*Chapter 1*: Chapter 1

KALEIDOSCOPE OF MAGIC

A/N: This story is targeted for older readers and definitely earns the M Rating for violence, language and suggestive situations. You've been warned.

This was an experiment in writing for me that I wanted to have a bit of fun with. It has not been betaed so all errors and typos are all mine.

I hope you enjoy it.

CHAPTER 1

AZKABAN PRISON

Chilling wind blew through Azkaban, bringing unbearable cold to the inmates and jailors. It did not matter, though.

The Jailors of the Wizard prison thrived in the cold, and most of the inmates were too far gone to notice the weather.

But not all of them.

In a dank cell in one of the prisons near the basement, lay a nearly fourteen year old boy shivering as the Dementors prowled outside his cell.

This was the worst place for Harry Potter, who had nothing but misery in his life. He shivered even more, feeling an odd stinging in his eyes.

And he dreamt, of the past and his memories.

He lay in his hospital bed, triumphant after rescuing Sirius. His godfather was free! He gave Hermione an elated look, which she returned happily.

He couldn't believe that their audacity had actually borne fruit. Riding a hippogriff to rescue Sirius? He was a magnet for the strangest occurrences, not to mention trouble.

The doors of the Hospital wing suddenly slammed open, revealing Snape, Dumbledore, and the minister himself.

Cornelius Fudge.

Harry mentally cringed as he spied the utter fury on Snape's face. The greasy haired potions professor walked up to him and shook him awake, hard.

"OUT WITH IT POTTER! IT WAS YOU! I KNOW IT WAS YOU! WHAT DID YOU DO?" he roared causing Madam Pomfrey to come barrelling into the ward.

"Professor, please-"

"QUIET, WOMAN!" shouted Snape, not even looking at the matron. He stared directly at Harry and shook him hard.

"I know you helped Black escape, potter. You and your filthy friends. Now tell me. What. Did. You. Do?" he asked icily.

Dumbledore and Fudge came up to the infuriated Potions Master, the latter looking at the greasy haired man as if he were unhinged.

"Severus, calm down. Indeed we need the truth from these children. It is a matter of alarm that Black escaped once more, that too from Hogwarts containment. Cornelius, do I have your approval for the administration of Veritaserum?"

Hermione shot up from her bed, horror written upon her face. They were going to administer Veritaserum, to a minor? What was Dumbledore doing? If Harry swallowed that potion, he would implicate them all!

"Professor Dumbledore, you cannot! Veritaserum cannot be administered to minors without the approval of…" she trailed off, looking at Fudge with fear.

Dumbledore shot a sad look at the betrayed Hermione, before turning back to Snape, who seemed to have mixed emotions in him. The potions master showed a considerable amount of happiness and…was that regret?

Harry sat stunned through these proceedings. What was Dumbledore up to? He could hardly think! Ron was as usual, asleep.

"Cornelius, can you please get us Amelia? Severus, get the potion. I will stay here."

The two nodded, Snape staring at Dumbledore a moment longer before leaving, his cloak billowing around him.

Dumbledore dismissed Pomfrey, and turned back to the trio. He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry, who could not move. Hermione was watching with wide eyes.

"Supprimere et memoriam horum!"

Harry glowed gold, and he felt woozy. He suddenly felt something wrong with his mind. There was something in with him in his head…restraining, guarding.

"Quiesco" murmured Dumbledore, raising his wand at Hermione who promptly fell asleep. Her breathing became relaxed.

"Professor, what are you doing?" asked Harry, who could not hide his extreme anxiety.

Dumbledore looked him in the eyes, causing Harry to gasp. The Headmaster showed emotions Harry had never seen before in the man.

Fear, self-loathing, regret all mixed into something reprehensible. It was causing Harry's fear to rise.

"Harry, remember this carefully. I always endeavour to help you. I am doing this for you, to protect you. Follow my lead, and do not interrupt."

Harry only stared dumbly.

