Wow. I should...probably stop doing these Borderlands crossover fics. I'm burning myself out on them. For those of you paying attention to the last two, Fuse and TNT is nearing being published as a full story. I just want to complete the tenth chapter first, and it's a doozy. As for Wizard's Angel (and the title may change if it gets published), that's five chapters in, and I'm not wholly sure whether it has legs. It has more legs than my previous Harry/Angel story attempts, though, so fingers crossed.

However, this story idea wouldn't let me go. And hopefully, it'll go somewhere...or at least it'll be the last Borderlands crossover I do...with the Potterverse at least. I know I reuse the old soul bond cliche that I did for my Berserk crossover Ubi Amor, Ibi Dolor, amongst other things, but it felt right. So too did the title: I like to try and use relatively exotic titles where I can, and Kismet seemed fitting, given Maya's more mystic inclinations.

I actually resisted doing a crossover with the second game, partly because I was worried it would be an also-ran of my first Borderlands work, my OC-centric fic Hooked on a Feeling, written at a time when I didn't realise that crossover characters, with some work, make excellent substitutes for OCs. I will be taking a few concepts from that story, but Angel won't be part of the pairing, and we'll have a more holistic look at Borderlands lore. Plus, as this story isn't written from the first person, we can have more viewpoints, mostly on Maya and Harry, but some with the other Vault Hunters, Jack, Angel, etcetera.

Hope you enjoy!


KISMET

CHAPTER 1:

WHEN HARRY MET MAYA

"So, you wanna hear a story, huh?"

The blue-haired teenager wearing the hooded coat wrinkled her nose at him. "…Please don't copy Marcus again. I mean, I want to hear a story, but…I'm not sure I like him."

"…Fair enough. It's probably wise not to trust him, Ava," said the dark-haired man with emerald eyes. "He's a gun-runner who'd happily supply to either side of a war as long as the cheques didn't bounce."

"Cheques?"

"Oh, right. Before your time. Way before your time. Anyway, weren't you supposed to be doing meditation exercises or something?"

"Pfft, they're boring. There's only so much I can stare at a river to supposedly centre myself before I want to chuck a grenade into it."

"…Yeah, sorry. She and I have very different ways of relaxing. I think we only have a few in common. Reading, shooting evil people in the face, and, uhhh, I'll get back to you on that."

"I'm fourteen, I'm old enough to know what sex is, okay? It's just…" The teenager's face fell. "…I know you two were Vault Hunters. I just thought…well, your lives would be more exciting."

"Ava…when you've had a life like mine, you'll wish for days like this. Don't get me wrong, I like excitement and adventure, but…you fight for peace, you don't trade peace for a fight. Then again, it's not like I can talk. I told you about my childhood, about what I did in the past. I…hungered for adventure. But…well, you know the saying, 'Be careful what you wish for'. An old friend, she told me I wouldn't be satisfied without Voldemort to chase after. To tell the truth, she was right, but it took me years after Voldemort's death to realise it. I realised…I needed adventure. Yes, I needed peace, but not what Magical Britain had to offer me. I wanted to make a difference…and I wanted an answer to the strange dreams I had. Another old friend offered me that answer. She gave me hope I could find someone dear to me. As it was…I did find someone dear to me. Just not the one I expected. Then again, it's…oh, what's the word Maya used?"

"Kismet?" Ava asked.

"Yes, kismet."

"Okay, what does that mean?"

"It means destiny, fate," Harry Potter said. "I hate those things normally. They were used to screw my life around. But…I guess kismet worked for me when it came to Maya. So…I'll tell you the story, Ava, of how we met. It's past time, really. It was nearly seven years ago now. It's a tale of greed, death, and violence…but it's a tale of redemption, heroism, and even love. You know some of the story, but not all of it. So, here it is…"


Harry Potter grimaced as he wandered the streets of the settlement, following the flow of the crowd. Once he got the hooded jacket, he pretty much fit right in, wherever this place was. He had his suspicions, though, given the high technology that seemed to be in certain places. Holograms, strange devices, all stuff seemingly straight from the pages of science fiction. Some of the architecture looked vaguely Asiatic, but other parts could have been in a monastery. It was an intriguing mix of the old and the new, and if it weren't for his current plight, he'd appreciate it a hell of a lot more.

HARRY POTTER

AS

THE WIZARD

The Boy Who Lived, Now The Man Who Kicks Arse.

Once more, he cursed Luna in his head for getting him to agree to this insane expedition, insane even by her standards. She'd gotten his hopes up about finding Padfoot, and while he was glad the Veil didn't lead to the realm of the dead, getting separated from Luna and Hermione hurt. Leaving Magical Britain behind hurt considerably less, save for the other friends he had left behind.

True, his relationship with some of the Weasleys had been strained for a couple of years when he refused Ginny's advances (after she had all but dumped him prior to what could have been Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts), but they'd patched things up. But he realised that Molly, despite her good intentions, was a little too desperate to make Harry (and Hermione for that matter: her relationship with Ron fell apart, though they parted reasonably amicably) part of her family. And as much as Harry desired a family, he wanted a family of choice. Molly was a good person, but too overbearing, and Harry wanted to settle down first before he considered marriage.

