Disclaimer: I own neither the Harry Potter series and all things associated with it that belong to J. K. Rowling, nor do I own The Lion King and anything associated with it that belongs to Disney or whatever. I just confused myself.

His paws scrabbled, a terrible screech of claw against stone ringing out as he desperately attempted to gain a purchase. His nostrils and eyes stung with the greasy black smoke that billowed all around, and every breath was agonizing as his throat felt as if it were being clawed up and glazed with a thick, suffocating substance.

He descended to the ground, gasping like a shuddering fish on land as the air was knocked out of his lungs. His vision swam; his eyesight had already been blurred by the tears that had welled up in his eyes, but the impact had jarred his head, and it beat out a steady tattoo of pain. Oh Ancestors Above, he had never felt such a sharp pain in his head! He had suffered plenty of headaches, but never as bad as this one!

Vivid green eyes blinked rapidly, dispelling the salty liquid from his eyes and looked over to his side. His brow furrowed in bemusement, and a thought, managing to get past the barriers of pain in his head, sprung up to the front of his mind: was he going crazy? For while he had once had an older brother, Scar certainly did not recall having an identical twin. Yet there he was: another lanky, sharp-boned and dark lion. The Scar-That-Was-Not-Scar was backed up against the rock overhang as the hyenas gathered around threateningly, and Scar cringed. He wanted to turn away from the carnage enacted upon his doppelgänger, but was entranced by the sheer horror of the sight and could not bring himself to tear his full attention from it. Scar watched as the assembled hyenas leapt on his double who even roared exactly like him, tearing through flesh and biting through bone. Finally the act was over and the hyenas dispersed, the battle lost and the brief war over. Feeling a drop of rain plop onto his nose looked up. There was Simba and allies. Huh, they had watched the Other Scar's death, but did not seem to notice him at all despite his presence. Scar did not have a further chance to muse on the strange events concerning a lion identical to him and his apparent invisibility, for next thing he knew the world swept up in a blur and was followed by a pain like a burning knife embedding straight through his forehead.

~Section Divider~

The space was white and lit up by some diluted light that filtered through the mist that surrounded the place that was seemingly nowhere. Scar stood up on all fours, surprised that the headache-unlike-any-other and the various aches from his fight with Simba and the subsequent fall from Pride Rock were completely gone. He felt light but a bit cold, and after cataloguing how he felt curiosity got the better of him and he swept his emerald gaze around the area, nostrils flaring and ears swiveling in an attempt to discern where he was.

Nothing.

He wondered. Perhaps he had died, and was in some sort of limbo? He wondered if he would be one of the lights in the night sky, before his black lips pulled back into a sneer, revealing predatory teeth, very clean and white. He doubted that was the case, for he was not a true king. Scar blinked suddenly at the thought. Perhaps he had subconsciously thought such, but if he had then he had never admitted it, not even to himself. What was so different now?

You thought you became more when you ascended from Taka to Scar. However, you still have not reached your true potential. To do so, you must return to your roots.

"Roots? What do you speak of! And reveal yourself!" Scar snarled, the fur on his haunches bristling.

You go further back than Taka. You were not meant to become as you have. You were not meant to die that second time.

Scar sheathed and unsheathed his front claws, very much wishing for something to dig them into at the moment. The "ground" seemed completely non-existent, so it did no good attempting to bury them into it. Oh, how he yearned for some soil or something, anything substantial under his paws at that moment. He did not see why the strange voice from nowhere couldn't just come out and say what it meant, rather than speaking cryptically.

Suddenly, the mist before him coalesced before it dissipated, revealing a shining orb suspended in the air. It rotated slowly, coils of aura twining about it and sparked forth abruptly like snake tongues occasionally, reminding the dark lion of lightning. For some reason, it felt so natural and pure. He felt that if there was anything he could rely on in the world, it was this peculiar force. Without even realizing it he walked up to it, his attention completely fixated. The orb seemed to yearn at him, sparking forth more rapidly with every step he took in his direction. Something shimmered in the air right behind it like a heat wave. Squinting, he thought that it seemed to be somewhat monkey-like, only completely bipedal and furless save for a messy tuft on the top of its head. However, while the rest of it was vague at best, those brilliant green eyes were completely clear. They were the same color as his own, and Scar marveled at this, having never met another creature with his exact eye color before.

