When I first made the announcement I was considering a Tokyo Ghoul fic in my Elfen Lied crossover Children of the Revolution, at least two people suggested that I do a Harry/Eto pairing. I was kind of vaguely aware of who Eto was, despite not having gone that far in the manga, but after working on Raptor of the 20th Ward (which is still being worked on, alongside Prodigal Daughter), I decided to see whether I could do such a thing, doing some quick research using the wiki of Tokyo Ghoul, along with watching clips on Youtube, and discussions with Arawn D Draven. I decided that I could possibly do the story, with Eto being raised by a Potterverse character, so that any OOCness could be attributed to a different upbringing. She's still somewhat psychotic, but she also has a moral compass.

My initial thought was to have Remus Lupin raise her, but I didn't think it quite fit with what I wanted to do with Eto. Instead, I decided on an unusual, but I think workable choice: Ollivander. I could work in that Eto was actually his great-granddaughter, she'd be familiar with Magical Britain without going to Hogwarts (her mother was a Squib in this story), and there's quite a few opportunities for her to get to know Harry, especially while he's staying in the Leaky Cauldron prior to Third Year.

Also, for this story, as often happens in Potterverse crossovers with Tokyo Ghoul, Harry is a One-Eyed Ghoul...though he's actually a quarter-Ghoul, as you'll see if the story continues. Yeah, it's a cliche making him a Ghoul, One-Eyed or not. I'm hoping it works...

EDIT (November 15, 2018): After some considerable thought, I decided to go back and start, more or less, from scratch on this story.

OWLS OF ATHENA (ORIGINAL)

CHAPTER 1:

AWAKENING

"You are sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Thanks to V, I've had to kill her mother. I can't raise her myself, and the alternative, bringing her to an acquaintance of mine in the 24th Ward, isn't much better."

"You know, I am sorely tempted to kill you for what you did to my granddaughter, or subject you to the Cruciatus. But there are worse things than death. I can see the remorse eating you up inside. It will surely do so for the rest of your days."

"Yes. It will. Still…give my daughter her mother's journal when she's old enough to understand."

"I will. And she will continue to have the name her mother gave her."

"Yes…it's a good name, isn't it? Eto…"

"So, whaddya here for, girl? You look too young t'drink."

The teenaged girl with the messy green hair and similarly green eyes never quite lost her serene, dopey smile, though something behind her eyes hardened. She looked to be of Japanese extraction, despite her very unusual hair colour. "I'm drinking coffee, in case you didn't notice. And I'm actually doing research work for a book. I'm an author. Sen Takatsuki."

"You're too young t'be an author," the drunk man with a prominent gut retorted.

"Actually, I've heard of her," the bartender called over. "Are you the one who wrote Dear Kafka?"

"Yes," the girl said, smiling at the bartender. "I'm doing research for my next book, and I heard about the mystery about the Riddle House. Little Hangleton's not the only place I've been to. I went to Aldbourne in Wiltshire a fortnight ago. Blame that old Doctor Who episode(1)."

The drunk scoffed. "Don't go diggin' up what should be buried. Ol' Frank Bryce was the one who killed those people, even if th'police couldn' prove it. Just as well the old sod disappeared last year. Probably did the world a favour and offed himself."

"That's not very nice," Sen Takatsuki observed.

"It's the truth," the bartender said. "Old Frank wasn't the same since he came back from the war. Besides, nobody broke in, he was the only person with a spare key."

Sen Takatsuki spent the next little while listening to the various opinions (of varying shades on the inebriation spectrum) of the people in The Hanged Man pub. Eventually, the girl said, "Well, that was interesting. Still, I need to get going."

"D'you want me to walk you to yer car, girl?" the drunk man with the gut asked, with a rather unpleasant leer.

"No. I'm still on my Learner's Permit. And if you persist, I will gut you like a fish," Sen Takatsuki said, still with her somewhat serene smile. With that parting shot, she strutted out of the pub.

