(Author's Thanks: GayRon, Anonymous, Julie, and lurker for reviewing.

Disclaimers: All characters in the story belong to J.K. Rowling.

Warnings: This story will eventually be slash. If you are against homosexual relationships, please do not read this story. Any furious rant against slash in a review will be mocked. Thank you.

Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay! Schoolwork and the other fanfics have been keeping me otherwise occupied. Please remember to read and review. It inspires me to write! Here's where some unusual pairings come in, so steel yourself. *impish grin*

~Cinaed)

Nest of the Phoenix

By Cinaed, Born of Fire

Chapter Four

When the sleeping draught finally wore up, Harry woke with the sound of boisterous laughter filling his ears. It took a moment for his sleepy brain to process and translate the cheerful words that came from beyond his bed.

"You should have seen Charlie's expression when you took that Bludger, Tom! I thought he was going to run onto the field when all you had was a broken arm!" The voice was familiar to Harry's not-quite-awake brain, and the brunet wondered why people were in his room.

Loud laughter answered the voice, and someone commented, teasingly, "All I had was a broken arm? Thanks for the concern, Draco. It's nice to know I'm so loved."

At that statement, two thoughts flooded Harry's bemused brain. First, that there was only one Draco and that was Draco Malfoy. Second, there was no reason that Malfoy would be in his bedroom unless....

Unless he hadn't dreamed things, and he really was in an alternate reality.

Not caring that his mind had made the conclusions based on flimsy and rather odd circumstances, his green eyes opened wide and he bolted into a sitting position, blinking owlishly at the large group of people around him as his mind finally caught him up on the situation at hand. His glasses were easily snatched from the nearby bed stand and he slid the frames onto his nose.

Several familiar people turned to gaze curiously at him, and he swallowed violently, trying hard not to let on that he knew them. He blinked in their general direction, at a loss for what to say until Madam Pomfrey's cheerful voice filled the silence he had caused.

"Well, boy, it's good to see you're awake," she declared, suddenly appearing at the foot of his bed and smiling cheerily at him. He didn't return the smile, knowing that the grin was deceiving.

"You gave me a sleeping draught," he accused her, remembering his supposed problem with authority. Of course, his scowl wasn't all that feigned. He didn't appreciate being drugged.

As several of the partiers snickered in the background, the nurse offered him an innocent look. "Well, it got you some sleep, didn't it?" she pointed out, her hands on hips before she turned with a look at the group. "And you all woke him up!" As the assembly looked guilty, she turned back towards Harry. "Do you think you can get back to sleep?"

Harry ignored her and glanced at one of the partiers, feeling his stomach twist at all the familiar faces that now watched him with a sort of blank curiousness to their eyes. "What's going on?"

Ron shot him a compassionate look as he responded. "Tom won the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match, but got himself a broken arm in the process."

Harry winced sympathetically. "That's never pleasant," he agreed before the name finally clicked, and his eyes widened. His already pale face went completely ashen as he realized that the Weasley was talking about Tom Riddle.

"Are you all right, dear?" Madam Pomfrey had apparently noticed his lack of color, and he glanced at her to see her concerned expression.

Blinking owlishly once more and taking a quick, soothing breath, he responded by glaring at her. "I'm not saying anything. Anything I say you'll use to find an excuse to drug me again," he informed her, projecting an annoyed attitude to his words. He was finding this rebel manner quite easy to handle.

As Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes and turned to scold Tom for not sitting still as his bone healed, Harry glanced around at the group, most of whom had returned their attention to the party. His gaze took in familiar faces who didn't know him. Ron Weasley, who was now chatting with a grinning Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, who had a broad, pleasant smile on his face. Neville Longbottom, who was now slim and tanned, with a confident air around him as he leaned in to talk to a snickering Seamus Finnigan. Dean Thomas stood tall and relaxed in a corner, grinning towards Ginny Weasley, who was eagerly demonstrating something she had learned in Charms. Charlie Weasley, who was bent over the bed smiling softly down at Tom Riddle.

Tom Riddle. Harry's breath caught in his throat for a moment as he gazed upon the dark-haired youth and wondered if they were related in /his/ universe. Dimly, in the back of his head, he heard the Diary Tom Riddle commenting about how alike they were. A shiver ran up and down his spine, but the fifteen-year-old didn't move. His green eyes took in Tom's pleasant, smiling face, and wondered if Voldemort had ever been this happy when not doing an evil deed. He had to have been an innocent child at one point or another, right?

A warm plate was suddenly thrust into his lap, and Harry yelped softly, his startled gaze transferring down to the steaming tray of his leftover food. "So I'm apparently hungry now?" he inquired dryly, gazing down at the mouth- watering food.

