Harry Potter and the Gates to Everywhere

Momorin

Chapter 2

Private Thoughts on Privet

Disclaimer: I really don't own Harry Potter, and most definitely not Yu Yu Hakusho. If other things look like they come from other things, I'll try to say something... Otherwise, sorry?

Harry Potter, contrary to popular belief, did not like having headaches in the morning. With his penchant for seeking trouble and getting into mischief at any time of day, it might have been hard to believe that the boy-who-lived did not enjoy the one link that still kept him connected to the dark wizard who brutally murdered his parents, and attempted to kill him. Harry, however, did not enjoy the blinding headaches that he woke up with after having dreams and visions of Voldemort, especially when he could not remember the dreams.

Scratching forever messy raven hair, the hope of the wizarding world reached over to his night table, grabbing his signature glasses and popping them rather lopsidedly on his nose.

Lately, his dreams had become... less chaotic. Or maybe he was just getting used to it. And he could never remember anything when he woke up, at the most bits and pieces that made no sense. All he had, once awake, was a feeling of dread deep inside his stomach. Hermione's 'exercises' had not worked at all, and he had a feeling that they made him forget even more.

Of course, whenever he had a problem, the first thing Harry did was write to Ron, Hermione, and Professor Lupin. Professor Lupin, however, was not available, and no matter how many times Harry sent Hedwig out to deliver a letter, it came back unopened, the snowy owl looking put out at not seeming to be able to do her job. Ron, of course, could not really be depended on to give sound, good advice, as his own life, what with his increasing feelings for his other best friend and various family drama, left little room to worry about dreams and visions. Hermione had immediately written back with a roll of parchment even Hedwig had trouble carrying. The contents were... interesting.

In fact, Harry unrolled the parchment, which sat on his night table next to a few owl treats and his transfiguration book. Looking halfway down at a few breathing and concentration exercises Hermione had included for mental acuity, he closed his green eyes, took a large breath, and sat as still as possible.

Harry spent exactly 45 seconds like that, until his breath exploded from his lungs.

Harry still had a headache, and Harry still could not remember why his stomach was in nervous knots.

Tossing the parchment off to one side (he was used to this daily routine by now), he slid off his creaky mattress, padding on bare feet across his floor before fishing his single pair of fitting jeans and a t-shirt that was not too big on him from his empty dresser.

It was the same routine, every day since the start of summer. Wake up, do exercises, eat breakfast, get as far away from Dudley as physically possible while still remaining in the neighborhood, then get back in time for dinner before Dudley ate it all.

Slowly opening his door, Harry cautiously stuck his head into the hallway, being sure to check that loud snores were coming from both the master bedroom and Dudley's room. Grabbing a knapsack by the door, it didn't take long for Harry to creep down the hall, hop down the stairs, skipping the creaky fifth one, grab a few apples and a muffin, before leaving the house on Number 4 Privet Drive.

Breathing a sigh of relief, boy wonder decided to go to the park. That was always a safe choice for the morning. So, heading in the direction of the park, Harry began walking at a unhurried pace, munching on an apple on the way.

He didn't always spend his days outside. Sometimes, he chose to keep Mrs. Figgs company, with her kneazles. There weren't many of those days, since he could only stand the smell of musty cats for so long, but he made sure to help out the old lady when he could, now that he knew she was a squib. He really needed to thank her for testifying in his trial at the Ministry the summer before.

And kneazles were preferable to the Dursley's any day.

It wasn't until he had arrived at the park that Harry realized there were more bugs then usual flying around.

In fact, they were bigbugs. Reallybigbugs.

He had rub his eyes and clean his glasses before he looked again, just to be sure of what he was seeing.

He had never seen insects like this, not in the muggle world at least. These were at least the size of his hand, a deep purple color with red markings. Large wings buzzed loudly as a long, straw-like mouth seemed to be trying to sense something.

There were not just a few of them, but thousands, that Harry could see. They covered the houses and cars on the street nearby. What seemed strange, though, was how the muggles seemed not to be able to see them.

It was almost like the dementors... Muggles could not see them. So maybe...

Harry almost shouted at a muggle man across the street, who walked straight into a buzzing horde of the monstrous looking insects. The insects, however, quickly scattered away from the man.

It was really weird. To Harry, they looked like they were looking for something, spreading out and searching. What were they looking for?

"Ah, Harry, good morning. It's a nice day, isn't it?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Harry whipped around to face Albus Dumbledore himself.

It took 15 seconds for Harry to decide what to say.

"Lots of bugs today, though, Professor."

It was never any use to give a regular greeting to the eccentric Headmaster. Harry knew, if he was here at Privet Drive, there was something occurring that involved himself. Better to just go along with it for a while.

The twinkling in Dumbledore's eyes got brighter, if possible. "I'm glad you realized, Harry. They are a bit obvious, aren't they?"

