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SIYE Time:8:45 on 29th March 2024
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Aether Continuum Part 1
By Zaphren

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Other
Genres: Action/Adventure, Romance
Warnings: Death, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 53
Summary: Two mysterious beings that claim to be Nephalem send Harry's soul back in time to fix the mistakes of the powerful and save his world from more than just Voldemort. This is a change in the Time Travel trope where Harry originally never went to Hogwarts, where events spiraled out of control and Voldemort had risen with the Philosophers Stone and Diary Riddle forced another side to the conflict.
Hitcount: Story Total: 51880; Chapter Total: 1056





Author's Notes:
This comes a few days late then I said I wanted to D= SORRY! Well then, Shadow seems to be playing at something, what a dick. We do get to see a bit of the division between the two Nephalem though. We also see what happened in the year 1 epilogue came to, but what will that mean for the final year? Thank you to all the readers and reviewers. You are all awesome, and I am already working on Part 2.




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Part 1 Epilogue


July 1st, 1997

Their ship had landed silently, the exterior invisible and shrunken down to fit into the dining hall of the exquisite mansion where their target sat. The three beings inside the ship stood just inside the door leading out, watching one of the screens that showed the area around them. The furnishings of the hall outside matched high class feel the rest of the home, and on the vast table in the center was a half finished meal. There were nearly twenty people sitting around the table enjoying the meal that had been presented by one Lucius Malfoy, though the man had fallen in the eyes of his master. The group were raucous, seemingly celebrating a success that had been years in the waiting.

Motioning for one of the other two to open the door, Shadow slipped his demonic hand, a hand that now was covered in the same purple veins that covered Kesh’rak’s body, into the sleeve of his robe. The other two hesitated, glancing at Shadow.

“What about me?” Kesh’rak asked. Shadow didn’t reply, but instead reached up with his left hand and fiddled with something under the robe at his shoulder that clinked. If possible, the Nephalem looked even larger under the robe than usual, his shoulders appeared more broad then they had before. Shadow nodded toward the door, and the Demon sighed as he reached the clasp that latched the exit closed.

The door slid open with a swoosh, and the group outside faltered in their jovial shouting as they turned at the sudden appearance of the three newcomers, all towering above eight feet in height. Striding forward, Shadow clinked with each step, the other two following. Ahead each of the wizards pointed their wands directly at the Demon. At the head of the table, Voldemort slowly stood, warily watching Kesh’rak.

“Great One, welcome we’ve been expecting you, though I am surprised you’ve brought one of their kind with you.” He sneered the last bit in the direction of trailing member, but Shadow ignored this, continuing in his giant’s pace towards the Dark Lord, his glowing red eyes never wavering from the man’s pale, snake-like face.

“Bloody hell, you’d think these blokes had something against you Kesh.” Lars was saying from behind. It seemed the group of Death Eaters had blocked the way forward for Kesh’rak and Lars was now attempting to play mediator… again. “And here I was hoping we’d be able to join in with the shenanigans. Blimey, what are we celebrating anyway?”

Shadow stopped next to Voldemort, leering down on the man he had once took in as a ward. Tom Riddle had changed so much from that time, and how much of it was because the main goal for Shadow was stopping his damned enemies. “Tell your men to stand down, Tom. Kesh’rak is with me, he won’t be trouble.” The Dark Lord hesitated for a moment before calling out for his followers to stand down. In the corner of his eye, Shadow noted Lars moving towards Lucius Malfoy, who had been sitting with his wife at the furthest corner away from Voldemort as possible. ‘Interesting,’ Shadow thought, then directed his full attention back to the dark wizard in front of him, who had been talking.

“We celebrate the death of my greatest enemy. My loyal servant, Severus, cast the spell that felled the Great Albus Dumbledore, Muggle and Mudblood lover that he was.” He motioned to the man sitting on his right, next to Shadow. The greasy haired, sallow man wore a smile, but there was a faint tell that Shadow doubted a human could pick up that said not all had gone the way Voldemort believed it to have. The two locked gazes for a moment before a small shadow of a smile appeared on the giant and he nodded toward Severus and turned back to the Dark Lord. “Dumbledore was not the only one to have died that night, but pay that no mind. I have noticed that you haven’t been around as much since my resurrection, Great One. Most of my Death Eaters believed you had abandoned us yet again. If I may ask, since when did you consort with Demons?”

