A/N So, yeah, this is my attempt at continuing the story. The first half of this chapter is almost verbatim, sorry! Also, I warn you all that I probably won't always write chapters this long (yes, I consider this length to be long) and that my updates will be sporadic, but I got fed up with never seeing the Harry Potter/One Piece crossovers I like be updated, so I figured at the very least, I might inspire someone else to write a similar story for me to enjoy (hinthint).

The original story can be found under Tenkai of Chaos.

I quite literally own practically none of the following.

Chapter One

Karma's Deal

The grounds of Hogwarts where once, beautiful and inspiring, stood an ancient, towering castle of legends and an expanse of forests that hundreds of magical creature species called home, could now only be described as dead. After the resurrection of Voldemort, the second war was waged, taking hundreds of lives of Aurors, Death Eaters, Order members, and civilians alike. Sometime during the third or fourth battle of Hogwarts, the towers fell, walls collapsed, and the door was broken in. All that stood living on the grounds now was Harry Potter, twenty-one-yr-old Savior of the Wizarding World, the only survivor of Golden Trio, and the only member of the Order of the Phoenix still sane. He planted a rose bush on each of the graves of his friends who were buried in a circular formation, and then started digging a hole in the center which, as each shovelful of dirt was scooped out, began to resemble a grave.

"I hope the devil enjoys having you as his personal fuck toy, Riddle," Harry spat, as he finished digging the hole. "Perhaps I'll even get to watch, if suicide is a great enough sin to condemn me to the same place you went." He hopped out of the hole, and placed his hands on the ground. For a moment, it seemed he was only praying one last time for the souls of those buried around him, when a slow, but steady pulse of magic rippled outwards from his hands. Everywhere the pulse passed through, the faintest hint of grass sprouted, until the ripple reached the rosebushes. At an incredible rate, the bushes grew inwards and upwards, the thorny branched entwining with each other, forming an enclosed dome around Harry, before sprouting leaves and blossoms, hiding him from the rest of the world.

He got up and stood at the foot of the grave. "I'll heading to the other side now. Perhaps, this isn't what any of you wanted me to do. I don't know. But I can't take it anymore. Everyone who's known war is dead, or insane, or has chosen to forget it ever happened. But I can't forget. Maybe its stupid of me, to still live like a battle might break out at any moment and I have to be ready for it. But I can't stop. It's lonely, you know. Friends can't or don't want to understand. Lovers too, they get irritated, frustrated with me. Hell, I don't blame them, with the emotional baggage I've accumulated even before the war. But I can't let it go. Even my secondary magic isn't enough to keep me occupied. I can't help but feel only by being with all of you again can I fill this hole in me. And if I end up in hell, well, at least it should hurt enough that I'll stop caring, yeah?" With a morbid smirk, Harry Potter raised his wand in his right hand, and pointed the tip at his temple. "Avada Kedavra." And in a flash of green light, the Boy-Who-Lived, lived no longer, his body falling in a slow arc into the open grave behind him. Though the rosebush dome would attract curious passersby almost immediately, no one would discover the presence of their Savior's body inside for another month. The place was made a memorial in his honor, but no one mourned for the person behind the title, because everyone who knew him had preceded him.

"You have no right Rakma! The boy's soul is mine!" roared a voice. Blinking rapidly, Harry turned his head to see a tall man in a black, hooded cloak glaring at another man who sat calmly in his chair at a large dining table. He had messy, blood red hair in a loose braid, and clothes that resembled a traditional oriental garb. As he looked up at the cloaked man over the rim of his cup, Harry's breathe caught at the glowing vividness of yellow eyes. "If the boy was truly yours by right, he would not have ended up here, hmm? Perhaps Karma has back come to bite you. You did, after all, fail miserably in your duty reap Tom Riddle's soul at the proper time, no?"

"You- ! It doesn't change the fact that this boy is dead! And as a soul whose body has perished in his living world, Harry Potter belongs to me right now!" The cloaked man's voice increased in volume, until at the end, he was practically throwing a tantrum.

"Death, have you forgotten that you are not the only Power here? You had best realize it is no good to test me else I'll decide to interpret certain recent events more... flexibly." The man smirks. "Surely you have not forgotten just who was your last mortal master and his last decision under that title?" The man put down his cup, and rose from his chair. "Enough, I have made my decision and you cannot stop it. Leave my home," he declared, his voice layered with power, "you are no longer welcome here." Shadows lifted from the ground around Death, and pulled him down until he disappeared from view. The yellow-eyed man, Rakma, sat back down. "Come join me Harry," he called out, "I'm sure we can both benefit from a long discussion about your current circumstances."

Harry approached the table and took a seat at the place next to the man. A cup of tea and a plate of chocolate biscuits popped into existence onto the placemat in front of him. Picking up the teacup – British styled unlike Rakma's handle-less Asian teacup, Harry tried to sort through his whirling thoughts.

"I assume you have questions for me, Harry?" asked Rakma, in a rather amused tone.

Harry hesitated a moment, before asking, "Who are you?"

"Ah," replied Rakma, "a good, but difficult to answer question. To explain what my existence means would be a far too long story, and not to mention irrelevant to the situation. Suffice to say, I am one of the Powers of the worlds, much like Adeth, and I used my rights to bring you here from him."


"Ah! I meant Death, sorry. His real name is Adeth, Death being his mortal title, and thus also what I like to call him when conversing with him personally – it irritates him."


"Yes, oh," said Rakma with a smile.

"So, why did you bring me here?"