The minister for Magic came with a stately-looking yet stern woman. Snape came back with a bottle of clear liquid.

"Get on with it, Dumbledore" said the woman, looking at Harry sharply.

Snape walked to Harry, and roughly tipped the liquid in his mouth. The woman came up to stand in front of him.

Harry felt as if he was floating in the clouds, felt blank and obedient and as if he, the entirety of Harry Potter was on display for the world to see. But the force, the thing Dumbledore had put in his mind was still there.

"Is your name Harry Potter?"

"Yes"

"Tell us what happened yesterday with Black."

Harry woke up, the pain in his eyes getting too much. The horrible effect of the Dementors was taking its toll on him. He could not even summon anger for what Dumbledore had done to him.

He could not even feel sadness as he remembered his friends, who cried that he was innocent. Hermione and Ron had yelled and screamed, shouting his innocence to the minister to no avail.

Harry could feel the Dementors gathering outside his cell, and their coldness washed over him. The moment he felt even a shred of emotion return, they gathered around to lap it up like starved dogs.

Harry Potter was broken. Broken beyond recognition. He could feel whatever love he had for his friends leaving.

He was cold, both in body and mind. Cold and empty.

The pain in his eyes was now becoming unbearable. It felt as if they were being gouged out, burned from the inside.

The Dementors were all gathering outside his cell door. Harry could not stand the effect of so many Dementors together and the pain of his eyes.

Inexplicably, it happened.

He felt it returning. His anger, his hatred. More than he could have ever imagined. More than the malice even his scar exuded.

His scar pulsed painfully, throbbing in beat with his eyes. His brain felt like it was on fire.

The hatred in him grew, as he remembered how Dumbledore and Fudge had just chucked him into prison, no trial. Nothing.

It was as if they had wanted him there. The magic ran through his body like magma through a volcano.

His scar felt like someone had branded him where it lay. He could dimly feel something drifting out of his scar.

They had asked no one, told no one. Not even the other Hogwarts staff or the media. They had termed it a secret incarceration, and just thrown him in. Hermione and Ron were sworn to secrecy, he did not know how.

Men in black robes and hoods had taken him, and thrown him in this cell.

Pure clear hatred. That was what filled him to the brim, and the Dementors could not consume it. It was as if someone had lit a bright fire in him, a conflagration before which the Dementors' effects just paled.

Fire exploded from the young Potter as he screamed, turning the meagre furniture in the cell into ashes. The Dementors began to screech outside, unable to stand the fire that filled the cell completely.

Harry began to lose consciousness, the world blacking out. He felt his eyes throb one last time, the pain in them receding mercifully.

He fell down hard, fully unconscious.

…

It was clear.

The world was clear. So clear. He could see the individual dust particles floating in the wind, the texture of the burnt prison cell. He could see.

He could see….everything.

Azkaban. That was where he was. As he remembered how he got here, he felt no raging hatred and unbalancing sadness.

No.

He felt cold and in control, like he could see himself the way he now saw the world. His hatred felt like a sharp blade, not a raging fire. His mind felt fluid and clear. Something was different.

Very different.

He could not feel the Dementors. Oh, he felt them crowding around as usual, but he did not accept the misery they forced upon him.

It was like he could cast that away. Something was different with his eyes.

And his body. He could feel the magic running through it like a torrent. It was the same feeling he had gotten when he had cast the Patronus to drive one hundred Dementors away.

But now he had the feeling without his wand. The doors of his cell banged open, and a dozen Dementors flooded in.

He stared at them and saw the black voids that they were. He could see the foreign magic that flowed through their body, and he saw through their despair to what made their very fabric. Their despair did not affect him, he could see through it.

His eyes…

"You look ridiculous", he said.

The Dementor nearest to him floated and lowered its head.

Harry felt no alarm, it was only a fact registered. He had to drive them out or get his soul sucked.

He raised his pale and thin hand, palm outwards.

"Expecto Patronum!"

