Disclaimer: All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies and all Naruto characters are the property of Masashi Kishimoto. This is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites.

Warnings: Mentions of character death, angst and drama, mature content (foul language), a single subtle reference to suicide, some character bashing (Molly, Ginny, Ron, & a couple of others), and AU.

AN1: The credit for the Story Prompt/Challenge used to create this one-shot goes to the Guru of Challenges; Challenge King. Original prompt:

Harry ends up in the One Piece universe after going thru the Veil of Death now as to
when this happens it can happen during the fifth book with Harry going thru trying to
get to Sirius or after the final battle with Voldemort with Harry wanting to start his
next great adventure and taking the Deathly Hallows with him so no one else can get
there hands on him.

Now, I'm not all that familiar with the One Piece universe and spent some time doing a bit of research to familiarize myself with the characters, plots, and other important things. I also watched a few episodes to get a proper feel for the best way to pull off the requested crossover and read a few chapters here and there on existing FanFiction crossovers w/ HP/One Piece. In the end, I decided to stick with a one shot and experiment with an idea that I had not seen in any of the stories I'd glanced at and this story was born.

AN2: This story is self-beta'd; so there may be occasional grammatical or spelling errors that crop up every now and then and for those I apologize in advance.

Fruit of the Devil

Eighty-seven year old Harry James Potter glanced at the kitchen clock before he placed his breakfast dishes in the sink and headed for the front door. He paused beside the door just long enough to slip into a pair of dragon hide boots and collect the dragon hide dueling cloak that hung from a coat hook beside the door. As soon as he pulled on the cloak, his hands unconsciously flitted over each of the dozens of pockets that adorned the cloak as he mentally listed off their contents out of habit.

Healing potions. Defensive potions. Offensive potions. Neutralizing potions. Experimental potions. Poisons. Antidotes. Portable potion lab. Potion ingredients. Chocolate. Extra wand. Emergency rations. Bottled water. Inflatable raft. Ward stones. Wizard's tent. Magical survival kit. Muggle survival kit. First aide kit. Magical armor. Muggle armor. Owl treats. Wizarding funds. Muggle funds. Elder Wand. Resurrection Stone. Invisibility Cloak. Firebolt. Nimbus Five Thousand. Prank supplies. Writing supplies. Portable Library. Personal grimoire. Translator's Dictionary. Gryffindor's Sword. Goblin made daggers. Pistol. Bullets. Floo powder. Popsicle sticks. Rope. Flares. Lock picks. Good luck charm. Portable liquor cabinet. Spare set of glasses. Two changes of clothes. And Holly wand.

The entire collection of items was secretly referred to as Paranoid Potter's Pocket Protection Paraphernalia by those who had worked with him over the past seventy years.

Harry called it his Salvation Kit.

Each item in the kit had been used at least once or had been added to the kit because there had been a time when he had needed it but hadn't had it on hand at the time. His friends had called him crazy when he first started building the kit but he had ignored their teasing remarks about how he was worse than Mad Eye Moody. The kit had saved his life countless times throughout the last several decades and even though he'd retired from the Auror Corps two years earlier, he hadn't stopped carrying the kit each time he left the house.

Not even if he was just stepping outside to grab the morning newspaper.

After his rough childhood, his adventures at Hogwarts, and a year spent on the run while hunting horcruxes, Harry had learned the value of being prepared for anything. Even the unlikely and impossible. Too many times, he'd been caught flat footed and unprepared and quite a few people had died or been seriously injured because of it. The excessive level of paranoia he'd developed by the end of the 'war' had even saved him from getting trapped in a loveless marriage with one Ginevra Molly Weasley shortly after he'd finished his auror training at age nineteen.

Ginny had tried to dose him with low level love potions several times but after the incident in his sixth year (where Ron had ended up eating a box of cauldron cakes laced with love potion), Harry had taken to scanning any food or drinks that were handed to him. It wasn't until Harry had slipped the younger girl a bit of Veritaserum in her pumpkin juice that he'd learned that she was desperate to marry 'the Boy-Who-Lived' so she could live in the spotlight and spend the vast fortune that he'd inherited from his parents and godfather.

His response to her 'forced confession' had not been appreciated by her mother or Ron. Nor had they been all that pleased that Harry had broken up with Ginny and refused any and all attempts at reconciliation. Harry detested fan-girls and that was all Ginny had ever been; a fan-girl.

