The Grimm Tales

Summary – AU. A weave broken. A destiny altered. Harry fights the curse of fate as he attempts to gain back what was denied to him. A chance to be with his family. But would he survive the wrath of the royals? A war-veteran Harry arrives in the Grimm universe. Smart Harry! Grimm Harry!

Disclaimer – This is a work of purely speculative fiction. It is not intended to infringe on any rights by and of the companies and/or individuals involved in the production of any series mentioned here. The characters involved are the intellectual property of their respective authors/creators except for the ones that are listed as an OC, which are mine.

A/N – 1. I was hoping to do this one for a while now. It will be my leisure fic. That is to say when my muse will give me ideas no more – I will turn to this fic.

That is all. Enjoy the chapter.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"I'm Death, and I make sure that everyone is equal."

– Brothers Grimm

Twelve years. For twelve years he had endured this agony. Had suffered through it as only a soldier could. Had done anything and everything he could to save his people, his loved ones from the end that had always seemed too close for comfort. Time and again he had proved his worth and snatched those few precious months so he could see their faces just for a little while longer.

War.

It had taken too much from him.

And when it had saturated him as only war could, he had done just as much in return. And then…then the butchers had rued the day they created him.

He remembered those early days. Days when he resisted...when he tried his best to capture and not kill those who intended him and his harm.

Those were the days he regretted the most.

But even the memories of them would not stop him now. Nothing could. His goal was well within his sights. And with Resistance back in the safe houses – what little of his people had been left – none would be here to stop him from doing what he must.

They hadn't told him, but they should have known he would have found out anyway. What did they take him for? A greenie? He lead them for fuck's sake. After twelve fucking years of serving together, he could damn well tell when they were keeping things from him.

Not that Ron had ever been that hard to read.

Even if she couldn't keep her husband in line, he really should have known she would plan something like this. She was much the same even after the war had turned monsters of them all. There were none more glad than him that she had still managed to keep some of her humanity intact even when his own had damn near drowned in the pool of blood of the lives he had lost over the years.

But Hermione Granger had always been special. At least to him. And he was lucky that after all this time, after all that she knew he had done, seen him do, she was still looking out for him with the same zeal as before…back when they all had been a couple of snot-nosed teens with a misguided understanding of what war really was.

He could not have asked for a more loyal best friend.

But despite her love or rather because of it, he could not, would not allow her to give her life away just so he and others could end the death munchers and their master for the last time.

Harry knew the ritual would require power and there was not a single magical alive who would be able to power it alone. Not even Dumbledore and Voldemort combined would have been able to channel enough magic into the circle and hoped that it worked as intended. And he was nothing compared to those two behemoths.

But he didn't have to be.

He had something much…much better.

And Harry knew she knew that. But she was keeping her faith in those…those things to give them an edge when the final clash did come to pass.

He, obviously, disagreed.

There was nothing, not a single thing more important than her life, or the lives of those she intended to sacrifice along with her own in her attempt to channel enough power for the ritual.

Hermione had no doubt realised the same thing he had and thus had strived to hide it from him. If there was more than a single magical signature surrounding such an obvious magically charged environ, it was bound to be detected by their enemies. And they would no doubt come knocking at the doorsteps and do their utmost to decimate those involved without prejudice.

But he would not let them sacrifice their lives just so he could save his hands from being painted by the blood of the butchers. The point where he could even think of returning to his life before this had begun was long in the past. There wasn't much innocence left in him now. And for what he needed to do in the morrow…he was all the more grateful for it.

Before any other thought could carry him away, he began the work. Opening the potion vial in his hands, he gulped it down in one swift motion. He'd definitely need it for what he had planned next.

With a resolute nod to himself, he lifted up the ornate dagger and plunged it deep into his left hand.

"AAGH…" a pained grunt escaped him.

It was a good start. The pain would ensure his intent was followed when he bathed the runes with his life brew just as the blood-replenishing potion would keep it flowing until he was done.

He intoned the spell slowly and precise and crisp words escaped his lips just as the instructions had decreed.

