r/HPFanfictionPrompts

Andy realises he is about as stable as jug of nitroglicerin, and somehow keeps him from runninf after wormtail.

Said rat thinks it is safe until Bellatrix Lestrange catches it intent on an "interview without coffee" as to the Wormtail's specific role in the whole Potter's thing and his possible role in Tom being blown to pieces...

Now he really wishes he was dealing with the other Black Cousin with penchant for violence.

Think Scott Calvin from the Santa Clause

Harry clutched the stone like his life depended on it.

Even unconscious his magic was screaming at him "MINE!" And casts a sticking charm accidentally preventing Pomfrey or Dumbledore from removing it while he was out.

"Harry you are young -" Dumbledore was gonna give the speech about not needing it.

"And it can stay that way." Harry says "I put my hands around Quillens throat for this if I don't keep it I'm just a murderer not a treasure hunter."

This leads to Nicolas and his wife showing up and when Dumbledore told them Harry refused to give it up Nicolas is like "Great you start this summer. Welcome to the apprenticeship."

"What?!" Dumbledore shouted

"Well you failed to make one so I gotta pass it on before I die." The alchemist said handing Harry a Card with their floo network.

"Hey we helped!" Hermione exclaimed.

"You can join too!" Nicolas smiled also handing her a card.

"See you in a few days!" And leaves.

Harry gets given a choice after breaking the Elder Wand. Become the Reaper of this world or a Creation God in a new one.

"What happens to my friends if I pick the second?"

"They can visit at your permission but you'd be barred from entering this world again for too long." Death warns "But I can assure you the rewards are great if you pick the second."

Harry wakes up on what looks like a complete blank earth and is told he can build it from the ground up as he chooses.

"I want the sun green." Harry says firstly and it turns an emerald green. "Damn!"

A damn and a river show up.

Basically its a webnovel style story where Harry is basically a god playing in a sandbox universe and the story is from the point of view of the creatures the inhabit the world. And when I say creatures I mean Goblins, Elves and Orcs from your genetic fantasy novels not the Harry Potter versions.

I would love a story where Harry being a god is treated as him basically wanting to make a better world.

While he's running, he runs into Argus Filch, and learns the hard way that the man had a carrier in Muggle Wrestling before he became a Custodian.

He's lost none of those old skills, as demonstrated when he broke the escaped Death Eater's jaw, leg, and wand arm.

After that day, Filch is treated with just a little more respect.

The smell was the first thing that hit her—stale tobacco, wet dog, and the sharp, briny tang of sea salt.

Hermione grunted, rolling over to block out a deafening, rhythmic rumbling that sounded like an engine backfiring. Her shoulder slammed directly into cold, unforgiving stone. She gasped, her eyes snapping open, only to find herself staring at a ceiling of rotting wooden beams and a leaking thatch roof.

She wasn't in her room. She wasn't in the Gryffindor dorms. And she was absolutely freezing, save for an incredibly heavy, moldering overcoat draped over her torso.

“Oof,” she tried to say, but the voice that came out of her throat was entirely wrong. It was too low, too raspy, and distinctly male.

Hermione scrambled backward, her hands flying to her throat. She froze. Her fingers were tiny, calloused, and covered in a layer of grime that she would never allow under her fingernails. She pulled her hands into her line of sight. They were thin. Unhealthily thin. The wrists looked like twigs, and the oversized, grey woolen sleeve swallowing her arm looked like it belonged to a small tent.

She looked across the room. Sleeping soundly on a tragically sagging sofa was Rubeus Hagrid.

No. No, no, no.

Memory hit her like a Bludger. The Department of Mysteries. The shattered Hour-Glasses. A blinding, golden vortex of rogue Time-Turners exploding right in her face. Harry had tackled her, trying to drag her away from the collapsing pedestal—

Hermione scrambled to her feet, or tried to. She tripped over the hem of a pair of trousers so massive they had to be held up by a piece of frayed rope. Her vision swam. As she steadied herself against the damp stone wall, her hand brushed her forehead.

There, hidden beneath a mop of unruly, bird-nest hair, was a jagged, raised line of scar tissue.

