A/N: Because of course these fandoms merge! And also because I am running away from my actually successful story because I am having massive writer's block over there (what's new?). Oh, there's a little cussing. Hope no one minds.

I own neither Immortal Rain, nor do I own Harry Potter.

Enjoy!

His mind is never quiet. It's like there are a thousand radios all on at once, receiving a thousand different signals and speaking in thousands of different voices, different languages, different tongues. And all of those voices are his. Or perhaps they are other people's voices. He isn't sure.

(Of course, he doesn't know if he's really a 'he', but his current body is male so he decides that's fine.)

And the voices just won't stop.

I've never seen the sky so blue –

–hey, watch out for that–

–easier than falling asleep–

–don't cry on a sleepless –

–sorry, I'm sorry, I'm–

–I hear his mother beats–

–my dreams are often real–

–right, this way please–

–up, ya fuckin' brat–

–get the mail, boy–

–is really awful–

–I'm afraid to close–

–a Technicolor sky–

–distant future–

–will end soon–

–bow to death–

–right, exactly–

–this war torn–

–a wizard–

–I wish you–

–wasn't me–

–who are –

–angels–

–of ours–

–shit–

–you're–

–live !

He opens his eyes to watch a tall young man gather flowers in a field. The flowers are very white. The man's name is Rain, right? Yes, that's right. He always remembers Rain. But that leaves the question of what his name is supposed to be.

He stares at the flowers as he thinks. He wishes they were some other color, red or something, rather than pale, pure white. A moment later, he doesn't know why he thought that and goes back to trying to remember his name. Right now he feels very attached to a Harry James, but he doesn't remember the surname nor is he sure that Harry James is the right name.

It's very irritating.

He really wishes his mind would shut up. There's too much in it and he's tired of dealing with the constant headaches. He remembers headaches in his other lives too. It seems that he's always had too much in his head.

(scars, hammers, walls, laughter, screams, songs, voices, lights, it's too bright, it's too loud–)

It would be so nice (so fucking nice, so very nice, awful nice of you, sir) if everything could just be quiet.

But the world will never be quiet, not as long as it exists. Perhaps he'll destroy it.

Yes, that would be nice.

(Some part of him, some old part, screams that is evil, that is wrong, that is Dark, horrible, horrible, never give up, I said I'd never kill, I'm better than this, I'm good, I'm light, I'm not evil. He silences that part. That part never had to deal with quite so much noise in his head.)

He shifts his gaze to Rain. (He can't remember the color of his own eyes, but he decides it isn't important. Rain's eyes are a light blue-green. He remembers.) Somehow, Rain is always bright and fresh in his mind. New, almost. Perhaps Rain will destroy the world with him. No, Rain wouldn't do that. He's too kind.

(You're too kind. You're a fool. Why disarm him when you can kill him? Don't be kind to your enemies.)

(Don't be kind.)

Perhaps he will teach Rain how to be cruel.

He doesn't know why he fixates on Rain, but he does know that he wants to see him again. It wouldn't be too hard to make Rain immortal. He understands Death intimately, having lived and died so many times.

(Monster, he hears. Master of Death, Lord of Darkness, demon, devil, despised one, cast out by the Good and the Brave and the Bold, freak!)

(He doesn't mind those words anymore. They are meaningless now.)

He knows that Rain will hate him forever if he makes him immortal. It wouldn't be too much of a price to pay. At least Rain would be there. Forever.

Perhaps Rain will help him quiet his mind. (If he won't destroy the world with me, he will kill me until the world ends.)

As he watches, Rain turns around and sees him. A large grin spreads across his face. "Yuca! You're awake!"

Oh. Oh, yes, he's Yuca Collabell. That's right.

Yuca waves. He can feel his lips turn upward in his small, strange smile.

(He wonders why he smiles.)

"Yes," he says.

(And he hears, bow to death, I am not afraid, death is but the next great adventure.)

"I'm awake."