After that debacle and the subsequent falling out he'd had with the more vocal members of the Weasley Family, Harry had sworn off relationships entirely. He didn't even bother showing up to formal social events with a date least a girl he asked to go with him read more into his invitation than he intended. That had not gone over well with the wizarding public and the Daily Prophet had speculated for months over the possibility that Harry was gay due to his lack of interest in dating.

Instead of spurring Harry into starting a relationship (as many girls had hoped), the Prophet's rumor mongering had only reaffirmed Harry's decision not to date.

He had then thrown himself into his career as a Ministry Auror; quickly rising up through the ranks. Within five years, he'd gone from a low level rookie to captain of the Emergency Response Squad that went after murderers and chanced after even the smallest whiff of dark magic. By his tenth year on the force, he'd been promoted to Deputy Chief Auror under Gawain Robards and when Robards retired just three years later, Harry had been promoted to Chief Auror.

Through the years, a number of people had tried to convince Harry to run for Minister of Magic and later Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot but he had stubbornly refused. He'd also turned down at least four attempts to promote him to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry had stubbornly held onto his position as Chief Auror from age thirty-one until age eighty-five when he'd finally retired. He might have stayed on longer if not for the fact the new Minister had been a bigger idiot than Fudge.

Not really surprising when one considers that the wizard had inherited all of his father's worst traits and none of his mother's redeeming qualities.

There were days when Harry still wondered where Hugo Weasley came up with the money to buy the election since it was common knowledge that Ron and Hermione were dirt poor due to Ron's drinking and gamboling. He supposed that the rest of the family might have loaned him the money but suspected that Hermione had been forced to sell the investments she'd inherited from her parents. Shame that. Hermione had been a brilliant witch and an intelligent young woman but she'd fallen into the Weasley trap a year before Harry had learned Ginny's true motives.

Ron had been riding on Hermione's coattails ever since.

Harry pushed all thoughts of his former friends out of his mind as he finished confirming that his Salvation Kit was fully stocked before he stepped through his front door. A minute later, he disappeared in a twirl of black as he apparated to the Ministry of Magic in order to attend an emergency session of the Wizengamot that had been called for that morning. He had been tempted to sit this one out (he hated playing politics) but knew it was in his best interest to attend the meeting no matter how boring it might end up being.

It was never a good idea to fall into complacency when an idiot held the reins of their society; that way always led to pain and destruction on the heels of yet another dark lord.

He had narrowly avoided getting caught in the web of a Line Continuation Act that one of the factions had tried to sneak into law forty years earlier. The LCA had been intended to force lifetime bachelors like himself into taking one or more wives to continue their families to prevent the old families from dying out. Harry would have ended up need three wives after Ron had blabbered about Harry being the last living descendant of the Peverells in addition to being the last Potter and the current head of the Black Family (that last one a major sore point for one Draco Malfoy).

Harry hadn't missed a single meeting of the Wizengamot (that he was aware of) since that fiasco.

Upon his arrival at the Ministry, Harry casually passed through the security checkpoint without bothering to hand any of his wands (of which he had three) over to be checked by the security guard on duty (Wizengamot members and Ministry employees were exempt). He did, however, nod politely to the wizard on duty; it was never wise to be rude to those who could make your life miserable at some point if you pissed them off enough. And he'd seen the security guards hassle enough people at the security check-points to know that they took perverse enjoyment out of harassing those who were rude to them and make them late for urgent appointments.

A short ride in the lift dropped Harry off on the level where the boxy little offices slash changing rooms for each of the Wizengamot members were located. He sauntered towards his office so he could put on the horrid purple robes that the members of the Wizengamot were required to wear when in session while absently noting which offices had been in use recently or were still in use as he walked through the halls. By the time he'd reached his office, he had determined that only half of his fellow Wizengamot members were currently inside the Ministry and the rest were either not going to bother showing or were running late.

Harry hummed thoughtfully to himself as he slipped his purple (or were they plum?) robes on over his dueling cloak and smoothed out the fabric so the cloak wasn't as noticeable. It was technically against the rules for him to wear the dueling cloak under his Wizengamot robes but Harry wasn't about to remove his Salvation Kit outside of his home. He knew better than to think that there was any place safe outside of his personal sanctuary. It had taken him two decades secure Grimmauld Place against all forms of intrusion; including placing it under yet another Fidelius Charm with the now deceased Kreacher as the Secret Keeper.

