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Chapter Text

You could say that Harry's life was simple. Get up, get ready, go to class, eat, go back to class, eat dinner and sleep. All in a repetitive cycle that Harry found very nostalgic and comfortable.

The only thing special about his days was hanging out with his two friends, dodging Umbridge and sending secret letters to his godfather.

Who knew his fifth year would be so easy without visions of torture and mysterious doors that a murderous maniac sent him every night?

Surely not Harry. Occlumency was the best thing in the world.

It turns out that this Harry was not the 15-year-old everyone thought he was.

This Harry had a secret.

He was an opera singer.

And he's also a 2000+ year old master of death, but no one cared about that.

It turns out that, like 99.99999% of Harry Potter masters of death, at his young age of 17, Harry picked up the hallows by accident and, unbeknownst to him, became an immortal.

He spent the next few years struggling with his immortality and his inability to age, struggling with the pain of losing his friends, despair and madness at being alone, blah, blah, blah.

If you don't know that story, please check out more Harry Potter Master of Death fanfics.

As I was saying, after his long depression, he was called to the congregation of the Harrys, where he met a bunch of Harrys in the same situation and they became one big happy family.

Or not…, because the vast majority were stark raving mad and those who weren't were either catatonic or a step away from their non-existent graves.

This Harry didn't want to associate with these psychopathic lunatics at all, so he quickly saved all he could and bought himself a world where Harry Potter had died in his childhood so he could supplant him and spend his days in bliss. And that's where he is now. About to receive the worst news of his life.

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“Harry, hurry up. We're going to be late” Hermione shouted from the bottom of the stairs leading up to Harry's room in Gryffindor tower.

Harry had actually finished getting ready several minutes ago, but he found Hermione's gushing nostalgic. He had missed her.

“I'm coming, I'm coming” he shouted as he got out of bed and proceeded down the stairs.

“Ron has already saved a place for us in the great dining room. Apparently, the announcement Dumbledore plans to make today is very important” Hermione said before walking over to Harry and fixing the tie Harry had purposely disarranged. These moments were the ones that brought happiness to his life.

“I'm pretty sure the only reason Ron went out first is to have more food for him. The days when Dumbledore has important announcements are when they make Ron's favorite dishes” Harry replied with a grin.

Hermione patted him on the arm but still laughed a little at his joke “I'm sure you're right, but we should still hurry for the announcement. It looks like it's going to be important”

Harry shrugged and followed Hermione into the Great Dining Hall. Dumbledore had never given a major speech in the middle of his fifth year in his previous life, but the butterfly effect existed, so Harry wasn't too worried.

He should have been.

—----------------------

When they reached the dining room, most of the students were already seated, so Harry and Hermione hurried to where Ron was sitting, with two reserved seats and three plates of food in front of him.

“You guys are almost late. It Won’t be long before Dumbledore starts with the announcement” said Ron between bites of chicken thighs.

Hermione frowned as she watched Rion spit out some of his food as he spoke “Don't be rude Ron. Chew with your mouth shut”

Ron felt slightly embarrassed, so he apologized with his mouth full which caused even more food to come out of his mouth. Harry just laughed at the exchange.

While the trio were busy laughing, several members of the ministry, including Fudge, entered the room and took seats next to the professors. Umbridge began whispering with Fudge while others such as Kingsley and Tonks, aurors who were presumably there to guard the Minister, began talking to McGonagall.

Harry was beginning to suspect the whole thing, but quickly the situation escalated.

Members of the Order who were not part of the school staff also appeared in the room without explanation. Sirius waved at him from the corner of the room and Harry could only wave back in confusion.

Wasn't Sirius a wanted criminal? And what was he doing in the same room as the Minister?

Harry was unable to ask any more questions as Dumbledore stood up and clinked his glass to draw the audience's attention to himself, like the good attention seeker he was.

“Good afternoon, everyone. I’m sorry for getting you all here on such short notice, but I would like to announce that I have found a way to defeat Lord Voldemort for good without any casualties”

Yes, this sounded bad to Harry. And apparently to Fudge and Umbridge too, but for the wrong reasons.

Harry almost didn't hear it, but he could have sworn that Fudge whispered “If he's really still alive” to his undersecretary.

Harry didn't understand why the man was here if he didn't believe a word the headmaster said, but he didn't bother to give it a second thought.

When the murmurs in the Great Hall, caused by the headmaster’s words, didn't seem to die down, Dumbledore clinked his goblet again.

“I know some of you do not believe that the dark lord is alive, but I assure you he is, and we must defeat him” Dumbledore declared, then lifted a book from between his robes.

A book Harry knew all too well. Things were starting to get ugly and Harry didn't like where this was going at all.

“This book will call up several heroes who have defeated the dark lord Voldemort in other dimensions”

The room erupted in exclamations of astonishment and unease, but Dumbledore spoke over them again.

“There is a small price to pay, but I have already arranged for what is needed. Now, I will call upon seven random heroes to aid us in our fight”

The great hall began to fill with cheers and cheers of encouragement as Dumbledore opened the pages of that damn book and began chanting and calling out random names.

In his defense, Dumbledore might not have known what the Latin names meant, but if a 116 year old wizard didn't, it was his own fault for the hell he was about to unleash.

Harry hadn't had time to process all this information before the names of the chosen ones came out of Dumbledore's mouth. Without Harry even being able to say a word to alert anyone, Dumbledore announced his choice.

“I summon you, Anthropophagi, Necrophiliac, occisor, perditor, damnatus, urbanum and insanus”

Harry had decided that the man was just plain stupid.

Those names clearly foreshadowed just how insane and monstrous the people he had just summoned were, and he said it with a smile so clear that Harry had already lost all faith in humanity.

Harry at this point just wanted to scream at the idiot who had caused all this trouble, but he held back because....

Why was he holding back?

With that clear realization, Harry got up from the table, climbed into his seat and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”

Chapter Text

Harry shouted silence at the entire dining room, which had, until a few minutes ago, been praising Dumbledore for his, as yet undiscovered, stupidity.

Harry simply stared at Dumbledore, who still had the book of a thousand devils in his hand and a stupid look on his face befitting the idiocy he had just performed.

As far as Harry could tell, the spell had already been cast and the price to get them all here had already been collected, but it would still take a few minutes for them to arrive, so Harry had little time to make the necessary preparations to try and stop the disaster that was coming.

With a sigh of exasperation and while the rest were still frozen by his sudden shout, Harry got down from his seat and walked over to where Dumbledore was standing.

Without so much as a glance at the man, he snatched the book from his hands and began to read about the potential problems this would bring.

Dumbledore tried to speak, maybe to complain or something, but Harry was so pissed off that he didn't even give him a glance. He simply waved his hand and made Dumbledore's lips stick together like glue, rendering him unable to speak.

The headmaster tried to peel back his lips, wriggling like a worm, but Harry knew that was worse than useless, so he simply set about reading the stupid book.

The contents were just the ritual for summoning heroes on the first page and a list of names accompanied by the summoning price for each of the characters.

The price was not cheap. Three human souls per summoning, which came to a total of 21 souls that Dumbledore spent to summon these people.
Harry didn't want to know where his saintly headmaster got so many dead people from, but he also didn't want to know where the headmaster had gotten this book, so he didn't ask questions he didn't want answers to.

Harry looked through the book and finally found the small print on the last page. On size 2, there was written a small detail that Harry would bet his fortune that Dumbledore had not read.

The sacrifice was only to bring the heroes this far. Each hero would choose compensation for their services once they arrived.

Of course. What is Harry Potter but greedy and conniving? Mad, perhaps. For there was no doubt that the ‘heroes’ the headmaster had named were simply Harry Potters, masters of death. Harry would recognize the book in his hands even blind.

Harry slammed the book shut and turned to look at Dumbledore, who still had his lips glued together and was now surrounded by teachers and members of the order trying to peel them away. One of them even tried to stick a spoon in his mouth and lever it open.

Were these people really the future of the magical world? Because apparently, they forgot they were wizards.

With a weary sigh, Harry waved his hand again and peeled his lips away from the headmaster. This man had questions to answer.

“I'm going to repeat my question just in case your furry ears didn't hear it the first time - ARE YOU INSANE?! Because only clinical dementia will allow you to save yourself from the bullshit you just did!”

Dumbledore looked dumbfounded, as if a pig had just spoken to him. And indeed, remembering when Dumbledore had once mentioned that he had raised him like a pig for slaughter, perhaps the comparison was apt.

At Harry's impatient look, Dumbledore regained his composure and tried to speak, before Harry interrupted him. Whatever the man had to say, Harry didn't want to hear it.

“You know what, don't answer me that. Better answer me how you plan to pay off the mad maniacs you just summoned here”

Waiting for Dumbledore to reply, Harry noticed that Fudge had pulled popcorn from somewhere and was eating it along with Umbridge. Apparently, having a fifteen-year-old boy tell the headmaster off, was amusing enough to make them both forget their decorum. But that wasn't Harry's problem.

“My dear boy...”

Harry cringed at the words, but let the headmaster continue speaking.

“As I have already mentioned, the price for the help of these heroes has already been paid. You have nothing to worry about”

Dumbledore's smile made Harry want to punch him, but he restrained himself. Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't have time for this.

“I don't know if you're stupid or blind” said Harry shoving the summoning book under the Headmaster's crooked nose, “but the souls, which I don't want to know where you got them from, are not payment for the help, but payment for calling them. They will ask for extra payment when they get here. And considering who you chose, the payments are not going to be pleasant or easy to come by”

Dumbledore frowned before picking up the book and reading the tiny print. His complexion turned white, and he almost dropped the book from his hands. If it wasn't for McGonagall, the book would have ended up on the floor. Not that Harry cared.

McGonagall, apparently curious about the interaction, also read the small print, then shared it with the rest of the order. Fudge and Umbridge tried to be little busybodies and read the contents of the book, but McGonagall closed it before they could.

When the book was placed on the table, Harry's attention returned to the headmaster, who hadn't moved this whole time.

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Dumbledore didn't know what to say. Apparently, he had been catatonic having been conned by a book, but McGonagall wasn't that stupid.

“Mr. Potter, May I take it from your words that you know something about the heroes the headmaster just called?”

Harry rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe that no one here knew a bit of Latin, they're wizards, all their spells are in Latin and not even the oldest of them bothered to study the language.

“Yes, I know them, more or less. Even if I didn't know them, their requests would be obvious. For God's sake tell me one of you thought to at least translate the names from Latin into plain English”

This time it was Snape who picked up the book. Apparently, the man did know Latin or at least wasn't stupid enough not to know how to use a Latin-English dictionary. After reading the names the headmaster had pronounced, his hands began to tremble. Harry didn't know if it was from fear or anger, but it wasn't very important.

