Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Raistlin Majere belongs to Margaret Weis, and my soul belongs to Cthulhu. Ia fhtagn!

Prologue: After Raistlin's sacrifice in closing the Portal, Paladine can't justify accepting him into the blessed realm, but still wants to give him a second chance. So he sends his soul to occupy another's body, a body whose current occupant no longer wants to live.

Chapter 1: The Keeper of the Keys

In a broken down shack surrounded by the roar of the wind and the crash of the sea, there lay a family. A man, a woman, and two children, lying huddled under moldy blankets, cowering from the fierce storm that surrounds them. The filthy windows would let in little enough light on the best of days, but today all that could be seen was the occasional spray of salt as the surrounding water was whipped into a white fury.

Inside, a child lay awake, shivering on the bare wooden floor, staring at nothing as we watched the seconds drift past, unable to imagine what the dawn would bring, and not daring even to try. As the roof creaked and threatened to fall in, he wondered if this, the day of his birth, would also be the day of his death. And if it was, would it really be so bad? As the minutes floated past, and the salt of his tears mixed with the harsh ocean spray that filled the air, he felt the last of his hope fade away. With a chill fatalism, Harry James Potter resigned himself to his fate, and allowed his eyes to close.

...

With a sudden crash, the boy awoke, and his mind was filled with memories. Years of experience he knew had never really happened, could not have happened, and yet... He remembered. He remembered the tortuous years of study at master Theobald's school; he remembered the war; he remembered travelling through time, the battle of Zhaman, his triumph... and his failure. He knew who he was now.

His name was

...

With a sudden crash, the man awoke, and his mind was filled with memories. "not again!" he gasped, as he remembered years of experience that he knew were not his. Centuries of study, his powers growing with every year, his ascension... and his defeat, at the hands of his would be victim, the true master of past and present. He felt his new memories overwhelm the old, his power wrested from his grasp. He knew who he was now.

His name was

...

An enormous fat man stumbled into the room, a long metal rod held in his hand as he roared "Who's there? I warn you, I'm armed!". The man's quivering arms betrayed his terror, as a small memory whispered in the back of the boys mind. Vernon. Vernon Dursley. And boy knew the man's name. And the thing in his arms is a rifle, and I... this body is called Harry Potter, but I, I am Raistlin Majere! And a small and secret smile twisted his lips.

A final, resounding crash filled the air, as the door to the shack burst open and an enormous man forced his way in, the doorway barely large enough to accommodate him. His grim visage shrouded in a shaggy mane of wild hair, his eyes deep-set and piercing black, his expression unreadable. Surely this creature cannot be human! Raistlin through to himself, Half-ogre, at the least, as his thoughts flashed back to Raf and Steeltoe. But then again, his new memories claimed there were no ogres in this strange new world.

Turning his fierce gaze on them, his wild hair bristling in the damp air, the enormous stranger grunted hugely and spoke:

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could ye'h? It's not been an easy journey..."

The floorboards shifting beneath his enormous mass, the hulking man strode over to the sofa, where another child – Dudley Dursley, Raistlin's new memories supplied – was sitting.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," the stranger said, as Raistlin quietly enjoyed the look of horror on Dudley's face.

Squeaking like a pig, Dudley ran to cower behind his mother, as the giant sat, taking up the whole of the recently vacated, two person, sofa.

"An' here's harry!" he said, looking straight at Raistlin.

Right, I'm Harry now... mustn't forget that... he thought to himself, as his mouth, unnoticed, turned upward in a cynical sneer at the giants oafish manner.

"Ah, that's good then, you know it's me!" the giant said, obviously mistaking Raistlin's cold smile for a grin of recognition.

"Las' time I saw yeh, yeh was on'y a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a

lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

His voice shaking with fear and fury, Uncle Vernon burst out, "I demand that you leave at once! You are breaking and entering!"

As the giant opened his mouth for what would surely have been the start of a long and tedious dialogue, Raistlin decided to take matters into his own hand. Standing, he turned to Vernon, with a glare as cold as he could muster.

"Be silent! Eleven years you have had to torture me. Eleven years of suffering, I bore at your hands! Eleven years today, and that is quite enough! I have no idea who this man is or why he is here, but it is clear that he means me no harm, which is more than I can say for you!"

