Disclaimer: I don't own the Mass Effect trilogy or the Harry Potter series, each belongs to their respective owners and I do not profit from this in any way. I do, however, own all original characters and places.

Title: Fallen Star

Author: Torulfr

Summary: Shepard had expected his afterlife to be a peaceful place, but it that was not what he found. Instead, he awoke in a dark room surrounded by strangers, stuck in a sixteen year-old's body, in 1994 and told that magic exists. Can Shepard learn how to survive as fate throws him into the thick of things? Slash.

Warning: This story will contain slash (boy/boy) violence and alcohol abuse. If any of the aforementioned warnings are offensive then please do not read this story, because flames are not appreciated.

A/N: Hello, Torulfr here. This is my first attempt at a crossover, so I hope it doesn't suck too much. With a lot of the other crossovers, you just see Harry either living a super long time or somehow travel/falling into the Mass Effect universe. I hope to try something different – Shepard falling in to the Harry Potter universe. I hope you all enjoy it.

Prologue

A void – a black and soundless void which was what Shepard had found himself in. He looked franticly about him, searching for… He didn't know what he was looking for. The end he supposed, or rather what came after it. He had hoped to find Ashley, Thane, Anderson and all the other people he had lost in his life in some paradise. But, he was left with this void. There was not even a constellation or single star. Shepard had never understood why Samara had called space a great void, because to him it was life. Space for her might have been her greatest torment, knowing that her daughter was out there, killing innocent people. That void of Samara's was nothing compared to what he found himself in, a true abyss of emptiness.

With nothing to do, Shepard thought about his last moments of life. After he had chosen to destroy the Reapers, he had limped his way back to Anderson and settled down beside him. He could not think of anyone else he would rather spend his last moments with. He had known Admiral David Anderson for fifteen years.

Anderson had been the one to find Shepard hiding in the greenhouse on Mindoir. He had found a sixteen year old boy huddled in the corner, injured and clutching a bloodied wooden dagger. Anderson who at the time had been a commander, he promised to look after Shepard, a promise he kept when he became the boy's legal guardian until he turned eighteen. Those had been two difficult years for Shepard.

He smiled at the memories. The view he had of Earth was wonderful, in his opinion, Earth had never looked more beautiful. He thought of his parents, his crew and Kaidan. If anyone could have seen Shepard, they would have seen him die with a smile on his face.

But no-one was there. He was alone, dead.

A light puled. Shepard looked around in surprise. There nothing but the pitch black surrounding him.

"I'm already going crazy," he said to himself.

Another light pulsed, this time it vibrated all around him. It almost looked like dark energy, but the colour was wrong. It was a bright turquoise and not the blue or sometimes grey colour it should have been. The light was enough for him to see that he was still in his damaged armour. He could just imagine what a mess he looked like with his armour damaged beyond repair, coated in blood and his hair was probably a mess too. The pulsed a third time and revealed a vast ambit. Shepard stared at his surrounding in awe.

Shepard stood on a stone floored landing with lots of deep-set cracks in it. He turned around and saw a green-blue sky with large chunks of floating stone debris. Large broken pillars stood upright, suspended in the air with braziers atop them lit up with blue flames. Shepard took a step backwards and heard loud sounds of stone moving against each other. He looked over his shoulder and saw the stones moving towards the edge of the landing. The stones fit together and formed a stair.

Now, Shepard was not superstitious but he had a healthy respect for whatever higher power existed in the universe and he did not want to piss off whoever was on desk in the sky. He eyed the steps before he cautiously limped over to them and took a tentative step up. When it did not collapse under his weight, he continued. More stones gathered to the build the staircase, twisting up to another landing.

Once Shepard reached the landing, he paused to catch his breath. After a moment, he continued, but as soon as his foot touched the stone, strange runes lit up across the floor.

"Okay, glow-in-the-dark floors. What's next?"

The runes pulsed in time with Shepard's limped steps. Another staircase created itself and he cursed. He was so damn tired, and now, he was wondering if he was cursed to walk up stairs for the rest of eternity. But, as he ascended, large pockets of energy floated around him and formed images created from his memories, the good and the bad. It was literally his life flashing before his eyes.

Shepard saw his mother working in the greenhouse, his stepfather rubbing salve over his bruised cheek and hands. He saw himself when he got spaced, his unit dying on Akuze and the vision he had gotten from the Prothean beacon all those years ago. He saw Anderson smiling down at him with a cup of coffee, Joker laughing in his chair and his spar with James. Lastly, he saw Kaidan. It was nothing special, the man was just standing there, looking out at space while leaning against the wall like he usually did.

Shepard reached the next landing only to see a circle of runes on the floor, with a pillar of blue-grey light in its centre. The light seemed like a living entity. Wisps of light moved around and pulsed in a steady rhythm. For a moment, the light was brighter and then returned to its usual state.