“For those of you who didn't bother to do your homework on this” said Harry looking directly at Dumbledore, “the names chosen translates to cannibal, necrophiliac, murderer, destroyer, cursed, elegant and mad. You can think for yourselves about what they might ask for as a reward”

The whole of the great dining hall began to talk and worry about their future. But Harry had no time for that.

Those maniacs would be here in a few minutes, so he had to prepare himself. Taking Dumbledore's wand, the elderflower wand, from the headmaster’s hand, which was still unmoving, Harry walked to one of the walls of the room.

Harry thought someone should look at the headmaster. Such a long time immobile was worrying for someone his age. Maybe he had died on the spot and rigor mortis had kept him still. If that was the case, Harry would revive him. Even in death, the headmaster would not skip his responsibilities. He would clean up his mess even as an inferi, Harry would make sure of it.

Besides, if the headmaster really was dead, Harry would already have something to pay the cannibal and the necrophiliac with. It was all advantages.

But as it turned out, no, before long McGonagall slapped the headmaster in the face, causing him to wake up from his panicked state and speak again.

“And what do you suggest we do, Harry? We have no way of paying them”

When the man spoke, he was still a bit out of it. He didn't even notice that Harry stole his wand. Well, he wasn't going to complain.

“Well, if we can't pay them, we'll throw them out” said Harry as he performed the correct incantation.

The rest of those present looked a little confused.

“How? They're heroes who defeated Voldemort. And seven of them too. We can't beat them”

As whoever had said that spoke, the walls of the great hall opened, and a large arsenal appeared on the walls.

Harry had gotten the idea of this from one of the spy movies he had seen as a child. It wasn't very original, but for these people, this must have been like a magic trick, if that's a redundancy.

Muggle firearms, scythes, knives, swords, bows, traps, magical devices and other objects were hanging on the walls. Some of the items looked more at home in a seedy and extremely sadomasochistic sex shop than a gun shop, but Harry knew they would be useful.

“They may be heroes who defeated the dark lord” Harry said as he began to arm himself to the teeth, “But so am I. And I have an advantage. I'm playing at home”

The smile that accompanied that sentence assured no one of this particular Harry's mental sanity.

Chapter Text

It was Sirius who spoke this time.

“Wait, you're a hero too? What does that mean? You're only 15 and this dark lord is still alive!”

Harry rolled his eyes as he began scattering bear traps across the floor and unloading suspicious chests from the walls. The first of the ‘heroes’ would be arriving any minute, and Harry couldn't afford to stop to answer questions.

“In case you hadn't noticed by the walls full of weapons that no one but me knew about, I'm not exactly the Harry you know”

Sirius was only more confused at this.

“So, you're not my Harry then, WHERE HAVE YOU HIDDEN MY GODSON?!, YOU IMPOSTOR!”

Harry almost slapped himself in the face at how stupid his godfather was, but he didn't need to, as Snape slapped his godfather across the face for him.

“The boy is saying he's been faking it this whole time, you stupid mutt!”

His godfather rubbed where Snape had hit him, but only fell silent with a slight “Oh...”

“What Snape said, except for the boy part. I'm over 300 years old. What's more, I'm technically one of the heroes in that book”

The Great Dining Hall erupts in whispers again at the news. This time it is Fudge who speaks.

“Then why didn't you defeat the dark lord already? If he's really still alive”

This time Harry took the gags from the wall and strapped them in his arm. He was seriously considering whether to use them on Fudge but decided against it. He was going to need all the ones he had with the next visit. It wasn't a good idea to waste.

“In case you haven't noticed, Fudge, the only reason an extremely long-lived being would decide to impersonate a 15-year-old is if he was being pursued by something more powerful than him, wanted something from the position he was in, or was on vacation. Which do you think I am?”

Fudge opened his eyes wide, as if he had just realized something.

“So, you're after my minister position! I knew someone was trying to steal it and it turns out it was you!”

Harry changed his mind. The gag was right for Fudge. Harry had to focus on his peace of mind.

With a snap of his fingers, the gag flew from his hand to Fudge's face, where it coiled like a snake and shut the Minister's mouth once and for all.

Umbridge began to hurl expletives, but no one listened. No one cared about those two, not even their own bodyguards.

“If anyone else wants to ask a question with two fingers in front of them, they're welcome to do so. Otherwise, I have things to prepare”

One of the students raised his hand and Harry gave him an unimpressed look.

“I'm not a teacher and we're not in class. If you want to ask a question, ask it”

The young student looked embarrassed but still asked.

“What's about to happen is very dangerous, isn't it? Shouldn't we evacuate the room?”

Harry was surprised to find a person with any sense in this room.

“Yes, you're right. The people who are going to show up are extremely powerful and they're pretty crazy. If you stay you will probably die, so evacuating is the best option for your survival”

The student nodded, indicating that he understood Harry's words and got up from his seat to leave.

No one else did.

“Hey, didn't you hear what Harry just said. If we stay, we'll die. Why isn't anyone getting up?”

It was a fellow student from the same year who answered him with a shrug.

“There is currently a dark lord threatening all of us in the magical world. On a daily basis, we deal with spells that could kill us, transfigurations that could harm us, plants that strangle us, potions that can poison us just by smelling them, and extremely dangerous animals. We have to die from something, and this promises to be interesting”

The student, who up until now didn't seem to have given much thought to the risks in his day-to-day life, was taken aback, but after taking his friend's words into consideration, he seemed to think better of it and sat back in his seat, watching as Harry prepared his arsenal for the impending battle.

Harry didn't know if these people were crazy, reckless or just plain stupid, but he wouldn't save those who didn't want to be saved, so he went about his business.

After replacing the gag with which he had silenced Fudge with a leash, a small portal appeared in the room. At last, it was time to face the first opponent.

A few minutes ago, a small black hole had appeared in the middle of the Great Dining Hall, between the teachers‘ and students’ tables, and had begun to grow at an alarming rate.

By now, what at first appeared to be a speck of dust, was a decent sized colored portal. By Harry's estimation, in less than 3 minutes, the first ‘hero’ would appear through it.

So, setting the last of the bear traps across the floor of the large dining room, Harry prepared for the fight.

“It’s coming” said Harry a couple of minutes later. Everyone in the room leaned forward, waiting to see who would appear in the portal.

The portal had reached its full size, so Harry tightened the hand that held his scythe and wrapped his other arm around the strap.

The whole room was silent in anticipation, but a minute passed, and then two, and nothing appeared.

After what seemed like ages, but was actually four minutes, the entire dining hall let out a sigh of relief when nothing appeared.

Umbridge even had the nerve to mock the situation when just minutes before they were sweating bullets.

“Of course nothing has happened. This must be another ploy by Albus to scare us against the dark lord. And of course, he tricked young Potter into helping in his plan. I should .... AHHHHHH!”

Umbridge's sentence was interrupted by a scream as a shadow stepped out of the doorway and headed straight for her. Harry hadn't even had time to register the appearance of the technically invited hero before the aforementioned bit off the pink toad's nose.

Umbridge tried to shake him off but either the hero was too strong, or she needed to go to the gym, because not even with all her strength was she able to get him to let go.

When Harry caught up with the situation, he grabbed the leash in his hand and threw it like a cowboy in the American Wild West catching runaway bulls.

As the leash attached itself to the cannibal's neck, Harry tugged with all his might to pull the man, or rather thing, away from Umbridge, sadly taking a chunk of the lady's nose with him.

When the man..., or thing, was pulled away from Umbridge, it tried to lunge for the nearest human being, in this case a student.

Harry managed to keep the student from being bit by tightening the leash, but the poor boy could still see the bloodstained mouth of the creature that almost ate him.

Harry had no time to waste, so he grabbed a cage from the wall and, with some difficulty, shoved the cannibal into it.

Now Harry could afford to take a look at it.

The cannibal was, of course, an alternate version of Harry Potter. Harry hadn't expected anything else. What he didn't expect was how bad a state he was in. He was very emaciated, his clothes were rather ragged, he was barefoot and his black, greasy, tangled hair was down to his knees.

His fingernails were long and stained with dried blood, his teeth were too sharp to be human, but what worried Harry most were his eyes.

His gaze was completely lost, as if he didn't recognize anyone present and all he could think of was food. Harry had never seen anything like it.

True, Harry had met his fair share of mad masters of death, but not like this. This Harry wasn't even capable of thinking. He was little more than a dangerous, immortal animal, and it even looked like he wasn't capable of walking upright, from the position he was in, in the cage.

Harry doubted he could speak. So far, the only noises he had made had been little more than grunts and puzzled groans. Harry doubted that he was even capable of using the interdimensional bracelet of the mods, even when Harry could clearly see that he had one on his wrist. An old one, possibly the first or second model.

Harry decided not to think about it, or his possible future, so he pulled the cage into the corner of the room.

The cannibal writhed in its cage, snarling, screaming and trying to escape in every way his animal mind could think of, but of course, that was pointless. That thing wouldn't get out of there until Harry released it. And that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Wiping his brow with sweat, Harry returned to his original position in the center of the Great Hall as he pondered how to catch the next ‘hero’ that was about to appear. If Harry was right, the heroes would appear in the order in which Dumbledore called them, so Harry could use this hypothesis to organize a better plan of action.

Harry didn't give the cannibal a second glance, locked up as he was, he wasn't a threat to anyone. But apparently not everyone was so sure of that.

Umbridge, who was missing a chunk of her nose from which she was bleeding profusely, stood up from the table waving her wand.

“KILL HIM! KILL THAT THING! Look what it's done to me. That thing deserves to be put down. It shouldn't still be alive!”

As she said all that, she was choking on her own blood, so it didn't sound very intimidating, but apparently, many people in the room shared her point.

Snape, most unexpectedly, spoke up for Umbridge “She’s right Mr. Potter, we should kill him, so he doesn't cause any possible future mishaps”

Harry watched as other members of the school, the order and the ministry agreed. Harry simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Do it. I don't give a damn as long as he's locked up in that cage. What's more, if you manage to kill him, then please tell me how. I'm dying of curiosity”

Umbridge didn't even think about Harry's words. Permission was enough for her, so she raised her wand and cast a killing curse at the creature in the cage.

The creature did not react to this. It continued to growl and tried to escape. Umbridge tried again. No change. And again. The same thing.

By the tenth attempt, Umbridge looked exhausted, and the creature didn't even seem to be aware that they had tried to end its life.

Snape turned to Harry as Umbridge made her eleventh futile attempt at murder.

“Care to explain, Mr. Potter?”

Harry just rolled his eyes.

“Why do you think my plan to stop these madmen from killing us is to catch them and not kill them? Because they can't be killed. Believe me, I've tried”

Someone muttered “Immortals!!! Like the dark lord?”

Harry had to laugh at that.

