Well, work and classes started back up, so there's a bit of a break in posting. I have to say I'm surprised how quickly editing this is going. I suppose I've been very anxious to get it put up here.
This coming up chapter is significantly shorter than most of the others because of where it ends--or, rather, where the next one begins. There's a bit of a leap that needed to be made and felt like a good place to start a new chapter. I hope everyone enjoys my Tom Riddle: I'm nervous about what you'll all think of him....
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Harry sat, dread swelling in the back of his throat to the point that it almost choked him. The car went over a bump, jostling him and making the stirring in his stomach feel momentarily unbearable. As James drove the car wordlessly in the direction of the church, the tension in the air heightened with each corner they turned. Lily, for her part, did not speak either, but pursed her lips in a very Aunt Petunia-ish way and stared ahead.
Sinking deeper into his seat, Harry tried to find some thought to comfort him as they turned into the parking lot. It would have been easier to be on his way to some life-threatening confrontation, with Riddle once more playing the part of the evil overlord, than to be going to a meeting with him as the pastor. For one, if Harry was about to die at the Dark Lord's hands, he might have had his parents' sympathy. As it was, neither had passed him more than base pleasantries since his dismissal to his bedroom the previous night.
James turned the car off and looked at Harry in the rear view mirror. "We'll wait out here."
"Oh, no we won't," Lily replied vehemently, undoing her seat belt and opening the car door before James could protest.
Harry cast a helpless look at his father, who shrugged, opened his own door, and climbed out also.
With a sigh, Harry followed suit. His hands in the pockets of the his slacks, he trekked after them, halfhearted in his attempts to keep up. He walked through the door and into the chapel. Lily led the way to the clergy door and knocked sharply, peering at Harry as though she might just realize what torture she was putting him through and not regret it one bit.
When the door was opened, Dumbledore greeted them.
What little hope rose in Harry's chest died as soon as he saw the disappointment on the man's face. This Dumbledore obviously wasn't going to do anything to help him.... Staring at the wall beyond Dumbledore's shoulder, Harry avoided comment as his parents made tense smalltalk.
At length, with all the patience and lack of urgency Harry had come to associate with the man, Dumbledore said, "Pastor Riddle is with Draco at the moment. I'm sure he'll be through shortly."
At Lily's warning glare, Harry muttered, "Thank you, sir."
The quiet group stood around the office door for several more minutes before it opened. Draco emerged looking miserable, his father close behind him. Lucius gave James a deeply contemptuous sneer, then opened the chapel door and pushed Draco through it roughly.
Looking away from the closing door to freedom, Harry returned his gaze to the one to his doom just in time to see Tom Riddle step out into the hall. He smiled stiffly at Lily, nodded curtly to James, then beckoned Harry with a wide, graceful hand and an expression that warned against disobedience.
Harry glanced at James one last time, then took a slow step towards the office.
"I'll see Harry alone first," Riddle said with a genial concern that did not reflect in his cold eyes. "I'll call for you when we're finished." With that, he closed the door.
Trapped in Riddle's office, Harry took a moment to try and calm himself before he had to start answering questions: he was tense to the point of it being painful in his neck and shoulders. None of that was real, he told himself firmly, fighting back the defensive urges that were rising in him.
"Sit." All false warmness was gone from Riddle's voice and manner. He strode around his desk and peered down at Harry with unmasked superiority.
Harry sat in the hard chair, his own features schooled into an expression of blank indifference despite the sweat on his palms and the rushing of blood in his ears. Here, at last, was the confrontation he had been avoiding for as long as he could avoid it.
"I'll give you a moment to make your case, though no amount of feeble defense will change the truth of what you are."
"And what, exactly, do you think I am?" he replied, buying himself time to think. He was sure Draco hadn't told the truth about how the fight had started and he had no plans to do so either.
"You are a lying, wretched sinner who should be begging on bent knee for mercy and forgiveness. You are a pathetic and lost soul wandering the path to hell."
Harry glared back, biting down on his tongue painfully to keep from commenting.
"How dare you!" Riddle hissed between clenched teeth, his handsome feature disappearing in an ugly snarl. "Sitting there, staring. Insolence!" His hands shook. "You will know penance at my hands, boy, upon danger of losing your eternal soul."
Seeing the fury glowing in the man's eyes, Harry had no doubt that his subconscious had chosen the perfect person to play the villain in his dream. Steeling himself as if he were before the old Voldemort himself, Harry sneered back, "What do you know about eternal souls? As if you even have one. You stand up there using your position to threaten and scare people into doing what you--"
"SILENCE!" With startling agility, Riddle moved around the desk so he was on the same side as Harry.