Encircling the ground as the river of blood from his palm followed his movements, he stopped after every third complete circle to deposit his magic onto the runes that had been carved by his people within the stone two days prior as they filled with his essence and began burning with a fiery glow.

Round and round he went, covering the whole room, still chanting the long-forgotten words that had been burned in his mind ever since they had come upon them in the ruins of Ministry.

His vision blurred and without halting his movements or his words, he brought forth another vial of the potion and downed it as he had earlier.

Just a while longer. Just a little.

Three more circles and he would be done.

"Horribilis Scouraé…Malum Potest Ligare Supellectilem…"

Just one more now.

"Ligaveris Servos DOMINI !" he cried with all his might and poured as much of his magic as he safely could.

The ritual circle glowed a deep red before dimming in intensity. It pulsed once, twice, three times and a soft hum echoed within the cave.

'Now, for the hard part,' he thought to himself knowing that what he was about to do had not ever been attempted.

The litany of notes they had managed to salvage from the Ministry or perhaps it had been the remnant of the illustrious Department of Mysteries, it hadn't contained a single passage describing the effects of anyone using magical artefacts instead of raw magic from a witch or wizard.

He took it as a point in his favour. At least it hadn't explicitly decried it either.

Whatever happened, he knew, he would not die before he took the monster down with him. Their countless clashes over the years had proved as much. The prophecy was the single most thing that was working in his favour now, as much it was for his nemesis.

With a shuddering breath and weak shaking hands, he pulled the two things from his cloak that he was certain would not fail him now.

The Cloak of Invisibility and the Ressurection Stone shone with an eerie glint as he brought them out of his robes.

The shimmering, soft cloak hung on his hands as a pet, loving the gentle caress of its master and the stone…it was just as he remembered it. He hadn't touched the stone ever since they had found what it really was. The thought of hurting them as he summoned them in the land of the living had stopped his hand every time he had succumbed to the urge.

And if he was being honest, to imagine the look on his mother's face when she saw who or rather what he had become, it had torn him inside.

But now…now he needed her…needed them to make certain that they had not gone away. That they hadn't left him before he joined them in their next great adventure.

He rolled the stone thrice in his palm and felt a cold breeze enter through the lone opening above the cave.

He knew he had been successful before he even turned to look at them all.

All his fears faded away when his eyes caught their own. Lily's smile was widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew closer to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough.

"You've been so brave."

He could not speak. His eyes feasted on her, and he thought that he would like to stand and look at her forever, and that would be enough.

"You are nearly there," said James. "Very close. We are…so proud of you."

"Does it hurt?" The childish question had fallen from Harry's lips before he could stop it.

"Dying? Not at all," said Sirius. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep."

"And he will want it to be quick. He wants it over," said Lupin.

"I didn't want you to die," Harry said. These words came without his volition. "Any of you. I'm sorry -" He addressed Lupin more than any of them, beseeching him.

"- right after you'd had your son… Remus, I'm sorry -"

"I am sorry too," said Lupin. "Sorry I will never know him…but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand. I was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life."

A chilly breeze that seemed to emanate from the heart of the forest lifted the hair at Harry's brow. He knew that they would not tell him to go, that it would have to be his decision.

"You'll stay with me?"

"Until the very end," said James.

"They won't be able to see you?" asked Harry.

"We are part of you," said Sirius. "Invisible to anyone else."

Harry looked at his mother. "Stay close to me," he said quietly.

"Always," she replied lovingly.

- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

He took a deep breath and leaned down on the stone floors. Taking one last look at them all and steeling his heart at what he had to do, he gently released the stone and the cloak from his grasp and laid them gently at the very centre of the ritual circle.

He rose and with a pang, realised that the shades had vanished from his sight.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the doubt and solidifying his hope to see them again soon, he pointed his wand at the circle and intoned the spell that would bind the circle to the power of the Hallows.

A small surge of extremely potent magical energy burst from the epicentre as soon as the spell struck in the middle, throwing him against the far back wall of the cave.

His horror at seeing such a discharge faded when he saw the magic being absorbed by the runes his people had carved onto the cave walls.

With an effort, he stood up and inspected the circle one last time. "Perfect…" he mumbled, a bit of pride colouring his tone.

