Hollow whole

Summary: End of GoF. AU OoTP. AU Bleach Arrancar Arc. Dumbledore decided to tell Harry the prophecy after Voldemort is resurrected at the end of GoF. What could possibly defeat voldemort? Harry needs help, and fate decides to throw him a bone.

Premise: We follow stories of harry's super powers and ultracool animagus forms. I find harry to be very regular with the exception of his extraordinary circumstances. He's portrayed as super!Harry more often than not, and in most stories his powers continue to grow in order to confront new dark lords- but what if the newest baddest thing isn't harry's responsibility? The threat of another, more terrible dark lord looms, and fate decides to help the two number one targets by giving them each other.

Spoilers: Bleach Arrancar arc (but it's AU). HP OoTP and Horcuxes. No spoilers for deathly hallows because I haven't finished it yet.

Chapter one: Fuck you Fate.

The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches. Born to parents who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. The dark lord shall mark him as his equal and he shall have powers the dark lord knows not. Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches, born as the seventh month dies.

The first thing I felt was horror; A bone deep, chilling, mind numbing terror, but only for a moment. On the heels of those feelings came denial. Denial is the natural response to something so overwhelming. Impossible; That I should have some mysterious power to kill he who destroyed my betters?

My jaw tenses, and fists clench. I'm sweating, and my heart's beating in my ears just thinking about the fights I've been in. Every time… something, some windfall, came to help me. It was never me, not by myself.

I didn't hear much after that, or if I did, I couldn't absorb it until later. And then, much later, when all of it swirled around in my head the only thing that stuck to me was the firm belief that I couldn't do it. When I tried to think about it logically, the only thing I could conclude was that I hadn't really done anything in the past fights with Voldemort.

The most desperate fight, even more so than the graveyard confrontation with the vulture himself, was the one with dementors. First, because they scared me shitless. Second, because if I failed, everyone would lose their souls… not just me. Logically, I knew the encounters with voldemort should've scarred me more, but losing my life never seemed as frightening to me as losing myself.

Reflecting on that a bit more, I realized that my upbringing had forged a person who, despite my non-existent self worth, or maybe because of it, felt like it was up to me to protect everyone. At the same time, I was raised to rely on no one but myself. If I had to do this, to kill the dark lord, I knew I was on my own. An alarming thought, considering I'd just accepted that I couldn't really do anything by myself.

How could I get the help I needed without risking anyone else? Asking this question led me to different questions of the like, such as: Was it possible to increase my innate power level? Maybe I already had the power I needed, like Dumbledore suggested, and I just needed training? Who could possibly train me to fight a dark lord? What is this stupid power I was supposed to have…and why me?

Fucking fate.

I had to get up and do something. Sitting up caused my head to swim, my heart's beating still reverberating through my skull. It was closer to sunset and the lights were out. I was thankful for the peace and darkness of the dormitory, but staying here wasn't going to make anything better.

Skirting the dinner stragglers as I walk in the opposite direction, I was able to arrive in the library without encountering anyone. The idea that voldemort could be defeated by anything I could find in here was laughable, but then again, voldemort was just a stupid kid at one time too, and he probably started here as well.

Thinking that didn't make me feel better; rather, a cynical bitter taste filled my mouth and I had kicked the nearest shelf before I'd even realized. And wouldn't you know it… a book popped out. Knowing what a capricious bitch fate was, I didn't dare pick it up yet. I was in the "A" section, specifically "Animal." Unbidden, my eyes went to the title.

"The Summoning." My nostrils flared. "What…. You give voldemort the '10 steps to dark-lord-dom' and I get summoning?"

I felt like fate was once again laughing at me, and I picked up the book, resigned. I needed help, it's true, but that doesn't mean I like it. Still, if fate was throwing me a bone then I'd chew it to the marrow.

The Summoning was as much as history of summons as a manual for how to perform them. There were several types of summons, and most should not be attempted by those with a desire to live. The first type of summon, was, surprisingly enough, a summoning of the vision of one's spirit animal. This is the first step in an animagus transformation. I wouldn't mind being an animagus, but I don't have three years to blow in the attempt.