White light exploded out of his palm, drenching the Dementors. They screeched in unison and fled out of the room back to the bleakness of Azkaban , shrieking in agony.

Intriguing. I do not need a wand anymore…as if my body itself embodies my magic. But I feel tired. Very much so. The Patronus, it felt different. I did not need happiness to create it anymore, only intent.

Harry sat down tiredly on the floor, considering. Too many things had happened too fast. He looked down at his body, seeing properly for the first time the abhorrent state of his body.

He was basically a stick. Pale and sickly, and dirty. But the magic was there.

He stared around the room, and removed his glasses. Perfect. His vision was perfect.

He doubted even a hawk could see better than he did now. It was as if a switch had been thrown in his brain, giving him this preternatural clarity and sense.

The way he now thought stunned him. Dumbledore and fudge were not relevant until he got out of here, and it should not be as a fugitive. He had no intention of living a life like Sirius.

His mind went back to when Dumbledore and Fudge saw him off at the gates of Azkaban.

"Harry, I know you hate me. Understand, the law is to be followed and cannot be broken for anybody. Not even you. This is your punishment."

Dumbledore had a small tear flowing down his face.

"I thought you did not throw minors into Azkaban, Fudge?" Harry asked in a dead voice.

Fudge looked as if he had aged a hundred years. Then he suddenly seemed to bloat up in anger.

"I am the minister of Magic, boy! You need to be taught a little lesson. You will stay in Azkaban till the next school term. Happy summer break, Potter! Take him away!"

Dementors came and dragged away a defeated Harry Potter.

As Harry looked back, he saw Dumbledore freely shedding tears, and Fudge looked like he was about to.

Their actions against him were forced, he mused. They had chucked him into prison for a reason, and knew it was not for aiding and abetting Sirius.

Dumbledore had suppressed his own involvement in the affair by making it seem as if it was all Harry's idea. He could not utter Dumbledore's involvement even after drinking the Veritaserum.

Why was he here only for the summer? That seemed odd. Eight weeks of wrongful imprisonment? Why would they do that, even if they knew that once he was out, they would be implicated?

He laid himself on the floor, looking at the ceiling. Azkaban was a dreary place.

But it was no longer horrifying and cold. Not to him. The Dementors did not affect him anymore for some reason, and it had to do with his eyes. They felt powerful, as if the magic that his body now contained emanated from them.

Something had changed his eyes. If only he had a mirror. Too bad he did not know conjuration yet.

He sat back up, and began thinking. He had four more weeks in this place. Then…then he would take care of everything.

…..

"It has happened, Albus. He has awakened them. Should we get him out?", asked a hooded man who had just gotten out of the floo.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk in his beautiful office, looking at the man pensively.

"We have four more weeks. Describe his eyes, now!"

The man looked at the headmaster, his face a study in wonder.

"Albus, his eyes are no longer emerald like his mother but they are black. Shining coal black. And when he channels magic to them…"

Albus beckoned the man to continue, a desperate look upon his face.

"They turn red. A blazing red with single commas in them. Why doesn't he have all three…that is how it should be!"

Dumbledore felt relieved beyond measure. Harry had done it. He had done it at last.

"In Azkaban, there is enough misery to accelerate its maturing. To awaken those legendary eyes after so many centuries…"

"Albus, you do not understand. He has magic running through his very veins, and can use it wandlessly. The Dementors have little effect on him, now. We have to do it…"

Dumbledore looked as if he had aged another hundred years, the pain was apparent in his face.

"I suppose…I suppose it cannot be helped. He is the one. Alert the Department, Bode. They have my authorization. And it is time to recall them…", he said meaningfully.

Bode nodded.

"It will be done, Albus. How do you intend to explain yourself to Potter?"

Albus Dumbledore stood and walked to the window.

"I will tell him the truth. He would never forgive me, Bode. But he won't turn out like Tom. Sometimes I wonder, if I am the monster for taking away so much from Harry and causing him such pain, if I am just another Tom Riddle…"

Bode nodded again. They were monsters indeed, Albus and the department. But if that was what they needed to be to save magical Britain, then so be it.

