The Original Legend of one Hairy Pot

Sometimes, you just sit at an empty sheet of paper, your mind – a playground for stray thoughts, yet without a single idea how you should start. Everything is a distraction; your own breathing is messing with the concentration, even. But, the thoughts are already racing ahead of you, remembering everything about your life. Elps, orps, gnops, dwarps, centaups and all other magical creatures, everyone else is talking about are dancing around in your mid, whispering a thousand tales, but not a thing you need.

“Mr. Pot, however much I admire your ability to daydream, you should really get back to your work!” the Professor’s voice is dripping with discontent and anger, his angry elpish gaze trying to pierce me through.

I quickly glance at the instructions floating in the air, written with a magical chalk. They’re glimmering blue, because all the white pieces of chalk had mysteriously disappeared in the last lesson’s disaster. Then, still being glared at by the Professor, I finally get back to work.

This needs a lot of precision, so I take a deep breath and carefully fold the sheet in two. Then, checking the instructions every few seconds I continue my slow progress. The elp finally decides to go and bother someone else.

It doesn’t take me more than an hour, honestly, when I complete the masterpiece. It’s a perfectly folded paper crane. White, with folding lines so precise you could use it in the museum.

However, the elp doesn’t think that way. He hasn’t forgotten me, and for some reason, comes as soon as I lean back to take a look from afar. His black long hair, swing in a high arch as he suddenly stops just before my desk.

“Mr. Hairy Pot!!” he screeches my name at me. He is famed for his screeching. “I don’t really care about the spot you have on your forehead, your behavior is inexcusable! Inexcusable!” He starts flailing his arms around so much, that his hair, dyed black because of the numerous blonde jokes every generation of wizards made about him, start swaying around from the gusts of wind. Honestly, it was like standing in front of a windmill. “Your work is contantly worthless and you don’t understand the true meaning of Art and Design class in wizard’s life!”

Did I mention this already? No, the Professor revealed it before I did – I am, in fact a Wizard, and very proud of it. Well, but let us return to the shouting Professor and his flailing arms.

to be continued, probably in WbA

 

^Damn, you gave me a bunny which doesn't goes away. So here it is.

My first try in writing in english so be gentle. :awesome


__________________________________________
"Li-Lu, Wait." man's voice was slightly hoarse. Obvious sign of their argument which was going on some time. He was a man who looked in his mid thirties, black hair which was going white and startling green eyes.

On the other side was a girl with red hair with the same green eyes. She was on the process of leaving. "Look dad I appreciate of you coming here to find me but I have a job to do and I don't want to be late."

"And that job wouldn't be bringing that coffee to your boss right? Come on Li-Lu it can wait."

"No it can't. You know who I am working for and he doesn't like it when I am late it could cost my job." She was already on the door of coffee shop, man followed her out of it.

"So? quit it then you could always take over my company. Nothing on Stark of course but it is pretty big nowadays."

"I thought James was going to take over why would you want me now when you have him." sarcasm was thick on her words.

"Lily ..."

"I go by Virginia Potts now"

"Okay Virginia..."

"Call me Papper"

"Will you just make your bloody mind." She just smirked back at him while opening her cars door. Man rushed to the other side of the car. Getting in to it as fast as he could.

" By the way good job of disappearing, tough you could use a little different name I mean Potts? Really? It was so obvious."

" To you perhaps but dad, It wasn't you who I was hiding from." She looked away from his father. "I couldn't hide from you even If I wanted to since You were the one who taught to me how any way." She murmured.

"It was James wasn't it?" seeing her nod He sighed. "That boy, where did I go wrong with him."

"It wasn't you I think. It was his friend of his -that creepy guy- what was his name Tim or something."

"Oh you mean Tiberius. Yeah I didn't approve him too But you know teenagers so I didn't pressured him much about him." He leaned back at his seat. "So he was the one who got him to that group. I had wondered." seing her pulling into a house he got ready to leave and once car come to stop he got out. "Papper are you sure you don't want to come back with me?" he looked downtrodden obviously wanting her to come back.