With a grimace, he reached within his robes once more. A silver pristine coronet glinted as the moonlight from the small opening above fell on it. Rowena Ravenclaw's prized treasure. The very one which Voldemort had defiled by using it as a vessel for his own soul.

They had never been able to find the other Horcruxes. Countless lives had been lost searching for them. It had been sheer luck that He, Hermione and Ron had managed to take the tiara from Hogwarts and evacuate most of its population when Voldemort himself had led the attack having figured out what Harry was hunting.

His eyes caught the bejewelled diadem and for a brief moment, an extremely potent urge to put it on his head flared in his mind before he clamped down his mental shields…hard.

Over the years, when in its vicinity, he had grown accustomed to the quiet whisperings of the locket that even now hung on his neck. All it ever did was tempt him to indulge in his darkest desires. Once, when he had had enough of it, he had deliberately opened his mind to the locked and made it see his darkest desire. Needless to say, the piece of Voldemort's soul hadn't ever disturbed his peace again. He supposed seeing one's death in myriads of most heinous of ways imaginable had done the trick in the end.

With a slight smile at the memory, he removed the locket from his neck and along with the diadem placed it on the opposing ends of the circle on the outer perimeter where the place for the objects had been marked specifically.

He bled on the two artefacts, in essence giving his acquiescence as the master of the powerful objects for their use in the ritual. He had been quite lucky in this. From the memories, Dumbledore had shown him he knew Voldemort held the right to the ownership of the stone that had once belonged to his grandfather, Marvolo Gaunt, and only his blood could enable the ritual to siphon power from it.

But when during his resurrection ceremony after that accursed tournament the fiend had decided to use his blood to create a body once more, he had, in essence, made them magically similar, as far as their blood was concerned.

It'd definitely had its worse effects, having a more powerful connection with the monster's psyche for one, but tonight, it had paid its dividends most profitably.

The blood they shared had allowed him to permit the ritual to gain power from the resurrection stone much similar to his cloak. He could not have expected for better luck when all his life fate had been the harshest bitch to them all.

Next, he opened the beaded bag from his waist and with a silent accio summoned a severed human arm from within, the dark mark on the arm shining dark red even as the arm itself kept spurting blood on the floor.

He had come across the owner of the arm on the way here. He had thought he would have to hunt one of the butchers down but this one had saved him some time.

With that done, he placed the arm on the left edge of the circle directly adjacent to the diadem.

The circle pulsed once more as the final piece settled within its confines.

Finally, he was done. Every single thing had been connected.

All that was left was creating a trigger and that would be no hardship when compared to what he'd had to do until now.

He transferred his wand to his left arm and carved a rune on his flesh, the exact replica of the glyph at the very centre of the circle above which the Hallows lay still.

A muffled cry escaped his lips as the flesh on his arm pulsed with potent magic when it connected with the circle.

He took a steadying breath and vanished the blood from the floor and his arm.

His gaze turned towards the moon above and a sense of peace settled within him. He looked around the cave and even when his eyes saw nothing, his heartfelt his loved ones watching over him with the same loving eyes.

A tear rolled down his cheek and with nary a sound, he disapparated to the safe house to rally his people for one last jaunt.

"A little while longer, mum. I'll be with you all soon enough…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

(17 May 2010, Ruins of Hogwarts Castle)

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry looking around him as both warring sides stopped their attacks and gaped at him and his nemesis halting their own fire.

It had taken him some time to convince the others that this attack would be a mere raid on a Death Eater camp and not the final battle that they had expected. He didn't hold back the dangers, though. He had told them that there was a more than likely chance that Voldemort himself would be here.

It had made him prouder than he could have ever been when not a single soul had flinched when the prospect of attacking the monster himself had come up.

They had shown their trust in him once more and rallied a force just short of a hundred and followed him to the ruins where Hogwarts had once stood in all its magical glory and the place where they'd soon be placing the trap.

And as he had expected The Dark Lord himself had graced them with his presence with his butchers in tow just a few minutes after he had decapitated his black granite statue that stood at the middle of the courtyard.

