When Cloud vanishes from the camp, it is Genesis who goes to find him.

Once upon a time it might have been someone else-Vincent, probably, and failing that Tifa. They seemed to be the only ones Cloud would let find him when he was in one of his moods. Now, however, there is only Cloud and Genesis and the camp they watch over. For all that the civilians and the fighters they care for look at Cloud and Genesis with awe, they were always hesitant to go find Cloud when he wanders off. It is a very distant sort of reverence. So it is Genesis who goes looking, and no one else, and that was the way things were.

Genesis finds Cloud sitting on the edge of a cliff not far from the camp. He sits with First Tsurugi laid on the ground beside him within easy grabbing distance, and his legs over the edge. His shoulders are slumped, he's leaning on his hands behind him, and his face is lit up by the dying light of the sun.

He looks like a distant god sitting on a crumbling throne, Genesis muses. One who's kingdom had been reduced to naught but ash and dust.

(And perhaps that is true in a way, with how much Cloud has lost since this slow crawl of an apocalypse began)

Genesis walks forward and stands next to Cloud, his steps measured and even. He stares out into the wastes, watching nothing move, not even the wind. These moments between one monster attack and the next rung with the eerie silence of the calm before a storm, and Genesis can all but feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end at the electricity in the air.

"How long?" Cloud asks, not looking at Genesis not giving any other acknowledgement he knew the other was there.

"We have enough water to last another two weeks," Genesis informs him, deliberately misinterpreting the question. "And food to last another five days."

All canned goods, raided from the small village not far from here. Some of it had rotted, but the rest would be good enough to feed the children and keep the people going, if only for a little while longer.

Cloud remains silent and still, before speaking once more. "You know that's not what I meant." His tone is flat, the sound wrought with defeat.

"Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul. Pride is lost. Wings stripped away, the end is nigh," is his response. Cloud snorts.

But it wouldn't be long now. The only source of clean water they had left was no longer usable. They only had five days worth of food left, and no source to gather more. It wasn't like anything grew anymore, and hunting monsters to eat them ended in naught but madness. Humans could last a month without food so long as they had water, and they could only last three days without water. Five days of food. Two weeks of water. And that wasn't even considering the monsters mutated by mako attacking their settlements, or the strange madness that plagued their people, making them as mindless as the Mako Mutants outside their camp.

No, it wouldn't be very long at all before everything was over.

"Cloud?" Genesis watches as the sun vanishes over the horizon, leaving the world lit only by the moon and the stars and listens for Cloud's answering hum. "I'm glad I met you."

Even if I won't get to know you for much longer, goes unsaid.

…

"Quick, he's crashing!"

Someone is yelling above his head, voice oddly muted through the haze of pain and nausea. Genesis groans, opening his eyes as he tries to figure out were he is and what's going on.

"We're losing him, come on, come on!"

The world around him is blurry, and his stomach lurches with sickening movement. His fingers twitch and it sends agony down his arms. "Ah-!" he gasps for breath, suddenly unable to breathe for all that he's trying, his lungs heaving, gasping, and-he jolts, like lightning rushed through his veins.

"Where's that potion I asked for?! Mckenzie!"

Everything burns, from the pit of his stomach to the farthest reaches of his limbs to the forefront of his brain. He seizes, and feels hands grip his limbs and hold him down.

"Don't worry kid, you'll be alright. We'll take care of you."

…

At the first sound of screaming, Genesis' eyes snap open and he's rolling off his cot. Rapier is in hand in an instant, and he's already turning towards the entrance to the tent when Kevin rushes through the flap, sheer panic on his face.

"They've invaded the camp! They're swarming!" He yells, red faced and wild-eyed. Genesis opens his mouth to order him back out there-he can tell they're being attacked, thank you very much, he can hear the screaming-when a clawed hand plunges through Kevin's chest from behind.

Genesis doesn't waste time morning. There's no point when the man's body is tossed to the side carelessly by the beast that killed him. No point when the monster swipes at him with intent to kill him next. No point when Genesis cuts the Mako Mutant down with a precise swing of his sword.

