Summary: Harry believes that his life was not at all pleasant. Spiteful relatives ranging on borderline abusive, a psychotic man hell-bent on his death due to unusual circumstances involving him and a 'power he knows not', followed swiftly be a albino ferret and greasy haired bat with a stick inserted in his arse with a hard-on for a corpse, not to mention manipulative grandfatherly figures, and oh, yes, a prone to jealousy and backstabbing redhead. Add all that together, not to mention the year to year death traps and plotted murders, and Harry Potter's life was full of shit. Now his life is not only shit, but also nearly two hundred years out of its comfort zone. Just bloody wonderful that…

Prologue...

A young man, barely reaching the end of his teenage years, walked steadily along a dirt road, leaving the safety and security of what had once been home to him, towards what could be considered his own execution.

One could ask why anyone, let alone a young man, would do so. The answer itself is rather complicated, needing to be explained piece by piece, starting with the birth of an unfortunate soul known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, and ending with a young man, the very same walking a steady pace into the Death's waiting arms and embrace.

His name was Harry Potter, and he was a ready and willing to sacrifice his life for the safety and security of others. A noble deed, and for an individual such as Harry, it was not, in his mind, something extravagant, noteworthy, or even something grand or heroic. It was simply the right thing to do.

But as he made his way deeper into the surrounding forest, listening to the far off tones of his enemies, waiting to for his arrival, waiting for the opportunity to finally kill the thorn that had been in their master's side for over a decade, the young martyr began to think on his life, and from there the past several hours.

This included the utter destruction of the ancient castle that had once meant the world to him.

Watching the devastation of what he once called home was not an easy task. Or at least that was what Harry believed should have been the case. He had heard how distraught Mrs. Weasely had been after the attack at her home during her son's wedding to Fleur, more for the loss of security that her home had provided then for the house itself, and figured if anything like that were to happen to Hogwarts, he would probably react the same.

Funny how that wasn't really the case.

Hogwarts had once been home to him, a place he felt that he truly belonged. He felt safe, secure, and dare he actually say it, let alone believe it, loved. At one point, he had nothing but happy memories there, and would have been content to live the rest of his life in that castle.

It was sad somewhat how much that had changed in the past few years.

This castle, once a home, once a place of happy memories, had become nothing more but a dark part of his life that he would rather happily purge from his mind.

Every time he looked back at his years within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, all he saw was a manipulative man who he loved, and still did, as a grandfather, stringing him along, a metaphorical leash tied around his neck, guiding every one of his actions, giving him an illusion of choice in his life. He saw a man whose dark eyes spoke of nothing but hate and contempt for him, being a constant reminder of what he lost due to his own stupidity, and what he ultimately couldn't have, what he didn't deserve to have. A blonde haired boy who grew to be a self-serving, egotistic, racist bastard like his father. Teachers, preaching about house unity and fairness, but turning a blind eye to the abuse in the halls outside their classrooms. Friends whose jealousy, inability to think for themselves, and stubborn attitudes lead to months of lost contact, and only returning to him with sorrow and apologies when he in the end was proven to be vindicated.

It was constant, year after year. The abuse, the lies, the betrayal, the secrets...

And he had enough of it.

He had become disenchanted with the world he had thought he once belonged to, his heart hardening at the blight that the people who so quickly turned their noses up at him, who so quickly joined the crowd to mock and jeer at him, now found themselves in.

He would kill Voldemort, yes, but not for the sake of Magical Britain, nor for the sake of his friends or surrogate family. He had suffered too much, both by their hands and by their lack of initiative to help him.

Harry paused in his stride into the Forbidden Forest, his fingers rubbing the surface of the small pebble in his hand, contemplating whether he should invoke its power. To call upon his long dead family. To speak to his parents and tell them how much he loved them, despite not knowing them…

To tell Sirius he was sorry for acting so stupidly and rushing in to save him, despite the fact that the man had done the same for him, costing him his own life…

To tell Moony that he would take care of little Ted, despite the fact that he and Tonks had done the same thing his own parents had done to him close to seventeen years ago…

He turned it over in his hand, staring at it with his penetrating emerald green eyes before flicking it with his thumb, sending it tumbling to the forest floor, lost amongst the dirt and gravel beneath his feet.

