Jaded Eyes of a Haunted Soul

A.N.: lol so here it is the beginning of the sequel! The Song in this one is New Divide by Linkin Park, it's not mine but I highly recommend you give it a listen while you read! J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, regretfully. Lol

Chapter One: All is Lost

"Our state cannot be severed, we are one. One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself."


The agony of time rolled on, endless, death would not greet him and so he wallowed in the hollowness that is life without the shadow of death to move it. Tristan had long since given up keeping track of the years; it was a torturous thing to know how long one has haunted the earth with one's endless presence. He thought it must have been a very long time indeed for all his beloved Dark Angels had long since passed and his first Vessel Mother Madeline had long since been dust in the wind.

Tristan walked listlessly eyes unseeing as he thought about his latest life…his most accursed yet. It had started unusually, not to say that anything about his multiple births were ever usual but this one more than most. It was because of Julia…his identical twin. It was something that had never happened before…being a twin…with his accursed existence it was not a good thing. Julia had none of his memories, none of his soul, but sharing the womb had brought along its own unique…trails.

It was evident from the beginning sharing a womb with him had affected Julia to some extent. His eyes were always the same piercing green no matter the 'genetics' of his vessel mothers. Julia had one naturally blue eye but her other eye was the exact same green that had always stared out from his own face no matter the body. It had made Tristan curious, curious enough that he had allowed himself to stay with the wild muggle family that had birthed him.

It just had been so long since anything had interested him at all and Tristan hadn't seen the harm since he was by this time so powerful only Voldemort could hope to match him. Voldemort only could boast such a thing since he shared Tristan's soul and as such got the same benefit of continuous magical growth.

Besides staying with the wild muggles had been entertaining and Tristan wasn't above much when it came to finding entertainment after eons of boredom. Some mudblood had managed to free a few muggles a few centuries back and now there were packs of them running around thinking themselves free. It was worth the entertainment value gained from hunting them down that Voldemort and Tristan had allowed them to think so.

Most muggles now had been so long in slavery that they had long since become little better than house elves and were not worth playing much mind to. Wild muggles had some of their old fire back, more willing to fight like cornered dogs than to simply fall to heal like good dogs. Tristan had been so curious about Julia, and wanted to see what sharing a womb with him had done to her. It was obvious from the beginning that she had gained some fraction of his power.

Though Julia did not have the benefit of having lived so many lives like Tristan had. She was a walking disaster, magic wildly swirling around her, and only when she was holding his hand did her magic calm enough to not be disruptive. Tristan had acted the part of innocent child so that he could stay with Julia…his latest vessel mother shamelessly favored him. The vessel mother was always lamenting that Julia couldn't be as 'well behaved' or 'gentle' as her twin brother.

Being a twin was odd, without meaning to Tristan found it ridiculously easy to know what Julia was thinking or feeling. Her raw feelings, one of a fresh soul not jaded from endless years of life affected Tristan greatly. It hadn't helped him that Julia was so like his little Suzie…. So Tristan had stayed with the wild muggles much longer than he would have ever considered otherwise. He was nearly fourteen again before his heart Voldemort had grown impatient and sought him out.

The devastation of his coming had merely been an annoyance, he had killed nearly all the wild muggle pack and only Tristan's protection had saved Julia from injury. Voldemort had been very irritated at Tristan's insistence to treat Julia 'above her station' as a muggle born witch. Tristan had become so disconnected from normal human emotion that he hadn't even considered what the event had done to Julia. To be fair she had hid her emotions well, and being treated as a favored pet of one of the Dark Lords was better than becoming a brood mare slave with no rights.

Julia had been more cunning than Tristan had given her credit for; it seemed they shared more than a bit of power in the womb. Some of his personality must have rubbed off on her as well since she harbored her thirst for revenge patiently with a cold heart. Oh, Julia still loved Tristan as dearly as ever but she suffered from some delusions about him. She excused his willingness to sleep with their 'parents murderer' as being under some spell or enchantment.

Julia thought Voldemort was manipulating Tristan somehow…that his actions weren't his own. So instead of blaming him for her lot in life she became determined to 'save' him. Her definition of 'saving' was very different than Tristan's and that had only become clear recently. The problem with having lived so long, knowing so much, was that humility becomes a foreign word. You begin to really believe there was nothing you didn't know and that no one could possibly hurt you from your perch of superiority.

