If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.
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31 October 1995, Azkaban (Earth 2)
Suddenly, the killing curse started to fizzle slightly, its energy slowly being sapped out and swallowed by a dark sphere of some sort. The moment the killing curse was swallowed up, Voldemort felt a burning pain all over his body and everything went black.
He watched as the Dark Lord fell unconscious, meaning that the killing curse had struck Harry's counterpart. It was a very tricky thing to achieve, to get Voldemort to cast with a want unsuited to him, one bonded not just to any wizard but one that saw him as his mortal enemy. It was a wand that was asked to kill its owner and that alone made the killing curse weaker both in terms of energy and conceptually.
Harry had also weakened the spell even further by warping space and time around it. When he froze that spell in mid-air, it was still going forward into very stretched space, and for entire hours. It was almost the best he could do without severely straining himself. This was, of course, due to one of the fundamental laws of magic. Spells got weaker the longer they stayed in the air and the further they travelled. It continuously lost fragments of its energy the longer it remained unattached to any source of power, like a person. By the time, the killing curse had gone through the portal to hit Harry's counterpart, it could barely be counted as one.
From the few diagnostic charms he could use, there was a discharge of magic from the scar and the boy was still alive. Well, wasn't it nice when plans worked out? He'd been very invested in making sure the other boy was still alive after the Horcrux was destroyed, and it worked. That was a strange sense of accomplishment. He had literally orchestrated someone surviving the killing curse with just his magic and did it in a relatively reliable way. That alone would have made him a very well-known figure in the magical world if he published that knowledge.
It was all just built on a few theories created from small snippets of what happened in the stories from his previous life. Voldemort sent a killing curse at Harry using a wand that belonged to him, and in his foolishness, he also used himself as an anchor to his enemy by using his blood in his resurrection. If Harry had chosen to move on, to die, Voldemort would have lost his body once more. He would have survived because of his last Horcrux, but his body, which he had crafted using Harry's blood would have been destroyed.
Harry smirked as he noticed that Voldemort was still breathing, if very weakly. The man had technically been hit with his own killing curse, conceptually at least. He summoned his counterpart's wand from the dark lord's hands and sent it through a portal to Sirius. He prepared for the second part of the plan, only to feel Nagini leaping at his back. Harry used his cloak to phase through it and the snake continued forward towards its master, who he was expecting would wake up soon.
His suspicions were proven to be correct; Voldemort rolled into one of his servant's corpses and grabbed one of his wands. He sent volleys of exploding curses at Harry, which he redirected or just phased through. When Nagini reached the dark lord, he turned into smoke and jumped out of the window.
Unassisted flight was something that was pretty useful theoretically, but it was insanely hard to maintain. Harry never really thought about replicating it. He didn't really see the point other than showing off. You couldn't exactly control your movement and cast spells at the same time, and portals were far more useful as an escape strategy.
To prove his point, Harry warped space in front of the flying Voldemort, making him land on the fortress' roof. He quickly created a portal and moved through, still whistling faintly.
He noticed Voldemort was rolling over the ground, with scratches all over his body. Nagini was in a similar state, hissing around him. He stiffened when he heard the whistling and shakingly got up, "I've enjoyed the chase, Tom. But I think we've reached the end now, you and I."
He tried to apparate again, but Harry stopped the space from warping around him, "Now, now, we both know that running from me will achieve nothing."
The man looked around frantically and saw nothing. Harry knew exactly what he was looking for, "You came out here, hoping the dementors would come to your aid. Tough luck; they're a bit indisposed."
Harry never really wanted to deal with the dementors. He never took the time to study them properly since he hated being around the creatures. However, he knew enough to know that they weren't exactly alive and killing amortal creatures was pretty hard. Instead, he settled for the best great thing. There was a cavern underneath the fortress, a small place without any entrances or exits. He created a portal around every single dementor and brought them here. They'd probably escape eventually but it wouldn't be any time soon and Harry would be there to really care.
The dark lord looked at him in anger, "Do you think this will achieve anything? I have beaten death before and will do so again. Next time, I will be ready."
Harry chuckled at that proclamation. The man had to audacity to brag after being so outmatched. There was no reason to say anything; it was just his pride. At least Harry would have some fun ripping all that bravado out, "You're talking about your little trinkets. What were those things again? Oh, right, a diary, a locket, a ring, a cup, a diadem, and this charming little thing here too, right?"
The dark lord visibly froze, and Harry snapped his finger and activated the curse he put on Nagini days prior. Immediately the snake started to thrash, before slumping, dead. The monster watched in horror as his familiar died and with it a portion of his very soul.
The displaced wizard just raised an eyebrow, "Did you really think that those trinkets would protect you from me?"
The man cast a spell at him, only for his entire hand to freeze and his wand to turn to ash. The dark lord then glared at him, his red eyes glowing in anger, "You're not Potter. I know you're not. Why are you doing this? I haven't done anything to you."
"You're right. You haven't. Dabbling in soul magic isn't exactly something that affects me. You're not nearly that important. There's already a punishment in place for people who screw the natural order the way you did. But you couldn't help yourself. What did you say again? Oh, right, you have defeated Death! You can't blame me for taking that personally."
