June
Harry threw the mangled cup of Helga Hufflepuff down on Dumbledore's desk.
"The Diary. The Ring. The Locket. The Tiara. The Cup. Only the snake is left," he said.
The headmaster looked at him in astonishment. "Where did you get this?"
"Made a deal with the goblins," Harry shrugged. After the dragon killed Bella, he had Imperiused the goblin so he would subdue the dragon, and from there, the path to take the cup, vanish Bella's remains, and Obliviate the teller was easy.
Dumbledore obviously didn't buy it, but asked no more questions. He simply sighed wearily and let his head slouch down. A red light immediately flared in Harry's mind; this kind of behaviour from the headmaster was never a good sign. It meant he was about to reveal something truly disturbing.
"Sit down, Harry," he said, motioning to the chair in front of his desk.
Harry sat, not taking his gaze from Dumbledore's face. His heart started beating faster.
"I must thank you, Harry. I couldn't have done it without you. Your insight into Tom's... thought process, has been invaluable," he said, still not looking Harry in the eyes.
"But?" Harry urged him on, wishing he'd stop trying to soften the blow like he did all those years with the damned prophecy.
"There is one more. One more Horcrux left, besides Nagini, a Horcrux even Tom isn't aware of," he said, finally looking up at Harry.
Harry's stomach clenched with dread, but he forced himself to clamp it down. He took a long breath. "It's me, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore said. "I suspect Tom had the intention of creating a Horcrux from your death. It appears that his soul was so unstable from the way he mutilated it, that when he tried to murder you, and his soul was blasted from his burning body, the piece intended for the Horcrux tore out and entered the only object it had a magical connection with. Your scar. That is why it hurts when you come near him. That is why you can see into his mind." Dumbledore sighed. "I am sorry."
Instead of going into emotional overdrive, Harry felt all sensations wither away, leaving him empty, as if it wasn't truly happening to him, but to a stranger from whose eyes Harry was looking. He simply had no way of dealing with all of the conflicting emotions right now.
He didn't ask how long Dumbledore knew, or why he didn't tell him sooner. The reasons were obvious, and he had alluded to it in the past, when he told Harry that Lord Voldemort 'put some of his power in you.'
"Is there no way to get it out?" Harry asked, knowing it was futile. He had studied Horcruxes enough to know that the soul piece couldn't be separated from its casing.
"I have looked far and wide, but found no likely solution," Dumbledore said.
"Then the only way to defeat Lord Voldemort is to end my life," Harry said tonelessly. "Why am I not surprised?"
Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but seemed hesitant. "I would not want to give you false hope, but... there might be another way, as unlikely as it is to work."
"What is it?" Harry furrowed his brow.
"Your soul and that soul piece of Lord Voldemort are intertwined," the headmaster said. "As long as you live, his soul is anchored to this world, to life."
"I know how Horcruxes work—"
"However," Dumbledore said, holding a hand to stop Harry. "If your soul were to travel to a different world, the connection would be severed."
"A different world?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"The Unspeakables who study the matter posit that there are infinite worlds, born out of every choice we make. Just a slight change in action can lead to a vastly different universe," the headmaster said, his voice turning ethereal. "There are stories of persons who claimed to have come from another world... not bodily, but in spirit. The soul is the only matter that can traverse worlds and plains of existence. One thing in common to all those travelers is that they have entered the bodies of their alternate counterparts, just as those died and their souls vacated them."
Dumbledore took a sip of from a goblet while Harry was digesting the information.
"The Unspeakables... do they have a way to... travel between worlds?" Harry asked, emotion finally returning to his voice.
"They have conducted experiments on the matter, to no conclusive results," Dumbledore said. "You see, the theory of infinite worlds denotes that, even if the researchers did succeed in crossing to another universe, they could never find their way back, and their findings were lost to us."
Harry sat in pensive silence. "So I could travel to the body of my dead counterpart... but how different would the world be?"
"Alas, we can only speculate," Dumbledore said. "One theory suggests that the worlds closest to us, so to speak, are those with the smallest number of changes, while those far away could be unrecognizable. It's possible you'll find yourself in a world where Pettigrew did not betray your parents, or in one where you are the Dark Lord. How to gauge the distance, I have no idea."
Harry recalled the space room in the Department of Mysteries and mulled over the headmaster's words for a while. Of course Voldemort would find one last way to fuck with his life. He had long resigned himself to the fact that he was likely going to die young, never really developing a vision of the future beyond the war, but to just lay down his life... it didn't seem right.
