Hey everyone!
I guess by now everyone has a clear guess on who the mystery person is, so I won't keep you in suspense much longer, there are just a few things I need to relieve off my chest before this chapter starts. First of all, this story is one of my ABSOLUTE best and I am very proud of the progress as a writer I have made the last 12 years.
Second of all, I am basically revamping this entire story. NOT EVERYTHING will be changed, but I will be bringing in a few small changes here and there to, as I said, work alongside the magnificence that is Kingdom Hearts III. So expect a little bit of extra text here and there. I wanted to put an AN in chapter 49 with all the chapter numbers that have been changed, but - it's only maybe one or two that weren't changed.
So yeah,

Venquine1990


Chapter 03
The Dream of Love

26th of January 1996
Grimmauld Place, London
Sirius' POV

All day has been absolutely hell and the only one who even slightly understands why is Remus, a man that – thanks to that ass Dumbledore – get sends on small missions all over England all day, no matter how hard the man tries to stay with me and spend time with me, something that bint Molly keeps telling him not to bother with.
I know Remus and I are both getting totally sick of her and that both of us just want some time alone, yet unless I reveal the entire truth and risk the one thing I fear the most, getting back at either that woman or that powerful man is meaningless, something I tell Remus every time he tries to convince me to let him stay.
In the end, Remus and I were able to get a single hour together late at night, after one of Molly's insistent rounds of the house, something I don't even understand as all her sons – and mine – are currently at Hogwarts and we don't share a blood-connection close enough for the woman to get the right to mother me around.

Remus and I made sure to spent the entire hour together, sitting in comfortable brown leather chairs with iron pins connecting the leather to the frame and we even took the pleasure in sipping quite a few glasses of Fire whiskey over the hour, not enough to get drunk, but enough to get loose-lipped and drunk on our own feelings.
We had laughed and cried and I had even spent a good part of the hour crying on Remus' shoulder as I hate what today could imply; the death of my firstborn son. Even now – several hours since that get-together – am I lying in my bed with my hands on my stomach and my face turned up to the disgusting ceiling above me.
The ceiling – the only place in the entire room that I didn't get a chance as a young kid to cover with my rebellious nature – is now staring back at me, the color now so dusty and filthy it almost resembles a hazel color, a color that screams the truth into my face the longer I look at it and also one that makes me incapable of looking away.
The color, the one that haunts me so, reminds me of my true love – my greatest secret – my one and only James Potter, who I had loved and lost in 1981 when Voldemort came and took his life along with that of my sister by Oath, Lily Potter, who James adopted while making the Adoption ceremony look like a wedding.

This had been done because of Lily being Muggleborn and because the young woman had been James' first flame until his inner Heritage kicked him in the butt and made him realize he was never to love Lily's gender. Shortly afterwards had James and I confessed our feelings for each other and had we started our scheme.
The scheme of making everyone believe that James was my brother in all but blood, that the feelings were returned, that Lily was James' true love and that I was Harry's godfather. I shake my head at remembering these parts of the scheme and think: "And now here I am, fourteen years later, still living that same scheme.
For what reason?" Does my mind scream at me as I just want to lift my pillow over my head and scream into it at the injustice of it all. The injustice of me having loved my true love without getting the chance to properly show him my love. The chance to never truly be a part of my son's life, who believes me his godfather.

The chance to never even see my actual firstborn, who had been stolen from me when it mattered most. Like all infants, my firstborn had been taken to a special room of House-elves, where his core could settle without feeling any sort of magical interferences from the anxious, frazzled cores of the adults in the other rooms.
However, before the hour could very well and good be over, had the House-Elf James and I had instructed to take care of our child come back to us, screaming his lunges out and holding the same blanket as the one we had wrapped around our son, only for our son to be gone from the blankets and replaced with some kind of fruit.
To this day, do I carry that fruit on me, determined to one day find out what kind of fruit it is and every year again – on this day – do I take the fruit out somewhere private and do I kiss its core with the whispered plea: "Wherever you are, my son, please be loved." Something that I filled up with certain extra text last year.
This had been because, like myself, my son had most probably inherited the Black Veela Gene and had therefore been destined for another person, this one – I suspected – being the child of Frank and Alice, who had also lost their son before he was even an hour old and because I had hoped they were together, had I said:
"Wherever you are, my son, I hope you are loved – by your chosen mate and fellow kidnapped." And while the sentence had brought a small smile upon my face, had the smile vanished quite rapidly afterwards as the truth of my son having been kidnapped had settled in all the harder thanks to this little added bit of text.

