Author: Kurinoone PM
Harry gets a chance to see what his life would have been like if Wormtail had betrayed them fully that Halloween night. He swaps his universe for the cannon universe. Canon compliant up until the fourth book. Book Three of the Dark Prince Trilogy. H/G AURated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Adventure - Harry P. & James P. - Chapters: 45 - Words: 418,604 - Reviews: 4,766 - Favs: 1,850 - Follows: 1,074 - Updated: 01-19-10 - Published: 12-21-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3959072
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling.
Note: This is the third part in the series. If you haven't read the first two parts, The Darkness Within and A Part of Me, then none of this will make sense. So, please read those first. Thank you.
Hey everyone. Here is the first chapter. I hope you like it. Enjoy!
Damien followed Lily inside Potter Manor, trudging inside tiredly. Both mother and son had their hands covered in dirt and Damien even had some on his face. Lily dropped the soil covered muggle tools into the sink before washing her hands. She dropped into a chair, a contented smile on her face. Her flowerbeds were looking perfect now. No matter what chore she did with the aid of magic, gardening was one that she loved doing the muggle way. She used to help her mum and Petunia plant flowers in their garden when she was young. To her it seemed that gardening was only meant to be done the muggle way.
Damien washed his hands and sat down opposite his mum. Lily smiled at the streak of soil on his forehead. He must have brushed his dark bangs out of his eyes at some point with his soil covered hands. Lily grabbed a dishtowel and leaned forward to wipe the boy's face clean.
The fourteen year old blushed a little as his mum wiped his face clean and rubbed his own hands over his forehead, trying to make sure his face was completely free from soil.
"Have you finished your packing, yet?" Lily asked as she got up from the table and started to tidy up her cluttered kitchen.
"Most of it." Damien replied, stretching his legs before him. He had been sitting on his knees for so long, they had started to cramp.
Lily turned around to look at Damien with a stern look.
"That usually means you haven't packed a thing." she reprimanded lightly.
Damien grinned at her with one of his trademark smiles.
"It won't take me long, mum. I'll pack in time, honest." He reassured her.
"In time? Damy, we're leaving in two days!" Lily said, her emerald green eyes fixed on her younger son.
Damien just shrugged in response. Lily let out a sigh and turned back to her chores.
"Go upstairs and get started please, I'm not making any returned trips to pick up forgotten items." She warned.
"It's okay. If I do forget anything, Harry can bring it to me." Damien idly replied.
Lily stopped in her tracks and had to calm herself down. It still caught her off guard that they were leaving Harry behind and heading to Hogwarts. For the hundredth time she wished Harry had taken up Dumbledore's offer to teach the new Duelling class. That way, he would have been getting ready to leave along with them. Putting her feelings aside she continued her work, acting as normal as she could.
"That's unfair. You can't expect your brother to run to Hogwarts with your things!" she admonished.
"Why not? It's not like he's going to be busy with anything else." Damien replied casually. He looked up at his mum suddenly. "Erm, where is Harry? I haven't seen him since breakfast." He said, sitting up in his chair, looking around the kitchen.
"He's probably in his room." Lily said distractedly, tidying her worktops from clutter.
Damien got up and headed upstairs. He had been so busy helping his mum finish her summer work on her garden that he never noticed his brother's absence. Damien had just knocked once on Harry's door and had walked inside. He saw that the room was empty. Damien had just walked back out and was intending on search the whole manor for Harry, when he heard the faint, yet distinctive, sound of someone apparating. Damien turned back to Harry's bedroom and opened the door to see Harry standing before his bed. He dropped a few unfamiliar items onto his bed before looking over at Damien.
The fourteen year old looked at Harry questioningly. He had his outdoor cloak on and was in the process of clipping it off and throwing it over the back of his chair. Damien quickly walked inside and closed the door behind him.
"Where did you go?" he asked as he eyed the strange items lying on Harry's bed.
Harry didn't answer and sat down next to the small pile. Damien walked over to the bed and stared down at the 'treasure' lying on the bed.