The fact that he'd used the Elder Wand to apply all of his security spells and wards insured that no one else could dismantle them. It wasn't that the legendary wand itself was that powerful but rather the fact that it multiplied and amplified the power of the castor times ten. And Harry was a powerful wizard thanks to all of the trials that he'd been put through since the night Riddle had murdered his parents. That power had then been refined and improved upon once he started his auror training and the Elder Wand only increased his overall power.

He'd originally sought to discard the wand due to the power boost it offered but soon changed his mind after the wand had been stolen from Dumbledore's tomb by Mundungus Fletcher less than a year after the war had ended. He'd reclaimed the Resurrection Stone from the Forbidden Forest after retrieving the wand for much the same reason.

A soft snort escaped from Harry as he found himself once again caught up in old memories. He'd been doing that far too often lately and he knew it was due to a combination of age and boredom. His first year of retirement had been rather pleasant as he'd enjoyed the significant reduction in both stress and paperwork. What he didn't enjoy was the lack of productive activities to engage in. That was another reason why he never missed a Wizengamot meeting; it gave him something to do and he'd grown fond of trading veiled insults with the handful of pureblood families that still existed (like the Malfoys and the Notts).

A smirk tugged at the corner of Harry's mouth as he recalled the various times he'd verbally sparred with his peers throughout the past handful of decades. He schooled his expression a moment later as he exited his office and headed back towards the entrance to the Wizengamot chambers where their meeting was to be held. He'd barely set foot in the chamber when the auror assigned to keep order in the chambers redirected him to Courtroom Ten in bowels of the Ministry. Harry briefly frowned at the woman over the change in venues before he thanked her and left the room.

Instead of taking the lift down to the lower levels, Harry opted to take the stairs since he knew he would be less likely to run into anyone. There was also the fact that the lifts did not actually go down to the final level (to make it harder for criminals to get out if they escaped during their trial) and he'd end up using the stairs in any case. Using the stairs also meant that he would not need to walk passed the entrance into the Department of Mysteries. That was one place he had no desire to spend any time in.

He'd only ever been required to set foot in that particular department three times since he'd been hired by the Ministry and that had been three times too many. He still had nightmares about the first time he'd set foot in the Dept. of Mysteries when he was fifteen. That had been the night he'd lost his godfather and led his friends (and former friends in a few cases) into a trap that had been set up by Voldemort. The other three times he'd been required to set foot in the Dept. of Mysteries had been to witness three executions during his stint as Chief Auror.

Harry had hated it each time. He had hated being required to witness the executions. He hated the fact that the executions were performed via the Veil of Death. And he hated being reminded of his godfather's death each and every time.

Harry briefly closed his eyes and shoved all memories of the Death Chamber to the back of his mind before he allowed a thousand other, happier memories to fill his thoughts. He let out another quiet snort of amusement as an old memory of Severus Snape's instructions while teaching him Occlumency from his fifth year surfaced within his thoughts.

Clear your mind.

What a load of tripe.

Clearing your mind made it far easier for someone to slide into your mind and access your memories at will. No, the key to keeping a Legilimens from accessing important thoughts and memories was to fill your mind with a plethora of useless facts, memories, and emotions in order to confuse the person invading your mind. It also had the added benefit of suffusing a person with whatever emotion they were focusing on at the time. So, if you filled your mind with 'happy thoughts' you were inevitably happy.

Harry had nearly destroyed a few minds due to their inability to cope with the sheer onslaught of needless information that they'd had shoved into their minds in a matter of seconds the moment they probed his mind. Few of those that chose to peep into his mind once to see what he was thinking rarely ever attempted that a second time. The attempts made by would be dark lords or 'reformed' Death Eaters were particularly brutal; especially if he knew that they were going to peek into his mind. The reason for that was because Harry dredged up the worst of his memories and darkest emotions instead of the more benign memories and emotions.

After a while, people just stopped trying due to the rumors that were spread through the dark underbelly of the wizarding world where the criminals, smugglers, murderers, and mercenaries dwelled in the shadows.

Harry wasn't going to complain; he hated it when people trolled through his mind.

By the time he reached Courtroom Ten, Harry was once again relaxed and in control of himself. He stepped through the door and checked in with the auror taking attendance before he made his way to his usual seat towards the back of the room. As he settled down in his seat, he glanced around the room to take a silent count of those present (to reconfirm his earlier estimates of who was here and who had ignored the summons) and attempt to discern the reason behind the call for an emergency meeting.

Ten minutes later, he learned that a rising dark lady had murdered two aurors when an auror squad had stumbled across her torturing a shop keeper in Knockturn Alley for information on how to summon demons. The witch's trial took less than fifteen minutes as she was summarily found guilty and sentenced to death. Harry only paid enough attention to the proceedings to insure that the proper procedures were followed and that the woman was actually guilty; he would never allow an innocent to take the fall on his watch.