Then he recalled something that Delphini said about her future. How he had inexplicably disappeared a few months before Voldemort's demise. Had he killed himself, alone and hidden, or had he disappeared into another world? One that was, perhaps, not so wretched? He couldn't know, but the possibility gave him slight hope. A world where his friends were alive, where people didn't gawk at him and tried to mess with him wherever he went...
"Please collect every piece of information you have on the subject," Harry said, rising from his chair with a renewed sense of purpose.
"Very well, Harry," the headmaster breathed deeply. "But do not get your hopes up. There is no tried and tested method to go through this, and the attempt may very well kill you."
"I've done the impossible before," Harry said with one last glance at Dumbledore, before leaving the office. Indeed, for all that his life was wracked with misfortune, he somehow managed to go against the odds time and time again. He just had to give it his best.
Delphini's words about his sudden disappearance made him realize that he shouldn't leave much evidence of his questionable acts behind. It was time to clean house.
She woke up in a sprawling field, where a variety of strange flowers, weeds and shrubs grew wildly. It was a bright day, and to her surprise, she was completely clean and wearing a short, floral sundress. It took her a minute to gather her bearings; this was the complete opposite of the cold, dark and damp Chamber that was all she had known for the past month. This must be a dream, Delphini concluded as she stood up.
"Beautiful spring day, isn't it?" Potter said.
No, this is a nightmare, she corrected herself. As if to confirm that fact, she noticed she still had the magic-suppressing handcuffs on.
"Where are we?" she asked dazedly, looking around to see Potter standing by her side, wearing a dark green linen robe, his hair fluttering in the wind.
"Hemlock Moor," his dreaded voice replied casually. "This is the place where, a hundred years ago, Arcus and his forced clashed against those of Livius. It was one of the most magnificent battles in magical history. Much blood was spilt. The earth is saturated with ambient magic. Coincidentally, the Ministry can't trace active magic in here. I checked."
Despite the ominous history (and present), there was an undeniable feel of serenity to the place. Delphini felt the wind run through her soft hair and the sun warmed her pale skin.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, watching Potter carefully.
"Oh, I just always wanted to try having sex in a sunny field," he smiled infuriatingly.
"Not that! I mean why do you torment me like this! Just kill me already!"
Potter furrowed his brow at her. "Did you ever love someone, Delphini?"
She merely glared at him in silence. The bastard was delusional if he thought she'd talk about it with him.
He sighed. "It's funny. Dumbledore used to say that love was my greatest weapon. That was before your father, mother, and all their pathetic underlings murdered everyone I've ever loved," he said quietly. "I can't be in public relationships anymore. Anyone who comes close to me becomes a target to my enemies. Still, I have to relieve my urges somehow, don't I? so that's why I keep you, your mommy, Pansy, and Daphne for company."
"I thought Daphne was your accomplice."
"It's complicated," he shrugged. "But, as for your request, don't worry. You will be free sooner than you think."
Delphini narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
Potter clucked his tongue, an expression of annoyance fleeting across his face for a moment. "Because your father is a bastard," he said, stepping towards her.
"Excuse me?" she said, stepping back, but it was too late. With a lazy flick of his wand, he put her under the Marionette curse again, and forced her to stop.
"A thieving, snake-faced, deranged bastard," Potter said, grabbing her bare shoulder with his left hand and stroking it. Delphini shivered. She still hadn't grown used to his intimate touch. "The idiot just had to tear out his soul so many times that in the end, a part of it latched on to me."
Delphini's mouth gaped open in shock. "No, it can't be—"
"Did you really think it was a coincidence that I could speak Parseltongue?" Potter asked, stepping closer to her, his expression bitter and cross. "No, it was merely Fate's final, cruel jest. The fucking bitch just couldn't allow me to ever be happy. My greatest enemy can't die while I still live."
She watched his agitated face, and slowly, the corners of her mouth started to rise, until, finally, she threw her head back and burst in merry laughter. She didn't stop for half a minute, making the most of whatever joy she could find in the dire situation. "Oh, this is priceless—"
Her sentence was cut off as Potter grabbed her by her back, drew her towards him, and caught her mouth in a kiss.
She definitely wasn't expecting that, and for a few seconds she was merely frozen in shock. She had never kissed a boy before, and to her shame, she had to admit that it felt nice. She didn't want to submit, but she felt her body forced to comply and return his kiss. Her mind went into panic at the unexpected sensations of pleasure and guilt, until he suddenly broke it off.
"You taste nice," Potter said solemnly, cupping her cheek with the palm of his hand and rubbing it with his thumb. "And you're beautiful. Another one of life's great injustices. Someone born out of a monster like your father should not be so alluring."
Delphini could only stare at Potter's pouting face in surprise. Evidently learning of his ultimate obstacle had put him in a strange mood.
