Harry Potter does not belong to me.
Takes place in the last chapter of HouLoiMouGin's story, disappear, after Harry accidentally attacks Dumbledore and after James punches him in the face. The very end of the story where the deatheaters came and rescued him, and brought him back to Voldemort never happened.
Prologue
The pain in his scar was agonizing. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, his nails digging into the palms or his hands as waves of pain and anger washed over him. He wanted to break something, anything, everything. He wanted to tear down the walls that surrounded him. Above all things, he wanted to kill.
Well Harry didn't want to, but he did, and he was inside his head.
He half groaned, half growled as another wave of pain and anger engulfed him. How much longer was this going to last? It was worse than it had ever been. He cried out, his voice cracking a lone tear sliding down his cheek.
"Get out of my head Voldemort!" he screamed, digging his fingernails deeper into his palms drawing blood. "Get out," the hoarse whisper followed.
The searing pain in his scar was rapidly growing more and more intense, to the point where it was blinding. He could hardly see. The room was fading slowly; spinning, and growing blurry and dark until it was all blackness, all nothingness.
Harry's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the grass staring at the Dursley's garden. The smell of dirt and freshly cut grass filled his nose.
Why am I sleeping outside? He wondered stupidly. He hadn't done anything wrong, had he? Come to think of it, what was the last thing I did in general?
That was when it hit him. It was like a ton of bricks slamming into his mind. Deatheater, Azkaban, Sirius, court trial, Voldemort, alternate universe.
Harry sat bolt upright. He was shaking slightly and his head was spinning. Was I in an alternate universe or was I just dreaming that I was? How was he supposed to be able to tell the difference?
He stood up, despite the dizziness he felt, and began pacing back and forth. On the slight chance that he had been in an alternate universe, did it really matter anymore? He was home. How would it affect him, or anyone for that matter, now? Besides, it was more than likely just a dream. But it felt so real. He thought then shook his head. It'd had been a dream. How could he have actually gotten to an alternate universe? The thought was just absurd. What else could it have been if it wasn't real?
He froze as a sudden realization washed over him. Of course. It made sense now. The reason for blacking out and having a crazy dream (although it felt so real). Voldemort was messing with his head. He was lousy at occlemency after all.
Maybe he was trying to unnerve me. Harry rationalized, wondering what Voldemort's specific motive had been in creating that of all visions he could have made. Anyway, he had to have known Sirius had died, and who was the first person I saw? Of all people, I'd been Sirius. Yes, that was what had happened. Voldemort had been messing with his head. That had to be it. He decided.
He sighed and brushed the grass off of his clothes. The dream was irrelevant now.
It'll probably take me between 2 weeks and 2 months to update depending on my schedule. Please please please review. If I dont get atleast 2 updates each chapter (i dont count prologues as chapters by the way) then it might take a while longer to update. So review! :)