…..

Harry stood in his cell. Today was the day. He felt pure.

He owed Dumbledore pain. The way those hooded men had tortured him…He had gained a pain tolerance that was alarming. He had learned to look through the pain, to disregard it at will.

It was after the day he had driven out the Dementors with no wand. They had slipped a tray of food in, and he had eaten readily.

And promptly fell asleep.

When next he woke, it was in a dark cell. He had found that if he stopped channelling magic to his eyes, his extreme perception and immunity to Dementors would lessen considerably.

He was shackled, and felt a wand tip at his forehead. He could still use magic, but it was of no use. It was only a trickle.

He activated his eyes again, trying to look through the darkness. He could see a tall man open his mouth, and he could see the bright strands of magic that poured out of the wand tip at his forehead.

"Crucio!"

Harry screamed and screamed, trying to break out of his shackles. White hot knives tearing at his body, his mind pierced by a thousand poisoned needles…he felt it all.

He screamed until his throat was sore, then screamed even more. The pain was all consuming, absolute.

The pain suddenly stopped, and Harry looked up dimly from his shackled position. He was hurting…everywhere. He cursed his parents for bringing him into this world.

He saw his torturer raise his wand, and he could observe the minute changes in his body language. The man was clearly not used to this. His eyes could pick out every fluctuation in his emotions through his actions.

The wand pointed at him again.

"Crucio!"

The world went red once more, and he resumed his screaming.

They had tortured him two hours a day, until he could clearly see how the strands of magic were moulded. He could see how the curse affected him, and he tried to use his own magic to lessen its coherence.

He had managed to bring down the pain he felt by corrupting the magic of the curse with his own.

After torturing him with curses for about fifteen days, they threw him into a room where five hooded figures beat him physically.

The first five days, he was a mess of broken bones and bloodied but he was always healed by them for the next day.

He stopped caring about his situation. His mind gained only one prerogative.

React and survive. Never trust. The notion was burned in his brain. Never ever would he trust or assume again.

The eighth day of his beatings, it was different.

He could clearly see how the magic flowed through each person, and how they moved. He could copy the way they moved, and predict their moves by the minute tensions in their muscles.

They had pounced on him seeking to beat him down again, but it was in vain. Their moves were obvious.

Their punches were dodged and they attacked him swiftly. He could tell these were professionals, highly trained. They attacked with elegance and grace, and he copied their grace and movements, adapting at the speed of lightning.

Those five were paralyzed or dead. He had broken every single bone in their limbs and damaged their spines with the precision of a surgeon.

The tortures had stopped after that. It was then he knew. His eyes were more powerful than should be possible. With them, he had no need for a wand.

He had been forged into something…he did not know what. It had occurred to him that conspicuously after every torture session, his perception with his eyes had grown clearer.

Now, it was unbelievable. To see everything and understand it rapidly, to copy it.

His mind had made the connections fast, and he had long since concluded that this summer's imprisonment had to do with him awakening his eyes.

Along with his eyes came a state of mind he had felt only twice.

Once, when he had fought to death against Quirrell and once when he faced the Basilisk.

It was raging instinct and absolute control at the same time. He was the master of his emotions, not the other way around.

The doors to his cell opened.

"Harry Potter, inmate number 300. You have served your sentence diligently and are now about to be freed. Sign this paper, and accompany us to the edge of the Island. There will be someone to collect you."

Oh. It was his final day of imprisonment. Odd, he found that he did not care anymore. He was not peaceful, but cold and hard.

But most of all he felt clarity. His imprisonment had taught him one thing. He was weak. Weak beyond measure. He was disgusted by his former self, how he used to be. Lazy, procrastinating…and a slave to his own whims and desires.

Pathetic. Anyway, he signed the document stating his freedom and walked with the man, leaving his cell once and for all. He would burn the world to ashes before he returned here.