“I’ve always had dealings with Demons, Tom, you just need to find the ones that are against their Queen.” He shifted his right arm under the cloak, and noted that many of the Death Eaters were still warily watching Kesh’rak as he and Lars spoke quietly with Lucius. Shadow and Lars caught eyes, the latter nodding so slightly that a normal human would have missed the movement. “Unfortunately, my time here must be short. I only needed to do one or two things and then we shall be on our way.” Shadow closed his eyes, breathing in deeply through his nose. Yes, he could smell Marovan, but the scent of Voldemort was… different. He opened his eyes and addressed the Dark Lord once more. “I sense that my enemies have found this world and are now infiltrating the Ministry as we speak. Fortunately, I already have a plan in place, and I apologize for the pain this will cause you.”

With a swift motion, Shadow’s right arm thrust forward, in its hand held the glowing grey orb as he slammed his palm into the Dark Lord’s chest. Unlike previously, he did not break the skin, but the orb itself disappeared into the folds of Voldemort’s black robes. The man fell back, shouting at first in surprise then pain, over his chair and landed on the floor in a heap. Shadow himself grunted, kneeling down onto one knee as his left arm grasped tightly to the bicep of his right. The purple veins of his demonic arm were pulsing, glowing even brighter each second. He needed to feed, before the demonic blood could spread.

Behind him, the Death Eaters were in an uproar, some had once more circled Lars and Kesh’rak while others were now surrounding Shadow, all with wands out. One made to stand in front of Shadow, and through the pain he felt, he looked up and recognized Walden Macnair. The mans wand was mere inches from his face, his other hand was holding back a woman with heavily lidded eyes, as were two other Death Eaters.

“You can’t kill me.” Shadow stated matter-of-factly.

The Death Eater bared his teeth. “I highly doubt that. Avada Kedavra!” The flash of green light encompassed Shadow, but instead of falling over in a heap, his head bowed forward and the body relaxed. Macnair spat at the floor in front of the Nephalem.

*************************** **************************************** ***********************

Lars had always liked parties, and it probably stemmed from the fact that he had been connected back home. Another reason was that it gave him another excuse to ignore his own problems and, well be the life of the party! It wasn’t that he craved the attention, not that it was a bad thing, exactly, it was just that he didn’t want others to have to feel the way he did on a daily basis. Nights were usually terrible, not because of sleep as his kind didn’t need to, but because EVERY BLOODY other race did! Leaving Lars alone to his thoughts for more than an hour was tantamount to a brewing disaster. It was probably why Shadow had asked Kesh’rak to join them, now that Lars thought about it. The bastard might act like he didn’t have feelings, but Lars had known him for too long to believe that was so.

Back to the matter at hand; the party! Unfortunately for Lars, this wasn’t one he could be his usual self. He had to be serious here. He was playing a dangerous game, defying Shadow. He didn’t agree with the bastards assessment of this world. Never had, and he’d voiced it many times to both Shadow and Kesh’rak. The demon had expressed that, while he’d rather Lars ‘plan’ be the one they’d follow, he’d do what was needed to keep the three of them cordial.

Like right now, they two were speaking with Lucius Malfoy and his wife, Narcissa. They very clearly had fallen far from the graces of Voldemort's elite, something that was obvious since they were sitting at another table from the main one, even though it was being held in their own home. One of their House Elves was placing a new tray of treacle tart on the main table, Lars eyes following it as he frowned.

Lars never understood the human fascination of pretending another member of its own species was lesser. Maybe if it was another species, like the humans of this world did with Goblins and House Elves, as many of Lars’ own race did such things. Not that he agreed with them, of course, he himself was related to two of those races that Nephalem considered to be beneath them. Shaking his head he focused his attention back onto his task.

