Ugh, for some reason, this cleared the formatting for my chapter. Had to go over it and redo the formatting.

Anyway, while I'm still working on a Harry/Karlach story, I thought I'd also give a Harry/Shadowheart story a whirl as far as Baldur's Gate 3 crossovers were concerned. While Karlach is the most moral and likeable of the Companion characters, I felt that Shadowheart was the most interesting, and in fact, I ensured she was the romantic pairing in my main playthrough. Of course, there is the difficulty of pairing Harry with a Sharran devotee, even if Shadowheart isn't particularly evil for most of the game. Whether this story idea has legs remains to be seen, but I have some intriguing ideas for it that may or may not pan out.

As usual, there's no guarantees it will become a full fic. I hope you enjoy regardless. Still, I heard some exciting news recently that may lead me to make a crossover in a couple of months' time: Arcane is coming out on Blu-Ray in October. And when that time comes, I hope to do a crossover or two with that...

EDIT: After writing the first couple of chapters, I realised, having Harry too dark and obsessive would not work well for this story, especially with a VERY important revelation later in the story. I've tweaked the first chapter, and will post the new version, along with the second chapter, soon...

JENNY AND HARRY'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE (ORIGINAL)

CHAPTER 1:

OLD FRIENDS, REUNITED

So, where to begin?

Honestly, it's a bit tricky. But I guess it's when two sisters began feuding that this story begins. And we're not talking fighting over a Barbie doll or anything as trivial as that. No, we're talking clashes to the bitter end.

Now, one sister, being an entitled, bitter, and selfish bitch, felt the pangs and stirrings of conscience…and decided she could do without such things, thinking them weaknesses. Being a goddess, she could carve such stuff out of her being, small though it was. And thus, she discarded a shard of herself to the eternal darkness to be dispersed in oblivion.

Of course, that led, through a ripple of events, like currents in the deep, dark depths of the ocean, to a mother sacrificing her life for her son, using a half-remembered ritual, all to save him from a ruthless warlock. Yet said ritual would inadvertently link her son to another child, one many worlds away. The children would think each other imaginary friends, not realising the other was real, until the bitchy sister I mentioned decided to be a spoilsport.

Anyway, the boy became a man, though he very nearly didn't, thanks to that warlock being a bit tougher to kill than he should have been. That, and the idiocy of an old man who was too clever by half and hoarded information like Tiamat hoarded treasure, that greedy bitch. Tiamat, I mean, not the old man. Dumbledore had many, many faults, but greed wasn't one of them. But I digress.

The Boy Who Lived became a man, a man haunted by the deaths of the war, by the losses. He became obsessed with time-travel, not the limited kind magic users possessed on that world, but one that would allow him to go back years, even decades, long enough to prevent the deaths to come, even if it meant killing his enemies before they became his enemies. Unfortunately, his employers objected to that. Not that I can blame them too much, monkeying around with time doesn't really end well, no matter what Doctor Who claims, but Saul and the others could have stood to show a little more compassion than basically shutting the argument down with what amounted to 'Because I said so'.

Accidents happened, and the man was hurled through time and space. And travelling through time and between dimensions is never trivial. He could have remained adrift in space and time forever. But something drew him to a certain world, at a certain point in time.

Was it the bond he had with a supposedly imaginary friend? Was it simply being close to the wake of an Illithid Nautiloid? Was it fate, destiny, or sheer dumb luck? I don't believe in fate or destiny. I do believe in cause and effect, but really, coincidence and luck tend to be stronger influences on events compared to paltry things as fate. The gods and other forces do shape people's lives to some degree, believe me, I speak from experience. But more often, it is the decisions of people as well as simple coincidence and happenstance that shape history and lives, for better or for worse.

In any case, they would be brought together. And they, along with new companions, would be brought together to face a great and terrible evil. An evil that, if left unchecked, would threaten not only that world, but a milliard of worlds across the multiverse. Not that that was anything new, but still…they would thrown into an adventure, gods help them…

"Don't be a fool!"

"I'm not being a fool! You don't understand!"

"You're not the only one who lost loved ones."