“For whom it concerns, the dark lord is not immortal. He's harder to kill than normal people, yes, but we know how to kill him. These ‘heroes’ that dear Headmaster has summoned, we can't kill them with all the Avada Kedavra in the world!”

More murmurs arose in the great dining hall, but Harry had no time. The necrophiliac was next, and Harry could only come up with one plan of attack.

He would have to dig out his chest.

Chapter Text

In the chest that Harry brought down from his storeroom was one of the few gifts Harry had ever received from another Harry. He had never found any use for it, other than to collect dust, but it would come in handy for this occasion.

So, Harry dragged the chest to the center of the room, waiting for the necrophiliac to arrive.

Of course, people still had questions to ask him.

It was Sirius this time.

“Before we get into the immortality part, could you do something about him?” he said pointing to the cannibal in the corner “his grunts and attempts to get out are giving me the creeps”

Harry thought for a moment. He couldn't silence him in case he managed to escape. But he could give him something to shut him up.

He quickly made his way over to the magical artefacts and grabbed one of the bones from the potion making section. The bone was somewhat old, but large, of the correct size, texture, density, color and shape for a human femur.

He then tossed it to the cannibal, who quickly grabbed the bone and began to gnaw on it in his cage, ceasing to make the sounds that made his godfather so uncomfortable.

Only the man now looked greener than before.

Swallowing what appeared to be gagging, his godfather asked, “What animal was that bone you just gave him?”

Harry looked at him with a blank face.

“He's a fucking cannibal. What do you think the bone I just gave him was from? Pikachu?”

Harry could hear Ron in the back of the room asking Hermione what a Pikachu was, but Harry didn't bother to look. He had more important things to do.

The next portal was getting bigger by the minute, and Harry had only one plan for this one. No contingency plans, so Harry started praying to a god he knew didn't exist that everything would be alright.

Remus, quiet werewolf that he is, surprised everyone by asking the next question.

“Getting back to the topic Sirius left out, does that thing about all heroes being immortal mean you are too?”

Harry was about a third of the way through his made-up prayer on the fly, so he didn't even bother opening his eyes to answer.

“No one knows if they are truly immortal until they are killed. But so far, I haven't heard of a single one of the so-called ‘heroes’ dying from nothing. And believe me they've been tried to kill them in many extremely creative ways”

Remus looked a little green and somewhat regretful that he had asked, but Snape seemed somewhat intrigued by all this talk of Harry's immortality.

“So, have they ever tried to kill you too? Must say you seem to know a lot for having spent what I presume will be the last 15 years in this world. Given your age, how do you know so much about the other heroes?”

Harry was a little confused by Snape's curiosity, but it was true that it wasn't every day you met an immortal, so he decided to explain things a little. He had a little time before the next Harry arrived.

“To answer your first question, no, they haven't tried to kill me... well, they have, but they tried before I became one of these heroes, so that doesn't count. And as for the information about other heroes, I don't tend to get into them too much because, as you may have noticed, they're a bit too crazy and unstable for my taste, but I tend to follow the important news in our community”

At the word community, Snape straightened up in his seat, followed by McGonagall, Dumbledore and other professors. It seemed that everyone was interested in this grandiose community of mad immortals, so there was no noise in the room, except for the small portal that was getting bigger by the second and which everyone in the room voted to ignore.

McGonagall was the one who waved her hand for Harry to continue explaining.

With a deep inward sigh, Harry decided to indulge them.

“When a Harry Potter collects three very important artefacts, he becomes what we colloquially call a Master of Death. I'm sure you've heard the name in a little book somewhere”

When Harry received several nods, he continued with his story.

“Well, when that happens, except in special circumstances, he is left alone in his world for two hundred years, and if he hasn't attempted to commit suicide in that time, the relevant Harry gets a very expensive bracelet and is invited to the most exclusive social club in the multiverse. The end.”

Harry knows his story has left more questions than answers, but he's not obligated to tell these people anything either. If they want to know more, screw them.

Of course, Harry hadn't counted on anyone being stupid enough to risk their life.

Tonks had sneaked up unnoticed on the cannibal in the cage, and while he was distractedly gnawing on his bone, she'd stolen his bracelet.

“A bracelet like this?” asked the now dangerous one as she tried to fiddle with it to activate it.

Seeing what she had in her hand, Harry literally slapped himself in the face for the stupidity that girl, who was technically a trained auror, had committed.

When Tonks found and pressed a button on the inside of the bracelet, it began to vibrate red.

“ALERT. UNIDENTIFIED PERSONNEL. COMMENCING ELIMINATION AND RETURN”

Without more warning, a shot rang through the room, which had gone out of the bracelet and through Nymphadora's head. The auror's body fell to the floor and the bracelet flew to settle on the cannibal's scrawny wrist, who was still gnawing at his bone, oblivious to what was going on around him. At least someone was happy.

Harry simply shook his head and went back to concentrating on the portal.

However, not everyone was so relaxed about the situation. Kingsley turned to Harry so fast that his neck almost snapped.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!”

Harry just looked at him wearily “Did you really think you could steal an immortal being's artifact and suffer no repercussions? These bracelets are unique and designed for each and every Master of Death Harry Potter. Even if you were to find one of these bracelets without an owner, if you are not a Master of Death over 200 years old and if you are not Harry Potter, you will not be able to do anything with them. They will simply kill you”

The great hall was silent again, but Snape had more questions.

“So, can only Harry Potter be the master of death?”

That was a question Harry had never asked himself, so he thought for a minute.

“I have no idea. I know that our society only accepts Harry Potter as a master of death, but there may be more, they just aren't accepted by us. Or not. In case you haven't noticed, I'm only 300 years old. I'm just a baby in our society and I haven't bothered to learn the politics of it all. I'm happy with my simple life”

“But that doesn't make any sense,” said Hermione. Harry was already beginning to wonder when his know-it-all best friend would start talking.

“If only Harry Potter can have that bracelet why does that thing have it?” she said pointing to the cannibal in the cage.

Harry almost smiled at the lack of recognition from his friends.

“Because that's Harry Potter, obviously. He's one of the oldest I've ever seen, judging by the model on his bracelet, and he's obviously mad and dilapidated, but ‘that’ is me!”

The gasp from the room was clearly audible, but Harry turned his attention away from the others. The portal was already the right size, so in no time, the necrophiliac would appear in the room.

This time, the visitor was not delayed. A slightly older Harry, about 50 years old, if this Harry should guess, appeared through the portal.

He walked upright and with the correct posture, he looked well fed and healthy, and his clothes were clean and pressed. They didn't look too expensive, but they were formal and in good condition.

However, his gaze had that glint of madness in it that always made Harry's hair stand on end. He didn't attack as soon as he walked in, though, so Harry supposed he could reason with him. It was he who spoke first.

“Good afternoon, I understand you needed my help with something?”

Harry nodded, “That would be correct, however, the problem at hand has been dealt with, so your help will not be needed”

The necrophiliac looked around the room, from the seated students, to Umbridge with no nose, to a gagged Fudge, to the cannibal in a cage gnawing on a bone.

Then he looked back at Harry.

“So, it would seem, however, you will know that calling me carries a price for the trouble I went to in coming here”

Harry sighed. Of course it wasn't going to be that easy. But, come to think of it, hadn't someone just died?

Looking down at Tonks' body, Harry had an idea.

“Of course. We happen to have just acquired a fresh corpse. If you'd like, you can take that one,” said Harry pointing to Tonks, who still had her eyes open after her sudden death.

The necrophiliac turned to see where Harry was pointing and cringed in what appeared to be disgust.

A glimmer of hope brightened Harry's eyes.

Maybe he had misunderstood. Maybe the necrophiliac wasn't a necrophiliac, and Harry would just have to pay him a few souls to go away. But apparently it wouldn't be so nice.

Turning to look at Harry, the necrophiliac replied, “I'm sorry, but I don't like women. Wouldn’t you have any male body lying around? I don't care how old they are.”

The smile the necrophiliac gave Harry after his request knocked 100 years off his life.

“Besides, it looks like the other Hary you have in the cage wants her for himself” he said pointing at the cannibal.

When Harry looked to see what the necrophiliac was talking about, he saw the cannibal reaching a hand through his bars to try and catch Tonks' body.

Harry didn't have time for that, so he left it as it was. If anyone planned to save Tonks' body, let them do it. It was no longer Harry's business.

“Yeah okay, I've got a male body I can give you” Harry said defeated.

The necrophiliac grinned like a child on Christmas morning as Harry took the chest he had pulled from the wall and opened it.

Inside was the corpse of Lord Voldemort.

Chapter Text

The corpse was in surprisingly good condition.

It was as pale and serpentine as the Voldemort who had emerged from the cauldron in the graveyard.

Those memories still gave Harry the creeps, no matter that 300 years had passed. Although the repetition he'd had the year before didn't help.

The body was obviously limp, crammed into the chest, which was not magically extended.

He was wearing a simple black robe, typical of Voldemort, and his eyes were slightly open, making the situation even more uncomfortable for everyone.

The necrophiliac did not seem to be bothered by this. In fact, he seemed delighted if his blushing was anything to go by.

Harry was going to pretend he hadn't seen it.

Without even asking, the necrophiliac approached the corpse and gently stroked his cheek, in a gesture of such affection that Harry could have sworn he heard someone vomit in the background.

The situation was so uncomfortable that someone decided to break the silence that had settled in the room.

“Where did Harry get that corpse from?”

Harry wasn't sure who had blurted out that question, or who it was directed at, but upon hearing it, Sirius nearly jumped in his seat.

“IT'S TRUE! HARRY! WHY DO YOU HAVE A DEAD BODY IN A CHEST?!”

Harry was going deaf from so much sudden shouting on this day.

“Stop shouting, Sirius. An acquaintance gave it to me a few years ago and I had no use for it, so I stored it.”

The shrug was obvious in Harry's voice, but the necrophiliac was looking at him curiously.

Surprisingly, he had turned away from the corpse that had so far monopolized all his attention, and directed it towards Harry.

“No, your godfather is right... What was your name again? I don't think you introduced yourself”

At this, Harry blushed. Not just a slight blush, but turning the color of a ripe tomato.

In the tiniest voice he could manage he muttered “Traveller123”

The necrophiliac said nothing, just stared at Harry, who looked more and more like he wanted to be swallowed up by the earth.

“Is the name some meme I don't know, or...?”

At the stupid question, Harry nearly jumped in combined anger and embarrassment.

“NO IDIOT! I spent three hours trying out the typical Latin names. They were all taken, so I started trying all the languages I knew, until I ended up adding numbers at the end out of desperation. This was the one I got accepted”

At Harry's, or rather, Traveller123's tirade, the necrophiliac began to tremble, in an attempt to hold in his laughter, which was not at all productive, when the next moment, he began to burst into tears of laughter.

