Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the rest of the books, I only use the characters from the books. Whatever I write here is solely mine.
Note: Voldemort still lives in this story, however, he is no raging lunatic. He is a politician, and he will play quite a big role in this story.
Pairings: I am unsure about pairings, but there will be some RL/SS, so be prepared for that. As for Harry, well, he will end up with a guy if anything, maybe Riddle, but it depends on where the story takes me.
Also! English is not my native language, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes, and also for the fact that I by no means am good at British English. Do bear with me!
Harry had had a great night. It was only around 8pm, but he was already absolutely hammered. He had been drinking tequila, vodka and beer without a stop. He was trying desperately to drink away the past few days, where he had gotten nothing but beatings for being out of line and snapping back at uncle Vernon. He knew it was his own fault, but he could not hold back his angry retorts whenever Vernon started accusing him of something stupid around the house.
So, he had worn his favorite ripped jeans, a Bring Me The Horizon band tee so that his tattoos were visible, see-through plugs and a pair of converse. He felt great and the alcohol was only getting him higher. But not higher than the joint he was sharing with his best mate, Damien, in the bathroom. They'd smoke and then snog a little, smoke, snog, smoke, snog.
Really, the night could not get any better, especially if he ended up in bed with Damien again. They were nothing but close friends, but they enjoyed flirting and exploring with each other.
However, since everything seemed so great, Harry should have known something would happen to change it all. That was his luck, or lack thereof. He did not think that the pull he could feel in his body was anything of concern though, he merely thought the joint was taking him new places.
That was proven to be untrue, as he, moments after the feeling appeared in his stomach, felt as if he was sucked through a way too small tube until he was discarded with a loud 'thump' on a hard and cold floor. A groan escaped his lips, and his drunken mind was trying very hard to keep up with what was happening.
"Bloody hell," Harry said with a raspy voice, from drinking the hard liquor and smoking. He rolled from his stomach onto his back, and realized he was pretty much surrounded by strangers making him feel quite claustrophobic.
"As elegant and eloquent as one would expect from the spawn of a Marauder," a man scoffed, his tone dry but Harry noticed a small smile threatening to overtake his lips. His comment seemed to make everybody snap out of their stupor, as everybody but a woman and a man took a step back.
The woman held a hand down to Harry, but Harry merely stared, not quite convinced yet that this was not an illusion created by his drunken and high mind. He expected any moment to blink and be back in the bathroom of Damien's house, with a joint in his hands and lips on his own.
Ignoring the hand completely, he clumsily got up on his own, and swayed when the alcohol seemed to hit him all over again.
"Are you drunk?" a man, who had taken a step back said, after sniffing the air. He looked rather ragged, yet there was something about him that made him seem rather feral and dangerous. The rest seemed to really look at him, and laughter soon followed from some of them.
"Of course your child would be the one to get into drinking," a blonde-haired, primp and proper man said, looking at a man Harry thought looked uncannily like himself, and that was when the words the blonde had said sunk in.
"And of course also be the one to look absolutely unbecoming of his heritage," a woman with half blonde and half black hair added. Everybody seemed to be smiling or snickering, as Harry stood completely lost and way too drunk to really gather his mind.
Him, and the man he looked like a copy of along with an auburn-haired woman were the only ones who seemed to be completely still.
Your child? Harry thought. Did those words really mean what he thought they did?
"Harry? Are you okay?" the woman asked, taking a step towards him. As per instinct, Harry took a step backwards, keeping his distance. Silence fell over the room like an oppressive blanket.
How had he even ended up here? Oh, bloody hell, had he done some of his freakishness again? Uncle Vernon would not be happy when he finally got back home again.
"How do you know me? How did I even get here? I swear to God I did not do some fucked up shit again, I can usually control that," Harry said, or more like mumbled, but everybody heard him.
"You… you don't know who we are?" the woman asked, pointing to herself and his lookalike. Well, Harry did not know per say, but judging from their conversation, he could only assume that they were in fact his parents.
"Judging from the conversation and the fact I look way too much like him for it to be a coincidence, I'd say you're my parents," Harry said, waving his hand at his lookalike.
"We are," the woman said, with a smile. She was obviously expecting some reaction, heck, Harry was pretty sure everybody in the room was expecting him to do something ridiculous like tearing up or throw himself into their arms.
Harry was also pretty sure he would have done that when he was 11 and his aunt and uncle were at their worst with their regard to him. But Christ, he would probably have thrown himself at anybody saying they would get him away from there back then.
Fact was, however, that Harry was no longer a little pushover of a child, and he knew there was reason behind every action. If Harry burned the food he made Vernon would burn his hand, to make sure he learned not to burn it. If he broke a glass or a plate, he would break a finger on Harry.
So really, there was reason behind every punishment he had ever received. The same went for kindness. Even from people he thought would want nothing in return.
Even from people who were his parents. Harry narrowed his eyes at them, and could not help but wonder. What exactly did they want? Why had they… summoned him here?
