The Return of the Fae

A Shantae/Harry Potter crossover fanfiction

Summary: AU of Harry Potter. Harry learns his mother wasn't what she seemed: she was actually the last princess of the fallen Fae Kingdom from several millennia years in the future! With the Ministry gunning for him for ever increasingly stupid reasons, he uses the spell she left to arrive Sequin Land. But in true Potter fashion, he arrives in the midst of an encroaching darkness and must team up with the Half-Genie Hero Shantae and her team to face down the Queen of the Seas Risky Boots and the mysterious dark past of the Genie race.

An: I know I know! But this idea just hit me and I had to write it down. Just note that this will be AU for Harry Potter and canon for Shantae up until Seven Sirens because I have not played that one yet.

Disclaimer….I don't own Harry Potter or Shantae.

Chapter 1

Last Prince of a Broken Kingdom

Dear Harry,

If you are reading this, then your father and I have died, and I cannot express how deeply apologetic I am for leaving you alone in this world. I never wanted to subject you to such a fate, especially since I know what that can do to a person. But Fate rarely is agreeable, and I've probably outran it for too long. Know that for always, and forever, your father and I loved you more than anything and will always love you, no matter what state we're in. You will always be our beloved son, and I hope you are living a happy, fulfilling life in our absence.

It is also with a heavy heart that I write this next passage, as I never wanted to explain this part to you in a letter, but I feel the need to prepare for the worst, since out of all the Marauders, I trust Peter the least. Harry, what I'm about to say here is something I've only ever shared with three people; your father, my dear friend Serena Lovegood, and Albus Dumbledore: I am not human. I am not even from this time.

Allow me to explain: I was born some millions of years in the future, where magic has changed the Earth so drastically, you'd scarcely believe your eyes. I was born Lillia Excalla Faetra, youngest daughter of Oberon, King of the Fae, and ruler of what we called Sequin Land. And yes, his name is the same as the character from Shakespeare's play; it was a traditional name for the men of my family to possess. I speculate that it was remembered by my family even after the Great Calamity, but that's not the purpose of this letter.

Anyway, I was the youngest of five siblings, and my family's kingdom was prosperous. Until the day THEY showed up: The Djinn Imperium. They waged a bloody and vicious are against our kingdom, and for all intents and purposes, they won. They slaughtered our people and cursed the lands to suffer drought, famine, and death. They stormed the capital of our kingdom, Willow Wilds, and killed my family. I was the sole survivor of this massacre. My mother used a spell to send me to this time, away from the threat of the Djinn, in the hopes I could carry on our family's legacy and live in peace.

Sadly, it seems that before the Great Calamity, magic is…detrimental to nonhuman species. It has been siphoning the magic in my body from the moment I arrived. I'm lucky enough to have survived long enough to have you, my dearest son. And you do not need to worry about the magic draining from you, Harry. Due to your half-human physiology, the drain from you is, from my observations, incredibly minor, and shouldn't affect your health in any major way.

Within the trunk you found this letter in, is volume upon volume of books I have personally written to you so that you could learn what is essentially your birthright. Most of the books are my personal notes on how to activate your powers (should they not be awakened by this point), and how to utilize your magic how they would affect you, as a Half-Fae. But there are a few books in there that were from my family's personal library that were entrusted to me when I left so that I could continue the Royal Line. With all this at your disposal, I'm sure that you do fine out in the world.

I have written more letters like this, most from when I was in Hogwarts myself, but they are all for you, and will explain more of the Fae culture in depth. There is also a letter enclosed with this one that, should you ever desire it, contains the counter formula to the spell that brought me to this time. The counter formula will take you back to my original time for you to live your life out there if you wish it. I don't wish for you to take this route, however, because I do not wish for you live a lonely and solitary life, alone in a city of bones amidst a ruined kingdom.

But whatever you do, I pray for your safety and your continued happiness. You, Harry, are my greatest creation; my little prince and sweet, precious son. I am deeply sorry that I cannot be by your side at this moment, but I will do what I must to keep you safe, even if it means paying the ultimate price. I can only hope you are in good health and remember that for always and forever, I will always love you. Nothing, not Voldemort, not the cursed Djinn, and certainly not Death itself, will ever change that. And let me close this by saying that no matter what has happened in your life, I will always be proud of you. I love you very much Harry James Potter, and I want you to NEVER forget that.


Your mother, Lilly Potter

Tears dropped from Harry's eyes onto the parchment. He quickly moved the letter away as he dried his eyes on his sleeve. It was like his hundredth time reading it in a week, and yet the emotions the letter called up refused to be silenced by him. He let them run wild though. Seventeen years, and he only ever obtained so few things belonging to his mother, yet now he had a whole trunk full of items she specifically left for him!

Once again, he cursed the now dead Severus Snape stealing what was meant for him and trying to steal from him…again!

