"Play the recordings, 23rd September, 1989, 8:15 PM to 9:21 PM." I say loudly.


The Television screen starts emitting light ahead of itself, and a Hologram of 12 different screens surround my bed, each one as big as the Telly screen. I look from one to the next, as they all begin playing simultaneously, and point at camera 5 when I hear something from that screen. Camera 5 was the one closest to the door to my room.


"Boy? Harry? Are you there? Mum!! The Freak's not in!" Dudley's loud voice could be heard from that screen, preceded by a loud knock, making me frown.


A loud hush soon follows, as Petunia harshly whispers, "How many times do I have to tell you, Diddykins?! Don't call him that! He could be just pretending to not be there."


I snort, and mumble to myself, "Wonder what she wanted this late in the night."


The timing on the screen shows 9:01 PM when Dudley came calling for me for some reason. It can't be for dinner, because I had dinner at exactly 8 PM, as always. Well, I'll ask her tomorrow. I'll also have to remind Dudley why his parents leave me alone.





Around a month later, on the night of Samhain, I stood in the clearing once again, ready to summon my next, and possibly last, demon.


I had prepared a lot more for this summoning than I did the others, considering every outcome that could happen including the appearance of The Hell Lord himself, or even the Sorcerers. But despite the risks, I needed to do this.


Maybe not now, while I'm just 9, but I need to do this someday. And better have the information before I make any further decisions regarding the World of Magic.


Standing in front of the newly drawn Summoning circle, I whisper, "Come forth.. Alastair.."


I stand there staring at the centre of the clearing with a frown on my face, when nothing happens for over a minute. "Did they detect me already?" I ask myself, a bit disheartened.


Sure, I expected someone to notice the Demons that were summoned but never returned, but from my experience no one cares for the Tier IV Demons. I guess they did care when one of the Tier III Demons went missing.


Suddenly, however, dark clouds gather over the night sky, hiding the Hunter's moon from my sights. The clouds gathered so fast that it leaves no doubt in my mind that Magic is at work here. As if to prove me right, the winds start blowing in all directions, and Dark Magic flows with it.


Demonic Magic.


I drop my hands to my sides, and cast a shield spell, forming a transparent spherical shield that surrounds me, protecting me both from the harsh winds, as well as from the Dark Magic.


KARAAAKOOOOM!


A Lightning bolt strikes inside the Summoning spell, momentarily blinding me and forcing me to blink, and between one moment and the next, I find that I'm not alone inside the clearing.


I forcefully bring light back to my eyes, and stare at the Demon in front of me, who looked decidedly different from the demon I'd summoned five weeks earlier.


He wore a cloak, for starters. A dark black cloak, which hung on his shoulders, and a hood that covered his head. The demon was around 8 feet tall, but had a lean build as compared to the Tier III demon's bulky one. He still had wings, horns, and a spiked tail, and the wings went through the cloak. His skin tone was a red that looked like blood, while his eyes.. They were white. Pure white.


He stared at me calmly, his full white eyes locked on mine, as he floated in the air even as his bat-like wings were folded behind him. His hands were folded in front of him, making it seem as if he was relaxed, but I stay vigilant, without dropping my shield, nor my guard.


Slowly, the demon smiles, showing dark yellow teeth with hints of blood and flesh still stuck in them, and whispers with a carrying voice, saying, "Harry… Potter.. the Boy-Who-Lived.."


And I can somehow just hear the hyphens in that.


I look up at him, a bit confused, but stay silent. How does he know my name? And why the fuck is he calling me that? The Boy Who Lived? As in others don't?


"When one of us was Summoned, and then killed by the summoner.. We did not expect it to be a Wizard, least of all... you. I assume you are behind those other killings as well." The demon continues.


I stay silent, not willing to speak yet.


His floating body slowly moves forward, and I see him stop just before the Devil's trap barrier could show itself. He then looks down at the trap, and says, "It is surprising that you know this language of Runes, Wizard. How did you come across it?"


The Demon chuckles, when I stay silent again, and a psionic attack lands on my mind. I scowl, and as I forcefully repel the mental attack, I finally say, "My Mind is a sacred Sanctuary, Demon. The only way someone is getting inside is if I allow it!"


The Demon laughs loudly, and says, "Hah! It seems Wizards have evolved since the last time I came here. To use a Language that we destroyed all traces of a million years ago. To build enough mental resilience to repel an attack by Me! Speak then, Harry Potter! Speak, why have you called Demons of Hell to this mortal Plane! It cannot just be so you can kill us one by one. Even a Wizard cannot be that arrogant, or stupid!"


Again, I feel a mental attack, no doubt to persuade me to answer correctly, and I fight it off just as easily as before.


I look him in the eyes, and say, "Alastair, the Grand Torturer of Hell. I have called you here to make a deal."


The demon chuckles, and says, "You.. know my name. You know what I do. And yet, you still dare to summon me, child? What could possibly possess you to do such a thing? I am guessing that the others you summoned were so you could practise summoning, and killing, demons."


I stay silent again, answering his question just the same. This demon, Alastair, is a lot different to the one before.


Alastair narrows his eyes at me, seeing me stay silent again, and then asks, "What deal do you want to make?"


I nod, and answer, "I have a few questions for you. Answer them.. and I will let you go where you belong."


At that, Alastair laughs loudly, "HAHA! HA! HAHAH! YOU.. YOU'LL LET ME GO?!" Turning suddenly, he slams his fist on the barrier, sending a wave of magic through the Magic absorbing barrier, making me skid backwards a bit, and growls, "You'll.. LET.. me go? You do not LET me do anything, Wizard! You may have killed the weaker Demons you summoned before, but I am leagues above your weak Magics!"


Looking at him seriously, I say, "I deem it different, Demon. All you do in this Clearing is because I allow you to do it. Even that little tantrum of yours was something I Allowed to happen."


The Demon narrows his eyes at me, and as his eyes glow with white flames coming out of them, he raises both hands to point them at me.


Not needing another cue, I raise my both hands up till their level with my head, and swipe with both hands. Immediately, eight iron daggers, all enchanted with another Magic prohibiting Devil's Trap each fly from eight different directions, and stab through the Demon's hands, legs, wings, and his eyes, and get buried straight inside, leaving not even the handle out for him to pull. All at the exact same moment in time.


Alastair, finding himself suddenly blind, yells in pain, as he tries to move his hands towards his eyes. Alas, all his limbs fail to respond to him at once, and he drops down to the ground, no longer floating in the air.


"WHAT DID YOU DO?!?!" Alastair yells, enraged, as he finds himself in constant pain from all over his body.


I keep my shields raised, and as I take a few steps forward, I say, "I have stopped you from seeing, moving, and using your Magic, all at once. Do not bother trying, the weapons were made out of Consecrated iron, and keep a steady flow of Holy Water in you. If I know your anatomy right, you will be unable to move for around 10 minutes, but having felt your dense Magic, I say.. 6 minutes and 37 seconds before your body starts healing you."


Raising my eyes from his bleeding ones, I look at his cloak, and with a single flick of my fingers, summon it towards myself. Pulling it over my body, I smile as it shrinks to fit me, and say, "Nice cloak, Alastair. I'll take this as payment for not immediately taking the deal. As for your pain, that you can consider as payment for trying to attack my mind not once, but twice. Now.. I'll say it again, Alastair. Would you accept my deal, or should I kill you now and Summon the next Keeper of Souls when they are elected?"


Alastair grit his teeth, from the pain or the embarrassment of having lost to a child, I do not know, and asks, "How many? How many questions?"


I shrug, and say, "Just five. Five questions, and I'll send you where you belong."


The demon's head twitches, and belatedly realising that he cannot move his head, he says, "No.. not enough."


I raise an eyebrow, and say, "Alastair, buddy, I don't think you understand the situation you're in. You are in no position to make demands off of me. You. Are. My. Prisoner."


Alastair scoffs, and immediately winces when it hurts him, and says, "I understand perfectly, Wizard. I also understand that the Sorcerers would have sensed me being summoned. And if they find us.. I'll just be exorcised. You, however.. you'll be taken captive or killed for trying to make Deals with a Demon."


Hmm, it must've been prohibited or something. And it must be common knowledge for Alastair to threaten me with it. Or he's just a lying liar.


"Very well. What do you want in return for answering my questions truthfully?" I ask, not bothered in the least.


Alastair smiles, showing me his nasty teeth, and says, "A question for a question, which you will answer truthfully. Also.. I.. want.. that soul fragment that you have on you."


I blink. I blink again, and ask, "The what?"


"The Deal first, Harry Potter." Alastair says, and I don't fail to notice that his voice is a tiny bit less painful than it was just a few moments ago. Guess he got used to the pain of the Holy water earlier than I had calculated.


I nod, and say, "A question for a question, but I will make the decision on the Soul fragment, whatever that is, after you tell me about it. And in return, as I said, I will send you where your kind belongs. Deal?"


Alastair nods back, wincing in pain still, and says, "Deal. Ask your question first.. Wizard."


Taking a second's pause, I ask, "You're the Keeper of Souls in Hell. Are my parents, James and Lily Potter, in Hell?"


Alastair huffs out a laugh, and says, "And here I thought you were different from other humans, Harry. I am truly disappointed. No, your parents' souls do not exist inside Hell. A bit of free information, very few Wizards get taken to our Hell."


I nod, making a note to ask about it soon, and say, "Your turn."


Alastair hums, still lying helplessly on the ground, and asks, "How do you know about my title? Soul Keeper. Even if you call it something else."


I take a pause, and answer, "I have always had an unhealthy interest in Hell and its Hierarchy. The different Kings of Hell, the different beings all calling themselves the True Devil. A few years ago, I managed to peek into Hell. I learned about the title through that chance encounter with the Demonic."


The demon nods in acceptance, so I ask, "Why aren't most Wizarding Souls never taken to your Hell? They cannot all be that nice."


Alastair chuckles a little, and says, "You Wizards. You were created 20,000 years ago by two beings working together. They gave you your Magic, and so, when you die, your souls are claimed by them."