"Miss Potts does this man bothering you." voice belonged to a young security man who had called out to them as he made his way towards to them.

"Sten, no he isn't bothering me in fact he was just leaving." she said to security guy. then she turned back to him. "And no I am not coming back with you I'm sorry but I have life now I don't want to leave.

"Yeah well if you change your mind you know where to find me sweetheart." he said.

"Dad!" she exclaimed. "I am not a child anymore stop calling me that."

"Wait what?" Sten the security guy interrupted. "No way he is your father Miss Potts He is too young."

"He is 57 Sten." Papper answered him. Sten turned to look at him again apparently trying to imagine it "It doesn't show at all" he muttered.

"Do you really think so" He said beaming at Sten. "I look good don't I" He made a show of looking at himself.

"Yeah definitely" answered Sten.

"Dad you were leaving." She made shooing motions with her hands. "I will call you okey?"

"Very well sweetheart" He said chuckling at her growl "I will see you later when you are not busy."

"Sir do you need a taxi? I can call one if you want" Sten the security asked to him. Escorting him out of property wich was a big house with walls surrounding it. They were walking towards to big gates.

"No need my driver will come to pick me up in a minute" he said pulling his telephone. "Take care of yourself young man."

"Yes Mr.Potts sir." he said said as a black car come to stop in front of the gates. The man chuckled at he guard and get on the car. He called his secretary.

"Alice ... yes I found her ... yes just like I said I would ... no I talked with her some time ... no she didn't accept ... yes I would like you to make an appointment with Mr.Stark. Tell him Harry Potter, CEO of Potter Enterprises would like to meet him for personal reasons. ... Yes Thank you Alice, that will be all."

If her daughter thought he would let her slip away from his life like her brother she was in for a surprise. He didn't intend to let another children of his to go away and not to return especially not after his son had gone and joined some extremist group leaving his family.

"to the HQ" He said to his driver.
___________________________________

Part which I excluded from main drabble.
______
"Why did you choose to work that asshole Stark any way." He asked.

"Hey you didn't even met him yet why do you call him names." She said scowling at him.

"But I met him before and belive me he is asshole"

"Really?" seeing him nod. "When?"

"5 or 6 years ago when you mother was still alive, in a pool party you know the ones all rich people goes, anyway he first talked about people wasting their lives by marrying young." She winced at that. Her parents had married young and her mother never let anyone criticize her for that."Than he tried to hit on your mother even after she said she was married and wasn't interested anyway." she winced again. and asked "what did she do?"

"Slapped him, kneed him in groin and throw him in to the pool."

"And what were you doing during that"

"Wishing that I had popcorn so I could eat as I watched" He said smiling to the memory.

 

I wrote this the other day, and I'd like to continue it, but I'm rather busy. So... Here.

...

"Professor Snape, thank you for allowing me to look over your class for this period." Umbridge said sweetly, as she gave the potions master a rather toothy grin. "Don't mind me, pretend I am not even here!"

"As you can see..." Snape said, ignoring her. "We have a guest. Our High Inquisitor has decided to grace us with her prescence this day, and I beg of you to ignore her. Now, on to the lesson." He pulled out his wand and tapped the blackboard a few times. "Now, if you wish to pass your O.W.L's..."

"Hem hem." Umbridge coughed, trying to interject herself into Snape's lecture. Snape decided that the woman was being rude and ignored her.

"Now, if you wish to pass your..."

"Hem Hem." Umbridge coughed.

Snape sighed, and looked towards Umbridge. "Yes? What is it?"

"I would just like to thank you for allowing me to intrude on your classroom this day, once again." Umbridge said, fluttering her eyelashes. "It means so much to us at the Ministry."

"Yes, yes, you're welcome." Snape said, as he turned back to the class. "Now, if you wish-"

"HEM HEM." Umbridge coughed again. "Question!"