"A bit," Harry agreed, falling into step besides the wizard, dressed in a bizarre blue suit dotted here and there with white stars. They walked slowly around to the other side of the car, watching a group of children unknowingly play right underneath a large swarm of the unnatural looking insects.

The pair stood in comfortable silence for a time. There were many things Harry wanted to talk to Dumbledore about, countless questions he had wanted to ask all summer, but with Dumbledore's presence, the unease that had built up washed away. Even the memory of Sirius...

"Of course, they aren't natural to the area, Harry," the often strange and elusive Headmaster all of a sudden announced. "They're actually not even native to this world."

"Not native to this world, sir?" Harry was almost sure he misheard it.

Looking surprised, Dumbledore turned to look down at Harry, who, although tall now, was still much shorter then himself. "Why, Harry, certainly you didn't think this was the only world?"

Baffled, Harry couldn't really come up with a good reply. "Er, I never really thought about it like that, but yeah, I guess it wouldn't be all that strange for there to be another world." Really, though, all Harry could imagine were the typical drawings of 'Martians' scattering weird sci-fi magazines he used to see kids read back when he attended normal, muggle schools.

"These," Dumbledore said, gesturing widely at the insects which buzzed around them, "are from the Makai. It loosely translates to demon realm, in our language. They're not really demons, in the sense of heaven and hell, of course. More... apparitions, if you will, or magical creatures different from those existing in our plane of existence." A wistful sigh escaped his lips, even as he looked almost longingly at the large bugs. "I've always wanted to explore the other worlds, Harry. Its fascinating to me, how we live in different worlds, yet so many of our characteristics and cultures are similar. It's simply a shame, the regulation put on the only known openings to the demon realm. I do so hope the Japanese Ministry will loosen the rules pertaining inter-world travel one of these days."

Harry distinctly felt he was not understanding the point of this conversation, but attempted to commit to memory as much as possible, so he could report this all to Hermione for analysis. She, of all people, would make sense of this.

"But, that's all for another day, now, right Harry?" Eyes strangely bright, Dumbledore turned to face him. "I came to ask you to accompany me on a few errands, but I thought you'd like some time to first get comfortable at the Weasley's. We can complete our tasks later this week, really. I think Molly would enjoy seeing you a bit early, don't you?"

Turning around, Harry made sure there was no one around them, seeing that the park and surrounding area now seemed strangely quiet. "I haven't said anything to the Dursley's yet, headmaster..."

Offering an arm to Harry, Dumbledore gave a chuckle. "I've already spoken to your aunt and uncle, Harry. Not to worry! Now, if you'll take my arm, I'll get us there in a-."

With a swirl of leaves, there was no one left in the park at the end of Privet Drive.

"Ahhhh, shit. Big Lord's not gonna be happy with us now."

A tall figure sitting on the roof of a house gave an exasperated sigh. A smaller figure, sitting similarly, shrugged in response.

"We were simply told to monitor activities. It's not our fault the kid left with some old man. We just need to do our job."

Reaching long arms over his head in a stretch, the taller figure grunted. Red eyes glinted in the early summer sun. "Yeah, I guess. I just wish we could do something though. All this watchin' definitely ain't for me!" With that, he laid down to red again the roof, red hair standing out against black tiles. "Those bugs will eventually just go back through the gate again. They're dumb, but when they can't find any energy to feed off, they'll go back to the Makai, where they can get more then enough."

"The lord simply wishes to make certain," the shorter one murmured, even as he distastefully looked at his partner with equally red eyes. "We'll have to close the gate again as soon as they go back through. He doesn't want the Ministry being notified any time soon. And do sit up and look like you're at least paying attention."

The red haired one continued laying down, closing his eyes as the sun began to heat up. "It's hot here, isn't it? And the sun's nice, once you get used to not looking right at it. It keeps you nice and toasty. I don't understand why we can't have one like this back home."

Exasperated, the shorter 'man' shook his head in defeat, his own red hair, longer then his larger partner, sway. "You're impossible. If our sun was as close and bright back home, we'd have a completely different climate. Just be thankful we have a sun, even if it is green."

There was only a grunt of agreement that let him know that the taller figure was still awake and paying attention.

"Brother, be serious. We're doing a job now. You can't just sleep."

"I do what I want. And as long as you pay attention, we'll be fine."

"I hate you."

"I know."

There was a lull in the buzzing sound all around them.

"I'll wake you in an hour. The insects will have figured out how to get back to Makai by then."

A sleepy growl was the only affirmative he received.

The familiar staccato sound of his mother's heels on the hard wood was the only warning he had before the door to his bedroom was thrown wide. A women past the prime of her beauty, yet still beautiful, stood in his doorway, blonde hair softly falling around her face.