He just purposefully left it vague, didn't he? Fucking dick.


"How do you know this Runic Script? It was lost for Mankind even before I was born. Before the Wizards were created, even." Alastair asks next.


Well, two can play this game.


I dryly answer, "My mother had some books which she left for me when she died."


Alastair frowns, no doubt realising that I had caught on to his vagueness.


"That was two questions each. The third one. Why did you call me the Boy-Who-Lived?" I ask next, noticing once again that his pain has decreased some more.


Alastair laughs loudly, and says, "You don't know! Oh, how precious! You do not know! Your family was attacked by a Wizard when you were younger. The Wizard cast a Killing Curse at both your parents, and even yourself. But where they died.. you survived. Not just that, you managed to somehow kill him, not even the Demons know how. Ergo, the Boy Who Lived."


"When no one else did." I whisper to myself, wondering how that's possible. Something for me to think about once this is over.


I look at Alastair, whose eyes have the daggers sticking out of them, slowly and grossly being pushed out by his body healing itself, as he asks his next question and says, "What are you? You cannot possibly be a normal Wizard, not with what all you can do."


I smile at him thinly, and say, "I am just a Wizard, but I do have other knowledge to help me do these things. My mother's Witchcraft knowledge surely helped a lot."


"What do you know about a Sorcerer named Yao?" I ask, leaving just one question remaining.


The daggers finally come completely out of his eyes, while the other daggers just start poking out of his skin, as Alastair hisses in annoyance, "I know him.. yess! The previous Sorcerer Supreme, of course I know. He died fighting our lord 600 years ago." Blinking his newly healed eyes, Alastair turns to look at me and says, "He.. did not leave any descendants."


I say nothing, and keep staring at him till he finally asks, "How do you know of him, Wizard? I very much doubt that you're a Sorcerer or are in contact with one."


I smirk, and say, "You can say that I have.. seen him in my dreams. How he fights, how he uses Magic. How he taught Magic. I've dreamt it all."


Tilting my head, I say, "Now, tell me everything about this Soul Fragment, and don't forget to tell me why you want it so badly."


"That is not a question, Harry Potter." Alastair warns with a scowl.


I shrug, and say, "If you want the Soul Fragment, and don't deny it, you do, you'll tell me anyway. Besides, this is my last question."


Alastair huffs out a laugh, and says, "You.. you're an interesting Wizard, Harry Potter. Very well. The Soul Fragment you have on you, belongs to the Wizard known as Tom Marvolo Riddle. The man who killed your parents, and failed to kill you. And the reason I want it.. is so that I can use that fragment to finally claim what's rightfully ours."


"He made a deal with you and reneged on it? What was the deal?" I ask, curious.


Alastair starts standing up, the daggers now almost out of his body, and says, "That.. is not your concern, Harry Potter. That is between Tom Riddle, and the Demons. Now, what is your decision? Will you give me the soul fragment willingly, or should I take your soul, and the soul fragment to Hell and reclaim my cloak myself?"


I stare at him, watching as he heals from the injuries right in front of my eyes, and say, "You made a few mistakes today, would you care to know?"


Alastair stops stretching his body, and says, "You will tell me anyway, wouldn't you, you arrogant littly Wizard?"


I smile, and say, "Yes, yes I would. And I prefer 'prideful'. Your first mistake was taking things at face value. You saw my spells falter at the force of your Magic, and got yourself trapped by my daggers. You saw the Witchcraft runes and thought that you could manipulate them from the inside. You saw that I had killed dozens of Weak demons as practice for trapping you, and you thought I wouldn't be ready for you.


"But you see.. Alastair.. Harry Potter never makes a mistake. What you saw.. was what I wanted you to see. Which is, my barriers being weaker than they actually are." I stop speaking, and playing right into my hands, Alastair fires white flames from his eyes, and black flames from his hands, as even his horns light up with the two flames.


The flames, black and white, all slam into the barrier which he had slammed his fists into earlier, and break through it with some effort. A new barrier forms right outside it however, stopping it with no issue whatsoever. This barrier had a soft purple shine to it, and it gave off a distinct sense to its magic.


It was something new for me, something.. higher. Something Divine.


The flames are all sucked right into the barrer and taken underground, without harming a single thing outside it.


As Alastair goggles at the sight, I continue as if I hadn't stopped at all, and say, "But your biggest mistake of all.. was underestimating me."


I then point both my hands at Alastair, and as the green Runes surround my wrist, Alastair yells, "We had a deal, wizard!"


I nod, and as my palms light up with the green magic of my Magic Extraction spell, I say, "And I am fulfilling my end of the bargain. I am sending you where you belong. Wherever Demons go, after they're killed. I suppose you'll find others of your kind there as well. I have killed a fair few like this myself."


And then, my spell shoots towards him. Alastair is still a Tier I Demon, however, and answers back with a blast of Magic of his own. The two beams meet in the middle, right where the newer Barrier of mine is, and unfortunately for me, the Magic of the Demon is a lot, lot, stronger than my own Magic.


Unfortunately for the Demon, however, there is a barrier between us that prevents his attack from even coming close to me. It also absorbs most of the Magic that he's using to defend himself, leaving me just enough of his attack's Magic that I can push it back towards him.


I glance down at the ground, which liquifies, and tilt my head up towards the beam. Suddenly, at my prompt, something jumps out of the ground, and slams into the meeting point of the two Magical attacks.


As soon as the item touches my Magic spell, the power of my spell increases a thousand fold, and pushes Alastair's spell back towards him. Bit by bit, it starts, until suddenly..


"AAAARGH!" Alastair suddenly yells, finding himself surrounded by a green glow that was pulling dark black Magic out of his body in the form of smoke.


Another thunderstorm returns above head, as my spell starts working in pulling the Demon's magic right out of his body. I keep the spell active as I see Alastair keep trying to break free, sending spells everywhere to try and attack me, but each and every attack is absorbed by my Magic extraction spell and taken to the item I had pulled from under the ground.


It takes a while, almost 3 whole minutes, for the last drop of Magic to get sucked out of Alastair's Demonic self, and he drops down on the ground, surprisingly not dead.


I walk towards Alastair's fallen form, as he lays there breathing hard. His skin was flaking already, and he was not long for this world. He knew it, and I knew it. Chips separate from his skin, and fly into the air, as he turns his head to look at me, wearing his cloak as it fits snugly around me.


"How? How?!" Alastair moans from the ground, trying to crawl towards the small metal ingot floating in front of him, barely out of reach, which now contained all his magic, all of his lifeforce, his Essence.


The fact that he's still alive just speaks in favour of his strength of will.


I wave my hand, causing the shiny metal ingot to come towards me, and say, "This.. is something extraordinary, something I still cannot explain what it is. I found it in the Museum of Great Britain, as the head of an Axe found in Benin, Africa. It has.. terrifying storage capacity when it comes to Energy of any kind. Be it flames, or Magic itself. This tiny piece that's barely bigger than my eye just stored your entire Essence, and is still not at full capacity. And as you saw.. the metal has been touched by something Divine."


Shaking my head, I say, "It took just a little bit of tinkering with my Runes for me to turn this simple, albeit wonderful metal, into the Storage cell for your Magic. But well, you're not telling anyone that, because you.. are dead. Thank you for your Sacrifice, Alastair."


And then, I stab my hand forward, a blade of Magic beheading the demon in front of me.


"You.. you will not get away with this. He will find you.. My Lord.. Mephisto.." Alastair's head whispers out, even as his body loses the last remaining vestiges of strength, and turns to dust only to blow away with the wind.


Shaking my head, I say, "Even till your last second you underestimate Harry Potter. You never even noticed, Demon.. that all this time we have not been talking out loud at all. Your last breath was wasted in a failed attempt to summon your Master, when your mouth can't even move.."


And then, I place the new Magic ingot into another jewellery box, and teleport back home, but not before taking a detour through a few other highly popular places. As soon as I disappear from the clearing, Hellfire erupts all around it, destroying any signs of my Magic.





"Master Mary!" A familiar voice makes Mary turn her head back, and sigh in relief when she sees the Sorcerer Supreme behind her. "What is happening here?"


Master Mary, the Master of the London Sanctum, turns back to her spell that was snuffing the Dark Magic of the black flames of Hell, and yells back, "We don't know yet! The London Sanctum got the warning that a Tier 1 Demon was being summoned to the Mortal world in this location. We came here barely a minute later, but a barrier was up, keeping the illusion that nothing was wrong inside of it."


"And they were gone within a minute? Both the Summoner and the Demon?" The Ancient One asks, frowning as she joins the group in snuffing the flames out, and within a couple seconds the entire Clearing is completely free of flames.


Sighing, Master Mary dusts her hands, and grimly says, "No, Sorcerer Supreme. The barrier was.. It was nothing like we've ever seen before, Master. There were hints of Witchcraft, as well as of Wizardry, but it was completely different from anything we've seen in either of those Schools. It took us 15 whole minutes before we managed to break it. Alas, we realised too late that the barriers were keeping this Hellfire from running wild outside of it. And when we disabled the barrier…"


"The flames got outside. Did we lose anyone to the flames?" The Ancient One says, as she observes the damage done by the flames.


There were many trees still standing, but they all were charred, with leaves either completely missing, or charred badly.


Master Mary shakes her head, and says, "Thankfully, no. We erected another barrier immediately, to stop the flames from spreading and began the process of snuffing it out. If you hadn't come just now, it would have taken us a few more minutes to get rid of the Fire completely, so.. many thanks, Sorcerer Supreme."


The Ancient One nods her head, once, and looks around. Frowning a bit, she turns her head from one spot to another, and says, "There's something here.. buried underground. Something Demonic."


Saying that, she flicks her hand and suddenly, the ground shakes as 8 tiny crystals, each one a different colour, are pulled out of the ground, sending dirt flying into the air. The crystals float in front of her, as she observes them with narrowed eyes.


"Ugh, the smell." Master Mary complains, pinching her nose close. "What the Hell are those things?"