The next type of summoning involved a contracted race of creatures. One had to summon a representative from the particular race, and negotiate a contract with the summoned. It normally involved lots of sacrifice, either in blood or magical power, for the ability to summon members of that race to help in a fight. There were lots of interesting stories of wizards who'd used summoned animals to tear apart large groups of foes – complete with some bloody depictions. The down side to this type of summoning, other than the sacrifice, is that the wizard had to commit himself to one race only. Furthermore, the enemies of that race became the enemies of that wizard.

My imagination went crazy with the implications. I saw Salazar Slytherin, in my mind, biting off the heads of every rooster he encountered to appease the basilisk he must've summoned. It makes me smile, despite everything.

I stared at the artist's rendition of a battle against a group of demon-foxes the wizard had summoned, and their foes strewn about the ground among lost limbs and bits of gore and sinew. The moving image contained a detailed illustration of the pain one of the fallen underwent as his intestines were eaten by a fox while he was still alive. This was the reason, according to the book, this particular type of summoning "went out of style." The more powerful the race contracted, the more necessary the sacrifices, the more likely the bodies of your opponents were to be desecrated. That tended to make one rather unpopular, no matter how righteous the intention.

It certainly looked really sticky.

"Is this what you want me to do?" I asked out loud. Fate, it appeared, was finished being helpful, so I got no answer. I read on.

The third type of summoning was a ritual to summon a familiar. It was like contracting a race, but instead of a sacrifice of blood or magic, you had to offer up your soul. Once given over to a familiar, the wizard would be unable to perform any other type of summoning, including the animagus vision. The animal inside the wizard would conflict with the familiar otherwise. However, the wizard gained access to several, if not all, of the familiar's unique powers. Not very useful if your familiar was an alley cat, but the potential was there if you were able to bind yourself to a powerful magical creature.

I wondered if Dumbledore could cry healing tears and live forever now. The second potential ability made me shudder. My imagination went crazy again as I envisioned Dumbledore, two thousand years from now, offering lemon drops to cyborg students, while Snape, who was now only a disembodied, greasy head floating in a jar, complained about kids today. Snape would survive that long too, just like a cockroach. In fact, if Snape had a familiar that's what it would be.

Back on task…. The two strongest wizards I knew of both had familiars. Dumbledore had Fawkes, and Voldemort had Nagini. That meant that they'd forgone the animagus transformation in favor of summoning a familiar. If I had a hope of being on par with the dark lord, I suppose that meant I needed one too.

My mind weighed the benefits of a familiar over an animgus form, because I would have to choose between them. I went over the fight's I'd had with the dark lord, and imagined a familiar with me. Fawkes came to my rescue in second year, and, in a way, at the graveyard when I faced Voldemort again. His phoenix song had given me strength to fight, and his healing tears had kept me alive. Fawkes wasn't even my own familiar and he had helped me so much. Being an animagus would be wonderful, but a familiar could be the one thing I had secretely craved above all else for as long as I could remember: a true companion. One I wouldn't leave behind when the term ended, and one who could never abandon me.

"A familiar?" I asked aloud. Nothing answered me in the darkened library. "Maybe this is 'step 1' to becoming a dark lord." I mused.

I kicked the shelf again, just to make sure. Nothing else came out. I sighed.

The book warned of the dangers of summoning vociferously, in both parable and practice. Summoning to negotiate a contract required sacrifice even if a contract was never reached, like a gift given at the beginning of a negotiation. Furthermore, a person had to know themselves very well to know which kind of animal to summon.

The consequences of summoning the wrong type of animal, one too powerful for the wizard to handle, or, worst of all, offending the animal by not having a gift worth or great enough for it were messy to say the least. There was a high failure rate for summoning. The failure of the first resulting in the wizard having too weak a personality or self awareness to know their spirit animal, or being unable to accept the animal they are and going insane from it.

I thought maybe that happened to wormtail, but then I realized it was probably the opposite. He must've accepted his rat form a little too much, and stopped caring for anything other than his own life.

The book made it clear a wizard was more likely to get ripped apart by the summoned than helped on the first (and only) try.

At this point, I didn't really care. The only promise given to those born is death, and if fate had a plan for me I figured it wasn't going to let me kick until I'd done whatever it wanted me to do. I had nothing left to lose.

That led me to pick the most dangerous and most powerful type of summon I could.

Voldemort wanted to lock the world into stagnation, with himself as ruler over a hopeless caste system.

Voldemort had a snake familiar. The snake biting its own tail was the symbol of eternity.