The man led him through the melancholy corridors of Azkaban, before stopping at a door. He turned to him.

"Before you go, , know that I am sorry what you have endured here. This is no place for children, no matter their crime. You have my sincerest apologies."

Harry nodded to him. Truly, he felt no malice for this place. Except for the certain knowledge that he would burn it.

It had turned him into someone unique. He saw the uselessness of unnecessary emotion. Do not feel emotion, only use it.

He opened the door and walked through it. Waiting in front of him were the two people responsible, Dumbledore and Fudge. They only looked at him, obviously unable to speak.

Harry had changed too much from his short imprisonment. The boy who was once short, had grown several inches taller. His hair had lengthened and he now sported a mane of black hair that fell down to his shoulders.

But Dumbledore was struck to the core by the boy's eyes. True, they were black naturally now, not the emerald green. But they gave away nothing, no emotions or fluctuation.

Nothing.

It was as if his mind was a void. That was all his Legilimency picked up. He could penetrate further, but he did not.

"Hello, Professor. Minister. I liked my accommodations and entertainment for this summer. I will make sure you enjoy the same, someday. You have my word on that", smiled Harry.

Dumbledore grimaced, as did Fudge. They did not know what the department had done to accelerate the process, and they did not want to know.

All Dumbledore could do was explain completely, and hope that Harry would understand. Oh, he did not expect forgiveness.

He did not deserve it. None of them did. But they would save their people at any cost, even one as high as this.

"Harry. As you have no doubt deduced, you were thrown in here for a reason. It is not on record. Except for your friends and some select people, the world thinks you were in Privet Drive. Allow me to explain why this was done to you, and then you can do what you wish to me. I daresay I have earned it."

Harry was still smiling. Amusing. The old traitor obviously had some more lies to tell him.

No matter. He was hardly strong enough to take on Dumbledore and Fudge. Not yet. But he would be.

"Let's go, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded, and grasped his arm causing them to disapparate. Fudge looked on sadly.

He cursed the day he had taken this job, and he cursed the Department for concocting this plan and disapparated.

…

The headmaster's office was the same as usual.

Harry looked at Dumbledore. The old man had seated himself in his chair, and looked at Harry.

"Do you hate me?"

Harry considered the question. It may sound stupid, but it was really not. Dumbledore could glean everything important about his state of mind from this conversation.

"No. I do not hate you. But I think you should die painfully, screaming your agony."

Dumbledore flinched at the casual way in which the young boy said those words.

"Would you kill me that way right now? If I allowed you…"

Harry shook his head, and activated his eyes. Dumbledore gasped, and conjured a mirror for Harry's benefit. The boy's eyes widened. Staring back at him were eyes of blazing red, three black commas marking them at equal intervals. The pupils were the normal white.

The prophecies were being fulfilled.

"You are a traitor. The death of people like you should benefit me, not harm me. That, and I can see your magic. It is practically leaking off you, saturating the air. You are too strong for me as of now, traitor.", Harry said calmly.

Dumbledore looked sad as the boy he thought of as a grandson called him traitor. With good reason, of course.

"I will explain everything, Harry. I know the utter pain you have experienced in your life, and it is all down to me. Me and the Department, and some others who you will meet shortly."

Harry looked at the old man in interest. He might be a traitor, but he could be used. No one could fool him anymore with the eyes he possessed.

"Department?" Harry asked.

"The Department of Mysteries. The most secret department in the entire Ministry. I lead it, along with two of my friends. Those eyes you have awakened are special, and they have been awakened only once in recorded history. Their origins are lost in time. They have a name."

"What is their name?" Harry asked. Dumbledore would be useful until Harry got strong enough to kill him. He would extract every drop of knowledge about his eyes, by whatever means necessary.

"Sharingan. One of your ancestors awakened these eyes, Arcturus Potter. He recorded that it was a dormant trait in the potter line, and was a gift of magic itself. Before you hear more of it, I would have you meet some people… people who by all rights should have been with you since your birth."

