A/N: This story is complete fun. Glad that other people seem to think so, too.

Nemo Returning: You're right about the Parseltongue; that was a slight slip on my part. However, I can work it into the plot later, so I've decided that it's staying the same.

The title of this chapter comes from a line in The Lions of Al-Rassan by Guy Gavriel Kay, one of my favorite fantasy books. At least Harry's dancing between fires that have already been introduced. No more completely out-of-the-blue plot twists, I think.

The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Ten: Dancing Between Fires

First step.

Perhaps he could spin around and hex Snape? But the man was almost surely waiting for that.

Second step.

He could simply refuse to drink the potion, but that would reveal he was not under the Imperius curse, and leave him with no other recourse.

Third step.

He could drink the potion, and hope for the best. Snape seemed to want to get rid of him almost as badly as Harry wanted to get out of here. Perhaps the potion would simply transport him home.

But Snape had also tried to hex him and render him unable to ask any questions. Harry wasn't at all sure that he would start being nice now.

Fourth step.

Well, then he would just have to go back to what he had been doing.

Harry took a deep breath and turned around. Snape blinked at him, for a moment wearing another expression that Harry had never seen on the face of his world's counterpart.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked. Harry wondered if he had realized the truth yet, or if he had only kept his wand at his side because Harry hadn't raised his own.

"I have something to tell you," said Harry, keeping his voice low and even and his hand limp, nearly relaxed, around his wand. He didn't think he would be able to raise it in time anyway. He fixed his eyes on Snape's, then lowered them to the floor submissively. This was easier than facing Voldemort in the graveyard, his personal standard for difficulty, so he went on when Snape said nothing. "I can resist the Imperius curse—"

He saw Snape's rising wand, and shouted, "Just the same way I can speak Parseltongue. I'm powerful, a Slytherin, but I'm not dangerous to you!"

Snape's wand remained leveled at him, but no matter how long Harry counted his breaths, he didn't send a hex flying. Harry swallowed, and at last looked up at Snape's face, unable to resist the temptation any longer.

The dark eyes were narrowed, but no more than that. Something like dawning respect was written in Snape's features, in fact, even as he motioned Harry away from the cauldron with his wand. Harry moved obediently, darting glances between the floor and Snape. He sat down in one of the chairs when Snape gestured him to it. There was a long silence, broken only by an especially loud bubble from the cauldron. Harry jumped, then hoped that Snape hadn't seen that.

"It is a pity that you were not born in my own world," said Snape at last. "You would be a fit replacement for the young Potter here. You are more intelligent and more strong-willed, things any Slytherin needs." Harry thought that, if half of what Professor Trelawney had said was true, he had indeed been born in Snape's own world, but he thought it better to keep that to himself as Snape continued thoughtfully, "And a Slytherin Potter could be of use to me."

He strode to the cauldron and snatched another potion from a shelf, holding it over the boiling liquid. "Do you know what this is, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"No, sir," said Harry, wondering if he should be nervous or not. How do I know that anything he says is going to be the truth?

"This will neutralize the potion," said Snape casually. "And then, I believe, you will be stuck here, with no way back."

Harry swallowed again, and hoped that Snape couldn't hear, or would be tempted to excuse that nervousness, even from a Slytherin. Snape was right. He didn't know half the ingredients that had gone into the potion, thanks to being distracted with Snape's words at the time. And even if he made it to its proper consistency again, he didn't know what to do with it then.

"I want only one thing from you, Mr. Potter," said Snape. "I will brew the potion to take you home."

"You will?" Harry asked hopefully, unable to prevent the words. Snape gave him a harsh glance, but nodded.

"The one thing I want from you," he said, his voice deepening, "is your promise not to ask me any questions, about the world you think I come from or my background."

