It has been a long time since I've been back on this site, and I apologize for that. Sadly, real life takes priority over fanfiction. No matter how much I wish it were the opposite. Well, I'm back with new stories and rewrites of the old so they mesh better with my new style of writing. Thank you to everyone that has stuck around, and I'm sorry that I've taken such a long time to update.

As for this story, it is a crossover between Fate/Zero and Harry Potter. I've recently been really into the Type-Moon franchise, and I don't see this ending anytime soon. With the release of several shows it has been getting a lot of attention lately, so my obsession with it has only strengthened.

Warning(s)/Contain(s): PWP (Prologue? What Prologue), Character Death, Extreme Violence, BL (Boy's Love/Shōnen Ai), Blood/Gore, etc.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Zero or Harry Potter. Rights belong to Type-Moon and J.K. Rowling respectively. The storyline for this story, however, does belong to me. Well, as much as someone can own fanfiction.

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death, life, and rebirth

Prologue

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Harry Potter has encountered Death at three different times in his eighteen years of living.

The first time had been in ignorance. He had been a toddler, looking down the end of his attempted murderer's wand. More worried about his mother, who no longer moved than the bright green curse that filled his vision soon after. It was the love of his mother that allowed him to escape Death's grasp.

The second time had been with determination. He had been a child, taking on a task that should've rested on the shoulders of those obligated to protect him. Yet, he had been forced to pick up their slack. As the venom of the Basilisk coursed through his veins, he cared more for the life of his friend's sister than his own. It was the tears of a phoenix, which wrenched him out of Death's reach.

The third time had been with acceptance. He was a young man, barely out of his school robes. Devastated with the fate kept from him by a meddling old man, but willing to sacrifice himself in order to protect those who he cared for.

This time, he walked into Death's arms without a fuss and he greeted him like an old friend.

"Here he is, The Boy-Who-Lived…come to die!" Voldemort crowed triumphantly, lifting his wand and reciting the spell that had started everything.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A sickly green filled his vision and he saw nothing.

In the ghostly King's Cross station, the Boy-Who-Lived conversed with Death who took the guise of his mother. She was even more beautiful than in the pictures he mulled over in the photo album given to him by Hagrid.

While conversing with death, he couldn't help but feel nostalgic. As if this wasn't his first time speaking with the being he has managed to escape till now. Flashes of a time before he was Harry Potter, hit him. None of it made sense, and he turned to Death for answers.

The entity only smiled, "All will be answered in time…what had been destroyed shall be remade."

After accepting Death's offer to return, he fulfilled his task and vanquished Voldemort. Using his signature spell – the Disarming Charm, which even now baffles all who witnessed it.

Lauded as a savior once more, Harry led Wizarding Britain through reforms. Using his fame, he pushed through acts that would allow all to benefit while abolishing those that caused strife in the first place. In a bid to prevent others from suffering as he and Voldemort had, magical orphanages were established. In order to bridge the gap between purebloods and Muggle-borns, a primary school was opened to foster understanding on both sides of the fence.

Magical beings and creatures were given the rights, which had been long since denied them. Wizards were forced to realize that they were not the top of the food chain, and if they hoped to thrive in this new order. They would learn that they no longer could do as they pleased to others or hold onto their delusions of grandeur.

Of course, there were restrictions placed on some things. After all, there had to be some order. However, things weren't outright banned unless proven to be completely reprehensible.

All the while, Harry dealt with the visions that he couldn't quite understand.

Whenever he allowed himself to rest, memories of being created, of roaming a jungle till he was lead to a beautiful woman who resembled his mother so vividly. He dreamed of going to a grand palace, of stepping in to protest the injustice done by a tyrant only to end up befriending said tyrant after a long and arduous battle.

He dreamed of traveling with his enemy turned friend, dreamed of facing monstrous beings that made Voldemort look like a schoolyard bully in comparison. He saw how the tyrant dismissed an arrogant goddess who desired him, and the calamity she unleashed upon his kingdom in the form of a Bull. Harry watched as he and the tyrant managed to triumph, only for himself to die at the order of the gods.

Then he would wake up, and find that physically he was beginning to change.