“Harry,” she whispered, her new, prepubescent boy's voice cracking. She looked down at her ribs, clearly visible through a threadbare, oversized t-shirt. A deep, cold fury sparked beneath her panic. She had known the Dursleys were awful—Harry had dropped hints over the years—but experiencing the physical reality of a childhood spent in a cupboard was entirely different. Her stomach gave a violent, painful twist of hunger. He was so small. So terribly, dangerously underweight.

"Er—ooofff," Hagrid grunted, stirring on the sofa. The giant man blinked, rubbing his dinner-plate-sized eyes, and looked down at her. "Morning, Harry! Happy birthday to yeh! Eleven today, eh?"

Hermione swallowed hard, forcing her analytical mind to override the sheer terror of her situation. If she was here, in Harry's body, on July 31st, 1991... then where was Harry?

"Thank you, Hagrid," she managed to say, trying to mimic the quiet, polite tone Harry always used when talking about his childhood.

"Got a bit of a rush on today," Hagrid said breezily, reaching into the fathomless depths of his coat. "Got to get yeh to Diagon Alley, get your school things. Oh, an' I nearly forgot!"

From an inside pocket, Hagrid pulled out a large, slightly squashed chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written in green icing. Hermione's stomach roared at the sight of food. For the next hour, she played the part of the bewildered eleven-year-old orphan, observing everything with a sharp, academic intensity.

When they finally made it to London and stepped into Gringotts, the reality of Harry’s life hit her for a second time. Griphook unlocked Vault 687, and the door swung open to reveal literal mountains of gold. Mounds of Galleons, columns of Sickles, and heaps of Knuts.

Hermione stared at the fortune, her jaw dropping. All this wealth, she thought, a fierce, protective anger boiling in her chest. He had all of this, and they left him to starve in rags on a dirt-covered rock.

But the biggest shock of the day came at Eeylops Owl Emporium. Hagrid, looking terribly pleased with himself, presented her with a cage containing a pristine, snowy white owl.

The owl looked through the bars, her amber eyes incredibly intelligent, and let out a soft, inquiring bark.

Hermione felt a lump form in her throat. She reached out a small, trembling hand, letting the owl gently nip her fingers. "Hedwig," she whispered, the name slipping out instinctively. For a moment, the terror of being trapped in the past in her best friends body vanished, replaced by the fierce determination to fix everything.

xxx

I am hopefully going to do something with this but as it is the third one ive created today, for a third fandom, im not going to get my hopes up. If someone wants to write a story on this, go ahead. All I ask is you post a link so I can read it.

Wizards aren't the most reliable narrators to begin with, and with the Potters dead and unable to refute their claims, after that Halloween Everyone seemed to be the Potters' best friends, which really confuses Harry when he comes back to the WW

"Aye, best o' mates, we were," Hagrid tells Harry after picking him up from the Dursleys

"What were they like?" Harry asks, full of hope

"Err, James had brown hair and glasses, didn't he? and yer mum had red hair," he explains awkwardly, not meeting Harry's eyes

"Oh," Harry answers, slightly disappointed

-

"He was one of my best students," Professor McGonagall proclaims proudly the first time Harry goes to her office. "He was like a son to me"

"Right... Do you know when he and mum started to date?"

McGonagall blinks. "Fifth year? No, wait, I think it was sixth, possibly their final year, they were definitely married when they had you... I think"

Harry just sighs.

-

"And that's how our parents decided to have us betrothed," Daphne tells him, voice full of sincerity that Harry almost feels compelled to return, except for one little fact

"That's nice and all, Greengrass, but that contract can't be about me, my name isn't Hadrian Jameson Potter-Black, it's just Harry James Potter, I've seen my birth certificate."

"What? But father said—"

"I think he was just having you on, mate"

-

"Lily would have wanted you to live with your aunt, Harry, the blood wards will protect you from harm"

"Blood wards? You know mum and Petunia weren't actually blood related, right?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"Petunia never lets me forget that she's not actually my aunt, apparently mum was some freak her father's second wife brought with her when they married."

