Mind Madness

AN:

Oni: So, it's been a bit more than a year. Since it's almost that time, Happy Halloween! Sorry for the delay. I've been working on Come Together as well as other projects (including two/three guest chapters) and this lil guy fell by the wayside. But worry not! YNiE is not dead!

Harry: I think they just want to read the story, Oni.

Oni: Point. Well why don't you do the disclaimer?

Harry: Homestuck belongs to Andrew Hussie and the Harry Potter franchise belongs to JK Rowling.

Oni: Aaaaaand ONWARDS!

The merry crackling of the Gryffindor Common Room fire soothed his nerves somewhat as he stared at the two figures who were glaring at each other from across the room. His eyes shifted nervously, having never witnessed something quite like this before. Then again, his second chance was an anomaly in itself, so he shouldn't be that surprised at the sight before him.

Startling emerald green eyes gazed defiantly at indignant amethyst violet.

"Stupid landdwweller." Eridan Ampora sneered from his violet chair, his arms absentmindedly clutching where his two halves were haphazardly sewn together, "You should havve let your enemy take the fall. You could havve wwiped out three potential future threats in one fell swwoop!"

"Not everything is about killing!" defended Harry Potter from his red and gold chair, hands fidgeting with a golden snitch, "Malfoy may be a right git, but nothing is worth jeopardizing Hagrid's new job! Besides, it's not like the arm hurts that much."

"You are missin the point! Your enemy wwas right there ready to die!" Eridan screeched.

"He wouldn't have died! He would have gotten scratched just like us and Hagrid would have lost his job!" Harry retaliated with equal force.

The third person in the room, the one that was the true amalgam of the two people verbally duking it out, stayed silent, watching. He wasn't sure what to call himself, or if it even mattered. Currently, his past and present life had manifested into physical forms in his own mindspace, somehow, and he knew both lives well enough to be certain that 'can't we all get along' wasn't going to be an option.

"Wwhy do you evven care about that giant dimwwit?" came the scathing question from the violet blooded troll, "There is little to no tactical use of him!"

"Because he's my friend!" Harry all but screamed, "Because not everything has to be about tactical advantages and winning a war! Friends are important, too! You can't just forget them in the name of battle! You did that in your life and that worked out so well for you didn't it?!"

Both Eridan and the Observer both winced. That hit low. It did the trick, however, and Eridan Ampora went silent, holding his stitched up wounds, a low hiccup coming from his form. Seeing that there wasn't going to be much of a fight anymore, Harry slumped back in his chair and turned to the Observer.

"How did we get like this?" grumbled the Boy Who Lived, "How can we be the same person?"

"Sometimes circumstance molds a person into who they'll be." the Observer replied softly, noting that with Harry holding the 'dominant' position, he no longer had his quirk, "Choices, too, can pave the path."

"So wwise," sneered Eridan from his chair, "for someone wwho's supposed to be a mixture of the twwo of us."

"I'm just curious as to how you two are here now." said the Observer, "I thought that I was neither and both of you, a single entity with both lives and memories."

At that, Harry Potter shrugged.

"No idea. I just came around during the incident with Malfoy." replied the green eyed boy, "But since I'm here and he's there, what do we call you?"

"I'll figure it out." was the only thing the Observer could say.

Silence reigned for a moment, the kind that allowed for tensions to simmer. Once he had finished his stewing, it was the troll who was the first one to speak up again.

"Wwell since wwe're all stuck like this for the foreseeable future," started Eridan, eying the other two occupants of the room warily as he tried to hold himself together, "wwe should probably wwork out some sort of system. The twwo of us most likely came about because of a dissonance in the psyche, as up until noww both the past and the present had been in agreement, an I don't think wwe'll be leavvin anytime soon."

"That makes sense, I guess." muttered Harry, turning to the Observer, "Do you think we'll disappear once we're in agreement, or should we start planning some sort of system like... past me said?"

"I have no idea." replied the Observer, who wasn't doing much observing anymore, with a shrug, "I would assume so, since you both seem to be the manifestation of the dissonance, and once we come to an agreement, you will most likely be integrated back into the psyche until there is another moral dilemma."

