Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter, Dragon Age, nor the characters belong to me; they belong to people much smarter and more creative. I am in no way profiting from this story.

Harry Potter and the Spirit's Heart

By LoneWolf218

Prologue: Death and Renewal

Anders felt his staff slowly slip from his numb fingers as he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. He pressed his hand over the deep wound that damned Templar Hunter had given him before Vengeance blew the bastard across the clearing and halfway through a tree. Still, Anders was doing better than the rest of the mages he had been leading. They lay scattered among the Templar they had slain and been slain by.

As the war he and Vengeance had started in Kirkwall grew, the newly independent mages had realized that they simply did not have the numbers or the military training to fight the relentless Templar on equal terms. Instead, they had faded into the shadows of the forests, mountains, and slums of Thedas, trying the wait the enemy out. The Templar had followed, and small skirmishes were breaking out everywhere. Skirmishes such as the one that had just been fought, and technically won, here. Anders had been leading a small group of mage refugees, including some children, when the Templar had descended upon them.

It had been chaos.

Anders had immediately called upon Vengeance to augment his power as the Templar poured out of the trees. He had screamed for the others to fight while blasting the nearest enemy. Some of the quicker mages had been able to draw their staves and join the battle. The rest had been cut down; some before they even realized that there was a threat.

The Templar had been ruthless, like they always were. One woman, whom Anders had always though was too loyal to the cursed Chantry for her own good, had thrown down her staff and tried to surrender. The Templar leader had silently gutted her and moved on without a glance. Her brother, only twelve, had flung himself furiously on the lieutenant, trying to boil the bastard alive. Another Templar had started kicking the boy, shattering ribs and forcing him off, before taking his head off. Anders had been nearby, and brought the Staff of Violation, which he had taken from the corpse of the late First Enchanter Orsino, around in a deadly ark, breaking the standing Templar's neck before smashing the butt down on the downed lieutenant's faceplate, denting it enough to allow fire through to incinerate the man's face.

The Hunter had taken the opportunity to stab him, and Vengeance had responded. After that, all Anders remembered was a haze of pain, fear, and death. He remembered killing Templar and watching his mages, his brothers and sisters, die one by one. Many had fought bravely, not a single one had given in to demons in their final moments, but they died. Finally, it had only been Anders, devoid of Vengeance's aid, against two Templar.

The three had stared at one another, panting. One of the Templar had lost her helmet, and had a nasty burn along one cheek. In another life, Anders might have found her attractive, but even though Vengeance was not in direct control, his rage had prevented Anders from seeing her as anything other than a monster.

"Surrender, apostate!" the other Templar had called. "And you may be shown mercy!" Anders had laughed at that, the man probably meant Tranquility, a fate worse than death. There would be no mercy at the hands of the Templar, there never would be. This was do or die.

"You will pay for what you did here today!" he had shouted back. "You will face JUSTICE!" He brought his staff around, shattering the earth and flinging five stones at the two Templar. The woman had managed to duck behind her shield, but her fellow wasn't so lucky. He toppled as one of the flying stones broke his neck. The woman had charged Anders, desperate to get into close quarters, hoping that Anders would be weaker there. He smiled as he remembered Garrett Hawke, who had taught him how to fight up close and personal. Such things were obviously avoided in the Circle, it might, gasp, dull the Templar's edge, make them have to work for their victories.

He had blocked her overhead swing, twisting the staff so that she stumbled past him. When she turned back, he had already drawn his dagger and drove it into the side of her head. For a single moment, their eyes met, killer and killed, and Anders felt a touch of sorrow. Then Vengeance had returned, and the Templar was thrown away with a blast of telekinesis.

Anders looked around, realizing that his vision was dimming. No, no this couldn't be! He still had so much work to do! After Garrett had spared him, he had been certain that he would see the end of the war, see the mages free at last. He couldn't die here! He had to warn everyone, find out how the Templar had known where the group was.

Through sheer force of will, he pushed himself to his feet, trying to call upon Vengeance to sustain him. The spirit/demon tried, but he had been weakened as well by the terrible battle they had just finished. He had stumbled through the trees, not knowing where he was going. His attempts to heal the wound at his side failed, he had not the strength. He fumbled for his last lyrium potion, but it slipped from his fingers and shattered on a root. A small, cold voice in the back of his mind told him that it was too late, that he would never survive this. The rest of his mind rebelled against the notion, but he could not silence the whispers of doom.

He found himself stumbling into an old ruin, which he found curious. He had never seen this before. It was a small place, not even a room. A pit had been dug, and old, worn stone benches surrounded it, going down like steps. In the middle, a strange archway seemed to beckon Anders. He fell once, rolling down the steps, breaking his arm on the way. Still, some force called him, telling him to come. He forced himself back to his feet, stumbling towards the arch.

"Anders…" a voice whispered, a voice Anders knew well.

"Karl?" he gasped weakly, looking for his love. "Were… are you, Karl? So dark…"

"Come, Anders…" Karl's voice whispered again, and Anders obeyed. Vengeance tried to stop him, saying it was likely a demon at work, but Anders was too tired to care, and Vengeance too weak to stop him.

