Here's the next chapter!
And Nate the Werehog and I have a new reason to feel proud of this story as the first chapter alone already had over 2000 words! For that I would like to inform you all that Nate the Werehog has an amazing way of writing and you should really check his stories –especially his latest about Sonic.
I also want you all to know that this chapter might or might not hold the adoption plan in it. Nate and I had the agreement first that he and I would write different versions of this story after the adoption chapter, but now we've changed our plans. The version difference will come once Sora and Roxas have demerged.
Also, this chapter will first be send to Nate the Werehog through the DocX application on before it comes onto this site. This is to prevent that anything I write is not also put into Nate's story as he isn't too fond of slash. So to make sure we each have what we like in our stories they will first be send back and forth.
So this chapter has either already been edited and changed by Nate and a different version has been set onto his account or it has simply been checked and been given the approval of quite the competent and talented fanfiction writer.
Okay, enjoy,

The Venquine
Co-writer of this story
Along with Nate the Werehog

Xemnas' POV
Memory of 28th of July 1990

Eternal Darkness.
Never ending suffering.
Regret that will never fade.

That is what I expected to meet and come across once the Bright Light of the Keyblade – wielded by Sora and Riku together – hit me square in the chest and made my existence come to an end.
Instead a cold breeze wipes my six fringe hairs, combed to perfectly accentuate my face, up and over my head, cold concrete lies under me, freezing my black-cloaked body, and a bright light shines just at the top of my closed-eyed vision.
Suddenly a loud sound shocks me to open my eyes and seconds later I am standing up, my arms spread wide and my entire being ready to plunge whatever made the noise into the deepest darkness – only to see a car that drives by.

I shake my head, my arms lowering and my posture showing confusion, yet the same high-dignity as what I always used to control and order my men. Looking around, I see that I'm standing on the pavement of some long street, with across me a row of houses that –disgustingly enough – all look almost exactly the same.
The stone structure, the roof-figure, the length, the width and the entire shape of the houses are all the same, even the mailboxes. Only a few things differ one house from another and I quickly take in the changes in the state of the lawns, what stands in the windowsills and the numbers on the mailboxes.
I myself am standing across the street from number four and turning around I see the same. Houses that all look alike, except for the yard, the windowsill decorations and the numbers on the mailboxes. I look around further, trying to understand why I was send here – and what those annoying bumps in my chest mean.

Then I suddenly hear my name being called and wonder who has the sheer guts to do so – quite loudly too, as if pleased to see me or something; the fool. I turn with my worst glare, only for my eyes to widen as I see who it is.
Short blond hair combed to the back, blond eyebrows manicured to the midst of the forehead and covering azure blue eyes. Small sideburns going all the way down to the neck and still combed back and a blond mustache perfectly blending into a small beard that surrounds the chin at the mouth and has a small pointy tip near the midst of the lower lip.
Luxord, number 10, also known as the Gambler of Fate, runs at me from the house I am standing in front of and seems truly happy to see me. But my shock is not for seeing him coming at me, more for the fact he is here as he is supposed to have been felled by the power of the Keyblade.

The man reaches me and I ask the only question of which the answer will make all of this make sense: "Are we dead?" But the man shakes his head and says: "That's what all of us first thought too; the neighbors apparently think we're all patients suffering from a near death experience. Zexion's work."
I shake my head and ask: "Zexion? Number 6? He's here too?" Luxord nods and says: "They're all here. Well, all except Axel. He didn't show apparently." This makes me wonder what on earth happened, but then the bumps cross the end of my patience and I stump myself on the chest.

Luxord looks shocked and then he smiles and says: "Yeah, we all had to get used to that for a while." And while gasping as the bumps stopped for a beat, something which strangely hurt me, do I ask: "Get used to what?" And the words that come out of the Gambler's mouth next shock me to near death:

"Having a heart."

15th of September 1990

A hand is put on my shoulder, shocking me out of my trip down memory lane and I turn around, seeing the mullet-styled blond hair with bangs falling over a pale face and green eyes and recognizing number 9 Demyx, also known as the Melodious Nocturne.
I look at the man without showing my shock and he asks: "You okay, Superior?" And a small smile appears on my face. The minute we all were reunited and had all accepted we had hearts, we believed the Organization to be over, but – shockingly enough – was it the youngest member, Demyx, who said we should stay together.
Luxord had been the first to agree and Xaldin had made the overall agreement that while we were still an Organization, we would use our Hearts to grow closer and thus stronger than we were before. And thus I got to keep my role as the Leader of Organization 13, together with the title of Superior.

I nod at him to answer his question and say: "Just remembering how I came to be here, Number 9." Another rule we had kept up since our arrival here. If one spoke to me as Superior I would speak to them as their number. It would only happen once and only as a sign of mutual respect.
The young man nods and says: "I know. I often think of that too. But hey –." He says, slapping my shoulder before he goes on: "There's something more important to think about. Something – or better said someone – who lives across the street." I nod at his words and look at the house across ours.

