Chapter 9

A/N: I've noticed that Draco, Pansy, and Blaise are kinda like Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Only, Blaise is the super genius and Pansy just doesn't care. And this one's super crazy. Pay attention!! Anyway, Hope ya'll enjoy this one. On with the show!


The next morning, Draco didn't remember he had dreamed at all. In fact, when he was still slightly asleep, he didn't know for a moment where he was. Then he remembered everything and glanced over at Harry's bed. Harry was just visible under his comforter. His glasses were on the bedside table and Draco took a moment to watch him sleep. And then Blaise woke up.

"Morning," he said, yawning. Draco grunted and they went to wash up before breakfast.

They followed the general throng of people down to the Great Hall where they got their schedules as they ate. Then, he and Blaise and Pansy walked toward their first class together, Potions. Draco had been looking forward to this since he had gotten his letter for Hogwarts.

They entered the classroom with the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins, since they were paired up that day. Professor Snape, whom Draco had heard of often, was nowhere to be seen. Draco sat down quickly between Blaise and Pansy, who were quiet and steady like Draco. Soon enough, Snape entered the classroom with a bang. His robes billowed out impressively behind him and he glared at them all, except the Slytherins. He began with roll call, pausing on Harry's name.

"Ah yes. Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity," he said softly and moved on to the next name.

Once he was done, he graced them with a poem, it seemed, about Potions.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses … I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Most of the class was leaning forward, sitting on the edges of their seats, enthralled, as it were, by his speech. At least, that's how Draco felt. Suddenly, Snape was rearing back for an attack. He could feel it.

"Potter!" Snape said. Some students jumped, not prepared for the bark that came from the quiet teacher. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Draught of the Living Death, isn't it? Draco thought. He glanced around and found mostly blank stares moving from Snape to Harry and back again. He looked at Blaise, and mouthed it to him. Blaise gave a small nod, but continued to look at Snape. Draco turned back to look at Harry, who was panicking. Hermione sat next to him, her hand stretched up into the air.

"I don't know, sir," was the small, sad reply from Harry's bowed head. Snape said a comment meant to be heard only for Harry.

"Let's try again," Snape said, his voice carrying over to Draco's table. "Potter, where would you go to look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

In the stomach of a goat.

Again, Harry replied, "I don't know, sir."

Hermione's hand remained in the air. Draco tried hard not to roll his eyes.

"What is the difference, Potter," Snape asked, Harry's face growing red from embarrassment, "between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Draco wished he could tell Harry the answer (it's a trick question – they're the same plant), but he wasn't near enough to him. Blaise gave Draco a warning glance and Pansy held Draco's arm. He then noticed that he had been shaking. Snape finally stopped torturing Harry, though he took away a point from Gryffindor. Draco and the rest of the Gryffindors grumbled half-heartedly. The Slytherins were completely beside themselves with happiness. Well, at least one teacher has to like them, Draco thought.

Snape then gave them instructions to a simple potion that cured boils. Draco set to work immediately with Pansy. Since Draco and Blaise were both fabulous with potions, it only seemed fair that Pansy got to pair with one of them while Blaise helped out another bloke (Neville, wasn't it?). Draco got into a groove. He measured to the 100th of a decimal; he crushed the snake fangs with ease, and stewed his horned slugs like he was snapping his fingers. Potions and singing, Draco thought. Two things I'm dreadfully good at just happen to be complete opposite? Finally, his potion was complete. Snape walked over and peered into Draco's cauldron. He didn't really know what he expected. Snape didn't favor anyone but Slytherin. He knew, deep down, that he had thought Snape would single him out of all the Gryffindors and sing Draco's praises for his spectacular potion brewing skills. What he received was little more than a blow to the side of his face.

"This is adequate. Perhaps next time you'll remember to stir with long, graceful strokes, hmm?" Snape said.

Draco gave one last stir and the potion turned a deep scarlet, which it was supposed to be. Snape stiffened, and then looked up to see who he was insulting.

"Mr. Malfoy. How – ah – surprising to see you amid such a lower class than you. I see the Sorting Hat has made yet another grave mistake," He said before floating over to Blaise and Neville's potion, which was also a deep scarlet, though it's clouds were a little lighter than Draco's. He heard Snape's voice carry over to his table.