"So all we have to do is come to an agreement and see what happens." Harry thought aloud before he faced a no longer sulking Eridan, "While I don't agree with your methods, I accept the fact that your reasoning was for our good, and that your memories have helped me since the train incident. Malfoy's such a pain in my side."

Eridan stared at Harry for a moment, blinking slowly with a blank look on his face. The Observer, whose existence was half made up of the troll, assumed it was because he wasn't used to being told he was right. When he finally shook himself out of his stupor, the violet seadweller looked his reincarnated human self in the eye and sighed.

"Yeah, I guess you havve a point as wwell." muttered the Alternian, "It's best to keep loyal to the friends you havve, an I'll try not to fuck it up this time an lose friends again."

The two halves gave each other a crooked smile, and within a blink of an eye, the Observer was alone in his mindspace again. He was certain that this wasn't going to be an isolated incident, and that Eridan Ampora and Harry Potter would eventually fight again. They were simply too different of people not to. And yet... where did that leave him?

Before he could get into the issue that was his own identity, his consciousness was being prodded at. Someone was trying to wake him. Deciding not to push the issue until later, he relinquished his hold upon his mind and opened his eyes, noting his place upon the Hospital Wing bed. Beside him sat a worried Neville Longbottom, who breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he cast his eyes on the round faced boy.

"Oh thank Merlin." Neville sighed out, "I thought you'd lost too much blood. That hippogriff really did a number on you."

Ah, yes, that was what had caused the two halves of his lives to appear. Such an injury meant little in either life, so he wasn't quite sure of the panic that had spread through the class. Even so, he and Neville had marched to the Hospital Wing in peace, Madame Pomfrey tutting over him as soon as he got there. She had given him a few potions and assigned him to bed rest as his arm healed. Perhaps that time had allowed him to come to terms with himself in the mindspace.

The Observer, though now alone in his mind, simply nodded at his worried classmate.

"It's not that bad, Nevville." he replied, trying to placate the boy, "It really didn't hurt that much, and I probably wwouldn't havve noticed it if it wwasn't pointed out."

It appeared that despite the fact that both halves of his lives were once more in peace, his accented w's and v's were still very much present. He supposed that meant that calling himself Eridan (at least in his mind) was still an option. Though he did wonder if he could switch back and forth between them at some point. It was a topic worth experimenting with... at a later time.

Neville didn't appear entirely convinced.

"You're still stuttering." the round faced boy noted with a hint of worry, "I know you said you're fine, but it just feels like it's getting worse. Are your sure you're alright, Harry?"

Eridan sighed softly. He wasn't sure how to breach the subject of his quirk to anyone. As far as he knew, only trolls spoke in true quirks, and only because their physiology allowed for it. And yet, he was on the tame side, using only two duplicated letters instead of a barrage of numbers and symbols, like Pyrope, or the Morail thing that Leijon and Zahhak did. A grimace crossed his face. It wouldn't do well to dwell on his ex-friends. He had made mistakes, big ones, but now he had another chance with new friends and he wasn't about to let it go to waste.

"Yeah." Eridan sighed out, trying to pick out words that wouldn't use his quirk, "I'm alright. I'm w... I'm gettin better at it. It might take some time to get back to normal, though."

The fact that he stopped 'stuttering' didn't seem to placate Neville. In fact, Eridan noticed that he instead narrowed him eyes slightly, as if trying to figure something out. A few seconds passed like that, with Neville staring at the bedridden Eridan, who felt like a deer caught up in the headlights.

"You're different, too." the round faced boy finally stated, "Since you came back from the Dementor attack. Not just the stuttering either. You've...changed. You don't take Malfoy's baiting and you've been studying as if you were Hermione's twin, and no offense, but you're a lot more observant than you were before... it's just..."

A frustrated sigh came from the fellow Gryffindor. Eridan was slightly stricken, however. He hadn't thought Neville had noticed all that much. Maybe he should give the boy more credit.

"You're right." Eridan began, gearing himself up to at least tell part of the truth, which made Neville's eyes go wide, "The Dementor unearthed some memories I w... I'd rather not remember. It made me...regress? Regress back to w... someone I had been before."