He's already lost too many people. He doesn't want to lose any more.

(There were moments when he thought back to his days at Shin-Ra, to those afternoons spent in the training room after all the Seconds had left and the three of them had claimed it for their own, and his entire body aches like an old wound that refused to heal)

Genesis is outside a heartbeat later, screams of the dying ringing in his ears, inhuman cries joining them in some twisted symphony. He leaps forth, a firaga burning in one hand and his sword at ready in the other, and joins the fray.

One monster cut down. Then two. He ducks under an attack, lets his firaga loose, and a third corpse lies on the ground.

"Get the civilians to safety!" He barks at the guards who've been struggling against the Mutants. They nod hurriedly, before rushing off. Genesis turns his attention back to the monsters.

They're everywhere. He doesn't think he's ever seen monsters in such high concentrations before-not since he was eighteen and the Wutains tried leading a stampede of them to break a Shin-Ra blockade. He's not sure how many people will be able to survive this. He doubts it'll be many.

A twist and a leaping Mutant fall to the ground split in two. A flick of the wrist and another joins it. Fire and the monsters burn. A civilian gets grabbed by one, and it too joins its brethren on the ground. He only pays attention to the civilian long enough to make sure they're out of range before he brings lightning down around him.

He spreads his wing and takes to the sky, using aerial strikes to clear pathways for the fleeing civilians and guard what few fighters they have left. Feathers fly down like arrows and sink deeply into crystallized flesh. The mutant's screams are like music, like rapture.

Take that, you monsters, he thinks, a little hysterically. Feel the pain you have caused me. The pain you have caused us all.

"Genesis!" He hears Cloud call out and sees him standing amidst a field of gore. "Look out!" he's screaming. There is panic on Cloud's face and-

Pain.

Pain pain pain pain.

He falls and the world goes black.

(The last thing he sees is the blue of an endless sky)

…

The room he wakes in smells something like antiseptic, with a scent not unlike the clean smell of ozone lingering just under that. His head pounds with what would have been the mother of all hangovers if the mako in his blood would actually let him get drunk. He feels nauseous, and when he shifts to try and sit up his stomach lurches in both warning and protest. He opens his eyes to an unfamiliar white ceiling, the image blurry with the haze of sleep.

He groans, clenching and unclenching his fingers and grimacing at how sore he feels. The last time he felt this bad was after his first Mako enhancements. Though he recalls the boosters had all been awful as well. If there was one good thing about having defected and Shin-Ra falling, it was the fact there were no more bi-annually required booster shots.

"Where?" He mumbles to himself, trying to get a better look at where he was. It looked almost like a hospital of some sort, but that was impossible. There were no hospitals left. But the walls were painted white, the smell of antiseptic stung his sensitive nose, and he could hear chatter in the hall.

"His fever's broken and he's doing much better now than he was yesterday, might even wake soon with how much better he's been." The voice belongs to a woman, and it sounds like it was right outside his door. The door knob turns and the door itself opens to reveal two people-a man and a woman, both wearing what looked like some kind of uniform. "Lucky, with how touch and go he was for a-" The woman looks over to where Genesis was laid out on a hospital bed, and cuts herself off. "You're awake!" She exclaims instead.

Genesis grimaces. "Not so loud," he demands. Obviously she had no idea how sensitive the hearing of a SOLDIER could be. Not that there were many of them left, these days.

The woman smiles softly, "My apologies. Hearing still sensitive?" She walks over to the bed, pulling an oddly carved stick from a pocket in her robes. She starts waving it in strange patterns in the air above Genesis, muttering nonsense all the while, and Genesis felt the tell tale tingle of mana wash across his senses. A type of focus? Was there materia set into that stick?

"Only as much as it ever is," Genesis responds. "Where am I?"