Harry looked at Dumbledore, his Sharingan picking up minute fluctuations in the man's body language. The headmaster was tense, and anticipatory. He braced himself.

The door opened to reveal two figures, one was quite tall and the other was shorter. Both wore hooded robes.

"Did you bring them?" asked Dumbledore. The two nodded, taking off their hoods.

Harry could not believe it. He concentrated with his eyes, channelling every bit of his magic, hoping beyond hope that this was a joke.

It was not.

Standing in front of him were two people who should by all rights be dead. The male had the same dark mop of hair as him, and hazel eyes. More importantly, he looked like a carbon copy of Harry.

James Potter, his father.

Next to him stood a very beautiful woman with flowing red hair. She had the same emerald eyes he himself used to have.

Lily Potter, mother.

Harry's mind which had become cold as ice during his incarceration now froze even more. Hatred beyond hatred surged through his veins as he picked up the guilt the two figures obviously felt.

They could never hide from his eyes.

"Harry…" said Lily softly. James just watched the scene with mixed emotions along with Dumbledore. Harry could practically smell the stifling guilt in the room.

He hated them all. Oh, how he hated them. He wanted to torture them with that Cruciatus curse till they went insane. The way he nearly went insane due to Dumbledore.

"Do you hate me that much, Dumbledore? You get me abused for ten years, get me imprisoned for eight weeks and then tortured, and after all this reproduce my parents from nothing…"

Lily gasped with James, and looked at Harry with pity in her eyes. James shook his head as if he could not believe what he was hearing…

Harry too cried. Not normal tears, no. He cried tears of blood. Great fat tears of the red liquid rolled down his cheeks and his magic exploded.

"It's happening, Dumbledore! They are changing! We need to do it now!" shouted James.

"Yes, wait for it James. He is still conscious…"

They watched as Harry's Sharingan changed to a new shape. Three small circles with arcs connecting them in a triangular shape now sat in the centre of his red pupils.

Harry fell unconscious; the last thing he saw was James taking out a sealed cylindrical jar of liquid, and Lily and Dumbledore drawing their wands.

Oddly enough, the jar contained two eyeballs in them.

….

(A.N.- Here the story of karldin ends and mine start.)

(In an alternate dimension)

Harry Peverell, thirty years old and the last surviving member of the Order of the Blackened Denarius, blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to restore his vision. He did not dare activate his Sharingan for fear of losing whatever magic was left within him. His ears still rang from the explosion and being half-blinded left him close to helpless. He dashed the tears from his eyes, ignoring the debris that rained down around him. I have to see this, he thought, I've spent so long… I have to do this. He squinted, holding up a shaking hand to shield his face from the light coming from front of him.

In front of him lay a complicated rune, written in nothing but dots and lines.

As he continued drawing the rune with his left hand using the blood dripping from whatever was left of his right arm, he couldn't help but remind himself of whatever had happened in past.

Everything was gone.

16 years back he had made a promise to himself, a promise to utterly destroy everything that had dared hurt him no matter the cost.

The problem is that he now knew that sometimes cost can really be Too high.

He had truly lost whatever little of happiness that fate had forgotten to strip him of.

Harry took a moment of break from completing the rune to reach into his pocket and withdrew the last of his possession. A raven haired man in his late twenties holding a girl barely 5 years hold came into view.

For the first time since the death of his daughter years ago, tears came unbidden to him.

While Voldemort had been responsible for death of his daughter, In avenging her, it was Harry who had doomed the Earth as well as well as the rest of his reality to the beings of Outside his Reality.

Brat. Satan's deep rumble startled Harry.

Years back he had found Satan, Lucifer, Devil or Whatever you may call the being. Ever since they were stuck together by bonds of need and magic. Harry's eyes were only thing that could release Satan from his prison, while without Satan, Harry would lose the ability to wield the Fire of Hell, Fire of Heaven-Soul Fire and The Eyes of Chosen- The Fabled Rinnegan.