The Sorcerer Supreme hums, and says, "This, my dear, is the Essence of a Demon. Each crystal here is the essence of an individual demon from Hell. They were powering the barriers around this piece of land, as well, I assume, as something else in here, in this Clearing."


"What does it mean, Master? How can the Essence of a Demon be here, in this Crystal?" Master Mary asks, confused.


None of her studies had shown something like this to be possible.


The Sorcerer Supreme makes a few hand gestures, making the crystals disappear from sight in a spark of orange, and says, "That.. is not the important question. Someone took the efforts to summon eight Demons, and take their essence from them just to power the barrier. Did they lose their life in the Hellfire? Or were they the cause of it? If they survived, why leave these Crystals here to hold the barrier? Was it just to keep the flames contained? Or was it something else."


Master Mary couldn't help but feel a shiver running through her spine, as she says, "If they left the Eight Crystals here, how many more could they have? How many more Demons could we have missed being Summoned and killed?"


"And that is the question, isn't it?" The Sorcerer Supreme asks, not expecting an answer. Putting her Sling Ring on, she says, "Purify this land, Master Mary. And see if you can't find some other of these Crystals here as well. I will try to track our culprit. I suppose I will need to consult the Eye of Agamotto to catch our culprit."


And then, after creating a portal by spinning her right hand, the left remaining stable in front of her, the Sorcerer Supreme returns back to Kamar Taj, leaving Master Mary and the other Sorcerers of the London Sanctum to continue with their task.





In the biggest bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive, I turn the TV off, after seeing the conversation going on in the clearing. I sat in my chair, thinking over everything I have just heard them talk about.


The Eye of Agamotto.


Of course, I know it. I was wearing it when I died. One of the signs of being named Sorcerer Supreme was the Eye, along with the Cloak of Levitation which I had not seen in the female Sorcerer Supreme's presence, was what Master Yao had gifted me with when we were ready to face Mephisto in his Hell.


It had a large Deposit of Magical energy, as far as I remember, allowing me to fight Dormammu for days on end even after having just fought my way out of Hell. It could also see the Truth of anything, and see the past events if a Sorcerer is capable enough in its use, which I was not when I died.


I just hope that all I've done to prevent any Scrying Sorcerers, or Demons from seeing me for who I am, actually works.


Even if someone manages to break through the spells actually hiding me from their sights, they should not be able to see my face, or hear anything going on in the clearing thanks to my last trick on Alastair. Or so my calculations tell me it will, on normal beings.


The Sorcerer Supreme is far from normal, however, and I suppose I will find out for sure in a few days at most.


Although.. I wonder if the Eye of Agamotto that I used, and the Eye that the Sorcerer Supreme of this World is going to consult, are the same things. After all, the Sorcery of this world is far, far different from the one I had mastered.


No long incantations forcefully rhymed, no glowing hands with beams of Magic flying everywhere. It was.. something I will have to decide on once I actually get around to learning it. Because there is no way in Hell I am not learning the Sorcery of this world, and Mastering it just as well as I will my own World's Sorcery. As soon as the threat of the Sorcerer Supreme is negated.


But I have something far more important than the Sorcerer Supreme to worry about. There is a Soul Fragment on my being, and I can harbour a guess as to exactly where it is. The only thing that the Wizard known as Tom Riddle left me, when he failed to kill me.


My Lightning bolt scar.


A remnant of my parents' killer, stuck in my forehead. A piece of his Soul. The only subject which has even less pieces of information than the bloody nation of Latveria.


I suppose a visit to this Wizarding World is finally due.


 
thanks for the awesome chapter and for writing it went by so fast didnt feel like 7k word heh just like the saying goes time fly's when you're having fun
 
HD-5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which is owned by JK Rowling, nor do I own Marvel Comics. I also lay no claim to the characters of Harry Potter, Victor Von Doom, or any other character I have used in my fic, except for the completely OC characters I introduce.


This is a work of fanfiction, not made for earning money, but just to satisfy my hobby of writing. There is also no guarantee that I will finish this work of fanfiction, so keep that in mind before taking a look inside.


Also while I do have a Pat-reon account, it is completely open for the public, with no paywall for any post on it.


AGAIN, EVERY POST ON MY PAT-REON IS OPEN FOR PUBLIC VIEW!!!


Yours faithfully, HelloDarkness07.





UU Two: Yup, the Dr Strange What If Episode did inspire this. But I didn't want Harry becoming inherently Demonic, or anything. Doom is proud, he won't like to depend on someone else's magic when he has it inside his own body.


Scyfly: I've read many fics where a young Harry becomes a Sorcerer or something, and no offense to them at all, I enjoy them. But how I see Sorcery is they take Magic from the Universe and other Dimensions, that has to be more dangerous for a child's body than the normal Magic. And Doom knows that, so no Sorcery. He thinks that Astral Projection is a Sorcery technique so he won't even try it. As for telepathy, he was 4 in that scene, telekinesis is enough, don't you think?


Negating the threat was wrong of me to write. He wants to make sure she is not a threat to him, either convince her that he is not a danger to the Magical World, or get rid of her if she proves to not believe him. He likes Yao, sure, but he doesn't know this Ancient One. For all he knows, this one could be evil.


Something common: I haven't decided on a pairing yet, and I probably won't until Harry is like 20. But knowing Doom's pride, it either won't happen, or it will happen with someone who can keep up with him in intelligence, at least.


Also, no Reed Richards, because I want my MC to be the smartest. Mwahahahaha!!!






Petunia Dursley had had a wonderful life, except for maybe the three years that she had had to care for her freak of a nephew. Thankfully, the freak turned out to be even more of a freak, and convinced - or threatened - them into leaving him alone.


At first she was angry at him, for daring to just.. take what was her Dudley's. But after a few months, she realized something. They were actually saving money when the boy was left alone. He happily accepted the clothes she dropped off at the end of the hallway, without complaints. He never disturbed them unless absolutely necessary, like when he had somehow managed to stab his own palm with broken glass at the age of 5, or similar injuries that he rarely revealed to them.


Sure, he ate from their pantry, but he rarely ever cooked more than he needed for himself. Best of all, they didn't even see, or hear him cooking!


Their lives were completely stress free, from the moment that he had disappeared into that room of his. Without him in her life, she was also far less angry than she used to be!!


Her stress lines had just disappeared!


Even Vernon was happier, with the boy almost completely out of their lives. Sure, there were issues, particularly with her loving son Dudley regressing to his old behavior with the boy every once in a while. But she was quick to correct him, asking to just ignore the boy altogether.


Except for the time they had to take him to school with Dudley for their admissions, together otherwise it would have called unwanted attention to them, Petunia had seen him barely once a month, and that's if they were unlucky.


Which is why no one could begrudge her for jumping in her own skin a little, when she saw the boy sitting in her kitchen at 6 in the Morning.


"Aunt Petunia." The boy greeted, as if it was completely normal for them to greet each other like this.


Petunia immediately had a frown on her face, some displeasure showing, as she asks, "What do you want, boy?"


The boy raises an eyebrow, and says, "Straight to the point, very well. I need to know where I can find the other Wizards."


Petunia scoffs, and as she moves to the kitchen to begin her day with a cuppa tea, she says, "What makes you think I would know it? As my sister liked to remind me, I wasn't Magic like her. All these years of her death have not changed that."


"Do I look like someone who cares about your rough life as a simpleton, Aunt Petunia?" The boy says from behind her, his voice still in the same conversational tone, making her scowl in anger. After a scoff, he continues, "As for why I believe you know something.. you're far too nosy to not know, especially when the possibility of you learning Magic was thrown in the mix."


She snaps her head around, her eyes widened, and angrily asks, "Did you use your freakishness on me, boy? You promised you wouldn't!"


The boy looks at her, daring to look annoyed, and says, "I have no need of using my Magic to find out what you think in that pointy little head of yours. Your eyes tell me all I want to know. I saw the jealousy in you the first day I laid eyes on you."


"I-" she begins to deny her jealousy at her bitch of a sister, only to be cut off by the boy raising his hand and glaring at her.


He says, "We can make both our days worse by arguing about it, which I will end by taking the information I want out of your head, or you can just tell me what I want to know and I will leave your.. presence."


Petunia huffs at the threats, believing them completely, but not wanting to have him in her kitchen anymore, she says, "I don't know much about them. I know that the school that you're supposed to go to is somewhere in Scotland, that the train that will take you to the school leaves from King's Cross. And I know that she went to London to shop for her things. Somewhere around Charing Cross Road."


She knew it because her parents had taken her with Lily and that Professor from that school, for shopping, and they had parked the car on Charing Cross Road. But she had refused to go to that place for Lily's shopping, and so, had waited for them in a nearby cafe.


The boy sighs, and as he drops down the chair and starts walking out, he says, "I guess that'll have to do. Thank you for your help, Aunt Petunia."


When he finally leaves the room, Petunia can't help but let out a breath out of relief. He may have promised to not use his Freakishness on any of them, but the way he spoke, the way he behaved ever since he was a toddler, everything about the boy was far too odd for her to be comfortable with.


She just hoped that he didn't change his mind about leaving them alone once he found a place for himself to stay.





Appearing with a soft pop out of a wormhole of my own creation, I take a look around to see if anyone saw me. Just like the previous times that I had teleported around London, my good luck held true and no one saw this piece of Magic.


My eye moves towards the sign in front of me, which reads 'Charing Cross Station', as I turn left and start walking. I don't know what I'm looking for exactly, but I know from the vivid image that Petunia thought up for me, that the Evans family, my mother's family, had parked the car somewhere around… here.


I am a man of my word, and when I said I won't use my Magic on them, I meant it. But when I threatened Petunia earlier, she just thought back to the day so loudly, that I just couldn't help but see this memory. Completely accidentally, I assured myself.


The memory plays in my mind once again, and I see Petunia get out of the car with the family. But while my mother and her parents went left to meet with a woman in Green.. dress?.., Petunia stomped towards a cafe on the opposite side of the road after a short argument.