My power of Nothing had made me capable of making an exact replica of the interior of our old castle within the simple three-bedroom-housed space. Zexion had explained this to other neighbors as us sleeping on bunk-beds, but I didn't care about what other neighbors thought and we had all liked the return to the usual style.
But there was one neighbor we did all care about – and that was all because of Marluxia. Some of our members had been able to get respectable jobs in this small town named Little Whinging and Marluxia was known as the town's best Garden Designer – mostly because of his power over flowers, of course.

But one day, long before I came back, Marluxia was walking home from another successful client and had noticed a small boy with black hair growing in just about every direction and with the dirtiest and oldest cloths imaginable – working on a garden just as good as Marluxia did if he worked hard.
Marluxia had been furious someone with no power over flowers could rival him and worked even harder, but the boy remained his equal. Only then did Marluxia notice how weak, small and underfed the boy truly looked and from then on – Harry Potter was a constant recon mission for all members.
And the more we kept an eye out on him, those not working using the balconies I had installed in the house, the more we worried. Harry worked harder and longer than Marluxia ever did and still he seemed to shrink and grow weaker before our very eyes, until one day Demyx could take no more.

Not only was the Melodious Nocturne against all the work Harry did, he had also grown quite the heart for talent since he gained one and he had devised a plan with Marluxia and Luxord. This happened on the 14th of May and 3 days later Harry came to do our lawn – in exchange for Marluxia's equipment being used for the garden of number four.
But while Harry was set to work on the garden for ten minutes every hour or so, did Demyx pull him back in the minute the time was over and did he fuss over the young boy, allowing him to relax on the best chair and giving him candy and other treats. Harry soon grew a liking to Demyx and this was likewise – with all of us.

I feel myself smirking as I think of this as Harry's insecurity, fear of being hit, need not to let us down and confusion over being treated – as he says – like Dudley only makes us work harder to make him feel better. And honestly, those big, green eyes, holding innocence and light are just irresistible.
I then turn to Number 9 and say: "You're right. Let's get to the meeting room." The man nods and focusing on one of the things we got to keep of our lives as Heartless Nobodies, we use our Power over Darkness to create portals of swirling darkness around us, taking us to a new location in the house.
A large, high room with 13 high seats, all raised several feet high and with backrests that raise even more feet high is our location and we both stand on the platform in the middle of the circle of seats, that has our symbol – a 3 pointed star with 2 curves going to the side at the bottom of the symbol – before we quickly phase over to our seats.

There I turn to Xaldin and ask: "How is your mission proceeding, number 3?" And the man, who is broad shouldered and has a dreadlock-style in his hair, with one of the locks used to tie most of the others into a ponytail, while 4 thinner dreads dangle in front of his face – 2 on each side – smirks victoriously at me as he says:
"Very good. The disgusting man doesn't know at all that we treat Harry well and Harry has no idea, yet, that I use his ten minutes working on our garden to accidentally let him expose his signs of abuse, of which I then take pictures. Of course he quickly hides them up in his cloths, but those alone are proof enough, if you ask me."

I smirk myself as we had decided at the start of this month that Harry had to be moved and Demyx had used the decision to convince us all to adopt Harry ourselves. He even used Roxas' empty seat as proof we could use another member, if only, as he said, to fill up the emptiness of loss.
This had been exactly what had convinced us, not that some members – like Larxene, Marluxia and Luxord – had not toyed with this idea themselves and our invitations of Harry working in our garden had a new purpose. Let him go his way, make sure he exposes signs of abuse and take a picture of it for the Authorities.
Lexaeus had at first doubted the Authorities, such as Child Protective Services – an organization Luxord discovered through his job as Librarian – could help us, but we had also taken pictures of how we treated Harry and that convinced the man that we could at least let the Authorities do some legal work.

Thus our plan had come into life. Invite Harry over more often to get him used to our home. Let him work in the garden only 5 minutes longer – Demyx refused to make it longer than that – take pictures of any sign of abuse and take pictures of our – and especially Demyx's - care of the child.
Inviting Harry into our home had of course come with a risk, because our house on the inside was much larger than on the outside, but Luxord had come up with a perfect excuse. That we had an official signed document allowing us to dig deep into the ground and to construct the inside of our house anyway we want.

I nod at Number 3 and ask: "How long do you believe we will need to keep taking pictures?" But the Whirlwind Lancer keeps quiet and instead Luxord answers: "Xaldin and I agree that we have taken enough pictures to use as evidence and keep to ourselves in case we need back up. Now we must work on the Authorities." I nod and say:

"Get to work."

And that's where I end it.
Quite the achievement and much more detailed than I had planned. Still I quite like it and I hope all of you will too. Now next chapter there will be another time jump, but shorter to the day before Christmas that same year. What will happen then? You'll just have to wait and find out, won't you?
Okay, enjoy,

The Venquine