The Reaper - FelipeTb90 - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: Shadows of the past

Chapter Text

The room was dark, save for the flickering light of a single candle that cast long, wavering shadows against the worn wood walls. Harry Potter sat in his small, cramped flat in the underbelly of wizarding London, staring at the wall as if it could provide the answers he so desperately sought. It had been years since the final battle, yet the memories still haunted him, relentless and unyielding.

Harry's life had been a series of battles, each leaving its own scars. The victory over Voldemort had been supposed to be the final chapter, the end of his struggles. But as the years passed, the peace he had fought so hard for seemed to slip further away. The world had moved on, but he was trapped, unable to let go of the past.

He reached for the bottle of firewhisky on the table, pouring himself another drink. The liquid burned his throat, a temporary distraction from the gnawing emptiness inside him. He had tried everything to fill that void; work, substances, sex, even therapy, but nothing worked. The nightmares persisted, leaving him drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.

In his dreams, he relived the moment when he realized he had been a Horcrux. The shard of Voldemort's soul that had lodged itself inside him had been destroyed, but it had left a gaping wound, an emptiness that nothing could fill. It was as if a part of him had been ripped away, leaving him incomplete.

The small, cramped flat in Knockturn Alley was all he could afford at the moment after Ginny all but wiped him out in the divorce. At first, he felt as if he was pushing everyone away. Everyone seemed to move on just fine after the war was won, dusting themselves off and carrying on before the bodies went cold.

The first few months had been… rough, to say the least. Harry shut himself off from the world, locking the wards of Grimmauld Place, drinking the pain away. After a month, Ron and Hermione managed to coax him out, but nothing was the same. He refused every invitation to the Burrow, preferring to spend his time at Grimmauld or drinking in seedy Knockturn bars.

Deep down, he knew that when Ron pushed him to “get back out there, mate” he didn’t mean into the arms of every 2 sickle whor* in Knockturn, both male and female, and sometimes even creature. But even if his carnal desires didn’t die along that little piece of soul he never knew he carried, he just couldn’t handle feelings. It was numbing, and even after things got better, and he shared his bed with Ginny in the cottage she made him buy near the Burrow, he still got painfully hard when he remembered the feeling of being trussed up like a Sunday roast, being bled by tiny cuts and f*cked senseless by a hulking vampire in a dungeon in Knockturn.

It had been quite quick, his recovery, now that he thought about it. One day, he’d been too drunk to open the door, passed out on the floor of Sirius’ bedroom, because it would always be his bedroom, still bleeding from tiny paper cuts Grigori failed to lick closed, the stench of booze and bodily fluids heavy in the stale air, and the next, he was sitting for lunch in the Burrow, stuffed to the brim with potions after Ron shoved him in St Mungos for a week.

It didn’t take long after that for Ginny and him to pick things up right where they left off, and even less for them to marry. They’d had a quiet first year, the numbness the potions provided carrying him through most of his days. Their first fight came when he pressed about having children. He’d always wanted a family, the one thing he’d never had, but she wanted to play quidditch, focus on her career and travel. How he hadn’t found it odd that none of this travel included him, her husband, he’d never know. Blame it on the potions, he thought wryly.

Things started falling apart from then on, right up to a month ago, when he was summoned to Gringotts and served divorce papers.

“Divorce? But why? I don’t understand.” He’d asked Griphook in a daze.

“As per your marriage contract, Mrs Potter is entitled to file for divorce without cause at any point, uncontested. She is entitled to everything you own in compensation.” Griphook said plainly.

“Marriage contract? I never signed any marriage contract!” He said vehemently.

“It was signed for you by your magical guardian at the time, in 1993.” He said as he handed him a copy of the contract, signed in red, or most likely blood, by Albus Dumbledore and Margaret Elizabeth Weasley née Prewett. Dated a few days after the Chamber incident, no less.

“But…” Harry tried to say, but nothing would come out.

“I’m afraid there is nothing to be done Mr Potter, Mrs Potter will now be in control of everything you own, and entitled to claim your Lordships as well.” Griphook said.

“Lordships? What does that even mean?” He said, sucker punched even further. He’d heard people be addressed as lord or lady what’s their face sometimes but thought nothing of it. Was he a lord?

“Yes,” the goblin said, “now, you’re allowed to make one last withdrawal from your vaults, capped at 2000 galleons. Once you leave this office, you will have been served and notified and effectively divorced.”

“Fine, get me the money and I’ll be on my way.” He said, defeated. He needed to talk to someone, this must be some sort of mistake, an elaborate prank, but just in case, he’d leave with the money.

It took no time at all to realize that it was not in fact, a mistake or a prank, once he tried apparating and bounced out of the wards of his own home, or former home, with the same happening for the Burrow and Ron and Hermione’s cottage up the road. So much for the years of friendship, the sacrifices, everything they went through together. Locked out of everyone’s wards, just like that. He didn’t even have Grimmauld Place anymore, but hell, even if he hadn’t caved and sold the place it would be Ginny’s now.

The articles in the following days had been the worst, interview after interview from everyone he knew, declaring him the next dark lord in the making, how Ginny now felt safe having divorced him. He was promptly run out of the Leaky Cauldron by angry patrons, which is how he ended up renting the dingy little flat above Burgin & Burke’s when no one would rent to him on the “respectable” side of town, the ungrateful bastards.

The blast on the flat’s door pulled him out of his pity party, shards and splinters digging into his skin painfully.

He was still getting his bearings when he heard the muffled voice of the Auror in charge of the raid as he read him his rights, “Harry James Potter, you are under arrest for violation of the Wizarding Unity and Prosperity Protection Act, you have the right to remain silent…” though he tuned most of it out, the ringing still loud in his ears from the blast.

~~~

They must have spiked his food or drink, it’s the only explanation as to why his memories of the so-called trial were so hazy. Not that there were many memories, since the whole charade lasted all of ten minutes before he was sent to Azkaban for life.

It hurt. That’s all he could really remember. It hurt seeing his friends and family look at him with disgust. It hurt to listen to Kingsley read out his sentence without an ounce of remorse or compassion. Ungrateful sons of bitches, he couldn’t believe he’d died for them. Would he have done things differently if he’d known it would end like this? He could only guess.

After the first month in the cold dark pit that was the wizarding prison, Harry assumed they must have felt confident enough that the dementors would keep him in line because he began to regain his awareness. They must have stopped drugging him, he supposed.

What surprised him the most was how unaffected he felt by the dementors. He couldn’t believe that those creatures that once had him fainting with such ease were now just eery cloaked companions mostly. Not that he would let anyone know that little fun fact.

During his first year of captivity, he planned his escape. He would just leave the country, go live a quiet life somewhere nobody knew him and be done with everyone’s sh*t. He quietly trained his wandless magic, remembering how controlled his accidental magic had been growing up in his cupboard. Nothing too grand at first, very discreetly going through each year's charms curriculum. The human guards never ventured into the prison much, since the actual guarding of the prisoners was left to the dementors and the few aurors stationed on the island stayed in the boathouse by the pier.

Once he got a handle on some basic spells he’d need for his escape, he stopped eating. He’d always been too skinny, but he’d need to go back to Dursley levels of emaciation if he had any chance of slipping through the bars. Hunger was an old friend he wasn’t thrilled to reacquaint himself with, but it was necessary. A blasting curse was too strong and loud for his escape. He needed time and stealth on his side once he made his move, so he hit one bar every day for weeks with a muttered cutting curse, top and bottom, slowly chipping away at the metal until the day it would be corroded enough to pry off the gate.

He didn’t even make it a day outside of prison before they threw him back in with magic suppressing shackles on.

“You thought we wouldn’t have learnt our lesson? After all the scum that managed to escape before and during the war? There’s a tracking charm on you! Worthless scum.” The auror that shoved him back in his cell had sneered at him.

Harry thought they’d take him back to the upper level, where he’d been before, but instead they took him deep into the lower levels of the building, underground. He was thrown into a pit with just a little round window up high as ventilation, and it would get dangerously close to flooding each high tide. So much for trying again.

He lost track of time after the fifth year, when the guards got bored of throwing curses at him through the hole in the ceiling. It was one of the few things that allowed him to track the passage of time, since the magical storm around the island kept things in perpetual darkness.

By the seventh year, even though the dementors had no effect on him, his mind began to slip. He’d taken to talking to a particular stone that protruded a little more than the others on the wall. He told it his life story, over and over again. He began piecing things together, the little betrayals and mistruths ever since he entered the wizarding world.

“Isn’t it odd, Rocky? What would a pureblood wizarding family with two children already out of Hogwarts and only one left to start a year from that date be doing using the muggle entrance to the platform?” By his fourth year he’d noticed most magical families used either the many floo connections available or the apparition points within the platform to drop off their children.

“Why would Dumbledore send Hagrid to fetch me? The usual protocol was for a teacher to do the muggleborn and muggle-raised introductions. And why would they keep hold of my vault key?” Harry asked Rocky Balboa.

“You’re strong Rocky, not like me. I was always weak, a follower. They kept me that way all my life. Ever since I was eleven I wholeheartedly believed Voldemort was the enemy. What the f*ck did they think they were doing? Shoving that kind of weight on a child’s shoulders! I just wanted to live my life Rocky! Maybe make a friend or two, learn magic, fly my broom. You know? Normal kid stuff.” He lamented to his stone-faced friend.

“At first I thought the yearly encounters with Voldemort were a test,” he told the stone one day, “training of sorts that Dumblef*ck put me through. Now I think he might have been frustrated it took as long as it did for me to finally die. I bet that if he had been around he’d be frustrated I came back. Hell! I might have ended up here sooner than what it took to get me here with him dead.”

With all the revelations, then came the daydreaming. Along with the cold and the hunger, the daydreaming came to him like an old friend he had no wish to see again. He used to dream the hours away in the darkness of his cupboard. Invent worlds where he was safe and away from the Dursleys.

Now, he dreamed away the cold dark days plunging himself inside his mind, to worlds where he saw everyone for who they were, where he did things differently. He took a “what if” and ran with it for undetermined amounts of time.

What if he had stood up to the Dursleys? Learned to harness his magic to scare them into feeding him, treating him like a human child?

What if he’d taken Malfoy’s hand before the sorting? What if he had accepted the hat’s choice and allowed himself to be sorted into Slytherin?

The ones with Malfoy were the best ones. He couldn’t deny his attraction for the blond any longer, not since his foray into his darkest and deepest desires before he was all drugged up and well behaved for his jailers.

He’d jerk his dick raw most days, fantasizing about Malfoy, what he remembered of his body, and filling in the rest with his imagination. He always gave him a big co*ck. Big and veiny and thick, perfect to choke on, just south of too big.

Those were fun, but as the months passed, he enjoyed the revenge scenarios the best. It took that many years for Harry to stop daydreaming about changing things for the better, to save his parents, to find love and family, to find scenarios where he avoided some of the deaths that still haunted him like Sirius or Fred or Remus. He abandoned all of those scenarios when he began to dream of revenge and torture, of death and decay and retribution. He loved the sound of sloshing skin being peeled off a body, sort of slurpy and wet. He enjoyed the screams the best when he branded his victims with hot irons and pierced their nipples with rusty nails. He’d raped and killed Granger in so many ways by now he really couldn’t tell you his favorite scenario. How he hated her, stupid f*cking mudblood bitch. He didn’t know at which point he came to embrace the word that once shocked him so. Mudbloods, f*cking scum of the earth that brought the worst of the muggle word into their society and perverted them with their retarded Christian morality, hom*ophobia, xenophobia and a slew of other phobias. Speaking of phobias, somehow the Weasel’s fantasies always involved spiders in one way or another, either killing him with them or conjuring them out of wounds or watching them break the skin in swarms while the stupid ginger f*ck screamed himself hoarse. Treacherous, jealous bitch of a ginger, Harry now wished he’d splurged on everything he’d denied himself so as to not upset the pauper.

He was always particularly vicious with Ginny and Dumblef*ck. Those he enjoyed the most out of everyone. Taking his time with them. Skinning them alive sliver by sliver, taking another little tendril of skin away only once his previous work started to show signs of healing, even the faintest, thinnest layer of new skin. He’d cut her fingers and toes, shoving them up her c*nt, sewing it shut. He’d cut off her cl*t, carved her up like Bellatrix had done to Granger, writing all sorts of things on her peachy skin. Stuck needles into Dumblef*ck’s irises until they bled just as red as Tom’s. Unspeakable, delicious things.

Around the ninth year he’d begun to think of Voldemort as Tom. Maybe he should have just let Ginny die in the chamber and let Tom come back that way, he’d been so handsome, beautiful even. He missed him, even in his disgusting serpentine form. He remembered how gross he’d found him when he stepped out naked from the fuming cauldron in the graveyard. Now all he wanted to do was take each one of his two revolting reptile dicks in his hands and milk him dry, suck him off in tandem until he had a belly full of monster cum. Watch his ruby eyes darken to burgundy with desire as he looked up and called him “my lord” on his knees, with his face painted white with his seed. But still, if given the choice, he’d take Tom Riddle over Voldemort any day.

Past the ten year mark, he started to rage. He wanted his revenge, to make good on his vengeful fantasies. His power could barely be contained by the shackles and just how close he got to blasting the damned things off rang alarms in the ministry. How could it be? He should be dead by now.

An emergency Wizengamot meeting was held the next day, and Minister Granger, with the support of Lady Potter and most of the light faction, which was the vast majority since most of the dark were either dead or imprisoned under the Wizarding Unity and Prosperity Protection Act, decided to throw Harry into the veil in the Death Chamber in the Department Of Mysteries. So, in the midst of impassioned chanting “for the unity”, it was decided that Harry Potter would be executed.

Harry was in the middle of a very detailed rendition to Rocky, of his latest play session with Molly Weasley when he was stunned from above, the aurors barely containing their nausea at the revolting tale they heard before incapacitating the prisoner for transport.

They levitated him out and spelled a microdose of dreamless sleep draught into his stomach for secure transport outside the wards and portkeyed him to the ministry holding cells.

He came to when he was already kneeling on the dais in front of the veil, the whole Wizengamot sitting in the stone stands of the ancient amphitheater.

“Harry James Potter. Since your darkness cannot be contained even by the foulest of creatures or craftiest of devices, under the Wizarding Unity and Prosperity Protection Act, you are hereby sentenced to death. You will be cast into the veil. May this sacrifice protect our unity.” He heard Minister Granger say. How weird it was to hear her speak words. He was used to her screams in his mind.

“For the unity!” Chanted everyone around him. How infuriating. He could feel his magic building beneath his skin. He was being walked up to the veil, the same alluring voices as he’d heard however many years ago, that night Sirius fell through it.

He concentrated and focused his magic on his hands like never before, just as he was a few steps away from the veil. With an ear splitting blast of power, he broke through the magic dampening charms and everyone watched in horror as the shackles exploded in every direction, shrapnel lodging itself in the flesh of many attendees.

He turned around to where Granger was presiding, and before he was pushed into the veil, cast a wandless, wordless killing curse that hit her right in the chest.

The last thing those present heard before Harry James Potter was cast into the veil, was a terrifying laughter, chilling their blood just as much, or maybe more than the last Dark Lord’s had.

Harry’s last thought as he melded into the wispy fabric of the veil was bittersweet. He was happy he got a small revenge before he was executed, but he was sad he didn’t get to finish Ginny off as well. He died without realizing she was already bleeding out from the shard of shackle lodged into her yugular before he even cast the killing curse that struck Granger.