"Definitely not what I was expecting from you, Mr. Zabini, not at all. Longbottom! Next time at least make an effort, hmm?"

The bell rang, signaling the end of the horrible class, and Draco packed his bag. He couldn't believe this. The best class in the whole school and Snape already hated him. Draco walked quickly to Transfiguration, where they all attempted to turn a match into a needle. By the end of class, only Blaise and Hermione had managed it. Draco admired Blaise's handiwork as they made their way to the rest of their classes.

For the next couple of weeks, things went by normally. And then something happened that Draco didn't expect.

Charms was the one class Draco had not been looking forward to. He never was really good at pronouncing difficult Latin. However, their first spell, Wingardium Leviosa, was really quite easy. He swished and flicked his wand and soon the feather they were supposed to be practicing on was rising up into the air. Hermione shot him a look of jealousy, but soon she had hers up as well, followed closely by Blaise. Harry and Ron were arguing with Hermione and Pansy was giving Draco a glare.

"I can't believe you did it. Honestly. I thought you said potions was your best subject!" She complained on their way to the Quidditch Pitch. The day earlier they had noticed a flyer in the common room saying they would be learning to fly. Draco was extremely eager. Sure, he had flown a bit at home, but not really.

They were having the class with the Slytherins. As they got to a place where brooms had been placed in rows, Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, gave them the basic information.

"When I blow my whistle, I want you to kick off from the ground, hover for a moment, and then angle your broom forward a little to come back down. Three, two, one." She blew her whistle and, as a collective group, they all rose into the air. Draco looked over at Harry, who looked like he had never felt anything more amazing in his life.

As the group began their descent, Draco noticed Neville kept rising.

"Neville, lean forward!" Draco called.

He did, but apparently his broom didn't want to mind him because it kept rising steadily into the air. Madam Hooch was yelling at him to come down and Neville looked like he wouldn't like anything else in the world than to get his feet onto solid ground. Suddenly, the broom was speeding off towards the castle. The air was tingling with anxious worry as Draco watched Neville zoom around the towers. Neville crashed into one of the cobblestone walls and fell with a thud. Madam Hooch rushed to help him up.

"Looks like a sprain," she said as he cradled his wrist and whimpered.

Draco, the Gryffindors, and the sneering Slytherins watched Neville get escorted to the Hospital Wing. Madam Hooch yelled a warning to the class about getting on their brooms again, but the accident made most of the class edge away from the broomsticks uneasily. Harry was whispering worriedly with Hermione and the Weasley. Draco looked over at them and noticed said Weasley watching him as well. He hastily walked over to Blaise and Pansy. They lay down on the grass, talking amongst themselves. Then, Draco heard something. It was a taunt.

"Oi! Mudblood! Wasn't that your boyfriend? Shouldn't you go see if he's ok?" It was a Slytherin, flanked on both sides by Crabbe and Goyle.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry turned to the group of Slytherins. Draco stiffened, transfixed.

"Leave her alone," he said.

Draco paid close attention, not noticing Blaise and Pansy continuing a conversation behind him. He looked over at the Slytherin boy taunting Harry. He looked so familiar…

"Oh, what is this?" The boy picked something up off the ground. Draco remembered Neville showing them the small, glass ball during breakfast.

"It's a Rememberall. My gran sent it to me because I'm always forgetting things. If the smoke inside of it turns red, that means that …" Here, Neville had looked down at the Rememberall with confusion, because the smoke inside had turned red.

"It means you've forgotten something. I just can't remember what it is I've forgotten…"

Draco watched the Slytherin boy (who is he? Draco wondered) hold the ball up to the sun. Harry clenched his fist.

"Give it here," Harry said, holding out a hand.

The boy snorted and jumped onto his broom. He rose into the air like a pro. Harry grabbed his broom. Hermione tried to stop him, but soon he was in the air. Draco stood quickly, watching Harry. Why did this seem like de ja vu?

"Give it here I said!" Harry called.

The boy looked stunned that Harry was such a natural on a broom. Suddenly his plan didn't seem so thought-out. The boy tried to sneer at Harry, and Harry charged him. The boy darted out of the way just in time. He was getting worried. He managed to place a fixed, indifferent smirk on his face.

"If you want it, go get it," the boy said and chucked it behind him.

