A/N: AU. This was written before the sixth book was out, and will continue in the same vein, in hopes it stays interesting enough for me to write.

Disclaimer: All names and such related to Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowling, and probably, the Warner Bros.

Chapter One: Landing

Harry shifted in his black velvet seat, deeply annoyed. That Severus Snape was a meddlesome rat.

'You have no idea how it is to be under his stare twenty-four hours a day. I'm starting to think he fancies me ... '

The tall figure of Albus Dumbledore turned to face the pouty apprentice, and he smirked lightly. Harry lay half-sitten, his flexible fingers pulling the invisible strings of his newly-acquired ability: wandless magic. In the air, a dozen or so marble balls danced in perfect synchrony, glinting in the soft candlelight and sending coloured sparkles to the wall. It was a uselessly beautiful sight.

'Be sure he does not.' Albus waved his hand, and the balls shot to their box in perfect order. Harry raised an eyebrow, and sat straight. 'The head of the house of Slytherin will always look with discomfort to those who remain faithful to my cause.' He said, and opened the door. 'Besides, you are being given special treatment anyway, what do you complain about?'

'It's his stare,' said Harry standing up and heading out. 'I feel like he can read through me ... It's unnerving. Can't you do something about it?' He said suddenly, looking back to the Headmaster.

'And in turn, I should ask, can't you solve your own insignificant problems by yourself? You waste my time in every occasion with your whining ... Now go away, or the rest of the staff and alumni might think I exercise favouritism on you.' He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. The teenager looked at him with suspicion, and the Headmaster's icy blue eyes twinkled. Both broke out in laughter.

Tom Riddle sat on an old armchair, his head buried in his hands. Hardly an hour before, the ghost of Sir Nicholas De-Mimsy Porpington had appeared to him, on one of his visits. It appeared to be that the Alternate Sirius Black had slipped through the Death Veil. Tom knew that he will be arriving to his dimension very soon, and was doing every thing possible to find the exact location of his arrival.

Sir Nicholas was a faithful ally. He had achieved his transporting to Tom's dimension after his five-hundredth deathday, and used it to help the Resistence ever since. Only a few other ghosts shared this ability, but they preferred to do time travels, in order to meet with their beloved ones. But as soon as Sir Nicholas had found out about the endangered dimension, he had pledged his allegiance to the Resistence, moved both for his love of justice and for the risk of the evil developing in it slipping to his own dimension.

And it seemed like someone else had managed to bring himself across, no doubt without intending to. Arranging, though not without difficulty, a time leap to arrive before that happening (and give the Resistence time to find Sirius' location), Sir Nicholas informed Tom of the next arrival. Aware of the particular details of Sirius' travel, and also of Dumbledore's main plan, Tom had figured out the Headmaster would probably want to investigate Sirius, in order to have a back up plan if his main one should fail. And since Alternate Sirius would be clearly more inclined to protect his godson, Alternate Harry, Tom had the obligation of saving him from Albus' clutches and his torture chambers.

'Sir, we've got it.'

A tired-looking Lucius Malfoy entered the room and handed Tom a piece of parchment, bearing the coordenates of Sirius' arrival. The place they were to visit was one of the most dangerous in the land. Even though it resembled a barren desert, it was haunted by hundreds of evil spirits, probably drawn there by the Dark Magic practices of the former inhabitants of that land. It was no easy task to enter, let alone leave the place unharmed. But luckily, they were no kids playing around.

'Very good, Lucius. We shall depart at sunset. Reunite the elite forces only, we head to no camping area.'

Lucius strode off the room, but before closing the door, he looked at his master.

'Do you think we'll make it this time?'

Something resembling a smile crossed Tom's pale features.

'We've got to try, don't we?' He said, standing up as well. They might be outnumbered, but still, the Resistence held hope that they were the winning party. Tom had forbidden his mind to invision a world dominated by Albus Dumbledore, no matter what he said about the wizarding race's superiority. He had no right to break the balance with the Muggle world.

Lucius left the room in great doubt. No matter how certain his master seemed to be the times before this one, it looked as though he had finally lost his hopes. And there were plenty of reasons for this, even without mentioning the losses. Lucius had lost his wife, Narcissa, at the hands of Albus' hordes, and his only son, Draco, was away from him, locked inside the Hogwarts fortress with the rest of youngsters, probably being daily vexed by the Headmaster's supporters, under the blind of wizarding training. Lucius had tried to conceal Draco's existence to spare him the obligatory seven-years stay in the castle, but he had failed. And every wizarding family knew they couldn't oppose the Ministry and get away with it, so he had taken the hardest decision of his life: he had given in his son, in hope to remain alive to fight for a better world for him to live in.

