Two men. Two powers. Two different paths that ended in sorrow. But what if there was a way to change things? To rewrite fate and destiny?

The Star Gems. Seven pieces of eight which, when combined, can rewrite destiny.

However no one has ever gathered all eight. Some say that it takes a pure heart to find them. Others say a heart full of sorrow. However the end result is the same.

No one has ever found all eight pieces. Well, almost no one.

They were two completely different men. One, a witch of great power and even greater destiny. The other, a weapon cursed by black blood.

They were nothing alike. Or at least that was what people would assume had they met them both.

The truth was that they were one and the same.

Harry James Potter, Master of Death. Soul Eater Evans, Death's Scythe and one of the best Weapons to come out of the DWMA.

They were the same man on two different paths.

But both of them experienced the same heartbreak. Harry, a witch with weapon's blood dulled by war and betrayal, and Soul, a weapon with magic and no experience on how to control it out of ignorance. Their friends and comrades abandoned them both once the other half of their heritage was found out, and out of heartbreak and sorrow, they became hollow men.

It was then that they discovered the Star Gems, and tried to rewrite fate.

Harry found them first, and wanting to learn more about his weapon heritage, made it so Lord Death found him at a young age. He had friends, for a time, but the moment his witch heritage was found out and the black blood caused his magic to go out of control, they abandoned him.

Soul found them again. This time he was aware of his magic, though he cursed it and the black blood. After finding the gems he remembered his life as Harry Potter, and he was determined not to be anyone's weapon ever again. Which was why he decided to change one thing, as that was the limit of using the gems twice.

He decided to make sure his younger self practiced his magic after Lord Death found him, so that it didn't spiral out of control. And he left a gift. Something he had composed but never finished.

The Symphony of the Shinigami.

In the cold days of his solitude, he had spent countless hours writing, throwing out, and remaking this masterpiece. Finally, he almost had it perfected...but it lacked the one thing that would make it great.

He left it for his younger self, in the hopes that he could complete it. And he left a warning to the young scythe.

To abandon one side is to court disaster at every turn. Do not be afraid of your full power, nor leave your friends behind without at least giving them a reason why.

It had been his greatest regret, leaving Maka behind without telling her. Perhaps, if he had at least written her a letter explaining about the black blood causing his untrained magic to go out of control, she could have stopped him before it all went wrong.

The scared little boy with hair as white as snow took the music sheets and the warning to heart.

And so Soul Eater Evans was reborn anew...

He almost had it... There!

Soul grinned as he looked at his hand aflame. This was the crowning point of his training. When he had been seven, a man had come and brought him to the attention of Lord Death. The next day he had been removed from that awful house and given a new home. He had spent two years in therapy, but it was entirely worth it if it meant he wouldn't flinch at loud noises anymore.

He had taken to training his magic, which the man had told him he had, in secret. Mostly out of fear of what his fellow weapons would do if they knew he was half-witch.

Lord Death had assured him that it wasn't that unusual for a weapon to be half-witch, or to have a witch's powers, but because of the training they went through it was better to practice his magic in secret as a precaution.

So here he was, training his fire. It was a black and red color, making him think of hellflames. He had even mastered his animal form, a wolf-sized dog.

Combining the two created an odd sort of canine that made him immediately think hellhound. He knew, from a feeling in his gut, that there was a third form he could unlock, but he was content with the first two.

He slipped out of the woods, incinerating the spiders that he spotted. The old man who had told him how to access his magic without going to a school for it had been very firm on that matter.

Kill all spiders on sight.

"Hey Soul. Practicing your martial arts again?" asked Maka.

"Yeah. Still can't get that form down though," said Soul.

"Maybe if you did more than pick it up from a book," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I told you, it's embarrassing enough I prance around trying to learn this stuff. I don't want anyone to see me falling on my ass while doing it too!" said Soul, picking up his school bag.

"So are you going down to the shop to play that piano again?" asked Maka, as they walked up the long flight of stairs to the top.

"Hey, I paid for it, and if we had a bigger house I would have it moved there," said Soul.

Actually, Lord Death had paid for it and had it moved to his son's house. Soul was pretty good friends with Kid, who apparently had similar tastes in music. The only reason Maka didn't go was because she usually had homework to do.

"So what's on the schedule today?"

"According to rumors there's a witch on the forest bordering the City," said Maka. They only had two souls before they had to get a Witch.

"It's actually a magical cat named Blair. Eating her would just set us back," said Soul.

"How do you know that?" asked Maka looking at him.

"She's run into me twice while I was out running around the city," said Soul.

Which was partially true. He actually stumbled upon her house and the second she caught his scent she went nuts. Once she had calmed down, he asked why she had freaked out and she had told him she was a magical cat who only looked like a witch.

Soul had made a point to warn the others about her to avoid a misunderstanding...those pumpkins hurt!

Kid was reading when he heard the music playing again. He had to admit, for someone who had witch blood in them, Soul had good taste in music.

He did cringe when he heard a discordant note though. Soul swore in Spanish. He knew at least three languages and was working on a fourth out of boredom.

"Why can't I get this thing to work?" he grumbled.

"He still at it?" asked Liz, coming into the room with a soda.

"Yeah. The composition works fine until he gets to that one point, then it just seems to sound awful," said Kid, turning the page.

Kid was mildly interested in sheet music. The symmetry of the notes had appealed to him, especially after he found out that the odd kid that his father had introduced to him had a talent for the piano. He had taken to lessons like a duck to water, and was currently working on something he had from before his days as a student.

Apparently it was an unfinished masterpiece, though Kid invested heavily on earplugs after hearing some of the initial attempts to finish it.

