I own nothing relating to any series, including Harry Potter, DC and any other series I might mention.

Horseman of Trigon

Chapter 1

Harry James Potter was alone and afraid. But, more than that, he was sad.

And it would've mattered more, had Harry not just been bitten by a fifty foot basilisk while he stabbed the gigantic snake in the roof of its mouth with a thousand year old sword. He winced but didn't cry out as the fang sank into his arm, the potent venom spreading throughout his body quickly.

He pulled his arm out of the mouth, hearing a harsh snap and just hoping it wasn't his arm making that noise. He was already in so much pain that he didn't know if a broken bone would just make it worse or not.

He turned and was able to take two steps before stumbling and falling to the ground. He was in so much pain that all he noticed from the fall was the fact that he was no longer standing. It felt like his blood had been turned into pure fire, and it didn't take a genius to figure out how bad that was.

As much as he wanted to be, he wasn't done. He couldn't be done, he wasn't allowed to be. Harry was the hero, as much as he hated it, and it was his duty to help.

Contrary to popular belief, Harry wasn't stupid. He was far from stupid, he just knew people would get upset at him if he did well. The Dursleys, for example, Ron for another one. And, from the few times he had met and talked to Dumbledore, he knew the elder wizard would be upset with him if he did well in his classes, almost eager to see him do horribly.

Again, Harry wasn't stupid. He knew Dumbledore wanted him stupid so he could come do stuff like fight a possessed diary controlling a gigantic snake or like in the previous year where he fought a possessed teacher for an item that would help revive Voldemort.

Okay, he was a little stupid for doing those things without hesitation, but he mostly did them because he rather not have himself or his friend being killed. Or his friend's sister, in this case.

Harry felt his head throb and his heart race as he dragged himself across the ground, barely feeling the cold, wet floor over the pain in his body. He idly noted a very large tooth in his arm, which would explain the lack of feeling in his fingers on that arm.

He could hear the taunting of the spirit, how giddy the shade of Voldemort seemed to be now that he was dying. He ignored it, moving towards the diary.

Hermione hadn't been the only one to figure out it was a basilisk, he had even figured it out before her. The clues were all around him, like the fact he heard a voice before the attacks, a voice only he could hear and he was the only confirmed parseltongue since Voldemort. And it had been Slytherin's monster.

The only reason he hadn't done anything about the basilisk already was because he was twelve and it was a basilisk. It was one of the few borderline Six-X rated dangerous creatures. And, again, he was TWELVE.

It didn't help that the only teacher that seemed to care about their students was Professor Sprout. Harry guessed it had something to do with the fact she was a mother, unlike the other professors. She actually cared about students because she knew what it was like to raise them.

And, unfortunately, Professor McGonagall had been right. Gryffindor house had been exactly like his relatives; abusive, angry and hateful. The only person that had let him be himself was Hermione, who had also been the reason he had spent most of his free time looking for a way to find the basilisk. When he wasn't, he was sitting next to the petrified form of Hermione and just giving her company. Mostly reading to her from a book he got from the library or trying to keep her updated on what they were doing in classes.

Harry blinked his tears away. He was really going to die. He was still surprised he hadn't died while fighting the giant fucking snake, barely able to blind it with a lucky piercing charm to its eyes. The only thing that could save him were phoenix tears and the only one he knew about hated him.

He stopped crawling when he got to the book. His life sucked. The only person that would be sad that he died would be Hermione and, as much as he didn't want to make Hermione sad, Harry didn't want to keep going. He didn't want to be Dumbledore's puppet or the Dursleys' slave. He didn't want to be the hero, he didn't want to be the idol, he just wanted to be himself. And he couldn't even do that around the people that called him friend. Again, except Hermione.

As a final act of resistance against the dark lord that sought to kill him no less than three times now, he pulled the basilisk fang out of his arm - the fresh, searing pain brought on a whimper and more tears from him - and stabbed down into the cover of the book. He faintly heard the sound of screeching and he only hoped that the venom in the fang would be enough to destroy the bonds that held the spirit to the book.

Harry closed his eyes as he held the fang down, just wishing he was somewhere safe, where he wouldn't be shunned for being himself.

~Z~

Harry woke up, the ache in his body gone. He opened his eyes and immediately blinked at the sight before him. Rather than the damp and moldy dungeon or even the hospital wing of Hogwarts - he always ended up there, no matter how badly he was hurt - he was in an unending expanse of white.

He took one short look around before a voice sounded out behind him, "Harry?" It was shaky and hesitant, but incredibly familiar.

He turned around so quickly that he was surprised he didn't slip and fall. He felt his heart hammering in his chest as he looked at his mother, of all people. He couldn't stop himself, rushing forward to hug her. He didn't know how long she held him, he just knew that they cried together for as long as it took him to calm down.

