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Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
(Shrek 2 – "I Need A Hero")
The Wand. The Ring. And the Cloak. Three Hallows , rumored to be gifts from Death itself to the three brothers because they had managed to amuse it so.
Whoever wielded the wand would be unbeatable in duel. Whoever possessed the ring cold talk to the dead and literally have knowledge on their fingertips. And whoever wore the Cloak… they were said to be unable to been discovered even by Death itself. Never in their long and bloody existence did those three items have the same owner.
Except for… now.
And nobody had expected that the moment the three Hallows were activated would spirit away their owner to the great Beyond… or some such tripe. That unlucky person was one Harry James Potter.
The Wizarding World mourned his… passing and idolized him for his sacrifices.
Except… they were wrong.
The Deathly Hallows didn't deal only with Death. No, their primary function was something totally different, albeit equally terrifying.
It was Time.
And no, not tripe like those Time-Turners the wand-wavers were so fond of.
The Time was – could be better explained like branches of a tree. A decision led into one branch turning away from the main one, until another decision split the branch into two or three lesser branches.
Time Turners could go back on the branches on the tree – but the Hallows acted like a graft – when ingrained in an owner, they transported the said owner into another Universe, changing the said Universe fundamentally in one way or another.
It was official, Harry surmised sourly. There existed some worse transportation mode than Portkey.
"Oof!" He wheezed out as he landed on something…. Solid? Human?
"What the fuck?" the green eyed teen blinked dazedly when he looked at his… landing pillow. Except… the human landing pillow didn't look so good.
It was a young man with black hair and characteristic pallor of someone that was courting Death – the man's blue and red clothes were tattered and torn, and he was bloodied…
Biting back a muffled curse, Harry blindly reached for his emergency pouch – as an Apprentice Mediwizard he got used to carrying different healing potions on his person whenever he may have been at the time. Ron made a joke out of his habit, calling him Ratchet after some character in that Muggle film, Trans – whatever, even going so far as to gifting him with a wrench.
Hermione approved of his… practice, even helping him with enchanting the emergency pouch for such occasions – no matter what, Harry could summon his pouch, even without wand and if he were separated from it, the pouch would return to him at his call word. It involved some heavy-duty charms, some of them extremely dark and more than once, they almost came to blows with Goblins over copyright infringements, but after judicious use of vows and threats on both sides, Harry became the proud owner of Snoopy the Mokeskin pouch extraordinaire.
Shoving his hand into the pouch and ignoring the slight prickle on his finger – personally, Harry thought the damnable thing should be called Dracula for its bloodthirsty ways – he barked out "Draught of Life!"
Immediately a cool vial was being pushed in his hand, and Harry quickly withdrew it, simultaneously breaking the seal and popping the stopper, while with other hand, he opened the stranger's mouth, pouring the runny dark blue and silver contents into the man's mouth, forcing the patient's throat to swallow with brisk massage on certain pressure points of the said neck.
The Draught of Life was opposite of the Draught of Death – while the latter suspended the drinker into coma that resembled death-like state, Draught of Life worked opposite - it gave a consumer of the said potion enough of a power boost to jumpstart their body systems into a working order without the stress of defibrillation, fooling the body into restart without outside influence like an electric pulse. Instead of that, a Mediwizard used his magic in augmentation with the Draught of Life – he acted like a passive life station that supplied energy to rotate through channels. The procedure was Class 4 – extremely risky, and even experienced Mediwizards recommended a caution with the use of this particular method, but like usual, Harry didn't care.
"Work already, damn you!" The teen cursed as he hurriedly pushed his energy into the patient. Closing his eyes, he concentrated into pushing even larger amount of magic into his patient, when suddenly an alien energy zapped him back, making him yelp with unexpected pain.
Black and green eyes met in a dazed stare, mixed with confusion, exhaustion and pain, and on the wizard's side, a touch of irritation. "Took you long enough to wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Harry snarked before he reached for the pouch again. This time, he fished out two potions – one he downed himself, and the other, he pushed at the stunned man's lips.
"Drink it." He commanded to the dark – eyed man. The man complied sluggishly, before he was literally jack – knifed into a sitting position. "H – Holy shit!" He sputtered out, gagging as the steam escaped from his ears, his cheeks pinkening with heat. "What on Earth was that shit!"
The green – eyed stranger snorted at his phrasing. "Extra strong energizing potion. It won't last long – fifteen minutes max, and then you'll crash down to la-la land like nobody's business." He replied, his lips turned into a sardonic smirk. "You up to getting us to your hidey – hole?"
The black – eyed man blinked. "But – what about trunks?" he tried to say, even as the teen stood up and offered him a hand, as if he were a little kid in a need of help. Well… he was in need of help, anyway. "I don't care about your knickers. We need to go right now." The teen rudely interrupted him, making him choke at the innuendo. "We gotta go before anything that almost gave you your ticket to Neverland comes back and punts you back there. Now, upsy-daisy."
Harry's patient almost choked – again- at Harry's crass reply, but had to concede the point. "Okay," He grumbled out. Then, an evil smirk on his face should have alerted the unfortunate savior but… grabbing him into a hold, he barely had a time to hear the teen's yelp before they blasted off among the building and rubble.
This was the first meeting of one Harry James Potter and Son Gohan, and the history, unknowingly to the pair that was racing to the hideout to hide from the Androids, was irrevocably changed, a courtesy of three meddling Hallows… and one rather unlucky owner.
/To Be Continued/