Dumbledore looks stunned for a few seconds. "nevertheless—"

-

"You are just like your father, James Potter was nothing but an arrogant bastard, he refused to even breathe the same air as anyone that wasn't Gryffindor," Snape rants to him during one of Harry many detentions

"Sure, professor," Harry sighs, tuning him out. Last detention his father had been an incompetent fool who had tricked the whole school into loving him, the one before that, a vicious bully, then a manwhore who slept his way through the whole school. Harry just wishes the man would keep his stories straight

-

"The truth is, I was friends with your parents," Remus confesses to him nearly six months into the school year

"So was half the school, professor, can we go back to the lesson?"

"I... yes, you're right, I apologize."

Harry nods, at least this one had the decency to admit the truth

-

"I don't know if you know this, but your parents made me your godfather."

Harry snorts. "Sure they did"

Sirius blinks. "They truly did! I swear."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Black."

"Harry, at least call me Padfoot like you used to, where are you going? I want to give you a home!"

It takes him a good few months to convince Harry he's telling the truth, but Harry's glad he can at last meet one of their parents friends

I wanted to write this as a full snippet, but my brain's working against me so you just get notes.
 
Standard peggy sue setup, Harry goes back in time after the second blood war, to destroy Voldemort's horcruxes, capture/kill the Death Eaters, and stop the war before it starts.
Except, violating causality in this way takes a toll on him, as magic and time try to tear away his memories of the future; when Harry clings to those memories, the magic involved instead starts tearing away at his body.
 
Dumbledore becomes alerted when one of the widgets in his office starts blaring, warning that Harry is in danger. Taking Fawkes to Privet Drive, he finds an almost-11-year-old Harry unconscious, his body shaking and destabilizing, under the influence of what a diagnostic spell identifies as chrono-particles.
Realizing that a) Harry has time traveled into his younger self's body, b) the knowledge he brought back is enough to massively change the course of history, and c) the cost to keep this knowledge exceeds the value of Harry's own life and magic, Dumbledore and Fawkes whisk Harry back to a ritual chamber in Hogwarts to try and save him.
 
While Fawkes keeps Harry alive, Dumbledore uses his knowledge of alchemy and equivalent exchange to try and find a way to save both Harry and his future memories; something or some things of equal 'weight' to Harry's memories, that can be 'swapped' with them so that the effect of time/fate/magic will consume them instead of the future knowledge.
Sacrificing stored gold and other wealth has only a superficial effect; the Philosopher's Stone as a source of wealth and life does more, but still isn't enough.
Sacrificing souls, Harry's or anyone else's, isn't even worth considering.
 
Ultimately, Dumbledore does come up with something that will allow Harry to live and keep his memories of the future. Unfortunately, those things are Harry's identity, Harry's freedom, and the rest of Dumbledore's own life.
 
When ????? wakes in the ritual chamber, he finds his body feeling unfamiliar and being unable to recall his own name, having been reduced to a nameless changeling.
He can feel magic in his body, but it feels bound to a castle he recognizes as Hogwarts, house-elf style. Alternatively, he might be bound to a ring (or lamp), genie style.
And, though they haven't been introduced yet in this timeline, he recognizes a grieving Fawkes, and the body of Albus Dumbledore.
And...a Pensive.
 
When ?????, the nameless changeling, uses the Pensive, he sees Dumbledore, and an unconscious boy whose body is visibly falling apart.
The memory-Dumbledore explains everything; that the changeling who can't remember his own name was Harry Potter (though it innately feels like a lie to claim that name now), that he had traveled through time with knowledge of vital importance but the forces of fate attempted to erase his memories, and Dumbledore sacrificed everything he could except for ?????'s life and magic, in order to let him keep and use those memories.
And it worked. 'Brian' (the memory of Dumbledore said it was okay to borrow one of his names) doesn't remember himself, but he remembers everything else. The Horcruxes Voldemort created and their locations, the identities of his servants and the proof of their misdeeds, future discoveries, future spells, future potions...
...Was it worth it? Surely it has to be.

When Henry arrives at the platform he garners some attention, though he doesn’t notice in the business of the station. He finds an empty compartment to sit in.

As the train moves through the country side, is the compartment door shoved open by a blond boy who is flanked by two bigger boys.

„So it’s true what they say Harry Potter come to Hogwarts“ says the blond boy.