She was kind of hoping for the fat drunk to try something, if only because something about him rubbed her the wrong way. Then again, gutting him, while appealing, would only draw unnecessary and undue attention to her. Not that she wasn't going to do so already, given what she suspected would happen tonight, but there was stuff that was necessary.

She walked around the village, carefully aware of whether anyone was watching. Her nostrils flared as she smelled the air, before her smile widened. Not far from here was the cottage of the late and, as far as the other inhabitants of Little Hangleton were concerned, unlamented Frank Bryce.

She suspected she knew who was really the responsible party for the murders of the Riddle Household. And it wasn't Frank Bryce. He was just the patsy the walking larders had latched on. No, she suspected magic was involved, especially as she knew, thanks to Gramps, that a certain Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior was actually the infamous warlock Voldemort.

She went into the cottage, and then opened up a Mokeskin pouch she kept in her clothes. Placing it on the ground, she then began stripping off her clothes. Once that was done, she stood there, for a moment, naked, before reaching into the pouch, and pulling out what looked like a few rolls of bandages. She brushed her hand over a symbol on the ends of the rolls, and the bandages came to life, wriggling and writhing through the air like snakes, like worms, wrapping themselves around her body, until the girl who had called herself Sen Takatsuki resembled a mummy from a Hammer Horror film, only her eyes and mouth exposed. A maroon dress went over that, one with a hood, and a floral scarf.

"Hmm, I'll have to thank Gramps again for enchanting those bandages. It saves so much time. A pity I am a Squib like my mother…" Suddenly, from her discarded clothes, there was a tinny piece of music: Ready to Die by Andrew WK(2). Clicking her tongue in irritation, she picked it out and answered it. "Hello?"

"…It's me. He's disappeared from the maze at the end of the Third Task, and with a passenger: Diggory."

She sighed quietly. "He's dead. The moment they spot an extra, they'll kill him. I'll be heading to the graveyard. If I'm lucky, they'll all be there."

"Will Harry still be alive?"

"Hopefully. Voldemort would love to gloat. He's like a Bond villain. I'll have to swoop in and rescue him. And I intend to bring him into the Owls of Athena."

"…Is that wise? You know what most people think of your kind, to say nothing about the Unspeakables, to say nothing of those who associate or assist you…"

"He needs more. His life is on the line here, and it's about time. I'll go and help him. See ya." And with that, the girl hung up. "…Ah, Harry. You do get yourself into trouble, don't you? The Philosopher's Stone, the Basilisk, the Dementors, and now, the Tri-Wizard Tournament." She placed the phone in her Mokeskin pouch, and put that into her dress. "The time has come, though, for you to understand what I want for the world…"

Harry Potter was not having a good time. He'd been kidnapped by his nemesis, who was currently gloating while speaking to his Death Eaters, Cedric Diggory was now a corpse, and he was tied to a bloody gravestone with a bleeding arm. In short, he was having a bad time, and it was sure to get worse before it got better. Assuming it DID get better, anyway. Harry's life was a roller-coaster one to be sure with bipolar luck, but at this point, it looked like it was all downhill from here.

Every year, every bloody year, he had some trial or travail to overcome. There was that business with Quirrellmort and the Philosopher's Stone in his first year, the Basilisk and Lockhart in his second year (not to mention learning he was a Parselmouth), the Dementors, Sirius Black and Pettigrew in his third year…and now, the Tri-Wizard Tournament this year, with most of the school turning their back on him, even Ron, his supposed best friend, at least until the First Task.

Well, he couldn't talk about turning his back on friends, not after what happened at the Quidditch World Cup, and he learned something shocking about one of his longest friends, one he had made shortly before even going to Hogwarts. He'd turned his back on her, denouncing her as a monster, despite everything they'd done, despite every kindness they had exchanged. He had forgotten how she had rescued him from being pulled into an impromptu photoshoot with Lockhart, their first date at Florean Fortescue's, her birthday gift of her first novel, albeit written under a pseudonym…and he had nearly ruined that in fear and loathing. It wasn't until shortly before Halloween that they reconciled. And just as well.

