The memories hit him like a train wreck. One second, he had heard his name flow from Dumbledore's lips with no lack of suppressed anger within them, and the next, he was doubling over on his seat as he felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his skull. Harry Potter was no stranger to headaches, but this was something else. Something more. It felt like a new presence had taken root in his brain.

"Harry Potter" The headmaster's voice rang out again, and this time he could not ignore the way the entire hall seemed to glare daggers at his seated form. He swatted away Hermione's hand as she reached out to punch him again. The first one had been overshadowed by the headache, but by merlin, those things hurt like hell. He pushed himself off of the bench and stepped over. He took a deep breath before he began the long walk down the Gryffindor table to the Headmaster's form at the front of the hall. He could hear their whispers. 

'Always him', he heard one black-haired girl say to another, 'he cheated' he heard from one seventh year's conversation with his friend, 'Dumbledore's favourite' he heard from the Hufflepuff table as he passed by. Considering the table was on the other side of the Gryffindor table, he really had to have been speaking in a loud tone for Harry to be able to hear it. It made him clench his fingers and grit his teeth, but he was used to it. The stares, the whispers, Harry had been subjected to all of this since the very beginning of his time in the Wizarding World. Just as he always did, he mentally told himself, 'The Dursleys are worse' as he moved. He arrived at the front and was ushered to the waiting room that he'd seen the Champions sent through. 

It was out of the way, almost hidden by the walls that framed the staff table. Speaking of the staff table, he did not find much in the way of allies there. McGonagall stared down at him like her gaze alone would be enough to make him confess some heinous crime. Snape was Snape, enough said. The foreigners looked confused, both of them staring at him with some lack of comprehension that seemed to clear its time. It was like there was a shift in the universe with the way they went from looking at him to glaring daggers into Dumbledore. At least that was one less problem for him to deal with. Barty Crouch, well, who cared what Barty Crouch thought, he decided. The man was an arsehole that could bugger off for all he cared. A man who could treat an elf that was as kind and innocent as Winky the way he did was a man that as not worth the shoes he stood in. 

Harry walked into the room with a final breath of exasperation and noted the way all the three Champions within it jolted to attention instantly. His mind instantly turned to the chaos he'd just been tossed into against his will, and he never got to hear the words that the three of them shot at him, each speaking over the others. Alpha personalities, the lot of them. 

XXXXXXXXX

"Finally" He heard suddenly. 

"What? Who's that?" It was dark here. So dark that he could not see a thing. But he became instantly aware that there was another person in this space with him. This space that felt so small and so familiar at the same time. 

The voice coughed, and suddenly, there was a light between them. A bulb that hung from the ceiling by a thin line of wire. Brighter than he remembered because he knew the cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive better than he knew the back of his own hand. This was it. The place that, no matter how he tried to hide and avoid it, had shaped him into the boy he now was. 

"Boo" The voice said, suddenly coming into the light, and Harry would forever deny the way he screamed at the presence that was in there with him. It was him. Well, him and not him at the same time. Him, but in black and white if that made any sense. Like a pale shadow, a reflection. 

"Who are you?" He asked, already disliking the boy opposite him for the way he seemed to be finding the entire situation funny. 

"I am you, of course"

"Really?" He found himself asking instantly, never even noticing the way the boy's body seemed to grow into itself as they spoke. 

"Of course not." 

He facepalmed. "Answer the question then" 

"Sure I will. Might as well give you some truth to help you on your journey-"

"What journey?" He cut in, but was ignored like he had never even spoken a word. 

"I am a transmigrant" 

"A what?" 

"A transmigrant, not to be mistaken for a transgender, I assure you" This man was insane, Harry decided. 

"A transmigrant, which is what I am, is a person, or in my specific case, a soul, that has been taken out of their native reality and transposed into a new one. That is basically me. I was once a mighty handsome man. A world-famous lawyer who made more money than god, but now I have been relegated into this body. That of a bratty whiny teenager not old enough to even ejaculate-"

"I'm fourteen," he interrupted while having his head spin with the words the man was saying

"But it's a body, nonetheless, and it has magic, so I will make do" 

"Why do you make it seem like you plan on taking over my body?" He suddenly asked, senses suddenly screaming at him about the strangeness of the situation. 

"Plan on? My dear boy, I've already done it". 

Harry tried to jump off of the cot, but only then noticed that his legs were gone. He tried to scream, but his mouth was gone as well. His arms followed suit, and so the Boy who lived died in his own body, his soul, and essence consumed to feed a being that would go on to terrorise multiple universes. 

XXXXXX

"Well, now that that is settled, let's get to that pesky little soul shard shall we" Victor Von Doom said to himself as he stood up from the cot. 

A/N;; Intrigued? Not a self insert this time. Welcome to this. If you're really excited for this, then yoU can skip all the waiting and read the next two chapters of this up on my pa-treon right now. And if you come from any of my other stories please do me the favour of commenting which story that is.