Scar flinched and took a reflexive step back, his tail swishing agitatedly. It had felt like . . . intangible monkey paws, for lack of a better term, reaching through his head into his brain, information flowing slowly but steadily into him.

. . . Green light and a high shriek . . .

. . . He was in a small, confined place, and it was dark. The only light came from thin bars of light, which striped the floor and opposing wall to reveal a bundle of strange furs – clothes – the strange presence that he could hardly differentiate from his own mind supplied, and nothing more. He was so hungry; it felt like his stomach was eating itself from the inside out . . .

. . . a sharp voice snapped at him as the shut entrance – a door – was rattled with a rapid and incessant, rapping knock until he let loose an exclamation . . .

. . . Now it was much colder, and the door burst forth to reveal a big monkey with wild fur about its face – a human, or rather something close. Scar tasted the first word and found it something that left him with many inexplicable feelings, confusing him. Loathing, fear, condensation, desire, hope, shock, adoration, dislike, revulsion, kindness, admiration, confusion, pain, a different fear, and another . . . all of these and more, Scar found himself associating with 'human', and questioned why he was so intimately familiar with some of these emotions he never knew himself to have felt before.

. . .

. . . red hair . . .

. . . A magnificent rock formation – no, a castle – atop a black lake that glimmered with the light from the castle, although why fire would be kept in a place where creatures dwelled was beyond him . . .

The information came on, becoming more garbled and leading to disorientation on Scar's part. Not able to take it any longer, he yowled and shook his head furiously in an attempt to free himself from this perplexing flow of knowledge. The orb pulsed, and Scar found himself rushing at it, his paws finding purchase in "air" and allowing him to climb his way up to where it was, diving towards it headlong.

The orb sunk into him with a soft glow and a feather-light sensation. He hovered; spread-eagle for a few agonizingly long, tense moments, before something seemed to snap with a great beat in his chest, sending him plummeting down. His eyes widened as he saw himself falling down onto the faint human image, which had become more discernible so that he could make out every feature, although it was still ghost-like.

As they connected, Scar felt an electrifying tingle course over his body, setting his hairs on end. A warm feeling welled up in his chest, and then it felt like there was a click. Something happened, something oh so right. For the first time in his life, Scar felt that he wasn't missing something. It was wonderful. The information he had received also seemed clarified and with more understanding behind it.

You were meant to be Master of Death, and that you shall be!

A rush of wind raced at Scar, forcing himself to close his eyes against the stinging force. When he reopened them, he was back beneath Pride Rock. The land was a dismal, scorched place that was shaded blue in the rainstorm. While sore and aching, he felt considerably better than he had before going to the "nowhere place", and looked to where the doppelgänger of himself had fallen with morbid curiosity. Only, there was no corpse there, not even just a burnt husk. Nor was there any blood, viscera, or bones; it was as if the clone of himself had never existed.

Scar didn't think the evidence could be cleaned up so neatly.

Accidental magic. He recalled from his younger days, how he could make strange things happen and would be punished for it by his relatives . . .

Suddenly, everything came flooding back, his two lives flashing before his eyes. He groaned softly, crouching low against the ground, as he attempted to reconcile two sets of memories, feelings, values, and more. It was too much, and screwing up his eyes, with a sheer force of will he stemmed the flow with the promise that he would analyze it later. As Harry Potter he may not have, but along with being the Boy-Who-Lived he was also Scar the Tyrant, he who had plotted incessantly throughout his life to steal the position of king from his brother, and had succeeded.

It was all very confusing, and Scar/Harry was not quite sure that he wanted such a change. It would be so much easier to remain a simple lion that had somehow become lucky and managed to escape a certain death.

But at the same time, to the scheming, devious mind of Scar, this new information and knowledge was thrilling. He had a power greater than his kin and kith: magic! There was a whole wide world out there, one ripe for the picking for one with the will and ambition to make something of himself! Let the Pride Lands rot – Scar/Harry had far more important places to be.

With a smile – the joy of returning to his true home – and a cackle – at what he could achieve once there – Scar/Harry slinked away under the cover of darkness, and by the end of the day was not to be found in the Pride Lands.

