Asura and Devas

A collection of Roronoa Zoro/Harry Potter fanfiction.

Sunday afternoon, Petunia Dursley's favourite kind of afternoon.

It was midsummer with warm sunshine and a light breeze, all her flowers were blooming, the roast was coming along nicely in the oven, the TV was on and she was enjoying Miss Marple, Dudley was home from University and cheerfully catching up with his dear old mum about what he was getting up to on his Law Degree – her Duddikins was going to become a Lawyer, oh she was so proud. Vernon was reading the paper with a cold lemonade in front of him, a content smile on his face as he chuckled minutely at the satirical little political jokes present in the weekly cartoon strip at the bottom of the pages.

Indeed, Petunia loved Sunday afternoons.

It was a shame that Petunia Dursley's lovely Sunday afternoon was about to be ruined by someone she never thought she would ever see again, or indeed, someone she never wished to see again – despite the slight worries over his well being when he vanished, seemingly, into thin air at school.

"I'll get it, no, no, you sit down Diddy, I'm perfectly capable of opening the front door," Petunia told him briskly as she got off her favourite arm-chair and made her way into the Hall. It must have been Edith from next-door, that woman was constantly complaining about Vernon or Dudley parking outside her home – as if she owned the Highway.

Hm, the shadows through the window were much to large to be Edith's. Maybe it was some of Dudley's little friends? Not that she could legitimately call them little when they all towered over her.

Chuckling a little at her own thoughts, Petunia unlocked the front door and pulled it open, "May I - " and froze, her words dying on her lips as she got a better look at just whom was on her doorstep.

It may have been six years, but she would never forget those eyes. Those clear cut green eyes, the colour of broken glass and just as sharp, just as painful. The air froze painfully in her lungs.

He was beautiful, there was no other word for it that she could put to him, handsome was too masculine, pretty was too cutesy, arresting wasn't enough, attractive was too general. He was beautiful and he looked just. Like. Her. Thick wavy black hair, hanging down to his shoulders with sun-bleached strands of copper and brown, choppy cut strands passing for a fringe that framed his face, his heart-shaped face with too-high cheekbones, those eyes, delicately arced eyebrows, a thin nose that turned up ever so slightly at the tip, thin pale lips and long, long eyelashes. He was barely at her eye-level, somehow still shorter than her by a single inch at 5'4" in height, he was slender, delicate, with pale skin and a large white peasant's tunic, a pair of black three-quarter length cargoes emphasising his long legs, her legs, and the well worn sandals on his feet.

A whimper squeezed its way out of her throat. Oh god, she was looking at a Ghost, a curse!

"Lily," she keened, staggering backwards, almost falling as her hands sought support against the door and the Ghost moved forward, concern colouring his face, as if to steady her but she uttered a quiet little scream and skittered backwards.

"Pet? Is everything alright?" Vernon called through from the living room, the sound of rustling papers telling her that he had put his paper down and was preparing to get to his feet and rush to her aid.

"Mum?" Dudley ventured when she was unable to squeeze anything out past her vocal cords.

Again, her mouth opened and closed soundlessly as she stared at the apparition in front of her, she physically couldn't speak, her hand clutching her heart in horror. All the while, the Ghost was looking increasingly anxious and alarmed at her apparent inability to breathe or speak. He looked at one of the others helplessly, and she found herself pulling her eyes away to study them as well.

She was fairly sure if she saw either of those men in any other situation or with anyone else, she would have immediately called the police or thought them to be part of a gang or young hooligans of some sort.

The tallest of the pair stood at a staggering 6'6" with broad shoulders and highly defined muscle mass, his face was sharp with a long straight nose and severe eyebrows, his amber eyes bored into her making a cold sweat and a shiver of fear run across her whole body. He wore a musketeer styled hat with a large fluffy plume in the brim, he went shirtless but wore an open coat that went down to his ankles in black and sunburst patterned scarlet, a thick gold cross hanging at his collar and a pair of thick canvas grey trousers hung from narrow hips and tucked into heavy black boots. He looked at her as if she were something foul he had scraped from the bottom of his shoe.

On the otherside of the smallest was a man standing at 6'4" in height with broad shoulders and a thick muscular neck and chest. His skin was tanned the same shade as caramel which contrasted greatly with his short, almost feathered, pale green hair – the closest shade Petunia could claim it as would be the Coral Green paint samples from B&Q. He watched her with his single remaining dark eye, a long thin scar running from his forehead through his left eye and stopping half-way down his cheek, as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of her. Like the older man, he wore no shirt and a dark green coat, held shut with a red sash – a green band visible around his middle and a pair of black leather trousers tucked into heavy boots. For some reason, Petunia half expected him to have something like a sword with him – he looked like some kind of Pirate, he even had earrings! Three gold bars dangling from his left ear, catching the light.

"Holy shit," Dudley breathed as he appeared in the all, clapping eyes on what had rendered his mother into silence, his eyes were the size of dinner plates as he saw the person he never expected to see again in his life. Petunia croaked weakly, a reflexive attempt to reprimand him for his language that was unable to manifest beyond a single strangled whimper.

"I thought you were dead," her son finally managed to get out as he stood protectively beside his mother, placing his hands on her shoulders and jolting her out of her state of shock – letting her breathe again, much to the relief of the Ghost on her doorstep.

He shrugged, smiling a little sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head, "Yeah... I kinda get that a lot," he admitted quietly and it was only the firm, warm, heavy grasp of her son's hands on her shoulders that prevented Petunia from sobbing. "This... this is the Dursley residence, isn't it?" the Ghost asked a little anxiously, looking around the hall as best he could.

This struck Petunia as an exceptionally odd thing for him to ask, "Y-yes. Wh-what are you doing here? The-they told us you'd..." she trailed off, unable to believe her eyes, it was her but it wasn't, it was wrong but it was her but...

He bit his lip awkwardly and pulled on a strand of hair nervously, "Well, I don't... I don't remember much before it... before I got lost," he managed to explain and Petunia could feel something in her chest beginning to hurt, "I wanted to meet you, again, I guess. Um, my name is Kai but I guess you'd know me as Harry, wouldn't you?"

Petunia actually screamed.

And there we have it. XDD Zoro, Mihawk and Kai show up on Petunia's front doorstep.

I will continue this, but I thought for the beginning, it was a good place to stop. You guys can imagine what happens next until I finish it myself XDDD Have fun imagining the chaos.