A/N: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or Harry Potter

A quivering teen took deep breaths, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The sounds of waves meeting the shore, something that normally calmed him and gave him a sense of peace, were now deafening. Bright, sky blue eyes flickered about, taking in the room as he remembered where he was. Beige walls covered in childish, aged drawings and photos (the only remnants of how the room had once been), a dresser in a corner, a desk that held a pack of ceramic bowls precariously in one corner, homework that had been newly finished atop it, and an old wooden floor. He was in his room. A sigh escaped him, not of relief but of exhaustion as he stood up. He crept to the open door without so much as a backwards glance and was soon in the hall. Stairs to his left led down to the living room, and to his right was his parents' room with the bathroom at the end. None of these were his target though as he silently stepped to the door across from his, resolutely ignoring the letters across its surface, and opened the door.

A nursery that doubled as a playroom greeted him, eliciting a shaky breath to be released from the teen. The wall closest to the door was painted to look like a sea at sunrise, gradually changing to a beach, then a forest. He smiled slightly, for the barest of moments, a sad smile, as he remembered helping his grandmother paint these very walls in preparation for- he shook his head. Yet, it was impossible to not think of him. Blue eyes wandered the room, taking in the stuffed animals in the corner, the rug that looked similar to sand, the glow-in-the-dark stars both attached and hanging from the ceiling, and then, finally the crib. A crib that seemed out of place with the neat state of the rest of the room. He sighed again as he walked over.

The disheveled sheets alone told a story in and of themselves, looking as though they'd been pulled towards him only to have been tossed away from something. The pillow still laid on the floor, discarded and forgotten, and the white paint of the crib itself was stained with darker and darker grey, as though it was dipped into a gradient of paint. He knew the truth, though. A tanned hand ran through spiky brunette locks as he glared at the stain as if it had insulted him. "It's still stained by Darkness…" he thought. Not just darkness of the night, but true Darkness; the kind of Darkness that lived yet didn't with claws, teeth, and bright yet dead yellow eyes… He shook his head, clearing it of the dark beasts and monsters as he reached inside the crib and pulled out a brown and white toy wolf. A sad smile crossed his face again as tears pricked in the corners of his eyes. He carefully returned the stuffed animal back to its resting place.

"I miss you…" he muttered. A sudden glimmer of light in his peripheral cut off anything else he might have thought as he whipped around to face it, a large key-like sword coming to his hand in a flash of sparks with nary a thought. His grip on the navy handle loosened at the sight before him. A large, ethereal doe stood before him, looking as though it were made of silvery starlight. He shifted a little under its gaze, only to realize it was looking, not at him, but at the weapon in his hand. A gasp escaped him as he glanced down, only to sigh in exasperation at the sword's presence. From golden handguard the tip of its teeth that looked as if his crown shaped pendant had been cut out of it, it was almost four feet long and solid metal, even if it was lighter than it looked. A chain attached to the pommel held a "mouse" shaped charm at the end made of three circles. He dismissed the weapon with a huff as someone else entered the room.

Reddish locks hung to her back in waves, and in her pale hands was a length of wood who's tip glowed white. Bright hazel eyes sparkled with sadness, giving them a dark, marine colored hue. She sighed at how flighty he had become, and carefully stepped forward to rest a pale, thin hand on his shoulder. Too thin, in his opinion. First his kidnapping had taken far too much out of his mother, and then the world had been consumed by Darkness just a decade later, leading the teen himself to disappear for almost two years in the process… He couldn't bring himself to leave again, even if it was to search for-

"I miss him too, Sora," sky colored eyes flickered up to meet his mothers as she shakily smiled, the ethereal doe fading as she continued; "but that doesn't mean he'd want you to mourn." Something steely entered his eyes then, she noticed and lowered the hand holding the stick as the silence between them grew before finally,

"He's not dead, I know it!" Sora stated. The sheer determination in Sora's normally cheerful voice was enough to throw anyone off, be they friend or foe, and both grew lost in silent thought of messy black hair, blue-green eyes alight with innocent joy and a far too young voice screaming "Sowa!", "Mama!", and "Dada!" in terror, and how the then four year old had tried desperately to reach through Darkness to get to and save him even as his parents hadn't been able to… It was the sound of someone falling on the floor below that brought mother and son out of their thoughts, both springing into action and rushing out of the nursery even as a man on the floor below shouted joyfully.

