Okay, so, I was actually going to save these chapters for my December mass-update, but I had recently become inspired for a new Nasuverse crossover, albeit with an old pairing revisited, and I decided to post the initial chapters of this story instead.

This story came about when I read one of NeonZangetsu's story fragments. I was very excited, and I begged him to allow me to write a Potterverse version of what was a Naruto crossover. He thankfully agreed, though he asked that I delay publishing my own take until he was done with his story and posting it as a standalone work. Since then, he has posted it.

The story in question is the Elden Ring crossover Scarlet Vow.

For various reasons, I changed many aspects of Scarlet Vow. Malenia was older, in her late teens, when she accidentally kills Miquella with the Scarlet Rot in my story, and she will be paired with Harry, assuming this becomes a full story. Because of her sealing and Miquella's demise, the dynamics of the Shattering have changed somewhat, with Radahn's fate particularly different. I've also pulled in elements from other Soulsborne games, particularly Ariamis from Dark Souls.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy...

PHANTOM PAIN

CHAPTER 1:

THE POTTER, THE PAINTING, AND THE VALKYRIE

They had all turned out to see her punishment. Even the Omen twins of Godfrey had been allowed out from their domicile in the Shunning Grounds to witness what had befallen her. From Morgott, she sensed a certain understated sense of schadenfreude, while from Mohg…she sensed little more than contempt, given that she had taken the one he lusted after, his own half-brother with the perpetual body of a child. The hypocrisy was astonishing.

Then again, it wasn't like it wasn't abundant in Leyndell.

At least there were looks of sympathy from a few of her other siblings. Godwyn certainly looked distraught, and she knew enough of the tells of her half-sister Ranni that, despite their rancour at times, she hated what was happening to her. Melina looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here, while Radahn's fists were clenching, as if he wanted to do nothing more than to challenge their father to a duel.

Of course, Rykard had taken great delight in her downfall, and the demise of her twin. A smug smirk twitched at that snake in the grass' lips beneath his long but well-groomed beard. So too was Godefroy the Grafted, openly sneering and smiling. A traitor himself, as was his brood Godrick, one who would one day plunge a dagger into the back of his kin. Godwyn was too gentle to believe it, though.

The man she once called father approached her, looking at her with utter disdain. She merely glared back. Eventually, he turned to the others, his crimson ponytail swishing around almost like a serpent clinging to his head. "Hear me, kith and kin gathered here this day. Thine sister hath committed one of the greatest taboos in all the Lands Between, and indeed, this world. She hath slain her own twin brother. It may not hath been by blade or by arrow, by spear or by quarrel, but in a moment of weakness, she unleashed the vile Scarlet Rot. The tainted areas hath been cleansed, but the Greater Will hath decreed that she must be punished. Her demise may yet unleash the Rot, and so she will be sealed, far away from this most holy city, to sleep forevermore, until the end of the world." He then turned to her. "If thou hath any last words before sentence is carried out, then utter them, but choose them wisely, and with the dignity that befits your former station."

She simply glared at him levelly back. "Neither you nor the Greater Will care that 'twas an accident," she said coldly. "I would give anything to have dearest Miquella back. But let me tell you, just as you have renounced me, I renounce you both. My mother is a craven, and you, Radagon, are a monster, discarding Queen Rennala when it suited your ambitions, just as Marika discarded Lord Godfrey. My sins will remain with me until the end of time, but they are a mere hillock compared to the great mountain of sin you both stand so proudly upon. The Omens, the Great Caravan, the Albinaurics…you have only risen higher by trampling all over the corpses of others. I only regret not being there to see the inevitable collapse of your dynasty."

Radagon merely spat in her face contemptuously. "Vile calumny spews from thy lips, even to the end. Only Shabiri spouted worst heresy. Thou should be thankful for the undeserved mercy of the Greater Will and the Two Fingers. Marika."

The blonde woman, the one she had called mother, came forward. As Radagon moved away, Marika began casting the spell. She didn't say a word. However, as she slipped into a slumber that she thought would last forevermore, she heard these words in her mother's voice…

"Thy slumber may yet not be eternal. Should one worthy of thine blade come across thee, worthy of thine loyalty, perhaps even thine heart, then thou shalt rouse from thy slumber. Though thou doth slumber as the disgraced Blade of Miquella, thou may yet rise again anew. Goodbye…my beloved daughter…"

When people tell stories of clashes between good and evil, they rarely speak of what happens afterwards. Oh, they may speak of 'happily ever afters', of weddings and people getting their just desserts, but they don't speak of the more aggravating parts. They don't speak of the politics, of the nightmares, of the losses and arguments.