Neville's expression now was one of confusion, but before he could question Eridan any more, the doors to the Hospital Wing opened to reveal his best friends.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, her hair frizzier than normal, "Are you alright?"

"Everyone's saying Malfoy owes you a life debt." Ron added with a laugh, "You should have seen his face! It looked like he'd swallowed a lemon!"

"Ron!" Hermione almost shrieked, "Aren't you a tiny bit worried about his arm? Hagrid had said he could have lost too much blood!"

"I'm fine, guys." Eridan said with a smile, interrupting what was the start of another bickering match, showing his previously injured limb, "Look, my arm's all fixed. Madam Pomfrey's a miracle w... she's really good at her job." he finished lamely.

"See?" Ron crowed proudly, "He said he's just fine. Now let's go get dinner. I'm starving!"

The walk from the Hospital Wing to the Great Hall was an odd kind of quiet. Not entirely awkward, but not comfortable either. Neville had been giving Eridan looks throughout the trip, and on occasion had opened his mouth to say something only to change his mind at the last second. Ron and Hermione had tried to carry on as normal, but the mild tenseness charging the air was making that difficult. When they blessedly reached their destination Eridan was immediately scooped up by a blubbering Hagrid, who was happy to see his small friend all healed up.

Somehow that seemed to snap everyone around him out of the mood they were in, allowing them to sit for dinner in relative peace. Relative because everyone wanted to know what had transpired for Eridan to get sent to the Hospital Wing on the first day, with the reincarnated troll brushing them off and telling them that the gash had been superficial and that he'd been far more injured during last year's Quidditch game. This seemed to calm down a few people (though Colin had begun snapping pictures of the gash-less Eridan), but others were still whispering about the ordeal.

A quick glance at the Slytherin table told the Observer that Malfoy was indeed donning a rather uncomfortable expression. Their eyes briefly met, with the blond haired boy turning away in embarrassment, though he did seemed relieved about something. Thinking back to the conversation in the Hospital Wing, Eridan was going to assume it was because of the supposed 'life debt' that no longer proved to exist. As Harry had argued in the mindspace, Malfoy would only have been hurt as much as he had, coming out with a gash that he would have most likely milked for all it was worth. At best, Hagrid would have lost his job. At worst, Buckbeak would have been put down as being a 'dangerous beast'. With Eridan fixed up in only a few hours, the prospect of a life debt dropped to zero.

Focusing on his treacle tart, Eridan continued his musing, missing the looks that his friends shared with each other.

"Did he say anything?" Hermione asked as soon as Harry went up the stairs to fetch Scabbers.

Ron had used the excuse to get their friend momentarily out of the way. He didn't like to do that kind of thing behind his best mate's back, but even Ron understood that this little meeting had to happen without Harry's knowledge.

"Yeah," Neville answered with a small frown, "but it didn't make much sense."

It was strange, really. All the students present for Harry's sudden change were all sitting in this room, trying to figure out what the bloody hell had happened. After the Dementor attack, something about Harry shifted. Dare Ron say it, but it's almost as if his friend had some divine epiphany or something.

"Really?" asked Ginny from her place on the scarlet carpet, a roll of parchment spread in front of her, "What did he say?"

Neville grimaced.

"He said that the Dementors uprooted memories that he'd rather not remember, and caused him to regress to someone that he was before."

There was a moment of silence as the group absorbed the message.

"You're right." Ron muttered eventually, "That makes no ruddy sense."

Well, at least that settled his nerves slightly. Something was off its Harry, confirmed by his best mate himself.

"Before...?" Hermione whispered under her breath before muttering something unintelligible as she returned to her book.

But why had he told Neville instead of coming to him? Surely after two years of adventures together he would have seen how far the redhead would go to help him! You didn't ask, a part of him argued, But now that Neville has, he'll most likely clam up about the subject. Just like he does when anyone ask about those relatives of his. Even then, hadn't he and the twins fund out about the bars on the window, the horrid way they treated him? If Harry trusted Ron with that secret, then the youngest male Weasley was sure that he'll learn this newest secret too. He'll find a way to get the information himself.