Harry drew in his breath, then let it out. He could do this. He could. He desperately wanted to go home. That was more important than finding out what this Snape had done, if he had done anything. Besides, if Professor Trelawney was right and he had brewed a potion that let them come to this world, then they had come here more than sixteen years ago, just after she made the prophecy. Surely it wasn't Harry's task to right wrongs that had occurred even before his birth?

Of course it is, he thought, and then snorted. But those problems are all at home. I can deal with them there. What's unfair is to ask me to take any more up.

He met Snape's eyes, and nodded.

"You will swear on your word as a Slytherin not to ask me any questions about my past?" Snape pressed.

"On my word as a Slytherin," said Harry, entertaining a brief mental picture of the way that Ron would look if he ever heard Harry speak those words. I can't wait to get back home and say them to him.

"And you will remain here in my office and speak to no one who might come to the door?" Snape asked.

"That's two things," Harry pointed out.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I am not accustomed to such disrespect from my own House."

"You would have thought me a fool if I had automatically said yes," said Harry, striving for a cool and reasonable tone. It was hard to reach when he had been shooting hexes just five minutes ago, and he had to compare it to dueling Voldemort again just to keep from breaking out into hysterical giggles. "I will not agree to two bargains unless you agree to do two things for me."

"What else do you want, besides the potion?" Snape asked levelly.

"Nothing," Harry shot back. It was not strictly true. He wanted his Invisibility Cloak back. But he was not going to tell Snape about the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. He would probably figure out what it was, and then he would probably tell Lucius Malfoy, who was looking for a good way to kill Muggle-borns. Harry didn't want to stop all the trouble in this world—he didn't even think he was capable of it—but he wanted to avoid adding to it.

Snape eyed him for a moment, then snarled. "Very well, idiot boy. If you insist on endangering yourself, then that is your problem. But do remember that being detained, either as young Mr. Potter or as an interesting magical phenomenon, would somewhat impede your chances of ever getting home." He swept out the door in a dramatic swirl of dark robes then, casually tossing the bottle he had been holding back onto the proper shelf.

Harry sank down on the mattress, which hadn't been transfigured back into a chair, and thought for a moment. He could lie awake and stew and worry for a while about Snape and James and whether he would ever see anyone from his own world again.

Or he could sleep.

That was the best idea, he had decided. Despite it only being early evening, he'd had enough excitement to last him a day. And it would be just like Snape to invent a world-crossing potion that could only be brewed by someone exceptionally alert working from midnight to dawn.

He closed his eyes.

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"Excellent, my dear Nagini. You have done beautifully." For a moment, a hand like a great pale spider stroked the head of an immense snake, who curled up and flickered her tongue at the praise. "Every inch of Hogwarts ground covered, and no sign of the boy. And Albus quietly frantic, you say?"

The snake hissed, but Harry could understand the words well enough. "Yesss, Massster. I saw it when I hid in hisss roomsss. He hasss sssent ssseveral of the teachersss on misssionsss. And he pacesss when he isss by himssself. He did not plan the boy'sss disssappearance."

"What teachers has he sent, and where?"

"McGonagall to the boy'sss neighborhood. The half-giant to the north. Sssnape to Diagon Alley and other sssectionsss of wizarding London."

"I thought he might," said Voldemort, and the high, cold laughter blew about the room. The vision seemed to pull back, and this time Harry could see that they were in a dark, chill chamber, the window the only light. "Ah, dear Severus. I believe that we shall have a special celebration for him when we are done with the school. Herd Wormtail to me, Nagini. I have yet another scouting mission for him to perform."

"But Massster—"

"Indeed, my love, you have done well. But I must make absolutely sure the old fool does not have the boy in hiding somewhere. And there is no one in my service who knows the school so well as the little rat."

--------

This time, Harry managed to wake without screaming, but he still must have looked bad; Snape gave him a second sharp glance as he set the tray on the floor beside the mattress.

"You are trembling," he sneered. "Slytherins do not tremble. What are these nightmares about?"

Harry stared at him, not thinking he would enjoy hearing that his counterpart back home was in trouble.