~~~

Sirius was right, though he already knew that from his first time dying. It was quicker than falling asleep. He never understood that saying, like yeah, he should hope so, since it took him an hour of tossing and turning to fall asleep most nights.

He took in his surroundings, half expecting to be back at the train station, but he was sitting in a field of white flowers.

“Huh” he said to himself. Not quite what he expected, pretty though.

“Welcome to the Asphodel Fields mikros” he heard all of a sudden, jumping a little at the start. He turned, half expecting to meet the primordial dementor shape he associated with the figure of Death, only to find a man. A tall, extremely pale man, but a man. He had shoulder length white hair, wet looking and sticking to his face, framing handsome features and the eeriest most eldritch looking eyes Harry had ever seen. They looked diaphanously blue, like the clearest sky and the calmest lake, while also encapsulating the depths of the universe. He wore a black Greek robe held up by hammered silver round pins at the shoulders, which almost looked like moons with the little hammer marks resembling craters. Harry noticed his hands and feet looked as if they had been dipped in tar, the shiny viscous material spreading up his arms and legs in black veins.

“My Lord Death, it’s good to finally meet you.” Harry said, with a long sigh of relief.

“Call me Hades, child. That’s not to say the Greeks had it right, but it is one of my favorite forms to take.” The man smiled.

“My Lord Hades then, I’m honored, if a little confused perhaps, that I should warrant such a distinguished escort to the afterlife.” Harry said, bowing politely.

“Nonsense. Surely you know why it is that I have taken over the privilege of fetching you personally.” Hades said, a little smirk.

“Don’t tell me all that Master of Death nonsense is true? How could I presume to be the master of an Eternal? I’m not worthy.” Harry said honestly. During his captivity, he’d wondered if perhaps there was some level of truth to the matter, if his newfound kinship with the dementors was anything to go by. But he’d ended up dismissing it as foolish drivel from Dumblef*ck. It sounded an awful lot like the kind of arrogance that landed the Ancient Greek protagonists of all the epic tragedies in trouble, presuming to be more powerful than the Gods.

“Not quite in the sense the legend spread, no. I have no master, nor will I ever have, but I do have children, some more illustrious than others. And the Peverells are amongst my most favored.” Hades said with a chilling smile, that oddly put Harry at ease somehow. Harry knew of course that the Potters descended from the youngest brother that inspired the fable of the three brothers, Ignotus, who had the cloak and passed it down firstborn to firstborn until it reached him.

“Then, as my ancestors have done before me my Lord, I welcome you as an old friend.” Harry smiled. And it was a true sentiment, because throughout his life, death had always been right there with him, like a silent, steadfast friend.

“Such a flatterer, just like Ignotus.” Hades waved him off with an off hand gesture. “Come sit child, we have things to discuss.”

“Discuss? Shouldn’t we… you know… be moving… on?” Harry asked, dreading what might come next.

“Child, what on earth made you think things would be any simpler for you just because you died? You have options, of course. Now come sit with me and we’ll discuss them.”

“Oh bugger.” Harry mumbled to himself, moving to sit next to the deity.

“So, options huh?” Harry said, taking a seat on the rock Hades was leaning against.

“Yes, as you can imagine, there’s the option of moving on, and the option of going back.” Hades said.

“Yeah, been there, done that. Not for me. I’m not going back to that hellhole, even if I could kill everyone that wronged me.” Harry sneered.

“You’re a special case. Most of my children get those two choices. But few souls are destined to become what you’ve been fated to be.” Hades said.

“Not another prophecy, I beg of you.” Harry whined.

“Not like that, I’ll explain. I am Hades, Eternal ruler of the underworld. But I wasn’t always. Our power, the entity is eternal, but we, the vessels, are not. Through the eons, different worthy souls take up different roles on the pantheon. I was once a wizard like you, though it was centuries ago, or maybe just seconds ago, time has no meaning here. The one before me was as well, as will the one after me.”

“So, it’s just a wizard thing? Where do the muggles go?” Harry asked.

“Ah, the barren ones.” Hades sneered “What a nuisance they are, aren’t they? Vermin really.” He said with a level of disdain worthy of a deity. “Once upon a time, when time was new and the soil was fertile with life, every human was magical, but as years turned to centuries, and centuries turned to millennia, they forgot. They shunned those that gifted them with magic and lost their connection to it. They now worship themselves, their technology and science, with no regard for the balance of nature, and the powers that truly rule existence. Even the infinitesimal portion of magicals left in the world have mostly forgotten us as well. They do not worship us as they did, trapped in petty squabbles. What is dark? What is light? They ask themselves, blind to how their home is infested with the plague that are the barren ones. Soon they too will cease to exist, and the world will be a giant hive of roaches and locusts that will end up consuming everything in their path, leaving a dead, sterile wasteland behind them.”

“So the world is beyond saving, huh? Once upon a time, I was a boy that would have asked how to fix that.” Harry said nonchalantly. “But the man that died today doesn’t give a f*ck.”

“I know asteraki mou, that’s why you’ll be perfect. The world does not need a savior, it needs a reaper.” Hades replied with a feral grin.

Chapter 2: A third choice

Chapter Text

“So, what’s my third option?” Harry asked.

“As I said, some souls are destined to take over from some of us when the time comes. When you first died, you were given the choice of either moving on or going back, because you are one of my children. You weren’t yet ready to embrace your full potential.” Hades explained, “now however, your soul is primed and ready to take its rightful place in our pantheon, along with your parents.”

“My parents? I’m not following.” Harry said in a daze. Of course he had hoped he would see his parents once he died, but lately he wasn’t so sure he wanted to. Shame filled him when he thought of facing them after having fallen so low.

“Asteraki, as you well know, you come from many old and distinguished lines of the faithful. Your father was a deathchild just as yourself, as was his father before him, and so on. As for your mother, though unbeknownst to her while living, she also descended from an old line, however interrupted it might have been. I think it would be best if you discussed this with them though, but they, just as yourself, were destined for greatness in the beyond. You should know that your destiny was set the moment the Moirai spun your thread, but now that you’ve come this far, you are ready to take your next fateful step and with that come some perks, shall we say.” Hades explained, producing a handful of ruby red pomegranate seeds in a milky alabaster bowl.

“Ok, what is this next step?” Harry asked, resigned to his fate.

“You, asteraki mou, have always been destined to become death itself.” Hades smirked.

“Pardon? I’m taking over you then?” Harry asked, dumbfounded.

“No, I am not the god of death, I am the god of the dead, meaning those that have already died, and ruler of the underworld, but I don’t personify death itself, I rule the domain that lies beyond its gate.” Hades explained. “Death itself is Thanatos, the act of dying. Peaceful death, vengeful death, violent death, every death belongs to you, you are its harbinger.”

“I like the sound of that. Where do I sign?” Harry said, giving Hades his most evil grin.