Picking left once again, since Petunia's memories don't tell me where they went after this, I close my eyes as I continue walking. The cloak I had claimed from Alastair did a pretty good job of keeping people from bumping into me.


It wasn't anything special, no, nothing like my old Cloak of Levitation that I'd worn for a grand total of 17 hours, almost half of which was spent infiltrating and fighting in Hell, while the other half was spent fighting Dormammu off of Earth.


No, the Cloak was not special per se. But.. It was worn by Alastair, the Grand Torturer of Hell, for thousands and thousands of years. He has tortured billions of souls while wearing this cloak. And that.. kind of leaves a mark, even on something like a normal cloth.


The Magic of Hell is deeply imbued within the cloak, which if I had left alone, would have brought Sorcerers right to me. But of course, I did not leave it alone. For someone like me, who can enchant a special metal to work as a Storage cell for the Magic of a Demon, getting rid of most of the Demonic taint from the Cloak was practically Child's play.


I purposefully left some of the taint in it, since it served wonderfully in moments like this. People feel nervous to be in the presence of this Cloak, and hence, in the presence of myself. And it serves me just fine, it's perfect even.


Not to forget that it's very comfortable, fitting snugly, and it will grow in size with me!


After about a minute of walking with no interruptions, I finally stop, and open my eyes.


Here.


There are traces of Magic here, in large quantities and very much recent. Surprisingly, the traces are almost identical to the traces of Magic I leave behind when I teleport from one place to another.


Well, I did assume that my Teleportation was something I got from being a Wizard, and not something I invented.


So the place was definitely somewhere close. I look around, observing each store on both sides of the street for signs of Magic. I sense it before I see it, however, a place that just reeked of Magic similar in its make to the Magic I have inside me.


There were differences. The Magic that I can feel is wilder, less.. controlled.


And when I finally see it, I can't help but blink, because it was definitely not what I expected to see. It was a bar, no confusion there. It was a dingy little bar, with a crooked banner above its door reading 'The Leaky Cauldron', nestled between a bookshop, and a shop that sells Records.


Now that I see it, however, I notice how no one else seems to even glance at it. Even those actively looking in that direction were just skipping the bar, and going straight from the bookshop to the record shop, or vice versa.


A smile automatically comes to my face, wondering if there are similarities to the barriers and Enchantments I used to keep the Demons captive, and these ones.


Shaking my head, I look on both sides of the road, and cross it to start the short walk to the bar. Before I enter it, however, I make sure to put my cap and glasses on, the cap being backwards.


As soon as I put the cap on, the colour of my hair changes from its usual black to a dull blonde colour, hanging behind my head in a ponytail, while the glasses on my nose portray an illusion of plain brown eyes for anyone to see.


From how Alastair had reacted as soon as he saw me, and how he was so surprised that I didn't know about the Boy-Who-Lived thing, it was very safe for me to assume that I might be well known in the Wizarding World.


Maybe they know the scar I sport on my head, maybe they know what colour my eyes are, or maybe both?


In any case, introducing myself or even showing up as myself, to the people in the Bar, will be nothing short of stupid.


So, with the illusions in place, I take a deep breath to get a sense of the people whose Magic calls out to me, and enter through the open door. Multiple heads turn to look my way at my entrance, but seeing just a kid, most of them turn away.


I approach the sole person who had kept staring at me, the barman, an old, bald man, with broken teeth that show when he finally smiles at me.


If I was a normal 9 year old child, and not.. me.. I would have been really freaked out by him.


"Ello there. What's a kid like ya doing out of school?" The barman says, sounding curious and at the same time a bit on guard.


Guess the cloak works on Wizards as well.


I look around at the many people enjoying a drink, or an early breakfast, and then at the back right corner of the room, where I had seen a couple walk, while a pair of women had walked out.


Turning back to the barman, I act a bit nervous, and say, "I.. I was told that I can buy my school supplies here, I am to start at Hogwarts next year."


The barman nods at that, and says, "Ah, a late birthday, ey? I was the same, got me letter in December, right before me 11th birthday. Leaves ya with a whole lotta time to read up, I tell ya. The name's Tom, I manage this inn here."


I just stare at him, wide eyed innocent child that I am, as he walks out of the bar, and towards the corner I had seen the people disappear off to, and says, "Come then, lad. I ain't got all day, ya know. The morning's just starting and people will be wanting to get their post-halloween shopping over with."


As I follow behind the man called Tom, staying vigilant despite the confidence I have about the location, I can't help but notice that he said Halloween, and not Samhein, which my mother used to call the holiday.


Tom stops in front of a wall, which also has traces of Magic especially concentrated at one spot a bit over my head, and brings an honest to God, Magic Wand out of his sleeve.


Seeing me stare at it, Tom chuckles and says, "You'll be getting your own wand soon, I believe. No store's better than Ollivander's, I tell ya. Now, watch this carefully, so you don't have to wait for someone else to do it for you. To get into the Diagon Alley, you take your wand, and just gently tap… here. Thrice."


Saying so, Tom taps the brick he had pointed out, which was coincidentally the same spot with a large concentration of Magic.


The spot gives off a small, almost unnoticeable pulse of Magic, which causes the wall to fold in on its bricks, opening up into, as he said, an Alley. And it was beautiful. This was not my first foray into a World of Magic, but by Gods, nothing in Kamar Taj compares to what I'm seeing with my own two eyes, right now.


And it was just somewhere they shopped? What does their place of learning look like then? What about their Homes?


Everywhere my head turns, I can see one example or the other of some Magic. Moving pictures posted on walls, airplanes and birds made out of paper just flying everywhere, and something that makes me pause.


"Flying brooms? Seriously?" I can't help but mumble to myself, a bit amused.


Something lands on my shoulder then, and I barely refrain from lashing out with a Magic blast when I remember that it's just Tom, who takes a step back out of nervousness, and says, "You sure you'll be okay from here? Ya know what you have to do?"


Guess the Cloak reacted to my intention of wanting to harm the one who touched me. It had remained pretty docile in this Magical world, which was understandable. I did not even sense its Darkness when I took it from Alastair, so I suppose our Magic is a bit resistant to its effects. But my anger at Tom did cause it to flare up, so that's good.


I smile at him, and sending a sense of reassurance into his brain, I say, "Of course. I'll be okay. Thank you, Mr Tom!"


Tom nods, smiling at me, and says, "Well, I'll be off then. Good luck lad."


And then he walks back to his bar while shaking his head, leaving me alone. Shaking my own head, I step through the gateway that had formed when the bricks had separated, and start walking through the market, the brick wall immediately closing up behind me.


The first thing I do, before even looking inside any of the shops, is take a deep breath with a large smile on my face.


"Magic." I whisper to myself, having felt it since the moment I got close to the Leaky Cauldron. But here, inside the barriers of what separates the Magical world from the non-magical, I can feel it even more clearly.


Magic was everywhere. In the air, underground, in the people, in the houses, and hell, even the rocks that made up the road. Magic was calling out to me, and I accept the call with open arms.


This.. this was beautiful. I can see why my mother would leave her old, normal life behind. Or maybe it was just my aunt's beautiful personality that convinced her to do so.


Coming out of the pseudo trance, I open my eyes and now really look at the Market that Tom called Diagon Alley.


It wasn't busy yet, as Tom had said, but the shopkeepers were all in their stores. A Cauldron store had the words, "Cauldrons -- All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring-- Collapsible," flashing on a sign outside of it, while the broom store had a few brooms circling around one another like a merry-go-round.


There was an Apothecary on one side of the cobblestone road, while right opposite it stood the Vials and Phials shop.


I couldn't help but notice how this market proved literally every myth about Witches true. Potions, Flying brooms, Cauldrons, and hell, even Wands! Speaking of Wands, there's the wand shop Tom had spoken of, Ollivander's, which had apparently been in business since 382 BC.


I ignore it for now, since, first of all, I am not here to actually shop, nor will I be buying a Wand anytime soon. I'm here for information. So, I just keep my ears open and walk all over the alley.


"... didn't see much, did we? Too many people crowding up the Potter home, to be honest." I hear a man's voice say from the cafe to my left not even 10 seconds after I've begun my walk through the Alley. And it immediately catches my attention.


I enter the cafe and listen to the man talk to his friend, while browsing the menu.


"Well, yeah, what'd you expect? That you'll be the only tosser to turn up at Godric's Hollow on Halloween of all things?" His friend, another man says with a chuckle.


Halloween. Was this when my parents died to this Tom Riddle? I might have perfect memory but it only came to me when I woke up at the Dursleys which was.. on November 2nd?


The first man drops his head, sighs and says, "Well.. yeah. But there were loads of people there, Wizards I mean. The muggle children were also crowding the streets, annoying little shits. We didn't even get close to the Gates, let alone try and go inside."


Godric's Hollow.


Potter House.


My Parents.. had a house.. in which they lost their lives.


As the two men start talking about something else, I turn back the way I came and start walking towards the Bookstore that I had noticed before getting sidetracked by the mention of my last name.


I enter the shop, Flourish and Blotts, and immediately walk up to the Clerk manning the counter, who was reading a book. Looking around in curiosity, I ask, "Where can I find the books about.. the Boy-Who-Lived?"


The title leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but I don't let it show on my face.


The bored clerk simply points his finger in one direction, and says, "In the Fantasy section, first shelf that you see. The Harry Potter collection is kept there."


Fantasy.


My eye twitch, as I make a point to visit that too, but I grit out, "I mean.. the books that detail what happened to him and his family. About his parents' death?"


The clerk points to another section, looking at me like I'm dumb, and says, "The History section then. It's somewhere on the shelf clearly marked 'Recent Events'."


Shaking my head, I walk towards the History section, annoyed at having to behave like a child. It takes me barely a few seconds to find the shelf he had pointed out, and then I pick out an around 100 page book titled 'Modern Magical History' and start reading the index.


I find my own name, or the title that I detest, really, somewhere at the bottom of the index page, and flip to page 73.


