AN: sooooo… I have this posted elsewhere but decided to expand my audience…I have up to chapter 12 written so the first updates will be quick.
Hope you enjoy,
chica
A Different World
Chapter 1
The last coherent thought Harry had was that he should have put a hangover potion in his pocket before the act of walking became too daunting. After that only disjointed thoughts and emotions filtered through his brain. He vaguely noticed Remus curled up on the sofa, his hand loosely curled around the neck of the mostly empty firewhiskey bottle on the floor. The dim lights of the drawing room allowed Harry to make out how tired and weary Remus appeared. The full moon had only been two days ago and that added to the grief of losing Dumbledore, the poor wolf was distraught.
Harry had his own bottle of firewhiskey, though it was only half empty, and was staring into the dying flames in the grate. Tear tracks lined his face, but the side wrenching sobs had ceased an hour ago. He was left hollow and despair seemed to be the only emotion willing to fill the void.
Bloodshot eyes traveled over the room, stopping on a few key features of the room. The tapestry that Sirius' name was blasted off was a allotted a few minutes of staring, Harry's eyes caressing the burned mark that used to show Sirius as a proud member of the Black family. Another long pull to his bottle and his eyes continued their trek around the room.
His eyes passed over Remus, sadness dulling his normally bright green eyes. The wolf was asleep, although it didn't look very restful. He was muttering and moving as if in a nightmare. Harry would have woken him; if he didn't think the poor man needed the sleep any way he could get it.
Continuing his survey of the room he next caught sight of the long table/desk that took up most of the room to his left. Books and papers were scattered out of their normally tidy piles due to Harry's earlier tantrum. He had gotten in an argument with Ron and Hermione. They wanted to research the Horcruxes before they left, and Harry was ready to go, tired of sitting around looking endlessly through books.
One such book was a large black leather bound tome, that Harry was convinced was evil. Hermione had scoffed at this. She had said that books were not 'evil' or 'good' they were just paper and ink. The authors of the books were good or evil based on what they included in their pages.
No matter, Harry was convinced the old book resonated evil vibes. The book was on Necromancy, which would make anyone wary of the spells it contained. They had found the book on a high shelf in the Black Library. Hermione was convinced it would be helpful in their travels, as Riddle had been so obsessed with conquering death and all that went with it.
Harry sighed and lifted his bottle to stare through the remaining amber liquid. Deciding that he didn't want to fall asleep in the armchair he was in, he pulled his feet under himself and stood shakily. Listing to the left, he waited for the room to stop its spinning. Feeling confident enough to take his first step, he hit the side table with his hip, knocking the unused glass to the floor. Swearing under his breath, he squatted down to pick up the broken pieces, cutting his left palm in the process.
Now hissing in pain and annoyance, he decided the glass could stay on the floor. He hauled himself back to his feet, using the table as leverage. Finding that the room spun at a more sedate pace while he was holding onto something solid, Harry slid his hand over the table, bloodying the papers and books underneath. Hand hurting, he childishly wished for his mother to come and make it all better. His muddled brain did not notice when his hand trailed over the black tome's pages the runes etched there, glowed brightly. He did notice when the ground seemed to reach up and hit him, effectively knocking him out.