“Feast on the fruits of the underworld, and you’ll come into your powers and be bound to your duties. Then I’ll take you to my palace, where all the deities of Hades reside.” The god said, handing him the bowl of ruby seeds, a maniacal toothy grin as he watched the crimson juice drip down Harry’s chin as he devoured the fruit.

~~~

Harry didn’t know what to expect after he ate the seeds Hades gave him. The hat had said he would do well in Slytherin, but to be honest, it was only ever raw potential, untrained and untapped, because as the reckless Gryffindor he was, he just went for it head first, questions later.

The power influx was intoxicating, so much delicious sweet death, all around. He could feel every last agonizing breath in the world, every departing soul tethered to his power, flocking to the underworld like moths to a flame. It fed him and his magic, an inexhaustible source of power. Even if everyone on earth died at once and the soil laid cold and sterile for eternity, he couldn’t fathom ever using up this much power.

“I see you’re enjoying your new role, I’m glad.” Hades smirked devilishly, delighting in his child’s new look. He’d get him to a mirror eventually, but the sheen and depth of his now swirling green eyes was mesmerizing.

“Now, don’t worry, you don’t have to jump around reaping every departing soul. That would be just plain stupid. As I’m sure you can feel, they will flock to you on their own, crossing over into our realm. As I have already told you, time holds no meaning in the underworld, and you’ll have unrestricted access to our library to get acquainted with your new powers.” Hades said, introducing him to his newfound reality.

“Most of our duties run eternally, sort of in the background. We are… not exactly incarnations, but something close to it, personifications if you will.” He said, trying to ground the concept for Harry’s benefit.

“Death, Darkness, Night, Magic, Chaos, Time, Fate, and every other deity are all encompassing and we are a fraction that is embodied to have an enhanced physical experience. For example, I am the ruler of the underworld, but I also am the underworld, everything you see is me, of me, but this form that is speaking to you is but a little piece of me, as you now are but a little piece of your full self.” Hades explained, and Harry thought that if he had done so before, he wouldn’t have been able to grasp the enormity of the concept.

“Come with me, I’ll give you your first lesson in how we travel.” Hades said, extending his hand.

“I should tell you, I have never been good with magical travel.” Harry warned, because it was true. He’d always nosedive out of a floo, faceplant after a portkey and well, he didn’t splinch himself while apparating but he’d thrown up more times than not afterwards.

“You will have ample time to practice and improve then, but you’ll like this one, I promise. The deathborn shadow-travel, you see, the shadows are the liminal space that connects everything. We can bend them, shape them, conjure things out of them, and traverse them. It’s very easy, if you see any shade or shadow, no matter how faint, you can bend it and shape it into a portal and come out wherever you like. It’ll come handy once you decide to go back and have some fun. Magicals can’t ward against it.” Hades said.

“So this option included going back?” Harry asked curiously.

“Of course, I did say your third option came with perks attached,” Hades said, “but let’s get you settled first and then we can talk about it. I’m sure you’ll want to see your parents too.”

That made Harry’s stomach twist uncomfortably, dreading the meeting. Shame coiled around his gut in a vice grip, and it must have reflected on his face if the look the deity in front of him gave him was anything to go by.

“Don’t be too hasty to judge, either them or yourself. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.” He told Harry soothingly.

He took the god’s hand and felt as he pulled the shadow a flower stem cast on the ground up, creating a portal for them to step through, commiting the feeling to memory so as to replicate it on his own later.

The feeling of walking through it surprised Harry, in the sense that it had no feeling to it at all, it felt like stepping through an unlit hallway, one door in front of the other.

They stepped through and into a grand marble hall. Harry had expected the Greek influence but he was surprised to see it wasn’t as ancient as he thought, more likely neoclassical in style.

“This is the great hall. It’s mostly unused usually, since most of us just shadow in and out of our quarters, but I thought I’d give you a full tour.” Hades said, leading the way to a side door.

“I’m sure you have better things to do my Lord. I wouldn’t want to impose.” Harry said self consciously.

“Nonsense mikros, we don’t get a changing of the guard often enough, I’m glad to escort you. Everyone is just dying to meet you.” He said with an amused glint in his eyes. “Besides, it’ll be a short tour. The only public spaces of note are the Halls of Knowledge, which are just up this hallway, and the Halls of the Gathering, where we hold our meetings, banquets and parties, and also where souls are granted audience occasionally. Then I’ll take you to your quarters and your servants can take over that part of the tour.”

Harry followed along until they reached massive double doors which opened by themselves.

“These are the Halls of Knowledge. They store every piece of knowledge ever recorded. Every book, every scroll, play, novel, etc. Any creation both magical and barren is stored here. If the author is dead, you may summon them for further information.” Hades explained.

At that, Harry just snickered pettily as he stared in awe at the vast space. Granger would be wet in her knickers at the sight, but she was surely being tormented elsewhere for all eternity. The halls were massive, rows and rows of bookcases as high and as far as his eyes could see. He could see people milling about, sitting on reading tables and around the many fires dotted around the room.

“Those are demons and other lower level spirits that reside in the underworld, there are also some mortal souls that come from time to time. Those to whom this would be their idea of paradise and as the Palace is set in the Elysian Fields, they have access to it. We get all the worthy Ravenclaws.” Hades explained with a smirk, surely having noticed the question he was about to ask about the crowd.

After a quick detour to show Harry the Halls of the Gathering, which were nice, but with nothing to really capture Harry’s interest, Hades shadowed Harry to his quarters.

They shadowed into a large sitting room, lavishly decorated and in the same style as the rest of what he’d seen of the palace, big windows overlooking hills and gardens with other villas dotted around, pathways connecting to what Harry assumed was the main portion of the palace down at the center. Kneeling by the door was a man dressed in a knee length robe similar to the one he and Hades were wearing, hands on his thighs and head bowed down submissively.

“This is your villa, and over there is your head servant, Nero. I’ll leave him to give you the tour of the house and to answer any final questions you may have. I’ll come fetch you later to meet with your parents before your welcoming feast.” Hades said with a polite nod before shadowing out.

Harry looked around appreciatively, it was a nice house, done up right up his alley. It was grand and lavish, but not overly so, and the furniture looked comfortable even if it was very formal and stately. The color scheme was also calm and muted, with warm touches dotted around. It felt like home.

“Nero,” he called, turning to the prone man by the door.

“What can this one do for master Death?” Nero said, looking up but not at Harry, his gaze still demurely not meeting his.

“Will you please give me a tour of the house? I might have some questions along the way I wish to have answered as well.” Harry said.

“Of course master. We can start here and I’ll take you through the rest of the rooms. This is your formal reception room. It’s the only room where those outside of the household can shadow into.” He said, standing up. “Through these doors is the formal dining room. If it pleases master to follow this one?” Nero asked, gaze down.

Nero showed him the first floor, consisting of the reception room, dining room, morning room, study, informal sitting room and training room.

“Is there a kitchen?” Harry asked curiously.

“Not in the villa, master. Nor will you find bathrooms in the house other than your en-suite. We don’t eat for sustenance, and we don’t have bodily functions as mortals do. Master’s life is now meant for pleasure. Meals are eaten for pleasure, baths are taken for pleasure, and the bedroom is not meant for sleeping.” Nero said, eyes still firm on the ground, but Harry noticed a hint of a smirk as he said the last bit.

“Interesting,” Harry said with a smirk of his own. After the life he’d had, some pleasure would be most welcome.

“Tell me Nero, what are you and what does your role entail?” Harry asked.

“I’m an incubus, master. I’m bound to you and your household. I manage the staff and see to your every need.” Nero responded, eyes still down. It was slightly unnerving.

After that, he showed him the rest of the house. On the upper level there was a bedroom suite with a little sitting room, dressing room and a bathroom with shower and a pool, because that wasn’t a bathtub, Harry thought, shaking his head at the lavishness of it all.

“I’d like to meet the rest of the household please.” Harry said after the tour was done.

“Oh, they are not meant to be seen or heard master, they are not worthy of your presence. If you wish for anything, simply state it out loud or tell me and I’ll arrange it.” Nero said with a slightly more pronounced bow than usual.

“Then I’d like a warm bath drawn and a light meal prepared for afterwards. Fruit and sandwiches, something simple, please. I’ll be in the study.” Harry said, wishing to peruse the books he’d seen on the shelves there.

He was deeply engrossed in a book on ancient Egyptian curses when Nero shadowed in to tell him his bath was ready. He could have shadowed up to the bathroom, but he figured he’d need to find things to fill his days and he was still used to mortal ways, so he walked leisurely up the stairs.

He was greeted by the pleasing yet unexpected sight of his servant kneeling naked by the bath, submissively waiting.

“Nero?” Harry asked, slightly amused.

“One is here to give Master his bath.” Nero stated simply.

“You assumed I needed help bathing?” Harry retorted then, a devious smirk on his face.

“I’m your incubus master, incubi are sex demons, I’m here for your pleasure.” The demon said simply.

“Well,” Harry smirked devilishly, “help away,” he said, removing the shoulder pins from his robe, letting it fall in a puddle to the ground.

~~~

After a very enjoyable bath, Harry was lounging in the informal sitting room with a plate of diced fruit and sandwiches, when Nero shadowed in to inform him he had callers in the reception room.

“Who is it?” Harry asked, dreading the answer, expecting Hades to come and take him to his parents.

“It is Master’s parents calling.” Nero said.

“I’m not sure I'm ready to see them.” Harry said quietly. Why had they come to him? He was supposed to go to them, that was the plan, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry master, but this one cannot turn them away, they are above even Master’s rank.” Nero said, and the fact that he lifted his gaze to say that, along with what he actually said, peaked Harry’s interest.

“I’ll be out in a moment, please send tea and biscuits.” Harry said, because after all, he was British only a day ago and tea always tended to soothe nerves and help with awkward situations, keeping one’s hands busy, so he steeled his resolve and squared his shoulders. He could do this damn it! And if they were ashamed of him, so be it.

Again, he could have shadowed in, but he took the extra seconds it took to walk into the reception room to further calm his nerves and breathing. He stood tall one last time, and with a fortifying breath in, opened the doors to the reception room and entered.

He opened his mouth to speak, but words just wouldn’t come out at the sight of his parents standing in front of him. They looked nothing like the pictures in the album he’d treasured ever since Hagrid gifted it to him, and yet they did. Just as him, he supposed.

He’d looked in the mirror in the bathroom and had been surprised to see how much he’d changed. He was taller and broader, muscular yet long and lean, but most noticeable were his eyes, which shone and swirled with emerald light, like the killing curse.

His parents, much the same, looked like themselves, but better, if that made sense. Add that to the fact that Harry was still getting used to all the Greekness of it all, it was enough to make him lose his footing.

“Harry,” his father said breathlessly, engulfing him in a crushing hug after just a couple of long strides across the short distance between them. He soon felt as his mother’s arm encircled them both.

“My baby, at last.” He heard her mumble into the hug.

“Mum, Dad.” Harry said stiffly. He’d gone rigid at first contact much like he did when he was alive if anyone touched him unexpectedly.

It was only then that his parents sobered up and noticed that his tone was clipped and stiff, and he wasn’t hugging back. They stepped back without really letting go, looking at him worriedly.

“Darling, are you ok?” Lily asked, cupping Harry’s cheek so he’d look up at them.

“I’m sorry.” Harry whispered, eyes watering. “I tried to make you proud of me. I wanted to be good, but I just… I was just so angry” he grunted.

“Oh prongslet, what in the world could have you thinking we are not the proudest parents in the whole universe?” His father said, pulling him into a hug once more, one that Harry allowed himself to melt into finally.

“I’m a monster. I always thought that when I got to see you again, I would be proud to tell you about my life. But I’m a disgusting monster. And please don’t tell me I’m not, that is not the issue. My problem is that I’m a monster and I like it,” He said crying into his father’s arms.

“You’re our perfect little monster then. Don’t be ashamed. You endured so much, you were so strong, you still are.” His mother soothed him.

“And when that strength turned to anger, it was so beautiful to watch. You had some inspired ideas Bambi, we had fun testing some out on the old c*nt when we visited him in Tartarus. Bleeding his irises? Absolutely inspired! That’s all me, marauder extraordinaire.” James boasted.

“And the way you took out the Weasel girl and the mudblood just before you came to us? Awe inspiring display of power darling.” Lily smiled.

“I think I need to sit down.” Harry said queasily. His head was spinning. Who were these people? His parents were saints, holy mythical ideals of everything light and good in Harry’s mind. Thankfully, Nero or whoever else was responsible had the presence of mind to magic the tea in right then, after the awkward introductions were over and done with.

Harry sat and busied himself with pouring himself a cup with a couple of ginger newts on the saucer to stop his stomach from churning.

He would have offered to pour them a cup, but he was clearly in a state so James poured a cup for Lily before pouring himself one.

“Are you ok there, fawn?” James asked as he watched Harry try to compose himself.

A mirthless laugh left Harry’s throat almost unwillingly, shaking his head.

“No, I’m not ok.” He said, “don’t take this the wrong way, but this is just very surreal, and it’s just driving home the fact that I don’t know you at all. All my life I loved the idea of you more than I loved you for yourselves. I never knew you, so how could I miss what I never had? But you were always a presence in my life, an idea of what could have been.” He said, trying to find the words to express what he was feeling. “When I was little, I’d lie in my cupboard and imagine what it would have been like to grow up with you, what you were like, and I grew to love that construct I built of you.” He said.

