Disclaimer . . .I own neither Labyrinth or Harry Potter, which belong to their respective copyright holders. Brief acknowledgments, I feel, are in order for Mystical Magician's Of Dreamers and Journeys and PaisleyRose's Beware of Goblin Gifts, both of which I derived certain terms and ideas, such as the Persephone Canon and the inspiration for this story. However, I am not basing this story on either, and this is completely my idea.

If you see any mistakes (I am American, and Harry Potter is set in England), feel free to tell me, so that I may correct them. Reviews will be most welcome, but I will not be offended by the Secret Readers (my term for readers who do not comment), partly because I am one of them. Further Author's Notes, explaining certain details, will be at the bottom of the chapters. With all this said, please enjoy the story. (Which is set ten years after Labyrinth and in HPOotP)


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Of Mortals and Dreams

A Labyrinth/Harry Potter Crossover

By Falcon's Hyperdrive

Begun 3-9-09

Finished _-_-_

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Prologue – Hindsight of Dreams

Sometimes, things were much clearer in dreams. Hindsight, they say. It was always easier understood than in the moment.

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"You're him, aren't you?"

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Yes . . . him. There was no way she could forget about him, no matter how hard she tried.

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"I've brought you a gift."

She stared at the ball at the tips of his fingers, mesmerized. "What is it?"

"It's a crystal. Nothing more. But if you turn it this way, and look into it, it will show you your dreams."

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What did he mean? She saw her dreams every night. He seemed to be an increasing factor in them as of late, but never mind that. There was a big difference between having your dreams shown to you and having them become reality. She hadn't quite realized it then, but she knew now. It was a good thing, then, that she refused the (generous) gift when it was offered.

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"Nothing? Nothing? Nothing, tra la la?"

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Why was she so stuck on that silly phrase? She would find herself muttering it to herself every now and then, and would immediately shut up and glance around worriedly, as if expecting someone (him) to step out of the shadows, a self-satisfied and victorious smirk on his (handsome) features. Then she would realize her own foolishness, and continue with what she was doing.

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"And you, Sarah. How are you enjoying my Labyrinth?"

She averted her gaze, slightly uncomfortable at his standing not three feet away, and not knowing why she felt suddenly shy, instead of merely fearful. "It's a piece of cake." Off to the side, Hoggle groaned, already predicting what was coming.

"Really? Then how about upping the stakes, hmm?" He gestured with a leather-clad hand, and a clock appeared, the hour and minute hands spinning quickly around as he stole away the hours before settling back into its normal pace.

"It's not fair!" she shouted, indignant and outraged. He was unfazed.

"You say that so often. I wonder what your basis for comparison is." He moved a little further down the tunnel, and spread his hands, a crystal ball appearing in them. "So the Labyrinth's a piece of cake, is it? Well, let's see how you deal with this little slice."

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She often wondered why he set the Cleaners after her and Hoggle, but knew she had been pretty much asking for it. She had as good as challenged him.

That phrase . . . A piece of cake . . . She didn't use it nearly so often anymore, the memories still fresh of the three times it had been said by her and Hoggle, and the disastrous consequences afterwards. First, falling into the Helping Hands, and then the oubliette. Next, three hours stolen away, and the cleaners. Then, finally, the goblin army.

It's not fair . . . She never said that anymore, either, and she discouraged Toby from using it as well. She had learned her lesson long ago, in that twisting, dangerous maze. He had been right in asking what her basis for comparison was. For, after all, she had none, really.

Sometimes she wondered what might have happened if she had been too slow. Would she have died, or would that man (Fae) have made the Cleaners disappear before she came to harm?

And what did the peach mean?

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An enchanted ballroom . . . A white gown . . . A persistent hunt among mocking faces for someone. She spied him, and he was gone. Relentlessly, she searched, not knowing how close she came on several occasions. Then, suddenly, a fan moved aside, and he was there, ignoring the women on each side of him and looking straight at her. She watched, breathlessly, as he stepped forward and took her in his arms, leading her into the sweeping dance. He sang to her, and she felt as if he was all that mattered. His eyes were so intense, so peaceful, so . . . something. She couldn't place the emotion, even though she felt it herself.

