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As Harry landed back in Dumbledore’s office (he knew it was now Snape’s office, but old habits and all that), he realized something: he was never meant to make it to adulthood. As that thought settled into his mind, he laughed. Giant, rolling chuckles that were not sobs, thank you very much.
Well, this made the decision of what to do next fairly simple. The relief of knowing how easy this final task would be settled over him as he stood and walked back towards the great hall. He paused in front of the open doors, glancing around at the devastation inside, and knew he was making the right choice, the only choice. He knew in his soul he was always meant to take this walk. To sacrifice himself for these people, whether they deserved it or not. The walk through the forest went quickly, surrounded by his family and the shadows of what could have been. As he came to the edge of the clearing, Harry could see Voldy monologuing to his followers as usual, but didn’t really care enough to pay attention.
“Harry Potter, come to die?” Voldemort cried out, pointing his wand at Harry, who just stood there.
“Hm? Oh yea, sure.” Harry nodded absentmindedly, staring off to the left of the Dark Lord. There was something shiny in the trees, which seemed unusual for this deep in the forest. The shiny thing moved along the edges of the clearing towards where Harry was standing, and he wondered if he should be concerned.
Before he could decide, Voldy shouted, “Avada Kadavra!” and Harry closed his eyes as the green light surrounded him.
Eyes opening on a world devoid of color and shape, Harry looked around at what could only be Kings Cross and Dumbledore waiting to speak to him. Before he could do more than blink, a rapid, booming noise startled Harry back into consciousness. He sat up slowly, wincing from the dull ache of being killed (again). A black blur flew across the clearing towards Voldemort. His eyes darted towards the group of Death Eaters to see…. Carnage. A heavily-muscled man wearing a frankly alarming amount of body armor held Voldy by the throat with one shiny hand and fired a muggle machine gun at the others. Only a third of the group was still standing, firing curse after curse at the dark-haired man who seemed to be simultaneously dodging the spells and shooting back while also shaking the Dark Lord aggressively. After closer inspection, Harry realized the man was speaking to Voldy between shakes.
The gunfire died down and Harry could finally hear what was being said, “...And another thing! What the fuck is your problem?!? He was a fuckin’ baby! You tried and failed to kill a helpless baby and you still think you deserve to be in charge? He’s so much better and kinder and more powerful than you will ever be, and you just can’t deal with it so you keep trying and failing to kill him! How dumb can ya be?”
Harry sat, shocked, as the lethal man continued to berate Voldemort while he switched to various torture methods that were definitely not approved by the Geneva Convention. Harry couldn’t focus on the frankly horrifying acts occurring in front of him, though, he was more hung up on what the man was still saying about him.
“Do you even know how long I’ve searched for him? Years! For years I've watched as he was tortured and abused and mistreated. I’ve longed to get my hands on that pitiful excuse of a family of his, and don't even get me started on his fair-weather friends. And now, I’ve finally found him, and you try to kill him! Again! It’s bad enough that Dumblefuck’s been sticking his abnormally long nose in Harry's business since birth, messing with things that definitely don’t concern him, but then you have to constantly try and resurrect yourself using a literal schoolboy. Obsessive much?” Harry was confused about how this stranger knew so much about him, but was happy to sit back and watch as someone defended him for a change. Honestly, it was kind of adorable how invested this guy was in his welfare considering they'd never met.
Voldy was in no shape to speak so the man continued, “No more! He deserves the very best things, and I’m going to make sure he gets time to enjoy them. He is absolutely perfect and wonderful and brilliant and no one seems to care about any of that because all they see is a weapon to kill you!” Harry’s cheeks reddened and a manic giggle escaped as the man punctuated each compliment with a blow to the face. The man’s head snapped up and towards him, and despite the hair hanging in front of his face, Harry was shocked at how beautiful the man was. He couldn't look away, even when the handsome man dropped the Dark Lord and immediately started striding towards him with a confident strut designed to eat up the distance between them in an instant. The man with what appeared to be an entirely metal arm (that’s what he saw in the trees!) stopped less than a foot in front of him, stooped down to Harry’s eye level, and began assessing his condition with clinical precision.
Mumbling about dumb wizards and self-sacrificing idiots, the man finished his assessment and met Harry’s eyes with a look of pure devotion and love. Harry froze as the man spoke again, “Doll, don’t ya know I’d kill anyone you needed dead? You’re too precious to have to do any dirty work, and if I have anything to say about it, you’re gonna be spending the rest of your long life in the lap of luxury while I deal with anyone who says otherwise.”
The man stood up and extended his flesh hand down towards Harry, “C’mon, baby, let’s get you all sorted out.” Harry extended his hand and began to stand, but fell back to the ground again as soon as they touched. Fire burned his skin around their joined hands and he gasped at the elaborate tattoo shimmering into reality on their forearms. Harry’s arm was suddenly covered in swirls of fire and smoke, a phoenix rising from the ashes that spiraled around his arm perfectly matching the ice and shadow one on the man’s arm.
The man glanced down at their matching arms before saying, “Yep, that does it. I’m keeping you.” He bent down and scooped Harry off the ground and began walking back into the forest. Voldemort, unhappy with being ignored and too broken to do anything more than yell inarticulately at the pair, screamed in rage and frustration. Without looking away from the literal heart eyes the man was giving him, Harry points his wand at the broken former Dark Lord and whispers, “Avada Kadavra.”
Harry thought back to what he felt when he left the castle. He was right about it being a soul-deep need to go like a lamb to slaughter, he was just wrong about who would be doing the killing. Oh well, he never was very good at divination anyway.