Uncle Vernon stood, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly, stunned into silence, or possibly apoplexy, by this uncharacteristic outburst. The gun in his hand clattered to the floor at his feet, rolling across to come to rest at the foot of the giant, who didn't seem to notice. Turning back to him, his eyes flickering briefly to the gun at this feet, Raistlin spoke again.

"Please forgive this interruption, but if you would be so kind, I would much like to know who you are and why are here, myself."

Watching this byplay, with his face unreadable behind his shaggy beard, the giant answered him while reaching deep inside his enormous overcoat.

"Um, yeh, Harry, ah... well, it's yer birthday, an' I got summat fer yeh."

He dragged out a rather crumpled box, and handed it over.

"Sorry I mighta sat on it, but it'll taste allright. Anyway, I'm, well, me name's Rubeus Hagrid, an' I'm the keeper o' the keys an' grounds at Hogwarts school o' witchcraft an' wizardry. Why I'm here, well, it's yer eleventh birthday, surely yeh know what tha' means?"

"No, I don't." Raistlin replied, setting aside the sticky box.

Turning his gimlet gaze on the cowering dursleys, Hagrid asked quietly, "Surely you know wha' yeh are? Wha' your parents were?"

"No. All I know," Raistlin said, struggling to recall the relevant memories, "was that they died in a car crash just after I was born."By the Dark Lady, this was getting ridiculous. It's one thing to be cast adrift in what was obviously a world of madness, but then to be thrust at once, powerless, into a conversation filled with shadow and deception... Raistlin began to wonder, not why he was here (Paladine had made that clear), but just what exactly he had gotten himself into. He knew as well, that he had better find a way to take control of the situation, or he would end up no more than someone's pawn. The Dursleys could be of no more immediate use to him; this giant, on the other hand, obviously knew something important.

The enormous stranger had turned to the Dursleys, his rage filling the cabin with an air of imminent violence, as he roared something at them, only to fall, with a soft thud, to the ground at Vernon's feet. Raistlin was standing behind him, rifle clutched in his hands like a club. The roar of the storm outside was beginning to die down, allowing everyone present to hear the soft click as Raistlin disabled the safety, lowing the gun to point directly at his newly-acquired, yet already hated, Uncle.

The gun, after all, was a fairly simple device, and when you combine the intellect of a thousand year old lich with the memory of the occasional action movie, well, needless to say it was easy enough to figure out.

Staring at him with frozen horror, the Dursley's were shocked to see the air of confidence with which he held himself. Glancing down to check that Hagrid was not badly hurt, Raistlin spoke.

"You will leave now. You will go home. You will never speak of this day again. You will never speak of me again. And if you ever do..." Raistlin moved the gun to cover the young Dudley, still trying to hide behind his mother but protruding to both sides of her. "I will find you. You have until I count to three."

"Now see here -" Vernon bellowed, only to be stopped short by a thunderous roar as Raistlin fired the gun through a window. Temporarily deafened by the noise, he grimly returned the muzzle to point at Vernon again, and held up a single finger, mouthing "One".

After that, the Dursleys were more than happy to move, rushing past Raistlin to the row boat that had brought them in and speeding rapidly away. Watching them vanish into the distance, Raistlin fought the overwhelming temptation to fire again. Just a single shot in the right place, he could sink all three of them... His desire for vengeance battled, and lost, to his pragmatic realization that he might need them again in the future; this world was all too strange and new, and an eleven year old could scarcely be expected to know everything he needed.

Already, the monstrous figure on the cabin floor was beginning to stir. Setting aside the rifle, Raistlin quickly grabbed a nearby piece of broken glass, and slashed it across his cheek. Discarding the gun and turning back to Hagrid, he shook him awake, struggling to hold an expression of concern on his face.

…

A/N: Chapter breaks come at plot points, NOT word counts, so expect some volatility in chapter lengths, although this one is mainly just an intro. I welcome all helpful criticism – this is the first story I have ever written, so I'm looking forward to hearing what people think. Also, I'm not entirely sure how the Beta Reader thing works, so...