"I lost too many! At least you have your parents, and now, you've gone and done this! I thought we were friends. Some friend you were. I thought wrong when I thought you'd understand."

"I won't ask again. Hand it over."

"Over my dead body. Nobody will stop me, do you hear me?! NOBODY!"

"Stun him, destroy it, before it's…!"

"NO!"

"NO!"

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! I…"

He didn't know how long he had been falling through the multicoloured void, like drowning in a rainbow's dysentery. It felt like an eternity, and yet, that eternity, at least, had ended. Though it took him a while to realise this, with the echoes of that argument and the brief clash that followed resounding in his mind.

He hadn't fallen unconscious per se, but rather, into something of a catatonia. It took some time for his brain, overloaded by the swirling and strobing colours of the void he'd been falling through, like something out of Doctor Who, and yet worse, to reboot, so to speak. His consciousness was getting back behind the wheel, and it took him a moment to notice things that should have been blatantly obvious.

First, touch. He was on his back, on sand. Smell came next. He could smell water, but not saltwater, probably a river given the sounds. And he could smell smoke and burning flesh of a sort that turned his stomach. He finally began paying attention to the sounds, the flowing water nearby, the crackling of fires, and a strange, quiet and yet all-pervasive groaning, not like some structure beginning to fall apart, but like a wounded beast. Every part of him ached, as if he had run a marathon.

His eyes opened, only to wince at the bright sunlight. He shut them again, only to gradually open them. He was staring at a relatively blue sky, mostly clear, save for a few clouds up above, and darker clouds of smoke drifting from closer nearby.

Sitting up, groaning in pain as he did so, he took in his surroundings. He was next to some sort of river, on a beach by its shore. He looked around, and then stopped, and stared, at what appeared to be a massive tentacle the size of a tree poking into the ground, twitching slowly. More of them were around, and he followed them to their source, and stared.

"What the bloody hell is that thing?" he murmured out loud, not expecting an answer. It looked like some massive tentacled monster, crashed into a nearby hill. Much of the mephitic and nauseating smoke was coming from it.

He tried to get to his feet, only to sway as a sudden bout of dizziness hit him. He wasn't fully recovered from what he had just gone through. And then, he heard someone call out to him as he sagged back onto his haunch. "Hey, are you okay?"

He turned to look at the newcomer blearily, only to do a double-take, and stare. He had never seen a woman like this before in his life, or at least not quite like her. Then again, she was clearly not human.

The greyish-violet shade of her skin was a fairly big clue, as were the pointed ears. Her features were beautiful, if a touch aquiline and pointed. She looked like some sort of Elf from Tolkien, even if her skin colour was odd, and her hair was snow white. Oddly enough, despite having a vaguely regal air to her, she was dressed in rather rough and practical clothing out of some Renaissance Fair.

The woman noticed him staring at her, and clicked her tongue. "…And here it comes…no doubt you're going to be shouting, 'Drow! Drow!' Ugh, my parents left the Underdark during the Silence of Lolth, and you'd think Drizzt Do'urden would help matters, but…"

"Sorry," he said hurriedly. "I just never seen an Elf like you before."

At this, the woman seemed to perk up a little. "Oh? You never seen a Drow before?"

"…I don't think I've ever even heard of one," he said.

The woman smiled, before helping him up. "Huh. You must be from some really out of the way place. I'd say Icewind Dale, but Drizzt Do'urden's famous there, so…look, people being afraid of Drow is actually common sense. Most of my kin, especially those in the Underdark, are pretty nasty. Hells, my parents left Menzoberranzan because they fell in love, didn't like Lolth, and decided to depart for healthier climes. Relatively, anyway. But decent Drow aren't that rare. Anyway, the name's Tavriel, but my friends and acquaintances call me 'Tav' for short."

He shook her hand tentatively. "Harry Potter. Umm, Tav, where the hell are we?"

"I was kind of hoping you could tell me." She waved a hand at the tentacled monstrosity nearby. "See that? That is an Illithid Nautiloid. Snatched me right off the street in Baldur's Gate. I heard you mutter in confusion earlier. You didn't seem to recognise it, and as we haven't got splitting headaches and sharing memories, I'm guessing you weren't kidnapped by it either."

