Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Stargate.

The Wars of Legends

Book 1: The Apotheosis of a Lost Child

Chapter One: The Graveyard


In a dark and overgrown graveyard with the black outline of a small church visible in the distance on one side and a hill on the other with the outline of a fine old house on the hillside, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, found himself tied up against a large marble headstone.

Restrained and with his wand taken away from him, the young wizard was helpless as he watched the Dark Lord Voldemort be resurrected by Peter 'Wormtail' Pettigrew. He was unable to do anything as he watched the wizard who had killed his parents regained a body. Terror filled him as Voldemort rose from a cauldron of foul looking potion that his servant had prepared for him in a skeletally thin body with pale white skin, dark scarlet eyes with cat-like slits for pupils, a hairless, lipless chalk-white face that resembled a skull that had snake-like slits for nostrils, and large hands with unnaturally long fingers like spider's legs. All the result of a ritual that the man who had once been one of his parents' best friends had used his blood to complete.

He was struck dumb by fear as the Dark Lord summoned his Death Eaters before proceeding to admonish them for their lack of faith in him and failure for working towards his return.

Harry's numb shock was shattered however when a searing pain, more intense that he'd ever felt, tore through his body. He screamed like he'd never screamed before. Thankfully though, the pain was fleeting.

"Do I have your attention now, Potter?" Voldemort hissed with a dark smirk, his wand still flickering with the lingering red embers of the Cruciatus Curse he'd just used to gain Harry's attention.

Harry just spat in his direction, though he missed by a mile.

The Dark Lord just chuckled, "How rude, Potter? Perhaps I should teach you some manners. Crucio!"

The teenager could only scream his throat raw once more as the torture curse ran its course. Amazingly, while still intense the pain was more tolerable, or more precisely Harry found himself more able to detach himself from it. It didn't stop hurting like hell though.

"Ready to be civil now, boy?" Voldemort asked, his voice radiating threat.

Harry just nodded. He really didn't want to be subjected to another Cruciatus.

"Good, good," the snake-like man said with a grotesque smile on his lipless face. "Now as I was trying to tell you, you ungrateful brat, using your blood in the ritual that revived me has led to one of my suspicions being confirmed."

The young wizard couldn't help but be confused. What in Merlin's name was Voldemort talking about?

He raised his head to ask just that, hopefully in as taunting a way as he could but was preempted by another Crucio that had him howling for mercy. Something that a part of his mind noted he was in too much pain the last two rounds under the curse to even manage.

As Voldemort released his curse's hold on him, Harry thought he might have even seen an impressed look on the dark wizard's face for a brief moment at his feat. Though he wouldn't rule it out as a hallucination caused by overexposure to the torture curse.

"I think, Potter," Voldemort said, all malice, as he moved his wand through a series of complex movements in preparation for what must be a fairly complicated spell. "That rather than telling you, I'll just show you."

As the disturbing orange light of the Dark Lord's spell flew at him, the Boy-Who-Lived tried his best to brace himself for whatever it caused. The pain it struck him with he could handle, he'd felt worse under the Cruciatus just moments ago, but the way his body changed threw him off and whatever ability to retain his sense of self in the face of immense pain was washed away. Thus as his bones, muscles, flesh and hair, his whole body reshaped itself, all the poor young man could do was howl in agony.

"A girl!?" Voldemort said incredulously as Harry returned to awareness.

Even as Harry slowly regained his wits, the Dark Lord laughed likely, at least in part, at his misery. His Death Eaters, being the sycophants they were, following suit.

"This was what all those protections were hiding?" The serpentine man said in between chuckles. "A girl?"

What's he talking about?

"Confused Potter?" Voldemort asked with a malicious smirk, even as he conjured a mirror in front of Harry. "Take a look for yourself."

The mirror showed Harry something that was impossible. Instead of showing the young man that he was, it was reflecting back the image of someone with similar but distinctly feminine features that even included his iconic lightning bolt shaped scar. Naturally, Harry flinched at the sight but that only served to slam his head into the headstone he was restrained against. This caused him to wince, something the girl in the mirror did as well. The motion also had the effect of causing the image's boobs to shift in a way that in other circumstances the young man would have found appealing, but not when he felt things moving on his chest at the same time.

"It can't be. It can't!" Harry shouted, too shocked to remember his situation and the need to avoid antagonizing his captors.

A failing that earned him another Cruciatus Curse that had him screaming once more.

"Don't let your mind wander again, Potter," Voldemort warned. "I'm not done speaking to you."

Harry just glared at him defiantly.

"Ah! Such defiance. Admirable, I suppose if it weren't so utterly futile." The Dark Lord noted with a malevolent grin while gesturing at Wormtail. "Let's demonstrate that shall we?"

"Master, the bo-uh, girl's wand." The traitor said as he fell to his knees before his Lord and offered the aforementioned magical foci to the man, if he could be called that.

Voldemort said nothing, just grabbed the wand from the rat like man's hands and tauntingly caressing it for a moment, before catching Harry's eyes and with one decisive motion snapped it in two.

Watching the tool through which he used his magic, the tool which had enabled his escape from the Dursleys, temporary though it always was, be destroyed shattered something in Harry and he could only look on in horror.

"I like that look on your face, girl." Voldemort sneered. "But I like you screaming even better! Crucio!"

Again Harry found himself subjected to the torture of the Cruciatus, but he bore it better than ever. He didn't know why, perhaps he was somehow becoming acclimated to it but even as he shrieked at the pain, some detached part of him still managed to hear as Voldemort rambled on.