Once upon a time Tristan had known better, he would have seen through Julia's schemes easily and given them the attention they had deserved. However, it had been a very long time since anything could hope to hurt him that Tristan had disregarded the threat Julia had become until it was too late.

He walked into the room slowly, the absence of noise was disturbing but Tristan was so numb that it didn't bother him. Nothing bothered him anymore…he couldn't feel anything. Tristan found the body just where he had left it, handsome, frozen and mocking him with its emptiness. The problem with getting revenge on an immortal being is that very little can harm them…Voldemort was nearly impossible to kill. A full on duel with someone as ancient as Voldemort would have been suicide for Julia.

Tristan caressed Voldemort's cheek, there wasn't a mark on him, his body was perfectly intact and even now a shallow breath whispered out from expressionless lips. Voldemort had been alive so long, timeless, immortal in all the ways that mattered that it should have been impossible for someone like Julia to harm him. But Julia had been patient, she had taken her time planning her revenge against Voldemort and they both had been blind to her threat.

He sank down and kissed Voldemort's mouth shutting his eyes imagining he was back for a moment. However, it did him little good and eventually Tristan had to open his eyes to reality. The reality was that she had been careful and they both should have known better…nothing is impossible with magic. They had known that once.

Tristan felt Leon come into the room with him, felt his comforting presence envelop him like a warm blanket and sighed. He stepped back from Voldemort's body to stare at his face again. Leon was a quiet sentinel at his back and Tristan forced himself to face the facts. The fact was that somehow Julia had accomplished the impossible…she had killed Voldemort's soul without ever touching his body. Oh, Tristan could still feel the small piece inside of his own soul but that one was so entwined with his own it would never be parted from him.

Even if he had managed it the piece of soul he had left of his heart…his Voldemort…would have not been enough to give him back life. The small fragment of a soul wouldn't have been able to move Voldemort's body. So here Tristan's was, guarding an empty vessel, as dead inside as the body on the table. "What are you going to do?" Leon's voice whispered to him.

"What I have always done…what I must…" Tristan answered.

Life had never been a very comforting thing to Tristan, this endless life had been the worst hell he could ever imagine and yet there had been moments. Tristan kissed Voldemort's closed eyes. There had been moments with Voldemort where Tristan had forgotten the hell and been enveloped in the heaven of his arms. Voldemort was all he had to hang on to…Voldemort had been his heart. Without him there was no Tristan…without him there was no facing this life.

There had been a period of time when Tristan had just kept killing himself. He would make it to two or perhaps four years old of life…the tedium had gotten to him. If he remembered right he had already been through seventy or so lives. He had been desperate for some peace so he had kept killing himself hoping for that one time it might not work. That death would finally come to call him home. It never happened. Eventually Voldemort had managed to talk some sense into him and Tristan had accepted his lot in life…to live eternally with Voldemort.

That didn't mean Tristan had really given up on the thought of peace…he researched…he searched for that way into oblivion. He had learned more magic than most could ever imagine. Tristan waved a hand over Voldemort's body freezing him, encasing him in frozen magic that glowed green and then he shrunk it down.

He picked the emerald from the table that was the size of his fist…inside Voldemort's body laid frozen. Tristan turned from the room then and made his way to his study. Leon followed him a silent shadow, Tristan could feel Alucard's curiosity as he stayed a step ahead of him and ignored them both. Inside his study there was a jar of molten silver that flickered and reflected their faces back at them. Tristan picked this up and then continued on his way.

The room was sealed, exactly how he had left it and he opened it now knowing Alucard would guard the door for him without a word. Tristan stepped into the room, looking about its ruined splendor with indifference and studied the ruin that was his twin's room. Before this had happened he had been so very careful to get her all the best things, silk drapes, Egyptian cotton sheets, furniture carved by nymphs from living wood, clothes spun from the finest silks and all the best books. He had gotten her tutors too, of course, and her own legion of slaves.

Her walls had been delicately painted by the best artist in the land to show a scene of a magical wood, so lifelike that it seemed the unicorns would jump from the walls. Tristan ran his hands over the scorched walls now, it was blackened, its mosaic ruined and he didn't really care. He looked at the empty room, eyes avoiding the huddled figure on the floor, and noted the shattered pieces of what had been a piano.