Most were what seemed like ordinary jewellery pieces, a pendant, two rings and a bracelet. Each one was made out of pure gold and had strange coloured stones in them. Damien spotted a strange looking quill, black feather with a shimmering red spot just at the tip. It lay next to a small hexagon shaped box. But it was the object lying next to the small box that caught Damien's attention. It was what looked like a compass, but a very strange one at that. It was made out of solid gold and the face of the compass had a tinted purple glass cover. But instead of the usual markings around the edges of the compass, there were rune markings. There were numerous ones, all surrounding the face of the compass which had at least five different hands.
Damien was staring at the strange device, wondering what it was and what Harry was doing with all this stuff.
"Where did you get all this from?" Damien asked, still staring at the compass.
"It doesn't matter." Harry said distractedly. He was holding the small hexagon shaped box in his hand and was too busy looking at it.
Damien had a sinking feeling erupt inside him as he looked at all the strange items lying before him. He suddenly knew where Harry had found them from.
"Did you go back to Riddle Manor?" he asked, watching Harry closely.
Harry at last looked up and met Damien's gaze.
"What's with all the questions?" he asked, a note of annoyance in his voice.
"Why don't you just answer them?" Damien replied.
Harry didn't say anything and for the next few minutes, just held Damien's questioning gaze. Finally he gave up and with a sigh he answered.
"Yes, I went back."
Damien gestured to the items before him.
"So, all this was his?" he asked.
Harry nodded his head.
"Cool" Damien said, his eyes looking back over at the strange compass. "What exactly are all these things?" he asked gesturing to them.
"Just things Voldemort had in his possession. I don't want them to be lying in Riddle Manor." Harry replied.
"You mean in case someone else picks them up?" Damien asked.
"Yeah, I know the Ministry isn't after Riddle Manor anymore. Diggory put an end to that, but Rodolphus was able to walk into the Manor and pick up my wand. I don't want anyone else going into the Manor and taking this stuff." Harry explained.
Damien nodded his head in understanding. It was obvious that Harry had only picked up the few things that meant something to him and brought them with him. He eyed the compass again.
"What's that, Harry?" he finally asked, pointing to the gold compass.
Harry looked over at it but made no move to pick it up.
"It's a compass." He said simply.
"Yeah, I got that as well, I mean what does it do?"
"What any other compass does." Harry answered, smirking at the annoyed expression Damien now wore.
"Is it dark?" Damien asked.
Harry smiled and got up to his feet.
"Nothing is dark. It has a potential for dark magic, like any other item in this world but the items themselves aren't dark."
Damien felt oddly relieved at that. He eyed the compass again. Harry moved towards his desk, the black feather quill and hexagon shaped box in his hand.
Damien took the chance to pick up the compass. He felt a bizarre comforting feeling overtake him as he held the surprisingly light compass in his hand. He stared at the five hands, all pointing in what would be the north position and examined the strange markings, runes, decorate the outer ring of the compass. Looking closely at it, Damien realised that the compass had two rings that could be moved independently from each other.
Damien didn't even realise what he was doing when he began to move the outer ring clockwise. It clicked five times. Damien saw something flash in the face of the compass, but whatever it was, it was gone in the next instant. Curiously, Damien moved the inner circle, this time three times anti clockwise. Again the purple tinted glass flashed like lightening. Damien was transfixed to the compass and only realised what he had done when a sharp voice pulled him to his senses.
"Damien! What are you doing!?"
Damien looked up, still clutching the glowing compass. Harry was standing before him, his face contorted in anger. He looked down at the compass and saw that the five hands were spinning madly, pointing in all directions.
A wave of panic swept through Damien as he saw the purple glass glow and change colour. A golden shimmer ran through the compass and Damien tried to let go but his fingers wouldn't unclench from it.
"Harry! I can't let go!" he yelled, in fright.
Harry lunged towards him and grabbed a hold of the compass. At once Damien's fingers were freed from the shimmering compass. But before Damien could let go he felt the room spin. He tightened his grip on the compass through reflex and his other hand grabbed Harry's.