Snape made a sour face and stepped away. "I must show up for breakfast in the Great Hall," he said. "My absence yesterday was remarked. Once again, I would advise you to stay in the office, Mr. Potter. Too many things could go wrong if—certain—people should spot you out and about."

"Is Lucius Malfoy still here?" asked Harry, eating some of the porridge and grimacing. It was cold, as if the house elves hadn't had time to make it properly. He would bet that was all Snape's fault. An irritated Potions master was enough to put any house elf off making a perfect bowl. Or maybe Snape had told them he liked it this way.

"It does not matter," said Snape, "because you will not be seeking him out. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry nodded, and held still as Snape left the room, wondering idly why the man didn't just lock or ward his office. Perhaps there were other people who would notice if he did. He did seem dedicated to keeping Harry as unobtrusive as possible.

Harry finished his breakfast, watched the potion simmer, and looked at the shelves. Once again, he was bored, though this time it had taken only a few minutes and not a few hours.

He forced his way to his feet—his legs were stiff still—and grimaced when his own stink washed over him. He longed for a shower, but he doubted he would get one. He was going to go straight down to the Chamber and retrieve his Invisibility Cloak. No stopping even to talk to the basilisk, which Harry rather regretted. It was better company than Snape, at least, and the only one here who absolutely would not care if he told it he was from another world.

He opened the door and stepped out into a raised wand.

"You're not going anywhere," said Pansy Parkinson calmly, "without helping me."

Harry swallowed again. Damn it, he didn't need this, he thought wearily to whatever power controlled his destiny. He flashed a smile and looked down, so that she couldn't read his mind. "What do you need help with, exactly? And what makes you think that I could help?"

"I was listening at Professor Snape's door last night, after that stupid Trelawney woman left," said Pansy. "I know that you can speak Parseltongue and throw off the Imperius curse. And I heard the deal that you made with him. I think I know exactly how I could disrupt that potion, perhaps without him even noticing."

Harry stared at her, then snapped his eyes back to the floor again when he felt the pressure against his mind. In reality, probably just the information that he came from another world was enough to blackmail him.

Of course, that doesn't tell me why she needs someone who can speak Parseltongue and throw off the Imperius curse.

"All right. What do you want?" Once again Harry tried to maintain the cool tone, but this time it was a lot harder. Snape wanted one specific thing. Harry had no idea what Pansy wanted, but he already had the premonition that he would wind up regretting it.

"A solution to a problem that a few of my friends and I have," said Pansy crisply. "The Malfoys favor Imperius, and so far I'm the only one that can throw it off, which does rather limit our choices."

"I'm supposed to go back to my own world in a few days," Harry protested softly.

"I know," Pansy said, smirking at him before she turned away and started walking down the hall. "So that should give you extra incentive to solve this problem."

"What—"

"Nothing more until we're in a safer place."

Harry trailed after her, grumbling under his breath. Pansy seemed disposed to ignore the grumbles, and actually chatted as she led him deeper into the dungeons, mostly speculating about how different they must look in Harry's own world. Harry got tired of it, enough that he eventually said, "You're completely different in my own world, you know."

"I am?" Pansy glanced back at him.

Harry met her eyes and deliberately summoned the memory of his world's Pansy hanging off Draco Malfoy's arm at the Yule Ball. The face of the Pansy in front of him immediately balled up in disgust, and she made a spitting noise, rather like a cat who had just stepped in water.

"She must be—I can't even imagine how weak—" She stopped, looking nauseated, then went on. "If Draco even proposed that I go to a ball with him, you'd be able to hear the slap from the Great Hall."

"Why?"

Pansy just shook her head. "That's something I'll explain in a minute. We're here," she announced, turning to tap a section of wall with her wand and mutter something that Harry couldn't make out.

The stones swung back without a sound, and Harry stepped into a room, chill and dark of course, and lit only by torches that flickered with green light. There were several chairs pulled into a semi-circle, and a number of students dressed in Slytherin robes sat in them. Harry didn't see anyone he recognized. Since they all looked younger than Pansy, he thought they were probably from other years.

