1 The Man-Who-Conquered

Harry Potter, a man with dark green, almost emerald colored eyes that were hidden behind a pair of round black glasses, walked the desolate hallway of what was once known as The Ministry of Magic; a place that held many traumatic memories for him and the central building for the English Magical world.

The man stood at six feet and one inch, his dull eyes scanning his surroundings with intense, zeal focus, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anything that could point him towards his enemy.

Harry's once raven nest-like hair was now cut short and slicked back with a full beard covering his lower face. His most defining feature was a large, red lightning bolt scar that stretched over his right eye and curved away from his mouth, ending at the middle of his hidden cheek.

Once upon a time, the scar had only occupied a small section above his eye but as he aged and grew, so had the scar that defined most of his life.

That scar, his first scar, was given to him as a year old infant by a monstrous man, one that was the definition of evil and cunning, named Voldemort.

The proclaimed Dark Lord slaughtered his family and tried to kill Harry only to fail, leaving him that mark for twenty years.

Funny enough, Harry was now the same age his parents were when they passed.

Besides his lightning bolt scar, he also had two dull marks, one across the corner of his lips on the left side of his face and the other, on the edge of his left eyebrow. Of course those three weren't his only scars but the rest were hidden under his clothes.

The well built man wore a multi button, black cotton trench coat which was left open, revealing a tight green t-shirt tucked into semi-tight pants and boots, both matching his coat.

In his right hand, the twenty one year old wizard held a fifteen inch, dark brown wand with six bumps that got larger from the tip to the end of the handle. Most would consider the magical weapon in his hand to be like any other ordinary wand but they would be hilariously wrong.

Harry was the owner of the Elder Wand, the most powerful wand in existence supposedly made by Death itself; it was once loyal to his Mentor and grandfather figure, Albus Dumbledore, a legendary figure for most of the wizarding world.

The ravenette also wore two other items supposedly made by Death, a golden ring called the Resurrection Stone, it had a dark, black stone inscribed with a triangle, a circle inside the three sided shape and a line that went straight down the middle within the gold metal setting.

And, although unseen, an Invisibility Cloak that belonged to his father, and his father before him, sat on top of his shoulders, blending into his clothes as if it was not even there.

With all three objects in his possession he supposedly became the Master of Death, or the man who conquered it.

At least that's what his friends said whenever it was brought up.

As Harry continued to walk, the man's head began to ache and a small smirk formed on his face.

With each footstep, the pain grew more and more powerful and it wasn't long before the man stood in front of the entrance to the Death Chambers, a room that contained The Veil which once passed through, left nothing behind, it was theorized it was connected to the land of the dead.

"Someone's excited." The Master of Death muttered to himself as he stored his wand within its holster that was strapped around his right forearm. Once both hands were free, he tried to pull open the large double doors, only to feel his magic and life drain out of him.

If Harry was any less powerful, any less quick witted or knowledgeable he would have died right there and then, so it was a good thing he wasn't, "Magicae et vita mea dimittere." his rough hands fell away from the handles immediately as he muttered the spell.

'Half of my magical reserves are gone.' Harry thought in slight panic before quickly calming himself.

The emerald eyed man bit his right index finger onto his lower canine, tasting copper on his tongue, he began writing three lines of Greek runes in the air, the language easily leaving his tongue, "το αίμα μου, είναι η δύναμή μου και η δύναμή μου είναι η ζωή μου. Με το αίμα μου ζητώ να ανοίξει αυτή η πόρτα!" The double doors blasted open revealing a familiar wizard.

Voldermort, who was wearing black robes that were seemingly made out of shadows and pooled around his legs, was writing what must have been his hundredth line of runes, runes that Harry couldn't recognize, around the powerful and ancient stone pointed archway, The Veil.

As Harry entered, wand back in hand, the kneeling chalk skinned man didn't even dignify him with a look, "What are you doing, Tom?" The wizard questioned his greatest enemy, Tom Riddle or Voldemort, as the other man perfered.

"Nothing you can stop, Harry." Voldemort muttered to the young, more muscular man as he finished his task, "Tafeil!" The Dark wizard screamed in Arabic, slamming his hands onto the ground, causing every rune to glow bright red, blinding Harry for the briefest of moments.