Instinctfully, Harry stood, his fists balled at his sides.
"Sit back down, boy," Riddle growled.
"No." None of it was real, Harry repeated to himself as Riddle closed the small space between them. None of it was real. He can't do anything more than yell and throw a tantrum. It wasn't real.
Riddle grabbed a handful of Harry's shirt and shoved him back into the chair, nearly toppling him over backwards. Harry shook slightly as the man leaned in close to him, each of his slender hands curled around each arm of the chair Harry sat in. "You have been too disrespectful for too long," he started in a suddenly calm voice. "Pride preceedeth the fall, my boy, and you are no exception!" he finished viciously.
At this point, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Voldemort struck him-- No. Riddle. Tom Riddle!
A fire burned in Riddle's eyes. "You stand in danger of hell right now, boy, and I am being generous enough to give you another chance. Now, apologize for you behavior," he commanded lowly, the tones of his voice curling into the air, "and all shall be forgiven."
Harry's eyes hardened as he glared back. He had memories of hell, however unreal they may have been, and he really would be damned before he would bend to Tom Riddle's demands for anything. "No."
Riddle stood back, his fist clenching and unclenching as if he were imagining strangling someone. "I see. You will defy the power and authority of God?"
"You aren't God." He wasn't entirely sure what he was saying, but he was sure it would make Riddle mad. In this world, where all he could do was throw stinging retorts, Harry suddenly needed to indulge the emotion that boiled in him, telling him to strike at Riddle. To hurt him. To tear him down and kill him....
"I am the authority of God in this perish and you will show proper respect!"
"I am showing you all the respect you deserve."
His eyes bulging hideously, Riddle once again grabbed Harry by his shirt and yanked him to his feet. Holding him firmly despite the boy's attempts to pry apart the man's fingers, Riddle shook him once, roughly enough to cause Harry to lose his footing for a moment. He snarled, "This will be your ruin, boy. You have one final chance to apologize, take penance, and be forgiven, or I will throw you out of my perish."
"Throw me out? I'd walk out if you'd let go of me," Harry replied, still standing on tip toes to keep from being choked by the grip Riddle had on his shirt.
Shoving Harry carelessly so he fell over the chair, Riddle said, "Go then. And I will look down upon you from my paradise while you burn in hell with the rest of the dogs and heathens."
Harry banged his shins on the chair in his effort to keep his footing as he tumbled to the ground. Ignoring the pain, he righted himself and glared at Riddle. "If you're going to heaven, I hope I do end up in hell," he answered, reaching for the doorknob.
Before Riddle could reply, Harry opened the door and marched out into the hallway. He stopped in momentary confusion and surprise at the people who stood before him. In his minutes of confrontation, he had forgotten entirely that his parents and Dumbledore were standing outside. Seeing them now, their expressions mixtures of calm, concern, and disappointed resolve, the anger he felt while closed away in Riddle's office doubled.
Before he could voice the comment that was forming on his tongue, Riddle stepped out around him. He glared darkly at the Potters, then turned to Dumbledore. "Harry Potter is no longer a member of our perish. I want his name removed from the records."
"Pastor--" Lily started in protest.
"Don't," Harry sneered. "It's the biggest favor he's ever done me."
Lily and James looked at Harry for several tense seconds.
"Are you sure you want this, Harry?" Dumbledore asked tentatively.
For a moment, Harry felt bad at the disappointment in the man's tone, then he steeled his resolve and nodded sharply. After a moment he said (to Dumbledore, not looking at his parents), "Sorry." He wasn't entirely sure why he felt the need to say it.
"I think we should go," Lily said stiffly. She was clutching her purse severely and Harry could see Aunt Petunia in her darkly thoughtful eyes.
After a moment of looking around at the group who were examining him, Harry opened the door to the chapel and left, not bothering to worry whether or not his parents were following him. He crossed the chapel alone, then stepped into the dim light of the hall near the door. With only a brief glance to see if Lily and James were coming, he continued out to the walk by the parking lot. His parents reached the car shortly after he himself.
No one spoke as James turned the key in the ignition. The drive home was long and silent, and it gave Harry plenty of time to consider all the things he should have said to Riddle. His heart pounded in his chest as he imagined a continuation of the interview in which he told Tom Riddle his exact feelings for him and his church. By the time they got home, his blood was boiling with anger and indignation enough to make him hope the man tried to talk to him again for any reason so he would have an opportunity to use all the cutting insults he had come up with in the past fifteen minutes of silent rehearsal.
