A/N This chapter is dedicated to the Guest who gave me all those fic recs! I was running out of good ones to read, so thank you so much for both the feedback and the recs :) To answer their question, Hermione from two chapters ago is the Hermione from the current dimension—she was captured in the DoM and the Order thinks she's dead. The Death Eaters too, now that I think about it, since Draco faked her death. This chapter takes place right after Minerva's and before Luna's while Ron's from earlier takes place before they were summoned at all.
And in other news, since the timelines might have started to get confusing, I added a cheat sheet on our new website. aureliaandmidnight . weebly . com
Warnings for language—lots and lots of angery adults in this chapter.
The Harry Potter sitting across from him, entirely different but also painfully familiar, looked angry and confused—for good reason, he supposed.
The kid wasn't supposed to die, he thought, somewhat bitterly. He had been what, fifteen? Sixteen? Not even legally allowed to drink.
And he was dead, his body unrecoverable. But he was also sitting right in front of him, and damn if that wasn't one hell of a mindfuck.
"So, in summary," Harry said, twirling his wand between his fingers the way Lea Xia had tried to teach Moody during a particularly boring Herbology class. "This is a dimension where there's some crazy Dark Lord on the loose who managed to take over the entire country, and Hogwarts has turned into the HQ for some sort of resistance? Only, you're failing so miserably at being a resistance that you decided your only course of action was to summon a teenager from a different dimension to fight your war for you?"
Mad-Eye felt a now-familiar stab of guilt, because the kid was right—the old guard had failed, miserably, and they were forcing their burdens onto the next generation.
He surveyed the dimension travelers, using his eye only sparingly, having rushed to the Room as soon as Dumbledore's patronus had flashed into existence in front of him. Hermione Granger stood behind him, visibly guarding his back with eyes so hard and dark that Moody had to wonder what had happened to her, in their Voldemort-less world, to make her so jaded. Ronald Weasley, looking no different from his counterpart, stood beside Granger in a classic defensive formation with his wand in a textbook dueling grip. Riddle, on the other hand, remained out of formation. He stood some distance from his students looking almost obscenely relaxed.
Almost unconsciously, Mad-Eye began a threat assessment.
The Hermione he had known had been the inquisitive muggleborn that he had disliked for no other reason than that she was small and obviously unequipped to fight against Death Eaters. But she had been wicked smart, Moody remembered, and her specialty had been research and something about house elves.
This Granger had an adaptive dueling stance that she seemingly copied off of Riddle, who had stood the same way upon arriving, and was unknown to Moody. His protege, then? Mad-Eye marked her as a possible threat in a skirmish for both unpredictability and unknown level of fighting skill, presumably high.
Ron Weasley, on the other hand, was easy to read. Textbook stance, textbook grip, probably knew nothing more than basic offensive spells and defensive spells. He marked him as a lower priority than Hermione Granger, but he made sure to keep an eye on him. Mad-Eye hadn't lived this long by underestimating an opponent.
And Potter...
"My boy—" the headmaster tried, the twinkle in his eyes conspicuously absent as he settled in his chair, having exited the room for a scant two minutes after sending George to Madam Pomfrey. Moody had seen a flash of white-blond hair through the crack in the doorjamb but chosen, grudgingly, to discount it. Dumbledore knew what he was doing. Hopefully.
"Yeah, no," Harry said firmly. "I'm literally the least equipped person in this room to fight a bloody dark lord, thank you ever so much."
"You were the best at DADA in your year," George said quietly, (Moody noticed the way his hand spasmed around his wand) "You formed an army of students that could stand up to any non-Inner Circle Death Eaters. You've faced Voldemort and won."
Harry snorted derisively. "Allow me to introduce myself, since you seem to be under the impression that I'm someone entirely different. Hi, I'm Harry Potter. My parents are James and Lily Potter, my best friends are Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and my best class—" he paused for emphasis, "is Herbology. I apprenticed myself to Madam Pomfrey last year and am currently taking the advanced Healer track. The closest I've ever gotten to fighting a dark lord is in demonstration duels with Professor Riddle."
"Healer—" Professor McGonagall choked, and Remus put a hand on her shoulder. Moody remained where she was, watching the man Dumbledore had called Tom.