“DON'T LAUGH! You're lucky because you're one of the first masters of death, but us, younger ones, have to remedy ourselves to giving ourselves names for all eternity that look more like Tik Tok accounts or pre-teen email passwords!”

The necrophiliac had already given up on stop laughing and just lay down on the floor and laughed his head off.

Harry kicked him in the side.

That only made the necrophiliac laugh harder.

When a few minutes finally passed, the necrophiliac managed to calm down enough to get up from the floor and wipe away his tears.

“Yes, yes young man. I'm sorry all the good names are taken”

Harry grumbled a little, but shut up after that.

“Back on topic, and leaving your ridiculous name aside, how did you get that corpse? We both know that Lord Voldemort's corpses are extremely expensive”

Harry folded his arms and shot the necrophiliac a scornful look.

“I've already told you. It was a housewarming gift from one of the oldest death masters”

The necrophiliac rolled his eyes.

“And I told you I don't buy it. These bodies are expensive, and no one, not even the oldest and craziest, are giving them away”

When the necrophiliac saw that Harry had no intention of saying another word, he pulled Voldemort's corpse out of the chest. Quite carefully, and with heavy breathing for all the wrong reasons, he turned the body over and examined the collar of the robe. There was a label there.

‘Repaired by Puppeteer.’

The necrophiliac turned to Harry with his mouth open in astonishment.

“The puppeteer? THAT puppeteer? This isn't just expensive; it's a fucking heirloom. How did you get that crazy old man to give you this?”

Harry, who didn't know that tag was there because he never even bothered to take the body out of the chest, sighed deeply.

“There was a misunderstanding between me and him. Nothing serious, it was resolved in the end. He gave it to me as payment for something. And that's all I'll say on the subject”

The necrophiliac kept looking at Harry with a suspicious look, but asked no more questions, so Harry was relieved.

The man, now holding the corpse in his arms, placed it better so it wouldn't slip out of his grip and looked around the room.

“I'm not going to ask any more questions about it but, if you don't mind, I'll take this somewhere else”

Harry didn't trust the necrophiliac, of course, so he crossed that idea off immediately.

“Don't even think about leaving. You can stand in that corner if you want, but you're staying in this room until you go to your fucking home”

Rolling his eyes at Harry's dramatics, the necrophiliac made his way to the indicated corner, where he deposited the corpse on the floor and straddled it.

Everyone shrank back in their seats, dreading what he was going to do. Some of the children even covered each other's eyes to protect the innocence of their classmates.

However, all the necrophiliac did was hug the corpse. Before long, a faint snoring sound began to be heard in the room. The necrophiliac had fallen asleep on his new toy.

Harry felt a mixture of relief and annoyance, but simply went back to his business. The next ‘hero’ was not long in coming. The only thing he mentioned about this awkward spectacle was, “For the record, I don't snore”

No one knew if that was a joke, an attempt to lighten the mood, or pure ennui, so no one answered him.

According to the list, the next hero to arrive would be the assassin.

Well, at least these heroes were straightforward about the danger they represented. Harry sometimes wondered if, at any given time, these now insane, masters of death were sane, because each name was worse than the last.

As he scattered more bear traps on the floor and grabbed a couple of knives from the walls, Harry noticed the audience was very quiet. And by audience he meant the people who so far hadn't been quiet asking all about his immortality and shit.

So, as he went about his business, he asked.

“What, no more questions about the truths of the universe?”

The teachers and students looked at each other, as if looking to see if anyone had any more questions.

It was McGonagall who spoke this time.

“Not really. I think you explained the principles of the death masters decently well”

Sirius laughed humorlessly at this.

“Yeah sure, if by answering you mean giving vague answers or dodging questions, he answered them all in luxury. He didn't even tell us how he got that corpse! He just told us that some guy as crazy as the ones we called in gave it to him”

Harry simply looked at his godfather with a blank stare.

“Sirius, don't ask questions you don't want the answers to”

With that answer his godfather sulked in his seat, but remained silent.

And at last, the next hole appeared. Only this one was growing much faster than the previous ones.

Within seconds, the portal was the right size, and out of it came the assassin.

He was... Harry couldn't say he was normal, because the name he had must have meant something, but so little seemed so bad.

He looked to be about 25 years old, dressed in black combat clothes, but without heavy armor, more designed for camouflage and mobility than for war.

He didn't have any noticeable scars or any worrying ticks. He just looked like a normal Harry Potter, if not a little older and tired.

That was until he saw Dumbledore.

The moment his eyes met the old man's, a sneer of contempt and hatred came over his face, and without further hesitation, he pulled a dagger from his calf and lunged forward.

“I WILL KILL YOU!”

Harry barely had time to stop the assassin before the dagger had reached Dumbledore's neck.

The man had apparently not had time to react either, for when Harry tackled the assassin away from the incompetent headmaster, a red line was left on his neck.

With the help of the momentum of his initial blow, Harry managed to disarm the assassin. The assassin didn't even flinch from Harry's blows. He seemed to be focused on killing Dumbledore by any means possible.

He didn't even utter words, only grunts as he tried to charge the headmaster unsuccessfully.

The little attention the assassin was giving Harry helped greatly to incapacitate him, managing to tie him up with a rope within minutes.

As lucky as Harry was, the assassin would manage to untie himself within seconds, so thinking fast, Harry grabbed the chest where Voldemort's corpse had previously been and shoved the assassin into it, locking it tightly and binding it with all the locks he had.

The assassin kept banging on the chest trying to get out, but it didn't seem to be at all effective. Also, his blows seemed to slow down over time.

It occurred to Harry that the chest wasn't adapted to hold anything living, so, with an afterthought, he punched a few holes in the side of the chest with the dagger so the assassin wouldn't die from lack of air.

If he could die at all.

Harry doubted it, but it was better to leave the murderer comfortable in case they met again. He'd rather be hated for locking him up, not for torturing and stifling him.

With that settled, Harry dragged the chest to the same corner of the dining room where the cannibal was and left it there. That was to be the corner of disgrace.

Dumbledore was still shocked by what had just happened and put a hand to his neck to see if he was actually bleeding.

He was.

When Harry returned to the center of the room, the headmaster looked at him with horror in his eyes, as if he hadn't expected such a thing to happen to him.

Harry simply looked at him unimpressed.

“Well, at least you know how most Harry Potters feel about you”

Chapter Text

The headmaster continued to stare at his blood-stained fingers with a puzzled look.

Harry didn't understand what was so puzzling about it. He may never have openly attacked the headmaster, but it was true that he didn't like the man and never hid it.

In fact, the only reason Harry hadn't done anything about all the problems the man caused him was because he already knew how to get out of them unscathed, rather than because he liked being manipulated by the old headmaster.

“What... what was that?” said Dumbledore, looking between Harry and the murderer, now locked in the trunk.

Harry shrugged.

“Did you really expect that, with everything the Dumbledores have put us through throughout our lives, we wouldn't hate you?”

The headmaster looked even more bewildered now.

“What have I put you through? I haven't done anything to you”

The tone in which Dumbledore said those words, almost defensively, made Harry laugh.

“You haven't done anything to me? Are you familiar with the words “pig for slaughter”? I have a feeling Snape knows them quite well too.”

Harry wasn't sure when he had uttered those words, but seeing Snape's face even paler than usual, Harry assumed that both men knew what he was talking about.

“How...?” Snape began, but Harry cut him off.

“How do I know? I think you're forgetting that I'm one of those so-called heroes. I've already lived this life. You could say I have spoilers for the end of this story”

Both Snape and Dumbledore shrank a little further into their seats. Apparently, planning someone's death isn't so much fun when the recipient rubs it in your face in public.

McGonagall, who seemed as lost as the rest of those present regarding this little conversation, intervened to ask for clarification.

“Albus, what is Harry talking about? What does he mean by “pig for slaughter”?”

Apparently, Dumbledore didn't have the balls to confess that he was planning the death of one of his students, and Snape seemed to be suddenly extremely interested in his wand, so Harry decided to answer instead of those two cowards.

“‘Well, look, Professor McGonagall. Apparently, I have a piece of the Dark Lord's soul stuck in my head, and the only solution these two idiots could come up with is to let the Dark Lord kill me”

McGonagall stared at Harry, then looked at Albus and back again.

“You're joking, right? Albus, tell me Harry isn't serious”

The headmaster swallowed hard, but this time he deigned to answer.

“It's the only way to kill Tom once and for all. Besides, Harry is an ancient and immortal being. He'll be fine”

The more the headmaster spoke, the deeper his grave became.

“ALBUS! YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT UNTIL HALF AN HOUR AGO! TELL ME YOU WEREN'T PLANNING TO SACRIFICE ONE OF OUR STUDENTS TO WIN THIS STUPID WAR!”

The headmaster remained silent. Harry did not.

"Well, there's more, Professor. The first-year tests to recover the Philosopher's Stone while facing Voldemort alone. The basilisk in second year that almost killed me and the piece of Voldemort's soul that almost killed Ginny. The time travel and Sirius' escape from prison. Oh, and the confrontation with the Dementors, Wormtail and Professor Lupin in his wolf form. What else?"

McGonagall was already clutching her head at this point, but Harry still had more to say.

"Well, there was the whole problem last year with a Death Eater putting my name in the Triwizard Tournament, plus Voldemort's resurrection. This year, he let a child torturer teach at the school," he said, pointing to Umbridge, who was still bleeding from her missing nose.

“There's more, but since it hasn't happened yet, I'm not going to blame Dumbledore for it” Harry finished with a friendly smile directed at the headmaster.

Albus looked even more uncomfortable than before, and McGonagall looked defeated.

“These are all things the headmaster could have quickly prevented, but he didn't in order to “make me stronger” in preparation for the battle against Voldemort. Do you understand now why almost no Harry likes Dumbledore?”

McGonagall finally took her face out of her hands and gave the headmaster an unimpressed look.

“That cut on your throat should be deeper, Albus”

Dumbledore feigned offence, but not even the devil's advocate could save him from his mistakes. Not that the headmaster wasn't going to try.

“WHAT DID YOU EXPECT ME TO DO?! I HAVE NOT SEEN ANY OF YOU LIFT A FINGER TO TRY TO DEFEAT THE DARK LORD. IN FACT, NONE OF YOU EVEN BELIEVE HE HAS RETURNED”

As Dumbledore shouted these words, he was not only looking directly at Fudge and Umbridge, but his gaze shifted across the rest of the teachers' table, resting on the more neutral ones such as Aurora Sinistra, professor of astronomy, and Septima Vector, professor of Arithmancy, before moving on to the seventh-year students.

Bathsheda Babbling, professor of ancient runes, rose from her seat to confront the headmaster.