When the engine stopped, Harry got out of the car and walked up to the front door, his hands shaking with rage. As soon as the door was unlocked and he and his parents were inside, Lily started the monologue she had obviously been practicing even as Harry had been practicing his.
"I have never been so humiliated in all my life!" She marched into the kitchen after Harry, hitting the light switch on the wall and throwing her purse on the table carelessly. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
His anger still dangerously close to the surface, Harry didn't trust himself to reply. He merely leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the wall over his mother's shoulder.
When he didn't answer, Lily continued, "I don't know what you said to Pastor Riddle--he had the decency, even in his being upset, to keep confidentiality--"
"Decency?" Harry sneered involuntarily. He dropped his arms and stopped leaning on the counter. "If you want to hear about decency from Riddle, I could--"
"Pastor Riddle," she corrected, raising her voice over his in a disturbingly well delivered imitation of Snape. Looking mildly disgusted, she said, "And at the moment he at least has more decency than you. Even Draco had the good sense to try and look ashamed of what he did."
"Want me to tell you what he really did? Because you can be damn sure it was't whatever he told Riddle and his father," Harry retorted viciously, not entirely in enough control of his emotions to bite back the tone and comments he knew he would regret when he had a chance to calm down.
For a second, Lily looked as shocked as if he had physically struck her, then she said, "Don't you ever speak to me in that tone of voice again."
Harry shook his head slightly and strode past her into the hall. If he didn't get out of that room, he knew he would go too far. He didn't want to accidentally bring things from his dream into the argument....
Turning to him, Lily yelled, "Harry, don't you dare walk away from me! We are not through with this conversation!"
"Yes, we are," he answered through clenched teeth.
"What is wrong with you? You've never behaved like this before. Ever since you woke up, you act as if you can just do anything you like!"
Harry stopped mid step, his hand on the door. His heart was pounding like it would burst. He recalled the long-ago conversation he had overheard when James had accused Lily of thinking Harry was only acting like he had lost his memory. Turning to her slowly, he glared at her. "I've been doing what?" he asked with deadly calm.
Heedless of his change in mood, Lily pressed forward at his invitation as if it was all she had been waiting for. "You have been thoughtless, rude, and uncooperative towards everyone who has been trying to help you. If I didn't know you better--"
"You don't know me," he told her plainly, his emotions boiling. His voice shook when next he spoke. "You don't know anything about me, and what I've been through."
Condescendingly, she replied, "You have been through a car accident. Other than that, Dr. Crawford says you're fine. All of this attention-seeking has gotten out of hand. And then your father and his friends indulging it--"
One moment, Harry was standing at the doorway, his fists clenching painfully at his sides as he listened with rising anger and disbelief as his mother accused him of making everything up. The next moment, his anger was overtaken by wonderment as the light above the kitchen table began to flicker. The digital clock on the microwave went blank for a moment, only to return with a piercing beep! before going off again. At first, Harry thought it was only him who was shaking until the odd swaying of the curtains and Lily's grasping the back of one of the chairs for stability told him it was more than that.
The terrible image of Aunt Marge swelling grotesquely as the dining room lights flickered around her suddenly filled Harry's mind. Gripped by an inescapable moment of horror, he thought, I'm going to blow her up! The thought existed for only a moment, and seemed ridiculous as soon as the lights went still and the clock on the microwave came on with one final beep and stayed lit.
Feeling sweaty and anxious, Harry thought wildly, People don't blow up. It just doesn't happen. It's not real!
Recovering from her surprise at the odd behavior of the electricity and the shaking ground, Lily focused on Harry once more and started to continue the argument. "Just because your father-- Where do you think you're going?"
Harry had turned back to the door numbly, still intoning to himself that magic wasn't real and that he had never blown Aunt Marge up, if he did even have an Aunt Marge to begin with. Lily's words fell upon him as though he was deaf.
"Harry James Potter!"
Harry was half way down the hall when James came out of the living room. "Is everything all right? The power just-- Harry, what's wrong?"
"I'm going for a walk," he said flatly, walking around James automatically on his path to the door.
Lily was coming down the hall after him. "I did not tell you you could leave this house!"
Ignoring her, Harry opened the door and left. Walking quickly and without direction, he made his way among the houses of the neighborhood, musing wildly to himself. It was stupid to think about blowing people up. People did not blow up for any reason. By the time he had been walking for twenty minutes his emotions were back in check and he could only be grateful he hadn't said something that embarrassing and crazy out loud.