"Mother," Draco acknowledged, putting a slip of parchment between the pages of his book to keep his place. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Draco," Narcissa Malfoy replied, before busily putting some books and random objects littering his floor back into their rightful places.

"It's fine, Mother. I'll have the elves clean everything later."

"Nonsense. I'm still your mother, I can do this much for you." She went back to busily sorting books on his shelf after giving him a huff.

Draco's mother had become... more motherly in the month or so he had been home for the summer. He knew the reason, but he was smart enough not to say anything or question her actions. He was just glad for some affection in his life, as it seemed the happiness in the Malfoy home had been sucked out during the last few months.

It was no secret that his family had strong ties to the Dark Lord, and so it came as no shock to Draco when he was greeted upon his return home for the summer by a gaggle of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord occupying his gorgeous manor. He was proud. He was happy. He was elated. It was an honor for his family to be chosen. Voldemort had even returned his father to the manor, after being sent to Azkaban for the Ministry incident with Potter. There was nothing but pride and gratefulness at his generosity in Draco's heart. This was a dream come true, after all.

But then, why did his heart feel so heavy? Why was it so hard to wake up every morning, and why was it so hard to go to sleep, surrounded by the cackling of mad witches and wizards as they carried out obscene ceremonies and tortures throughout his own home?

He hid these feeling though. Draco hid them very well. His Aunt Bella had taught him too, of course. Snape had, too. Draco wrapped these feelings of uneasiness and unrest in his pride for his family and belief in his pure blood. He smothered them under centuries of tradition, until he could almost forget they were even there. That was the only way he could face the Dark Lord every day, when called for dinner. It was expected for all inhabitants of the large manor to dine together every evening.

Sometimes, many came covered in blood.

The first time his Aunt Bella had sat next to him, covered in the metallic smelling liquid, Draco had had to excuse himself quickly, feigning tiredness. He had barely made it out of the room and into the hallway before he had grabbed a near by vase and emptied the contents of his stomach. Soon, he had gotten used to the members being covered in filth and gore, shutting it out of his mind. It was all the same to him now.

Sometimes, Draco imagined his own hands covered in blood.

It wasn't all the time. At times, he would look down at his own, pale hands, studying the way his fingers ended in perfectly manicured nails, to find bright red blood covering it, making its way down his arms, where it dripped to the floor from the points of his elbows. He would wash it off, only to find blood gushing out of the faucet. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the blood vanished.

Draco fancied it was his own blood covering his hands.

Grey eyes followed his mother around the room as she straightened everything. This was a routine now. Draco would wake up, toss around some of his possessions, and allow his mother the illusion of family, as small as it might be. This was the only thing he could do for her now, and this was the only thing she could do for him. This was the only semblance of normal life they could afford, before being thrust again into the nightmare their lives had become.

Once, he had hated the end of summer. It signaled the end of summer galas and balls, the sweets and pastries the elves made specially made for him, and the freedom he had in his own manor.

Now, he could not wait for school to begin, if only to escape everything his house now represented.

His mother straightened her robes, signaling the end to their little charade. It was time to go back in. Draco straightened his own clothes, standing up and offering his mother his arm. They might have to suffer, but always together. Never alone.

Narcissa gave a weak smile up to her son. It only seemed like the other day that her son was so much shorter and smaller then her. She had protected him then. Now, he was all that kept her together.

Together, they exited Draco's bedroom, making their way out of the only hall left unscathed by the atrocities committed daily within their manor. Together, they faced yet another day.

Severus Snape had never been a patient man, but he had matured since his impatient day during his school years, and lovingly embraced the concept of patiently biding his time.

So that was what he now did. He sat through the disgusting ceremonies, the lackluster shows of subservience to the Dark Lord, and the meetings full of secrecy. Severus Snape sat through it all, because his years of work and waiting were finally beginning to pay off.

It would only be a little while longer that he had to pay respect to this twisted figure of evil sitting on his self-made throne.

The Dark Lord had made one mistake the day he had trusted Snape, but his biggest mistake came the day he had ignored Snape's pleas for hersafety.

Severus Snape always repaid debts, a thousand fold.

"My lord," he whispered into Voldemort's ear, or what was left of his once human ears. They resembled little more then holes in the side of his strangely shaped head now. Every day, he resembled a snake a little bit more. "I believe it is time for your meeting with them."

Cutting off the never-ending praise being sung by Bellatrix Lestrange with a wave of his inhumanly long fingers, Voldemort swept up to his feet, robes dramatically rising before sweeping to the floor.

"That is enough, Bellatrix," he hissed in a voice that was barely audible, yet so incredibly loud in the large room. "Come, Severus. You shall accompany me today."

"As you wish, my lord," Snape said, bowing lowly.

The two swept down the stairs leading to the throne-like chair Voldemort had set for himself, crossing the room to the large double doors while Death Eaters on both sides knelt to the ground in a show of subservience to the Dark Lord and his right hand man.

