I. Requiem of Sorrow

"When the black and mortal blood of man has fallen to the ground ... who then can sing spells to call it back again?"


The dark room was crowded with a canvas work of wizards and witches who were all standing in silence. The uneasiness that filled each and every one of their hearts—save for the old wizard with twinkling blue eyes—was only uplifted slightly by the ten flickering flames which were aligned in a large circle. A small lump of mass covered in thin, white linen sheets lay in the middle of the ring of candles. Five people stood around the inflamed circle of wax light sectioned of from the rest of the group of onlookers. It was clearly evident that each of the five was as nervous as the other for they kept shifting in place awkwardly. Murmurs of reconsideration and second thoughts emitted from the crowd of wizards who stood away from the group of five. Off at the very edges of the room stood three adolescents—two gingers and one brunette – were in solemn silence, inexplicably attempting to hide their rapidly beating hearts. Glazed blue orbs twinkled behind half-mooned spectacles and a kind, warm voice boomed throughout the overshadowed room.

"Shall we begin?" the white-bearded wizard stated with deep intrigue and interest sparking in his cerulean irises; he was one of the five standing in the tight circle and he seemed to hold some sort of power and authority. The old man's aura had an air of elegance about it and his head was raised high. A flurry of whispers erupted from the gathered crowd as all eyes rested upon the old man. The whispers were quickly silenced by the white-bearded wizard's waved hand.

"Dumbledore, I don't think this is a good idea..." came a nasally objection from the dark crowd of wizards. All eyes turned towards the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. His flat, coarse black hair gleamed dully in the faint light; his nose was high and defiant; his beady eyes stared straight forward, obviously not caring about the spiteful glares he received. A couple whispers of agreement arose in the crowd.

"Snape, I know you are still quiet nervous about doing things this way, however, this decision was chosen by the entire Order including yourself, was it not?" replied the said wizard as he clasped his hands together.

Once again murmurs erupted from the crowd like a tide of water and quickly subsided as such.

Snape had indeed agreed with the resurrection of a certain Potter - for that he silently cursed himself. However, it was not entirely on his free will that he made the decision, but Dumbledore's. The old wizard had once again manipulated him by using Lily as a scapegoat. A frown was smeared thickly on Serverous' thin lips. Even though Dumbledore was old, he was still as manipulative as a young conman.

"But Dumbledore!" Snape retorted indignantly, still not wanting to give Dumbledore the right of winning.

"No one asked for your opinion, Snivilous!" reprimanded a raspy yet firm voice from the circle of five. The air suddenly became tense as two black-haired males stared each other down.

"No one asked for your opinion either, Sirius Black." Severus Snape sneered through gritted teeth, "But of course, of all people, you would want to perform the darkest of arts to save The-Boy-Who-Lived or more specifically The-Boy-Who-Died."

"Why you..." Sirius growled as he tore himself away from the circled five. He lowered himself down into the crowd and began walking towards the prominent nosed man at a frightening pace. Each step he took shook with indecisive anger. The air around him radiated with burning rage, causing the crowd of gathered wizards to make way a path. Unlike the other wizards who slinked away, Snape held his ground and glowered at the former criminal in distaste. A hard, cruel punch landed onto Snape's face and he crashed to the ground in surprise. He held his pale hands to his cheek and felt it begin to swell. Sirius kneeled down on the ground and grabbed "Snivilous's" collar tightly, hoisting the frail man up in the air. His other hand was in a clenched tightly, ready to impale the other man's face once more.

"Sirius!" Shouted a gaunt looking man with brown hair, bearing the silvery signs of old age—he was also standing in the circle of five. Sirius turned towards to the voice and gave his old friend an incredulous look. He looked at his fist, then at Snape before returning his gaze to the gaunt man.

"But Remus," Sirius croaked with burning eyes, "He..." The former convict attempted to find the right words to describe his outrage but ultimately failed. Thin silence then passed over the wizards and witches like a suffocating blanket. The silence was so thin that a ringing sound could be heard buried beneath the quietness.

"It's not worth it." muttered the aged werewolf with tired eyes as he looked away from his friend in guilt.