Harry's attention was brought abruptly back to the Courtroom when the Minister spoke his name.

"– and retired Chief Auror Potter will stand in as the final witness to the execution due to the absence of Chief Auror Longbottom."

Damn, Harry thought to himself. I should have realized that I would be called on to witness the execution when I didn't see Neville's grandson in his usual seat. I wonder why he didn't attend the trial; he doesn't usually skip the emergency meetings. Then again, his grandfather and father aren't here either; I wonder if Neville's health has taken another turn for the worse. I'll have to check in on him when I'm done here.

Harry didn't bother to protest the Minister's decision to railroad him into being one of the five required witnesses to the execution; chances were, the blundering berk had done it intentionally just to use the opportunity to boss the 'Savior of the Wizarding World' around and to cause him pain. Many people would claim that the octogenarian was just being overly paranoid or cynical if he were to verbalize such a belief but Harry knew full well that Ron, Ginny, and Molly had all poisoned the younger generations of Weasleys against him and had passed on any weaknesses they knew.

This wouldn't be the first time one of the younger generations had attempted to get a rise out of him, after all.

Not that Harry ever paid much mind to them; the little snot-nosed brats were hardly a threat to him.

Threat or not; the devious little shits certainly know exactly which buttons to push in order to drudge up the worst of my memories, Harry thought to himself as he gracefully rose to his feet and fell in line with the other four witnesses as a pair of aurors began dragging the condemned towards the exit.

He carefully showed no outward signs of his annoyance with the current Minister as he crossed the courtroom floor; he refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his little jab had struck home. Wouldn't due to give the bumbling upstart any more ammunition least he end up being roped into witnessing a slue of future executions. Not that there were that many criminals that were sentenced to death (less than one a decade, in fact) but that didn't mean that Harry had any interest in being required to start traveling through the Dept. of Mysteries on a regular if infrequent basis.

During the short walk from Courtroom Ten to the Dept of Mysteries, Harry wondered if the old adage 'power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely' had been coined specifically to describe the wizarding world. During the seventy-six years he'd lived within the wizarding world, he'd seen plenty of evidence of just how easily it is to corrupt even the kindest souls by offering them even the smallest shred of power. And each witch and wizard were handed instruments of power the moment they were old enough to start school.

Not even he had escaped the taint of corruption; his continued ownership of the Deathly Hallows was proof enough of that. He was also more than willing to admit (at least to himself) that some of the things he'd done throughout his lifetime had skirted both the law and the lines of morality that had once ruled his beliefs. It had been the knowledge of his own character flaws that had mainly prevented him from accepting those positions that would have given him even more power than he already had (such as the Minister's seat and title).

Before he could delve too deeply into those memories, they had entered the Dept. of Mysteries and were passing through the door leading into the Death Chamber where the stone arch that held the Veil of Death sat on a stone dais at the center of the large amphitheater that had been built into the vast room. Harry paused in the doorway for a split second the moment his eyes locked onto the deceptively delicate looking scrap of fabric hanging from the stone arch and shifting in a nonexistent breeze. The murmur of soft voices coming from the gossamer fabric filled his ears a split second later and he nearly flinched over the eagerness he could hear in them this time.

He started walking again before anyone noticed his slight hesitation; his eyes still firmly glued to the Veil. Once he'd reached the lowest level of the room, he took a seat on one of the front-most benches that ringed the dais where the arch sat and turned his attention to the condemned witch; purposefully ignoring the other four witnesses. The woman didn't appear to be the least bit concerned that she was about to die. In fact, the corner of the woman's mouth was turned up in the smallest of smirks as she glanced around at those in the room.

A split second later, her eyes connected with his and the barely noticeable smirk on her face blossomed into a smile that greatly unsettled Harry. It was not the kind of smile that a murderess wears during her imminent execution. Not unless she knew something that everyone else didn't. It was a smile that Harry just knew was going to cause him all kinds of headaches.

Less than two minutes later, the woman was propelled into the Veil of Death by her auror escorts and Harry silently watched as the magic in the Veil wrapped around the woman's body and pulled her into Death's Realm. The moment she could no longer be seen, the rest of the witnesses rose to their feet and began heading towards the exit while Harry warily stared at the Veil of Death. When nothing happened after another three minutes had passed, Harry relaxed his muscles and climbed to his feet so that he too could leave.