"Albus. I believed you when you said the Dark Lord had returned, even though you didn't provide a single piece of evidence of his return other than the unreliable memories of a traumatized child- she said, looking directly at Harry, who was surprised to see a teacher so uninterested in the war speaking up- and the darkening of the dark mark of a self-proclaimed former Death Eater" she said, looking at Severus Snape.

"But if you had given us this information beforehand, if you had told us that the Dark Lord split his soul, that he made Horcruxes, in whose creation I am an expert thanks to my knowledge of runes and rituals, I could have told you how to move Voldemort's soul from Harry’s head to another container. But you never share the information that could save lives. You hoard it like a niffler hoarding gold. That is why we are in this situation, not because of our refusal to believe in the Dark Lord's resurrection, but because of your lack of trust in your allies and your refusal to share important information."

When Bathsheba finished her speech, slowly the entire room, starting with the students and continuing with the teachers and reaching the members of the Order, began to applaud heatedly.

Dumbledore had nothing to say. Or rather, he couldn't, as the applause of those present drowned out his attempts to excuse himself.

By the time the applause ended, Dumbledore no longer tried to object.

But Harry wasn't satisfied with just that small amount of public humiliation. After all, although he was not mad, he was spiteful, and such an opportunity did not come along every day. “Professor Babbling, although your speech is impressive and commendable, you are overlooking an extremely important fact. It is true that part of the reason Dumbledore concealed this information is because he trusts no one and believes that no one knows more than he does, but that is not the whole story”

The more Harry spoke, the paler the headmaster's complexion became, and the broader Harry's smile grew.

"If he had consulted you, or anyone other than Severus, whom he controls with a vote, about this information, his plan would have fallen apart. If I don't die, Dumbledore will lose his little martyr, he won't be able to carry out the little story in which I sacrifice myself for the greater good to allow him to defeat Voldemort. If I don't die, he won't be a hero, I will, and our dear headmaster cannot tolerate not being the Savior"

When Harry finished ranting, for this enormous monologue could not be called anything else, the entire Great Hall was staring at the headmaster with a look of anger and disappointment that made the man sink further into his seat. He didn't even bother to defend himself; after all, anything he said could be used against him.

After this revelation, Harry returned to his work. Preparing for the arrival of the Destroyer.

The portal, which had been ignored by those present, who were focused on staring disgustedly at Dumbledore, had grown to a size appropriate for the arrival of the next guest.

Harry still had plenty of weapons left, but since the Great Hall, in its infinite glory and wisdom, had decided not to evacuate, Harry opted for a metal baseball bat with nails and barbed wire. It was a bit gangster-like in Harry's opinion, but it would be perfect for a confrontation with the Destroyer.

When the portal grew to the right size, the size at which the previous portals had stopped growing, this one did not; it continued to grow until it was almost twice its height.

Harry was already beginning to suspect that the Harry who would appear would not have the typical human physical characteristics, but he really did not expect the creature that came out of the portal.

This Harry was tall, about two and a half meters, extremely emaciated, more like a mummified corpse than a living human, and his fingers, the only part of his body visible through the gauzy black robe he wore besides his face, seemed to have an extra joint.

His complexion was as white as a corpse's, his smile, too wide, showed more teeth than the 32 teeth of a typical human, and his eyes, black as night, had neon green pupils.

Harry stared at this version of himself, stunned, not knowing how to process what he was seeing.

But shaking his head quickly, he snapped out of his reverie, grabbed the bat with both hands, and stood in front of this new guest.

Harry debated whether to strike this Harry directly and knock him unconscious, thus saving himself the trouble of negotiating with him, but he decided to give him a chance to speak first. Diplomacy, although Harry did not practice it often, was an important mannerism to have.

The Destroyer devoted himself to looking around the room in which he had appeared, simply looking around and occasionally stopping at faces that were probably familiar to him.

When he finished analyzing the room, his gaze stopped on Harry, who still had the baseball bat in his hand and remained in an offensive position, waiting for the Destroyer's next move.

The man... or monster... or whatever he was, looked at Harry with a blank stare, looking around before looking back at Harry. It would have been comical, if not for his strange appearance.

“Well, I'm here. What do you want me to destroy?”

Harry stared at him for another second, but when he accepted that this destroyer, monstrous as he looked, wasn't going to do anything stupid, he lowered the bat and rested it on the floor.

“Well, the truth is, we've already solved the problem, so your services are no longer required”

The destroyer looked around again, this time focusing on the other three Harrys who had been summoned and then looked back at the native Harry.

“Judging by the state of those three, I'd say your problem isn't solved. Correct me if I'm wrong”

Harry sighed at the Destroyer's words.

“Well, okay, it's not, but the idiot who summoned you” he said, looking directly at the headmaster, who was already almost under the tablecloth, “has nothing to pay you with, so we can't afford your services”

The Destroyer turned to look at the headmaster and shook his head heavily. It seemed that he too was used to dealing with empty-headed headmasters.

“I understand your point perfectly, but you must understand mine as well. If I leave here without payment, my reputation will be ruined”

Before Harry could speak, the Destroyer continued.

“I know you wouldn't tell anyone about this, but you can't guarantee that one of them won't” he said, pointing to the other Harrys.

Harry knew the Destroyer was right, but before he could start thinking of solutions, the Destroyer continued talking.

“So, instead of paying me in souls, tell me what the mission you originally wanted to send us on is. If it has to do with destroying something, I can consider that my payment”

At those words, Harry's face lit up like a rainbow. If this worked, his bank account wouldn't be as affected as Harry had feared at the beginning of this mess.

“Sure, of course. That idiot Dumbledore wanted you to kill Voldemort. I know it's not much to destroy, but killing someone should count, right?”

The Destroyer stroked his chin as he considered it for a minute, almost like the third-rate villain in a cheap film. But then he shook his head. Harry's soul almost fell to his feet at the refusal.

“That's too little destruction for me. How about if I also killed all the marked Death Eaters along the way and destroyed their bases? Is that acceptable to you?”

At these words, Harry breathed again.

“Yes, that would be perfect, but could you spare Snape's life? I don't think he deserves to die after all the information smuggling, he did”

The Destroyer frowned.

“Wasn't he one of the men who treated us like pigs for slaughter and took out our father's harassment of him on us?”

Harry gave him a blank look, and the Destroyer sighed.

“Well, the truth is, I don't care enough to kill him. Those conditions are acceptable, but I'm going to need the Horcrux you have on your forehead”

Harry smiled and, in one swift movement, brought his left hand to his forehead and pulled a small ball of black, viscous light from his scar. The Destroyer took it from his hand and put it in his pocket.

“Well, that's all. See you in a little while when I'm done with everything” said the Destroyer before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

The Great Hall fell silent for a moment before Harry spoke again cheerfully.

“Perfect, one less problem. Oh, and if it's any consolation, Malfoy, I'm very sorry about your father's… impending death”

Chapter Text

The Great Hall fell silent at Harry's lack of sincerity in his condolences. It was true that Lucius Malfoy was a bootlicker death eater, but Draco did not deserve such mockery disguised as grief.

However, Draco did not see it that way.

“Thanks for your condolences, Potter. But there's no need to worry. My mother isn't marked, and we have other houses that don't serve as bases, so we won't have any problems living after my father's death” Draco said with a shrug.

Even Harry was surprised at how little importance Draco attached to his father's imminent death.

“Draco, didn't you admire your father very much, love him, crave his approval, and take his word as law? Because you're acting like you don't give a shit. I'm not judging you for it, but it's weird”

Draco just shrugged.

“When you see your proud and pretentious father disheveled and broken under the wand of a half-snake monster and begging for mercy, respect and love drain out of you. Doubly so if your own father offers you to that monster as forgiveness for his mistakes”

Harry was practically speechless at this, so he simply said, “Understandable” and continued with his work.

According to the list, the next Harry to appear would be the cursed one. The name didn't give as many clues as one might think.

In this world, there were a wide variety of curses, so it could be a curse that causes madness, bloodlust, external ugliness, or even trivial things like the inability to taste food.

Harry wasn't sure how to prepare for this one.

The bear traps hadn't been used yet, scattered across the floor, making it difficult for anyone to walk between them.

The wall was still full of weapons, but Harry didn't trust his aim with firearms, and things like swords and spears weren't very useful against these immortal monsters, so Harry would stick with restraints as a contingency method.

Deciding this time on metal handcuffs, Harry attached them to a belt and picked up the metal bat again.

The portal was still small, so he had time.

No one seemed to ask any questions, so Harry sat down on the floor, took a deck of cards out of his pocket, and started playing solitaire.

This was the most fun Harry had had all day.

At Harry's actions, the previous silence deepened, going from uncomfortable to stunned.

Remus Lupin broke the silence this time.

“Harry, I'm not going to complain about anything, because you're defending us all from the problem Dumbledore caused, but is it a good idea for you to be sitting there playing cards?”

Harry didn't even look up from his game to answer.

“You're absolutely right, Remus. You can't complain about anything. I'm the one cleaning up Dumbledore's mess, so if I want to play cards, that's my fucking problem”

Harry was getting more and more pissed off at this insolence, so he raised his head.

“What's more, you all have wands, hands and legs. You can get up and detain the heroes you called, idiots. But apparently, all of you here have your asses glued to your seats, because not a single one of you has moved even an inch from your seat to help”

At this rebuke, all the teachers, authors, ministry staff, and members of the Order began to stir in their seemingly very comfortable seats.

“We're sorry, Harry, but we thought we would bother you if we tried to act” Remus tried to defend himself.

Harry looked at Remus as if he were an idiot.

"Of course you would bother me. You're all a bunch of idiots who think you know more than anyone else. You didn't even let me in on your war plans at the beginning of the year, even though I'm the only one who has seen and faced this new, reborn Lord Voldemort. You literally ignored your main source of information and your main bait, given that the Dark Lord is coming to kill me"

These words were a literal slap in the face to the members of the Order, but Harry didn't care, so he went back to his game.

McGonagall was angry at Harry's words.

"What you're saying is very hypocritical. It's true that we didn't tell you anything, but that was because we thought you were a 15-year-old boy who shouldn't be involved in something as serious as a war. However, you are an adult over three hundred years old, and even though you knew what was going to happen in the future and how to defeat Voldemort, you didn't warn us about anything and didn't even try to help us in the war."

Finally, Harry threw the cards he was holding onto the floor and stood face to face with McGonagall.

“What you're saying is the funniest thing I've heard in a long time”

McGonagall was shocked by these words, but Harry continued speaking.

"If I had opened my mouth and tried to help you, not a single one of you would have listened to me. So don't talk as if I haven't done anything to help you, because the only one who has truly stood up to Voldemort all these years is me."

McGonagall did not remain silent in the face of this accusation.

“You didn't even try. If you had told us who you really were, we would have listened to you”

At McGonagall's words, Harry began to laugh hysterically.