"Sora! Yanagi! They found him, they found him!" his mother's eyes widened and she rushed past him, Sora himself, however stopped dead in his tracks as his mind all but went dead. Before he could so much as string together a coherent thought, Yanagi's sobs reached his ears, and with that he all but vaulted down the stairs. The sight of his parents kneeling on the floor of the living room shocked him, his father's normally rigid figure hunched in on himself as the man wrapped an arm darkened from years of working outside around his mother's thin, shaking shoulders. Light brown hair streaked with grey stood out against the moonlight as deep blue eyes that were almost black flickered up to meet his own. The man gave a laugh that dripped with pure, unadulterated joy.

"Sora, your mentor, Yen Sid…he and the people helping him found him…they found Hoshi, he's alive!" At that, tears streaming from Sora's eyes, he rushed forward to hug his parents as two simple words repeated in his mind over and over. He's alright…

When Harry opened his eyes, he was confused. The first thing that came to his mind was "When did I close them?" He sat up to find himself laying on what seemed to be a plane of…nothingness. Or, at least, it seemed to be nothingness. Blackness stretched as far as the eye could see around him with no end in sight, even as the surface he sat on felt hard and smooth like glass, or ice. Still looking about himself cautiously, he shakily got to his feet, and it was then that he realized: the pain was gone! He unconsciously rubbed a hand against what would normally be a ache just to the left of his sternum with a shocked chuckle as the realization hit him. As much as he hoped he wasn't too badly hurt, or worse, a part of him felt safe here, almost as if- A burst of light below him caught his attention, and he had to shield his eyes with his arms to keep from being blinded by it. What appeared beneath his feet was a beautiful circle of stained glass.

The background was a mixture of deep blues, purples and black with white spots scattered on it like stars. It had a pair of thin golden rings serving as a sort of perimeter within the pane, and between the two rings was a number of smaller rings. Two contained the images of a familiar redhead and a girl with bushy brown hair: his best friends Ron and Hermione. Three contained silhouettes of three people, though he couldn't make even their profiles out. Confusion wracked through him.

"These have to be people who are important to me…" he muttered. His gaze turned first to the images of his two friends, then back to the three unknown figures before he continued.

"If Ron and Hermione have images, then where are mum, dad and everyone else, and who are these three?"

The darkness gave no answer.

Behind a gargoyle statue within the old castle that served as a school of magic, a old man sat behind a oak desk, petting the head of a fiery bird as it trilled out a song of comfort. Stroking his far-too-long beard in deep thought, his normally twinkling blue eyes stared blankly ahead, their somber gaze contrasting greatly with his cheerfully bright blue and white spotted robes. If any of the school's faculty had walked in at that moment, they would've thought something was wrong with how the normally joyful and grandfatherly Albus Dumbledoor was looking every bit the century and a half he was. He sighed forlornly as he gazed about the office at the trinkets on the shelves that puffed smoke and whirled. He waved a hand and they suddenly stopped, smoke clearing with a simple, wandless air freshening charm. He didn't want to lower those specific wards, the ones that prevented travel from other worlds entirely, but he knew he had to. If he didn't, a child he'd spent so long trying to protect from a madman would be killed by the magic that had built up within the stones of the very castle itself; and that was without how the poor boy's very Heart was at a near constant war with the very magic core that he was never supposed to possess.

He scoffed, how one man who seemed unable to be anything but evil once upon a time split his Heart time and time again without loosing his mind, and came out regretful in the end while the child he'd wished he'd been able to help more had become the feared Dark Lord that split his very Soul in half over and over, turning himself into naught more than a mere animal was truly beyond him. A trill from the bird perched on his desk told him it was time. He stood from his chair, knowing there was no going back, and he let out a pulse of magic that took down the very wards he'd both wanted to keep and feared.