AN: Hi all,
From what was originally just a small plot-bunny, this has grown to quite the story, with twenty chapters already waiting to be published.
This will be a Harry Potter/Star Wars crossover, beginning at around 1 BBY, although Harry will only really go 'galactic' in 0 BBY, before the destruction of the first Death Star. That being said, this first chapter is, let's call it unspecific. Being intellectually lazy, it allows me to justify a whole host of crossovers and might therefore be used again in the future.
This will be Legends canon mostly, although I won't discount data from Disney canon material, as long as it does not contradict what has been there before. Given that the old Star Wars Extended Universe was a vast place, obviously some people will have trouble with understanding some references. Fear not, you can write me a PM (or a review, really doesn't matter all that much), and I will include it in the glossary I shall be providing in time.
Last but not least, I know the mouse is protective of its copyright, so if anyone at Disney (or associated with HP, obviously) has a problem with me publishing this, I will naturally take it down. However, I'll have it being said that this is not for profit, only for the enjoyment of me and my readers, as well as my betterment as a writer.
Chapter 1: Fragmented
The pain was almost indescribable as it permeated Harry's being to his very core. He had no idea where, or even if he really was. Neither did he know, what he really was. Chaotic images were flashing before his eyes, all in sequence, yet multiple at the same time. It would have been dizzying, had there not been that incredible pain sharpening his every sense.
And by that fact alone he knew that it was not an inordinate amount of time that had passed when he came to, at least partly, because he had enough experience with pain to know that, in the short run, it would wake up every fibre of one's being, but tended to, in the long run, deaden the mind to everything.
A shudder flooding his mind, Harry Potter emerged from the pit of that pain, only to find himself with a novel, utterly disconcerting sensation. Being in more than one spot at a time was certainly new. Before the novelty had any real chance of wearing off, he realised something else: he was in multiple times as well. With supreme concentration, the kind of which he usually reserved for trying to stay awake during History of Magic classes, if he even bothered to do that, he managed to home in on the moment he felt this whole mess originated from.
He watched with a strange kind of detachment as, in the blink of an eye that might as well have been hours, the two spells raced toward each other, the eyes around the Great Hall all fixated on that very moment. Harry saw the brief expression of confusion on his other self's face, that one little sign of whatever phenomenon it was that had led to his current situation. However, instead of stopping, his vision only grew, and with it, that dizzying feeling of seeing multiple strings of images returned and intensified.
Harry watched, while in front of him, he and Ginny both found the love they had both wanted desperately; he also watched them never get together again and break up shortly after the war. Had he had any kind of body worth speaking of, he was sure he did not, he would have started rubbing his temples in agony. With a strange detachment, he watched himself fall in love with Hermione, of all people, after consoling her following another fight with Ron, fuelled by their vastly different personalities. And he watched himself die, alone, drunk, at the age of 22, no longer able to cope with the shadows of a war he had not expected to see the end of. It was all running in parallel, and the emotional weight should have been strangling, paralysing even, but all there was, was that detached feeling, as if he was merely an outside observer.
Watching his and others' lives pass by, he learned a lot, but he could also feel, that the knowledge was empty. Sure, wherever he might end up, if he did end up anywhere at all it might be useful. He was not only going forward either, something that he understood when he saw a young Dumbledore in front of him. There was, however, one important observation he made: he himself, the presence that defined itself as Harry Potter in that… whatever it was, was not living these things. He was not rearing children or carrying loved ones to their graves. He was still merely an observer while other selves lived these lives.
And with a sudden jolt, all of it was whisked away from him; the knowledge of what he had learned, remained, the images and memories remained, at least somewhat, but there was nothing new that was coming in. A mighty shudder passed through his being, and Harry James Potter finally truly awoke.