"Found him!" called Harry's voice as the rest of him thundered down the stairs with Ron's familiar in his hands, "He w... he had been nappin on your bed, like alw... as usual."

With a grin Ron takes the offered rodent, noting that the rat was shaking like a leaf. Looking around, he found that Hermione's hideous cat was not present. In fact, Scabbers seemed to be shrinking away from... Harry. Well, that certainly called for some further investigation, though said investigation could be planned when the subject wasn't standing right in front of him and smiling in a way that made Ron almost believe that nothing had changed in him.

"Thanks, mate." Ron replied finally, pretending for now that everything was normal, "I was worried that menace had gotten to him and had him for supper."

"Ron!" Hermione shouted in indignation, his jab at her cat seemed to have momentarily taken her attention away from her book (no, no she was still reading...was she chastising him on autopilot?), "Crookshanks isn't a menace!"

"No," Harry conceded with a conspiratorial smile that Ron mirrored, "But he is the ugliest thin I'vve evver seen."

After saying this, the green eyed boy frowned, mildly upset that he had stuttered. Ron discreetly caught Ginny and Neville's eyes and they exchanged a look. Somehow, though, Harry had seen that brief moment anyway and appeared to be more distraught than before. Something squirmed inside Ron. Whatever Harry was going through, it was obvious that he was self-conscious about it, more so than than anything else, really.

Strangely enough, Hermione had not noticed anything off, too engrossed in her book. She broke the brief silence with another indignant shout.

"Harry! Be nice to poor Crookshanks! He's a sweet cat!"

At that outburst, Ron rolled his eyes before looking back at Harry, who now had an expression akin to exasperation with a wry smirk on his face. He said nothing in reply, however, as if he didn't trust himself to answer. Ron sent him what he hoped was an expression of support his way, clamping a hand of his best mate's shoulder and squeezing it a bit. Whatever Harry had gone though (and was still going through), Ron is sure he'll learn what it is. And when he does, he'll be right there to help Harry through it.

Because that's what friends are for.

They eventually transversed the stairs up to their beds, casting a light charm so they could see in the pitch dark. Harry gave him a grateful look, and nodded to Neville, who made a gesture of support. After exchanging a smile, the three boys went to bed. Or at least, Ron tried.

Kan had finally done it.

The genesis croakbeast was finally near its completion, and with it would begin a new universe. However, she required something from each of them for the ultimate amphibian to come into being. A wish, of sorts, cast in their blood. A 'gift' from every troll to create what would become part of the universe's natural order. All twelve of them stood around a crystal small bowl on a raised stone dais, peering down at the creature inside.

The croakbeast wriggler was small and white, easily mistaken as a baby Lusus. It's legs were not yet formed, still swimming in the water, its large bulbous eyes staring up at them. As if it were waiting for them. Or judging them.

Naturally, Fef was asked to go first. Back then, they still held a tentative friendship, though it was beginning to strain. Already their moraillegance had been dissolved, but the bubbly troll had still kept sporadic contact with him. Later he would wonder if she did this out of obligation rather than because she actually considered them friends. A drop of fuchsia spread out into the liquid, tinging it with the royal hue. Eridan opened his mouth to ask what she had given, but the blood had been devoured by the tadpole, and on the side of the bowl something was being carved. Her symbol in fuchsia, and below it...

Life.

Her smile was beautiful as their gaze turned from the word writ in Alternian to her, but the joy was not aimed at him, but at the mustard blooded troll that she now called her Matesprit. A stab of pain went through his center and he tore his eyes away from the sight to watch Ara, still in the robot that Equ had made for her, approach the bowl. Briefly Eridan wondered how she was to give her own blood when she now had synthetic blue blood running through her circuitry before a vial appeared from Megido's sylladex. It's contents of deep maroon were tipped into the bowl (with the robot-bodied troll mumbling something about the spirits and their warnings) and mingled with the clear pink, quickly sucked in by the swimming genesis croakbeast wriggler. Ara's symbol was carved in her blood color, and below...

Death.