Perhaps he should have known better, Tristan thought; family had never been a good thing for him. The Potters, the ones who had started this all, had just been the first of the many transgressors that had held the title 'family'. Madeline had been his only chosen mother, later his first vessel mother, and even she had betrayed him. She had been one of many that had cursed him into this thing, this immortal life and now he didn't even have the comfort of having his heart beating beside him.

No, Julia had seen to that. He turned cold eyes on her at last, she was a mess, stripped bare she sat huddled in the corner trying to wrap her body in such a way to shield her from his eyes. It did not work. She was pale, skin white from a life pampered indoors, smooth from careful handling and hands soft from coddled handling. Her dark red hair spilled down her back in wild waves, mismatched eyes looked at him with desperation mixed with disbelief, lip spilt cheek red and swollen.

He walked towards her calmly; Tristan contemplated what to do with her when he had gotten the information he needed from her. Death was too good for her. He remembered how he had punished the Potters, how unsatisfied he had been when he finally killed the two of them after he had spent a few years torturing them. Torturing people had lost its flavor, he had done it too much and too well. It was boring now, barely got a rise out of him before his heart had been ripped from him by Julia.

Now without even that small rise, Tristan was at a loose to how to punish Julia for her trespasses. Even he tortured her every day for the rest of the century it would not be enough and it was unsatisfying. He crouched down in front of her naked huddled form as he thought about how to hurt her enough that it was somehow in a small way equal to his pain. Julia reached for his hand before flinching and pressing herself to the wall.

Even now she deluded herself about him, for all her faults Julia loved him desperately in a way that was hard to fathom. Tristan tilted his head, now there was a thought. He had always assumed that Julia had never taken a lover because she had been too disgusted by the eligible men that were worthy of such an act. Tristan would have never allowed her to touch anyone of less than pure blood after all…she was his sister and she could only have the best.

There had been a line of prospects; some soft hearted enough to the muggle filth that Tristan had been sure her interest would be piped. None had gained her interest and Tristan had protected her from any brood mare duties. Voldemort had not pushed the issue allowing him to have a pet in her. Tristan reached out and petted Julia's hair. She shivered but pressed into his hand desperately seeking his gentle touch.

He had misjudge her completely it seemed, Tristan would have laughed had it been in him to do it. Julia, his twin, his sister of the flesh…she wanted this body…her brother…her twin. It was laughable that he was only seeing this now, she had gone after Voldemort not only because he had killed their mother it seemed. He fisted his hands in her hair cruelly not even flinching at her cries…she just didn't understand what she had done.

"Do you know what you have done?" he asked quietly dull.

Julia looked at him through watering eyes, "I freed you! You were trapped here as much as I am by him." She said.

Tristan's mouth twisted, "Trapped, no, I wasn't trapped." He said coolly as he dragged her out of the corner. He slammed the door closed with a push of magic and Alucard along with Leon would understand the warning to stay out.

"Yes, you were, you couldn't see it! I saved you brother! I love you!" Julia said desperately as she tripped and stumbled under his harsh hands.

"You are as blind now as you were when Voldemort came for me," Tristan said dully as he shoved her sprawling at his feet in the middle of the room.

Julia looked up from the floor; her body had small cuts here and there. It was her hands and feet that were the real mess. Tristan ignored it all looking out at her with cold detached eyes. He was finally seeing her clearly now. "Did you think it was an accident? That I only stopped him when he turned to kill you that day? Had I wished it all those muggles would be alive now." Tristan hissed as he circled her.

"Voldemort might have ruled his world uninterrupted for centuries, he might sit on the throne resplendent with his crown as the ruler but he is not the one who rules here." Tristan said as he paced around her. "He rules because I say he rules, he moved because I say he moved. Voldemort was as much mineas I was his. And you know how much I hate it when someone takes something of mine." Tristan said as he stilled in front of her.

Julia laid there frozen and uncomprehending. She would never truly see him as the monster he was…just as Leon, Madeline and the rest had refused to see the monster. Only Voldemort had stared that the abyss and seen the monster inside of Tristan. Only Voldemort had wanted the monster as he had wanted the person. Without him Tristan was nothing.

Tristan ripped into her mind ruthlessly, uncaring to the pain and damage he inflicted as he did it. There was something he had to know. How had she done it? How had she parted Voldemort's soul from his body? How had she ripped his heart from him? Julia's thoughts were muddled, shielded weakly as he tore down her walls and laid it bare.