"What is it?" Snape said, turning back to the pink clad woman.

"I want to know what your relationship with the headmaster is like. Describe it for me, please." Umbridge said, as she picked up her pen and adjusted it in her stubby hands.
...
First thing I do every morning: Get told off by Dumbledore.

Like a Boss.
....
"Severus, I have called you up here to inquire about the grades you hand out in class." Dumbledore said, as he adjusted his glasses as he pored over a rather large file that was sitting on his desk. "I've been receiving a few... ah, complaints, from Miss Granger."

"I can see that." Snape said, as he eyed the papers within the folder warily. Filing over five thousand, three hundred and fifty one complaints in four and a half years of magical education must have been a real hassle for the girl to pull off. Knowing her however, she probably enjoyed it.

"I have here," Dumbledore said, as he slid a piece of paper over to Snape's side of of the desk. "A detailed layout of the average grades of every student that goes through your class. Pray tell me, what is wrong with this graph?"

As Snape took the paper and looked through the chart, he couldn't help but remark: "Did Miss Granger organize this as well?"

The paper was a neatly organized graph showing the grades of each of Severus Snape's fifth year potions students. As Snape looked through it, he nodded his head.

"It seems normal to me." He said briefly, as he flicked the paper back at Dumbledore. "Same as always, to be honest."

"Severus, look at this." Dumbledore said plainly, as he flipped the paper around and showed Snape the statistics. "Hanna Abbot: 40 percent lab work average. 20 percent homework. 50 percent test. Ernie MacMillan: 20 percent lab work, 20 percent homework, 35 percent tests. Ron Weasley: 40 percent lab work, 10 percent homework, 0 percent tests. Hermione Granger: 50 percent lab work, 100 percent homework, 85 percent tests.
Harry Potter: 0 percent lab work, tests, and homework."

Snape looked through the sheet thoughtfully. "He is rather hopeless at Potions, Headmaster."

"Vincent Crabbe: 100 percent in all areas. Gregory Goyle: A hundred percent in all areas. Draco Malfoy: A hundred percent in all areas."

"What is the point you are getting at, Headmaster?" Snape questioned. "It is hardly my fault that your favorite student can not keep up with the course work. He is rather slow to work with, after all."

"Severus, why does everyone from Slytherin house have perfect scores in your class while everyone else is barely struggling to stay afloat?"

"I have thought long and hard about this issue, Headmaster." Snape said, sitting a little bit taller. "It has come to my attention that Slytherins are much more capable at making potions then their peers, and the only reason why I can think of is that-"

"Severus, the reason why is because you are not doing your job." Dumbledore said coldly.

 

You have a nice setup and you wasted it for some cliche Dumbledore's line? Shame.

I would end it this way:

"I have thought long and hard about this issue, Headmaster." Snape said, sitting a little bit taller. "It has come to my attention that Slytherins are much more capable at making potions then their peers, and the only reason why I can think of is that- They all got this talent from their father."

 

Found another half-bunny that I wrote based upon advice in my profile about pairings.

Eyes the Color of Death

Harry vs. the Basilisk. He knew what he was getting into, but he had no idea how to get out of it. There was no way for him to know that Fawkes was going to come to his aid, vague promises from the headmaster notwithstanding.

So, Harry chose instead to place his faith in the powers of being a Parselmouth- after all, Tom Riddle wasn't averting his eyes...

Harry, in a moment of frustration, chose to face his fears and face his opponent head on. He stared back at the Basilisk and defied it to take his life. He cried out, "~Kill me if you can, or give me that power so I can save Ginny!~"

He stared. The Basilisk stared. Both stood, shaking in their battle of wills.

Tom became frustrated.

"No! I command the Basilisk! ~Kill Him!~" Seeing no change in their situation but noting that he was very nearly solid, the enraged spirit snatched up Harry's wand and aimed it at its owner.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light arced between the wand, Harry's scar, the Basilisk, Harry's glasses and the diary that lay on the wet stone between them all.