"Well, first, you must understand that there is no true immortality. It is Adeth's job to ensure that everyone leaves their mortal plane and if they somehow manage to find a way to hide or escape him, it is one of his duties to make sure that he destroys whatever method that is. He's done a decent job of it, though recently he's grown a bit lazy about how efficient he does that particular duty. We should have seen it coming, after he let the Flamels in your world live several hundred years. Hindsight is 20/20, even to us Powers, and when Adeth failed to find a way to reap Tom Riddle despite his horcruxes – it is a rather old technique by now, after all – Tom Riddle managed to escape back to his mortal life and proceed to ruin your life. Most unfortunate, as that Halloween day should have been the end of the prophecy so that you could live the rest of your life more productively."

"Productively?" Harry, who at this point was reeling from the revelation that he had to fight Voldemort all his life because Death, Adeth, whatever, was lazy of all things for a couple hundred years, could only reflexively ask about the last confusing comment he heard Rakma make.

"Well, yes. You discovered part of it already, your secondary magic, I think you called it. As a powerful wizard from birth, you were born with the potential to discover a new way of using magic. You already had a prophecy, so you weren't destined to revolutionize magic or anything, but you had the potential that unfortunately could not be fully enjoyed because of the unforeseen circumstances."

"Well," Harry said slowly, "that sucks and all, but what does this all have to do with me not going to the next life with Death?"

"Haha, this is the fun part. You see, by fighting Voldemort, destroying his horcruxes, and killing him, you essentially did Adeth a favor, and any favor to one of the Powers must be returned, a duty that falls under my jurisdiction." Rakma grinned at this, his eyes lighting up like the Weasley twins' when anticipating the results of their latest prank. "I love my job, especially 'cause it irritates the hell out of the other Powers when they realize they owe a debt to a mortal. In your case, you'll be given a second chance to live in a different world."

Harry gazed into his teacup, barely registering the fact that it was self-refilling as the content had not gone down one bit despite the gulps of tea he had been ingesting to try and stay collected throughout the explanation. A second chance to live in a different world. He didn't know how he felt about that. A different world may be a blessing, since they wouldn't know his past nor his celebrity status, and yet, it could also be a curse. One reason he committed suicide was because he couldn't stand the loneliness anymore; to be the only one who lived the darker side of life – would his second life be any better than his first?

"Harry," Rakma spoke, his voice low and gentle, "I know why you chose to die, and I can assure you that in this new world, you will find people you can relate to. They won't understand your past unless you choose to tell it, but the world I will send you to is not peaceful if you know where to look. It is a world of mostly ocean with thousands of islands, and the waters are ruled by the constant battles between pirates and the marines. The time is actually going to be a particularly havoc-filled one. While there are parts of the world that has never known war, there is one particular ocean of the five that is ruled by strength alone. You will find a place there, and people to love, I promise you this. Let me do this for you Harry." Rakma's eyes were soft, understanding, and pleading, and Harry found himself hopeful for the future after this speech. He closed his eyes, took a shuddering breathe, and slowly nodded.

"Brilliant!" The exuberance in this simple statement took Harry by surprise, his eyes snapping open as he realized that Rakma was once more grinning like no tomorrow. "Now, for some technicalities that we must get out of the way before I can move you along. One is a basic explanation of this new world, yeah? There is no magical community, though you personally can still use your magic and still have the potential to further develop your secondary magic. There is however a power known as Devil Fruit power that is bestowed upon those who have eaten magical fruit of the sea that changes their body in various ways in exchange for completely losing the ability to move in seawater – contact with it drains their energy. I happen to have one to give you, though whether you will be willing to eat it or not is up to you."

Completely unable to move? "Didn't you say that most of the world is ocean?"

"Yep, so choose carefully."

The disadvantage seems to outweigh any possible advantages. Harry didn't care how it might change his body or what abilities it might give him – if just contact with sea water would render him useless, then he couldn't give himself such a weakness without at least a couple of trusted companions to save his arse if it came down to that. And seeing as how he'll be completely new there, that wasn't happening yet. Except –

"What about my magic, will I still be able to use it in water?"

"Yes," replied Rakma, his eyes glowing now with a pleased looked on his face.

"So, I could just use magic to shield my body from direct contact with water, and still be able to move in the ocean…"

"Theoretically." Rakma's eyes were gleaming now, and his grin looked about to split his face.

At this, Harry's face took on a conspiratorial expression. "Theoretically, of course. Then, theoretically, I see no reason to not eat it."

"I'm glad, now to other matters. There isn't much more you need to know about the world you'll be entering. I suggest taking the first few months there to train yourself though, as you may find yourself encountering some dangerous situations. One important thing I have to warn you about though is the possibility of you developing some Seer abilities."

"What?" Harry choked.

"Yes, I know," Rakma gazed at Harry, his face the picture of exaggerated sympathy. "You see, the ability to See the past and future is something all wizards of a certain power level is capable of. Of course, all wizard of a certain power level are very susceptible to being the subject of a prophecy, which blocks their Seeing abilities. This is what happened to you, but in your new world, there are no prophecies, let alone one about you, so you should start developing the abilities within a few years."

"I – bloody hell, you couldn't tell me this earlier?"

"Nope, now, here's your money – I converted your holdings into the proper currency," Rakma thrust a trunk into Harry's hands with a large grin and shoved him towards a side door, "try not to die too soon!" And without so much as a farewell, he kicked Harry out the door towards the smell of the sea, and slammed it shut.

"Good luck Harry."

A/N The next chapter will be about Harry getting to know his new powers, trying to manipulate his magic into giving him immunity from the sea, and maybe some other details I've yet to work out. If you have questions or suggestions, please let me know. I'm currently beta-less, so let me know if you see errors, in my writing or storyline. Thanks for reading!