Disclaimer: I don't own HP. I never will. And sadly I'll never own Malfoy either, but he's not in this story.

Harry woke up to a bright light shining in his face. He had a vivid dream of Voldemort attempting to kill him and falling through the veil at the Department of Mysteries. The very same veil that Sirius had fallen through.

Remember Harry, dreams aren't always reality….

"Sir, he's awake now." Harry turned abruptly around. He was in a hospital wing. In the corner of the room Kingsley was speaking with Moody and a healer. The healer left the room and the two men began to approach him.

"Alright Potter. Let's make a deal, shall we? You're going to tell us some information about your lord and future attacks, and we'll make sure you only get a life-sentence in Azkaban," Moody said, both eyes intent on him with a menacing glare. It was the same glare as the time at King's Cross."

"What? I don't work for Voldemort!

"Yea? Well I'm the bloody Minister of Magic." Harry could've sworn he saw traces of red in Moody's normally ice blue eyes.

Moody growled. This conversation was infuriating him. "Kingsley, lock him up in a high security cell. I don't want him escaping this time. Remember, constant vigilance, Potter." He tapped the side of his head knowingly and left.

Harry sat alone in his cell. His parents had come by earlier to visit, as well as Sirius and Remus. The marauders were all alive. Apparently in this dimension he was Voldemort's most trusted death eater.

Since things here were different from the way they should have been, he assumed that this was an alternate reality.

"Harry." It was Dumbledore.

"I know you don't belong here. You fell through the veil, didn't you Harry…. Yes…we've got another one just like you."

He felt his heart beat faster. Was it possible that Sirius was alive? No…he saw Sirius die with his own eyes.

"Voldemort followed you through. You need to find him and kill him. Everyone's counting on you, Harry. I'm counting on you." And with that Dumbledore left.

Then Moody was there.

"You know Potter, life would be so much easier on you if you just confessed." Harry could've sworn his eyes were blue a second ago. Blood red.

There was something he was supposed to do. Something important.

Moody took out his wand and pointed it at Harry. "Avada Kedav-" and somewhere in London, a boy named Harry Potter woke up drenched in sweat.

Remember Harry, dreams aren't always reality….

A/N: This is actually the first story I've ever written, so excuse me if its way too short or amateur-ish. Read my other fics? Major kudos to those of you who review.