That, and there was the lingering doubt about the girl, well, woman now he kept seeing in his dreams from a young age, even before Hogwarts. A girl with blue hair, and pale silvery eyes. A girl with tattoo-like markings on her body. An imaginary friend who comforted him at a time when he didn't have friends.

Anyway, it was Hermione who suggested he join the Department of Mysteries. As much as Harry craved adventure, something to fight for, being stuck in the bureaucratic mire of the Ministry and the DMLE didn't appeal to him. Ron seemed fine, and he was fast growing to be a damned good Auror, his sloth mostly left by the wayside, but for Harry…he'd had enough of chasing dark wizards. Investigating things out of curiosity did appeal to him.

And to tell the truth, he didn't know what else he could do to help Magical Britain. It was mired in nepotism and snobbery, deeply entrenched. Voldemort and his followers were but part of a problem that couldn't be solved without making so many changes, bloodshed would inevitably follow. Not that he wouldn't have, if push came to shove, but really, was there any point? He wasn't even allowed to see his own godson, thanks to Andromeda Tonks blaming him for the deaths of her husband, daughter, and son-in-law.

And now, here he was, twenty-six years old, and, given what he had taken from the memories of the idiot who had accosted him, he was stranded a thousand years into the future, the Veil dumping him on a world called Athenas. Said idiot was a newcomer, true, hired muscle used by the rulers of this world to keep people in line. The Order of the Impending Storm, a supposedly monastic order who ruled this world. However, the ones on this continent were a particularly corrupt bunch, extoring overly large tithes from both the populace and pilgrims. Rumour had it that they used a 'witch' to keep the populace in line.

Harry would have dismissed this as fancy or exaggeration…except he knew the name of the Order before. From the girl of his dreams. The Order that raised her.

As he moved with the crowd, he heard someone say, "They're bringing her out today. The Order's pet witch. Apparently they've decided to have her do their dirty work."

Another hissed, "Shh! Keep your voice down, idiot. If someone heard you, you're next!"

"What can they do to me? Most people on this world have a strict vow of non-violence!"

"Doesn't stop the Order from being a bunch of standover merchants, and they have their witch. Now shut up! Let's just watch the execution, and then let's go drink some of their Holy Spirits afterwards, try and blot it out."

Harry kept silent upon hearing that. He hoped it wasn't true. He could feel the old 'saving people thing' flaring up, that hunger that had abated. Here, there was evil that could be fought. And he hoped that she was not part of it.

They came to a square where a bunch of people with sacks over their heads and their hands tied behind their back were present, along with guards in the hooded coats that seemed ubiquitous on this world. Leading the guards was one of the monks of the Order. He looked very much ill at ease here, and Harry knew that he didn't want to get involved with what was going to be an execution.

However, there was a fanfare from a nearby speaker, and a pair of figures emerged from a door. One vaguely resembled Fudge, if Fudge actually had a spine, was in his late forties, and had a vaguely kindly, paternal air. Harry wasn't buying it one bit. The other was…her.

Tall, slender, her body clad in a figure-hugging outfit, over which she wore the hooded coat common to this world. Her blue hair was cut short, framing an utterly beautiful face with high cheekbones. Her lips were blue, like her hair, and her eyes were pale and silvery. And then, there were the tattoo-like markings on her arm.

He mouthed her name to himself, astonished to find she was real, that she was here. But the disturbing nature of the situation and his uncertainty meant he was holding back, just in case, to assess the situation. He'd rush in like a Gryffindor when he knew he had things right.

The older man looked to the gathered crowds. "People of Athenas! I, Elder Brother Stephen Sophis, have brought you here. It is a regrettable fact of life that, even on a world such as this, there is evil that must be punished, a worm in the bud that must be purged. However, your saviour is here, and she will administer due punishment on the wicked apostates who corrupt our way of life!"

BROTHER STEPHEN SOPHIS

Diocesan Douchebag.

Someone next to Harry scoffed quietly, but said nothing. The woman of his dreams looked bemused, even disturbed, but said nothing. At least not until Sophis stepped forward and tore a sack from one of the man's heads. His eyes widened when he saw the woman, and began screaming in fear. "NO! NOT HER!"

The woman seemed taken aback, and began talking to Sophis quietly. Whatever she spoke, he answered somewhat more audibly. "Today is the day your training is put to use, child. These men are terrorists and criminals, and to put paid to them is what we trained you for."

"To kill unarmed men?" she asked, her husky voice now audible, as was the disgust in her tone. Harry was relieved to hear that. "And I told you not to call me child."

"This is not the time to question me, child! These men are a danger. Brother Harker, bring the first apostate forward."

The monk who seemed like he wanted to be anywhere but here nodded reluctantly, and brought the first man forward, and then onto his knees. "I promise, I will pay! I was just late with the tithe because the Ratch infestation devoured…!" the man babbled desperately.