Ironically one of the greatest threats to mankind was now his sole companion.

What do you want? The man's mind was too fatigued for his companion's inevitable ranting.

Don't give me that tone. Listen carefully, my boy. To you, the future is bleak, a dark void in which you do not want to step foot into. But for me, I can tell that this path that the heavens have laid out for you, this path is not the only path there is to take. You, child, will take the road less travelled by.

This made Harry curious. He stood slightly straighter. Alright my friend. What is it that you're talking about?

Seeing the spark in his jailor's eyes brought out his resolve. There's a Rune, not known to mortals or angels, but known to only God and Devil. It can only be performed once by the Devil, and at great risk to the Devil for doing it. But for you, and for me, it's our last chance to set things right.

Harry was almost scared to ask. What is it? What could it possibly be?

Time Travel. I'll be doing it, but you'll be my conduit. It'll take you back to where this mess began in the first place. Lucifer lazily blinked as Harry's expression changed from sullen resignation to curiosity, to finally a triumphant visage of desire.

For the first time in what seemed like years, just a sliver of hope surged through Harry's veins. He had a chance, a chance to change everything, a chance to stop the people he loved from dying! But wait, the Devil was proposing this, there had to be some catch. Why are you doing this? Why do you want to help me? What's in it for you?

Lucifer sighed at Harry's questions. Of course the kid had the right to be wary of him, he had tried to trick the kid into releasing him on a couple occasions. Even if they had made their peace, the kid would not completely trust him, and he shouldn't. Devil was the incarnation of being sly after all. Harry had aged over time, dropping the naivety that Lucifer had said that he had all those years ago. The kid now knew that for every action, there was an equal and opposite reaction. Earth's destruction was a fine example of such a law.

Listen kid, you know that you're going to die, or rather, you want to die. But there is still something to live for. The fact is, if you die, then I go to hell, and I don't want that. Now before you say that I'm being selfish or something hear me out. It's not our time. My Ex-Boss a.k.a. The Almighty dictates as such.

Harry frowned. He had never heard such a soft and caring tone from the Devil...ever. How do you know this?

Lucifer was silent for some moments before he spoke again, his tone oddly soft for an angry sentient being. Harry, I am eternal, older than any other thing you know. There are some things that cannot be explained...and this is one of them. I have this sense, well actually all the Fallen Angels have it but because I am the Devil, and the strongest of the demons, my sense is much stronger than the others. This sense allows me to know things that no one should know, such as the future. Of course, I can't literally see into the future, but I can predict it to an extent greater than anyone else. It's one of my gifts as Devil.

Lucifer grinned slightly, revealing pointed canines. So tell me Harry, are you willing to take this risk?

After what felt like hours, he stopped. Sweat covered his handsome face. "It's done." He told Lucifer. Said Devil took a look at the seal shimmering above the murky waters. Nice job kid. You really are like Pettigrew in that regard.

"I thought Pettigrew was an idiot." Harry deadpanned.

Lucifer chuckled. Exactly.

Harry shook his head. Trust devil to compliment you by insulting you "So now what?"

Now, it begins. Brace yourself kid, this is going to hurt like bitch. Lucifer closed his eyes and concentrated all of his will into Harry. Peverell Harry, Lucifer thought as all consciousness left his body, You will achieve even greater things in your new life, than you did in this one. Good Luck Brat . You're going to need it.

(Back in time and dimension)

Despite what was going on his mind, Harry detached himself from the soft feel of the hospital wing's fluffy pillows. He felt…great. He opened his eyes, but found he could not see beyond the white cloth that blindfolded him. Then the pain wrecked him.

If somebody asked Harry on how he felt currently, the answer would be he really felt like a bitch. The war had a done a number of changes on him. It was all he could do to not to scream out in pain. A while later his nerves began to settle, he took off the white cloth blindfolding him and he started to take in where he was. He knew exactly where he was.