"Maybe I should impregnate you," he continued with that same disdainful tone, his hand trailing done to her smooth neck and sending chills down her chest. "Make you carry my child, so the Potter line wouldn't die out. Wouldn't that be the greatest insult to my enemy? To stain Slytherin's line, the dynasty that he is so proud of, in order to bolster my own?"
Her eyes widened and she bit her lip in surprise. "No," she forced out. "You wouldn't do that to an innocent baby."
Potter laughed mirthlessly. "No, I suppose that would be too much," he said. "But I want to, so bad..."
Suddenly, he grabbed her waist with both hands and flipped her around. His chest clung to her back and his hands wrapped around her breasts, as she froze again. He leaned his head to the nape of her neck and kissed it, which made her close her eyes involuntary and shudder in pleasure. This was just wrong.
"I would have loved to fuck and torture you for months, to break you and turn you into my concubine for life. Unfortunately, I don't have much time left. If I have to go, I'll need to dispose of you first," he whispered into her ear chillingly, his hands rubbing her modest chest through the bumps in her dress, pushing the soft tissue upwards with force. "What do you say, Delph, shall we share one last pleasure before we die?"
"N-No," she blurted out weakly.
"Too bad that you don't get to choose, then," Potter said in a hushed voice, running his fingers through her thick hair gently, and she suppressed a moan. She hated how good it felt to be with him, and felt her body growing weak and limp, ready to receive his invasion. Her eyes started watering.
"You're about to die," he said quietly in her ear. "This is your last chance to feel something nice. Just pretend that I'm your loving boyfriend, and I'll pretend you're my pretty girlfriend, instead of the bitch spawn of Voldemort," he said, and suddenly, the bottom of her dress was raised, and she felt his coarse fingers rubbing against her pussy, which tingled and went loose in anticipation. By Morgana, it felt good, and she wanted to just let go, let him have her, but the thought of giving in was too shameful.
Then again, why shouldn't you? a voice in her mind spoke. If this is really how it ends, and everything you did was meaningless, why not just do as he says and have a pleasant end?
No! another internal voice answered. You can't let him win! You will not surrender!
She could only stand still as Potter began gently prodding into her pussy from behind, massaging it in slow movements, while his other hand wandered down to rub her clit. She couldn't help herself from getting wet and loose, and a moan escaped her lips as he brought two fingers deeper into her.
"You feel so soft..." Potter whispered, kissing her bare shoulder and pushing the thin strap of her dress aside until it fell down her arm. Delphini shut her eyes and let the pleasure course through her mind as he took her, until suddenly the awareness of what was happening returned.
"No! Leave me alone!" her hands attempted to push Harry back, but he was stronger. He pulled her hands to him and crossed them behind her back.
"I tried making this nice," Potter said, his voice quiet but sharp. "You don't want to play along? Fine. See how you like it."
Without preamble, he flicked his wand, and Delphini was flipped upside down. She gasped and flailed, but his hands grubbed her midriff, stopping her from falling down to the earth. She hung with her legs up and her face stuck in front of Potter's cock, completely at his mercy. She didn't even notice him disrobing, but he was completely nude.
"Let me go!" she yelled. "Let me—OH!"
Instead of letting her go, Potter just held her closer, his erect cock hitting her lips, and pried her legs open. Just as her face was stuck to his organ, so was his to hers, and she gave out a surprise moan as he began licking her pussy.
His curse took over her body and while he kept kissing and licking the pink flesh between her legs, she was forced to wrap her mouth around his cock and suck it. It felt utterly humiliating, having her body be used like that, stuck in such a powerless position, yet in some way, it completely turned her on. Her head bobbed on his cock again and again, clinging to it as if it were a lifeline. Potter began to breathe deeply as his tongue played with her clit, and she could feel his organ getting engorged inside her warm mouth.
"Oh, sweet Merlin, yes," he mumbled, leaning forward and pushing his cock deeper into her throat, and panic seized her as she began to choke and sputter. She had no air, and couldn't pull her head back due to his control! She was about to die with Harry fucking Potter's dick blocking her throat!
"Ahhh, urgghh," she choked out in desperation, attempting to communicate with her captor in the most degrading way possible, and relief flooded her as he suddenly pulled back and released her mouth, letting her breathe sweet air with intense huffing.
"Oh, did I go too far?" he asked, a question which she wouldn't deign answer even if she had the air to. "I'm sorry... it's just that I'm used to your mother, and she had way better tolerance. But I suppose she also had more experience..."
"G-Go... to hell..." she groaned.
"Awww... but if I go to hell, we would be together, and you would never get rid of me," Potter said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice.
"At least you will suffer too," she said, twisting her flushed face in anger.