"You're…" the dark lord stiffened.
"See, now you're getting it. I arrange for you to come here, on Samhain. It wasn't really that hard, just a few whispers here and there, pushing you to free your followers today."
There were a few lies in that statement, or at least, some misdirection. Voldemort had used Samhain to break out his followers because of the increase of ambient magic during that day. Azkaban was cut off from all ley lines because of a ritual by Ekrizdis. Ambient magic is often generated by ley lines which were absorbed by wizards to cast magic. It was what made it an attractive place for a prison since the inmates couldn't use any magic wandlessly. Certain days of the year like Samhain and Beltane had an increase in magic on a global scale, enough to make it possible to cast magic in Azkaban. Voldemort was never going to meet the dementors from a position of weakness, hence the fact that he chose Samhain to break out his followers. All Harry had to do was just push him to do it sooner and not put it off, by making his heist a public affair and framing a high-profile woman for the crime, even if he didn't think it would stick.
"Why do all of this, then? If you are who I think you are, why not just kill me a be done with it?" Voldemort asked.
"I deserve to have my entertainment as well, Tom. You were a good distraction; I'll admit to that. I haven't seen an abomination like you in a good while. There's barely any of Tom Riddle left in that thing you call a soul."
Voldemort rolled forward, trying to take Harry by surprise and without even a wand, he sent his strongest telekinetic blast towards his enemy, who just casually conjured a shield that stopped it with a loud bang and sent the dark lord flying back slightly. That was actually kind of impressive, at least the power of it.
He had been slightly disappointed with his fight with Voldemort. The man's counterpart in Harry's dimension was far more impressive. To be fair, he was also fighting a version of Dumbledore that was far stronger than this world's version of the man. They might be close in terms of raw power, but there was a big difference in terms of technique and cunning.
The difference in power had made Voldemort fight smartly, and use every trick in the book to surpass Dumbledore, even if he had failed. In this world, Voldemort could match Dumbledore through brute force and so, didn't really use anything other than that. There was no subtlety, to technical fights, just sending killing curses and large-scale spells.
That difference meant that the fight was shorter than Harry expected, and he had to buy some time until the ritual was ready. He chose to use that time by scaring the life out of Voldemort. Still, Harry summoned the man to the centre of the ceiling. The humbled Dark Lord knelt up, and Harry gave him a dry look, "Did you really think that I didn't see any of this coming, that I didn't know you would try to escape through the window and land on the roof of this cursed place? All of this happened because you didn't even bother to learn one simple lesson."
"And what's that?" the dark lord rasped.
"You can't cheat Death, Tom."
Voldemort just burst into hysterical laughter but didn't reply. Harry didn't bother saying anything else. It was time. Harry took out the elder wand and used it to conjure some unbreakable chains to bind Voldemort completely. He then channelled every drop of power that was stored within the wand and sent it towards the clogged ley lines.
Thousands of years of stored magic being channelled made the wand heat up and Harry gritted his teeth but just kept pushing it further and further, until finally, like a dam opening up, magic rushed out of the ley lines, sending backlogged magic throughout Azkaban. Normally, it would have destroyed the entire fortress, but Harry had spent weeks carving out small runes that directed the magic towards the roof, specifically, towards the exact same spot, the Dark Lord stood.
The magic made the chains glow. The bindings became powerful enough to overrule fate itself. It was just for a couple of seconds, but it was more than enough for Harry to conjure an ice spear enhanced by his resurrection stone and impale the dark lord through the heart. The prophecy was broken. Voldemort had died but it wasn't at the hand of the child he marked. The energy released started to power the actual ritual.
The world itself screamed at the blasphemy that had just been committed. Breaking prophecies wasn't a normal occurrence and could only happen in very specific circumstances, ones that were definitely not common.
Thousands of runes were lit up, starting from the prison roof, moving down the walls and towards the island itself. This had been the culmination of months of calculations, weeks of actual carvings in the night under his invisibility cloak, making sure to get everything just right. The glowing calmed down and retreated back towards the roof, specifically towards Harry himself.
The searing energy coursed through Harry, hotter and more intense than anything he had ever endured. Clutching the Elder Wand tightly, he willed it to act as a conduit, its ancient magic meant to hold and direct untold power. The agony grew unbearable, but Harry pushed through, releasing everything in one desperate burst. The fabric of reality itself tore open before him, a dazzling array of shifting, swirling lights filling the void. In that moment, space, time, and entire worlds collapsed into each other. With a final surge, Harry was pulled through the shimmering rift, vanishing into the swirling storm of colours beyond, leaving behind a prison devoid of dementors, the chained corpse of a Dark Lord impaled in the heart with a black spear, and corpses all over the maximum security wing.
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AN: So, that's Harry finally getting home. I hope I did it justice and again, I don't mind rewriting it if it didn't land. I had a lot of fun writing this arc. There's still one or two chapters, where I would write the aftermath in this universe to give it a proper conclusion. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.