Fanfiction Collection + EPub Links - Chapter 113

Plot: An impossible child, born of Human and Denizen, trained by Heaven’s Flame, pulled into the world of Greek Myths in time to save a man hating Goddess. How will Harry Potter, son of Transformation affect the future of the world? Answer to Whitetigerwolfs Monstrous Challenge. Includes a cross with Shakugan no Shana

Crossover: HP x PJ

Pairing: HPxZoe

Chapter 1

“Lily, are you sure this will work?” asked James as he stood opposite his nȧkėd wife in the ritual circle.

“I’m sure James,” said Lily, “The Ritual will work. Trust me.”

James sighed and nodded, before stepping forwards into the circle, causing it to light up. As he did, he failed to notice that his foot smudged out one of the lines of a rune.

As the Ritual began and the couple engaged in their act, the magic of the circle reached out, searching for the essence of an Immortal as it was supposed to. However, the smudged rune had altered the magic slightly so, rather than seeking out a Godly being, it sought out the closest immortal being to the couple. The being it found was one that, by most accounts, wasn’t something that belonged in this world. The magic locked on and latched onto his aura, drawing on his power to power the ritual and grant the wishes of the Potters. As the energy entered the circle, the white light changed to a mix of muddy violet and a pale blue, not that either Potter noticed as they were completely lost in one another.

A few weeks later, Lily came bursting into the dining room early in the morning, leaping onto her husband’s ŀȧp, knocking him and his chair to the floor and kissing him hard.

“James, it worked!” she said as she pulled back, “The ritual worked! I’m pregnant!”

“No, please I beg you, not Harry, take me instead!” pleaded Lily as the pale snake like form of Voldemort approached her child’s crib. The self styled Dark Lord didn’t even pause, just flicked his wand and unleashing the green light that snuffed out lives with a touch, sending the woman crumpling to the ground, before turning his wand on the child in the crib.

Little Harry stood in his crib, holding onto the bars and looking up at the Dark Lord through wide, innocent eyes. Those eyes were strange, stranger than any Voldemort had ever seen. They were comprised of two rings around the pupil, the inner ring being the same emerald green as his mother while the outer ring was an unusual shade of purple. The two rings were separated by a thin band of pale blue. The contrasting colours gave the young boy an extremely eerie look, especially as his eyes practically glowed.

The twisted man raised his wand, the tip glowing green, pointing it directly between the child’s multi colored eyes.

“And so ends the one who would defeat me,” whispered Voldemort, “Avada Kedavra.”

The green light shot towards the child, striking it in the middle of his forehead, knocking him onto his back. Voldemort gave a thin smile and turned away from the crib. Before he could leave though, a sound made him freeze in place. A child’s cry. The Dark Lord turned around to see little Harry Potter laying on his back, thrashing his little arms and crying his eyes out as blood leaked from the scar that now marred his forehead. Voldemort turned back to the crib and once more raised his wand, intending to try again. Before he could cast the spell however, Harry let out a scream and unleashed a massive blast of green and purple energy that destroyed the nursery and Voldemort.

Six Years Later

Seven year old Harry Potter coward away from his uncle as the walrus of a man rained down punches on his small body, roaring, shouting and insulting the small boy. The huge man had just come home from work, drunk as a skunk and in a rage, having just been sacked from work. As soon as he came through the door, he had flung open the door of the cupboard under the stairs, where Harry slept, pulled the small boy out and began to wail on him, shouting about how it was all the boys fault he had been sacked.

For Harry this wasnt that unusual unfortunately as the fat man always blamed anything that went wrong on him and often took out his frustrations on him, joined more often than not by his pig of a son. However, the abusive man always stopped his beatings once Harry started bleeding or something broke. This time though, the man was far past reason and kept on beating the boy, even after his bones broke and blood began to paint the walls of the room. Harry did his best to protect his head from the onslaught, but he knew that there was a strong possibility he wouldn’t survive this. He could already feel his consciousness begin to fade.

At first the boy welcomed the approaching oblivion as it would be an escape from his hell of a life, but as his vision began to fade, the fear of death that all living things hold began to surface.

“I don’t want to die,” thought the boy, “Not like this.”

The boy looked up at his uncle through his darkening vision and saw the hatred in his eyes, regarding the boy as nothing more than an ant to be crushed. That realization sparked something deep within the boys very being, that part inherited from the being that provided his essence to conceive the boy. That part refused to accept a lowly human regarding him like that, like an insect. It was Vernon who was the insect and he would be crushed.

Vernon turned away from the boy and grabbed the aluminium bat that was leaning against the wall, turning and bringing it down on the boys head. However, rather than a small boys fragile skull, the bat slammed into something much larger and harder and shattered into a thousand pieces. Vernon didn’t notice however, his entire attention now locked onto the monster that had replaced his nephew.

The creature had the body of a massive lion with black fur, marked by white stripes. Its paws were that of a bird, tipped with gleaming golden talons, while its tail was that of a black lizard and a pair of huge, dark purple leathery wings leaped from its shoulder blades. In the center of the creatures forehead was a long, curved, serrated horn and its mouth was filled with pure white teeth. The only thing that remained of the small boy it used to be was its purple, green and blue eyes.

The creature drew its lips back from its teeth and a deep, rumbling growl echoed from its massive ċhėst. Vernon whimpered in response and vacated his bowels and bladder. The Chimera raised a paw and unsheathed his claws with a quiet *shnik*.

A few hours later, Petunia Dursley returned home. She opened the door and entered the house, moving into the kitchen to put her groceries away. As she was doing so, her nose caught the scent of excrement and urine. She scowled at the thought of such disgusting things in her house and immediately moved to find the source. She followed her nose to the door of the sitting room. She opened the door and froze at the sight that greeted her. The formerly pristine room was completely covered in blood and the furniture was all completely destroyed, seemingly cut to pieces or smashed with feathers everywhere. The window was shattered, allowing the feathers from the destroied couch cushions to dance in the wind. In the middle of the room was the corpse of her husband, covered in blood and seemingly half eaten. Petunias scream could be heard from the other end of the street.

The perpetrator of both the damage and the killing of the Vernon was already miles away, having left through the window as soon as he had finished with the fat man, his wings carrying him faster than most planes could manage. Harry touched down in a field miles away from Surrey, his Chimera form dissolving into purple and green energy as he did so. As soon as the animalistic form vanished, the boy was hit by the full implication of what he had done and he fell to his knees and heaved, vomiting partially digested Vernon Dursley onto the ground. While he was in that other form, his human side had been suppressed by the animalistic instincts of the Chimera and that had driven him to consume a part of his Uncle’s body.

The boy got to his feet and staggered to the edge of the field and clambered over the fence, falling down the other side to land in a puddle with a splash. The boy let out a groan of pain as his battered body let him know that, despite the fact that transforming had healed most of his injuries, a few of them were still present and the ache from the recently healed ones was still there. Harry lay where he had fallen, not caring about the wet that was seeping into his baggy cloths. As he lay there, he became aware that his vision was fading again, the beating, his transformation and the healing of his wounds all getting to him and draining the last of his strength. Just before he blacked out completely, he saw a pair of booted feet stop in front of him.