She had been so clever…so very clever. It hadn't been one thing, one spell, one ritual; no it had been a combination of a lot of things slowly done over time. A potion slipped into a drink, tasteless, odorless, a cursed jewel on his crown, a spell pressed discretely into his clothes, a ritual from a drop of blood, another potion, all things carefully done over time and it had taken her years. That one drop of blood had taken her three years to obtain…it had all been so carefully planned.

Julia hadn't destroyed the soul; hope flared inside his chest, no she had sent it off. It was weakened, it was broken up, and it was not in this world anymore…but it was out there within reach. He could have his heart back. His love was not gone…only misplaced…a needle in a field of haystacks but out there nonetheless. He pulled out of her mind a new plan forming.

She lay panting out on the floor her eyes dilated and unable to focus. Tristan knew the perfect punishment for her, he would not leave her unpunished but it would be not as easily done for him either. A punishment for the both Julia and him for failing to protect what was his once again. He tortured her a bit first, simple crucio, not enough to break her but enough that her entire body would hurt for the rest of her life. The nerve damage he inflicted her ensured she would be in pain until the day she died.

Then he cast a spell on himself so that his body could do what he needed it to. Julia had wanted him to come to her gently; so that her first time would be as painless as possible…he took her as roughly as he was able. It was nauseating, not enjoyable at all but it broke Julia in a way that she would never recover from. It was as much his punishment as hers after all. Then he left her sobbing and broken on the floor. He collared her and he would make sure she was well used every day for the rest of her miserable life. It was the least he could do because that had always been her greatest fear after all.

Tristan sent one of the generals to scoop her up from the floor and hand her off to the men. Tristan had locked her magic so tightly within he that Julia would never feel it again…all these things came together to form a suitable punishment if not an equal one. He sent Leon to collect the things he would need and then Alucard to tell the people that he needed to inform of their new positions. They had a short coronation that night, Tristan named one of Madeline's descendants as regent for now.

Mithas Snape was dreadfully intelligent, as gifted as his forbearers in potions and magic. He would be a good regent. Tristan made sure Mithas would see no opposition before he left the castle that had been his home for countless years. Leon and Alucard his only shadows as he went out to seek his heart.

One of his suicide attempts had involved the Veil of Death and it had been moderately successful in that there had been a gap of five years before he had been reborn again. Voldemort had been very upset about this and had Leon hide the Arch away to stop him from using it again. It had been a pointless gesture because Tristan had discovered the hard way that the Arch that held the 'Veil of Death' was not a gateway into the realm of the dead…as most believe.

No the arch was much more than that, but it was incomplete. The arch was a partial portal that actually was a gateway to the space in between dimensions or 'realities'. Tristan had many theories about this, but he had not been able to study the matter more in depth since he hadn't been allowed near the arch after the incident. Tristan held up the jar of molten silver watching as his reflection distorted in its twisting depths. He hadn't been able to study the rifts between worlds but that didn't mean he hadn't dedicated a lot of time figuring out how to complete the arch to make it a true portal between worlds.

It had been the work of several lifetimes but Voldemort had never let him test his results. Too weary that Tristan would step through that portal and never come back. Now though, now Voldemort's soul was out their shattered across the worlds and very dangerously close to fading too far for him to return to life. Souls could not die but they could be recycled and if that happened…there would be no getting his heart back.

It had not taken Tristan overly long to persuade Leon to show him where the arch had been hidden away. It was deep within the wilds of Africa in a jungle that was twisted and infested with many powerful magical creatures. Enough ambient power was in the air to shield the arch from Tristan's searches. But Leon knew just where to go.

Tristan ran a hand over the stone arch. It looked out of place shaped by human hands from stone, all carved and unnatural looking surrounded by the wild untamed plant life. The Veil whispered to him, voices Tristan knew to be millions broken over the endless worlds, words insensible. It didn't matter he was looking for something and he shouldn't be distracted from it. He reached into his magic and pulled on the connection to his Dark Angels.

They appeared around him, even in death, phantoms bathed in darkness…features indistinguishable but he knew them nonetheless. Ghostly instruments were in their hands, figures in the vaguely correct shape and ready to serve him even now. Leon called forth his guitar eager to play with his cohorts once more. Tristan looked out at the ghostly shapes in passing, his Dark Angels had been so well connected to him that he could call them from death's lands even now.