"Mom…" he said softly, enjoying the feelings of her fingers running through his hair. Despite his crying, he had never felt better in his life. He was with someone he knew loved him, who gave up her life trying to protect him. Heaven or Hell, he didn't care as long as he was with her, "I think this is the happiest I've ever been."

"I know… Harry, I'm so sorry." He could hear how heartbroken she was and, for the first time, Harry realized they were sitting. "I'm sorry I left you. I tried to protect you, James tried to protect you."

Harry perked up at that, looking around, "Right, dad. Where is he? Why isn't he here too?"

She hesitated. She wasn't going to tell him? Why did secrets matter now, when they were both dead? "James… isn't allowed to come. He's not your father."

"He did a blood adoption!" She added on quickly. "Legally, in the magical world, he's your dad, but it doesn't count here."

Harry felt his heart hammer in his chest again, "But… if he's not my dad, who is?"

She hesitated again and she looked like he felt. Like a deer caught in the headlights. "I was… a curious girl, Harry. Not so much about people, but about magic. I wanted to know how far I could push it, what I could do with it. I just didn't know when to stop. I… summoned something. He was so charming and sweet. It was my mistake, thinking what I had summoned was something decent."

"He revealed his nature on our final night together, the night you were conceived. I can't tell you his name, he could find us here, take you away and… corrupt you." She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "I've only ever wanted you to be yourself, Harry."

"I'm sorry mom." Finding out his dad wasn't his dad was… confusing. He didn't know if he should feel the same about him or not. "I'm sorry I wasn't better." He was kind-of shoving the whole his dad was a summoned being to the side.

"No, no, Harry. I'm not upset with you." She said quickly, her tone comforting. "You can be better, you can be worse, you can be kind or you can be cruel. I don't care what you are, as long as you are who you are. That's what I wanted to tell you before you went back."

That confused him, "Went back? What do you mean? I'm dead. I died! My body was falling apart because a gigantic basilisk bit me! How can I go back?"

"You died, yes, but not at the cost of your soul." That just confused him more. "It's like the diary. A tiny sliver of Voldemort's soul was attached to you, like it was to the book. That sliver was… payment, I suppose would be the right word. Death will be letting you go back and, if you find… more shards, not specifically Voldemorts, they'll grant you… favors. As for the basilisk venom… your body is adapting to it. Just don't donate any blood."

Harry clenched his hands tight in his lap, "Can't I stay here, with you?"

She was silent for a long moment and, when she next spoke, she sounded incredibly sad, "You can, if you really want to. But I know two reasons you won't. Hermione is one. The fact you have a sister is another."

Harry leaned back, stunned. Those were two very compelling reasons. In the short time he had been here, he had been too distracted by his mother to think about his life. The sister was compelling, especially if she couldn't have been related to him through his mom. He had enough of that side of the family.

Hermione was more compelling. The only person who believed and supported him unconditionally. That was alive, at least. He was dead, dying or somewhere in between. He was the only real friend she had and she was the only real friend he had. He couldn't leave her like that.

He asked a question he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to,"When do I go back?"

She smiled widely, making him feel better than before, "Whenever you want. Time doesn't entirely flow here. No matter how long you're here, you'll be going back a week after the incident in the chamber."

He smiled back and settled in next to her. It was time to get to know her, really, truly know her like he had wanted for years.

~Z~

Harry took a sharp inhale of breath as he kind-of, sort-of was revived. He sat up quickly and thumped his head hard on a panel of wood. He really hoped he wasn't buried. While his mother taught him a number of spells, he wasn't able to use them in Limbo, so he had no idea how to properly apparate besides the theory.

He reached up and pushed on the lid, thankful that it swung open with ease. Not that it did much to help the darkness, the hours before dawn on the seventh day after his death being when he decided to come back. Not that he had too much choice in the matter, the basilisk venom would've been too painful to withstand otherwise. And he had to wait for the last traces of the plethora of spells he was under to fade, freeing him from the limitations he was forced under and allowing him freedom of movement through the world.

As it turned out, Dumbledore was a bigger bastard than he originally thought. Though, at least he understood why Fawkes hated him now, Harry practically reeked of demon.

He smiled as he spotted his favorite snowy owl on a perch. Hedwig flew over to him, screeching loudly as she landed on his shoulder and pushed her head against his. "Yes, yes," he said as he pet her, "I missed you too."

He didn't at all care when she started to peck and bite him, sitting back and letting her.