"Why can't I get this to work? I've tried every bloody combination there is, and nothing seems to sit right! It's like I need an extra pair of hands or something..." said Soul from the other room. His head thunked on the closed keyboard.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to call it a day on this composition and try something relaxing. Liz opened the door completely when he started playing Beethoven. It seamlessly switched to a more soft jazz after the first song.

"He's really good," said Patty. It wasn't the first time they had heard Soul play.

"Yeah...I just wish he would let us vacate the house when he tries to complete that symphony," said Kid wincing. That song was good, but when it reached near the end it had the worst symmetry he had ever heard.

Soul tossed and turned. They had gone on another mission to England, and had finished off Jack the Ripper. However his thoughts were more on that unfinished music sheet.

Why couldn't he get it to work? He had tried everything and nothing, nothing seemed to fit! It was like he needed more than one person to play it or something. He had tried doing a double note occasionally, but he wasn't that good at those. And they seemed like they were the closest to fit.

Giving up on sleep, he started practicing his forms. He couldn't practice his magic in the house, not with Maka being such a light sleeper anyway, but his katas he could practice without being too embarrassed or worried.

Once he was done, and had taken a shower, he laid back down, hoping to find some sleep before that test tomorrow.

He woke up in the room again. The one with the creepy little imp thing playing a jazz record that needed to be either replaced or put on a new player. He ignored the piano in the corner.

"Difficulty sleeping again Soul?" chuckled the man. His long white hair covered his eyes as he reached for his tea glass. His companion, the black-haired man with soulless eyes, remained as silent as always. The only time he spoke up was when Soul needed help with his magic.

"I can't get it right. What am I missing?" he asked. It had been the white-haired man's work he was trying to finish. He felt he owed the man that much for saving him from that house.

"You're lacking something. Something both powerful and very precious."

"What?"

"Balance. Acceptance. Symmetry. Take your pick," said the black haired man. His voice was gravelly and tired.

"But I've kept up my lessons on magic and I've trained my weapon form just like you suggested! What else do I need to do?"

"You lack acceptance of both halves of your soul. Perhaps when you unlock the third stage everything will become clear. The problem is that we don't know what is missing," he said.

"We died, trying to fix what went wrong. You are the closest we've come to figuring out the missing piece, but it is your choices which can save us from the fates that we went through. This is our last chance at making things right. There is no more power left in the gems," he said.

Soul was frustrated.

"How can I gain acceptance if I'm afraid that I'll lose control?! All my life, I've been told I was a freak, and now that I have a Meister, what happens if the fires hurt Maka, or worse, kill her because I can't control them properly? What if the third stage doesn't recognize her?"

Soul knew what the third stage of his animal form was. He had known it ever since he unlocked the second stage and found that the two men who had tried to rewrite destiny had somehow gotten stuck inside his subconscious.

How was he supposed to gain acceptance when his final transformation was a Cerberus?! One who could shoot hellfire from it's mouth and had claws that looked like the blade from his scythe?

Soul shook his head. There was no way he was letting that thing lose, not unless the situation absolutely called for it. The last thing he ever wanted was to be rejected by Maka for being a freak.

The white haired man sighed.

"I can see nothing we say will convince you. Perhaps, when you finally realize the stakes you'll let it happen," he said shaking his head.

"To be fair, you never gave her that chance to show whether or not she could accept our true animal form. Or for them to prove whether they could be our pack," said the black haired man.

Soul was right about to ask who he was talking about when his alarm dragged him out. He really needed to quit setting that thing so early.

"Morning Soul. Another sleepless night over that sheet music?" guessed Maka.

"How'd you guess?"

"Shower," she said, sitting down. It was his turn to make breakfast anyway.

Soul grabbed a couple of eggs, some bacon and gave Maka a look.

"You hungry or should I just make toast and call it done?" he asked.

"Toast is fine," she said, grabbing another book. They had a test today and she was determined to outdo that pest.

Soul threw a few things into the pan and made egg-on-toast. Considering he was going on a run once they were finished (they had an hour before class) it was easier to make a hot sandwich and take it with him to snack on.

He made regular scrambled eggs, bacon and toast for Maka, who despite doing well on the usual practice runs wasn't as big a fan of running as he was. Or some of his odd concoctions.

She really didn't like that egg-in-a-basket he had made. Why she didn't like fried egg on toast, he had no idea.

There was a knock on the door.

"Girl Scout Cookies!" called out the kid beyond it.

"We don't want any!" shouted Soul.

"Not even the mint chocolate or the lemonade?"

"Not even... Wait a minute..." said Soul, having put the food on the table. He double checked the calender and nodded to himself.

He opened the door, saw a young girl with the stereotypical outfit, and looked at her cynically.

"Dammit Emily, what have I told you about trying to hit us up for fake girl scout cookies?"

"Always hit the new residents first," she said dutifully.

"And?"

"Make sure that they don't recognize you and wear the outfit."

"And?" said Soul irritably.

"...Always check the calender?"

Soul pointed at the calender on the wall just outside their door. Emily looked at it, then at the dates crossed off.

"Well poo. I forgot that the order forms don't come out until next week."

"So what are you going to do?"

The girl snapped her fingers, turning into a boy scout.

"Popcorn scam?"

"Order forms just came out. I get half your cut remember?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Who was that Soul?" asked Maka.

"Metamorph from three blocks down. She forgot the date again," he said.

Soul and Emily had a long-time agreement. He wouldn't bust her scams in exchange for half her cut, and he would lie about where she lived as well. It wasn't his fault the idiots never checked to see if she was actually a girl scout, though most residents at least had enough sense to remember that they didn't have a branch anywhere near the city, despite hosting a rather impressive trade school.

Maka didn't understand the odd friendship, but as long as Soul paid her tab at the bookstore, she looked the other way. It was less headache inducing.