„My name is Henry P….“

„But, the books said Harry!“

„You must be confusing me with someone else, my name isn’t Harry Potter and there are no books written about me“ Henry states.

„You‘re lying. There on your trunk, HP for Harry Potter,“ the blond exclaims.

„No, HP for Henry Peters“

[Angry exclamation] „My father will hear about this“ shouts the blond and slams the compartment door shut behind him.

Henry settles, a little confused, into a calm ride to school. Little does he know that he has seven long years ahead of him. And that letting that dumb hat sort him into Gryffindor with that lunatic Potter was the worst thing that could have happened to him.

So my whole thing here is Harry retreated into the library of surrey as a child. Sure he read fiction and stuff, but those were novels. And he read fast. What interested him were the books on animals. He loved learning about them. So much so that when he started learning at Hogwarts his magic produced... Interesting results.

Oh trying to turn a matchstick into a needle was fine. Just not the random otter that appeared next to him. The levitation charm was fine, just not the bluejay that appeared.

Though some spells reacted quite... Violently. The disarming charm for everyone else worked fine. But for Harry, not only did larger animals appear. It for some reason de-armed people. Not get rid of their wands. Got rid of their arms. As in the thing with your hands at the end. You know, those wildly useful things attached to your shoulders. Their arms would just fall off. As if they never were. What was left was just smooth skin where your arms were.

During their year on the run, Harry and Hermione run into a group of students on a class trip. They all then get summoned to another world via a hero summoning ritual. This leads to the question, did the ritual summon the class and pulled Harry and Hermione in by mistake or did the ritual summon Harry and Hermione and pulled in the class by mistake?

Breaking News: The Encontro das Águas

​The television in the Dursley living room blared, cutting through the usual morning tension. On screen, a news anchor stood before a digital backdrop showing a map of South America, her expression a mix of profound bewilderment and professional composure.

​"We interrupt our regular programming to bring you live, unprecedented footage from Amazonas, Brazil," the reporter announced, her voice shaking slightly. "Scientists and onlookers are witnessing what can only be described as a defiance of natural law at the Encontro das Águas—the Meeting of Waters."

​The screen cut to aerial footage of the famous river convergence.

​"As many of our viewers know, this is the point where the pale, sandy-brown waters of the Amazon River and the dark, tea-colored waters of the Rio Negro collide. Because of stark differences in temperature, speed, and water density, the two rivers notoriously run side-by-side for miles in the same channel without merging. One half remains strictly brown; the other half remains strictly black."

​The camera zoomed in closer, panning along the distinct, two-toned boundary line.

​"But look at your screens now. This is not a trick of the light, nor is it a chemical spill."

​A streak of brilliant cyan and purple was cutting directly down the center of the convergence. A quadrupedal, crystalline creature—graceful, wearing a flowing, cape-like purple mane and two white, ribbon-like tails—was sprinting effortlessly across the surface of the water. Wherever its paws touched, the effect was instantaneous and absolute.

​"An unknown, majestic creature is running directly down the dividing line," the reporter gasped, dropping her formal cadence entirely. "It is... it appears to be purifying the river! The dense, muddy brown water on the left and the dark, acidic black water on the right are both instantly turning into crystal-clear, pristine water the moment this entity passes. Decades of distinct ecological separation are being erased in seconds, leaving behind nothing but pure, transparent fluid."

​The Living Room at Number 4

​In the kitchen of Number 4 Privet Drive, Vernon Dursley’s face purpled instantly. He slammed his newspaper down onto the table, glare snapping directly toward Harry, who was quietly trying to clear the breakfast dishes.

​"I knew it!" Vernon bellowed, a thick finger stabbing toward the television screen. "I knew your... your abnormality would eventually spill out into the proper world! Look at that! Look at what your lot is doing to the bloody environment!"

​"Vernon, dear, keep your voice down, the neighbors," Petunia hissed, though her eyes were equally wide and accusatory as she stared at Harry.

​"I don't care about the neighbors right now, Petunia! They’re ruining the rivers! First it’s owls flying about in broad daylight, and now there’s a bloody blue monster turning foreign rivers see-through!" Vernon turned his full fury back onto Harry. "What is the meaning of this? Is this some sort of sick joke from your school? An exhibition? Answer me!"