"Hedwig," he said after a moment, "As much as I love how much you care for me, can I get out of the coffin?" After she flew off his shoulder, giving his ear another bite before she left, he climbed out of the uncomfortable coffin. He didn't know if that was because that was how they were made or if it was Dumbledore being cheap.

His joints felt stiff and he was a little unsteady. Considering he hadn't moved in a week, he understood why he felt like that.

He took a few minutes to stretch, massaging his limbs and neck to remove some of the ache he felt before he made his way over to Hedwig. He reached for his lovable owl, letting her nip and nuzzle at his fingers.

"Hedwig," He said softly. "I need you to go to Hermione. Stay with her for a little while. I'll come get you when I can."

She barked at him, giving his fingers another affectionate bite before she took off. He knew she would without complaint, he basically had to force her over the last summer so she didn't starve or lose the ability to fly from not using her wings.

He watched her fly until she was out of sight before he started his journey. It was going to be a long trip.

~Z~

His morning started with Gringotts. Thankfully, James, who he still considered his father, performed both a blood adoption and a regular adoption, so he was still Harry Potter and eligible to claim everything that came with the Potter name.

The goblins were quite helpful. They stopped Dumbledore from claiming his vault over the past week by telling him there was still a living Potter eligible to claim everything. They neglected to tell him that it was Harry. They also set him up a bank account in their muggle business and made him a portkey to New York. He would have to make his way to San Francisco on his own, to a place called Titan Tower, but they had already helped him a lot so he didn't want to ask for more.

The goblins managed inheritances and lifestones, their ability to track blood and bloodlines to ensure goblin debts were paid, their nearly impenetrable vaults and their surprising sense of honor being the best thing to find any members of a family. Including family tapestries.

Lifestones were roughly palm-sized cubic stones loaded with runic arrays and bound to the soul of a witch or wizard. They glowed and, the brighter the light, the more healthy the person it was bound to. When the person died, the stone shattered.

The one bound to Harry had dimmed but hadn't broken. While declared dead by the Ministry, the goblins didn't agree and kept silent. Which Harry was immensely thankful for. The goblins were curious as to how he survived being bitten by a basilisk and if the rumors about its size were true and he felt like he owed them that much for their assistance.

He still didn't know the name of his biological father but apparently that was a good sign if he was a demon. The goblins were impressed and a little horrified that his mother had been able to summon a demon powerful enough that just his name could get his attention and even more impressed that she had been able to carry their child, him, to term without consequences. They had been equally impressed when they found out his dad, James, had been willing to do a blood adoption on him, basically smothering his demonic heritage.

With everything taken care of, the goblins gave him his portkey and he was off in New York.

~Z~

Seven Days Later

New Mexico

One of the changes that had happened over the course of the week he had been dead were some minor physical changes. His facial features had gotten sharper, a little more angled and maybe a tad rougher. It was hard to tell without a side-by-side photo, but he was pretty sure his jaw hadn't been as wide as it was.

His hair had straightened out entirely, no longer the wild mess it used to be, and now fell to his mid-back. He kept it in a loose ponytail since he didn't have a way to cut it. His skin became paler, almost chalk-colored and he was definitely skinnier looking, even if he had put on more weight over the past week and a half than he ever had during his two years at Hogwarts. He looked gaunt but not bad, in his own opinion.

There had been some magical changes as well, such as the fact that his wand no longer responded to him, not even allowing him to cast basic spells. And the fact he no longer needed it to cast anything.

And then there were the shadows.

It had been sunset a couple days prior and, after reading through a few muggle texts and getting caught up on all of the schooling he had missed - he played his intelligence down for Ron, who he was no longer going to be friends with even before his 'death'. Even then, he wasn't Hermione in regards to education and knowledge - he had found himself incredibly bored.

They were stopped for a rest in the middle of Kansas, allowing people to stretch and go about their business and Harry was just waiting for everyone to finish before he boarded the bus. Being bored, he let his imagination run rampant, first looking at the clouds and comparing them to other things before his attention turned to the shadows.

He imagined a hand emerging from the shadow and, to his surprise, it did. It was like a limb of pure darkness clawed its way out from the ground and emerged. His shock made him lose focus and the arm disappeared as if it were never there.

He tested it again and again over the next few days and discovered that he could make the shadows do just about anything. From changing their shape to pulling actual shadows out of the ground in the shape of objects or creatures. The only thing he couldn't get them to do was live. He had even been able to make them stay around without focusing on them.

It wasn't just shadows he had control over, he could cool down things too, so long as it was around darkness. Or inside a can.

Cooling things down came very much in handy during the bus ride. The States were hot, especially in the 'mid-south', so he often used his ability to keep the inside of the bus at a decent temperature, something the other passengers seemed to appreciate as much as he did.