Harry woke up on a cold stone floor, feeling the signature cramping and dizziness that were associated with being unconscious. He slowly got up, his mind fuzzy and his vision blurry, he reached for his glasses and slipped them on.

A thick oaken door was in front of him, equipped with a strange handle. It was a disk, painted, it seemed, with different colors. It was currently pointed to black.

Then Harry remembered, the attacks- Ron laying helpless on the cement- falling through the door in front of him. Falling through a door that suddenly opened.

He pulled the latch impatiently, the thick door swinging open easily by itself. However, he didn't pass through, just looked at the dark swirling mist in front of him where Diagon Alley used to be.

Tentatively reaching a hand towards this darkness, Harry wasn't sure is some type of dark magic was at work here- he had never heard of this type of enchantment before. His hand touched the mist- and then passed right through it, disappearing into nothingness a few inches away from the doorframe.

He drew his hand back, still the same old calloused and hang-nailed fingers attached to his palm. Maybe it was some type of illusion? Designed to confuse, instead of harm?

Whatever it was, it wasn't about to stop him from going back to Ron.

Harry was about to put a foot through the mist when a voice behind him spoke, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He spun around, wand at the ready, and searching for whomever spoke, "Who's there?"

"Well you can hardly see me from there, can you?" the voice, a strange kind of crackling voice, quipped back, "Why don't you have a seat at the hearth? Oh, and make sure you shut the door."

Confused and wary, Harry slowly stalked up the stone steps after he reluctantly closed the door, his eyes darting back and forth as if expecting an ambush.

"Yes, that's right. Follow the succulent sound of my voice."

Apparently there was a whole little kitchen above the steps that Harry had not noticed. A big tile sink and comfortable looking chairs in the quaint room. It was like seeing something out of one of his aunt's housing magazines years ago, complete with a rustic oversized fireplace.

"Have a seat."

Harry glanced around, "Where are you?"

"If you sit down you'll see."

Taking a worn wooden chair, Harry sat himself by a cozy little fire.

"Please put a log on, would you?"

He picked up one of the logs stacked neatly by the grate of the hearth and tossed it carelessly onto the fire.

"Hey! Watch where you're throwing things!"

But this time Harry saw the owner of the voice. Blinking he rubbed his glasses, hoping to clean them, however the same strange little face was in the flames still.

"What are you?" Harry shouted, pointing his wand at the creature.

"Oh, real threatening," the little head said, his crackly voice sarcastic, "Let's point a wooden stick at the fire demon."

Quickly hiding his wand behind his back, Harry asked, "A fire demon?"

The little face moved forward on insubstantial fire arms, bright yellow eyes on a blue flame topped with many green flames, "Calcifer's the name."

"Er, I'm Harry Potter."

"Is that so?" Calcifer flickered contentedly on his new log, "Well it's a good thing you showed up, otherwise I'd run out of tinder."

"Why can't I go through the door?" Harry asked, remembering the strange black mist, "And why doesn't it show Diagon Alley?"

"Because that door doesn't lead to Diagon Alley." Calcifer yawned.

"But that's the door I fell through!" the wizard said indignant.

"Oh yes," the fire demon looked sheepish, "That may be my doing."

"How so?" Harry eyed the flame, and crossed his arms.

"Well, I opened the door for you, but someone else blasted the other end!" Calcifer defended himself hotly, "That's hardly my fault!"

"Blasted the other end?"

"Yes, and now the door doesn't work to Diagon Alley."

Harry stared at the fire demon in disbelief, what kind of crackpot was he? "What kind of crackpot are you!" he nearly shouted, pulling his wand out covertly, ready to cast Aguamenti, "Where else would the door lead to!"

Calcifer huddled behind his burning log, "Turn the knob to red and see for yourself." he said ominously.

Harry shoved his wand in a pocket and huffed down the stairs. He turned the disk to red, and opened the latch.

A great gust of air nearly knocked him over, sending his already messy hair in even more unnatural angles and his robes whipping around his legs. He gripped the doorframe tightly, and cautiously peered out.

There was thousands of feet of air below him!

A pastoral countryside spread out in all directions underneath him, square fields and meandering rivers draining into lakes. He could vaguely see a city below, all streets and buildings. A mountain range peaked over the horizon, and a barren waste stretched for miles.

"Could you shut the door now?" Calcifer asked nervously, "It's getting a bit drafty."

Harry just nodded in disbelief and awe. He was flying!

"Ah, that's better," the fire demon said once Harry collapsed boneless onto the rickety chair, "Sophie promised me a thousand years- I'd be angry if I died from a stray draft."

"I can't get back?" Harry asked dejectedly, ignoring Calcifer's monologue.

"I wouldn't say that."

"What?"

"I may not be able to fix the door," he started, "But Howl or Morgan could do it."

Harry sat up, "Where are they?"

"If I knew I wouldn't be letting in strays to give me more fire wood," the fire demon hissed, "And Wales is so dreary! It rains all the time!"

"Wales?"

"The door leads to Wales too," Calcifer explained waving his little flame arms, "And to Kingsbury- but you don't want to go there."

Harry shook his head in exasperation, "No, I can get back from Wales," he said striding to the door, "I know where that is."

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"Er, It was nice meeting you and all," Harry improvised, "But my friend needs me. I have to go back," he paused looking at the door, "How exactly do you work this thing?"

The fire demon snorted, sending sparks into the chimney, "Turn the handle to black."

"But there was this thick mist there before," Harry replied.

"Walk through it."

"Walk through it?"

