Darkness.

Harry was on his back, and he couldn't see a thing. He didn't know where he was, he didn't know what had happened, and for a moment, he didn't know who he was.

Then it began to filter back. He was Harry Potter, wasn't he? The Boy Who Lived – why would he be called The Boy Who Lived? Most people manage to live at least once, it was hardly a distinguishing feature...

No wait, he remembered now. He'd been the only one to survive Lord Voldemort's killing curse...

And then it all came rushing back. He was Harry Potter, aged twenty. He had fought Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and won. He had been in the Burrow, talking to Ginny Weasley, when suddenly... what? He vaguely remembered blinding light and a feeling light wind all around him... and then there he was... somewhere...

"Where am I?" he muttered.

"Somewhere out of the way," said a male voice. It was sharp with excitement, and sounded very familiar, although Harry couldn't quite place it. "Somewhere no one can find us."

"I see," said Harry grimly. Somewhere no one can rescue you, the implication seems to be. "What are you, one of the Death Eaters that got away?" There were still a fair few in hiding, Harry knew. The Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry had done a pretty good job of rounding up most of them, but Harry had twice had to deal with fanatics who had managed to track him down. Clearly whoever this was, they were much more resourceful than the morons Harry had previously dealt with. He started to pad his jean pockets for his wand. Where was it?

"What on earth is a Death Eater?" the voice said in apparent perplexity.

"Oh please," said Harry. "Everyone knows about the Death Eaters."

"No, really," said the voice blankly. "One does not go into a shop and order a death sandwiches with a side-helping of infirmity, does one? I have no clue what a 'Death Eater' would be. Or are you talking about vampires? That might make sense, I suppose..."

"Oh come on," Harry sneered. "Everyone knows about the Death Eaters, stop playing games..."

Now, a third voice chipped in. "I think you should reveal yourself to him, sir."

Harry started, and sat up slowly. That voice he could recognise without problems. "Ron? Ron?"

"Lumos," said the first voice. Light shone suddenly from in front of Harry's face. Harry reeled back, momentarily half-blinded. He appeared to be in some sort of stone chamber, probably underground. He saw two faces gazing down at him intently. One was thin with a mop of red hair... the other was shorter, with messy black hair, glasses, and green eyes. "Good day to you, Harry," said the black-haired person. He grinned broadly. "It's me, Harry."

Harry stared. "You don't have my scar..."

His doppelganger gazed at Harry's forehead with a slight frown. "Interesting. You got into an accident I presume?"

Ron sighed. "Sir, you should tell him what's going on."

The doppelganger shrugged casually. "Very well." He gazed straight into Harry's eyes. "Harry old chum, this is not the world you're used to. We summoned you here... this is an alternate world, you see. We need help. The Blacks and the Bones are no use, and when we looked farther afield to the Scots, the French and the Prussians there was no help there either. Who else is there we can turn to? Indeed, who would be better help than those factions?" He grinned broadly. "Me! Or at least, my otherworldly counterpart. Naturally you might not be quite my equal, but if you're even half as formidable a wizard as I am, you should easily turn the tide."

Harry stared at him. Then he turned to Ron. "This is a joke, right? You got someone to drink pollyjuice or something. This alternate world stuff is bullshit. Right?"

Ron held out his hand, and helped Harry to his feet. "Harry, this is absolutely real. We're in a war right now. I don't know what things are like back where you come from, but in our world England has been in the midst of civil war for decades. All the Houses, House Malfoy, House Greengrass, House Black, House Weasley, and of course House Potter... are embroiled in a latticework of deadly, shifting alliances... House Malfoy is getting stronger by the day, and the Coalition needs reinforcements."

"The Coalition?' Harry repeated blankly.

"It took exceedingly potent magic to bring you here," said Other Harry, ignoring Harry's implied question. "But now that you're here, I expect things to be more propitious for our cause. You see, I have a vision of a better world. A world without the despicable House Malfoy and their invidious cronies. A world where House Potter reigns over England as the ruling family."

He may look like me, but that's where the similarities between us end, thought Harry. "Wait, you want to control England?"

"But we don't need to settle for just you," Other Harry continued. "We should be able to bring another champion from your world in about an hour or so, once you've told us who..." There was a loud crackling sound from overhead. Other Harry started, and turned on Ron. "I thought you said this place was safe!"

"It should be," Ron protested. "And it wasn't me who said that, it was your witch, remember? She said it's remained unknown for over a thousand years. It has wards pr—"

"Go and check," snapped Other Harry sharply.

"Yessir."

Harry watched Ron hurry into a passage at the far end of the chamber, and disappear from view. "Why does he keep calling you sir?"

Other Harry gave a tight-lipped smile. "Because I, the great Harry Potter, am the righteous heir to House Potter, and what is he? The youngest of a family full of more experienced and talented brothers. Last in line to be head of the Weasley House. Oh, he makes a decent minion... But he serves me only by happenstance."

Harry couldn't say he liked his counterpart very much. "Happenstance?"

"I was leading a military strike against the Malfoy-Greengrass Alliance. It went wrong. Somehow they were tipped off about our plans. I got separated from Uncle Alan and the others – what?"

Harry hadn't been able to stifle his gasp. "I have family? Living relatives here?"