“Then, after I got my letter and I went to Hogwarts, everyone would tell me about you, always in this reverent awestruck way, as if you were these saintly merciful angels plucked away too soon, the epitome of everything that was right in the world, so light and perfect. All I got was how brave and courageous Gryffindors my parents were, and how I should be the same and make them proud. How much like my father I looked, but oh, he has his mother’s eyes, they’d add as an afterthought.” He said. His father tried to interject then, but Harry wasn’t done and he just held his hand up to let him finish after he swallowed the biscuit he was chewing.

“Then, during my prison years, I realized that image I had of you was just another tool to control me and guilt me into things. The damage was done though, and that legendary image of you, so pure and good, got added to my previous construct, when I was a little boy that thought his name was Boy and yours were Pimp and whor*, and you’d come rescue me from Vernon and Petunia. I had to live up to you, deserve to be your son.” He rambled on, “and now you’re sitting here praising me for how innovative I am in my torture techniques? It’s just too f*cking much.”

Lily approached him then to sit beside him on the sofa, and placed a calming hand on his knee.

“We completely understand, believe me, it was no walk in the park for us from the other side, watching people manipulate you through us, using our memory against you.” She said reassuringly.

“And that’s just a small fraction of it. It was our punishment for a long time, watching over you.” James said with sad eyes. “I had to watch my karma taken out on my son. I was an abuser, an immature, nasty abuser, because bully is too small and insignificant a word to describe what I got up to while in school. I abused an already abused and malnourished child from a broken home through most of my school years, and my punishment was to have to watch powerlessly as my son became an abused malnourished child who got abused further by everyone.”

“We were young, naive, easily manipulated and groomed darling, we believed we were fighting on the right side, we were proud before we passed. And you can imagine the shock when we passed and realized that not only were we fighting on the wrong side, but the fight was meaningless anyway. We had to watch you go through all that for nothing, just a pawn in the middle of two awful men’s pissing contest.” Lily said with a venomous snarl.

“We went through the same thing you did Bambi,” James said, looking intently at Harry. All those years of helplessly watching you suffer as you did changed us, just as Azkaban changed you.” He added, and that caught Harry’s attention.

“After we saw you get thrown in prison something inside us broke,” James said then, and Harry could see in his eyes that it was true, he could see that brokenness even now.

“That’s when Hades came to us with the offer to take our places on the Pantheon because we were ready by then. We are not pretty little light gods darling. There’s an entry level darkness requirement for the spot. It was our destiny, and we always had the potential, but we were groomed to the other side.” Lily said.

“Who are you anyway? I forgot to ask but I was curious just the same, my servant said he couldn’t refuse you when I told him I wasn’t sure I was ready to face you. He said you ranked higher than me and I had to see you.” Harry asked, trying to get over the heavy bits already. He really couldn’t handle emotion well.

“We’re your parents of course.” Lily smirked.

“In both senses,” James added with a smirk of his own, “we’re James and Lily Potter, Harry Potter’s parents.”

“And we’re also Erebus and Nyx, Thanato’s parents,” Lily said.

“I’m not as familiar with Greek mythology as I’d like.” Harry said at that. He’d read some books on it as a young child in muggle school, while hiding from Dudley in the library, but nothing about those names rang any bells.

“We’re part of the Protogenoi, primordial beings created from Khaos to fill the great void. We are older than Hades, but we reside here as guests. I’m the god of darkness, and your mother is the goddess of the night.” James explained.

“Ok, this makes no f*cking sense.” Harry said with a frustrated sigh.

“I know baby, so why don’t you let us paint the real picture for you? Not this warped saintly version of us you’ve been sold?” James asked.

“Ok, from what Hades told me when I got here, we’ve got the time.” Harry smiled shakily, refilling his cup to listen to his parents tell him about themselves.

“Well, for starters, we’ve already told you that our darkening primarily came from having to watch you go through life. But if you knew about us before you’d find it makes sense.” Lily said.

“Yes. For example, in my case,” James started, “I’m sure you were kept ignorant of our family history, but to paint us as the pinnacle of what a light family is? Ridiculous! We are children of death! My mother was a Selwyn for crying out loud! My best friends were a werewolf and a Black! My uncle married a Black, my great grandmother was a Lestrange! It’s just so baffling. But Dumbledore thrived on creating those rifts and divisions, vilifying the dark.” He said, and Harry remembered reading the names on the Black family tapestry, and being surprised at reading the name Charlus Potter next to Dorea Black.

“My side of things is a little more subtle, because I only learned of my heritage after passing and I lived my life as a muggleborn.” Lily started, “but I was never a light witch. Yes, I was a good and kind person, but that’s not the measure of either light or dark. My best friend has been Severus since I was seven and I used to go to his house and brew with his mother and read all his books on the dark arts. I had friends in all houses, including Slytherin. I was a master blood mage by the time I got my charms mastery and had you.” She said with kind eyes, looking at Harry. “I performed a sacrificial blood ritual to save you, I carved your scar with a ritual blade, just before Voldemort caught up to us.”

“And furthermore. I noticed we were sold to you as the epitome of true love,” his dad smirked, and at one glance from Lily, she took over that line of thought.

“Oh, yes! That really got to me. Yes, I love your father, and you could say we are something close to soulmates, though my place as Nyx is more due to the fact that I was his consort before he became Erebus and it made sense to keep us together, but baby, it wasn’t love at first sight for us.” Lily said.

“Not even second or third,” James smirked, “it was love in the end, but I couldn’t stand your mother all through our first six years of school, I thought she was an obnoxious, holier than thou, know it all mudblood with no real idea of how our world worked.”

Harry flinched at the word, but Lily just waved it off.

“I was, you know? But it’s ok, your dad was a cruel bullying pureblood pampered prat with no street smarts and no emotional intelligence whatsoever, and after we all went through puberty, kind of a slu*t too, so I had no interest in him in the slightest.” Lily said with a sh*t eating grin.

“Don’t look so surprised, prongslet,” James laughed at the shocked face Harry was making. “After all, you knew how I treated Snivellus, and I’m not even sorry for it, I hated him, and now that we are here, I know it needed to happen to get us to this moment, and I still do hate him for how he treated you, the filthy swine. I’m only slightly sorry in hindsight because I realized I was on the wrong side of the war, but I wasn’t a nice person, and I’m still not. I am cruel and arrogant and yes, I was the biggest slu*t in Hogwarts, perhaps only second to Sirius. I f*cked anything with legs. I was rich, pureblood and good looking, captain of the quidditch team, got good grades, popular, I could pull anyone I wanted so why not do it? The three of us were even involved at one point, not romantically though, just to get each other off. Except for the rat, he was always ugly as f*ck, but three hot bisexual teens stuck in a dorm together for seven years? You get the picture.” James said with a sly grin.

“How did you two end up together then?” Harry asked, perplexed at how his parents just layed out the worst of themselves for him to see so nonchalantly.

“We grew up, and we found that some of our worst traits actually complemented each other, as well as some of our best.” His mother said with a shrug.

“We got closer during our last year, and then through strenuous circ*mstances, such as the war, got even closer. Trauma tends to bond people, as I’m sure you know.” She said with a knowing look, and didn’t Harry know that.

“Don’t get me wrong darling, I love your father deeply, completely, as I know he does me. He’s my perfect match, I temper his cruelty as much as he bolsters mine when needed. We complete each other, and from that unity we made you, the perfect amalgamation of everything we are, good and bad. How could we not be proud of you? You’re the perfect melting pot of everything we are, as well as just you, uniquely yourself.” She smiled lovingly.

“So you see, we’re all monsters here, so there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re just so happy to finally get you back.” James said, smiling warmly at his son.

“Thank you for this,” Harry said honestly, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I’m happy to have you back too, but I hope you understand that we will need time to adjust.” Harry said. “I never had parents, not even parent figures. The closest I got was Sirius, and in hindsight, I only ever spent about a month consecutive time with him from the time I met him till the day he died, and he was insane for all of it. He saw me more as a second coming of his long lost friend than as his godson. Used to call me James sometimes.” He said.

“I know, we saw.” His father winced.

“The thing is, I think it would have been different if I had died younger, you know? If I had chosen to move on at 17, but the fact of the matter is I died at 30, a grown and broken man, and I don’t know how to have parents, I don’t even know if I need to be parented? So the dynamic of it all is going to need some time to get figured out. But I’m willing to learn, get to know you and see how we can function now that we have each other.” He said hopefully.

“There’s actually something else we need to talk about, and it relates to just that.” James said.

“We are well aware of the fact that we were robbed of our chance to truly be your parents, and for you to be our son. And as you know, you’ll be going back for a while, and we’re coming with you.” Lily said, getting excited.

“That’s right Bambi, we’re getting it back, you’re getting a childhood and we’re getting to be a family with you again.” James said, giddy and fidgeting, quite ungodlike.

“You’re going back with me?” Harry smiled in wonder.

“Yes! Now, let’s discuss the details, we have everything planned out but we want your input as well, and then we can go to the feast for dinner.” Lily said, smirking devilishly

Chapter 3: Preparations

Chapter Text

Harry couldn’t help but grin back, as his parents’ mood was infectious.

“So, what’s the plan? When are we going back to?” Harry asked.

“Not when you might think we are.” James grinned. “We’re not going back to our lives, those were f*cked long before you were born, we’re going further back, as someone else.”

“As protogenoi, we have the power of creation. So we’ve been crafting a new identity for ourselves back in the 1940’s” Lily said, matching her husband’s grin.

“We will go back as the Peverell family, a line thought lost, but not really. We’ll be descendants of the eldest brother’s line, through a hidden child believed to be dead. We can discuss details as we prepare our arrival, but suffice it to say for now, your mother and I believe it to be the ideal time to go and f*ck sh*t up a little, get some revenge and have some fun.” James said with an evil toothy grin, befitting the god of darkness.

“Ok, what do we need to prepare?” Harry said excitedly. He wondered when they’d be making their appearance, and just how much f*ckery they would be getting themselves into.

“You need to train first, get acquainted with your powers. And don’t get me wrong darling, because as we said, we are incredibly proud of you, but you leave much to be desired in the academic department. Not through any fault of your own, your education was just sh*t, and you had other concerns at the time, so you’ll study hard in every magical field. And yes, that includes potions,” his mother said as she watched his face fall, “you are my son, and the Potters have always been master potioneers, you just need a decent teacher and to find your way into the subject. Severus might have been a brilliant potioneer, but he was a sh*t teacher.”

“It’s fine, I’m actually looking forward to it. I used to love learning when I was little, but something changed when I got to Hogwarts and suddenly I just couldn’t be bothered.” Harry said, thinking back to his muggle days. He’d been careful to test poorly once he realized Vernon and Petunia would beat him up if he ever outshined their precious sack of lard, but he would learn everything just the same, only to do poorly on tests on purpose.

“We know, the old fart had you under many compulsions and potions throughout the years to make you pliant and obedient, just like with us.” His father said, a dark fire burning in his eyes.

“Can I use him as a dummy for my curse training?” Harry grinned maniacally.

“Of course! We have many candidates down in Tartarus for you to play with, and since they're already dead, you can take things so much further, it’s really quite fun.” His mother said.

“You’ll also be getting Heir lessons with me and your grandfather, and my mother will be in charge of your etiquette lessons. They're very excited to meet you. You’ll love them.” James smiled

“Why would I need all that though?” Harry asked, dreading what he supposed would be very dry lessons.

“Oh fawny, we’re going back as pureblood nobility of course, it’s who we are. Because if you thought being a mudblood in the 90’s sucked, you don’t want to be a mudblood in the 40’s.” His father snickered. “Besides, it’s how we would have raised you if we’d been alive. You were the heir to the houses of Potter, Peverell, and Black, not forgetting the Selwyn seat once Umbridge died and the title reverted to Mother’s line. It’s your birthright and who you are.”

“And don’t forget, without pedigree and the right manners, you wouldn’t last a day in Slytherin.” Lily laughed along with her husband.