Four screams filled the Chamber, and a second explosion of magical imbalance rocked the foundation of Hogwarts, much stronger than Ron's wand backfiring.

[[[]]]
​

Harry woke up in the Hospital Wing- he knew it by the smell of iodine and the starchy bedclothes that rubbed his skin unkindly. Discovering that his eyes were covered by a blindfold of similar material, he reached up to pull it off.

Ron's voice interrupted him with, "Don't touch it, Harry!"

"Ron? What happened? Are you all right?"

"Me? I'm fine. Getting stuck behind with Lockhart turned out to be luckier than I could've dreamed."

"So... am I... blind now?"

"Mate, you're asking the wrong wizard. All I know is that me and Hermione have to keep you from taking off the blindfold."

"Hermione's unfrozen?"

"Yeah. You've been out for a while, and Pomfrey was able to mix up the Restorative from those Mandrakes just a day or two ago. Everyone petrified is back to normal, even Filch's manky old cat."

"That's good to hear."

"...and Ginny's alive, though they sent her to St. Mungo's for healing. She was messed up by falling rock, but Mum says she'll be right as the rain in a week. They're keeping her knocked out under Draught of Living Death while the Skele-gro does her a full body job."

"I remember the pain from just regrowing my arm- Living Death sounds like a blessing."

"Yeah. Thanks for that, Harry. You saved her."

Harry could hear the emotion in Ron's voice. He reached out towards where he imagined his friend sat. Ron pulled Harry to the left and gave him a quick manly hug. They unclenched and Harry sat back, knocking his head against the iron headboard. The jostling and Harry's rubbing of the bump rising on his skull shifted the blindfold and light poured in to his right eye.

Harry winced and groaned, but he also heard the sound of a sudden rushing wind. A moment later, a thump landed near his bed.

"Ron? What was that?"

He heard nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Ron?"

Frustrated with the situation, Harry sat up and leaned over to place his face down on the blankets. He untied the blindfold and carefully opened one eye, and then the other. Light from the afternoon sun made him wince in pain, but he slowly adjusted to the limited seepage coming through the fabric. After the brightness had abated, he lifted his head slightly to let a little more light in.

"Ron, if you're taking the mickey, I will so prank you from now 'til Christmas."

Harry continued adjusting to the brightness of daylight until he was able to sit up, blinking but not blind. In fact, his eyesight actually seemed to have improved. With a little focus, he was able to read the titles from several healing texts stored in a glass case across the room.

He continued to have to blink constantly, but Harry was enjoying his newfound clarity. After a moment of visual exploration, he remembered Ron.

He turned to get out of the bed. At that moment, Harry wished he had lost his eyesight entirely. Ron's body was laying face up on the floor, a look of horror etched on his pale, unmoving face.

Harry rushed to clamber down next to his friend, but Ron wasn't petrified. He was simply... dead.

"Oh, God. MADAM POMFREY!"

From beyond the doors, he heard the witch call out, "Mr. Potter? What are you doing awake? I told that boy not to disturb you!"

"Madam Pomfrey, get in here quick! Ron's... something's wrong with him!"

A pregnant pause of inactivity increased his anxiety.

"Madam POMFREY--!"

"Mr. Potter, did you remove your blindfold?"

"Yes, but--"

"Put it back on RIGHT NOW!"

Harry responded almost as if God had spoken- he scrambled to find the length of cloth and wrap it around his head again. Even once situated, he curled up and aimed his face towards the wall- what was happening seemed impossible, but when had that really gotten in the way of things since he had come to Hogwarts?

He heard the door open, and then the shuffling feet of a bustling healer approached him from behind.

"Oh, oh dear. Oh, I'm... Mr. Potter, I will help you back into the bed, now. You will keep your eyes shut and I am turning the bed to face the corner. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded emphatically, though he started to panic.

