A/N: Thanks to the two people who reviewed and the people who followed/favourited this story! Must admit here that I wasn't really expecting anything due to the Harry Potter universe being so big and all.
Disclaimer: You know, I feel like if I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be here. Do you get that feeling, too? 'Cause you should.
Harry had been practicing a spell against a dummy when the thought struck him.
He didn't know the date.
It was such a simple thing that Harry had completely forgot about, and now that he remembered dates existed, well...that would solve his problem of not knowing how long he had been in captivity, wouldn't it?
"Feta!" Harry called, ceasing his efforts to conjure birds and making them attack the dummy, the task Riddle had set him about an hour ago. He had been making decent progress, as far as he was concerned - small, yellow canaries with a few malformed wings had come out of his wand a few minutes ago.
The small house elf appeared out of thin air with a crack. "Harry Potter, sir?"
"Feta, do you happen to know the date?"
The house elf tilted her head thoughtfully, lightly bouncing on her toes. "'Tis the first day of October, sir."
Harry's heart skipped a beat, and he felt the blood drain out of his face. October? Bloody hell, October?! "Do you know the date when I first arrived here?" His voice was unknowingly tense.
Feta blinked owlishly, her fingers twisting together anxiously. "Feta thinks the 27th September, Harry Potter, sir."
Noticing her nervousness, he softened his voice and said, "Thanks, Feta."
She smiled toothily at him, bowed and disappeared with a crack.
Harry's knees shuddered and shook, no longer able to keep him up. Slowly, he sunk to the floor, drawing in shaky breaths. It felt as if a ghost's touch had trickled against his skin, cold and clammy and raising goosebumps. Two and a half months. Two and a half months. For two and a half months, I was in Voldemort's lair. I was tortured. I was taunted. I was interrogated. And then I came here.
His brain threatened to transport him into his memories, but he shoved those events away. Oddly, he felt angry. Why had it taken him so long to get out? Was it because he just couldn't stand the pain anymore? Had he reached his breaking point?
Or was it because he had instinctively held on to the belief that someone would rescue him?
Frustrated with himself, he snarled aloud, "I am not dependent!"
The walls' silence answered him, condemning him.
A growl issued out of his throat, his fist slamming the ground. The pain unnoticed, Harry gripped his wand, waving and flicking it to conjure six perfect yellow canaries, snapping out, "Oppugno!"
The fact that he had conjured the birds as easily as breathing air should have alarmed him. After all, he had spent an hour struggling to just conjure one. But he felt nothing except dark satisfaction as he watched the birds plunge at the dummy, pecking and nipping and clawing. They only disappeared once the dummy was sporting numerous injuries. By that time, Harry was breathing heavily as he looked over the damage.
A feeling akin to horror washed over him as he realized he - he had attacked the dummy and felt nothing but pure, dark satisfaction. Satisfaction that he had managed to ravage the dummy to the extent that he had. This wasn't him, this was something…
Something Voldemort would do.
Even though he knew that the dummy wasn't a real person, who was to say that he wouldn't do that to a living, breathing human? Who was to say that he wouldn't channel the same amount of frustration and anger and hate? (Because he knew deep down that he hated himself for being so dependent and weak. He hated himself because he had managed to defend against hard-hitting Dudley and his friends since he was old enough to walk but he couldn't defend himself against people now?)
It was such a simple spell, but...simple things could quickly grow into bigger and more complicated situations. What if he lost control and killed someone? What if he was turning into Voldemort? This dimension didn't have one, after all, so who was to say he wouldn't become the Dark Lord here?
Harry closed his eyes, his body shuddering. There was no one here to say otherwise. Aetas was far away, having been sent out to collect information about the war. Ron and Hermione were in an alternate dimension. Sirius was dead.
A wand clattered to the floor.
"Mr Potter, if I could have a word?" Riddle requested. It was early afternoon, the fall weather making the potions lab chillier and damper.
Harry looked up from his potion, inwardly wincing at the colour. Riddle glanced at it and simply said, "Add the juice of one more Sopophorous bean, then stir seven times counterclockwise and one time clockwise. Focus, Mr Potter."
