Disclaimers:

Undertale and all associated characters are owned by Toby Fox

Harry Potter and all associated characters are owned by JK Rowling

This sandwich, and all associated condiments are owned by me, and you can't have any.

Assume spoilers for everything, by the way.

Now off we go!

-oo00**00oo-

Harry James Potter was falling.

At least, that's what he assumed was going on at this point, between everything tumbling in seemingly slow motion and the spinning of his own thoughts at a significantly faster rate, he was beginning to become unsure of what exactly was happening. That though, for some reason, seemed to disturb him, so he stretched his mind, trying to recall what brought him to this seemingly endless sense of falling slowly through darkness. Slowly, as if from a greater distance than his neurons could possibly be located, the memories stretch themselves into being.

Harry James Potter was pushed.

Specifically, he was pushed into a large chasm by a somewhat large whale of a man known as Vernon Dursley. He remembered the man's demeanor more than his appearance at this particular moment, dour and angry, with a perpetual air of false nobility, at least when around the 'boy' as he referenced Harry. Harry, of course, knew that this specific behavior was reserved specifically for him, as he was an almost loving husband and father to the other relatives that Harry would often take cook and clean for. Ah! There's another memory, this time a bit more detailed; Petunia Dursley, who he recalled was sister to his long deceased mother (and isn't that a depressing thought to have come up again as though it was new). He recalled her somewhat pinched expression turned up into a vicious smile as he felt himself tumble again over the edge of this great chasm he was falling into... where was it that he was anyways?

It was difficult to recall, though this time less because of his oddly elongated memory, and more because he was never told exactly where he was going. He remembered one morning waking up in a bedroom (Dudley's second bedroom to be precise - and there's the name of the smaller whale) only a week or two after returning from his second year of boarding school... where? He couldn't quite remember, as if it was there on the tip of his tongue... well it should come back later most likely. Anyway, he remembered having his corpulent uncle throw open his door one morning, toss him a threadbare pack which was obviously secondhand, if not third hand, and told him to collect his clothes before making breakfast as they would be going on a trip. Having learned early in his life that questions that may not necessarily seem to be (or actually are) impertinent often are best not to be asked by one rather disliked nephew, he simply nodded his acknowledgement, threw the few clothes he had with him (he didn't have much in the room at the time because... something about a trunk, and it being locked away. Goodness but regaining your memory slowly like this was taxing on a train of thought). From there, the morning proceeded with a familiar routine, with Harry making breakfast and doing a few morning chores while the Dursleys ate. Once that was done, Harry was roughly grabbed by the arm and led directly and swiftly to the vehicle, his meager rucksack thrown onto his lap, and was told to keep quiet.

The space in between that moment and the next in his mind was a bit of a blur, though Harry wasn't sure if that was because he was still recalling things, or if the ride was just boring. He vaguely recalled images of travelling to some sort of mountain, and then a long climb. What he did remember was the flushed faces of both the whale Dursleys as they struggled to climb on up the, admittedly not very steep, pathway to wherever their destination was.

Their destination, it seemed, was a chasm at nearly the peak of the mountain. Harry felt upon recollecting this that just seeing a large hole in the ground at the top of a mountain was an odd thing to take this kind of a journey for. This, he found on further thought, was the same thing his past self thought as he struggled through one of the heavier rucksacks Vernon had laid down for some water bottles for the struggling elder man, only to find that the rucksack didn't contain camping supplies, instead it seemed to contain pieces of wood, chopped up and stuffed in between various sundries... things that actually belonged to him. These were items from... the trunk? The trunk they had locked up for some... reason? His memory was still a bit fuzzy it seemed, though a moment later he understood why, as he recalled what happened immediately after he saw the items in that travel bag, the ringing in his ears from a blow to the head, the few kicks to the stomach and ribs, not enough to seriously harm, but enough to keep him down, and then the look in Vernon Dursley's eyes as he rolled Harry over onto his back, nearly off the edge of the cliff. And he remembered the words he spoke, from a great distance through his still ringing ears.

"Let's see you or your friends get you out of this one, freak."

Upon recalling that final word, several things happened in immediate succession. First, Harry Potter, student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, recalled precisely what a Wizard's school was, and along with that, most of the rest of his memories as well. Second, Harry realized that given the rather dangerous nature of the last several moments, that his reaction to the next several moments would probably be his last reactions ever. Thirdly, the rest of the world seemed to believe that that moment was the perfect time to return everything to its normal operating speed, and Harry's stomach dropped as he accelerated downwards through the darkness.

With his full faculties more or less under his control, for all the good most of them did for him at this juncture, Harry quickly tried to take stock of his situation. Looking up as well as he could, he could see the quickly shrinking light of the chasm above him, along with a spinning ball of flame that seemed to be tumbling down with him, though much higher up. Rotten relatives must have lit his things on fire before kicking them down the chasm as well, he thought to himself. It really didn't matter much, though, as anything that would have been in that bag appeared at a simple glance to be nearly completely destroyed anyway, including what may or may not have been his wand, it was difficult to tell with that quick of a glance. That meant no magic, not that a second year student would know how to save themselves in this particular situation.