Fuck you Lucifer, FUCK YOU!

The door opened violently, letting in the three figures he hated more than Voldemort himself. Lily went forward to take his head into her hand but stopped short when the glare he was giving her made contact with her emerald eyes.

Dumbledore fearing a fight to break out immediately casted a silencing charm.

Wandlessly casting a Protego was easy for the time traveller. And with a mere gesture of his hands, he separated himself from the others.

The others were stunned to say the least when Harry did a wandless spell wordlessly and without his Sharingan being active.

Ignorant of the thoughts of others, Harry's mind was racing a million miles a second. It was a testament to his tactical skills that he made a number of conclusions in a fraction of seconds.

1. He was SO kicking Lucifer's ass when he was out of here.

2. He needed to find Lucifer's coin to access his Hellfire and Rinnegan.

3. He needed to check his own physical state when he was done.

4. He needed to check his magical skills.

5. First of all he needed to get out of here.

Activating his Sharingan in what seemed like forever, Harry took in Site of What was once a destroyed castle.

It was beautiful. The castle was a hue of multiple shining colours. His so called parents were not as strong as Dumbledore, who practically oozed magic, who in turn not even close it his own magic off course, but they all were still very strong.

But even without his other skills, these eyes were more than sufficient to kill all of them with someone of his expertise using them…

He got up slowly, walking to the mirror at his bedside. His eyes had changed…changed from the three-comma Sharingan to a Sharingan of a complex shape he was familiar with.

It had a triangle-like shape, with arcs as sides and small circles as vertices. The circles were connected to the circumference of his pupil by lines.

His own body's magic however had thankfully remained the same it was before time travel. He knew however that his control had degraded because he had wasted a lot of magic in activating his eye.

"Harry my boy" Oh How he hated when someone called him that. Lucifer called him that because he was immortal but Dumbledore wasn't.

Oh, he had also forgotten his traitorous kin. Turning back to the three people merely raised an eyebrow that said, "Explain"

Dumbledore came up to Harry, his wise old face showing infinite remorse.

"Your trials are at an end, Harry. The department will bother you no longer, except to help you in mastering those eyes of yours-"

Harry had enough. He had a lot more to do, take a view of things, take a shower, getting laid, getting Fire Whiskey. Double check Getting Laid.

"Do you want to die Dumbledore?" Harry said coldly, causing the magic of the room to nearly shatter in response to his stone cold rage.

"Better, I can show you. Look into this basin, Harry. It is called a penseive. It contains past memories. You will understand after this…"

Harry knew that what was going to happen and knew that he needed to stall them. It was either Fiendfyre or Kicking their asses with words.

Harry gave an evil grin that sent shivers down Dumbledore's spine.

Harry coughed and intentionally deepened his voice and spoke.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark lord approaches…Born when the seventh month dies…Born to those who have thrice defied him…The dark lord will mark him as his equal…But he shall have the power the Dark Lord knows not… Eyes of power and perception, through misery re-awakened…Eternal and unsurpassed, born through love destroyed…Born again to drive the darkness away…"

Dumbledore looked as shocked as his parents concerning his knowledge.

Harry had all the time he needed. His body and mind already in motion.

Harry was already in front of fireplace with a floo powder in hands.

"Leaky Cauldron!" And so our Hero was gone.

Disappeared with a burst of green fire through the fireplace, the last thing he saw was the utter misery on the faces of his parents.

Karldin's AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thank you for reading the story. I assure you it has only begun. There will be no Harry crossover, only concepts that are borrowed from that awesome anime.

The story will be set purely in the HP world. And it is not your typical bashing story. It is a story of a bitter world, tough decisions and the misery they could engender. Not everything is in black and white, after all.

Stay tuned for more chapters, I will update as fast as possible.

Atlanrom's Author Notes-

Guys I tried to contact karldin for a formal adoption like 20 times but he didn't respond. Let me know what you think.