DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Potterverse, or anything from the Final Fantasy series.

Summary: Tossed violently through time and space by a twisted ritual, Harry winds up near Seifer and Squall's battle. When Seifer discovers the teen, he realizes Harry is a Sorcerer and decides it's his duty to become his knight. Without telling Harry. The youth's skills were enough to catch Cid's attention, and the Headmaster decides to send Harry with Seifer's team. Now with the calming presence of his Sorcerer, and a need to impress, a more responsible Seifer takes his SeeD exam with noticeably different results.
Warnings: Slash, AU, Crossover with FFVIII, Seifer/Harry

Note: The first piece of this chapter is a bit darker than the rest. In fact, I don't foresee anything similar any time soon.

Memories

Harry struggled uselessly against his bindings, trying to escape this horrible situation. Voldemort had managed to overthrow the European wizarding world, taking over the ministries and a great majority of the schools. With the ministry fallen, and Albus Dumbledore dead, the wizarding world was ready to submit. The Dark Lord had finally managed to capture Harry Potter while he was shifting to another safe house in America, when a spy in the Order had ratted them out. Unfortunately, not only was The-Boy-Who-Lived captured, but also were most of the remaining Order members.

Now Harry was strapped to a blood soaked altar, surrounded by the last seven members of the Order who were to be used as human sacrifices in this warped ritual. Everyone else had already been slaughtered mercilessly, some used in the bloody art now on the floor. The lines of blood spiraled merrily, twisting and winding about in a circular fashion; it ran from the seven circles and their chained occupants to dance up the sides and onto the surface of the altar. Runes etched into stone and sacrificial flesh wavered eerily in the torchlight, soaked in more blood, yet not a drop touched Harry.

He felt as if that was the worst part. In order for the ritual to be successful, the circle and runes had to be painted with innocents' blood. For reasons unknown, his vessel had to be whole. While he was sent to another dimension, his remaining friends and family would die horribly, blood spilling from their bodies as the ritual drained first their magic, then their life energy, and finally consume their bodies to remove him from this world. Even though this would leave him physically unharmed, Voldemort rejoiced in the fact that there was no way for Harry to return, and that he would live the rest of his life with the knowledge that he was the reason for his friends fates.

It had started. The flames flickered around the stone room as a dark energy rendered the blood a glaring red; luminous color began seeping inwards from the circle's edge as the Imperio'd sacrifices chanted their death song. Strings of light twined and connected, casting a sickly glow on the walls of the room as the magic consumed the fires. The first scream rent the air as the blood magic took its initial sacrifice. Harry cried out, distraught, when the blood of his first friend splashed across his face. Blood dripped from his eyes in a parody of tears, as the second scream tore through the room. Harry could only close his eyes and pretend that none of this was happening, that he would be safe in his room when he awoke, that this was only a perverse nightmare sent to him by the Dark Lord.

But it wasn't. His mind tore at itself, determined to eradicate this event from his mind to save his sanity. Quickly his mind destroyed the last few years of his life, ripping and shredding everything and anything negative, desperate to save this functioning human in its entirety. His magic welled up, healing and soothing the events from his past, sorting personal information from general knowledge, discarding anything tying him to this world. Once he would awake in the new world, he would be whole; no event would have broken him, no knowledge condemning him, no memory to hold him.

Under assault of mind and magic, Harry soon fell into the dark hold of unconsciousness.

-0-

Seifer gripped his face as blood started gushing from the wound between his eyes. Lightning flashed and seared the skies, roars of thunder splitting the air as the training partners continued their fight. The ground started shaking violently after the crash, testing the duelists' hold on gravity. The two were suddenly pulled from their glaring contest when Squall and Seifer heard a sharp cry of pain. Squall spun towards the sound, moving quickly to find its source, as Seifer followed at a more sedate pace. The disciplinary committee leader seemed more concerned when the crumpled form of a child or young teen was seen wedged amongst the rocks, trails of blood trickling down from the body's resting place. Seifer moved past his shocked rival and checked for a pulse.

"Still alive?" The brunette mumbled. Seifer nodded. "We should bring them to the infirmary."

He promptly scooped up the youth and headed for the clinic, Squall close behind. Before he had even taken a third step, the adolescent gasped, arching in pain then glowing faintly. The scratches and bruises started to close up and fade, causing the blond to stumble, eyes widening in shock. This wasn't the color of Cure, and neither he nor Squall had cast any healing spell. Even as he watched, the lesser hurts started to heal, as the more severe wounds became only minor damages. Could this person who had appeared so suddenly be a Witch?

Seifer's heart beat faster at that idea. A Sorceress. One of his most prominent memories—no, his life's dream—is to be the Knight of a Sorceress. And now there may very well be one lying in his arms. Groaning signaled their conscious state, and a final pulse of light sealed the last of the wounds. Eyes fluttered softly in an attempt to open to the world. Seifer could have sworn his heart not just skipped, but vaulted out of his chest and into his throat. Deep soothing emerald glinted from beneath heavily lidded eyes, first taking in the sky before shifting to connect with his.