He remembered how she looked during the Yule Ball, smiling at him with that lazy little smile, and knew that she was not a monster. Or rather, more to the point, she was a monster he would never have to worry about. They spoke a lot about each other, and he was grateful that Rita Skeeter never heard what they spoke about. He knew she wasn't truly sane, that her sense of morality was fairly loose…but she was a good person in the end.

Sometimes, he could imagine what it was like to be her. He had often been hungry since he could remember, and chalked it down to being often underfed by the Dursleys. It was a dull hunger, one never satisfied, and to tell the truth, he was never one to gorge himself on food either, especially after seeing his uncle and cousin do so. But he needed something. Something he couldn't define. But it didn't feel like anything she had described.

He was glad he could reconcile with her. It meant one less regret, even if he would regret dying like Cedric, and leaving her behind. Not that he particularly wanted to die. For all Dumbledore's guff about death being the next great adventure or whatever he said at the end of Harry's first year before sending him back to the Dursleys, Harry would prefer to live.

Voldemort was getting to the climax of his speech, when he was interrupted by a sudden barrage of sanguine-coloured crystalline shards, many killing Death Eaters outright, a few just injuring them, with Voldemort getting a shard digging into his shoulder. "Who dares…?!"

An eerie chuckle echoed through the graveyard, childlike. "I do…Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior."

Harry knew that voice almost instantly, despite the tone, and the eerie echoes. But Voldemort didn't. Though the speaking of his birth name enraged the newly-resurrected warlock. "There is nobody by that name here!" he blustered.

An ethereal giggle followed, seemingly from the other end of the graveyard to where the original position of the voice was. "Oh, so you prefer your nom de guerre? That's fine, so do I. Would you like to know it, Lord Voldemort?"

"Why would I need to know the title of a soon-to-be corpse?" Voldemort demanded, before he hastily erected a shield charm, as did the other Death Eaters. The ones who didn't suddenly got sprayed with more crystalline shards.

"I could say the same thing…when it comes to my food…"

Voldemort seemed to get the implications quickly. "A Ghoul…why is a Ghoul attacking us?"

"Why not? Maybe you've heard of my work at the Quidditch World Cup, when your former sycophants decided to riot. I have to say, Mr MacNair was delicious for a xenophobic fool!" That last sentence was delivered in a childish sing-song tone. Suddenly, a tendril lashed out of the darkness, bisecting a couple of Death Eaters. A few lost their nerve, and Apparated away then and there. Voldemort fired a Killing Curse in the direction the tendril had come from, and the Ghoul sang out, "Miiisssed meeeee!"

More crystalline shards fired out of the darkness, some coming for Harry. He grimaced, waiting for the impact…but the pain didn't come. Instead, his bonds had come undone, the magically-conjured ropes. For now, Voldemort didn't notice, and neither did the other Death Eaters. Then, he heard the Ghoul screech, "Run for your life!"

Harry knew that it was meant for him, and he dashed over to Cedric's corpse, and then cast an Accio on the Tri-Wizard Cup. Voldemort noticed at the last moment, and fired off a Killing Curse with a roar…

But it was too late…

Some hours later, Harry was exhausted. Dealing with Voldemort, and then, coming back, dealing with Barty Crouch Junior (who had been disguised as Moody the whole time), a Dementor Kissing the same, Fudge not believing in Voldemort's return, and Harry having to rest. He said that a Ghoul had attacked…but he didn't give any details as to who it was. Because he knew who it was.

So, instead, he slept, until he was woken by a gentle shaking. "Oh, Harryyyy," sang a familiar voice.

