CHAPTER 1:

BONDING AND ESCAPE

It is a little known fact that two worlds are linked. One was a world where magic of many kinds was commonplace, and where history was all jumbled up like a jigsaw puzzle mashed together by an infant. The other world was where magic of any kind hid itself, and had done so for centuries. They were linked by portals, portals put in place by the incarnation of Death who held sway over these two worlds.

For the former world, where chaos and bizarre things frequently reigned, let us call it the World of Meisters, after the assassins Lord Death trains to hunt down Witches and Sorcerers, as well as the evil men and women of the world who are in danger of turning into demons known as Kishin. And for the latter world, let us call it the World of Exile, for eight centuries ago, a great exodus of Witches and Sorcerers crossed the borders in order to flee Lord Death's forces. And on occasion, others left for the World of Exile, believing strongly that being Witches and Sorcerers would lead to their deaths at the hands, or rather, Weapons, of the Meisters.

Death himself had little issue with Witches and Sorcerers, as long as they didn't succumb to the Pull of Magic, and become destructive. Unfortunately, many of those who didn't exile themselves were amongst those who succumbed to those urges, mostly Witches. And the war between the DWMA and the Witches continued over the centuries.

In addition, for many witches and wizards in the Exile World, Meisters became a sort of boogyman, a nightmarish tale to tell the children to keep their magic from alerting the Muggles, for the Meisters will get them, and their Weapons would eat their souls. But even then, they soon faded into legend.

One of the last sets of exiles left but a mere century before the events of this story began. A branch of the Evans family found that they were developing magical powers, and opted to exile themselves. Lord Death pled for them not to leave, as the Evans were a family of Weapons of prodigious ability, and he knew that they could resist the Pull of Magic. But there had been a rift in the family over this matter, and the only thing they would concede to was allowing Death to gift them with an artifact that, if they wished to return, they could do so.

None of this meant anything to Harry Potter. The Evans family forgot about their heritage as Weapons, sealing away the memories and power. They even forgot about the magic they carried, for a number of their children didn't have magic, but were considered Squibs by the standards of Magical Britain. Until Lily Evans, his mother.

Even then, her Weapon heritage never came forth. The bindings were too strong. But her child, should those bindings ever be undone, had another heritage. One of the families that left the World of Meisters during the initial exodus were the Peverells, a trio of Weapon brothers and once amongst Death's greatest allies. However, they opted to leave for the World of Exile, as suspicion was falling on them from some of the more paranoid Meisters, and Death granted them artifacts of their choosing as they crossed the divide to another world. Their misadventures became corrupted into a fairy tale for wizards.

One of the Peverell brothers became part of the heritage of the Potter family. And when James Potter and Lily Evans married, the potential power within their child was great. But it was still locked away.

Petunia Evans, now Petunia Dursley, considered her nephew a freak. She didn't know how right she was, albeit for all the wrong reasons. Instead, as he grew, she and her family began treating Harry as a servant, no, a slave. No bedroom he was given. Instead, he was forced to sleep in a cupboard underneath the stairs, and told it was a privilege. They poisoned the ears and minds of their neighbours, claiming that he was the delinquent son of layabout parents who had died in a drunken accident, and whom they had taken in out of the goodness of their hearts. Some believed it, others believed that the Dursleys were full of it, but either way, they didn't care about Harry Potter. The real delinquent of the family, Dudley, was allowed to beat his cousin.

They didn't know it, but Harry had an imaginary friend. Had they known, they would have tried to beat it out of him. He had a friend in a little girl he only met in his dreams…

Crona was a Meister. This was what her mother, Medusa Gorgon, had deemed when she was born. Crona didn't know she had a father. The concept of family was alien to her. Her mother had molten down the demon sword Ragnarok, and replaced her very blood with it, along with the Black Blood. Her mother made her dress in androgynous clothing, not deigning to call her by any pronoun. She spoke terms of endearment without any sincerity.

Crona had very little signposts for what was right and wrong. But even she balked at her first kill. Only the repeated imprisonments with only Ragnarok for company had her kill the rabbit she was ordered to. But even in that darkness, there was something else.

An imaginary friend that she told nobody about. Not her mother, not Ragnarok. A boy she had met in her dreams…

The night before everything went weird, Harry (now eight) met Crona in his dreams, only to find the pink-haired girl clutching her knees, curled up in a ball, crying. He went to comfort her, only to be rebuffed. "Crona, what's the matter?" Harry asked.

"Go away! I don't know how to deal with you anymore!"

It took some time for him to get it out of her, and Harry was, understandably, horrified. He wanted to do nothing more than to go to Crona and save her from her mother. He felt so impotent. So angry. Crona, to him, was very real, even if he could only talk to her in his dreams.

