Summary: Maybe it was because of his constant bad luck, maybe it was another one of destiny's cruel games—but in one instant, Harry Potter and George Weasley end up in a strange place where humanity is on the brink of defeat—although, maybe it isn't something, but someone who is responsible.

Rating: T

Pairings: Still inwardly debating whether romance is necessary in this story.

Warnings: Spoilers, obviously. Possible OOCness, I'm not yet fully familiar with SnK's characters, so forgive any possible and terrible characterization moments in this fic.

Notes: I shouldn't be writing this, but now I am. /sigh I can't help the ideas that pop up in my mind regarding HP and another series so... yeah. I hope you enjoy and well, erm give this story a chance at least. If you don't know what to think or thought this was an alright, please tell me why.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Shingeki No Kyojin/Attack on Titan do not belong to me.

Memento Mori

chapter I - alea iacta est

26 August 1994


No no no no, he thought rapidly, eyes intensely staring into the coloured ceiling of the tent. Just as soon as he dozed off, he woke up once again while his fellow friends slept soundly. What he had seen was unable to cease from entering his thoughts continuously. The Mark, His Mark, seeped into his mind, creating a lasting image. As clear as day, he could recall the glittery emerald skull and the intimidating snake that slithered out of its open mouth. He reluctantly admitted his feelings about it—it frightened the absolute hell out of him.

Because it had to mean something.

It had to, since they caused the riot, since they made it chaotic, and since they showed off His Mark. The Death Eaters. 'You-Know-Who's supporters,' according to Bill. Malfoy and his loathsome, pureblood fanatical family were the first to be tacked on that list, no doubt about that. Of course, it was sensible to list almost, almost every single Slytherin into that category.

But what could causing a riot at the campgrounds accomplish?

It might have been be a sign or a warning. A threat, possibly? More to come, or perhaps a warning that the Dark Lord was—

He felt sick to the stomach. Impossible. It had been only a few short years since Voldemort's futile attempt to rise to power during his first year at Hogwarts. It seemed almost ages ago. However, no matter what, every single year, Voldemort constantly managed to find a way to try and get to him. Even though it may have been through disgusting traitors or strange diaries, Voldemort's threats were every, all over him.

What would it take, honestly? What would it take for him to finally have a peaceful life without having the Dark Lord's threat and his followers looming behind his shoulder?


He jolted suddenly at the abrupt sound, sitting up straight in his bunk bed. The hair on his neck stood up, and a sense of uneasiness crept slowly on him. His emerald green eyes darted from Ron, who was on the bunk beneath him, to Percy, hoping that someone had heard it. Something like that couldn't have been his imagination. The younger and older brothers remained slumbering, oblivious to the sound he was sure he had heard.

"Harry..." A voice spoke out warily, and he recognised another person awake as one of the twins. Fred, if he guessed correctly. "D'you hear that, mate?"

"Yeah," Harry answered in a whisper, slipping out of bed. He clutched his wand so tightly, feeling it painfully dig into his skin. Looking around, he furrowed his black eyebrows in bewilderment. "Why isn't Ron awake? Wait, did anyone else stir?"

To further prove his assumption, Harry glanced around the tent toward Mr. Weasley, who was still dozing off. The same went for everyone else. Charlie, who should have been awake at the slightest noise after years of being around dragons was still snoring loudly, along with Ron and Bill. Why were Harry and one of the twins the only ones who were awakened after such a suspicious noise?

Hermione and Ginny are in the next tent, Harry reminded himself. If they had heard something, it was doubtful they would stay inside their tent. They would go straight toward where everyone else was, not cower in fear. Hermione, and especially Ginny, would not stay still if they found anything out of the ordinary.

Fred or George, shrugged his shoulders as his face put on an expression of confusion and wonder. "I dunno," He glanced toward his knocked out twin brother, "Fred's not even waking up, no matter how many times I've punched his bony arm." He mumbled under his breathe. "The one time I really need him and he doesn't respond..."

So it was George, Harry noted. "Y'know, George, it sounded as if it came from outside the tent..."

George stiffened immediately. "Really?" He asked, an ounce of uneasiness in his voice.

Harry's green orbs focused solely on the entrance of the tent, his mind scheming plans almost instantly. After what had happened suddenly, was it safe to check out was going on outside? It was improbable for the Death Eaters to show their faces again, but it could be possible for them to come back. However. they must have known better than to return the scene of the crime. Harry couldn't ignore the small part of him that tugged on the curiosity of seeing what happened outside.

"Should we..." Harry began, but George cut him off right away.

The sixteen-year-old male shook his adamantly in response. George was able to tell what Harry was about to ask him to do. It was that obvious. "I can tell what's going on through your mind because it's the same look Fred gets sometimes. After what happened tonight, Harry, we can't take any chances," George replied hurriedly while he pulled on his covers tightly, "we, we should just go back to sleep and forget what we heard. That noise was prob—"


"There it is again," Harry muttered lowly, feeling his palms grow sweaty with apprehension. His voice was nice and steady, but his body's reactions betrayed how he really felt. He couldn't control how his body was shaking nervously as he attempted to block out the thoughts of what might happen.