They all glared at him. Harry glared uneasily back at them.

"What's Potter doing here?" one of them asked, looking at Pansy as she stepped in behind Harry and murmured something that probably shut the wall. Harry turned to her, wanting an explanation, too.

He stared. He had never even imagined, from the brief glimpses he'd had of Pansy in this world and the rather more extended looks from his own, that she could look like this. Her eyes were diamond-hard, and the expression on her face could possibly have made Voldemort pay attention to her, though not actually shut up.

"He's here because he can help us," said Pansy, and the muttering shut off as if she'd cast a silencing spell. She glanced at Harry. "I can speak absolutely freely here. This room has silencing and locking charms as old as the stones on it."

Harry nodded, though he wasn't happy about the thought of more people sharing his secret. They might keep it, though, as long as he didn't somehow show them an advantage that would come by betraying it.

"We're under threat by maniacs," said Pansy bluntly. "More specifically, Slytherin House and all the sane Slytherins in it are under threat. And it's the Malfoys who are behind it."

Harry glanced around at the others, and saw not a disagreeing glance. They all looked grim, instead.

"The rest of us have accepted that pureblooded wizards aren't the only kind in the world anymore," Pansy went on. "Just the best." There came smug expressions and nods from the other Slytherins. Harry hoped that he didn't look the way he felt, which was boiling furious. Even though Pansy didn't seem to think the same way Draco Malfoy did, here, it was all too easy to imagine her sneering at Hermione in the same way. He had to force himself to calm down and listen to the rest of the speech.

"We're never going to get rid of all the mudbloods and half-bloods. The best we can do is make sure that our position in the wizarding world is secure. We still have the best knowledge of magic, the most money, the most social prestige, and connections to the Ministry and other wizarding communities in the world that the mudbloods aren't going to rival for a hundred generations. Make sure that we're safe, intermarry with the social inferiors most likely to be awed, and we can look forward to a future that stays basically the same. A little smaller, maybe, but the same."

Harry turned to face Pansy fully. Her face was alight, transformed from hardness to exultation by what she was saying. He asked, "And the Malfoys stand against all that?"

Pansy's face went promptly back to hardness again. "Yes," she said flatly. "They think they can destroy all the mudbloods. And they're not being subtle about their prejudices, either. Draco still insults mudbloods like Granger to their faces." Her voice held that odd combination of horror and disgust that Harry had heard from Aunt Petunia when one of the neighbors did something scandalous with her garden. "They're trying to rally the other purebloods to their side. They're also tainting Slytherin House in the eyes of the press and the rest of the wizarding world. Talking about how 'the spirit of Salazar is with them' and all that rot."

"Malfoy's claiming to be a descendant of Slytherin, now," one of the younger students remarked.

Pansy snorted. "And I know that Lucius is planning something in the school itself, but not what," she went on. "Unfortunately, he insists that everyone who comes to look at the thing be spelled with Imperius, or else that they swear to a magical oath to stay silent about what they've seen. So that doesn't help us. Draco knows I can throw off Imperius, and he only trusts me with little hints and tidbits now, trying to lure me to his side." She tossed her hair. "I think he's a little bit in love with me, if you want the truth."

Harry hesitated for a long moment. Then he said, "I think Lucius Malfoy is planning to let loose the Star of Morning in the school."

He was aware of immediate silence, and all eyes focused on him. But he knew the only one whose reaction really mattered was Pansy, so he looked at her instead.

Pansy watched him, motionless as a serpent waiting to strike, and then gave a very small smile. "Well now," she said, "isn't that interesting."

And Harry knew, from the look in her eyes, that if he had thought he could tell her that and let the Slytherins take it from there, the chance was gone now.

It looks like I just signed up to be the savior of the bloody world, he thought, and sighed. Again.