---
"Hello, mortal!"
A glowing being joked in front of a child no older than eight.
"It's late—what are you doing out here at this hour?"
The being teased, placing a hand dramatically on the kid's forehead.
The child looked up, half scared and half curious. A small boy, bruised all over, with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
The being understood instantly: this was a child who had suffered abuse.
And right then, he swore—like the hero he was—to punish the monsters who had done this.
But the being himself wasn't in great shape—he had a mortal wound in his chest, straight through his heart. The only thing keeping him standing was sheer willpower.
"Sir, you're hurt! You need a hospital!"
The boy panicked, trying to hold the being up with his tiny frame.
"Give me a worthy ending…"
The being sighed, crouching down in front of the boy. He summoned a crimson spear glowing with cruel intensity and dropped it at the child's feet.
"If you use this, you can escape the pain you've been living with."
"But, sir, you're injured! We need to take you to a hospital!"
The boy's innocent worry made the being smile. He patted the kid's head.
"Yes, yes… so pick up the spear and say: $$##+. Then we'll go to the hospital."
Naively, the boy grabbed the weapon and repeated the strange words. The spear flared with a bloody glow.
---
"Congratulations, my new son!"
A girl's cheerful voice rang out as she cradled the boy in her arms.
"Who are you?!"
The boy panicked, trying to sit up but failing.
"You did something almost no one could—you killed a god."
The girl stroked his hair gently.
"The god was mortally wounded already, true, but still, he recognized you as his killer."
Her smile grew wider.
"Earning the respect of a god? That's nearly impossible. My son, you are truly special."
"Son?"
The boy's eyes watered. "I… I have a mother?"
"Of course! You're one of Pandora's children. That's a big deal—be proud!"
She puffed out her chest with pride, maybe even a little arrogance.
"Yes, mom."
"So cute!"
Tears streaming, the boy smiled. The girl's eyes widened before she hugged him tight, rubbing her cheek against his like a cat.
Then she stared coldly at the lightning scar on his forehead.
"What's inside this scar is trash. I'll get rid of it."
Dark smoke burst from the scar, screaming as if alive, before finally fading into nothingness.
"It's time to wake up, my third Campione… Harry Potter."
---
Harry woke with a start.
He wasn't on the street anymore, but in a luxurious bed, inside a huge room.
"My lord, you're finally awake."
An old man bowed as he entered.
"Who are you?"
Harry squinted suspiciously.
"Forgive my rudeness. I am Sebastian Aurum, head of the Department of Divine Research in the Witenagemot."
"Witenage-what?"
Harry was completely lost. Who were these people? And why had they kidnapped him?
"It's an organization that studies and protects the magical and divine world from mundane eyes."
"Divine—ahh!"
Harry clutched his head as memories rushed back: the dying god, the crimson spear, Pandora—his mother.
"I… I'm a Campione."
"Exactly."
"And what do you people want from me?"
"Nothing. Only an alliance. We just hope you won't see us as enemies."
"And if I say no?"
Harry narrowed his eyes, ready for a fight.
"Then we accept. We can't possibly oppose you."
The old man sighed. His honesty was almost disarming—after all, mortals couldn't defeat, let alone kill, a Campione or a god.
"Then… I'll ally with you."
Harry grinned, but then his face fell.
"I don't want to go back to my family's house."
His voice shook with fear.
Sebastian understood immediately—the boy had been abused. A Campione born from pain could become a cruel monster. But Harry wasn't evil. He was just a child who wanted a normal life.
"If you wish it, you'll never return there. I'll prepare the papers and adopt you, if you'll let me."
"Really? Really-really?!"
Harry jumped into the old man's arms, hugging him so tightly that Sebastian's bones cracked.
"Lord— you're killing me…"
"Ahhh! Sorry!"
Harry panicked and let go, trying to help the old man, who quickly waved it off.
And so, Harry Potter "died"… and Harry P. Aurum, the King of Curses, was born.
---
A year later, Harry had trained his powers.
The spear of Cú Chulainn—better known as Setanta—was now his signature weapon: the cursed spear Gáe Bolg.
Its main effect? The reversal of cause and effect. Once Harry invoked its name and aimed it—boom—the enemy's heart was already pierced, no matter what.
And if he threw it? A massive explosion wiped out everything in a 5 km radius.
Along with the spear, Harry inherited Setanta's divine strength, superhuman speed, and magic. By nine years old, he was stronger, faster, and way too excited about it.
"Harry…"
Sebastian entered the destroyed training hall, bringing a little girl with him.
"This is Alice, daughter of our leader."
"Hello, my lord. On behalf of my father, I've come to greet you."
Harry zoomed to her in a flash, making her flinch as if he'd just teleported.
"Call me Harry. Just Harry."
"Uh… yes, sir—Harry."
"Better."
"Harry, the Witenagemot studies everything—from supernatural lore to mundane society."
"That's amazing! Grandpa, Grandpa, I wanna see it all!"
Harry jumped up and down.
Sebastian smiled, hiding the truth. No matter how fatherly he felt, he knew the rule: Campione weren't to be manipulated. They were the manipulators.
---
Meanwhile, in the magical world of Britain, news of Harry Potter's "death" spread like wildfire.
Some celebrated, others mourned.
Dumbledore collapsed in despair—where had he gone wrong? He had hidden the boy with family, protected by blood wards, but the real danger had been inside the family itself.
His mistake had cost Harry his life.
Now only Neville remained as the possible child of prophecy. Dumbledore swore not to repeat the same mistake again.
Sirius Black, in Azkaban, roared for vengeance. The rat would pay.
---
Another year passed.
Harry was now ten, locked in combat—smiling wildly as he fought the God of Thunder himself.
"C'mon, Mr. Lightning! Can't even land a hit? Maybe that title of 'King of the Gods' is a fake after all!"
Harry laughed, dodging bolts that struck faster than he could blink.
"Was it even you who killed your dad, or was it Hades, and you just took the credit?"
"Silence, brat!"
Zeus hurled more lightning, his anger growing.
"The almighty Zeus can't touch a little kid? Hahaha! Maybe Poseidon did the job, huh? He looked tougher than you anyway."
Harry mocked him mercilessly until finally—
"Gáe Bolg!"
The spear pierced Zeus's heart.
The god coughed blood, glaring at the boy.
"Cursed son of Pandora… I'll return. Survive until then, and I'll kill you myself."
"Sure thing. Take a number."
Harry smirked as Zeus dissolved into golden dust.
---
But Harry looked around at the devastation: an entire city reduced to rubble.
"Damn it…"
He whispered, before teleporting away.
---
Later, Sebastian found him curled under blankets.
"I know you're upset, but don't worry—we evacuated the city before the fight. Nobody died."
He patted Harry's head.
"Really?"
Harry's tearful eyes searched his face.
"Really. We used a hurricane as cover. No one was hurt."
He handed Harry an envelope.
"Also… this came for you."
Harry opened it, blinking.
"You're a wizard, Harry."