He continued to wander the streets, Lily's accusations ringing in his ears. He felt bitterness towards her and didn't feel any pull to return home. Her attack on Sirius and Remus's "indulging him," as she had put it, was nearly unforgivable. At least they cared about him.... Angry thoughts rattling around his brain, Harry just walked until he had wended the long way to the school. He sat on the bleachers by the soccer field and thought.
When the sun started to set, Harry looked over his shoulder in the direction of home. Feeling almost too calm, he reasoned with himself that since he didn't feel like going back there, he might as well find some other place to go. At length, he stood and, shoving his hands in pockets, started down the sidewalk. Wherever he ended up going, at least he would be moving. His back and legs were sore from sitting on the hard metal for hours.
It was another half an hour before Harry found any place to be going, and he only found it then as he noticed he was walking up the path to the front door of the Weasley's tiny house. He knocked.
After a moment, the door opened and Mrs. Weasley looked out at him. "Harry! I didn't know you were coming over tonight!"
"Actually, I hadn't planned to. Is Ron at home?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound more normal than he felt.
"He's right in his room." She let him in and walked to the beginning of the hall with him. "If you two want something to eat, I have fresh cookies in the kitchen."
"All right. Thanks." Harry went to Ron's room and knocked. "'S me," he said to the door.
"Come in."
Harry went in and closed the door behind him. One look at Ron assured Harry that he would not be sharing the afternoon's experience--with Riddle or Lily--with him. He was pretty sure he would never share it with anyone: he just wanted to forget the day ever happened.
"How was your meeting with Riddle?"
"I got kicked out of church," he said evasively.
"Bet your parents loved that."
"Mm," he commented distractedly. "Have you heard from Hermione lately?"
With the subject easily changed, Harry only half-listened as Ron told him about running into her completely by accident the day before. He was finally starting to see the merit in her, even if she was a bit bossy and boring. When he asked Harry's opinion on him possibly asking her out, Harry just said, "That'd be a all right," and went back to passively listening while the one-sided conversation ran its usual spectrum from chores, the impending school year, and soccer, with the occasional complaint or comment about Hermione, Colin, or any other random person who happened to pop into Ron's mind.
The evening wore on and when Ron finally looked at the clock, it was nearly midnight. "So, you spending the night, then?" he asked indifferently.
Figuring his parents would have called by now if they thought he was at the Weasleys', Harry shrugged a little and said, "Sure."
They were awake for another two hours, talking and watching TV, before Ron announced his need for sleep.
Harry took a blanket and made himself a bed on the floor. He was awake for almost an hour after Ron fell asleep, taking the quiet time to think about everything and nothing all at once. As he finally began to slip into the darkness of sleep, the wide, bulldog-like face of Aunt Marge floated in his mind as a scathing reminder of his stupidity from earlier. That moment of idiocy was really going to cost him when he would next be faced with Lily. He wasn't looking forward to going home the next morning.
**~~***~~**
Harry opened his eyes with a start and stared into the murky darkness of a room lit only by several candles in holders on a wall. He was increasingly aware of the fact that he was cold, despite the heat that floated in the air just outside his skin.
Harry began to pace the room, impatience and annoyance swelling inside him. Where were they?
Where were who? he wondered at himself. Stopping by a low table near the back of the room, he pounded his fist on it and felt slightly relieved as the pain raced up his arm. If they didn't get back soon, he would have Snape strung up.
Snape? Oh, I'm mad at him again? Harry mused, still trying to figure out where he was and what he was doing. Just as he was about to walk back to the chair by the empty hearth, the door opened and several figures in cloaks and masks came in. There were five, all together, and being dragged between two of them was a struggling person with a hood tied down over his head.
Death Eaters! For a moment, a sharp elation filled Harry with a feeling that could have been deep dread or great joy--the thrill of the feeling was too similar to both, and he couldn't tell the difference.
Before a full panic set in, Harry said to himself, Dreaming. I must be dreaming. I'm dreaming about the wizarding world. I wonder if I've gone into another coma....
One of the cloaked figures shoved the hooded boy onto the floor at Harry's feet, then stepped forward and knelt in subjugation. "My Lord," said the unmistakable tones of Severus Snape, "we have brought him to you."
The rest of the Death Eaters removed their masks, revealing themselves to be Nott, Avery, Macnair, and Goyle.
"Excellent," Harry remarked, grinning despite himself.
I'm not in control! Voldemort? No. He's not real....