A pebble flew out from the light and bounced a few times before it lay still in front of Shepard.

"Yeah, now things have gone from weird to fucking weird," he said out loud.

Another pebble followed soon after and landed near the first one.

Out of curiosity, Shepard walked towards the pillar of light. He shielded his eyes from the intensity, but it was useless as he soon found himself consumed by the light.

XxxxX

Timothy "Worthy" O'Hara was a quiet man, of average height, not overweight, but not in the best of shape either. Not like he was a few years back, before he quite his career as an Auror and turned to being an Unspeakable instead. He often missed the excitement, but he was content with his newfound life of study.

The Ministry of Magic was busy, as it was all other six days of the week. Timothy chalked it up to the upcoming Tri Wizard Tournament, and the Quidditch World Cup which was even sooner. Coupled with the case of escaped, extremely dangerous convict had everyone on edge. He briskly walked through the throngs of witches and wizards and quickly squeezed himself in to an elevator. None of it was his business; he didn't get paid to care about the trivial matters of everyday life. No, he was an Unspeakable who conducted studies and experiments of the hush-hush nature.

Timothy was the last to leave the once over occupied elevator. He stepped out and looked around at the black walls with a smile, a smile that quickly disappeared as he walked on and heard that distinct, chirpy voice and saw a grotesque form of pink. He quickly turned on his heel to disappear into another hallway, but he was too slow.

"Hem hem, Mister O'Hara," Umbridge called daintily.

Out of the toad's sight, Timothy slowly curled his hand into a fist in front of his face. He quickly turned around, his trench coat floundering about him in a dramatic sweep.

"Ah, Undersecretary Umbridge," he said cheerfully. "I didn't see you."

"Yes, well," Umbridge said while she inspected him. "I see you have done nothing about your appearance, Mister O'Hara."

Timothy sighed and carded a hand through his long red hair. He knew his stubble now was halfway to being a pathetic excuse for a beard and his clothes were probably wrinkled or hanging off his body like rags.

"Now, Undersecretary Umbridge, I thought we have been over this," Timothy said slowly. "I am an Unspeakable. I have more important things to do than visiting a barber. Besides, we don't have a regulatory dress code, ma'am."

Umbridge smoothed out an imaginary crease on her arm as she spoke. "Which will soon be rectified, I can assure you. We cannot have ruffians giving the Ministry a bad image, now can we?"

Timothy had now reached the top of his tolerance level for Umbridge for the day. He stood a bit straighter and looked down at the short woman. "Good luck with that, Undersecretary."

He walked past Umbridge, ignoring her as she tried to call him back. Timothy nearly ran to his office, which only other Unspeakables and high ranked officials and dignitaries (anyone besides Umbridge) were allowed to enter. He closed the door behind him and hung up his trench coat before he sank into his chair behind desk.

The desk was cluttered with notes, books and various other paraphernalia related to his research. Timothy took out his wand and with a swift motion of his wrist, the research notes and books levitated in the air before him. Working on several projects at once was tiring, but his main focus was the study of death, specifically the Veil in the Chamber of Death. However, even among other Unspeakables, his research was seen as secondary, something that could be put off so that his skills could be used in something more 'practical'.

"Worthy?" a voice called from the other side of his door.

Timothy sighed. He had really hoped to at least review his notes from a month ago. He sorely wanted to just spend the whole day probing at the Veil, but recently, he had to be content with using his thirty minute lunch break to study the Veil. He laid his head on the desk and folded his arms over his red-haired head.

"Come in," he mumbled with his face pressed to the cool wood of his desk.

A young woman with short brown hair, almond shaped blue eyes, a cute button nose and a heart-shaped face poked her head from the behind the partially open door.

"Hello, Amelia," Timothy greeted with a partial wave of his hand.

"What are you doing, Tim?" she asked as she stepped into his office.

"Meditating," was the curt, muffled reply.

"Uh-huh," Amelia mumbled, unconvinced. "Well, Maxwell and I need your help." When she saw he was not going to move, she sighed. "C'mon, we need you Auror expertise and that gorgeous brain of yours."

"Fine," Timothy grumbled, sitting up, "but I want an extended lunch break for this."

He got up, pulling on a black robe and followed the younger Unspeakable to her research platforms. Timothy stayed there for a good seven hours before he decided to take his lunch break. He made a quick stop at his office for his lunch and then headed for the Chamber of Death.

Timothy sat there a few metres away from the Veil, eating his sandwich. He grabbed a pebble from the bag beside him and threw it at the Veil. As usual, the pebble was suspended in the air for a moment before it disappeared.

