DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and Kyo Kara Maoh! to Tomo Takabayashi. Lost Souls makes no claims of ownership over either and solemnly asks not to be sued, because this is a nonprofit text with the sole purpose of amusing one's self without monetary gain and is in no way meant to undermine the original creators' authority. Title from http:[doubleslash]www[dot]yuni[dot]come/library/latin[dot]html.

Aut viam inveniam aut faciam: I will either find a way or make one.

A Harry Potter/Kyo Kara Maoh! Crossover by The Lost Souls of Avalon

In the aftermath of the attack on Godric's Hollow, baby Harry is sent to Shin Makoku by Earth's Maoh. There, he becomes the adopted fourth son of Cecilie von Spitzweg. Fourteen years later, when the new Maoh finally appears, he's ready to take on the task of protecting him with his unusual powers and unique talents, even if it ousts him as the freak he knows he is. But Harry has his hands full, because not only does he have to risk life and limb for the Maoh, but Voldemort is on the prowl for the one who defeated him with the intent to kill.

Rated: Teen (for now)

Warnings: Cursing, slash, sexual content (future), parallel Earths/realities, abuse of trans-dimensional travel, loop holes, powerful!Harry, protective!Wolfram, AUish

Pairings: Yuri x Harry, Wolfram x Alford (the Hero), Conrad x Yosak, Gwendal x Günter, Shinou x Great Sage/Murata, Gisela x Dorcas, Cecilie x Anissina, past Adelbert x Julia

Spoilers: KKM Seasons 1–3

Author's note: Harry's Earth and Yuri's Earth are two separate dimensions, whereas the trip from Harry's Earth to Shin Makoku is one-way and Yuri's is two-way.

Chapter Two

It had been some time since Cecilie last held such a small child, but motherhood was not something one forgot so easily. She stroked the curls, black as a starless night, such a rarity that she could hardly take her eyes off the little tyke, who was now dozing lightly. She found herself unable to put him down, even as Gisela looked him over. Initially, the only injuries were a few scraps, some minor bruising, the worst a gash on his forehead that bled sluggishly. The first two obediently mended under Gisela's healing majutsu, but the third stayed stubbornly open.

Mopping the blood gently with a moist rag, the blonde and busty Maoh frowned down at the oddly shaped wound. The edges were enflamed and curled outward, but smooth, as if whatever had caused it was merely slicing through warm butter. It gave her a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach and quickly tried to put her mind at ease by inquiring about it to the medic.

Gisela pursed her lips together in consternation, glaring at the lightning bolt cut as if doing so would compel it to heal under her glowing hand. She tried to force more maryoku into her attempt, but it merely slid off the wound like water. Retracting her hand in defeat, she gave up on the majutsu and began to tend to it the old-fashioned way with cleaning solution, ointment, and a bandage. As she worked in a diligent manner, she tried her best to explain the odd resistance to her healing.

"I don't sense any majutsu or houjutsu from it, but it's not a normal wound either," the medic said, a finger hovering above the now bandaged wound. "I can't help but feel––" She hesitated for a moment, brows creasing her forehead in concentration. She released a gusty sigh and shook herself. "I can't help but feel an… aura of maliciousness around it. However it was dealt, it was done so with a lot of hate and rage. By someone who wanted this child dead." Gisela scowled a bit at that realization, wondering just what kind of disgusting person would try to kill an innocent babe.

Cecilie's thoughts ran along those same lines and she tightened her hold slightly on the child in her arms. His face was smooth and blissfully ignorant in his sleep and the Maoh gently brushed the knuckles of one hand across a feather-soft cheek, warm with life. "Anything else, Gisela?"

"He's human."

Cecilie gasped in shock and heard her eldest and youngest sons stir in agitation at the discovery.

"Mother!" Wolfram exclaimed, looking conflicted between stepping forward to take the potential danger from her and backing away in disgust. "We must do something with it and fast! It can't stay in Blood Pledge Castle! What if it's a distraction, there could be an infiltration plot––"

"Don't be ridiculous, Wolf," Celi chided her youngest, recovering quickly. The young one in her arms shifted a bit restlessly, as if hearing the accusations. She shushed him and began rocking back and forth, remembering how doing so had calmed Wolfram when he was an infant. The gentle movement seemed to have a similar effect and the raven-haired child drifted back off. "Now keep your voices down, or you'll wake him."