"Harry James Potter, born 31st of July, 1980, is the only son of James Potter, and his wife Lily. As told in the 'Blood Supremacy War of the 20th century', He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came to the Potter House in Godric's Hollow, and killed both the elder Potters with the Killing Curse before.."


And then the page blanked out. So did every other page, in fact. What was it, 30 seconds since I opened up the index page?


I scoff, not needing to be a genius to realize that there was a spell on the book to stop me from reading everything before I actually buy the book.


Should I try to break through it? It will be a fun challenge, to be sure.


Alas, I have very little knowledge about the way these Wizards use Magic, and until I know everything about their Magic use, I will refrain from.. bringing attention to myself.


Keeping that book in a basket conveniently sitting in a corner, I pick another book and go through its index as well.


I'm just glad they actually use an Index, even if they don't use any storage system as far as I can see.


At the end, I pick three books, titled 'Modern Magical History', 'Great Wizarding Events of the 20th Century', and 'Wizarding Families of Great Britain'.


They all had either the Potter family name, my own name, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named inside the Index itself. Walking towards the Clerk with my bounty, I ask, "How much for each of them?"


The clerk looks up at the titles, and says, "27 Knuts for the thin one, 4 Sickles for the big one, and 2 Sickles and 13 Knuts for the middle one. So a total of.. 7 Sickles and 11 Knuts.


7.. Sickles.. and 11...Knuts…


Are you fucking kidding me? Who had the bright idea to convert 1 unit to 29 smaller units?


Sighing internally to calm myself, I ask, "How much is that in Pounds?"


"Nah, kid. Sorry, but we don't take muggle money. But Gringotts should be open by now, why not exchange your money there?"


Gringotts.. I've heard that word many times during my short stay here. I was wondering what that was, and I guess I'll get my answer.


Nodding, I hand him by basket full of three books, and say, "Keep that safe, I'll be back for them."


And then I walk out of Flourish and Blotts, and after asking the first person I see, I get to see for myself what exactly Gringotts is.





Barely ten minutes later, I walk out of the bank run by Goblins of all things, 200 Pounds lighter, but with a pouch of 37 Gold Galleons, 49 Silver Sickles, and 58 Bronze Knuts.


The conversation rates of the Currency was mind boggling, and I just hoped that that's what Gold, Silver, and Bronze is worth in this Wizarding World. But that's unlikely, considering I got a gold coin around 3 cm wide for just 5 British Pound Sterling. Odds are, it's just Gold plated or something, similar for the other coins.


After paying for the books, and a few more that I had the Clerk suggest for me in regards to the apparent War that my parents were a part of, I have some fish and chips at the Leaky Cauldron, along with the local favorite drink for adults and children alike, Butterbeer. It was sweet, and like all things in the Wizarding World, had a taste of Magic to it.


My work here done, for now, I go out to London, or as the Wizards call it, Muggle London, and teleport back to my room once I'm far enough. First, I'll learn all I can about my family, and then, I think I'll have to start learning how the Wizards use Magic.





Two days later, I find myself teleporting to a small hamlet in Cornwall, called the Godric's Hollow. My former home, in this life.


From what I had read in the 'Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts', this village was named after one of the founders of the School my parents went to, who was born in this region. Surprisingly, however, despite this village being home to many Wizarding Families over the centuries, it was not solely Magical.


Plenty of normal, muggle families stayed here as well. Hell, in this day and age, the majority of the population here was non-magical, with just about 10 families calling this place home.


And my parents used to be one of them.


But despite that, I smile when I appear out of my wormhole, when I sense the Magic flowing through the very air in this land. Just like Diagon Alley. But the feeling was decidedly different.


From Diagon Alley I could clearly sense the intent of keeping non-magical people from finding it, unless specifically invited in. Godric's Hollow had no such enchantment.


Instead, the enchantments were very… vague. Keep Magic hidden? Confusion? Something like that, it will take me a while to even sense the intent behind the enchantments clearly, but I have not come here today for that.


My steps take me to the direction of where I know I will find it. The House that my parents died in.


I don't know what I'm hoping for here. I just.. as soon as I learned what had happened, and that they had died in their own home, I.. I've wanted to visit. Maybe I can finally pay my respects to my father, and my mother.


My father, who tried to fight against a superior enemy despite knowing he would lose. And my mother, who stood in front of my crib and took a spell meant for me. Both my parents gave their lives so I could live.


Paying my respects is the least I can do.


The first thing I see is that the house doesn't exist where it is supposed to, because of some sort of illusion the Ministry of Magic, which is a thing, had cast on it. So, the first thing I see is right in front of the empty plot at the end of the street, is a monument built to honour the sacrifices of the Second World War.


When I get closer, however, the monument changes into a statue, showing my parents standing side by side, smiles on their faces, with a baby in my mother's hands. Me. The statues were moving, like all artistic things in this Magical world do, but the movements were repetitive. Just a smile exchanged between the two, as they then turned to the baby Harry in their arms, and then smile again.


Knowing exactly what had happened now, even the details that Alastair had left behind, I cannot stop the tears that come out of my eyes when I see that sight.


Doom.. is stronger than this. Strong enough that such emotions don't bother him. Crying is for the week, I can just hear Doom say.


But Harry.. Harry is not that strong, emotionally. I have not faced the same hardships that Doom did, not in this life. My memories say otherwise, but my physical brain has not gone through the pain that Doom had gone through, that made him grow.. into Doom.


Wiping my eyes, I turn away from the statue and towards the empty plot of land that slowly reveals its contents to me. My parents house, my house.


The house was modest, two stories with possibly an attic up there once upon a time. It was certainly bigger than the Dursley home, from the outside, but I don't know if any room inside was expanded or not.



At least, the room on the right side of the first floor wasn't expanded. And why would I know that already? Because I can see inside it.


The entire top right corner had exploded, leaving a hole wide enough for me to easily fly in sideways if I could do that. Not that I can fly straight either, yet. That open space was probably where the Killing Curse had apparently backfired, reflected off of my baby self and onto the Dark Lord Tom Riddle.


The hedge surrounding the house had grown wild in these 8 years since their deaths, and taller as well. Guess no one took care of the house after their death. Nor did they bloody repair it.


I scoff then, and mumble to myself, "Instead they come to gape at the house where their Dark Lord whose name they don't even speak lost his life."


Shaking my head, I take a step forward and place my hand on the metallic gate that was still locked. As soon as I touch the gate, however, something happens.


Like a quickly growing weed, a sign had grown out of the ground itself, in the front yard. Made out of Wood, there were golden letters shining brightly saying, "On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family."


"A monument?!" I hiss out, angry beyond belief. "They call leaving this house unrepaired a Monument to my parents' death?!"


And they dare claim something that belongs to me, belongs to DOOM as a monument?! They dare?!


Around the golden letterings I also make out signatures, names, and well wishes that people had left for me, but after reading those words this just seems to make me angrier.


With a snarl and a pulse of Magic, the metal gate slams open, the spells and enchantments keeping it locked destroyed by the sheer strength of my Magic. I wave my hand, causing the wooden sign to pluck itself out of the ground, and I throw it to the side, where it burrows itself underground again.


Anger somewhat abated, I take a few deep breaths, and walk towards the door, unhindered.


As soon as I touch the door, however, I get the distinct feel that the door was locked, as a barrier shows itself to my naked eyes momentarily. Even the hole on the first floor was covered by that barrier, I notice.


I blink, taken by surprise at the feel of the barrier. It was.. fluid. Far smoother than what I had done using my Magic and the Witchcraft runes. There were no runes used, as far as I can see, and the barrier was purely spell powered. But I have no doubts that as I am right now, I will not be able to break the barrier down.


Maybe in a few years I might be strong enough to do so, but right now, no.


Before I can even start becoming disappointed, however, I sense the barrier pulse, as it looks for something in my hand still touching the door handle. Still keeping my hand on the handle, I raise my left hand up and sense for the barrier with my palm. I pulse my own Magic to meet the barrier's, and get just one word in answer from it.


"Blood." I whisper, smirking a bit.


Of course.


Blood.


The blood of the family that lives here, I assume. The blood of the Potters.


Bringing one of my daggers out, I gently cut my thumb with nary a wince, and hold the handle again with the bleeding hand. The barrier pulses, and pulses once more.


Blood. Home. Welcome.


These are the feelings I get from the barrier, as the door lock clicks to an open, and then the door itself opens when I turn the handle.


Ingenious, and something I will no doubt use as soon as I learn how. But as my parents' death proves, the barrier is not invincible.


Tom Riddle still managed to get in, and kill my family before they could try to flee.


Shaking my head, I head on inside my parents' house, and stop when I feel it, my throat constricted through sheer emotion.


Death.


My parents' death.


I can feel it, as if it had happened just five minutes ago. Dark Magic has touched this house, and Time has not cured it completely. Two points has it the strongest, however. The first point is right in front of me, in the hallway that leads inside the house, and the second.. on the 1st floor, where my mother sacrificed herself for me.


I first walk to the spot where I now know the curse struck my dad, as Tom Riddle killed him, and place my hand on top of it.


It's.. hard.. not knowing what to say. What do you even say to the man whom you didn't even remember? I remember Werner, my father from my previous life. Was James just as loving as Werner?


Both died to save me. Werner gave himself up to the Baron so the Baron's men would leave the tribe alone. And James gave his life hoping to delay Tom till mother could escape, which alas, did not happen.


I.. I really need to see for myself, what exactly happened here. Just being here gives me clues to it, but it doesn't tell me enough about that night.


Shaking my head, I stand up, but not before conjuring a Lily flower and placing it on the spot.


"I may not be the son you would have wanted for yourself, far too many dark memories for that to be true. But I am the son you have, I am your son. And I thank you, Dad. For giving me this life, for trying to save my mother and I. I promise you, your death will be avenged. I will kill this Tom Riddle, this I vow."


I then walk inside the house, on the ground floor itself, and first get out into a room that had a window facing the front gate.


But when I enter the room, it just makes me angry once more. The room.. was empty. Completely empty, with just dust all around the room.