George looked increasingly doubtful of his earlier words. They had to check out what was happening, just in case... After his eyes peered at each one of his sleeping family members, he sighed defeatedly. His hand reached over for his wand tucked under his pillow, holding it close to him as he stood on the solid ground. "I'll be back soon, Forge," He whispered softly to his twin, and smirked as he heard Fred groan at his words.

"So, er," George grinned anxiously at Harry as they quietly walked toward the entrance of the closed tent, "care to step out first, Chosen One?"

He's scared, Harry realised instantly, reading behind George's false mask instantaneously, but he's trying to at least ease the tension and any jittery feelings... Might as well try myself.

"Me?" Harry inquired innocently, cracking an amused smile and shaking his head. "George, you're older and much more sensible than I am, so you ought to take charge in this kind of situation."

"I don't know whether you're being sarcastic or telling the truth," the redhead opened the front of the tent slowly, obviously not in a rush to go outside, "but you're bloody mad if you chose the latter."

Harry chuckled along with George. They both stepped out into the cool night, and the moon shined brightly before them. It was bright enough for them to see properly, and they stood still.

Several tents were intact, but there were many that had severe damage. Some were burnt to a black crisp and others were trampled, obviously by the witches and wizards from before. Wherever they looked, it was an absolute mess. Items ranging from the World Cup merchandise like broken miniature figures to clothes to even snapped broomsticks lined the ground, showing off just how much damage the Death Eaters had truly created.

However, waiting to see what the noise was proved to be difficult, since the duo had inspected their surroundings for almost five minutes and found nothing alarming.

Yawning faintly, George rubbed at his left eye with his hand. He shifted impatiently, turning to the the shorter teenager. "Do you suppose, well... whatever it was, do you think it's gone now?"

"Possibly," Harry hesitantly agreed with George and disagreeing with what his gut was telling him. The odd and slightly frightening feeling was still there... He made a move to turn back into the tent while adjusting his black-rimmed glasses until George spoke again.

"Wait a moment," The redhead breathed out tensely, slapping a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry winced in surprise and pain, feeling a slight ache as George squeezed tightly. "Er, sorry." He apologised, easing a little on his grip. "But is it just me, or do you see that light over there?" George pointed to the left of him, his index finger jutted out.

With his green eyes narrowed behind glasses, Harry squinted to see in the dark night. Eventually, he zeroed in on the small bright, blue light. "What is that?" He asked in bewilderment, deciding that it wasn't a flashlight that was on.

"Looks like someone's wand that activated Lumos. Maybe the person over there is the one making all that racket," George suggested with a frown, finally letting go of Harry's arm completely. Harry let out a relieved sigh, shrugging his slightly pained shoulder. "We should check it out, see who it is before we call Dad over." He stopped for a moment, mulling over his thoughts. "I... I don't think it's a Death Eater or anything like that."

"Alright then," Harry decided after a moment of silence, taking George's words into consideration. It was most likely not a Death Eater. But then who was it? The two trudged toward the ball of light, and Harry slowly loosened his tight grip on his wand. Take it easy, Harry thought as calmly as possible, it's almost as if we're in a horror film. He chuckled lightly, trying to relieve his unsure feelings.

George raised a red eyebrow at Harry's sudden noise. He nudged the younger man lightly. "What's so funny, Harry?" He inquired curiously, stuffing his cold hands into his pockets.

"Oh, it just feels similar to a horror film," Harry responded with an impish grin before realising that George didn't understand because of the redhead's clueless expression, "it's a Muggle thing. It's like moving pictures, with colour and sound that plays for over an hour or so on a large screen."

"You should tell Dad 'bout this," George said after taking in that information, kicking a small rock out of the way on the dirt path, "he'd love to see some of those Muggle films. How does this seem relatable to a Muggle film, though?"

Harry's fingers fiddled softly with his wooden wand, gently tracing the smooth material with his fingertips. "It's as if we're the people in the films. The ones that get killed. It starts with you hearing a noise, so you go outside to check it out, and well," Harry sighed deeply for dramatic affect, "then you get killed by a murderer or some evil force."

"R-Really?" George stiffened drastically, looking back to see if anyone was following them. Regret rushed through him as Harry attempted to stifle a smirk. The taller boy stumbled a little before clearing his throat quietly. "Erm, Harry, I don't think we should walk any further. L-Let's just go back," He said cautiously, pulling on Harry's jacket roughly to try and drag the younger boy back to their tent.

A simper made way on Harry's lips, pulling his arm away from George's tight grip on his clothing. "I was just trying to scare you, George," He admitted mischievously to the taller teen, "you looked absolutely ready to wet your trousers. Besides, you were the one who suggested to go toward that light."