Then the crowd was pressing in, and she began looking around frantically again. He was unperturbed, still crooning softly. Then the song ended, the crowd pressed closer, and the clock struck twelve. (So much like Cinderella.) Tearing herself from his grasp, she struggled through the crowd, catching only a brief glimpse at the expression he bore.

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Longing? Pain? Surprise? Maybe all of these, she decided (hoped). She would always regret leaving him like that, in some part of her heart. If it had been different circumstances (no brother to rescue, for one, and no one watching so mockingly) she might have stayed there in his arms, never mind having been drugged by that stupid peach. She was always afraid to touch peaches after that, though she knew it was irrational and unnecessary.

Maybe someday . . .

And then there was that song.

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"How you turned my world, you precious thing."

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Had she? Had he truly meant that, as he sang?

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"You starve and near exhaust me."

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She had been awfully demanding, she realized now. He had probably been frustrated that she didn't realize what he felt for her.

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"Everything I've done, I've done for you."

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She had asked that Toby be taken, and he took him. She asked to run the Labyrinth, and he let her. She challenged him in the tunnels, and he responded in kind. She searched for him in the ballroom, and he came and danced with her. All for her . . .

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"I move the stars for no one."

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She was truly privileged to have captured his attention, to have him do all that for her.

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"You've run so long,

"You've run so far."

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It really had been further than she thought, from the hilltop to the castle beyond the Goblin City. Though time had been shorter, also, than she thought, it had been a long ten hours.

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"Your eyes can be so cruel,

Just as I can be so cruel."

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She hadn't meant them to be. And yes, she found, he could be. Perhaps not entirely on purpose, but he could be . . . Why else would he plague her dreams all these years?

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"Though I do believe in you,

"Yes I do."

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Did he really? If she hadn't been so focused on finding Toby, maybe she might have listened to his song, and paused at these words.

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"Live without the sunlight.

"Love without your heartbeat.

"I, I can't live within you."

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The last section sounded so pained, now that she was free to focus on it in her dreams, recalling that time. It was as if he knew what was coming, as she understood nothing of love for someone in that sense. Then again, maybe he did know, as he had doubtless heard her acting the story out many times in the park. Still, he tried one last time, though she thought at the time that it had been merely a ploy, an attempt to distract her from saying the words.

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"Give me the child."

He stood there, the feathery white cloak hanging about his shoulders and making him look even more like a ghost. "Sarah, beware. I have been generous, up until now, but I can be cruel."

"Generous!" In her non-understanding, she didn't realize how generous he truly had been. So she asked. "What have you done that's generous?"

"Everything!" he cried, circling her. "Everything you wanted, I have done. You asked that the child be taken, I took him. You cowered before me. I was frightening." The clock appeared again, its hands whirling, as he continued his circle, gesturing to it. "I've reordered time. I have turned the world upside-down. And I have done it all for you." He halted in front of her, looking down with weariness and . . . pain? She didn't know. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. "I am exhausted from living up to your expectations, milady. Now isn't that generous?"

It was, but she didn't understand, not at fifteen. Thinking it an attempt at a trick, she focused on the words she somehow knew would save Toby. But . . . was she really saving him? Was there a danger?

"Though dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City." She stepped forward, and he backed away. "For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingd-"

"Stop!" He cut her off, desperation leaking into his voice as he tried one more time to divert what he knew was coming. "Wait, Sarah . . . look. Look at what I'm offering. Your dreams." He held up another crystal, knowing it futile by the determined look on her beautiful features.

She continued, ignoring him. "And my kingdom as great . . ."

"I ask for so little," he interrupted, nearly begging. "Just let me rule you, and you can have everything that you want."

Her memory faltered. "My kingdom as great . . . Blast! I can never remember that line."

Taking advantage of the situation, he offered the crystal again. "Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave." There was a pleading look on his sharp features, but it was lost on her as her mind scrambled for the words.

"My kingdom as great . . . My kingdom as great . . ." Something clicked, and she looked up, realization dawning. "You have no power over me."

Resignation, sadness, despair, defeat, pain, acceptance . . . That one look was something she would remember forever. Up went the crystal as he tossed it, the clock striking thirteen. She had been just in time with her words.

Down, down it fell, popping like a bubble as it touched her waiting, outstretched hand. There was a flurry of cloth, morphing into a great, white barn owl. She was back home . . . and then he was gone.