"Madam Pomfrey... is he... did I... kill... Ron?"

"Mr. Potter, I will summon the Headmaster--"

"Is he dead?" Harry cried out.

The healer sighed. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Stupefy."

 

Basilisk-eye!Harry...heh.

I actually see some potential in this.

 

This is awesome...

 

Something I wrote when I was forced to write something.

“The Champion for Durmstrang,” Dumbledore read loudly and clearly, “will be Viktor Krum!”

“The Champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!”

“The Champion for Hogwarts,” intones Dumbledore, is--” At this point, he stopped talking and stared at the paper. He was nudged slightly by McGonagall. “Tom Riddle, Junior?” Most of the students and staff were confused, as there was no student at Hogwarts with that name. Several, like the Weasley twins, had been made to polish the Special Award for Services to the School in the Trophy Room with that name on it. A select few, however, recognized the name. Harry Potter gasped. Ginny Weasley gave a small whimper. Ron paled so much that his freckles appeared black in contrast to his skin. Karkaroff... smirked? A quick murmur went through the hall after this confusing announcement.

Before long, however, the Goblet of Fire once more flared red, cutting off the mumbles in the Great Hall. On reflex, Dumbledore caught the slip of paper that flew out and numbly read: “Harry Potter.” Harry immediately hit his head on the table.

“Mister Potter... Mister Potter!” Harry looked up at Professor McGonagall. “You need to go in the room, Harry,” McGonagall said, not unkindly but apparently preoccupied with something else. As Harry went out of the Great Hall and into the Champions' Room, he felt all eyes upon him.

As Harry walked into the room, the French witch, Fleur Delacour, asked, “Do zey want us back in ze Hall? Where is ze 'Ogwarts Champion?”

Harry stood mutely, not knowing what to say.

Soon, Crouch, Dumbledore, Bagman, and Snape came through the door, talking animatedly. “Confundus? … no, impossible! … What should we do? … Yes, this is fine,” At this point, Bagman addressed the room. Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the Hogwarts Champion!


Meanwhile, in Little Hangleton, an eerie scream could be heard, seemingly coming from everywhere at once.

 

Another interesting drabble - I do wonder if there are any GoF A/Us out there that have Harry as the Hogwarts champion, instead of it being Cedric and him being a fourth wheel?

 

This is something I recently wrote after watching a certain animated television series for too long.

Harry Potter: The Brave and the Bold​

The explosion shocked the Museum of the History in Metropolis.

"Finally, after years of search, I found the original Necronomicon." Infamous Felix Faust took an ancient book into his hands. "Nobody can stop me now."

"We will see about it," said the voice above him.

"Superman! You will be the first to taste my now unlimited powers."

The Man of Steel easily dodged incoming spells, but when he wanted to get closer to Faust he met magical barrier preventing him from it.

"Ha-ha! You can't beat me Superman!" Felix called few lesser eldritch abominations from beyond and commanded them to attack the superhero. "You don't have a power to even touch me."

"Then it's a good thing that I brought a friend," said Superman while punching one of the elder monsters.

"What?" The supervillain felt someone tap him on the shoulder. When he turned around he only saw incoming punch.

"Harry Potter!" Felix exclaimed from the ground once he had a clear look at his attacker. "The Boy Who Lived has come to meet his fate!"

"Oh come on. Do I look like boy to you? Today I'm getting thirty two for Merlin sake," said the wizard. "And I much prefer my other nickname - the Master of Death."

*

"Thanks for the help. I don't know how I'd manage without your assistance," said the Man of Steel after they beat Faust.

"Please, you are Superman. Of course you would manage just fine. What I don't get is why did you call me instead of Zatanna or someone else from Justice League. Not that I mind and to tell the truth I always dreamed of having the team up with you, but... Wait a minute, did Zee make you do this? As maybe a birthday present for me? Because I can totally see her doing something like that."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Superman smiled and started to fly up and up. "It was a pleasure working with you, Harry. I hope we will have a chance to meet again."