As the ravenette opened his eyes, he saw the once black translucent energy that stretched across the Veil glowing bright white, "Hahah!! I did it!!" Voldemort cackled, jumping onto his feet, standing at an equal in height to Harry. "Now to tie up one more loose end!" He turned to the thorn in his side for twenty years, revealing gleeful blood red, slitted pupil eyes.

Harry, with reflexes born of countless death defying stunts and years of playing Quidditch, raised his wand a single second before the snake-like man and without a single word spoken, the two released streams of power that collided against one another.

The Dark Lord released an emerald spell that hauntingly matched Harry's eyes, towards the wizard.

Harry countered it with a bright white magical force, shielding him from what Harry knew was the Killing Curse, "You've always been predictable, Tom!" Harry exclaimed, overpowering the dark magic.

The man yanked his wand upwards, ending the stalemate.

"My. Name. Is. Voldemort!" The snake-faced villain hissed with fury before disappearing, no sound was heard as he reappeared behind the Conqueror of Death, who seemingly moved at impossible speeds to redirect a dark red spell with the tip of his wand that glowed a bright blue.

Voldemort teleported again behind Harry, casting a dark orange spell, the other man once again moved at an impossible speed and redirected the curse.

This pattern continued for several moments, neither wizard gaining an upper hand and with almost every passing second Voldemort's temper increased.

Harry himself felt his magical reserves decreasing at a slow rate but knew he would have to break the new stalemate eventually or risk running out of power sooner than Voldemort, thanks in a large part to the dark wizard's earlier trap.

You see both Harry and Voldemort were essentially using the same magical ability called Apparition, which forced one self to disappear from one place and reappear at another. The farther the distance the more difficult it was to Apparate and the more likely to lose a limb or an organ.

While Voldemort was using this ability in a way only very few wizards or witches could, as the amount of skill and concentration that would be needed to constantly Apparate as you cast a spell was almost impossible, Harry was most likely the only Magical to ever use Apparition in the way he currently was.

The light wizard was Apparating in the same place, making changes to his body position to immediately block Voldemort's spell. The amount of concentration one would need to appropriately Apparate one's position and nothing else was Herculean, not to mention the ability to feel where the spell was exactly headed to even use the ability properly was almost unheard of.

It also came with the added benefit of wasting little to no magic since he wasn't really moving. It was something anyone could 'theoretically' do but no one actually could.

"Why fight me, Potter!?" The Dark Lord snarled as he slashed the air, creating a wave of intense bright blue fire which Harry ducked under, "Why go so far! You've trapped us in this... Hellhole! For two years! Where there is not a soul but you and I! I 'know' you must want out!" The snake-like wizard pointed his wand towards the ceiling and transfigured a section of the stone into a spike that began targeting the bearded Master of Death.

Harry Apparated throughout the room to escape the dangerous object, "To be with your friends again! So why don't you hold off your attack and let us go home!" He practically begged his enemy who Apparated into the dangerous object and transfigured it into dust.

"You're right Tommy but as long as you live then you're a threat. You've basically admitted to finding a way home with whatever you did to the Veil and I bet my soul that the moment you get back you'll try to take over the world and kill more people I love!" Harry's eyes burned in righteous fury, "Why do you think I've never left you alone despite the two of us being the only one's in this mirror dimension?" Voldemort snarled, levitating the dusty rock remains and transfigured them into a hundred flaming arrows before hurling them towards his greatest enemy.

Harry stood his ground, stopping them all with a point of his wand and banished towards the chalk skinned monster, "I will kill you, once and for all! Only when I do, then and 'only' then, will I reunite with my family!" The last Potter exclaimed with unwavering conviction.

Voldemort Disapparated once again and appeared in front of Harry who immediately headbutt the nose-less Dark lord and silently casted a whip of fire that tied around the man's neck, burning him before pulling him towards his waiting knee.

The wizard Disapparated again, escaping the whip of fire around his neck and pointed his wand towards the ceiling, summoning a storm of lightning that targeted Harry, who was forced to Apparate and Disapparate for several moments until he managed to gain a moment of breath.

With that breath, Harry banished the storm and shook the room to its foundation.

As the ravenette looked towards where the Dark lord should have been, preparing himself for another attack he was nowhere to be seen, after a moment he realized what had happened, "... He ran.." Harry felt his heart drop and his handsome face twisted into a fury filled scowl. "He actually ran!! Like a fucking coward!!" The ravenette roared in the empty room.