He'd barely reached the stairs leading up to the main exit when he was grabbed by a rope of magic that shot out of the Veil of Death. Before he could draw one of his wands, Harry found himself being hauled towards the Veil. Harry cursed long and loud in his mind as he felt the icy tendrils of death magic that were woven into the Veil wrap around him and draw him into oblivion. The last thought to pass through his mind before he blacked out was a string of curses directed at Fate, Lady Luck, and Destiny for daring to meddle in his life once more.

When consciousness finally returned to the green eyed wizard, he found himself floating amongst the stars. If he hadn't been so angry about being sucked into the Veil without any warning, Harry might have found the endless expanse of glittering stars breathtakingly beautiful. Harry was angry though. He'd just been ripped from his world and stripped of his life. And he didn't even really know who it was that had just assassinated him or why they had done it.

He had briefly thought to blame one of his many enemies and former friends in the wizarding world but eventually dismissed that notion when he realized that they would not have had the ability or intelligence to mess with the Veil of Death. Could they have bribed or blackmailed the Unspeakables? Yes. But it was very doubtful that any Unspeakable would have cooperated due to the oaths of neutrality that they were required to give the moment they were inducted into that secretive branch of the Ministry.

There was also the fact that most of the Unspeakables steered clear of Harry ever since Agent Croaker had learned that Harry had taken possession of the Elder Wand.

Apparently, the Unspeakables had a healthy respect bordering on outright fear for the holder of the Wand of Destiny.

Harry sometimes wondered what would have happened had the Unspeakables known that Harry also possessed the Cloak of Invisibility and the Resurrection Stone as well. He knew that most wizarding stories told a tale of the person who united the three Deathly Hallows becoming the Master of Death (or some such rot) but no one could ever tell him what being the Master of Death was supposed to entail. Nor did they have any clue as to the benefits or disadvantages one would face once they had become the Master of Death.

There were some that believed the Master of Death would become immortal and hold dominion over the realms of the dead. Some believed that being the Master of Death meant that they would in fact become death personified and replace the former Death until they chose a successor. Others still believed that the Master of Death would take up the leash of Death and keep the god-like being as a pet for all eternity; able to grant immortality to friends and strike down foes on a whim.

Harry always laughed when he heard those myths. He was most certainly not immortal; he had aged right alongside of his peers and he was well aware of his own mortality after a lifetime of close calls. He also had no control over who died or when they died. Nor had he ever been visited by the being known as 'Death' during the sixty-nine years he'd held all three Hallows. To the green eyed wizard, the Hallows were nothing more than exceptionally well made tools that had potentially been crafted by his ancestors.

Harry's internal ramblings and reflections were interrupted at that point by a flash of bright light beside him. Once the light had faded away, Harry found himself floating beside the condemned witch that had been thrown through the Veil of Death just minutes before he himself had been pulled through the arch. He growled softly under his breath when the woman turned to him and once again smiled at him; he only just now began to suspect that she was the reason why he had been pulled into the Veil.

"Aren't they beautiful, Mr. Potter?" the woman asked in a melodious voice as she gestured at the scattered stars that hung in the void around them. "I never tire of watching the radiant fires that represent the souls of the dead. There is just something striking in the way a soul shines brightly the moment they cast off their mortal shells and shed their fear of the unknown. Of course, there are those whose fear is so great they seek to cling to their bodies and eventually fade away."

"What do you want from me? Why did you bring me here?" Harry demanded as he completely ignored the woman's strange speech.

"I do not want anything from you, child," the woman countered as she turned to face him. "I brought you here to reward you for a life well lived. I could have waited another fifteen minutes and let nature take its course but I did not wish for you to suffer at the hands of those you once treasured. I also did not wish for you to face the indignity of having your soul destroyed by the dementors on the orders of those who feared your power. Call me selfish, but I could not stand the thought of seeing your bright soul vanish from the worlds forever."

"So, you killed me to spare me death?" Harry caustically demanded as he tried not to get sick over the mere possibility that the woman spoke the truth about the pending betrayal.

"No, you are not dead. I pulled you into the Realm of Death to save your life and your soul. The Veil of Death does not kill those who pass through it; it merely heals their bodies and souls before it sends them on to a new world to live out the remainder of their preordained lifetime. At the same time, passing through the Veil is perceived as death by those who know of its existence because those who pass through the Veil can never return to the world into which they were born."

"Does that mean that my godfather is still alive?" Harry asked once the implications of the woman's explanation sank in.

