Did you think that you were infallible?

You died because you let the words of an angry, bitter person get in your head. He knew nothing of the man who took you in, who raised you. So why did his empty words consume you so? You left your brother because of your wounded pride.

Yet the Fates have decided to grant you a new life. You were a good man—brave, kind, loving. You treasured your family more than your own life. What will you make of this new existence? You'll be away from everything you've ever loved. Away from the Grand Line. Away from your crew. Away from your brothers. Yes, the one whom you thought dead is still alive. How does that make you feel, Portgas D. Ace? If you'd swallowed your pride, you would have seen Sabo again.

But that is in the past. The future is waiting for you. Make the best of this gift. A new world is yours to explore, after all. Isn't that what being a pirate is all about? Exploring the unknown, reveling in the moment. It's what you do best, isn't it?

But something dark and sinister lurks in your new world. I hope you can handle it. If not, then all may be lost. Forever

It was raining in Little Whinging. Harry Potter listened gloomily to the patter of droplets on the roof. His cupboard had no windows, and the Dursleys had left him there, "forgetting" to unlock the door before they'd left on some stupid vacation. His stomach growled, and Harry tried desperately to ignore it.

Harry felt something stir within, and the cupboard door opened. Harry gawked at it, sure it had been locked. He took a cautious glance at the hallway. No one was there.

So who opened the door?

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he proceeded to the kitchen. His aunt and uncle had left a large fruit on the table. Harry scowled at it, sure it was some clever trap. His relatives were surely watching, waiting for him to start eating. They'd yank that fruit from his hands and laugh at his anger and disappointment. He was fed on scraps, after all. It was all a freak like himself deserved.

But he felt a pull towards the fruit. It was like the strange fruit was beckoning his soul like somehow he was meant to eat it. And it was the strangest fruit he'd seen. It was round, orange in color. The surface was covered in a pattern of flames. Harry suddenly felt sure that his relatives had had nothing to do with this fruit, for they abhorred anything strange or mysterious. He grabbed it and brought it up to his nose, taking a cautious sniff. It didn't smell like any fruit Harry had seen, and he'd diced his fair share for Aunt Petunia. He took a bite, and very nearly spat it out.

"That's horrid!" Harry gasped between breaths.

Its taste was like sewage. Harry figured that the fruit had gone bad. But it was there and he was hungry, so he forced himself to finish it.

"It's nice to finally meet you!"

Harry recoiled. A man was standing in front of him, grinning widely. He wasn't wearing a shirt, which startled Harry because it was raining and cold. He had a tattoo on his arm, spelling out Ace, but with an "s" crossed out between the "A" and the "C".

The man scratched his head sheepishly. "I'm sorry for startling you, Harry. I've been waiting for you to consume that fruit for a good while now."

Harry blinked. "You mean you're the one who left it?"

The man laughed. "In a manner of speaking. My name is Ace, by the way. My spirit was trapped inside that fruit for a long time. Since you ate it, I'll be staying with you."

Harry felt the color drain from his face. "But my relatives—"

"Won't be able to see me," said Ace. "A perk of being a spirit, I suppose."

Harry nodded slowly. "I'm going crazy," he muttered to himself. "I'm talking to a spirit trapped in a fruit. This is nutters."

Ace grinned. "That's not even the best part."

"Huh?"

"You're made of fire now."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I don't feel any different."

Ace smirked. "Are you sure?"

"What do you—OH BLOODY HELL MY HANDS! WHERE ARE MY HANDS?"

Ace laughed. "Take a deep breath, Harry. Your hands are still there. Concentrate on them."

Harry swallowed, willing his hands to reform. Panic rose like bile in his throat. They weren't reforming. He glanced at Ace nervously. "I can't do it. My hands are gone!"

Ace only smiled. "You best get them back before you burn the house down."

Harry swallowed nervously. "My relatives are going to kill me."

Ace shook his head. "You can do this. Just concentrate on your hands. Remember them as they were."

Harry closed his eyes and tried to focus. It was difficult. His young mind darted from place to place. Harry took a deep, calming breath and the image of his hands sprang forth. He held it in place, his breathing slow and deep.

"Well done!"

Harry opened his eyes. Ace was beaming at him proudly. Harry held his hands out, flexing his fingers experimentally. His hands, which were whole again.

Now how am I going to hide this from my relatives?

Author's Note: I'm back! I'm not going to be going back to any of my older stories. My writing has matured a lot these past few years, and honestly, when I go back through them, I find myself cringing a lot. Anyways, this story will be updating on Thursdays. There's more on AO3 under the same username, and there I will be updating on Mondays.