Unfortunately, Harry Potter was living through that, even a year after he finally put paid to Voldemort.

Only now, after much belligerence from Gringotts and the various Purebloods, was his inheritance finally coming to him. More than just the trust fund that was used to fund his time at Hogwarts, but the estate not only of his parents, but also Sirius. Of course, the Goblins were pissed about that heist he was forced to undertake, and the matter of stopping Voldemort was a trifling matter to them compared to him breaking into Gringotts, and there were many Purebloods who contested Harry's claim to the Black family fortune they coveted.

But now, here he was, walking through the Potter family manor, ruined during Voldemort's first uprising, but now being restored. He'd spoken with a number of portraits of his ancestors, but he found himself drawn to a most unusual painting. It seemed out of place amongst the others, seeming to depict what appeared to be an underground tomb with a sarcophagus.

It didn't appear to be a wizarding portrait at first. There was no movement in the dim room it portrayed. And he didn't recognise the signature shown at the bottom. Ariamis, it read. And yet, he felt something of magic from it. It was more of an instinct, a gut feeling at first.

But now, for the first time since he had seen the painting a week ago, he saw something had changed. And he wondered whether this was a wizarding portrait after all. Because there was someone in it, moving, running a hand over the sarcophagus within the tomb.

The man had dark skin and white hair, his beard full but nowhere near as long as Dumbledore's. His eyes were icy blue and piercing. He wore shabby clothes spattered with what looked like paint. When he spoke, his voice was a low rasp. "…Why was I beckoned to come here, at this time?"

And then, he turned…and seemed to notice Harry. "…Ah…I see." And with that, he strode towards Harry…and stepped out of the painting, as casually as one may step through a doorway.

Harry, understandably, whipped out his wand, but the man shook his head. "Put that damned stick away, boy. I'm not here to harm you, unless you decide to harm me." He then turned to look around, before nodding to himself. "Hmph. Potter Manor has changed much since I was last here."

Harry, after a moment, lowered his wand, though he kept it in his hand. "Who are you? And how did you do that?"

"…I'm a man of no consequence, a painter, a vagabond artist." He looked back at the portrait. "That is one of my works."

"…So, you claim to be Ariamis?" Harry asked.

"I don't claim anything, boy," he harrumphed, turning to give him a sharp look from his pale blue eyes. "And coming out of that Painted World was no special talent of mine. Creating it was, though. Your kind can emulate worlds and people them with their paintings, but to create a whole new reality? I created my first true Painted World at a time when humans here were still daubing on the walls of caves. And all that damned tyrant used it for was as a prison…no, a dumpster for anything that either threatened him, or did not fit with his Age of Fire." His scowling features softened. "…Poor Priscilla…though at least she was freed in the end. In fact, I believe you did in a couple of timelines(1)."

"…Sorry, what?"

"It's a big multiverse out there, and I am a wanderer between timelines and worlds," Ariamis said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The things I have seen…a world sustained by the burning of a primeval flame…a city consumed by madness and monsters…a version of your Japan tainted by the blood of a foreign dragon…well, that's enough of that." He turned to look at the painting again. "…Once more, I was forced to make one of my works a prison. The Scarlet Rot was a more dangerous thing than the Lifehunt, but…when Marika begged this of me, I found history repeating anew. It's one of the reasons why I painted a backdoor into that portrait."

"What do you mean? Is someone imprisoned in there?" Harry asked.

Ariamis nodded. "Would you like to see? I promise you, you can leave any time you wish. The one interred in there is kept in a magical sleep, that's what keeps her imprisoned."

Harry wasn't so sure. And yet…well, there was that old Gryffindor ember of reckless courage beginning to smoulder again. He remembered what Ginny had berated him with, that he'd never feel happy unless he could fight against Voldemort. Not really right, but certainly not wholly wrong. He needed some sort of purpose, an adventure, not one he had been thrown into, but on his own terms.

Ariamis, as if sensing his thoughts, said, "If you wish to free her, I will gladly help you. All she is truly guilty of is a lapse of control that cost her her beloved brother. She is dangerous, yes, but she is far from evil. I have only refrained from freeing her because she needed a cause to fight for, someone who would anchor her will and allow her to fight what lurks within her. But…should you free her, you will be drawn into a most dangerous adventure once more, one that makes your clash with Voldemort look like a petty schoolyard brawl."

Eventually, Harry went up to the portrait, placing his hands on it, only to tumble through…

…And end up in the chamber. Ariamis soon followed. Before Harry could say anything, he said, "To return to your world, touch that symbol on the wall, there." He indicated a symbol, like a paintbrush across a canvas. The painter then indicated another symbol on the opposite world. "That one leads to the painting in her former world. Here. If you are truly resolved to helping her, you'll need this."

