Harry Potter, Freya's Clearing – Midgard

Harry looked toward the beautiful Goddess. He wasn't feeling particularly merciful tonight, although the Goddess's more-than-attractive physique had certainly caught the attention of the Lion of Leyndell.

"This one is particularly weak. At least the other one, the blond, presented a more worthy challenge when he had the audacity to attack my lands," Harry replied casually, watching with some amusement as the pathetic little pig squirmed furiously beneath his feet at being compared to his brother.

"I'm stronger than Magni! I WILL INHERIT THE HAMMER! I—" the pathetic God screamed, or at least tried to.

Alas, Harry was in no mood to listen to stupidity, so with a lazy gesture, he caused roots to emerge from the ground and gag the redhead's mouth.

"Silence, dog. The adults are talking," the God said with complete calm, his eyes fixed entirely on the Goddess, who remained impassive in the face of Harry's words and provocation.

"He is neither particularly strong nor skilled, but he is still my son. Spare his life, and I will offer myself in his place," the beautiful blonde said, increasingly capturing the Golden Lion's attention.

"You are Sif, correct? An Aesir associated with harvests, agriculture, and family" Harry remarked curiously, having absolutely no reservations about openly examining the beautiful Goddess's body.

The Golden Lion chuckled softly at the indignation on the Goddess's face.

"You seem rather eager to separate yourself from Asgard. Any particular reason? Trouble within the upper circles of the Lord of the Hanged?" Harry asked curiously, taking hold of the pathetic Asgardian's hair while studying Sif's face with interest, attentive to the slightest change in her expression.

The Golden Lion watched with interest as the beautiful Goddess's face briefly filled with concern before she erased every trace of emotion from her features.

Sif crossed her arms and slowly approached the Sovereign of Leyndell, her blue eyes fixed entirely upon those mismatched irises, which radiated power and unmistakable carnal interest.

Harry couldn't help himself, to be fair. Marika had told him that it was a direct consequence of his Ascension. Everything that made him who he was had been exponentially amplified the moment he became the Elden King and overthrew the Greater Will.

Both his virtues and his flaws.

Because Harry retained enough of his former self to understand perfectly well that he could be many things.

But perfect was not one of them.

Harry retained his sense of justice, his fervent desire to protect those he considered his own, his magical and martial prowess, and his ability to lead. But he had also retained his constant lust, his rebellious temperament, the very trait that had granted him the will necessary to destroy Leyndell's old regime, and his capacity to hold grudges for centuries.

One thing for another, the Golden Lion supposed, entertained by the Asgardian Goddess's defiant expression.

"I can feel your power, outsider. It is…intoxicating and overwhelming. But the All-Father is far from easy prey. He is cunning, powerful, and ruthless. His dominion over the Nine Realms is absolute," the blonde declared, genuinely believing every word she spoke.

Harry merely tilted his head to one side, staring intently at the Goddess. She didn't appear frightened in the slightest, perhaps sensing that Harry harbored no genuine malice toward the people of Asgard in general.

"The decrepit old bastard made a mistake. He had the audacity to launch an incursion into my lands with his putrid undead, and when I confronted him, rather than fight, he attempted to curse me with a coin. The Lord of the Hanged is nothing more than an unscrupulous weasel, too cowardly to face me himself," Harry said with amusement, thoroughly enjoying the expressions of disbelief on Sif's face, her son's, and that of the Goddess accompanying Ciri.

And speaking of Ciri.

"I see the enchantment worked perfectly, my little lioness," the Sovereign of Leyndell remarked with amusement, chuckling softly as his princess blushed fiercely, although her expression couldn't conceal the satisfaction in her eyes.

"So it would seem, my Lord," the ash-haired maiden replied, prompting Harry to nod before turning his attention toward his exotic maiden's companion, studying her with interest.

"And who is your beautiful companion, Ciri? I'm afraid I'm not acquainted with such a lovely woman," the Golden Lion asked softly, his interest evident as he regarded someone who was clearly a Goddess, one who radiated divine energy similar to Sif's.

Apparently, all the Goddesses in this…Yggdrasill were associated with fertility, lust, and love.

Sentiments Harry wholeheartedly supported, he thought with amusement, examining the unknown Goddess with interest.

Harry contemplated her in silence, unable to ignore the supernatural beauty of the divine creature. His new nature roared within him, demanding that such a being become entirely his.

Her face, possessing delicate and extraordinarily feminine features, was complemented by a sublime physique, even by the standards of a Goddess. Her long chestnut hair fell in intricate braids over slender shoulders, while her eyes reflected an ancient wisdom that betrayed the true age of such a beautiful being.