"No, your godfather was dead when he passed through the Veil; the curse that sent him into the Veil extinguished his life the instant it touched him. His soul was amongst one of the most beautiful I have seen; dimmed though it was due to the number of years he spent in close proximity to the dementors. His spirit was sent on to its well deserved rest with those he considered his family many centuries ago."

"Oh."

"Come, child; it is time for me to take you to a peaceful little world where you can live out the remaining years of your life."

"No thank you; I'd much rather join my parents and godfather in the afterlife."

"Only the dead may cross into the heavenly realms of the afterlife and your soul still clings tightly to your mortal shell."

"I would have properly died if you hadn't interfered," Harry pointed out in annoyance.

"Wrong; your soul would have been destroyed; meaning that you would never join your loved ones in the afterlife," the woman countered in an equally annoyed tone. "You have been granted a chance that few mortals ever receive; a chance to live the last ten decades of your life in peace on a world where none will know your name. It is a precious gift from the Fates for the burdens you shoulders in your first eight decades."

"Another one hundred years…? Oh, no. No! You are not going to stick me in some new world and leave me to rot for another hundred years before I am reunited with my family."

"You do not have a choice, Mr. Potter."

"I am not going. I refuse."

"It has already been decided and even now we are drawing closer to the world that will become your new home."

"NO!" Harry bellowed as the void and the soul stars that filled it began fading from view.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter; enjoy your new life."

"I swear by all that is unholy, that if you send me into a new world, then I will…"

"Silence, mortal!" the woman ordered in a harsh voice that reverberated through Harry's entire being as she interrupted the threat that Harry had been verbalizing. "I will listen to you whine and complain no more!"

The unnamed woman had then picked him up and cast his body into the new world that had been chosen for him to live out his remaining years on. Harry cursed the powerful being that had ripped him from his world, denied him the chance to see his parents and godfather, and thrown him into an unfamiliar world to live out another century. He was still cursing when he plunged into the frigid waters of a seemingly endless ocean.

As he kicked his way back to the surface and air, Harry reached into one of the many pockets that covered his dueling cloak and fished out the inflatable raft he carried as part of his Salvation Kit with one hand while his other hand grabbed his holly wand. A flick of his wrist activated the inflation runes on the side of the raft and the folded piece of magically reinforced plastic soon filled with air that was drawn directly from the water he was submersed in. As the raft filled up, it dragged the waterlogged wizard up towards the surface far faster than he could have swum.

It only took a total of ninety seconds for Harry's head to break the surface of the water once more and he choked and gasped as he sucked in great gulps of much needed air. Once he could breathe again, Harry hauled himself into the yellow life raft and used his wand to dry his clothes and warm his chilled body. Once he was no longer freezing his ass off, he pulled out a compass to determine which direction was north before he aimed his boat south and west and activated the propulsion runes that sent the raft skimming over the surface of the water.

Once he was moving, Harry began searching for any signs of land on the endless expanse of blue waters while he dug into his cloak once more to pull out something to eat and drink. He also dug out his personal grimoire so that he could look up the assortment of seafaring spells he'd learned the last time he'd found himself stranded in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean due to a faulty portkey. It had been that particular accident that had prompted him to purchase the magically enhanced life raft he was currently using.

Over the course of the next three days, Harry used a combination of navigation charms and locater spells to find and steer himself towards the nearest land. He was less than impressed with himself when he ended up finding a chain of small, uninhabited islands instead of an actual continent. He contemplated heading back out to sea in order to hunt down a bustling port with actual people before he eventually decided he didn't want to deal with others just yet. In fact, he really didn't want to go through the process of finding and making new friends.

Decision made, Harry chose the least inviting of the twenty small islands (most of them measured in terms of feet instead of miles and empty of all but sand and a few scraggly bushes) to make his home on. He then set about turning the rocky island into an impenetrable fortress and hidden paradise using his magic. As he worked, Harry considered what he was going to do with the next hundred years of torture (better known as life) that he was doomed to suffer through thanks to that annoying woman in the void.

What he really wanted was revenge for all that the woman had stolen away from him.

Yeah, technically, she was supposedly rewarding him but forcing him to live out another one hundred years in a world completely different than his own was just cruel. And peace? Why in the world would he want to live in a peaceful world? He loved the rush of adrenalin that came with fighting for his life. Peace was boring. He'd had enough of peace and relaxation after he'd retired from the Ministry in order to avoid butting heads with the new Minister.

Give him adventure or give him death!