Now, while wishing I could just turn to my side and wrap my arms around my Jamie, do I again pull the fruit from the hanger around my neck and kiss its core, whispering it one desperate plea as I know – if my plea isn't heard – that this will be the last day I will need this fruit and I whisper: "My son, please accept his love. Do not die, my child."
And again – like it has done all day – does the thought of my son, dying because he hasn't had the chance to learn of his Veela heritage, course though my mind and instead of lying on my side against a warm body, do I crawl into myself and almost crush the fruit in my hand, crying onto the hand as I try to catch some sleep.

Then suddenly do I feel a wave of drowsiness hit me like Buckbeak were he to have been insulted and upon realizing that I am indeed asleep, do I look around, the room a warm mix of brown and whites and the colors mixing so well, it's like I'm standing in the very center of a vanilla and caramel flavored pudding or something.
Then I hear movement from behind me and turn around, my eyes widening and my heart beating a mile a second as the most amazing – and highly familiar – stag I have ever laid eyes on walks my way slowly, the hesitancy in the step proving that the creature has as much trouble believing this all to be real as I currently do.
I take a slight step forward, feeling something inside me awaken after years and years, do I ask, with a breaking voice: "P-P-P-Pro-Prongs?" And at that one word, that one uttered word, does the stag turn into a dash, his body changing as he runs at me and by the time he reaches me, do I have my arms full of one beautiful James Potter.

Taking that amazing body – that mine has longed for since the longest times – do I wrap my arms around the beautiful waist of my beloved, my grip proving how desperate I am never to let go of this body in my arms again and then, feeling the same desperation come from my beloved, do I finally let go of everything.
Of the pain in my heart that I have been feeling since first meeting Harry at Privet Drive, of the painful, unanswered need in my heart to tell Harry and everyone else the truth of his parentage, the pain I felt last year on this same day and the pain I have been feeling – and that has been growing – with each passing day since.
James holds me, his tears falling onto his shoulders, yet for some reason do I feel that these tears are not of pain, but of pure, undiluted happiness and I whisper: "James, his – his – his birthday. His – his seven-seventeenth birthday. It – it's – it's today, James. It's today and – and we – and we're – we're not there."
But then James whispers four words that I did not think possible: "But we can be." Only to break my heart again as he goes on and says: "Or better said, you can." This makes me look at him, my eyes tearing up as I again realize that my beloved is only with me in my dream, realize yet again that my James, my true love, is dead.

But then James shakes his head and says: "It's my fault, Paddy." And this makes me remember all the pain and guilt I have felt over the last fourteen years and I shout: "What the heck are you talking about? It's my fault! I told you to switch! I –." But when I see James' smile and his raised hand do I stop shouting.
"I don't mean the betrayal and trust me, love, I saw that coming. I mean, everything before, during and after that. That is my fault." This confuses the world out of me and he sighs, walking over to another section of the dream world with his head low and his arms behind his back, reminding me of his father, Charlus Potter, very much.
"I didn't think of it. I – I thought our plan wouldn't be affected by it. I didn't take into account how heavily it relies on our bond to be full." James then mutters and I ask: "What are you talking about?" And James answers: "The Potter war curse, Pads. The curse that befalls any Potter that lives through more than 8 years of war."
This shocks and confuses me and I ask: "What curse? You never told me of any such a curse." And James sighs as he says: "Because I didn't think the curse should be taken that literally. I thought with our little plan that we would be safe, but I – I guess I was wrong. Tell me, Sirius, when did the war really start for us?"

The fact that he calls me by my first name shocks me and I think as I say: "I'd say – halfway through 72, I think." And James nods as he says: "Which would make the year of Harry's birth be the 8th year upon which I would be involved in the war – and that's something no Potter can mentally survive unless being helped."
This shocks and scares me – especially because there is another war heading my and Harry's way – and I ask: "Help? What kind of help?" Wanting to be sure beyond anything that I can be there for my little boy were this war to last eight years as well and James smiles at me, his eyes once more filled with his love for me.
"All the help I needed, was us not needing to hide our love for the world. With all the troubles we were facing; you having to pretend you were my brother in all but blood, me having to pretend to be married to Lily, our firstborn having been transported to who-knows where, the war and you pretending to be Harry's godfather –."
Here James stops and turns away again, but by now do I understand what is going on and with hope growing in my heart, do I ask: "What – what did you do?" And James answers: "I accepted an offer I was given just before graduation – to become the Transfigurations Teacher of Campbrina High for Witchcraft and Magical Society."