"Remember, Delph, I tried making this nice for you," he said, before waving his wand and letting go of her body.
She expected to feel coarse soil and thorns as she fell, but instead she slumped down on her back onto something soft and flat. She turned her head aside and saw that it was a picnic blanket. Thank Morgana for small mercies.
Then Potter leaned down on her, pulling the bottom of her dress up to her stomach, and his eyes swept to her smooth pussy, exposed in the bright sun.
"So pretty..." Potter said, trailing a finger over her pale, flat stomach and down to her wet folds. She looked aside, unwilling to meet his lecherous gaze, but he just climbed over her prone form, took her jaw in his hand, and twisted her head to face him.
"Last call, Delphini," he said, gazing deeply into her eyes. "Don't you want to feel what it's like to make love?"
She took in air. "You're a monster. You will never feel love," she bit at him.
A shadow passed over his face, but otherwise it remained impassive with the same intense gaze.
"That makes two of us, then," he said, and unceremoniously lay down on her.
Delphini tried to pull back, but she couldn't move. His body straddled her down, holding her arms to the side forcefully, and he buried his face in the nape of her neck, just as he buried his organ in her pussy. She leaned her head aside so she won't have to see him and blinked back tears that welled from a mixture of pleasure and pain. He pumped into her slowly, with even, deliberate motions, as if he was trying to systematically coax pleasure out of her. But she wouldn't let him. No matter how much it roused her body.
She could only pull her head back and watch the white clouds floating in the blue sky with detachment as he defiled her body once more, indulgently massaging her inner walls in round movements that made her blink every so often as he hit the spot that made her feel hot and lightheaded.
After he came inside her with intense thrusts, he pushed her on her side and lay behind her, cuddling her back with his nose resting on her shoulder, while his hands held her chest and pulled her back towards him possessively. She felt him rubbing against her ass and breathing her scent, but thankfully, he seemed satisfied and didn't push into her again.
"Isn't it a nice day to die, Delph?"
She kept her silence and buried her face further into the thin blanket, letting another tear fall down her cheek. It actually is, she thought bitterly. She was about to die, and there was nothing she could do about it. At least the bastard will have to die, too.
He sighed behind her ear. "What do you know about alternative universes?"
The question took her by surprise and she blurted "What?"
"Alternative universes, parallel worlds, other dimensions," he repeated himself emotionlessly. "Apparently they exist. Do you know anything about that?"
Delphini furrowed her brow, not sure what he was playing at. Maybe he will try to send her into another dimension instead of killing her?
"The Department of Mysteries studies them," she replied in an equally detached voice.
"Mhm," he said, his hand squeezing her waist. Horny bastard.
"They built a mirror that could supposedly transport you into a world that mirrors our own," she said, recalling an old plan.
"Really? How do you know?" he asked, some interest creeping into his tone.
"I've done my research. I thought that, maybe, my parents will be alive in an alternative universe, and I could be with them," she said, feeling a surge of emotions at how stupid she was. "But then I heard about that clockmaker in Zurich..."
Suddenly, Potter grabbed her arm and flipped her over to face him.
"Hey!" she glared at him, and he fixed his gaze to her eyes.
She felt him traipsing through her memories, latching unto every detail she had learned of the matter and drinking it in, but she didn't even care anymore, and was too weak to resist, so she just let him view it all, hoping it would end quickly. After a minute, he blinked, and his gaze went out of focus.
"Why, thank you, Delphini, that was very informative. I do recall seeing this strange tall mirror in the space room at the department..." his back rose and his legs folded beneath him. With a wave of his wand, his robe covered him. With another wave, a wicker basket zoomed towards them, and with a flick, it opened. Large plates flew out of it, covered with slices of black bread, feta cheese, cherry tomatoes, and olives. They arranged themselves daintily on the blanket.
The sight made Delphini's mouth water, and her stomach grumble. She looked at her captor in suspicion.
"Even you deserve a last meal," he said with a small smile tugging at the side of his lip.
"No thanks," she turned her head and looked away in anger.
"C'mon, I know the nutrient potions I've been feeding you for the last month don't taste very nice. Stop being such a spiteful little girl and just have a little picnic with me."
"It's just another one of your tricks," she said, glaring at him from the side of her eye.
"Suit yourself," Potter shrugged with a toothy grin. He started piling up cheese on top of a slice of bread and took a large bite, making loud noises of pleasure. "Mmmmmmm. Even more delicious than your pussy!"
Realizing that he wasn't trying to poison her, Delphini huffed, scrunched her nose, and reached for a plate. Potter be damned, if she was going to die at least she'll have this last simple pleasure.