The most vicious battles they had ever fought against the death munchers had ensued moments later. He had done his best to ward most of his comrades until he was forced to concentrate on his own fights.

Fenrir Greyback had been the first to fall from a curse from his lips. His head exploding courtesy of an overpowered reducto he had managed to tag him with.

And as it was always meant to be, it had all came down to just him and the murderer who had taken everything from him.

"Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

A red-glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time so that Voldemort's was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high voice shriek as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing his phoenix-feathered wand:

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Coracis!"

The bang was like a cannon blast and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead centre of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Harry saw Voldemort's killing curse meet his own spell, green battling red.

- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

With gritted teeth, he brought his bleeding hand to his right arm even as he held onto the spell that connected with Voldemort's own. He pulled at the burnt sleeves and with a bloody grin swiped his blood onto the searing rune on his flesh.

In a cave on the far end of the village of Hogsmeade, a ritual circle ignited at once as the magic in the surrounding surged awake. The glyphs pulsed repeatedly until the intensity reached its peak and a bright glow emanated from them bathing the cave in a fiery red glow.

The tendrils of red miasma burst forth from the middle as the Deathly Hallows gave power to the intent of their master. One after another, the tendrils of magic connected to the things lying at the perimeter of the circle. The severed arm floated into the air at the dark mark on its flesh burned with a savageness as it connected with the red miasma. The two Horcruxes fell next as the magic engulfed them into the bliss of nothingness as the souls trapped within them screamed and shouted for their release.

The whole cave illuminated with a golden radiance as the magic burst from its confines and travelled far and wide, searching for anything and everything carrying the same signatures as the objects it had just destroyed.

Back on the battlefield, the two fated ones engaged in a fierce clash jerked as one as the spell from both of their wands broke the connection with a clap of thunder.

"AHHHHHH….."

A scream tore out of a throat nearby and every single eye turned to the Death Eater at the front of the lines as he clawed at his arm. Agony filled his being as magic demanded its price and with the epicentre of the intent present within the very chamber, the potency of the magic increased tenfold.

Every single soul watched in fascinated horror as the body of the death eater burned from within and finally crumpled to ash, silence reigning within.

And then the symphony of death started its ascent.

"AHHHHHHHH…."

"ANGHHHH….."

"AAAAHHHHHH….."

The magic reached its crescendo as every single death eater downed in pain, clutching at their arms, mimicking the actions of the first soul that had started the rhythm.

Thirty…fourty…a hundred fell before they knew what was happening to them.

Tom Riddle…Voldemort…The most terrible dark lord in centuries, looking on in horror as magic itself continued reaping lives of those who had bound themselves to him.

Then as if it had caught his watching the magic had turned its sight onto his own. Voldemort's eyes bulged out and pain as he had never experienced before surged within his being as magic, his very own magic began to gnaw at his very soul, trying to dislodge it from within the confines of his body.

Unable to hold it any longer, he screamed.

"AAAAHHHHGHHHHH….."

And just as he did, someone else screamed with him.

Far away on the outskirts of Cardwol, in the Nott Manor, where the dark lord had kept safe his precious soul anchors, one after another every single piece holding the monster's soul on the mortal plane, corroded and with an inhuman screech, burst aflame. Nagini, Voldemort's familiar, thrashed around the large empty living room as the red misma coiled around her form, smothering her and snatching the soul residing within her being. With a final pull it succeeded and the snake fell to the ground, still, unmoving.

Harry saw the first death eater collapse and knew his plan had worked. He still held onto the spell until a force akin to thunder separated his magic from his nemesis' and sent him careening back to the rubble.

Through blurry eyes and pained grimace, he saw every single death eater in the chamber go down clutching their arms and a tired smile adorned his face. Just as he was about to turn to his comrades who were running towards him, agony flared within the scar on his forehead as it burst open, bleeding and a scream tore through his throat.

"AAAHHHHHHH….."

Smarting, flaming, wound opened further and further and he could nothing but feel the thrum of agony in his head.

"Harry!" he heard her voice and clamping down on the pain through sheer force of will he opened his eyes again. She was running towards him, her wand forgotten as it clattered on the ground.