Looking down, Harry could only see blackness, though a nagging thought in the back of his mind told him he didn't have much longer to fall. In a near panic at that particular thought, he reached out with his mind to think of some way to help himself out of this predicament. For nearly two seconds, he could think of nothing other than whether or not the bloodstain on the ground would have to be cleaned up by someone or not, when he recalled that young witches and wizards rarely ended up splatting from falls... they fell because of... what was that phrase Hermione used... accidental magic! That was it, Harry thought, the concept of a persons magic protecting them instinctually when in grave danger! Now if only there was a way to apply that to this particular life or death situation. He started to try to think of a way to trigger something that was entirely instinctual, when a glance downwards to the now slowly taking shape ground below seemed to do the job for him. He felt a stirring in his chest and for a moment he felt like he was actually slowing down. He looked downwards, the ground beneath him looked to be covered in grass, save for a small patch of flowers off on one end. Harry thought to himself that those flowers looked rather soft, and would probably make for a nicer landing, but fate, it would seem, didn't feel like giving Harry Potter a break.

Suddenly, some distance still from the ground below, he felt his magic suddenly strain, as though pulled taut on a line. Had he been in a different situation, he may have compared it similarly to how his magic felt while he was burning the flesh from the body of Quirinus Quirrell while he was playing host to the shade of Lord Voldemort. However, before he could have any further thoughts on the matter, the taut magic snapped, and Harry Potter had enough time to think to himself 'this may twinge a bit' before plunging down to the ground below. Upon impact, it felt to Harry as if the world exploded. He expected some pain, but really he felt far less pain than he had imagined. It was as if the world was wrapped in cotton wool, everything was as fuzzy as his vision without his glasses (he assumed they had been lost in the fall). He knew he still had to breathe, but taking a breath seemed to happen in slow motion, and the only thing he could hear was the rushing of the blood in his head. For a moment, there was nothing but the green of the grass and a patch of yellow, until seemingly a form appeared from the flowers. In the extra long moment it took Harry to blink, the figure appeared to go from being all the way across the cavern to being nearly on top of him. From his blurry vision and out of the corner of his eye (as he really didn't feel like moving his head from where is lay), he saw a figure in white, wreathed in the yellow from the flowers behind it, and he could have sworn he saw some sort of angel standing before him. Any further observation of the figure would apparently have to wait though, as Harry Potter's brain decided that, at that particular moment in time, a nap would probably be the best option.

-oo00**00oo-

Asriel Dreemurr was running.

To be more precise, Asriel Dreemurr was running very very quickly, which is interesting in this case for several reasons. One reason this is interesting (though certainly not the most important reason) is that running is something Asriel had been making a point to avoid doing in general. In the ten months since what he dubbed in his mind as 'The Frisk Cycle', Asriel had been doing his best to take his time with just about everything, conserving his energy, and using the time to take in as many sights, sounds, and most importantly emotions, as he could. The reasoning behind this zen thought process was a simple one; at any given moment now, he would likely be unable to do much of any of those things, as being an emotionless plant tends to put a damper on things like walking and feeling.

Looking back on it, Asriel was surprised that he was able to go as long as he had been mainting the status quo. After being throughly beaten by the near-doppelganger of one of his oldest and best friends (enemies? frenemies? It was hard to really define what Chara was anymore in his mind upon retrospective), he had expected the remnants of power and Determination to fade away quickly, restoring his form to his current true one ages ago. Not that he was complaining about the extra time in his old body, though. In fact, with what amounted to millennia of experience on his back watching others with bodies and feelings and souls, he felt like he had a particularly good handle on how to spend his days. Though he was mostly isolated (he preferred that word of his restored form didn't make it back to his parents, he felt that he owed them a lack of heartbreak), he made sure to take the time to enjoy as many things as he could. Walking though the nearly completely abandoned Snowdin, dangling his toes in the rivers at waterfall, even something as simple as cooking and eating Snail Pie wasn't lost on him, he soaked in as much as he could.

It wasn't like he was completely alone, either. One or two of the monsters that chose to stay underground (and were capable of keeping a secret) knew he was there, and came to visit the ruins occasionally. Even Sans, who apparently had some inkling into some of Asriel's rather dark past, would swing by whenever he was looking for a break from one of his jobs. Even Frisk took the time to come by regularly for a cup of tea and some conversation, though they more than likely were there just as much to see if he had changed back; Frisk had mentioned their intention to bring Asriel back up to the surface when the transformation was complete, or in their words 'when you dont have the ability to run away,' damn that kind thoughtful jerk. The visits had been a bit less frequent in recent weeks, however, as Frisk's appointed title of Ambassador had truly begun to ramp up apparently. It would be at least six weeks before Frisk, or really anyone currently surface-bound, would be able to make it back down for a visit.