Sirius looked somewhat hurt by the fact that Remus had not sided with him, but he quickly concealed his feelings with a tight scowl. Looking down at the Head of Slytherin spitefully, he thrust Snape down on the ground with a hard grunt. The greasy-haired "Half-blood Prince" fell onto the ground with a soft thud; his beady eyes stared at his attacker with hate and malice.

"It's not worth it..." Remus repeated drearily as he allowed his gaze to fall onto the white covered mass on the middle of the floor.

Sirius glanced around the room of wizards and found that they were also trying not to make eye contact with him out of guilt. He shook his head in disappointment before he climbed back up to the circle of five. Quickly taking his place, he regained his posture; he then glanced at the old wizard expectantly.

"Remus, Sirius, Allistor, Kingsley," Dumbledore addressed the people who stood in the circle with him. They nodded in quiet acknowledgment as their names were called.

Suddenly the room felt as if all of the life had been sucked from it, leaving only emptiness and despair. The emptiness left room for bubbling excitement and anticipation to form in the depths of the gathered wizards' hearts.

"All of the preparations are ready, therefore," Dumbledore said in a hard, yet warm voice, "Let us begin."

Sirius walked slowly towards the white mass like a broken marionette (his movements were disjointed and sluggish). Kneeling down ever so quietly, he lifted the soft white blanket off of the "mysterious" mass revealing a tuff of messy, black hair. With a quick tug, he threw the white blanket off to the side and stared at the stone, cold body of his godson Harry James Potter.

The dead boy's godfather kneeled next to the perfectly preserved body for what seemed like hours. He studied the child's features: he took in his godson's cold and gray skin, his long black curls, and his thin white lips. He nodded slightly in confirmation. The boy hadn't changed at all since his death. He found this thought somehow reassuring. Even his rounded glasses still lay in their place on the brook of his nose as an act of respect.

A chilling, watery memory unexpectedly passed through his mind like a slithering serpent as he stared at Harry's blue lips. It was a memory of death:

"Hurry, Harry, come on now!" the Godfather's voice rung clearly throughout the thin atmosphere.

Brilliant florescent streams of light spilled across the room illuminating the damp darkness. Dark figures dressed in black cloaks laughed maniacally as they fired charms and spells which maimed comrades. They fell onto the ground in pain. In turn, spells of retaliation were spurted out by thin wands. A couple of the dark figures fell onto the floor. Sirius and the rest of the group ran to the large stone archway that stood tall in the middle of the room. After a quick nod was given by Sirius, the gathered wizards began to form a defensive circle around his godson.

The sound of dripping water in the room-like cave melded together with the noise of splashing footsteps. Shouts of spells were heard across the cave and slowly the crowd of fighting wizards dissipated. The battle was soon to be over as the voices of many other wizards allied with the good began to flow into the room. Sirius smiled triumphantly as the other (good) wizards began to let out a joyous cheer. Only a few Death Eaters remained and victory was in their grasps.

"Hullo there, Cousin!" a voice whined in a baby-like manner, startling the young man. Sirius's dark eyes wandered up the cave until they locked onto a malicious, feminine figure wearing a dark cloak.

"Bellatrix!" he stuttered clearly in a daze of surprise.
At that moment time seemed to pass ever so sluggishly. The female Death Eater slowly raised her wand to chest height –a maniacal grin was on her face. Her wavy and frizzed black hair was blown back by the cold wind, causing her pale features to become sharp and crude. Sirius's attention quickly shifted from his cousin's face to her wand which was now sparking with a green light. Her lips parted and formed two words which floated in the air in an almost dreamy way.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A large green wave of light sparked and streamed from the very tip of her wand. It took only a couple seconds for Sirius to realize his cousin's intent; however, it was obviously way too late for him to act. He could only stare at the oncoming jet of green in stupor. But then—a shout, a cry of angst, pierced his ears like an arrow. Turning his head ever so slightly, he saw his precious godson bundle towards him out of the corner of his eye.

The jet's light began to softly illuminate his figure; his godson was charging towards him with outstretched fingertips. It was a race—a race to figure out who would reach him first, the killing spell or Harry. (A race to figure out who would die: the crazed criminal, Sirius Black or his godson, "The-Boy-Who-Lived".)