“I’m going back to school?” Harry asked, only then realizing what they were setting him up for.

“You want me to go and be Riddle’s schoolmate don’t you?” Harry smirked devilishly.

“Like we wouldn’t give you the chance to pull the guy you had a crush on when you were twelve, what kind of parents would we be if we denied you that opportunity?” James said, pressing his hand on his chest in mock outrage.

“All jokes aside, it’s also because you’ll be in a prime position to f*ck with Dumbles from the inside, while we f*ck with him from the outside. That time was before he started accumulating power in any real way, so we are going to prevent that.”

“Ok, that’s all fine with me, I just have one request or I’m not going.” Harry said seriously.

“Of course, whatever you want” his parents said in unison, matching his tone.

“I don’t want to be short this time.” Harry said with a smirk.

~~~

Harry was sitting casually in his sitting room, waiting for his Grandmother to arrive for one of their etiquette lessons. After a while of her teaching him how to behave like a proper gentleman, he could say honestly that he loved the woman dearly, even if her classes were dry as chewing cartons. He put his best foot forward however, because he’d need this knowledge when he goes back to the past. He’d be rubbing elbows with the wizarding world’s elite, and he needed to belong as effortlessly as possible. Lucky for him he had all the time in the world to learn.

A stinging jinx to his bum pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned around laughing.

“You’re slouching again darling.” Euphemia Potter tisked from behind him.

“Good morning Granny. I’m sorry, I didn’t feel you arrive.” He said, standing up and walking up to greet her, smiling sheepishly.

“Good posture is not dependent on company, Harrison Potter.” She kept tisking, though she had a fond look on her face. He was giving her almost as hard of a time as James had when she taught him as a child, but he’d been making good progress.

“It’s good to see you nonetheless, you look lovely as always. Please have a seat, should I call for tea?” Harry said, kissing her on both cheeks and inviting her in. He knew the lesson started the moment she arrived, and he would no longer be caught unaware by receiving her improperly. Proper greeting, check. Invitation to sit, check. Offer refreshments, check.

“Thank you dear, that would be lovely.” Euphemia said, taking a seat in her preferred armchair across from Harry, back straight as a broomstick.

The tea tray appeared then on the little table between them and Harry began preparing the tea as his granny taught him. Loose leaves first, because only mudbloods drink their tea from a bag, then the hot water, and swirl and make small talk as it steeps for 4 to 6 minutes.

“How is Grandpapa doing? I haven’t had a lesson with him in ages, it feels like. Father has taken over for some time now.” Harry asked casually as he swirled the teapot slowly a few times, setting it down to steep.

“You know how he is, absolutely absorbed in his latest potion research. He thinks he’s fooling me, but I know he’s trying to sneak his latest work to his past self with you.” She said with a knowing look.

“I know nothing of the sort, but if I did, I would have been instructed to tell you that if he had discovered Sleekeazy’s a bit earlier he might have been able to get you the Brazilian rosewood flooring you wanted instead of the French oak when you redid Stinchcombe Hall after you got married.” Harry said with a playful smirk. In truth, he was indeed going to slip his grandfather his future journal, and it wasn’t just Sleekeazy’s, he’d been working on a number of new products and he thought that if he’d had them for sale when he sold the company, he’d have made easily eight to ten times more in the sale. Harry had been surprised to know that his grandfather, who, although nowhere near as extensively as his parents, had been painted to him as a benevolent patriarch with a heart of gold, was in fact a shrewd businessman, borderline shady and a terrible cheat, who swore like a sailor in private or in confidence, and had initially disliked his mother. Why would you go and shack up with a mudblood Jamie? Haven’t you bedded enough of them to get it out of your system? You had it so good with Wally’s boy, he’d said when his father broke up with Sirius’ brother and began dating Harry’s mother. Eventually though, she won him over with her talent for potions and general sharp wit and brains. It was a short lived understanding though, since both of her in-laws died soon after the wedding in a dragon pox epidemic. Harry didn’t fault him though, he knew better now. He was cunning, charming and manipulative like the best of the Slytherins, but his heart did shine when it came to his family. He received Harry with open arms and an open heart, happy to teach him anything.

“Well, rosewood was the finer choice.” Euphemia smirked devilishly, something she had in common with her son. Harry had always thought that the Potter men were quite dominant in the looks department when it came to passing them down, but his father was a pretty even mix of his parents. He shared many features with Fleamont but many of his mother’s mannerisms, and character.

“I’m just surprised he’s sticking to his own work, I was beginning to think he’d send himself the formula for the dragon pox vaccine.” Harry laughed as he began pouring the tea, preparing his grandmother’s cup first, remembering how she liked it, and then his own. The host always pours for the guests first, in order of precedence and themselves last.

“I’m sure he tried,” his granny smiled ruefully, “but your father has it and has promised to inoculate us as soon as we’ve all met and befriended each other.”

One of his plans was to befriend Fleamont and Euphemia, who by the time they’d be arriving would have already begun their courting. Charlus, being a year younger than his brother, wouldn’t have started his courtship yet. Harry’s parents were in charge of integrating into the older generations of polite society, namely his father’s grandparents and the rest of the families in the sacred 28. He knew his dad had been having tea with his grandparents, who were giving him tips and tricks so he would ingratiate himself to them faster. Both his Potter grandparents as well as his Selwyn grandparents. They wanted as many families away from Dumbledore’s sphere of influence as possible.

“How are the rest of your studies coming along darling?” Euphemia asked him.

“Very well, thank you. I’m quite enjoying potions this time around actually. Between Mother and Grandpapa, they’ve managed to find a way to make me enjoy the subject. And I’ve made great progress in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. I wish I had taken the subjects the first time around, they’re absolutely fascinating.” Harry said in the pleasant tone one used in polite conversation, taking care to convey what he felt without sounding overly excited. Grand displays of emotions were apparently a big faux pas.

“That’s splendid dear. Now, onto our lesson. Have you read the chapters I assigned for you?” Euphemia asked in a businesslike manner.

“Yes I have Granny, will we be practicing or going over the theory today?” Harry asked, and his grandmother promptly started interrogating him on the proper ways of planning a dinner menu and how to throw balls for different occasions. It was all knowledge for a lady, but lords were expected to have it nonetheless, Hecate forbid they found themselves alone with no lady to run their household and they were forced to let standards slip, or they entered into a courtship with another wizard. Harry enjoyed the menial aspects of it though, after spending a lifetime worrying about being murdered and losing those close to him, worrying about the proper etiquette of arranging a seating chart was a blissful change of pace.

~~~

“Hello Grandpapa, how’s the potion going?” Harry asked as he shadowed into the villa his grandparents occupied in Elysium. They had a rightful place in the Elysian Fields on their own merit, but as the parents of a Protogenos they enjoyed certain privileges.

“Morgana’s swollen cl*t! You scared me back to life and death child!” Monty yelped, a hand on his chest to steady his unbeating heart, old habits and all.

“f*ck close to blowing it up with the fright you gave me! Don’t do that again.” He chided without much heat, putting the cauldron on stasis and coming to greet his grandson.

“So, what are we covering today? I believe we’ve been through most of everything.” Harry asked as he poured himself a tumbler of Ogden's finest on the rocks, passing another to his grandfather.

“We have indeed, my wisdom has been thoroughly passed on, oh young one. Today we have a fun one though. I’m teaching you to smoke.” Monty said with a sh*t eating grin.

“Why? I don’t smoke.” Harry said, not because he didn’t like it, but he’d never come across wizards who did.

“Because it was all the rage in the time you're traveling to. Everyone in Hogwarts did, at least anyone who mattered, can’t be bothered to know what the mudbloods did in their spare time.” His grandfather said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Isn’t it bad for one’s health though?” Harry asked, intrigued by the notion.

“Don’t be daft child, we’re wizards! We charmed the toxicity off of course.” He scoffed. “I’ll teach you the charm. It’s Purgato Fumo, it cleanses the cigarette of every toxic substance but the nicotine, otherwise where’s the fun in smoking.” He said with a rueful smirk. “No specific wand movement required, cast it over the whole pack and you’ll be fine, but don’t be lazy and cast it over the whole carton or it will be less effective.” His grandfather instructed, while producing a pair of packs of two brands. “Any self respecting wizard would only smoke Pall Malls and the ladies smoked Gauloises, though from what I hear, you’ll be French so you can indulge in those without much teasing I think.”

“Ok,” he said, casting the charm wandlessly, since he still hadn’t bothered with acquiring a wand. He’d make himself one eventually, even more powerful than the Elder Wand. He had no need for the hallows anymore, having their powers in his own right as Death himself.

He then took a cigarette out and lit a little flame on his index finger to light it, which was met with disapproval from Monty.

“Only paupers and mudbloods light their cigarettes with an incendio, be it with their wand or not.” He said with a shudder. “Respectable wixen light them with a lighter. You’ll get yourself a gold or goblin silver lighter encrusted with either your house stone or your birthstone once you learn your birth date, am I understood?” Monty said forcefully, as if it were a life or dead matter.

“Yes Grandpapa,” Harry said automatically, with a little smirk that he knew endeared him to his Grandpapa.

“Now, I know this is dangerously close to stepping into Effie’s turf, but she never smoked and I’m doubtful she’ll want to teach you, but as with everything, there is an etiquette to smoking amongst gentile witches and wizards.” Monty explained.

“I’m all ears.” Harry teased.

“Hellspawn.” Monty grumbled chuckling. “First, a gentleman always lights a ladies cigarette. Without fail. Even if you have to resort to an incendio, Merlin forbid you find yourself without a proper light.” He said.

“Second, whoever offers the chance for a smoke, supplies the fa*gs for their company. If the companion is a gentleman and there is a chance for a second cigarette, he is obliged to return the favor. Never a lady, a lady never smokes her own cigarettes in the presence of a respectable gentleman. It’s seen as a sign of good faith to accept a cigarette from another, and there’s no real harm in doing so, since our rings would alert us to any tampering. It’s impolite to decline and smoke your own. By the time you arrive though, it’s most common to exchange cigarettes rather than trust the tit for tat. The muggle war along with Grindelwald’s war created a scarcity and even for us it was rare to have a supply that permitted such generosity, with the restricted access to the continent. If you are gathered in a house for dinner or a ball, cigarettes will be supplied either by tray service or a box passed around the drawing room after dinner.” Monty explained in his best Professor voice.

“Duly noted.” Harry said.

“And third, a lot of deals and maneuvering are done while out for a smoke, so don’t let your guard down, it’s meant to lower one’s inhibitions and boost confidence amongst parties, to ease the negotiations, so be on your toes.” His grandfather warned him.

They spent the next hour chatting merrily and smoking. Harry loved it. It was so soothing and it gave him something to do with his hands, and considering how often he had to endure his grandmother’s stinging jinxes for fidgeting or playing with his rings, it was a welcome distraction.

“What else are you up to today? Want to stay and brew something?” Monty asked as their allotted lesson time ended.

“I wish I could, but I have necromancy studies today with Ignotus. I’m almost up to his journals now that we covered ancient Egyptian and Greek necromancy, and I’m finally fluent in Lingua Morta. Once I test out of ancient runes we’ll begin with death runes.” Harry said excitedly.