But in the end, he supposed he should thank the petty Potions Professor, otherwise the goblins of Gringotts would have gotten the trunk, and then he'd never have known of its existence. Stingy, greedy, contract breaking little buggers!

He dried his eyes and reread the passage about his mother's true lineage: A Fae from millennia in the future. He was skeptical of this until he brought Dumbledore's portrait to Grimmauld Place and interrogated it. Indeed, his mother was being truthful about her identity, leaving Harry blown away.

In an almost feverous excitement, he spent days discussing this with his former headmaster, eager to absorb all that he could about his mother and his lineage. At some point in that conversation, they touched on his Fae powers, and Dumbledore mentioned Harry should have awakened them many times over since his first encounter with Voldemort in his First Year. This brought up the difficult conversation of why they haven't, which was a bit surprising for the Potter heir.

Dumbledore told him that the Horcrux that was in his scar had been constantly trying to corrupt him and Dumbledore was forced to constantly use magic dampening potions or magic binding spells on Harry to keep it at bay. This, of course, had the added effect of weakening Harry's own magic and keeping his true powers sealed.

Harry understood, though. The nature of a Horcrux was to possess whoever touched it, so a living (albeit unknown and unwitting) vessel would constantly be at risk of possession by the soul it held. He never knew just how much Dumbledore had done to keep him safe. He then felt bad about all the things he had ever thought about the man.

Turning back to the multitude of letters around him, he chuckled as he saw one he remembered greatly. It was a letter his mother made sometime after he was born. It was different because it was written with a deca-Quill, reciting his mother's words as she drew out a complicated spell formula. His father apparently was with her, and it helped him learn a very important truth about his parents…

"James! Stop it!"

"But Lily-Flower! You get to teach him all this stuff!"

"THIS is his birthright James! Not a bunch of useless skills!"

"USELESS skills?! Lily-Flower, I can assure you-"


His parents were total goofs.

There were multiple letters that were like that. Most had his parents arguing or simply being goofy. He enjoyed reading the conversations they had and always had a laugh while reading them.

At some point, the question of if he could still activate his powers still in the air, so he scoured his mother's trunk for how to awaken his powers. Currently, the methods and rituals were sprawled out on the table before him. He hummed as he looked back down at them.

"Mom sure took obsessive levels of organizations," he mused. He chuckled a little. "Never thought I'd know anyone who could out-obsess Hermione in that regard." He turned to a tiny table next to his seat. Sitting on top of it next to a lamp was a photo of himself and Hermione sitting next to the Black Lake. The two were laughing as Harry wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. He sighed as he grabbed the photo.

He picked it up and held up for a moment. He placed the picture to his chest and mumbled, "I miss you," he said to the emptiness around him. "It's hard being here without you, 'Mia." He sighed and placed the photo back onto the table and fell into his seat again. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair.

A few minutes past as he sat there when an old House Elf popped in beside him. "Master, dinner be served," he said in a raspy voice. Harry smiled and opened his eyes.

"Thank you, Kreature," he said. "What's on the menu tonight?"

"Dinner be simple fish and chips, but dessert be Treacle Tart, Master's favorite," Kreature answered.

"Great. I'll be there in a moment. Could you repack my letters and put the trunk in my room?"

"It'd be Kreature's pleasure, Master."

"Thank you."

With that, Harry stood up and walked out of the den he was occupying. He absently noticed the elderly House Elf began reorganizing the contents of the trunk before shutting it. He paid it little thought as he walked through the familiar hallways to the dining room.

Being only five months since the end of the Second Blood War, the sights of his godfather's ancestral home-turned Order of the Phoenix headquarters-turned safehouse-turned new home still stung Harry's bitter gaping wounds. He stopped at a photograph hanging on the wall. His heart wretched at the sight of Hermione and himself; him comforting a wounded Hermione after the Battle of Hogwarts, the both of them seemingly content with each other's presence.

Harry gritted his teeth and shook his head violently. "Bloody Lestrange bitch!" he snarled quietly, slamming his fist against the wall.

There were a lot of regrets he had over the course of the war, but the biggest was most certainly that he didn't get the chance to tear Bellatrix Lestrange to pieces, making a fear of him take hold of her psychotic mind while he did so. It was, after all, her that cursed his Hermione. If he had the chance, he would have loved to repay the mad woman every ounce of pain her spell inflicted on the woman he asked to be his fiancé.

But in the end, he supposed being done in by Molly Weasley was penance enough for Hermione. At least, according to her.

"You should have seen it, Harry!" she told him once during one of her better days. "The look on Bellatrix's face was so gratifying that I wished I had a camera at the time!"

He looked back at the photograph and sighed, turning and headed towards the dining hall.

Next Chapter: Ancient tale for a Half-Genie

AN: I hope y'all enjoyed this first installment of this story. Let me know what you think of it!

And just in case any are not familiar with Shantae, from what I gathered, 'our time' is sort of a lost part of Sequin Land's history. So, I decided to capitalize on that.