It seemed as if Harry would win this seemingly useless race for he rushed towards Sirius at an insane pace and gave his godfather one harsh shove. In that instant Sirius was pushed off the highway of death and at the same time Harry was shoved onto it.

The bright green light collided with Harry's body-right below the collarbone is where the spell hit- and the boy fell to the ground in an instant. His body was still; his eyes still wide open staring at nothingness. Sirius stood there, pale faced and unable to comprehend the situation. His mind was in a daze. Everything seemed like a dream. The voices of fighting slowly drained out of his hearing range. His vision was cleared into whiteness, until the only thing he saw was the lifeless body on the floor. Why was Harry on the ground? Why wasn't he running away from all this fighting? Why was—

"I killed Potter!" a voice screeched with glee. It cut through his dream-like stupor.

"I killed little wittle Potter!" the voice whined in a mad voice. Sirius's bleary eyes traced the direction of the sounded phrase. It was not long until his irises reflected his cousin's joyously shaking figure.

She killed Potter. Bellatrix killed Harry. Bellatrix killed his godson.

Realization hit him with hard force, knocking the wind from his lungs. His knees felt weaker than jelly and his eyes stung with unshed tears. His support gave in and he fell to the ground shaking.

The mad witch was now screaming with triumph, "POTTER IS DEAD! THE-BOY-WHO-LIVED lives NO MORE!"

Harry was alive. Harry was alive. Harry was alive.

The pathetic lie repeated in his head like a broken stereo tape as he crawled towards his godson's still body. As he slowly made his way to the cold mass on the floor, the lie which was repeating in his head slowly dulled to a stop. He stared at his godson's chest begging it to rise and fall slowly as it had did before. He gazed at his godson's eyes and wished them to flutter open once more to reveal jade irises. But alas his begging seemed to be unheard. Sirius's black shadow slid over Harry's figure and drops of wetness fell onto the young boy's face.

Harry was dead. Harry was dead. Harry was dead. Harry was dead. Harry was dead. Harry was dead. Harry…Harry…Harry…

Someone was now shouting his godson's name in sorrow and agony—he couldn't tell whether he was the one who was shouting or if it was one of the other people who now surrounded the dead body. Probably both. They were shouting the dead boy's name in some sort of stupid hope that he might open his eyes and laugh it off as a joke. There hope was however unfulfilled and Harry lay on the cold, stone floor without motion.

The-Boy-Who-Lived was now dead.

"Sirius?" a silky voice gently pressed through his memory causing him to return to reality. The middle-aged man blinked in a daze and his gaze lifted for a second in search for the one who had called his name. His eyes rested upon a mouse-haired girl who had kind yet burning eyes. Hermoine Granger— one of Harry's best friends—was looking at him from across the room with pitying eyes. The pitying look shocked him into shook himself off and peeled himself away from the dreaded corpse. Without looking back, he paced towards his place in the circle of five. Once in position he gave a quick yet curt nod to Dumbledore before staring straight ahead (it appeared as if he was in a trance—a trance which allowed him to escape reality if for only a second more). The old wizard gave him a melancholy smile and extended his hand towards him and Remus. Sirius gingerly took Dumbledore's wrinkled hands, as did Remus. In turn, Sirius held his dry hand out to Allistor who took it in a brisk manor. It continued so until all five of them had joined hands. Now directly above the corpse of Harry, they glanced at each other with an air of fear.

The incantation commenced. The harmonized words of the charm rose into the air carried by an uplifting wind. The lips of the five wizards were synchronized as they spelled out each intricate syllable. A flustering white wisp began swirling around there darkened figures and it snuffed out the candlelight. Thus they were left in the dark; but, this did not stop them from continuing the incantation. The incomprehensible words continued to fill the air—the words seemed to absorb up all the breathable air which left the room in suffocation. Many wizards began gasping for oxygen as it was stolen from them. All immediately regretted starting the dark magic in the first place, for quite a few wizards were already collapsing from the lack of air. They stood in the dark, struggling to stand and using each other for support. It seemed as if the only ones who weren't affected by this aftereffect of the spell were the ones chanting it themselves (for they continued to shout out the words of the charm without even stopping for a breath). More wizards collapsed on the ground, coughing. As their comrades tried to help them up they too fell due to the lack of oxygen. The fear of death by suffocation began to squirm its way into all hearts.

