It seems I can never forget disclaimers...

Ahem: I don't own shite. I don't even own Tashaneri Kadonshi, Jessica Anders made her up for me completely. I just own the plot... Anything else not mentioned goes to JK Rowling. Cry.

Oh and, don't worry, no Ayumi Hamasaki in this one ;) Lucky...

Chapter 02

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," the man continued. "A man who could have been much more than the monster he turned out to be. All thanks to society. You see, society made him into a bitter young boy when he was sent to a terrible orphanage after his mother died giving birth to him. Society labeled him as a freak, and he was constantly beaten and abused at said orphanage. Society still did not help young Riddle when he learned of the magical world at a ripe 11 years of age. Being sorted into Slytherin house automatically made society hate him, for they were a dark house and nothing good would come of them. Society turned its back on Riddle when he pleaded to stay at the castle, and not be sent back to the orphanage."

By now, Tashaneri was deeply riveted by the tale the man told and kept listening raptly.

"In 1945, young Tom graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and embarked on a path of darkness. Having already killed his non magical father out of hate two years previous, he went about the world, learning dark and evil magicks and nearly 10 years later returned, looking like death itself. The dark magick had begun to take its toll on his body, the sheer evil of it warping and twisting his flesh.

He began to gather more power, more darkness as he split his soul into fragments, an in a way making himself immortal. He collected followers, Death Eaters they were called, and began attacking people. You see, he had ceased to become Tom Marvolo Riddle, and with some mad ingenuity, created an anagram that spelled his name out to 'I am Lord Voldemort' And so began Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord's path of terror.

Voldemort believed that blood was the key to power. You see, in the wizarding world, there are three kinds of people. Purebloods, Half-Bloods, and Muggleborns. Purebloods had both magical parents of course, Half-Bloods had one magical and one muggle (or non-magical) parent and Muggleborns come from families with no magic at all!

Now, it was some silly old belief that Purebloods' blood itself was much more powerful, so they frowned down upon any other blood, and even killed because of it. Voldemort, he took advantage of that. He rallied up all the Pureblood wizards, promising them a world of glory and no mixed bloods. Of course, the hypocrite was a half-blood himself, what with the witch mother and muggle father, but who was he to admit it? He was extremely powerful, and at the time, power meant pureblood. He just played on the Pureblooded wizards' beliefs and used them for his own agenda, which was revenge.

Revenge, it could only be called that, for Voldemort held such a grudge against the world, the society that created him that it burned with a raw, seething hatred until he was consumed by it! The years of Dark Arts and evil rituals had distorted his mind, making him mad, and vengeful.

Now, much later in the timeline, here comes 1981, a year to remember," the man said wistfully. "He was born. The Chosen One, the child of Prophecy, Harry James Potter. Born to parents who had thrice defied the Dark Lord, James and Lily Potter, born to be the destined slayer of Voldemort.

A prophecy was made."

By now, Tashaneri's eyes were even wider as she took in the story. The things this man said, the words, and the passion that he spoke them with could mean nothing but the truth. This seemingly fairytale of wizards, and magic, and good and evil had enraptured her, had ensnared her very soul and she wanted more, she wanted to hear all of it.

And hear all of it she would.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…

So you see, this young babe, this newborn hope of the wizarding world was to be the one who would save the world! Spoken through a human seer by the Oracle, either he would succeed or fail…

So that night… On Hallow's Eve of 1981, he came to the Potters' door a knocking…"

Tashaneri covered her mouth with her hand.

"And he killed proud, noble James. And upstairs, into the nursery, he slew beautiful, caring young Lily. And turning his wand on the 15 month old Harry Potter, he spoke the words of the killing magic, Avada Kedavra, and hit the child on the forehead.

But Harry Potter did not die. His mother, had invoked ancient magic, powerful blood magic that protected him with her sacrifice, and the killing curse instead rebounded onto Voldemort, destroying his body, but not his fractured soul.

And so Voldemort was defeated, and Harry Potter was hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived, his conqueror."

The man took his pocket watch out again and flicked it open. "Rats," he muttered. "It appears I'm running low on time and I simply cannot entertain you with stories for much longer. Suffice to say, the boy grew up, he fought Voldemort and instead of winning, like he should have, he died. Which… pretty much throws a monkey wrench into the gears of my galaxy, so to speak. That's where you come in."

"Me?" Tashaneri gulped. What could she possibly do? The stories this man, no, being spoke of… of magic and monsters and heroes and villains… What could she possibly do to help? She would more likely be a hindrance than assistance, she couldn't even do magic!

"No, you can't."

She looked up at the man, who was smiling sadly down at her. "Voldemort became insane by the end of the war, nearly 100 years ago. Somehow, he managed to destroy the magic of the planet, deeming the life on the planet unworthy of such a gift. In doing so, he killed the planet's magic, which gave her children magic to begin with. Everything and everyone that had even a teaspoon of magic in them… died. Phoenix burst into flames, never to be reborn again. Dragons fell out of the sky. Unicorns lost their horns, and shriveled into the earth and wizardkind knew no more."

He strode up to Tashaneri, and gripped her arms tightly as he drew her up. His handsome face looked determinedly at her beautiful oval face.

"Your future has suffered the sins of its past, and now you, and you alone can go back in time to fix it!" he said harshly, yanking her closer. Tashaneri was breathing hard, the beauty on her face marred by her frightened look. "Your soul can be intertwined with the 16 year old soul of Harry James Potter should you choose it, and you can help guide him into the warrior he was meant to be."

He released Tashaneri suddenly, and she stumbled backwards a few steps. Turning away from her, he looked over his shoulder and plainly said, "If you refuse, the backlash of the planet's loss of magic will completely destroy this world and galaxy within twenty years. If you accept… Then you will never see your family, your friends or your loved ones again. If you accept, you will lose your body, your soul will become bound with Harry Potter's and you will be bound to secrecy about the future. Your skills, and your heart will help to save the world, no, the galaxy. My galaxy."

He turned to face Tashaneri and held out his hand. "Tashaneri Kadonshi," he said nobly. "Will you help me?"

Tashaneri looked at his outstretched hand. Never see them again? She thought. Well… if what he says is true, then we'll all die anyways. I… can I leave my life behind? My mother… I will miss her so much… But… But I must do this, not just for me but for everyone on the whole world! … I guess.

Tashaneri Kadonshi, descendant of the legendary swordsman Yagyu Jubei (or Jubei Yagyu if you want first name / last name) and quite ironically, the galaxy's last hope, reached out her hand.

"Who are you?" she finally asked.

The man smiled at her as their hands met, emitting a warm feeling in Tashaneri's soft hand as she began to fade out of existence.

"Fate. But you can call me Lucky."