Then, he felt something unlock within him. His arm suddenly seemed to extend into a strange, wavy blade. He stared at it, as did Crona.

It was Crona, her pale blue eyes staring at the blade in shock, who answered the question that hadn't yet been asked. "Harry…" she murmured. "You're a Weapon. I…I don't know how to deal with that."

"A Weapon? You mean like Ragnarok?" Harry asked in horror.

"No, no, you're a born Weapon. Like those in the Academy." She looked at him, and said, "You're a Weapon, Harry. I wish I had you instead of Ragnarok. I'm not sure how to deal with him."

Crona didn't know it, but she was going to get her wish very soon…

Petunia Evans had no idea that one of the rings she wore was an artifact forged by the Grim Reaper himself. If she had known this, she would have removed it forthwith. As it was, it was one of the few things she had that her sister didn't. And she had had to steal it from her recently deceased parents' home to ensure that.

It had a small stone of jet set into it, a pitch black stone, shiny, and yet, vaguely sinister, like it was something's eye. Unblinking. Uncaring. She wore it as a constant reminder that Lily couldn't have everything.

Another reminder was the boy she delighted in tormenting. The boy was a freak like his parents, but she was going to make sure his life was a living hell.

Case in point: she dragged him out of his cupboard by the hair, intending to make him cook breakfast. The little bastard had gotten argumentative about his parents the night before. She would make sure that he suffered an 'accidental' burn or two to teach him some manners.

At least, that was the plan.

As she yanked her nephew out by the hair, his hands went instinctively up to her own…and then, she felt pain, and a warm gushing from her hand. The look of horror as she looked at the bleeding stump where her hand used to be was matched on Harry's own. It only increased when the both of them looked at Harry's arm, changed in shape to what looked like a sword with a wavy blade.

Flame-bladed sword, Petunia thought distantly, with the sole part of her mind that was still lucid. The rest of her began screaming in equal parts fear, pain, and anger.

Vernon stormed down the stairs, and then got angry. As was his wont to do. His face turned puce at the sight he beheld. "What the hell did you do, Freak?!"

Harry waved the blade his arm had become in front of him, his eyes wide. Vernon halted his advance. Angry and stupid though he was, he also understood that charging at a child who had a blade for an arm was a terminally bad idea. Petunia, meanwhile, snarled, "This must be one of their freakish powers! Call an ambulance! And the police! He's got to be locked up!"

Vernon nodded, dashing for the phone. Meanwhile, Harry stared at Petunia's hand in horror, the one he had severed. Something about the ring called to him, and he knelt down to touch it. "Don't you dare touch it, Freak!" Petunia shrieked, meaning her hand rather than the ring.

But it was too late. Just as Vernon had finished calling the police and the ambulance, Harry, along with the ring, vanished in a flare of light.

Crona's bedroom was little more than a prison cell. Bed, toilet, sink, and shower. It had basic amenities, but little else. Nothing of sentimental value. Nothing that showed it was anything more than a prison for the girl who lived in it.

She was sitting in bed, dreading the start of the day, wishing that Harry would come and be her Weapon, instead of the bullying Ragnarok. But she knew, even at her young age, that such things were childish hopes.

So when Harry appeared in a strobe of light, Crona, for a moment, couldn't believe it. Neither could Harry, to tell the truth, but only Crona reacted to it by murmuring, "I don't know how to deal with this…"

"Crona?" Harry asked, his green eyes staring from beneath his messy mop of dark hair. "Is that really you?"

"I think so," Crona said, poking and prodding at her own face and body. Then, she grunted in pain as some black mass burst from her back, forming into a vaguely humanoid figure with doll-like button eyes, and cartoonish gloves. "Yes, this isn't a dream. Ragnarok doesn't hurt so much when this is a dream," Crona groaned.

"Hey, Crona, who's the little brat?" Ragnarok demanded. "Ooh, he looks tasty. And he stinks of being a Weapon, too." He began giving the androgynous, pink-haired girl a noogie.

"Hey, you stop that!" Harry snarled. He raised his arm, the one that had changed into a blade. "Stop hurting her!"

"Make me, short stuff!" Ragnarok sneered.

Then, things got considerably worse. The door opened, and an elegant woman, dressed in a black, sleeveless hooded suit, walked in, barefoot. Her blonde hair was cut short, save for a pair of tresses that intertwined in front of her chest. Her golden, ophidian eyes were filled with cruelty and malice, marring what could have been a beautiful, even maternal face. Her arms were adorned with strange tattoos that resembled snakes.

"Oh dear," she said. "Somehow, or other, we have a filthy little intruder. And a Weapon to boot."

Harry ran over to Crona, leaping onto the bed just as a Vector Plate formed under his feet. "Are you Medusa?" he asked, glaring at her.