Then there was light.

A brilliant blast of white jetted up from the middle of the circle instantly blinding a couple of the onlookers. As sparkling blueness began to swarm around the room like a dancing fairy, the wizards found that they were able to breathe again. Once the crowd filled up their lungs, they began to appraise the glowing lights. The wind, too, seemed to applaud the brilliant florescent colors by bashing its waves of air in all corners of the room.

"REVERTO ANIMUS!"

The last words of the incantation slid off of the five wizard's tongue smoothly. The phrase resounded across the entire room, literally shaking the paint from the walls. Anticipation bubbled up in the room like a volcano nearly filling the premises of the room with its heat.

Nothing. Nothing happened. The hot bubbling anticipation died away along with the multicolored flashing lights. The wind once again became gentle and brushed against all their faces in a taunting manner. The candles regained their bright light. The room became dark and humid; silence reigned above all.

A harsh blizzard of dread crashed down into the room like a large tidal wave. Questions, despair, and fatigue rode along with these tall waves. No one dared to speak in fear of breaking the silence. Even the smallest of crickets daren't make a sound. The horrible feelings were un-relinquished, held up by a dam of silence.

"It didn't work."

The one phrase put a crack on the dam of silence and all at once terror flowed out.

"Why didn't it work?"

"I told you it wouldn't work!"

"We shouldn't have practiced this dark magic in the first place!"

"This is terrible!"

"Bloody hell…"

"As I thought…We spent all that time on this little project for nothing… How disappointing…"

"What are we going to do now?"

"What about You-Know-Who? How are we going to kill him without Potter?"

"No, Harry!"

"Shut up."

"We're doomed. We're all doomed on this wretched Earth!"

"He's dead and nothing can change it!"

"Shut up…"

"We'll find another way."

"No. We're all going ta' die here…How depressing…"

"I SAID FOR ALL OF YOU TO 'SHUT UP'!"

Sirius gasped for breath for the sentence he had just shouted winded him greatly. His voice had boomed so loudly the walls even shook in mortified terror. Quietness immediately dropped down like a heavy curtain and all were muted. The young black-haired man was slumped in defeat. His shoulders were loose and his eyes were glassy—he stared straight ahead at Remus's face without acknowledgement.

A storm of depression rained on all the surrounding wizards as they gazed at Sirius's sunken expression.

"Sirius…" a voice murmured softly. Looking up ever so slightly, Sirius's quiet, black irises met with stormy gray ones. Remus gave his old friend a comforting grin followed by a quick pat on the shoulder. "It'll be alright—"

A rattling sound startled the calm air. It drew all attention away from the bromantic scene. The noise was sharp and echoed profoundly throughout the room.

"Blimey! Look up there!" shouted a certain ginger-haired boy. Ron was pointing eagerly (he was literally jumping up and down) towards the direction of Harry's corpse.

Sirius's eye slowly slinked towards the direction where Ron was pointing. In a matter of seconds his eyes glistened and widened—as did all the others when they saw it.

"Wha—"

A long, ornate, silver chain was growing from Harry's chest. It grew quickly and rose into the air. Taking up the aspect of a snake, the chain slithered around the entire room. The snake-like chain began doing loops in midair as if it was some sort of freak at a circus. It dove down into the wizarding crowd and whirled in circles. The chain continued to swirl around and many had trouble keeping their eye on it as it formed intricate arches and swirls throughout the room. People were now cheering as they chain made beatifying "artwork" in the air ( they were also cheering in relief for the spell had worked) . Suddenly the links of the chain become stiff and it moved shakily as if it was rusted. Soon the chain stopped altogether. Its "head" now hovered above Dumbledore's frame in a frozen state. The cheering that had once filled the room with warmth died away instantly. The chain began to shiver and wriggle in spasms. This caused the links to crash together creating a high, rattling sound. Severous, Remus, along with quite a few others flinched away from the shaking chain. It seemed as if only Dumbledore and Sirius held their ground—Sirius held his ground out of shock and awe, while Dumbledore stood his ground out of pure amusement.

"Would you kindly find Harry Potter for us?" Dumbeldore requested politely with a milky smile. A couple of the wizards began to think that the Professor had gone mad due to the fact that he was talking to a magical (yet still lifeless) chain. Much to their surprise the very tip of the chain dipped down to meet Dumbledore "face-to-face".

