Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything officially related to it.
This story will probably have spoilers for the first four books and maybe the fifth.
Warnings: This story will contain SLASH, as in two male characters making out, so if this bothers you, don't read. Language and violence in later chapters.
Chapter Two: Where the Hell Am I?
Everywhere he looked was endless silver mist, curling and drifting slowly around his legs.
Even though he didn't have any idea as to where he was, Harry did not feel scared or worried. In fact, he felt better than he ever had, the only other time he had ever felt this good was his first time on a broom. He felt free and wonderful; the space of mist almost seemed to be comforting him.
And since he didn't have any apprehensive feelings, he soon became bored, so he wander around a bit, hoping to find some clue as to where he was, however the landscape never changed.
After several minutes of walking and getting nowhere, Harry sighed and sat down. He really didn't think too much of the simple action - until the sensation of falling through air finally registered in his mind.
Harry screamed as cool air whipped at his face, blowing his hair around, and nearly knocking his glasses off his nose. His arms flailed about and he closed his eyes tightly when he began to feel sick.
He fell further and further, glittering tendrils of silver mist flowing around him like strips of silk.
Eventually Harry felt himself slowing down and forced open his eyes. With a soft thump, he hit the ground and lay there panting, gripping what seemed to be thick grass with his trembling fingers.
Slowly regaining his breath, Harry forced himself up and wiped sweat off of his brow. Looking around, he saw he was standing in the middle of a large expanse of brilliantly green grass and patches of small white flowers.
Still breathing heavily, Harry glanced up. Swirls of silvery-grey mist moved overhead as if caught in a powerful wind, like a storm brewing. Harry expected to see lightning any minute now.
He lowered gaze to the ground before he bent over to touch one of the little pale flowers. The petals were smooth and soft, but the leaves were rough, like a cat's tongue.
He suddenly wished Hermione were here, she could probably tell him what kind of plant it was.
Behind him, Harry heard a rustle, like the swish of a cloak. Swiftly standing up, he spun around and saw a tall dark shape coming towards him.
It was a tall person, a man judging by the size of the shoulders, dressed in blood red robes.
Harry now felt extremely wary. What if this was a follower of Voldemort's?
Last time he had just stood by and watched some one approach, it had ended with a seven-teen year old boy dead and the most feared dark wizard's return to power.
But as soon as he thought this, he realized that Voldemort probably wouldn't try and capture him in a field of petite flowers.
"Do not be alarmed, young Harry." The figure said in a deep, soothing tone.
"Who are you?" Harry shot back, still watchful.
Even though he couldn't see the man's face, Harry could hear the smile in the stranger's voice when he replied to his question.
"I am," He said stepping closer, so Harry could see him. "Your father. No, wait! I mean I'm Godric Gryffindor. Godric Gryffindor. Damn! Why do I always say father?"
Harry: . . .WTF?
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