"Harry!" she cried again as she reached him cradling his body onto her lap.

A pained smile came to his face as he saw her tear-streaked face looking at him with worry and love in equal measure. Ron had never understood it. Mistaking it for something romantic. They had known though, Hermione and him, that the times they had shared had brought them closer than any two people could be without being in love with each other.

There were no words to describe what they were to each other.

They were simply…the best of friends.

He reminded himself that he had loved her once. When he hadn't known how much she cared for the ginger. But it was something that time had taken with it to the past and left him with the comfortable embrace of his most trusted.

Much like she was doing now.

"Her…Hermione…" he breathed. "He won't hurt us anymore," he said through the pain.

"What did you do, Harry! What did you do!" She cried into his hair and tears thick and heavy streaked along her face.

"Ha…hnhhaa…" a choked laugh escaped his lips and just as he was about to reply, a monstrous scream interrupted him.

"…AAAAHHHHGHHHHH….."

He tilted his head to look beyond his best friend's curly brown hair to see his nemesis screaming as red miasmic tendrils from below the ground tugged at something in his chest.

"See…" he said to her, "…He will not hurt anyone…anymore…" a coughing fit erupted from his chest even as his hand kept the bleeding wound in his forehead from taking his consciousness away from her presence.

She could do nothing but hold onto him as she repeated, "what did you do, Harry?"

He gave her the most beatific smile she had ever seen on his face, even with all the blood that marred its innocence. "I…I did what was…necessary." He said in a hoarse whisper.

Even now, when he had realised what was happening and where the time would take him after this foray, he still found the confusion on her face endearing. "The Hallows…" he whispered again. "The ritual."

The pain thrummed in his head and he had to close his eyes for a moment to gather his strength once more.

When he opened them, he saw her looking at him with wide eyes as gears in her head pieced together the full extent of what he had done. "But…but…"

"Hhnaa..haaa…" he laughed again. "Hermione…Granger. Speechless…"

Black nothingness shadowed his vision as the dam he had built to hold the overwhelming pain splintered and shattered.

His bloodied shaking hands found hers and with as much as strength as he could muster, he spoke his last words in the world, he called his home.

"Rebuild…I leave the world in your hands, 'mione…" said Harry as his last breath left his trembling body.

Within moments, his eyes, green and alive dimmed as the life left his being. His body crumpled to ash just as the Elder wand in the distance succumbed to a similar fate. With nary a thought to the living, his soul departed to see the ones he had yearned for, ever since he had been just a child sitting in his cupboard, for a reunion he had sorely desired all his life.

"HARRY!"

-x-x-x-x-x-

A mind-shattering scream seemed to echo in the abyss as he felt himself being wrenched by an invisible force. A strange tug of war ensued between things at either end of him. He felt a forceful jerk and suddenly his essence veered towards the right. Time lost all meaning as the journey seemed to go on forever. Down and further down he went as if being pulled by some force he had no understanding of. It took some time to realise that the echoing scream he was hearing was coming from his own throat, not that it helped him any. He had no control over anything anymore. Nothing he could do or rather wished he could do seemed to change anything in this place. Minutes, hours, days, blended in together. Where was he? What was happening? Was this it? The afterlife. The great next adventure that Dumbledore seemed to prattle on and on about. Didn't seem like much, did it? At least the screams had stopped. Or was it just him? Wasn't he the one who had been screaming?

The black streams of nothingness touched him and backed away repeatedly as if in the rhythm of breathing of some gargantuan beast. There was nothing here but constantly flowing black miasma that he couldn't even touch. His body, if he could call the translucent blob that, was flowing through the stream along with a multitude of other things that he couldn't name nor understand.

A soft voice echoed in his surrounding and a strange warmth spread through his being. A warmth that he hadn't even noticed that he needed. He liked the sound. He was sure it was someone he knew. Did he know anyone?

He gritted his teeth as a sudden shooting pain thrummed in his being. Crying out, he firmly closed his eyes and waited for the oblivion. A soft melody reached his ears even as the sounds of his life-past blew against his ears like the gentle gusts of wind.