An unknown quantity, he thought, doing his best not to bristle. The man had an aura of self-assuredness and charisma that unconsciously had him leaning in his direction until he realized and snapped back to sitting ramrod straight.
"Which brings us to our main question," said the headmaster, shifting forward slightly. "How long has Tom been a teacher at Hogwarts?"
Riddle gave the man an odd look. "You mean to say I'm not one, here?"
Dumbledore only waited for an answer, steepling his fingers. Moody was cataloguing the man's body language, but he gave nothing away. Either he was a very experienced people-people watcher or he had a very good teacher, he concluded.
Riddle sighed. "Decades, Albus, decades. Galatea retired eight years after I graduated. Since I was her apprentice and was already making a name for myself in the academic world, you showed up on my doorstep with a contract and that ornery look you get when you want something. You ate my biscuits, drank my tea, and whinged about the dearth of lemon drops until I signed."
Professor McGonagall let out another choking noise, except this time, Moody thought it sounded a lot like a laugh.
Threat assessment, he reminded herself, and went back to studying Riddle. The name "Galatea Merrythought" rang a bell, if only faintly. The woman was a bit of a legend in the Creature division of the Ministry. It was said that in her prime, she could take down a fully-grown Nundu without backup. That woman had been a powerhouse, and when she retired from actively creature-hunting she went to work at Hogwarts as the DADA teacher.
That had been decades ago.
So he's old, Moody concluded with a snort. Older than me and, if he was Merrythought's apprentice, powerful. Apprentices almost always adapted their master's techniques to suit them, but the techniques were always somewhat linked.
Riddle might fight with a bastardized dueling style, Moody thought, and resolved to do some digging on Galatea Merrythought.
"I've been teaching ever since," Professor Riddle concluded, shrugging.
Dumbledore sat back in his chair and took off his half-moon spectacles. "There was no Voldemort equivalent in your time, I take it," he said heavily.
"Nope," Harry replied, popping the "p". Moody fought back a scowl.
"And your parents are alive, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall interjected.
"Very much alive," said Harry, and Moody let his glare subside slightly. Good. At least the kid hadn't grown up with his terrible aunt and uncle.
Dumbledore let out a large sigh. "It seems we have miscalculated."
Hermione let out a dry snort. "You could say that," she said, before flipping her wand over her fingers and slipping it up her sleeve. "I'm starving. Any food around here?"
"I'll take you guys to the Great Hall," not-Remus sighed, and pulled out his wand. Everyone in the room immediately stiffened. "Would you let me apply a glamour over you to look more nondescript? I'm afraid that you three are rather infamous here."
"If you don't mind," Professor Riddle said dryly, "I'd much rather do it myself."
Looking like he wanted to object, not-Remus nevertheless backed up a step and holstered his wand. "Much obliged," replied Riddle, and he swished his pale white wand over the heads of his students. Harry thought it felt a little bit like dust settling on his shoulders or tiny pieces of sand, utterly unlike the cracked-egg feeling of Disillusionment.
"Wait," Moody growled, feeling his paranoia tickling at him. "How are we so sure these guys are who they say they are? For all we know, they could be Death Eaters in disguise." Or something worse, he added silently.
Riddle had the gall to roll his eyes at him. "I swear upon my magic that my students and I are all who we claim to be," he said heavily, letting the feeling of something swirl in the room, then gestured at the three teenagers.
"Now, off with you," he murmured, smiling tightly. They trundled off down the stairs, the Granger girl visibly fingering her wand.
"Let's get down to business, shall we?" he asked then, sitting down in front of them. It looked like a war council, almost, or a tribunal, with the Order members present for the summoning arrayed in front of this one man.
"Let's," agreed Albus, and steepled his knobby fingers. "We need help," he said bluntly.
Riddle raised an eyebrow. "From a sixteen year old boy, not even having reached his majority? I fail to see how Mr. Potter will be of any help in your little rebellion." Riddle waved a hand dismissively before continuing, a wicked glint in his eye. "He just learned how to heal compound fractures just the other day, you know? Essential skills for stopping a Dark Lord. Oh, and I hear he'd memorized the entirety of 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi, since Pomona and Poppy insisted."
Moody could see Albus gritting his teeth, and he couldn't blame the man. The dimension traveler was deliberately treading all over the headmaster's nerves.