Harry angled his broom toward the falling ball. Draco watched from the ground, as if in slow motion, as Harry followed the ball's descent to the ground. He was racing the ball to the ground. The air around Draco shimmered with worry. Blaise was grabbing Draco's arm. Why? But Draco couldn't concentrate because Harry had caught the ball and jumped off his broom gracefully. Draco breathed out a sigh of relief. Then –

"Potter!"

McGonagall was rushing toward Harry, her face creased with astonishment.

"Never, in all my years! Come with me, Potter."

She took Harry away. Draco watched mutely as Harry disappeared into the castle. As soon as he was gone, Blaise whipped him around to face him and Pansy.

"Draco, are you ok?" Blaise asked.

Draco gave him a cursory look.

"Yes, I'm fine I just…" He looked over to the Slytherin boy, who was sniggering with his friends. Before he knew what he was doing, he was walking over to the boy. He stood next to him, silently. He waited, not saying a word, for the boy to feel him there. Finally, he looked up at Draco.

"What?" He asked, smirking.

"Who are you?" Draco asked.

The boy looked Draco over.

"Who are you?" He asked.

A muscle in Draco's jaw twitched.

"Draco Malfoy," He said.

The boy hesitated before even thinking about answering.

"Alright, Draco Malfoy. I'll tell you who I am. Meet me in the trophy room tonight at midnight," he said.

"No way. Do you honestly think I'm that stupid?"

"What do you mean?" The boy asked innocently.

"8 o' clock. Trophy room." Draco said before returning to Blaise and Pansy.

"Who was that?" Pansy asked, looking the boy over approvingly.

"I don't know," he replied honestly.

..

7:55, Draco was sitting in the trophy room. He knew he was allowed to be there at that time, but he still kept a lookout for Filch, the grumpy caretaker, or Mrs. Norris, his scrawny, scruffy, evil little cat. Put one toe out of line in front of that cat and she would scamper off to get Filch, who would turn up wheezing moments later.

Draco sighed and checked the time again. 7:58. He still had a few minutes. He had a feeling this mystery boy would turn up around 8:30, just to make Draco mad. Draco rolled his eyes. Slytherins. Draco recounted the events of that day, turning over everything that had happened and its outcome. He had gotten a load of homework in Transfiguration and hardly anything in Charms. He already had an essay from Snape that was due in a week. Draco sighed, remembering the Potions class that day. He still couldn't figure out what Snape's feelings toward Draco were. He approved of Draco's exceptional potion-making skills, though he would never admit liking a Gryffindor's work. He knew Lucius Malfoy well, so he must like him a little bit. And yet, Draco was sure that being placed in Gryffindor had made any hopes of being on Snape's good side moot.

Draco didn't realize how introverted he was behaving until he heard a voice behind him.

"Malfoy."

Draco turned and saw the Slytherin boy there. Draco invited him to sit next to him on the bench, but the boy merely sneered and pulled up a chair at least ten feet from him.

"So, what do you want again, Malfoy?" The boy asked, examining his nails.

Draco had the feeling that this boy thought himself superior to everyone.

"Who are you?" He asked, not really caring about the boy's super ego.

"Who do you think I am?" He asked, still not looking at Draco. This is getting ridiculous, Draco thought.

"I don't know. If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you, now would I?" Draco asked, exasperated. The boy looked up, a slim eyebrow raised gracefully.

"I'm you," he said easily. Draco smirked.

"Right, how silly of me. Of course you're me!" Draco started. The boy put up a hand to stop him.

"No, really. I'm you."

"Explain."

"I'm kind of like an alter-ego. I'm what you would be if Lucius hadn't made the mistakes he had. I usually live on a different plane of existence than you, but here I am."

"Why don't you look like me?" Draco asked.

"Because I actually don't have Veela blood in me at all. He married Bellatrix in my world. I go to Hogwarts in my world and Potter and I are not friends," the boy said.

"What's your name?"

"Avaric Black."

"Why not Malfoy. You did say Lucius was your father."

"No I didn't. I said he married Bella. She's my mother. Lucius is not my father. Though he's a better substitute."

Draco tilted his head, confused.

"Then who's your father? Your biological father?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. In this world he is The Dark Lord, Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, The Heir of Slytherin, and You-Know-Who."