Her figure was exquisite, wrapped, much to the King of Leyndell's surprise, in rags more befitting a forest witch than a Goddess, although golden ornaments embraced her generous curves with elegance.

She possessed a rather powerful aura, although her magic was not focused on war and destruction, but rather on love, beauty, fertility, and abundance.

Domains that would prove extremely useful to him in Leyndell, although Marika would probably take it as a challenge and demand another hundred daughters as compensation, the Elden Lord thought, focusing once more on the stranger, whom he was able to identify almost immediately.

That Goddess was fertility personified, a divinity whose very essence was intimately connected to the birth and perpetuation of life.

The Golden Lion couldn't help imagining the children such a creature might give him: golden princes and princesses born from the union between the Sovereign of the New Golden Order and an ancient, conquered Norse divinity.

"You must be Freya, Vanir Goddess of Magic, Love, and Beauty. A title that, in my opinion, hardly does you justice," Harry remarked with amusement, laughing inwardly as Ciri raised an eyebrow in disbelief, while interest appeared on the elegant Goddess's face.

"You have me at a disadvantage, outsider. I'm afraid I don't know you," the Goddess replied, her voice causing something deep within Harry to roar with desire.

He felt an almost unbearable urge to impregnate these Norse Goddesses again and again, to spread the Light of Leyndell and claim them for himself, over and over.

The Golden Lion merely shook his head quickly, forcing himself to concentrate again. There would be time enough to satisfy his desires with one of his lovers.

Or all of them, he thought.

"Me? I'm Harry," he replied with amusement, enjoying Ciri's exasperated sigh and the incredulous expressions of both Goddesses.

However, before Sif or Freya could say anything in response, a golden flash illuminated the forest clearing as a feminine silhouette with golden wings landed near the curious gathering.

Harry clasped his hands behind his back, watching with satisfaction as Malenia approached him, accompanied by another unknown woman.

The Golden Lion could sense considerable power within the stranger, although curiously, she was not a Goddess.

Oh, she was beautiful. Not quite on the level of Freya or Sif, but far beyond any ordinary mortal.

She possessed snow-white skin, large and expressive blue eyes that surveyed everything around her with concealed curiosity and extreme caution, particularly wary of Sif and Modi.

Her red hair was beautiful, and curiously, she carried a magical axe that radiated more than respectable power.

"Malenia," Harry said with a nod of greeting, watching with indifference as the redheaded warrior knelt before him, complete submission evident in every one of her actions.

"My Lord, I wasn't aware you were coming," the powerful warrior said softly. Her tone remained respectful, but Harry could identify the curiosity and uncertainty in her voice.

The Golden Lion merely shrugged and replied.

"Ciri called me. Apparently, there were some problems with this pathetic weakling," he said indifferently, using his boot to slap the humiliated and helpless Modi across the face.

The Asgardian writhed furiously, desperate to escape Harry's iron grip.

The Elden Lord's response?

He pressed his boot against Modi's throat with sufficient force to subdue him, silencing him instantly beneath Sif's furious gaze.

The Asgardian Goddess opened her mouth to respond, but Harry spoke first, unwilling to listen to the beautiful and spirited Goddess's complaints.

"And as for your request, I accept. So come here. It's time for us to leave," Harry said with amusement, making a dismissive gesture that caused Modi's body to levitate off the ground before being hurled out of the clearing like an old rag.

Completely humiliated, defeated, and stripped of his dignity, Sif thought with some relief as she watched her son, still alive, unsuccessfully attempting to stand.

Harry studied the blonde's expression, which was filled with conflicting emotions. There was relief and obvious love, but also disappointment, a certain contempt, and resignation.

Harry could only speculate about the Goddess's attitude toward her own son, but to be fair, he couldn't have cared less about their relationship.

The Lord's only interest at that moment lay in Sif's broad hips as she walked directly toward the Elden Lord with a graceful sway.

She was a tall Goddess, and even so, Sif had to raise her gaze to meet Harry's powerful eyes. He merely nodded and began issuing orders.

"Good. That was a productive scouting expedition. We have much to plan. It's time to leave," the Lord declared decisively, turning around and beginning to walk toward the magnificent and curious giant turtle.

"Are you coming with us too, big fellow?" the Elden Lord asked, smiling when he heard the magnificent creature's deep rumble.

The turtle nodded with extreme slowness, evidently relieved at the prospect of leaving this desolate wasteland.

"Don't worry. Leyndell is immense, and you'll be free to wander wherever you please. I'm sure my daughters will adore cleaning and decorating that old shell of yours," the King remarked with amusement, laughing heartily at the magnificent being's indignant rumble.