Doing as he was told, Harry watched in surprise as the potion immediately turned into the pale colour it was supposed to be. The Draught of Living Death was the most complex potion he had ever done, and Riddle had no qualms about leaving a sixteen year old alone to brew a potentially dangerous potion.
"Do you know why, Mr Potter?" Riddle inquired casually, almost as if he was asking about the weather.
Harry thought for a few moments, and replied hesitantly, "The juice of a Sopophorous bean could remove someone's memory. Twelve is not enough to counteract the effects of the sloth brain. Stirring counterclockwise helps eliminate the toxic effects of the potion, and stirring once clockwise produces the right...colour."
Riddle raised an amused eyebrow. "Stirring once clockwise helps extend the potion's potency. I suggest you write all this down, Mr Potter."
Hastily, Harry reached for the bound, black journal and the Muggle pen lying on top of it. Riddle had insisted Harry keep a Potions journal, but for the life of him, the green-eyed teen couldn't figure out why. He wasn't going to be a Potions Master, so what was the point? Nevertheless, he had done as he was told; after all, none of Riddle's suggestions had gone wrong. Yet.
"Now, the potion needs to simmer for an hour. It is half past one." Riddle seemed to assess Harry, who was warily watching the man. He hadn't eaten lunch, and if the ominous tone the man used was any indication, he knew Riddle was thinking of something. The Boy-Who-Lived hadn't forgotten what had happened the day before.
"Mr Potter." This turned Harry's attention away from his book. "Since you have clearly forsaken your lunch, I'm sure that you have the time to repair and clean the duelling dummies." Riddle's tone indicated that he was not to be messed with.
Harry nodded quickly, shutting his book and placing it back on the shelf. The castle's library was huge, a vault of valuable information that had effectively driven Harry to learn as much as he could. "Of course, Professor."
"Good. I expect them to be in pristine condition by the time I check on them in an hour. Perhaps this shall teach you to eat three meals." Under his breath, but still loud enough for Harry to hear, Riddle muttered dangerously, "Merlin knows if Dumbledore ever did."
Backing out of the room warily, Harry fled to the duelling room, wrenching open the door and letting it shut behind him.
That was a mistake.
Immediately, dozens upon dozens of spells shot at him, seeking to reach their target.
"Bloody hell."
Needless to say, Harry had limped out an hour later.
But this time, Harry's potion didn't allow him to eat his lunch. He had been working on it nonstop ever since noon. Thankfully, Feta had provided him with a snack before he had left for the potions lab, clearly remembering how Harry had (deliriously) swore to every single wall in his rooms that he was going to eat three meals every day after Riddle's lesson.
"Professor?" Harry asked carefully. Please don't ask, please don't ask, please don't ask. He supposed he could bring up the fact that he had eaten a snack before coming down here, but Riddle wasn't likely going to let it slide.
"You need your lunch, Mr Potter. I need to speak with you about a pressing matter. Do the math," Riddle sarcastically drawled, unknowingly putting Harry out of his misery. For a moment, Harry caught a glimpse of a younger Riddle, one who didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders. When he thought about it, though, he didn't really know how old Riddle was. Voldemort was around sixty years old, Harry remembered, because the Chamber of Secrets was said to have opened fifty years ago in his second year. Was Riddle around that age, too? He must be, Harry mused. But why does he look like he's in his early twenties?
"Right, sorry." Harry rose from his seat, his eyes flickering over his potion, and joined Riddle, who was already walking through the corridors. In no time at all, the two were situated in Riddle's office, with Harry slightly bemused at the password - Quetzalcoatl - and munching on a sandwich, courtesy of Feta.
"Now, undoubtedly, you have noticed that Hogwarts is already in session," Riddle said, his expression impassive.
