Demented Memories

A/N:

Oni: Oh no, not another plot bunny.

Eridan: You can't escape them Oni. There's just too many of them.

Oni: To those who read, this fic might update sporadically, I posted this on a whim, but feel free to follow, favorite, and review!

Eridan: Also, I'm sure you a knoww, but Oni does not owwn Harry Potter nor Homestuck, and this idea is her owwn though.

Oni: If you see anything from the books, it's probably from the books.

Oni: And ONWARDS!

It had been a rather long day for one thirteen year old Harry James Potter and it had only just started. He had just found out moments ago that the escaped prisoner and murderer Sirius Black was his father's betrayer, and was hell bent on trying to kill him. Even the days of freedom spent in Diagon Alley didn't sate his brooding mood, and the constant bickering between his two best friends was not helping in the slightest. They had chosen a compartment that was empty sans for the scraggly looking sleeping man (whose name they found out from his briefcase was named R. J. Lupin) that Harry surmised was their new Defense teacher, and the Boy Who Lived prayed dearly that he wasn't going to be like the last two.

Currently Harry was sitting in silence, watching the rain thud against the train window as Ron and Hermione talked about Malfoy, who had just barged into the compartment to look for trouble, only to leave in haste after realizing there was a Professor in there with them.

"I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," Ron growled angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and -"

He made a violent gesture in midair.

"Ron," hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be careful…"

But Professor Lupin was still fast asleep.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept. Harry wondered in passing if the man was really sleeping.

"We must be nearly there," commented Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.

The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.

"Great," said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast…"

"We can't be there yet," Hermione interrupted, checking her watch.

"So why're we stopping?"

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows. Harry got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. The Hogwarts Express came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" shouted Ron's voice from behind Harry.

"Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Ron! That was my foot!"

Harry felt his way back to his seat.

"Do you think we've broken down?"

"Dunno…" the red head mumbled.

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said, "I think people are coming aboard…"

The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Harry's legs.

"Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry -"

"Hullo, Neville," said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.

"Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea! Sit down -"

There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain. Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's voice from somewhere in the darkness.

Harry felt her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron -"

"Come in and sit down -"

"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly, "I'm here!"

"Ouch!" yelped Neville.

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry could hear movements in his corner. None of them spoke. There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are." he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.

But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water, but it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak. And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart. Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though he was in the middle of the ocean. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder…

He heard a woman's scream, saw a bright flash of green light, before he drifted even further. It felt like he was sinking into an endless ocean, but the place felt oddly familiar. Harry felt a tug in the back of his mind, and he felt something come loose.

New sensations came to surface, and he tried to pinpoint them all.

A girl's scream, raw with emotion.

A flash of brilliant white light.

A girl's (woman?) scream of fright, then her scream of rage.

The sound of a revving machine.

Pain in his middle section as if a blade had just cut him in half.

Emotions bubbled up to his mind, anger, betrayal, sorrow, fear.

The sensations stopped and Harry was left floating there in pain and confusion. These weren't his memories, were they? He was Harry James Potter, son of two war heroes and the Boy Who Lived, a wizard. Harry had never experienced any of those sensations, he was positive. So where had they come from?

The object in the back of his mind was tugging again, and this time Harry felt with his thoughts to help pull the thing completely free. Perhaps if it was free, he thought, he would get his answers. Harry felt the thing grow looser, and doubled his efforts. Then suddenly, whatever he was tugging was free, and he was overwhelmed by an onslaught of slivery water that poured forth from the hole he had made.

Memories came to surface, names to faces, faces to voices. Harry saw skies that were purple and trees that were blue. He saw animals that were exclusively white, and he saw creatures on unimaginable horror creeping from magenta leaves. He saw lighting that was pink and two moons that hung in the sky. He saw constellations that were unlike anything on Earth, yet he felt like he could call their names up to navigate this place if he wished to. He saw insect-based humanoid beings with grey exoskeletons and yellow eyes and sharp teeth and three fingers. He saw different colors of blood flow down into the ground at his feet. He saw some of these beings hold the zodiac signs on their clothing.

And Harry began to remember the life he once had.

He remembered a planet called Alternia and a race called trolls. He remembered scouting the night sky because the daytime sun could boil the ocean at noon. He remembered hunting in the place of a girl he once loved because she refused to kill. He remembered a ship that he used to call home, a floating white seahorse he used to call dad. He remembered the island, the ocean, the lonely emptiness of home. He remembered blue scarves and violet capes and violet blood. He remembered lighting shaped horns and two sets of teeth and a rifle that was always by his side.

He remembered the game called Sgrub, the meteors that destroyed his home. He remembered a Land of Wrath and Angels, and he remembered killing every single one of those disgusting, rotten-skinned creatures. He remembered the meteor, losing his sanity bit by bit. He remembered gaining a wand, and wanting to survive. He remembered his offer, his fight with a mustard blooded hacker, killing the girl he once loved, killing the girl he respected and wanted to help. He remembered that same girl returning the favor with a chainsaw through his abdomen.

These memories mixed in with the ones that he had from this new life. The cupboard under the stairs, magic, Hogwarts, Ron, Hermione, Voldemort. Who was he now? Now that he knew what he was, he could feel the mindsets clashing and mixing until they merged into something that reflected both of them.

His name was Eridan Ampora, the Prince of Hope. A troll from Alternia. Dead at the age of thirteen.

And he remembered everything.

AN:

Oni: I hoped you liked it! Again, this was written on a whim, but if you guys like it, maybe I'll write more!

Eridan: Wwe shall see you next time...

Oni:...My Pretties!