​"I don't know what that is, Uncle Vernon," Harry said honestly, looking at the screen in genuine awe. He had never seen anything like the creature on the television, and he was entirely certain that Hogwarts didn't teach "river-purifying cyan monsters" in Care of Magical Creatures. "I've never seen that before in my life."

​"Don't lie to me, boy!" Vernon snarled. "Who else could cause this kind of unnatural nonsense? Things don't just appear out of thin air without you lot being involved!"

​Before Vernon could continue his tirade, the television anchor's voice rose in pitch, drawing everyone's attention back to the broadcast.

​"We are receiving confirmation now," the reporter stammered, holding a hand to her earpiece. "This is not an isolated incident in Brazil. Reports are flooding into our newsroom from across the globe. Unidentified, fantastical creatures—some resembling giant birds of fire, others small, sentient plants—are manifesting in major cities, rural towns, and wilderness areas worldwide. Repeat: this is a global phenomenon..."

​Harry stared at the screen as images of strange, vibrant creatures began flashing in a rapid montage. For once, he knew with absolute certainty that this wasn't a wizarding prank, nor was it his fault. Something much larger, and entirely unstoppable, was converging with their world.

Xxx

I'm hoping it is obvious that this is somehow the Pokemon world converging with the Muggle magical worlds.

I hope to continue this someday but for now if anyone would like to use this to create their own story go ahead, all I ask is that if you do use it to start your own story then please post a link so I can read it.

"Harry, I dont know where you found that book, and normally I would never say this, but you need to show that to Dumbledore and destroy it" Hermione told him, eying the strange book that looked like it had both a face, and the leather was... well, she really hoped I wasnt what she thought.

"Its just a book Hermione, its not like the diary. I just found it on holiday in that cabin basement in America." Harry flipped through the pages, getting a bit green looking at the red inked symbols, writing, and drawings on the ancient pages. "Its mot even real magic, look at this part"

"Harry dont you dare!" She tried to snatch the book only for him to easily dodge her.

"Kunda astratta montose eargrets gutt nos veratoos Kanda amantos Kanda!" He read from the pages, both of them freezing up as a sudden wind rushed theough the halls of Hogwarts. Then... nothing.

"See? Told you. Not real magic".

How did the Weasley kids find Harrys house? In canon he gave Ron the phone number for 4 Privet Drive and the Owls run on name only, or at least Hedwig does. So how did they know his address?

How did they find which bedroom was Harrys? Did they just fly around and look in windows?

"Potter!" Harry jumped, only now realizing that Snape, who last he saw had been at his desk, was now looming before him. "How many times, Potter," Snape said. "How many times have I told this class that you must pay attention when brewing?"

Before Harry could answer, Snape continued. "I would hazard a guess that it must be several dozen, at least. But as usual, the rules do not apply to you, do they?" Snape crossed his arms and looked at Harry with an expression of smugness. "Why don't you tell us what has you so ignorant to your surroundings that I had to say your name three times before you responded?"

Harry bent his head to hide the anger on his face. If he hadn't been so tired, if he hadn't been so bitter about this most recent development in his life, he never would have admitted it. But in that moment, his temper got the best of him. "Sorry, sir. I was just thinking about how every time the Dementors get near me, I have to hear my mum begging Voldemort to spare my life before he kills her."

With only bubbling cauldrons for background noise, there wasn't a single person in the class who didn't hear this. Gasps from every corner filled the room, and even Malfoy looked uncomfortable.

When there was no response from the man in front of him, Harry cautiously looked up. His eyes widened when he saw that Snape's face had gone deathly pale.

Hagrid was beaming at him, large and imposing in robes the color of the universe, with sparkles woven through his beard.

Snape was uncanny, his hair tame and well-kept, dressed in pearlescent white. He was quiet, and beneath his blank expression lingered the faintest trace of kindness.

Tom Riddle was the most unnerving of them all, bearing the age and appearance he had when he first died in ’81. He wore a black Muggle suit, his hair slicked back with strands of gray, and there seemed to be genuine sorrow in his eyes.