Not so long ago, I threw my hat into the ring of Elden Ring fics, doing a oneshot, as I wanted to do something. That oneshot, The Snow Witch and the Boy Who Lived, was basically a proof of concept, as well as my wanting to do the first crossover between the Potterverse and Elden Ring. But I had an idea that I had been mulling over for some time, and this is the first, albeit tentative, attempt to put that idea to paper.

It's a reincarnation fic, not unlike my recently published Resident Evil crossover Mycoreincarnation, which itself took a number of cues from attempts I made at writing a Dark Souls crossover. Fitting that it should be used for Elden Ring. So too is using some plot tropes from my Game of Thrones crossover A Union of Dragons, as George RR Martin did the worldbuilding for Elden Ring. And, of course, Harry is being paired with the top waifu of the game, Ranni.

I actually originally intended to wait until I had played more of the game before writing this, as well as waiting for more lore videos from VaatiVidya. But this idea wouldn't let me go, and so, I decided to try at least a trial chapter. It may be a while before the next one comes out, and even longer before the full fic itself comes out, assuming it comes to that.

Finding a title was pretty tricky. I was tempted to call it something like A Song of Fire and Ice, but I thought that'd be too on the nose. But then, given the fact that the Ranni-centric ending is called 'The Age of Stars', I thought I'd do a riff on the title of the old Alfred Bester science fiction pastiche of The Count of Monte Cristo, called Tiger! Tiger! in some parts of the world, but The Stars My Destination in others.

Anyway, before we get to the chapter, I am also working on possible crossovers with Arifureta, That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, and The Legend of Drizzt. There's nothing definite for any of them, but I have some ideas I am working on. So, as always, watch this space.

And enjoy, if you can, the first sample chapter of The Stars Our Destination...

THE STARS OUR DESTINATION

CHAPTER 1:

A BRITISH WIZARD IN THE LANDS BETWEEN

He suspected this day was coming. But he had hoped that it would not be so soon. Then again, hope was often in short supply in this damned world, and in these damned lands, presided over by the Erdtree. A parasite, smothering the Crucible, supplanting it with the ideal of a distant deity, one that cared little for the suffering it caused.

He wondered why he hadn't been slain where he stood. Instead, he'd been transported, in hood and chains, from Liurna to the Weeping Peninsula. But he had to wonder why.

If there was a demigod spawn of Marika who had done this, the list was small. There was that self-righteous arse Morgott, the Omen who worked hard to serve the very Golden Order that would rather see him imprisoned, if not slain. And there was Mohgwyn, whose depravities were already infamous. Perhaps Godrick had done so, but the skittish little coward didn't dare tempt his beloved's wrath, not after his humiliation from Malenia. Rykard was another possibility, given how he headed up the Golden Order's Inquisition, but he seemed to find his relationship with his beloved amusing.

But at the top of the list? That smug fanatic who followed the Two Fingers and their master, and whose tales of glory and mercy were, he felt, exaggerated at best. Because there was nothing merciful about that man. Not where the prisoner and his people were concerned.

Of course, there were other possibilities. Maybe a rogue Misbegotten or Albinauric…and, of course, the most frightening possibility, next to the fanatic, was the most crazed of his people, the ones who worshipped the burning fire whose call he had resisted, but which he saw in nightmares in too many nights, of an eye wreathed in flame. And the ones who followed the one he had been born to become a vessel for.

When the journey came to an end, and the hood was ripped from his head, he was almost relieved to see the fanatic there. At least his death would be the end, he hoped, not the prelude to his body used for a reign of terror that would leave all of the Lands Between, and those around them, aflame. Still, he despised that smug look, and the febrile gleam of fanaticism in his eyes, the darkness surrounding them almost alive, perhaps with a Shadow lurking within.

"So, we meet again, quarry," Godwyn the Golden said with a cruel, smug smile.

"I have a name, Godwyn the Gilded. Use it."