The chain croaked and groaned and shook. The groaning of the chain slowly transmuted into a coughing. It shook its "body" hard one last time before it met evenly with Dumbledore's eyes.

"Harry Potter?" something boomed in a croaking voice. Everyone gazed in awe as they came to realize that the voice had originated from the chain itself. The chain swerved around in a quick circle surveying the room before it returned to Dumbledore. "Do you have a sample of this Potter's reiatsu?"

"Reiatsu?" Dumbledore questioned with interested eyes sparking behind his glasses. The chain seemed to nod slowly before it shivered.

"I need Potter's Reiatsu or as you humans call it, 'Spiritual Pressure'." the chain chided hastily in an annoyed tone. "Come on now! I haven't got all day!"

The Chain's body rustled peculiarly in the eeriness. No one dared to answer for they had not prepared any of this so called "reiatsu".

"I-If you mean his body. It's right there."

The Chain swerved around and met Sirius's pale face. Sirius stared back at it evenly with a frown. He was quite sure if the Chain did actually have a face, it would be smiling at him in a mocking way. Sirius hastily motioned towards Harry's corpse and watched uneasily as the Chain squirmed towards his godson. The Chain bent down low and studied Harry's pale, lifeless features.

Dumbledore watched with interest, expecting the Chain to remark "Oh. I see. You want me to bring this dead boy back to life, aye?" or "Pretty boy ya got here. Too bad he died." Instead the reaction of the Chain was the exact opposite.

Letting out a terrified screech, the Chain hurtled around the room like a mad man. It pulled itself up, around, and down as if trying to escape from the harmless corpse. Finally seeing its actions as useless, the Chain rushed towards Dumbledore, nearly knocking the old wizard over.

"Youcan'tletmebringhimbacktolifehe'sbetterofinHuecoMundo!" the Chain shrieked with fear, "... No!"

The Chain then hesitantly backed away from Dumbledore as if the old man was a parasite.

"I see. I see!" the Chain stuttered in terrified triumph, "You're with him, aren't you?" It shivered in fear and once again darted around the room, attempting to find its way out.

"And who is this you speak of?" Dumbledore questioned now very interested. The Chain then abruptly stopped in midair. Slowly and cautiously it slinked down to Dumbledore's height.

"What do you mean 'who is this I speak of'?" the Chain hissed in barely a whisper. "You work for him don't you? Aizen…Aizen-sama!"

"Who's Izensama?" Ron questioned from the very back of the room. He had spoken out subconsciously, not realizing that he had disturbed the Chain greatly. Rushing at a tremendous force, the Chain charged towards Ron nearly taking the ginger's head off. Forcing Ron back a couple of feet, the Chain glared at the redhead in stupor.

"Who's Aizen-sama? Who's Aizen-sama " the Chain shouted furiously. He then murmured in a dream-like manner, "H-He's…sscary…"

"S-Scary?," Ron started as he tried to inch away from the crazed Chain. The Chain nodded slowly as if in a trance.

"Scarier than Ulquiorra…"

"Who might this Ulquiorra be?," Dumbledore asked lightly, drawing the all the attention in the room once more. The Chain then darted across the room and reached the old wizard's side.

"What do ya' mean?" the Chain reprimanded, clearly confused for some reason unknown to the wizards, "Ya mean that ya don't know who your ressurectin'?" The Chain thus shook heartily as if in laughter.

"We're resurrecting Harry not Ulquiorra…" Sirius voiced from behind the Chain. Turning to face the young man slowly, the links rustled with raged.

"No. You're resurrecting Ulquiorra!"

"No. Harry."

"Ulquiorra."

"Harry!"

"Ulquiorra!"

"Harry!"

"I said Ulquiorra!"

"And I said Harry!"

A cough interrupted their ridiculous fight. Their attention was drawn away by Dumbledore's round smile. Motioning towards the Chain, Dumbledore spoke in a polite manner.

"My dear sir, I am sorry to say that since we already have cast the spell, you have to oblige to our request," Dumbledore gave a sympathetic glance towards the Chain before continuing, "I assure you that this 'Ulquiorra' you speak of is definitely not our Harry."

