Disclaimer: Not mine. JKR's.

To my reviewers: Thank you. I'm pleased you all like it so far, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

Switching Sides
.Chapter 2

When Harry awoke, the only sensation he was aware of was that of a throbbing headache. Groggily blinking up at the ceiling, Harry lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring lights. His eyes darted around the room, his gaze wavering from the pulsing pain in his temples. What he could make out of his surroundings, however, were clearly unfamiliar to him. Everything in the room was a ghastly white, a white that radiated with a blinding purity, a purity clearly untouched by Muggle and Wizard alike. There were no windows or doors scattered across the walls, nothing that could give him any hint of where he was. A faint buzz surrounded Harry, and as the grogginess slid from his mind, it wasn't hard to identify it as very powerful and potent magic. Invisible threads of what ever enchantments had been cast on the room spun around Harry, sinking through his clothing and entwining themselves into his very being.

He shivered, pulling himself upright. A knot began forming in the pit of his stomach, a knot laced with panic and sheer desperation to find where he was. A white, padded wall greeted Harry, reminding him of the old Muggle movies that his Uncle had once watched. The movies that caused his uncle to constantly shoot him dirty looks and mumble to himself, "That's where your type belongs."

Harry swallowed thickly, trying to slow his breathing as he pushed himself from the floor and to his knees. The room beneath him lurched violently, the lights flickering and the shadows intensifying. He fell again to the floor.

With incredible difficulty, Harry turned himself so that his back was against the wall, his knees drawn to his chest. Softly, Harry yelled to the ceaseless nothingness that loomed over him, "Is anyone there?"

The soft hum of magic answered him, and with each ragged breath he took, Harry could feel the walls moving in on him, the shadows that lurked in the corners edging closer. The knot that grew steadfast in the pit of his stomach began working its way up his throat.

Again, Harry found himself yelling, "Is anyone there?"

Strange thoughts kept racing through his mind, memories of the previous night that couldn't be reality and yet were to authentic to be illusion. Harry lowered his head to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself. Images of Hagrid staring at him frozen, with wide, dark eyes consumed his mind. With a sharp intake of breath, Harry's head darted upright, watching in wonder as a door materialized on the opposing wall. The rectangular shape was only visible by light grey lines etched into the wall, signaling the edge of the door. Slowly, it swinged open-- open just enough to show nothing of what lay on the other side of the wall, but enough for a man in purple robes to step in. The door slowly retreated back into the wall, closing with a soft click.

Harry hurried to his feet, immediately recognizing the elderly man.

He ignored the spinning sensation of the room as he did so, only one thought present in his mind. He needed to tell Dumbledore.

His words came out in a rush as the man looked at him with a calm, even gaze.

"Headmaster! I have something important to tell you--"

Dumbledore looked at him with a grim face, interrupting softly, "Yes?"

Harry looked at the elder man earnestly, "Hagrid's d... hurt-- I was there, I mean, not really there but-- the wards, the wards were broken and Hagrid's.."

Raising a hand, Dumbledore silenced Harry's rambling. His blue eyes set upon Harry's green, he said, "He's dead, Harry. He died last night."

Harry shook his head weakly, looking at the floor, which again seemed to move beneath him. He heard himself say, "N-no.. he-- he dived it.. I saw him.. he dived it."

Tears threatened his eyes, blurring his vision. The memories of the previous night were inescapable now, and the hope that it had all been an awful dream pulsed inside of Harry once more before fading into a fleeting, wishful thought

"Did he Harry?" inquired Dumbledore calmly.

Harry looked up, the emotions that threatened to consume him momentarily retreating, and searched for his voice.

"Y-yes.. I.. I saw him.."

"You were there?"

"No.." Harry looked at Dumbledore with confusion, "My connection, he.. he made me watch."

Stroking his beard, Dumbledore said, "I see. Do you know who killed him, Harry?"

"Voldemort," murmured Harry weakly, his eyes falling to the floor again, "Voldemort killed him."

Behind his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore stared.

"Voldemort?"

Swallowing, Harry's eyes searched the floor as he said, "Y-yes. Voldemort."

Again, the room began moving beneath his feet and Harry grasped with numb fingers for the cool fabric of the wall. An awkward, tense silence embraced him and he leaned heavily against the wall again, his knees threatening to give.

"I see," said Dumbledore again, "And who is this Voldemort, Harry?"

Harry's head darted up, his discomfort temporarily forgotten.

"W-wha.. what?"

"Who is Voldemort?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed several times. This was unreal. He was being treated like he was a criminal, locked up in this room, and now, Dumbledore didn't know who Voldemort was? Hagrid was dead, shouldn't the Headmaster be searching the grounds?

"Wh.. what are you-- Hagrid's dead.. and you're.. you're standing here play.. playing head games with me? Sh-shouldn't you be searching for Voldemort? His killer!"

Dumbledore stepped forward, his eyes unusually calm, "We've already found his killer, Harry."

Harry's breathing hitched, and he searched the face of the Headmaster with desperate eyes. Slowly, he said, "You.. you've got Voldemort?"

"No, Harry," said Dumbledore. "We've got you."

Harry stared, clearly confused. His mind was racing, and he swallowed thickly, knitting his eyebrows together.

"Wh.. what?"

"You're Hagrid's killer," stated Dumbledore simply, "you were caught fleeing the scene by Mr. Malfoy."

Harry looked at Dumbledore, clearly outraged, "He's lying!"

"No he isn't, Harry," said Dumbledore sadly, shaking his head, "that is the one truth I can be certain of here."

And with those few words, Harry's world crashed. His knees buckled and he felt his shirt lift, the abrasive fabric of the wall rubbing against his skin as he slid to the floor, the lights flickering.

He was no longer looking at Dumbledore but past him, "You can't really believe him!"

Dumbledore sighed, looking down at Harry with surprisingly dark eyes, "The Minister will be here tomorrow," he paused, "You will be dealt with accordingly then.."

Harry visibly paled, his eyes wide as he focused on the Headmaster, "He's lying!"

The Headmaster suddenly turned, his robes swirling behind him, brushing against Harry. Grasping at straws, Harry yelled again at his back, "He's lying! He.. he's lying!"

Dumbledore said nothing, deftly padding across the room until he was near the wall. He murmured something softly under his breath, and Harry could feel the magic around him vibrate in response. Gradually, the outline of the door appeared again, and the wall opened.

"He's lying," repeated Harry, trying to lift himself to his feet. His limbs shook in response and he remained seated as Dumbledore sidestepped the door, blocking the view of the outside room.

Harry's breathing quickened, his heart pounding in his chest as Dumbledore went to depart. Lowering his voice, Harry's voice was now nothing more than a desperate whisper, a final plea for the Headmaster to turn and announce that this was all some cruel, cruel prank.

"Please.."

The Headmaster momentarily stopped, his back visibly taut.

"Yes?" asked Dumbledore softly, in a whisper so unlike his own.

Harry half expected him to turn, and morph into the figure of another man, but that never happened and Harry heard himself jump to wild conclusions, felt himself clinging to desperate hopes of consisting of Polyjuice potions and unforgivable curses-- anything to explain why the Headmaster was saying what he was saying, why he was acting so coldly to the boy that the Wizarding World's fate was relinquished to.

Harry pulled himself from his thoughts, whispering softly, "I don't know what.. what curse he's put on you but.. please, can't you see he's lying?"

The only response Dumbledore gave was to step from the room, the door closing behind him.

Harry stared at the unmarked wall in horror, unconsciously whispering to the nothingness, "He's lying.."

All that answered was the low hum of invisible enchantments.