Harry nodded slowly, picking at his sandwich. Hogwarts would have started in his dimension, too. With a jolt, he realized how much he missed the bustling halls and the warm magical presence. Anguis Castle just wasn't the same, no matter how the floor plans were nearly identical. The halls were constantly empty and calm, the magical presence more like a guardian than Hogwarts' warm, motherly aura. Most of all, he missed his friends. (He missed Sirius badly as well, but it was much too painful now.)
Even though they didn't notice you were gone? A tiny voice sneered in his head.
They couldn't have known, Harry argued back. 'Sides, they've better things to do than to worry about their friend that they can't even save from his relatives. It'd be pointless.
You weren't at your relatives' house for two and a half months, the voice pointed out.
I'm not going to argue with myself. It's been done, trust has been broken, and I can't do anything about that. Whether Ron and Hermione knew or not, doesn't matter. What does matter is that I'm in an alternate dimension and I've been prophesied to end a war or doom the world. I can deal with all the trust stuff after I manage to make it back home.
Curiously, Riddle hadn't said anything at all while Harry had been having his mental conversation. Once Harry had come back into reality, he questioned gently, "Mr Potter, do you wish to go back to Hogwarts?"
Harry's eyes flicked up to meet Riddle's in surprise. "Professor?"
"It's a yes or no question." There was that teasing, sarcastic tone again.
"I, er…" Harry thought about it seriously. Things could be very different here. Would he be friends with this-dimension Hermione and Ron? Or, he shuddered, would he hang out with people like his-dimension's Malfoy? Were they even the same people he knew?
He didn't know. In fact, he didn't know the allegiances of either of those groups, and he knew it was important to find out. But how? Aetas, surely, wouldn't hear of any of them because they were insignificant compared to the more pressing issues. The only way to find out was to go to Hogwarts, and that only brought him full circle to the main problem.
"I'm not sure," Harry finally answered, honestly.
Riddle considered him thoughtfully. "Is it the fact that Dumbledore is Headmaster?"
So Dumbledore is Headmaster. "A little," Harry admitted. He was still bothered by the fact that Dumbledore wasn't fighting for the right ideals. It was unnatural, and just didn't happen. But it happened.
"You see, Mr Potter, Dumbledore most likely thinks that you're deceased. Whatever happened to you that day would lead him to this conclusion, of that I have no doubt. However, you going to Hogwarts would thwart that theory, and it is probable that he would welcome you back into the fold." Here, Riddle paused, and his eyes flickered over Harry seriously. "I say probable because Dumbledore is a master manipulator. Coupled with Grindelwald, they are nearly unstoppable. They may not accept you back so soon, only a mere four days since your disappearance."
Harry understood what Riddle was doing. He was trying to warn Harry of the realistic dangers that would surface if Harry went to Hogwarts, something the Boy-Who-Lived appreciated greatly. The Dumbledore of his home dimension would have tried to deter Harry from going, much less let Harry make his own decision. For this, Harry's respect for Riddle grew.
"What are you saying, exactly?" Harry asked tentatively. Voldemort had hated it whenever one of his followers had asked that damnable question. Riddle, on the other hand, didn't seem like the type to. Still, he was wary.
If Riddle noticed Harry's nervousness, he didn't say anything. "What I am proposing, Mr Potter, is that if you should like to go to Hogwarts, it would be most believable if you arrived close to the winter holidays. The earliest, November, if you must."
Harry mulled that over in his mind. November. He could do that. It would give him enough time to process this dimension properly and get used to the idea of Hogwarts here. "I can agree to that."
"So you are planning to go back to Hogwarts, regardless of Dumbledore's position." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes."
Riddle, oddly, looked pained, like he was losing something valuable. "Then...I must ask you this, Mr Potter: whose side are you on?"
This - this was the moment of truth. Harry couldn't go back on this decision. While he had decided days ago that his personal ideals aligned with what he knew of Riddle's, the sudden question cast doubt on his choice. He knew, from personal experience, that the side he thought was good and could-never-do-wrong wasn't always the case. His-dimension Dumbledore, for example, had two and a half months to figure out that Harry was missing and to concoct a rescue mission. He did neither, and Harry knew he didn't, because he would have heard Voldemort say it to taunt him further. His returning memories, tucked away by trauma, told him so.