This time, however, there was a faint discolouration to the mists in the Veil after the pebble disappeared. Startled by this new development, Timothy took a bite of his sandwich and threw another pebble. The same thing occurred, only brighter and the discolouration had a blue tint to it.

A frown formed on Timothy's face. The Veil had never done anything like that before, at least, not while he was studying it. Not for the first time (certainly not the last) he wished that whoever had studied the Veil before him had left their notes for him. It would have made life so much easier for him. Then again, the last Unspeakable to study the Veil had mysteriously disappeared eighteen years ago and no-one would tell him who it had been.

Out of boredom and curiosity Timothy threw another pebble, but nothing happened. He felt disappointed, but ever since he had started working on the Veil, disappointment was something he experienced quite frequently.

Timothy returned to his eating when the Veil suddenly lit up and a mass shrouded by the Veil's mists was thrown from it. His Auror training kicked in as he jumped up, throwing his sandwich aside to pull out his wand. He watched cautiously as the mass of grey mists rolled and then lay still, the grey mists slowly evaporating. He silently walked closer; keeping an eye on the Veil to make sure it didn't throw anything else back at him and on eye on the grey mass.

The mists evaporated completely and revealed a boy dressed in the strangest, bloodied and damaged armour that was obviously too big for him. Timothy lowered his wand, knelt beside the boy and gently turned him over onto his back.

Timothy looked over the boy's face –who couldn't have been older than seventeen– taking in his features - the unkempt dark blonde hair, strong jaw, refined cheekbones and a nose that had definitely been broken a few times. The Unspeakable's attention however, was on the right side of the boy's face by the crude, deep cut running diagonally from the boy's cheek down to his jaw. It would definitely scar, no matter who many potions or spells were going to be applied to it.

It was difficult for Timothy to handle the boy while he wore that oversized armour, but the man had no idea how to remove it, so he left it for now. There were more important matters. They boy had come from beyond the Veil. He felt giddy with that knowledge. He could only imagine –and hope– what his boy could tell him.

"Hey kid," Timothy called, "you alive?"

There was no reply, so Timothy put a finger under the boy's nose and on his lips and felt the boy's breathe. The Unspeakable breathed a sigh of relief, he did not know what he would have done if the boy had been dead. Wait, he did know. Paperwork. Mountains of paperwork.

Timothy looked down at the boy and saw that his eyes were open, and a rare grey colour. Before the man could say or do anything, a blue glow surrounded the boy. The boy thrust his hand up at the Unspeakable and the man was sent flying backwards.

Timothy landed heavily on his back, winded. He recovered quickly however and sprang to his feet. He had expected the boy to attack him again, but saw him cradling his head and whimpering in pain with blood streaming from his nose.

The Unspeakable slowly walked closer to the strange boy, who shuffled backwards as he saw the man approach. Timothy held his hands up in an unthreatening manner, but he could still see the boy did not trust him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The boy eyed the Unspeakable. He moved his jaw and stopped as he felt pain from the gash on his face. Timothy saw disbelief in the boy's grey eyes as he slowly reached up and gently touched the wound with the tips of his gloved fingers. The boy looked at the blood on his fingers with disbelief.

Timothy crouched down a few metres away from the boy, just observing him. It was what he would do when he was an Auror. Observe the target, get to know as much about them before you strike. This boy was not a dark wizard, but he certainly dangerous if that earlier display was anything to go by. The Unspeakable cocked his head to the side as the boy started to look over himself with that same sheer disbelief.

"Where am I?" the boy whispered, looking up at Timothy.

"Uh…" The Unspeakable didn't know how he should answer that question. A simple 'you safe here' would be inadequate and likely untrue. "You're in the Ministry of Magic, in London."

The boy frowned at Timothy. "Does it look like I'm high on Hallex?"

"What?" the Unspeakable asked.

"London was half destroyed during the Reaper invasion!" the boy shouted. "Now, where am I and who the fuck are you?"

"For Merlin's sake boy, what are you talking about?" Timothy asked, slowly moving closer. "You're currently in the Department of Mysteries and… you actually fell through the Veil."

The boy looked over to where the man was pointing. "Almost looks like a mass rely. Wait, what year is it?"

"Well, the date is 30th May 1994. Why?"

The boy seemed to go pale and looked down, running a hand through his hair, mumbling to himself in a language that the Unspeakable didn't understand.

"Hey," Timothy half whispered, "can you tell me your name? Mine's Timothy O'Hara."

The boy looked up. "Shepard. Commander Tyr Shepard."

And that's the prologue. Now, I know my grammar and tense is not perfect, so there will be a few minor mistakes and I never seem to find them, so please forgive me for that, but I hoped you enjoyed the prologue nonetheless.

This story is currently not my main project, but I will try and update as frequently as I can. I'd really like to hear what you guys think of this crazy idea of mine.

See you all later!