Godwyn scoffed. "Thou art little more than the quarry of my hunt, a most vexing hunt, I must say. Thy kind doth not deserve names, not after what thy kind nearly unleashed upon this world. Thou art a threat to all that lives, a vessel for the false prophet. And even without that, thou drips poison into the ears of my dearest stepsister and my mother. They art to be reminded that to go against the Golden Order is folly. The Greater Will hath decreed thy demise, as a warning to them both."

"Fuck the Greater Will!" he sneered. "It's only better than the Flame of Frenzy because order is infinitely preferable to destruction! The people sing songs of your love and mercy, but I have always known the truth ever since you slew my parents and those I cared for! Godwyn the Gilded, for all that glitters is not gold! A gilded demigod for a Gilded Order! Your days are numbered, Godwyn. Your stepsister's wrath will be terrible, always assuming your mother doesn't get off her arse too. Godfrey would be ashamed of you. I wonder if he actually asked to be exiled, to have Grace taken from him by Marika, because he saw what you and your siblings became, and found you all wanting!"

Godwyn stormed over and gripped him by the throat. "He was a fool! Thinking only of battles and glory!"

"He had more honour in his entire body than you do in your dick."

The hand squeezed tighter, but a growl came from the darkness. "Godwyn, let not his puerile taunts inflame thy ire. Let this be done now."

"I want this whelp to suffer as he dies, for all the vexation he hath caused me!"

And then, a lupine humanoid strode out of the shadows. A Shadow, holding a knife. "Remember our duty. He is to be a warning for thy mother and stepsister."

The prisoner laughed hoarsely as Godwyn reluctantly removed his hand. "…And does Maliketh know that a Shadow has gone behind his back? I thought the Shadows were only bound to the Empyreans?" the prisoner rasped hoarsely.

"The Two Fingers hath decreed that a Shadow is needed to slay thee, in order that thy apostate soul doth not return to the Erdtree, but is banished beyond this world forevermore," the Shadow said.

He laughed in their faces. "All you will be doing is spurring them on. Mark my words…the Golden Order's days are numbered, and I only wish that I was there to see it fall down around your ears."

"Enough blasphemy from thee," the Shadow said, thrusting a blade into him. "Die, knowing thou shalt never be reborn in this realm. Die, knowing thou art forever lost to the one thou hold affection for, the one thou shalt never have."

There was less pain than he thought. Just an icy chill of oblivion. But as blood filled his lungs, he choked it out, spitting it defiantly at his killers. He laughed, a wheezing cackle, until he could laugh no more.

But inside, he wasn't laughing. He was grieving. Not for himself, though he wished he wasn't dying. At least he wouldn't unleash the Frenzied Flame upon the world, or act as the vessel for Shabiri.

But there were those he left behind. Names flickered through his mind. Queen Rennala, I am sorry for leaving your daughter alone, and your sanity to crumble further. Blaidd, Iiji…look after my love. Torrent…find a new master. And Ranni…dearest Ranni…I am sorry I could not stand by your side as we supplant this Golden Order with something better.

And then, darkness swallowed him whole…

And out of the darkness came pain. Eyes snapped open, before snapping shut once more, a hiss of pain escaping his lips. Especially in his eye, his left eye, though it pretty much touched his everything.

"It seems you were right, my friend," a deep, gentle and elderly voice said, seemingly high above him. Not unlike Dumbledore in some regards, he realised. "He has awoken."

"Yes, but look at him, he's been through the wringer," another one, as gentle, but with an undeniable gruffness about it. "No sign of Grace in his eyes either. He could be a Tarnished, though they do remind me…well, a bit like the merchants who were once part of the Great Caravan."

"They were not yellow, not like those unfortunate souls."

"No, but the smell…like sulphur and madness…I've been around Kalé long enough to know the smell. Still, these clothes…very strange. More finely woven than I had thought." Then, the speaker leaned down. "Lad, I know you are awake. When you open your eyes and gaze upon us, do not attack or flee. I promise you, we mean you no harm."

His eyes blinked open, and then stayed open, staring at the faces peering down at him. It was hard not to. He hadn't really seen any like them before. Closest to him was what looked like a wolf's head growing from a man's body. Like a werewolf, but there was no feral madness in those eyes, not like with Lupin. No, there was a combination of serenity and yet wariness. He was dressed in armour with a ragged fur cloak over it, a massive sword at the ready.