Vold-e-mort : flight from death. Eternal life.

Nothing can out-fly me.

[break

I didn't want to consult anyone. I didn't even want to see anyone. I was afraid of losing my nerve, or being talked out of it. Sirius, Ron and Hermione would tie me down before letting me try something so risky.

"Inner-mind-hermione" popped into my head with a horrified expression when she understood what I was going to do and started talking about post-traumatic-stress-disorder and Prozac. I pushed her from my thoughts.

"Chew to marrow, Harry." That's what I told myself. I knew I wasn't entirely rational right now. Try being rational after watching your friend die, having your blood used in a resurrection ceremony for the man that killed your parents, only to see your parent's after-thoughts come to your defense as you duel for your life. Blah blah blah, I could bitch and moan forever- or maybe never again. If fate really had me by the balls like I knew she did, then I'd survive this in some ridiculous fashion. If I didn't, well, Ron could have my stuff.

The circle was drawn in a clearing in the forbidden forest. I was careful to save my strength yesterday, but I was still tired from the third task ordeal. Being in the forest on one's own is reckless at the best of times, but I barely thought about that as I drew the runes.

Death. End. Soul. Break. Chains. Reap. Reject. Fate. Teach. Destroy. Friendship. Power. Love.

The book said to draw thirteen runes that symbolized yourself and send it out into the aether, which the book described as being something that connects all things in the universe together. Or something like that…

I was waiting for Dobby to pop out at any moment and say "You is using the FORCE, harry potter, sir!" while I tried to balance myself on my hands and raise stones with my mind.

Fekh! I decided that I'd instead write what I was looking for in a familiar and be prepared to offer whatever was desired in return.

The last rune I threw on with incredulity, on the off chance that Dumbledore was right, and it wasn't a powerful silver blade or hard training that could finish off Voldemort, but the power of love. Fate would make it something so ridiculous. Fucker.

I stripped. I didn't know why I had to strip, but the book gave some vague comments about "honesty" that sounded like bullshit. I had already altered one aspect of the ritual, so I figured I shouldn't try my luck or fate might decide Neville would make a decent boy-who-lived after all. Not that I'd care, or anything, but I wouldn't mind dishing out some revenge before I bought it.

Sardonically, I thought, revenge was all I had left. I wondered why I hadn't included it as a rune.

The sky was blue and the air was warm, and I could almost make believe everything was normal and Hermione, Ron and I were next to the lake watching the clouds pass like nothing happened. Stepping into the circle and laying down changed that relaxed atmosphere. The magic started humming immediately. I knew it was working from the draining sensation I felt, so I laid down and let myself go to sleep.

Either I'd wake up with something hopefully better than a flobber worm for a soul mate, or I'd never wake up at all. At this point I didn't really care which.

A/N's:

To my SDM readers: I haven't abandoned SDM, but I am sick of romance right now. The devil's respite isn't a romance series, but romance is a part of it, and I don't feel like writing it right now. If you are worried I'll pull the same shit with this story, let me assure you I've already completed 18 chapters of this story. Read it if you feel like it, flame at me if you don't.

To my new readers: I'll try to update weekly. As I mentioned, 18 chapters are already complete, averaging 8 single spaced pages a chapter. You don't need to know BLEACH to understand this story, because I'll try to explain all the bleach references as they happen. For those of you that know BLEACH, this is just as much an AU hp as it is an AU arrancar arc, so there will be major differences between the BLEACH cannon and what happens here.

This story is NOT any of the following: A romance. A super!Harry. A dark!harry A Harry!Ichigo!friendship. A slash. A Harry is the reincarnation of one of the dead bleach characters.

This story is: Action/Adventure with a hint of dark humor. I felt like writing violence, so they'll be as many fight scenes as I can pack in between the plot.

If you are going to review: I will not put DH spoilers in this story, so please don't put them in your reviews. I wrote this story before DH came out because I didn't want the magic of HP to end, but I had a feeling Harry would die during DH… so I wanted to write a story where, even if he died, the adventure would go on. I'm on chapter 14 of DH as of 8/8/07 when this is posted, so I don't know what will happen for sure, but if that is what happened I'd rather find out from JK, not from you. Kindly respect that.

Appreciation: Thanks to the steadfast fans of SDM. I will finish it, but I'm taking a break for this story. I hope you enjoy it.