The man still hovering by the door answers. "You're in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries." Genesis has never heard of it. It was a strange name, too, and sounds specialized. Magical Maladies and Injuries? Were they a hospital that specializes in damage done by materia? "What's the last thing you remember?" The man finally steps into the room, closing the door behind him, and walks to stand by the woman

"I was fighting," he tells the man. "Our camp was attacked by the Mako Mutants and we were overrun. What happened to the camp? Are there any other survivors?" And how, for that matter, had these people been able to rescue him in the first place?

Both the man and the woman pause to stare at him in silence for a moment. They exchange a glance. Genesis frowns at the reaction. Something was wrong here.

The woman licks her lips, frowning. "Um-" she starts, her brows furrowing. "What exactly do you mean by your camp was attacked by Mako Mutants?"

Genesis narrows his eyes at her. "I mean exactly that. It was nearly 0600 hours, when I first heard the screams. I grabbed my blade and one of the guardsmen came to inform me of the attack. He was killed immediately after. I directed the remaining guards to bring the civilians of the camp to safety, before taking to the fray myself. The last thing I remember is one of my comrades-" Genesis, look out! "-calling out a warning to me."

The woman appears rather pale as she turns to the man. "Go get Healer Peters." The man nods and rushes out of the room like a guard hound in on his heels.

"What's going on?" Genesis demands. He hates not knowing what was happening. Not knowing did nothing but get everyone killed. Wutai had taught him that much. "What's wrong?"

"Well," the woman starts, before stopping and grimacing. "You weren't sent here because of Mako Mutants-" Her expression says she isn't entirely sure what Mako Mutants were, which was impossible because Mako Mutants were everywhere and weren't exactly a new thing. Genesis remembers going on missions to dispatch them, way back when he still worked for Shin-Ra. "-but because you were attacked by dementors. You had an adverse reaction to nearly having been given a dementor's kiss, and it required immediate treatment."

"Dementors kiss? What is a dementor?" Genesis asks, his mind racing.

"A dementor is a dark creature. They suck the happiness out of those they encounter, and feed on human souls. The act of a dementor sucking out a human's soul is called a dementor's kiss," the woman explains. She speaks haltingly, as if she isn't entirely sure she should be speaking.

Genesis doesn't have time to process this before the door opens again, bringing the man from before as well as another man in a differently colored uniform than the first. Genesis supposes this was Healer Peters. Peters pulls another odd stick from the pocket of his robes and waves it over Genesis's body, speaking as he did so. "Good day. My name is Frank Peters, and I'm a Healer here at St Mungo's. I was assigned as the head healer on your case. Would you mind answering a few questions for me?"

"Go ahead," Genesis says, wary.

"What is your name?"

"Genesis Rhapsodos." Genesis doesn't miss the shocked expression that fits over the faces of the original man and woman, though Healer Peters seems unphased.

"Age?"

"36." More shocked expressions, though Peters was once again unphased.

"Birthplace?"

"Banora."

"Where did you receive your schooling?"

Genesis raises a brow. How was that relevant? "I received basic education in Banora, and advanced education in Midgar."

"I see." Peters lowers his wand and gives Genesis a measuring look. "Are you familiar with the names Cornelius Fudge, Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts, or Diagon Alley?"

"No."

Peters nods, as if that was exactly as he expected. "Well, Mr. Rhapsodos, I'm sorry to inform you that you have died and been reincarnated."

...What?

"Excuse me?" Genesis looks at the man incredulously. "Do you seriously expect me to believe that?"

"Not right away, certainly not," Peter responds without skipping a beat. "But once the situation has been properly explained, I expect that you will. Ten days ago, we received word that a 15 year old boy by the name of Harry Potter was attacked by dementors and needed immediate treatment. He was brought here, suffering from high fever, convulsions, severe dementor over exposure, and the effects of an interrupted dementor's kiss. It is this last symptom that is the most relevant at the moment. A dementor's kiss is, in essence, the removal of the soul from the host body. An interrupted kiss can do a number of things to the soul and the body. There are various effects that it can have on the body's magic and the person's memories in particular. One effect that it can have, though it isn't all that common of one, is the remembrance of a previous life."