He really wasn't exaggerating, she thought as she bit into the creamy cheese and thick bread. She tore into her meal with relish, refraining from making his kind of noises, even though the rich taste tempted her. The delicious meal at least managed to distract her from her woes for a few minutes.
Potter raised his wand. She flinched, but nothing happened. After a few seconds, some kind of plant with tiny dark berries fluttered in the wind and flew into his hand. Delphini frowned as he produced two wine glasses, deposited the berries in one, and crushed them into powder with a spell.
"Wine?" he took an unlabeled bottle of red wine from the basket and poured it generously into the two glasses. Delphini kept her gaze on the one with the berries. The one he offered to her. She wanted to bristle at his presumption - not even trying to hide the poison from her! - but then a thought went through her head. What does it matter, anyway? You're going to die. Better do it painlessly, in a beautiful field, on a bright spring day. She knew well enough that the rest of his victims did not enjoy such luxury. She didn't want to go back to the Chamber.
She took the glass.
"To life," he said, clinking his cup against her own.
"I'll see you in hell," she said, and gulped down her wine. The bastard laughed merrily.
It didn't take long for the poison to make her dazed, and her head span around uncontrollably. She laid it back on the blanket, and was surprised when instead it fell into Potter's lap.
Doesn't matter, nothing matters, only death is real, she thought, as she closed her eyes and felt him stroke her hair gently. She let herself get lulled to beautiful serenity by his touch until her consciousness faded.
She died without even knowing that he had killed her mother. At first he wanted to gloat and see her cry over it, but over the month he spent with her, Harry realized that more than being evil, Delphini was just pathetic. A stupid little girl with too much power still pining for her mommy and daddy, without even realizing how fucked up both of them were. As naïve as he was when he first started Hogwarts, but so much deadlier.
After that picnic, he began to tie up his affairs. He willed the Potter vaults and house to Remus Lupin, and the inheritance he got from Sirius to Andromeda Tonks; the will was to go into effect three months after he was last seen in public. Not much was left from the fortunes of the once two wealthy families, but he'd be damned if even a single knut went by default to the Lestranges, or worse, the Dursleys.
With Runcorn no longer needed for Polyjuice material, he incinerated his body to ash and vanished it.
He decided not to inform Daphne and Pansy of his departure - though he did make sure to plow Pansy several last times, and have a relaxing evening with Daphne and several bottles of pear cider in a jacuzzi. It was probably better if they believed he was out there, with their vow and enslavement contract still in effect.
Finally, he buried a box full of questionable items, such as his stash of stolen wands, magic suppressing cuffs, Marauder's Map, and Pansy's enslavement contract, nine feet below the fresh grave of a random muggle, just in case things did not go the way he planned.
The entire affair was strangely apathetic, but there was truly not much left for him to care about in this world, and he was much more excited about the prospects that awaited him in another one.
Only a few days later, in the middle of the night, he broke into the Department of Mysteries. With the amount of information on the Ministry he took from the minds of Umbridge, Runcorn, and the Death Eaters, it wasn't much of a challenge. He tripped up the alarms, but it didn't matter; he left a trail of Peruvian Darkness Powder in his wake, and a couple of conjured snakes instructed to attack any intruders.
There were shouts and echoes of running footsteps in the distance, but he paid it no attention as he reached the space room. The concave, two-meter-tall mirror was exactly where he remembered it.
It shined like quicksilver, and as he drew closer, he could see an image starting to form on its liquescent surface. It was his reflection, but with one obvious difference; his messy hair was swept back, showing a smooth forehead unmarred by dark magic. This was him, he knew, had Voldemort never tried to kill him.
There was a particular depth behind his likeness, like a strange three-dimensional photo. The mirror's surface had no glass sheen or layer of dust to hint at any earthly material. Harry extended his hand forward and his fingers swept over a cool substance, sending ripples across the mirror from the touch point. The ripples extended towards the frame, blurring the image. Harry felt a soft pull, like a portkey, yet infinitely gentler, and stepped further, letting his hand sink into the mirror's depths.
There was no going back. Something told him that his hand was already at an entirely different place. With a final push, he threw himself into the mirror, until his entire body submerged inside, and all light ceased...
...Until a speck of light appeared far away, shining like a lone star in the infinite void. Harry felt a force pulling him in its direction, but it was weak, and he instinctively poured magic into what he imagined as a lifeline linking him to the star, willing his entire being to leave the confines of his old world and reach forward for another.
Slowly, voices crept in around him, blunted, as if he was underwater, but as he drew closer to the star, and the light increased, they became clearer, almost comprehensible. The light filled his vision, and he felt as if it was blinding him, until it took him completely, and suddenly, Harry could feel again.