~Section Divider~

He was heading north, the heavens his guide. Any lion worth his claws could read the celestial bodies and figure out a due course from there, and Scar/Harry, especially aided by memories of Astronomy at Hogwarts, was no exception. Speaking of celestial bodies, it was very clear to him that they were not past kings watching down on them. Although his knowledge of it was very limited, through faint recollections of primary school days he knew that they were burning balls of gas, or something, and not the spirits of lion kings.

The problem Scar/Harry currently faced was that, while he knew he was in Africa and that Europe, and thus Britain, was to the north, he did not know his exact location. Harry had never been educated thoroughly in geography, due to his limited Muggle schooling and the unique but oftentimes impractical magical schooling after that. The knowledge he had gathered in his lifetime as Scar did not help either, for as a lion he had not had any chance to learn geography save for the region he had lived in.

It was at dawn that Scar/Harry caught the sight of smoke on the horizon, and headlights flared in the dark as a large vehicle with an open roof and sides rumbled off in that direction. Human civilization! The people in the vehicle had been Caucasian also, which meant that they were probably tourists in this region. And what tourists didn't have a map on them?

The lion grinned toothily, before a thought suddenly struck him: he was a lion, not a human. He cursed under his breath at this dilemma. A lion could not approach humans, and most certainly could not stowaway on a ship and move integrate into England as he had been planning. Growling his frustration, Scar/Harry slunk closer to the village, before veering off into a nearby copse where he started pacing. He had to find some way to become human, or masquerade as one. He stood up on his hind legs, shuffling in an awkward, wobbling manner in an attempt to keep his balance. Maybe if he practiced, and put on some clothes, then he could pass of as a human?

He returned to all fours, shaking his head with disbelief at his own stupidity. It must have come from his life as Harry Potter, for he certainly wasn't that imbecilic as Scar the lion. Scar/Harry's muzzle crinkled as he plopped down on the ground, running various possibilities through his mind. He quickly dismissed them, coming soon to the conclusion that all of them were as stupid, if not even more so, than the first he had come up with.

A tendril of warmth seemed to work its way from his chest to his brain, and an idea leapt to the forefront of his mind like a sudden spark. That was it! He could become an animagus!

Well, maybe not. Could animals, even ones with human minds and magical cores, become animagi? And even if he was one, would his be the form of a human? After all, if humans could become animals, why not the other way around? It could also lend truth to mythological tales, of animals turning into humans, which Harry had heard. After all, like rumors, couldn't they have some sort of basis in reality?

Scar/Harry continued thinking. He recalled stories he heard from Sirius about his process of becoming an animagus, and had read the book the Marauders – sans Remus – had used to become them. Apparently there were three primary stages: meditation, to discover your animal form; research on your animal and attempting to feel as they would; and transforming various parts of his body. If his other form was indeed that of a human, then the second step should be simple (he had lived once as a human, after all), and the third wouldn't be too bad hopefully. He knew that one aiming to be an animagus should have someone with them at all times during the stages leading up to gaining the ability, lest they mess up. Becoming an animagus could be very dangerous, if Scar/Harry recalled. Well, it was not like he had anyone, not even another lion, to aid him, but he didn't think things could go too wrong if his other form was a human.

Besides, Scar/Harry relished the idea of opposable thumbs far too much to let such a little thing deter him.

With a goal set in mind, Scar/Harry made himself comfortable and set to the surprisingly arduous task of meditation.

~Section Divider~

Author's Note:

I took a long break from all writing, not just fanfiction. I've been really busy with school, and have been feeling out of sorts to the point that I only come on this site every now and then to read a bit. Anyways, this HP/LK crossover idea, with Scar being Harry, just jumped suddenly into my mind one night, and since it is the start of a break, I couldn't ignore it! My new goals for this break are to write and post new chapters of this story frequently and reestablish communication with the people I PMed with. Also, I have not read the Harry Potter series or watched The Lion King in a while, so forgive me and please feel free to point out any mistakes I have made concerning canon. This story ignores any LK movies besides the original one. Finally, worry not; this story does indeed have a plot (I'm still planning it, so feel free to give me your own input! I will consider all suggestions, no matter how out there)! So . . . I hope this story isn't total fail-whale. All reviews are gratefully welcome, no matter how small!