Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Notes: This story does starts off where book five ended. No Horcrux's here.
Also, unlike all my previous other stories, I have actually finished this one, so you don't have to worry about me abandoning it : )
I'll post a chapter a week, for a total of 12 chapters, and 23,000-ish words. Hope you enjoy.
Chapter One- Awake somewhere else
Harry blinked his eyes open, staring into the haze of colors. He frowned; his room was unnaturally colourful today. He reached for his glasses and found a pillow, soft as fleece. His frown deepened as he scrambled into a sitting position, searching for an end table with his hands.
Ah, on the left. He put the metal wired rims on his face, and looked around. Definitely not the cupboard. Or Dudley's second bedroom… Vivid posters of the Westgate Winged horses, this year's winning Quidditch team, stared down at him from all corners of the room, clothes laid scattered on the floor in piles, and a desk sat in the corner covered in books and trinkets that floated over it.
He stared wide-eyed around the room, unsure of where he was. Last he remembered, he was at home. The summer before 6th year was midway. He had went to sleep, knowing that the Dursley's would be dropping him off to wait for the Express to in about two months.
"Harry, Nathan! Breakfast is ready!" yelled a feminine voice, startling Harry. He sat there staring at the door to the room, wondering if he should venture out. Surely the Nathan guy was someone who rescued him; maybe Harry had suffered from head trauma and forgot the entire incident? 'Must be Voldemort', thought Harry darkly, shifting slowly to the end of the bed.
The door to the room slammed open, and a dark haired boy's head peeked in and frowned at him, muttering "Hurry up", before slamming the door closed again. The boy looked familiar but Harry couldn't place him. Harry sighed, wondering how he managed to piss off the stranger, Nathan as he made his way out of the room.
Closing the bedroom door behind him, Harry searched around the hallway to see which way to go. A painting, seemingly a replica of the pear painting at Hogwarts which guarded the kitchens, faced him. Cold, light coloured hardwood shocked his feet, making him shiver. He followed the narrow hallway to the stairway and made his way down the cold steps.
Hitting the bottom, he looked around the home he was in, trying to determine where the voice of the woman came from. He saw a man walking out of a room towards him. Harry stopped still, his mouth dropping open. The man looked exactly like… like what he would have imagined his dad looked like. Black messy hair, hazel eyes, a tall stocky frame. But the man was also more serious looking then Harry would have imagined; no glasses on his face, stress lines around his eyes, clean cut robes casually falling off his shoulders. Worry shone from him as he stared back at Harry.
This moved Harry out of his trance, and he promptly shut his mouth.
"Alright there, Harry?" the man asked with a deep voice, stepping towards Harry as he looked intently into his eyes.
"Yeah, just… Hungry" replied Harry, snapping his gaze away from the man to look down at the floor.
"Well, let's make our way to the kitchen then" the man replied after a minute, putting an arm around Harry's shoulder to lead him. Harry could smell the man, his scent mixed with a musky cologne that suited him. He shook his head, thinking bitterly about how the people who rescued him had to remind him about his parents. He shouldn't even care, really. He didn't know his parents. He should be mourning Sirius, not strangers he only knew for 15 months of his childhood.
He straightened himself, allowing the man's arm to fall away as they entered the yellow kitchen. He kept himself from wrinkling his nose up at the bright, horrid color. He was startled out of his thoughts once he took in the appearance of the woman; the very likeness he imagined of his dead mother. Long light red hair that cascaded down her back in waves, vibrant green eyes, pale skin. She looked older then he imagined though, not as frail looking, a bit plumpy, reminding him a little of Mrs. Weasley. She too, had a few stress wrinkles around her eyes, but she smiled at him with kindness, gesturing towards the empty plates on the table.
"What'll it be this morning, Harry?" she asked as he sat down at the table, eyes wide in disbelief. She leaned the skillet towards his plate while looking at him expectantly. He only stared back at her dazed.
"Just give him a bit of everything", said the man who looked like his father. Harry's attention went over to him, staring at hazel eyes, then back at the woman, green emerald eyes. And back again. He noticed the man frown at him worriedly as the woman put scrambled eggs, toast and bacon on a plate in front of him.
"So, since you have the day off today, I thought we should have a family outing, just the four of us", said the green eyed lady as she started cleaning the kitchen. Her magic was spiralling dishes towards the sink where water and soap mixed to clean the revolving dishes hovering mid-air.
Harry thought he should have been fascinated at the acts of magic. Mrs. Weasley's skills at cleaning spells were more simplistic; a hovering spell bringing dishes to the sink, another spell to wash them, and then another to dry. This woman though, the spell looked intense, wild, and it was only a cleaning charm. However, Harry was still preoccupied with trying to figure out where he was.
A kick to his shins brought his attention back to the table. He blushed, pursed his lips together, and stared down at his plate. He noticed the cutlery for the first time so he picked up the fork and started eating.
He missed the eye-rolling of the boy sitting across from him and the watchful eyes of the man sitting beside him. Harry just concentrated on eating, leaving his mind's confusing thoughts away for the moment.
He listened half-heartedly to the conversation the adults had. He looked up at the boy sitting across from him. The boy frowned at Harry and pretended to ignore him- after jabbing him in the shins again. After jerking back from the kick, Harry blinked and then studied the boy in front of him intently. He had the same hair as Harry, lighter skin like the woman, but hazel eyes. And no glasses. He was also stockier but healthier looking then Harry. Harry figured that his own scrawny-ness was due to malnutrition rather then genetics, if the boy was anything to go by. Assuming he was Harry's brother. And that he dropped into another universe. Harry snorted to himself.
He stared down at his hands, noticing now scrawny they were, especially when compared to the boy across from him. Even his finger nails were brittle, cracked and overly discoloured.
Silence filled the kitchen. Harry looked up and noticed the three people staring at him- the man with concern, the woman with frustration and the boy in anger. Harry was suddenly overtaken with nerves, knowing that something wasn't right. And they knew it, staring at him like that.
Immediately, Harry felt violently ill. He jumped up from his seat, which threw the chair across the floor, running up the stairs looking for a bathroom. After opening a few doors and not finding one, he went to the room he slept in, hoping there was an ensuite. He was wrong. He got sick all over the hardwood floor.
Harry shakily got up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He jumped back as the bedroom door opened and the woman entered. She looked down at him with concern as her wand twisted in the air making the mess disappear. He looked at her oddly, having heard no sound or incantation as she cleaned him up. She taped her wand to his mouth, cleaning it of the foul aftertaste of sick.
"I didn't realize you were sick, my poor baby" she said softly, helping him off the ground and into bed. The door opened again and the boy stuck his head in. He handed over two glass vials to the woman. The boy looked at Harry with mistrust mingled with worry before leaving again.
"Here, drink these" the woman said, handing him the two vials, orange and red. He uncorked the red one and went to chug it when she interrupted him by taking it back.
"The orange on first, Harry. You should know this" she said disapprovingly as she opened the correct vial for him and handed it over.
He looked at her for a moment than drank the potion quickly. Grimacing, Harry recognized the taste of the potion as one that he had taken in the infirmary at Hogwarts for stomach upset. He glanced at the red one, now recognizing it as a sleep-inducing potion. 'why not' he thought bitterly, drinking that one swiftly at well, trying to ignore the painful feeling growing in his chest from the narrowed look the woman was giving him.
He fell asleep, wondering what kind of dream his day had been as this reality was definitely not his.
So, how'd you like it.