The compass emitted a golden ray that hit Harry and Damien and engulfed them in a ball of golden light. Before either of the boys could utter a single word, they disappeared along with the compass.
The houses lined in Privet Drive all stood identical to one another. The summer's heat had forced all the residents to open their windows wide, trying to urge in the non existent breeze. Even at night, the windows were left open. The street lamps flickered, throwing the street into shadowed darkness every few seconds. All the houses had their lights extinguished, indicating that most of the residents of Privet Drive were asleep. All but one.
Harry lay uncomfortably on his bed, staring into nothing. He noted how every time he returned from Hogwarts, his bed at Privet Drive seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable. He figured it was because he was getting used to the soft, comfortable, warm bed in his Gryffindor dorm.
He stared at the blank walls of his room and futilely tried to not think about the nightmare that had awoken him. It wasn't all that unusual, Harry told himself. He had been through a terrifying ordeal. Seeing someone murdered in cold blood before you and then being forced into a ritual that brought back the monster that was named Lord Voldemort, it was enough to give fully grown adults nightmares, and Harry had only just turned fifteen.
With a tired sigh, Harry turned to his side and tried to drift off. But he knew that tonight he would never fall back asleep. Every night had been the same. Every night he awoke after reliving the horrifying events of the Third Task. Cedric's lifeless body hitting the ground, his eyes, open, empty, dead.
Sometimes, in his nightmares, Harry could feel the ropes that had bound him to the gravestone, he could taste the rag that had been forced into his mouth, feel the awful blade sink into his arm and draw blood. His heart would thump madly, painfully in his chest as he saw the figure rise from the cauldron, see it's skeletal body being draped in black robes, his long pale fingers grasping his wand and his face, like a serpent with vivid blood red eyes, staring at him, boring into him with hate so fierce it felt like he would rip Harry's soul out with his gaze.
Harry sat up in his bed, his hands shaking, sweat on his brow. He had to stop doing this, he had to stop reliving Voldemort's rebirth. He would drive himself mad if he kept this up. He tried to distract his mind, to think of something else. His eyes scanned his bare room and he saw the thick leather bound book at the foot of his bed. Harry picked up the book and looked at it. He had been looking at it before he fell asleep.
He opened the photo album and gazed at the moving pictures of his parents. Harry's eyes were fixed on the two smiling people. His heart constricted painfully. He had seen them, well not really them, more like their echo that had been forced from Voldemort's wand during Priori Incantateum.
Harry watched the moving pictures and tried not to get upset. He had always thought that if, if he somehow got a chance to see his parents again, got a chance to speak to them, he would tell them so many things. All the things that he had bottled up inside him since their death would come pouring out. But when the time came, when he saw the two forms standing on either side of him, he couldn't say anything. The situation was such that the he didn't have the time or even the right frame of mind to say anything to them. He was duelling Lord Voldemort at that moment and was moments away from death. He hadn't been able to say anything to his parents, not a single word.
Harry closed the album and placed it on his bedside table. Voldemort had taken everything away from him. He had killed his parents and was the reason why Harry had such a miserable childhood. He had thought that going to Hogwarts was the best thing that happened to him but now that Voldemort was back, what did that mean for the wizarding school? What would that mean for the wizarding world?
Harry had been listening to the news and reading the muggle newspaper, after his uncle was finished, and kept his subscription to Daily Prophet, in the hopes of knowing what Voldemort was up to. So far, nothing had happened. The Minister was still claiming that everything was fine and 'He-who-must-not-be-named' was not back. It made Harry's insides burn with anger. How stupid could Fudge be?
Harry was suddenly pulled out of his musings by a loud noise. It sounded like something crashing downstairs. Harry dived for his wand, which was tucked under his pillow. The rest of his things were kept in the cupboard under the stairs, but Harry had taken out his wand. Now that Voldemort was back, Harry wasn't going to risk anything.
With a pounding heart, Harry strained his ears to pick up any sound. He was surprised that the loud noise hadn't woken up the three Dursleys. Then again, with the two Dursley men snoring as loud as they did, it was no surprise. Harry heard faint muttering and his heart leapt in his chest. There was someone in the house. Actually, from the sound of it, there was more than one person downstairs. Harry had no doubt that it was Death Eaters. It was only natural to assume that. Voldemort was back and what would be the first thing he would want to do. Kill Harry.