“Listen to me?! You only listen to the crap that comes out of Dumbledore's mouth, and our dear headmaster can't stand anyone being older, wiser or more powerful than him. If I had told him any of this, he would have warned everyone that I was being controlled by Voldemort and would have tried to either silence me or kill me faster so I could be his little martyr”

McGonagall shook her head.

“How do you know that if you never tried?”

That shut Harry up.

And it was true. Harry never tried to warn anyone about the future. He just assumed that no one would believe him and that everyone would side with Dumbledore if he didn't act like the headmaster's pet. He never tried to change the future.

But so, what? Just because Harry could change the future and end the war sooner didn't mean he should. It wasn't his job. The wizarding world literally created its current Dark Lord, with a political system that forced someone as brilliant as Tom Riddle to go mad in order to survive, both the Muggle bombs and the wizarding world.

According to Harry, the wizarding world is suffering a major case of karma due to its classism. The purebloods who believe themselves superior to others are trembling under the wand of one they despise.

The wizarding world wanted pureblood supremacy, and a half-blood dominated them.

It may be unfair to those born to Muggles, given that they are suffering for something that is not their fault. But someone needs to destroy the current class system in order to see a bright future. Harry had nothing to do with this.

And that's what Harry said.

“Why should I try to end the war sooner? It will end in three years, anyway, just like in my original world. I don't have to do anything to bring Voldemort down. Although, well, he's already falling right now at the hands of another me”

McGonagall couldn't believe what she was hearing. Neither could anyone else present.

Sirius spoke this time.

“Don't you feel even a shred of compassion for all those who will die in the years to come? If you had acted sooner, many people would be saved. Cedric Diggory would have been saved. Don't you care?”

Harry looked at Sirius as if he didn't understand his words.

“Didn't you hear me talking to Fudge earlier? I'm on holiday. I don't want to think about new plans when I already know one that works. It's not my job. The wizarding world was so cruel to Muggle-borns for so many years that now the most powerful half-blood has become a Dark Lord. That's not my problem. You created him. It's your job to defeat him”

Snape laughed sarcastically at Harry's words.

“A half-blood? The Dark Lord is not a half-blood. He is a pure-blood descendant of Slytherin. If you know so much about the man, you should know that.”

Harry did not even bother to answer him, simply turning to look at Dumbledore and raising an eyebrow.

Dumbledore understood his hint from his position, almost hidden under the table where he was sitting. At least he was acting as the worm he was.

“Actually, Lord Voldemort's real name is Tom Riddle. He is a half-blood born to a Muggle and a Squib from the Slytherin line”

The entire Great Hall fell silent at his words. And Harry decided to complete his explanation.

"That's right. So, imagine a young man with a Muggle surname chosen for Slytherin in the 1940s. It wasn't fun for him to be sorted into Slytherin. And besides, remember World War II and the Muggle bombs. He lived in an orphanage, and the headmaster repeatedly refused to shelter him in the castle from them. Is it any wonder he wants to kill you all?"

Silently, everyone began to think about how much blame their ancestors might bear for tormenting the current Dark Lord. They may not have done anything to him personally, but wizards knew that feuds lasted for generations.

Finally, the portal was the right size for the next hero to arrive. Harry dusted off his robe and burned the cards that were now scattered on the floor.

Then he took his bat and used it as a walking stick, waiting for the next Harry to appear.

It didn't take long.

A Harry Potter slowly emerged from the portal that had formed. He was surprisingly normal. He looked to be about 18 years old. The clothes he was wearing were simple, totally Muggle and appropriate for autumn. The characteristic round glasses had been replaced by rectangular ones, which made this Harry look like some kind of suburban accountant.

When the cursed one emerged from the portal, he made the same gesture as his predecessors. He looked around the room, not stopping to observe any of those present in particular. When he finished his examination, he turned to Harry, and without saying a word, sat down on the floor, then proceeded to lie on his back in a starfish position.

Harry watched him for a few minutes, expectantly. Maybe this was some kind of ritual that Harry didn't know about, and the cursed was channeling his magic to attack. But when a few minutes passed, and all this new Harry did was stare at the ceiling with a blank look, Harry began to suspect that the man wasn't going to do anything.

Still on guard, Harry approached the cursed one.

“Excuse me, cursed one. Your services are not needed, so would you mind leaving without payment?” Harry asked kindly.

The cursed one took his eyes off the ceiling for a second, looked at Harry with his empty gaze, and looked back at the ceiling without offering a worthy response.

A vein began to show on Harry's forehead.

“HELLO! I know you can hear me, so answer me” Harry shouted in his ear.

This time, the cursed didn't even bother to look at him.

Harry began to lose his patience and started tapping him on the side with his foot. The cursed still did nothing.

Finally, Harry shrugged. If the cursed one wasn't going to do anything, that was one less problem for Harry.

But apparently, the still bleeding Umbridge (Harry thought the old toad should have found a spell or potion to stop the bleeding by now) was not happy with Harry's inaction.

“Well? Aren't you going to handcuff him?” she asked, almost demanding with that arrogant attitude of hers.

Harry rolled his eyes at her stupidity.

“Are you stupid? Don't answer that, I already know you are. Let's get one thing straight. If he doesn't move, don't piss him off”

Seeing the look of surprise on everyone's faces, Harry almost banged his head on the floor.

"Isn't the fucking Hogwarts slogan, “don't poke a sleeping dragon”? I don't care if this Harry is drugged, stupid or has leprosy. If it doesn't move, don't touch it!" he said, then grabbed the bastard by one of his legs and began dragging him to the same corner where the necrophiliac was still asleep on his new toy.

Once positioned at a safe distance from the corpse lover, the damned man returned to his characteristic star position, staring at the ceiling of the large dining room.

His stillness was one less problem for Harry, but he still had two more to deal with.

Chapter Text

Still looking at the very quiet, cursed hero, Professor Sprout asked, “What's wrong with him?”

Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“I mean, why is he so quiet?’”

Only then did Harry understand what Pomona was asking.

“Don't worry about him, he's just got possibly the worst depression in the world” Harry explained with a shrug.

“Isn't that like, really bad?”

Harry laughed at this comment.

“Nah, for a Harry, it's like a rite of passage. All your friends and family have to die, and you still must want to live to become one of us. Maybe that's why we're all crazy?” Harry explained as he began to think about the answer to his own question.

Every time Harry opened his mouth, the great hall doubted his sanity more and more.

In a whisper that expressed his inner thoughts, Harry began to ponder, “Maybe I should study this phenomenon of mass depression. It would make for an interesting article”

Faced with Harry's disturbing introspective words, Madam Pomfrey decided to intervene.

“Is the depression the reason for his name?”

Harry snapped out of his musings and looked at the Great Hall table.

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, “Maybe. I don't know all the Harrys, but normally the depression of losing all your friends and family, and being immortal, usually passes after a hundred years, if you ever get over it, of course. He probably didn't get over it and chose that name. Sometimes a bad depression is the worst curse of all”

The rest of the great hall nodded solemnly and decided to act as if the cursed one were not there. Or rather, as if none of the summoned heroes were there.

But Pomona had more questions.

“What do you mean by “initiation”? Depression is not a game; it is a medical and emotional problem that can destroy a person. And you are talking about it as if it were nothing more than an inconvenience”

Harry even smiled a little at the nurse's concerned words.

“Your anger is very commendable, Mrs. Sprout, but this only applies to humans, and we were forced to stop being human”

Pomona snorted indignantly.

"No matter how old and powerful and immortal you are, you are still human. You have a father and mother, and from what you've said, you have friends, partners and family. Don't give me that crap about being above humanity. If you were, you wouldn't have suffered from depression like that one lying there."

Harry turned to look at the bastard Pomona was pointing at and sighed wearily.

“You're right. We were all human. No, that's not entirely accurate. We were all children, forced to become gods in order to survive a war that wasn't ours. Can you even begin to understand the pain that causes us?”

Pomona swallowed hard, feeling intimidated by Harry's gaze, but determined enough, without being presumptuous, to maintain eye contact.

“No, I don't understand, but I want to. So please explain it to me”

Harry felt vaguely moved by her determination.

“At seventeen, Harry Potter collects, through deception at the hands of Albus Dumbledore, the Deathly Hallows. I suppose you know the story”

Everyone in the room, who were also listening intently to the story, nodded eagerly.

“I don't think any Harry understands at first what that means. If they are even aware that they have collected the Hallows. But believe me, we all soon understand the curse that has been imposed on us”

Someone had started eating popcorn, and the sound made a vein stand out on Harry's forehead. Harry decided to ignore it for now.

“You don't know what it feels like to see all your friends, family and acquaintances grow up and grow old while you remain 17 forever. You don't know what it's like to see them get sick and die while you remain just a teenager, trapped in a body that never changes. Are you really surprised that we end up like this?” Harry asked as he pointed at the cursed one.

The great hall cringed in shame at their assumptions, but Remus asked a question that, to him, made no sense.

“But Harry, if you're trapped in a 17-year-old body, why do you now look 15? Why do other Harrys appear to be different ages?”

At this question, many people began to murmur and look at the heroes trapped or standing still in the corners of the room.

"I said that depression is an initiation, didn't I? If, after two hundred years of watching your friends die without being able to do anything, you still have the will to live, you are allowed to enter the great organization that is the Harry Potter congregation. It doesn't mean much. You get a nice bracelet and a handful of useless powers. You can change your age and shape, but bring back the dead? That's above the pay grade."

Remus's face crumpled into something between sadness and discomfort.

“I'm sorry”

Harry shrugged at his apology.

“Well, that's how it is. Every Harry deals with loss in his own way. Some drink, others kill, others buy slaves as toys. Some were already mad before they joined the congregation and discovered there was no way to see their loved ones again, others went mad afterwards. But there's no escape from this life, so madness is a way of evading it, I suppose”

“That sounds awful,” said Remus.

Harry just laughs sarcastically.

“There's a joke among us death masters. If you don't want to live, it's too late. The 200-year period of unsubscribing from life has already ended”

Remus was very confused by these words, so Harry had to explain the joke.

"Technically, in those two hundred years when you lose all your friends and family, you don't age, you don't get sick, and nothing external can kill you, but technically, you can commit suicide. When you agree to join the congregation, that option is closed, and not even you can kill yourself. That's why I said depression is a test. If you kill yourself, you really die. If you don't, you just have eternity ahead of you. No one reads the fine print, and we don't know about the congregation until the 200-year mark, so it's not like its useful information in any way. The exit closes when you find out there is an exit."

Remus was turning greener by the minute.

“That's horrible. It's a sick game”

“We're all mad. The Harry who made up the rules and this stupid social club was no exception”

The question round was over because the new portal had reached the right size.

This time, Harry didn't need any more preparations. The shackles he had taken to chain up the cursed had not been used, so they were ready for the next hero.

