Harry was tired.
Really fucking tired of it all.
He had spent seven years of his life fighting and protecting people who were lying and betraying him the entire time. He had fought, cried, suffered and fucking died for them.
Hell, he even gave up his own mortality and chance for peace to stop Voldemort.
And how does the Wizarding World repay him? They steal from him, sell his secrets, potion him for three years to make him fall in love with a creepy stalker and put him on a silver platter to be devoured by the preverbal wolves.
Maybe he should start at the beginning.
It all started during the final battle. Harry had walked to Voldemort ready to face his death, ready to meet his parents when he ‘woke up’ so to speak in a misty space. There, he was met by a man who was sitting on a bench amid the fog.
In retrospect, Harry realized, he probably should have been a bit more freaked out but he had mostly been so tired that he had kind of jst plopped down next to him.
Harry should have really realized that seeing a weird man in a fancy suit and holding a cane with a goatee and a Scottish accent in a field of mist should have registered as really weird.
As it was, Harry had just waited for the other to talk first and stared at his old trainers.
“It is good to see you, Master,” The mysterious man had said after a while.
Now this did get a response. “What?!”
“You are my master, Master, and I am your servant to command.” The man had stated in a calm voice.
“Master?” Harry has asked. “Master of what?”
The man had peered at him and shaken his head. “I am Death.”
Memories came back to him now. Hermione telling him and Ron the story of the Deathly Hallows and saying the one who had procured all three would be the Master of Death.
Harry had thought it was a myth, but it appeared as if he was wrong.
“What does this mean, uh, Death?” He asked.
“You are my master and I am your servant to command,” Death repeated. “You have procured all of my items and as such you have received a gift from Magic herself.”
“A gift?” Harry didn’t even bother asking about the whole Magic thing.
“You shall forever be immortal, never being able to die, but being able to sense and communicate with those departed from the realm of the living. You shall receive a few other abilities that go along with the title of Master of Death, however those are undetermined.”
“Oh.” Harry repeated dumbly.
He couldn’t die.
Well Fate seems to like to fuck him in the ass, didn’t it?
“You must go back, Master, you have unfinished business with the mortal world. But before you go…” Death leaned over.
“What are you-!” Harry asked when Death placed a single finger on his forehead. It was the last thing he knew before he blacked out.
Harry had awakened on the forest floor where he had fallen when Voldemort killed him.
The rest of that day is obvious. He survived, played dead for a while to then appear in the time of need and kill good-old-Voldy.
That wasn’t the interesting part. No, the interesting part is when Harry had finally managed to stumble into the Room of Requirement a few hours later and finally collapsed. For the first time in years, he had a sleep that wasn’t filled with screams and faces of those he lost.
Harry’s mind was suddenly free as if someone had reached and untied the invisible ropes he didn’t even know were holding him down.
And suddenly Harry could breathe.
The results of this little mind awakening took a few weeks. Harry hid himself away in the ever caring Room of Requirement for nearly half a year. He just… couldn’t make himself go back out those doors.
So instead, he studied and slept and relaxed and worked out. Harry did all the things a normal teenage boy would have done his whole life and not for the first time at seventeen.
The room supplied everything he could possibly need. He had his own little sleeping nook with the comfiest bed on earth. Two walls were covered in books of both muggle and magical variety. A large fireplace was often roaring on the other wall underneath the large TV screen (which Harry didn’t even want to consider how it worked in Hogwarts) which offered all the movies Harry had been denied to watch as a kid.
Harry had actually spent nearly a week doing almost nothing but sleeping, eating and bathing. Three things he had rarely been afforded to do while on the run. After he felt he made up for that lost time, he began to read and watch some tv. He still wasn’t ready to leave the safety of the room yet. Harry didn’t want to have to face all the people, the expectations, and such that he wouldn’t be able to hide from if he left.
And yeah, Harry knew he was hiding. He also knew in a deep part of his mind that he was probably depressed. So he buried himself in books with their stories and their facts to hide away. He attacked his studies with a vigor he didn’t know he was capable of.
Harry couldn’t believe he had always slacked off! He suddenly saw how important it was to learn and learn and learn. If he had done this years ago, maybe the events of the past few years could have been avoided.
It wasn’t for another two weeks that Harry realized that he was actually remembering everything he read. Not just most or the general idea, no, Harry could remember everything.
That night Harry found a book laying on his bed about eidetic memories.
Harry spent days trying to figure out how this skill had never shown itself before now before it came to him; someone had blocked it. He had realized after stumbling upon a book on Legilimency which described how a skilled legilimence could, if powerful enough, could block abilities, memories, even parts of someone’s personality if they really wanted to.
Dumbledore is the only one skilled enough to do it, the only one with something to gain and the only one with the opportunity to do it before the skills became noticeable.