'No', he quietly decided. If he was to truly leave this life behind him, then reopening old wounds would do nothing but pull him back into the world he so desperately sought to leave behind.

Would he regret this decision someday? Probably when he would be on his death bed or during the nights when he couldn't sleep and would look into the night sky.

Either way, he wasn't going back on his decision.

He continued walking down the forest path, brushing by trees and various roots uprooted from the ground, taking care not to go anywhere near Argog's former nesting place. He forced himself not to think of the place, or the fact that Hagrid was currently at the mercy of Voldemort and his band of thugs.

He stared blankly into the dark lord's eyes, uncaring as he lifted Dumbledore's wand, the Elder Wand, and sending the curse that ended some many lives, his parents included. He didn't even feel the impact, or his body colliding harshly on the ground. His eyes starred unmoving into the night sky, and remembered something his aunt had told Dudley one night when they were still children.

'If you make a wish upon a star, all your wildest dreams will come true!' It had been at the time a means to appeal to Dudley's greed as the boy had wanted some new toy that he had seen while out with his mother shopping, but had refused to purchase due to having a limited amount of money on her at the time. Ultimately he had gotten the toy, no doubt what the baby whale had wished for after hearing his mother's words.

'If only life were that simple…'

But slowly, whatever was left of that child that had been listening in jealously within the confines of the cupboard under the stairs that night decided to push itself out of the confines of Harry's mind. After all, he was already dead, so what could it hurt?

'I wish upon a star…'

Unbeknownst to him, Narcissa Malfoy was slowly approaching him, under orders from Voldemort, to check and insure that he was dead. Unknown to Voldemort, whom sat on his throne, a metallic chair with two pillars stretching towards the sky, encasing a sphere of black energy, his wand gave a subtly twitch, a reaction to its 'true' master's call.

'…to finally…'

She rested her ear on his chest, blonde hair forming a curtain around his face, eyes widening at the steady beat of what should have been a still heart. Voldemort clenched his fingers into the armrests of his chair, blood red eyes wide with anticipation and restrained psychotic glee. The Elder Wand gave another twitch, this time causing the man to notice, unaware of the dark energy sitting behind him starting to vibrate in tune with the wand, its parallel pillars starting to glow blue, energy sparking between them.

'…find a place I belong…'

Narcissa threw herself away from the boy, scrambling to her feet as Voldemort rose to his feet, staring at his wand in confusion and anger at its strange behavior.

"MY LORD! HE'S-!"

Anything else was blocked out by the sound of nothing but destruction as the clearing and surrounding mile radius of the forest was completely wiped off the face of the Earth. Students, teachers, parents, and all other defenders of the castle would remember seeing a giant ball of white light with a dark bluish hue erupt into the air, straight into the sky. Investigations a few minutes later revealed a giant crater where Voldemort and his followers had amassed. It was later discovered that night among the celebrations of the dark wizard's death that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived had not been seen since the dark lord's announcement for his surrender.

Several months later, a team of aurors, under the authority of the new temporary Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, surveyed the destroyed area, trying to find any hint of the Chosen One. Like all searches done before, none were found and after an additional month of searching, Harry James Potter was declared deceased.

A memorial was held for him at Hogwarts, witches and wizards from all over the world coming to attend. His coffin was later put to rest besides the grave of his parents, which had grown to hold the bodies of Nymphadora and Remus Lupin, as well as the empty casket of one Sirius Black. Personal effects ranging from his Firebolt, to his school robes, as well as the photo album of his parents, were left in lieu of a body. His funds in Gringotts were sealed, having left no Will and having no heirs. His relatives had surprisingly shown up for his funeral, Vernon silent and staring blankly, Petunia in tears, and Dudley looking on with something akin to regret.

Slowly but surely, his friends started to move on with their lives.

Ginny had become an International Quidditch star, playing the position of Seeker in tribute to her first love on the Hollyhead Harpies. She never married, nor had any relationships with another man since his burial.

