Chapter 1: Meeting The Master

Silver instruments moved and whirled, controlled in their chaos, seemingly telling the headmaster things without saying a word. That’s what he preferred people to believe, but it was a front to hide the state-of-the-art magic surveillance that even the state couldn’t access. What pureblood lord could allow the state to always know their location and keep an eye on them? The people believed Dumbledore used paintings to keep an eye on Hogwarts. Beyond the silver instruments, there was an old model pensive along with shelves of research notes Dumbledore painstakingly took in his research. It took two wars and the death of two valuable friends for him to learn the game.

 

Even if double agents like Severus were unreliable, he was like the old pensive, an important stepping stone to his goal. Eyes on the ground were needed to paint a proper picture of any situation. But a spy with biases stuck behind enemy lines could only give imperfect information. So, while Severus was important, Dumbledore would forever claim him to be a necessary evil. Severus Snape was a brilliant potion master, a skilled spy, and a useful pawn. While the dark lord believed Severus was his only source of information, Dumbledore’s true method of surveillance could remain hidden.

 

Dumbledore stepped beyond an illusionary wall and into the pensive of his own making.

 

Through a real-time, pensive connected to the memories of muggles strategically placed near Private Drive, Dumbledore watched Harry Potter, age 11, push on the locked door of the only home the poor obliviated boy had ever known. At age 11, the boy would have received a letter if the circumstances were different. But instead, the boy who sacrificed was no more than a muggle, even less than a squib, reduced to a less valuable pawn. Still, even Harry had his uses.

 

Since his sacrifice, he had been dead to the wizarding world and left to suffer under his relatives. The poor boy had suffered enough, and his pain would finally end. He was left alive in Number 4 private drive to ensure the blood wards modified by Dumbledore would drain the boy’s magic dry. Rose needed every advantage to adapt to the rituals he helped her through. It was all to build up his pieces for the continuation of the game.

 

Dumbledore’s fleek pink-tipped eyebrows rose when a section of the pensive went blank. The connection was still there, but the muggle was knocked out. When the world’s most powerful wizard noticed that, he immediately checked which muggle it had been only to relax. No one had discovered his real-time pensive or less-than-legal use of muggles as surveillance cameras. Unfortunately, the muggle world had such interesting technologies that he couldn’t help but co-op them. His northeastern camera was a meth addict that had finally reached his limit.

 

He had restrained himself from doing the same to Harry out of respect for the boy’s sacrifice to the greater good. If Dumbledore could have used his magical reserves to bolster Rose, he would have. Still, she needed magic closer to her own untrained and weakened to help her own mana pool metabolize Harry’s reserves.

 

After making a mental note to find a replacement, he waved his wand to have the homeless adults near Private Drive follow the boy. He felt like a fisherman casting out his bait to lure in the darkest of sea monsters. Poor Harry, but he would have wanted to be useful instead of wasting his life oblivious to the magical world. Dumbledore pledged to write a paragraph about the boy in Rose’s biography for why she was such a powerful young witch. But, of course, he would never allude to the true nature of her power. The prophecy chose her, or that’s what Voldemort believed, and Lily’s sacrifice confirmed it.

 

Whether the prophecy was real or not didn’t matter. Voldemort believed in it, and so Dumbledore moved his pieces accordingly. One pawn was sacrificed so the other could make it to the other side of the board to become a queen. So, Dumbledore observed as Harry made his way to the local park.

 

The full moon illuminated the park despite the glitching streetlamps as if to show Dumbledore what was inevitable. Another of his cameras went out after passing out in a ditch while his others moved in. Harry swung alone as the wind blew, clouds rippled, and something approached. Dumbledore could taste destiny in the air as if something was always going to bite.

 

One by one, his cameras went out as they approached the boy. Then, finally, in the eyes of the last of his cameras, he saw a figure bathed in shadow walk through the moonlight. Clear blue eyes stared into Dumbledore’s very soul, brighter than human eyes ought to be. At first, the old wizard thought he was dealing with a ritually reconstructed wizard like Rose. But there were only three people alive capable of creating her. One was in Nurmengard, while the other had no interest in the world. The entity sat down beside Harry, and the boy didn’t notice.

 

Then the entity spoke, and the last homeless man camera went black.

 

Dumbledore replayed the image repeatedly to get a good look at the image from the pensive. Most of the world had gone dark, but enough was left to piece together his opponent. The figure was obviously ritually and alchemically remade. A wizard of considerable power crafted from a ministry’s resources. Anyone he sent would be killed, and losing pieces on the board before their time would put him in a bad position. He was certain the individual couldn’t belong to Voldemort. At the height of Tom’s power, he couldn’t amass the resources needed to start such a project. Even Dumbledore struggled to come up with the rituals and alchemic formulas needed to construct the perfect weapon. Voldemort wouldn’t allow anyone to be more powerful than himself. So, Dumbledore could only assume a third party had emerged and sent in a valuable piece to probe Dumbledore’s defenses. Even a hundred wizards wouldn’t be able to take down Rose when she was fully trained. The figure he saw seemed quite old.

 

He needed more information, and that meant more muggles. So, he put on his traveling cloak and made his way to Fawkes. The bird gave him an annoyed look. “To the nearest soup kitchen, we have no time to lose,” Dumbledore said, and the phoenix complied.