Snape certainly was skilled enough to do it, but Harry didn’t see anything he would have to gain by making Harry a worse students. As it was, Harry had never meet the man before Hogwarts and definitely would have noticed the change to him if it happened when he was eleven.
Voldemort was also skilled enough in the mind arts and would have something to gain by making Harry weaker, but Harry new that Voldemort’s plan on dealing with him was simply to kill him and be done with it. Going through thr trouble of messing with his mind just before trying to kill him was a stupid thought which he banished.
Which left only Albus fucking Dumbledore.
At first, he couldn’t see why Dumbledore would possible want to do this to him but then Harry slowly pieced the pieces together. He noted how it was Dumbledore that left him at the Dursley’s and insisted he go back. It was Dumbledore who knew everything all along yet did nothing. It was him who set him up to die like a pig. It was him who destroyed Harry’s life to have a pawn.
Three weeks after that, he began to train.
He already had some muscle mass after Quiditch but now Harry was rather proud to say he was pretty good looking. The signature messy Potter hair he had trimmed the first week he was there until it was short and agreeable. After nearly two months of daily workouts, he had strong muscles.
The room had supplied him with regular muggle gym equipment for awhile. Once he grew bored of that it began to supply, of all things, bloody gymnastic equipment.
With nothing else to do, he found himself a few books on the subject, a couple of movies and began to teach himself gymnastics. At first it was hard, Harry could see why this wasn’t normally a self taught thing, but as the room couldn’t conjure a real person, it was all he had.
Harry, much to his own surprise, found himself enjoying the sport. H liked the feeling of moving his body in new ways, of flying in the air for short bursts, for spinning and twisting and falling and flying.
One day when Harry was going through his regular exercises- weights, running, bars and beams- he noticed something sitting on the coffee table in front of the comfy couch.
Walking over, he saw that it was new book. Whenever the room felt he had should learn something new (he jokingly thought of the room as a fun professor once) it left books for him to read before dropping off whatever came with it a few days later.
Picking it up, Harry saw the title of An Idiots Guide to All Things Guns. Another muggle book. With a grin, Harry settled down with the book, work out forgotten in his new project.
Who knows, Harry thought. Maybe I’ll leave the Wizarding World and become James Bond.
Actually, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea.
Too bad Harry didn’t realize he would become someone so much more than James Bond.
Harry gets a proposal from another Harry
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Huddling under his faithful invisibility cloak, Harry snuck out of the Room of Requirement down to the first floor towards the Great Hall. He had spent five months and nine days in the Room and he was already missing the comforting feeling the Room had given off.
He still questioned his decision to leave but he knew it was time. He couldn’t hide from the world forever, much as he wished it. Besides, one of the students would have need of it soon enough. He didn’t want to deprive them of their own experience to cause mischief in the Room.
Harry slipped down the familiar halls, the layout the same but he could see many new rocks and portraits that must have been placed their after the battle. Coming across the hallway outside the Great Hall, he stopped in his tracks, his mouth wide open.
Covering the wall facing the door was a few hundred portraits, each depicting someone who had died fighting Voldemort.
And more and more and more.
And then he saw it, his parents. They were sitting there in a beautiful gold and red frame. James held Lily from behind and was peppering her face with kisses. Sirius was laughing at them from the portrait over, not noticing Tonks reaching down to play with his hair from above.
He realized that Remus wasn’t in the portrait with Tonks like he should have been.
Could he- could he have lived? He hadn’t actually seen the curse that hit him but only saw him laying on the floor of the hall. Maybe he had only been unconscious; he realized feeling a glimmer of hope.
He had loved Remus a lot. Remus was always there for him. Harry had cared for Sirius as well, but he had only met him a few times between third and fifth year. Harry had gotten to know Remus much better over the past five years.
He proceeded on, a glimmer of hope in heart now. His frozen heart began to slowly heat up.
Four years later found Harry Potter in his apartment in downtown London eating his morning breakfast of eggs and bacon and tea. He wore his training clothes; a pair of loose sweatpants and a tight t-shirt. As he quietly munched on his breakfast, he idly thought back on the past few years that had placed him in this place.
After he had left Hogwarts, he focused on the pack bond that Harry had with Remus and Teddy and apparated to where he could feel his magic leading him.
Harry found himself in the woods in a pleasant looking cottage. The sound of a baby crying greeted him and Harry found himself drifting to the open door. Remus was bouncing a baby Teddy on his hip, holding a bottle to his lips.
“Want some help?” Harry had asked, a small smirk on his face as his hip leaned against the wood door frame.
“HARRY!” Remus shouted. “Where the hell have you been for six bloody months!? I thought you were dead!”