When others weren't around, Asriel certainly wasn't completely idle. He had established a routine over the months. Wake, cook breakfast, tend to the gardens, starting closest to the house and extending to the ruins, up to Chara's grave, which usually took until Lunchtime. After lunch, a few hours spent in a loop around the remaining parts of the underground, making sure things were still working, checking up on Alphys' lab to ensure nothing contained within would accidentally set fire to everything, then dinner, and a wander through the fields, and a book before bed. The whole routine was done at a leisurely pace, with the express intent of ensuring Asriel could take in as much of the process as he could. Having the sword of damocles over anyone in the way Asriel had it over him would make them want to take extra time to appreciate the smaller things in life, right? So he would spend all his time observing, committing to his memory all the things around him, the sights and smells, the feel of things against his soft fur, and most specifically the emotions he felt. He knew that eventually whatever was maintaining the flow of determination and whatever other soul energy that was keeping him normal was going to run out eventually, and he wanted to make sure that he had every memory of these simple things that he could. They would likely have to last him for a very very long time, after all.

It was in pursuit of these memories that he found himself where he was most days in the late morning, tending to the flowers around Chara's grave. He was nearly finished when he felt, rather than heard, a thud on the floor of the cavern. Looking around in the dim light, the only thing that seemed out of place was a small human like form that seemed to have been lain rag-doll on the ground around fifty meters from where he was kneeling in the flowerbed pulling weeds. Standing, confused for a moment, he looked over at the still form before realizing what had likely happened. He knew from observation that the top of the chasm was quite a ways up, and the eight fallen humans that had come before had only survived because of the magical barrier breaking their fall near the bottom of the dome. With the barrier gone, however...

Asriel felt a deep twinge of sorrow and pain, an empathy for this fallen human, which he promptly committed to memory. This moment of mourning only did last a moment, however, as the situation promptly changed when the body actually made a sound. Months of honing his senses with the purpose of observing as much as possible meant he now picked up far more than your average monster in terms of subtle things, but even he had to stop a moment and keenly observe the body. One moment he waited, then two. Almost imperceptibly, the body moved in the intake of breath, and that was all Asriel needed, standing up and launching forward like a shot, he sprinted towards the fallen body, and took stock of the situation. The human was clearly a child, probably around the same age that his body was, give or take. He was a scrawny boy, though, underfed in a way that would have clearly made his mo-Toriel very upset. His right arm was twisted around in an odd way, and it was clear that his left leg was shattered, but he was surprisingly whole, though he was well aware of the internal damage that can be done in a fall like the one the human had.

Now within arms length of the boy, Asriel looked up from his broken body to his face, and had to suppress a gasp. The boy clearly had glasses which shattered in the impact, glass causing scrapes all along his face, thankfully avoiding his eyes (which were perhaps the most brilliant shade of green he had ever encountered, another thing to commit to memory) to add to what was clearly an old scar in the shape of a lightning bolt upon his forehead. He was still in the process of observing the new human's face when he heard a mumble come out of the human in his general direction. He couldn't quite make it out, so he leaned a bit closer straining to hear, and heard, between the mumbles two words.

"mnh... y... you... nn... angel?"

Asriel blinked, then blinked again. He would have probably done so a third time, only the human beat him to it, his eyes rolling back into his head and his body going limp once more. For a moment Asriel panicked, thinking that the human had indeed died, only to see that he was indeed still breathing, if only shallowly.

Suddenly resolute, Asriel stood turned around, and took off like a bullet for the old Home at a sprint. As he ran, he took stock of what he had. A few bandages and some healing liquids in the house were all he had, but he thought it would be enough to stabilize him, then he could carry him back to the house and get him comfortable while he trekked out into the rest of the underground for what he may need to help this new visitor. Hopefully he would be alive when he returned, Asriel thought to himself as he quickened his pace even more. Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't help but smile to himself a bit. Even with his own clock ticking on his current existence, and a nearly dead human behind him, the sight of the ruins and his home in front of him filled him with Determination... and something else, something he couldn't pinpoint at that specific moment, but the one thing he did know about it, though he didn't know why, was that it was going to be something he wouldn't mind spending the last of his time on.

-oo00**00oo-

So there is a one shot opening and introduction to a different story I had playing around my head after finishing Undertale a week or so ago. As always no betas, so review and correct me if you wish!

Some info on this story for those wanting details, this story will be set earlier in the underground (assume canon true pacifist ending), then yes, later at Hogwarts (assume mostly canon through second year). This one will have horcruxes, and may have other things as well, and has a plan in my head at least through Hogwarts fifth year.

Till later, y'all

/EF/