"Mother," Wolfram protested. "You can't be thinking of keeping it, this–this human, this thing––"

Gwendal studied his mother with a sharp eye, recognizing the stubborn set of her jaw and the softness of her eyes, which had hardly left the infant in her arms ever since she'd picked him up from within the treasure room. He placed a heavy, restraining hand on Wolfram's shoulder, the reprimanding glare of a commanding officer making the younger fall quiet almost instantly. "I believe the decision has already been made."

"What of his family?" Gisela asked in a soothing voice, not wanting to offend Cecilie. "Surely they would want him back."

Celi shook her head sternly. "No. Like you said, whoever hurt this child was full of hate and anger. The chances of his family being alive are slim to none, if he was with them like any young child should be. If not, then they aren't worthy of the joy of parenthood.

"I will care for him."

Wolfram looked as if he were about to protest again, but the tender gaze his mother was directing at the infant in her arms made him swallow any words he wanted to say. It was no secret that Celi adored children even more than she adored good-looking men. Her mind had been made up and there was no changing it.

Gisela smiled faintly, the tilt of her lips indicating a kind of satisfaction with the Maoh's choice. "I will have Wolfram's old crib brought to your quarters and inform the kitchen staff of his dietary needs."

"Thank you, Gisela," she said, perhaps a little too loud because sleepy eyes began to blink up at her. She caught her first glimpse of emerald green eyes and breathed in sharply in surprise. They were not black like a soukoku, like his hair would indicate, and Celi realized almost instantly how easy it would be to pass the young one off as a biological son. Green eyes just a shade darker than her own blinked innocently up at her and Celi found herself falling in love with the newest addition to her family.

Four years later.

Wolfram tried to stifle his irritation at the child trailing behind him like a lost puppy, wishing his mother hadn't decreed he needed to bond with his little brother by watching him for the day, especially when he had much more important things to do, like training the new militia recruits. Although the war with the humans had ebbed in the past few years, losing their vigilance in the face of mortal prejudice and hatred was a strategic mistake. Even though his mother's years as the Maoh were drawing to an end, that didn't mean she could lose her attentiveness to the outside world.

Fortunately, she didn't specify in what way he was to bond with the little raven-haired human (yuck), so it was perfectly acceptable to sit him on the ground and let him watch as he drilled the recruits. Leonhard* would either deal with it or entertain himself in some other way, preferably outside of Wolfram's line of sight. Unless he really wanted to watch Wolfram teach these bumbling idiots how to properly hold a sword, then he could sit by himself and keep quiet.

[A/N: Leonhard - German form of Leonard, which means "brave lion." Fitting for our beloved Gryffindor. Nicknamed Lion Heart, a play on the German pronunciation.]

As Wolfram went about training, green eyes tracked his movement, uncomprehending the coldness from the blonde and the accompanying emptiness he felt in his chest because of it. He stood like an out of place statue by a row of hedges, watching as his big brother parried and sparred with the newest soldiers, the wood practice swords thumping dully together as strikes were exchanged. Maybe if Leon could one day wield a sword like these men, Wolfram wouldn't seem so opposed to his presence.

Content to watch, Leon took what little comfort from the relative proximity to his brother he could get. It was then that a glinting out of the corner of his eyes pulled his attention from the courtyard to the reflective surface of genuine, metal swords. They were arranged neatly on a rack, where the soldiers had traded the real thing in for the wooden ones. Curiosity overriding common sense, Leon plodded over to the display, leaning forward to stare at his reflection in the shiny blades, all pale flesh and dark hair. If Leon could learn to use one, Wolfram would notice him, right? Right? So what better time then the present, then now?

He couldn't see a wooden sword left over, so he reached for the leather-wrapped hilt of a real sword, having to stand on his tiptoes and strain before his fingers brushed the cool grip. Unable to get a hold, he went for the guard instead and began to delicate process of wiggling it free, eyes screwed in concentration and tongue sticking out from between his teeth. He nearly had it dislodged when suddenly he was feet away and in the restraining (and somewhat punishing) grip of his furious brother.

"What––do––you––think––you're––doing?" The inquiry was barked into his ear and he was dropped to the ground onto his backside to stare owlishly up at furious green eyes. The unexpected impact of bottom to ground brought tears to his own green eyes, but he blinked them away as confusion overcame any discomfort his felt.