And since death was denied to him, he'd just have to make his own adventures.

Or better yet… he was going to bring chaos to the 'peaceful little world' that he'd been unwilling banished into.

Why wander the world looking for a proper adventure when he could force the world to entertain him instead?

Harry chuckled evilly to himself once he'd reached a decision. What better way to show his dissatisfaction with his current circumstances than to reach deeply into his Marauder heritage and cause a little mayhem and madness? Maybe, if he created enough havoc, the wretched woman would pull him back out of this world and send him onto his well deserved afterlife with his family.

He could always hope.

And if she didn't; then he'd have several decades to turn this world upside down and inside out.

It would take Harry two full years to create his island fortress and hidden tropical paradise. He would then spend another twenty years learning everything he could about his new world. There was not much information to be found on his new island home, so he ventured forth on his trusty Firebolt and traveled the world over learning the common language, memorizing the lay of the land, and observing the creatures and beings that shared his new world. He also learned that the magic of this new world was locked up tightly in the core of the planet due to the lack of wizards to draw upon the energy.

That was just too perfect.

He had a plethora of pure magic at his fingertips just begging to be used.

And use it he did.

Over the course of the next three years, Harry experimented with the world's magic. During that time, he learned that this world's magic was far more… primitive (for lack of a better word) than the magic of his birth world. It was brand new and untainted; especially when compared to his own magic or the magic of the Deathly Hallows. It was also pure; lacking the millions upon millions of magical imprints that all magicals left behind on the magic of Harry's birth world each time they cast a spell.

This magic was wild and strong and full of change.

At the end of his three years of experimentation and study, Harry took another year to observe his new world as he began to plan out his revenge. He then spent four years enacting those plans. He started by releasing the world's wild magic out into the world where it was absorbed by the plants, animals, and people. Centuries later, those people who awakened the power that had accumulated within their souls would call it Haki instead of magic; its abilities far more limited than the magic that Harry wielded. Additionally, the magic would change some of the trees, plants, and animals that inhabited the world. One such change was the birth of what would become known as the Fishmen race and their cousins the Merfolk.

Once the magic was released into the world, Harry dug into his Salvation Kit for the box of Weasley pranks and his potions kit and spent two years creating and storing an assortment of potions that offered the drinker a wide array of 'powers'. Some of the powers were actually useful but most of them were just silly and some of them were even far more dangerous to the user than to those around them.

The last two years of preparation were then spent creating a delivery method for the potions he'd created, a fail-safe that would prevent one person from consuming all of the potions and becoming too powerful, and a way for the world's magic to reproduce the potions long after he was gone. For a delivery method, he settled on using fruits; originally thinking that the flavor of the fruit would mask the disgusting taste of the potions. That had worked right up until he added the block that would prevent a person from consuming a second fruit.

The next thing he did was incorporate a single major drawback to the potion fruits to allow for the people using them to be defeated (as angry as he was, he didn't want to create a bunch of powerful dark lords). And because most of the world he'd ended up on was covered in water, he'd made it so that the users would be powerless when submerged in water. The very last thing he did was to insure that his potion filled fruits would continue to pop up around the world long after his death, Harry created a link between the fruits and the world's magic before tying both into a tree that grew on the middle of his island.

Once he was finished, the tree held exactly one hundred singularly unique fruits whose only common element was the fact that they were growing on the same tree and that each of them were either covered in or made up of little swirl patterns.

He then booby-trapped his entire island and the rest of the islands in the chain to make those that would inevitably come searching for the power of the fruit work for their prize. The very last part of Harry's plan to spread chaos in the world involved him spreading rumors of the 'sacred' fruits that would grant the person who ate them 'magical' powers. He left just enough hints to give people a vague idea of what they were looking for and where they could find it. Harry then sat back in his hidden fortress and waited for the first fool to find him and his special fruits.

It would take five years for an enterprising young woman to stumble upon his island and Harry calmly sipped at a glass of Firewhiskey as he watched her fight her way through the traps he'd created. It took her two full weeks to make it to the hidden orchard where the 'sacred' tree grew and he snickered to himself as he watched her reverently pluck a single fruit from the tree. The moment she reached out to take a second fruit, the protective wards on the orchard kicked the woman out and sent her back to where her ship was anchored out beyond the coral reefs that surrounded his island.