Draco let his jaw drop.

"What do you mean, 'in this world'? He's not a Lord Voldemort in your world?"

The boy, Avaric, gave Draco a signature sneer.

"Obviously not. He's just a normal bloke. Rather handsome. Oh he had some great ideas about cleaning and pruning the wizarding world, but he didn't put them to action. The only thing he ever did was run out on my mom once he got wind that she was pregnant."

Avaric seemed so calm recounting the fact that his father left his mother because she was pregnant with him. It was a sobering thought. Draco's mind was reeling.

"Then why are you here?" He asked.

"Search me," Avaric said, looking bored.

"So, your job is to basically do everything I would have done if I was more like you and less like the me that I am now?" Even the sentence made Draco's head spin.

"It's not really a job. It's just what I'm doing. I'm hoping one day I'll go back to my home."

"So, who's in your place? Shouldn't I be there? Shouldn't we have switched places?" Draco asked.

He wanted information so badly. He craved it. Everything he knew about his life was backwards. He just wanted to be Draco without his alter-ego running around. True, no one else knew about this, but still. Apparently, Avaric was thinking along the same lines.

"When did you get here?" Draco asked.

"Last night. I woke up here and everyone seemed to have a memory charm or something because they all remember me getting sorted."

Draco stood and walked over to the door.

"I'm really sorry you're here. I can see you really don't need me. Just go one doing what you're doing I guess," Draco said and turned to leave.

"Draco?"

He turned to look back at Avaric and he really could see himself in this boy, this Bellatrix-Voldemort version of him.

"Don't tell a soul," Avaric said. Draco had the feeling he was about to say something else and changed his mind. Nonetheless, Draco gave a small nod and left the room.

..

As Draco walked into the Gryffindor common room, he didn't notice a thing around him. He didn't know what to think about this Avaric person walking around. He walked up to his dormitory and lay down. He didn't know what time it was and he didn't care. He needed to sleep; it would help him process the information just given to him. He didn't notice that Harry came into the room and lay down with a happy sigh. He didn't know that Harry had just been made the youngest Seeker in a century for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He didn't know that the Weasley was suspicious of Draco. He didn't know that Blaise had a secret from everyone. He didn't know that Dean Thomas was so jealous of Harry he felt like he was going to burst. He didn't know that Seamus was worried about his parents. He didn't know Neville had come back from the Hospital Wing. And, frankly, he didn't care. He heard the whispers of a few secrets leaking out to him in the night, but he tuned them out. He wasn't thinking about anyone else for once in his life. For this one time, he was thinking about himself. He was thinking that maybe he had screwed everything up by getting sorted into Gryffindor…

..

The next day, Draco woke up thinking about owls and he remembered that he hadn't written his mother once! He scrambled out of bed and hurried to write a letter to her, explaining everything that had happened since he got there (leaving out Avaric – that would be too confusing). He sent his eagle owl, Imperialis, with the letter and lay back down in bed. He sighed and rolled over, expecting to see everyone asleep beside him.

He stopped, shocked at what he saw. He was in a different bed in a different dormitory in a different House. He didn't know how he had missed it! Blaise Zabini lay on the bed across from him, Crabbe and Goyle in two side by side on Draco's left and Theodore Nott on his right. Draco sat up quickly, hitting his head on the curtain rack surrounding the bed. Rubbing his forehead he climbed out of bed and ran upstairs to the common room was. He looked around and saw green and silver surrounding the walls. Excitement, confusion, worry, and curiosity buzzed in the room around him. Draco sat down on a couch slowly. He sat gaping at the large tapestry of a serpent on the wall in front of him. Well. This is one way to start a morning, he thought bitterly.


A/N: OMG!! Did NOT expect that to happen! Man, I really wanted to get the Veela thing going, too! But I had to get Harry to be a Seeker. The idea of an alter-ego just came to me as I was playing Solitaire (I'd like to thank a forum for the advice… though which one it was I'm not absolutely sure…) And the name, Avaric, came from Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. Great book. I recommend it if you've never read it. Anyway! The tenth chapter is being written as we speak. I'm liking this idea of switching worlds. (Did you like the Voldemort-Bellatrix love child? I did!! I was going to make him a real person in Draco's original world, but… I didn't) Ugh! This story is really running away from me!!