"You will eat, or I will drug you some more," stated the nurse, sounding firm. "Now eat, my sickly child. I shall fatten you up."

"Oh yes, so the Witch of the Forest can gobble me up," the black- haired youth muttered, nevertheless nibbling on a piece of warm bread. The butter tantalized his taste buds, and he eagerly bit into the soft whiteness. He'd eat as much as he could before the nausea set in.

"So, who are you, New Boy?" The cheerful, memorable voice filled his ears, and Harry's head shot up. The brunet did a double take, literally. When had George and Fred stolen into the infirmary?

"Harry, Harry Mason." The lie flowed so easily from the teenager's lips that he wondered at himself. "Recently of Durmstrang."

"Harry Mason doesn't sound like a name that belongs in Durmstrang," said George—or was it Fred?—in response, his hazel eyes keen.

Harry offered them a shrug. "My parents are architects. They moved around, and finally decided on Durmstrang as my school." He attempted a smirk, his lips unused to the twists and curves of the gesture. "Needless to say, they were pleased when I, er, /switched/ schools." He made the comment sound as smooth and as nonchalant as possible, earning a wide-eyed gaze from the redheaded twins.

"You got expelled?"

"From Durmstrang?" the other twin added.

The brunet twitched his thin shoulders once more, keeping the smirk on his face. "What can I say? Nobody at Durmstrang has any sense of humor." He paused, and added as an afterthought, "They don't like being told to their faces that they're idiots, either."

Both of the twins smiled an identical grin of impish delight and offered him a high-five. Still smirking, Harry complied, feeling their warm palms slap against his.

"So, how did your parents take you being expelled?" One of them asked him, his tone light but inquisitive at the same time.

The brunet shrugged once more, deciding that a shrug would be Harry Mason's favorite way of answering people. "They still think I'm 'salvageable.' They practically begged Dumbledore to let me come to Hogwarts." Another twist of his lips showed them what he thought of the idea.

"So, what year are you in? Third?"

"Why does everyone think that?" Harry demanded in an aggrieved tone. "I'm fifteen! I'm fifteen, not a little thirteen-year-old!"

"Really?" The two chorused as one, wearing matching looks of surprise.

"Really," the brunet grumbled.

"You look really young though," commented one.

"And being skinny doesn't help you any," added the other.

"Well, I'm fifteen." Of course, neither one of them knew that he was actually still fourteen since transferring to an alternate reality had made him skip his birthday.

He noticed Madam Pomfrey watching him, and glared darkly at her. Her only response was to wave her hands in an eating motion. When he scowled and shook his head, the familiar queasiness beginning in his stomach, the nurse marched over to his bed.

"Harry Mason, you will eat right now!"

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"My, this should prove to be a fascinating conversation," commented one of the twins, earning a glare from both of the arguers in the process. He beamed at the duo before they focused on arguing over eating.

At last, Harry emerged victorious, his green eyes watching the defeated woman slink back to scold Tom, again, for moving around while his bones were knitting together. As Tom began to protest his innocence, the brunet returned his attention to the twins.

"Why aren't you hungry?"

The frank question earned a rather blank look for a long moment before Harry recovered. He scowled, but it wasn't directed at the questioning twin and instead in the direction of a certain Madam Pomfrey. "If I eat, she'll lace my food with some drug to make me sleep again. I'm not about to miss a party!"

"Sounds like a good reason to me," stated the questioner with a smirk.

"A very good reason," agreed the other before they launched themselves into the group of partygoers, attaching themselves to various people, literally.

One of the twins leapt upon a very surprised Lee Jordan's back, and down the two tumbled, with an aggrieved yell of, "George!" filling the air. The other twin scooped an equally startled Hermione Granger into his arms, twirling her around as her yelp of "Fred!" followed Lee's exclamation. Well, as long as the two continued to pester Hermione and Lee, Harry would be able to tell who was who.

Ron, shaking his head at Fred, muttered something to Malfoy, who was snickering. It took the Potter a few seconds to realize why the blond Slytherin sounded so odd: his laughter held no cruel undertone, only jovial amusement. After Malfoy replied to Ron, the redhead grinned and headed towards Harry's bed.

Cerulean met emerald as the two watched each other for a long moment. As the silence wrapped itself around them and became almost smothering, Ron finally spoke. "Would you like me to point everyone out and describe them to you?"

Harry found himself smiling. "That'd be great-" The response died on his lips as cheers erupted and he glanced beyond Ron just in time to see Lee and George engaged in an extremely passionate kiss. The Gryffindor's jaw dropped, and he stared, knowing his face must have been picture-perfect.

The second youngest Weasley couldn't hide his grin. "Maybe I should talk about who's in a relationship with who, and who I think is going to get together?" he added in an innocent tone.