Taking deep breaths, I say to myself, "They probably moved it somewhere for safekeeping. I hope." Whether it actually reassured me is something even I can't say.


The next room is the kitchen, and even that proves to be just as empty as the previous room. There were two more rooms, and a bathroom on the ground floor, all empty, and so, I turn back and walk up the stairs to the first floor.


Once again, coming across empty rooms all around the first floor, I finally enter the room where it all ended for my mother. My nursery, and it was most definitely a nursery. This was the only room that it seems they had not emptied out completely.


My crib was still there, reeking of Dark Magic, as was the carpet underneath it. There was a cupboard in the back, but just by the glimpse I see through the open door I can tell that it has also been emptied. I take a few breaths to first calm myself, and then approach the spot where I know for sure that my mother had lost her life.


Right in front of the crib.


Right in front of me.


Kneeling down, I touch the spot on the carpet, and sigh.


"Mum." I whisper, somehow my heart becomes just a bit lighter. "I may not know you, or even remember you a bit. But.. I am proud to have you as my mother. The books.. they don't mention you too much, except for saying you died in front of my crib, but I understand. You.. you're the reason I even survived. You.. sacrificed yourself. You gave him your life, so he can spare mine. Thank you mother, thank you."


Conjuring a bunch of Hydrangeas, I lay them down on the ground, and stand up. I look around, and frown. I cannot leave this place like this. Least of all if I intend to reclaim this place one day.


Closing my eyes, I raise my hands to my sides. The Cloak starts flapping around, as my Magic flows out of me in droves, and moves in circles around me. The crib, the curtains, and the cupboard door, all rattle, as a wind of my own creation starts flowing around, forming into a tornado.


I keep putting Magic into the wind, and have it cover everything. From the crib, to the carpet. From the doors, to the windows. From the roof, to the Walls, and even the ground outside this house. I let my magic expand over the entire place, and let it seep deep into the property.


My Magic sticks to every surface, every nook and cranny inside the house, and grabs hold on to every piece of Magic still in here. And there are many of them.


Focusing on the Dark Magic that still remained after the murder of my parents, I grab at it with my Magic. And then, I call my Magic back towards me. My magic answers my call, and brings the Dark Magic with it, pulling every little speck of Magic inside the house to me.


I gladly welcome the magic flowing through the wind towards me, ignoring the rattling sounds happening inside the room, and let the Magic settle in an orb, over my right hand.


It's all over within a minute, prompting me to finally open my eyes. I smile in satisfaction, when I don't feel Dark Magic anywhere inside the house, except for the orb I now hold in my right hand.


It was a green orb, green being the colour that my Pure Magic tends to take in this life, and even in my previous life, with just two separate dark blotches on its surface. The Dark Magic left behind after my parents were murdered.


Frowning, I take my left hand and slowly touch the two blotches that represent my parents' deaths with two fingers. When I pull my fingers away from the orb, the dark blotches get pulled with them, now hanging off my fingers like a sticky, dark ink. As soon as the foreign Magic is separated from my own Pure Magic, it gets absorbed back into my body, giving me goosebumps.


As for the dark magic in question, I approach the broken walls, and flick my fingers towards it, sending the dark magic out of the house, and out of the barriers.


No longer in contact with any grounded Magic, it immediately dissipates into the wind, and flies away. Where, I no longer care.


I smile, however, when I turn back inside. When my Magic had touched the house, intimately, I'd felt something. I felt a lot of things. Pieces of Magic still left behind, that felt very familiar to the barrier that surrounds this house.


But other than that, there was something else, something very.. familiar.


Waving my hand, I make my crib float, and place it in the veranda. Another wave causes the carpet to start rolling up from the other end, and rolls to a close behind me. I ignore it, other than stepping over the roll when it passes me. My eyes stay on the spot on the uncarpeted floor, where my crib just was.


Runes.


Glowing Runes, of a language I am intimately familiar with, covering the entire room's floor. And how could I not be familiar with it, this language was the one I learned from Cynthia's books after all.


I take a moment to memorize the Runes, and then point my hand, destroying the Runes burnt into the ground. As I place the carpet and crib back in their place, I can't help but chuckle to myself, a tear involuntarily leaving my eye.


Of course.. Now I understand exactly what happened that day. How I survived, how I became the Boy-Who-Lived. My mother.. My mother was a genius. She learned how to do something that even Master Yao could not do.


Soul Magic.


My mother.. Lily Potter.. was a Witch who figured out the purest form of Soul Magic.


I just don't understand.. How did she learn this Language? Is it possible? Is it possible that just like how Harry was once Victor, that Lily was once Cynthia Von Doom? Or is it something else? I do not know. Another task for me to complete then.


Shaking my head, I approach the back wall, and bend down. Finger extended, I inject Magic into a spot that I had sensed before, when my Magic had tried entering it and failed, and smile when I see the spot light up with a golden light, but nothing else happens.


Pressing down on my thumb, I reopen the cut from before, and with the bleeding thumb, inject my Magic into the spot once again. This time, there's a soft, but clear click sound, as a rectangular spot on the wall separates out, showing an opening dug into the wall.


I put my hand inside it, and pull out a square box that was around the size of my entire forearm. The wooden box was plain looking, with nothing special about it. I grab the top of it with one hand, and gently pull it open, not knowing what to expect.


A notebook was definitely not it.


Opening the hardcover, I smile when I see the words written on the first page.


"Property of Lily Evans." In blue ink, and right underneath it in black ink it said, "now Potter."


My mother's journal.


I place it back inside the box, and put the box in my backpack, promising to read it soon. Getting up, I turn around to find what else was hidden around the house. I stop before I even take a single step, however, when I see that I am no longer alone in the house.


There was someone else, in my house.


I blink at the person in question, not in the least bit surprised, and say, "You're faster than I expected… Sorcerer Supreme."


The bald woman that currently holds said title just smiles down at me, and suddenly, the walls around us shatter like a mirror, as I am forcefully taken into the Mirror Realm.


Well, can't say I didn't expect this. But she is very much mistaken if she thinks I will go down without a fight.





A/N: If you're an author, check out my Pat-reon page(open to all), and see if one of the Plot ideas catches your eye! Lmk if you take a story for yourself, so I can link it on my own sites!!


Tata!
 
Last edited:
Was really surprised to see a new story by one of my favorite writers on this site. Pleasantly surprised. I am definitely enjoying it so far and can't wait to read more in the future.
 
An Enchantment to make wild animals and birds stay away, and another to hide any magic used under the borders.
Isn't that Extremely bad for the forest? Birds and Animals are needed for keeping the forest alive and thriving.

No long incantations forcefully rhymed, no glowing hands with beams of Magic flying everywhere. It was.. something I will have to decide on once I actually get around to learning it. Because there is no way in Hell I am not learning the Sorcery of this world, and Mastering it just as well as I will my own World's Sorcery. As soon as the threat of the Sorcerer Supreme is negated.

So... The MC is DOOM from the Comics(since it was 1977 in his last world, and the methods of the Mystic Arts). BUT! He is now Harry Potter, but this is the MCU!? Cool.


I can't help but feel that the MC having written down journals of his discoveries and his past lifes experiences was just dumb... I mean, I can't really imagine that ending well. I don't know how strong or what kind of defenses he has added to Privet Drive, since he either has STILL not sensed Dumbledore's Wards, or there are none... But regardless, I doubt they would stop anyone from getting in and getting his books/stuff, at least not a concerted effort.

Also, Really hope that the MC does not just turn this into a fight with the Sorcerer Supreme, instead of just talking to her. I mean, it just would wind up feeling pointless and detrimental... Especially with the Sorcerer Supreme clearly knowing who he is, considering where she found him and what he was doing...
 
Isn't that Extremely bad for the forest? Birds and Animals are needed for keeping the forest alive and thriving.



So... The MC is DOOM from the Comics(since it was 1977 in his last world, and the methods of the Mystic Arts). BUT! He is now Harry Potter, but this is the MCU!? Cool.


I can't help but feel that the MC having written down journals of his discoveries and his past lifes experiences was just dumb... I mean, I can't really imagine that ending well. I don't know how strong or what kind of defenses he has added to Privet Drive, since he either has STILL not sensed Dumbledore's Wards, or there are none... But regardless, I doubt they would stop anyone from getting in and getting his books/stuff, at least not a concerted effort.

Also, Really hope that the MC does not just turn this into a fight with the Sorcerer Supreme, instead of just talking to her. I mean, it just would wind up feeling pointless and detrimental... Especially with the Sorcerer Supreme clearly knowing who he is, considering where she found him and what he was doing...
Definitely bad for the forest, but when Doom took the area over he was already planning on abandoning it later, along with destroying the signs of Magic somehow, which he did when he figured out Hellfire.

Also, yes, I admit its unnecessary for Doom to have written down anything really, since he has perfect recall. I guess I just wanted to add this one cliche lol.

No, he hasn't sensed the ward around his house yet, it exists though. Nothing ever happened to bring it to his attention.

I have something planned for the Sorcerer Supreme meeting, I just hope I do it justice.

Thank you!
 
HD-6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which is owned by JK Rowling, nor do I own Marvel Comics. I also lay no claim to the characters of Harry Potter, Victor Von Doom, or any other character I have used in my fic, except for the completely OC characters I introduce.


This is a work of fanfiction, not made for earning money, but just to satisfy my hobby of writing. There is also no guarantee that I will finish this work of fanfiction, so keep that in mind before taking a look inside.


Also while I do have a Pat-reon account, it is completely open for the public, with no paywall for any post on it.


EVERY POST ON MY PAT-REON IS OPEN FOR PUBLIC VIEW!!!


Yours faithfully, HelloDarkness07.






The Sorcerer Supreme.


A position I once held for a grand total of 17 hours in my previous life, in a Universe that I'm now 100% sure was most definitely not this one.


And now, I find myself standing in front of my counterpart- The Sorcerer Supreme of this Universe- inside what appears to be the Mirror Realm.


