Prologue: Time Heals all Wounds

~.~.~

Not much was known about the veil; its meaning, its use, its consequences.

Harry wasn't sure that he fully understood any of it either.

Lifting his hand, harry felt the breeze drift around his fingertips, interrupting its path. He never was very tan, his English heritage and lack of sun exposure made sure of that, but this was different.

Harry was never very noticeable, always in the background until the Wizarding world threw him into their adoring arms. No, the abused little boy in Surrey was overlooked. After all, people only saw what they wanted to see, but this was bloody ridiculous!

He was practically translucent. It was if Voldemort had cast an impossibly strong notice-me-not charm over Harry, or better yet, permanently fixed the invisibility cloak to him! Even his scars, while noticeable in the past, only now emitted a faint silvery shimmer.

His eyes, once a vibrant emerald, were now an ice blue. Not the kind that pierced your soul however, but like that of an artic wasteland that your eyes pass over; the nothingness averting your gaze. Harry would miss his eyes the most, his last true connection to his mother.

The last real difference was his hair. It was still a mess which sat proudly atop his head, but Harry thought that had more to do with the wind at this moment. It was flatter, the straight strands fell in front of his eyes and tickled his cheek. It was also blue.

Now THAT was an interesting development.

What was not interesting, however, was the affect he had on others. After the incident, his friends barely noticed him, and when they did they stared blankly at him as if he had spoken another language. This silence and rejection brought forth painful memories and Harry soon segregated himself, not that anyone noticed.

At Hogwarts, occasionally he would come up in conversation, but as no more than a fleeting thought. Even Snape stopped calling him out in class and focused all of his attention on poor Neville Longbottom. Soon, Harry found himself leaving Hogwarts, not that anyone noticed.

As he was leaving, Harry felt inexplicably pulled to see the headmaster one last time. Perhaps this time he will understand, Harry thought.

He didn't, but that was to be expected. The headmaster's office was filled with strange trinkets and wonders as per usual. Harry couldn't help but run his fingers over the books that ran along the entirety of the walls. There seemed to be no rhythm or rhyme to the order of the books, but each seemed more interesting than the last.

Fawkes flew over and sat on Harry's shoulder and Dumbledore looked up surprised from his paperwork. He seemed confused for a moment before allowing a twinkle to come to his eye.

"Harry, my boy. What a surprise."

What a surprise indeed, Harry thought as Fawkes nuzzled the boy's cheek ever so gently. Warmth spread throughout Harry's body and he sighed, contented.

Dumbledore watched the exchange with a curious gaze, taking in his appearance. "I'm no seer, Harry, but you appear to be leaving," he stated, eyeing the trunk at Harry's feet.

Harry nodded.

"Yes, I suppose you have already left truth be told," Dumbledore trailed off, standing and shakily walking over to Harry.

He stopped just a step from the young man and lifted the hair covering his forehead. The fine hair met his frail hand and Dumbledore mumbled under his breath for a moment or two.

He allowed his hands to fall and proceeded to search the bookshelf, muttering all the while. Another moment passed before he pointed to a book for Harry to take. The Tale of the Beatle and the Bard sat in Harry's hands, clearly very well worn. Turning the delicate page, Harry was faced with a series of runes, lining each of the pages. The writing was so condensed in places it was hard to make out the printed words. One chapter however, was free of any ink other than that of the original book; The Tale of the Three Brothers.

Dumbledore cupped Harry's other hand and stared into his eyes. The watery eyes reflected back his own pale ones, void of emotion. In the cupped hand, the headmaster placed the ring which he had previously worn on his blackened hand, a sharp contrast to Harry's own.

Fawkes trilled lightly one last time in Harry's ear and flew back to his perch. He did not look back, instead choosing to look out the window and watch the dying sun.

"I have a feeling that you will need this, Harry," the headmaster croaked, his voice cracking with age. "Take them both."

And Harry did, bidding goodbye to the headmaster for the last time.

"Thank you for seeing me before you left, my boy."

"No," Harry said, a small smile graced his lips. "Thank you for seeing me."

And Harry left.

~.~.~

With some degree of difficulty, Harry was able to gain access to his vault and holed himself up in one of the many Potter estates. His family library soon became his favourite place. It was in the Vienna estate and he often enjoyed soaking in the sun with a cup of tea whilst reading. An unassuming house elf was more than happy to tend to her master's needs, even if she herself found it difficult to locate the man the majority of the time.

Time seemed to slow while he was there. For the first time in his life, Harry wasn't on edge and constantly worried about being attacked. He was content.

And oh, so apathetic.

Life passed him by and slowly he grew more and more disconcerted. He knew it wasn't going to be an easy task to research and reverse the effects currently placed upon him, but everything was coming up blank.

Harry had done many tests upon his skin, becoming far more proficient in potions than he would have ever liked. As far as he could tell, it was no different from any other wizard, besides maybe being a tad undernourished. Potions had helped on that front.

Harry was small, and always would be small, but he had grown a meagre amount and now did not so much resemble a walking skeleton. The muscles he had managed to develop through quidditch has also helped immensely.

Harry wasn't ashamed to admit he had looked into and used some mental potions as well, nothing too drastic, just enough to help with his quick decision-making, reflexes and memorisation. He didn't especially need them, but it didn't hurt to improve yourself and would make research go much more smoothly.