His eyes glowed dangerous green and Alucard smiled all sharp teeth in response. "It has been too long my angels; let us play together once more." Tristan said lowly. He placed his jar of molten sliver on the ground and unscrewed the lid before he stepped back into the circle of his angels. He knew each of them even if they looked like mere shadows with indistinguishable features, he knew them and he heard the music they played. Together they had reshaped the world once, had wiped a plague from this earth and had won. They would win again.

I remembered black skies
The lightning all around me
I remembered each flash
As time began to blur
Like a startling sign
That fate had finally found me
And your voice was all I heard
That I get what I deserve

Tristan sang, pouring his considerable magic into it and using the music to channel his intent. The molten sliver flowed up from the jar, a river of it running through the carvings on the arch before it began to flow into the previously intangible veil. It flexed and waved in an invisible wind as the sky darkened ominously with the magic being cast. Leon unfurled his wings as he played listening to the haunting voice of Tristan…the Dark Prince.

So give me reason
To prove me wrong
To wash this memory clean
Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes
Give me reason
To fill this hole
Connect the space between
Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies
Across this new divide

Tristan watched the newly made mirror as if moved like silver silk before him. He saw his reflection of his latest body, tall, broad shouldered, thick blood red hair, very different from his first and second body. Still his eyes remained the same, fixed, forever that haunted shade of green like dark jade. He moved the magic, and stepped forward to touch the liquid surface of the mirror calling out to the soul that Julia had scattered across the worlds.

There was nothing in sight
But memories left abandoned
There was nowhere to hide
The ashes fell like snow
And the ground caved in
Between where we were standing
And your voice was all I heard
That I get what I deserve

The silver flowed over him painfully; it was changing his body to be the reflection of the matching soul of himself from that world. It was a painful experience as his body twisted in the silver cocoon as he forced himself to continue to sing so the spell would not break. His body folded in on itself, shrank, leaned out, and became something else.

So give me reason
To prove me wrong
To wash this memory clean
Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes
Across this new divide

The silver pulled back when the process was done, and his reflection was changed once more. He stared at the image in curiosity as he sang it was as familiar as it was foreign. He recognized the shape of the face, the wildness of the now black hair, the curve of the bottom lip and the painful leanness of the body. It looked like the first body he had, but at the same time it was very different.

In every loss
In every lie
In every truth that you'd deny
And each regret
And each goodbye
Was a mistake too great to hide
And your voice was all I heard
That I get what I deserve

Alucard and Leon tensed beside him as the veil stiffened as it started to become the portal he needed. It was odd; Tristan almost felt something looking at the reflection of himself in the mirror. He ran a hand over the back of his hand as he caught sight of something in the mirror. I must not tell lies. The words were carved into the back of his new hand and Tristan wondered how his counterpart had gotten it.

So give me reason
To prove me wrong
To wash this memory clean
Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes
Give me reason
To fill this hole
Connect the space between
Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies
Across this new divide
Across this new divide
Across this new divide

As the song finished the magic of the veil swelled and Tristan, Leon, and Alucard stepped through it as one. The sensation was of falling, drowning, dizzying and odd. They felt nothing and everything as they passed through the veil between the worlds.


Harry was surprised to see the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, sitting on Hagird's other side; she rarely left her tower room, and he had never seen her at the start-of-term feast before. She looked as odd as ever, glittering with beads and trailing shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size by her spectacles. Having always considered her a bit of a fraud, Harry had been shocked to discover at the end of the previous term that it had been she who had made the prediction that caused Lord Voldemort to kill Harry's parents and attack Harry himself.

The knowledge made him less eager to find himself in her company, thankfully, this year he would be dropping Divination. Her great beaconlike eyes swiveled in his direction; he hastily looked away towards the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was miming the shattering of a nose to raucous laughter and applause. Harry dropped his gaze to his treacle tart, his insides burning again. What he would give to fight Malfoy one-one-one….

"So what did Professor Slughorn want?" Hermione asked.

"To know what really happened at the Ministry." Said Harry.