"DO NOT LISTEN TO HIM, CHILD! EXECUTE HIM!" Sophis snapped.

The woman grimaced. But even as she prepared to act against Sophis, Harry was quicker. He fired off an Incarcerous, and ropes wrapped themselves around Sophis. With a startled, indignant squawk, he toppled to the ground. Harry made his way down to the square from the balcony he was viewing this scene from, the guards stationed around the place too startled to act. He kept his hood down because, well, he was a self-admitted overly dramatic little shit who wanted the big reveal to be startling…for the woman.

"You really are a nasty piece of work, aren't you?" Harry said, almost conversationally, his casual tone hiding the sheer rage he felt. "You remind me of someone, you know. Like you, he kept a child in the dark, shaping them up to be a messianic figure, though what he really wanted was a weapon to wield, to point at his enemies. The difference between you and Dumbledore, though, was that Dumbledore at least had good intentions. He was just a manipulative idiot who thought the best of too many people. Dumbledore didn't want to be king of an entire world."

"You…apostate! What are you doing, child?! Seize him!"

The blue-haired woman snarled, and made a gesture, her tattoos glowing. Harry nearly recoiled from an attack, only to find that Sophis was the one being attacked, enveloped in an orb of violet and purple energy. "You bastard…" she snarled quietly, unholstering a gun Harry realised she had hidden by her coat the whole time.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! PUT ME DOWN, CHILD! PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!" Sophis screamed in fury.

"I told you, do not call me child!" the woman snapped back, before she calmed herself a little. "Twenty-seven years. For each and every one of my twenty-seven years of life, you told me I was being trained to fight evildoers and terrorists. I wondered why the people looked up to me not just with awe, but fear. You've been using me to extort them, haven't you?"

Sophis blustered. "You do not understand, it's a dangerous cosmos for Sirens, and there are many people who wish to exploit you for evil ends!"

"Yes, there are," the woman said dryly, anger still dancing in her eyes. "I'm looking at one. You didn't want me to protect the planet, just keep it under your thumb so you could milk these poor people of everything they could! Nobody would defy the Order of the Impending Storm if they had to face the wrath of a Siren!"

"You know nothing, you stupid child! Now release me at once, or…"

Harry noticed the woman about to shoot him, and gently placed a hand over her own. "Just a moment. Not that I object to you shooting him, but I think there's something I want to do first."

The woman looked at him, really looked at him, before gently tugging back the hood of his robe. Her eyes widened. "…You…Harry?"

"Hi. I think we'll save the introductions for later. That…Phaselock, didn't you call it? How long will it last?"

"A little while longer. Why?"

"A few seconds are all I need."

"Who are you, apostate, to be so familiar with her?!" Sophis demanded. "I have never seen you before!"

"No…but let me tell you something, Sophis…I'm the last thing you'll see alive," Harry said, before raising his wand and pointing it at the trapped monk. "Legilimens."

He wasn't gentle. He tore through Sophis' mind with all the subtlety of a dragon in a china shop. Whatever information he found, he took, if it was useful. The fantasies revolving around the woman, he tried to avoid, especially when they were of her being younger. To his relief, Sophis may have had most of the Order under his thumb, but most of them didn't like this extortion plan. They were just sheep who were cowed into submission by the faction Sophis was part of. Cowards, but they weren't malicious. They just stood by and let Sophis and his allies have their way, fearing the wrath of a Siren.

But when he was done, Sophis was soon dropped from the Phaselock orb to sprawl on the ground twitching, his expression vacant, a darkening patch on his robes and an accompanying smell showing that he lost control over his bodily functions. His mind was in tatters, a stalactite of drool oozing from his slack mouth. He was alive, but in a state where death would be enviable if he had any awareness of his plight.

The woman sniffed the air. "Ugh…okay, that's disgusting." She looked at the gathered crowd and the would-be execution victims. "…Everyone, get out of here! You don't have anything to fear from the Order anymore! I intend to leave, and if I come back, it won't be as the tool of your oppression!"

Most of the crowd melted away, while some of the monks actually decided to go free the prisoners. The senior monk who seemed to hate what was going on, Harker, given what Harry had seen in Sophis' memories, approached. "Umm…where would you go?"

"…I don't know yet. But I think Pandora will be high up on the list. I need answers. I'm not leaving just yet, though." Her silvery eyes met Harry's own. "I have a lot of questions for someone…and some catching up. Hello, Harry."

Harry smiled, even as he beheld the girl, no, the woman of his dreams. Despite his shitty situation, it seemed something had gone right. "Hello…Maya."

MAYA

AS

THE PHASELOCK SIREN

Loves Reading, Meditation, and Killing Pricks.

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

So, there you have it. A bit of a clichéd beginning, but hey. You'll recognise the rough gist of what happened from the ECHO recordings about Maya's past from the second game at the Exploitation Preserve.

No numbered annotations this time.