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Chapter 1: Misplaced Sentiment

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-Notes-

HI and welcome! I am Safiru, taking over for this awesome story.

I got permission to from Traban16 to abuse the original "Sweet Nothing" to I see fit. I am going to either keep some or re-tweak the whole thing, like I did with "From Savior To A Pirate" Where I kept what was there and add a few things here and there to fix the opening chapter. With a new name as well!

Now there had been several reviews that people had asked in the original version I will post them. Right here and right now.

-Reviews-

Redhilt Wood: I am kind hoping for a overly dramatic and needlessly pointless speech by harry/xemas

Safiru: I will see what I can do but no promises...

Revamped Persona: How would Xemnas/Harry deal with the Xehanort time travel problems?

Safiru: Now that is a good question. The one simple answer is he doesn't exist to do it?

Kingdark: Is this story going to branch out eventually? I mean, are Harry, Hermione, Draco and whoever else will joing org. 13 use the magics they used to use? Including some of the magics from the FF series?

Safiru: As far as normal "Wizard Magic" they will still be able to use it because it wiould make them "blend in" better. As for magic from the Final Fantasy/Kingdom Hearts there are going to be there but for now I will keep it simple. Too much people may be turned off by it.

Mangahero18: Great chapter. Im super curious about the magic not working over water thing. Where did that come from?

Safiru: That can depend, in my view yes magic can and will work over water BUT it would be extremely weak verses it being over land, where there is a greater power source.

1310: Neh neh Author-san! Will he meet Sora and Riku again?

Safiru: Hmm, maybe? Not sure it's too early in the game to have either of them show up.

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"I need... more rage... I need more... hearts..."

His foe looked upon him with something akin to pity in his dark brown eyes, "Xemnas... There's more to a heart than just anger or hate. It's full of all kinds of feelings. Don't you remember?"

Sora had always been a bit of a fool. He glared hatefully at the fool for his idiotic words, "Unfortunately... I don't..."

And he faded away then before their very eyes…

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"Denizens of Light, answer this: why do you hate the Darkness?" he queried to them as they all stood before him, a proud little rag-tag army of the Light.

The small mouse King choose to speak on then, "Aw, we don't hate it. It's just kinda… scary. But the world's made of Light AND Darkness. You can't have one without the other, 'cause Darkness is half of everything. Sorta makes ya wonder why we are scared of the dark…" Mickey finished his words in a trail of thought, looking down in what could have been thoughtful reflection or shame.

Riku, however, glared up at Xemnas as he spat out his words, "It's because of who's lurking inside it." And those words had obviously been directed his way. If Xemnas could remember what it was to feel, he supposed he would express the emotion known as sadness. Or perhaps anger. He was not sure which would be more appropriate to the situation.

"You accept Darkness, yet choose to live in the Light. So why is it that you loathe us who teeter on the edge of nothing? We who were turned away by both light and dark - never given a choice?" Xemnas asked of them, desiring their perspective more than anything at the moment.

"That's simple!" Riku sneered while Sora and Kairi stood steadfast on both sides of him, "It's because you mess up our worlds!"

Xemnas gave a rather hollow smirk as he retorted, "That may be... however, what other choice might we have had?" and truly he did wonder if something of another path had escaped his vision.

But that fool Sora chose to let his temper rise at that so crucial a moment, "Just give it a rest! You're Nobodies! You don't even exist! You're not sad about anything!"

Again Xemnas gave a hollow smirk, but this time an empty laughter echoed along with it as he gazed down upon the forces of Light, "Very good. You don't miss a thing. I cannot feel... sorrow... No matter what misery befalls the worlds. No matter what you think, what you feel, or how you exist."

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In their final confrontation, Xemnas presented himself to them with a flicker of the emotion he had so long ago forgotten, "Heroes from The Realm of Light, I will not allow it to end this way - not yet. If Light and Darkness are eternal, surely we Nothings are the same! Eternal!"

Riku gave a rather casual shrug of his shoulder while twirling his latest keyblade, the Way to Dawn, in his other hand, "You're right. Light and Darkness are eternal. Nothing probably goes on forever, too. But, guess what Xemnas?"

Sora smirked as he stepped forward, his keyblade morphing into what Xemnas recognized as the Oblivion keyblade. Xemnas found that to be Sora's way of showing both irony and foreshadowing without a single syllable passing his lips. It was very tongue in cheek of the boy, which he thought to be extremely uncharacteristic of him.