"No, I wasn't, I don't think. Though what does headaches and memory-sharing have to do with anything? And what the hell is an Illithid?"

"I'm getting to that. But seriously, you haven't heard of Illithids? Okay, so, they're creatures also known as Mindflayers. Nasty, squid-faced things. They have phenomenal psychic powers, love to eat brains, and reproduce by putting their tadpoles into other people's skulls, usually via the ear or the eyesocket."

"…Reproduce? Like…a Facehugger out of Alien?" Harry asked in horror.

"…I have no idea what you're talking about, but basically, you turn into one of them. I only heard stories, so I dunno how long I have. All I know is, it's not going to be long before I get tentacles growing out of my face and a hunger for brains. I wasn't the only one either. There was a Githyanki, a bit of a bitch, but handy to have in a fight, and while they're racist pirates from the Astral Plane, they also hate Mindflayers with a passion, and the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I dunno where she is. The Nautiloid crash-landed, I ended up falling out just before it did so. There was another with me, a Half-Elf, a bit gloomy and cynical, but better company than the Githyanki." She looked around, and said, "Speak of the devil…she's over there."

Harry followed closely behind the Drow, whatever that was. He spared a brief glance to where he had laid on the sand. Only a few fragments remained of the experimental Time-Turner. The one that was his sole hope. Nearly a decade's worth of work, the main reason he joined the Unspeakables, wasted. And now, he was stranded, probably in another time, possibly even another world, if Elves like Tolkien were around. At least he'd made a habit of keeping an Expanded Trunk in his jacket pocket. He knew that if something went south, he'd have to make a quick getaway, or else if he succeeded in travelling back in time.

His hand curled into a fist, and a sneer touched his lips. They never understood. Oh, they claimed to, making all the right noises, but they didn't. His parents, Sirius, Remus, Cedric, Hedwig, Fred, Nymphadora…too many people died who shouldn't have. And too many people lived when they shouldn't have, or lived long enough to cause trouble. He was going to go back, fix it, change it for the better!

Ron and Hermione weren't his oldest friends. But imaginary friends didn't count. He'd stopped dreaming of her some time in his teens, and even then, they hadn't been good dreams. She had been in pain. And when he lost her, he felt like he lost a vital part of himself, even if she was imaginary.

Yet she had been more true to him than too many others had been. He'd taken Hermione into his confidence, hoping for help. Instead, she betrayed his project to Croaker.

Hermione, he thought to himself bitterly. As much as I hate to say it, Dumbledore was right. You had a choice between what was right, and what was easy. And you chose the easy way out. You can't help running to the nearest authority, instead of letting me try and change things for the better. You couldn't accept that I was right, and you were wrong. Maybe if your parents died, you'd be more sympathetic. I thought better of you.

Spitting into the sand in disgust at someone he had thought one of his oldest friends, but who betrayed him, he turned and caught up with Tav. Only to stop and stare at the supine figure on the ground. A young woman, clad in a chainmail tunic and trousers, with an ornate breastplate, was sprawled there, a strange icosahedral lump of metal with strange symbols next to her hand.

It was the face that stopped Harry, though. The hairstyle was different, and the face was that of a woman grown. But the pointed ears, less pointed than Tav's, the faint scar across her cheek and nose he had only seen during his last times talking with her, the coal black hair, the freckles…

He wasn't sure whether this was some dying dream, as his body was ravaged by the destroyed Time-Turner. Yet a faint ember of hope was kindled. He was probably wrong, so very wrong, and yet, like a drowning man, he clung to straws in hope of salvation.

"Hey, Shadowheart," Tav said quietly, gently shaking her shoulder.

But even as green eyes flickered open, Harry said quietly, "That's not her name."

The woman groaned, even as she sat up. "…I'm alive? You're alive?" she asked Tav. "How is this possible?"

"I thought you might be able to shed some light on the matter," Tav said with a shrug. "Unfortunately, our Githyanki…battle partner? She's nowhere to be found."