Next, he delved into the art of curse breaking, but that showed no signs of hope. The revealing charms showed nothing wrong with him or anything in his possession.

Runes of course was a must considering the book and the single rune that sat on the ring on his finger. However, the further he investigated the triangle containing a circle and a line, the more he was convinced that it was not a rune, but a symbol. It's meaning still remained unknown to him and was on hold for the time being.

Blood Magic came up with nothing. Inheritance Magic, also nothing. Creature studies also found nothing, despite how interesting he found the subject. Harry had to hold himself back from diving head first into the wonderful world of beasts. The ones Hagrid had shown barely scrapped the bottom of the barrel.

In short, physically, Harry was just Harry. Just Harry whom no one cared about or noticed all over again.

Harry had read the Tale of the Beatle and the Bard so many times that he had the thing damn near memorised. That didn't mean he understood all of the cryptic runes or the meaning they were trying to convey.

Harry went through a dark phase for a while where he thought he might be crazy. Maybe everyone was so fed up with him that they had collectively chosen to ignore him. It was during this time that allowed himself to finally feel grief. For his friends. For his childhood. For his parents. For Sirius.

Sirius, the one he had chased that night. Reaching out desperately to grab his last hope of family as he fell through the veil. Harry wished had had fallen through with him, rather than merely grazing it as he had.

A simple brush of his fingertips before Remus had pulled him back. Maybe this was his divine punishment, Harry thought. For all the anguish and death, he had caused over the years.

Harry hadn't noticed the change at the time, far more intent on sobbing into the reluctant werewolves' shoulder. He had held Harry tight that day, amidst the chaos and confusion. Held him even as he slowly lost recollection of who he was holding exactly and why.

Harry wondered if the tears he shed had stained him, ruined him for greater society.

It was through his rage and grief that Harry defeated Voldemort.

Harry had discovered the existence of Horcruxes. At least, that is what he believed was in the ring. He felt the pull towards it and after further research concluded that that had to be reason for it. The dark magic contained within brought out the darkness within himself, though it did not eat away at him physically as it had Dumbledore. Instead his mind, already being consumed by the Dark Lord, was further weakened.

Harry didn't like his weaknesses, but they existed nonetheless, and for a while there, he snapped.

That period of his life was bleak, a blur of shadows and an unfathomable hunger.

Screams still echoed through his head of lost memories. Harry wasn't sure whether he blocked out the memories, or whether he simply lost the ability to retain anymore information. Either way, he wasn't complaining now. It meant he didn't have to rely on a pensieve or sleeping draughts to dull the pain.

The first thing he remembered vividly was the blood. It wasn't black like tar, or burning hot. It was red, and sicky and so human. The once Tom Riddle bled at his feet, spreading out under Harry's own strangely bare ones. The Elder wand was held limply in Harry's hand, the other held the resurrection ring and invisibility cloak which was clenched in his fist.

All at once be became the Master of Death. There was no fanfare, no great celebration. Death did not great him with open arms and a warm welcome. Instead, Harry stood in the empty hall and shed no tears for his sins.

The wizarding world would never know who defeated Lord Voldemort in those final moments. For the most part, they were unsure whether to celebrate or fear the ravenous force that could destroy them all as it had the Dark Lord. They didn't know who to fear, they just did.

His job was done as far as Harry was concerned. So, he had gone back to where it truly all began.

The expansive room showed little damage from the previous battle. He was unsure as to whether it had the same mystic powers as the veil and regenerated, or if the Unspeakables had somehow managed to restore the magic saturated room. The vaulting ceiling came to a peak directly above the arch, drawing attention to its imposing silhouette.

Without the anarchy of the last visit, it was almost peaceful in the chamber. The silence was eerie, but silence was now Harry's best friend.

He dared not speak as he inspected the glossy surface of the veil. From a distance, it appeared as if nothing filled the vacant space, however up close, Harry noticed the details. Maybe the sight restoring potion had worked too well, but Harry could have sworn for a moment that he saw colours never seen before.

Maybe he was just being dramatic, Harry huffed to himself, leaning back and allowing a small smile to settle on his lips. The veil was frighteningly inviting and was tempting his curiosity.

The surface seemed to be in a constant state of motion, like whipping waves on the ocean during a storm. Wisps tantalisingly broke away and licked at his fingers which were still held up mere millimetres from its unknown depths.

Harry had nothing to lose.

Don't get him wrong, Harry wasn't suicidal, he just didn't care. And that was far, far worse.

And so, Harry stepped through to the next great unknown.

~.~.~

I've actually got another account, but I didn't want my previous writing to impact on this.

This is a Kuroko Tetsuya is Harry Potter work of fiction. There will be differences in the characters as I merge them, but I hope to make neither of their characters too OC.

I am not entirely sure if I will be continuing this, but I hate the idea in my head and I had to get rid of it if I wanted to be productive. Only made the prologue very short to see how it goes. I usually make a chapter at least 5000 words long.

Feedback is appreciated. I am always tweaking and developing my style. I use too many single sentence paragraphs, but what can I say? I'm a dramatic bitch.

Still deciding on pairings and whether or not it should occur or not. Let me know what you think.

My job is rather time-consuming, so updating will be interesting to say the least.

Thank you for reading.