Disclaimer: I'm afraid that my limited brain capacity would never allow me to produce such a wonderful concept as Harry Potter, nor would my finances allow me to buy him. Therefore, I regretfully state that I own neither Harry Potter, nor any other characters that you may recognize. I'm not even sure if I own the plot.
Note: I'm assuming that you already know the basic story of Harry Potter from books 1 through 5.
'Italics' stand for thoughts/letters or text
Chapter Two: The Dark Lord's Heir
Day One, Evening:
Memories flashed by so quickly that Harry could only catch glimpses of various events, but what he saw shocked him. Pictures swirled around him — growing up in Malfoy Manor, training with Draco, meeting the deatheaters, participating in raids, being named the Dark Lord's heir, attending deatheater gatherings — the list went on and on.
Horrified at what he had done, he dug in his robes, flinching when he recognized the Death Eater clothing, and pulled out his wand. Raising the slender object, he instinctively muttered an incantation and found himself back in the study.
'How did I know how to get out?' Harry thought in confusion. 'Did I get the other Harry's knowledge, too? Am I in an alternate universe or something?'
Moving automatically, he walked into the bedroom of what he now knew was his suite in Malfoy Manor. Opening his closet, he changed into dark green robes before looking into a mirror. He could barely recognize his own reflection.
This world's Harry was tall, with spiked black hair and a lithe, graceful figure. Sleek muscles showed under his clothes and a thin line, the remnant of a cut, slashed across his right cheek, giving him a dangerous air. His scar seemed out of place on this familiar, yet strange, face.
Without thinking, Harry flicked his hand and the lightning bolt vanished. It took a moment for the full implications of the act to sink in.
He hadn't used a wand.
For the next half hour, he experimented with his newfound skills and discovered that he could do magic both with and without a wand, and had an expansive knowledge of spells, Dark and Light, though mostly Dark. It was rather unsettling, as whenever he thought about something, information simply flowed into his mind. Clearly, the other Harry had been very well taught.
There was a knock on the door just as Harry was admiring his Animagus form, a phoenix.
"Come in."
Draco swept in, raising an eyebrow at the raven-haired boy. "You look a bit flushed. Been practicing?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"Are you feeling better? The Dark Lord wants to see you now."
"Um, okay." Ignoring the urge to panic, Harry straightened his robes and followed Draco through the house to a pair of double doors.
"Go on in, Potter. He's waiting."
Bracing himself, the Boy-Who-Lived pushed open the doors and walked in. Almost instantly, a surge of pain flashed through his scar, but to his relief, it vanished as fast as it had come. Harry was thankful to learn that he had mastered Occlumency here. At least that way, Voldemort would be unable to tell if he was lying or not.
Slowly, Harry approached the throne at the opposite end of the hall. Moving mechanically, he kept his gaze on the floor as he knelt.
"Rise, Harry," a cold voice commanded. "Look at me."
Not daring to disobey, he lifted his head and his gaze met Voldemort's.
"Tell me, my child, why did you collapse earlier? Are you unwell?"
"No, Master, I am perfectly fine. I believe I fainted because of a curse I have been practicing. I did not realize how much I had drained myself, or that there might be side effects." To his surprise, the lie came easily and naturally, in a calm and even tone. There was nothing to suggest that he wasn't telling the truth.
"Very well then, if you are certain. Now, while you were unconscious, I informed the rest of my followers about the attack on the Ministry of Magic. We leave in two hours. You will lead the attack, as usual. Any questions?"
"No, my Lord."
"Then you are dismissed. Make sure you are rested, Harry. I don't want you to get injured."
"As you command, Lord." Although his responses rolled off his tongue glibly, Harry had to suppress a shudder at Voldemort's almost affectionate behavior. Feeling immensely relieved, he returned to his rooms, relying on his second set of memories to lead him.
Once he was safely back, he began to ponder his dilemma. 'I must warn the Order of the attack. But how? They probably wouldn't believe me, anyway. Maybe I should go to Dumbledore. I know he hides things from me, but I suppose he think it's for my own good. And he is quite powerful and he has a lot of influence. But how am I supposed to get there and back in under two hours?'
Suddenly, there was a soft trill behind him. Harry turned to see the answer to his problem. "Fawkes!"