Over the course of the next ten years, thousands more would find their way to his island but only fifteen of them would reach the hidden orchard and collect a fruit. By the end of those ten years, Harry's island had been named Devil Island, the 'sacred' tree had been dubbed the Devil's Tree, and the 'sacred' fruits became Devil Fruits. After Harry's presence had been discovered by a particularly sneaky crew of pirates, the wizard would often be referred to as the Devil's Keeper or occasionally as the Devil himself.

Each time a Devil Fruit user (the name given to those who gained the powers hidden in the various fruits) died, their power would transfer itself to the nearest tree or fruit by the world's magic.

Chaos reigned supreme as word of the existence of the Devil Fruits spread.

It wasn't until Harry reached his fiftieth year in the new world that he realized that the being that had sent him there did not care that he'd destroyed the peace of that world. Or she wasn't aware that he'd destroyed the peace. Depression sank in when he realized that his efforts to escape his one hundred year exile (which was what he considered the 'gift' the woman had given him) were futile. As a result of that revelation, he would spend the next ten years bouncing between absolute rage and deep depression until he finally settled for resigned indifference.

He would only try to force Death's hand to take his life once and it was after that failed attempt that he fell into indifference.

The next thirty years of his life were then spent wandering the world to view the fruits of his labor first hand. Harry even sold an occasional Devil Fruit to a passing idiot or desperate pirate just to amuse himself. He found no enjoyment in the chaos he had created though. He didn't regret creating the Devil's Fruit but at the same time, he also no longer felt any pride in his achievement.

During his final decade of life, Harry holed himself up on his island and created an army of golems to protect the Devil Tree and the handful of fruits that had not been plucked from its branches. He also reinforced the enchantments that prevented adventurers from plucking more than one fruit; no need to allow the greedy to stripe the tree bare of its fruits in one go.

Towards the end of his final year, when his long anticipated death drew near, Harry built himself an elaborate tomb and wove the strongest wards he knew about the underground cavern. He then collected his strongest five golems, sealed himself and his golems inside of his tomb, buried the Deathly Hallows in the hopes that they would never be found, and patiently waited for Death to take him.

Exactly one hundred years after he arrived on this new world, Harry James Potter died peacefully in his sleep between one breath and the next; his soul at long last leaving his body.

When awareness returned to the wizard, he found himself floating in the Void once more; though, this time, he too appeared as a bright star of light now that he had shed his body. Peace filled his soul at last as he found himself drifting towards a gathering of familiar stars; the traces of magic within his soul recognizing them as the souls of his family and friends. He even felt the souls of those friends he had drifted apart from (such as Ron and Hermione) and he accepted their silent remorse and apologies as he settled into his afterlife with contentment.

Hovering above the congregation of stars that had just welcomed Harry Potter back into their midst were a man and a woman. The woman smirked in triumph as she turned her attention from the shimmering gold star that represented Harry's soul as she glanced at the man beside her.

"I told you so," the woman taunted in a tone of superiority.

"So you did," the man agreed as he in turned glanced towards the world where Harry had unleashed both chaos and magic during the century he'd lived there. "I am surprised you allowed him to escape your clutches so easily though. I would have thought that you would have chained his soul to yours and forced him to serve you for all eternity."

"No, his soul was too beautiful to bind in such a way, Death," the woman countered as she turned wistful. "He was also far too stubborn and would have fought me every step of the way. It is better this way. I will take the pieces of my magic that he had gathered to him and scatter them once more when I have need of another servant to carry arms for me. It is also prudent for me to use a different soul each time I leave my touch upon the worlds; otherwise it would be far too easy for those who would bind my powers to stop me."

"You just enjoy using those little trinkets to cause disorder while they search out your next servant, Chaos," Death pointed out with a soft snort.

"Of course, I do," Chaos replied with a laugh. "And the best part was that our siblings mistakenly thought it was you causing trouble on the boy's birth world after the foolish mortals twisted the origins of the Hallows and linked them to your visage. If not for the chaos that was spread in your name, I might have grown jealous of you getting the credit for my little creations. Master of Death, indeed! As if any mere mortal could ever hope to shackle you!"

"Well, as far as titles goes, Master of Death is far more appealing than Servant of Disorder."

"I don't know; those twins from Mr. Potter's world certainly loved causing havoc. I tried to maneuver my creations into their hands but they were always in the wrong place at the wrong time. At least Mr. Dumbledore didn't collect and master my Hallows. He would have never risen to the occasion. I don't know why so many mortals think of him as some powerful master manipulator when the man couldn't even match his socks to his robes two days in a row."

"You can't deny that his was a colorful soul."

"True, it was just such a shame that the man himself was colorblind."