"You are many things Riddle but I never took you to be such a coward..." He muttered as he ran into the Veil that once took his godfather, Sirius Black, with a single thought in his mind, 'I will find you Tom Marvolo Riddle!!'

...

Harry felt like he was under water.

He was weightless, sightless, and deaf. He felt like he was only a spirit and it felt wonderful. No burdens, no fighting, just peace.

It felt like he was there for an eternity but eventually he was weighted down again,

"ag-" the man tried to scream but immediately began coughing, suffocating, dirt filling his mouth and trapping his body.

Harry felt bile rise through his throat as his sense of smell was assaulted violently by what he was sure was several day old shit. He gagged several times before slamming his Mind shield or Occlumency shield up, blocking off his sense of smell.

He desperately wanted to take a deep breath but knew that it was a bad idea as his mouth and throat was already filled with dirt, his nose now being the only way he could breath and then, just barely.

The ravenette looked for his wand and for a moment was left confused as his hands felt much smaller than they should have been but shook that thought off once he realized the Elder wand wasn't with him. Harry tried to look for his connection but felt absolutely nothing.

'Shite!' He internally screamed, 'It must have been destroyed getting here.' Harry mentally cursed in anger and horror.

'Time to improvise.' Harry filled his body with magic and immediately blocked out all his emotions as he realized how small he was.

Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, The Man-Who-Conquered was the size of a baby.

'Nope.' Harry thought to himself, 'Later.' He pushed emotions down until he could barely feel them and casted a blasting curse forward, clearing a path for himself to freedom.

As he couldn't walk, he forced the ground beneath him to raise him up and as he properly looked towards the half moon and starry night sky, feeling the chilly night air, he began cursing out the Gods, Fate, Death, Dumbledore, and especially Voldemort.

...

Harry had become a baby zombie.

His flesh was rotten off, he was mostly bone with only pieces of loose skin barely hanging on. The only good thing was he could still perform magic, so he had found a rock and transfigured it into a human looking man with bronze tanned skin, brown eyes with matching hair.

It wore something similar to Harry in the mirror world and was charmed to take care of the mini wizard.

Harry needed a way to regain a proper body but despite his advanced skill in the core magical disciplines and blood magic, he only knew of one ritual that could create his body.

The cursed wizard could still remember the ritual Voldemort performed in his fourth year to resurrect himself. Harry studied it extensively before going off to his relatives for that summer and then, with the help of Sirius, delved into it deeper before heading off to Hogwarts, a boarding school for magical children, for his fifth year.

The Ritual was horrible, disgusting, and plain dangerous. He felt sick to his stomach just thinking about using it.

Harry knew that using that type of Body Restoration Ritual would probably corrupt him to the core, magic and all, he would have to completely revise the Ritual so he wouldn't deform and/ or blacken his soul.

Seeing how the moon was at its first quarter, the Ex-Master of Death would have about a week to revise and begin the month-long ritual or be forced to wait for another full moon.

...

It had been two days brainstorming how to re-engineer the Body Restoration Ritual, Harry slowly realized that most of the ingredients were safe to use and wouldn't harm him in anyway, what was really the problem was the three core ingredients; the bones of the father unknowingly given, the flesh of a servant willingly sacrificed, and the blood of enemy forcibly taken.

It was obvious why the bones of a close blood family member was needed as they provided a sorta memory card of what someone looked like, or maybe it was more accurate to say a simulation of what they 'may' look like.

When he first studied it, Harry quickly realized because only the father's bones were used and how they were unknowingly given, was what probably caused Voldemort to come out bald, nose less and more snake than man.

After all, a person is born of two people, not just one and without permission, the lingering soul would most likely reject the Potion brewer intent, distorting them.

If Harry still had the Resurrection Stone he received at seventeen he could have simply summoned his parents' spirits and asked them but it was gone, like everything else he owned.

Harry knew his parents would readily agree to help him but there was also a chance they weren't paying attention in the afterlife, if he took that chance and he was wrong, then the Wizarding World wouldn't just have to worry about Tommy anymore.

With some thought the safest option was for Harry to use whoever poor baby's body he was possessing and age it up instead of destroying it, as the Dark Ritual was made to do.

It sucked but that was the only option.