Once he’d realized the direction his one sided conversation that heavily favoured the humans, he’d subtly placed a barrier of wind magic around them to prevent eavesdroppers. It seemed to be something these two were used to as they’d not said anything when the cracks had appeared on the table before Lars had masterly filled them in.

“Potter’s been getting quite frustrated with us, we’ve not been able to give him much in regards to info about the Dark Lord.” Lucius was whispering, he at least had the smarts to realize that if he talked normally and the others outside the bubble couldn’t hear would be suspicious. Not that any were even paying attention, that was all reserved to those around Voldemort focusing their and the others were glaring daggers at Kesh’rak. “I fear we’re nearing the time where we must flee our home, but… The Dark Lord is holding our son prisoner for his failure and we will not leave without him.”

Lars frowned, glancing at Kesh’rak, who seemed to be mulling over the issue. “I’ll speak with Harry, maybe we can work something out, but don’t expect miracles Lucius. We can only do so much.”

“Perhaps we could-” A shout rose from the head of the table, and the four turned to see the Dark Lord tripping backwards over his chair and Shadow kneeling over in pain, though the man was still easily visible over the smaller humans around him.

The two companions moved to join him when they were cut off by the Death Eaters surrounding them. Over the rabble, Lars watched as one of the wizards cast a spell and a flash of green light showered his friend.

“Oh mate, you just fucked up.” He said, loudly enough to reach the assailants ear. The raucous Death Eaters quieted, Kesh’rak groaned and, doing that thing humans tended to do, covered his face with a hand in exasperation. The wizard looked cockily over at Lars and everyone within the hall looked between the two, with the exception of one greasy looking git that was expectantly watching Shadow and Voldemort who still lay on the ground, groaning in pain.

“How’s that? Going to kill me and everyone in between? Maybe that fucking demon made your minds dim.” The man clearly had no clue about the combat capabilities of Lars’ race, and as much as he would have loved to show him, he couldn’t take what was owed, he’d leave that to Shadow. Before he could answer there was a loud bang, and Voldemort now stood with his wand held over his head. He still looked to be in pain, as his other hand rubbed at a temple, but it looked like the merge had worked as intended. Lars wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. The Dark Lord looked around until his eyes lingered on Shadow, still kneeling with his head hanging limp.

“Who killed him?” ‘Well, the tone of voice sounded right,’ thought Lars. It was different from the man who had spoken earlier. It was identical to the calm, battle hardened Tom Riddle from the destroyed universe. ‘Another point for you, Shadow. Count now stands at entirely too high, and nil for me.’ Macnair proudly announced that he had done so, but then stepped back in surprise when a vicious purple spell launched from Voldemort’s wand in his direction. Fortunately for the targeted wizard, the spell never connected, disappearing just before contact. Voldemort’s eyes bore into Lars, who merely shook his head then pointed vaguely in Shadow’s direction.

“You see, mate.” Lars spoke quickly, wanting to talk quickly before his spotlight was stolen. “According to the laws of my people, if you wrongfully slight a man, especially a man with Shadow’s standing. You get to experience the most terrifying thing.”

“What do you mean, slight? I killed him.”

Lars chuckled, though there was an obvious lack of humor behind it. Since Macnair was now between Lars and Shadow, he didn’t see the Nephalem slowly stand up. “Well, you see, you didn’t kill him.” Smiling devilishly, Lars then nodded in Shadow’s direction. “In fact, I’ve seen him survive a lot of things that should have killed him, like a sword though one of his hearts. Nasty business that was, and he wasn’t happy. Kind of like how I believe he feels right now.” Slowly, Macnair turned around, and Lars could only wish he could see the mans face before the poor sod died. “I don’t know if you wizards worship anybody, but I can give you a list of Gods that are believed to exist of the universe and you can pray to the one you like best.”

****************************** **************************************** ********************

“It’s astounding how many times we have to stop your death, Ikelius..” The female’s voice sounded within his head. It was incredibly soothing and grating at the same time, and Shadow absolutely hated it and everything that was connected to it. “You’d think the greatest warrior to have ever existed would be better at avoiding being killed.”