Malnutrition – courtesy of the Dursleys, guaranteed that he would never be tall. Something that Harry had been forced to accept as he watched the guys around him shoot up like weeds. Ron, especially. However, he found himself growing past the diminutive height of five feet, five inches to five feet, seven inches. Two inches more than he had been resigned to living with.

Another change was his hair. Being a Potter, his hair has always looked like a rat's nest. Unruly and completely unmanageable despite its soft texture. While that hadn't changed much, what had changed was the color of his hair.

Since the day he had taken down Voldemort, strands of his hair turned a light-green from root to tip. The number of green strands growing by the day. Now, his head was a mix of black and green, with the green now dominating the jet black. Despite visits to St. Mungo's, no one could explain the phenomenon and now it was being chalked up to a side-effect of being hit with the Killing Curse.

Besides his hair and his height, he's also noticed that he is a lot stronger physically. While he wasn't creating craters with punches or other things one would see in muggle comic books. Harry certainly was growing progressively stronger by the day – door knobs and cups being the main victims of his strength.

Hermione was going mad trying to find the reason for these changes, but Harry was more focused on moving on from the war and coming to terms with the memories he's being bombarded with.

Adapting has been a skill of Harry's and that hadn't changed.

Yes, he was concerned about these changes. However, with everything he has gone through. Cosmetic changes like his hair and some a going a little deeper than that were just another thing to get used to in his abnormal life.

"Seriously Harry, I think you should be a little more disturbed about what is happening!" Hermione scolded, her harried visage peering up at him from the communication mirror. The other he had given her and Ron as they left for Australia to find her parents.

Sighing, Harry brushed his fringe back, exposing an extremely faint lightning bolt scar.

"I know Hermione," he conceded warily.

"But there is nothing I can do about it. I've already had Madam Pomphrey look me over, and she's said that I'm in perfect health…better even, and couldn't detect what caused this…plus, there is no way I'm allowing St. Mungo's to examine me." This decision, he wouldn't be persuaded from.

To him, it wouldn't be a surprise if St. Mungo's found something that would end up with him under the scrutiny of the Ministry and the rest of the public more than he already was. Both, which have shown in the past that they had no qualms of persecuting him for the tiniest possibilities before.

Despite Kingsley being the Minister, Harry didn't know the man enough to trust that he would support him above the wishes of the people. The last thing Harry wanted, was to end up being designated a threat and being given over to the Department of Mysteries as some subject to study. Of which he could see happening, regardless of the near worship he was receiving now.

Any notion of trust he would place with Wizarding Britain had been destroyed by his fifth year at Hogwarts and beyond.

No, what he wants is to get away and acclimate himself to these changes and spend more time concentrating on these memories. Something was telling him, that he wouldn't find it here in Britain…at least not in Wizarding Britain.

So it was a surprise that an answer to his troubles would come to him in the form of a peculiar old man with the eyes of Voldemort and the mischievous grin of his late godfather.

End of Prologue

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So, something that I managed to come up with on the fly. I've been pretty obsessed with the Fate series for a while now, and with all these adaptations coming out. I don't think this will be changing anytime soon. Plus, Gilgamesh has joined my Throne of Husbands – where Sinbad from Magi and old favorites like Kaname from Vampire Knight, and Sesshōmaru from InuYasha: A Feudal Fairytale already reside. I know it's been a while, but I'm just trying to get back in the swing of things. My love for the King of Heroes and his tragic bromance/romance (I refuse to accept it as anything less) was cut short.

If it wasn't made clear by now, Harry is basically the reincarnation of Enkidu – the one true friend of Gilgamesh.

Anyway, this story is going to be taking place during Fate/Zero and ripples are going to be showing themselves. Hopefully, I'll be able to get this story to a true conclusion. Who knows! I might just feel like making a sequel if the muse allows it.

In other news, I am also working on my other fics – When Lightning Strikes and Prepare the Masses, specifically – so be on the lookout for that. I just wanted to test the waters with this prologue and see how people like it. For certain people, relax, there will be no actual sex in this story between males. There will, however, be romantic feelings shared between guys. No need to run away from imagined graphic scenes.

For one-shots that I will likely be posting during the life of this fic. Well…I can't promise you anything there.

I'll leave warnings~

Forever yours,

Lady Tacodile Supreme