Ron had joined the MLE department at the Ministry of Magic. He and Hermione had tried a relationship, but broke up amicably when they wanted to veer off into different future prospects. They still talk, and remain good friends, and Ron on occasion will tell his children, with tears in his eyes, of the trouble he and Harry would get into, and wishing that his best friend was right beside, trying to divert the line of conversation to something less embarrassing.

Hermione had gone into Magical Creatures department within the Ministry, fighting to update laws for more fair treatment for sentient beings such House-Elves and Centaurs. Later, she eventually took a teaching position at Hogwarts, replacing her former Head of House's position both as Transfiguration instructor and later, as Headmistress of Hogwarts. She routinely visits Harry's memorial at least three times a day, missing her friend more and more as the days pass.

Teddy lived with his grandparents, listening to stories about his mother's youth, about his father and his struggle with his disease as a werewolf and the scrutiny that came with it, and about his godfather, who gave his life to insure that he had a future without the struggles of war. He would later open up several charities for orphans, and become an activist for better treatment for werewolves everywhere.

Years would pass, which become decades, and soon centuries, in which Harry Potter would become a figure in history, a warrior who fought against evil for the sake of the innocent, and other times, an idol for all to aspire to become.

It would be shortly after the death of his last few remaining friends that new discoveries and abilities would be made among the mundane world, from space travel to colonization of other planets. Important discoveries were made, least of all the discovery of the Prothean Ruins, leading to the discovery of mass effect fields, dark energy, and more importantly, the Charon mass relay.

This would later bring about the creation of the System's Alliance, followed closely by the First Contact War between humans and one of the Citadel Council races, the turians.

Later, the Alliance would gain an embassy on the Citadel, as well as get into disputing rights with the batarians, another Citadel race, over rights to various planets within the Skyllian Verge. A short war would be fought, and ending upon the batarian's withdrawal from the Citadel and Council space.

Witches and wizards, no longer ignorant of the world, and by extension, the galaxy, spread out among colony transports, aiding in the colonization of other worlds, creating societies of their own, living their lives in secret still, wary of alien life but no longer seeing muggles as inferiors.

Interestingly enough, a discovery had been made within the crater remains of the final confrontation between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort took place. What they discovered but had dismissed as nothing of importance when diagnostics spells could not determine the energy reading, was a scrap of metal, no bigger than finger.

The energy in question was irregular, fluctuating constantly, but did not match any known signature of magic. The members of the Department of Mysterious eventually dismissed the object and energy readings as not important.

The energy it was radiating in question?

It was dark energy.

2165, Sol System, Earth, Scotland, 13:42 Hours…

Opening his eyes slightly, Harry gave a hiss of pain at the bright lights in front of his eyes. Immediately he closed them, head buzzing as he vaguely tried to recall where he was and why his head was pounding a mile a minute.

As soon as coherent thoughts started to formulate within his mind, he immediately snapped his eyes open, ignoring the glaring light above his head before scrambling up, hands reaching for Malfoy's wand stashed in his jeans pocket, ready to throw out the first curse that came to mind before his eyes took in the sight before him.

He was not in a dark forest in the middle of the night. He was not surrounded by a group of men and women dressed in long flowing black robes, masks made into skulls adorning their faces. They were not pointing their wands at him, throwing curses and spells at him to finish what their master could not.

On that same note, Voldemort was nowhere around. His scar did not sear in pain as it usually did at the man's close presence, and neither did he hear or feel the man's howl of anger that he had yet again surivived his attempt to murder him. No flash of green light from any direction, or those favored words of said man's most used spell.

In fact, he was completely alone, within the confines of a single bedroom.

A rather extravagant and large bedroom.

It was large, larger than the Dursley's entire sitting room and kitchen put together, larger then even adding his own bedroom and his cousins own into that count. In the far end of the room was a bed, four poster, queen size he believed, though he couldn't tell. He had slept on a since his admittance into Hogwarts when at the Dursleys, and even his four poster bed wasn't as large. It had golden colored sheets and curtains, and similarly colored head and footboard, though they looked metallic in nature.

