This is the teaser for a new Harry Potter/Merlin crossover I'm working on that will be posted soon. Since my current story, Saving Albion, is drawing to a close, I figured it was time to release this to you guys - to give you something to look forward to. I hope you like it. Please leave a review to express any thoughts you may have! :)

RECOMMENDATION: If you like listening to music as you read, I would suggest listening to this instrumental song for this fic: The Last Butterfly by Wodkah. You can find it on Youtube or by typing it into Google. I give all credit to the artist and only suggest it because it goes well with my fic. It's a beautiful piece!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter

*UPDATED 9/12/17 Thanks to clh for pointing out a few things I overlooked*

The Doorway

Darkness.

Voices.

Echoes.

Where was he?

Cast in a vast expanse of emptiness, Arthur was unsure whether his eyes were open or not. Light and color eluded him and he felt as if he was being pressed down on all sides. The only reassurance he had was the faint whisper of loved ones now beyond his reach. With these voices came memory, and with memory came a strange sense of peace. For while he was shroud in a mist of endless darkness, the visions within his mind comforted and reassured him. He was not alone.

Amidst these recollections, Arthur eventually recalled his final moments, the whispers around him transforming into one voice, a voice of strength, encouragement, and brotherhood: Merlin.

"Arthur, I'm sorry I had to leave you. I didn't want to. I hope one day you'll understand why... I'm sorry. I thought I defied the prophecy. I thought I was in time... I defeated the Saxons – the dragon... I'm a sorcerer... I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you... I do this because of who you are. Without you Camelot is nothing. I also do this because you're my friend and I don't want to lose you... Some men are born to plow fields, some live to be great physicians, others to be great kings. Me? I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I'm proud of that. And I wouldn't change a thing... I'm not going to lose you...

"Arthur… No! Arthur! Stay with me! Arthur! Arthur. Come on. ARTHUR!"

Tears pricked Arthur's eyes, threatening to fall. Merlin's love for him had been unreserved. He'd done everything he could and yet, in the end, it hadn't mattered. He had lost Arthur. And Arthur had lost him.

As this thought swirled into the king's heart, consuming him with grief, he became aware of something in the distance. It was far away but it was light! Light amidst this terrible darkness? With all due haste, he ran.

The small light began to grow, the shape slowly defining to what appeared to be a doorway. Caution overtook the king and he approached with the slightest degree of hesitation. This was the first ounce of light he'd seen since his eyes had closed from the world of the living and one could never be too careful. As he drew closer, the illumination transformed into shapes and colors.

The scene before him was dark, the background some room in an ancient castle. Several small desks and chairs rested against the stone walls but this was soon lost on the king for he was staring at the man standing a foot away from the doorway.

Tall, gangly limbs.

Short yet slightly untidy ebony locks.

High cheekbones and strong shoulders.

But the eyes... they were all wrong.

For one, they were hidden behind two strange glass panels surrounded by a rectangular frame and held together by a piece of metal resting on his nose. For another, they told a story; a story Arthur could not fully discern but nonetheless caused his heart to ache. What had once been an endless pool of mischief and life was now a reduced, dull, flickering flame. Gone was the sparkle of happiness and joy, replaced by a thousand unspoken sorrows. A lifetime of heartbreak, loneliness, and longing were etched into the gaze of a man Arthur considered the greatest of all. His untold story within his dull blue irises betrayed his youthful appearance, causing the king to wonder what on earth had happened to him.

Merlin appeared shocked to see him and then he began to cry. Stepping up to the doorway, he raised his hand. Arthur mirrored him. To his surprise and frustration, the king's gloved hand connected with what appeared to be glass. It rested directly against Merlin's but he was deprived of feeling his servant's touch. The sadness within Arthur's heart exploded and he frowned deeply in loss at his best friend. Merlin's tears fell freely as he stared at his king, separated from him by a surface that somehow Arthur knew, even with all his magic, he could not break.

Strength failed the warlock and Merlin fell to his knees, Arthur copying him. Another hand reached up on either side, both sets of palms now mirroring each other but still unable to connect. Arthur's forehead rested against the glass, Merlin's doing the same. Two pairs of eyes reflected the inner tortures of the souls joined by destiny but separated by death.

Arthur had so many questions he wanted to ask but, for some reason, he could only stare as if he was merely a reflection. Words didn't seem to matter at this particular moment anyway; the glass between them rendered any form of contact useless. So Arthur spoke with his eyes.

He conveyed his gratitude for all that Merlin had done for him. He displayed his love for the brother he never thought he'd have. And he frowned in confusion, trying to understand why he was permitted to see Merlin like this and wondering what had happened to his faithful sorcerer to cause the light to barely flicker in his eyes. Merlin's gaze held no answers, only unrepressed anguish. He removed his forehead, Arthur mimicking him, but they kept their hands in place, their knees almost touching.

As they stared at each other, Arthur became aware that Merlin's clothing was different. Wrapped around his body, the black fabric appeared to be some kind of robe. It was a rather strange style choice and the king had to wonder if it was some kind of nightwear - because, honestly, who would walk around in such strange attire? And was it his imagination or did Merlin look younger than he remembered him?

Arthur's frown deepened, even more questions exploding in his head. Merlin was suddenly distracted, his gaze drawn to something behind him. His hands fell away and he stood up. Arthur stood as well, his hands falling to hang loosely at his sides. He couldn't see anything but Merlin's back and the room he was in. Where was he? What was going on? Was he talking to someone?

Merlin finally turned back to Arthur, his sorrow openly displayed, the wounds of his heart bare but still unexplained to the king. He once again lifted his hand, resting it against the glass, the unspoken desire to be reunited with Arthur drawing further tears from his eyes. Overcome with the same wish, Arthur, too, raised his hand and rested it against the cruel surface.

Merlin's tears doubled as his hand fell and he turned, walking dejectedly towards a door, away from Arthur.

"No!" Arthur cried, pressing himself up against the glass. "Merlin! Don't go. MERLIN!"

But Merlin didn't look back. His shoulders shook with suppressed sobs as he left. The moment he disappeared, the glass Arthur leaned against instantly vanished and the king fell to the floor. Darkness once more consumed him and renewed sorrow cascaded into his heart.

He didn't know how long he knelt there, shedding tears like a small child. He didn't care either. Something terrible had happened, he knew it without knowing how he knew it, and he desperately wanted to leave this dark place and return to Merlin's side. Arthur started to shout, imploring to be released from his prison, not knowing who he was speaking to but praying nonetheless that he would be heard. He shouted for what felt like hours but no response came to answer his pleas.

Instead he felt a cocoon of warmth wrap around him and the whispers of his memory returned, each expressing their love and admiration for him. Though eventually lulled into a state of comfort, Arthur's heart still ached - for Merlin's anguish was buried in its center and the king knew it would never leave until their separation was no longer hindered by the doorway of Death's cruel glass.