Thank you Talesoftime, Runelore, ex-livreira and Eider Down for your help with this.

Knowing canon helps but isn't a requirement. If you are confused about anything let me know in the comments and I'll add a better in-story explanation for those not as familiar with either fandom.

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Disclaimer: Lewis Carroll wrote The Jabberwocky, JKR wrote the Harry Potter series, Christoper Paolini wrote The Inheritance Cycle. This is my three-way crossover.

Warnings: while Harry is gay, this isn't a slash story. There's a bit of unrequited Harry/Murtagh attraction, and Harry starts seeing an OC elf in chapter 13. (Chapter 14 is the epilogue).
Triggers: Stockholm Syndrome / Psychological abuse / Unhealthy manipulative relationships.

Completely written, updates approximately every other weekend.

… xoxox …

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves / Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

He looked at Albus Dumbledore, standing in white robes and infinite wisdom. "If you wanted, you could get on a train and go—on."

Harry was tired. So, so tired.

He nodded once, firmly. "Thank you, Professor," he said. "For everything."

There was a lovely black steam engine the next platform over. Harry got into a carriage, marvelling at the way he could almost smell the vinyl seats. He knew this wasn't real, not really. It was all in his head, after all.

The steam whistled, and Harry wished for a cuppa. The wagon lurched—they were off.

Harry's eyes slid shut without him really noticing.

When he awoke, he knew he had fallen much farther than just down a rabbit hole.

… …

The first things he noticed were the birdsong and sunshine. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet, but he could feel the warmth of it. There were soft sheets against his skin.

It was so peaceful.

Harry hadn't realised how much he'd missed being able to breathe easy. Of their own accord, his muscles unclenched. There was no danger. He didn't know when, or where, or how he was, but he did know this place was safe.

Harry opened his eyes.

There was a man on a chair nearby, reading with his brow furrowed. He wore a circlet on his head, and his beard was trimmed neatly. Everything about him looked…careful. "Goedemorgen," the man greeted.

"Hello…" Harry hedged. "Do you speak English, by any chance?"

The stranger's eyes had already widened with understanding. "Yes, I understand and can speak the Ancient Language."

At least they would be able to communicate, then. Harry sighed in relief.

"What is your name, child?"

With a clammy hand, Harry smoothed his bangs over his scar. "Harry."

"Begroeting, Harry. I am Galbatorix, Leader of the Forsworn, Last of the Dragon Riders, Master of Shruikan and King of the Broddring Empire."

Harry swallowed. He felt very small and rather inconsequential. Like the kid who had just…died, actually. Not even an hour ago, by a superior wizard's wand. "Err. The Broddring empire? Where's that—your Majesty?"

The King smiled genially, not seeming to mind. "Alagaesia."

"Ah. Of course. Ala-gaesia." Harry's heart sunk. He had gotten on that train in King's Cross and ended up very, very far from home. "I don't suppose you know where that is relative to England?"

"England," the King echoed. "No."

"Right." Harry swallowed. Alagaesia, huh? And—

"Sorry, did you say dragon riders?"

King Galbatorix laughed, eyes twinkling much like Dumbledore's had. "Yes, Harry. Dragons. Come, let me show you this world. I'm sure there is a place here for you."

Harry had grown up in a cupboard.

Had been thrown headfirst into a world of magic, where everyone already seemed to know everything about him. He had been expected to save them all.

Something inside him trembled with hungry anticipation. I'm sure there's a place for you here, the King had said.

Harry believed him.

AN: Cross-posted to AO3, all chapters already up there. Thank you for reading!