But he knew that he couldn't side with this-dimension Dumbledore (and Grindelwald, his mind added). Harry himself was a half-blood, and there was no way he was going to side with someone who thought that wizards should rule over the Muggles simply because they possessed more power. That wasn't right.
"This side. Yours."
Riddle's expression was unreadable, but Harry thought that the man was relieved. "Well, allow me to welcome you to the…" The man trailed off, then smirked. "I still haven't come up with a name yet. I do so hope that I won't come up with one such as, 'For the Greater Good'."
Harry was startled into snickering. "No, I think a nonexistent name has a certain charm that 'For the Greater Good' never will."
"Why, thank you," Riddle quipped, a mock arrogant look surfacing on his features. It only made him scrunch up his nose as if he had smelled something foul and eliminated his eyebrows, for they had risen so high they had disappeared.
Harry had to stop himself from howling with laughter. Who knew that Riddle would possess such a sense of humour?
Eventually, though, the laughter ceased and the atmosphere turned serious once more. Riddle's expression was once again fixed into an unreadable one, although a faint hint of fading amusement was in his eyes.
"So, I head back to Hogwarts in November?" Harry queried, just to make sure.
Riddle nodded. "Any earlier, it would seem suspicious that you had managed to recover on your own that quickly. Any later, and the snow would impede your progress, thus making it unbelievable that you had trekked your way back to Hogwarts in two months. Additionally, it would also seem to be too much of a gap between your disappearance and your reappearance. No, despite what I had said before, it must be November."
It was nice to hear the reasoning behind a decision concerning him. Merlin knows if Dumbledore had ever done that with him. It was usually someone else deciding, and him following because he didn't have a choice.
"Thank you," Harry said sincerely. Riddle must have understood, and sent a small smile at him. However, it darkened considerably within a moment.
"Mr Potter, there is a reason as to why I am asking you this. What I'm about to ask of you next will be wholly your decision. It shall not impact the war negatively, no matter how much you may think it might." Riddle gave Harry a few moments to process the request, and waited until Harry had given a nod before continuing, "As you well know, Dumbledore's followers greatly exceed mine. Not much of the wizarding public is able to see past the supposed sun shining out of his unnamed place."
At this, Harry held back a snicker, knowing full well what Riddle was referring to.
"So, I find myself short of valuable information that I could utilize in this war. Hogwarts is, of course, full of Dumbledore's supporters. Any of my supporters in the school are silent and cannot convey information to me without risking their lives, which I will not ask them to do. As such, I am in a dilemma as to whether or not to ask you this, but I have decided it is your decision to take it or leave it."
Harry stayed silent. What in Merlin's name was Riddle asking him to do?
"You are the supposed protege of Dumbledore. However, you and I know that is not true. Nevertheless, Dumbledore believes he needs you under his control in order to win the war, and therefore you shall be closer to him than any other. This can allow you access to some of his more secretive plans and ambitions, and may help you understand him a bit better.
"Mr Potter, I cannot dance around the subject any longer, unlike a certain twinkle-eyed old coot. Know this before I ask you something strategically crucial to the war: I am sorry.
"I am asking you to be the snake in lion's clothing. I am asking you to be my spy within Hogwarts and Dumbledore's side."
A/N: Well, there's that! Hope you enjoyed it! Fourth chapter down, who knows how many to go. Though, if I were to estimate, I'm thinking maybe twenty. At this point, I'm not quite sure. Also, it should be noted that since school is indeed starting (again) my updates may slow down. I apologize in advance.
One last thing...You know how Harry met the Weasleys at King's Cross? There's a lot of people saying that the whole thing was set up, because how would Mrs. Weasley not know where the platform is? Is it possible that she was just trying to include Ginny in the annual ritual, because the youngest Weasley was feeling down about not going?
I'm sorry, I'm just a little confused on the issue. No need to answer if you're not inclined to.
Have a great morning/day/evening/night!
~Wolf and Phoenix