Disclaimer: All recognized characters and elements goes to J.K Rowling.
Hey guys! I just couldn't resist. This idea has been harassing me for the past few months now. I just had to get it off my chest or else I'll like die.
So if you don't want spoilers (but not in detail) for The Rise of Potter-Black DO NOT read this. If you don't mind... well read on!
This is basically a story about Canon Harry entering The Rise universe. A dimension travelling thing. Yup, another cliche.
"Kill the spare."
A flash of deadly green light.
"No. NO! Cedric!"
Harry woke up with a gasp, body shaking and damp with sweat. He desperately shook his head, trying to get rid of the same nightmare -no memory- that had been haunting him for the past month and a half.
With a heavy sigh, Harry carelessly flopped back onto his back. The bed was so comfy…
Wait...
The bed wasn't supposed to be so comfy. What in Merlin's name…?
Harry quickly shuffled through the events that had transpired yesterday, on his fifteenth birthday.
He was introduced to the group led by Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix. Brought to their creepy headquarters, Sirius' house apparently, and had met Hermione and the Weasleys there.
Harry grimaced a little at the thought of his friends. A part of him understood why they hadn't been in contact with him but… still, the silence had hurt.
Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Sure, the bed he had fallen asleep on had been much more comfortable than the one the Dursleys provided… but this wasn't right.
Harry glanced around his surroundings. Yes, he was on a bed, a very large one, but the elegant and expensive looking drapes that were hanging around the bed prevented Harry from seeing anything else.
Merlin. What do I do? Harry thought, his heartbeat pounding.
He didn't know where he was. Did he get kidnapped? Although that was unlikely since he had been at the Order's headquarters.
A wand.
He needed a wand.
Desperately praying in his mind to whatever deity that was up there, Harry flipped the black silk pillow that he had been using over. He was relieved when his hand came in contact with a wand.
But the relief quickly evaporated when he realized that his magic wasn't connecting with the wand… at all.
Out of habit, Harry pushed his glasses up and nearly stabbed himself in the eyes with his fingers.
No glasses, yet perfect vision. Yeah okay. No big deal. Yup, perfectly normal. Nothing wrong at all. No idea where I am. No working wand.
Harry thought as he tried to shove away the feeling of hysteria bubbling inside him.
He glanced down at his hands and nearly fainted.
They were not his hands. Good Godric. What the bloody hell is going on?
As far as he knew it wasn't normal for a wizard to go to sleep one night and wake up in another body the next morning.
Cursing under his breath, Harry winced. His voice was different as well. More masculine. More mature. Older. But at the same time, it sounded eerily familiar.
Disregarding that thought, Harry grabbed the wand –useless but at least he could still stab somebody's eye out with it- and carefully peeled the drapes aside.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he scanned the large, posh room and realized that no one was there.
On his second round of taking in the room, Harry couldn't help but feel awed. The room was beautiful.
Black with royal blue trimming being the dominant color scheme, there were also hints of silver and luminous white in the mix.
Harry slowly got up from the bed and nearly fell flat on his face. He was still getting used to this new body.
Managing to catch himself on the edge of the bed, Harry walked towards the large door to his right. He fingered the unresponsive wand in his hands and took a deep breath, getting ready for whatever and whoever was on the other side of the door.
1
2
3
On three, Harry swung open the door, wand held at the ready, body tense and prepared to spin and avoid any spells thrown at him.
For the second time that morning, he nearly fainted again.
Because no. There was no one on the other side of the door.
No one but… himself?
Harry dazedly stumbled into the large bathroom and examined the face staring back at him.
Raven hair, pale skin, high cheekbones, green eyes… it was him. But not really.
The hair was more tame, silky even. The pale skin was very lightly flushed, a sign of healthiness. The facial structure was his… but different. Under closer inspection, Harry realized that the facial structure, the jaw especially, reminded him of Sirius.
And the eyes. Oh Merlin the eyes.
Harry had always been told that his emerald green eyes were his most striking feature. But this person before him, this him-but-not-him, had the same shade of emerald as Harry, but there was just so much more depth to it.
With a start, Harry realized that the eyes reminded him of Dumbledore's eyes, of Voldemort's.
It was brimming –no, it was seeping- with power and knowledge.
"Who are you." Harry whispered. A chill ran down his spine when the unfamiliar, yet so familiar, face in the mirror mouthed his words.
There was a loud crack and Harry spun around, wand held in a defensive position.
He blinked in surprise when large tennis ball eyes met his. The house elf bowed, "Master! Tippy sorry for startling sir. But Mistress sent Tippy to ask if sir is be joining her for breakfast!" The house elf squeaked.
Harry mechanically nodded while blinking at the house elf before him. The house elf was dressed in a clean and neatly pressed pillowcase. At the front, there was an unfamiliar design of two falcons with their beaks interlocked, the birds' royal blue stained wings –the same blue, Harry noted, as the trimming in the bedroom- were spread in flight.
When the house elf, Tippy, turned to pop away, Harry caught a glimpse of another strange design.
This design made his heart leap. It held five ravens interlocked together. Harry knew from experience that when viewed from the right angle, the ravens would form a star.
Sirius had showed him that little trick just yesterday, when he had caught Harry examining the strange design stamped on one of the doors in number 12 Grimmauld Place.
The Black family crest.
Harry didn't know whether he should feel relieved or even more scared.
On one hand, at least he had an idea of whose house he was in. Or… whose body he was currently occupying -oops.