"There was a prophecy," Albus said quietly.
"Oh?"
"About Harry."
"Do tell," Riddle said dryly, feigning disinterest. But Moody could see the tension in the lines of his body and he was sure that the werewolf next to him was picking up on Riddle's quickening heartbeat.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives," recited Dumbledore, without much ceremony.
"And are you so sure that your Harry fit the bill?" Riddle asked.
"His parents were approached by recruiters twice, and the third time, they faced Voldemort in open battle. Harry's birthday is the 31st of June. And he was marked by a scar when he was attacked by Voldemort," Dumbledore replied.
"Curious," Riddle mused, before his lips twisted into an approximation of a smile. "But you see, your plan has a very obvious hole in it."
"How so?" Albus asked, and Moody tried to ignore the creeping feeling of dread in his gut.
"Mr. Potter's parents have never defied this dark lord of yours, seeing as how he never existed. And he has never been marked," Riddle pointed out.
It was now Albus' turn to chuckle, though Moody could not ascertain the reason. "But he has," said the headmaster.
"How so?"
Albus only shrugged. "Tell me, has he ever been hurt in one of his demonstration duels with you?"
Riddle narrowed his eyes, thinking, before he came to the obvious conclusion the same time that Moody did.
"You're joking," said Riddle, suddenly going rigid with realization. "You're joking."
"I'm afraid I'm not," Dumbledore said quietly.
"Me?" Riddle demanded, standing up. "I'm the Dark Lord all of you are scared shitless of?" He flexed his left wrist and his wand shot into his hand. It was a familiar wand, the unsettling bone-white color seeming to shine in the low torchlight. "You all are insane," he bit out, when he saw that every single witch and wizard in that room had also shot to their feet and palmed their wands. Moody was scowling and cursing his traitorous heart for pounding faster. Albus hadn't told him that the man they had accidentally summoned was the Dark Lord of another dimension.
Damn it, Minerva, Mad-Eye thought, sparing her a glare.
"Let's all just calm down," Albus tried to say placatingly.
"Are you insane?" Mad-Eye spat, "We have Lord Voldemort in our midst and you're telling me to calm down?"
"I'm not Lord Voldemort!" Tom roared.
Sirius Black, with all of his gracelessly terrible timing, chose that moment to burst through the door. "Is anybody going to explain," he hissed, "Why my godson is sitting in the Great Hall with his two dead best friends? Bad enough you said you were summoning Harry—" here he choked slightly, "But the rest?!"
"Sirius," Albus tried, "Now is not the best time—"
"Fuck the best time!" Sirius yelled, then seemed to notice the unfamiliar figure among the Order. "Who're you?" he asked suspiciously.
Dumbledore sat back into his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. Moody followed, but kept his wand. It was going to be a long night.
Suddenly, Albus stiffened. "Someone's attacking the wards," he whispered, horrified, and Moody revised his assessment. It was going to be a very long night.
"Emergency protocols," he barked, getting back to his feet. "Minerva, you corral the students. Slytherin dorms are the most easily defensible, get them there and I want them there yesterday. Tonks, Molly, you're on babysitting duty." He jerked his head towards Riddle. "At least one wand on him at all times, you hear me? Lupin, I want you waking up the castle's defenses. You know how, yeah? It's mandatory for any Hogwarts professor."
Lupin nodded, his face grim as he rushed out of the room. "Black, you're with me and Albus. We're going to see what all the fuss is about," Moody said, a slash of a smile on his face.
Moody gave one sharp nod. "Go, go, go!" he yelled. Everyone still in the room went for the door, except for Riddle.
"If this is your dark lord," Riddle said lowly, "You'll want my help."
Moody sneered. "Be glad you're even keeping your wand," he snapped, and rushed out with Albus and Black. His eye saw Riddle glaring after him, a cold and calculating look in his blue gaze, and Moody couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to go terribly, terribly wrong.
A/N So, I wrote a rant on how annoying canon HP fights are on the blog, please do check it out!
Edit 5/30/19: Minor changes to clarify some elements, as well as change George's location's to fix continuity issues with the next chapter. It's almost as if I'm writing entirely by the seat of my pants.
Oh, and from here on out, there will be instances of not-so-kid-friendly language as the war intensifies. Consider this a blanket warning.