With that, Harry knew the first ingredient, Phoenix tears that could rejuvenate rotten flesh. The Potter Scion just thanked the Gods or Fate or whatever that his heart was actually beating.

It didn't matter that he didn't have any muscle, skin or half his organs, as long as his heart had a beat, he was, technically, alive.

This would have been a thousand times more difficult if that wasn't the case.

The next ingredient was the flesh of a servant willingly sacrificed. Harry had two servants, both house elves and even if he could set aside the horror and self disgust of asking either of them to self mutilate for his sake, he had no idea what elf flesh would do to him.

It could make him a thousand times more powerful or turn him into one of them, subjecting himself to the possibility of a life time of slavery.

After some thought, Harry almost made his golem slap itself upside the head, if he wasn't going to recreate his own body and just rejuvenate and age the one he was in then he didn't need to find a proper substitute, he needed a whole new Ritual with a different base.

He obviously kept the Phoenix tears since those were the only things powerful enough to fix this type of long term damage.

From the state this body was in, it had probably been dead for at least a decade or so, he needed to use Mature Mandrake root that could restore this body to it's proper age, which was hopefully, over the age of seventeen.

Harry now needed a third core ingredient to stabilize the new Ritual and make it permanent.

It took him an entire day of thought but then it hit him like the Knight Bus, Dragon scales.

Dragon scales would bind the tears and roots together to the body and increase its composition to the core.

Now Harry needed to figure out the base of his Ritual Potion that could safely interact with the Core ingredients before starting.

...

Turns out it was a lot harder to create a brand spanking new Ritual that wouldn't corrupt him, even with all the more light sided ingredients. So he missed the deadline and now needed to wait another month to really start.

At least he didn't have to eat or sleep. Small miracles?

...

After Harry finished the construction of the Ritual, as finished as it could be without running dozens of tests to make sure he didn't destroy himself, he decided to acquire all the ingredients he needed, only to realize he had no idea where he was and had no money.

He also realized after trying to call Dobby that his vocal cords weren't mature enough to make any sound besides screaming.

'Looks like I'll need to play this hard. No one is going to believe I'm Harry Potter looking like this, they probably won't even give me a chance to explain and not like I could anyway.' The man thought in depression, ' I just have to do what needs to be done and then apologize and accept any punishment after I deal with Tommy.' he resolutely thought.

...

Harry was wrapped tightly around the golem's back with only his pale white eyes visible over his shoulder and every other part covered, he then Apparated within the designated zone located in the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry eyes widen looking around himself and seeing everything like it was before the Second Wizarding War started.

'Dang Tom, you didn't change a thing.' Harry shook the distracting thought off about the Cauldron's landlord and directed the golem towards the entrance of Diagon Alley.

As Harry mentally tapped the brick wall with his magic, he immediately ordered the golem to walk towards the north side of the alley, where the Apothecary was located.

As he guided the golem through the crowd of people, Harry soon entered the store to see an elderly woman with dark brown hair with streaks of white and pale blue eyes, "Hello dear ho… w.." she began to greet the customer but as soon as her eyes met with the pale white of the hooded baby, her mind blanked.

'I'm sorry about this.' Harry whispered within her mind before he shut it down for a half an hour. He then locked the door to make sure no one else came in before raiding the place, filling the golem's expanded pockets with the needed ingredients and a shrunken cauldron.

After he was done, the pair left the Apothecary, walking back towards the Leaky Cauldron and avoided as much attention as he could.

...

As Harry arrived at his hidden spot within the woods, he thought of contacting the only Phoenix he knew, Fawkes. The magical bird liked him and they were highly compatible, it was better to ask before trying another, harder avenue.

He casted a Patronus, a spell that could guard the caster from any evil, and a large glowing white stag appeared in front of him, after some concentration he was able to imprint his voice onto the creature and sent it away towards plan A.

...

A large, swan-like bird colored a light red with a golden face and chest, flew across Hogwarts castle grounds, enjoying the wind beneath his wings.

"Fawkes." The phoenix squeaked in surprise, losing control for a moment as a larger stag flew beside him, "I need your help, my soul is trapped in a dead baby's body. I've found a way to fix myself but I need a vial of your tears." The phoenix head tilted in confusion, hestaince, and horror but he could feel the good will and pure, utter happiness radiating off the Patronus, whoever sent this seemed to be an honest soul. "I'll understand if you can't, I know how much you fear your tears being misused but I thought I should at least ask. Follow my Pratronus if you wish to help." The stag galloped away and for a moment Fawkes flew still.