Harry winced. “I needed time, Remus. I didn’t know you were alive and I figured Andy would like Teddy for a while as she grieved. I needed to be alone, to accept things that had happened.”
The werewolf gave a sad smile and handed over the baby boy. “Take your fussy godson and we will talk, yeah?”
Finding Remus had been a tremendous relief off of Harry’s shoulders. After spending a week or two helping out at the Lupin cottage, he decided he did not want to stay in the Wizarding World, at least, not at the time. So he went into London, found a beautiful flat in the center of London. It was large enough that it gave Harry his own bedroom, as well as two more Remus and Teddy when the visited.
Even though Harry had enough money to live off for a thousand years, he didn’t want to sit around all day. So he went out one day and found a gymnastic gym in central London. After only a few months there, he was picked up by the national team to his joy. Harry loved gymnastics and was ecstatic to be among others who would help him.
Harry also found a nice gun range just out of the city he would go to every month or so when he needed to let off steam.
Now, three years since being picked up by the national team Harry was even beginning to get bored. He loved the sport, he truly did, but after spending seven years of his life in constant adventure he realized he didn’t really know how to do downtime.
The emerald-eyed young man was considered his boredom when there was a knock on the door.
Harry rose, his cup of coffee in his hand as he went to the door. It was probably the older lady downstairs who liked to visit him, Harry thought as he went to open the door.
He was most certainly not expecting a man in his late thirties dressed in an impeccable suit with perfect hair and glasses. The mysterious Adonis, as Harry vaguely though as he took the man in, was holding black umbrella and had a please smile on his face. Harry’s wards didn’t go off so the man must be a muggle.
“Uh, hello?” Harry managed out, still in slight shock. He belatedly noticed that his coffee mug was still half way up to his face.
“Yes, hello, I am Harry Hart and I have a proposal of sorts for you. May I come in?” The man asked in a smooth english accent.
“Oh! Yes, sure, come on in. I was just have breakfast, would you like anything? I have coffee and tea and some eggs.” Harry offered as he showed the man his spacious kitchen.
“I am afraid I already ate, but I will take you up on that coffee. Morning aren’t my best time of day, if you get what I mean.” Mysterious Adonis (as Harry choose to call him) gave him a small smile. Harry nearly started stuttering again.
“I know all too well, mate. Here you go,” He handed the man a London Eye mug. “What can I do for you?”
“I would like to invite you to a job interview.” Harry Hart stated, leaning forward.
“What sort of job?” Harry Potter asked cautiously.
“To be a Kingsman agent. I have seen you’re gymnastic skill as well as shooting, and I know about your past. I also know that you are bored and want to do something exciting but don’t want to go back to the Wizarding World. So here I am, offering you a way. Come with me, and you can be all that you have the potential to be.”
Hey guys please comment with suggestions! I don't have much motivation or idea where this is going and your comments help so much. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 3: Training
Hey guys! So as I am sure you noticed, this story features Harry Hart and Harry Potter. In the scenes where they are together, I do my best to distinguish between them. I hope I succeeded.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Harry followed Harry Hart into the tailor shop. The older man greeted the man at the counter, who stated “Fitting room one is open, sir,” and a small smile on his face. Harry didn’t miss how he was being assessed but didn’t say anything. From what Harry had told him, this job was a bit James Bond-ish, so if the man running the shop hiding a spy organization has the need to assess him, he wasn’t going to complain. Harry certainly understood that instinct to assess everyone after the war.
“What is your full name?” Harry Hart asked him, startling him out of his thoughts. The man was facing a mirror and Harry walked so he stood next to him. While the younger of the shared namesake had changed into nice pants and a button up top, he still looked like a slob next to the impeccable Harry Hart.
“Harry James Potter-Peverell.” Harry stated. It still sounded weird for him to add Peverell to his name, but when he went to Gringotts, they gifted him with the Peverell title as a gift of finding all the Hallows.
“And is Harry short for something? My own name is short for Harold, much to my own displeasure. I never liked it much.” Harry Hart asked, looking at the younger through the mirror.
“I am not sure, I’m an orphan and no one ever told me or called me anything but Harry Potter,” Harry replied, his voice turning slightly bitter at the end.
“Would you like to be called something else? Of course, a gentleman is always called by his preferred and generally formal title.” Harry told him, his mouth quirked. “May I suggest Hadrian? It’s a noble and strong name.”
“Hadrian, yeah, I like that.” Harry Potter replied.
“Of course, if you make it through training you will be assigned the name Gawain. That is the spot on the Round Table you are competing for.” Harry told him.
The raven haired man made a face. “Isn’t that rather Arthurian, the Round Table, Gawain?”
Harry chuckled. “The Kingsman are the new Knights. Manners Maketh Man, Hadrian, remember that.”
The candidate smirked. “Manners Maketh Man, I do like that.”