And he flew away.

"Wow. I definitely need to figure out how Snape and Voldemort were doing this flying thing," said Harry to himself. "And how to properly thank Zee for her birthday present."

 

He felt cold. He was always cold these days, even though there was a roaring fire burning brightly in the grate, he shivered. The flames danced, throwing the small room into sharp relief. His small form reclined on a high backed chair, covered in blankets.

The cushions were soft and comfortable. He took a deep breath and the smell of age and decay pervaded his nostrils. It was high time he did something about it. He started to move and fell back in exhaustion. Oh, how he missed the days when he was strong and fit, the days when he was the personification of power.

But, he was patient. He would overcome his weakness in time. For now, he would wait for his servant to return from wherever he had scurried to.

That sad excuse of a man would have to apply his meager skills better. Even in his current state, he refused to live like a pathetic fool. He would have all the comforts he needed, or so help his idiot of a servant. He would need to teach the fool the meaning of pain.

He feebly looked around for his pet. It was nowhere to be found. A pity. Its presence would have been a great comfort.

He sat back and tried to make himself more comfortable. The roar of the fire and his discomfort receded into the background as his mind set about thinking of his plans. He knew the method that had to be used if he wanted to rise again to his former glory.

Only, the path that needed to be taken to achieve his goals had not been clear. Luckily, his servant had, with a brilliance he not expected of him, stumbled upon someone who not only had given him a way to test his long unused powers, but also proved to be a goldmine of very useful information.

The valuable information extracted from that now dead fool would be of much use to him. In it were the means to gain a trustworthy individual to carry out his plans, the plans that were crystallizing under the direction of his mind. A mind that had only grown and become stronger under the torment he had suffered over the past decade and more. There must be no loose ends. His very existence depended on it.

After a few more minutes of deep contemplation, he slowly smiled as the last few pieces of this plan were finalized. Yes, it would succeed. He took another deep breath and the dust in the air almost made him sneeze. He ruthlessly quashed the reflex.

No, this would not do. He would conquer his weakness.

He slowly lifted his arm from the confines of the blanket that covered him and concentrated on the well of power that lay dormant inside him. A wooden stick, bone white in color slapped into his palm. With it in his hand the power in him rose in a mighty wave.

Under his iron willed direction, the power responded and with a muttered incantation, roared out. The dust in the room vanished with hardly a sound or flash. The smell of decay was replaced with the smell of rich, dark mahogany wood. The cold that had plagued him receded as his power warmed him.

Crimson eyes glittered in unbridled joy at the feel of his magic. Yes, let his servant and pet return. He was ready to start moving his pieces into place. After fourteen years of torture and failure, he would succeed.

He was Lord Voldemort and he would rise again.

 

short answer, yes.

long answer... not sure if they are worth reading

 

Temporal Beacon has him picked as the Hogwarts champion after about a half dozen goes as the fourth champion, but I'm guessing that's not what you had in mind.

 

Temporal Beacon started out as being semi-interesting, but it quickly degenerated into a cliche ridden and very atypically flawed 'Harmony.'

 

I had a feeling there was a reason I stopped reading that story. And now you have reminded me.

-shudder-

 

No World for Old Wizards
​

I can hear few spells flying past me when I run to hid myself. None hits me, mostly because of my luck than anything else.

The guy who tries to kill me calls himself the Dark Emperor. Seems that being a lord wasn't enough for him.

There was a time when I'd deal with him in less than a minute. Even few years ago I could beat him under five minutes. Now I'm old and tried, and I really shouldn't be the one to do it.

But who else is going to defend the Wizarding World (and the rest of it) if not the great Harry Potter?

“I will kill you, old man!” He shouts. “And I will enjoy every moment of it! Every single second!”

I let him talk. Gives me a chance to catch my breath.

