A Game of Death and Magic. Oh and CHAOS.

A.N: chapter is longer.

The fuck did you do, michael, the fuck did you do.. ah the good old days before technology existed.. when mistakes were fixed with 6 ft holes and spades.- grampa unknown to his little man.

Chapter 4: who am I?

Making his way through the dense forest, following the pull of magic harry could feel emmanating from somewhere south-west deep within the thick foliage, traversing deep swamps filled with sulfurous gases, and nauseous scents, gritting his teeth and pushing on with his mindless slaves following behind, they spent hours pushing on and on, battling monstrous creatures by the legions! Suffering from blood loss, itchyness, drowsiness, and stained with the blood and carcass' of his ennemies, Ok. There were a shitload of mosquitoes here, harry and slaves decided to make camp for the night.

With a shake of his hand dozens of tents were transfigured from the loose leaves and twigs, cloth was taken, and enlarged, then sown into makeshift sleeping bags, with another wave of his hand and a whispered "infernus" a huge woodless bonfire emerged from the depts of hell, overpowered fire for an overpowered magical war lord / Master Of Death OH and CHAOS! caps intended, with a another wave he enlarged a tree so he could get a better view, floating himself up, by slowly draining the life around him, putting birds, bees, ants and flowers by the scores, into an eternal slumber.

High up, perched on one of the sturdier enlarged branches, with a vantaged position he could now see clearly for miles in the light of the everlasting sun's last ray's before dusk set in.

To his far right, he could see a trail of smoke leading to the heathens, to his far left he could see soot covered, half melted buildings, deciding to cover the short distance with a short slide, he appeared on top of the monument he had been observing, slowly going down the half liquified and re-hardened stone stairway, he made his way to to the first floor where the front wall had been incinerated by whatever caused the doom.

Once downstairs, he made his way around looking for anything he could pilfer and bring back, finding some dried ingredients, a tome or two, he decided to be on his way, to his right he could see some sort of shadow on the wall, moving as if trapped, but unable to move completely, getting closer he realised that they were infact moving shadows, suddenly he was forcefully pulled back into another life, a memory long forgotten, buried, a life of past recollections.

The earth was being torn asunder beneath his feet, explosions shook the very foundation of the continents humanity had been built on, war upon war had escalated, Voldemort had been right, Muggles were destructive, the America's, they found us, tracked everyone, and eliminated all our leaders at once, legions upon legions of american ambassador's were secretly spying on goverments worldwide and reporting back to home-base, now every goverment has contact with the magical world, except the Americans, who since the 1400s had not seen a single witch or wizard, actually believing them to be myth, fantasy for children.

Having spies in most countries during Voldemorts ascension, caused a massive leak, they learned of our existence, and the witchhunts began, rapidly, our leaders were decimated by the infiltrated agents who knew where to hit due to knowledge stolen from goverments worldwide.

A monday, he'd always hated mondays, from the time he was a toddler to his adult age, mondays were the beggining of torture harry time with the Dursley's, then school, halloween, figures this would happen on a day like monday.

America had decided to act first and explain later, actually going as far as bombing magical communities in the middle of densely populated muggle area's, we tried fighting back, but they had the advantage, they knew where we were, and they were everywhere, litterally, our spells clashed with bullets shields met projectiles, and did not resist long, you see magic is energy, bullets create kinetic energy, and shielding against 1 bullet, fired at approximately 2x the speed of sound hitting your shield and resonating as though hit by a sledgehammer, all that before the sound of the gunshot even reaches your ear, at a speed of 825 rounds per minute, we were clearly done for.

It wasn't all roses for the muggles, after having innocent citizens fall victim to the widespread neurotoxic gases, phosphoric bombs, and regular search and destroy teams sent to S&D all magical beings, they started quarelling between each other, as it goes, little wars broke out between useless countries allied with superpowers, unlike vietnam or iraq, it didint stop when America got its ass kicked, no they retaliated, sending infantry with portable WOMD, millions died, minutes within the fight,

In a retaliatory stike, several allies shot a 100 megaton missile, at the U.S, but does it stop there?, no it's a monday.

The tactical neuclear warhead was equipped with a self sustaining wortzite boron nitride drill, set to drill into the North American Plate, and detonate a mile in.

What they had not planned for was the worldwide repercussions, the moment it set off, a fiery hole was blown skyward, a cloud of burning molten dust, a flash of heat so powerful that the people standing near left shadows of their bodies on the wall, their last moments forever encrusted in the atoms of a measly stone.

The forceful shifting of the worlds entire magnetic center, the displacement of a continental tectonic plate, earthquakes of level 7.5 and above, and the complete totality of the west coast was drowned by a wave the size of his ego, a very huge wave, from Brazil to Alaska, and that's all excluding the thermonuclear cloud of dust about to fall.

Mondays.

What a spectacular end to a fucking monday, 'Garfield was right' he thought with a laugh, before disapearing in a flash of swirling lights and darkness.

His first Slide of many.

That day harry potter died.

back from his forced recollection, the phrase kept repeating.

That day Harry Potter died
Harry Potter died.
Died.
Sitting on his rock, yes His rock, thoughts were swirling around his mind,
'But I've always been harry, how can harry have died?, I'm not dead, or am I?, if harry's dead then who am I?, I seem to be me, or is he it and maybe I am he, so this would make me "it" also.

'But what is "it"' he thought with a questioning look at himself,
Using his power to burn the ground, carbonising the flakes of molten sand, making himself a mirror, he looked at himself, deeply, admiring his long wavy hair, as though stuck in a soft wind, his piercing green eyes, his gorgeous body defined by millenia of conquering worlds.

He saw.
He saw for the first time.
He wasn't harry anymore.
He was..
Someone else now.
Someone powerful.
Someone strong.
Someone vain, and modest, that people wish to be like.
He was..

A/N: chappie 4 is out :) what do you guys think harry's name should be?
R&r fav & follow for more :) & lol with the dragon :p