Harry got up and walked steadily to the door. He opened it as quietly as he could and walked out. He considered his options. He could either run for it or stay and fight. He could run out the front door and call down the Knight bus and head to Ron's. He didn't really know how to fight Death Eaters. His duel with Voldemort was nothing short of good luck on his part. His skin prickled with fear. What if Voldemort was downstairs? Maybe he had come to finish off the duel they had four weeks ago. Harry told himself that Voldemort couldn't come here. His scar wasn't hurting enough to warrant Voldemort's presence.
Harry stood at the top of the stairs. He couldn't run. He wouldn't run from Voldemort. And what about the Dursleys? Granted they never cared for him but he couldn't leave them in the midst of Death Eaters and possibly Voldemort. They would be killed.
Gathering every nerve in his body, Harry headed down the steps, taking care to avoid the squeaky one. His wand was held before him. His mind was going through all the Defence he had learnt so far. Hermione's shrill voice had filled his head as she had helped his with his studies. He shook his head to clear it and walked quietly through the darkened house. He heard the muttering clearly now and was taken aback at the sound. It didn't sound like Death Eaters, the voices were much younger. Harry crept closer to the kitchen, as that was where the sound was coming from.
"…I didn't know it was going to portkey us! You said it wasn't dark!" a voice was saying.
"Why did you touch it in the first place?! What were you doing playing around with it!?" a second voice asked, irritably.
Harry felt the hairs on the back on his neck stand. This voice was a lot older, but still not old enough to be an adult. There was something about this voice that made Harry feel strange. It was very familiar. So familiar that it was downright scary.
"Well, I'm sorry! You didn't say not to touch anything!" the first voice, the younger one, said. Harry could imagine a pout with the statement.
"Honestly, Damy! You still have to be told?" the second voice asked.
"Where are we anyway?" the first voice asked.
Harry was confused. These night time visitors didn't know where they were? And didn't they mention something about a portkey? Harry pressed himself as close to the door as he dared, in a bid to hear them better.
"I don't know." the second voice answered quietly.
"Eww, look how clean it is!" the first voice said.
Harry almost laughed at that. Aunt Petunia did get carried away with her cleaning.
"No, seriously, if I didn't know any better, I would say we were in Aunt Petunia's kitchen." The first voice said.
Harry froze, his heart beating painfully fast. Aunt Petunia? How did they know Aunt Petunia? And why were these strangers calling her Aunt Petunia?!
"Damy, keep quiet." Came the older one's voice.
"Um, I think we might actually be in Aunt Petunia's house." The first voice said, a hint of fear in his voice.
"Damien, shut up!" the other one hissed.
"Why?" Damien asked, a lot quieter.
That was all the warning Harry got before he was hit in the face with the door being violently flung open. Harry was thrown to the ground by the impact. His face burned with pain as the door had slammed into his nose. His eyes watered with pain. He still had a fierce grip on his wand and he had it pointed at the attacker in a matter of seconds. He was still sprawled on the ground but that didn't matter. What was important was to disarm the attacker.
The disarming spell died in Harry's throat when he saw who it was he was pointing his wand at. Identical emerald green eyes stared at each other. Harry blinked his blurry eyes clear to see…himself standing before him. Only he wasn't completely identical. For one thing he was older than fifteen. He wasn't wearing glasses and his physique was very different to his own. He looked like an older, taller, healthier version of himself.
Harry was still sitting on the ground, staring in mixed horror and curiosity. From behind the older Harry, a young boy peered at him. He had dark hair and hazel eyes. His mouth dropped in surprise at seeing Harry. His eyes went from one Harry to the other.
"What the hell!?" he said in shock.
Both Harrys' couldn't help agree with that statement.
Please consider this as your Christmas present from me. I hope you liked it. Please tell me what you think by reviewing. Cheers!
Merry Christmas Everyone!!