The elegant arrived.

In Harry's opinion, the name was neither creative nor explanatory. Harry just hoped he wasn't completely mad, but that thought was little more than useless considering the catalogue from which he was selected.

And finally, the elegant came out.

Harry didn't know what to expect, but a nobleman from the 1920s came close.

The elegant one emerged from the portal with a straight back and a refined bearing. His glasses were adorned with emeralds and attached to his suit pocket with a thin silver chain. His hair was combed and tamed, something Harry thought impossible, and his black shoes, matching his suit, were well polished. In his right hand, the elegant gentleman carried a cup of tea, from which he took small sips while looking around the room. And in his left hand, he carried a chain.

The chain was attached to Tom Riddle's neck.

Harry wasn't surprised. He had seen many slaves in the worlds of the congregation. By Merlin, he himself had, until recently, had Lord Voldemort's corpse in a chest. Harrys feel lonely and want company, or they want revenge, or they want someone to mistreat. There are many reasons for having a slave, even more so if that slave is Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, or one of their variations.

What Harry didn't expect was to see a Tom Riddle so well dressed and well behaved.

Slaves used to be marked by a pattern. A mad Lord Voldemort, bought to hurt and so that his master could take revenge for the damage Voldemort caused in his life. A repentant and emotional Tom Riddle, trained so that his master would have a powerful but loving life and bed partner. A Marvolo Gaunt, ordered to obey and used for jobs his master did not want to do, from paperwork to murder. A tool.

The Tom Riddle Harry saw before his eyes was none of these three. Of course, Tom Riddle had always been a very complex character in all his forms, so pigeonholing him into three categories was stupid and unproductive. But it was true.

Few Voldemorts broke the mold. Harry had never seen a sane, loving Voldemort, a murderous Tom, or a mad Marvolo. He knew they existed, but he had never seen them. But now, this Tom was being treated like a slave, not like a companion as Toms are usually treated, but like a pet, something designed to humiliate a Voldemort.

Harry stared at him for several seconds, trying to figure out what he was.

He couldn't, so he ignored him.

Harry doubted that everyone in the great hall would be able to do the same.

It wasn't his problem.

The elegant man waited politely for Harry to finish evaluating his strange slave before speaking.

“Given the circumstances, I assume I am here awaiting assignment to a mission. Am I mistaken?”

Harry didn't even try to understand the newcomer's words.

“What the hell is that accent? It's so... British”

The elegant man seemed offended by the vulgar language.

“Excuse me? In case you're not aware, you're also speaking British.”

Harry's face scowled more with each word.

“Yes, but I don't look like I'm part of Queen Victoria's court”

The elegant man pursed his lips at Harry's derogatory comments but decided to return to the matter at hand.

“Whatever you say. Could we get back to the issue that's bothering me? What is my mission here and what is being offered to me as payment?”

Harry began to grind his teeth, seeing that his brief distraction had not worked.

“Yes, well. The fact is that the problem has already been solved and the person who summoned you had no payment prepared”

The elegant man summoned a chair and a table, placing his cup of tea on it and sitting down delicately. His slave knelt beside him and rested his head on his master's right leg.

“If you're not the one who invited us, why are you acting as a representative? Those who cause the problem should be the ones to solve it”

Harry glanced sideways at Dumbledore, who had spent the last twenty minutes under the teachers' table and had no intention of coming out of hiding, especially with all the judgmental eyes of those present in the room fixed on him.

“The person responsible for this mess doesn't seem to have any desire to clean up his own shit” Harry said in a defeated voice.

The elegant man raised an eyebrow.

“Dumbledore?” he asked.

“Dumbledore” Harry confirmed.

Taking back his cup of tea, the visitor just sighed.

“Well, as you know, I can't leave here without adequate remuneration. But I feel bad for your situation, so maybe we can come to some compromise”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

“That's what I was hoping for. I made a similar deal with the Destroyer, so I was hoping I could give you a token payment for coming”

The elegant man nodded, taking a sip of his tea.

“That's acceptable. If possible, I would like some kind of retention instrument”

Harry was surprised by the request.

“Restraint device? Like handcuffs? I have some right here if you need them, but what do you want them for?”

Harry took the metal handcuffs from his belt and handed them to the elegant man. He took them with a slight smile.

“Yes, these are perfect. Tom broke the last ones, and we were on our way to buy new equipment for our game. Aren't you happy, Tom?”

For the first time since they arrived, Tom raised his head and looked his master in the eye.

“Yes, master. Thank you, master” he said with a calm smile, which showed more warmth than Harry was used to seeing in Tom.

Harry was sure that the relationship between these two was sexual. He was also 90% sure that Tom was truly in love with Harry and that he genuinely enjoyed his current position.

If anyone else in the room had noticed anything, they said nothing, although Harry knew that he would soon have questions directed at him. As if the object of their doubts were not right in front of them.

Still, this was not his problem.

The elegant man nodded to his slave and turned to Harry.

“Well, that concludes our transaction. If you'll excuse me, I'll sit with my Tom in the corner where the apparently less deranged Harry Potters are” he declared, then got up with his slave and placed his chair next to the necrophiliac.

Harry was very pleased with this outcome. Now he only had one Master of death left to face.

Someone in the back asked, “Is no one going to talk about how Harry Potter has a slave?”

Next to him, another person added, “And how that slave seems to be a humanized version of Lord Voldemort?”

A third person shouted, “NO!” and everyone fell silent.

Harry pretended not to have heard anything.

Chapter Text

Obviously, the Great Hall was not going to be so kind as to forget the existence of a slave. So, although the background extras decided to ignore the existence of the slaved Dark Lord, people with power and opinions, aka Snape, decided to ask about it.

“So, slaves? Isn't that a bit impractical and uncivilized for a society composed of what are, simply put, immortal gods?”

Harry looked at the potions professor as if he had grown five heads.

“Are you aware that right now there's one of those gods stuck in a cage in the corner?” Harry asked, pointing to the cannibal, who was still trying to reach Tonks's corpse, still without success. Then he pointed to the murderer. “And another one is stuck in a chest”

Snape looked at the two specimens mentioned and frowned.

“You have a point, but these are beyond any capacity for reason. I doubt they are even capable of having slaves in that state of mind”

Harry shrugged.

“Good point. The cannibal would probably eat his, at the very least”

Snape nodded in agreement.

“That's why I say these must be the exception. Sane and wise Masters of Death, like the elegant one sitting there, should be above slavery. What's more, they don't even have a practical use. There's no way a master of death, with his full power, would need a slave”

The elegant one lowered his cup of tea and spoke.

“Please, don't talk about me as if I weren't here”

No one in the room acknowledged his words.

Harry continued speaking.

“For starters, I find it very amusing how you hold the Masters of death in such high esteem, when all they've done since arriving here is either attack like savages or display their weird fetishes and quirks. Except for the Destroyer, of course, but with him, his appearance speaks for itself”

Someone let out a stifled laugh in the back.

“Next, you can't look at the cursed one and tell me this guy doesn't need the help that a slave could provide” Harry said, pointing to the starfish on the floor.

Snape glanced at him sideways before exclaiming, “Then why doesn't he have a slave to help him, while the elegant one does?”

Harry sighed in disappointment.

“Do you really think he can go out and buy a slave in his current condition? Besides, slaves are expensive. I doubt he has the necessary funds”

Snape seemed to be getting angrier by the minute.

“So, the one who needs a slave, doesn't have one, and the one who doesn't need one, does”

Harry seemed to think about it for a minute.

“I wouldn't put it that way. You said it well at the beginning. A master of death doesn't need a slave, except for the starfish, so most of them are just here for company”

Snape seemed to look at the kneeling slave with a new perspective, who was now being fed a piece of cake taken from who knows where, by the elegant.

“So, most of them are what? Pets?”

Harry shook his head.

“I wouldn't say most. More like, half. As for the other half, a quarter are used for various administrative and strategic tasks, 15% are used for...” Harry stretched his neck, not quite sure how to express the blatant torture the Voldemorts were subjected to, “…anger management, and the other 10% are used for various things”

Snape looked horrified at Harry's words about torture.

“And who are the slaves? Where do you get them? Do they deserve to be slaves?”

Harry was speechless at this, before realizing that he had not told them a very important fact.

“All, or rather, almost all of the slaves are a version of Lord Voldemort.”

This truly left Snape speechless.

All he could mutter was, “Why?”

Harry blushed a little at this.

“I'm not entirely sure, but it seems that Harry Potter will always have a connection to Lord Voldemort, whether it's because of the Horcrux, the prophecy, or personal similarities. So, most of us have an unhealthy obsession with the man. In one way or another.”

It did not escape those present that, for the first time, Harry referred to the Masters of death as “us” rather than just “them”.

No one commented on this.

“And those who are not Lord Voldemort? What about them?” asked a figure from the back.

Harry realized it was Neville. Always being a good person.

“Those who are not Lord Voldemort are a separate case. They are not slaves, per se, except in specific cases. They are used as replacements.”

People seemed very confused by this.

“Do you really think these madmen you've summoned are capable of going unnoticed or not killing anyone if they get angry? No, right? If they kill someone they shouldn't, there are cryogenically frozen copies ready to take their place on command. A memory alteration spell, and that's it. Problem solved.”

Everyone who understood this gibberish turned pale instantly.

Neville, who now regretted asking, asked what was on everyone's mind.

“Harry, have you replaced anyone here?”

It took Harry a minute to understand, before he laughed.

“Don't worry, you're all the originals. I'm not that crazy”

No one believed that anymore.

But now it didn't matter. The madman would be here any second.

The last portal was finally the right size.

Harry had no more restrictions except for a simple frayed rope. Honestly, for such a large arsenal, his number of non-lethal weapons was pathetic. He should change that.

Even so, Harry armed himself with what he had and stood in front of the portal. The last portal. The last problem, and then he would be free to enjoy the rest of his holiday in peace and quiet.

That is, if those present keep quiet about what happened today and don't cause Harry any trouble. Maybe he should erase everyone's memory. Or threaten them.

As Harry pondered his options, the madman arrived. And it was a child.

Harry shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. Because what kind of crazy psychopath at least 200 years old went through life as a seemingly seven-year-old child?

Apparently, the one standing in front of him.

With a small, bony body and clothes that were too big for him, this Harry Potter was undoubtedly adorable. Which only made the madman more dangerous.

Even his glasses were comically huge for his cute little face. But Harry wasn't going to be fooled. After all, his name literally meant “crazy”.

Harry cleared his throat to get his attention.

The madman turned around, his eyes wide with an innocence that seemed too real.

“Welcome to my dimension. Unfortunately, your services are not required, so if you don't mind, please leave”

Harry no longer had the patience to explain things, let alone speak politely.

The madman laughed, with that typical innocent childish laugh that makes you smile like a fool.