With great effort, he opened his eyes, fluttering them against the harsh white light of what could only have been the infirmary at Hogwarts, judging by the freshly plastered, vaulted ceiling. There were several figures milling around, but he couldn't make them distinctly. Everything was blurry.
"Mister Potter," a sturdy, deep voice said. "Glad to see you awake."
Harry wet his lips. "Glasses," he mumbled. After a second, he felt his eyeglasses being pushed against the bridge of his nose, and the view of the ceiling cleared. Before he could move his head to look at the source of the voice, an orange blur streaked towards him.
"Harry! Are you okay? We thought you were gone!"
The speaker had a familiar girly voice. Harry narrowed his eyes and focused on the face of the figure that was leaning towards him and blocking his line of sight. His first thought was that this was Ginny Weasley, but no... the girl had blue eyes, unlike Ginny's browns, and a slightly rounder face.
"I told you, Rolanda, the dementors couldn't have sucked my brother's soul, because he doesn't have one in the first place," said another, slightly higher female voice.
"Shut up, Ella!" the redhead girl called Rolanda shouted, turning her head towards a short girl that stood against the wall with her arms crossed. Harry couldn't help but stare at her. She also looked quite familiar; emerald green eyes behind thick glasses, short nose, and long black hair, with bangs that covered her forehead. Her use of the word 'brother' left no doubt as to her identity.
He'd done it! He successfully traveled into another universe!
Now what?
"What happened?" he groaned, examining the flushed, worried face of Rolanda.
"Death Eaters got into the castle, and they brought dementors with them. You were caught in the attack, and I thought they... they..." the redhead said, unable to finish. Harry understood. Dementors sucked his dimensional counterpart's soul, allowing his own soul to enter his body.
"What did the Death Eaters do?" he asked, looking deep into Rolanda's eyes, sending a gentle Legilimency probe.
"They... they blocked the Astronomy Tower... the Order fought them, and... well... Abby was with Dumbledore in the tower, and she says... she says Snape killed him..." Rolanda's voice quivered. Harry blinked at the jumble of images he saw in her mind. Abby... was apparently Abigail Vance, the Girl-Who-Lived. That was interesting. What was also interesting was that the image of Dumbledore in Rolanda's head didn't have a beard. Dumbledore was a woman. So was Snape.
Harry raised his brows and looked around. Beside the redhead stood a grey-haired man who wore an outfit similar to that of Madame Pomfrey. He put a little plate with some chocolate cubes on Harry's bedside table, near a wand.
"You seem to be doing alright, Mister Potter," he said, in that same sturdy, reassuring voice. "Eat this, and you may go when you feel alright. Miss Weasley, give him some space please," he said, making Rolanda shuffle back.
"Yes, Mister Pomfrey."
The healer nodded. "Excuse me, I have a lot of patients to tend to."
Harry took a bite of the chocolate, and the healer moved to another bed. He reached a hand for the wand by his side and held it gently with the edge of his fingers. It didn't look like his holly wand, instead having a distinct swamp ash coloring and pattern, and lacked a certain warmth, but it was obviously his counterpart's wand.
"Well, you're not dead. I'll take my leave," Ella said with a roll of her eyes and turned away.
Rolanda was watching him worriedly, with a slight blush on her face. Harry stared at her eyes to learn that Ella was, as he suspected, Eleanor Potter, his counterpart's sister, currently in fourth year.
"So, who else got banged up?" he leaned back on his bedrest and asked, still looking carefully into the redhead's eyes to gauge her memories. She jerked in surprise at his question.
"Umm, the dementors got several younger students," she said, her eyes tearful. "Willa got clawed by Greyback, but she'll live, and Dolohova hit Hermes with that purple flame, so he'll have to stay here for a week. I don't think there were any major injuries, otherwise..."
Harry broke eye contact, mulling over what he had just seen in her memories. Willa referred to her oldest sister, who had a dangling shark-fang earring nonetheless. Hermes Granger was a curly haired nerd that joined Rolanda and Abby on their adventures. From the little Harry could see, everyone he knew was born an opposite gender in this world.
He heard the clucks of high-heeled boots coming closer, and turned his head to see a figure that looked remarkably like Bellatrix Lestrange stepping closer.
"Harry! You're awake! Oh, thank Merlin!" she said, and, before he could do anything, wrapped him around in a strong hug, while ruffling his hair. He stayed still, unsure of how to react. "I thought we lost you! I don't know what I'd do if you were gone... first Lily and James, now my godson..."
This is going to take some time getting used to.
"Let him breathe, Stella," said a grey-haired woman with a tired smile that stood at the edge of the bed, and the Bellatrix lookalike drew away from him with a worried glance.