-0-

As the tendrils of darkness slipped their hold on his mind, Harry tried vainly to reacquaint himself with the waking world. His eyes felt as if they were cemented shut, and all he could tell is that he hurt. Warmth flooded through him following his gasp of pain, his magic trying to lessen his distress. As his senses started to function properly again, he became more aware of what was happening outside his body. From what he could tell, he was currently being cradled gently against a large firm chest—male, then.

Coaxing his eyes open, he was rewarded with visions of a cloud darkened sky and the sound of a quickened heartbeat, not his own. Focusing his eyes closer, the person holding him came into view. The male was blond, with purified-ice blue eyes, a strong face, and a fresh gash from forehead to inner cheekbone, cutting across the bridge of his nose. Harry reached up mindlessly to heal the cut and had managed to stop the blood flow when a noise practically startled him from his skin.

"Hey–" Squall, who had seen the teen move, came forward to check on him. Before he could speak properly, the sky lit fire and thunder echoed across the land. He almost received a heart attack at the kid's panicked reaction.

Harry jumped in fright and light burst around the small frame, hardening into luminescent feathered protrusions from his back. Of course, all he knew was that his heart had attempted to abandon ship through his mouth, and was beating furiously against his ribcage. While feeling silly, he felt justified because of the sheer volume of the storm. When the arms tightened about him and twin gasps reached his ears, he chanced a look and saw the glowing plume-patterned dome arching above his face. At his own shock, the rigid arcs slacked and fell gently to the sides, allowing in the light prickly sensation he barely noticed earlier to start wetting his body.

"Are those–wings?" A choked voice asked. Harry's head whipped around and took in a slack-jawed brunette. The arm underneath his shoulders shifted slightly and stroked the shining feathers lying along his side. The odd sensation sent tingles along the structure and up his spine, causing his eyes to briefly close.

"Yes," Harry breathed. He flexed his muscles slightly, jostling his wings. The dark haired man leaned closer to touch his feathers as well, but his support only clutched him closer and he felt their weight shift back. Seems like someone doesn't like to share, he chuckled mentally. This thought was only confirmed as he looked up to see the flaxen-haired man sneering at the other. He shifted and winced as his pinion was crushed between him and the one holding him.

As if sensing his discomfort, blue eyes quickly met his own. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. May I get down, please?" The blond looked uncertain, probably worried he was still hurt. "I'm fine, but my wings are a bit cramped…" Harry was quickly set down on his own two feet.

From the ground, he could see the two better now. The blond almost towered above Harry, wearing a long white coat with red markings. The brunette, while shorter than the blond was still taller than Harry, and was dressed mostly in black. The both had similar weapons with them, so they must have been fighting before he got here. Speaking of which…

How did he get here? Where is here? He tried to remember something, any relevant to where he was or why, but all he could remember was his own name, and facts you could learn from a book. He knew things like he went to school, but he didn't know where. He knew he didn't grow up with his parents, but he wasn't sure who had raised him. Hell, he didn't even remember if he had wings all his life! It was as if someone had stripped his mind of all but the structural pieces that would make it collapse if they had gone missing. A hand on his shoulder interrupted his internal musing.

"Are you sure everything is alright?" The blond—I really should do introductions soon—peered into his eyes worriedly.

"Yes, sorry, I just can't seem to remember…" Harry trailed off as if confused. "Well, I just can't seem to remember." Harry shrugged casually, and tilted his head. "Thanks for earlier. My name is Harry."

-0-

Seifer had to hold back a growl as Squall tried to touch his Sorceress' wings. When he felt the body shifting in his arms and cringing, he shifted his vision down. "Are you alright?" What if he hasn't healed internally? The youth—a boy?—assured him that it was only his wings, and Seifer hastily righted the petite brunette to ease the stress on his wings. Now that he was standing properly, it was more obvious the gender of the magic user. When has a Sorceress ever been a boy? For there was no doubt now with the wings—he truly was a Witch. The teen's gaze was cast about curiously, and looked more than just a bit confused. When he started to frown, Seifer put a hand on his shoulder, and again asked after his health.

He was alarmed when the boy implied not remembering anything, but he relaxed as he heard "Thanks for earlier. My name is Harry." So he at least knew his own name. Seifer smiled at Harry.

"You're welcome. My name is Seifer," he nodded at his sparring partner, who was dabbing at his own cut. "And that's Squall." He turned back to Harry in time to see the wings fade back into light, and dim. "Do you remember anything?" Harry moved over to Squall and touched the still bleeding wound. It sealed over, but had still scarred because of the length of time it was left alone.

"I remember basic facts and information, but anything personal… It's as if the memories just don't exist. The only things in my mind that could count as actual memories are all from when I woke up." Harry stepped back a bit and glanced to make sure no one was bleeding elsewhere. The two Balamb soldiers frowned at that. It sounded similar to what they knew of, but Harry wasn't a Garden member. And he would have at least remembered a Garden if he was.

Seifer's heart ached to hear Harry had no memories until just now. These odd feelings cemented his idea. This would be his Sorcerer. His 'romantic dream' would no longer be a dream, but reality. He would become a Knight, the best one the world had ever seen, protecting and standing by his Sorcerer.

Squall looked at Harry, then back to Seifer. "We should go see the Headmaster."