"That doesn't mean YOU'RE eternal!" Sora shouted, pointing Oblivion straight at Xemnas, or to be more specific, at where Xemnas' heart would have been if he had one.

He couldn't feel it. For the second time in many years, Xemnas felt the flicker of yet another emotion. This one being humor. He laughed, truly laughed for the first time in oh so many years, "No more eternal than that radiance of yours..."

And as he met his demise, Xemnas only had two words for that which gleamed in light, mocking his defeat with its sheer existence where he had not been allowed to exist, "Accursed... Keyblade..."

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And then the world around him exploded into a sea of whites and blacks, Light and Darkness swirling and whirling, but never once meeting to form any one shade of grey or silver.

And with a start, the now former Superior of the In-Between, former Xehanort's Nobody via the fourth Xehanort's body, Rank I within Organization XIII and the ruler of The World That Never Was woke with a start as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and soon to be Fourth-Year Hogwarts Student.

Harry was left breathing hard and fast as he awoke from the reoccurring dream. He flopped back onto his bed, his body sprawled out as though he just dropped from having won a race against a professional athlete.

The dreams were getting more and more vivid as the days went by in Number Four Privet Drive. Harry knew that after this latest one, he could no longer ignore them.

Especially when he had just seen himself die at the hands of two boys not unlike he was now.

Yes, he could no longer ignore that in his course of fate, or perhaps a past life, he had been Xemnas, leader of Organization XIII. Harry Potter had been the Superior of the In-Between. The Boy-Who-Lived had once been a literal Nobody, and ruler of a World That Never Was.

And better yet, he had been a villain, one who nearly succeeded in orchestrating the end of days if not for the timely intervention of a disparate group of heroes.

Two boys, to be more exact… Two boys who were almost just as Harry was in his bed now…

Harry lay flat on his back with his hands pressed over his face. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot poker to his skin. The only other thing that got such a reaction out of his scar was his other reoccurring dream of Voldemort's activities within the house Harry could never identify. That meant that these dreams of past were just as real as the threat of Voldemort.

Harry heaved a heavy sigh as he sat up, one hand still on his scar, while is other hand rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the street lamp outside the window. Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still painful, but the pain was quickly fading as it normally did when the dreams of his life as Xemnas came and went he noticed that his eyesight got a bit better. The dreams of Voldemort always felt worse and the pain lingered like a taunt from the Dark Lord himself. Harry turned on the lamp beside him, scrambled out of bed, crossed the room, opened his wardrobe, and peered into the mirror on the inside of the door. A lanky lean boy of fourteen years of age looked back at him, emerald green eyes bright with the new light under his untidy black hair.

Harry turned away from his reflection as he could still clearly see a flicker of Xemnas' image in his own. The dark haughty eyes of sunset which felt neither warm nor remorse. The drawn expression which allowed only the barest of emotions to pass over as he faked them so expertly. The silvery white hair which spiked outward in an unkempt manner.

So different, Harry shook his head, but that had been him.

He walked over to the curtains, drawing them back to survey the street below.

Privet Drive looked exactly as a respectable suburban street would be expected to look in the early hours of Saturday morning. All the curtains to the other houses were closed. As far as Harry could see through the darkness, there wasn't a living creature in sight, not even a cat.

And yet… and yet…

Harry went restlessly back to the bed. He could not explain these weird dreams or sensations that were overcoming him, slowly driving him crazy. And now, as he had been staring out into the street, it was almost like he could smell people he could not see. People, he was sure, were not even there. He sat down on the bed, running a finger over his scar again. It wasn't the pain that bothered him; he was no stranger to pain and injury. He had lost all the bones from his right arm once and had them painfully regrown within the same day. The same arm had been pierced by a venomous foot-long fang not long afterward. Only last year Harry had fallen fifty feet from an airborne broomstick. He was so used to bizarre accidents and injuries; they were unavoidable if you attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and had a knack for attracting half as much trouble as Harry did.

No, the thing that was bothering Harry was the persistent dreams and visions. They were driving him mad with their possible meanings and happenings. On one hand, he could no longer be ignorant to the fact that he was in fact Xemnas of the In-Between. Superior of Nothingness. That much even Harry could see. But the things the dreams were doing to him.