"So you're telling me," Genesis hisses out the words, "That the trauma of nearly being kissed made me forget my life as this 'Harry Potter' and remember a past life instead?"

"Yes. That is exactly what I'm saying." Peters folds his hands in front of him, the stick pointed down at the floor. "There are a few other effects that are likely to occur as well, one of which is already visible."

Genesis narrows his eyes. "What effects?"

"Your eyes," Peters informs him. He waves the stick with a muttered nonsense word, and a mirror appears in his hands. He holds it out to Genesis, who takes it warily. "They used to be green."

There, in the mirror, is an unfamiliar face. It is a face belonging to a boy not yet a man. Dark, unruly hair frames his face, and a faded scar sits on his forehead. He reaches up with a hand to touch his cheeks, cheeks which haven't quite lost all their baby fat just yet, and the boy in the mirror copies him. It's not an entirely unfamiliar face, though. He has the same high cheek bones, the same slope of his nose, though his eyes are wider than he remembers them ever being, and he doesn't recall ever looking quite so young.

His eyes are also bright, mako blue.

Genesis stares at the mirror. This was impossible. Simply impossible. And yet- He takes a steadying breath and, without looking away from the mirror, speaks. "...What happens now?"

"Memories of your time as Mr Potter should return with time. Familiar spaces and people should help with this, though don't be surprised if it takes years before you remember everything. Be patient, they will return with time. I would recommend looking into Occlumency, the art of organizing and guarding the mind from mental attacks, to help with settling the old memories with the ones you have now." Peters' voice is calm and professional, as if he hadn't just torn Genesis' world up by the roots and left him swaying in the raging winds.

"Don't be surprised if physical features and other things from your last life return; things like curses, hair color, and old scars for example," Peters continues. "Other than that, you'll have to relearn about the modern world you've been reborn into. I'm unfamiliar with the places you named, so by my best guess you must be from a distant past of some sort or another. Expect to need a lot of things explained in the immediate future. Mr Potter was attending a boarding school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If the style of magic you used in your last life is different from the one used now, I would recommend attending as he did, perhaps hiring extra help on the side to get you caught up on the material you've lost. If not, you can take the required tests at the Ministry to graduate early. Other than that, you're magical guardian will be informed that you've woken and he'll take care of getting you re-acquainted with modern society and the like."

"Magical Guardian?"

"Albus Dumbledore," Peters informs him. "The magical and muggle worlds-that is, those capable of using magic and those incapable of it, were seperated centuries ago. Your file has you listed as living with your maternal muggle aunt, and she's incapable of making legal decisions for you within the Wizarding world. In the case that a child either has no guardians or only has muggle ones, the headmaster of Hogwarts is set as their magical guardian."

Separated. Magic and mundane were separated. Genesis doesn't believe it. How could something so intertwined with everyday life be separated from the rest of the world? What exactly had happened since he fell in that camp? Genesis sets down the mirror with a shaky sigh. "Why were they separated?"

"A variety of reasons, foremost among them the Witch Hunts. If you're curious about it, there are a variety of books on the subject. I myself would recommend Debra Longbottom's Separation of Two Worlds. It's an interesting read."

Genesis nods absently, mulling over everything in his head.

"I'll let you rest and have someone bring a set of clean clothing for you later. Good day, Mr Rhapsodos." Peters nods his head in farewell and leaves the room, the two others following closely behind.

Genesis lays his head back on the pillow and stares up at the ceiling. "My friend, the fates are cruel…"

No one answers him.

...

The first time I ventured into the FFVII HP crossover section on FFnet, I found a wonderful story called Never a Memory. Then I found another called Donum Deae. And another called The REBORN SOLDIER. And another. And another... And I thought they were nice. The idea was interesting, but they were all the same. They were all crackish and it got... tiring? to see the same idea executed again and again with the same sort of tone.

That's why I'm writing this. I want to see a serious take on a SOLDIER being reborn as Harry and there weren't any. Obviously, that means I have to write it myself. Here's to hoping I can get it right.

I have a tumblr! I'm metronomeihear! Come scream with me.