"Him and everyone else here," sniffed Hermione. "People were interrogating us about it on the train, weren't they, Ron?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "All wanting to know if you really are 'the Chosen One'—"

"There has been much talk on that very subject even amongst the ghosts," interrupted Nearly Headless Nick, inclining his barely connected head toward Harry so that it wobbled dangerously on its ruff. "I am considered something of a Potter authority; it is widely known that we are friendly. I have assured the spirit community that I will not pester you for information, however. 'Harry Potter knows that he can confide in me with complete confidence,' I told them. 'I would rather die than betray his trust.'"

"That's not saying much, seeing as you're already dead," Ron observed.

"Once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe," said Nearly Headless Nick in affronted tones, and he rose into the air and glided back toward the far end of the Gryffindor table just as Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

"What happened to his hand?" gasped Hermione.

She was not the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry from the Dursleys. Whispers it the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now ... to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you …"

"His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer," Harry whispered to Hermione. "I thought he'd have cured it by now,

though ... or Madam Pomfrey would've done."

"It looks as if it's died," said Hermione, with a nauseated expression. "But there are some injuries you can't cure... old curses…and there are poisons without antidotes. . . ."

"…and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard

Wheezes. Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise. We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn"— Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table into shadow — "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."



The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

"Potions?" said Ron and Hermione together, turning to stare Harry. "But you said —" "Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"No!" said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction. He did not care; he was staring up at the staff table, incensed. How could Snape be given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after all this time? Hadn't it been widely known for years that Dumbledore did not trust him to do it?

Before Hermione could comment on it like it was obvious she was gearing up to do a strange eerie voice began to echo off the walls drawing everyone's attention. The words the voice was singing couldn't be distinguished but the sound was there bringing a hush over the crowd of students and teachers. Even Dumbledore was looking around cautiously for the origin of the sound. Then suddenly a wall of sliver erupted from the ground a few feet in front of Harry startling everyone.

People scrambled back away from it and Harry tensed thinking that it was an attack. He got up quickly, Hermione and Ron by his side as they all drew their wands. Something was wrong, the voice was clearer now…strangely haunting…as it sang.

Connect the space between
Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies
Across this new divide

The last line echoed off the walls repeating three times and then the sliver moved warping into three shapes. No one moved, all eyes were trained on the spot as the figured gained features and form. There was a collective gasping of breath as eyes swiveled from Harry to the three in front of the Gryffindor table. It was no wonder, because right in front of him was something Harry had only ever seen in a mirror…himself.

Only it wasn't himself…not really…for one this Harry wasn't wearing glasses and the lightning bolt scar was a scar it looked more like a birth mark than anything. The two Harry's stared at each other eyes fixed, no one moved, no one dared speak a word, and everything was tense. Harry cast his eyes fleetingly at the two others with this Other Harry wondering if he would recognize them too.

Harry didn't recognize either of the creatures standing beside the Other Harry; one was bathed in darkness, skin black, with twisted looking wings sprouting from its back. It looked like a demented combination of a Dementor with a vampire and a person. In short it was very unnatural looking and now that he noticed it…Harry felt something odd. Like a pull, it felt like the exact opposite of a dementor.

The other figure was impossibly tall man, with a row of sharp teeth that was grinning at everyone behind amber sunglasses under a crimson hat. Vampire, that man was a vampire. Harry turned his eyes back on the Other Harry as the Other began to move, looking around with a disturbingly blank face. Harry hadn't ever seen his face so wiped of emotion.

"How inconvenient," The Other drawled as he looked around. The words echoed across the hall breaking the silence, there was a surging of shouts, voices rose, Dumbledore started to come across the hall in a rush wand out teachers following him close behind. The Other remained undisturbed and merely waved his hand negligently.

The magic slammed into all of them like a sledgehammer, total silence, everyone froze stiffly just as they were unable to move. Harry felt the magic coil around him tightly before it released him but everyone else wasn't so lucky. The Other turned his attention back to Harry in eyes disturbingly cold as he crossed the room uninhibited. Harry looked at Dumbledore desperately for help, Voldemort was one thing but this Other Harry…his magic was scarily heavy.

Dumbledore's eyes stared at him wildly, making Harry panic realizing that even Dumbledore had been frozen effortlessly in place by a wave of this Other's hand. Harry backed into the wall, the Other kept coming until they were only inches apart and Harry flinched as he froze in absolute panic. Usually he fought, usually his body just reacted before he had time to think about it…but right now Harry felt as if he could do nothing but stand there in fear.