Other Harry raised a surprised eyebrow. "Obviously House Potter consists of much more than myself. My Grandfather, Charlus Potter, is head of the family. Alan and Marcus are my uncles." His face twisted with anger. "My father and mother were killed in a raid by the Malfoys, but one day I shall wreak my vengeance upon those bastards, that I avow. One day I shall rid the world of their scourge, they and all their followers shall perish in agony... yet until that day, we must lie low. The Malfoys are waiting for us," he glanced overhead, "up in the hills. This underground chamber is on the edge of the Blacks' territory, so we should be safe."

"Oh yes?" said Harry. His counterpart talked like an aristocrat, and he seemed quite an arrogant, even unpleasant, person. Harry wasn't sure he wanted to help the guy at all.

Other Harry nodded. "Yes." He paused, staring at Harry. "You know, looking at you is like looking into a mirror. It lets me see how extraordinarily attractive I really am. I mean, I never doubted my rugged good looks, but..." He broke off suddenly as there was another sound of crackling from overhead, followed by a loud rumbling.

Other Harry cursed. "Hermione?"

Harry blinked as Hermione stepped out of the shadows. She'd been lurking in a corner of the stone chamber, and now she walked over to Other Harry, and stopped at his side. She was a grey dress, and some sort of tight metal necklace. There was an odd submissiveness in her stance that made Harry frown. "Hermione! I'm glad to see you!"

Hermione nodded politely, although she was frowning with apparent surprise. "Thank you."

He glanced at Other Harry. "Back in my world, Hermione is the smartest witch I know."

"She is fairly intelligent," agreed Other Harry dismissively. "For a mudblood, anyway."

No, Harry definitely didn't like his counterpart. In fact, he already hated him. "For a mudblood?" he said coldly.

"Well, muggle-born," Other Harry corrected himself casually, not noticing Harry's tone. "Mudbloods cannot do magic, but my witch Hermione has talent. She has that manner of raw cunning you find in the lowly classes." He patted her condescendingly on the buttocks. "Witch, how well is this place warded?"

"Very well, master," said Hermione meekly, gazing at the ground. Harry ground his teeth. Hermione was being treated like a slave? And accepting it? "But it is conceivable," Hermione continued, "that the wards will be bypassed by a skilled enough wizard. The only such wizards I can think of who we know are in close enough proximity to this location are Sirius Black and Remus Lupin."

"They would never turn against me," protested Other Harry.

There was an even louder rumbling, and then Ron hurtled from out of the side-passage. "The wards are failing, sir. We must leave."

"Did you see who was attacking this place?" When Ron shook his head, Other Harry cursed. "You blithering idiot!" He turned on Hermione. "Why'd you lead us here, you ignorant bitch?" He slapped her hard on the behind, and this time Harry moved towards his doppelganger with his fists clenched. Before he could punch his double in the face, however, there was a deafening crack. The faces of everyone in the chamber paled. Other Harry turned to Hermione. "My darling sweet-plum, where's the other way out?"

Now he's polite when he needs her, Harry thought darkly.

Hermione move towards the smooth cave wall in the corner where she'd been standing. She tapped her wand against it, and muttered something. A door-sized section of the wall melted away, revealing a secret passage leading down into darkness. "I don't know exactly where it leads," she said apprehensively.

Other Harry grabbed her and Harry, and dragged them towards the right exit, the closest. "Let's go – come on, Ron."

"Yessir," said Ron, holding his wand at the ready. Harry heard the sound of footsteps and deep voices from the passage behind them. They all quickened their pace. Other Harry leapt through the tunnel entrance, dragging Hermione after him. Harry followed suit, and turned to catch a glimpse behind them just in time to see Ron fall, some sort of spell bursting across his back. He tried to leap to Ron's aid, but Other Harry grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the tunnel. "Leave the useless git, moron!"

Hermione tapped her wand against a circle in the tunnel wall, and the tunnel closed behind them seamlessly as though there had never been an entrance there.

0000

Ron awoke, his entire body aching. He opened his eyes blearily, and saw a scarred face gazing down at him. "Lupin!" he croaked. His voice trembled with fear. He knew the werewolf's reputation all too well.

"The very same," said the man in quiet tones filled with menace. "Now, you're going to tell us everything you know about the young Potter's plans."

As Ron felt the werewolf's wand at his throat, he decided he would tell everything, as long as they agreed to spare his life. He opened his mouth to speak. Lupin's pale eyes bored into his. Somehow, Ron couldn't quite find it in him to say anything coherent. "I...I..."

Lupin's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to speak up, my boy." His wand glowed fiery red, and Ron began to scream.

AN: My try at a Harry Potter Mirrorverse-type story. The idea just came to me, and I had to write it. Even though it ends on a cliffhanger, I might just leave it as a fun oneshot.

In case you're interested, here's few notes on my alternate universe. If you're not, feel free to skip.

As you've probably gathered, England is divided up between the various Houses, these is no true central government. Britain as a nation does not exist, nor does England as a genuinely unified entity.

This world never had a feminist movement, and indeed never outlawed polygamy or instated any women's rights.

Lord Voldemort does not exist in this alternate universe, although Tom Riddle was born and is alive and well.