The so-called Shadowheart clambered to her feet. "Of course she isn't. She's either dead, or left us for dead, knowing her kind. All I remember is falling from the Nautiloid, and then…here we are. And as much as this place is an improvement over where we were…"

"We're up a certain creek without a paddle," Tav said. "We need a healer capable of destroying Illithid tadpoles, fast. Do you mind if we team up again?"

"Not at all. In fact, I should thank you for going to the trouble of freeing me from that damned pod. You could have simply run by with the Githyanki and left me to rot, but you didn't."

"It's fine. At least you didn't accuse me of being a Lolth-worshipper. But I found this guy nearby. He claims not to be infected, and as I didn't get the same stuff as when I met Lae'zel and rescued you, I'm inclined to believe him. Harry Potter, meet Shadowheart. Shadowheart, meet…"

"…Harry?"

Harry's gaze snapped to the Half-Elf. She was staring at him, her eyes wide in incomprehension, as if her knowing his name was a surprise to her. He felt something in him uncoil…and then, suddenly, as it seemed to lash out, she emitted a soft, strangled scream, clutching one hand with another. Then, both hands separated, and clutched at both sides of her head, her screaming now silent, before she sagged to her knees, and emptied her stomach onto the ground. Heaving noises devolved into sobs.

Harry, after a moment's hesitation, knelt down in front of her, rubbing her back. She looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot, tears tracking down from them. "…Is it you?" she asked hoarsely. "Is that really you?"

With a wry smile with precious little mirth, he said, "…I should be asking you the same thing."

She shook her head. "…Hells, you…you're real. I…we need to talk, but not here, not now. We need somewhere to rest. I need to…process all of this. All of the memories…gods, what have I done?"

Tav, at this point, said, "There's a ruin over there. If we're lucky, we can shelter there until you're ready. By the way…" She picked up the icosahedral object off the ground and handed it to the Half-Elf. "I presume you still want this?"

After a moment, the Half-Elf nodded, taking it and pocketing it. "Yes. I don't know why I was ordered to obtain it, but it could be a good bargaining chip." She stood up, as did Harry. "Oh, and Tav…while I'd prefer you call me Shadowheart for now…my real name is Jenevelle Hallowleaf. And I remember everything…"

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

So, there you have it. Harry's been stranded in Toril, just as a certain Nautiloid crashlands. But wait, he knows Shadowheart?

Now, some points. Firstly, this Harry is not-dissimilar to the version I used in my Fate/Grand Order crossover Primordial Song, and, to a lesser degree, my Mass Effect crossover Quarian's Wizard. Guilt-ridden by what happened during Voldemort's second uprising, he joined the Unspeakables with a mind to create a Time-Turner that would allow him to go back in time enough to stop Voldemort before he could kill his parents. As with Primordial Song, this became a dangerous obsession for Harry, one that Hermione and the Unspeakables objected to. A fight ensued, and Harry has been flung between dimensions and forward in time, a little over twenty years (Shadowheart, or rather, Jenevelle or henceforth 'Jenny', being 48 in canon).

Harry's bitter attitude towards Hermione is out of understandable upset towards what he thinks is a betrayal. In truth, he is actually being intensely self-centred and entitled verging on derangement. Once he calms down a bit, with the help of Jenny, while he'll still be angry and resentful, he'll be less hateful towards Hermione. Incidentally, the flashback was a confrontation between Harry, Hermione, and Croaker.

Now, the soulbond between Harry and Jenny is plucked from Quarian's Wizard, amongst other works. It worked perfectly up until Viconia abducted Jenny. It then worked intermittently during Shar's attempt at indoctrinating Jenny up until their teens. However, rather than happenstance, the soulbond actually exists for a reason. What reason for that will be revealed later, along with how Jenny's memories were unlocked, but it is linked to the mystery narrator at the start of the chapter.

And now, onto Tav. This is actually going to have both Tav and Durge in it. Yes, I know they're mutually exclusive in-game, but for this story, they're both alive and, in Tav's case, well. But deciding on Tav's particulars were difficult. I decided on a female Seldarine Drow who was born on the surface rather than the Underdark. Oh, and FYI? Her mother was part of House Baenre. Which should make things interesting when she meets Minthara.

No numbered annotations this time.