Had he not known who it was, the bandage-wrapped face would have startled him, especially with the eyes peering out at him, one green, the other red with black sclera. Like the eyes were reverse images of each other. He spoke her name, but quietly.

"I managed to intercept a certain scruffy mutt," she said quietly, her voice more serious. "They're waiting for you."

"But…Madam Pomfrey…"

"Gramps has already dealt with her. Just a moment. Dobby? Bring us to the Room of Requirement."

Dobby appeared without much preamble, and said, "Yes Miss Eat-No." And then, with a snap of his fingers, Harry was suddenly lying on a couch, in what could have been the Gryffindor common room. On a nearby couch sat Sirius…and on another sat Ollivander, a blonde with rather wide pale eyes…and Hermione.

This last one was a surprise to Harry. And yet, here she was. Before he could ask, the bandaged girl said, as she undid the bandages around her face, "I brought Hermione into my confidence some time ago. She actually started corresponding with me shortly after we had our little fight. She was instrumental in getting me to calm down. She surprised me, given that she seems the sort to kowtow to authority, but hey, I guess she's called the brightest witch of her generation for a reason." Her bandages hung around her neck, revealing her distinctive messy mane of green hair, and her sleepy eyes, one with a green eye, and one with the distinctive Crimson Eye of a Ghoul.

"I've cleared away the Wrackspurts, that's why," the blonde girl said.

Hermione shot the blonde girl a look. "You had nothing to do with it, Luna."

"…Thanks, Eto, for saving my life," Harry said quietly.

"You're welcome." Her more childish demeanour from earlier was mostly gone, and a more gentle smile touched her lips. "I was in Little Hangleton, because I had this notion that, if Voldemort was going to try something, it'd be tonight. Voldemort fled with his tail between his legs, as did Pettigrew and Malfoy…but I had Gramps Portkey the bodies to cold storage. I doubt that Amelia Bones would be able to get by Fudge in trying to take greater measures against the Death Eaters. But…the old dog here has finally plucked up the courage to admit something verrryyyy interesting."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Eto, he's been through enough tonight," Sirius said. "We should wait until…"

"Until what?" Eto asked. "Do you think he will ever be ready?" She plucked out a notebook, old and tattered, from her clothes and waved it pointedly. "I would never have been ready to read my mother's journal, of why she died, of V and the sort of man my father was. But sometimes, you have to know, even if you're not ready. Gramps," she indicated Ollivander with her hand, "at least knew this. And Harry needs every advantage he can get against Voldemort, and you know it."

"Even if it means being ostracised by Magical Britain?" Sirius asked.

Ollivander cleared his throat. "Knowing Cornelius as I do, he and that ghastly Senior Undersecretary of his are probably going to engage in a smear campaign, no doubt encouraged by Lucius Malfoy," the older man said. "Cornelius would rather do anything than accept Voldemort's return, and Umbridge is effectively a Death Eater groupie, I believe the term is. Sometimes, heroes live long enough to see themselves becoming villains, even if only in the public eye."

Hermione grimaced, before she turned to Harry. "Harry…know that I won't think any less of you because of this. I will only think less of you if…you do something unforgivable."

Sirius nodded, before he finally dropped the bombshell. "There's no easy way to say this, Harry. But…Lily was like Eto. She was a One-Eyed Ghoul. And through her, so are you…"

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

Well, quite a few bombshells. Eto's Ollivander's great-granddaughter, she's been friends with Harry for a while…and Harry is a One-Eyed Ghoul, as was his mother.

Yeah, I know Harry as a Ghoul, One-Eyed or otherwise, has been done quite a lot. Deal with it.

Eto, I decided, has a better moral compass than she did in Tokyo Ghoul canon. She's still more than a little psychotic, and she's still running a shadowy organisation, with the eventual goal of dealing with V, but dealing with Death Eaters takes priority. But she's also a fundamentally decent person.

1. Aldbourne was the filming location for the classic Doctor Who story The Daemons, where it became Devil's End.