Towering over them both was a gigantic figure with wrinkled grey skin. Its abdomen seemed to be concave, if not mostly missing. A strange metal helmet obscured the features of said figure, and it seemed to be the only clothing it wore. And yet, there was also a serenity about the figure, more so than the wolfman.

And both looked eerily familiar.

"Well, shock is infinitely preferable to panic or aggression," the giant figure said, the first voice to speak, he realised. "As my compatriot has told you, we mean you no harm, unless you offer it yourself. Would you be so kind as to tell us your name, young man?"

After a moment's wary silence, he said, "Harry. Harry Potter."

"Well met, Harry," the giant figure said. "I am Iiji. And this is Blaidd, the Half-Wolf."

"…Blythe?"

"Blaidd," the wolfman corrected him gently. Despite his gruff voice and fearsome looks, he seemed as gentle as Iiji. "So, I'm sorry, but I have to ask…where do you come from?"

"…Britain." The confused look on Blaidd's face was plain to see, even with his lupine features. "Well, I was at boarding school in Scotland, but I live in England, and…"

"I have never heard of such places," Blaidd said bluntly. "I cannot confess to know every land outside the Lands Between, but I have never heard of those. You are currently in Liurna of the Lakes, if that means anything to you."

"…No, it doesn't," Harry said. He looked around, noting that he was on some sort of hill, with a ruined wall to his left, and a manor in the distance, up a hill, to his right. But then, he glimpsed something that had him whirling to stare at the sight behind him.

Towering over everything, in the distance, was a vast golden tree, glowing from within. There was something awe-inspiring and beautiful about that tree, and yet, something familiar and terrible. Golden motes of light, like shed leaves of gold, drifted around them.

"Well, it seems you haven't seen the Erdtree before," Blaidd said, walking over to him. "You stand around like that much longer, you're apt to catch a few flies in your mouth."

Harry shook his head. "I haven't seen it before. Except…" Except, he didn't add out loud, in his dreams and nightmares he had been suffering from for the past year. Ever since the Dementor on the Hogwarts Express. Dreams in which, he realised, Blaidd and Iiji had featured.

Was he dreaming? Was this the terminal dream of his soul as it got absorbed into a Dementor's gullet, or at least whatever passed for one in those foul creatures? He hoped not. But all he could remember was a strange pressure building in his eyes just as the Dementors got close, a burning sensation, glimpses of an eye made of flame like Sauron's ripoff brother…and now, here he was, waking up here.

If this was real, what of Ron? Hermione? Sirius? What of Lupin and Pettigrew…and Snape? What had happened to them?

His thoughts were interrupted when a voice, a soft, regal rasp, came from some rocks near Iiji. "Well now…what an oddity thou art."

As he turned to face said rocks, a figure appeared in a flurry of azure light. She wore robes that seemed both shabby and yet graceful. Her head was almost entirely obscured by the wide brim of the large, pointed hat that seemed like a parody of the stereotypical witch's hat. A fur cloak was draped around her shoulders.

And then, Harry began noticing the oddities. The new arrival, a woman, seemed to have four arms, one pair of hands folded in her lap, the other pair steepled together in a gesture that was familiar. The skin was light blue, and seemed cracked.

And when she peered at him from beneath her hat, the oddities only grew. Her face was blue too, and unnaturally smooth, as if made from porcelain. It was framed by a shaggy mop of dark blue hair. Only one eye was open, showing a blue eye that seemed to shine. The other was closed, with a strange sigil over it. And eerily, a mirror image of her face seemed to be bound to that eye, outlined in azure light.

But that visage unearthed a name in him. The voice didn't quite seem right, but the appearance seemed familiar. "…Renna? But I thought…"

The others seemed to freeze at this. Blaidd's hand inched a little closer to his sword, but then, the woman said, "Blaidd. Stay thy hand for now." Her gaze then met Harry's own. Her face was strangely animated for what could have been a porcelain doll's face. "How dost thou know that name?"

"I…you're not Renna?"