"Harry," George whined unhappily, giving him a swift punch to the upper arm along with a death glare, "that's not the least bit amusing. You had me all worked up for nothing. And you of all people should know that I don't make the best decisions. Have you seen how many detentions me and Fred've gotten throughout our years at Hogwarts? Or the oh so 'wondrous' results of our OWLs that got us in deep trouble?"

"Considering that Mrs. Weasley was yelling at you before we left, I can believe that your decisions aren't well thought out," Chuckling at George, Harry recalled how angry Mrs. Weasley was before they had gone to the Quidditch World Cup. She had shrieked for a while at the twins, even going as far to throw away their products. Needless to say, the two identical boys were thoroughly frustrated with their mother.

"Well, she didn't need to go on about it so loudly," George replied bitterly, glaring forward while he straightened out his sleeves, "she did hurl all of our hard work into the trash like it was rubbish. Fred and I worked on them for months. You don't know how many sleepless nights we've been through because we were too busy designing and working out the kinks on all of the products. And since school hasn't started, guess which one of us has to test every single one." He took a deep breathe after his rant, muttering sorely. "We get no mercy from her, I swear..."

Harry winced at his tone. George was angry at his mother, but all his mother wanted was for him and Fred to succeed in life no matter what. She just desired the best for them, because they were her sons. If his own mother were still here, would she... Would she have been the same as Mrs. Weasley? Harry wondered idly, remembering the pictures of his parents he had. They were the only connection he had left to remind him that he had parents aside from his godfather's words. He felt for his front pocket, where he had put a picture from the scrapbook Hagrid had given him of his smiling mother and father—Lily and James Potter, unfortunately, the names still seemed foreign to him—recalling how happy they looked. He wondered if he could ever be like that, with anyone.

"It's a good thing, however," George rummaged through his jacket, cheerfully getting over his earlier resentment. He found a bag of what appeared to be products of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and showed it to the black haired wizard, "that Charlie is the greatest older brother in the entire world. Thank Merlin for him and his sweet heart that gives into pity. He got all of our stuff out of the trash and gave us some sweets, since Mum banned us from anything tasty when she found out about our OWLs and order forms. We owe him so much. I haven't tasted the sweetness of chocolate in ages. I've missed it so much."

Harry laughed at that while George pouted childishly. "Once again, not funny, Harry," He grumbled out, "my pain is not something to laugh—" He suddenly stopped speaking and froze, falling forward as a flash of light hit him so fast that it was gone immediately after he dropped.

"George!" Harry cried out worriedly, alert and on edge. The redhead met the dirt path with a loud thump, unmoving and still.

Harry's mind ran a mile a second, finally focusing on one, one thing that could've helped him. We should've used the invisibility cloak, He finally realised, seeing his best friend's brother—no, George was as much as a brother to him—lying on the ground, completely unconscious. The cloak was stuffed inside his jacket, and yet he had forgotten to use such a crucial tool.

He pulled out his wand as he surveyed his surroundings to find the culprit. Nothing. There was nothing. His eyes couldn't find anything or anyone that caused George to be knocked out.

We should've used it! Harry berated himself angrily.

But it was too late for him to do anything.

Before Harry could begin uttering the word "Protego," a charm that he had yet to master, a spell hit him directly in his back. He felt his consciousness slipping away, understanding that the stunning charm Stupefy had sadly gotten the best of him and George. As he struggled to keep himself awake, he saw a dark, blurry figure in front of him. The strange figure hurriedly pulled a chain over his neck.

Stop... Harry thought sluggishly, unable to find it in himself to voice his demands to whoever it was that had done this to them. St... Stop...

The metal chain felt so ice cold on his skin—

And then a rushing feeling—

of going back—

oh Merlin it hurt

seeing a mesh of different colours—

then the frightening outline encased in sparkly green that lit up the sky—

there was nothing he could do—

if only he hadn't been so bloody damn foolish—

a sense of déjà vu hit him—

He had been through this before.


"Did you see them fall?"

A frightened whimper escaped a little girl's mouth, her tiny hands desperately making fistfuls put of her mother's worn out dress. "Was it the Titans again?" She whispered fearfully, burying her worried face into her mother's clothing.

A young boy fought in his grandfather's tight hold, trying to rush forward. "Gramps, let go of me! I wanna see 'em!" He yelled in irritation, fighting back futilely.

"Run! Run away or they will harm you!" Someone screeched, hurriedly running in the opposite direction of the scene as he fought against the groups of men and women to escape.

The crowds of Karanese District spoke uproariously, with many people shoving and pushing to see the source of excitement. It was a regular day for them until only a few short moments ago. Individuals were either trying to get away while others were entranced by what occurred, despite a tugging sense of fear in their hearts.

What transpired was something they had never seen before in their entire lives. Of course, the people saw many of the soldiers from each of the three Military branches wearing 3D Maneuver Gear fall to the ground due to several malfunctions or because they ran out of gas. But the two young men lying on the ground definitely weren't soldiers, since they had no uniform part of any of the branches or any 3D Maneuver Gear attached to their bodies.

And they certainly weren't normal, for they had dropped to the stone ground from the clear, blue sky.