But it is only a guess based on how it looks, and how it kind of mirrors the.. shall we say real world. I'd read up on it, yes, but I had not actually entered the Mirror Realm before. Master Yao had not allowed me to enter the Mirror Realm while I was his student, and my life was cut short before I could do it myself.


Apparently, the Mirror Realm had been used to trap so many enemies that it was risky to even try to open up a gateway to it. It seems in this Universe, however, that is not a problem.


The surroundings look a bit similar to the house I was in, with a few glances at the shattered mirror-like appearance of the Realm showing me that I could see outside of it. But the dimensions don't match. The room inside the Mirror realm is far, far bigger than the nursery we were just in, with the walls being pushed back. The items that were in my nursery were also missing, but there were a few additions, like the Asian tea table kept a distance behind her.


"Mr Potter." The bald woman I know to be Sorcerer Supreme says in greeting, right after pulling me inside the Mirror Realm.


I keep staring at her, ready to fight for my freedom but not yet ready to make an enemy out of her without sufficient reason. Although, she's already on her way to be it by making me what is definitely her prisoner in this Realm.


Tilting her head to the side, she starts walking towards the tea table, with pillows already kept for the two of us, and says, "Come, would you like some tea?"


I follow her, weirded out a bit, and ask, "Depends. Are you in the habit of offering tea to every 9 year old boy you kidnap?"


I'd expected her to start attacking me as soon as she saw me, either to capture me, or to test me. This… talking, I did not expect.


The woman chuckles, and sitting down she says, "Only the ones that do something eye-catching, and I don't mean it in a good way. Please, sit."


I stare at the sitting pillow for a moment, and then sit down, seeing as I don't really have another option. Taking the tea she offers, I take a sip to try the hot tea, and raise an eyebrow at her.


"That's.. just how I like it." I say, wondering if the Eye showed her how I liked my tea.


The Sorcerer Supreme takes a sip of her own, with her lips curved up, and says, "I am the Sorcerer Supreme. Finding how you take your tea is not something I had any trouble with."


Shaking my head, I finish the tea in a few more sips, and keep the cup down, waiting for her to do the same. She takes her time, almost a minute in fact, and then finally returns my stare, her elbows resting on the table between us.


"So.. you know who I am." She begins speaking, and I just nod in assent. Nodding back, she says, "How much do you know about me, may I ask?"


Frowning, I take a moment to decide how much to reveal. I doubt she knows about my previous life, but I won't bet on it. So considering that she knows all I've done from the moment I was born, to maybe even a few years in the future, thanks to the Eye of Agamotto.. let's just assume she knows everything about Harry Potter.


Focusing back on her, I say, "I know about the existence of the Sorcerers, although I don't know what you study, where, or how. I know that you're the leader of the Sorcerers, Sorcerer Supreme being your title, and your job is to safeguard the planet against external, mystical threats. Demons, dragons, rogue Sorcerers and the like. Other than that, I know nothing about you."


The Sorcerer Supreme raises an eyebrow, and asks, "And how do you know all this? Sorcerers have spent a lot of time keeping our existence a secret."


Humming, I answer, "I learned about your existence through Alastair, the demon I had summoned that day. I got proof of it when your Sorcerers came to the forest, and I learned about you when you yourself came to the forest. The rest.. were just deductions, until you confirmed them for me."


Not all of it is a lie, funnily enough. I did not know that this new world of mine had Sorcerers, not for sure anyway, until Alastair mentioned them.


The Sorcerer Supreme nods, accepting the answer, and says, "Let me introduce myself properly then. I am called the Ancient One, the Sorcerer Supreme of our World, and leader of the Masters of the Mystic Arts- Sorcerers. As you said, my duties include protecting the World from otherworldly threats, and while we do focus on Mystical threats first, we have fought against other, non-magical threats as well. Along with that, my Duty as a Sorcerer Supreme includes keeping track of all the Magical communities around the world, and making sure they're not a threat to the World."


Taking a pause, she looks me in the eyes, and says, "And you, Mr Potter, are currently on a path to be named such a threat."


I frown, and ask, "Why?"


The Sorcerer Supreme looks at me sternly, and in a serious voice she says, "Please don't play coy with me, Mr Potter. You've summoned and killed a total of 47 Creatures of Hell, one of them being a Tier III Demon, while another one being the Grand Torturer of Hell. Your actions have been noticed, not just from this side, but on the other side as well. The next Demon you summon wouldn't just lead to your own death, but the destruction of Earth as well."


I nod, accepting it all, and say, "Which is why I've stopped summoning and killing Demons."


She raises her eyebrows, and asks, "Have you, now? And I'm supposed to just take your word for it?"


I smile at her, and say, "Of course. You'll take my word for it because if you didn't believe me, I would have been attacked by you, not spoken to."


She stares at me for a few seconds, and then chuckles. Shaking her head, she says, "You know full well, Mr Potter, to take advantage of your age. What were you even trying to achieve by summoning and killing all those demons?"


Snorting, I say, "I wasn't trying to achieve anything, Sorcerer Supreme. I just needed some answers, and Alastair was the only one who could provide me, whom I wouldn't lose to. The ones before Alastair were.. practice, so I could improve my spells."


The Sorcerer Supreme blinks, surprise showing plainly on her face. She opens her mouth, and asks, "You.. risk a war.. with Hell.. for answers?"


"They were very important questions, you wouldn't understand." I simply say, staring at her to show that I will most definitely not elaborate.


"And why did you kill them? Why take their Magic?" The Sorcerer Supreme asks, raising her voice a bit.


I look at her, more than a bit annoyed at the raised voice, and say, "I didn't want to warn Hell of my actions, obviously, nor any Magicals keeping an eye on the Creatures of Hell being summoned topside, like yourself. So, I knew that I had to kill the Creatures while at the same time making sure their Magic does not cause damage to the world." Not before I had my answers anyway. "And so, I took their Magic and crystallized it."


Taking a pause, I notice that she's listening carefully, no doubt to see if I'm lying.


At her nod, I continue and say, "When it came to killing Alastair, however, I had no other option. My Magic, strong as it is for my age, would not have been able to kill him, and I did not want to let him go back to Hell. So, I did to him what I did to the others. I took his Magic as well."


The Sorcerer Supreme sighs, leaning back, and asks, "And did you get your answers from Alastair?"


I shake my head, and say, "Not all of them, no. But if you're asking if I'll be summoning any more demons, then you do not have to worry. I won't be summoning any more Demons."


I'll instead be going to Hell myself, some day.


"Are you sure about that?" She asks, sounding dubious.


I nod, completely serious, and say, "As of now, and maybe for the next few centuries as well, the Lord of Hell will be keeping an eye on all the Demons summoned to Earth. If I even try to make contact with Hell, he will know it was me, and I'll either end up in Hell myself, or I'll end up summoning him here. Which I want just as much as you do. So yes, I won't be dabbling in Demons for the foreseeable future."


The Sorcerer Supreme accepts the answer with a nod, and says, "You're.. surprisingly mature for your age."


"Perks of being raised in an abusive household. You know how it is." I simply say, not at all blind to her change in topic.


She hums, and says, "That's not all, though, is it? Your maturity is more than a consequence of your situation growing up. In fact, from what I've observed, you've been mature ever since you were left at your Aunt's house. Tell me.. are you actually Harry Potter or are you someone else?"


I look at her in disbelief, and ask, "Shouldn't you have asked this before we even spoke about Demons and all?" Shaking my head, I make eye contact, and without hesitation I say, "I am Harry Potter. I am not someone else masquerading as Harry Potter, or someone using his Body."


Harry Potter. Doom. I'm both one and the same. I am Harry Potter, Harry Potter is me. I used to be Victor Von Doom, but that's besides the point.


The Sorcerer Supreme hums, and says, "I'm afraid I find that a bit hard to believe. I think.. that while you do possess Harry Potter's body, and his Magic, that you're someone else. I believe.. you're Tom Marvolo Riddle."


I stare at her, wondering.. Did she seriously just say that?


"You.. you actually believe that. You actually believe that I'm Tom Riddle. You believe that this tiny little Soul Fragment took over my body? Hah!" Gods, I needed this laugh. I've been serious for far too long.


Shaking my head while still chuckling, I say, "My mind, my Spirit.. is a Sanctuary. God, Demon, Wizard, Sorcerer, it matters not. No one goes inside my mind without my express permission, and I will never give such a permission to anyone. Let alone the parasite living in my head without paying rent."


"So you do know about it." The Sorcerer Supreme says, softly.


Nodding at her unasked question, I explain, "Alastair was.. really interested in it. I didn't know of it before, but he generously explained everything to me, hoping that I would grant it to him."


She just nods, and stays silent for a while. After a few seconds of blissful silence of the Mirror Realm, she sighs, and says, "Unfortunately, Mr Potter, I am going to need some more proof regarding your identity. And no, you cannot refuse. Not unless you mean to fight me, which.. will not go well for you. There's just a simple spell that will allow you to prove my identity to me. It will take barely a minute, and it won't hurt at all."


I raise my eyebrow at her, and say, "I have to say, if your goal is to turn me into an enemy of yourself, then you're doing a wonderful job so far."


"I have no intention of making enemies out of children, Mr Potter." She frowns.


I shake my head and say, "From where I'm standing, that's exactly what you're doing. You kidnapped me while I was emotionally vulnerable, maybe to catch me off guard. You're interrogating me about things you already know about. And now you want to forcefully cast a spell on me. How is that not making me an enemy?"


The woman sighs, and says, "Try to look at this from my side, why don't you? You're a Wizard child, with knowledge of Witchcraft that only one woman in the entire history of humanity has been known to possess, your own great-grandmother, with no hints as to how that knowledge came to be in your possession. Not just that, but you've already made contact with Hell, and almost definitely declared war upon it, endangering the entire Universe. If you were an adult, we wouldn't be having this conversation, Mr Potter. You would have been killed without a question."


Scoffing, I say, "If I was an adult, you would never have caught me off guard. Besides, you're one to talk about declaring making contact with Demons a crime. After all, haven't you done something far worse than just make contact?"