The Other tilted his head at him, "Well you are certainly a disappointment…I expected more from myself. Hogwarts? Really? How droll," he said as he raised his hand making Harry flinch as the Other jerked his chin in a firm grip. "Well, I might as well see what this world has in store for me," the Other murmured almost as a second thought. Then Harry felt the strangest sensation, like his stomach had dropped out of his feet and all his blood drained away with it.

There was a rushing in his mind and a ringing in his ears. His mouth popped open of its own accord and his vision got foggy as a mist clouded up his eyes. When it cleared Harry watched horrified as the silver mist flowed from his eyes, mouth, and ears into the Other's mouth, eyes, and ears. It felt like his entire life was in those vapors that seeped into the Other. When it was done the Other's eyes unfocused and he hummed.

Then after a few minutes Harry watched the Other come back and look at him with a new frightening focus. "You are both more interesting and more droll than I expected." He said his voice loud in the silence of the hall. "I suppose I should return the favor, who knows, maybe you will see me to my desired end. You have potential." The Other said.

Harry watched with morbid fascination as the same silver mist began to seep from the Other's eyes and ears. "Of course I won't give you all of them…only three I should think…the most important ones." The Other said as he opened his mouth wide allowing more mist to flow from it. The Other forced Harry's mouth open and the mist rushed into him.

Harry thought he would choke, but he didn't the mist pressed into him through his mouth, eyes, and ears. There was an unbearable pressure on his head, like a headache while his head was put in a vice while someone squeezed. When there was no more mist the Other let him go and Harry crumbled to his knees hands pressed into his head. The pressure just kept building, someone was screaming, it was only when Harry felt the cold of the ground rush up to meet him that he realized it was him. Harry was screaming.


Tristan watched his counterpart of this world as he seized on the ground, the weight of three lifetimes almost unbearable to his weak little mind. It would be an interesting experiment, seeing what his counterpart did with his memories and knowledge. It made this interesting; more of a challenge and Tristan wondered if it was wise for a moment. Tristan had only given Harry the memories of three lives, his first, second and last life. The most important ones, even with all the knowledge this would afford Harry, Tristan wondered if it would be enough.

This Harry Potter had contented himself to live under the Dursley's thumb…even now. This Harry Potter had such delusions of about what his life really was and didn't even suspect how deep the old coot's manipulations went. Tristan entertained the thought of killing Dumbledore then and there. His hand went to the emerald hanging heavily from his neck that held Voldemort's body. No, Dumbledore was always Voldemort's to deal with not his.

So Tristan turned his eyes to another he could vent his frustrations on, Snape stood frozen by Dumbledore's side, and Malfoy stood not too far from him. His counterpart hated these two. Malfoy though had a recent trespass that Tristan would not let stand. Leon moved to his side grabbing his hand with his clawed black one. "We should go, time is not our friend," Leon said voice a gentle whisper. Tristan shook himself, he had lost himself for a moment…the memories he had copied from his counterpart overriding his better judgment.

This Harry Potter felt things so wildly, all fire in suppressed passions, so much so that it made Tristan feel the shadow of them as if they were his own. Interesting. He had never felt emotion as this Harry did. Tristan cast eyes on the slumped form of Harry, he had blacked out from the pain of assimilating the foreign memories. How disappointing.

"Come then Alucard, Leon, we must find the pieces here swiftly if we are to strengthen him," Tristan said as he moved to leave the hall. When they got to the doors Tristan carelessly waved behind him gathering his magic to return to him. Alucard placed his hands on the two of them and they dropped into shadow. Tristan did hope that this Dumbledore would move swiftly otherwise Harry would be comatose for much longer than was ideal.

A.N.: For the sake of simplicity from this moment on my Harry will be Tristan from the Jaded Eyes of a Prodigy Story and so will be referred to as Tristan from here on out. The other Harry is canon J.K. Rowling until my Tristan came in and messed with him in the beginning of the sixth school year. So just so you guys know, Harry was completely canon until this point to avoid confusion. So all the events of the previous years are canon, the summer after fifth year is canon, everything is canon for this Harry up until the point where Tristan made his grand entrance! As always please Read and Review! Hope you like it tell me your thoughts on this sequel of mine! It been brewing in the back of my mind for a while now…what would canon Harry think about my Harry…lol well we're about to find out!