“Go then, I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you. Give him my best will you?” Monty said, vanishing the tumblers and ashtray and casting a refreshing charm over them and the room.

~~~

Time went on without much meaning to Harry and his family. He enjoyed their company and their lessons, happy to get a taste of what it would have been like to grow up around them.

By now, he could dance circles around the most accomplished of pureblood ladies. Literally, since his grandmother destined the longest time to his dance lessons once she saw how uncoordinated he was, but now he moved with feline grace and rodlike posture.

He tested out of his regular curriculum with Outstanding grades in every subject on both his OWLs and NEWTs, with many new subjects added considering the Hogwarts curriculum was much more extensive before the old goat slashed everything he considered dark or against his agenda of general ignorance. Granted, he was allowed to retake every subject until he mastered it fully, earning the outstanding grade, but none took more than two or three tries at the most.

With the help of his mother, he mastered both blood magic and rituals, and together with his grandfather, the three of them had made major discoveries in the potions field, even beyond his own time.

With the help of Ignotus and other ancestors, he had mastered his own powers and other arts in the field of necromancy. He wouldn’t have much need of the ritualistic side of necromancy, since most of that depended on summoning himself for help in the craft, but it was mostly discovering the extent of his capabilities rather than practice of the exercise of them.

He could feel that it wouldn’t be long before the time came for them to go back to the mortal realm, so he was currently working on his wandlore, which he found to be a fascinating topic. He was set on making himself the greatest wand to ever exist, one that would make the Elder Wand look like a party trick.

He was also spending as much time as he could with his family, soaking up as much of their company as possible before they were due to depart. His father had tried to explain that even though they were reincarnating in the mortal realm, their present forms wouldn’t cease to exist. As deities, they were all encompassing and eternal. They would simply infuse a mortal vessel with as much of their essence as the fragile mortal flesh could endure. It would still mean they would be the most powerful wixen to ever live in that or any time, with no one to match them, but it would be a small fraction, distinct from the fraction that filled their current vessels.

“You’ll still be here brewing with Father and enjoying gossipy tea parties with Mother, they won’t miss us, and we won’t miss them. I know you’re still new to this and it’s a trippy concept, but trust me. We’ll be fine.” He’d said reassuringly, but Harry was still more mortal than god, and old habits die hard.

He’d also had tremendous fun tormenting those enemies already dead. Dumbledore became his favorite training dummy, both for his dueling and curse training as well as his spellcrafting. He enjoyed that area of magic immensely, dissecting spells to their bare components and arithmantic equations to tweak them and change some aspects of them. He’d successfully changed the color of most of his offensive spell repertoire, masking the severity of certain curses. He enjoyed how the old coot twisted and wailed when hit with a simple stinging jinx, tweaked to last longer and attack the whole body. It was borderline just the cruciatus curse, except the damage was external and physical instead of internal and electric. The cruciatus curse acted on the nervous system, stimulating the nerve endings to the point of overload. Every pain receptor activated and kept excited at once, that’s why it hurt so much. He also enjoyed taunting the old f*ck with his plans for him. Oh how the f*cker cried when he told him they’d kill Gellert and take his fame away from him. Harry knew Albus made monthly visits to him in his prison throughout his lifetime. How he enjoyed the unbridled wrath in those twinkly baby blues when he told him he’d have to find a new f*ck buddy if he ever wanted to wet his Willy in the years before it stopped working. Shame that Doge fellow was ugly as a rat’s ass, because even Harry could tell by speaking to the old fart at Bill and Fleur’s wedding that the tosser carried a torch for the goat. Maybe he’d seduce him and accuse him of molesting him. He might hate the f*cker but he wasn’t ugly back in the day. That had made the old fart shout profanities at him, when he said he’d make sure to remind him of Gellert once he met him at Hogwarts, maybe he’d flirt a little, make him jerk off to him in his quarters, to the forbidden fruit of an underage student. Souls were bound to obey his commands after all, and he’d forced Gellert to tell him all about his dalliances with Albus. He had all the ammunition ready to strike.

He put as much effort into his studies as he did, because he wanted to be able to dance circles around an arrogant Tom Riddle. He was still undecided on how to handle the jerk. He knew he’d bed him, that was a given. The man was gorgeous and Harry liked gorgeous things. But he still hadn’t decided whether to f*ck him and kill him or just keep him as a pet. It would be fun to get him to fall in love with him and then kill him. Dumblef*ck always said the f*cker didn’t have the capacity for love, so it would be a fun game to prove the goat wrong and f*ck his parents’ murderer over in one go.

~~~

One blissfully free day, sometime later, he shadowed over to his parent’s villa for tea and a chat and found his mother in the middle of a ritual.

“Oh sorry Mum, I can come back later?” Harry said, wincing a little.

“Stay, we’re just about finished.” She said, as she worked the runes in the matrix in front of her like a keyboard while the souls of a man and a woman laid flat on the ground inside a ritual circle.

“Who are they?” Harry asked, intrigued at the complex ritual Lily was working.

“Your grandparents, Frida and Gustav Nachtnebel, Baron and Baroness Von Nachtnebel.” She said, “They’re my incarnation’s parents. I’m working myself into their life, and their life into my own. They had a daughter who died as an infant, so I’m working to build my life as if she hadn’t died. I’m keeping the name Nyx though. I like the sound of it, Nyx Nachtnebel.” She said with a wry grin. “It’s a complicated process but I’m mostly done.”

“Who’s Dad going to be?” Harry asked.

“Thankfully your father’s case was easy, since there really was a Peverell heir from the line of Antioch with more than acceptable pedigree in the time we are planning to travel to. Otherwise we would have had to work back from Antioch’s time all the way to the 1940’s. He was killed by Grindelwald when he wouldn’t admit to being related to the Peverells.” His mum said as she finished the ritual and the souls vanished back to wherever they came from.

“So he’s done too?” Harry asked, a little nervous and dreading how close they were to depart.

“Close, but not quite. You know how he is. He was almost finished and decided he wanted to change some of his features, so he had to redo most of his life and rework the memories people had of him to fit his new and improved looks.” She said with a snort.

“All I’m hearing is that I can stall further if I say I don’t like how I look.” Harry said with a smirk.

“You can if you want, time is irrelevant, as you know and we would only have to rework 15 years, that’s about a day’s work for me.” His mother said, unbothered. Which only served to piss Harry off, as she knew it would.

“You’re no fun.” He grumbled, which made her laugh.

“Why are you so reluctant to go back? I know your father explained that it would have no effect on our life here. These vessels will remain here, the Peverells living in the mortal realm will just be sacks of meat and entrails infused with our consciousness and power, like golems.” She asked with a knowing look.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s just the newness of it all. I understand the concept, but I’m still too set in my mortal ways to fully integrate it.” Harry said after some thought. “And also, I don’t know if I like the idea of going through my teens again. All those hormones and growing pains.” He said with a shudder.

“Well, you’ll get a whole childhood with us, your consciousness will not awaken until your fifteenth birthday, and you will retain those memories as well as gain access to your current ones. We made sure to wake ours upon arrival. We want to be your parents from day one, I’m not having this Nyx chick be your mother for a minute if I can help it.” She said with a little laugh.

“Fine, just make sure I’m tall and good looking. I don’t want to wake up at fifteen and have to work to undo whatever my younger self did to himself,” Harry said, grumbling a little but with no real heat behind it. He trusted his mum to do a good job with his puppet.

“Do you want to see a simulation of what you will look like at fifteen? It wouldn’t take me long to rework anything you wanted altered. There’s no memory work involved since we’re starting at your conception. In fact, wait a moment please.” She said, getting up and removing the stone tablet where she was working the ritual matrix before.

She worked some runes on it, and handed it to him.

“Infuse it with some of your magic please. It will help with infusing your vessel with your character, so I’ll only have to awaken your memories at fifteen. That way you will be you for the previous years and only gain access to your powers and memories when you awaken.” She said as she showed him what runes to press.

“Well, you could have started with that,” Harry said, laughing more relaxedly now. “I didn’t put it together until now, but I guess part of my reticence came from feeling like I’d be hijacking this poor sods life at fifteen. I’m glad it’ll be me all along. And if I don’t have to worry about waking up at fifteen in a fat slob’s body, that's much better.”

Once done, Lily placed the stone slab back on the pedestal and worked some more rune sequences until a young boy stood in front of them.

“That’s going to be you darling, take into consideration that at 15 you won’t be fully developed, so if you say make me taller you have to consider that you will still get to grow a couple of inches.” Lily said.

“I know that from this point on I will be awake and a factor in how I develop further, but could you show it to me at full maturity?” Harry asked. He wasn’t exactly displeased, but he was still coming to terms with going from hulking god to teenager.

After a few more pressing of runes, the figure in front of them shifted to what Harry assumed was his 17 or 18 year old self, the age when a wizard reached his prime.

“Ok, I have some notes.” Harry said with a smirk, standing in front of his new vessel to compare.

“First, I’d like an extra two inches in height, he’s still shorter than I am now. Make him a little bit broader and stronger too, I’ll need the body to hold enough magic, he’s a little too lythe for my taste.” He said, watching how Lily put in new parameters and the figure shifted again.

“I don’t mind the fact that I’ll eventually reach this state, but could you tinker with my growth spurts so I’m closer to this at 15 and the changes are more sedate until I reach maturity? I’d like to make an impact when I arrive at Hogwarts.” He said next.

“I can do that yes,” his mother said with a sly grin. Boys will be boys.

“Who does he take after? More of Dad, you? Even between both?” Harry said as he thought of his next notes for his puppet.

“He takes more after your father’s looks, tempered by mine. Why? Do you want to erase your poor mother from your looks?” She teased.

“No, but I’d rather share features with you in a way that doesn’t soften dad’s. If I know him like I do now, he’ll have made himself up like sex on a stick and I’m not into the androgynous look this bloke has going for him.” He said honestly. Making his mum laugh in earnest this time. “Also, can you give me one eye of each of your eye colors? I’m planning to f*ck with Dumbles a little and Gellert had heterochromia.” Harry said with a devilish smirk. The mock up in front of him had vivid green eyes, which was a nice touch and token of his previous life, and he assumed his mother had given herself the same eyes, since it’s something they shared before.

“That’s actually an inspired idea,” Lily said, matching his smirk. “Fine, I’ll butch you up, make you hairier, more muscled, etc. Would that please his Deathship?” She said mockingly, imputing the data.

“Greatly, thank you. Now, does Dad know how to work this machine?” Harry asked next, as the figure shifted to have one green eye and one golden brown.

“First, it’s not a machine, that’s barren talk, and second, yes he does, but why do you ask?” Lily said.

“Because I would rather redesign my nether regions with Dad than with you. I remember how you reacted that time you found me with Nero. He’s much more chill about sex than you,” Harry laughed. He hadn’t known gods could blush until his mum shadowed into his bedroom mid session with Nero.

“Men.” She said, palming her face. “Fine, I’ll go get him for you.”

She shadowed away for a moment, and after a while, James shadowed in unaccompanied.

“So! Mum said we’re designing your dick?” He said with a booming laugh.

They tinkered for a bit, laughing and joking around as they adjusted length and girth, playing around with massive co*cks and balls before getting serious about it. They could still keep some distance from the fact that it was Harry, it didn’t feel like him yet after all.

“I cannot believe Mum made me a grower. The fact that she put thought into this. It’s hilarious!” Harry laughed, stomach hurting from how much he’d laughed in the short while he’d worked on himself with his dad.

“I know right? Glad we caught that. I know she had good intentions, it is a nice surprise once you’re in the thick of things, but you need to make a good first impression in the dorm showers, and now he actually looks like he’s packing,” James laughed.

Just for the fun of it, James made some extra adjustments, because what’s an extra inch in height and some more brawn gonna do? Let’s move it back a little, give him more of his final look right away. His boy was always the pigmy of the castle, the runt of the litter, let him be vain now he had a do over. Perhaps he’d outdo his old dad in the slu*t department.

“I think we’re done with him. I’m gonna have to make chaser with that build though. Up for some training before we go back? I have never played another position.” Harry told his dad.