"Karl… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" Anders whispered, stumbling to lean against the arch. "I… tried…" His thoughts drifted away, to Garrett, his friend… who had given him a chance. He had failed Garrett. Merrill, the blood mage, who had somehow turned out to be a better person than he had been, she hadn't murdered a Chantry full of innocents just to bait a reaction. She had offered him mercy, when he would have damned her had their positions been reversed. He thought of Fenris, that blasted elf. Fenris had never trusted him, and now that Anders thought about it, he had been right to not trust. Varric, his friend, his only other friend, as quick with a joke as with his bow. Isabella, that crazy pirate, Avaline, the guardian, the watcher. As his vision faded, as he slowly stumbled through the arch, he found himself missing them, wondering if they would ever learn of his fate, or whether they would even care.

As Anders fell through the arch, he did not come out the other side. Silence filled the forest again, save for the chirping of the birds the fight had scared off. Meanwhile, a dimension apart, Anders fell to his knees again as his sight dimmed to almost nothing.

Meanwhile, Harry Potter was getting more worried by the moment. A few minutes ago, he had been drifting off, dreaming of flying in the Quiddich World Cup like Victor Krum had. Then, Arthur Weasley, a member of the Ministry of Magic, had woken him and his friend Ron Weasley, telling them to get a coat on and get out of the tent they were in. He had exited to find the massive campsite in chaos as a group of Dark Wizards made sport of the Muggle family that oversaw the camp. Mr. Weasley had told his children, Harry, and Hermione Granger to flee into the forest while he and the rest of the Ministry dealt with the situation. He, Ron, and Hermione had been with the others at first, but had been distracted by Harry's rival, Draco Malfoy. The slimy jerk had all but admitted that his father, a supporter of the Dark Lord Voldemort, was among the Dark Wizards. After a few insults were slung, Harry and the others had left, having lost Fred, George, and Ginny Weasley. When Harry had reached for his wand, he had realized that it wasn't there. This was a large part in his nervousness.

"Any sign of anyone?" Ron asked Hermione, who was in front.

"Nothing," she whispered back. She raised her lit wand, gazing around the dark forest. In the background, Harry heard another explosion from the direction of the camp. He hoped Mr. Weasley and the others were all right, those masked figures seemed like they would not hesitate to blast anyone who got in their way.

"Wait!" he hissed, holding up his hand. He had just heard something nearby. Ron and Hermione glanced at him, and he pointed to a nearby tree. They quickly pointed their wands at it, but lowered them when Ludo Bagman stepped out.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, stunned. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Well, there's sort of a riot going on." Ron said slowly, studying Bagman curiously. Bagman was the head of the Magical Games and Sports, but was not the most… orthodox head of department. Still, that he would be completely unaware of the chaos…

"What?" Bagman gasped. Hermione quickly explained the situation as best she could, and Bagman quickly Disapperated.

"Now what?" Ron asked, looking around. "Should we just stay here?" Harry was about to agree, before he felt a tingle on the back of his neck.

"Something's wrong." He looked around slowly, wondering what had tipped him off. Finally, he heard it. "This way!" He slipped off into the trees, followed by his friends. They soon found a clearing, one that was occupied.

"What is that?" Hermione whispered, nervously watching the shape lying in the center of the clearing. It wasn't moving, but it looked like a person.

"Watch my back." Harry whispered, before creeping forward. He really wished he had his wand, or even his Invisibility Cloak, the only thing he had of his father. However, he reached the shape without incident.

"What is it?" Ron hissed from the edge of the clearing, looking around nervously. Harry studied the person in front of him. It was a man, but without light, Harry couldn't determine much more.

"Light, please." Hermione moved forward, and the light from her wand fell on the man. He had dirty blond hair tied in a short ponytail. He looked to be in his late twenties and wore robes. He also seemed to have been through hell recently. One of his arms was sticking out at an odd angle, and a sickly red stain was spreading from a hole in his robes. Harry heard Hermione gasp behind him.

"Is he… dead?" she whispered. Harry shrugged, mustering his courage, he touched the side of the mans neck, like he had seen doctors do in some of his cousin Dudley's TV shows. He felt a faint pulse.

"He's alive," he whispered back. 'But for how much longer?' a voice whispered. He was only a fourteen-year-old wizard, and knew nothing of healing. He doubted even Hermione, the brightest witch in Hogwarts, would know how to cure the wounds this man had taken.

A muffled groan was suddenly heard, and the man tried to lift his head. Harry leaned down, trying to get a look at the man's face. Bright brown eyes met his own green ones, and they shared a long, helpless look. The man seemed to try and say something… Harry strained his ears

"… Mother… Father… I'm… sorry…" Harry watched the man's eyes dim, and knew that he was about to die. Desperate to do something for the dying man, he reached out and patted his shoulder. He though the man might have smiled, before his head fell back to the earth with a dull thump.

A sudden burst of pain filled Harry, and his vision went black. The last thing he heard was Hermione gasping.

As Anders died, the spirit that had sustained his body for so long had left, seeking to return to the Fade. However, it had realized that this realm was no longer strong enough to support it. As it felt itself break apart, it desperately sought a refuge, finding one not far from it previous host. Barely alive, it dove in heedlessly.

AN: Hello. I have a few quick things to say about this story. It will try to follow canon as much as possible with a possessed Harry. In essence, Harry will not go dark, Dumbledore will not become a manipulative jerk bend on domination, Ron will not become evil or join the Death Eaters, and no leather pants will be worn. Enjoy, and please give me some feedback.