a/n: Hey, guys! It's been a really long time, and I'm finally getting around to posting some content again. School is picking up, so I can't promise updates for my other works, but this story should have consistent updates. I hope you all are having a wonderful year so far, and I hope you enjoy the story!

Nearly Three Decades Ago, On an Unknown Island:

"Something's going to happen."

Roger looked up from his sake. "Harry?" But Harry continued to stare into the distance.

Twenty years of knowing the man, becoming pirate king, and discovering how to listen to the Story in All Things, and Roger had yet to put a finger on exactly who—or maybe even what—Harry was. Old; yes. Powerful; oh you better bet he could have taken the title of Pirate King for himself if he had half a mind for it. But purposeful? The man didn't poses a dream—at least not in a conventional sense. He seemed to ache with all the sorrows of the world, wandering from sea to sea in search of something never voiced, much less found. But Harry still continued on. A dream to find a dream then. Roger could understand that much, but it was never a good sign when Harry had a vision. By the look on the man's face, this newest glimpse of the future would be important.

"A world in flames becomes the ashes of a Phoenix only if there is something worth returning to." Harry stared down at his hands. "Trembling and cracking perceptions of reality, blood and heat that rips through flame. Rubber can only stretch so far before it snaps."

"When." War was coming. That much was clear. If the vision was close enough to get a date, Roger could prepare them for—

"Years." Harry shook his head, part in denial and part to clear his thoughts. "Decades from now, Roger."

"Is there nothing we can do?"

Harry cocked his head, "There's…" the man shot to his feet, a smile on his lips and a spark in his eye that Roger had never seen before. "I'm going to Impel Down."

Roger nodded, "Yes, I can see how that would…WHAT?!"

Day 1: Potter

(Present Day)

The world was…cold. Much colder than it should be. Darker too.

"Kid."

Ace shifted at the voice, and something clinked against his wrists. His body was heavy, heavy in more ways than being flesh instead of flame. His bones had turned to lead beneath his skin. He was drowning on land. Drowning in dark and cold and chains and confusion because this couldn't be Pop's ship because it was never this quiet—

"Hey, kid."

—and besides he had left weeks ago against Pop's orders because he had a responsibility to Thatch to kill Teach and then Teach had threatened Luffy and he couldn't let anyone hurt Luffy, not his little brother—

"Listen, kid, I understand if you wanna keep muttering and shaking, but I'm trying to get some sleep here."

Ace blinked, and the world around him became lighter. Now that his eyes were open, he saw blue-grey stone walls on three sides, penning him behind a row of thick, stone bars. A cell.

Ace's mind snapped into focus. Impel Down. The Prison of Hell. One of the only places on the seas where he knew no one would come for him. But they would later. As much as Ace simultaneously dreaded and loved the fact, there was no doubt his family would storm Marineford itself to stop his…to stop him from being…

"Great. Silent shaking. You're moving up in the world, kid. I swear if you're like this all the time I'm going to—"

"Shut up!" Ace shouted, turning his head to face the far-too-positive voice. "Who the hell are you?"

It was a man—late twenties, maybe early thirties—with tangled black hair falling onto a bare, chalk-pale chest. He had high cheek bones, well-defined muscles, and black jeans ending in polished leather boots—if it hadn't been for his green eyes underlined by dark bags, the man could have passed for Hawk-guy's brother. Well, the eyes and the brand. A circle within a triangle, both bisected by a thick line, was burned into the center of his chest.

The man raised a manacled hand—sea stone, no doubt like Ace's own, yet attached to the floor rather than the wall—and pointed to his mouth. What was he…? Oh, great. He was stuck with a smart-ass. "If I ask you a question you don't need to shut up."

"My apologies." The voice caught and stuttered over an underused throat. It didn't sound apologetic in the least. "Some people take things too literally around here."

"Yeah, I can tell. Who are you."

The man rolled his eyes and leaned against the cell wall at his back, "You in a hurry, kid? We don't keep very strict schedules around here."

There was no use in hiding it. The man would find out soon anyways, though it came as a small surprise that he hadn't already. "I've got an execution scheduled in nine days."

The atmosphere in the cell shifted instantly. "That changes things." Any signs of amusement or apathy had fled from the man's face, and only burning green eyes remained. "Harry Potter. Most just use 'Potter'."

Ace just nodded. Neither man would be offering handshakes any time soon. "Portgas D. Ace."

Potter's eyebrows raised slightly at the mention of D, but any sign of…recognition? Surprise? disappeared in an instant. "Welcome to Impel Down."