Last week he had stumbled off into a ditch while walking, only to fall into a literal puddle of darkness that dropped him into his Aunt Petunia's garden. Yesterday he had been arguing with Dudley, and had pointed a finger at the boy, shooting off a red beam of light that Dudley accused Harry of using a laser-pointer in broad daylight. Harry had of course went along with the ridiculous claim, but found that he could reproduce the effect with a certain degree of concentration. The better part of it was that the Ministry of Magic had not shown up at his doorstep or sent a single notice for his use of Underage Sorcery, so he celebrated in finding a magic they could not trace back to him.

And just a moment ago Harry could have sworn with his right hand to Kingdom Hearts that he smelt someone hiding in the bushes across the street, watching the Dursley household like a guardian dog or something.

Harry listened closely to the silence around him. Was he half-expecting to hear the creak of a stair or the swish of a cloak? For someone to rush up to his room as he came to the conclusion that he was slowly but surely regaining the powers and abilities he had once wielded as the great and terrible Xemnas, Master of all Nobodies? To have Dumbledore sit down with him over tea and explain that Xemnas was not so bad, and so misunderstood, and that what Harry was going through was as normal as being a teenage wizard living in a house with three magic-hating muggles?

And at that thought, Harry jumped ever so slightly as he heard his cousin Dudley give a tremendous grunting snore from the next room over through thin walls. Harry shook himself mentally; he was being stupid. There was no one to help him through this. No one of any importance that could shed some light on his Nothingness. No one in the house with him except for his muggle Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Cousin Dudley, and they were plainly still asleep, their dreams untroubled and painless.

'Accursed fools,' Harry thought with a dark scowl forming slowly on his lips. He shook himself once more, the thought was too hateful to be from him. He did not like his relatives, but he did not hate them either. He would leave them in a heartbeat for any other place, but he would never wish permanent harm onto them.

That was Xemnas, but Harry had a heart; both literally and figuratively. Harry Potter would never be so cruel.

Turning himself slightly, Harry also turned his thoughts to more positive matters. At the end of this summer, he would be starting his fourth year at Hogwarts, and Harry was already counting the days until he would be back at the castle again. But there was still a fortnight to go before he went back to school. He smiled ever so softly as his gaze landed upon the stack of birthday cards his two best friends had sent him at the end of July. What would they say if Harry wrote to them and told them about his scar hurting and his dreams of His former life as Xemnas?

At once, Hermione Granger's voice seemed to fill his head as she would focus on the scar part and glare at him for the past life part, knowing the girl's rather adverse history with such nonsense as Divination. It was her worried tone that he mused over, shrill and panicky.

Almost as soon after did the voice of Zexion berate, detached with stark and brutal honesty as he would be told to focus more on things that truly mattered and not over some ridiculous scar. Harry could, however, see the boy's face perk with minuscule interest at the mention of a former life. He too, however, would laugh Harry off as a nutcase.

Then came the image of Ron, Harry's other best friend besides Hermione. Harry smiled in amusement as red hair and a long-nosed, freckled face seemed to swim before his mind's eye, wearing a bemused expression. Ron would not have a single clue on what to do, but would always know when a problem was too great for him to tackle alone. Ron would defer the matter to his dad, Arthur Weasley. Mr. Weasley was a fully qualified wizard who worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, but he didn't have any particular expertise in the matter of curses, as far as Harry knew.

In any case, Harry didn't like the idea of the whole Weasley family knowing that he was getting jumpy and slightly paranoid about this whole experience when there was the slightest possibility it could be just as common as puberty in the Wizarding community. Ron's mom, Molly Weasley would fuss worse than Hermione. Fred and George, Ron's older twin brothers, might think Harry was losing his grip on reality, or that he was slowly becoming muggle if it really was a common occurrence.

The Weasleys were and always Harry's favorite family in the world; he was hoping that they might invite him to stay any time now. Ron had mentioned something about the Quidditch World Cup, and he somehow didn't want his visit punctuated with anxious inquiries about his scar. Harry gave a long sigh and flopped once again onto his bed.

'Yes', thought Harry, 'it would all be alright. There is no point telling anyone the dreams and visions.' He was not too worried himself even, as he was more worried about what other people would say if he told them. A part of him, small and steadily growing, called his concern for the opinions of others foolish and pathetic. Harry told that part of him to shut up and go bugger a hag elsewhere. Then he got to his feet, stretched, and opened his wardrobe once more. Without glancing at his eerie reflection, seeing himself inside the image of Xemnas more prominently than ever, Harry started to get dressed before going down to breakfast.

At least that would be a normal affair in the Dursley household.

Well, at least hopefully…