Author's Note: I know that I probably should be writing Don't You Want Somebody to Love before certain readers unearth my true identity and force me to, but this wanted to be written. It shan't take me long, promise! (On a side note: Never trust the promise of a scarlet woman)

This shouldn't be longer than 12 chapters, for those interested.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to either Harry Potter or Final Fantasy VII and all associated content. I make no profit from this endeavor.

Warning: This will contain homosexual content, swearing, and most likely violence, gore, and upsetting themes. If any of these will even mildly upset you, I don't advise you to read beyond this warning. And you do and get upset anyway, I don't really want to know about it. You should know better. Thank you.



Chapter One


Vivified: to give or bring life to; animate.


Neville's greenhouses really were spectacular. It was clear why they continued to win the award for Most Impressive Greenhouse every year. The most spectacular of the seven buildings was the relatively small Greenhouse for Rare and Experimental Plants. Shaped like an egg, it was divided into "pods" for plants with complimentary temperature and soil needs, also shaped like eggs. The sheer array of bizarre plant life was enough to take Harry's breath away, and he wasn't even much of a plant man.

He had recently been divorced by his heavily pregnant ex-wife Ginny and had thusly been spending quite a bit of time Anywhere but the Cheap Flat I Am Renting Because My Fucking Ex-Wife Took the House.

Neville was by far the least nosy of his friends, and was content to chat with Harry about whatever happened to come up as he went about his business. This was in sharp contrast to the interrogations Hermione subjected him to and the disturbing hallucinogenic fits Luna was now prone to. And of course Ron was out of the question. Since Ginny begun preparations to marry her colleague Raymond Bebberly, they had been unable to meet one another's eyes. It was one thing to pretend that some day Ginny would see all of this as a mistake and take Harry back. It was another to pretend the same when she was clearly intent on replacing Harry with the far more domesticated "Ray".

It wasn't Harry's fault that he wasn't cut out to live in a country cottage with a gaggle of children. He hadn't been raised for that kind of life and didn't know how to function when there wasn't some sort of pressing threat to his life. He didn't blame Ginny for getting fed up. He just wished that she would have divorced him before she asked him to help her conceive. He knew damn well she wanted his sperm to insure a more magically powerful child, and felt a bit like a prize bull.

Things hadn't exactly been all daisies and roses since the War ended. Yes, Ron and Hermione had married and seemed happy enough. Yes, most of his friends from Hogwarts that survived were now married or abroad pursuing successful careers as far from the memories of the War as possible. But there had been no closure for Harry, no sense that all was right with the world. Yes, he felt relieved now that Voldemort was finally dead, but he also felt like a middle-aged man having a crisis.

He didn't know what was missing, but he was positive that this wasn't all that life could be. He didn't want a life of getting up in the morning, taking the same uneventful route to work, seeing the same boring people every day who were somehow happier than he was, and doing some piddling chasing of petty criminals.

Half the time he wished another Dark Lord would rise again just to give him something to do. It would seem that, expert cook and launderer aside, Harry was not meant to be domesticated.

Harry liked Neville's greenhouses. It was like being in the jungle, only with more glass.

It was a Wednesday, early in the evening, and they were chatting about where to get take-out from. Neville's alarm buzzed, letting him know that one of his clients had fire called. He smiled apologetically at Harry and dashed to answer it. Harry watched him go and then, left alone, wandered amongst the pods looking at the plants. He never tired of looking at the plants.

In a tiny pod tucked into a corner he spotted something he must have missed before. Last he remembered the pod had been empty. Now it contained a tiny pot with a tiny plant curling fern-like inside of it.

The pod was partially open, so Harry leaned close to get a closer look at the miniature plant. It was no bigger than his thumb, a pale green in color with blue veins. He thought he saw something move and leaned a little closer, taking off his glasses and squinting.

The plant shot out a concentrated cloud of pollen without warning.

Harry, surprised, inhaled. He began to choke, feeling like he had just swallowed a handful of sand. He reached out to grip the metal railing, missed, and swooned. His head felt full of smoke and his muscles didn't want to respond. He was vacantly aware that Neville had returned and was kneeling beside him, modified cell phone in one hand, yelling at what sounded like a representative of St. Mungo's. he hung up, and asked Harry,

"Harry? Harry, what happened?"

But Harry couldn't speak, and suddenly his body wasn't his body anymore. He was made of ether, made of clouds, and he had no place being solid. He felt himself vaporize mustered a faint smile for Neville before he slipped away.


Neville called the Department of Mysteries.

Harry Potter had activated what they suspected to be the mythical World Flower. Shortly after inhaling its pollen Harry Potter had vanished into thin air, and his magical signature no longer appeared on any of the international sensors. The plant had withered immediately after releasing the pollen at its chosen victim, and the soil and pot containing it had turned to dust.

There was an uproar.


End Chapter One

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