Harry looked around him, the reality of what he had just achieved finally beginning to sink in.
Harry had been the only wizard but he is among his fellow high society that he become familiar with after he discovered his inheritance. The people he roomed with were pretty good people, a few petty rivalries here and there but it is to be expected given the situation. Even so, Harry had not found himself making any real friends here, still preferring to keep to himself. He knew that either he would win and never see these people again or lose and still never see them again. Besides, for the past few years he had lived relatively alone, making a few friends but not close ones.
Harry did, however, find himself seeking out the company of the other Harry, or Galahad, whenever the man was around. Once Harry got over the sheer gorgeousness of the man, he was able to find they had a lot in common and began to unconsciously copy the man’s mannerism.
He thought back to the first test, the water filled room. One of the other recruits figured out how to get air through the toilet pipes while Harry used a modified bubble-head charm that allowed him focus on getting everyone else air and cracking the glass. Harry had managed to swing on a pipe hanging on the ceiling and used the force of his body to crack the glass.
Merlin had seemed very pleased with his actions. The balding man pointed out how he saved Jane, a girl who had been drowning, which seemed to gain him some extra points in the man’s book. Except Harry had noticed that Jane wasn’t really drowning, only faking, when he went over to her. It was then that he figured out that they must be rigging the tests to show the worst. He had seen similar topics during the war.
The second test was when they had to choose a puppy. After losing Hedwig during the war, Harry had never considered having another pet, but when he saw the cute face of the all black German Shepherd staring at him, he felt his heart cave and he carefully lifted the pup into his arms.
After naming him Sirius (much to the pleasure of Galahad who said it was an ancient name that fit in well) he had gone through the rest of his training with him. Sirius, much like his namesake, was both mischievous and faithful to a fault, even when he was barely twenty pounds. Harry often found him staring and glaring at any of the recruits who seemed to do anything to bother Harry.
Harry was happy he had spent all that time in the Room of Requirement learning all manner of subjects as it helped him when he had to take many tests on subjects ranging from Spanish and French verbs to how to clean, load, and shoot various guns to foreign politics.
It was at this point, about a month and a half after the start of training, that Remus had started to get suspicious, sending letters and calls when he could. Harry knew he couldn’t tell Remus what he was doing, and simply told him he was at school for a new job. He wasn’t wrong.
Besides learning about weapons and fighting and foreign politics, the Kingsman also insisted on teaching the candidates how to be a tailor, at least to the extent that they could pass for one and tend to the shop above when needed. Harry, much to his own surprise, had begun to find this a relaxing reprieve as well from the stress.
The manor also had a fairly large collection of gymnastic equipment that the wizard found himself using whenever he could. The man who shared his namesake had often came to watch him practice, remarking on his fluidness and how it would help him on the job.
The day Merlin sent them out to go skydiving, Harry had been the unlucky victim to be without a parachute, saved by a carefully placed cushioning charm and the last minute help of one of his fellow recruits. All in all, by the end of the test only two remained. He and another by the name of Emerson.
When they were given twenty-four hours with their mentors before the final test, Harry Hart had invited a just turned twenty two Hadrian out to his house for a celebratory drink and dinner.
“Thank you for the food,” Hadrian told the older man as his plate was taken to the kitchen. “Do you want some help cleaning up?”
He got up to follow his mentor to his kitchen, his head buzzing slightly from Harry’s excellent Scotch collection they had broken into. As he walked behind the agent, his emerald eyes trailed up the man’s body. Harry was still wearing his suit from work, only having removed his jacket to leave his vest and shirt and tie.
“I think I can handle just fine but thank you,” Harry responded. He turned to give the wizard a smile and Hadrian got an idea and acted on it before he could think it through. Stepping forward, he placed his hands on the older man’s hips and then walked them backwards until Harry it the edge of the counter. “Hadrian?” Harry asked but was quieted when Hadrian dropped to his knees and began to unbuckle his belt. “Of fuck,”
“That’s the idea, mate,” Hadrian quipped before being silenced.
After a truly wonderful night, Harry to get through the final task to get the job he had spent just over two months working for.
When Harry was called into a room by Merlin, only to have the man hand him a gun and tell him, “Shot the dog,” he nearly froze. He took the gun, mind whirling. He had noticed that the past tests had been rigged to that no one actually died, so he could assume this was too. Shakily, he raised the handgun and pointed it to the head of Sirius, he mind flashing to the image of his godfather falling through the veil.
He pulled the trigger.
Hey guys I hope you liked it. Tell me what you think, your comments made this chapter come out much faster. Do you want Harry/Harry? Do you want Harry/Eggsy/Harry? Do you want Harry to become this kick ass suave bad ass? Tell me in the comments and thanks for reading!