And the Resistence had succeeded, at least in the small objectives they had settled themselves on. They had spies infiltrated amongst Dumbledore's files, and had first-hand information on their moves, so they knew when to attack and how. But unless they managed to behead their organization by capturing Harry Potter and eliminating Dumbledore, they were far from a final victory.

This thoughts in mind, Lucius called over the forces, and informed them of the plan. Shrouded by a cloud of darkness and doubt, they set out to meet their visitor.

Hermione Granger was having dinner. Her long and shapely body was wrapped on a skin-tight dark red suit, lined with golden gems across it - the medieval habit of using robes had remained in the past, where it belonged. Every boy at Hogwarts gaped instinctively at her appearance, both in class and in their free time. Sadly for them, she had had every guy bold - or stupid - enough to make a move on her sent flying across the room and slammed painfully on the opposite wall. She was the best wand duellist on the castle, after Harry. Tailing her was Ron Weasley, but he wasn't smart enough. Or so she often complained loudly about.

'Evening, gorgeous.' Ron's hand slided dangerously near her thighs, with slapping intentions, but she caught it in mid-air and aimed her wand to the middle of his eyes. 'Hey, chill. I was just joking.' He said, eyeing the wand.

She did not believe this, but it was pretty useless to curse him. He did the same thing over and over ... Hermione returned to her dinner, without giving him a second look. Ron took this as an invitation to continue.

'Snappy today, aren't we?' He said, smiling wickedly, and started eating. 'You need to relax, my darling ... and I know the perfect way to do it ...'

'State your bussiness and be gone, Weasley.' She said, her eyes sparkling furiously. Ron chuckled lightly.

'Tut, tut, Herms. I have a name, you know? The name you've screamed over and over in those-'

SMACK!

Hermione's fist buried in Ron's nose with the strenght of a cannonball. He fell backwards on his butt, his nose bleeding, and glared up to her.

'Bravo, bravo, my dear Hermione.' Clapped Harry, who had witnessed the girl's superb punch to Ron's face. 'But you made a mistake in hitting him. Don't you know that only I am allowed to do so?'

'Harry!' Her face relaxed from her previous rage. 'This? We're just playing, aren't we, Ron?' She aimed the wand to the boy's face, who was trying to stand up, and fixed his broken nose with a quick flip of it. Ron shook off his clothes, glad that Harry had appeared. Secretly, he feared her more than what he showed, but he couldn't stand teasing her when she looked this gorgeous ...

'Ronald, you know how much I hate to be called 'Herms', so please don't do it again.' She recited in a dignified, though false, voice.

Harry gasped mockingly.

'You called her 'Herms'? Bad boy, bad. I might curse you myself ...'

'I'm sorry, Hermione, really.' Ron said, sitting back in front of his food. 'I meant to say your full name, but see, I choked with the pumpking juice ... couldn't help it ...'

'It's fine, little Ronnie,' Harry patted his classmate's back and then pressed his hands to Hermione's shoulders. 'You should be careful with our little girl, you know? She's very tense, what with the Ritual and all,' he rubbed strongly her shoulders. Hermione didn't hide how pleased she was with the massage. 'Soon we will be ready to perform it, and she plays a very important part in it, don't you, my dear?' He whispered to her ear, sending a shiver down her body. Hermione grabbed Harry's hands and slided them down her chest.

'That's right.' She said, standing up, Harry's hands wrapping around her tiny waist. 'I am very tense. But I am also astounded as how cool you seem to be with all this, Harry. Mind telling me your secret?' She said, turning around and getting her lips nearly inches away from Harry's. He smirked at her and turned to Ron, who seemed a bit jealous.

'Pretty much like you do, my dear. Inflicting pain ... ' He said to her, and sucked hungrily to her lips.

'Hey, get a room!'

'We're eating!'

The rest of students on Gryffindor table whistled while some complained loudly. The merry couple walked outside, lips still locked and almost tripped over a bundle at the entrance of the Great Hall, towards which two big-shaped figures were hurrying.

Draco Malfoy lay crumpled on the floor, in great agony, after being hit by a Ripping Curse right on his side. Crabbe and Goyle raised him up and took him to the hospital wing as soon as their legs would carry them.

'Professor Snape will be informed of this inmediately,' said Madam Pomfrey when the boys told her what had happened.

'Yeah, like that'll help ... ' muttered Crabbe, resentfully.