t h e
b r e a k a b l e v o w

by a complete lack of sanity
shaman king – harry potter crossover
postHBP, contains spoilers for the sixth book. i warned you.
this is not your average crossover. yoh and the gang are not going to study at hogwarts.
takes place a little after the sixth book, but sometime early in the mankin series. yes, my timeline is screwed.
almost all pairings undecided as of now, reviewers may suggest, suggestions are appreciated and loved
well, actually i've decided on ron/hermione, but everything else is subject to change.
all reviews, flames included, are accepted. i like long reviews with con crit.
no, really. i want flames. call me crazy, but flame me, i need criticism.
AU for SK, my version of seventh book for HP.
prologue: fire at the riddle house
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The gloomy, dark ambience created by the dementors was made worse by the terribly windy, cold weather, the cloudy, starless night, and even more so by the two cloaked figures in the graveyard. If one was sensitive to magical forces, then they would feel a great amount of power emanating from the two people who were standing on opposite sides of a grave, the marble headstone clearly marked 'Tom Riddle.'

One of them, tall, in a hooded black cloak, stared mockingly at the other, his red eyes looking intently out from under the hood. Lord Voldemort was not convinced. What could this mere… boy help him? He spoke, his high, cold tone sounding almost like a hiss. "Are you foolish enough to think that you have something to say directly to the Dark Lord?"

"Foolish, I think not," the other person said, a hint of contempt in his tone. "I was able to schedule a meeting with you, am I correct? And the proof that I am worth listening to lies in the fact that I am still not lying in a crumpled heap on the floor."

Voldemort felt a twinge of annoyance. He could easily raise his wand and kill the miserable fool in less than a second, for using that tone of voice with him. But then, the fact that he knew how to reach him, and that he was brave enough—or stupid enough to speak to him in such a tone that kept him from hitting the young man with a Killing Curse.

The person in question seemed to know what Voldemort was reasoning, and was using that point to his advantage. After all, there was much to be gained in making a deal with the 'Dark Lord.' He did not schedule midnight meetings in graveyards for nothing. The wind was blowing rather hard, and it was an inconvenience to both him and Voldemort, as it sent both cloaks flying: Voldemort's black one as well as his own, a light, neutral colored cloak in contrast.

"Your reputation precedes you, Voldemort. Already most people know of The Dark Lord Voldemort, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as they prefer to call you. The one who has killed many, cheated death, and whatever else they accredit to you. I did not schedule this meeting for idle chit-chat, nor did I schedule it simply to count your many achievements."

"A fine way of scheduling meetings," Voldemort said silkily. "There are other ways to get the Dark Lord's attention than killing Death Eaters."

The person almost looked regretful. "Ah, yes. Rabastan Lestrange, was he not?" A pity. And I hear he was quite a good wizard as well. And I was not informed of any 'other ways' beforehand. If you were to make your whereabouts more… public, I might not have had to kill your follower."

"If my reputation truly does precede me, then you must know that the entire Wizarding world is hunting me down," Voldemort countered.

"I was merely joking," he replied. "Or are you so bitter about your recent losses that you cannot take a joke?"

Voldemort laid a hand on his wand, losing almost all of what was left of his patience after years of almost total inexistence. "Surely your purpose is not to mock me."

"To business, then," he continued. "You asked what I could do to help the Dark Lord. Well, I offer a partnership. Killing Lestrange also served the purpose of demonstrating my power."

"Lestrange was weak," Voldemort said dismissively. "I wouldn't count killing him as a great feather in your cap."

"So you let weaklings into your inner circle?"

Voldemort raised his wand. "Who are you, and what do you want?

"Let me tell you a story, Voldemort," he said, taking a deep breath. "One thousand years ago, there was an onmyouji named Asakura Hao. His aim was to destroy all humans, since they polluted the world and disrupted the balance of nature. Although he was killed in attempting to achieve his plans, death was not the end for him. Hao could reincarnate, he had already mastered the five elements."

Voldemort eyed him suspiciously. This seemingly unrelated story may have been part of a plan to catch him off guard. Completely oblivious, the storyteller continued.

"Five hundred years later, Hao reincarnated again, born into the Patch Tribe. In his short time in this life, he managed to steal the Patch Village's Spirit of Fire."

At these last few words, something happened. A giant, red creature appeared in a blur right before Voldemort's eyes. Impressed, Voldemort assumed that this was the Spirit of Fire in question.

"Five hundred years after that, Hao was born into his third life, into the Asakura family again. This Hao is the one you see now." The finally-identified Hao Asakura smirked at the Dark Lord. But he wasn't finished.

"A few years after this, a child named Harry Potter was born, born to parents that defied the Dark Lord thrice.. And this Dark Lord went after this child. For reasons still unknown, the Dark Lord Voldemort was defeated, and this mere child was left with with only a scar."

Hao paused, and Voldemort raised his wand even higher. He disliked being reminded of Godric's Hollow. A good Cruciatus Curse would probably make this Hao person treat the Dark Lord with more respect.

"We are very much alike, Voldemort," Hao said smoothly. "We have similar goals—the destruction of the entire human race—those who you call 'Muggles.' And, most importantly, we have both cheated death."

Voldemort lowered his wand, a bit taken aback by Hao's knowledge of this fact. This was the only sign that he was shocked: his snakelike face remained cold and mocking.

"A Horcrux," Hao said mildly. "Am I right, Voldemort? Enclosing a portion of your soul in a completely separate object. This was how you did not die that night at Godric's Hollow. Quite a clever plan."

Who was this person, and where did he get all this Dark knowledge? Voldemort speculated, now even more apprehensive of Hao's potential threat. "Impressive, Hao. Your knowledge on this subject is vaster than what most of my Death Eaters can even speculate."

"A partnership. That is what I offer. Do we have a deal, Voldemort?" Hao looked the Dark Lord straight in his cold red eyes.

Voldemort stared back at Hao in the same cold manner. Here was a very frustrating person—one he wanted to kill, but could not kill yet—be it because of possible usefulness, or just because he was amusing. Whichever it was, Voldemort couldn't kill Asakura Hao. Not yet, anyway.

He weighed the consequences of taking the deal. On the positive side, Hao was indeed very powerful. But with greater power came the greater chance of betrayal. He contemplated this.

But then… I could always kill him in the end.

"Before we make a deal," Voldemort said coldly, staring at the Spirit of Fire, "A demonstration of your powers might be appropriate."

Hao gave the Dark Lord an evil-looking smile, and quickly turned his attention to a nearby house on a hill. "With pleasure," he said, snapping his fingers. The Spirit of Fire disappeared, and appeared next to the house Hao was previously staring at. And with another snap of his fingers, the house burst into flames.

Satisfied with the demonstration he had put up, Hao looked back at Voldemort. "I know where to reach you, Voldemort," he said, snapping his fingers again, the Spirit of Fire reappearing by his side. And with a second snap, both he and the giant red creature vanished in a whirl of fire.

Voldemort stared as the flames started consuming what was left of the once-great Riddle House. Satisfied, he kicked the dirt over his father's grave. He threw the house one last contemptuous look, before Apparating out of sight.

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so. um.
this is going to be long.
as in, really, really freaking long if my muse cooperates.
this is like my deathwish. i'll have no free time on my hands should i do this.
so please humor the last wishes of the nearly departed by reviewing.
the next chapter will be called searching the ruins
the next chapter will star harry and lyserg.

p.s. to all hao supporters,
sorry, but the hao-voldemort parallel fits.
really, really well. i actually discussed it on an off-site forum.
and people actually agreed with my half-crazed theory.
i'll explain it to you all at a later date.
promise.if you review.