"Ah, so my reputation precedes me," Medusa Gorgon said, with a nasty smirk on her face. "So you're not from the Academy, then. They have no idea I exist." Her tongue flickered out, like a snake, but briefly. "Hmm. Smells of magic in here. Some of it Death's filthy stench, but there's also the smell of a Sorcerer…" She looked down at the ground, and saw the ring, left behind by Harry. "There it is. That has Death's stench." Dozens of Vector Arrows spat out from her body, and reduced it to dust. She then returned her gaze to Harry. "Hmm, what to do with you? It'll be interesting to see how you react to the Black Blood…assuming you survive it. I'm guessing you're a stray Weapon, but one who has the blood of a Witch or a Sorcerer flowing through your veins."

Harry wanted nothing more than to stop her advance. Something within him gave, and Crona, to her astonishment, saw him change into a flame-bladed sword, the hilt having a fanged skull on it(1).

Crona, afraid for Harry, snatched the Weapon he had become up. She could withstand what her mother did to her…but she didn't want Harry to get hurt. As she touched the Weapon, she felt…good. Harry's soul reaching out to her. It felt right. As if Harry was what she needed as a Weapon, and not Ragnarok. Ragnarok, meanwhile, was still watching these events with some amusement. He had little personal loyalty to either Medusa or Crona. "Stay back! I won't let you hurt him!" Crona shrieked, waving Harry desperately.

"Crona, are you really pointing a sword at your own mother?" Medusa asked, more amused than threatened. Ragnarok was more than capable of killing Medusa, in theory at least, so if Crona was incapable of killing Medusa with Ragnarok, why should she be worried about Crona wielding this intruder? She stepped forward confidently.

In retrospect, it was a mistake. Medusa had all of a second before Crona suddenly lunged forward, the Weapon in her hands bisecting the Witch, whose top half fell to the floor with an extremely surprised look on her face. Crona, for the briefest of moments, froze. Then, some desperate impulse drove her to flee that room.

It took a few more moments before Medusa recovered enough from her own bisection. Oh, she would still need to send out a Snake containing her soul to possess a new body. That was a pain in the arse, to say the least. But she managed to recover from the sheer unthinkable nature of the event that had just happened. True, she had been planning on having Crona kill her eventually, but only once her experiments into the Black Blood were complete, and she was sure Crona had what it took to be a Kishin. It was to be the climax of her experiments.

It looked like such an experiment would have to be put on hold, for the moment. She needed to conserve as much energy as possible for transferring her soul to one of her Snakes, so pursuing her child was out of the question for the time being. Besides, with her injury, she lost control over her Soul Protect, and the agents of the DWMA could be on their way.

"Nake, Snake, Cobra, Cobbra," she hissed, the syllables of her personal chant helping her to focus. Her soul took control over one of her Snakes, before she forced her ruined body to disintegrate utterly. A setback, but one she could deal with for the time being.

She slithered away in the body of her Snake familiar, leading the rest of them away. She knew, though, that once she had recovered, and she could track down her treacherous brood and put Crona back under her control, she would punish her child. And that Weapon that stank of magic.

Meanwhile, two children fled. They didn't run. Instead, one had picked up the other, while she used wings as black as pitch to fly them away. Away from their crime.

Later, they would think of the enormity of what they did. But for now, only flight mattered, escape into an unknown and uninviting world…

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

So, Harry is now not only in the world of Soul Eater, but now he's Crona's Weapon partner, or at least a better one than Ragnarok. And they've just killed Medusa. She'll get better, not that they know that. That will haunt them for a while. They're only eight, which is a pretty bad age to commit, even in desperation, matricide. Even against someone as vile as Medusa, who makes Petunia and Vernon Dursley look like they should win awards by comparison.

I'm blending concepts of the manga and the anime. The Kishin Eggs, for example, will be used in this story, but most of the story will be more based on the manga.

There'll be a time-skip of about five years, until the events of the series take place. The next chapter, in fact, will begin around Black Star's debut chapter/episode. And before you ask, Hogwarts won't play much of a role until later in the fic. Dumbledore doesn't know where the hell Harry ended up.

1. Harry's Weapon transformation is based on the Soul Reaver from the Legacy of Kain games. As you'll learn later on, this is no accident. The reason why I chose that, however, was that I originally intended for Harry to become a Meister, and to a Weapon OC named Durandal (after the sword of Roland). I had this notion that Durandal, in Final Fantasy XII, was a flame-bladed sword, but I was actually thinking of Tournesol, in retrospect. When I decided to have Harry as a Weapon, and have Crona as his Meister, I changed Harry into a flame-bladed Weapon, but decided to base it more on the Soul Reaver.