Nobody was surprised with this wish. Whether alive or dead, Ara would have chosen to have the new universe's inhabitants have a natural end, rather than an unnatural immortality. After all, how could one study skeletons and ruins if none existed? Violet eyes tracked as one pair of robotic legs were replaced by clicking wheels. Tav approached the bowl with a surprising amount of confidence, and soon brown blood was devoured by the hungry tadpole. Below his symbol was the cryptic-

Courage.

Of course, Eridan thought to himself, such an obvvious desire. Many yellow sclera eyes watched as Nitram wheeled away, but only one pair narrowed at Captor's hunched form shuffling up to the bowl. Eridan's duel-set sharklike teeth were clenched together behind black lips, but the look coming from Fef prevented him from baring his disdain. Even so, he couldn't help that bloomed with the drop of urine colored blood into the bowl, tainting the carmine liquid with his disgusting color. Below the yellow symbol of Captor was-

Duality.

Eridan's gaze softened slightly when Kar stepped up to the crystal bowl and watched in unhidden fascination as the bright red seemed to overwhelm all the other colors with its solid hue, the tadpole (was it just the liquid, or was the dam thing shifting between reddish hues?) sucking it up greedily. The sign of the Sufferer glowed crimson above Kar's wish of-

Red Blood.

Olive blood joined the bowl as Nep bounced around in her usual energetic cattish demeanor. Something in her eyes sparkled as the olive letters carved themselves below her symbol.

Love.

Kan's jade blood flowed through the liquid as gracefully as the troll herself, her deep green sign seared into the crystal and elegant Alternian spelled out her wish for the new universe to have-

Color.

Everyone winced as Pyrope's stick tapped upon the bowl, creating a loud ringing noise that reverberated through the chamber. Unabashedly she let her teal blood join the translucent rainbow soup...was the tadpole growing? Unsurprised Eridan watched as below her scales-like sign was the word-

Justice.

A roguish smirk met a sneering snarl when cerulean joined the swirl of colors, Vris' sign standing proudly above the desire for the universe to have-

Luck.

Equ's royal blue blood was devoured by a tadpole that was no longer white or young, its legs kicking behind it as the significantly smaller tail swished about. Below the ultramarine arrow symbol was Equ's wish for-

Order.

Wary (and tired) violet eyes watched as Gam's stoned and loping gait neared the dais. Makara stood there for quite some time, entranced by the shifting colors in both the liquid and the small croakbeast that lived in it, only adding his own purple (nearly black) blood when urged by Kar's shouting voice. Beneath the dark symbol of the Grand Highblood was a single, horrid word.

Chaos.

"WHY DID YOU PICK THAT?!" screamed Kar with wide eyes, "ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!"

"I JuSt aLl uP AnD WaNtEd sOmE MoThErFuCkInG MiRaClEs." answered the troll, a small frown on the face that was heavily caked in white clown makeup.

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE SPECIFIED IT MORE, BULGEWIT!" Kar seethes, though his tone had lost it's malice.

Vantas could never get mad at Makara for long. His tolerance and care for the purple blooded troll was what led him to forgive the troll after he murdered two of their friends in cold blood. He should have suspected something was wrong then, because he was certain Makara knew exactly what he was doing. A sopor induced mind only blocked so much, but from what the seadweller could tell, the Grand Highblood's descendant was well aware of what he wished for.

After that, the others began to mingle away. Eridan called out to Kar, who was shoosh papping his moirail, and was ignored. Fef had gone off with Captor at some point between Kan and Vris' turn, and most of the trolls had left as soon as they finished donating their blood to the now multicolored croakbeast.

Only Kan was left with him, being the one to breed the croakbeast after everything was given. She arched a single, poised eyebrow at him which prompted Eridan to finally approach the bowl. The croakbeast was sitting at the bottom of the bowl, staring at him with an intensity he returned. What is it that you want? It seemed to ask, What is your desire for your new universe?

What could he give that the others hadn't already? What did he want to offer the universe that they may not have otherwise?

A memory rose in his mind. One of happier, simpler days before Sgrub, before FLARP, before he stopped believing in it.