The great phoenix seemed to weigh his options but decided to see who this person was that needed him.

...

Harry wished he had better luck.

Here he was not even really alive, stuck in a poor, dead baby's body forced to experience every hour of the day without blinking, without eating.

He was pretty sure he would have gone insane by now without his Occlumency shields, "CAWW!" Harry's head snapped up seeing the beautiful bright red Phoenix and his Patronum flying towards him.

The phoenix circled around him and his golem and landed on its shoulder, the Light Creature leaned over to his prone body to sniff him. After he did, Fawkes sang a song of peace and acceptance.

"Thank you for coming, Fawkes." The stag replied and the phoenix landed back onto the shoulder of the golem who reached into its pocket for an empty vile and brought it up to the magical creature's eye.

Fawkes, on command, began crying a river of tears filling the vile three quarters full, "Thank you again, I'm not sure what I would have done for plan B." The phoenix simply chirped and after a moment flew off leaving behind a feather.

'Whaaaat?' Harry thought to himself in confusion, 'I knew he liked me but to give me a feather too? That does it, next time I'm at Hogwarts he's going to get a bucket of mint.' The baby nodded to himself.

He then began preparing for the next full moon.

...

Harry looked on as the golem carefully made the base of the Potion for Ritual with the full moon's light beating down on them. It was a slow process as the man didn't want to get anything wrong but as the moon settled and the sun rose, he finished.

Now Harry simply had to continue to stir the Ritual Potion every night for another month until the next full moon and then the three core ingredients would be added along with his rotting baby corpse to restore this body.

...

As the days passed Harry felt his sanity slowly slipping away. He couldn't wait to breath air again, to eat food, to actually fucking sleep. He was so close but he felt his anger and hatred for Voldemort grow to almost unimaginable heights as he suffered through his fate.

Harry made several Patronuses to force the hate back and to keep him company, 'Prongs, Padfoot, and Mooney really are lifesavers.' The once ravenette thought watching the Stag, Dog, and Werewolf play with one another. 'I do wonder if they're doing that because of my subconscious or because the magic is allowing them a connection to the people there based on. Someone should really research this.' the once Boy-Who-Lived thought.

Harry watched as the sun slowly set and the moon raised, 'This is it.' Harry thought as the golem walked towards the Potion and gathered the ingredients. The Man-Who-Conquered charmed it with instructions on how to finish the ritual as it grabbed him, throwing off the blanket and setting him within the boiling Potion.

Harry felt what little flesh he had burned off, 'The tears of a phoenix freely given, renew my flesh.' He could feel his bone strengthening, his organs regrowing, his nerves becoming receptive once again.

it was Hell. plain and simple. He was alive again, truly alive and he wished for it to stop. The agony he was in was mind shattering.

'Mature Mandrake root, reveal my true self.' Harry struggled through the thought and his bones began cracking, growing, his flesh stretching, his hair growing.

'Hungarian Horntail scale, strengthen my body and bind my aged flesh to my soul.' Harry's eyes snapped open feeling the ritual complete and stood up from the cauldron.

The man shivered slightly as the cold night air caressed his new body. He looked towards his pale, soft, semi-small hands, "Fuck." A squeaky, pubescent voice called out and Harry touched his throat in surprise.

Harry quickly summoned a mirror to see what he looked like only to drop it in shock as the face he looked at was the face of a fourteen year old Harry James Potter, the only difference being his lightning bolt scar resembling itself when he was a man.

"This... this isn't home. I'm, I'm in another Universe." He stated to the air in a dead voice before his face twisted in fury, "VOLDEMORT!!!!!!" He roared towards the sky, saturating the land with his magic.

The ground shook and cracked in his fury, the sky darkening, filling with clouds and lightning.

...

A man with blood red eyes, perfect pale skin and long raven hair which reached the middle of his back smiled in amusement.

He sat at the head of a table full of wizards and witches, some trembling in his presence, others with large, unhinged smiles, willing to do anything for the man in front of them, 'Welcome back, Harry.' He thought with twisted glee. 'Took you long enough.'

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