I feel very weak. It somehow reminds me of Dumbledore. I'm much older than him, tomorrow is my 200th birthday, but I remember how he looked in his final moments, weakened by the curse and the poison.

“There you are,” I hear and in the next moment I'm without wand. Instead of reminiscing I should have watched my surroundings.

“I told you once that I will have your heart. It's time to keep my promise.”

When he starts to cut my ribcage the pain I feel can be easily compared to the Cruciatus Curse. I don't scream, but only because my body is paralysed.

“My brother once said that I shouldn't play with my victims and use the Killing Curse instead. But I think this one time he would forgive me. We both know how you tend to survive it.”

Surviving. That's what I do. From the October night to this day, my life was always about surviving. But even I need to accept that my time will finally come. And probably has come.

“Now you need to pull and... Ta-da,” he says and I see my heart in his hands. “Can you see it old man? Can you see it?!”

He looks at my face and into my eyes.

A big mistake.

Second later his mind is switched off. I may be without my wand, but not powerless.

I know I have only few more seconds left of my life, but I'm not afraid of dying. I've already done it once.

Truth to be told, I can't wait for my next great adventure.

 

Harry Potter woke up with a headache. He was in room wich looked a lot like hospital but where ever he was it was technologically advanced. Much more than that Earth as a robot was tending to him.

"what the fuc-" before he could finish his sentence door opened and a green house elf flying on his chair come in.

"tell me you must who you are" he said.

" My name is Harry Potter. Where am I" asked Harry.

" In Corruscant you are in jedi temple. Found you I have outside. Tell me you must where you are from!"

"I am form England from planet Earth I guess I m in alternate universe now." as soon as he uttered those words he was hit by a pice of rock wich came from the 4th wall as it started to tremble. a moment later it collapsed on top of Harry and killed him.

And no Fuck was given.
_________________-

Seriously some people have no concept of 4th wall. you don't give characters meta knowledge. Because that is stupid.

 

I do hope that you realize that what you have in your drabble can't be described as breaking the metaphorical fourth wall. Harry would need to add something like that in his dialogue:

"I guess I'm in alternate universe now. Merlin, does that mean I'm in one of these crappy crossover fics?"

And as with everything giving characters this knowledge can be used to tell very good stories.

 

Not if this is given out of blue. When I wrote the part about Harry saying he is in the alternate universe as soon as he wakes up I wasn't kidding nor was making a hyperbole.

It is as it is and it is stupid. Nothing you can say can convince me otherwise.*

*I don't mind if knowledge cames from an in universe method, some technobable or by force vision, but meta knowledge I mind.

 

How To Be God​

“Can you repeat what did you just say?” Asked Hermione.

“I said that I'm God,” told her Harry.

“No, you're not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Harry,” said Hermione feeling that she will have a headache. “What makes you think you're God.”

“Well, for one I can do miracles.”

“Miracles,” she looked at him sceptically. “What kind of miracles?”

“You know, usual stuff. Turning water into wine, multiplying food...”

“Harry, but every wizard and witch can do it.”

“Doesn't make it any less of a miracle,” he simply stated.

“So we all are gods now?”

“Of course not, Hermione. Only I am.”

“And what makes you special?”

“I can't die. Well, I did once, but got resurrected instantly. That's definitely a godlike thing.”

“Only because of special circumstances that have no way of repeating themselves.”

“And people believe in me. Call me their Saviour. Though they do renounce me from time to time.”

“That's because your their hero, not their God.”

“You don't have much faith in me, do you Hermione?”

“Harry, I do have faith in you. Always. I'm just saying that you can't be and aren't God.”

“Maybe you are right.”

“See. Now, I must go to work. If you want to talk more I will call you later. Or you can go meet Ron, but try not to make anything stupid while you are together,” she went to the fireplace. “Bye.”

“Bye, Mione.”

Harry sit down and thought.

“Maybe she's right. Maybe I'm not God,” he said to himself. “But if I'm not God, does that make me Devil?”

He smiled.