 

…

 

Harry wanted to cry, but tears never came. Since before he could remember, he never cried because tears caused Aunt Petunia to pinch him. All Harry could do was equate tears to more pain, and that’s why even when he wanted to cry, Harry couldn’t. His past was dark, and his future was bleak; with no hope in front of him or behind him, how could he move forward? He had never been hugged or acknowledged by an adult, and the people who were supposed to take care of Harry locked him outside. Harry should be angry, but no anger came; all he could do was shiver.

 

The smooth metal chains of his swing stung his hands as he kicked off and let the cold wind bite at his face. At least he could swing, and the moon was pretty. It was bigger than he had ever seen before, almost like it was about to collide with the planet. Harry wouldn’t mind if that happened. Who knows what might have happened if he still had an ounce of magic in his body?

 

Harry was alone, bereft of magic taken through wards meant to protect him through his mother’s sacrifice. Instead, they were perverted and used to steal the very magic from Harry’s blood. No matter who’s will empowered them, they couldn’t change what Dumbledore had done, leaving Harry little more than a muggle.

 

“Why are you all alone?” A voice asked, and Harry froze. He looked to the seat next to him and let go of the chains. He fell from the seat down to the pea gravel on the ground.

 

Before he could touch the ground, a force caught him, and the glasses falling off his head. “Be more careful; you could hurt yourself like that. Kids and their addiction to jumping.” The figure muttered. “Is that why you’re outside to break your last record?” The being of shadow asked.

 

Harry stared bravely into the creature’s beyond deep blue eyes to the pit of the creature’s pupils. “Sir, are you death?” Harry asked.

 

“Sir! Wow, you have some good manners, kiddo. But I’m hardly that old; why don’t you call me Zoran? But really, what are you doing outside? It's late and a school night. You should be in bed sleeping.”

 

“Why are you here, sir?”

 

“Ah, I hit a touchy question. Well, it’s a bit early to give my pitch, but why not? I sensed a kindred spirit, so I walked out here and found you. But I’m not sure if you’ll make a good apprentice. It's hard work, and you’ll have to learn quickly if you want to survive.”

 

“What will you teach me?” Harry asked.

 

Harry tasted blood from when he bit his cheek when he jumped, so it couldn’t be a dream. However, the shadow man standing before him was real, so what would he teach Harry?

 

“Every skill I currently know, how to collect your own, and what I know about cultivation. I know it's not much, but it's all I have. Matt is good at teaching economics. Duke can pick up any girl he wants, and Jester only teaches crazy people to be crazier.” The man waved his hand, and blue symbols flashed before a blue screen appeared in front of Harry. “Do you want to be my apprentice?”

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What would his aunt and uncle think if he was suddenly the apprentice of the shadow man? He was kicked out; they weren’t an issue anymore. Then, in his darkest moment, a light appeared, and its radiance was blinding.

 

Do you want to become Zoran’s Apprentice?

Yes/No

 

Harry stared at the screen, unsure how to proceed. “Is there a remote I can use?” Harry asked.

 

“Touch your choice.” Harry tapped his answer.

 

Welcome to the master and apprentice game. You are now the apprentice of Zoran; learn diligently, and one day you will be a master ready to share your skills with an apprentice.

 

Harry Potter

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Harry’s eyes widened as his world exploded, and strength filled his limbs, coupled with pain. He felt like a white-hot steel pellet over an anvil under automatic hammers.

 

The shadow reached out with his hand, and suddenly the pain soothed. The world around them shifted as screen after screen appeared before him.

 

“As my apprentice, you are now my responsibility.”

 

“Do you have parents? I know it’s a little late to ask, but I wouldn’t want to take you from them.”

 

“No, they died in a car accident. That’s how I got my scar.” Harry said.

 

“And I keep putting my foot in my mouth. So who are you staying with?” Master asked.

 

Harry thought it was weird he referred to the man so readily as master. But he wouldn’t call the shadow man by his first name, and his master didn’t give a last name.

 

“Who is responsible for you?”

 

“My aunt and uncle take care of me. They make me do chores and make breakfast, but they are all I have. On my birthday, my uncle laughed at me and said I wasn’t a freak and not even they wanted me.” Harry said.

 

“When was your birthday, little man,” Master asked.

 

“It was this morning.”

 

“Well, I guess I’m still choking on my foot. It’s a little late, but I think we can find you a cake, do you like ice cream?” Master asked before another blue screen appeared.  

 

Rolling for a new world upon gaining a new master. 1D20

Options

1. Tokyo Ghoul
2. Dragon Ball
3. Full Metal Alchemist
4. One Piece
5. Alien
6. Fairy Tale
7. Marvel Cinematic Universe
8. Spawn
9. Bleach
10. Naruto
11. Castlevania
12. Hellsing
13. Highschool DXD
14. Yu Yu Hakusho
15. Game Of Thrones
16. My Hero Academia
17. Justice League Unlimited
18. Code Geass
19. JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure
20. One Punch Man

 

Harry had no idea what those were, but his master happily watched over Harry’s shoulder. “I hope we get a good one. Though by the selection, it's all good. I should send a message to Jester and rub it in that my apprentice doesn’t have a dud world on his list.” Suddenly the shadow man appeared much less scary to Harry.

“Happy birthday, apprentice; let's get you a cake, and then I’ll explain multiversal travel. It will be great.” Master said, and Harry didn’t have any other options.

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