"That's right," Calcifer laughed, which in a fire demon's case caused him to send tongues of flame in all directions, "Step through the door! Do not be afraid!"

Harry just looked at the strange little face.

"I just wanted to say that one time."

"Right..."

He turned the disk to black and opened the latch. The door swung wide, the strange swirling black mist coalescing just a few inches away. Harry waved awkwardly back, "Thanks, Calcifer."

"Bye, Harry Potter."

Stepping through the swirling mist only took a moment, and then Harry was on the most ordinary Muggle street he had ever seen.

The door shut behind him, leaving him on a dilapidated porch attached to an even more dilapidated yellow house. The porch floorboards squeaked underneath his feet, and the shutters hung precariously on darkened windows.

The lawn was green and thick, but also a foot and a half high and littered with weeds. The chainlink fence had a broken gate that swayed noisily in the brisk wind- clacking and clicking as it smacked the pin.

Harry pulled his robes tighter, it was much cooler here. And the drizzly rain didn't help, plastering his hair to his head, tiny pinpricks of ice water on his cheek.

The other houses on the street weren't in much better shape than the one he just stepped out of, all dark and unkempt, rusting cars parked in driveways, and aluminum cans of trash seeping in the open air and rain.

Wrinkling his nose, Harry started down the street in search of a place to safely disapparate. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, but he had apparated longer distances before, and was confident he would have no problems.

The alleyway behind a nearby convenience store proved, well, convenient, and Harry disapparated with a loud POP!

Meanwhile, in the neighboring house to the yellow one Harry stepped out of, an older, dark haired woman frowned from her place beside the curtained window before disappearing.

Harry apparated in front of the Leaky Cauldron, not caring about stealth but speed this time. He quickly entered, or at least tried to.

For the first time ever, the Leaky Cauldron was locked.

Frowning, Harry rattled the doorknob a few times, before realizing he was a wizard. He took out his wand a was prepared to cast, but was forced to put it away when an obviously Muggle couple walked down the street. Harry quickly hid behind the bar's stone facade.

"Oi! That there bar ain't ever open," the man muttered, clearly looking for a place to continue drowning his sorrows.

"It was once," the woman replied, grasping the man's arm before he fell over, "But all sorts of weirdos came in an' out of there, 'fore they finally shut it down. Good riddance."

"Whut dey shut 'er down for?" he slurred.

"Murders," the woman said excitedly in her high-pitched voice, "A madman apparently killed the whole lot of them one night. It was all over the papers."

Confused, Harry pondered the muggle's words. Everyone dead? He had just left the pub a few hours ago. Tom had smiled his toothless smile when he left.

A horrible sinking feeling settled in his stomach, there was something vastly wrong here.

He had to get home.

The weather at home hadn't improved much, Harry realized as he stood ankle deep in mud after apparating. Sighing impatiently, he pulled his feet out with a loud slurping noise, and gingerly walked up to his front door.

As he started to wave his wand over the many locks, Harry noticed that the locks were open and the door swung easily as he gave it a little push. What?

He hurried inside, calling for Ginny and Hermione, but no one answered.

Maybe they found out about Ron and left the door open accidently...

"Expecto Patronum!" he said, thinking of a message. The silvery stag appeared and serenely gazed at its conjuror. "Take the message to Ginny."

However the apparition just stood there instead of speeding away in a rush of mist as had happened every other time Harry sent a message this way.

"Go!" Harry waved his wand. But instead of sending the patronus, the stag dissolved into the air.

Thunderstruck, Harry's mind reeled, he had been conjuring a patronus since his third year! Why would it suddenly not work now?

Then Harry remembered, the only reason a patronus would not reach someone was if they were dead.

He shook his head, not willing to believe it, unable to believe it- IT WASN'T POSSIBLE!

Harry tried vainly to conjure another patronus, but images of a dead Ginny invaded his mind, not letting him focus on a happy memory. He collapsed onto his old ratty armchair- wait, his old ratty armchair?

The dark brown chair had never been in his possession before.

He quickly got up, now noticing the other little things around him.

Everything from the floor to the ceiling was in various states of destruction or disorder, and covered with a thick layer of dust. It was nothing like the small but tidy home he had left a few hours ago- it felt like a lifetime ago now...

Harry started to hyperventilate, shock and worry and anxiety and fear creeping up on him. Nothing he had gone through had prepared him for this- it was like living something out of the old Muggle show The Twilight Zone.

It was surreal. Somehow his life, his world, had drastically changed without him knowing it. So it seemed like no giant shock when he heard a voice behind him.

"Who are you?"

Harry turned around, halfway in a daze, only to come face to face with someone he never thought he would meet. Someone who he had spent years trying to get vengeance for. Someone he had never known like he was entitled to.

"Dad?" he whispered.

Disclaimer: I don't own it, too bad, eh?

First off, I need to credit the Harry Potter Lexicon which is where I got a lot of information for the previous chapter. I also am taking a few liberties with how some of the spells work and such, since J.K. Rowling doesn't explicitly explain them.

Ok, for Howl's Moving Castle, Calcifer makes an appearance, and the infamous door to other worlds does too. Again, I am taking some liberties with the idea- but the essential concept remains the same. I also misspelled Diana Wynne Jones, sorry...

Thanks for the great reviews! But the ratio of hits to actual reviews is saddening people, oh well, I'll take what I can get.

Aurora-Sakura: Thanks again! Things will probably be a bit confusing, but don't worry.

Dragon's Cry: Short and to the point, thanks!