Five minutes later after being thoroughly berated and even spanked in front of the entire courtyard, Leon scrambled away from Wolfram and returned eye contact with righteous anger of his own. All confusion was washed away by embarrassment and ire and he may or may not have declared eternal hatred for his brother before storming away. He could hear the ruckus of Wolfram returning to training the recruits with extra viciousness. He just didn't know that the recruits' poor performance after that was due to the violent blue shade that had replaced Wolfram's normal fair hair without him knowing.

Leon was seven and sitting on the windowsill as Anissina presented the helmet-shaped contraption with its blinking lights to his mother and Gwendal. For the umpteenth time that day, he had to reach up and adjust the hair that fell into his face. It was getting long and even more unmanageable than usual, regular trimming seeming to do nothing to curb its wild tendencies.

Gwendal was appropriately wary of the benign-looking invention, eyebrow twitching when Anissina went on to introduce her newest product, Bed Head Be Gone-kun, and describe how it would cure Leon's chronic case of tangles and gravity-defiance. He knew something would go wrong and that Leon would pay the consequences, but Cecilie was perhaps just as eccentric as her off-and-on-again lover and supportive of her homicidal creations. Now all he could do was be there for the fall out and hope the young boy didn't lose his head during Anissina's insane pursuits.

Leon barely managed to conceal a flinch as the device was placed on his head. Eyes shuttered with fear, unseen by everyone but Gwendal, who tried to smile reassuringly, but only managed a small grimace. They both flinched simultaneously as Bed Head Be Gone-kun began to whir and buzz and hum; Leon went stiff as a rod and strove to remain as still as he could, hoping it would somehow convince the strange invention to keep his scalp firmly attached. Leon knew well what Anissina's inventions could do.

Barely thirty seconds passed before the helmet began to smoke. A circuit popped and Leon gave a full-body flinch that convinced the aspiring inventor to remove her malfunctioning creation. Cecilie gasped in horror as the top of Leon's head was revealed; it was intact, fortunately, but the hair… well, what was left of it, a whole eighth of an inch, replaced his normal bushy mane and Gwendal went to find some tissues as the boy slowly realized what had happened.

Shaking hands ascended to touch the prickly bristles, so short that his pale scalp was visible. A bottom lip trembled and the seven year old gave the two women that most betrayed look a child could manage. When Gwendal returned, he was swift to scoop up the boy and whisk him away before the waterworks began in earnest. He proceeded to teach him how to knit a cap to hide his lack of hair. Only a day later did he realize it was unnecessary.

Leon's black locks were back in abundance by the time he woke for breakfast.

Any ten year old would be hard pressed to stay awake during one of Günter's history lessons. Leon found himself nodding off at a table in the massive library. Over a dozen books laid scattered across the top, all about the early governing body of Shin Makoku and how it was founded. But as of late, Leon found it painful to read for any length of time and had to pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve the tension. Everything was blurry to some extent or another and the headaches only got worse the longer he tried to focus his vision.

Günter fumbled about for a text that he evidently forgot back in his quarters. At once Leon saw the opportunity for what it was, feeling suffocated enough to resort to drastic measures. As his tutor went to retrieve the missing book, the raven-haired boy waited until the count of ten, then scrambled from his chair and made a bolt for the door. Unfortunately, Günter's quarters were quite close to the library (big surprise there), so he had to duck behind a shelf before he could reach his freedom.

As Günter called for him with confusion, Leon bided his time until the naïve tutor was towards the back and facing away. With no better chance coming, he broke cover and sprinted for the doors. His rapid footsteps alerted the pale-haired Mazoku to his intentions and before anyone could say Shinou, the two were in a fast-paced race through the castle, Leon running for his freedom while Günter wailed about the importance of history and politics that all Mazoku should know––apparently he'd forgotten Leon wasn't Mazoku.

No one knew how the raven-haired boy climbed onto the coned-shaped roof of one of the old towers, but it took a lot of coaxing to get him back down again.

Next on Aut viam inveniam aut faciam

Chapter 3: Leon's abilities become more and more evident as he gets older and more powerful. He feels shunned by those in his age group and disconnected from those in the Castle. After a disastrous accident with his magic, it is determined he will go to the Shinou Temple and receive the help he needs.

Chapter 4: The events of episode one take place.