In an instant, he saw his surroundings changed and a bleached white light surrounded him.

He felt a tug and found himself in front of two beings he had never seen before in his life.

"HE TWISTED IT! HE RUINED MY WEAVE! HE DESERVES EVERYTHING I HAVE PLANNED FOR HIM AND MORE!" he heard the woman on the left screech and found himself clutching his ears as the sound penetrated through the barrier.

"Your Weave is but a mere possibility. Just because you desired the end of his kind does not mean it would come to pass," the other woman, dressed in dull black robes replied calmly even as she attempted to sooth the black shadows that were flowing around her agitatedly.

The first woman, the one dressed in a golden sneered at her companion but it soon turned into a cruel smirk. In one swift motion, she brought forth a silvery thread from the ether and breathed on it.

The effect was instantaneous, the silvery thread that had shone with radiance turned a complete pitch black.

Not knowing why Harry felt the need to look at his chest and horror-filled him as he saw the same black of the silvery thread collecting where his heart was supposed to be.

Before he could identify why such a thing had affected him so a sharp motion from the woman in black drew his attention. Something flew from her hands and struck the woman in golden dress squarely in the chest.

"I was bound for a millennia, it is understandable how you could have forgotten your place, Atropos. But to have cursed a soul right before my eyes when you had no hold over it…It seems I need to re-educate the Morai about their duties."

He saw the woman in gold scream even as no sound came from her throat. He felt more than saw how her back bent unnaturally as the woman in black twisted her hands.

Before he could do anything, or ask the meaning of it all the scene shifted and he felt himself being pulled again.

The journey continued and he could do nothing but watch as the stars that hadn't been visible until now peek through the void to look at him.

The same warm sensation returned and at last he the end. The great white expanse just above to his right. A splash of red flashed in the distance and his heart soared as he saw them again.

His family.

Their hands outstretched called for him even as he attempted to move faster than the pull allowed.

Just before he could touch their loving hands, just when he was but an inch away from being in their loving arms, the blackness in his chest pulsed and his eyes turned black as his pupils and sclera merged into one. Before he could do anything to prevent the sudden change, he was jerked away from the great white expanse at breakneck speeds.

He saw his mother cry out his name and he, himself called for her, but to no avail. Whatever force was driving him kept pulling him towards his ultimate end.

An echo of the same voice he had heard from the woman controlling the shadows drowned her mother's voice.

"The way to break the curse is through the piece of staff of the being they call Zerstörer. Find it and you will know what to do. This is the only way I could help you for what you have done for me.

"This world is much like yours. Wrought with just as much danger. But it is your only hope if you wish to see them again.

Farewell, Harry Potter."

"NAHHHHH…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

(Grounds of House of Kronenberg – Vienna, 1951)

His screams travelled far into the abyss but failed to reach those whom he wished to see the most.

And then with a jolt, he felt himself stop and with a sickening crack, his body collided with the ground.

He felt the air in his lungs leave with a whoosh and a part of his mind noticed the stars giving way to a canopy of trees.

"Who's der?" a voice shouted in the distance.

"Go… find out…" another followed.

He saw a large and bulky creature coming his way and could do nothing to save himself as not even his fingers responded to the mental commands anymore. He could feel nothing beyond his neck as though he was paralysed.

The creature sniffed loudly to his right and caught sight of him. It was then, Harry saw the beast.

It had leathery skin, a large nose, and sharp, needle-like fangs with no facial hair. Creases ran through his forehead as he looked at him. Its large goblin-like ears twitched when a moan erupted from Harry's lips.

He heard the first voice join the second as the discussed something in a language he didn't understand.

But when the one who had come for him first tried to strike him, the second one held his hand.

All he heard before his mind gave up and succumbed to exhaustion and pain were the words that would mark the beginning of some of the harshest years of his life.

"Zhe King vil vaunt to see him…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

~ Review please ~

A/N – 1. Legend

• The Fates – or Moirai – are a group of three weaving goddesses who assign individual destinies to mortals at birth. Their names are Clotho (the Spinner), Lachesis (the Alloter) and Atropos (the Inflexible).