By now, Snape was used to the shows of power the Dark Lord liked to put on. He played king within the manor ground here, making court with the Death Eaters who were just as twisted as their own lord. They reveled in the monstrosities they committed daily, and praised Voldemort again and again, even as they carried out tortures too horrible to even comprehend.

Snape followed Voldemort and Nagini, who had at some point crawled out of the dark corner she had been napping in to slither by her master. A few steps behind and to the right of the wizard who barely resembled a man, he kept pace with him. They reached the dungeons soon, remaining in silence until they had entered one of the larger rooms set aside for Voldemort. Quickly performing various spells and charms, Snape joined Voldemort at the sturdy table, where 13 figures already sat, hooded and cloaked against the dim lights of the dungeons.

"We have waited for you." The voice sent a shiver down Snape's spine. It was human, yet so unlike a human's voice. It was disconcerting.

"You will wait until I say you do not have to," Voldemort hissed. "I am in charge."

No words came from the hooded man who had uttered those first words.

They all sat in silence for a while, the heavy breathing of some of the hooded figures being the only sounds.

"They have begun to realize your plans, you know," a different hooded man whispered.

Snape wondered how he could hear his voice so distinctly, when it was so quiet.

"It matter not. They cannot do anything about it now, it is too far gone. Another half a year, and it will be unstoppable."

"Don't presume, Dark Lord," the same man who first spoke said mockingly. "There are no certainties in life, especially when it comes to us."

"Yes, never assume with us," a third voice echoed musically.

A forth voice erupted into laughter, which Snape thought sounded like fingernails on chalkboard.

"Have you anything important to report, besides that?" The Dark Lord was beginning to become irritated. Snape knew several muggles being kept in the dungeons were going to feel the brunt of that anger later tonight. It was routine by now.

"They might bring in their own demons, Voldemort," a new voice suggested. "We have told you the possibility of their use of-"

"Don't you dare presume to use my name again!"

While a moment ago, the Dark Lord had seemed to be playing with his wand idly, it was now pointed directly at the insolent hooded figure.

"Apologies, my lord," he whispered, bowing lowly in his seat. Hysterical laughter filled the room as several members broke down and laughed.

Ignoring the laughter, Voldemort returned to his previous pose of indifference. "They could, but as you have assured me, they cannot possibly bring in anyone that can fight me on the same level. My army... no, it cannot be defeated. They are moving too late."

"As you say, my lord," thirteen voices all whispered together.

Snape sat through this all, memorizing everything.

No one suspected him.

"Come, Severus, we must return upstairs, or we shall miss the return of Lucius' group. I do hope they have brought more amusing guests today. Our last ones did not care for our... arrangements."

Left with no choice, Snape followed Voldemort and his snake out of the room, feeling thirteen stares bore holes in his back.

A/N: I love when the first day I put this story up, I get 50+ hits, and some really nice reviews. In fact, it kinda made my day. (Forgive me, I'm new to the whole 'being a fanfiction writer' thing, so my head is a little fluffy from the excitement right now.) It made me so happy, that I updated faster. (There really is no direct correlation between reviews and updates... updates just depend on my mood, and my first few reviews made me happy.)

Sorry for not even talking about the story now. I guess I was a little excited due to the above. Well, I'll try to update as soon as possible, since I really enjoy working on this in my spare time. As a writer, its nice to be able to put down work and grading papers, and take a little break writing what I really want to at the moment, while also exploring techniques and other outlets I'm hesitant to use elsewhere. I might make a few mistakes here and there, as I'm used to several other people checking my work, but really, this is just for fun for me, so I hope you can forgive those things. I've been looking into this whole "beta" thing, but I'm not completely sure I buy into it, so I'm just gonna keep going for now.

So, actually on the story topic... I love how my reviews were about Kurama and his portrayal. I'm glad people agree with me! He can't be perfect. And to reassure everyone, of course Hiei and Kurama have a bromance. What YYH story is complete without the friendship between them? I might test it, but it'll be there. I just don't want them in a romantic relationship. I'm not opposed to same-sex pairings in this story, but I just haven't been able to decide how much romance I really want, and I also want it to be the right characters. I think I'll just let my characters fall in love on their own, as I plod long the plot line.

God, this chapter was hard to write, though. I can't write Dumbledore for the life of me. I can't wait to get past the introductory stages and into some real story telling...

Thank you for reading, and if you have the time, I'd appreciate a review. Its nice to know what readers like and don't like about my stories, and what they would like to read more of. Even though I write for myself, its a good feeling to give others what they want. And I think the YYH/HP crossover category could use more writers and readers.

COMINGUPNEXT: Kurama and Hiei realize just what they got themselves into. Too bad they signed a contract.