“You’re borderline beater material fawny, but sure!” He said, turning the ritual machine off and spelling them into quidditch gear. “I’m gonna have fun training you once we’re already there though. It’s one of the things I always wanted to do.” He said, getting a little emotional.

~~~

Everything was set and ready for his journey back, all except Harry’s wand. He spent some time tinkering with different woods and cores until he found a combination that bonded well with him. He’d had the help of both Gregorovitch and some Ollivander ancestors in his research, because apparently Garrick was still alive, to his amazement. After much experimenting, he finally landed on a mixture of cypress and ebony, with a dual core as well, basilisk fang and thestral heartstring. It was a beautiful wand indeed, 13,5 inches, pliant and supple, carved simply but elegantly, not like that knobby stump his predecessor granted the Peverells.

His parents had already awakened their puppets some time ago, but Harry wouldn’t hear a word about it, he wanted it to be a surprise, so every time his mother came to him to tell him a funny anecdote, he’d shadow away.

On his final night, he had dinner with his parents and grandparents, taking care to store every detail of the night in his memory. He knew it wasn’t necessary. A part of him would remain here, but still.

He then shadowed to his villa and spent the night sheathed in his incubus tight heat. He wasn’t looking forward to being fifteen again, so he made the most of having an incubus at his beck and call.

Tomorrow he will be alive again.

Chapter 4: Eris Erebus Peverell

Chapter Text

Tom sat with his friends around him in their usual compartment in the Hogwarts Express after quite the eventful summer, it seemed. He wasn’t able to keep up with wizarding affairs as much during the holidays, being stuck in the Orphanage, where mail was hard to get and he could rarely make it out to Diagon Alley except for his school shopping, but Abraxas and the others were kind enough to fill him in to fill the idle hours of the journey.

Apparently the whole wizarding world has been in a festive mood since early August, when Grindelwald was finally defeated. He’d read some of the headlines on the stands when he went to get his things for the upcoming year, but he had to be careful with his money and it was either new robes or indulging in a newspaper and being short on parchment for the year to get them. He silently cursed his wretched muggle father for being so tall. He’d outgrown his robes by a shameful inch by the end of the year, and his resizing charms were not stellar. He’d caught some of his friends looking at how exposed his ankles were sometimes, even if they took care to make it discreet. He would have preferred mockery over the pity he saw flash through their eyes. So he forwent some of his usual luxury’s, like his extra carton of Pall Malls and splurged on new robes with proper resizing charms that would hopefully last him an extra year. He’d just have to cut back on his habit or owl order some more once he got some pocket money writing essays for the stupid pureblood upperclassmen.

This was the year he would be finally establishing his dominance over his house. Ever since finding out his heritage during the Yule Break the year prior, more and more of the pureblood airheads flocked to him. He had a solid group that would soon become his knights, with the likes of Malfoy, Avery, Rosier, Nott, Mulciber, and Lestrange.

There were still those who ignored him, of course. None of the more ancient families like the Blacks, the Gamps or the Selwyns ever gave him the time of day besides polite greetings before a swift dismissal. They stayed out of his way, which meant they somewhat acknowledged his power or the most likely and most enraging option, they just didn’t bother with him. He knew they wouldn’t be caught dead in a social setting with him, as much as he tried to refine his manners, he’d always slip up somewhere, and the constant worry he would make a mistake such as when he passed the salt without the pepper to Walburga Black and she looked at him like he had grown two heads proved to be an unwelcome distraction. He’d show them this year, and they’d all rue the day they dared look down upon him as just another little mudblood.

“Have you heard the gossip Tom? They’re saying the son of the Vanquisher is coming to Hogwarts this year. He’ll be in our year, it seems. Where do you think he’ll sort into? I hope we get him.” Avery said absentmindedly as he read the day’s Prophet.

“I only glanced at the covers on the newsstands when I went to Diagon for supplies. Who is this Vanquisher anyway? One of Dumbledore’s sycophants?” Tom asked him.

“That’s the best part. It wasn’t anyone in the resistance. Apparently Grindelwald raided his chateau and died dueling him. It’s the Duke of Beaumort. And that’s not even the juiciest bit of gossip attached to the news. It seems the man is the last living heir to the main line of the House of Peverell. They had their war wards locked down since the start of the war but Grindelwald found them anyway and died trying to take them. Now that Grindelwald is gone they don’t need to hide their heritage anymore and he’s taking the Peverell lordship here in England.” Avery said almost giddily.

“If that’s true, then we’ll have serious competition this year if we want to enter any courtships.” Abraxas said mysteriously.

“Why is that?” Lestrange asked then.

“Can you not imagine why? Claiming the Peverell estate after it has been accruing interest at Gringotts for at least 400 years? Add to that that the bloke is the heir to the Beaumort dukedom, and his mother is the Baroness Nachtnebel. If not for the combined three family fortunes, think of the power he must have. Three ancient lines, anyone will want to have his children. Mother has already extended invitations to Lady Peverell, and I hear the Blacks, the Selwyns, old Lady Gamp, the MacMillans and the Potters have as well. The fact that they vanquished Grindelwald will be a footnote in the end, they’ll be this season's darlings just the same. We’ll be second choice to whoever we end up hitched to.” Abraxas told them with a little smirk.

“It’ll be nice to have a proper season after so much doom and gloom. Mother is beside herself at the prospect of finally being able to throw a proper ball, instead of all those dreary pared-down get-togethers one was forced to put on for propriety’s sake.” Rosier said with a little sneer. Thankfully no one picked up on that particular line of conversation besides a few hums in agreement. Because if Tom had to suffer through another whining session with his over privileged friends crying because it was apparently in poor taste to throw lavish parties in the middle of a war, he’d start cursing them right there and f*ck it if anyone saw him.

“If the bloke’s a looker, I’ll gladly throw my hat in.” Nott said with a little eyebrow waggle.

“Here here.” Mulciber seconded, laughing merrily.

“I remember meeting him when I was little, before the war broke out in earnest. We were maybe 6 or 7 so I cannot say if he’s handsome or not without sounding like a pervert but he’s very nice. They have a villa in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat a few down from ours.” Abraxas said offhandedly “if he's anything like his father though, he will be quite the dish.” He said with a smirk. “I remember him to this day and I was just a babe.”

“I bet the Blacks wish they hadn’t jumped the gun and saddled Orion with Walburger so early on in the game.” Avery said with a snort, eliciting laughs from the rest, which Tom mimicked to be polite.

The truth was, he was quite over the topic already, and he preemptively hated the ponce. With any luck, the little prince would end up in Gryffindor for his heroics and leave him alone to take over the house of snakes.

~~~

Tom let out the first real smile of the day as he passed the wardline entering Hogwarts. There was nothing like that feeling of homecoming, and he now understood it was the castle welcoming one of her heirs.

He sat with perfect posture waiting for the feast to commence. As always, he greeted everyone kindly and was the picture of politeness, but those he wanted to engage would quickly excuse themselves.

Soon, Headmaster Dippet welcomed them for another year and Dumbledore strode in with a large horde of firsties on his tale. Curiously, no Peverell in sight, perhaps it was all just a rumor?

He watched and clapped politely as the children got sorted into their houses, keeping score of how many went to each. It turned out to be a good year for Slytherin, tied with Ravenclaw for the most sortings.

“Before we proceed to the feast, there is one more sorting to go through. We have a new transfer student joining our fifth years this year, so I hope you will make young Eris Peverell feel most welcomed!” Dippet called over the chattering crowd.

Tom tried to keep his composure, but couldn’t help but look around to see where the mysterious Eris Peverell was.

He was so prepared to hate the boy, but once he spotted him coming in from the side chamber next to the Head Table, he hated him even more.

Why did he have to be so bloody dashing? The bastard.

He watched him walk with the graceful strides of a leopard up to the dais where the sorting hat sat on its stool, Dumbledore holding the tip looking a little out of it himself.

The room was quiet as they watched the handsome boy sit once the Gryffindor Head removed the hat from the stool.

It barely grazed his head before the hat called: Slytherin!

f*ck, f*cking f*ckery f*ck.

Tom watched Eris break the spell that swept the room by standing and politely thanking Dumbledore, who looked like he’d been hit by a Confundus charm. Tom couldn’t help but snicker at the sight as the room clapped and the Slytherin table outright cheered.

As he watched, the strapping boy walked calmly and confidently towards them, looking for the fifth years, and as his gaze wandered over the table, their eyes met. Beautiful, Tom couldn’t help but think, one eye as green as the killing curse and the other like burnished bronze. Tom noticed he’d been caught staring when Eris gifted him with a sideways smirk. And Tom had to push everything but his name behind his mind shields to control his blush.

Everyone tried to make room for him to sit next to them, but the boy chose to sit next to Abraxas, right in front of Tom.

“Hello everyone, my name is Eris Erebus Peverell, Marquis de Beaumort, Most Honorable Heir Von Nachtnebel and Heir Peverell. Thank you for being so accommodating,” he said to everyone that had tried to get him to sit next to them, “but I remember meeting Abraxas when I was little in France and wanted to sit by a friendly face but I do hope to make your acquaintances properly later in the common room.” He said by way of excuse, smiling warmly. He had just the faintest untraceable accent, a little bit French but something else as well.

“Abraxas, it’s good to see you again after so long and under such happy circ*mstances. I hope I’m not being presumptuous by skipping formalities, but I was happy to know at least one person coming in.” Eris said, greeting Abraxas with a warm sheepish smile.

“Not at all, it’s good to see you too Eris, I’m flattered you remember me after so long. Welcome. Let me introduce you to everyone.” Abraxas said, shamelessly preening at being singled out.

The round of introductions rubbed Tom the wrong way even further, because as Eris got introduced to everyone and he had a fun fact, distant relation or common acquaintance with almost everyone, so he braced himself for another brush off once his turn arrived.

“And this is my good friend and fifth year prefect, Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Abraxas said.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance Heir Peverell, if you need anything as you settle in please don’t hesitate to ask.” Tom said politely.

“Well met Mr Riddle, I was looking forward to making your acquaintance. Thank you for your kind offer, I might take you up on it.” He said cryptically, which got him a few odd looks from some of their classmates.

Abraxas thankfully didn’t dally and promptly continued with the rest of the introductions and not long after that, they started grilling him.

“So, Heir Peverell, what prompted the move to England?” Orion Black asked as he primly cut his stake.

“The abridged version is common knowledge, our family has always been the victim of unwelcome interest, but the line of Antioch has mostly produced female heiresses, so we have managed to remain under the radar so far, it’s been no issue since the family charter favors primogeniture over gender, there have been many more Lady Peverells in their own right than male lords, even if we don’t make it public.” Harry said, elaborating just enough to satisfy their curiosity without revealing anything too sensitive.

“Grindelwald was a big threat, because he believed the tales told about us, so we remained in hiding. I managed to make it for two years at Beauxbatons before my parents decided to pull me out of school and tutor me at home because of the war. Then what everyone has read in the papers happened and Papa decided that we should resurface and take up the family headship. We have always kept an eye on the other branches of the family and that regrettably lapsed while we were in hiding, so he felt a sense of duty to return.” Eris said in that droll polite tone the others used in conversation.

“And how do you feel about that, it’s quite the change.” Lestrange asked him.

“I’m happy to be with people my own age again. Papa and Maman are great, but I did feel a little lonely from time to time. Luckily I was allowed to correspond with some friends and very select visits while under heavy glamors so it wasn’t that terrible, and Maman is a truly gifted witch and took my schooling very seriously so I’m excited to test her teachings and see if I… how do I say in English… gauge up?” Eris said, lost for words.

“Measure up, but yes, I see what you mean.” Lestrange offered with a rueful smile.

“Thank you. I hope you can excuse my English. I grew up speaking French and German and I was only introduced to English once Maman started tutoring me at home as part of my Heir training. Peverells must speak English apparently, so I’m hoping it will get better with use now that I am here,” Eris said, smiling sheepishly.

“It’s quite good regardless, I was having trouble placing your accent but now that you say you speak German, I can hear it.” Tom said.

“Yes, it’s a bit of a mélangeI’m afraid, thank you Mr Riddle.” Eris said with one of those polite empty smiles purebloods favored. Why did it bother Tom that he didn’t get one of the real ones the rest was getting?

The evening progressed with trivial small talk until Dippet gave the final announcements after dessert was vanished from the tables. Promptly after that, Tom stood to lead the first years down to the common room.

“Anyone care to join me outside for a smoke before turning in?” Eris asked those in his immediate vicinity.