Above him was a chandler, though he could see that it was more for decoration then from actually use. Beside the bed were two table counters, again, as metallic looking as the bed's boards. On the left side to the wall were several dressers, and to the right, an enclave of mirrors, no doubt for whoever lived in this room to check their appearance from all sides at any moment. Further down from that was a door of sorts, which he assumed to be a closet, though it had no handles that he could see. Further beyond that was a desk, with what he thought may be a computer, though the only one had seen belonged to his cousin, and it was white, large, and took up a lot of space.

What he was looking at was some orange screen, held up by an open rectangular shape, as well as several similar screens beside and in front of it, held up by similar devices, blue in color.

'Just were the bloody hell am I?'

His question received an answer, though not one he expected.

Hearing a door open from behind him, Harry had his wand out, another door, though this one had a gush of steam release itself from the room, emitting the smell of soap and something flowery, though he couldn't put his finger on it.

Stepping into his line of sight from within the mist of team was a girl. More specifically a young woman, who by appearance couldn't look that much older than him, if not closer to Fleur's own age. And that's when he noticed that she had a white fluffy towel held tightly across her body, and realized that the room she just came out of was probably a bathroom.

And she had just finished taking a shower.

The girl, still dripping wet, stopped in her tracks, staring at her new guest within her room, her expression blank as she simply stared at Harry, making no move or reaction what so ever.

It…unnerved him slightly.

For what seemed like hours, they simply stared unblinkingly at each other, the girl still holding onto her towel, and Harry still having his temporary wand pointing directly at her, forgetting momentarily why had it so, and realizing how much of an idiot he probably looked like, pointing a wooden stick at almost completely nude girl.

His lips twitched, trying to form a grimace at that lost thought.

'Bad thoughts to have at a moment like this…'

It was at that time that he decided to get a better look at the young woman before him, and felt all the blood in his body find residence in his face as he took note of her rather…stunning beauty, minus her near nudity.

Black hair as dark as the night, pale porcelain skin, delicate yet sharp features, ice blue eyes that sent shivers down his spine just looking into them, as well as a still developing, but rather shapely figure…

His thoughts broke off from there, remembering his situation, as well as Mad-Eye's ever constant cry of "Constant Vigilance!" That and not sticking his wand's business end in his back pocket. For some reason or another, that one always stuck with him…

He snapped out of his thoughts, still staring at the girl who was watching him with something akin to confusion, curiosity, and caution.

"Uh…hello?"

Harry wanted to slam his head against the wall for his less than stellar greeting. He always did have trouble speaking to pretty girls after all, so maybe it shouldn't surprise him as much as it did.

The girl in response raised a delicate eyebrow at his greeting. Again, his choice of words embarrassed him and left him wishing that he didn't get tongue tied whenever a pretty girl so much as looked at him.

"Hello indeed. If I may be so bold, I'd like to ask what your name is, and more importantly…"

It was here the girl's eyes narrowed, a scowl crossing her features as her voice, clipped, cold, and though he barely noticed, heavily accented with something close to a British undertone, asked, "How did you get into my room?"

'…crap.'

/-/Author Note/-/

Hello again, CursedAndTorn, reporting for duty! Second ME and HP crossover, and this one is going to be a bit different, if that wasn't obvious already. Anyone wanna take a guess on what exactly the self proclaimed dark lord of everything vile and rotten, like his undergarments, was sitting on? Anyway, I have a new poll up in case anyone's interested. It's about the new ME3 game coming out, and I needed to ask this, but does anyone think that Joker, (that's right! I like the damn pilot, so what?) could be a squad member, at least temporarily, if he was piloting one of those Cerberus Atlas mechs? I can easily see Shepard having one of those in the cargo bay of the Normandy alongside the Hammerhead and Kodiak. And I can easily see Joker piloting one of those bad boys, shooting up husks, krogan, and what have you. Yes? No? Vote now!

…

And leave me a review while you're at it! Criticism helps, as long as it's constructive and simply not complaints.

Signing off,

TheCursedAndTorn

;P