“I don't want to!” he shouted in a shrill, adorable voice.

A vein was beginning to show on Harry's forehead.

“But I don't want you here, so what do you want me to give you to make you go away?”

The madman looked at Harry for a second, then ignored him and started running around the large dining room like a small child. Which he looked like, but wasn't.

“Play with me!” shouted the little boy, as he hid behind the students.

Harry was getting stressed by the minute. He had never been good with small children.

“How about I give you a toy instead and you leave?”

The madman pouted and shook his head, rejecting Harry's idea and approaching Harry's weapon wall.

“I said, I want to play!” he said before taking an axe from the wall, curiously able to hold it perfectly with his small body, and throwing it at Harry.

Harry dodged it, but the axe continued on its path until it stuck in the wall.

When Harry saw the chaos, the last of his sanity went down the mental drain.

“And I said no!” Harry shouted before grabbing the rope and throwing it at the madman, cowboy style. The rope got tangled up in his little body, but the madman magically set it on fire instantly, getting rid of the flimsy rope in an instant.

Everyone present was surprised. Apparently, they had forgotten that they were wizards. Again.

Before his magical tantrum could continue, the madman took a ribbon from the wall, which Harry didn't know he had, and disappeared from the room.

Harry no longer knew what to do. The madman was gone, and Harry didn't know where, so chasing him was not possible.

The room was silent, trembling at what was a seven-year-old boy with an axe.

Harry was getting a headache.

McGonagall asked the question everyone feared.

“Harry, why did he look like a child?”

Harry rubbed his temples.

“What part of “mad” is it that someone doesn't understand?”

McGonagall pursed her lips.

“Mad can mean many things, but looking and behaving like a seven-year-old is more than worrying”

Harry almost laughed, almost.

“You're telling me that, when there's a cannibal in one corner of the room and a necrophiliac in the other. Worrying is the standard, Professor McGonagall”

“We've already established that, Mr. Potter, but I'm asking you if there's anything else I should be concerned about”

It took Harry more than a minute to understand what McGonagall was asking.

“Are you asking me if he's a pedophile?”

McGonagall simply nodded, with firmness and seriousness befitting the situation.

But Harry shook his head very quickly.

“No, that's not possible. Or at least, I've never heard of anything like that. As crazy as we are, curiously enough, no Harry has ever crossed the line into pedophilia. Or if they have, they've been quietly eliminated”

“I thought nothing could kill you?”

Harry looked at his teacher ominously.

“There are other ways to make someone disappear”

McGonagall decided not to think about the ways Harry was talking about.

“Then why the childish form and speech?”

Harry raised his eyebrow.

“He's mad. Does he need an excuse?”

McGonagall simply shook her head.

“I guess not”

“Well, perfect, because I have to start looking for that little pest, and I don't know where the hell to start”

Apparently, Harry didn't need to do anything, because just as he started working, the madman reappeared, this time with Lord Voldemort's head in his hands, adorned with a pink bow.

But he wasn't alone, because instantly the Destroyer appeared, with the rest of the Dark Lord's body on his shoulder, shouting at the madman.

“Give me back that head! I killed him, so it's MINE!”

The madman stuck out his tongue.

“I don't care! I decorated the head, so it's MINE!”

Harry was sure that, if he didn't intervene in the next two seconds, an even bigger disaster was going to happen.

Chapter Text

Harry had had enough.

The Great Hall was beginning to get rowdy.

The madman was clutching the head of the, now deceased, Lord Voldemort, while the destroyer, still carrying the rest of Lord Voldemort's body on his shoulder, was trying to get hold of the head.

The rest of those present were beginning to rise from their seats.

Not to flee, of course not, but to get a better view of the fight that was about to break out.

In a fit of rage, or rather desperation, Harry no longer knew what it was, the Destroyer dropped the body on the floor and lunged at the madman to get the head.

The madman, despite his small size, had more strength than one might imagine, so they both ended up rolling on the floor and screaming. Both were trying to get hold of the head, from which the ribbon had now fallen.

Harry thought he saw a small tear fall from Lord Voldemort's clearly immobile eye. If the man were alive, he would wish he were not, to spare himself this circus.

“GIVE ME THAT HEAD! IT'S MINE!” shouted the Destroyer, as he pulled at it, trying to wrest it from the madman's arms.

Of course, given the madman's small size, he ended up lifting both the head and the madman, who was clutching it tightly, into the air.

“NEVER! I found it lying around in the mansion, and whoever finds it, keeps it!” shouted the madman in retaliation, curling up into a ball around his head, while the destroyer shook him, trying to get rid of him.

The scene was surreal. A monster against a child. The child seemed to be winning, and the monster was the one who was mostly right.

If Harry weren't immortal, he would have already had a stress-induced aneurysm.

But he was, so if he wanted peace and quiet, he would have to force it.

“ENOUGH!” Harry shouted at the top of his lungs.

But neither the Destroyer nor the Madman paid any attention to him.

So, with unbridled fury, Harry summoned the gag he had put on Fudge at the beginning of the evening.

The pathetic minister didn't even try to open his mouth at his sudden release, simply massaging his jaw as he continued to watch the fight.

With the gag in his hands, Harry joined the fray.

In an instant, Harry placed the gag on the madman and dragged him backwards, separating him from the Destroyer, and causing him to release the head.

The Destroyer, finally holding his prize without restriction, sighed with relief and set about reassembling the Dark Lord's corpse.

The madman, on the other hand, began to writhe in Harry's arms, making various complaints, all silenced by the gag.

This time, when the madman tried to break free with a magical attack, Harry did not let him, slamming his head against the floor and knocking him unconscious.

His small size made it much easier, leaving Harry surprised by its effectiveness and wondering why he had not tried it before.

It's true that Harry would never condone violence against a child, but it's not as if the madman was actually one, so in Harry's eyes, there was no problem with this method of silencing him.

When he was sure that the madman was truly unconscious, he dropped his body to the floor and walked over to the Destroyer, who had curiously finished putting the two parts of Voldemort back together.

“I think with this, our deal is complete”

The Destroyer looked up from the corpse and smiled at Harry.

“Yes, everything is settled. Although I wish that little pest hadn't put his hands on the corpse. These things are very expensive with the proper repair work”

Harry didn't bother to respond, shrugging instead, then turning to look at the seven Masters of Death present.

“Well, that concludes your visit. I would say it has been a pleasure to have you here, but it has not. If you have any complaints about your treatment, take them up with Dumbledore. This is no longer my problem” said Harry before picking up the book of incantations, which until now had been forgotten under the table where Dumbledore was hiding.

With just three sentences, Harry summoned seven portals, through which each “hero” would be able to return to their dimension.

The first to leave was the elegant one.

“Although you may think otherwise, this brilliant visit has been an enriching experience for me. I hope to see you soon” said the elegant one, before taking his Tom chain and passing smoothly through the corresponding portal.

“I DON´T” shouted Harry at his back.

The portal closed the moment he left.

Next was the necrophiliac.

The very strange man had fallen asleep on top of the Dark Lord's corpse, so when the previous portal closed, he woke up somewhat confused.

Looking at the situation around him, he quickly realized it was time to leave. So, he quickly got up from his toy and slung it over his shoulder, heading for his portal while yawning enormously.

“Well, I'm leaving too. It's been a pleasure, and thanks for the little gift” he said as he rubbed his tired eyes and walked through his portal.

This one also closed.

Next was the Destroyer.

“Well, I think our deal is done. I have nothing more to say”

He simply took his prize and left.

As his portal closed, Harry thought about the Destroyer's bloodstained hands, and how someone would probably have to go to Malfoy Manor and clean up all the Death Eater corpses the Destroyer must have left scattered around.

But that wasn't Harry's problem. It was probably Draco's.

Harry's problem was the four lunatics left in the room who were in no condition to leave on their own.

The first one Harry looked at was the madman.

Harry had hit him hard on the head and he was currently unconscious, but Harry didn't know when he would wake up, so he decided to get rid of him first.

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, Harry dragged him like a helpless kitten and threw him into the portal like yesterday's rubbish.

Without even looking back to see if the portal had closed, Harry turned to the other two.

There was a problem. If Harry freed them, they would probably attack, but if he didn't, these madmen would remain locked up forever, and that left Harry with a bad taste in his mouth.

So, without thinking twice, Harry took a couple of bombs from his weapons wall. They were small, but powerful enough to blow up the cage and chest.

Setting the timer for one minute, Harry stuck the bombs on and quickly threw the cannibal and the murderer into their respective worlds.

Harry may have made a mistake and mixed up the worlds he sent them to, but he decided not to worry about it.

The last one was the cursed one. Harry watched him for a moment as he lay on the floor like a starfish. The man didn't even bother to look at him.

Sighing, Harry lifted the cursed man's feet and dragged him to his corresponding portal, where he proceeded to throw him in.

And with that last portal closed, Harry finally ended the nightmare of his existence.

“Well, that's it. I'm going to take a nap. Take care” said Harry as he headed for the door of the great hall.

But before leaving, he turned to the teachers' table and picked up the book of spells.

“Sorry, I almost forgot this” he said as he took the book from the table and set it on fire.

“In case you decide to do the same stupid thing again”

When the book was reduced to ashes, Harry walked out the door, closing it behind him, and headed for the Gryffindor tower for his nap.

The Great Hall fell completely silent until Sirius spoke.

“So, the war is over? No more Voldemort?”

Everyone present began to murmur in approval at the fugitive's words, but of course, Fudge had to go and ruin it.

“Well, I refuse to believe that Voldemort has come back to life. The hero called Destroyer took the body, so there is no proof of his defeat or that he was ever alive”

In response to his nonsense, Draco shouted, “What about the destroyed Malfoy Manor with possibly piles of Death Eater bodies?!”

Umbridge shouted, “Circumstantial evidence! Surely your father was the ringleader of the operation”

Faced with the absurdities of these two, everyone in the great hall shook their heads and decided to ignore them.

Even the Aurors, well, now the Auror, looked the other way.

Dumbledore, who until now had been busy eating lemon biscuits under the table, came out of hiding while stroking his beard.

“Don't worry, Cornelius. I'm sure we can clear this up with Harry later”

McGonagall threw a biscuit at his face.

“Shut up, Albus, you're in no position to talk. And don't try to annoy, literally, a God.”

Albus wiped the crumbs from his face.

“Minerva, Harry is not a god, he is just an enlightened entity who...”

Minerva had had enough.

“If an immortal being capable of travelling through dimensions is not a god, I don't want to know what is. So shut up, Albus, before I bury you alive in the Forbidden Forest”

Albus wisely kept quiet.

The entire room finally fell into peaceful silence.

Only Kingsley's voice could be heard.

“Can someone help me move Tonks' body? Someone must notify her parents and start preparing her funeral”