The Chain "stood" still for a moment, determining whether what the old wizard said was the truth or a lie. Time seemed to become stationary and cold sweat beaded down Sirius's forehead as he awaited the Chain's decision.

"Fine," It said thickly as it gave one last shiver, "It's your loss of life, not mine."

With those chilling words floating around in the air like snowflakes, a small black hole appeared meters above in the air. The Chain flowed towards in a tired fashion. Slipping its head into the blackness, the Chain went in search for Harry Potter.


Hours seemed to pass since the wizarding group had last heard of the Chain. It had slithered inside the worm-like black hole, leaving the rest of its body behind—it was still attached to Harry. Most of the wizards had stared at the small, black hole for quite some time before boredom stole them away.

The crowd that had once stood unified was now broken up and disjointed. Each individual from the crowd had gone off to a different corner along with others of their group. It was then proved that no matter how unified people were, they always split off at the end. Words and doubts about the Chain's warnings filled the rơom. Uncertainty about where Harry Potter's allegiances lay was the common thought the wizards had in mind (except for a few invividuals who know Harry in person—they were unfazed by the Chain's ramblings and had waved the matter off). There were five different chattering groups in all—each of them was as interesting as the other.

The most intriguing group however consisted of Ronald Weasley, Hermoine Granger, Molly Weasley, Kingsley, Allistor Moody, Fred and George Weasley, Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, Nymphodora Tonks, Hagrid, and Sirius Black—these wizards were the closest to Harry's body. Quite an interesting group they were as they shouted flamboyantly at each other from the center of the room. They were of all different sizes and colors, each set with a different and conflicting personality. Presently Hermoine and Ronald were shouting about none other than The-Boy-Who-Lived. Soon enough the entire group—save for Dumbledore, Kingsley, and Sirius—were all shouting about Harry's whereabouts. If you happened to pass this odd group, the only word you would understand emitting from their conversation would be the word "Harry".

Sirius rubbed his temples as he heard Harry's name being shouted once more. He was one of the few people who had not taken their eyes off of the black hole. He had sat down cross-legged and stared at it intently from the very moment the Chain had slithered into it. In fear that the hole would somehow close up, he daren't take his eyes off from it. Exhaustion tugged at his baggy face. The heat of the room was just like another temptation for sleep. He bore through all this with sheer will.

Harry's name was mentioned once again and he couldn't resist burying his heads in his hands. He closed his eyes and fell tiredness wash over him. In fear that the hole might not be there, he didn't dare to look up.

"Look! The hole is opening up!" Ron shouted, once again the being the first person to notice a change.

All eyes immediately darted to the small black hall which was indeed enlarging. The chain suddenly became stiff and it seemed to pull itself out of the darkness. The black hole became larger as the chain withdrew into the room. Anticipation once again rose, this time firm and strong. The chain continued to real in its catch. The hole opened fully. A figure stepped out, connected by the chain at what appeared to be right below his collarbone. No one dared to breathe.

Sirius could only stare in awe. He didn't know exactly what to expect when Harry was resurrected, but he could quickly sum up his ideals:

He expected to see kind green (and slightly distrusting) eyes, not cold, cat-like analytical ones.

He expected to see an overjoyed (or annoyed) smile, not an emotionless frown full of indifference.

He expected to see a boy dressed in heavenly robes, not a man who adorned odd clothing that gave off the feeling of superiority.

He expected to see rosy cheeks full of wonder, not green tear marks that gave off a melancholy sensation.

He also expected to see his godson's hands in a warm wave, not shoved into his pockets dismissively.

He expected to see a glowing halo adorned on his godson's head, not a broken bone-like helmet .

And most of all he expected to see his godson Harry Potter, not the Cuatra Espada Ulquiorra Cifer.


A/N: I've been literally dying to write a Harry-as-Arrancar fic. I couldn't resist when I noticed that Ulquiorra looked exactly like Harry, so here I am, writing an Harry-is-Ulquorra fic! I've got the second chapter half written already! All I need to do is finish and revise it. By the way, this is my first Crossover FanFiction.

Just to let you know, this FanFiction takes place before Las Noches falls and after The Order of The Phoenix.

Kindly review my story by clicking the tempting "Review" button below.