Harry was handed a wrapped parcel, an elongated one. "What is it?"

"She'll know what it is. Tell her…that Ranni worked on Miquella's project until it was finished. Ah…" He pulled out a sheet of paper from seemingly nowhere, before he began writing on it with a speed Harry couldn't follow. After covering both sides with writing, he folded it up and placed it in an envelope, handing it to Harry as well. "This is for her to read. Much has changed since she was forced into slumber. I'll take my leave. But before I do so, I will leave you with words of warning, Harry Potter. The path you embark on with her is a dangerous one. But…perhaps, if you are lucky and strong enough, you can be happy together. Better the way she is now, than she is in other branches of her world. Take her with you to your world, for now, until she is ready to return to her own."

With that, Ariamis headed for another wall, not one of the ones he had marked. He vanished in a ripple of space before Harry could ask him any questions or even offer a farewell. Hell, he didn't know what the name of this person was. However, there was a rumbling from the sarcophagus, which opened up, the lid simply fading away, revealing a bier, on which laid a person.

It appeared to be a young woman, a giant woman, dressed in long brown robes, at least two feet taller than him. Her right arm was conspicuous by its absence. Crimson hair, the colour of blood, framed beautiful features. Next to her was a winged helmet that, for some reason, put Harry in mind of a Valkyrie. And there was an entire metal arm, with a blade built in.

As he leaned over to try and see if he could wake her, her eyes fluttered open, revealing beautiful golden orbs. They met his gaze in confusion. "Uhh, hello there?" Harry said, a little nervously. "Are you all right?"

"…I have slept for so long, have I not?" she asked, her voice deep and husky, and yet gentle. As he made to help her sit up, she halted him with a gesture. "Prithee, do not touch me. In any case, I can take care of myself. But I thank you for your kindness, regardless."

Harry watched as she took the prosthetic arm, and brought it up to her stump. It seemed to click into place, as if magnetised. As it did so, she gave a faint smile. "Welcome back, old friend."

After a moment, Harry proffered the letter and the parcel. On her confused look, he said, "Some guy called Ariamis brought me here. He gave me these things. He said something about someone called Ranni working on Miquella's project?"

"I see," the woman said. Gently, she took both the letter, and then the parcel. As she took the latter, her eyes widened, before they began to glisten with tears. "…Dearest Miquella…" she murmured. "And Ranni…thank you. I do not deserve your kindness, but…I shall accept it all the same." She unwrapped it, revealing an elaborate golden needle, beautifully-crafted and sculpted.

"Umm, sorry to interrupt, but…we haven't exactly introduced ourselves, have we? I'll go first. My name is Harry Potter, and apparently, I come from another world to yours."

The woman stared at him for a few moments, before nodding. "Very well. I am Malenia, Blade of Miq…" But then, she caught herself, shaking her head. "No…no, that is not true, not anymore. I am Malenia the Severed, and I will not know defeat again…"

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS

Well, there's a turnup for the books.

As mentioned before, this story was heavily inspired by NeonZangetsu's Scarlet Vow, but with a number of modifications. Malenia is about 18-19 when she was put into stasis (instead of banished), rather than the six years old she is in NeonZangetsu's story. Her relationship with Harry will be romantic, albeit eventually, rather than the paternal one Naruto has with Malenia.

While this version of Malenia is superficially like her canon self, that's only because of her station and training. She's not quite as powerful, and her twin's death and her sealing have been something of a blow to her psychologically. She's also embittered, and seeks revenge against the Golden Order.

On the other hand, losing Miquella has, ironically enough, weakened her 'win at all costs' mentality that had her unleash the Scarlet Rot on Caelid, to say nothing of her becoming the Goddess of Rot while fighting you. What's more, her absence during the Shattering has changed the dynamics of the Lands Between somewhat. Caelid's not as great a shithole as it is in the game, for example (though poor Radahn can't catch a break, as you'll see), Mohg's allegiances and goal are different, and Ranni…well, we'll see her soon enough.

As for Ariamis, I decided to bring him in from Dark Souls and expand on his character. He's basically a wandering package of chaotic good/chaotic neutral, a bit like the Doctor or Zelretch, or even a more benevolent form of Nyarlathotep. I thought of him as looking like Djimon Hounsou, as a more scholarly and painter-like version of the Wizard from Shazam!

1. Ariamis is alluding to the events of my Dark Souls crossovers, namely my oneshot Worth a Thousand Words and More, and my longer crossover You're the Son of Legends, Harry!