"It seems your foolish parents worked the magic that kept you as a boy together with the protections that kept you safe from me." The dark wizard said, sounding amused. "That implies that wanted to protect you from the patriarchal wizarding world as much as they wanted to protect you from me."

How? How am I able to hear him through all the pain? How am I even able to think straight!?

That was not all though, everything suddenly was so very distant. Not just his pain, but his entire perception of his body and even the world itself seemed very far away.

I remember Hermione mentioning something like this once. The Potter realized. Is this that state of detachment she talked about Eastern magi working towards on the path to enlightenment? She did say that sometimes it can be achieved through being subjected to extremes.

For a brief moment, Harry allowed himself to slip out of his detachment and the pain almost overwhelmed him. He hastily retreated back into his strange calm to escape it.

Well, I'm sure that counts as an extreme. The young man mused.

He was pulled from his thoughts as the pain began to seep into his consciousness again. Looking towards Voldemort he saw the dark wizard frowning as he seemed to be pouring more and more power into his curse. At least if the intensity of the light that streamed from his wand was any indication.

His focus on the physical world cost him and the pain almost caught up to him. Almost.

Reacting quickly, he quickly began casting about for something to distract him. Considering his circumstance it was perhaps no surprise that he latched onto his apparent sex change.

If I'm really a girl then why did Mum and Dad make it seem like I was a boy?

Even as he asked the question, the answer floated up from his memories.

The practice of using transfiguration to hide girls as boys came up once when he had been talking to the Weasley twins about war in the wizarding world after yet another boring History of Magic lesson on the Goblin Wars. He'd run into them after the lesson in the corridors and since they were all headed in the same direction had struck up a conversation.

He'd asked them if wizards had fought any other wars and if so what were they like.

The twins hadn't known much except tidbits, but they'd talked about this. Apparently, they found it interesting. According to them, during war or plain old times of crisis, young heiresses were protected this way to avoid them becoming targets and forced into becoming child brides so their husbands could steal their inheritance.

Hermione, who had been there too, had called it a backward and misogynistic practice, but had conceded that it was sometimes necessary in light of the Wizarding World's laws on inheritance. She did rant about how it was unfair that boys didn't need to be as afraid of that since no matter what their inheritance went to them even if they were married.

Harry reined in his wandering thoughts when he noticed that Voldemort had finally released his spell.

I barely noticed. Potter noted, shocked.

"I've had enough of torturing Potter." Voldemort said dismissively, clearly to cover his slightly labored breathing and the unnerved look in his eyes. "Wormtail, is the second ritual set up?"

"Almost, Master, just a few more final touches."

Harry expected the Dark Lord to lash out at his underling, but instead he just gave a distracted nod instead focusing the majority of his attention at looking at him with a curious gleam in his serpentine eyes.

"Hurry up," the inhuman looking wizard said without much bite as he looked at Harry like he was a puzzle. This lasted for only a moment before he shook his head and smiled darkly at the boy.

"Did you know, Potter, that a Prophecy exists between us?" Voldemort asked almost conversationally, he didn't wait for a reply though as he continued. "Of course you don't. Dumbledore would never reveal his precious secrets to a mere pawn."

Harry wanted to say something in the grandfatherly Headmaster's defense, but all opening his mouth did was earn him another Crucio. It hurt, but again Harry fled into the state of detachment once more and rode out the agony. He however could feel the repeated application of the spell was taking its toll on his body. It felt exhausted and weak.

He was so preoccupied with his observation of his body's state that he barely heard Voldemort as he kept talking.

"But I'll not be fate's obedient little pawn." Voldemort declared arrogantly. "No, I am Lord Voldemort and as I have cheated death, so shall I cheat fate itself! I shall circumvent this Prophecy and outwit destiny!"

Was Voldemort really so full of himself that he had deluded himself into thinking it was possible to do that? Really? He knew the man had hubristic belief in his own self-importance but this was just ridiculous.

Good luck with th- Harry's thoughts cut off as his body was finally pushed beyond its absolute limits and he passed out.

He regained consciousness only to find himself at the center of some kind of ritual circle that was glowing with blue light and with Voldemort chanting in a language he didn't recognize in the background. He struggled to get a look around but could barely push himself off the ground a few inches before collapsing back into a pained heap.

This earned him some chuckles from the many Death Eaters that he could see surrounding the ritual circle like a flock of vultures. Though calling them that might be doing vultures a disservice. At least the avian scavengers served a purpose in the natural order unlike these pathetic excuses for human beings who only knew how to hurt and terrorize their fellows.

The intensity of the light began building and that brought Harry's straying focus back onto his present. Using every bit of his diminished strength he turned to face the Dark Lord.

Seeing he had his attention, Voldemort smirked even as he finished the last words of his chant.

With the light of the magic circle growing blinding, Harry heard the Dark Lord's taunting voice

"Enjoy the past, Potter!" The madman shouted as the power of his ritual took hold of Harry.

Those words and an intense pulling sensation around his navel area, were the last things Harry Potter felt before passing out again.

Here it is guys, the first chapter of what will likely be my greatest projects.

It's going to be a long ride though. With four main books and about a half dozen sidestories all plotted out, it'll likely take me years to write it all out. That said, you guys won't have to wait that long to read it as by the time I'm publishing this all of it will be ready for release and I'll be doing so at a steady pace.

So let me know what you think about this story. I very much want to know.