Then Freya's cautious voice interrupted him.

"One moment. Where exactly are we going? Where is this Leyndell you keep mentioning? Ciri wasn't able to give me the details," Freya asked with curiosity, although extreme caution was also evident in her voice.

Harry looked at her in surprise before shrugging and replying.

"I'll tell you everything you want to know once we return. For now…our visit has…"

However, Harry's words were interrupted by the appearance of a titanic lightning bolt, followed by the most monstrous thunderclap Harry had heard in a very long time.

His senses immediately went on high alert, particularly when he saw Sif's eyes flash with recognition.

Time seemed to slow for the Elden Lord as a silhouette approached the forest clearing at tremendous speed.

It was a God.

The aura of divinity Harry had sensed from kilometers away was indication enough.

He was physically immense, almost a giant by human standards, with long, tangled red hair and lengthy Norse braids woven into his beard.

"Prepare yourselves," the Elden Lord ordered, an instant before raising a golden dome around the clearing.

At that precise moment, the God landed with a tremendous crash that shook the earth and sent lightning bolts crashing throughout the forest, toppling numerous nearby pine trees and obliterating everything in the clearing that wasn't protected beneath the dome.

Once the spectacle of light ended, Harry could see the enemy God with perfect clarity, although the enormous lightning hammer in his hand was already more than enough to identify him.

"I hardly need to ask who you are, Son of the Lord of the Hanged," Harry declared with complete calm, analyzing every last detail of his enemy.

He was disappointed to realize that, much to his disbelief…

The man was drunk.

Thor merely grunted at Harry's words, regarding him not like the old drunkard he appeared to be, but like a formidable and ruthless warrior, searching for the slightest hint of weakness to exploit and secure victory.

The power Harry felt emanating from this being was colossal, simply titanic, easily on the level of Promised Consort Radahn.

The mere presence of the God before him shook all of Midgard, and curiously, caused Harry's own divinity to roar with excitement, eager and hungry for the challenge ahead.

Thor, unlike Odin, was a warrior, a beast of mass destruction who didn't possess a single manipulative bone in his body.

From what the Elden Lord could read of his enemy, Thor lived and existed for two things.

Alcohol and battle.

The Asgardian regarded Harry with a bloodthirsty smile, gripping Mjölnir tightly in his hand, ready to fight, while an aura of lightning completely enveloped his body.

"You humiliated my pathetic excuse for a son, and now you intend to make my wife yours! HAHA! You've got balls, outsider, I'll give you that! You wouldn't happen to have an Aesir ancestor somewhere, would you?" the redhead asked with amusement, ignoring Modi's furious, self-loathing expression and Sif's look of disbelief.

Harry shrugged and replied.

"I'm afraid not. I have nothing against you, God of Thunder, but something tells me you simply don't care. I suppose you've come here to get your ass kicked," the Lion replied casually.

Sif, Freya, and the mysterious redhead stared at him with surprise and a measure of fear, while Ciri merely chuckled softly and Malenia observed everything impassively.

Thor laughed heartily, the sound echoing throughout the forest and causing nearby animals to scatter in every direction, before focusing his gaze upon Harry.

The drunken God raised his hammer. His eyes were bloodshot, but completely focused on the imminent battle.

"HA! You might have nothing against me, but the All-Father won't leave you alone. He's absolutely terrified, you know? And I want to understand why," the redhead declared before launching himself at full speed toward the dome Harry had created, determined to use Mjölnir as a battering ram of destruction.

Something Harry obviously couldn't allow.

And so, for the first time in centuries, Harry materialized his trusty sword, the weapon he had torn from Maliketh's hands so many centuries ago that he could scarcely remember.

The weapon with which he had disposed of that stupid beast, the meddlesome Fingers, and most importantly…

The weapon that had helped him shatter the Greater Will, allowing the true power of the Erdtree to be unleashed.

Once known as the Black Blade, now…

The Monarch's Blade.

Harry vanished, reappearing outside the dome, sword in hand, at the precise moment Thor and Mjölnir were about to strike the shield.

Hammer and sword collided.

Two wills.

Two Gods.

Two Pantheons.

The result was precisely what one might expect.

The monstrous strength of Mjölnir against the implacable will of the Monarch's Blade, both weapons of Gods, builders and destroyers of worlds.

And when two unstoppable objects collided, neither willing to yield even the slightest ground…

It was the world that gave way.

The power contained within the collision expanded beneath Harry's and Thor's feet, shattering the earth, rocks, and nearby trees with simply monstrous force.

Everything in Midgard began to collapse as a monstrous, titanic crater started forming, with Harry and Thor at the epicenter of the struggle.