"That would probably be a good idea." Harry's tone was slightly weak as he tore his eyes away from the show George and Lee were presenting to everyone. "No one's, um, together, er, like that where I'm from."

The Weasley brushed a lock of cerise away from his freckled face and grinned before he launched into the descriptions, making sure to make it seem to any listener that he was explaining who people were. "Well, the two enjoying themselves against the wall are my brother George and his boyfriend Lee Jordan. Now that George is with Lee, the twins don't get into half as much trouble as they used to. Of course, Fred going out with Hermione Granger helped distract both of them."

Harry's face must have registered his absolute shock, for Ron shot him a sympathetic look once more. The brunet struggled with this information, and at last managed to mumble, "Isn't she a bit young for him?"

The Weasley shrugged. "Maybe, but you'll find that everyone here tends to find their loves really quickly." His face darkened for the moment. "With You-Know-Who killing at random, most people decide they want to experience love just in case they're his next victim."

The Potter's stomach twisted at the bleak note in Ron's words. Was this what it had been like when Voldemort had been so powerful? Was this what it would be like now that Voldemort was as strong as ever before?

It took a moment for Harry to realize that Ron had begun speaking once more, "Hermione's a prefect, naturally. The blonde over there is Draco Malfoy. He's a Slytherin, but don't let that keep you from getting to know him. He's really sweet, especially if Seamus likes you. Seamus is the Irish one, and they've been together for a little over six months now."

Continuing on and ignoring Harry's thunderstruck look, he stated, "The guy Seamus is talking to is Neville Longbottom." The redhead's voice softened at the name, and the brunet noticed a faint, tender smile toying with Ron's lips.

"You're, you're with Neville?" The astonishment was obvious in Harry's voice, and the redhead frowned at him.

"He's kind and sweet and gentle," snapped the Weasley, his pale eyes flashing in defense of his boyfriend. "And he loves me. What more could I ask for?"

"I'm sorry." There was an apologetic tone in the Potter's voice even as he struggled to hide his astonishment. "Where I'm from, you two wouldn't, well, you wouldn't be together."

Ron looked sad. "We wouldn't?" The whisper was so soft that Harry leaned forward to capture it. "Does anyone love each other where you're from, Harry Mason?"

Harry closed his eyes, fighting against the pain for a moment as images of people he loved, cared for, or even admired flashed through his head. His parents. Ron. Hermione. The others in the Gryffindor House. Cedric. "Yes, but not with the abandon you all do," he said at last, opening his eyes to smile a bit sadly. "My parents did, and look where that got them-" Sorrow has loosened his tongue, and he bit his lower lip as he realized he'd said far too much.

"Did?" The single word hung in the air between them, and Ron's eyes seemed to understand as the cerulean orbs lit with recognition.

Harry looked away, swallowing the lump of misery that had developed in his throat. "I can't talk about it."

"Alright." Ron accepted the reason without complaint, and waved a hand towards the bed that Tom was sprawled upon, still arguing with Madam Pomfrey as Charlie shook his head in amusement. "That's Tom Riddle. He's the nephew of James Potter. I don't know where James is at the moment, but he's probably off with Lucius Malfoy, Draco's dad. They're-"

"-together," Harry finished the sentence, pleased with actually not having to be shocked. "Dumbledore told me. Is Tom with anyone?"

Ron shook his head, shrugging. "If he is, I don't know about it. Tom's sort of quiet about that sort of thing." His eyes searched the group. "Oh, the black fellow is Dean Thomas, and he's with Justin Fitch-Fletchley. Justin's a Hufflepuff, so he's probably off sulking over the Gryffindor victory."

"Hey, Mason!" Harry glanced up to see Fred grinning at him. Something was hurled through the air, and the brunet caught it. "I bet you've never had a Hogwarts snack before, and I know it's better than the Durmstrang shit!"

Even as Madam Pomfrey began to scold the Weasley for his language, Harry grinned. The Harry Mason persona he'd created wouldn't back down on a challenge, and so he wolfed the small pastry down. It was a familiar, soothing taste, and he called back, "Is that all Hogwarts has? I've eaten much better at-" The words faltered on his lips as a familiar sluggishness began to spread through his frame. "Bloody hell! Who in their right mind would drug a pastry? That's just wrong!"

"Sorry, but she bribed me," stated the very unrepentant redhead, grinning as Harry swayed in his sitting position.

His eyelids felt unbelievably heavy, but he forced them to stay open as he glared at the group, most of whom were watching on in amusement. His green eyes lingered on Madam Pomfrey, who looked quite pleased with herself.

"I don't like you," Harry snarled, fairly coherently, before the drug took complete affect and he fell back senseless against the pillows.

(To be continued)