"Of course, of course," Stella said, looking around. "Did someone tell Ella?"
"She just left," the redhead said.
"Probably disappointed that he survived," a voice that reminded him of Oliver Wood's said.
Rolanda turned her head to look at the newcomer, just as Harry did. "Don't even joke about it, Mark," she frowned.
"As if this pillock cares what his sister thinks," Mark, a doughy boy with wavy brown hair said nonchalantly. A quick peek inside Rolanda's mind told him his surname was MacDougal, and he was as close to a friend that Harry's counterpart had. "Heard you almost got a kiss, mate," he grinned at Harry, and Rolanda's face turned the shade of a tomato.
"Nah. The dementors found the prospect so terrifying it made them flee," Harry said, forcing out a little smile. It felt so weird to be around people who cared about him again. Particularly since he didn't know any of them.
"I bet," Mark nodded.
"So how did Death Eaters get in?" Harry asked, suspecting he already knew the answer. "I thought Hogwarts was the safest place in Britain."
Stella snorted, and Rolanda scowled. "That bitch Malfoy let them in through a vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement. She escaped with Snape."
Bitch? Malfoy? This world was getting more interesting by the minute.
"Romina, shouldn't we do something about that cabinet?" Stella said, turning to the grey-haired woman beside her.
Fuck. There goes his quick transport to London. Though Harry supposed he wouldn't have to make so many trips in this world.
"Certainly," Romina said, and surveyed the situation. "Mister MacDougal, why don't you escort Harry back to his dorm? Make sure he gets a good night's sleep."
"Right away, Professor," Mark said, motioning to Harry with his hand.
"I'm not your professor anymore, Mark," the grey-haired woman sighed. "You can call me Romina."
"Of course, Professor."
Harry got up and made sure he didn't leave any of his counterpart's belongings behind. The redhead gave him a bashful look.
"Umm, I should probably go check on Willa..." she said, looking away.
"Right, see ya," Harry said awkwardly, stepping away towards Mark, who headed out. They left side by side with the two women, who went on a different direction in the corridor outside.
"Take care, Harry," Stella said, patting his back. "I'll see you in King's Cross in a few days."
"Sure," Harry nodded curtly, still trying to figure out how those people expected his counterpart to behave.
Mark looked at him appraisingly while they walked. "You seem to be taking being attacked by a group of dementors pretty well. Hey, what do you think is the proper term for a group of dementors? Like there's a murder of crows and a school of fish..."
"Cloud, maybe?" Harry shrugged. "That's kinda what they look like."
"Yeah, that's a good one," Mark nodded, and turned to Harry again. "So, what's up with you and Weasley? Have you two done it yet?"
Harry cringed at the thought of sleeping with someone who was apparently the female version of his dead best friend. "What makes you think that?"
Mark rolled his eyes. "Come on, she's all over you. And she's fit. Don't tell me you're not going to take advantage of that."
"I'm not."
"You're such a dork. Why not?"
Harry bit his lip. "Not my type."
"Who's your type, then?" Mark asked. "Vance?"
With her sky-blue eyes, gracile face, and light hair pulled into a ponytail, Abigail Vance definitely looked the part of the evil-defying heroine, and had an aura that distinguished her from the rest of her peers. It was strange seeing her in the way that wizards normally looked at him. She was pretty, but Harry had different tastes nowadays.
"Not quite."
Mark snorted. "With an attitude like that, you're gonna graduate a virgin."
If only you knew, Harry thought in amusement. He noticed Mark took a wrong turn on their way to the Gryffindor common room, but figured the way might be different in this world, since the staircases had the annoying habit of changing locations every so often.
Nope. They soon reached a door with an eagle shaped knocker.
Oh, fuck, my counterpart is a goddamn Ravenclaw. I can't believe I'll have to answer a stupid riddle every time I want to return to the dorm. I fucking hate riddles.
After he and Mark took an entire minute to figure out the answer and enter the dorm, Harry decided that he would have to find some other way to enter the common room. And if there wasn't, he'd make one.
Once he got to his new dorm, he started taking stock of his counterpart's possessions. He was glad to find the invisibility cloak in his trunk, but no Marauder's Map, which was a shame, because he was sure it could help a lot with putting names to all those new faces. Lots of books, random objects that seemed like discarded attempts at enchanting, an impressive collection of Playwizards... ooh, a diary! How useful.