“Maybe you should have picked someone who was more cowardly than I am. At least then they wouldn’t be in as many situations like this.” He thought back bitingly. The woman’s laughter rang in his head. Shadow opened his eyes, suppressing a groan as his right arm once more throbbed. It wasn’t exactly pain that he was feeling from it, but an incredible discomfort as his magic fought to prevent the demonic energy from consuming the rest of his body.

“Great One, are you alright?” The high pitched voice of Tom Riddle sounded next to him. Once Shadow nodded, the man continued. “What would you like me to do to the fool who attacked you?”

Turning his gaze to Macnair, Shadow shook his head. “Nothing, I’ll deal with him myself.” He shifted, trying to push the feeling encompassing his right side away. “I need you to work on our plan to take over the Ministry, and rout my enemies from within. I cannot have them take this world and the power they seek.” Even as he said it, he knew the power they sought wasn’t what they sought, or what he had. There were too many consequences for doing such a thing, as was apparent by the man who stood beside him.

There was definitely something about Voldemort’s scent that troubled Shadow, but he wasn’t able to grasp it. Maybe his arms discomfort was preventing him from thinking straight. His other plan for the night came to mind. Yes, it was worth a shot, and even if it didn’t help he would still gain something from it. He ripped the robes off that covered him, revealing his fifty foot wings and a full suit of ebon armor made of the same alien metal that Lars’ gear had. Stepping up to Macnair, towering over the human, his commanding voice echoing across the hall as his magic exploded in a massive show of power. “Walden Macnair, for your slight in attacking me without first gaining all possible knowledge for your cause, I sentence your soul to be consumed for a greater cause.”

“Who the bloody hell gives you the right to do such a thing? You have no power over me, you freak!” If the man hadn’t attacked him, Shadow would have appreciated the mans false bravado, but such as it was he only felt a cold anger. By the smell that now consumed his senses, the man had soiled himself in fear. The power he was displaying could probably be felt in the closest galaxy, and no doubt these humans at the epicenter had never seen such a force.

“I, Ikelius Skileshan, once Heir-Supreme of my people, have been given, by my own son the current Supreme, the right to execute any being that causes harm to the cause of the protection of the universe.” The magic exuding from him thrashed wildly around him. Cracks were opening all across the room, possibly the whole mansion as the elements themselves fed into his display. “You have attempted to kill me, human, and for that I condemn you.” Instantly, the power collapsed, and in a flash Shadow’s demonic hand burst out of Mcnairs back, spraying blood across the Death Eaters behind. Their reactions taking seconds, having not at first realized what had happened. Slowly, as Shadow pulled his hand back, the normal glow of a living being left the now dead wizard and was consumed into the Nephalems now blood covered arm. The purple veins that had once dominated the blackened hand were now receding until they vanished.

Once his hand was completely removed from Mcnairs body, Shadow folded his wings and stepped to the side, letting the wizards limp form fall face first into the ground. Shadow looked at each Death Eater, and they either recoiled as if struck or refused to look at him. “Tom, my companions and I are leaving. I would suggest you find a new base as I have no doubt Marovan will investigate my outburst of power.” Motioning for Lars and Kesh’rak to follow, he made his way to the invisible craft, the door once more opening as he neared.

Once the two had entered and the door was latched closed, they watched Voldemort through the display ordering his Death Eaters. They all began scrambling, and when Shadow was content with what he saw made his way back to the command deck of the ship. Lars stood at the helm, flipping switches and setting a new destination and time, he felt the craft hum as it moved through the cosmos. He stood, eyes staring straight ahead, seeing nothing as his mind tried to figure out why the scent was different for Voldemort. It was familiar, he knew the scent that accompanied it was from something he knew. Try as he might, the answer continued to elude him, and nothing was more vexing than an unanswered question.

Kesh’rak came to stand next to him, Lars, after having set their destination, had apparently decided to fix himself a snack and had gone off to do so. The demon was watching Shadow closely. “Do you think it was smart to show off that much power?”

Shadow didn’t answer for a few moments, and Kesh’rak was about to dismiss this as one of those things the man didn’t answer when the Nephalem spoke quietly. “Do you remember when I killed my grandfather?” A look of confusion crossed the demons face.