"Thank you for coming," he continued to the hooded boy, who stayed on the floor, apparently frozen. "I have been looking for you, but you seemed to be somewhere else entirely. Take off his blindfold," he ordered, his voice suddenly harsh. "I want to see his eyes." Harry felt a thrill of power as he watched Snape's features darken from the corner of his eye.
Avery ripped the hood from the boy's head and Harry stared in amazement into his own pale, frightened face.
The other Harry started at seeing what could only have been Voldemort. The two stared into each other's faces for several long seconds. Neither moved nor spoke, but an irrational anger was swelling in Harry even as he watched the fear swelling in the green eyes that looked up at him.
It can't be! Harry thought ferociously, a wild rage completely unrelated to the confusion he felt gripping him. It's not him!
**~~***~~**
Harry woke from the dream, his throat raw and his head pounding.
"Harry!" It was Ron, leaning over the edge of his bed and looking down at Harry, eyes round and terrified.
"Voldemort!" he said quickly, jumping up from the floor and rubbing at the scar on his forehead involuntarily. "It's Voldemort!"
"Voldie-what?"
"Voldemort!" Harry repeated. "He's got--" Realizing he was about to say that Voldemort had him, he stopped. He was shaking and sweaty, and the dull light from the lamp burned into his eyes. Blood pulsed in his ears in time with the waves of pain that shot through his scar.
"Who's got what?" Ron prompted urgently.
Dazed, Harry rubbed his forehead again, pushing down harder in an effort to erase the feeling and the memory of the dream. "N-nothing," he said in an unsteady voice. "Just a bad dream."
"Just a bad dream? You were screaming like someone was trying to murder you."
Someone was, he thought suddenly, and a cold shiver went down his spine. The beads of sweat that clung to his face, neck, and arms froze and he felt like he'd just been doused with ice water. His hands shaking, he sat down and pulled the blanket up around him a little.
"You all right, mate?"
"Yeah."
"You look terrible."
"It was just a dream," he answered, more to himself than Ron's inquiries.
After a moment more of staring at Harry, Ron seemed pacified and he rolled over, tuned the light off, and went back to sleep.
Unable to shake the shadow of pain still pulsing in his forehead, Harry settled back on the floor with no intention of trying to go to sleep. He had too many questions. Why did he have a dream about Voldemort? Why would he dream Voldemort had him captured? And why would all this make his scar--the one he had gotten a car accident--start hurting like that? He supposed his meeting with Riddle might have sparked the Voldemort dream, but that didn't explain his scar burning.
Probably just my imagination, Harry told himself. It's because I was dreaming about the other world, so my mind is acting as if it's real.
It was a feeble explanation, but Harry, in a very Dursleyish fashion, refused to allow himself to consider that this world might, in fact, be the "other world," because that would just make things too complicated....
TBC
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So many reviews! I want to say a collective thank you to everyone. ^_^ There were a couple things more than one person mentioned, so I'll address topics:
Neville- Yeah. I wasn't sure about him. When I first started writing I thought he and Harry would be friends, but when he finally showed up I realized that he would still be an outcast and this Harry--the other Harry--is a big-time jock who thinks he's better than everyone. (If you guys haven't picked that up, I don't feel badly abotu mentioning it....) I couldn't see him being friends with Neville: it was far easier to see him being mean to him. I'll be interested to get everyone's opinion of the Harry and Neville interactions in later chapters. ^_^
The boyfriend thing- *SQUEEEE* Yes, our poor cannon Harry was a bit horrified: he remains so for some time, I'm afraid. Who wouldn't be shocked at learning they were in a homosexual relationship with someone they hated, though? I like writing scenes between them in this one and I think you'll all like what I've done with them.
Petites: I'm glad you noticed that Harry is only comfortable around Sirius and Remus. I was trying to convey that without beating people over the head and I wasn't sure I had. But James and Harry seem to be getting along better now, don't they? I think if this really happened Harry would fall in pretty easily with his father. I have to say, as an aside, I really like writing James. Normally I have a hard time getting him because I want to see him the way Harry does in the books: as a flawless hero. Learning that he was really mean in school was hard for me to cope with at first, and it made it really hard for me to decide how I wanted to write his character. I think he came out OK, don't you?
Meany: I sort of agree about Dumbledore. I thought he would be more active in the story, but now that it's all done and I'm rereading it to edit, I think he came out as well as he could. In actuality he and Harry weren't particularly close. No closer than a regular parishioner and his youth leader. But there is more about Harry's church life to come out later (much later, I'm afraid), and I hope you'll get a better feel for my Dumbledore.
A huge thanks again for all the reviews and I hope you all enjoy the rest of the story!