“We’re allowed to smoke in the common room, there’s no need to go outside.” Abraxas said.

“Oh D’enfer! Maman doesn’t like smoking indoors so I’m used to stepping outside.” Eris sighed in relief, making the others chuckle.

“Harry!” They heard from behind them, a few jumping a little at the start it gave them.

“Monty! It’s so good to finally see you!” Eris said, engulfing the Potter heir in a bear hug.

“You just won me a tenner! I’ll have to write to Father in the morning to collect.” He said with a sh*t eating grin. “I knew you’d sort Slytherin, but he was convinced you’d be a Lion.”

“I'm glad for it then. I wish we could catch up properly but I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.” Eris said.

“No worries, I just wanted to say hello to you and goodnight to the light of my eyes and love of my life.” Monty said with a sly grin. “Have you met Effie yet?” He asked, moving to greet his betrothed.

“We were introduced but I haven’t met her properly yet. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Selwyn, Fleamont has told me a lot about you, the highest of praise of course.” Eris said, placing a dry peck on the back of her hand.

“Likewise, Heir Peverell, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” Euphemia smiled politely.

“Please call me Harry, you’ll be family one day.” Harry said with a warm smile. It was trippy, being best friends with his Grandpapa and being introduced to his Granny.

“Then I insist you call me Effie. If you’ll both excuse me, I have friends waiting to go down.” She said, excusing herself and planting a chaste kiss on Monty’s cheek before leaving with him in tow.

“Why Harry?” Abraxas asked as they walked down to the dungeons, blushing slightly at the impertinence. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” He apologized immediately.

“It’s fine.” Harry reassured him, “It’s a family nickname. I had trouble with my s-es when I was little, if you remember from our summer together. When I said my name, Eris came out sounding like Harry in a french accent, so Monty dubbed me Harry and it stuck. Monty and I practically grew up together. The Potters are one of the remaining Peverell lines, and we’ve always kept close contact with them. They held the stewardship of the Peverell seat for us until Father claimed it recently.” He explained his new friend.

“Then, if I may be impertinent once more. Why did you say you were looking forward to meeting Tom?” Abraxas asked then, pushing his luck.

“I’m not sure if it’s public knowledge so I’d rather not say, it’s Mr Riddle's information to share, not mine.” Harry answered diplomatically “if he says it’s ok to tell you then I have no problem sharing, but I don’t know if it’s public domain.”

“What was your impression of him?” Abraxas asked then, subtle as a hammer, but he figured Tom would want the information later.

“He was very pleasant. Trés mignon aussi.” He smiled ruefully. “Are you two close friends?” Harry asked.

“Yes, we have a nice little group. You’re welcome to join anytime.” He responded, and Harry smiled at the hint of jealousy in his tone when he heard him call Tom cute.

“With pleasure.” He drawled as they reached the door to the Slytherin common room.

“Pudicitia” Abraxas said, and the stones rolled much like the bricks on Diagon Alley to reveal the archway into the Slytherin quarters.

This is much better, Harry thought as he walked in and took in the view of the Slytherin common room. It suited him much better this time around in contrast with the garish red and gold of the Gryffindors. It was lavish yet still very sober and surprisingly warm for being underwater, with many fires going and plush furniture in rich leathers and emerald velvets. He followed Abraxas over to a seating area where Tom and his other friends were gathered. Apparently prefect duties were over and done with, in the time it took Harry to get down.

He took a seat next to Abraxas on the couch and pulled out his silver cigarette case.

“Care for one?” He asked Abraxas, since he was the only one without in the group.

Abraxas took one and offered Harry one of his own from his case. Harry pulled out his lighter, a pretty little contraption in goblin silver, an EP encrusted with garnates, his birthstone, and lit up.

“It’s very nice down here. I didn’t know what to expect really, Monty was only able to tell me about the Gryffindor common room when he wrote about Hogwarts. I’m glad I didn’t end up there, it sounded awfully gaudy.” Harry said conversationally. Which elicited both chuckles and confusion among his companions.

Abraxas filled the ones who missed his encounter with Monty in on the fact that they knew each other, and soon the questions started again in earnest.

Harry answered politely, yet a little more in depth than upstairs considering they were now in relative more confidence, and when he realized they’d be there for a while, he decided to call for tea.

“Zeno!” He said suddenly, and a little house elf popped in.

“What can Zeno do for master Eris sir?” The little elf said with a bow.

“Could I get some tea please? For me and my friends? The Assam Maman packed please.” He asked.

“Of course master Eris sir, right away.” It said, popping away.

“You brought your elf to school?” Avery asked, dumbfounded.

“You did not?” Eris asked, just as perplexed. “Is it not allowed normally? Headmaster Dippet had no problem allowing it when Father asked him during the last Board meeting. Zeno has been my personal elf since I was little, and it’s normal for children to bring them to school in Beauxbatons, the school doesn’t staff as many as Hogwarts so it’s useful for some children to be tended to by their own elves, so we didn’t think anything of it. I’m sorry if they made a special case for me, I had no idea.” He said in feigned regret. He was smirking internally.

“Actually, now that I think about it, I think none of us ever thought to ask? I actually don’t know if there is a rule against it or not.” Abraxas said, thinking out loud.

“Well, he will be working with the school’s elves during term time, so if you ever need anything, within reason, you may call on him. He may still refuse you if he is busy or the request is unreasonable since you are not his masters but I’ll tell him later that if he has the time he can tend to you too.” He said.

That’s actually kind of the bastard, Tom thought. Too kind maybe. What was he planning? Usurping his place? That just wouldn’t do.

Tom was about to open his mouth to say something when the elf popped the tea tray in along with a platter of macarons and popped away.

“Merci Zeno chéri.” Harry called out and started preparing the tea as the others watched him,

“So, I was taught to make small talk as the tea steeps, so tell me. How are things run around here? Are any of you in courtship? Is there any sang de bourbe already taken that I should avoid? I wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.” Harry said with a smirk.

That put everyone at ease and the conversation relaxed. Harry poured the cups once the tea was done brewing and shocked everyone when he passed the first cup and saucer to Tom with a knowing look.

What does this f*cker know? Tom thought to himself. He might not be as well versed in etiquette as everyone else that learned this stuff before they learned to read, but he knew tea was served in order of precedence because he always got the last cup. A little cold, a little less full.

Harry just picked up a macaron from the platter Zeno brought them and munched away, none the wiser.

“Slytherin doesn’t get many mudbloods, that’s the English term for sang de bourbe. So if you want some fun there are some Ravenclaws up for grabs, I’m sure they’ll all be falling over themselves to get you.” Nott said with a smirk of his own, diffusing the tension.

“Won’t you get in trouble for it?” Rosier asked.

“Why would I? Papa said to have fun, I think the term he used was, bed them, don’t wed them.” Harry said grinning devilishly. “I was thoroughly instructed in contraceptive charms before they sent me here. Locked up for 3 years? You get the painting.”

“The picture,” Abraxas said laughing. Which prompted everyone else to laugh along.

“So, what’s your type?” Mulciber asked, intrigued.

“I’m not particular. I prefer male company though I would consider myself bisexual. I tend to go for males more often than girls, less complicated for casual flings. But I wouldn’t turn down a girl if the opportunity presented itself.” Harry said. “That’s as far as dalliances go. For bonding? You all know how these things work. Whoever Papa and Maman deem worthy, we all have duties” He said dejectedly.

That got a round of quiet hums of agreement. They got to have their fun times with the less than desirable candidates and then they married whoever their parents wanted an alliance with after sowing their wild oats.

“So you’ll be entered in courtship soon?” Lestrange asked.

“I think Maman wants to wait a year and see what England has to offer before signing any agreements, and if anyone catches my eye and they have the pedigree to qualify, my choice would come into consideration, they’re not quite that barbaric, thank Hecate.” Harry sighed.

“I’m on the same boat, if no one catches my eye this year, they're shipping me a mail order bride from France. It’s tradition.” Abraxas said with an eye roll.

“That’s right! Your mother is related to my grandmere, I forgot.” Harry said, because it was true. The current lady Malfoy was a Polignac, and the second cousin of Harry’s grandmother through one of her younger cousins. It was a welcome surprise, waking up at 15 ready to miss his grandparents only to get two sets of puppet grandparents whom he loved dearly, especially since he got a lot of quality time with them after they abdicated in favor of their children. “I wouldn’t scoff at it, there are some very chesty Beuchamp girls on the market this season, handsome dowries too. The Comte and Comtesse breed like rabbits” Harry said with a shudder.

“We have families like that as well here, be on the lookout for gingers and you’ll see what I mean. You’re very well connected for a shut in.” Rosier grinned devilishly.

“Glamours and trusted friends. I was allowed out sometimes as well as keeping correspondence going through untraceable means, and Monty kept me up to date with British society, along with the usual study of family trees that comes with heir studies. But Papa has always been a security freak. I always carry an emergency portkey and my heir ring has an anti-apparition ward built in so I can’t be side-allonged without consent. And come to think of it, I think I was sent here with Zeno so he could take over my meals. I hope the paranoia stops now that Grindelwald is dead.” Harry said honestly, that had been his childhood after all. Glamoured visits to trusted friends he managed to keep from his two years of school to take the edge off the lockdown.

“Why so much secrecy? I get the war and all, but still?” Avery asked.

“Well, you know the rumors that follow my family, that we are all necromancers that feast on the flesh of the innocent or that we possess relics of unimaginable power. It attracts the wrong sort of attention.” Harry explained, “all lies of course.” He said with a deviant smirk.

“Are they though?” Tom asked, unable to contain himself.

“Oh yes, we’re just another old rich family. It’s quite boring really,” Harry teased.

“I’m sure.” Tom said curtly. He was getting fed up with all the Toff talk.

“I think we should retire for the evening, it’s getting late and we haven’t shown Peverell to the dorms.” Tom said, and everyone but Eris obediently started excusing themselves and going to the dorm.

“Would you care for one last smoke, Peverell?” Tom asked once everyone else vacated the space, offering one to the boy.

“Sure,” he said with a knowing smirk, handing him one of his. “What can I do for you? Now that you got me alone.”

“You asked how things are run here, I merely mean to enlighten you.” Tom said, releasing his magic into the room.

“Then please do,” Harry said, keeping his composure intact with effort, because f*ck him sideways and breed him to the brim if that wasn’t some delicious bit of magic, so intoxicating.

“I run this house, or I will once certain information is released to the public this year, so you'd do well to stay out of my way or fall in line. Your place is below me and you’d do well to remember it.” He said defiantly, pushing more of his magic into the room, it never took this much to subdue anyone else, and it made him respect Peverell a little, even if reluctantly so.

“Oh mignonette, let me enlighten you now.” Eris said, releasing his own magic into the room, effectively forcing Riddle and his magic into his seat with his eyes rolling back. His magic was like crack. He was about to moan from the high.

“I know who you are, Heir Gaunt. I told you I was looking forward to meeting you. I don’t know if you know, but the Slytherin line is one of the three remaining Peverell lines, along with my family and the Potters,” Eris said, coming close and leaning into Tom’s seat to whisper in his ear. “As I told the rest, as the Heads of the house, we like to keep an eye on the other branches. It was unfortunate that with the war and us going into hiding, your existence slipped through the cracks, but we take care of our own, and I hear through the grapevine that you might need that help. So let me make this very clear to you, cousin. I will not be a problem for you, I could be the solution if you let me. But the only way I will ever be below you is if either you were riding my co*ck or had my legs pulled over your shoulders, take your pick. And you would look superb on top of me chéri. I’ve been picturing it ever since I caught you drooling after me at the feast. So think on it, and we can pick this up another time. Ok? Merveilleux.” Harry said, lips brushing Tom’s ear. “I can find my own way to the dorms I think, but if you could show me the way back to the dining hall tomorrow, it would be much appreciated. Goodnight Mr Riddle.” He said, walking in the direction he saw the rest of his classmates leave with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where he was going.

And Tom was left there, seething, confused, and painfully hard.