His silence and unwavering expression seemed to wipe away the smile from his mother's face, as she unsurely grabbed the edge of her… wait, what was she wearing? It was then Harry seemed to notice that where he was, was not exactly a normal place.
The room he was in reminded him of the paintings they had seen in history class from the renaissance. Everything looked old and expensive, and that was also when Harry really realized what they all were wearing. It looked medieval, what with the women wearing long dresses, with puffed sleeves and lace everywhere. The men were wearing something which looked almost like a suit, yet the blazer they should be wearing, was something more like a cape of some sort.
All in all, it confused Harry very much. Were they in a cult? Cut off from the rest of the world? Where the hell was he?
It was also then that the weed he'd been smoking really seemed to hit him, and he wobbled a bit before he could stand straight again. And then Harry did the last thing he had expected, and probably also the last thing the people around him expected.
He laughed.
"Prongs, I think your son broke," a man stage whispered to Harry's father, which only made Harry laugh even more.
"Bloody hell, where am I even?" Harry asked, gasping for air, as his laughter died down, still rather fascinated by how everything looked like it was from another era.
"Right now, you are in our manor, the Malfoy manor, which is placed in Wiltshire," the man with the long blonde hair said, raising an eyebrow as if daring Harry to try and insult the place.
"Wait, Wiltshire? How do I get home from here? Oh Christ, Damien must be so confused, I just popped away out of thin air," Harry mumbled to himself, then suddenly remembering he also had not told Petunia about leaving for the night. If he came home too late, she would know he had been drinking and he would have to do double the number of chores.
This revelation made Harry gasp, and mumble her name.
"Tuney? Did she not get our letter? Surely, she must know that you will be gone for the evening, we sent an Owl to her. She did not answer, but she never was much for magic and our way of doing things," Harry's mother said, making Harry's eyes widen.
Magic? Our way of doing things? Did they mean to tell him that the freakishness Petunia and Vernon detested so much about him was, in fact, magic?
"She did not tell you," Harry's mother gasped, upon seeing his confused and bewildered expression. This made the other people in the room tense, and Harry was pretty sure he heard the man who had smelled the alcohol on him growl lowly.
"I told you, you should not have left him in her care. She was always jealous, and the whale of a man she has is a despicable muggle," the man who was the first to say anything upon his arrival sneered, anger flashing in his eyes.
"I know, Sev. I just thought... we are family, you know? Oh, Harry, I am so sorry. You should have known about our world, you must be so confused," his mother said, and Harry could tell she was sincere.
Yet Harry was still stuck on the fact that they were telling him magic was real. It could not be real, that was what he had heard his whole life.
"You're a freak, you are, doing your freaky things. There is no such thing as magic, you hear, boy? This is all unnatural, you're a freak by nature. This is the reason why your parents left you behind; they couldn't care for the monster they created, and that is the truth, even if Petunia will have you believe something different," Vernon roared.
Harry was lying on the ground, and Vernon had his foot on Harry's hand, slowly letting his weight descent upon it, making Harry bite his lip not to cry out in pain.
"Say it, Freak! Repeat after me, magic is not real."
Harry gasped, as he both heard and felt bones crack in his hand. It was all his fault, all of it. He should not have used his freakishness to stop the plate from falling to the ground.
"Say it!"
"Magic is not real," Harry choked out, grabbing his hand which had been under his uncle's foot so long ago.
"It is, Harry, no matter what Petunia said, I know she probably gave you vague excuses about the things you could do. She does not wield magic herself, and I fear it made her quite bitter," his mother said, once again taking a step towards him.
Harry would have none of it. No. This was not happening. He needed to get back to Damien, make sure he knew he was fine. Smoke some more weed, talk Damien into a shag.
He took a quick step backwards, not realizing that a blonde guy around his age was standing almost right behind him, making Harry jump to the side.
Harry shook his head, trying to calm down, but he knew he needed to get out of there. Maybe… Petunia and Vernon would not know he had used his freakishness, who was there to tell them?
"It's unnatural," Harry ground out, and with those words, he wished himself back into Damien's bathroom, and back he came. He landed in the bathtub, and was about to fall, if it was not for Damien grabbing him.
"Bloody hell, mate, where did you go?" Damien said, worried. Harry merely shook his head, not ready to talk about it just yet, he was still trying to process it.
He was so happy he had taken the initiative to show Damien his freakishness those years ago when they first met, else he would have had nowhere to go. He could not face Petunia or Vernon right now, not with this new information making his head swim.
"Come, you look like you need something more to drink, and then we'll roll a new joint, aye?" Damien asked, though he did not give Harry time to answer. He merely grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the bathroom.
The party was still ongoing, and people seemed to have gotten much more drunk since Harry disappeared. People were grinding against each other left and right, some were playing beer pong, and Harry became oddly aware that, to other people, they had only been on the toilet.
They did not know his entire world had just been turned upside down, and he wished he could join them in theirs.
"Aight, snap out of it, you need to forget whatever the hell happened, so… how does shots sound?" Damien said, with his signature grin. Harry found himself smiling and nodding.
Oh, how he needed to forget, even if it was just temporarily.