At that, I pointedly look at her forehead, which is where the connection is focused. And I can feel it clearly. Despite the countless methods she may have used in hiding it, I can feel it. I can feel him.


Because how could I not? I have spent my last moments as Doom in the presence of that Magic, it would be very hard to hide him from me.


The Dread Lord, Dormammu.


The woman snaps her eyes up at me, no emotion on her face, and slowly says, "Choose your next words wisely, Mr Potter."


Fuck it.


Scoffing, I stand up, and say, "I have nothing left to say. You've been reassured that I won't be dabbling in the Demonic for the foreseeable future. My identity is my own concern, and not yours. And if you still want to condemn me for making contact with Demons, I expect you to condemn yourself as well."


Pausing, I lean down on the table to stare in her eyes, and say, "As both of us have said, we don't want to make an enemy out of one another. Because as of now if we fight, yes, you will win. But if you force this on me, if you do make me your enemy, I assure you, Ancient One, you will not like the consequences."


She'll win if a fight happens. Maybe she'll even kill me. But Hell or Heaven, Wizarding version or the ones I already knew of, I will find a way to come back. Just so I can have my vengeance. Even if she manages to trap me, I will come back just so I can have my vengeance.


The Sorcerer Supreme keeps her eyes on mine for a long while, after which she nods, and says, "I'll take your warning to heart and give you one in return. You're already in my sights for what you've been doing, Mr Potter. And my Sight transcends Time itself. So if you do something else like this.. you will not like the consequences either."


Saying that, the woman raises her left hand, a strange two fingered ring adorned in her index and middle finger, and moves her right hand in a circle repeatedly. It conjures sparks in the air, which then spin around with her hand, forming into a stable portal, still with sparks spinning from it.


Convenient, but there's a lot of energy wasted as compared to my Teleportation. Although, I suppose traveling through different Realms is not something my Teleportation can achieve.


For now.


As I start walking towards the portal, the Sorcerer Supreme says, "Stay out of trouble, Mr Potter. And we won't see each other again."


Waving my hand without even stopping, I step through the portal and say, "Send me a list of things I shouldn't do to keep out of trouble, and we'll be set. May we never meet again."


"Oh but we will, Mr Potter. We most definitely will." The Sorcerer Supreme says with a strange look on her face, as she closes the portal back up.


Strange. Despite me defying her, why does it feel as if this conversation went exactly how she wanted it to go?


Shaking my head, I look around the house, finding it exactly how I had left it, and start looking for anything else my parents had left behind, hidden in the walls.


Finding a way to block Scrying beyond what I can block right now, has just jumped at the top of the list. Although.. I doubt I can do it with the knowledge and Skill level I'm at right now. Hopefully, something works, because like Hell I'm being observed by these Sorcerers for dangerous Magics that I'm definitely going to practice.


I should also find a way to learn more about this Great-grandmother of mine. My mother's journal should provide me with the answers I'm looking for.


After gathering all the stuff I find hidden in the house, I step outside, and just stare at the house. This.. is my house. This is where my parents were hoping to raise me. It's not grand, but it's mine.


And I am not letting the Wizarding Government treat something of mine as their own.


Raising my hand, I focus on the house, and send a beam of my magic towards the corner that was destroyed that night, all the while focusing on just one action, "Fix."


The broken walls glow with my green magic, and within moments, so does a spot on the front yard.


Slowly, bit by bit, the dirt from the ground flies up towards the hole in the wall, and fills it up, while at the same time getting transformed into the brick and mortar that the rest of the house is made out of.


Within around 20 seconds, the wall and roof that had been blown out on the Halloween night of 1981, is nowhere to be seen, and instead, the house is completely fixed. Taking a breath, I let my magic flow once more, this time to cover the entire house, and Fix all the cracks and chips that had plagued it.


Nodding in satisfaction once that's done, I leave the house and teleport away, back to Number Four Privet Drive. I have a home now, my own home. Not the Dursley's.


They will definitely be happy. I have found a place of my own, and as promised, it is time for me to leave their house. It is time for me to move out of Number Four Privet Drive. For good.





(The Ancient One)


Seeing the boy known as Harry Potter walk away from her, the most powerful Sorcerer in the world sighed in frustration. Variables, she did not like those much.


They may sometimes make her life a bit more fun, but in this case, the only thing it gave her was headaches. The headache being the entire Life of Harry James Potter.


The boy was dangerous, there was no doubt in this. He has knowledge of Runes that she can find no hints of, with the only other user being his own great-grandmother. He has used said Runes to great effect, keeping even herself blind to his deeds before she was forced to use the Eye of Agamotto.


Summoning and killing Demons was just the riskiest of things he had done, which she wouldn't have even blinked at in previous years. But when the culprit in question is just 9 years old, even the Ancient One has to take a step back and observe. And observe she did.


For over 600 years she had lived her life, considering one set of paths for herself, where Dr Stephen Strange, a boy of just 13 as of today, will succeed her as Sorcerer Supreme, and she'll die after some Demon or the other manages to destroy the three Sanctums and tries to enter the Mortal world. In most cases, it is Dormammu.


But now, those possibilities are still there, but in some of them, Dr Stephen Strange does not become the next Sorcerer Supreme, but Harry Potter does. Hell, in some of them, he challenges her for the title before she can die, and wins it from her.


And in a frightening majority of the other possibilities, Harry Potter becomes either the savior of the world, or its destructor.


And all of these changes began with one single event.


The Halloween night of 1981.


Something happened when Tom Riddle attacked the baby named Harry Potter, which was not supposed to. At least, it was not something that the Eye of Agamotto could foresee. That something.. left Harry Potter with impossible knowledge of the world of Magic, and created so many new problems for her. Something which allows him to sense her connection to the Dark Dimension, despite her having gone through tremendous efforts to hide it.


Did Dormammu have a hand in saving Harry that night? But no, she would have sensed it. Lily Potter did not contact any Demon that night, but she did Ritualistically Sacrifice herself on Samhein, a night where the lines between the Realms are a bit more.. blurred.


If it was a side effect of Lily Potter's sacrifice, or if it was something this new Runic Language of theirs managed to do, she did not know. Nor could she confirm it. Everyone who used that language, save for Harry Potter himself, is now dead.


Sighing, she creates a portal back to Kamar Taj, to inform Master Mary of the London Sanctum about this development. Someone will have to keep a constant eye on Harry Potter, and it cannot be herself.


But first, she approaches the pedestal that holds the Eye of Agamotto, and puts it around her neck. She will have to observe that Halloween night many more times, till she's satisfied about the cause of all this.


No matter what fate Harry Potter leads them towards, she just hoped that the world is ready for it.





A/N: Sorry for the late upload. The chapter just would not satisfy me. I wrote one with Harry fighting the Sorcerer Supreme, with her just testing him and him observing her Magic use, ending with TAO binding him with Crimson Bands of Cyttorak, and then forcing his Astral form out to confirm his identity.


But no matter how I tried, it made Harry a confirmed enemy to Kamar Taj, and I don't want that. So, I rewrote it, twice. And this is the final product.


How is it? Keep the comments, replies, and reviews coming!


Thank you!


Tata!
 
This chapter has me kinda bummed about the MC's supposed skill/mastery of the Mystic arts... He did not use/experience the Mirror-realm and has never seen a portal before?(or was it just seeing a portal made with a sling-ring?) What else does he not know... Was he REALLY the most qualified to become the Sorcerer Supreme in the last world?


or if it was something this new Runic Language of theirs managed to do
She used the eye to observe his interrogation, didn't she? Or could she not hear what was discussed? Cuz the Demon called those Runes millions of years old, they are not a "New" language.

She did not observe him writing his journals/diaries? In which he described his past life?

I was honestly hoping for more of a cordial/friendly relationship between them, instead of an antagonistic one. Seeing young Harry visiting Kamar-taj, reading and learning more of the Mystic Arts even if he can't practice them yet. learning about the differences in the way this world and his past one did magic...
I am especially shocked she did not just straight-up ask to remove the Horcrux. Instead just leaving the parasitical dark soul attached to a 9 year old that she was supposedly concerned over...
 
This chapter has me kinda bummed about the MC's supposed skill/mastery of the Mystic arts... He did not use/experience the Mirror-realm and has never seen a portal before?(or was it just seeing a portal made with a sling-ring?) What else does he not know... Was he REALLY the most qualified to become the Sorcerer Supreme in the last world?



She used the eye to observe his interrogation, didn't she? Or could she not hear what was discussed? Cuz the Demon called those Runes millions of years old, they are not a "New" language.

She did not observe him writing his journals/diaries? In which he described his past life?

I was honestly hoping for more of a cordial/friendly relationship between them, instead of an antagonistic one. Seeing young Harry visiting Kamar-taj, reading and learning more of the Mystic Arts even if he can't practice them yet. learning about the differences in the way this world and his past one did magic...
I am especially shocked she did not just straight-up ask to remove the Horcrux. Instead just leaving the parasitical dark soul attached to a 9 year old that she was supposedly concerned over...
Doom was absolutely qualified to be the Sorcerer of his world. But that was the world of comics. This is MCU/HP. Mystic arts here is different than what he used. Mirror Dimension does not actually exist in the comics, so I invented this explanation. And portals do exist, but Sling Rings don't, not really. Sorcery here is fundamentally different in this world, as Harry mentioned.

As for the language, everything that happened inside the clearing happened telepathically. No one other than Harry knows what they spoke about. He also did not write anything regarding his previous life down, he just wrote down Knowledge, which she does not know how he has.
 
This is MCU/HP. Mystic arts here is different than what he used. Mirror Dimension does not actually exist in the comics, so I invented this explanation. And portals do exist, but Sling Rings don't, not really. Sorcery here is fundamentally different in this world, as Harry mentioned.

So with the new universe, the laws of physics are slightly changed. Maybe light travels faster, or gravity has increased pull, or any other factor.

So does this mean Doom has to adjust all his previous knowledge to better fit this universe?
 
Back
Top