On the other hand, the Blacks were a crazy bunch that –Harry was pretty sure- has no problem killing any intruders. And didn't Sirius say that he was the last surviving male Black?
"Well there's only one way to find out what the hell is going on." Harry muttered, this time he barely winced when he heard the wrong voice coming from his –not really- mouth.
Drawing on all the Gryffindor courage that he possesses, Harry strode through the rooms –he was half startled and half impressed by the lavish bed chambers- and out the door.
Tippy had mentioned breakfast. Logically, most dining rooms were on the first floor, where the kitchen was, so keeping that in mind, Harry found a large spiraling staircase and cautiously descended.
Tippy had also mentioned someone asking him to eat breakfast. Mistress. As far as Harry knew, this could mean only two things. Either this "Mistress" was this body's Mum or it was this body's wife.
…Yeah. Hopefully not a wife. Harry was fifteen for Merlin's sake. Plus, what if the wife wanted to give him a good morning kiss or something? Even though this wasn't his body, it was still his mind, magic, and soul. It just felt wrong. Like he was making this couple cheat on each other or something.
After peeking through around a dozen doors on the first floor –seriously, how many rooms does a person need to dine in?- Harry finally found it.
Well he assumed he found it.
And it seems like he had also stumbled across the wife.
A blonde woman was sitting at the end of a large table sipping a cup of tea while flipping through the Daily Prophet.
She looked up when the door opened… and Harry nearly fainted for the third time this morning.
"Hadrian." The woman smiled warmly.
Harry carefully edged into the room, heart pounding, "Fleur…?"
Fleur Delacour frowned at him, her eyebrows furrowed lightly in worry, "Are you well darling?"
Bloody hell. Harry thought.
He was married to Fleur Delacour (he had just spotted the wedding band on her finger)… but not Fleur Delacour.
He had seen the French witch a month and half ago, when she had hugged him goodbye and thanked him once again for saving her sister's life.
The quarter Veela had just turned eighteen.
Now… she was still as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so, but nonetheless she was the wrong age.
"Hadrian?" Fleur's gold blue eyes –the gold being a Veela trait- shadowed with worry.
Harry stiffened and quickly forced himself to relax, "Yeah?"
The French witch smiled, "Well aren't you going to sit down and have breakfast?"
Thankful for something to do, Harry quickly slid into the chair closest to him, the one with its back facing the large door.
A strange look flickered across Fleur's face, but it quickly disappeared and was replaced by a gracious smile.
Harry wasn't sure if he had imagined the wary look.
"Are you not going to eat?" Fleur asked as she motioned gracefully at the food silently appearing in front of Harry, "You love to eat pineapples."
Harry blanched a little. He was allergic to pineapples.
The raven haired boy shot a look at the witch, but when those gold blue eyes only stared back at him expectantly, Harry slowly served himself a spoonful of pineapples.
He wondered if he was still allergic to pineapples, even in this body.
Harry stabbed a pineapple and stuffed it into his mouth. He knew that if he had dawdled, it would have been suspicious. After all, pineapples were apparently this Hadrian person's favorite food.
The Fleur of this dream or world or whatever, stood up from her seat and Harry choked on his pineapple.
His eyes were wide as he took in the small swell of the quarter Veela's abdomen.
Bloody hell. She was pregnant.
It wasn't obvious, the baby bump, but Harry knew that Fleur Delacour, no matter whatever version, would always have the same elegantly slim figure... I mean she was a Fleur Delacour.
Yup, she was definitely pregnant.
"Finish up, love," Fleur said, "I will be in the blue parlor."
When the woman disappeared from view, Harry quickly coughed and spat out the pineapple he had been choking on.
He gulped down some water and made a face when the tingly swelling sensation signaling an allergic reaction starting up in his mouth.
Harry slumped in his seat. This sucks.
At least he now knew three things:
His name is Hadrian… probably Hadrian Black, judging by the presence of the Black family crest.
Hadrian Black is married to a pregnant Fleur Delacour, and using his awesome deduction skills, Harry was just going to take a wild guess here and assume that Hadrian was the unborn baby's father.
Third, and most importantly. He was most definitely not where he came from. If he hadn't met Fleur, he would have assumed that he was currently possessing someone else's body. But he had met Fleur, a different one…
Harry had never stumbled across any texts on alternate dimensions in the Wizarding World. But the muggle television shows on the other hand…
"Well what do you know? The muggles might know more about magic than some wizards do." Harry muttered.
"Quite unlikely." A cold male voice drawled.
Harry jumped and spun in his seat, falling out of it in the process.
He looked up and hurriedly scrambled backwards, using his legs and arms in an awkward motion.
Fleur Delacour's eyes were fierce and a strange pearly white light was emitting off her –something that Harry had only seen once before, when Gabrielle had been in danger during the second task-. However, she made no move to attack Harry.
Instead, she was standing behind two men. One of them was dressed in red and white robes, the Auror uniform. He had raven hair and calculating navy blue eyes. The other man, the one that had spoken, had dirty blond hair and blue grey eyes.
He slowly raised his wand, as if taunting Harry with his leisure, and leveled it at Harry.
The last thing that the fifteen year old thought before the stunner hit him was: I am so screwed.
Review and tell me what you all thought about this!
I'm not sure if I should continue for now. Is it better to write The Rise with this? Or finish (attempt to~ ) the Rise and then continue with this.
I'm leaning more towards updating The Rise more often while updating this on the side...
And another note: I'm currently working on The Rise, it should be up in a week or so!
Review!
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