This shocks the living daylights out of me and finally do all the pieces of something I have been wondering over since '82 fall into place and I shout: "So that's why I didn't die a year after finding your body! And why my Veela has never been able to locate any of your scent or anything else! Campbrina is too well protected!"
James nods and then whispers: "Forgive me, Orion." And just the fact that he uses my second name and not my first or any of my nicknames makes me realize just how guilty my beloved feels and while memories of the last few years come rushing back, do they not cause any hate for the man in front of me to grow in my heart.
Instead of that, do I rush at the man and hug him so tightly, I actually cause for all oxygen to leave his lungs in a loud gasp and I whisper: "The years were hell for all of us, my love. For all of us." And while I can't help but remember the many times I saw Harry – where he just looked worse for wear – do I keep a firm hold on my mate.

James hugs me back and whispers: "I know where I put you, love, and I will make it up, I promise." But I shake my head, never having been of the belief that James put me there – or that he could have done anything to get me out quicker – and instead of that, do I focus on something else, something that happened earlier.
"Why can't you come too?" I whisper, knowing I will soon have to say goodbye again to my mate, if only to save my firstborn son of certain death and James whispers back: "Destiny sent me a messenger. The messages he left me are very clear and from Destiny herself. I can't disobey such a powerful force of life."
And while I can't help but wonder why such a powerful force couldn't have gotten my mate and me back together a little quicker, do I pull away from James to look him directly in the eye and ask: "What do I need to do?" Feeling myself more than willing to fulfill Destiny's orders if it means getting back with James sooner.

James smiles at me widely before he says: "When you wake, you will have been taken to a special room, my love. Here you will meet our two boys and Sora's destined mate. And yes, they were both kidnapped for that exact reason." The man kids at the end with a raised eyebrow, making me laugh in pure, joyous relief.
The man then goes on: "Your job, my love, is to make those two stubborn little pests confess it to each other, to be the father for Harry that you have wanted to be for the last fourteen years and to convince both Sora and Harry that learning of Sora's past and Harry's past, present and future is something that must be done."
This confuses me and James shrugs as he says: "That is all that I was told, along with the message that you would find out how once you had everything else settled. Just wake up, get those two together and explore. That's what I was told will make you understand." I nod and then James presses his lips against mine once more.

Feeling those soft, perfect lips of my one true love pressing themselves against mine after all these years makes me again wrap my arms around him with such strength, I know if I were to use even a little more, I would probably bruise a couple of his bones or at least his skin, but then James parts and whispers: "Wake up, love."
And at those words do I feel the same magic as the one that put me to sleep trying to wake me up, but I press my face in James' shoulder, not wanting to let go of the man I lost so long ago, even while he and I could have been together, had it not been for those that were against me, like my parents and other Pureblood bastards.
"I – I – I can't let you go, love. Please." I whisper, using all of my magic to resist the power trying to rip me from the body that I am holding onto so desperately, but then James whispers: "I'm still there, love. I'm just not allowed to show myself just yet. Just let me go and you and I can be together all the quicker, remember? And then – forever."
And that – that silent promise that I can hear ringing through his voice – is enough to finally let me calm down my magic, causing for me to feel the body that I am holding onto fading from my grasp, at the same time as when I feel my grasp on reality and my own consciousness strengthening and with that – do I wake up.


Okay, that's it!
And I know that this chapter actually didn't include anything changed, but I wrote the Top AN with the belief that every chapter – or at least every other chapter – would have one or two small changes. I forgot about the fact that this chapter was based solely on Sirius and James and that the changes are only Kingdom Hearts related, not Harry Potter.
Now remember, Harry believes himself on the brink of war and Sora and Riku have only had about 6 months of peace after two and a half years of terrible problems and dangers that not just threatened them, but their loved ones and even their world. This, of course, means that the first meeting between them – won't be easy.
Okay, see you next chapter,

Venquine1990