Like the others (sans Megido), he drew a claw over his palm and watched as his own violet blood dripped into the bowl. It swirled, mingling with the other colors, yet not mixing, never mixing. Just like him. The croakbeast seemed to wait a second, letting the new color coat its skin before devouring a large glob of his blood. Only then did the violet seem to weave into the thrum of colors, united yet still apart. Like an outsider among friends. The ever familiar zig zag lines of his sign carved themselves into the final space on the bowl, and in the color of his blood spelled his wish out for all (present) to see.

Magic.

Kan snorted slightly. Eridan rolled his eyes. He expected this reaction, after all. Only he would have such a childish wish. He just hoped the new universe would like it.

With a sigh, Eridan continued to fix the Chamber of Secrets up bit by bit. Once again, he couldn't sleep. Unfortunately his insomnia had returned since his memories, and when he did finally fall into the arms of Morpheus, his dreams had taken him back to times he was a troll, on the day he and the others had given a part of themselves to make this universe. Eridan's eyes momentarily darkened at the thought of the dream, at the memory that it caused to resurface. That day was the day he started to realize that the others held him to a different standard. Despite being one of them, he had somehow become an outsider, drifting farther as the days passed.

It made him think of his friends here. The unyielding loyalty in Ron's eyes, even when he knew something was off, the genuine worry in Neville's creased brow, the casual bickering and mothering of Hermione. They made him feel happy. Worthy. Like he wasn't just a burden being carried around for the sake of others or paradox space's butt monkey. They made him feel like the days spent traipsing around his warshiphive, waving self carved wands and believing in magic, back when he and Peixes were close. Here magic was real, solid, tangible. As were his friends.

He wondered, briefly, if the humans knew he as Eridan Ampora had given them the very magic their entire livelihoods were based on, brown from the blood he had willingly spilt for it.

Ah, magic... who knew that he would be able to make use of his own gift after he died? Certainly not Eridan himself, he mused as the small ex-troll Scourgified another part of the wall, removing the centuries of gunk that had caked upon the marble. And what a gift magic turned out to be! He broke into a satisfied grin, one that looked rather fitting on Eridan's pale, Jade-eyed human face.

The corpse of the Basilisk was now captchalogged, clearing up a large amount of space. The ex-troll leaned against a scoured wall to admire his handiwork. Most of the Chamber has been cleared of debris, and the only thing Eridan needed to do now was clean the bloody place. Grime was harder to destroy without accidentally wrecking the rest of the marble, and he could only do so many cleaning charms before his wrist began to hurt. Tired jade green eyes surveyed his work, trying to commit the layout to memory.

Although...

Now looking at the place without the threat of impending doom hanging over him or a stinking giant snake lying dead on the floor, the Chamber actually looked... familiar.

Maybe it was just the type of architecture used, but this place reminded him of the Sanctuary in the Land of Wrath and Angels. Granted, the ugly statues of serpentine angels were now replaced with stone serpents and everything's a broody dark shade (though that might just be the grime) instead of the bone white marble he was used to in LOWAA but the basic layout appeared the same. There had even been a giant fucking green snake boss he needed to defeat here. Abraxas, the Denizen of Hope, really did resemble the Basilisk now tat he thought about it.

Out of curiosity he sat down on the cold stone floor and delved back into his mindscape. How ironic. It was Abraxas that taught him how to enter his mindscape in the first place, before the serpent denizen had given him The Choice. He took the memory of the Chamber and the Sanctuary and put them side by side.

As he suspected, they were almost identical. Eridan wondered if Fate just enjoyed irony.

Well, at least he wouldn't need a map to navigate the place. Eridan had already memorized the layout to the place that had become his own sanctuary before the Jack Noir incident. He wondered if the hidden places and storerooms were also here as well.

But before he could explore the Chamber in more depth, he needed to repair the broken entrance.

Sighing once more, Eridan raised his wand. He wanted to get as much restoration done before class started. Hermione would be cross if he was late to Arthithmancy, after all. Condesce forbid, he'd never hear the end of it. Ron would then step in to defend him, and then the two would get into another bickering match. A smile made its way up to pale lips that once were black as he casted the repairing charm over the archway again and again, thinking about the impending fight were he to be late.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

AN:

Oni: That's all for now, folks!

Ron: If you like this story, please Follow, Favourite, And Review!

Oni: And I'll see you next time, whenever that may be, My Pretties!