The small clearing belonging to Goddess Freya, protected by the Elden Lord's magic, remained intact, floating gracefully while everything surrounding it began collapsing.

Even a portion of the sea surrounding Midgard surged into the devastation, beginning to form what would probably become a bay.

Assuming the world survived the clash of Gods.

His trusty sword stopped the God's hammer without difficulty, much to the redhead's obvious surprise.

Harry capitalized on that moment, moving at the speed of light and unleashing precise, lethal slashes with his sword, determined to end this as quickly as possible.

Harry managed to land two cuts, one across the redhead's leg and another across his chest, before Thor responded.

Moving, like Harry, at the speed of light, the Asgardian delivered a thunderous blow to the Elden Lord's chest, causing Harry to experience something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Pain.

BOOOOOOM!

Harry's body was hurled several meters into the air, only for the Golden Lion to stop abruptly, anchoring his very being to the fabric of the world before launching himself back toward the Asgardian.

His face bore an expression of excitement and hunger for battle that he hadn't experienced in a very long time.

An expression Thor shared.

The titanic clash between Leyndell and Asgard had begun.

Would Midgard survive the fury and pride of two Gods of Destruction?

Only time would tell.

Bartemius Crouch Junior, Riddle Manor – Little Hangleton

"Report," came the shrill voice of his Master, still trapped within the tiny, fragile body that restrained all his glory and magnificence.

"Master…I haven't been able to find anything about Harry Potter. Where he was, who trained him, or how he became so powerful. There's nothing in the records," Barty replied, ashamed of having failed his Lord's assignment.

The Dark Lord's loyal servant closed his eyes and awaited the inevitable punishment, the searing agony of the Cruciatus Curse for failing his Master's command.

However, much to Barty's surprise…

Nothing happened.

Barty dared to raise his gaze, watching as his Lord remained lost in thought, his trusty wand resting beside him, completely indifferent to the presence of his loyal servant.

"How is it possible? What is his damned secret? WHERE DOES HE GET SO MUCH FUCKING POWER?" the Dark Lord spat to himself, utterly distracted as he continued muttering under his breath.

Barty opened his mouth to respond, only to close it immediately a moment later.

His Lord was deeply agitated, and Barty could understand perfectly well.

Harry Potter…had returned, older than he should have been, and possessing far more power than a filthy half-blood like him had any right to wield.

And from the moment he returned, he had dedicated himself to a single purpose.

Making the Dark Lord's life a fucking nightmare.

The goblins had been the first message.

Gringotts utterly destroyed, the goblins stripped of their magic.

Then came the Malfoys, followed by the Parkinsons and the Greengrasses.

The brutal executions of Fudge and Bagman.

All of this made one thing abundantly clear.

Harry Potter was no longer Dumbledore's Golden Boy.

The Lord of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter was ruthless, powerful, and willing to do whatever he pleased without answering to anyone.

As he had demonstrated with the execution of Augustus Rookwood and the subsequent threat directed toward his Lord.

A threat that had affected the Dark Lord far more than he was willing to admit.

Ever since that fateful night, Barty's Master had been practically afraid of his own shadow. Every unexpected sound startled him, and he lived in a constant state of fear.

It was something Barty would once have considered unthinkable.

But the more he observed Potter, the less he understood about the limits of his power.

Quite simply, the man appeared to have none.

Barty's thoughts were interrupted when he saw Nagini slither toward the armchair where the Dark Lord sat.

He couldn't suppress a shudder of terror as he heard the two begin hissing rapidly at one another.

Parseltongue was as beautiful as it was terrifying, Barty thought, swallowing nervously as his Master released a shrill, cruel laugh before turning toward the doorway and speaking.

"I must say…I never imagined we would meet again under these circumstances," the Dark Lord remarked, directing a gaze filled with hatred, concealed mockery, and irony toward the shadowed doorway.

There, much to Barty's disbelief, two wizards had appeared.

Both were elderly, and although one of them was completely unknown to young Crouch, the other was…as famous as Potter himself.

Perhaps even more so.

"Tom…I see you've learned the consequences of your own actions," the decrepit old man said with a heavy sigh, regarding his Master with disappointment.

Barty's Master was about to respond when the other elderly wizard interrupted.

"Yes, very interesting, but we have a great deal to discuss. Especially if we want to have a damned chance of stopping Harry Potter," the man declared as Dumbledore and he entered the room, all three regarding one another with distrust and concealed contempt.

Barty remained on his knees, watching the three men size one another up with their gazes.

He couldn't help swallowing nervously, an ominous feeling settling in his stomach about what would happen next.

He wasn't wrong.