“Er… Yeah, but what does that have to do with my question?”

“The power he showed that day wasn’t just to kill all those people, it was a challenge. He did so hoping he could force me into a situation I couldn’t win. Unfortunately for him, I received my cunning from my mothers side. My other grandfather, Mireu, had more to do with my training, and I used my brain just like he taught.” He smiled, surprising Kesh’rak, for the man had never seen Shadow smile like this before. “Today, was my challenge to the other three living Kings. I hope Seiyryu isn’t the one sent, the Water King. Mireu, the Wind King, once told me she was the most wily. Of course, she had to be as she was easily the weakest of the four.”

“Wait, why is she referred to as a ‘King’, if she’s female?” Once more Kesh’rak was surprised, as Shadow openly chuckled to his question.

“Most people don’t know this, but dragons don’t actually have a gender.” If anything this confused the demon even more. “They are gender fluid, Kesh’rak. I mean that loosely, since they only carry the female reproductive organs. Dragons have the most disturbing male half of reproduction in that they impregnate others through a type of mental invasion.” Kesh’rak eyes widened in horror.

The two stood in silence for some time. Shadow in quiet contemplation, Kesh’rak in a horror filled stupor. As he slowly gathered himself, he realized one thing, this was the most he’d heard Shadow talk at once. The Nephalem usually would say a sentence or two at a time, usually ending cryptically or leaving hidden hints that you wouldn’t understand until it slapped you in the face. A few times he opened his mouth to ask a question, but then would overthink it and close his mouth again.

Finally, Lars returned, making a quip about the still shocked face on the demon and throwing a new black robe for Shadow to wear. “The old one was getting a bit rough around the edges.” he had said to Shadow’s raised eyebrow. “By the way, mind telling our innocent little friend here when are we heading?” Clearly Lars had heard their discussion from earlier.

“We’ve got one last thing to do in Nineteen-ninety-four before we begin our actual reintegration.” Kesh’rak nodded thoughtfully as Lars began to move towards one of the blank panels on the side. “Lars, did you happen to catch Tom’s scent? There was something different about it, something familiar.” The other man stopped, thinking with an odd look on his face.

“Now that you mention it, yeah, he did smell different.” Lars thought for a moment, scratching at his chin while he chewed his food. “Can’t place why it seems familiar though.”

Shadow shook his head, and the three companions entered an uncomfortable silence as the ship continued its course through the cosmos.


*************************** **************************************** ***********************


Harry Potter sat at his desk, going over a letter that he and Dumbledore had received from one Nicolas Flamel that morning, going into detail that the wards surrounding the castle that he and Dumbledore had found over the previous summer were proving to still be impenetrable. Behind him, Dobby was cleaning out his trunk from the school year.

Harry and Dumbledore were currently at a dead end. They were now entering the unknown, where his past would no longer give guidance on what would happen. Harry had argued that they should start gathering those who had been their allies in the previous timeline, but Dumbledore had argued that getting Sirius out of Azkaban was going to take time and some serious lobbying efforts from him.

From behind, Dobby coughed to get Harry’s attention. “Master Harry Potter, sir.” He called with his high voice.

With a sigh, Harry turned around, “Dobby, I freed you, you don’t have to call me ‘Master.’” Then his eyes fell on the items the House Elf held in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Dobby was just going through Harry Potters’ items from his trip with the… where Dobby could not follow, when he found these.” He held up a sheet of paper with sharp, angled writing in one hand, and a vial of blood in the other. “Dobby cannot read sir, but Dobby knows this is not Harry Potters or Albus Dumbledore’s handwriting.” Pulling the sheet from the House Elves grasp, he read;

Harry, I think your friend, Nicolas, could use this on his current project. The vial contains the blood of a Nephalem, my own in fact and will be necessary to breach the wards of the Templar Castle.

S


Harry looked up, grabbed the vial from the outstretched hand of Dobby, and tore through the doorway into the hallway, shouting for Dumbledore as he went.


The end of Part 1
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