It was a good start, but Harry still passed the last days of the term piecing together all he could learn about the strange world he had found himself in. Much was similar to his native world, but the fact that the genders of almost all the people he knew were flipped made it all too surreal. There was even a mention in one of the modern history books about how the perception of gender in European magical society had transformed in recent decades, due to the fact that the three most powerful magicals of the last century were all female. Witches were now commonly regarded as more powerful than wizards, and it seems they held a sense of superiority due to that. (Harry smirked; he was looking forward to test that hypothesis)
The other major difference was that Lady Voldemort targeted the Vance family instead of the Potters, and as consequence, it was Abigail Vance that survived the Killing Curse, to spend her childhood with her grandparents. The Potters survived the first war, and gave birth to one more girl, but were killed battling Death Eaters just two years prior, shortly after Lady Voldemort's return.
Abigail Vance seemed to have experienced much of what he himself had gone through, but Melanie Riddle didn't seem to have as much as a hateboner for her as Tom had for Harry, and didn't actually target her loved ones. As a result, there were much more Death Eaters out there. He considered telling Abigail what he knew about the Horcruxes, but from what she told Rolanda, the objects Melanie Riddle used in this world were vastly different – mostly Celtic, ancient Egyptian and Mayan artefacts – and so were their hiding places. Abigail and Dumbledore had apparently managed to find only three, before the headmistress was murdered. Harry did impart his knowledge of Voldemort's hidey holes into Rolanda's mind, so that she could suggest it to Abby, supposedly of her own will.
Aside from Legilimensing Rolanda, he also took the time to do the same to some of his school mates, Obliviating them afterwards, to learn more intimidate details about the life of his counterpart, but couldn't go at it for too long, since more than an hour of continuous Legilimency could cause the victim irreparable brain damage. His counterpart seemed to be a typical Ravenclaw, solitary and passive, a competent wizard and Quidditch player but hardly one who stood out – which fit Harry just fine. It made assuming his identity that much easier.
Ron's female counterpart had been somewhat of a hurdle. She had apparently developed a crush on his counterpart due to his performance on the Quidditch pitch, and got to know him when he joined the DA. They weren't a couple – thank Merlin – but she made an attempt to get his attention at least once per day.
"Will you come to Willa and Florin's wedding this summer?" she asked before they boarded the Hogwarts Express, standing awkwardly with her eyes glinting in hope.
Deciding that it would be interesting to see this version of the Weasley family, he assured her that he will, with a warm smile that conveyed 'friendzone' rather than 'flirting'. She was cute, but no way in hell he was going to kiss Ron's counterpart.
Not that he hadn't considered taking advantage of her, for a moment. Now that he was in a new world, he didn't have Daphne, Pansy, Bellatrix or Delphini to pleasure him, and he had grown used to relieve himself daily with those attractive witches.
That said, with his new, less conspicuous identity, he also wasn't in danger of Death Eaters killing his partners and friends. He could try having a genuine relationship again.
But could I even do it, after all this time? With the kind of relations and sex I'm used to?
He felt changed in a way that he hadn't realized before, as if the notion of a romantic relationship was too bizarre, too normal for him. He was nothing like his peers anymore. Daphne was the only one who could get on with the kind of activities he was into now, but she didn't exist in this world – instead, Slytherin had Dorian Greengrass, an admittedly handsome bastard that had no competition in Hogwarts when it came to wooing witches. Harry wondered just how much like Daphne he actually was.
Maybe I should just catch some new fuckdolls, he thought - this world definitely offered some new, interesting choices.
Indeed, he still hadn't gotten used to all the new faces and bodies, couldn't stop checking out the girls at Hogwarts, while in the back of his mind knowing that they were counterparts of the boys he knew.
Not just for their sex appeal, of course; it would be quite embarrassing if he didn't know the identities of the students and faculty he supposedly spent six years around. For that reason, during Dumbledore's funeral (despite seeing her picture, he still couldn't imagine the long-bearded man as a witch), he covered himself with the invisibility cloak, got into Gryffindor tower, and flew up to the sixth-year girls' dorm. There, he summoned the Marauder's Map from Abigail Vance's drawer. Going by what she had told Rolanda, she wasn't intent on returning to Hogwarts next year, so she wouldn't need it anymore, and besides, it was made by his father and godfathermother, so it rightfully belonged to him, and he felt a minimum amount of guilt for depriving her of such a valuable artefact. Lupin had told him the theory behind how it was made, so he could have produced one of his own, but it involved going through every known inch of the castle and casting Sonar charms, and he preferred not to waste his valuable time on that.
No, he had much more important matters to attend. The weight of the world was not on his shoulders anymore, but that didn't mean he couldn't do his part in ridding Britain of Death Eaters, did it? And if he happened to catch ones that were particularly attractive… well, he would just have to give them the proper treatment.
A/N: There it is! The first half of the fic is over, and we're headed for the second. A whole new world! So many more Death Eaters to fuck! What do you expect to see next? Tell me in the comments!