The woman hopped off the rocks, and walked over to him. Harry got the impression of immense power from her. Yet despite this, he realised she was actually quite short, a little shorter than he was. "I suppose I am. The name hath been mine for many years." She peered up at him with her one eye, and its spectral mirror's twin. "Confusion is writ large upon thy mien. Thou dost not know why thou named me such. A Tarnished, perhaps, one with only fragments of their past? Tis possible, and yet…while Grace is absent in thy eyes, t'was not robbed from thee. And thy clothes…" She picked at his shirt with a hand. "How curious. How very curious indeed."

"I'm not from this place," Harry said. "I've never heard of the Lands Between. In fact, I've got the feeling I'm not even on the right world. I'm from Britain, on Earth."

"…Ah, another interloper from that world?" Renna said. "Once, centuries ago, I met with a wizard by the name of Merlin. Still…let us see…"

There was something familiar about her voice that was nagging at him, as she weaved what seemed to be a spell, and said magic felt familiar too. But it was only now that a name could be placed to it, one very different to that her face was attached to. "…Ranni?" he whispered.

As her gaze snapped to him in shock, he felt something inside him burst. Pain swept through his body and his soul. He sagged to his knees, clutching at his head, before his gorge rose in his throat, and he vomited his dinner.

He could have drowned in the flood of memory. But he barely kept his head above the water, so to speak. And by the end of it, even though his very body felt like it had been set aflame, even as he distantly became aware of his clothes tearing, he realised something.

Those dreams and nightmares were nothing of the sort. They were memory…

Ranni was startled as the boy in front of her convulsed, collapsing, vomiting all over the hem of her dress to her irritation, though the irritation played second fiddle to the shock of this boy not only somehow recognising her mentor, the one that this doll body was modelled on, but then her, presumably through her voice. Her spell, designed to try and analyse the boy, figure out what was going on, somehow triggered something. She felt Blaidd and Iiji, her loyal retainers, and the closest thing she had to family now, tense, ready to defend her if need be.

Certainly, she sensed the too-familiar signature of the Flame of Frenzy within him. But he didn't have the distinctive yellow eyes of those afflicted. Even thinking about that caused a pang within her heart that she had thought she had long suppressed. Thinking of him, after so long. Sentiment was all very well, she had Blaidd and Iiji by her side for reasons other than their undeniable skills, and she looked in on her mother from time to time, but the past was the past. And the dead did not come back to life, not without leave from the Greater Will, anyway.

Except, when the boy rose from the ground again, she found herself disabused of the notion. It seemed like he had grown physically, adding half a decade if not more, becoming a young man, his clothes in tatters on his body. He was staring at her, and the others, and she realised, with a start, that one of his eyes was yellow. Not the sickly yellow of those afflicted by the Flame of Frenzy, but somewhere between that, and a gold that seemed more beautiful than the so-called Grace of the Erdtree. The other was still the emerald the boy had possessed.

The face too was mostly the same, but there were subtle differences, and it was those, along with the expression, the way his body moved, that had her staring in astonishment. Little surprised her these days, but the way the boy, now a man, moved…it was so much like him. And a small bloom of hope threatened in her doll body's breast.

"…Ranni?" he asked.

And then, a name, his name, came to her lips. "…Grannus?" she whispered.

The smile on a stranger's face told her all she needed to. He flung his arms around her, laughing, the sound filled with both mirth and melancholy. And she knew, despite her paranoia about the Two Fingers and their plots, despite her dark path having many enemies…he had come back to her.

But the question was…would what they had be rekindled?

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

So, yet another Harry-is-a-reincarnation fic. We'll discuss the details of Harry's past life as Grannus later.

However, his name, Grannus, is fitting for a number of reasons. Firstly, it fits the theme of having a number of important characters, especially the demigods and their family, having names starting with the letters 'G', 'R', and 'M' (after George RR Martin, the worldbuilder for the game). Secondly, it's named for a Celtic god of healing, and, importantly, fire.

Also, I'm doing a bit of Godwyn-bashing, but it's worth pointing out that I did so to give Marika (and, indirectly, Ranni) a reason to have him killed.

No numbered annotations this time.